Hotline

"Hello, my Internet connection has not been working for hours," I tell the service provider hotline guy, after being warned by a computerised voice that this call is being recorded for quality and training purposes and I am to be part of the education.

"Ok...please provide me with security details....thanks...ok, may I call you by first name?..." he rattles off.

"Anything, just get this working."

"So what is the problem actually?"

"The internet..."

"You want to subscribe?"

"I told you it is not working and when it does work it is very slow."

"I understand. Am really sorry for the inconvenience. How many bars are showing?"

Hic.

"Four," I say, squinting my eyes to make sure I don't miss out on any bars and mislead the training and quality.

"That's good. Now try browsing."

"That's what I have been trying to do, and it is not working."

"Oh, so sorry to hear that. Did you try switching it off?"

"I have done all that is possible. Switched off, on, removed batteries, put them in, taken the phone/tab for a walk..." [last bit not said aloud]

"Maybe you don't know the settings..."

"I've been using this before you were born." [not said aloud]

"We'll try it manually...go to home page, then to settings..."

"I have been there for a couple of hours..." I had also cleared cache, history, geography to make it light as a feather.

"Now add this...then this...type google...G O O..."

"I know how to spell."

"Now click save..."

"There is no save...it auto saves."

"IPad is Apple?"

"No. It is orange." [said softly because call is recorded and training might not be fruity]

"I will have to transfer you to my technical department..."

"And who are you?"

"I am hotline help. Transferring now...[music] Sorry about the long wait..."

[It's been 30 seconds only]

"Okay, transferring the line to Shahrukh Khan [not his real name]. SRK will now help you..."

"Even if Idi Amin does I'll be happy."

[obviously, I did not say it aloud]

"I understand you have a problem. Have you tried switching on and switching off?" asked SRK.

"No. I have no clue how to do it. Because I am not a machine."

[I did not say this latter bit aloud]

The wonders of life. The line got cut off. I resigned myself to being unconnected. A few minutes later I got a text message. "Were you happy with the help?"

I switched off. So, yes, the help worked in unintended ways.

Sunday ka Funda

- - -

Mohamed Haneef and the Middle-class

Mohamed Haneef and the Middle-class
by Farzana Versey
Countercurrents, December 22

Julian Assange has given the Indian middle-class and the media the thumbs up. He is probably not aware of the lobbying controversy. Besides mentioning our “vibrant” journalism, he told an Indian newspaper that he was optimistic because “you have a rising middle class. You have more people getting access to the internet. So, I am quite hopeful of about what is going to develop in India”.

The middle-class, whether rising or otherwise, tends to be complacent. Such leaks have worked as scoops before; we have had politicians eat crow and then gone on to crow about it. That’s how it works here and that’s how it works elsewhere. The moralistic middle-class did not flinch about a Bill Clinton and it elects parties that have $1000 ticket events for fund-raising, not to speak about celebrity endorsements. And in Australia how many middle-class people booed out the former Prime Minister John Howard for his anti-immigrant statements, specifically targetting a certain religious group?

This brings us to the closure of the case of the Indian doctor, Mohamed Haneef, who was arrested in Australia, where he worked, and imprisoned for two weeks without a charge against him only on the basis of a suspicion of involvement in the Glasgow International Airport terrorist attack. He will be paid compensation, reportedly worth Aus $1 million. The manner in which his inquiry was conducted, the lack of evidence or rather the wrongful use of evidence, shows that there was a vicious attempt to incarcerate him, probably also the first showpiece for its 2005 Australian Anti-Terrorism Act. Since July 2007 when he was arrested to now, he has had to fight to prove that he is innocent.

The rising middle-class did not come out to support him, not in India, not in Australia. A ‘public outcry’ has become just another ruse for demonising the victim, for it furthers the case for kangaroo courts. The internet is obsessed with people and events that are ‘happening’. There won’t be any leaks about these incidents, even though none of this can happen with the connivance of the powers. This was a cross-continental case. Why are the authorities not being put on trial for bungling it, as the independent inquiry has found they did?

Dr. Haneef will get the money, and he had “sought damages for lost earnings, the interruption to his medical career, damage to his reputation and emotional stress”. Unfortunately, the emphasis will be on the monetary aspect and not on the real issue of making a case on the basis of suspicion. It raises questions about how the stereotyping starts at the top and percolates down to those who have access and are ‘wired’ to the world. This is just such a superficial indulgence. I can imagine how the media will want to know what he will do with the money, will he take up the cause of others like him, all hinting at the settlement. Rules have been flouted, but that will be forgotten. He has had to live with being tainted when terror screams out from the power peaks of establishments that terrorise people into believing that they are at risk. It is made out to be some kind of epidemic, and the rising middle-class wants to be safe because it is awfully sorry for itself. This is the package deal of morality combined with upward mobility.

Dr. Haneef, too, talks about moving on. This is the middle-class fallacy. No one moves on; they just move ahead and don’t look back in anger. This lack of ire is what will make sure that any expose remains in the realm of a whodunit. It is time for popcorn.

I was surprised to read a senior official’s comment that the WikiLeaks model would work in India. “There is incredible amount of corruption and a lot of it is well documented. The problem is that our government servants, who have access to these files, are very, very afraid to leak documents. They don’t even trust most reporters.”

Since when has corruption begun to be well-documented? In really big cases, there are files that have been passed and dates with names that can be pinned down. But it is the government servants who are the beneficiaries. It is convenient to point fingers at the politicians, but what about the bureaucracy? Yes, the same much-in-demand, dowry-enabled bureaucracy? Before entering a politician’s cabin, everyone from the trader to the big businessman, has to go through babudom, the kingdom with lost keys. The same one with the middle-class morals has to rise, after all. The uniform changed from polyester shirts, to the safari suit and is now more striped Park Avenue or even the odd Marks and Spenser’s.

This babu is the one who files the culpable files as well as those implicating innocents. Why are we not concerned about the latter? Why is it only about the wrong-doings when the ones who have done no wrong far outnumber the criminals? Look at the undertrials in prison, look at those waiting for provident fund or fighting to get their dues. Is there exposure about such cases?

There used to be a middle-class that cared, even if it sat helplessly, hand in head, chopping onions. Now, it does not. It isn’t only because onions are expensive, but because in the world of quick news you cannot just crib about price rise; you need to have a point of view about onion and the economy that drives it. This is spoon-fed and the middle-class person feels empowered with such knowledge. With this empowerment, sitting in a creaking armchair, now called antique instead of just a doddering old piece of furniture, this person will forget that buying power is being systematically reduced for essentials. The big players sell big dreams on plasma TV screens. It is all about the Big Picture.

The Raj Kapoor cinematic fantasy in black and white has become a mall rat flaunting, “Mera joota hai Japani, yeh patloon Englistani, sar pe lal topi Russi, phir bhi dil hai Hindustani” (My shoes are Japanese, trousers English, cap Russian, but the heart remains Indian.) This heart is now in the right place – at the centre of the hub. It isn’t about donning a cap, but how far we can go with the visiting Russian leader Dmitry Medvedev. Even a song that warmed so many people’s lips has now become a propeller for collaboration and business and the global euphoria.

The official quoted earlier had added, “It is not that we don’t have whistle-blowers in our system, but they need to be assured of secrecy.”

We did and Satyendra Dubey was killed. The rising middle-class did not have time. And that is what is frightening. Every case is a pushover. Until the next one comes along and we clear the cache.

Definitely!

Mirriam-Webster’s can keep its austere pragmatism to itself. I’ve got my own ideas. The dictionary has got out its list of top ten words of the year based on what people went sniffing around for.

The real meaning will be available at the site and others, but what are words if they cannot provide some delicious new meanings?


Here are my definitions to the chosen 10:

1. austerity: Ossifying basic needs so that you can have the temerity to pretend you were accustomed to luxuries

2. pragmatic: The ability to brag about being pneumatic

3. moratorium: Putting a stop to morals at the last minute.

4. socialism: A political ideology that allows you to socialise without feeling guilty

5. bigot: A shortened term for big idiot

6. doppelganger: A gangster who is trying to repel his dope habit

7. shellacking: A lack of shells to chuck

8. ebullient: A schizophrenic bullish attitude that is always close to turning lenient

9. dissident: Someone who disses anything that lacks teeth

10. furtive: The use of fur to pretend to be what you are not


I have never been a dictionary junkie even though I love words. When I was young, I would mark the ones I did not know the meanings of and try to figure out what they meant in the sentence, within the context. It was a long process, but exciting. I was often wrong, but I was right too. How did I know? I asked people who did. It gave me an opportunity to discover words, discover the possibility of their usage and to know how much others knew!

I find the idea of people who are interested in current affairs running to check words that are used quite commonly rather curious. Some would consider it a step towards knowledge. In a way, it is. But, if the word ‘austerity’ has made it on the basis of the hits during a time of crisis, in Greece to begin with, where people went on strike and there was acute shortage of essentials, then I find this sort of intelligence seeking mercenary, taking the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’ to another level of was bliss.

Besides, dictionary definitions can be rather limiting. Each culture has such wonderful colloquialisms and slang and meshing of dialects to include in the mainstream of English that a static definition just cannot convey. Purists would look down upon it, but then purists happily gorge on Latin proverbs and those French exclamations and Spanish forms of address to make perfectly capable Anglo-Saxon look like a mixed-up soup. If that’s what we permit, then let’s just add various condiments and learn the language of our thoughts. So, what’s on your mind?

Pakistani circus comes to town!

A Pakistani commentator has come up with a Pavlovian response to how Indians salivate over Pakistan’s misfortunes and are not all smelling of roses. To make this rather simple point, he moves from the dog in the science lab to sci-fi to Biblical metaphors.

Ejaz Haider’s column in The Express Tribune mentions his educational qualifications – a seemingly mandatory thing these days in some publications – which should tell us that he is all grown up and doing tickety-boo. So well in fact that he expects “scientific inquiry”, unlike aforementioned dog, from Indians in the World Wide Web. He forgets one basic tenet of the W word, and that is anonymity and the possibility of fake Indians and fake Pakistanis faking emotions to elicit fake critical faculties of columnists who are educationally well-hung.

His one-line tenet is that Indians pounce on any Pakistani for “putting things in a (sic) perspective”. He believes that his country is masochistic because while Indians can openly be critical of Pakistan, Pakistanis cannot do so in Indian newspapers. I think he should do a bit of research on internet behaviour. As I have already stated, Indians and Pakistanis rarely appear as themselves. Pakistani commentators are quite coddled in India, even if they write about some sidey actress and Nwaaz Shrif’s hair implant. All those Pakistan diary type items often talk the usual lingo of exotica which makes it rather charming. The same applies to Indians who discuss “daily life” or Bollywood or “peace initiatives”, the latter being the biggest-ticket event.

Before I am accused of doggie behaviour, I must add that Mr. Haider has rather magnanimously acceded that India does have its moments:

India has its strengths, without doubt. We need to emulate them, no gainsaying that either. But for Indians to embark on an exercise, every time a whistle is blown, to prove India is the best thing to happen this side of Eden is to ask for willing suspension of disbelief at a level that defies even disbelief.

Just a bit of semantics here: When you defy disbelief, you are a believer. Ergo, suspension of disbelief ought to be a dribble of saliva.

He then comes to the point:

There have been comments upon comments in this newspaper by Indians about, among other things, corruption in Pakistan. Something like the 2G scandal in Pakistan would have given the Indians a field day. Try placing a comment on the Radia tapes, a scandal which, alone in its spread, is enough to eclipse Pakistan’s collective scams over 63 years, or even offer to write on it in an Indian newspaper, and you would know what I am saying.

One moment. Corruption is endemic to our societies. However, it is a huge exaggeration to say that in 63 years Pakistan has not had a scam of this dimension. Is the reference only to the monetary aspect? How many tapes have been ever released about Pakistani politicians or Pakistani military leaders? India is also a larger country in every way. I don’t understand the need to compare and sound so insecure about being ‘eclipsed’ in this field. Having said that, who has stopped any Pakistani from writing about the scandal in a Pakistani paper? Why must a Pakistani write about this in an Indian newspaper? It might be noted that part of the scandal is the blurring of it in the mainstream media, so even if a Tutu columnist tried, s/he might not get in edgeways.

A few days ago I was asked by the people concerned when I would resume my ET column and the next sentence mentioned the Radia tapes. I was surprised that no one had written about it and when I said that I had already had my say on the subject, they told me they’d like to use a shorter version. I agreed, provided I could edit it myself and it would clearly state that it is an abridged version. It is still not up. It is about several lobbies, as I have often critiqued in both the Indian and Pakistani media about both India and Pakistan and several other societies.

However, while Pakistani newspapers might publish some views, are they open to ALL views? I have faced criticism for other opinions about ills in Pakistani society as I do from Indians. And, most amazingly, one reviewer of my book ‘A Journey Interrupted: Being Indian in Pakistan’ even mentioned that I had misused the hospitality! Pakistan or Pakistanis had not sponsored the book nor had India or Indians or even my publisher. This was an insult to the several Pakistanis I had met and they were the first to rubbish such a thought; it only revealed that when you talk to and quote real rebels, people who have been imprisoned, literally or otherwise, instead of part-time jingoists, you are not quite ‘with it’. These remarkable people are considered outsiders even today by their own smart-ass commentators.

On the flip side Pakistan, and India, choose their favourites. Interestingly, these ‘vocal critics’ become the flavour of the ‘opposite camp’. So, my criticism of certain aspects about Arundhati Roy sounds offensive to Pakistanis! Talk about co-opted cocoons.

Of course, Mr. Haider is all praise for the Indian’s pride in the state, unlike Pakistanis who talk about doomsday. That’s because they have been hearing the Americans go on and on about a ‘failed state’ so often that they feel like doing a little mirror job. But, when optimistic Pakistanis see the good side, they are considered wimps and fools. Besides, questioning the status quo is always good.

Finally, Mr. Haider sounds quasi ominous and forgets grammar:

Meanwhile, I have said India and Indians a number of times here; the circus is about to hit town!

I am sure you have told us: the circus is about to hit town. The problem is that having said it so often, we mistook the messenger for the message.

PS: When you assume Pavlov’s dog is on your mental leash, it can turn out to be quite a bitch.

The blonde on webcam

Sitting in a coffee shop, I am reading up some news items that might be deemed serious. At a table at the far end, she sits. Her blonde hair tousled with gel. I can smell the spray that holds it. There is a bright light before her eyes as she talks in a language I do not understand. She speaks loud, then laughs, her little girl voice now throaty, and then it drops to a whisper. She is on webcam and I cannot see the monitor but I watch as she winds her fingers into her curls and bends a little to reveal some cleavage.

It is obvious that she is talking to a known person. Maybe a husband, a boyfriend, but most certainly someone with whom she is intimate. There did not appear to be any obvious intimacy. She would not have chosen so public a place and there would be people who’d understand her language. I understood her language, in an unspoken manner – the language of distance, of pain, of pining, of sexual tension. It was evident as she inadvertently pulled out the headset and the male voice could be heard on the speakers; she plugged it in quickly, as though it were a cigarette butt left burning.

She did not say any goodbye. I only heard a sigh as she snapped close the laptop. She wore a skirt with a misaligned hemline and stilettos; her blouse clung to her tiny frame and her hair suddenly seemed too much, too big for her frame, for her face, for her body. It was like a camouflage for her person, since for a long time that is all I saw of her.

She went to the cash counter to pay and the jerkiness of her hand movements as she fidgeted in her purse and insisted that she did not need a bill even as she grabbed it and then ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out the tangles, almost straightening it, those curls now needing to be tamed into relaxation…she might go out for a drink and let the slight headiness weaken her senses or she might retire to her room somewhere and recreate the conversation. I can hear her voice in the breeze as it blows gently and then creeps in between the fronds with a whoosh sound that falls silent as maybe a leaf falls into a whisper.

She’ll find that breeze echoing in her room and envelope her body.

Heir to Trash

For those who think they are too poor to leave anything behind, just bequeath your Spam. The Digital World is now rife with riches, in terms of email accounts, uploaded photographs, videos, social networking portfolios.

If you thought you lived in a cramped rented studio apartment and have the audacity to declare that you are homeless, you are in fact occupying space. Ah, did you know that 'My Space' was moveable property? Get it? You, who played the poverty card, the hobo, the one who had to depend on social security and wait for bonuses, are rich. So wipe that woe-begone look off your face and straighten your shoulders. You are priceless.

The legal fraternity has been busy formulating Wills that leave the heirs with all cyber wealth. Apparently, people believe that after they are gone their children, grandchildren or complete strangers ought to be given all their communication. Passwords won’t be mentioned in the Last Will and Testament because it is an open document. It will be drawn separately and the inheritor may have sole rights to it.

I understand that everyone believes they have precious stuff beyond their cupboards, safes, mutual funds, and property. This is certainly a move to make the Will a great leveler and bridge the gap, at least socially. I mean, someone can leave behind a virtual solitaire. It sounds neat. But what would an heir do with ‘friends’ gathered on Facebook? And how would s/he deal with updated tweets and discover that the parent or family member or friend was really cuckoo?

Think of all those recipients wondering about the nature of correspondence revealed. It is one thing when people do so while they are alive, but after death?

I don’t think it is a particularly good idea, unless one has saved every memory digitally. I am sure if you have pictures with someone at the Eiffel Tower, that someone would have a copy. Heck, your online ‘contacts’ and ‘followers’ might have access to them if you ‘share’. With so much sharing already going on, the heir could well misuse it. How many of the friends do you know personally? So, the person bequeathed with the information could well play the same character, that is you, and no one would know.

I think what we save is of value to us alone and what we delete is not. Imagine being the legatee of an email account and just after the last tear drop has dried on the cheek you go and sign in and the first words that greet you are: “Your email account has won $ 2 million”? Would you want to LOL or ROTFL?

The latter has often made me wonder about the hyperbolic nature of the internet. Does anyone really Roll On The Floor Laughing? Then how do they manage to type?

A Tissue for Sale

We read about the prized virgins in backward countries and are offended. We read about hymenoplasty and are offended. How about ‘priced’ virgins?

A 19-year-old in New Zealand auctioned her virginity online for $32,000 for tuition money. She used the pseudonym ‘Unigirl’. Her ad said:

“I am offering my virginity by tender to the highest bidder as long as all personal safety aspects are observed. This is my decision made with full awareness of the circumstances and possible consequences.”

Over 30,000 people had viewed her ad and more than 1,200 had made bids before she accepted an offer of more than $32,000. All this she managed without posting a photograph or details that were verifiable.

What does it tell us? That those who bid were doing it to help her get a good education? That they were excited by the possibility of a blind date they would be paying for? Is it that they valued the virginity since they can get sex from anywhere? Why would anyone take the trouble?

Even if they are not certain, those who took part in the auction must have felt powerful. There is a culture of ‘deflowering’ that makes men believe they are the first to conquer.

That is the reason we have these surgeries to repair ruptured hymens. While it is known to happen in non-western countries, the idea of virginity – and the nubile young girl – is indeed the stuff of fantasies as well as creative works.

Without morally judging the seller or the buyer here, it is disturbing that the girl could not borrow this amount from parents or friends. She is obviously smart enough to know about safety aspects. How would she ensure that? Can she, a ‘bought item’, demand a medical test? Is it only her virginity at stake as a one-time act or will she get trapped into giving more of herself?

Is she certain that the amount will be given to her, and if so her real identity may be out since the transaction is unlikely to be in cash?

I am afraid I don’t think much of such education that forces people – men and women – to objectify themselves or rather a part of themselves. They become reduced to just what they are selling. Some may think it is empowering because 'Unigirl' chose to do what she did. A system or society that makes people use these measures only transforms them into manipulated dolls who begin to wallow in the very concept of manipulation.

She will know how much she costs but not how much she is really worth as a person. And that is the benchmark she might well start using to gauge others. It is a loss, anyway we see it.

Am I not sexy enough for you?

I thought these long sessions, foreplay with words, the urgency to do something, shed inhibitions and garbs, the languorous moments with the seen and the unseen, as sentences were caressed and teased worked.

Not anymore. Blogging is passé. Emails are...oh, no...



A new study has found that brief is in. People want quickies.

Danah Boyd, a fellow at Harvard University’s Berkman Center for Internet and Society, said, “Remember when ‘You’ve got mail!’ used to produce a moment of enthusiasm and not dread? (Now) people focus on using them for what they’re good for and turning to other channels for more exciting things.”

What is more exciting about tweets? Or leaving messages on walls at Facebook or other social networking sites? Is communication about just leaving behind a toe-print and not a trail? Yet, it is these sites that have ‘followers’. What are they following?

I took a quick look and found that this is just a way to make an asinine comment and then scoot off. Substance is lacking. I can understand celebrities doing that; I can understand if it is used to direct people to something of import elsewhere that they themselves have contributed to. But this is just one more element of fan culture where anyone with an account can claim to have fans. It also ends up as a means to make visible that you have said something about someone, even if it is a one-liner, to seem important.

There could be a few who may be able to convey something, but even they know it is only an appetiser.

Another distressing aspect is that the study focused on the young. It assumes that sexiness is connected in some ways with youth, and that stops at 30. This is only encouraging an attitude that will push the idea and target youngsters who will become commercial puppets. Will they stop and listen? Will they want to explore ideas? Sharing only means files, vids, plans for da party and latest pix. (Incidentally, if all this is getting fast-paced and short, then why the need for larger electronic memories?)

Commercial enterprises are quick to catch on to trends and they will be thrown the bait of cosmetics, clothes, and culture as a quick fix. It will, I am afraid, also result in ‘moving on’ even in careers and relationships.

How does any of this become sexy?

Language as we know it and experiment with cannot become a harridan only because of some punks who don’t even use their fingers well, that is why they trip so often and miss the vowels to save space. It is like missing a moment and talking about the eternal. The eternal flush that skims over and never enters the pores to tickle the flesh of a thought that rises to meet a paragraph created for it.

Ask the vexpert - 21

Question: I run a cyber café. Sometimes, customers come, masturbate and ejaculate here without my knowledge. Sometimes the fluid spills onto the keyboard and mouse and I end up touching it. I have the habit of smoking and tend to smoke or eat chocolates right after touching the dirty keyboard. Could it lead to an infection? Please help.

Sexpert: No harm will come to you. More harm will result from smoking.

Me: There are two issues here. It seems like the dirty keyboard excites you and makes you perform oral acts such as eating chocolates or smoking. I would suggest that you indulge in these acts without touching the keyboard that has heated electrons which may keep alive certain germs increasing the possibility of getting infected. If you do run your fingers over it by mistake, type ALT+CLR+ ESC.

Regarding your customers, you may provide special chairs that have seat fastening belts and hand shackles that provide limited movement. You could also have laptops so the mouse is not used. Make sure a timer goes off every five minutes. The possibility of some users finding all these things pleasurable remains but at least your equipment will be safe.

Observatory

No one’s really going to talk about it. Or at least get judgemental. This isn’t the Taliban, you know.

Orthodox Jews can be orthodox Jews and even have their own search engine, Koogle, which is a play on the names of a Jewish noodle pudding and Google:

The site, at www.koogle.co.il, omits religiously objectionable material, such as most photographs of women which Orthodox rabbis view as immodest, Altman said. Its links to Israeli news and shopping sites also filter out items most ultra-Orthodox Israelis are forbidden by rabbis to have in their homes, such as TV sets.

Kosher, but so restrictive. The jihadis are way better off. They can get to watch Osama talking to them from his latest digs or some warlord or the other giving instructions on the mobile phone which the media manages to get hold of, but no one else seems to be able to trace.

- - -

German TV host (L) looks on as a guest on the show (partly hidden) opens the bras of 25 models with chopsticks in the Spanish Island’s capital Palma de Mallorca

Does this serve any purpose at all? If my research is good (hah!), then I believe men have a problem doing the unbuttoning even with their fingers. So, I guess this was some feat and I am sure the man can now have his sticky rice without dropping a single grain.

Countdown to the One Millionth Word?

This is among the worst instances of dumbing down. They are catering to everyone’s fantasy of concern - something from fashion, pop culture, the greens, music, sports; they are also trying to balance cultures and countries.

Tomorrow, June 10th, 2009 at 10:22 am (Stratford-on Avon Time) The Global Language Monitor in Austin, Texas will announce the winning word. I find the location rather quaint. Maybe these Texans just wanna go on vacation. Are you not all excited to know whether Indian women’s panties, “cuddies”, will get the green signal or will it be the real green McCoy, locally- produced “locavores” that are part of “slow food” which isn’t fast?

Now, there is something for fast moms called “octomom” that is, believe it or not, “the media phenomenon of the mother of the octuplets”. Huh? Do the sperms like consult newspapers and TV channels about how to hit different ova at the same time so that you get a few nice bundles of eight?

You can “de-friend” someone from your social network and if you send them steamy messages via email you will be “sexting” them. You may send steam and sauna in other ways, but there is no word for it.

The US President's popularity would be “Obamamania”, which is kind of lame, but what is surprising is “Mobama” – relating to the fashion-sense of the US First Lady. I thought it would be green, given her penchant for dresses and gowns that look like they are made from feathers or the colour of flora and fauna.

After the success of the film Slumdog Millionaire, two words from India figure. “Slumdog” would qualify as slang although it goes under the ‘politically incorrect’ category and “refers disparagingly to someone living in the slums”. If it is disparaging, then why is it qualifying at all? And “Jai ho” is a phrase taken from a song.

The issue is not with words from varied cultures; English language speakers and writers do employ Latin, French, Spanish phrases, and ancient English is nothing quite like we know it now.

My quarrel is with the limited idea of “the coming of age of English as the first, truly global language”. One does not need to blow trumpets to announce such an event. Languages evolve and those speaking it in different countries add bits and pieces of the local dialect. No one goes to check whether such a word has been anointed by the English dictionary or this gimmick.

But these Language Monitor people are serious:

“Due to the global extent of the English language, the millionth word is as likely to appear from India, China, or East Los Angeles as it is to emerge from Stratford-Upon-Avon, Shakespeare’s home town.”

This isn’t expanding the horizons but clasping them in a clinch to draw attention to their ethnicity. How does it add to a language?

The Chosen Word will depend on citations, usage, appearances in the media, the Net, blogs and networking sites. This is just to confirm the celebrity status of the words, irrespective of whether they make sense or not.

Poland’s contribution is about predatory lending practices, bankers behaving like gangsters. Every stud imagines he is a “bangster”. I don’t even want to think about some guy in a suit and tie ripping me off my money…even if he is one in a million.

We’d be poles apart.

Is Osama on your friend's list?

What is going on?

Alleged Indian Mujahideen operative Subhan Qureshi alias Tauqeer’s friend is none other than al-Qaida chief Osama bin Laden, if one goes by his profile on a social networking website…Interestingly, Osama wrote all the entries in Hindi.

Osama is doing social networking now? Let us not take such jokes too far. Would Osama write, “Tauqir bhai, Sukhpal ko ishara kar dena ki RDX pahunch gya hai. Kal Amritsar se train mein rakhwa denge’’?

Here is more from TOI:

Tauqeer’s profile says his ideal match is “Osama ka attack”, while his idea of a perfect first date is “India ka Laden’’. The column, five things he cannot live without, include “poora India khatam’’; the profile goes on to say that in my bedroom, you will find “sirf serial bombs.’’

In his profile Tauqeer writes, “India ki tabahi sirf ek mahine mein.’’ The Englishspeaking Tauqeer also says he is on the networking site for activity partners. About his passion, the profile says, “next blast Bangalore main’’; in the sports column, the profile says, “lakhon logon ki jaan mere haath mein’’.

Another scrap entry is on Safdar Nagori, former national general secretary of SIMI, which says, “Nagori bhai jaan he sehmet hai is faisle se.” The third, written on September 20, says, “Thoda intezaar kar le, poori Delhi police hamari talash mein hai’’, while the next scrap states, “agla blast Bangalore main karenge’’.

Is this a report? Terrorists are openly revealing their plans? They are looking for partners in crime? This does not qualify as a newspaper report. Let us not take these jokes too far.

Osama is mentioned often in people’s writings or even as banter. People are called Islamists and jihadis, without anyone knowing what these terms mean.

It has become a farce.

What is not is actual tragedy striking.

It was Black Saturday all over again. Exactly two weeks after serial blasts ripped through the capital, it was hit by a low-intensity crude bomb, which went off on Saturday afternoon in the crowded Sarai Market near Aulia Masjid in south Delhi’s Mehrauli area. A nine-year-old boy, who innocently picked up a black polythene bag containing a tiffin box bomb, was killed on the spot as it exploded in his face. Twenty-five people were injured.

I do not want to be in a situation and say, oh no, one more bomb blast…yawn.

Obviously these guys are sending messages prior to hitting. They are challenging the police force, the political parties, the government. And now the cops are saying that this is not the work of the Indian Mujahideen or SIMI. Why? Because they did not get one of those typical emails? Are they waiting to look in their inbox before they realise what will happen next?

There is a limit to electoral one-upmanship.

My Net worth?

They say people in Mumbai like to say, “You don’t know who I am?”

Am wondering whether I should try it with my internet guy…would go something like this…

Maalum nahin kya apun kaun hai? Yeh kya lagayela hai, aisa vaat lagaa dega ke bheja fry ho jaayega. Saala, itna speed ka paisa bhara aur bail gaadi maafak neeche aata maal…matlab download hota. Awaaz nahin mangta…seedha fast track par aaja… Log apun ka waaste roklela hai ke kya mast item daalega blog mein. Blog bole toh…ghar jaisach, kuchch bhi bak ne ka. Tere ko kaiku itna poochh-taach karneka. Tu kaam par lag ja… maalum nahin kaun hai apun?

But what does FV say? Hello, Mr X, can you please do something…this is so terrible. You know I just cannot connect and I work from here…I understand, of course….oh, all right…I shall wait.

And then they say I am a toughie….

Play it again, Spam

I was going through this mental exhaustion. My Inbox did not interest me. Friends were being kind; acquaintances were sending me the usual forwards – jokes, pictures and links to YouTube videos, which I have no interest in.

Then in the Bulk folder I saw all those unattended to emails. I was visiting them after months.

I like spam. You must be particularly insensitive if you don’t. There is this mail staring at you, the subject line in all caps, saying, “I NEED YOU”. Hell, how many people in your life tell you that?

Then there is the one from a part of the world you have never heard about. It appeals to you, “Urgent: Please help me”. It tells the tale of suffering, fight with the government or big powers. Who is this person? What can you do to help? How did s/he get your address?

Suddenly you find you are invited to join some Hi-5 list where you can meet and add friends. It is very touching, a bit too touching…I don’t want to add friends.

I am told that I owe the Bank of America and eBay money; I have never been to their sites. Amazon tells me to pay for the books I ordered; I never did.

Others think I am money-minded. I get offended if I read things like, “Here is your chance to make a quick buck!” I am not into this. Please don’t hurt me, I feel like saying.

The hurt would result in a further insult: “Get FREE money to shop!” How much did money ever cost that it was free now?

For some reason the United Kingdom keeps offering me lottery prizes. I seem to have been winning for the last several weeks. They give me a number to contact, they send me reminders. I wish I would just get an OBE or something instead.

Not that awards matter to me. But, yes, I am also given awards for things I have not done. “You have won an award for services rendered.”

What services rendered and unto whom?

Then there are those who confuse me about my gender.

"Viagra soft tabs – 15 minutes and you are hard as a rock!” In that much time I would have seven and a half packets of Maggi noodles ready. Another one orders me, “I’ve got a 8-inch…! enter!:.” This is very confusing, technically speaking.

Before I can spend time over such issues, I find another subject line staring at me, “Raise your voice”. This is addressed to about a few hundred people; it is the sort of committed thing one is supposed to do on a weekend.

I get all these articles and letters to the editor and appeals from organisations. I was going to get rid of the damn lot when I saw one which said, “You must read this column by FV ‘here’ (link provided). It holds forth on blah, blah. We should support such blah, blah.”

I love spam. I love blah, especially my own.

Just when I was about to close the window, there was something that caught my eye, “Do you have five minutes to spare?”

I am so tired that there is nothing I can do in five minutes. Ask for more. Why is everyone in such a hurry? Where are they going? Will they reach there on time? Will they wait there, spend time? Or will they want to run away from there as well?

"Join the run!" says another subject line. Oh well...