Chapter 2

Just watched a play called 'Chapter 2'. It's written by Neil Simon, and was performed by a Chennai-based group called Evam. I've been involved with theatre in a big way at college, and have in particular worked on a Neil Simon play. There was no way in world I was going to miss this.

It's about relationships. Nah, wait a bit. That makes it sound like a heavy emotional drama. It's not. 'Chapter 2' is a wonderful comedy, with sizzling wit and crackling dialogue. And, like all Neil Simon plays, it carries a message.

It was nicely done. The cast consists of all of four people. The acting was good, and soft music at apt moments kinda lit up the play for me. Sets were elaborate and appropriate, a rare combination. Forgive this rather un-layman analysis, I like to believe (wrongly, perhaps) that I have a discerning eye for theatre!

The play's about believing that love doesn't happen just once. You get hurt, you get shattered. But don't think it's the end of the world. There can always be a Chapter 2.

That's a nice thought, isn't it?

Big Eating in Little Italy

I just came back (actually, I came back 5 hours ago, but it still feels like 5 minutes) from an eating experience not bound by the limits of mortal existence. In short, I just consumed a divine meal.

Three colleagues of mine, Hungry, Famished, Starved (not their real names) and me descended on a restaurant called Little Italy in Indiranagar for lunch today. Before I continue, let me state that this is an Italian restaurant with a twist - it's vegetarian.

I'm as much of a non-veggie as the next person. But this place, Little Italy, had me sold on it, Big Time. I ordered a drink called Lava Flow; a heavenly concoction of strawberry crush, pineapple juice, coconut milk and cream. Then, Rima (her real name), the only one of us who'd been to this place before, ordered something called Tobasco Pizza. I'm convinced it tasted better than any pizza I've ever had, Veggie or otherwise.

I'm not narrating the events in chronological order. But it doesn't matter. We ordered the main course, a task which in itself was quite tricky because there were so many pastas/pizzas to choose from. I had a pasta called Something Something Gorgonzoyle. It was out of this world (you kinda get the idea with the name itself). Lasagnas, red wine pastas and one more really good dish filled up the other plates. The food was awesome.

At the end of it, I struggled to finish, periodically inching my plate closer to Mandeep so she could help herself to Something Something Gorgonzoyle. But all in all, it was a wonderful lunch. Thanks also to Ridave, Magill and Dkamal, for a nice time!

I was so full, I think I was high. The entire auto ride back I was cursing post-lunch workhours. Why can't people just go home after lunch?

Two consecutives posts have dealt with restaurants and food. I think I'm becoming a food critic. I think I'm becoming a glutton. Good thing you can't see my paunch in that snap I put up a few posts ago.

I might as well rename my space to The Hog Blog.

More Bong for the Buck

Yesterday, we (3 friends and me) went to this Bengali restaurant called '36 Chowringhee Lane'. Two of us ordered fish, and the other two mutton. Not just the food (which I'll come to in a bit), the entire experience teleported me back to the world of Calcutta that I belong to. Oh, the thrill of speaking in Bangla to absolute strangers! The ambience was very homely, very Calcutta. :-)

The food was great. Actually, for a Bong cuisine starved person like me, even mediocre would have been great. Lovely Hilsa fish (Eeleesh) in all its mustard splendour, awesome Chholaar Dal (chane ki daal), and some out-of-this-world chutney were the highlights of the day. Everything, of course, was with dollops of oil, a fact that didn't go down very well (pun intended!) with the health-conscious folks in the group. In fact, the name could have been shortened to 'Ghee Lane', and it would still be apt. But who's complaining? Oil's well that ends well! To top it all, we had unforgettable Mishti Doi for dessert.

Heaven exists. I've had lunch there.

Being Cyrus

Watched Being Cyrus today. It was quite nice, though not as great as you would think it might be, if you see the previews.

I believe Indian cinema has definitely improved in the art of making trailers, or previews. I love watching previews of Hollywood flicks; they are amazing, even though, sometimes, the actual movie turns out to be eminently forgettable. Now, it seems, Indian cinema has decided to not 'trail' behind.

One small thing more. There is a beautiful piece performed by an orchestra while the credits display right at the start of the movie. I waited till the credits rolled at the end, and found that it's the Bombay Film Orchestra. I'll Google them and see what I can find.

Hurry Home, Hari

I was bewildered to read in the newspapers about a teenaged boy (named Hari) filing a case againt naukri.com for using the name "Hari Sado"in their ad. It seems his schoolmates were teasing him by expanding the letters of his name in the same way it's done in the commercial.

I mean, have you heard of anything more ridiculous? I quite like the ad - it's funny, it's effective - and for the life of me can't think of a sillier reason to move court. I mean, should I file a case against the James Bond producers for maligning my name in "Die Another Dey"?

Gimme a break. Ribbing and leg-pulling are a very necessary part of school life, because it teaches you to take things in the right spirit. Sure, sometimes, it gets too much. If it does, try and correct the problem where it is occuring - discipline the kids who're going too far with the taunts. For heaven's sake, why blame the poor Job-site?

That be me!

Half crazy, half emotional. Half bad, have worse. Half loner, half extrovert. Half in, half out! 

Advertising

What is it about good advertising that is so attractive? It doesn't need expensive locales, or exhorbitantly priced celebrities. A good idea is all it takes to drive home the point. Check out Pepsi's small but delightfully powerful retort to Coke's hoarding, somewhere in Chennai. I got this pic courtesy a colleague. Thanks, Deez!

Coke put up that signboard in a building where they had an office on the 2nd floor. Pepsi turned it around completely with its own hoarding. Simple, but deadly. Isn't it amazing?

And This Is How It All Begins

Finally, after much coaxing and cajoling, I have convinced myself to put in the effort required (which, I was surprised to learn, is next to nothing) to create a blog.

So, what am I? A carbon-based biped who still thinks digital watches are a pretty neat idea. DNA fans exult, may the drumroll begin! Another H2G2 maniac joins the blogging fraternity.

The name's Dey. Deepanjan Dey (nah, doesn't sound half as cool). Work in Bangalore, India for Oracle Corporation. Aged 22, I belong to the un-fair sex.

I do all the usual things - read, listen to music, watch movies. Sometimes, I even do some work, and those are the days my colleagues go back home early to recover from the shock.

I'm given to long spells of ponderance (I'm guessing there is such a word), where I dwell upon the meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything. People (I know a few of those) say that I think too much, in an effort to find solutions to problems, sometimes when none really exist.

I have been honoured with monikers like "Incorrigible", "Weird" and "Too Insignificant To Think Of A Name For". The last one - bestowed by my parents - as I didn't have a name till a year after I was born.

So me is this. Where did I come from? Where am I going? Why does Donald Duck wear a towel after a bath when he otherwise never wears any pants? For answers to more such posers that are, undoubtedly, the very core of my existence: Watch this space.