BORING DAYS AND THEN COMES BHAPPI DA

Ohhh what would we do if not for such characters like Bappi Lahiri.
I love this crazy, over the top man and my face involuntarily lights up whenever he comes jangling onto the screen.

Everyone knows about his predilection for anything gold but apart from that he is also so sure of himself he has lost all touch with reality.

I have attached the new 7-UP lemon ad with him which is just crazy funny. Watch him show (off) his gold biscuit, gold feesh, his mari-gold flower and his golden globe.

I cant figure out if he is in on the joke or just plain flattered.



While that video is loading you can read this article about him from PassionForCinema. It is as crazy as the man.

Enjoy

Love As Usual

Vish

From PassionForCinema


Bappi Lahiri, who has just released an album, thinks he is to music what Big B is to films, imagines young girls giving him the glad eye, and claims that the superhit Jai Ho is a reworking of his own 80s hit Ramba ho.

Like a true rock star, Bappida doesn't give a flying fig what people think of him. Right now, he is a busy man. His soft drink ad, which wittily plays upon his love of gold, is a big hit; he is on reality TV; composing music; and doing three films as an actor. "It's all public's love," he says. "In film industry, there is Amitabh Bachchan and in music industry, there is Bappida. But Amitabh Bachchan is 12 years older than me."

Though he has not won a Grammy yet, he is unfazed. "I have got hundreds of golden and platinum jubilee discs. But yes, I promise, in 2010, main definitely Grammy mein nomination kar raha hoon. Let's see if I get it or not. I have given 15 movies with blockbuster music? that's a bigger achievement than any Oscar."


That was a little dig at AR Rahman perhaps, but otherwise Bappida is the embodiment of good-natured ambition, still breaking new ground with his work, the latest being My Love, an R&B-heavy album featuring American hip-hop star Jiddah.


"It's playing on every channel today. I shot videos in two big towns, New York and Sydney, so Bappida stays among the younger generation, even though I'm already there," he says. Go figure.

But his most stupendous claim is this yorker: "My song, Ramba ho ho ho has now become Jai ho ho ho. Nothing is new for Bappi Lahiri. Whatever catchlines I had introduced 25 years ago, are coming back. And it's all because of janta-e-janardhan. I give my salaam to them." Signature style

The cult of Bappi Lahiri is based on his 'king of bling' look. "Dekhiye," he says, "if I don't wear gold chain, people say you are not Bappi Lahiri. When I wear it, they say, yes, now you are Bappida. Today, if someone wears gold chains, they say why are you copying Bappida. Only few people have such an image. Elvis Presley had a gold cross, Michael Jackson has sunglasses and Elton John has a hat. "I created the gold-man image of Bappida (shows his gold chains)? When I go to Hollywood with gold chains, everyone asks, 'Who is he?' I want to show everyone, dekho bhai dekho, Bappi Lahiri knows how to dress."

The tubby composer, married for 32 years, claims he was a wild one in his youth. "Bachpan mein ladki log ka bahut proposal aaya," he guffaws.

Even now, apparently, only his married status holds them back. "When girls come for autographs, unko dekhne se lagta hai, they are thinking if Bappida wasn't married, to main propose karta tha."

Beat that!

MEMORIES OF EUROPE.

Dear all,

After the initial post about the first leg of my trip I haven’t had time to blog about the Euro journey. Things came up and as they say, life happened and memories began to fog up.

This morning as I was going through the pictures again I thought I’d just reminiscence about the interesting parts of each place…. Something like a summary if you will.

So here goes.

PART 1

FRANKFURT

Saw a stall in the market place which is possibly a pork lover’s Heaven and a Muslim’s Hell. It sold every possible variation of products that you could make from a pig. Absolutely delish. Thank God Swine Flu was no where in the picture then.

‘Acted’ in an ad for the Royal Bank of Scotland. Was offered 50 euros to stand in the ‘crowd’ and clap but didn’t expect it to go on for so long with so many retakes. Ended up clapping for 3 hours in cold weather wearing just a Tee. The hardest 50 bucks i've ever made.

HELSINKI

Saw a Nepali restaurant. Predictably it was called Mount Everest. Didn’t know the Finn’s liked gundruk and bhatmas. The Helsinki marathon was also on.

Didn’t participate though.

ROME

Very Hot. Very Crowded and Very Very Historical (duh!)
The Coliseum under whelmed me. Was expecting something much bigger. Very grand, architecturally though.
Realized that there is no place where McDonalds wont go. There was one just next to the Pantheon which was dirty and grimy and sad looking. The Pantheon that is, not McDonald's.

The burger place was better mantained than an ancient historical masterpiece. It looked like it belonged in Calcutta not Rome.

The Trevi fountain was fantastic as was the Gelato (they claim it has no sugar and no dairy. Seriously!)

VATICAN CITY

Long line. Tall Wall. Strict Guards.
Very Very Impressive. Artwork was out of the world. So much so that many “extra” sculptures/paintings of Michaelangelo, Raphael, Rodin etc were dumped in a huge store room like place. The ceilings, walls, floors everything was a work of art. Now I know what it means to ‘live’ history.

Sistine Chapel. Everything that I had imagined it to be and more. It is the Pope’s private chapel and he prays there every morning. No pics allowed but my otherwise, law abiding friend managed to sneak a few in. Thought I’d do so too but I think I heard Michael whisper in my ear and tell me not to.
St. Peter’s Cathedral & Square. Now this is what you call a Cathedral. HUGE. If the doors were wide enough you could fit a couple of jumbos in here.
Michaelangelo’s Pieta is beautiful but also heartbreakingly sad. You can actually feel Mary’s anguish as she holds the dead body of Jesus. WOW.
The square outside has a statue of St. Peter holding the key to heaven. Did try, but it was too high to get to. Alas.

PISA

Had my mobile stolen here. Stolen not lost. Was in a filthy mood till we reached the Tower. It was definitely leaning but also one of the best maintained and preserved monuments in all of Europe. Pristine, clean and stunningly white. This is what Marble should look like. Milky.

There was the wolf feeding Romus and Romulus with a stubborn pigeon refusing to move out of the frame.

FLORENCE

Almost missed our Eurail as we could not find any trains going there. Realized it was because FLORENCE is FIRENZE in Italian. A laid back and very beautiful city. Great galleries. It also has, what is possibly, the most high end street in the world.

"Via Tornabuoni" The Street with the shopping if anyone wants to know for future reference.

A 100 meter alley with almost 40 top fashion brands. Thanked the lord that my sister wasn’t with me there. I would have begun the recession there itself. Also met a lovely Indian couple who ran a small liquor shop. I wonder if they face any racism there?

VENICE

If you could only choose 1 place for your honeymoon this should be it. The gondolas however are very very expensive (60 euros per person for 1 hour) but the Vaporettos (Venetian equivalent of a local bus but on water) is a steal. St. Marks square is beautiful and full of birds. Bachna Ae Haseeno released after my trip there so did not get to do any of the “Khuda Jaane” poses. Caught a Vivaldi concert performed at the Opera House which was also the place where he lived and grew up in. History doesn't come more first hand than that.

The Lido beach and island is also great. The international Venice Film Fest was to start a week later. Wish I could have stayed for that. Heard Brangelina came.

NICE

One of the most relaxing places of our vacation. Great beaches (pebbly not sandy) and a section which was for nudists. Can’t tell you if I tried that part. ;-)
Wanted a cola but could not find any machines. Saw many condom vending ones though.

Maybe the Niceans (is that correct?) like to screw more than they like to drink.

Wait a minute. Its not just the Niceans who like that is it?

MONTE CARLO

Opulent. Ostentatious. Over The Top. And wonderfully so.

Wouldn’t want to live there but can easily spend a fortnight there every year. Aahh if only to be filthy rich was so easy. Maybe I should plan a heist or maybe just sell some bogus properties here in UAE. But many have already done that.

I probably haven’t seen so many Ferraris (all red) in such a short time in such a small area.

No not even in Dubai.
The road signs also have signs to the nearest Defibrillator. Maybe its for those who lose all their money (and girlfriends) at the Grand Casino and begin having heart attacks. I almost needed one when I saw a 60 year old lady with the boobies of a 20 year old.
Saw Princess Grace’s grave and surprise surprise, it is simple and elegant. So not Monaco.

to be continued..........

Dear All,

You do know that i like to share whenever i find somthing worth sharing and as acerbic as Shobaa De can sometimes be, she just shared a beautiful poem written by her friend called Jayabroto (only a bong can have a name like that and in all probability his pet name is Monty)

Do enjoy.

Luv

Vish

JUST A LITTLE

Let a little remain

From everything

When everything is lost…

A cheeky blade of grass

A little dust on my shoes,

My mother’s broken porcelain

Contrary views!

A tiny trace of frost…

A bit of my chin

In the chin of my daughter,

Sunlight on broken water.

Original sin!

Just a little

Let a little remain…

A handful of jasmine

Still clinging to the creeper,

A lost memento in my

Old cardigan pocket

As I dig deeper…

Yesterday’s smell

Heaven and Hell!

Just a little

Let a little remain…

A childhood secret

Broken by a thousand wishes.

All the hits

And all the misses!

A stray strand of hair

On Baba’s old shawl,

His voice still echoing

In an empty hall…

Pinholed portraits

Down Memory Lane

A volley of stars

On mountain peaks

And on my cheeks

Sudden drops of rain

Carelessly toss’d…

Let a little remain

From everything

When everything is lost…

IS IT RACISM ONLY WHEN IT HAPPENS TO "YOU" ?

If you have been living anywhere within the Indian sub-continent then you must be aware of the reams and reams of newsprint that has gone into reporting about the ‘racist’ attacks on Indians in Australia.

The international media including the Aussies have however, not been too interested. Infact a friend of mine who lives in Australia only heard about the “horrendous & sustained attacks” when her mom called up to check on her.

I am not in Australia so I don’t have first hand info and I also know that its not OK to comment on things that one has no details of but then again here’s a few other points I’ve noticed.

a) Indians are themselves the most racist people. Any non-north-indian living in Delhi will testify to that. All North-Easterners are ‘chinkis’ and routinely labeled as sexually promiscuous. Nepalis are ‘Bahadurs’ and deemed fit only to guard their houses. All South Indians are ‘Madrasis’ who eat idly-dosa for breakfast, lunch and dinner and Gujju’s are all considered to be 'kanjoos'.

And I’m sure you will agree that all of these labels are racial stereotypes.
Well except maybe for the Gujju one. (And does that make me racist?).

Indians can certainly dish it out but can’t bear it when the shoe moves to the other foot.

b) A few of the attacks in Oz may have been racially motivated but most were not. They were just robberies. And the hue and cry raised in India was totally disproportionate. I have a feeling this will make the aussies even more anti Indian now.

c) Indians who live abroad don’t know how to assimilate.

The Scots don’t roam around the Sydney Opera House wearing kilts, the Indonesians don’t visit malls wearing sarongs, the Japs probably don’t water their lawns in a kimono and a Nepali will certainly not go to a pub to chug a few beers in his daura-swural.

But Indians, hoards and hoards of them, would think nothing of frolicking in the waters off Bondi beach wearing salwar kameez and sarees (though to give them credit, they do bunch them up around their knees). Their men-folk meanwhile, think that a Dora underpant and VIP 'banian' is universally acceptable swim wear.

And before you mention it, I don’t think that is a form of Patriotism. Naaaaaaaa!

d) And finally, Amitabh Bachchan is a fraud. A publicity seeking, self righteous, hypocritical fraud. For someone who is the face of and whose wife is an Member of Parliament from a political party whose very existence depends on promoting ethnic confrontations, this sudden conscious call is nothing short of blatant hypocrisy. Maybe his solution is to get some Aussies and marry them off to a tree.

Think about it.

Till then

Vish

A QUICK UPDATE

I am sure you all know about this, and as frivolous as it is, it must be mentioned that Bhaichung Bhutia won Season 3 of Jhalak Dikhla Jaa (the indian version of Dancing with the Stars).

He not only displayed great sportsmanship (unlike teary Gauhar and her graceless family) but also improved by leaps and bounds, that in the end his winning wasnt just an ignored region expressing its angst but a genuinely deserving one.

A record number of votes are supposed to have come from Sikkim, Darjeeling and the North East.

After Prashant Tamang (Darjeeling), Sunil Thapa (Dehradoon), Sourabhee (Tripura) and now Bhutia (Sikkim) the Indian Reality shows will probably think twice before accepting any more entries from the NorthEast and/or of Nepali origin.

But then again with all the revenues they earn from the SMS's they probably will.

Till the next one comes along.....

Ciao from me.

LOVE, MONEY AND WOMEN'S EQUALITY

Dear All,

I am sorry I have not been blogging recently.

Friends of mine from Nepal have been on a holiday and with just 7 days at their disposal its been a virtual whirlwind so therefore the lack of blogs.

Anyway a quick post today.

Readers of this blog who are of a certain vintage will remember growing up swapping Archie comics with friends. I have many nephews and nieces and as far as I know they have no idea of who Archie, Betty, Veronica, Reggie, Jughead & Moose are. Playstations & Wii’s are great but i feel they are missing out on so much more.

Anyway this post is not about reading habits of children.

It was revealed in mid-May that perennial bachelor Archie Andrews, whose long-running love triangle with Veronica Lodge and Betty Cooper, had finally settled on the love of his life and was ready to pop the question.

A different question was on the minds of Archie fans around the world, of course: Would he choose the perky, loyal, down-to-Earth Betty, or the exciting, temperamental and ridiculously rich Veronica?

And the winner is shockingly..... Veronica!

The cover of Archie issue #600 has been posted on the official Archie and Jughead blog, showing Archie proposing to Veronica while a stunned Jughead and tearful Betty look on. (Reggie, presumably, is watching from a distance and formulating a plan to trick Moose into beating the crap out of him again.)

I didn't see this one coming. Not Archie getting married and certainly not his choice of Veronica over Betty. But is it true? Is it really happening.

Maybe with the global recession Mr. Andrews needed the financial security that Mr. Lodge could provide.

Love alone, maybe, just wasn't enough.

In other news the Gulf News today reported the outrage that Bahraini women were feeling about some Kuwaiti lawmaker suggesting that they could possibly work as Housemaids in Kuwait.

The whole of Bahrain was in an uproar as were many sections in Kuwait itself.

Their objection was that the moral sanctity of the “arab” woman had been violated by just the suggestion of them working as housemaids.

Surprisingly this moral outrage doesn’t seem to extend to the countless Philipino, Indonesian & Indian maids that have been working here for decades.

Maybe its not Women in general but just Arab Women who deserve better.

I would call it a case of classic Hypocrisy if only it wasn’t also so blatantly Racist.

Sadly no one (from the South East Asian diplomatic corps) seemed to be bothered or even concerned.

And this on the day when India is getting ready to elect Meira Kumar as its first woman Speaker.

Maybe it will need some other middle eastern lawmaker to suggest hiring Ms. Kumar as his maid before India wakes up and protests.

Till Next time

Ciao

Vish

FROM BANOFFI TO VANOFFI

While at home in Darjeeling this past month, I happened to go through an old copy of Reader’s Digest which had an article about the Banoffi Pie. I hadn't heard of it but after reading about its story I have tried making it myself and can vouch for its very high ‘YUM’ factor. It is great because it is chewy, chunchy, soft & sticky all at the same time.

Credit for the pie's invention is claimed by Ian Dowding and Nigel Mackenzie of The Hungry Monk restaurant in Jevington, East Sussex. They claim to have invented - or "evolved" - the pie in 1972, and the restaurant's exterior bears a blue plaque to that effect. The dish, with various stories of its source, spread, and in 1994 a number of supermarkets began selling it as an American pie, leading Dowding and Mackenzie to offer a £10,000 prize to anyone who could disprove their claim

At the Hungry Monk which is a 14th-century property built for monks, the Banoffi Pie (originally known as Banoffee Pie), is still as popular today as it was the first time it appeared on the menu. There have been many imitations as far and wide as Russia and the United States; it is even rumored to be Mrs Thatcher's favourite pudding!

This is the Hungry Monk’s Chef (and original ‘inventor’) Ian Dowding’s story in his own words and after that I have attached my easy version of the pie.

The Completely True and Utter Story of Banoffi Pie by Ian Dowding

It's not as if I’d discovered the double helix or cold fusion, but it has been a phenomenon that this simple pudding has become world famous. I don’t talk about it much these days in case I sound like one of those old rock stars who only ever had one hit and insists on telling everybody at every opportunity. But if I’m asked I usually say this, which I happen to believe is true: Nobody ever invents dishes - they evolve. It may be a bit more mundane than most people think but I’d like to put the record straight . This then is how it happened. In the late 1960’s there were the seeds of a food revolution sprouting. Foreign travel and Elizabeth David were getting through to the British public that there was more to food than boiled beef and plum duff. I had completed a two year catering course at Swindon college, reasonably competently and had got a job at a small restaurant in Berkshire as an assistant sous chef. Actually there were only two chefs so I was also first commis, last commis and kitchen skivvy.

Russell used to do all the important things like main courses, pates and patisserie - I did all the rest. Russell had his secret recipes one of which was a dessert he had brought back from America called 'Blum’s Coffee Toffee Pie'. However it was no secret that it rarely worked. The toffee was made by boiling sugar, butter and cream together to produce a smooth, thick toffee which was poured into a pastry case and topped with coffee flavoured whipped cream. Sometimes it didn’t set at all, other times it dried like concrete. The tantrums Russell threw when it didn’t work schooled me well in the art of profanity if nothing else.

I moved on to a head chef’s job at a small restaurant just opening in Sussex. I took all Russell’s secret recipes with me but quietly forgot about BCT pie as it was known in kitchen chit abbreviation (the BC standing for something else entirely). When I say head chef what I really mean is the only chef - so I now got to do the main courses along with everything else. This was the early seventies and the food revolution was in full swing. There was more to life even than Prawn Cocktail and Steak Garni. I was encouraged to get inventive so ratatouille, taramasalata and moussaka appeared on my menus. Then in a conversation with my sister she told me about boiling cans of condensed milk unopened in water for several hours which produced a soft toffee. A light bulb lit up in my head - I would resurrect BCT pie. The owner of this restaurant, a Mr Nigel Mackenzie, was never one to let me bask in the light of inventive glory for long. The words ‘surely we can make this even better’ still ring in my ears today. He decided that it required something else, a new dimension, a bit of a tweak here and there. We tried some different variations, some were OK, some were downright disgusting, but I have to say that the day we made it with a layer of bananas we knew we had a hit on our hands.

Now of course it couldn’t be called BCT any more and Nigel came up with the word ‘Banoffi’. We thought it was incredibly silly but this was in the days when ‘Lucy Moxon’s Lemon Posset’ and ‘Tipsy Pudding’ were common menu parlance. Without that name we would not have been able to trace the rise in popularity of this concoction. It started by feedback from customers who rang to book and to check that it was still on the menu so it got to the point when we couldn’t take it off . Within a couple of years I began to see it on a lot of menus of other restaurants, (chefs always check out menus wherever they are - you can read a lot more than just food from a menu). People we knew coming back from abroad reported seeing it on menus in Australia and America and there were even stories of it being served at No 10 and Buckingham Palace. That was a long time ago and now every supermarket has a version and there are Banoffi ice creams, biscuits, chocolates and sundry other items - and no, we have never made a penny from it. Even if one of us had been canny enough to trade mark the name, and besides any firm wanting to use the idea would have just thought up another name. You can’t get a royalty from an invented dish, although I can’t see that it would be any more unenforceable or complicated than in the music business. But that is not the point, I just don’t mind. OK it would be nice to get a penny for every Banoffi made world wide. I don’t even mind that I won’t be remembered I just like the fact that many years hence someone somewhere will be making a Banoffi pie. Anyway I didn't invent it - it evolved. Nigel Mackenzie eventually had a blue plaque made to go on the outside of the restaurant saying Banoffi pie was invented there and when asked, usually tells a different story every time about how it came about, probably out of the boredom of repetition. My favourite is the one about how a can of condensed milk accidentally fell into a stock pot one day - bless him.

The Vishal Version of the Banoffi Pie

(which logically should be now called the Vanoffi Pie)

To serve 8-10 you will need:
250gms Digestive Biscuits (some say Marie biscuits but this works better I feel and i've tried both so just take my word for it)
3 tbsp melted butter (salted makes the pie more balanced)
1 tin condensed milk
3-4 large Bananas
250 ml cream (plain, unsweetened cream or else it becomes too sweet)
Chocolate scrapings for garnish (dark chocolate works best)

Preparation:
Put biscuits in a plastic bag and crumble with a rolling pin (or anything hard) till it’s a coarse powder. Add melted butter and mix well.
In a tray, make a layer of this mixture and press down firmly with the back of a spoon. This is your pie base. Refrigerate for 15 min to set.

Now the secret of this delicious pie lies in the condensed milk.
Immerse the can (unopened) in pan of boiling water. Cover and boil for 3 hours making sure the pan does not boil dry (see CAUTION below). Remove the tin from the water and allow to cool completely before opening. Inside you will find the soft chewy toffee filling.

Method:
Whip the cream until thick and smooth. Peel and slice the bananas and lay them on the biscuit mixture. Now spread the toffee over the bananas. Return to the fridge for 20 min more and then spoon the cream onto the pie. Garnish with grated chocolate and serve chilled.

CAUTION:
It is absolutely vital to top the water frequently while boiling the can. 3 hours is a long time and if it is allowed to boil dry, the cans can explode causing you to forget about the pie and concentrate on renovating your kitchen and maybe even your limbs.

BTW: The toffee mixture stays indefinitely in your cupboard unopened so its best to boil several cans at a time.

I hope you enjoy and think of me when you feel it melt in your mouths.

Enjoy

Vish

ONE WOMAN'S PRIVATE JET IS ANOTHER MAN'S MORTGAGE

Oprah Winfrey was invited to give the commencement address to the starry-eyed, graduates of Duke University recently.

After the usual dose of her 'sofa-motivation' speech she decided to “inspire” them further.

Her message to them: I really love my private jet!

"It's great to have a nice home. It's great to have nice homes! It's great to have a nice home that just escaped the fire in Santa Barbara," she told the students. "It's great to have a private jet. Anyone that tells you that having your own private jet isn't great is lying to you."

Of course from her nearly 1000 word speech this part was what was remembered and picked up by the media.

And then the backlash followed.

Here is a selection of comments from the different US media.

* This is NOT the first indication ever that Oprah is selfish and out of touch. Doesn't anyone remember how she sent a courier to her mother's house to take back tupperware or how she once laughed at how she takes her Bentley to McDonald's?

* In all fairness, she did build her Ompire from the ground up. I don't listen to her advice, buy the crap she sells, or read her books (books, not literature) but I really do admire her for what she has accomplished. It's not her fault the bored and unfulfilled housewives of America lap it up, and would wait in line to do so

* Oprah lost me when she sent Anderson Cooper, Maria Shriver, and herself out to cover "Poverty In America." The 3 of them, with more money than many countries, put on their serious-concerned-journalist face that always seems a little too patronizing for me. The lecture on how bad it "really is" in this country was the last straw for me. I know people are poor. I'm one of them. This was hardly surprising. Perhaps Oprah ought to get off that jet every so often. She's lost touch

* I think, given her age, that Oprah might not have been admitted to Duke when she was of college age, so I don't blame her for rubbing it in their face now.

I’m not old enough to be counted among the ‘wise’ (yet) but I can guess that one of the virtues of wisdom, is knowing what NOT to say.

But then again, if I had a Billion $'s, I’d probably say and do things that normal people don’t.

And one should also not forget that this audience was a group of elite uber-rich kids of Duke University and not some small community college

Its all a matter of perspective.

What Say?

RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS

Hi,

I usually dont pay much attention to the chain-mails but this one is a keeper.

In this commercial world, sometimes we just need to take a pause and a breather.

Lets just say a COMMA.

Enjoy

Vish

1 DAY, 1 OLD WOMAN & 1 LIFETIME

I arrived at the address where someone had requested a taxi. I honked but no one came out. I honked again, nothing. So I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets..

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. 'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'..

'Oh, you're such a good boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice'.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.


Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. 'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse. 'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

I've always thought that my life would revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL!

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance

FACEBOOK OR JUNKBOOK?

A very topical and interesting article came out in this week's TIME magazine and i thought i'd share it with you. If you've ever been on FB you'll know what its talking about.

Enjoy

Vish

HOW COMPLICATED IS COMPLICATED?

For many people, the manner in which they present themselves on Facebook has come to mirror how they see themselves in real life. Photos broadcast the fun they're having, status updates say what's on their mind and a change in relationship status announces their availability, commitment or something in between.

Of these mini-declarations, relationship status is the only one that directly involves another person. That puts two people in the social-networking mirror, and that, to borrow a Facebook phrase, can make things complicated.

There are six relationship categories Facebook users can choose from: single, in a relationship, engaged, married, it's complicated, and in an open relationship. (Users can decline to list a status, but Facebook estimates that roughly 60% of its users do, with "single" and "married" the most common statuses.) The first four categories are pretty self-explanatory, but when should you use them? A Jane Austen of Facebook has yet to emerge, let alone a Miss Manners, and no one seems to have a grip on what the social norms ought to be.

"You change your Facebook status when it's official," says Liz Vennum, a 25-year-old secretary living in Chattanooga, Tennessee. "When you're okay with calling the person your girlfriend or boyfriend. Proper breakup etiquette is not to change the status until after you've had the 'we need to talk' talk. Then you race each other home (or back to the iPhone) to be the first to change your status to single."

Not everyone agrees, of course. Some couples are together for years but neglect to announce their coupledom to their social network. "Some moron tried to convince me that [my relationship is] not legitimate because I don't have it on Facebook," says Annie Geitner, a college sophomore who has had the same boyfriend for more than a year. "So that made me even more determined to not to put it up there."

Others, like Trevor Babcock, consider the Facebook status a relationship deal-breaker. "I'm not willing to date anyone exclusively unless she feels comfortable going Facebook-public," he says.

One common theme among romantically inclined Facebook users is that there are almost infinite ways for the Facebook relationship status to go awry. There's the significant other who doesn't want to list his or her involvement (causing a rift in the real-world relationship); the accidental change that alerts friends to a nonexistent breakup (causing endless annoyance); but worse than both is when the truth spreads uncontrollably.

Lesley Spoor and Chris Lassiter got engaged the night before Thanksgiving. The couple thought about calling their families immediately, but instead decided to wait a day and surprise everyone at Thanksgiving dinner.

The problem, of course, was Facebook. The morning after the big night, Spoor changed her relationship status. "I got all giddy since I'm old and engaged for the first time," says Spoor of her switch from "in a relationship" to "engaged." "I thought it had to be confirmed by [my fiancé] before it would update, though. Apparently not."
The wife of a guy who went to high school with Spoor's fiancé — a woman Spoor barely knew — was the first to post a congratulatory message on Spoor's Facebook wall. Spoor realized her mistake and deleted the message, but by then it was too late; her future in-laws had seen the message, and the status update, and called to ask what was going on. How do you explain to your family that you told the Internet you just got engaged before you told them? "It caused a huge fight," she says.

But relationship status doesn't have to be a source of confusion and despair. Emily and Michael Weise-King were in complete agreement about their status: they decided to change themselves from "engaged" to "married" in the middle of their February 2009 wedding reception.
"It was after cocktails but before the first course at dinner," says Mrs. Weise-King. Still in their bridal attire, the couple whipped out their iPhones — they'd done a test run ahead of time and determined that they had to use the web browser and not the simple iPhone app — and switched status in front of bemused wedding guests. (They also uploaded a photo.) Throughout the rest of the night, Weise-King would occasionally glance down at her Facebook profile, "the way I'd glance at my ring when I first got engaged."

Their status has not changed.

YET.