Work of love!

I was on a drive to NY last week. Driving through snow covered landscape was an enjoyable experience. Pennsylvania and NewJersey are beauties. On the way, through Penn, I was idly gazing around while my friend was at the wheel. Suddenly something caught my eye. It was some graffiti in an Indian language, complete with the heart and arrow symbol!! Even in desolate places, my countrymen, diehard romantics they being, strive to declare their love. One must be a complete whacko to take out a paint tin and brush to a remote place, just to scribble his love.I naively assume here that Indian females are not given these tendencies. Now I'd like to visit Everest, just to know whether any Indian who had gone there, has proclaimed his love, thousands of feet above sea level! What all a love lorn guy is driven to!!

Hairy tales!!

After well over two months, I finally got my hair cut last week. Having no time to get the hair cut, I let it grew, and grow it did like wild weed. Curly, unkempt hair is not a great advertisment for your company when you're visiting a client. And I was getting looks too. Afraid of being mistaken for a rock star, I decided to go to the saloon. The poor lady at the saloon had her clippers break trying them on me. I was a bit embarassed.My friend whom I went with, helpfully suggested her to go for a lawn mower. There's nothing like a lady to make one take snipe at even friends! :-( It took a whole 10 minutes for my Delilah to figure how to get at my hair. "You should have come earlier", she told me primly. I mumbled, "Didn't have time", my eyes bleary having pulled an all nighter just before. Then she doused me with water and then managed to do her work. The next day, I got appreciated for the hair cut, at office. Lotsa ladies and a few men too!
While I was there, I got reminded of my first hair cut at Indore. It was a hilarious (not to me, then) episode. I was new to the Hindi heartland and had a very small vocab. I sat on the swivel chair, and the barber went to work. He asked me something. I just nodded, proud to let him know that I didn't understand a single word of what he asked. After 10 minutes, I was shorn and was about to get up, he fired away another question. I made some undecipherable sound. He poured a cool oil on my head and started practising tabla. I realised, albeit a bit late, that I was asked about having a head massage. In my mind, I started counting the money I had, to give him for this extra. Then he again enquired something pointing at my face. I should have atleast got up then. Proud I am, I did some more affirmative sounds. I forgot whatever Hindi I had known till then. Not a single Hindi word came to my mind and said, "I'm here". To my horror, the barber took some cream applied on my face. He took a mallet sort of thing and went about hammering my face. I couldn't have been any stupider then, though my friends contest this. This went on for some time. Enjoyed at the opportunity to practise all his skills and apply all his concoctions, the barber started talking to me about something again. This time, I managed to croak out a "nahin" and got off. The good thing at the end was all of them, the massage, facial or whatever he did to my face, came at a very low cost. For that money, I would've got just a plain vanilla haircut in Chennai. Even after that, my repertoire of Hindi words didn't increase. But I started rehearsing what to say, before going for trimming my mop.

Chink in the armour!

Since I came to the US I am fascinated by one thing. Whatever store I go to, I see products with the "Made in China" label. And this is not a stray occurence. In stores like WalMart which caters to the middle class, almost all the products sold, are from China. I saw some clothes with the "Made in Bangladesh" tag too, never a "Made in USA"! But ofcourse, sodas are the obvious exception.
Amused, I started a game to myself, to find an article which has the words, "Made in USA". I searched and searched. Finally I found Zippo lighters carrying that etching.
USA, it seems to me, is a large consumer economy than a manufacturing one. In general, all products for the high end market come from Europe and for the rest down below the affluency line, it's the Chinks! It looks as if China has bought the manufacturing rights to all sorts of consumer durables!!
No doubt, the Chinks are leveraging their population as an asset.It is a controlled labour market as well. Important of all, China's exchange rate is artificially pegged down to the dollar, making it's exports to the US dead cheap.
I made an hypothesis. Let any US president restrict the imports from China.
Effects: 1.He will see a raise in prices.
2.It will result in public unhappiness and complaint over the prices.
3.Ratings down for the incumbent in the endless opinion polls they conduct.

That is why, No US president offends China. US will preach the whole world about signing NPT. They'll demand that all markets should be open to them. But when it comes to China, it is at the decision and timing if its own, does it relent. All the South East Asian tigers got plundered because of having their currency at free float. China and India as well, escaped then because of their relatively insulated economies.

US may be known as the super power but I wonder what will happen if China lowers the boom either through its currency rate or making its exports a bit costlier!! It'll hurt US badly. So who's the actual super power?

To be a big daddy, a country has to do two things.
One, create market dependencies. you control a nation's market, you control the nation!
Second, Go Nuke! It's the Insurance!!

Shooting Bull!

Today I had 110 calories worth of Carbonated water, Sucrose, Glucose, Sodium Citrate, Taurine, Glucoronolactone, Caffeine, Inositol, Niacinamide, Calcium-pantothenate, Pyridoxine HCL, Vitamin B12, Artificial flavours and colours, and managed to stay awake through the day!!


P.S: I had a Red Bull Energy Drink.
P.P.S: Too much of fine print is injurious to health!

A tough question!

It's winter and cold has started its regular nocturnal visits. And my city, is known for its winds sweeping through. The winds shiver your timbers, while forcing the temperature down south. I quiver inside three layers of clothing. But what never ceases to surprises me are the raiments of the womenfolk. I see them still coming about in skimpy dresses, tank tops, sliver straps, and what not! And every dress fights shy of reaching the navel, leaving the midriff to the mercy of cold winds and having the men at their mercy. It defeats me how they manage or why they should torture themselves such!
I am no male chavunist, or atleast I think so. But what seems to me a 10,00,000 dollar question is, when the men, fully clothed, could sweep the opposite gender off their feet, why the femme fatales have to indulge in such masochism just to get our attention? Your two cents please.