Soccer fans - Rejoice

In a country obsessed with cricket, it is not very often that you see sites dedicated to other sports.
However, trust Google and Nike to come up with something different.
They have created an online community, called Joga, for soccer-fans worldwide. Besides accessing games, creating clubs, exchanging tips with like-minded people, you can also glimpse video clips and photos.
I absolutely love their tag-line, “Joga Bonito” – “play beautiful’ (Portuguese).
Become a member of Joga here.

Eve-Power

The oldest Ivy League college, Harvard, has added another feather to its illustrious feather, by naming Drew G.Faust, as its 28th President.

Faust, a renowned academician and historian, and founding dean of the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, will become the President, effective July 2007.

This will be the first time that a woman will be taking over the reins of the 450+ year-old University.

Way to go!:-)

New Seven Wonders of the World

The Seven Wonders of the World are going to be assessed afresh.

A Swiss organization, New Open World Corporation(NOWC), has come up with a poll, with 21 finalists.

The best part - you and I can vote:-)

The results will be declared 142 days later, on 07.07.07.
Go ahead, cast your vote here.

P.S. - While all countries are all geared up for the voting, Egypt seems to have taken a major offence to this fresh analysis.

An overdose of red and pink - Valentine's Day

It all started with a soft beep last night.

My cell had just received a message.

Nothing extraordinary about it – I receive close to a hundred messages everyday.

Except that this one came from a person who I had not been in touch with for ages.

A saccharine-sweet message unfolded right in front f my eyes, much to my surprise.

Oooooh, it all dawned upon me: the clock had just chimed twelve (I knew thanks to the nearby temple that devotedly reminded one of the hours that went by).

And it was Valentine’s Day. GROAN.

I was just wondering the other day why this day whips up so many otherwise sane people in a frenzy. Sample the following:

For some people, preparations start right in earnest as long back as a fortnight or even a month before the actual day.

All the more a field month for card and gift makers, flower-sellers, jewelry manufacturers, watch makers (one enterprising watch company this year even came out with matching ‘couple” watches. Cho chweet. No?!) etc, who go grinning like Cheshire cats, all the way to the banks!

Shades of red (and pink) which I had never known existed, seem to be shouting off the rooftops in the form of abundant soft, furry toys that make me

a) Grimace
b) Break out in a cold sweat
c) Both the above

An up market coffee place has even come out with “innovative” Valentine shakes, complete with one straw (how exceedingly orally-hygienic. Ahem.) for the oh-so-much-in-love couples and guaranteed pink / red interiors.

Promises to be quite a mentally-progressive sight.

Then comes the D-Day. Complete with all the fanfare you can imagine.

Couples, dressed all in their finery (read more shades of crimson), walk all lovey-dovey, hand-in-hand, casting deep looks of adoration at each other.

Oblivious to those around them, they proceed to their chosen venue – a restaurant, a hotel, a tapri, a McDonald’s (depending on how deep their pockets are).

Ohhh, and can I forget, they are armed with bouquets – blushing flowers (again of the red-hued variety), carrying them like war-trophies.

(The flowers have been purchased at triple their actual costs, making many flower-sellers break out into merry jigs).

With looks that speak a thousand words, the couples then start the customary gift-giving (procured from grinning merchants). Ooooohs and aaahs follow in quick succession. Furtive pecks, kisses, caresses, you name it - do the rounds.

Some guys down spirits; some "adventurous" women, after circumspect looks, demurely take a sip or two.

Is that really what Valentine’s Day has come to?

Sad but true for quite a few folks.

Though the next morning many of these selfsame couples may go back to their quibbling selves, for one 'glorious" day, love is definitely in the air.

And how!

Of insensitive people and surly strangers

The other day, while I was waiting in my office cab at a traffic signal, I heard a wailing siren. What I was imagining to be a Delhi PCR van turned out to be an ambulance with a red beacon, most probably carrying some emergency patient to a hospice. My cab driver (who I’m guessing isn’t all that educated) swerved to his left to allow the green-and-white ambulance to pass, as did the car driver in front of me.

Ironically, a hefty man (who looked as if he had gone to one of those pompous elite schools), refused to budge, much to my annoyance, and subsequent horror.

Meanwhile the shrieking ambulance honked plaintively behind the monstrosity that that particular man was driving.

My pulling down the cab-window, and yelling at him to pull over and let the ambulance pass, only resulted in him shaking my fist at me and asking me to mind my own business.

Just as I turned a bright shade of crimson in ire, and was about to alight from my cab and tell him a thing or two, an elderly gentleman emerged from his car, and calmly told the menacing stranger to pull over and let the ambulance pass.

When the rude man saw that everyone meant business, he grudgingly made way for the ambulance, which zoomed off.

Before we could say anything else to the surly chap, he had stepped into his SUV, and also went whizzing past us, disregarding the red traffic light.

Rolling our eyes, the senior gentleman and I made our way respectively to our cars, and were on our way.

But not without thinking, what had our world come to, where some people were so inured to others’ pain, that they wouldn’t even be bothered to abide by basic humanity, leave alone courtesy.

A pitiful lot, such people make me think, would they forgive others who would respond the same way if their own loved ones were in need of urgent medical assistance?

I bet they wouldn’t.

Movie Review: The Holiday

Withstanding the nippy air and steady droplets of rain yesterday, we bravely reached a theater to watch Nancy Meyer’s light romance, “The Holiday.”

I wouldn’t call it earth shatteringly great, in fact to be honest, it is a tad slow to watch in places, but overall, I wouldn’t call it a bad chick flick.

The movie unfolds with Iris Simpkins (Kate Winslet), a reporter with the Daily Telegraph, Surrey. Perpetually reaching out for tissues, Iris is in an unrequited love relationship. The object of her affection is her fellow-colleague, Jasper Bloom (Rufus Sewell), a schmuck who conveniently walks all over her, remembers her only when it comes to getting his papers edited, has an affair with another colleague, and gets engaged to her.

On the other hand is glam Amanda Woods (Cameron Diaz), a movie trailer producer in L.A., who despite all her efforts, finds herself incapable of shedding even a single tear. Revolted by her cheating boyfriend, Ethan (Edward Burns), she packs a punch on his face, and throws him out of her luxurious apartment.

On an impulsive whim, the two disillusioned, workaholic women decide to go in for a home exchange, and land up in each other’s homes. Does Amanda find love in the sinfully-sexy Graham (Jude Law), a widower with two adorable daughters, and who happens to be Iris’s elder brother, and with whom she hits the sack in their first encounter?

And does Iris succeed in getting Amanda’s neighbor, ageing Hollywood script-writer Arthur Abbott (Eli Wallach) grace the Writer’s Guild Festival, sans his crutches? Meanwhile, much against her will, she finds herself liking Miles (Jack Black0, Amanda’s assistant.

What’s the hitch, you may ask? He’s already heads over heels in love with Maggie, an aspiring actress.

The movie does have its moments of light-heartedness, notably the phone call in which Iris puts both Iris and Graham simultaneously on hold., and goofs up tremendously.

Watch it if you have nothing better to do on a lazy Sunday morning / afternoon.

Keep the popcorn and soda handy though.

You’ll be needing them.

The week that was

Back after a four-day hiatus.
With work hitting the roof, a whopping number of bills(as a result of a hectic shopping spree on Saturday), a completely forgettable flick on Sunday afternoon, and returning to office to a truckload of work, life sure seems bleak.
So much so that yours truly hasn't even been able to carry out her first passion - writing.
Hope the remainder of this week is nothing like what last week was.
If ever there was optimism, this is it in its rawest form.

No music for our ears

Why is it that the city I am in (which by the way, happens to be the capital of the country) always gets step-motherly treatment from any band that intends to play in the country?

Most bands (and I am talking rock here), usually give Delhi a miss.

What with Pink Floyd’s former member, Roger Waters scheduled to perform this month on the 18th in Mumbai, and Iron Maiden to perform in Bangalore next month, Delhi finds itlsef sidelined once again.

Now it’s not that the capital doesn’t have its fair share of rock aficionados; it’s not even that there aren’t any watering holes that cater exclusively to this genre(guys guys, think TC and Café Morrison) – why then does Delhi miss out on all the action?

Not fair.

Hmphhhhh.

The Taj

Back on Blogger after a hiatus.

What with a one-day visit to Agra to see the Taj Mahal and Agra Fort last Thursday, last minute shopping for my best friend's wedding this weekend, and then the actual marriage itself, my hands were full.

Office trip to Agra was fab.

The Taj obviously doesn't need any frivolous introduction.

Having seen it before, I was not really expecting my breath to be taken away.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

The milky white monument literally made all my colleagues draw in their breaths sharply - that deep was the impact.

Our well-informed(and read) guide did a great job in making us revisit Shah Jahan's golden days.

A colleague took this pic - the monument of love, understandably among the Seven Wonders of the World, stands tall, bearing testimony to a glorious past.

Rider Mania 2007: Nagpur, January 24 - 25.

The thunderous roars will be heard from a mile away.

The assembled group-members will not be more dissimilar.

Lanky barely-crossed-sixteen pubescents, bandanna-ed-20-year-somethings, suave corporate types who look straight out of boardroom meets, a spattering of women looking completely at ease in the male-dominated scene, pony-tailed beer-bellied men hanging on to the last shreds of their youth (and rapidly-receding hairlines) – you name them, they will be there.

Welcome to the Rider Mania 2007, the annual event where all Royal Enfield club members across the country collect as one.

The event, organized last year by Chennai’s Madras Bulls, is being taken charge of by Wanderlust Bullet Club, a Nagpur club.


So there’s more to Nagpur than its oranges, you must be thinking.

You bet there is.

At this time there, Royal Enfield aficionados, enthusiastically gathered for the 2-day long beer and bike fest, would have gunned their mean machines into full throttle...

Now if only I knew how to drive one of those machines, I too would have been jostling for my own place there.

PS: Just came across the Wanderlust anthem, “Thundergods of the Road.”

I’m a tamer of storms
Enslaver of the highways
Sleepin' where I fall
A rebel livin' my way

Wanderlust emblazoned on my heart
Motorcycle fire blazing in my soul

I’m a thundergod...of the road

I’ve ridden through the desert, the forest and the trees
I’m a ruler of the mountains, ruler of the breeze
I ride through the sunshine, the rain and snow
Leave a blazing trail of fire anywhere i go

I’m a thundergod...of the road

You better beware, don’t mess with me honey
You better watch what you do
I ain’t playin’ no games, gonna take no sh*t
I’m gonna piss on your attitude

My motor spittin' lightnin', my engine roaring thunder
My wheels keep spinnin', like the spell im under
Devils in my soul, angels by my side
Born to raise hell, I was born to ride

I’m a thundergod...of the road.

Not bad, huh?

Tom Petty: Free Fallin'

Despite the gory story behind it, Free Fallin’ (sung by Tom Petty in his characteristic throaty voice) remains one of my all-time favorite songs.

It’s about a “good” girl, in love with a “bad” boy, who doesn’t even miss her, despite breaking her heart.

The song is picturized on troubled skateboarder, Mark Gator Rogowski and his then girlfriend, Brandi McClain.

After Brandi put an end to their tempestuous relationship, a battling-his-addiction-to-alcohol Gator turned into an obsessively jealous ex, and on one fateful day, assaulted and bludgeoned Brandi’s good friend, Jessica Bergsten to death, venting all his anger into her. Shudder.

But the song is really something.

See the video here:

Book Review: Waiting - Ha Jin

Recipient of many literary awards, Jīn Xuěfēi (more commonly known as Ha Jin), literally weaves magic with his pen.

For weeks, silly me had been postponing reading his prize-winning novel, Waiting, (Ha Jin received the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction for it), dismissing it each time as yet another soporific doctor-nurse romance.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Saturday night, post some intoxicating liquids, I started turning the pages of the book. And boy! Was I hooked! I was unable to put it down till I finished it – it was that compelling.

Set in Muji City, a fictitious town in China, the novel revolves around an army doctor, Lin Kong, trapped in a loveless marriage to his wife, Shuyu. Love beckons in the form of Manna Wu, an attractive single nurse at his hospital.

It doesn’t help that for the last seventeen years, each time Lin went to his native place, Goose Village, for his annual summer break, he would plead his wife for a divorce, something which the country woman would never grant him.

Communist strictures frown upon Lin Kong and Manna’s union; he needs to be officially separated from his wife before even thinking of a future with Manna.

Despite tending lovingly to Lin’s ailing parents (both of whom die in succession of each other), and bearing a child, Shuyu, the devoted daughter-in-law, wife and mother, is the very epitome of a woman wronged, a woman who was content to be at home, nursing her child(and a broken heart later), although painfully aware that her husband had taken a concubine. Unlike her husband who grimaces at her bound feet, she continues to hobble on them painfully, oblivious to the strange looks and sniggers she draws from other people.

Lin Kong has to wait for eighteen long years to finally secure a separation from Shuyu – after 18 years, a man could divorce his wife whether she gave her permission or not, and is free to marry again.

He does so, and marries the loyal Manna, who has stood by him for almost two decades.

Ironically, he “waited eighteen years just for the sake of waiting.”

I'd leave it at that to fuel your curiosity.

Get hold of this novel to find out what happens to the trio eventually.

A powerful novel, Waiting spellbinds you with its simple writing style, realism, and masterful narration of emotions like love, confusion, anguish, betrayal, lust, and frustration.

Of missed calls and foul moods.

Thanks to the Service Provider that promises that its signature puppy will follow you everywhere (sounds like a damn stalker), I am on the threshold of a nervous breakdown.

Huh! What? You might ask.

I retort simply, hear me out.

It all started out a fortnight back when an innocuous-looking message landed on my mobile.

My ears perked up (akin to a certain pug).

A little rambling here: though a self-confessed dog-lover, I find that particular pug obnoxious. I mean what is so special about it that has all people(age / gender no bar) gushing and cooing over it. It’s just another mutt. Before people take up cudgels against me, let me hastily add that I have nothing against their breed as such; however, making them almost instant dog-icons is frankly, quite outside my range of comprehension.

Sorry for the outburst; but yeah, I definitely needed to let off steam.

Coming back to the message in question, it straightforwardly asked me to revert with my address details (mind you, it only said that I had to message back).

My mobile-thumb, ever up for some heavy-duty messaging, was instantly on the go, and before you could say Rumpelstiltskin (ok ok, Jack Robinson), my address details were on their way to the service provider’s triple number.

Well, that was that.

Except for what happened yesterday.

Imagine the scene: Sunday morning. Yours truly is all snug in her bed.

And then the phone had to shriek like a banshee at an unearthly hour.

One eye open, I groaned and reached out for the luminescent mobile.

Blinking hard, I saw that the call did not display the caller’s name or number, but simply, “unknown caller.”

Oh well. Thinking it to be an ISD call from one of my numerous friends who study / work abroad, I stifled a yawn, cleared my throat, and muttered, “Hullo.”

To my surprsie, it was one of my good friends calling, well within the confines of the country, and who was perfectly baffled when I asked her who she was.

Seemed like there was some problem with my one-year-old phone. I listened to what she had to tell me, and was quick to bid adieu when she was through. (Who doesn't love his / her sleep, tell me?)

With a couple of thoughts about what possibly could be wrong with my phone, I drifted off once again into a blissful slumber.

An hour later, my phone had taken on a life of its own; caller upon caller followed.
Parents, brother, best friend (who’s getting married next weekend incidentally:-)), other friends, all had taken it into their heads to outdo each other in greeting me first thing in the morning.

And the phone, you may ask.

Well, it didn’t display anyone’s number or name.

Now this was queer, and a slight sense of uneasiness crept into me.

A call to the customer care service(or make that a call which ran into several minutes, thanks to being put on hold like what seemed like an eternity), revealed that although I had submitted my details(read id, address proof, photograph) three years back when I got the number, certain rules made it mandatory for me to submit those details again. WTH.

My Sunday was definitely not looking very bright.

Trying to keep my temper in check, I listened to what he had to say, and then politely hung up.

Thanks to the weekend, the option was to wait for a day, and submit the blessed documents the next day(that being today, Monday).

Just as I was bringing myself to terms with the non-display-of-callers, I found, to my utter dismay today morning, that my messaging and outgoing calls were both barred.

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaalp.

The last nail to the coffin: my friends, knowing that I can’t see who’s calling me, have taken it into their bright heads to give me tons of missed calls. Wait till I get my hands on their necks.

The aspirin is right on my table; head throbbing, I am just about to pop it with some water.

There goes another of them missed calls again.

Aaaaaargh.

I'm just hoping that the guy whom I gave my documents to submit does his job today; or somehere tonight, there is gonna be a murder.

Lodger: Door Steps

I've recently become a fan of the Finnish rock band, Lodger.

Though their lyrics(and music videos) would get stern glances from many; you have to give it to them - their one-eyed stick man is plain awesome.

See their flash video, Door Steps, here, to know what I mean.

I bet my mom wouldn't really approve, but I'm counting that she doesn't see this post.:-)

64th Golden Globe Awards 2007: Winners

The verdict is out. The 64th Golden Globe Awards (2007) ceremony, held at a glittering ceremony in California on January 15, announced the winners.

Not surprisingly, movies like Dreamgirls, Babel, The Departed, Happy Feet, and The Devil Wears Prada emerged winners. Even the highly controversial Borat: Cultural Learnings Of America For Make Benefit Glorious Nation Of Kazakhstan garnered a Golden Globe for its protagonist, Baron Sacha Cohen.

Here’s a list of the winners:

 Cecil B DeMille Award: Warren Beatty.

 Best Motion Picture – Drama: Babel.

 Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture – Drama: Helen Mirren – The Queen.

 Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture – Drama: Forest Whitaker – The Last King Of Scotland.

 Best Motion Picture - Musical/Comedy: Dreamgirls.

 Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy: Meryl Streep – The Devil Wears Prada.

 Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical Or Comedy: Baron Sacha Cohen.
– Borat: Cultural Learnings Of America For Make Benefit Glorious Nation Of Kazakhstan.

 Best Performance by an Actress In A Supporting Role in a Motion Picture: Jennifer Hudson – Dreamgirls.

 Best Performance by an Actor In A Supporting Role in a Motion Picture: Eddie Murphy – Dreamgirls..

 Best Animated Feature Film: Cars.

 Best Foreign Language Film: Letters From Iwo Jima (Japan, United States).

 Best Director - Motion Picture: Martin Scorsese – The Departed.

 Best Screenplay - Motion Picture: The Queen.

 Best Original Score - Motion Picture: The Painted Veil.

 Best Original Song - Motion Picture: "The Song Of The Heart" – Happy Feet, .

 Best Television Series – Drama: Grey's Anatomy.

 Best Performance by an Actress In A Television Series – Drama: Kyra Sedgwick – The Closer.

 Best Performance by an Actor In A Television Series – Drama: Hugh Laurie – House.

 Best Television Series - Musical Or Comedy: Ugly Betty.

 Best Performance by an Actress In A Television Series - Musical Or Comedy: America Ferrera – Ugly Betty.

 Best Performance by an Actor In A Television Series - Musical Or Comedy: Alec Baldwin – 30 Rock.

 Best Mini-Series Or Motion Picture Made for Television: Elizabeth I (HBO).

 Best Performance by an Actress In A Mini-series or Motion Picture Made for Television: Helen Mirren – Elizabeth I.

 Best Performance by an Actor in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for Television: Bill Nighy – Gideon's Daughter.

 Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role in a Series, Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for Television : Emily Blunt – Gideon's Daughter.

 Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role in a Series, Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for Television : Jeremy Irons – Elizabeth I.

Buck up Leo / Brad.

Or as they say, better luck next time.

Of pigeons and sleep deprivation

Pigeons.

The word probably conjures images of cooing, gentle, pacifist birds, released during weddings.

Or the visa advert in which Richard Gere releases a number of pigeons from captivity, much to the joyous enthusiasm of a girl.

Or probably the flock that collects at Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Gardens, or closer home - Connaught Place.

Perhaps, you are reminded of homing pigeons, which have proven their importance during periods of unrest and war.

If movies are your cup of tea, I’m guessing that you would have also remembered a certain Bollywood movie from the ‘80s, in which the heroine made ample use of a pigeon to deliver letters.

Till last weekend, I too had quite a charitable view about pigeons.

Not any more....

It happened somewhat like this.

Saturday night, after a blissful day, what with watching a lovely movie (Happy Feet), eating, shopping, and partying, I returned home in the wee hours of the morning to catch-up on some much-needed shut-eye.

The quilt beckoned me, and I inched myself gratefully into it, looking forward to some hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Ha. Fat chance.

A family of pigeons, which had recently decided to make the top of the jutting air-conditioner their home, were in a major mood for some action and fun.

What I initially thought was gentle clip-clopping and pitter-pattering of pigeon-feet, soon increased to a regular fast-paced dance number, and showed no inclination to stop.

My patience ran out.

Teeth chattering, I made my way out on the verandah, clasping my woollens (read thermal, sweatshirt, jacket, and shawl) closer to my body, and switched on the bulb.

Bleary-eyed me tried a loud “Shush”(that would have earned me scowls from any ornithologist), but which only caused the over-familiar-with-humans pigeons to peep at me, but continue cooing and thumping their feet, LOUDLY.

When they saw that I meant business, they deigned to quieten down; much to my immense and obvious relief.

Giving one more look that would have scared any mortal, I switched off the bulb, and made my way to my warmly-inviting bed.

This was at 4 a.m.

5.15 a.m. – Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat was happening?

Some demons had descended outside my room, and were in the throes of an extremely enthusiastic foot-thumping session, with some strong cooing vocals thrown in for good measure.

Ohh, a belated realization dawned. These were no demons; just the blessed pigeons, which had probably slept their fill the day before, and were intent on keeping me up with their constant ruckus.

Resigned to my fate, and too lazy to either bellow at them in anger, or shush them again, I turned over, pulled the quilt over my head, and did my best to fall asleep.

All to no avail.

A grumpy, red-eyed me woke up on Sunday morning to the following phone call:

“Hey, do you wanna go to Connaught Place to feed pigeons? I've got bird-food.”

Can you blame me for issuing a blood-curdling scream and banging the phone on the poor, bewildered caller?

Movie Review: Happy Feet

Happy Feet, the well-directed movie made by Australian George Miller(who gave us Babe:Pig in the City and Mad Max), reminds you in a lot of places of Richard Bach's maverick Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

Like Jonathan the seagull, ostracized by other seagulls for his passion for flight, the protagonist in Happy Feet - penguin Mumble, faces similar alienation by his tribe.

The problem – penguins sing; they don’t dance.

And our dear Mumble can’t get a note right.

But boy! Can he tap-dance!

Born to Memphis and Norma, Mumble (originally named Mambo, but later changed, all thanks to his inability to croon), is held responsible for the shortage of fish by the colony of penguins, and hence exiled.

With a heavy heart, Mumble leaves his lady love, Gloria, and his heart-broken parents behind, in search of the aliens who were taking all the fish away.

Joined by Lovelace, a self-confessed Oracular penguin, and five smaller Adelie penguins who call themselves the amigos, Mumble sets out on his quest.

Does he ever return to his parents and love?

Does he find out the reason for the famine?

More importantly, does he stop tap-dancing, and start singing lilting melodies, like your average penguin?

Too many questions.

Do yourself a favor – get a ticket for Happy Feet, and find out yourself. You'll thank me for it.

Several Hollywood celebs have lent their voices for this animation, including Hugh Jackman(Va Va Voom), Elijah Wood, Nicole Kidman, Robin Williams, Brittany Murphy, and Hugo Weaving.

The don’t-think-of-missing-it Happy Feet is dedicated to Steve Irwin (aka The Crocodile Hunter), who died a month after lending his voice as an elephant seal in the movie.

The tracks are groovy.

Recommended for adults and children alike.

The movie in one word, “Wow!”

To have or not to have...gol-guppas

A self-confessed gol-guppa and chaat aficianado, I was pretty alarmed when I heard about the man who died last week with his wife and daughter, purportedly after eating gol-guppas.

The scare is still around.

Though it seems to be a local case of food poisoning, many of my friends have made it all too clear that they are staying away from the all-too-tempting, lip-smacking savory.

Seems like I would have to polish the pani-puris all by myself.

Burp.

Free hugs campaign

Was reading a while back about a "hugging" guy in Washington D.C., 34-year old Jon Clark, who hugs people twice a month there.

And seems like he fares pretty well.

Inspired loosely by Richard Mann's Freehugs site, which set-off the free hugs campaign, Jon holds a sign announcing "Free Hugs," and does a fine job in bridging social gaps by his novel gesture. At least one out of every ten passersby stops to be hugged by him.

Quite a few people are not averse to getting an impromptu hug from a stranger, it seems.

Though it seems to be working in the US, I wonder if such a thing would in our country.

Some people might get creeped-out, getting hugged by a random stranger.

The proponents of free hugs campaigns here could get ostracized; there would be many who would readily smirk and scoff behind their backs(or even on their faces).

Terms along the lines of perverts, corny, and absurd might do the rounds more regularly than rounds of beer at plush watering holes.

And after all, what with the rate of moral policing we have in the country, it wouldn't take too long a while for saffron-robed fundamentalists(oops, loyalists) to raise a hue and cry about obscenity, going-against-our-rich-heritage-and-tradition tales, "westernization" of the country, etc.

Tut tut.

See the original Free hugs campaign video below.

Mercedes McLauren SLR New Delhi

Even Paris Hilton owns one.

The mean-machine, Mercedes McLauren SLR, on almost every auto-aficionado’s most-wanted list, is being showcased right here.

Yup, you read it right.

The event is being organized in association with arguably the most famous potion of all, Johnny Walker.

Wipe that drool off your face people.

The stunning beauty will be on display in Delhi (you’ve already missed seeing it in Noida on January 5, 2007).

So if you do want to gasp in admiration, do remember to get yourself to the MGF Mall, New Delhi, January 12 – 14, 2007.

Mercedes and Malts.

You can't go wrong with the combo.

Vroooooooooooooooooooooom. Cheers!