Losto in Translationo - Part 4 - Must have accessory spotted

Paris Hilton wannabes take note! Here is the ultimate fashion accessory to enhance your reputation of being in tune with the edgiest of fashion. I spotted this at an exotic accessories shop in a High fashion mall in Yokohama.

Curious....last time i saw something like this was in the hands of a Tam Pappadam seller in my hometown..

Losto in Translationo - Part 3 - Spotted in Sushi land

Been quite some time since I posted anything here.

Well, have been travelling around in the weekends a lot. And, roaming around in Japan armed with a cam (sometimes mobile cam) allows you to get some hilarious samples of Japanese English..or as the locals say "Engirisu". These are everywhere- on the tshirts, on menus and just everywhere. There is actually a website dedicated to these outrageous samples of English in Japan (www.engrish.com). Here are my contributions which could qualify for the same. More later...

(Thought I'll put up some snaps and keep the blog alive till i find something to write about :-))



Sign on the bathroom door of an inn in Nikko. Guess there is an option to sing :-)) a la Hera Pheri/ RamjiRao Speaking :-))




Well, the chef is a rather arrogant guy if you ask me .




Thats would be about 4'o clock Beijing time I guess

Losto in translationo Part 2 - A day in the life of ....

It couldn’t be my alarm clock already !!!!

I'd hardly shut my eyes.. The persistent weird tune woke me from my dreamfilled stupor !!
Reluctantly, I pressed the pause button on the dream i was seeing and semi-opened my eyes. The clock was showing 3am.. After a few seconds of absolute incomprehension i figured it must be the phone. Now who could be calling me at this time? I hunt for the phone from the 6-7 similar shaped devices on the table lying on the table …TV remote, AC remote, bar of soap, Beer Can….and then I remember phone had a cradle. I pick it up.

" Hello??"

The caller " something in Rapid Japanese"

I said "Sorry wrong number" and kept the phone.

I lay down again on my bed and pressed, "Play" on the dream sequence. Too good to last. The phone rings again. Muttering under my breath I cut the call, remove it off the cradle and go back to bed. Almost immediately it rang again.

Lesson Learned - No point removing a cordless phone off its cradle!!!!

"Hello??" i ask politely while gritting my teeth. The caller " Something in even more Rapid Japanese" but i catch something like Sandeepo san, plocesso and something called OC-aah.

It slowly dawns on me- the guy is looking for someone in Tech Support for some OCR process. Having been in Investment Banking Ops earlier I understood the predicament of someone looking for Tech Support guy in the face of a huge crisis. This could be important. This might cause a major crisis in the Stock Markets tomorrow. A company might go bankrupt. People might lose jobs. All because some payment did not go thru and this couldn’t be prevented because the Tech Support guy couldn’t be reached at the given number. I could not live with such guilt for the rest of my life!! But what can a Business Consultant do for Tech Support? The person he was looking for would have been staying in my apt earlier and they had the number in the emergency contact list.

Ok, I figured out so much, but how do I convey this? I remembered the Japanese word for Phone number was Bango. So i tried the best Japanese I could manage "Wrongo bango. Sandeepo san doesnt stay here any moro."

The caller " something in bewildered Rapid Japanese ???"

Me "This is a Hoter-o ( I hope that would mean a hotel) . I stay hereo . My roomo. Sandeepo sano no stayo. Manassilayodo?- that last part in my mothertongue ;-)

I slammed the phone this time. Didnt care about any company going bankrupt. My sleepo is more importanto .

But I dont get sleep for another hour now. The phone rings a couple of times more but I dont pick the phone. My sleep is really screwed up. But at 7am, the merciless alarmclock wakes me up. I'm as groggy as a punchdrunk boxer after 9 rounds of fighting, but somehow drag myself to get out of bed and go to office.

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It's a five minutes walk to the Osaki station. Then catch the Rinkai line. The rush hour is at 8-8:30 am range - and though its not exactly Virar fast (Mumbaiites can relate to this) the rush is pretty bad. I go at 8:45 to strategically avoid the rush. People do queue up at times to board a train and allow people to get out first (Mumbaiites cannot relate to this ;-) ). Tennozu Isle (Tennnnn -Oh- zoooo Airu -as per the announcements) wher my office is at, is on area reclaimed from the sea. I'm sleepy thru out the day...
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I was determined to find a solution to the “Tech Support Issue”. I met my "Japanese language expert" friend at the cafeteria. Asked him how to “politely” say "You have a wrong number" in Japanese. "Thats simple" He responded. You say "..................................................................................."He completed a sentence that took around two and a half minutes to complete. I gave up. I'd rather learn Tech Support than learn that by heart. "Ok, how do i say that without being particularly polite??" - politeness be damned!

“Hmm, you can say Chi-gao denwa bango” he said.

Good, short and sweet! That I can remember!
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Getting out of the office happens only around 8pm. My walk to Shinagawa station passes thru 2 bridges across the canal providing a picturesque view of the skyscrapers around. Shinagawa station is really huge, something like Grand Central NY according to my NY returned friend. Aa huge structure with several platforms, shops and restaurants. There’s even a Nepali run Indian restaurant at the station called Sitar. Of course, with my amazing cooking skills I don’t need to rely on any Nepali for an evening meal. So I walk on.

My journey back from office takes exactly 35 minutes. I reach home. Dear readers; this abode of mine, is a sterling example of space optimization. I’ll tell you how this works. Take an average sized PVC pipe. Divide its interior into a “Barbie doll accessories set-size” Kitchen, Bedroom, Shower and Loo.. Install a TV, DVD player, Microwave, fax machine, Washing Machine and dryer in the remaining space – and voila! You have my apartment. Space becomes a issue if you are trying to cook. Storage space is premium and flat surfaces tend to attract stuff. So, what if the pickles jar is on the Fax machine and the Rice cooker on the Washing machine? What if the cornflakes packets line the outside of the Shower room wall? This is a pretty comfortable home for me now.

I switch on the TV and surf the channels. The govt channels are some 11 in number, predictably only Japanese. In fact, even with Cable TV there are only a few in English. However, there are 4 channels, which show English movies, sometimes Japanese dubbed but not always. However, trailers are always in Japanase. In the last month, I’ve seen several Horrywuddu movies such as Dai Hardo, Joorasic Parko and Waaaird Waaaird Westo. Also there’s CNN and BBC to quote the latest tally from Iraq. MTV seems to have 99% Japanese content with some hiphop thrown in at some time. As the soulful Love songs in Japanese pregnant with feelings and emotions are lost on me, I go check out the Sports channels. Baseball, Basketball, Golf and American Football. Got to work out something by the time World Cup starts in March. Here is a country totally Americanized sports wise.

Well, but then you have the Internet for entertainment. A lightning fast connection is something you appreciate if you have waited hours for a download via a BSNL line. The advantage? Streaming content – without much buffering. Youtube has most of the KBC 3 episodes uploaded so managed to catch up on those. Also most Indian Hindi channels are streamed online so that no Software engineer’s wife would miss her daily dose of the Saas bahu capers.. Also, the news channels such as CNN-IBN, NDTV, and Times Now have streamed content so that you can track what is the latest on Abhishek and Aishwarya.

I fix up my dinner- Japanese salmon fried in specially imported Kerala Fish Masala . Awesome!! I salute my own cooking skills, then call wife to report on the success of the same (I ‘ve to keep this on for another month before she joins me here). I check my blog; comment on a few others and go to bed.

2:30 am…..Dejavu! The phone rings. It is the one for Sandeepo san. I almost forget my lines. “Chiii-……….errrr???? “gooo” What was it??"

I manage to remember in the nick of time

“CHI - GAVO DENWA BANGO!!!” I shout it into the phone triumphantly.

”Oh, I hav the wlong number??” he replies…. in English.

I slam the phone….



PS: Sandeepo san, whoever you are - if you are reading this- please update your contact number at your company

PPS: If any of you know any Sandeep or anyone who might call himself Sandeepo when in Tokyo, (u never know) ask him to do the above urgently.


PPPS: This was just a weekday. Await more travelogues on my weekend trips

West Side Story- Misadventures of a Desi Software Casanova in Yankeeland

(While the next report from Tokyo is shaping up, enjoy this anecdote from a friend..of course the masala and special effects are by flaashgordon)

This did not happen to me. Neither did it happen to someone I know. And I heard it from someone I had no business of hearing it from................

Ok enough of crap, just know that this is just an anecdote out of the anecdotal Pandora’s box which opens when there are a couple of old friends meeting up, are a couple of drinks down and are swapping stories…

Anyway…here’s the story.......

“There was this Software guy who went onsite to the US“ … Can hear your collective groans “Aww, not another one”. Are Software guy jokes are more common than the Sardar jokes in Bangalore nowadays? Ok, anyway I can’t help it if he went onsite. .

Anyway, this man was different. He was not the usual who vows to live onsite on just one dollar a day, have only Puliogre or Thairsadam everyday and save the rest. This one, for starters was a stud mallu Casanova who used to make the hearts of every babe in office go flutter (Disclaimer 1: This was probably his own opinion ...Disclaimer 2: The definition of a babe in a Software company is “ anyone who fills “F” in the gender column of the Application form”)…. ….

Well, our man had watched enough movies to get a fairly accurate picture of America as a place where women generally dress in Baywatch gear and guys could pick’em up at any bar/pub just by saying……… “Bond, James Bond”.

And so, he had his task cut out…. He wasn’t going to miss any “opportunity” when it presented itself, and was on the lookout right from the time he boarded the plane. Unfortunately for the man though, most of the intricacies of the Queen’s language were still a mystery to him

The AI flight out of Bangalore was eventless, the Airhostess too old and his neighbor was another software guy. Our man hence concentrated on the next best thing about International flights ie: Free Booze… By the time he reached NY, he had done reasonable justice to Kerala’s "highest per-capita consumption of Alcohol" statistic...But well man doesn't live by whisky alone...

He hoped for better luck in the transit flight from NY. Our man entered the aircraft and found his seat. The next seat was empty. A “gorgeous blonde” entered the plane. Our man held his breath. She paused near his seat. The man fervently prayed to all the gods he knew. She smiled, checked her ticket and sat down beside him. Our man’s heartbeats quickened. He pretended to stare out of the window while strategizing furiously. Scenarios, Alternate Scenarios, Counter Scenarios. The conversation Opener, follow-up, clincher. He didn’t even realize it when the flight took off…

“Sir........” he turned. The Airhostess was offering a glass of Orange Juice. His neighbor helped the Airhostess by taking the glass from her and offered it to him. Maybe it was the unexpectednerss of that, his nervousness, or the alcohol in the blood stream, the man tried to take the glass and awkwardly dropped it. The juice got all spilt in his lap. “ Sorry” She exclaimed ; took a tissue and proceeded wipe it off in his lap. Our man was in a dream. Something had to happen now. Various movie scenarios flashed thru his mind in fastforward . The situation begged to be taken advantage of ....

"No proublam maadamm, ” he said. She smiled. He was encouraged

He decided to start a conversation. “Wh-where you going ?” He asked

“I’m goin to Seattle” She answered

“ I goingg Seattle too. I am SOFTWARE engineer - Microsoft Project, you know Microsoft- Bill Gates???” He was sure that’d impress her.
“ Oh, that’s great”. She smiled again
………………
………………
……………..
Our man was eager to continue the conversation. He wasn’t going to let go of such a golden opportunity. He told her about the “Dotnet” project and how he was chosen out of many for the assignment.

She kept smiling and listening. Our man decided to take it to the next level…..
“ So why YOU going Seattle? ” He asked

And then came the answer, which broke his heart into a thousand pieces; made him stay off blondes in his lifetime….and prematurely ends this story.

She answered, “ I’m going to visit my grandchildren!!!!!!”



(Do you think this initial setback caused our man to abandon hope and focus on coding alone? No way, here’s part 2)


A few days passed; our man started on the Client Project. Lack of Linguistic abilities never tampered with his supreme coding skills and he was doing well in his job. However, this did prevent him getting anywhere close to a Yankee “All-American” woman and so the romantic life he dreamed off never took off.

Days passed and our man was getting desperate. No action, no satisfaction. ...But then one day fate smiled on him. He was working late one day when someone spoke behind him “Excusa Senor“ . He turned, and Lightning bolt struck him . He could hear Violins were playing in the background.. It was the Hispanic maid who was cleaning the office. Almost Salma Hayek, though probably 15 kg heavier and probably, around so many years older. The opportunity he was looking for had come to him with a Vacuum Cleaner.

Both shared a common advantage of not knowing too much English. And soon, our man was more than friends with her. Don’t ask how they communicated but he soon got himself invited to her house for dinner on Friday.

D-Day came. The dinner went great though the conversation was difficult. After the food, they went to the living room. Our man could sense the atmosphere was electric. The night held a lot of promise. He wanted to say something romantic to set the mood. He looked out of the window .... He opened the door and stepped out. He felt chilly so he put on his coat. The lady looked bemused, he hadnt spoken anything after the dinner and was now putting on his coat.

It was a beautiful night, slightly chilly but there was a clear sky where one could see the stars. The moonlight bathed the foliage around. It was breathtaking. The night was so beautiful . He took it all in but unfortunately, his severely limited vocabulary did not allow him to express all that..The only adjective he could think of, was "good". And so he said……………
“Good night!!!”

(It was a long walk back; he never realized why the Latina went inside and slammed the door.)

PS: Do leave a comment and do share a similar story in the comments section if u have one :-)))

Check out my latest post on my Tokyo life here

Losto in translationo (Part 1)

(Am onsite in Tokyo for some time..Here are some reflections from the first few days of being here. Typing this down from my PVC pipe sized Apt)

Even if I was twice as good as Sherlock Holmes himself who figured out the "Mystery of the Dancing figures" in a jiffy ; it is going to take me at least a decade in deciphering these weird little wiggly figures which they call "Japanese". Ok, I’m talking about the language here and not the people. Everyone seems to confuse the two. Like a friend who was asked "Did you try to pick up any Japanese?" He answered, "No way, I'm happily married” And added indignantly " btw neither did I try to pick up any Indians here!"

Well, it’s not just the humans; even the machines talk only Japanese here. The washing machine, the Microwave, TV, DVD Player, the Vending Machine and the recorded voice in the telephone line. A couple of times I managed to horrify people on my lack of manners by slamming shut the elevator doors on their noses coz I pushed the shut button instead of open. The squiggly figures for "Open" and "Shut" looked similar anyway.

Good news is you can make some Japanese words by adding an "u/o" sound after a familiar Engish word. Hence spoon becomes spoonu, glass is garassu, passport becomes passporto, and Bangalore becomes Bengalooru... (ok, the last one is not a particularly good example for Japanese translation)

Unfazed, I'm building my Japanese vocabulary here though some words are outright weird. For eg: can you imagine a language where you call your mom “Haha”? Just remember any sentimental Hindi movie scene and replace "Maa" with "Haha" then you might see the problem! You’ll be clutching your tummy and laughing! And for Dad? Its Chichi !!(ouch! Reminds me of yellow pants, multicolored shirt and awful David Dhawan movies) But I was somehow comforted by the word for 100,000 - it is something like "Jomon (Jumen)" and it sounded familiar enough to my mallu ears ;-)

The ubiquitous Indian techie is now in every city in the world and Tokyo is no exception. In the floor where I work, the Indians actually outnumber the Japanese 4 to 1. Even in the Serviced Apt Bldg where I stay, half the occupants are Indian techies. In fact in office the more serious language problem I face here is with Kannada rather than Japanese. The vegetarians amongst us have one mantra taught by those who came before them. Any place where it involves food say “ Sakana nashi, niku nashi” (no fish, no meat) even if you are ordering ice cream!! At the office cafeteria, now I find it difficult to order anything with fish or meat coz they automatically assume that a person with an Indian face can’t have any Sakana however much he begs and pleads for it.

People here work long. And long is an understatement. Some of them return from work only the next day. They even have a term “Karoshi” to describe death due to overwork. (Thank God we don’t have such problems in Kerala as any remote chances of these are countered using a local custom called "Hartals". Dunno the Japanese equivalent of that anyway. nobody seems to know :-)) And maybe because they do not know when they return from office , all seem to carry toothbrushes wherever they go. To the extent that, at 10:30 pm at night in an upscale lounge pub I saw a guy brushing his teeth!

People are generally helpful if you ask them for directions and will try their best with the limited English. Also it is a safe country with an extremely low crime rate. You see technology in action anywhere. The Electronic gadget supermarkets at Akihabara have shelves and shelves of ingenious gadgets. A USB vacuum cleaner for your Laptop? They have it. And quality is taken for granted so much that, even if you are buying an expensive gadget –say a laptop or camera – all you have to do is point at it and they just pack it. I hear that they get so insulted if you actually insist on testing something before buying that they may commit harakiri.

And then there are the local customs. Long ago when I was a kid I had taken a resolution that I wont bow to anyone’s pressure and would stand up to the right thing. But here I had to discard that resolution because bowing itself is the right thing!! The normal custom of bowing involves the pectoral muscles, and can be considered exercise equivalent to one-ab-crunch at the gym. So if you meet about 20 people a day, you will be reasonably fit. The hands posture taken while bowing is sometimes rather similar to that a defender takes while a free kick is being taken, but your head position should be like Zidane about to butt Materazzi.

People are friendly here but you should not over-estimate it. Like the time we were in a train, and at a station an old couple got in and sat on the opposite seat….They smiled and bowed deep. Touched by their friendliness towards such a ragtag group of Indians, I bowed too! They bowed again and I bowed even deeper. After the third bow, my friend nudged me and pointed to the platform behind me. There was another old couple bowing deep too. Unfortunately, they were bowing to the couple in the train and I just had been in the way!

I have gone back to my resolution of not bowing to anyone.

Check out this sample of Japanese TV fare -( not what the kids watch) and you may appreciate the Saas Bahu Serials a bit more . If you are in office better keep the volume low ;-)




(await more stories from here..this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Check out my latest post on my Tokyo life here

Mon Amie !!!!

Mallu bloggers have often posted on the beauty and variety of Mallu names. Of course, there is no other community who has got creative with names over the years.

If you studied in Kerala, Biju, Baiju, Saju, Soju, Fiju, Lijo, Jijo, Jojo, Mojo wouldve been half your classmates. And if you are non-Keralite -you'd still have met us nice guys from God's own Country - In all probablity the tech guy in the next cubicle with a thick moustache and a thicker accent would be called Jomon.

If you've known enough Keralites, you realize that Minimol has not been named such because of a particular small mole somewhere on her ; and Beenamol is not a statement on the previous career of a KGB infiltrator. Yes, Mol simply means daughter and Mon is son . So when a mother calls out to her son " Mone..." there is no reason she's invoking an French Impressionist painter with a first name Claude..

There's an unwritten code that you have to make sure the name has enough similar rhyming names ; or the non-rhyming one feels cut-off from the family tree. You cannot call the first one Bejoy; the second one Rejoy but the third one Avaraachan. Avaraachan would then be victim of apartheid within his family and the mental scars it leaves would make him do something tragic in life such as say, become a teetotaller or worse; go to work on a Hartal day !!

Parents faced with the creative task of naming their first born have to be really careful as if not; naming the second and third kid would be a nightmare- I know siblings by the names - Saajan, Maajan, Laajan and Vyaajan (ok, i didnt really catch the last one's name). And you might have a dyed-in-red-Communist Dad naming kids as Stalinmon, Leninmon and Mao Tse Tungmon (whew). And there have been cases in the 60's where a Mallu dad with a serious literary bend would call out to his fighting kids " Maupassant-mone (ok, thats pronounced as Mo-ppasang-mon) stop fighting with Kafkamon"

Ok, Why am I so masochistic?- i guess we Mallus are not alone in naming kids on a particular logic. Heard the one about the Sardarji in the army who decided to name his kids with Military titles?? Accordingly the first-born was Captain Singh, the second Colonel Singh but then..horrors ; the third was a girl !! He racked his brains till he could name her appropriately and then he knew what to do. Hospital records later showed that an "Armoured Kaur" was born there!!

All Mallu names are pretty harmless under most circumstances, but then let me come to the focal point of this entire post. ...You have to realize that sometimes there are quite unforeseen circumstances too where a name can be quite a problem!!

Having had to shuttle between 3 cities in the recent past- I store names in my mobile using a short place code. Hence Rohit in Gurgaon is stored as " Rohit Ggn" ; a friend Siddharth in London would be "Sid Ldn" and my wife in Bangalore would be stored as...well " Wife" ;-))

This works perfectly but then recently I was going thru my mobile phonebook when I froze!!!!

I furtively looked for any of the CCTV cameras which are said to monitor every move of Londoners and proceeded to Delete names on my phone.

Afterall, I commute here with a Haversack on my back and as as I'm often late ; i walk pretty fast. Now, that itself should be a reason enough for being shot by the London Cops but imagine a Cop shows restraint and decides to confirm my terrorist links by checking my mobile - maybe just to ensure that it is not some remote detonation device. He'll just take a cursory look at the names in the phonebook and confirm his suspicions about my Al-Queda links

I had an MBA batchmate named " Bini" who's now in London ; and accordingly i'd stored her name in my mobile as " Bini Ldn" !!!!

“ Brit – Cultural Learnings from the UK for Unsuspecting Software Engineers in Bangalore”

It was all a blur to me. I could just about see the shrouded figure in front of me and through the corner of my eye; I saw the Pakistani approaching; weapon in hand. I saw the glint of metal; disintegrating into thousands of reflections, right in front of me. ..

“Hill mat!!!” He commanded in his raspy voice; probably seeing me trying to turn my head. I did not dare…Probably I brought it upon myself, I kind of knew; I wasn’t going to look the same when he was through…
…………………………………………………………………………………………..

(This was of course my first Haircut in London; at the affordable shop at Brick Lane (Yeah, that’s the one made famous by Monica Ali’s book). And yeah, by the way it’s always a problem that once I take off my glasses I hardly can see my own outline, or what the barber is doing to my hair!)
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………


The first thing that a per-diem empowered IT guy does on landing in the UK is learn the multiplication tables of eighty. This essentially is necessitated by the realization that Indian Rupees are not all that valuable, once out of the country. And that one little innocuous British pound coin which looks like a 5 rupee coin is actually worth more than Eighty Indian Rupees…

If not pre-warned, you sense the power of exchange rate on the very first day while paying the cab fare from the airport Heathrow to your accommodation. “Eighty Five pounds!!!? That’s above Seven thousand rupees!! Back home one can pay a driver a salary, bonus and medical allowance for a couple of months with that sort of money” The Vovlo chasing Madivala autowallah who charges 30 bucks for 1.5 km in the morning doesn’t sound all that cut-throat suddenly.

Next day, you step out for lunch at the “cheap” Mc Donald’s. Now a Mc Donald’s value meal deceptively says £ 5.99 and looks cheap too till you apply the tables. “Five Hundred rupees for a damn burger???You can almost buy a 5 star buffet lunch at Leela Palace with that. Or one week of lunches at Shanti Sagar or a life time of lunches at the office cafeteria!!!

“But wait, there’s another meal for £2.75 and WOW YOU EVEN GET A FUN TOY along with it!!!! Maybe I’ll go for that.”

“Boss, that says Mc Donald’s Kids Meal. Maybe they don’t give it to you unless you are a kid, or have a kid”. ;-)

“Oh ok. I’m on a fast today!!”

And here’s more…Forty rupees for an SMS home, Six hundred rupees on train fare to a place thirty minutes away, Three times the price of a shirt if you prefer to get it ironed and guess how much for the haircut?

Any upmarket Central London hair salon would charge a guy at least £12 (nearly 1000 rupees) !!And if you are a non-metrosexual who hasn’t paid anything above forty bucks on a zimble haircut; that is sacrilege. (Ok, I’m talking to the guys here, not the weaker sex who’ll blow up a few hundreds on a haircut regardless of currency). That’s when you ask around and find places like the Pakistani Ali’s “Grace Hair Cut Saloon” in Brick lane with the same familiar shady look as a salon back home, with pictures of Sanjay Dutt, John Abraham and Hritik Roshan at the window.. There’s usually a line of hippie software engineers waiting there, whatever time you go. Well, the done thing among software guys coming here on projects is to come from India with the hairstyle of an Army cadet and don’t take a haircut here till you look like a member of a rock band. So when you sit in the line of people waiting, and look in the mirrors you get an idea how you would look being a part of a rock band. The barber skips the obvious while chatting you up – I mean the “Are you from India question” and directly goes to …"so you from Chennai?, no Bangalore?” You are overjoyed and pay £5 without grumbling; not bothering to remember that it’s still more than Four Hundred rupees!

Now on the entertainment options - (Warning : not all options are covered here, this being a family blog and more so because my wife reads my blog)

If you don’t get a place with Sky TV (i.e.: cable TV) you are stuck with 5 free channels on TV. The first one is BBC which exists solely for discussing whether the British Army should be in Iraq. This is what I call consistency- Three years ago when I was here; they were earnestly discussing the very same thing. Other channels are marginally better at times. However, sometimes things can get so boring if you don’t have Cable TV that once; for lack of choice; I spent an entire hour watching a pgm on the homing skills of pigeons!! Things are different if you have Sky. I actually moved to an apt with a friend mainly because they had Cable TV. And next day I was woken by the dreaded “Jhalak Dikhlaaajaaa” on B4U. Ah ! Am home! You also get Star Plus with the Saas Bahu Serials, Sony with its SMS-IN shows and so on! And that’s not all. There are millions of channels. You name it they have a channel for that – One for Wine, one for Teachers, one for Manchester United and what not ;-) Quite a lot music channels- good old Classic rock in VH1 Classic! And all those Comedies which you receive back home too. But…..guess what; there’s no trace of Cricket anywhere – I keep wondering how this place can call itself the birthplace of cricket. Champions Trophy was a “blink-and-you-miss-it” column in the papers. You have to pay about what the match-fixers pay the players just to get Sky Sports. There was a “Who wants to be a Millionaire” contestant who was asked for £ 64,000; “Which sport does Marcus Trescothick play?” He preferred to end the quiz there and walk away!!!

Movies cost a bomb to watch in Rupees terms; say quite a bit more than a PVR Gold class if you want to compare. Minus the complimentary popcorn and Pepsi. However, Bollywood is big here; the Dhoom2 poster covered half a wall outside the hall where I went to watch this new movie everyone’s talking about “Borat – Cultural Learnings from America to make benefit Glorious nation of Kazakhstan” (Don’t think it’ll be released in India without quite a few cuts- its an outrageous and often gross comedy which offends just about everyone!)

And now, a word about what you’re supposed to wear over here….

In the Investment Banking district of Central London, on the streets it’s a sea of black coats and jackets, you feel as though in the sets of Matrix. And inside office, the only right thing to wear is a dull white shirt with blue/ black trousers. Ok, even this is not the “Rin ki safedi “wallah white which gets people jobs and wives hugged. This is quite a dull variety of white which the guy in the ad would wear before the Rin magic worked. The more fashionable folks wear white shirts with light blue stripes or checks along with grey trousers. Once during my last trip I thought I’ll introduce London to Allen Solly’s Friday dressing and accordingly wore my bright orange shirt and beige trousers to office. Have to say I got the elevator pretty much to myself and an insight into how a Christmas tree feels like when all lit up! So, remember; if you are coming to the UK. Pack your bag with the dullest white shirts you ever had! And if ever you go clubbing – never go in the usual t-shirts and sneakers- They may not let you in- the right uniform is an un-inserted shirt, jeans and your most formal black shoes!!

And don’t think you can shop a lot for the entire village whilst you are here. Unlike the Yankee counterparts who load their check-in baggage with stuff from Wal-Mart, you don’t have too many cheap options here. Clothes are outrageously expensive in most of the swanky Shopping areas – except in one “oasis of low prices” which goes by the name Primark- where stuff is available for £6 - £7 which sounds friendly enough for the Exchange rate wizards. It’s easy to spot on a Saturday afternoon. You’ll just have to look out for a queue of Desi Software Engineers outside.

There are also Sunday markets which are quite fun – But not sure about the quality of products there. Last time I’d got a watch from one of these markets and presented it to Dad with a lot of fanfare. But within 3 months it went Kaput! Dad took it to an HMT showroom and they put in an HMT machine ; it still works – proving the adage” Phir bhi dil hai Hindustani!!!!” If you are not at Primark on a weekend, there is quite a lot to see here in London. Here's one truly cosmopolitan city with people who speak around 300 different languages trying to speak English in 500 different accents! And if you are in a train; you might notice that each face in the opposite row has a different hue. History, Culture, Art – Museums, Palaces, Art Galleries... This is the place for all these and a quizzer’s delight with many place names actually having contributed to the English Language. (I could write reams on this but I wonder if you’ll be interested ;-)) Entry is free in several museums but don’t think of buying the souvenirs if you love your wallet. It won’t look too good with a burnt hole in it. I swear on my per-diem !



(Ever had a funny experience coping with life onsite? Do write in the comments section...)