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.

Damn these Hucksters!!!!

Dorks. That big, fat and irritating coca-cola advertisement is still doing the rounds. Do people even stop to think? Oh. Stupid question. Just goes on to show the pervasiveness and the power of the media in general and advertising in particular. To influence “people” and societies in all the wrongs ways, most of the time. If there are two professions that need regulation, it is these. Especially that whore of capitalism, consumerism, whatever, called advertising. Scratch that, even the media in equal portions. Speaking of which, yours truly has just – after years of scouring shelves and streets – laid hands on Pohl and Kornbluth’s The Space Merchants. A harsh critique-cum-parody-cum-satire on advertising. About a world that is run (for all practical purposes) by ad agencies. Where your standing is defined by your ability to own. About a world divided into two: the haves and the have-nots. About a consumer-driven society gone horribly wrong, which anyway is the fate of any such society. Anyway reading has just begin, full review later.

The copy of The Space Merchants i just got happens to an old 1981 edition (the book was written in 1952, which makes its prescience even more so prophetic), prominently stamped “DISCARD” by The Harrisburg Union High School’s Instructional Media Center (hmmm… instructional media center).

And this is what precedes the book in the ‘raving reviews’ pages. The St. Louis Dispatch gets it down pat – “…a bitter satire on the conscienceless activities of the ad men…” Kingsley Amis, “The Space Merchants, clearly, is an admonitory satire on certain aspects of our own society, mainly economic…” “In The Space Merchants, we have some of the best satire of our times; it has The Hucksters beat us all hollow.” That was the Denver Post. This is what The New York Times had to say “…a civilisation built on the code of the huckster, where the account executive is king, and the captive audience is just that—a mass of helpless, hapless serfs, living by the law of the singing commercial.” See what advertising can reduce us to? And I stress, this book was written in ’52. A classic I’m sure it will turn out to be. Huck! I guess it already is one.

“Give me the airtime, and I will sell the Earth.”

my land, my peoples

A picture's worth a thousand words. These are worth billions to me. They tell me the story of how almost ten lakh people can crowd into a 3-kilometre stretch, driven there by nothing more than faith.
The sweltering heat. The suffocating humidity. Fainting is common. Stampedes more so. All to see the Siblings on their journey once. To see the gods who take sick leave. To see a king turn into a sweeper. To get a hand on the ropes that pull the chariots. Just once is enough. It's the dream of a lifetime for many people. Driven by nothing more than faith.

Once a part of them, you lose your Self in the flow. Carried away by the fervour that each one emanates. It's a time to celebrate. A time to worship. A time to wish. A time to pray. A time that i hope never passes.

Ha!!

Indians make up one of the major human ancestry groups, with relatively little genetic differentiation among people from different parts of the country, according to a new study conducted in the US. "We were struck both by the low lewel of diversity amongst people spanning such a large geographical region, and that by the fact that people from the Indian sub-continent constituted a distinct group when compared to populations from other parts of the world" says Pragna Patel, who led the study.

And this is from the synopsis of the report

"....The authors performed an extensive investigation of Indian genetic diversity and population relationships, sampling 15 groups of India-born immigrants to the United States and genotyping each individual at 1,200 genetic markers genome-wide. Populations from India, and groups from South Asia more generally, form a genetic cluster, so that individuals placed within this cluster are more genetically similar to each other than to individuals outside the cluster. However, the amount of genetic differentiation among Indian populations is relatively small. The authors conclude that genetic variation in India is distinctive with respect to the rest of the world, but that the level of genetic divergence is smaller in Indians than might be expected for such a geographically and linguistically diverse group.

Ha! More ammo. You can read the full PSoS Genetics report here

here by "unbelievable" demand

This post could also, alternatively, have been titled... And yes, that's the Page. Y'know, Jimmy of the dirigible band. Notice chai in hand. cheerio. pix off. purpose served. Full story still available. In person only. No credit cards acepted.

go ahead, insult yourself.

drawing a line

The more you immerse yourself in books – in words, thoughts, ideas, notes, footnotes, anecdotes, history, geography, historiography, et al – there’s one thing that screams out at you from every page: YOU KNOW NOTHING!!! And if this is what the pursuit of knowledge and ideas is all about, so be it. Because there’s so much we know, and that much more we don’t.

But what I know is that reading, and understanding, leads to one thing dangerous –opinions. And the minute you have an opinion – even if it is about the lack of hair on SRK’s chest – you draw a line. Between you and those who don’t agree. Between those that are with you and between those that aren’t, or even worse those diametrically opposite and in opposition to you. Ah! There’s so much we need to know…and so do you.

my land beckons…

Another haitus. This time brought about by that plagues most of us. Wanderlust. Or as Steinbeck would’ve put it, “…an urge to get away from Here.” And Here is everywhere that is everyday. This is the time. A time for unpredictability and the unexplored. A time for no agendas and aimless wandering with some purpose. Coursing through peoples and cultures of mine land. wandering and wondering at the bold richness that makes this place what is is. Everyday brings something or someone new. And isn't that something to look forward to?

So unless I do a Dharmapada for no reason, or the Juggernaut’s wheels take me, or both of which seem unlikely, regular thought processes, venom spewing, online dumping and such like should resume week after next, Tribhuvaneshwara willing.

Matthe siguva. Ati sheegradalli….

Hiatus. It's called. Brought on by various things like work, football, life and other such disorders. As a sign of life, i give you this week's PostSecret. sheesh!
And among other things, the portly artist currently known as Balraj (he of the late biriyani cartoon fame) takes his first tentative steps on the blogverse in the form of a QuantumLeap.