bhava Shankara desika me saranam...

ye olde memorys

This is what happens when you let the character become you. More people are sorry for MunnaBhai than Sanjay Dutt. These are strange times we live in. Seen the Haneef Reality show yet? Well. What else can you expect from a country where national interest is held hostage by political exigencies? Where the Prime Minister is busy losing sleep over suspected terrorists and not soldiers and martyrs and things more worthy of losing sleep over. Where democracy has become a farce. People’s President, you said? Hah! All the millions and millions of you supported President Kalam, and signed petitions, and carried placard, did it matter a whit? But look at it this way. If President Kalam had a vision, our current President has ‘many visions’. Plural. Not to mention, an impeccable record (which means no hard evidence yet). That’s good, right?

Hitting the road...

Almost 750 kilometres on the road. Across numerous towns and districts, spread over two states. Over five hours on a steam-engine powered mountain train. Loud enough to still ring in your ears a week later. A world heritage on wheels. The charcoal particles in your hair, and soot on your face for free. Sunflower fields, cloud-covered hills and forest-covered vales. One and a half hours on the last seat of a rickety bus. no bee-ing in bed, but in bed with a bee. No sleep but innumerable chais, great music, awesome ragi mudde in ‘state famous’ hotallu. Close calls and curious cows. Night, day, night. Rain. Going one way, and coming back the other. Up, down. Right. Back. Directions decided on a whim and a pointed finger. All in just under 26 hours. Now whoever said that the journey is as important as the destination should now know that when it’s a journey with no destination, when the journey is a goal in itself, the going is good. Especially if you’re road trippin’ with your two favourite allies, fully loaded we had snacks and supplies, it was time to leave this town, it was time to steal away and that we did….and this one goes out to you, for you asked for it…and I speak for all me and all of us.

and remember how i always say that the Shenoy must stop taking things too literally, here's he "hitting the road". sigh. should some people ever learn?

patriotism vs. Patriotism

This is Lakshmi Panda, a 77-year maid servant who’s been washing dishes and sweeping floors for the past many, many years who has the temerity to say that she now feels all that she did for the country was a waste. Hah! The sheer audacity of this woman. After all, who is she that she can make this statement?

She fought in the INA, yes, Netaji Bose’s Indian National Army in the Rani Lakshmi Bai Regiment under Capt. Lakshmi Sehgal. So what?

Does she not know that Bose and the INA never got us freedom from the British? It was Gandhi people, Gandhi and Gandhi alone that got us freedom! The INA was just riff-raff cobbled together by a disgruntled congressman who disagreed with the great Mahatma’s opinions and ideas. While Bose said, “My enemy’s enemy is my friend.” Gandhi said, “My enemy’s enemy is my enemy too!” Anybody with a bone of common sense can see who was right. Bose wanted to drive the British out of our country. Gandhi requested them to…please leave… And Gandhi won in the end. Sacrifice is the greatest ideal. And millions of our countrymen were sacrificed at the altar of Gandhi’s views, dying for the British, fighting for the Englishman and his cause. If that doesn’t make Gandhi great, what does?

Now, coming back to this maid servant, who thought she was fighting for freedom of her land. She hasn’t received her pension for the longest time. Making a living by working in others houses in the great Republic of India. She thinks she deserves a pension. But the Centre doesn’t. Their criteria is different. She isn’t a freedom fighter because she didn’t spend any time in jail. Now, that’s one hell of a definition. Clear. Concise. And no, prisons and hell-holes like the Cellular Jail might not count. There you go. That is why she doesn’t get any pension. Anyway, why ‘spend money’ on living freedom fighters who can anyway take care themselves? Think dignity of labour people!, even washing dirty dishes is a job! We’re better off not squandering our money way on these people with delusions of being patriotic when we can spend millions trying to get hold of the Great Mahatma’s handwritten manuscripts. After all, we got our independence because of Gandhi and Gandhi only. Ok. Ok. Nehru too. Yeah and some other random people. So given a choice between invaluable and priceless pieces of paper written on by the Great Man and people who gave their all to this great nation, who would you choose? Of course the manuscripts. You can laminate them and put them up for display at museums that tell us how Gandhi single-handedly won us our freedom. People, like Lakshmi Panda, will soon be dead anyway, and there’s no way you can put her on display.

After all, with the sixtieth anniversary of our Independence from the British coming up, acquisition of handwritten manuscripts make for better new stories, glamorous discussions, and opportunities to show more footage of The Great Gandhi than some old unglamorous shrivelled hag who thought she was being patriotic. And isn’t that the difference between patriotism and Patriotism? Media coverage and good PR?

Jai Hind!

pfffthooo!

Our Prime Minister says that a terrorist's religion is terrorism. A terrorist doesn't belong to any religion, caste or creed. Yeah right.

But the clowns that make up the Great Indian Media Circus are screaming from the rooftops and screaming out loud 'the Indian connection'. You $%^&*ing #$*@s, it's not a matter of pride or something that adds badge value to our nations name. If these dolts had their way, maybe terrorists (in the blind eyes of the world, and diplomatic prime ministers) may not have a religion, but a nationality they sure will. Even the campaign to get that overrated mausoleum into some stupid list with no real credentials is better than this news story, if you can call it that.

And they lived happily ever after…

That’s supposed to the classic ending, right? Wrong! That is the point that which people lose interest and move on to other things. Take any story with this ending, and you have grief, separation, tears and fears….and just when things go right, the story ends. And that brings me to the point that humans revel in misery. That’s what we’re interested in. That’s why stories with their misery-filled plotlines are the only bits we’re interested in and make a story out of. The minute the protagonists get set to be happy after their wretched experiences, The End! Sorry, we don’t want to know that. We don’t want to know what happens when you’re happy. All in all, ‘Happy’ is good for endings. Not the stuff great stories are made of. And stories with tragic endings. Now! There’s potential for more. If only the author would just have some patience and the protagonists are left alive at the end of the story. hmmm.....

For sale

Price: Approx. Rs.200
Value: Worthless

Description: The book that heralds the new Messiah of Atheism, Richard Dawkins.

Would’ve been better off as: A short essay of not more than 5 pages long (printed on one-sided sheets)

Darwin’s rottweiler Richard Dawkins his sights on God and religion, and foams at the mouth for over 200 pages without saying anything substantial. A Dawkinian Manifesto against Christianity and Islam, the author brings to light no new argument, and even more so, no new facts. This is not the same as loading the book with loads of factoids and interesting pieces of news. At the cost of being called crass, one is tempted to theorise whether this paperback is the result of some sort of childhood trauma, or abuse from some priestly pederast perhaps? Or even worse, may be the whole point of the book was to be condescendingly patronising towards NOMA and S.J. Gould. So often are his ‘friends’, Daniel Dennet and Steven Pinker quoted, cited and named, one is surprised that the names of these lapdogs no not appear credited as co-authors. All in all a waste of time. For those that are atheists already, this book offers nothing, and anyway you’re an atheist already, which is what Dawkins sets out to turn the world into. If you’re an agnostic, well…again nothing new, except some fancy terms and scales of measurement. If you’re a Christian or Muslim, and you believe enough, you’re going to hate this book anyway. Now coming to Hindus (for lack of a better word). If you’re a Hindu, well…there’s nothing in it. You can be a rationalist, theist, atheist, agnostic, spiritualist and yet be a Hindu, so this book offers nothing new. And also, neither does it mention anything about the eastern systems/religions/spirituality. Which also by the way makes the book looks like it was written by a dilettante. But then again, it could well be so. For it is not so much a manifesto against religion, as it is against religious fundamentalism. To get into a point by point refutation would be a waste of time, and I for one, do not think this books deserves that sort of attention. The only fear is that this worthless book will bias people against better books by the same author, which are at least thought-provoking. This one just provokes you into reaching out for Dawkins’ neck. If only…

Best recommended for:
- Those that want other people to think they’re intellectuals
- People who want to carry around a book that’s the flavour of the month (again, for reasons stated above)
- Those people that don’t like Dawkins and just need more reason to ridicule him, which he does so on a platter

bridge across the river suvarna

Hanging Bridge
Location: Nidambally village, Tonse, Udupi dist. a.k.a. home

Revisiting the continuing adventures of Romantic Lady Killer Man

He took her hand in his. Raised it to his lips. Like one would a glass of wine. Kissed it tenderly. Ah! He thought. Such a lovely hand. Too bad, he thought, that it should end this way. He gazed at her hand. Sparking green was the jade ring that he’d given to her. It looked better on her than anybody else he thought. And on this full moon night, out there amidst all the green, with the soft pale moonlight reflecting off her hand and the ring. What a lovely sight. Of all the women, this was the one he liked best. And what a lovely hand! What a waste! He steeled himself as he now had to do what he dreaded most. End it once and for all. This now, is the toughest part he knew. He held the ring between his fingers. With one swift motion, he yanked it off her hand. Sorry girl, he thought to himself, wish I could tell you how much I loved you. But he never did have the chance. He looked at the jade ring and put it in his pocket. Hope you don’t mind, my love, he said as he took one last look at her lovely red right hand and tossed it into the pit where it landed with a soft thud above the rest of her. Sigh! And only her love was on his mind as he started shovelling the wet sand over his latest love.

Anisuthide yaako indu ee haadu nanna haadendu

All hail Jayant Kaikini for this

Anisuthide yaako indu, neeneney nannavalendu
Maayadaa lokadinda, nanagaage bandavalendu
Aahaa yentha madhura yaathane
Kollu hudugi omme nanna....haage summane….

Suriyuva soneyu sooside ninnade parimala
Innyara kanasulu neenu hodare talamala
Poorna chandira rajaa haakida
Ninnaya mogavanu kanda kshanaa…
Naa khaidi neeney seremane
Tappi nanna appiko omme…haage summane

Tutigala hoovali aadada maathina sihiyide
Manasina putadali kevala ninnade sahiyide

Haneyali bareyada ninna hesara
Hrudayadi naane korediruve
Ninagunte idara kalpane
Nanna hesara kooge omme…haage summane

All hail Mano Murthy (U.S.A.) for the music. Mucho gratitude to Triskaidekophiliac for making me ‘listen’ to the lyrics. The recitation helped.

And thanks to Yogaraj Bhat, Udaya TV, KannadaBond and youtube (in that order) for this:

the first ‘feminist’

According to apocrypha and legends, Lilith is considered the first wife of Adam. But the Lilith figure goes much before that. Innana they called her. A part of the Sumerian myths and then some. Some call her now ‘the first feminist’ based on OT apocrypha. For she was created equally with Adam, from the same material (?). But unfortunately for Adam, and more importantly for Adam’s God, she turned out to be a person (note: not woman!) quite capable of independent thought. Created together, she considered herself the equal of Adam and refused to ‘lie beneath him’. Apart from the sexual role, she recoiled too at the passive marital role handed down to her. Bugger you and bugger your Eden said Lilith to Adam and his God and walked off into the dim mists of legend and lore. And reappeared as a demoness in most of the ensuing stories and legends, as baby killer, man sacrifier and an underworld avenger. Poor Lilith. Meanwhile, Adam’s God had already taken care of things – creating another woman from Adam’s rib, helping then to ensure woman’s subservience. Do you blame Lilith?

Well, leave you now with the Hon. John Collier’s portrayal of Lilith. Lilith, the one who started it all. Through amazingly understandable demand for equal status. By refusing to ‘lie under a man’. Hmmm…men will be men. Pigs will fly. And fish will need bicycles.

Amidst all this brouhaha about cricket and chappals, did anyone notice that Vishwanathan Anand became the world No.1 in chess?

Funny. You’d have thought that rather than concentrate on Sania Mirza rising up one spot to the grand height of No.45 in the WTA rankings or waste reams of paper on a worthless team whose only latest exploit is beating a team from a country with a population not large enough to fill even the eden gardens stadium, people and papers and the media would be patting Anand on the back. But no. All he gets is one half-column space article hidden between the man of the match SMS contest and a loser’s (read Indian cricketer) caricature.

Hasn’t somebody realised that finally another Indian is No.1 in a game when probably the last time we had a world champion was a few years after we invented it? Now that raises a lot more questions than answers. For we maybe Kabaddi champions today. But the day is not far away when Bermuda will beat us at that. But till then Congratulations Anand! We are all proud of you. There maybe those who would concentrate on our national team’s defeat, but there are those of us who’d rather look for people who bring glory to the nation in their chosen field. Not that you need our backslapping encouragement for you have always gone it alone, almost, but still.

But all said and done, this over-obsessive obsession with cricket must stop, if the rest of the games and sports are to go anywhere in this country.

But hey! It’s not like I hate cricket. I love cricket! Which is why I support the Australian cricket team. I love cricket. Which is why it think this humiliating ouster and its soap-operatic fallout is the best thing that’s happened to Indian cricket. Till then and even then, we have our Anands and Gopichands.

Buggering the Virgins….

The Virgins are here. Finally.
But I wish they weren’t. Not here. Not anywhere.
It’s time we sacrificed these Virgins at the altar of Anger.
Citing very valid reasons of good taste and everything good about comics.
Sadhu. Devi. Snake woman. The first taste of these left a very bad taste in the mouth.
Too soon to tell?
Too soon to be titillating?
Too soon to tell that it’s a pathetic, puerile bastardisation of myths?
Too soon to tell this feels like it’s going to be a parade of clichés?
Too soon to tell that most of these clichés will be overlaid with bad art?
And printed on toilet paper….bad toilet paper, in a neighbourhood colour Xerox machine.
Too soon to tell?
Maybe…but…
Who needs second-hand Virgins anyway?

So should you buy these Virgins?
Yes. I say.
Go ahead. Buy them. Buy them!
But then, it’s just my sadistic streak talking.
Buy them.
Because misery seeks company.
Buy them. Read them.
So you too can see what they mean when they say “Indian”.
Buy them. So you can burn them.

So will I buy them?
Yes. I will.
Because a hundred rupees is too small a price to pay for a good laugh.
Even though it hurts.
I will buy them.
So I can see my theories affirmed.
And because venom needs a target.
Will I burn them? Or consign this trash to trash?
No.
Because one needs to keep a record of ‘things wrong with the world’.
And having proof helps.

Maybe it’s time to take Laal Khopdi seriously and bring him to life…

fishing in hyderabad

Let’s say you’re in Hyderabad. And more particularly, in the Charminar area. And suddenly! you feel this burning desire to buy a fishing net. What do you do? What do you do? Maybe you’re fishing for the proverbial ‘other fish in the sea’ or maybe you’re a fisherman who really needs a net to catch some sea fish even though you’re miles and miles away from the nearest sea. Anyway, what do you do? What do you do?

Fear not! This is Hyderabad, where I saw a lot of strange and disturbing things over a rushed weekend. And met a great bunch of people from Dell. No that’s not a spelling mistake, notwithstanding certain circles I move around it. It’s Dell! Not Hell!! All courtesy The Eyyala. Who nowadays, goes around under the strange moniker of ‘Daddy!’ (exclamation mark included). Now this bunch is as crazy as it gets. At least two of them have the grand ambition of shoplifting prophylactics (ahem! euphemism?). Stranger than that is the person who they’re being smuggled out of stores for. Charming chappie, apparently always ‘working out’, and not! in the gym. Watch out women…here comes da man. Now this is the same gang that is known to relax in bean bags. Nothing strange about that you say? But relaxing on bean bags at 4 in the morning on a main road in Hyderabad…right bang in the middle of the road. Well….these are crazy times we live in and these people are crazier than that. Split my sides just being with them.

Now Daddy (previously known as The Eyyala) and me happened to pack in some hyderabadi mutton biriyani, the charminar and the golconda in a few hours. Of course a few land speed records were beaten. Not bad considering that traffic signals in Hyderabad don’t work the way they do everywhere else. Green means ‘Go’. Yellow means ‘Go’. Red stands for (you guessed it) ‘GO!’ Now each of these is a story in itself, not to mention the B&C + Tequila experience and the incursion into Mainland China. That was with Daddy’s Flock. Thank you gang for a great time!!!

Wait! What?? Ah the fishing net you ask. Ok. Ok. Let me not ramble on and give you the answer, which is this: If you want a fishing net in Hyderabad, do not go to the barber, tailor, the carpenter or god forbid! a fishing equipment store. Head straight (if you’re in the charminar area) to the Jeweller! Yes. The jeweller. Don’t believe me? Here’s evidence:

yet another hmmmm....

"I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself."
Friedrich Nietzsche

how long, before god loses faith in you?

everybody's free

why run around searching for supposedly new words, when someone has more or less already said the same things? recited is more like it. and set to music, to boot! listen to Baz Luhrmann's Everybody's Free 9to waer sunscreen). It's in theBox to your right. Lyrics here.

sharing is caring

the words of wyclef jean ring in mine head as me introduces a new feature on theBekku. just cast your eyes to the right and see a nice orange box. yes....that's the one!

it's the Box. where me will do the share on some stuff that mine mind thinks is good and needs sharing. it's a neat widget. just click on the file that you need to listen to. actually listen to all of 'em. will be uploading stuff on stuff at regularly occasional intervals.

And if you want to download the songs, just click the link below the Box and you will be taken to a page where you can see the files and download them for your continued listening pleasures.

of boners and bibles

After the amazingly hilariously juvenile fun we all derived from reading about Boners – or rather about Batman’s Greatest Boner in particular – it’s time to move on to more serious topics. Like this!And remember, don’t do drugs (oh yeah!?). Reality is much better. And rehab is for quitters.
Speaking of boners in the bibles, this bible storyteller is going down. Rot in hell you sacriligious dog!

when a cat goes away....

births. deaths. relatives. work. car that gives way. work. a quiz. ah! weekends over the past couple or three months have been consistently thwarting all attempts at repopulating mine residence with cats. and to think that's its not hard at all, not when you have people like this on your side, but one of these days an expedition (yes, all things considered that is what it will be) must be mounted and cats procured.

And speaking of procuring cats brings one to this: the cat that's been the icon of theBekku turns out to be an official Kitler. Which means that for now, this Kitler will go away for a while and this one will be the official Bekku for a while:

and speaking of cats going away, those of you cat-people who've lost one will surely understand this

garrrrhhhh!!! who the fyukh ever came up with that term post-modern/post-modernism?
garrrrhhhh!!! why the fyukh did he ever do that for it to be perverted so?
garrrrhhhh!!! what the fyukh does the term post-modern/post-modernism mean?
garrrrhhhh!!! why the fyukh do people use the word post-modern and all its various permutations and combinations to describe everything from books and music to comic strips and las vegas strippers?

i hate. Yes hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate the word "post-modern" even though I have no fyukhin’ clue what the hell it means. Or what it’s supposed to mean. Contexts notwithstanding. Because none of the times when it has been used in various conversations has it made sense to me. Because none of the people who used it in the abovementioned conversations have been able to tell me what it means and most not even what they want it to mean. There are a couple of guys who made an honest attempt (you know who you are!), but I still didn’t get it cos we kept going around in confused circles. I guess I’m just dumb. All apologies.

All one knows is that if you wanna look cool and hip and intelligent (or sound intelligent at least) and be considered ‘an intellect’ please pepper your conversations with words like ‘post-modern’ ‘post-modernism’ ‘post-modernist’, etc. etc. no matter what you’re talking about.

phew.

*spleen alert!* Almost running out of spleen to vent. And with the last reserves of venom I give you this : PoMo - the amazing Postmodernism Generator!!!! (do you know somebody who speaks like this? Sure you do.)

Reading which, kind of reminds one of a post on theBekku not so long ago.
So this post’s last quota of spleen goes into directing you to the Revenge of Natives.

now, why would you want to know this?

this post is for the benefit of those who like Kiedis, but whose e-mail ids/names have not been given and/or for the benefit those whose friends haven't gone on a honeymoon in a long time.



















Used without the kind knowledge and/or permission of Mr. Anthony Kiedis. PS: There are some nice stories to go with these pics. go read.

thanks magaa

Mine friend, the Communal Cow, went on his “sponsored” honeymoon to Alleppey [the first of many, I’m sure!] and came back with these!!

Came back with these! For me!!!

currently tripping on Scar Tissue and crossed the part where two not-so greenhorn high school friends, a stoned Keidis and an equally stoned mike balzary (who would soon be known to the world as Flea), are jumping off buildings into random swimming pools. And the Red Hot Chili Peppers exist in the not-too-distant future. cool! Puppet Masters. Ah! What can one say about Heinlein what hasn’t already been said?

Sorry, no reviews. For either. Buy them, they’re worth it. Or just get your friend to go on his/her honeymoon. Hehehe….

Emerald Dog Poet - or - One thing leads to another

It’s funny when you look back into your life. And when the past rears its head up and you smile. You ask yourself, “was I like that?”. And you smile. For you know the answer. For you are the sum total of your existence. And that includes all the things, all the people that you were before. And are now. No regrets. You are what you were then. All phases included.

And why this now? Because this reared its head up: A poem (?) from mine past, circa 21-ish. Kinda dorky in an immature sort of way. I likes. For there is a story there.

And why did this rear its head up? Because i like inconsequential challenges. And thusly gave a shot at poetry after many years with this : A walk along the country lane : a poem by Poetess Sam a.k.a Samyukta.

And speaking of poetry or prose which garbs itself as poetry (or vice versa) brings back memories of the carefree times spent on various occasions in the cemetery, with the Criminally English and the Communal Cow and The Pillai who I don’t think has a linkable blog. The cemetery, where each took turns at writing one line of a story/poem as the case may be (wonder where those scraps of paper went?), in the august company of E.Obulesu (Army) and the Naidu family. Yes, they were six feet under us, but so what? Ah! My favourite cemetery spot in the whole wide world!!! Not including the burning ghats which I still prefer to cemeteries. Mine favourites so far being the Manikarnika in Banaras, and the one in Kathmandu near Pashupatinath. Now that topic is for another day.

subjectivity is the name of the game. objectivity, the cloak.

This is the reason why some songs should not be turned into videos.


Listen n enjoy. It's a good song. But open your eyes at your own risk. The images jar. *shudder*
Much gratitude to Viju "Ghazalmaster" Janardhanan for bringing this to mine notice.

Nature calls

The wild outdoors. Chilly nights by a campfire. Bloodsucking leeches. Great company. Great escapes. New friends. New scratches and bruises. Sweat and swearing. Memorable weekends. Stories of hunger, thirst and adventure. Anecdotes about the Forest Officers’ wives. Waking up to bird calls, and not ringtones. And of course, trekking, rock climbing & rappelling, mountaineering, rafting, parasailing and more. For less. You've always wanted it, yes? Well. Worry not! BaseCamp is here.

Yeh Pink Floyd saala hai kaun?

Or An Idiot’s Guide to Pink Floyd : theBekku exclusive! With the usual peregrinations into other related titbits of intelligent-sounding information and conversation points

Clearing some misconceptionsContrary to popular perception Pink Floyd did not die of a drug overdose. In fact, Pink Floyd’s not dead at all. It is to squash these rumours that Pink Floyd got his act together to perform last year at a circus organised to give aids to the people of Africa. Incidentally, the organiser of this carnival, Baba Geldof (not be confused with Baba Dylan, Baba Marley or Baba Ramdev), was for a while the ‘Pink’ in Pink Floyd. And then his shaved eyebrows grew back.

Also, contrary to another popular perception, Floyd is spelt F-L-O-Y-D not F-L-U-I-D, pink liquids, Roger’s Waters, and common nouns notwithstanding.

The various origins of Pink Floyd
Now let’s backtrack to when it all began. Inspired by various inspirations, Pink Floyd got his act together for the first time. It should be noted here that he was a student of architecture at this point of time. Which probably explains his later fascination with bricks, cement, walls and other things constructive. It should also be noted here that it has been suspected for a long time that The Wall (an animated cartoon movie, which also claims to be the world’s longest music video) is a tribute to Bangalore Boy Rahul Dravid. When contacted backstage during his concert in Bangalore regarding this fact, Pink Floyd just shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s just not cricket.”

Pink Floyd: a “god of rock”
Interestingly, it was during the period preceding this aforementioned concert in Bangalore, that Pink Floyd was duly conferred with the title of “God of Rock”, a title which he (Pink Floyd) shares with such luminous luminaries – as Bryan Adams, Uriah Heep, Mick Jagger a.k.a. The Rolling Stones, Inner Circle, MC Hammer, That smoke-on-the-Waters band (no relation to Roger’s Waters), The Winds of Change Band, and many others – and guess what? Some of whom were actually rock musicians! Or musicians for that matter. This is in keeping with an old Bangalore tradition of calling people “God of Rock” when they decide to perform in Bangalore as part of their Pension Fund Tour or The Where-Can-I-Find-Suckers-Who-Still-Listen-To-Me –And-Will-Pay-To-Listen-To-Me Tour. It has been surmised that this custom probably began when Queen Shantala conferred on Amarashilpi Jakannacharya the title “God of Rock.” Go figure. In other newses, other “Gods of Rock” who are rumoured to be on their way to Bangalore include Skid Row, Tears for Fears, Milli Vanilli, and Kevin Federline.

The various origins of Pink Floyd (coda)
Oh! Coming back to Pink. Before officially printing his name on sleeves (of albums) as ‘Pink Floyd’, Pink Floyd when around pubs and clubs of London under various names which were as varied as Six Sigma (from where the measure of quality gets its name), Mega Death (in tribute to his favourite thrash band with an ‘a’ added to avoid copyright issues) and the word Abdabs with many prefixes and suffixes. Pink Floyd (for one final time before he became Pink Floyd) went by the name of The Tea Set (a fact commemorated in the song ‘a saucer full of cigarettes’).

Then finally, he settled upon a name by which we know him today. The ‘Pink’ part came from a Black guy who was into Blues and went by the name of Pink Anderson of Chicago. The second part ‘Floyd’ came either from his lawyer, Counsellor Floyd or from a member of the local administration called Floyd the Councillor – depending on whom you ask, Pink fans who pretend to smoke weed and Floyd fans who visit pubs that play music from all three of his albums or quizzing aficionados who don’t listen to Pink Floyd but who know everything there is to know about Pink Floyd, and then some.

The Hits just kept on coming
For a band with all of just four “official” releases (not including Rwandan bootlegs) Pink Floyd has delivered a surprisingly large number of profitable hits, some of which some people have actually claimed to know the lyrics of. First there was the breakthrough album called “The Other Side of the Moon or something like that” (in the words of an informed music store sales man) an album that gave the world such hits as ‘Time’ and ‘Money’. Another famous song is The Bell Song from some other album. Not the Man on Fire album though, which is supposedly a tribute to some dead guy who was in the jewellery business and went by the name of Crazy Diamond. There was also that monster hit called “The Bell Song”.

Pink Floyd: The Influences of Popular Culture (and Unpopular Culture as well)Were it not for Pink Floyd, we would today not have a book called “Animal Farm” by Orson Welles, the same guy who wrote the screenplay for War of the Worlds starring the ‘Tom’ in TomKat. The inspiration for Animal Farm apparently came from a Pink Floyd album called Flying Pigs. Pink Floyd has sometimes been very controversial, for instance, that monster hit with a chorus that went “We don’t need no birth control!”

Pink Floyd is also credited with having invented the genre of rock called ‘Space Rock’ ‘Psychedelic Rock’ ‘Progressive Rock’, among others. Some people have also claimed that he invented ‘Dance Rock’ when he released A Collection of Great Dance Songs – a compilation album of great dance songs (duh!) that misled many critics into calling Pink Floyd as having laid the groundwork for the genre of Disco Metal.

Of course, no mention of Pink Floyd would be complete without a mention of his albums’ covers. Pink Floyd pioneered the method of art through hypnosis. Leading to some great albums covers. Great album covers eh?

The sociological impact of Pink Floyd is legendary. Research has shown that the mere mention of Pink Floyd in a conversation raises the Perceived IQ of the speaker by almost 48 points. This is rivalled only by a mention of Bob Dylan: 53.5 points. Of course if you’re a little older, desperate and are gunning for anything that will do, you might want to try Grateful Dead. If the girl's just out of her teens and a manic depressive try Nirvana.

Be cool. Be hot. Become a Pink Floyd Fan today!
Now that you know more or less how much you need to know be known as a person who knows Pink Floyd, why not become a fan today? The last person who claimed to be a Pink Floyd fan hooked himself a hot date. Plus, Pink Floyd is supposedly a good man to listen to when you’re stoned (as evidenced by the previous boyfriend of the friend of my ex-girlfriend). Rock is good when stoned, or something to that effect.

So there you go, almost everything you wanted to know about Pink Floyd, but were too scared to ask. But remember! To come across as a True Fan, remember to say "Floyd" as in *shake of head* "Yeah, i listen to floyd." Saying "Pink is a good band" could lead to potentially disastorous results and the loss of a hot date.

(theBekku lays no claims to originality of any of the ideas and information presented above. This guide would not have been possible without the help of various people through the ages. Thank yer all for yer valuable nuggets. Of course, the mistakes and rambles are all mine.)

blather aborted....

theBekku must needs learn the art of brevity. But once a random rambler, always a random rambler, one guesses. For theBekku had a nice, long, lengthy and carefully composed post – about travels and travails over a hectic few days – just headed from ‘draft’ status to ‘published’. Until the Eyyala, regular partner in crime & punishment, onion aficionado, butter-lover and general good fun, came along and killed the post in one stroke. For he wrote me something that I can never match. This is what he messaged me.

“2195 kms. 74 hours. 17 locations. 2 states. 2 great guys. People would call it madness…we call it Life.”

You can’t beat that, can you? i can’t. And yes, truth be told, i can claim only a portion of the above stats. i bailed. and for one, i never did keep count.