Fairytale

There is not much that can replace a weekend with my son. So when I was called to make a choice between going to my hometown – Mysore – for my cousin’s wedding, and spending those precious hours with Dhruv, I was sufficiently torn. Of course there was the option of taking the little hyperactive gremlin to the wedding…but my mind was flooded with images of a similar path taken a couple of years ago, where all I remember is the disappearing shirttail of a fleet-footed child. To summarize, bored child running – harried father chasing.

So I did what any fair parent would do. I asked him. After staring for a few seconds at an imaginary magic 8 ball on the ceiling – he laid an understanding hand on my knee and said, “Papa, you go alone. I will stay here.” Apparently his own memories from last time didn’t exactly scream “fun!” either.

So I went. Joined by my brother – who is down here from the US – and my parents, this was going to be my first Iyengar wedding in more than 25 years – barring the blur two years back. Most of my relatives were going to be there – and considering I have spent most of my life eating loving meat, listening to heavy metal, marrying “North Indians”, speaking Gujarati and doing all kinds of “uniyengar” things – this could be seen as something as an re-initiation into my community.

At this point I should mention that my extended family isn’t exactly hard-boiled Iyengar. In my generation only one had married within the community, and this upcoming event was the second one. (For people who are wondering by now whether Iyengars are a minority from the planet Vulcan – read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iyengar) But having said that, when everyone got together for such an event – normally dormant Iyengar genes jump up to be noticed like a dull school boy who finally got the answer to a question. And I, basically with a well defined lineage but undefined heritage, feel a weird cocktail of excitement, vicariousness and alienation. It is as if there is this Iyengar magnum opus, where I have a special guest appearance. While the screenplay goes on with the other characters – I spend most of my life outside the movie. This sort of gives me celebrity status – Hail! King Arthur Iyengar of Cameo-a-lot has arrived on his noble steed. Bizarre.

So, I was faced with a bit of trepidation as I descended upon the beautiful city of Mysore. Really, all the Baristas, Infosys campuses and Levis showrooms in the world cannot steal the sleepy town charm from this Palace City. When we arrived at the family home, most of the relatives where there already – and I was immediate embraced in a kind of softness and warmth that would put the most expensive Pashmina to shame. There was nothing threatening or alienating about this family. It was a modern setting with traditional warmth. All decent hard-working folks with genuine love for each other – in spite of the geographic distance. We were the Skypengars.

But the wedding itself was different. As I busied myself in helping with the preparations, putting my superior education to good use by carrying bags and boxes, driving people back and forth in a decorated car and generally being a handyman with the rest of the boys – guests from each side started pouring in for the first ceremony – “Varpuja” – where we from the girl’s side welcome the groom and his family. The atmosphere in the hall was unique, though very familiar to anyone who has been to a Hindu wedding. Scores of women in colorful silk sarees and with flowers in their hair – accompanied by hirsute men in “pant shirt” or the more traditional dhoti shirt. Young girls and boys, dressed now in more modern attire, were hanging around, trying not to pay obvious attention to the other – yet hoping to catch someone’s eye. But no Iyengar wedding would be complete without the clamorous quintet. Five musicians with Indian instruments – three wind and two percussion – giving the background score to the scene in front of them. Playing traditional wedding tunes, their din bounced like a thousand sonic crazy-balls from the walls of the hall, which were obviously not made with concert acoustics in mind. The result was an impenetrable wall of sound, which drowned all but the sound of anyone trying to scream directly in your ear. I am sure that by night they rock the Mysore metal scene as the raucous Metallikeshavam.

But the people in the hall went on with their parts, oblivious to the cacophony. Maybe this was music to their ears. But one section of the audience especially seemed to draw their energy from the music. Kids, bored to patricide by the soporific proceedings on stage, were darting in and around people and chairs like galvanized electrons. Maybe Dhruv wouldn’t have been so out of place after all. Anyway, I watched interestedly as the proceedings at the ornate “mandapam” carried on. Vedic chants, burning ghee, smoke and cowdung… all made for a very exotic Hindu feeling. Something that I could never relate to (partly because I do not know what those chants mean…and I find it very hard to reconcile with that. And learning Sanskrit is not an option!), even if I have been through such ceremonies a few times.

The same scene continued the next morning during the actual wedding… even more people, more smoke and more din. Even though the leading actors were looking absolutely gorgeous/handsome, the play was getting a bit monotonous. But things looked up a bit when the plot called for the groom to decide to go to Kashi instead of getting married, which prompted the bride and her family (and the clamorous quintet) to go running after him and reason with him to stop the nonsense. Droll…but made me smile. And then when finally the groom tied the “Mangal Sutra” on the bride’s neck, the quintet changed their tempo and the entire hall rose in celebration. Another Iyengar couple had tied the knot, ensuring that the community would continue to thrive for atleast another generation.

All the while I was there, my senses were in a heightened state – taking everything in – trying to learn more about my so called heritage and trying desperately to feel some kind of connection. But in the end, all I remembered were the tired/excited/happy faces of my large and lovely family. I suddenly realized that it did not matter if I wasn’t exactly fashioned in the traditional mould, or that these rituals and customs were as alien to me as bicycle to a fish. They didn’t define me. What does define my heritage for me, is my family – who don’t judge me and love me for who I am. They accept me despite the fact that I don’t speak in their tongue or eat things that do not grow out of the ground. Dhruv will be of an even more confused heritage, and I hope he recognizes the things which really matter in life and does not feel alienated in any way.

There are at least 7 more cousins in my generation left to be married – and I hope I get to be a part of all of them! After all, who doesn’t love fairytales with happy endings? May Lord Vishnu bless the newly married couple with a thousand sons…(or something like that!) with as many sons (or daughters) as they want…. (politically corrected on popular demand)

Snappy Diwali

Is it only me, or did Deepavali 2009 resemble an imitation firecracker stored in a damp warehouse for two years?

As this year’s celebrations fizzled to an end with a feeble pop, even the typically ostentatious leanings of the high net worth residents of Hiranandani gardens in Powai seemed to be whittled down to a fraction of their former self. And I thought the recession was over.

When we went down at around eight in the evening with our contribution to the diwali spectacle (two packets of sparklers, one of anaars and one of chakras) – we were greeted with silence. For heaven’s sake, just the traffic on the streets on a normal day would create more light and sound that what we were seeing! Where was everyone? As we roamed around the complex, searching in vain for some signs of good old hindu excess, I felt a smog of change descending upon us. Maybe, urban educated Indians were finally realizing what has been amply clear to me since a decade - that burning money in the form of fireworks is a vulgar display of wealth in a predominantly poor country. (Some of those fancy rockets cost more than Rs.5000 a piece!) Not to mention, they pollute an already terminally ill environment and scare dogs and babies. When the celebrations finally limped to a start post 9PM, it lasted for not more than 90 minutes – during which we decided to have a traditional Deepavali feast at Pizza Hut (?!). And yes, the place was full of good traditional hindu families gorging on America’s produce.

So does this mean that Indians have forgotten what it means to enjoy Lord Ram’s return? Does this mean that (reducing to a whisper) God is dead?

Or maybe the usually smart Indians are realizing that the celebrations do not a festival make. Maybe festivals are for friends, family and relatives to come together for spiritual harmony. Maybe the rituals of these festivals are meant to be unpronounced and even personal. Maybe the Diyas of Deepavali are meant to be markers on a path to higher self-realization, community spirit without excess and the greater common good. Maybe the Mono-Sodium Glutamate in the pizza I had last night is playing tricks with my head and rendered me cuckoo.

Well, whatever it may be, the change was pleasant. The morning after Deepavali, which is usually marked with the truimphant return of leftover fireworks, was more or less quiet. The birds were chirping, dogs were pooping and senior citizens where back on their morning walks amongst scattered debris of exploded cracker shells. Looking back at Deepavali 2009 – I hope this change is here to stay. Because we all have now seen times where economic progress has been humbled by the very thing responsible for it – greed and excess. Maybe, we all can light a candle to the fact that a Snappy Diwali is indeed a Happy Diwali.

Seasons Greetings to all Grimescene readers!

(Updated – 21/9 – I have now heard enough reports that mine was an outlier experience. More than Rs.1.8 crore of money was burnt in Mumbai itself – a quarter of the national total. Sigh. MSG can play tricks.)

Looming Glouriousness

Many terms spring to mind while describing a particularly potent force of cinematic nature called Quentin Tarantino – subtle isn’t one of them. So when I was subject to a 20 min conversation between a french farmer and a SS jew hunter at the start of Inglourious Basterds, I was keenly surprised. It was just a conversation between two pipe smoking men… yet not a whisper was uttered in the packed hall, not one bum shifted to a more comfortable position. I am guessing, like me, everyone else knew that something was looming. Something violent and Tarantino-like. And when it finally came, it was accompanied with a kind of flinching relief – like when a 20 minute stint in the waiting room ends with a root canal.

Quentin Tarantino is a rare phenomenon. He chooses the mundane, and elevates it to greatness through sheer visceral brilliance. His non-linear story-telling technique is an acquired taste. His movies are misunderstood as being violent – but really, they are more about the lead up to the acts of violence. (Remember how Travolta’s character dies in Pulp Fiction?) Even Kill Bill, was more choreography than violence, where the copious amounts of blood and multitude of severed limbs just made the violence comical, art-like. And even though Tarantino defies categorization and each piece is a carefully fashioned sculpture which stands alone as a unique experience; one can detect elements which are unmistakably the work of the genius. This evidence is scattered around Inglourious like carved-out scalps in a hair-cemetery. For example the juxtaposition of a western-score with the hills of the Alsace – like Mozart meeting Ennio Morricone. (In fact, most of Inglourious’ soundtrack has been referenced from what appears to be Tarantino’s video store collection.) Another example of Tarantino’s handywork is up close and intimate camerawork, keeping a reverential distance from the actors, but still capturing the electricity of each conversation – long single shots, moving gently from speaker to listener – just in time to catch the reaction and the response. Previously – especially in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction – Tarantino’s characters have been loud and brash and extremely talkative, resulting in seemingly meaningless conversation. But in Inglourious, throughout the 120 minutes of talk (the movie is 150 min long – 30 min is the non-talk stuff…you know what I mean…), there is not one word that is uttered without meaning. Even the most harmless dialogue carries the weight the speaker’s intentions, good or bad (mostly bad). Every conversation in Inglourious is a duel – a little battle in the mother of all wars – WWII. Because that is what the movie is all about. People on different sides of the fence, carrying their own agenda, and adding their own spark to the fire that rearranged the world.

To many this will be Tarantino’s return to glourious form. The master of violence and the absurd has deftly created a homage to the real battles in most wars. The battles of polarised minds and egos, emotional politics if you will. This is Tarantino recasting a transformational time in our history from a battle of machines to a battle of intellect. And all this with prodiguous filmmaking talent and technique, which should serve as a reference to generations of aspiring filmmakers.

But no review of Inglourious Basterds would be complete without a glowing tribute to Christoph Waltz, who plays Col. Landa, the incredibly suave and spine-chillingly menacing German SS officer nicknamed “The Jew Hunter”. Tarantino himself has admitted on numerous occassions that Col. Landa is one of the best characters he has ever written – a man with superior intellect, a bigger ego than Hitler himself and a completely unpredictable demeanour. Switching effortlessly between German, French, English and even Italian (a language he doesn’t actually speak) – he owns every scene he is in, getting the better of every opponent in every conversation. He is the Heath Ledger of this movie. (Villianous characters are so much more interesting that good ones!) Sure enough, he already won the Best Actor Award at this year’s Cannes festival… the Oscars should be rolling out too. Even if you are not a Tarantino fan, watch the movie for Landa’s character.

Inglourious Basterds is a cinematic tour-de-force which will certainly place Quentin Tarantino in the pantheon of visionary auteurs. If he is already not there. 4 Stars. Watch it.

Beginnings

Someone great once said: a man should not count the number of years he has lived, but the number of times he has had new beginnings. (Or something to that effect.) In any case, if that was true, I would be drawing pension by now. I have been lucky (or not) to have had opportunities at regular intervals that exposed my senses to completely new environments, forcing me to rethink preconceived notions and adapt my behavior and response mechanisms.

Like yesterday.

The first day at a new job is not too different from coming to a new country for the first time. The surroundings are unfamiliar. The coffee tastes different. The toilet flushes in a different way. Your place of stay is immediately uncomfortable (thought that improves with time). The rituals are from another world – like the way meetings are set up, or coffee breaks are taken or team lunches are organized…. and of course, headlining the foreign environment are the locals. They look at you funnily and hurriedly look away as soon as you turn towards them. You can almost imagine some sizing you up and giggling behind your back about the way you are dressed. Their cultural nuances are sometimes in your face – like the way they greet each other or superiors - but sometimes there are tremendously complex social transactions happening right under your nose and you are not even aware of them! But, as is the typical attitude towards foreigners, unless you are travelling to Russia, most locals are extremely courteous and show a lot of teeth.

I know all this, because I have been through this a few times before. So I landed at my new workplace, dressed in new shirt and hairless cheek, with my adaptive sensors tuned to maximum sensitivity. They were not of much help when I realized that there was no one there. A bored looking guard looked at me as one looks at a giraffe wearing purple shoes and yellow sunglasses, and plainly informed me that there was no one here. After checking and rechecking the address, I decided not ask him if the company had folded or if the entire interview process had been a sick episode of MTV Bakra. Buoyed by the fact that no Cyrus jumped at me from behind with a camera crew, I searched for some more locals – and when I couldn’t find any, I sat down in the lobby and started flipping through the newspapers. It was 9:30 for Christ’s sake! Where was everyone?

I was almost done counting the number of words on page 5 of the Mumbai mirror classifieds, when a nice gentleman approached me and asked me if I was who he thought I was. I said, I was. Profusely apologizing on behalf of the rest of organization, he told me that he had done the same thing on his first day. Ok…. not the reception I was expecting but hey…. this was like a foreign country, where I had the added disadvantage of not having a “Lonely Planet’s Guide” to get me started.

Well – I am happy to report – that the others did arrive at some point – and yes, I was subjected to beaming smiles and excited handshakes and even the sacred “Team Lunch” – where everyone except me somehow knew where we were going. Unseen complex social rituals apart – I realized that the coffee does taste different and that the toilets did flush in a different way. I have lots to learn about the local customs, habits, email clients (Notes) and peculiarities (like – everyone comes in at 11). But, one thing is certain – being the chameleon that I am – it won’t take me long to become a local myself. And judging by just two days of intense interaction, this is a bunch I wouldn’t really mind becoming a part of.

 Oh…how I love new beginnings!

Fecal Matter Disposal Aperture

It all began at seven thirty in the morning, as I stood – stooped to one side by the weight of my laptop bag – in a long line of similarly dressed and contorted men and women, before the hallowed ground dominated by large hulking voyeuristic machines and khakhi colored sentries armed with dongles which went beep, everytime they hit a steel kneecap. Welcome to security check  at Mumbai Airport’s Terminal 1B. When I wasn’t shifting from one foot to the other, or moving my burden from one shoulder to the other, I was glancing at my watch in disbelief. 22 minutes and 37 seconds. This was like watching sludge move in slow motion. And I am a patient man… so I could only imagine the plight of my fellow laptop shifters who aren’t endowed with an adrenalin valve. So we have the

1) Quarterbacks: Offensive humans who make it a point, every five minutes, to break the line and walk indignantly down the serpentine queue till the end, trying to figure out what the blasted problem is. And then trying very surreptitiously to insert themselves in the queue several paces ahead of where they had left it. These people are brash and brazen – stopping every body in an airline suit and expecting them to provide an answer to the question “Why me?”

2) Linebackers: Defensive humans whose job is to detect, block, tackle and if necessary pummel-to-death quarterbacks trying to cheat with the actual number of yards traveled. This tussle could end with either side winning, depending on who is larger, or louder or who doesn’t have testicles. Linebackers are often joined by other linemen in the tackle - and then typically the quarterback has to slink away with his laptop bag strap between his legs.

3) Coaches: These are the modern day spiritual gurus. Having achieved fame and fortune, these people are wise and charismatic. They are usually flanked by a loud starry-eyed bevy of fans who hang on to every loud, pretentious and totally unnecessary word that comes out of the coach’s mouth, paying their unabashed respect with loud shrill laughter that sends the quarterbacks running again. The coaches have an opinion about everything, from an accurate analysis of the reason for the delays to how swine flu can never affect them as they have the B+ blood type. (It’s true… I heard this!) Coaches enjoy the queue and feed on the human detritus around them – intervening tackles and dispensing with nerve-wracking advice on patience and superior human values – completely missing the fact that it is because of them that the queue is unbearable.

4) Sulkers: These guys never amounted to much in life. They don’t amount to much in the queue either. Standing anonymously like a bead in a string of sweaty beads, they shake their heads in silence at the unfairness of it all. They create vivid mental pictures of how they would jump in the air and decapitate the obnoxious coach behind them, in a Matrix-style kick to his empty head – but all they end up doing is burn a hole by staring at the nape of the neck belonging to the guy in front. Sometimes, one of these sulkers can explode like a soda bottle which is shaken a bit too much. Sulkers are serial killers in their heads. Brrrrr….

… and then there are the FMDAs (see title). Quarterbacks I can deal with, Linebackers I admire, Coaches I can blank out – but FMDAs – I feel like decapitating their foul heads with a matrix style kick. And there are so many of them.

And the unusually long and useless segue was for this particular FMDA who was two paces in front of me in the queue. For the entire 28 minutes that it took to reach the x-ray machines, he talked loudly on the phone, left the line twice – once for coffee and once to wet his shoes and generally made it clear to everyone around him that he was the king of the universe. As my heart leapt in silent celebration for reaching the end of my tiresome vigil – I heard FMDA loudly announce the meaning of his life.

“Shit!”

He turned around and started waving his boarding pass printout wildly, possibly showing the rest of the losers in the line how smart he was to have done a web check in. I soon realized, as I saw the white sheet of paper in his hands, what the problem was. FMDA had found the limit to his smartness and forgotten to get it stamped at the check in counter.

“Hey! Jet Airways!”

Everybody in earshot turned around, half expecting a man dressed like an airplane (like the life-like Mickey Mouse at Disneyland) to come prancing by and give him a wet towel to wipe his ass. But he was shouting at a poor line usher with a lanyard who, on not finding the prancing airline-man like the rest of us, realized, it was he who was being hollered at. Humbly he came closer to the barricade and FMDA shoved his virgin boarding pass into his face.

“Can you please get this stamped?” (just because he said please doesn’t mean he isn’t a jerk) Born into subservience, the poor usher, trembling under the hot gaze of his master, managed to mumble “Si..uh..uh..r… I cannot get this stamped…”

“What?? If you cannot get this stamped – why the hell are you standing here?”

Not to wipe your ass for sure.

“I-I… am so… sorry sir” The usher was visibly terrified now and looked like he would soon need a wet-wipe himself. And all this while the line had stopped moving. But, FMDA didn’t care. He just stood there like a defiant prince who just found out that the sun was the center of the solar system.

“Call your superior! I will lodge an official complaint!” Hearing the dreaded “C”-word, the jellyfish-usher, gathered his imaginary skirts and ran like Julie Andrews jumping over bushels of imaginary edelweiss. Meanwhile the linebackers were shouting from the back with self-righteous anger - “Hey! We have been waiting for so long blah blah…”  But FMDA stood his ground. “These airline people take us for a ride. I will lodge an official complaint!” Your mother should have lodged an official complaint with the creator for giving her a monkey instead of a boy.

Meanwhile, people started stepping around him and queue started moving again. But I kept my sights on this developing situation. The usher’s “Superior” – basically a better dressed guy who spoke better english – came bounding, “Sir, can I help you?”

“This idiot refuses to stamp my boarding pass! Now I might miss my flight becauses of him!” Because of him???? He wasnt the one who was stupid enough not to follow a simple well articulated process.

Though his eyes said “Inshallah!” – the official said “Sir, you have to get it stamped at the check-in counter with identity proof.”

“YOU MEAN I HAVE TO GO ALL THE WAY THERE TO GET THIS STUPID STAMP? WHAT KIND OF SERVICE IS THIS?? CALL YOUR SUPERIOR!!”

All our hopes of seeing Naresh Goyal in the flesh were dashed, when the Jet Airways official buckled under the constant bayonetting by the FMDA and swore on his mother that he will do everything for the prince including licking the lint between his highness’ toes. The poor guy ran like the wind, (powered by images of smelly feet I am sure), to get the print-out stamped – and the FMDA stood tall – chest out in triumph. Another victory for the glorious and all-powerful FMDA. All say hail!

I wonder what they were thinking when they wrote in the bible “The meek shall inherit the earth.” No sir. It is definitely more effective being a Fecal Matter Disposal Aperture.

Birdsong

Dear Loved One,

i am writing this because I can sense you are unhappy. If I was Deepak Chopra, I would have probably written a book for you, which would guide you to your “inner spiritual well” or something like that. But as I am poor working professional, a letter is all I can spare.

You are a special and rare person in many ways. You have tried very hard to live life beyond its boundaries, like a bird which enjoys every second its time in the sky and wants to drink the nectar from every flower, dull or colorful, and wants to sing its song in every orchard, ripe or barren. Humans, owing to the fact that they aren’t birds, are not built out-of-the-box to do that. Only special and rare humans, like you, can live the life of birds and launch themselves in flight, weightless and free.

But, my loved one, I see that flight has stopped being second nature to you. And it hurts me.

Maybe, every human-bird, has to eventually give in to the inadequacies of the human form. Maybe, you fought too hard against the winds, dust and debris and you are tired. Maybe, the world has coerced and manipulated you into believing that you are earth-bound like the rest of us, and now, surrounded by the faux-comfort of fellow humans – you are afraid to fly again. When in reality you are different from the rest of us. You are rare in that your words and actions spring forth, unencumbered by human selfishness, like a birdsong which spreads joy and forgiveness. You are special in that your desires are small and simple – you want to fly and you want to keep singing your songs.

This is what I love in you. I have always believed that you have spiritual clarity – way more than I can ever imagine of possessing. So why are you lost in the mire of dos and don’ts, rules and dogmas – when such man-made cages cannot hope to ever imprison your birdsong? Why are  you afraid to give things up – when these things were never really ours to own? Why are you afraid of losing your cage, when in truth, you had flown from it, a long time ago? Why are you afraid to leave the ground, when all you have ever wanted in your life, is to breathe the open air of the skies?

If I am an object of your desires and a recipient of your love, I am very fortunate for that. But, if you think this love will give you wings to fly again, you may be mistaken. Because I cannot give you something you already possess. I cannot put the song back on your lips, because the tune has always been in you. And it is because the birdsong is silent and unheard, that the cage around you is starker than ever and the sky is darker than ever.

I need you to fly again. Not because you need to escape the cage but because you need to find the bird within you again. Because the world is a more beautiful place because of your song. All I will do is protect you and shelter you from the human world. Once you discover your flight, my loved one, you will discover that cages have no place in your world, and all the humans who love you and cherish you, will look up to you in awe and admiration. Because that’s when your true beauty will shine and your true happiness will manifest. Like a Birdsong from the skies.

Yours Always

A.

Lucky Number 7

(This is a detailed review of Windows 7 – Microsoft’s next big OS release. If you just want to know if you should buy it or not… you should jump right to the end for the conclusion.)

The biggest event in the technology world is, and has always been since the advent of Windows 95, Microsoft releasing a new version of Windows. (Apart from Steve Jobs developing an ingrown toenail etc.) Most of my generation can timeline their lives according to corresponding releases of operating systems from Microsoft. 1993, my first PC with Win 3.1; 1996, my first “real” PC (a Compaq, the first in my building and my pride and joy); 1999, my first serious work PC with Windows NT when I first learnt about services and such; 2000, my first computing mistake with that weird thing called Windows Millenium Edition; 2002, the first time I had an antidote for my Mac envy with Windows XP and a service pack every year hence until; 2006, my respect for Microsoft hit’s an all time low when they tried to give us tremendously shallow reasons to let go of Windows XP SP3 (the most stable and secure Windows OS yet), with Vista. Vista, soon became the poster-child of how a monopoly can undo itself in one fell swoop. Right from performance issues to a convoluted interface (just try to setup a network) to terrible pricing options (Vista Ultimate?!!)  – Vista was an example of bad Product Management from the word go. MS did try to salvage some pride with SP1 – but by then it was too late and the verdict was clear – organizations were not about to give up on Windows XP for the Aero interface (probably the only thing I like about Vista… but hey, a few tweaks and an XP system can look as good!).

So, when last year, word came of a new Windows version being developed from “ground up” – it was followed by a collective sigh of relief. Deftly marketed at the last Consumer Electronics Show – along with the cool touch interface – Windows “7″ as  they call it, has had a positive chatter about it since the early betas. Sure enough, Grimescene has tracked the progress since the initial releases, and seen MS correcting a lot of the issues inherent to Vista – while taking the visual direction to higher, more cleaner plane. I allowed the various more jobless people on the internet to test and comment on the betas… until finally Microsoft announced the public release of Windows 7 Build 7100 in early May 2009. This was meant to be a “Release Candidate” – basically a stable system with most of the features and functionality of the final system that would go into production soon. I downloaded it, and installed it and documented here, is my experience so far.

1) Installation: 9/10

In one word – Breezy. Booted from the DVD-ROM on my Compaq Dual Core system with an Intel G33 chipset. After selecting the right partition for install, it pretty much took over the installation – until I was asked to put in my temporary serial number provided by MS (valid till March 2010). So after around 28 minutes I was staring at the login screen of my brand new Windows 7 system. I logged in, and voila – every driver was detected and installed correctly and basically the system was ready to be used. Brilliant.

2) The graphical interface: 8/10

Now this is where most of us will spend most of our time – so how does the Windows 7 interface fare? Very clean. I had always liked the transclusent Aero interface of Vista – and Windows 7 only makes it better. Here are a few screenshots:

The Desktop – featuring a wider task bar, a clean start button, collapsible system tray and a limited number of widgets like clock, calendar, RSS Feeds etc. on the side bar.

The Windows 7 Desktop

Theme Management has been greatly simplified, where in you can choose a new visual theme with just one click. There are static themes and dynamic ones which will rotate the wallpaper automatically after a configurable period. You can also create your own themes very easily.

Visual Theme Manager

The Start Menu is greatly improved… with all programs and program folders on the left pane itself. To go into a particular program folder – say, Microsoft Office, just click on the folder and the contents cascade down.

Windows 7 Start Menu

Click n Cascade

The Windows 7 Explorer interface (where you access all your files, documents, photos etc.) is clean and has something called “Libraries” – which basically is your media – My Documents, My Pictures, My Music and My Videos. The folders show a preview of what is inside. This is great way to organize your media… esp. if you are a home user.

Libraries

Also what is interesting is that the menu on top is context sensitive and changes to reflect the kind of folder/file you have chosen.

Context Sensitive Menus

Application Switching using Alt+Tab brings up a visual display of all open programs. Taking the mouse over any of the icons will actually bring the application up in the background. The performance of this of course will depend on the amount of RAM you have have on your system. In my 2GB system, it was instantaneous.

Alt+Tab App Switcher

Microsoft’s answer to Apple’s “Expose’” – Flip 3D is still there, stacking up all open application windows and smoothly scrolling through them as you press Win+Tab. Though it doesn’t work as well as Expose, I like it and use it a lot. Again, a good graphics engine and loads of RAM will help here.

Win+Tab Flip 3D

Another feature I like and have gotten used to pretty quickly is task bar preview and switch. When you take your mouse over all minimized applications on the Task Bar, a preview window, showing the application opens up just above the minimized icon. The taking your mouse over the preview will automatically bring the application to the forefront. These features have been incorporated to make the OS more attractive to power users such as graphical designers, a group which has long since moved to the Mac platform.

Task Bar Preview and Switching

Bottomline: The Graphical User Interface of Windows 7 build 7100 still looks a bit incomplete. A mish-mash of Vista and some new features. It is still quite a way behind Mac OSX in terms of sheer class… but I also think, this is the best I have seen MS do.

3) Configuration and Set up (8/10)

An OS is a complex thing. For most users, apart from basic user settings and network settings – what happens under the hood is irrelevant. But if one does need to go under the hood – Windows has always been quite daunting. It took me quite some time to master the inner alleyways of XP, and when I saw what they had done with Vista, it made me want to take up farming. I remember it took me 15 minutes and two cups of coffee (to calm my nerves), before I could figure out where to change my network settings in Vista. And every time I clicked on something – the annoying User Account Control dialog would pop up as if my only job in the world was to molest my operating system. UAC is still there in Windows 7… but it is much less annoying and only shows up at critical junctures.

Setting up my network, user rights, internet connection sharing and installing my printer and wireless network cards -  were all a breeze with Windows 7. There was hardly any learning curve at all. MS has taken a few steps closer to “Wizard Heaven” – and one can use clearly articulated step-by-step windows to configure most settings. In my opinion this is the easiest Windows to configure yet.

4) Performance (8 / 10)

Windows 7 is not built for the Pentium II machines that we see in our government offices. (Actually the finer points of Windows 7 would be lost on our babus… ) There have been various benchmarks done – comparing XP, Vista SP1 and Windows 7  – and Windows 7 outperforms the older OS’es in various productivity and graphical benchmarks. But a few points here and there on an abstract benchmark won’t mean anything to most of us. To me the OS should feel fast and responsive. Windows 7 is all of that, while offering a nice clean user experience. The animation of windows is smooth and the transparency doesn’t seem to affect performance. (of course, I have 2GB of RAM… but which new PC doesn’t?)

5) Should  you buy it?

For one thing, I do not envy the chaps in Microsoft Marketing. They have the gargantuan task to convincing customers to move from their current, stable operating environment to a new unknown. A task made doubly difficult by the fact that these customers have spent tremendous amounts of time, resources and emotions getting used to their PC. Microsoft has a marketshare of more than 90% in Operating Systems… most of that being Windows XP. Three service packs later, Windows XP is probably the best operating system out there in terms of stability, hardware and application compatibility, performance, and security. Plenty of third party add ons exist to improve XP in areas of Usability and Graphics. For most consumers already on XP – the concept of the OS as a seperate entity doesn’t exist. For most, the PC is the OS and vice versa. What this means for Microsoft is that, unless one wakes up every morning cursing his XP installation – most people will have no compelling reason to shell out Rs.8000 (or more depending on version) for a new operating system. Enterprises face a different issue. Having trained their staff and having spent lots of money and time in creating a stable and secure IT environment – any organization will look very closely on the benefits in productivity and security (the two main charters of an IT org.) that a new operating environment will bring to the table. Will their employees be able to work better? Faster? In a more secure way? Nothing in my experience with Windows 7 has pointed to this – a spreadsheet or a presentation is still the same. So why should I spend so much money on a new look and feel, especially in these recessionary times?

6) Conclusion – will Windows 7 be a success?

Windows 7 is in all probability the best operating system that Microsoft has released after MS-DOS. But that alone does not warrant a resounding success. Vista users, esp. who paid the full license fee, will be up in arms if MS over-charges for a Windows 7 upgrade… as this is really a better, more complete Vista. But it will take atleast a couple of years before enterprises move enmasse to this new platform.

Microsoft’s success – atleast in the consumer segment – would lie in pushing for new PC sales. First time users (if there are any left in the world) will love Windows 7… and so will millions who are still running on 2-3 year old hardware and are on XP or older OSes. For the enterprise segment MS will have to focus on aspects such as security, ease of configuration and management of assets and faster performance. But Vista will really take off when there is a disruptive change in the PC itself. One such disruption in the works is “The touch interface”. Having already taken the mobile phone market by storm, MS will push hard to bring touch computing to the masses. Windows 7 has support for touch functionality built in… and something like this might give a fillip to the sales of not only MS Windows… but also the entire computing industry.

This post has been written on my Windows 7 system. I like my experience so far…it is fast, good looking and hasn’t crashed even once. But I am still not sure if I will pay so much money just to buy a new OS. I think, like many others, I will wait for my next PC / laptop upgrade to fill Microsoft’s pockets again.

Human Nature

Michael Jackson 1958-2009.

I guess it is in the nature of humans to die. That could be a way to explain why suddenly the largest selling artist of all time, bar NONE, has suddenly departed from his Neverland to the real Neverland. As I turned on CNN this morning, I saw Larry King’s ageless face talking about “Remembering Michael Jackson”. It didn’t hit me at first… dismissing it as publicity for MJ’s upcoming “retour”.

Larry: “On the line we have Donna Summers, a close friend of Michael’s… Donna, what are you feeling right now?”

Donna: “Larry… I am shocked. There is a sense of tremendous loss….”

Grimescene: “Holy Shit! MJ is dead!”

As the tea grew cold, I saw, unmovingly, Michael Jackson’s dead body being airlifted to the coroner’s office in LA… and I realized that this is weird. I mean, Michael Jackson is one of those “things” that is always there. Sure, he has been reduced to a pathetic caricature by the media wolves – but he is quite simply an inextricable part of this world that I inhabit. Now you’re telling me he is dead? Get outta here…

It was 1983 and I was 6 years old when my teenage cousins introduced me to some really strange music. My ears, hitherto accustomed to the strains of M.S. Subhalakshmi and classic bollywood music, could not decipher what was playing on the stereo. But, at the same time, I felt strangely uplifted by the catchy beats of Billy Jean. This man who sounded like a woman, but not really, with shrieks and loud satanic “Uh!”s and “Oonh!”s – had me mesmerized in no time. That was my first foray into Western popular music. We didn’t have a tape deck at home at that point, so I found myself requesting MJ to be played whenever we visit my cousins – swaying and jumping to the extremely catchy beats of Thriller.

That was 26 years ago. And even now – whenever I pop my special edition Thriller  CD into the player – I still sway and sing along. There aren’t many albums in the world which are timeless – Thriller is better and bigger than all those which are. From the mock-serious-horror of the title track, to the sheer cheese of “The Girl Is Mine”, the hissing spitting bet-you-will-dance catchiness of “Wanna be starting something”, the in-your-face rebelliousness of “Beat it”, the beautiful dance of emotions in “Billy Jean”, the tongue-in-cheek naughtiness of “PYT” and the goose-pimple inducing delicateness of my personal all-time favorite “Human Nature” – Thriller is a 9 track redefinition of pop music, the start of an era. An era that has ended today with the untimely death of Michael Jackson.

Sure enough, with a behemoth like Thriller behind him, Michael could never really create anything as phenomenal… although both Bad and Dangerous sold many, many millions of copies – cementing his status as the King of Pop. But behind the success, was a child who never had a childhood. Later, under the glare of the media attention – there were stories of how Michael and his siblings were abused and pushed relentlessly by their father towards stardom. This made Michael into a different kind of person in many ways – and I only know him through his music. He was an extremely vulnerable man. He had no idea how to deal with the trappings of the fame and fortune. He questioned his relationships, his motives, the world around him. He sang of child abuse (in Smooth Criminal) and in a cruel twist of fate was accused of the same. He sang of destruction of innocence. He sang about the destruction of the earth. He sang of poverty and oppression. And all through it he displayed a kind of musical brilliance and virtuosity that the world will never see again.

As the years went by, troubled by the allegations, health problems and the constant media mockery – he retreated into a shell and he became the world’s favorite whipping boy. And yet his albums continued to sell. Millions and millions of them. Tribute remixes of his classics topped charts. He still played on the radios, in pubs, discos, cars, homes, ipods. Soon Michael the cartoon character was dead to the world – but Michael, the King of Pop, the supremely talented musician of our times, lived on in our CD players. His videos and recordings of live performances are still the benchmark for an artist who was not just a voice, but a force in the world of entertainment.

Maybe this is why I saw a kind of evenness in the voices of his fans, his friends on the TV today. Maybe this is why I feel a sort of righteous relief. His physical form was already dead in our minds. Michael Jackson has merely left a world which chose to make him pay for his success. He has merely bid goodbye to those people who could never understand him and thought that money compensated for a childhood of abuse and lost innocence. His real life is still very much alive… and always will be in his music.

We love you Michael – and hope that you find the beautiful childhood that you were denied, wherever you are now.

Great Punto!

One of my favorite commercials on television is the one where a father and son are walking by a line of shops with the father not letting the kid gaze at toys in shop windows, when suddenly the father himself finds himself affixed in front a Fiat showroom. Gazing at something beautiful… the Linea.

The Linea, has been Fiat’s fastest selling car in India (atleast in recent times) – and for good reason. There is quite simply nothing like it on Indian roads. In other words – it stands out. And everytime you see its dynamic curves, you find something new about it. The sweeping A-pillar, the hawk like stance, the high rear end… it is Italian styling at its zenith. Well almost.

Enter the Fiat Grande Punto. The auto enthusiasts in India have been waiting for the car for years now… and finally today, the official release statement came in. And frankly blew me apart. It is the most understated, yet eye-poppingly beautiful cars I have ever seen – especially on Indian roads. There is nothing special about the design… just the way it all comes together like a Neruda verse, or the strokes of Da Vinci. Poetry.

And the best part? 3.99 Lakhs (399000) – starting. Want to spend more? No problems… goes all the way up to 6.11. Superb pricing if you ask me, and will redefine the overcrowded mid-sized hatchback market. More importantly, for the first time, the Swift has competition in terms of value for money, looks and performance.

Here are some views… but the real beauty will only dawn on seeing it for real.

Now only if Fiat can assure its prospective buyers that all service related issues will be solved… this car will surely rock. And  Indian roads will start looking beautiful again… Can’t wait to test drive this one!

The final frontier

JJ Abrams is a genius.

A bit of a maverick… but yeah… genius. The creator of path breaking TV shows such as Lost, Alias and the new show, Fringe has made a name for himself as someone who pushes the envelope of what can be shown on screen. He saved the Mission Impossible series from becoming a regular action staple, by infusing an edgy, personal feel to M.I.-III. – and that was the only movie he had directed before he was chosen to helm Star Trek.

I guess one has to be a bit crazy in the head to take up something as revered as Star Trek. I vividly remember huddling with wide-eyed-wonder and cup-of-bournvita in front of the telly, trying to wrap my limited imagination around the “very very big spaceship” on the screen and the stupendous adventures of its crew. For those 45 min + nirma advertisements, Doordarshan redeemed itself a thousand times over in this child’s eyes. And I am sure a million others. Atleast, in me, it managed to kick start a fascination for technology and adventure, which I carry to this day.

Then it would come as no surprise that I was literally bristling with excitement when I heard that the Starship Enterprise would fly across for the first time, across the big screen. (OK – that’s not true, there have been movies before. But this would be the first big studio production.) A feeling greatly amplified when I realized that Dee knew what a Vulcan salute was. (What are the odds… I found a girl who likes Star Trek. I shall definitely live long and prosper.) So at warp speed, I booked two tickets to a preview show for a full day before it hit theaters officially.

The movie starts with Captain Kirk Sr. giving up his life to save the lives of his crew, while his pregnant wife heaved and pushed baby James out in a space-dingy. Baby James grows up a rebel, but with the reflexes and risk-taking attitude of his father. After a typical bar brawl where he beats some and gets beaten some… he is inducted into the Starfleet. Where he meets a precocious Vulcan prodigy, Spock. The rest I will not divulge, considering there might still be earthlings out there who haven’t boarded the USS Enterprise.

So how was the movie? As expected the movie was as awesome as it would feel when Scotty would be beaming you into the depths of the Laurentian system – while moving at warp speed. (I can only guess, but what’s a man if he can’t dream…) There is non stop action and adventure, and black holes never looked so gorgeous before.

This isn’t a homage to a definitive and path-breaking TV series. This isn’t an attempt to pander to the whims and emotions of the gargantuan following that Star Trek has all over the world. It is to tell the rest of the world, the story of men and women who were dedicated to their job, were quick on their feet and loved kicking bad-alien-butt. But, most of all, the latest Silver Screen rendition of Star Trek introduces the formation of a friendship between two of the most unforgettable characters in history of television – James Tiberius Kirk and Spock. Much like Christopher Nolan revived the Batman franchisee with “Batman Begins” – JJ Abrams has successfully relaunched Star Trek. And with what style and panache! The cast is terrific with Zachary Quinto of “24″ fame literally transforming his face and manners to match that of brilliant young Spock and Chris Pine  infusing a sense of latent greatness mixed with irresponsible genius, into a character who would become the greatest Starship commander of all time – James Kirk.

What about the die hard Trekkers? Wouldn’t they be alienated (pun intended)? Possibly – there have been angry retorts by Trekkers who believe Abrams has destroyed Star Trek… by making it “accessible”. This just shows that Abrams succeeded in what he set out to do – tell a great story without getting stuck in history. Sure enough, when just before the end of the movie, the hulking USS Enterprise filled up the screen and the deep voiceover rang “Space. The final frontier….” – the hair stood up at the back of my neck and my skin resembled that of a monitor lizard. Bumpy.

Fan or not… watch this movie. Definitely the best movie that has been released in 2009. Now setting phasers to sequel….