Need for Perpetual Excitement?

What is it about car racing that attracts the male species? Is it the thrill of taming sleek monsters? Is it the excitement for sheer speed? Or is it about controlling mean machines? Perhaps, all three! Psychologists say that it is the need for constant excitement which has men going Gaga over car racing.

I am not questioning the need to spend millions on an elite and dangerous (Two deaths on the tracks in a month) sport.It is debatable. Other than the skill and courage of the driver, Formula1 is a multi billion dollar enterprise.  A top driver can make up to $ 30 million dollars a year and more from sponsorships and promotions. Also when 600 million viewers watch the thrilling technological sport on television, surely, there must be something.

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But where does the thrill come from? Not merely from racing. If it was only about the thrill of racing, Kerala’s Boat Race would draw similar enthusiastic response from the urban crowds. What if Mittals and Mallyas combine their marketing skills and promote ‘Airtel B1 Boat Challenge’ with foreign contestants, in God’s own country and invite Madonna to perform?  The scene could very well spice up. But it won’t be the same.

More than the speed, the thrill comes from the lurking danger. A thirteen year old boy who had come to catch a glimpse of his icon Schumacher thought that the thrill of speed was phenomenal, but was upset that he could not witness a single crash.

Imagine what would happen if Asha Bhonsle or a younger Sunidhi Chauhan were performing at the inaugural event of F1 racing.  Would the urban crowd shell out Rs 15,000 for the tickets and other Rs 1500 for the parking? I doubt it. It is Lady Gaga’s esoteric antics which they wish to see and not staid boring Indian singers. So what if they never hum Gagas meaningless songs?

What is good for the west should be good for us too. After the success of ‘Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara’, Bangalore and Mysore celebrated ‘Tomatina’ festival by pelting 6200 kgs of fruit pulp. I am surprised some ingenious soul did not get the idea of organizing Pampolina Bull Run. It was easy. Assemble all the stray bulls loitering in the sabzi mandis, request Mallaya to sponsor it and Wohooo…Spain could come to India. What are a few broken bones in between Spain and India?

Sorry guys, the idea is not to deride the thrill and excitement of car racing. In fact, it is good that Indians are being exposed to a sport other than cricket, the concept of speed other than Brett Lee and the concept of thrill other than twenty over cricket. My intention is to simply delve deeper and find what is it that excites racing enthusiasts?

I mean, don’t Delhiites drive everyday to office? And given the road rage incidents, I am sure they hate it. Perhaps it’s the heady concoction of sleek machines, the silky smooth track and thrill of speed. Psychologists also say that it is all about the thrill of doing something new, something different. Like the thrill of doing it in the dirty kitchen than the comfortable bedroom. Or like the thrill of making out with the ugly girlfriend rather than the beautiful wife.

The eighty one year old F1 empire head Bernie Ecclestone says, “In India not more than two percent of the spectators have witnessed such an event, so it is about the novelty factor”.  A new sport. A new track. A new race. Lady Gaga first time in India. All encourage dopamine rush and the need to be in a perpetual state of excitement. Vroom!

Spilling The Beans

The crisp air holds the promise of a chilly winter. It reminds me of evenings, especially chilly ones when I indulged in hedonism with a cup of cardamom tea, a good book and my favorite piece of music.


Sadly the humble tea has fallen from its perch, and atop pedestal is a concoction of cocoa beans, which the malls love to serve in all its variants; leaving the tea guzzlers at the mercy of road side vendors. The humble tea’s decadence has been taken over by the whiff of compelling coffee leaving one with a feeling of Déjà brew: the feeling that you’ve had this coffee before. So I was greatly amused by the inauguration of ‘Wagh Bakri Tea Lounge’ in a Delhi mall.

I am not a coffee or a tea person. I oscillate between the two, depending on the weather and my mood. But have you noticed that lately coffee tastes bitter and roasted?

Let me spill some beans here. A lot can happen over a cup of coffee but a lot is happening in the cuppa too. The roasted ground root of Chicory plant is replacing expensive Arabica coffee beans. Why? One kilo of pure coffee powder gives hundred cups, but a blend with 45% chicory can give two hundred cups. Since the moral of the market is to make money, chicory rules.

In his ode to the beverage a coffee lover said, “As coffee falls into my stomach, straightway there is a general commotion. Ideas begin to move like the battalions of the grand army in the battlefield. Things remembered arrive at full gallop, ensuing to the wind.” It is therefore natural to surmise that any stimulating conversation needs crushed cocoa beans swirling in expensive bone china for that much desired grey cell activation.

What began in the US with the popularity of Starbucks has become a trend in urban India. Almost anything that fancies the well-travelled and the high-heeled, even if sold at a premium, evokes interest from the desi globalised citizen. Like the Congressmen of yore I sense a hidden hand of South American market forces in conspiring to overwhelm the humble tea lover. Brazil and Columbia, one of the largest exporters of cocoa, after enticing us with their beauties have conspired to hook us to their beans.

As I write, the latest research absolves the market forces and claims to have identified a gene which plays a role in how much coffee people drink. The study says that caffeine protects us against diseases like the Parkinson’s. I can sense the market forces at play again.

That explains why forty percent of the coffee consumed is now gourmet and why the besotted guzzlers find coffee as the best option to douse the sunrise with. But if coffee prices zoom ahead, the Costa Coffees will face stiff competition from price sensitive Indian consumers, who wouldn’t mind venturing in a ‘Wagh Bakri Tea Lounge’. Yes, irrrespective of the quote - "Coffee, choclates and men - some things are better rich."

We live in stressed times where our frazzled nerves need constant comforting and as long as the ideological shift from ‘tea time’ to ‘coffee breaks’ helps in holding the yawns and forty winks, there will always be too much blood in our caffeine system.

Motorised Circus

Dear Mr Advani,

I thought I should congratulate you for undertaking a 7600km long arduous Jan Chetna Yatra at the ripe old age of 83. Or is it 85? Whatever! 

But Mr Advani why do you think that my chetna is dead and you need to awaken it by your motorized circus? FYI, I am alive, aware and informed regarding the ills plaguing this nation. I struggle with them on a daily basis.

How I wish I could own one of your air-conditioned raths.  Heard you have many. Since one got damaged, you ordered a new one. But who pray, is providing you with these high-tech chariots? And diesel? Oh, I forgot that Yeddy and Reddy have amassed enough to pay for your diesel bills.

You are lucky since no one is asking uncomfortable questions regarding BJP, because Anna is with you. And a jittery Congress ki to wat lag gayi hai.  

Mr Advani, why did you start this yatra from Chapra, the birth place of Jai Prakash Narayan?  Was it political symbolism or political tokenism? Honestly dude, it doesn’t matter. Today’s youth cares a damn for both. How difficult is it for you and your freaking dinosaur brigade to comprehend the fact that archaic symbolism is dead for us? And while others are debating, your protégé Uma behen Bharti has already endorsed your name as the future PM. 
How can I forget her, "Ek dhakka aur do" historical  comment uttered shamelessly a decade ago. Can you?

Honestly, tell me Advani ji. Dil par haath rakh ke boliye. Do you really wish to be the PM? The other day I saw you on TV saying, “I do not wish to be the PM, but if the party so decides, I will abide by the party.” You know Advani ji when you say that you remind me of any B grade Bollywood actress who harps on the cliché and says, “I will strip only if the role demands.”

And what is with this fetish for garlands and headgears? Perhaps because Modi got several headgears during his sadbhavna farce, you thought why not me? What do you do with all the fancy headgears? Forget all that, tell me why were your party men caught distributing cash to journalists in MP? Such desperation? You thought you wont get a positive coverage, hai na?

Finally tell me  if you are not awakening my chetna and you don’t wish to be the PM then why the ‘rath circus’? Why not sit in a room with your arch rivals and work on a few legislation's which will benefit the nation. 

But why am I even writing this letter. You won’t get it, will you? You just got inspired by Anna and Modi and wanted to do something. Another fast would be juvenile. So another yatra. Aren’t you trying too hard to get noticed? As your well wisher; let me tell you that your yatra is much doo- doo about nothing. If anything, it is a colossal waste of time, money, energy and diesel. And it ain't taking you anywhere near PMs gaddi. Modi and Rahul will make sure of that.

Truthfully yours

And The Award Goes To.....

Corporate houses have had their day. Rough neck squads are an embarrassment. Grass root workers are dead. The brahmastra for political resurrection is 24/7 media coverage. Don’t agree? Well, didn’t media support catapult a mild mannered septuagenarian to an alleged Gandhi reincarnate? And a 24/7 coverage did bleach stains off Modi’s pristine white kurta. 

So it made sense when the ministry of Information and Broadcasting decided to smooch the media mavens by felicitating them. The Editors in Chief of various television channels, and the other hoi-polloi with the mighty pen and mightier mouth were invited.

 A leggy bimbo who kept forgetting names was announcing the awards. Here are a few excerpts.

Leggy Lass: We start the awards ceremony with not one, not two but three awards ‘Conscience Now’ ‘Morality Now’ and ‘Angel Now’. All the three awards go to A G. No, it is not a pun on his initials. He is Almighty God. Please welcome him on stage, the Editor in Chief of ‘Your Channel’.

The recipient had discarded his suit and blue rimmed spectacles and looked different in a blue tee that proclaimed ‘I am Trouble, See you in Hell’. His raven locks were freshly shampooed and gave a huge complex to all the women present in the hall.

AG: “Well…Thank you ladies and gentlemen for the TRPs of ‘Your Channel’. Tonight, in two minutes from now, I wish to thank several dignitaries without whom it would be impossible for me to neuter my rivals. I wish to thank Mr. G Parthasarthy for Pak bashing, Mr. Maroof Raza for China bashing, the civil society for UPA bashing, Mr. Ravi Shankar Prasad for Singhvi bashing, Mr. Singhvi for Advani bashing and on days when we couldn’t whack anyone, Mr. Suhel Seth for punching the air.

 My special thanks to Ms. Renuka Choudhary for grimacing, rolling her eyes and thereby adding a dash of wit. I have to salute her amazing intellect. Above all I wish to thank Dr. Subramaniam Swamy for providing enough fodder for all of us to chew. In two minutes from now I have to be back on ‘Your Channel’, so thank you.

Leggy Lass:  The next award is called the ‘Award that Wasn’t’’ goes to the gentleman from the Congress News Network who had to face the nation for ‘cash for vote scam’… I wish to invite him and his pretty wife on stage.

 Editor in Chief of Congress News Network: As you know I commit but later shy away. Can’t reveal much…Thank you.

Leggy Lass:  The ‘Breaking Today’ award goes to aaj tak ki best headline, I simply love it - ‘Saas and the City’. Anyone who came up with such a title deserves an award. Hai na audience? Please give him a big hand.

A short, bald gentleman with a smug grin came on the stage to receive the award. Heard he was caught cozying up with Big bro Mukesh.

Bald Guy: He..he..he. (Grins) I so enjoyed ‘seedhi baat’ until my ‘seedhi baat’ was tapped and made public. Anyway, MJ Akbar is doing that show but he is not as acerbic as I was.

Leggy Lass:  Our next award the ‘Sensational Sawant ’ award goes to my favorite channel. Arre wahi…. which airs the courtroom drama called ‘Aap ki adalat’.

A gentleman who had painstakingly combed his hair over the bald spots and sported a cheesy smile that stuck right through the evening came on the stage.

Hair Transplant Guy: Thank you for not getting scared by my horrifying news programs. I try my best to terrorize the audience. The other day we aired a show, ‘Sikkim mein aaya bhukamp. Ab dilli ki baari hai,” but none of the Delhites got terrorised. I wish to thank desperate wannabes like Rakhi Sawant and Poonam Pandey for all the spice and muck we churn out day after day.

Leggy Lass:  Finally ladies and gentlemen, he…he… the ‘Greenathon Lifetime’ award’ goes to Dr……‘Big Daddy’ of television.

A gentleman sporting a beard came on stage.  He doesn’t tom-tom but he happens to be the first cousin of Arundhati Roy – the new cheer girl for the hatemongers. Along with Big Daddy came his faithful protégé in cropped hair. Poor girl was so conscious. She fell from the heights of Kargil to the depths of Radia, perhaps that’s why.

BIG DADDY:  It gives me great pleasure to see children, borne of my womb bag all the awards. But there are times when parenthood seems nothing but feeding a mouth that bites you. (His eyes well up.)

Even those who are nothing but tabloid level melodramatic hot air have received more awards than me…sigh. But the buck stops here. I would rather be a BBC than a Breaking Today.

I wish to thank my protege who keeps the flag flying…except for  an occasional tape entanglement. As you all know I feel uncomfortable in this new fangled bitchiness on television. I don’t wish to be the referee when politicians fight like cats and dogs on television. Thank you all.

 (Ms Chaudhary whispers in Ms Soni’s ears, “I got it. He is calling me a cat.  I don’t mind being a feline if Prannoy is calling the BJP canine. Don’t they sniff power and bark their lungs off like hungry mongrels?)

“Arrey…bas karo this is not a TV studio,” shouted someone from the audience.


(At a fictional award function)