Coming in on the Chennai – Jaipur Express, we really hadn’t had much of a chance to take in the change in the vegetation around. Having reached Sawai Madhopur at 3.45 am, we had all been eager to get to the Tiger Safari Resort – anyway, there was little chance to scan the plant life at that hour. But Sivakumar, who had flown in to Jaipur before connecting to Sawai Madhopur had seen the land carpeted with dry trees, with just a few patches of green showing through. Inside the Ranthambore National Park too, there was little green. Branches of the dhok trees mingled with each other, the network of their thin twigs creating an impression of a grey, dusty cloud hanging about 10 feet off the ground. The ground, of course was almost completely barren, with no undergrowth worth its name.
That’s what makes it easier to spot the animals, say the guides, assuring us that we are visiting at the best time for tiger sightings. A couple of weeks later, it will be too hot even for the large animals to venture out and sightings will be down, close to nothing. The hot season will last until July/August, when the monsoons will begin. Within a week of the raindrops hitting the ground, the dhok will be flush with new shoots, plants will spring up from the undergrowth, providing far better cover to animals moving around, making it even more difficult to spot them, even those chitals and sambhar which are now seen at every turn.
Going into Zone 4 in a Gypsy, we didn’t believe sightings could get any more difficult; our criss-crossings didn’t show us even a single hair of a tiger, but we did spend a few minutes taking in an awesome view of the valley, sharing it with a honey buzzard who circled lazily overhead before wheeling away from us. In those few minutes we lost the other Gypsy in Zone 4; they got to see a tiger across a check dam, even though it was nowhere as close as it was the previous day. Not knowing of their sighting, we spent some time trying to find the Brown Fish Owl and ending up with a pair of Painted Spurfowl. Our lunch was rather somber, for a third among us had not seen a tiger on any of the three safaris that we had been on.
Afternoon was into Zone 5, for the second time. We weren’t going to Bakola, however. Rajendar Sharma, our guide, waxed eloquent on how his childhood was spent wandering through the forest, of which he could remember every nook and cranny. Outsiders, he said, are welcome as guests, but too many have strained their welcome by staying on and usurping jobs the locals could otherwise have had for themselves. Despite all the distractions he had in expounding his philosophy, he managed to take us to a check dam with a bit of water in it. On the other side, hiding in a thicket was a young male tiger, watching the three or four vehicles that had gathered by then, rather incuriously. And then, deciding that we’d earned ourselves a better view, he sauntered down to the water, soaked himself in it for a few minutes and ambled back, deeper into the thicket, shutting off our view. We had him in view for about ten minutes and we waited for another ten before giving up and going around to see other parts of the forest, those that we would have no hesitation in certifying as being “100% tiger-free”. Maybe to chastise us for our lack of focus on the tiger – and our lack of faith in its presence throughout the forest – our Gypsy had a puncture on the way back. Here was a justifiable reason to get out of the vehicle and set foot on the forest floor, which all of us did. The chastisement was in full force, for we were stuck at a spot that did not seem to have any sign of life – no animal, no bird, insect nor plant, save for the dormant dhok trees all around. It was a rather mundane outing and had it not been for the bathing tiger, the kids – Kedar, Roshan and Uttara especially – would have probably turned into tigers themselves, growling in their disappointment.
Not Girish, though. He was in the Gypsy that had gone into Zone 2, turning off at the entrance and heading straight to Padam Tal, where they parked for almost two-and-a-half hours. For a large part of that time, they were treated to a wonderful show by a tiger which had been lying up in the tall grass bordering the lake for a while before coming out and gamboling on the shore, allowing Girish some splendid photographs that he is justifiably proud of.
At the end of the second day, everyone had had at least one sighting of the tiger – and so plans were being made for sampling the other attractions. Sivakumar and Kumar had anyway made their foray into Sawai Madhopur town on the first evening itself, using the matki dahi and the ganne-ka-ras available on the streets to wash away the heat of the afternoon. The extremity of the heat can be sensed when you hear that the sun glowed silvery-white, rather than the customary red, as it was setting that evening. The second evening was almost balmy by contrast, though the temperature during the day had touched 46°C. The bird list had grown, and was now in the mid-80s, but still far below the ‘official’ count of 274.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Ranthambore, Day 1
After the 15th of April, all the Cassia fistula trees along the streets of Chennai were barren, shorn of their flowers. Bouquets of the konna, among other things, are supposed to be an auspicious sight on the morning of Vishu, the harvest festival of the Malayali and had therefore been taken down from the trees to be a part of the Vishukani display.
The road to the gates of the Ranthambhore National Park however showed no evidence of Malayalis having gone that way – the few konna trees on that road were in full bloom, their vivid yellow flowers a sharp contrast to the heat-washed early morning. Maybe they were auspicious, too, for almost as soon as we cleared the gate bureaucracy, we had to stop. Dr. Jayamurthy’s keen eyes had seen a movement on the stone cliffs of the Vindhyas – and there we saw what Dr.Jayamurthy had spotted, a sight possibly rarer than seeing a tiger – a leopard, ambling over the rocks. He then lay down for a while, letting all of us take a good look at him, before going deeper inside the ledge and away from our sights.
Bumping along the forest roads, we pulled to a halt on the shores of the Padam Tal, as did several other Canters and Gypsies. A tiger had been sighted there yesterday, said the guide. A herd of chital on the far shore looked at us and then stiffened, sensing a greater threat and then broke into a run. False alarm. It was only a big sambhar stag, coming down for a drink. A Gypsy came rushing up to the group of vehicles. The message was crisp: at Lakharda, near Mandu Point, a pair of tigers had dragged a kill across the road from a waterhole. The race was on. Canters galloped, Gypsies careened, as every vehicle tried to be the first on the scene, to grab the best spot for watching the tigers. But even before we reached there, four or five other vehicles had cornered the vantage points. Not that we were complaining. We had a wonderful view, as the male tiger – a large 5-6 year old – got up, crossed the road up ahead of us and walked towards us, stopping at the waterhole, where he slaked his thirst. Strolling back, he went about 25 feet away from the road and lay down, sated, needing some peace and quiet, now. The tigress was still feeding at the kill, but soon, she needed water as well and so cut across the road to the waterhole. Maybe the male felt protective, for he too got up and circled the vehicles, getting to the waterhole. He saw that the tigress wasn’t too worried about the crowd of onlookers – there were close to a hundred people, standing up on the seats of their vehicles, trying to get pictures the best they could – and had settled herself quite comfortably into the small waterhole, so he wandered back to the other side of the road. The tigress continued to lie in the water, soaking herself for a while, allowing everyone to take a good look at her. When she had enough of it, she got up, intending to walk back to her kill the way she had cut across the road. But by now there was a double line of vehicles blocking that path, so she had to go around, behind the last vehicle. That Gypsy suddenly gunned its engines and reversed, keeping abreast of the tigress – thankfully, it was only for a few seconds and the big girl was allowed to get across before she could build up her anger. We had been there for almost an hour, though it seemed but a few minutes, and the drive back was quick, for we had been lucky, to have seen two tigers on our first safari.
Our enthusiasm at breakfast was rather subdued; the smaller group of 11 had been lucky, the bigger group of 16 hadn’t. And so, before the afternoon safari, they were given detailed instructions: Zone 3. Mandu Point, where the road curves. Watch for a waterhole in the crook. Hoping the pair would still be digesting their morning meal, and hoping that would give the bigger group a good sighting, we went off into Zone 4. We zigged and we zagged. Herds of sambhar and chital were seen, so were nilgai, too, though less frequently. Peafowl wandered about everywhere, the males trailing their tails with practiced unconcern. Troops of Hanuman langur pretended to be unaware of the approaching vehicle, leaping away at the last moment and then muttering harsh words to us. We waited a while at an artificial waterhole, watching the communal drinking – circling around the water were sambhar, peafowl, red-vented bulbul, a flameback, some chital – all making for a nice, peaceful scene. We moved on, leaving the wildlife to quench their thirst without any spectators and Ramanan asked the guide about going to Bakola. “Not possible”, said the guide, “the forest department has chained the way shut. But we will still go on that road, as far as we can”. The road ran to the right of a low cliff, about 12 feet high and sloping down to meet the road just where the chain across two trees stopped us from heading any further. As if to taunt us, a jackal looked at us and loped away, heading into the forbidden forest, as if daring us to come after it. Not falling for that trick, we turned around to head back to the exit. And then, there he was. He looked Vidya right in the eye, and as she called out, the Canter stopped and backed up in a hurry, bringing us all right beside him. He had come down the cliff, probably just after we had passed, hoping to get across to the other side for some food and was now stuck by our return. He was confused, irritated, scared and bewildered at this interruption and seemed thankful when the engine was switched off. Crossing the path in front of our vehicle, he looked out to the flatland, wondering how he could bring down one of those sambhar for a meal. We waited a while, hoping he would show us the answer he worked out, but the little fellow – he was only a year-and-a-half old – did not seem to be that hungry. We drove back to find that the bigger group hadn’t been lucky at all; their guide refused to believe that they knew about a morning kill that he was ignorant about and being at his mercy as to the possible locations of a tiger, the group had spent the afternoon unsuccessfully searching at different locations. They had made up for the lack of tiger sighting with a large list – Dr. Shyamala had spotted over 60 species – of birds and the amazing spectacle of a mugger capturing a large fish in the lake.
The road to the gates of the Ranthambhore National Park however showed no evidence of Malayalis having gone that way – the few konna trees on that road were in full bloom, their vivid yellow flowers a sharp contrast to the heat-washed early morning. Maybe they were auspicious, too, for almost as soon as we cleared the gate bureaucracy, we had to stop. Dr. Jayamurthy’s keen eyes had seen a movement on the stone cliffs of the Vindhyas – and there we saw what Dr.Jayamurthy had spotted, a sight possibly rarer than seeing a tiger – a leopard, ambling over the rocks. He then lay down for a while, letting all of us take a good look at him, before going deeper inside the ledge and away from our sights.
Bumping along the forest roads, we pulled to a halt on the shores of the Padam Tal, as did several other Canters and Gypsies. A tiger had been sighted there yesterday, said the guide. A herd of chital on the far shore looked at us and then stiffened, sensing a greater threat and then broke into a run. False alarm. It was only a big sambhar stag, coming down for a drink. A Gypsy came rushing up to the group of vehicles. The message was crisp: at Lakharda, near Mandu Point, a pair of tigers had dragged a kill across the road from a waterhole. The race was on. Canters galloped, Gypsies careened, as every vehicle tried to be the first on the scene, to grab the best spot for watching the tigers. But even before we reached there, four or five other vehicles had cornered the vantage points. Not that we were complaining. We had a wonderful view, as the male tiger – a large 5-6 year old – got up, crossed the road up ahead of us and walked towards us, stopping at the waterhole, where he slaked his thirst. Strolling back, he went about 25 feet away from the road and lay down, sated, needing some peace and quiet, now. The tigress was still feeding at the kill, but soon, she needed water as well and so cut across the road to the waterhole. Maybe the male felt protective, for he too got up and circled the vehicles, getting to the waterhole. He saw that the tigress wasn’t too worried about the crowd of onlookers – there were close to a hundred people, standing up on the seats of their vehicles, trying to get pictures the best they could – and had settled herself quite comfortably into the small waterhole, so he wandered back to the other side of the road. The tigress continued to lie in the water, soaking herself for a while, allowing everyone to take a good look at her. When she had enough of it, she got up, intending to walk back to her kill the way she had cut across the road. But by now there was a double line of vehicles blocking that path, so she had to go around, behind the last vehicle. That Gypsy suddenly gunned its engines and reversed, keeping abreast of the tigress – thankfully, it was only for a few seconds and the big girl was allowed to get across before she could build up her anger. We had been there for almost an hour, though it seemed but a few minutes, and the drive back was quick, for we had been lucky, to have seen two tigers on our first safari.
Our enthusiasm at breakfast was rather subdued; the smaller group of 11 had been lucky, the bigger group of 16 hadn’t. And so, before the afternoon safari, they were given detailed instructions: Zone 3. Mandu Point, where the road curves. Watch for a waterhole in the crook. Hoping the pair would still be digesting their morning meal, and hoping that would give the bigger group a good sighting, we went off into Zone 4. We zigged and we zagged. Herds of sambhar and chital were seen, so were nilgai, too, though less frequently. Peafowl wandered about everywhere, the males trailing their tails with practiced unconcern. Troops of Hanuman langur pretended to be unaware of the approaching vehicle, leaping away at the last moment and then muttering harsh words to us. We waited a while at an artificial waterhole, watching the communal drinking – circling around the water were sambhar, peafowl, red-vented bulbul, a flameback, some chital – all making for a nice, peaceful scene. We moved on, leaving the wildlife to quench their thirst without any spectators and Ramanan asked the guide about going to Bakola. “Not possible”, said the guide, “the forest department has chained the way shut. But we will still go on that road, as far as we can”. The road ran to the right of a low cliff, about 12 feet high and sloping down to meet the road just where the chain across two trees stopped us from heading any further. As if to taunt us, a jackal looked at us and loped away, heading into the forbidden forest, as if daring us to come after it. Not falling for that trick, we turned around to head back to the exit. And then, there he was. He looked Vidya right in the eye, and as she called out, the Canter stopped and backed up in a hurry, bringing us all right beside him. He had come down the cliff, probably just after we had passed, hoping to get across to the other side for some food and was now stuck by our return. He was confused, irritated, scared and bewildered at this interruption and seemed thankful when the engine was switched off. Crossing the path in front of our vehicle, he looked out to the flatland, wondering how he could bring down one of those sambhar for a meal. We waited a while, hoping he would show us the answer he worked out, but the little fellow – he was only a year-and-a-half old – did not seem to be that hungry. We drove back to find that the bigger group hadn’t been lucky at all; their guide refused to believe that they knew about a morning kill that he was ignorant about and being at his mercy as to the possible locations of a tiger, the group had spent the afternoon unsuccessfully searching at different locations. They had made up for the lack of tiger sighting with a large list – Dr. Shyamala had spotted over 60 species – of birds and the amazing spectacle of a mugger capturing a large fish in the lake.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Picturing Chennai
Now that I've started a new blog, this one has been neglected for far too long; guess I'm using up more than my quota of words for the Chennai Daily Photo blog.
It has been quite satisfying to go around taking pictures of various parts of Chennai. Not being very mobile during the day does limit the opportunities available, but these days my camera has been a constant appendage (super photographer that I am, the N73 does not come up to scratch on several occasions :o). Still, I seem to end up doing more of historical/heritage/features of interest stuff than the 'candid camera' ones. Now that's something I want to correct, sooner than later.
It has been quite satisfying to go around taking pictures of various parts of Chennai. Not being very mobile during the day does limit the opportunities available, but these days my camera has been a constant appendage (super photographer that I am, the N73 does not come up to scratch on several occasions :o). Still, I seem to end up doing more of historical/heritage/features of interest stuff than the 'candid camera' ones. Now that's something I want to correct, sooner than later.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Naturalist
I am now officially a member of the Madras Naturalists' Society (www.blackbuck.org.in). Joined up at the MNS' monthly meeting (2nd Sunday of every month) under the banyan at The School, KFI. I have missed two big events this year - the Chennai Bird Race and the 'deer counting' at the Guindy National Park. But no matter, there will be more races and countings to be done.
Add on to my bird list for the year: a Crow Pheasant and two pairs of Hoopoes. Also confirmed to myself that what I had seen at home earlier was indeed a Treepie.
Add on to my bird list for the year: a Crow Pheasant and two pairs of Hoopoes. Also confirmed to myself that what I had seen at home earlier was indeed a Treepie.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Art-Tryst
Of course I had seen Sumukha Gallery before. Never had reason to register its location earlier though, and that led to a bit of a crawl-search before finding it on Friday afternoon. For all the various write-ups about the exhibition of Sara Abraham's private collection, the place itself was deserted and the security guard seemed bored without having to regulate the crowds that I imagined would be breaking down the gates.
So much the better; I could wander through the exhibition at my pace and not worry if I was spending too much time in front of a piece that wasn't deserving of such attention. And seeing a Raja Ravi Varma original right at the entrance was a good start, indeed.
The collection on the ground floor was quite neat, and did have a few names that I recognized - Adimoolam, Akbar Padamsee, Ganesh-es; Pyne and Haloi - though I misinterpreted KH Ara's signature as Sara's.... and that is my big crib. It seemed to be an insider thing, with most of the works not having any identification as to whose it was and none of them having any kind of description. A huge hurdle to climb for the lay fan of art, indeed. Having a catalogue of Sara's collection available at the entrance seemed to be more of a "you-could-have-looked-it-up-if-you-really-wanted-to" statement than a guide to the non-usual gallery goer. And with no one inside the downstairs rooms, there wasn't any chance to 'ask the authorities' about anything!
The collection upstairs was better cared for; with 5 or 6 Hussains there, it had to be. The two large paintings by A Ramachandran were certainly eye-catching. Though I wasn't the only person when I entered the room, the other visitor seemed to be in a grand hurry to leave. After that departure, the manager of the gallery - her office was in a side room upstairs - took pains to make sure that I did spend as much time as I wanted; she pointed out portraits that Sara had painted in her maiden name (Mathen) and had had the subjects autograph. The subjects, by the way, included Lord Mountbatten and Albert Einstein! If that wasn't enough, the lady also pointed out 2 paintings that MF Hussain had sent over as gifts for Sara on her 80th birthday last week. Looking at them, my first thought was that as he gets older, MF Hussain gets more colourful! Bright, vivid reds, yellows and greens made a stunning setting for the paintings - I've always thought his works were certainly more sober and subtle.
So much the better; I could wander through the exhibition at my pace and not worry if I was spending too much time in front of a piece that wasn't deserving of such attention. And seeing a Raja Ravi Varma original right at the entrance was a good start, indeed. Surprise in store at the Laxma Gowd 'village' wtihin the exhibition. Without going ga-ga over it, I've 
always liked Thota Tharani's work. And it was indeed a bit out-of-the-blue to see his efforts being referred to as "repulsively glossy". I guess there must have been phases - or, more surely, early days when all kinds of things were attempted and Gowd happened to be at the receiving end of one such experiment. Tharani's collages were quirky without being extraordinary, and there was no work that could be considered 'glossy', even without the additional adjective to it.
always liked Thota Tharani's work. And it was indeed a bit out-of-the-blue to see his efforts being referred to as "repulsively glossy". I guess there must have been phases - or, more surely, early days when all kinds of things were attempted and Gowd happened to be at the receiving end of one such experiment. Tharani's collages were quirky without being extraordinary, and there was no work that could be considered 'glossy', even without the additional adjective to it. The collection on the ground floor was quite neat, and did have a few names that I recognized - Adimoolam, Akbar Padamsee, Ganesh-es; Pyne and Haloi - though I misinterpreted KH Ara's signature as Sara's.... and that is my big crib. It seemed to be an insider thing, with most of the works not having any identification as to whose it was and none of them having any kind of description. A huge hurdle to climb for the lay fan of art, indeed. Having a catalogue of Sara's collection available at the entrance seemed to be more of a "you-could-have-looked-it-up-if-you-really-wanted-to" statement than a guide to the non-usual gallery goer. And with no one inside the downstairs rooms, there wasn't any chance to 'ask the authorities' about anything!
The collection upstairs was better cared for; with 5 or 6 Hussains there, it had to be. The two large paintings by A Ramachandran were certainly eye-catching. Though I wasn't the only person when I entered the room, the other visitor seemed to be in a grand hurry to leave. After that departure, the manager of the gallery - her office was in a side room upstairs - took pains to make sure that I did spend as much time as I wanted; she pointed out portraits that Sara had painted in her maiden name (Mathen) and had had the subjects autograph. The subjects, by the way, included Lord Mountbatten and Albert Einstein! If that wasn't enough, the lady also pointed out 2 paintings that MF Hussain had sent over as gifts for Sara on her 80th birthday last week. Looking at them, my first thought was that as he gets older, MF Hussain gets more colourful! Bright, vivid reds, yellows and greens made a stunning setting for the paintings - I've always thought his works were certainly more sober and subtle.
The highlight though, was seeing a very unusual Hussain; only a sketch, one that seemed to have been done rather quickly and to capture the true likeness, rather than the abstract figures that seem to define Hussain. To me, that sketch of Zachary Abraham seemed to be the clincher that Hussain is indeed a marvellous artist, if such reiteration were necessary.
The manager told me I could take 'two or three' photographs, and I pushed it to a half-dozen; I'd rather keep some of what I did see there in my mind's eye - my poor photography skills cannot in any way do justice to the richness of many of the works there, but my memory (and imagination) can colour them better as the days go by.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Birds!
I've always been pleased to spot a non-usual bird around Chennai; and that I have actually seen most of the birds listed in 'Some Indian Birds' (http://www.childrensbooktrust.com/books/wild/birds.htm) since first reading it some 30-odd years ago makes me feel rather kicked about life in general.
Having a good bit of greenery next door helps; Roshan & I have been able to identify most of the birds that we see without having to go back to reference material. Apart from the hens, quails, turkeys and partridges that we have seen in the coops, and the omnipresent common / jungle crows we have spotted:
Indian Rock Pigeon - with our apartment blocks, they now have many nooks and crannies to fashion their nests in....
Parakeets - see them very often, but need help to figure out if they are the rose-ringed ones or the alexandrines....
Common Babbler - the seven sisters, though have never spotted a covey of seven. Four, five and sometimes even six, but the seventh has been elusive....
Indian Pond Heron - on a branch or on the ground, it is difficult to spot, being brown flecked, but when it takes off, its wings magically change to white....
Kingfisher - didn't know there were so many kinds of this bird! And why is it so common in the city, where there is very little to fish for....
Common Myna - lovely little birds, they've probably been the easiest to spot on any given day....
Woodpecker - again, don't know enough of the distinctions to be able to narrow it down. One of them seems to be building a nest within a 100 metres of our balcony, so hope to give it a more specific name soon....
Little Egret - seasonal, but have seen them in the last two seasons and hope to see more of them again....
Golden Oriole - a flash of yellow should make it easy to spot; so I thought until I had to spend quite a bit of time trying to find Point B, after the bird flew to it....
And finally, the one bird that we had to go back to reference material to identify; a bluish-grey upper body, changing to brownish-yellow, with white-edged, brown wings. Its long tail made me think of a drongo when I first saw it last week, but a quick check of bird-books told me that it is more likely a Rufous Treepie. And I'm waiting for it to appear again, to make sure I've got it right.
Now, to get on a bit more organized birding activity.
Having a good bit of greenery next door helps; Roshan & I have been able to identify most of the birds that we see without having to go back to reference material. Apart from the hens, quails, turkeys and partridges that we have seen in the coops, and the omnipresent common / jungle crows we have spotted:
Indian Rock Pigeon - with our apartment blocks, they now have many nooks and crannies to fashion their nests in....
Parakeets - see them very often, but need help to figure out if they are the rose-ringed ones or the alexandrines....
Common Babbler - the seven sisters, though have never spotted a covey of seven. Four, five and sometimes even six, but the seventh has been elusive....
Indian Pond Heron - on a branch or on the ground, it is difficult to spot, being brown flecked, but when it takes off, its wings magically change to white....
Kingfisher - didn't know there were so many kinds of this bird! And why is it so common in the city, where there is very little to fish for....
Common Myna - lovely little birds, they've probably been the easiest to spot on any given day....
Woodpecker - again, don't know enough of the distinctions to be able to narrow it down. One of them seems to be building a nest within a 100 metres of our balcony, so hope to give it a more specific name soon....
Little Egret - seasonal, but have seen them in the last two seasons and hope to see more of them again....
Golden Oriole - a flash of yellow should make it easy to spot; so I thought until I had to spend quite a bit of time trying to find Point B, after the bird flew to it....
And finally, the one bird that we had to go back to reference material to identify; a bluish-grey upper body, changing to brownish-yellow, with white-edged, brown wings. Its long tail made me think of a drongo when I first saw it last week, but a quick check of bird-books told me that it is more likely a Rufous Treepie. And I'm waiting for it to appear again, to make sure I've got it right.
Now, to get on a bit more organized birding activity.
Friday, February 1, 2008
And January went
Pakistani military scientists announce their finding that bullet holes can be caused by butting one's head against a sun-roof. This information made Hillary Clinton cry and the Sri Lankan army announce that all tigers will be given a sun-roof. The angry tigers blow up a bus and take the sun-roof away. (The army is still fighting to get it back). Hillary was given New Hampshire to keep her quiet.
'Saare Zameen Par' becomes the new anthem as ragpickers are interviewed by CNN-IBN and NDTV to find out what stocks they recommend to their clients. Ragpickers demand instant un-demat measures to ensure that they have physical certificates to be picked up.
Bangladeshi chicks allegedly bring in a virus to India. And no, that's not called Taslima. You're getting her confused with Carla Bruni, an Italian chick who says, "Sarko! See!!". Much research (listening to Ramkumar Shankar) tells me that Carla has a lot of tyres.
The Australian Open is declared unofficial after reviewing footage which showed that neither Roger nor Rafa played in the finals.
Georgie-Porgie delivers the final 'State of the Union' address. He later says it is not 'the final'; he wants to play some more.
Learnt that Punjabi gaalis can sound like racist insults in Australian, thereby expanding my Australian vocabulary to 'Maaki' also. (earlier, it was only 'Fosters', to let them know exactly which beer I don't want to drink).
'Saare Zameen Par' becomes the new anthem as ragpickers are interviewed by CNN-IBN and NDTV to find out what stocks they recommend to their clients. Ragpickers demand instant un-demat measures to ensure that they have physical certificates to be picked up.
Bangladeshi chicks allegedly bring in a virus to India. And no, that's not called Taslima. You're getting her confused with Carla Bruni, an Italian chick who says, "Sarko! See!!". Much research (listening to Ramkumar Shankar) tells me that Carla has a lot of tyres.
The Australian Open is declared unofficial after reviewing footage which showed that neither Roger nor Rafa played in the finals.
Georgie-Porgie delivers the final 'State of the Union' address. He later says it is not 'the final'; he wants to play some more.
Learnt that Punjabi gaalis can sound like racist insults in Australian, thereby expanding my Australian vocabulary to 'Maaki' also. (earlier, it was only 'Fosters', to let them know exactly which beer I don't want to drink).
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