Domain Maximus

Clipping 1: First of all there was the column in Friday’s Mint about Google’s mysterious and ominous new algorithm to pick out employees who were most likely to quit. There was much to think about that:

Clipping 2: Then yesterday plans were revealed about the huge, awesome stand-up comedy venue coming up in Mumbai. The famed Comedy Store from London is coming! Whatay heart-breaking thing to hear just months after one resettles in Delhi. Damn. I foresee much low-cost flying from November.

Clipping 3: And finally, I was cleaning out the house yesterday morning when I came across this week old copy of the Hindustan Times lying behind the sink. Flipping through languidly I noticed a most bizarre Calvin and Hobbes strip. This time I truly did not “get” the C&H joke. The following is a clip from the e-paper.

Aai caramba!

p.s. As usual please maximize the Scribd thingies to read legibly.

Frequent readers of this blog will be aware of how we are big fans of Dwarka sub-city here. Largely because we live there and no one else we know does. Or will. Sigh. For instance we were excited a few weeks ago when we discovered that Dwarka houses one of the more popular film related brotherhoods in the country: the Kumar Sanu fans’ club.

But earlier this week we discovered the reason behind that electric feeling one gets as soon as one steps out of a metro train and touches down upon the hallow soil of the sub-city. Doubting? See this picture:

Volt-ay Phase

Of the two pillars the left one tells you in which direction you can find some of the major stations on the blue line. By which I mean the major stations of Dwarka, Dwarka Mor, Dwarka Sectors 14, 13, 12 and so on. And to a lesser extent Rajiv Chowk. The right one helps you find:

Electr-city

So if you are in need of 25,000 volts for some emergency purpose you know how to get it. It is somewhere in Dwarka on the blue line. Mind the gap and stand behind the yellow line.

Meanwhile this is a book that was spotted at the in-laws’ place two weekends ago. They tell us it is a masterpiece:

Da Vinci Code

How can you possibly not read a book where some of the letters in the title have dots underneath them? All Sanskrit fiends feel free to leave comments-aha.

Continuing in that cultural and historic vein we were impressed by this well-preserved sculpture at the National Museum last weekend:

Lunch break

While such sandstone pieces are are quite commonplace, it is exceedingly rare to find one with a tiffin box in such pristine condition. Thankfully our curiosity was whetted by the information on the plaque you can see in the picture. Close-up below:

Knowledge is power cut

Today’s short blog post is a retelling of events (with extra Pshaws) observed at the Lilavathi Barista last night:

Customer looking at TV during IPL match: Who is that thin, dark, scrawny commentator?

Barista (the common noun): Oh that’s Srinivasan…

Customer: Srilankan dude?

Barista: I don’t think so. I have no idea. Only that he is Srinivasan.

Customer: Must have been a spinner.

Barista: I don’t know man.

Customer: Must have been a spinner or something. Thin fellow. Why do they get these country types to commentate?

Barista: I have no idea!

Customer: Pshaw!

Barista: Pshaw indeed!

Sigh. From “Srinivasan’s” Cricinfo entry:

At 17 years, 118 days he became the youngest Indian Test player against West Indies in Antigua later that season. He was not yet 19 when he won a Test match for India with 12 for 181 runs against England at Bombay in 1984-85 – by the end of the series he had 23 wickets and was adjudged man of the series. The icing on the cake came when he was in the Indian one-day squad that won the World Championship of Cricket in Australia in 1985 – he played a leading part in that triumph.

But thereafter it was downhill. He played one Test in Sri Lanka in 1985 and did little of note. He was an even bigger disappointment in Australia a few months later. The magic was gone and the little bowler, who seemed set to break all kinds of records, was but a shadow of what he had been 12 months before. He made a brief comeback as a member of the 1987 World Cup squad but he was not a success.

Nobody loves poor Laxman Sivaramakrishnan anymore. And here’s a link to a 1997 Panicker Rediff interview with the man on what went wrong. Click on the link at the bottom to page ahead.

p.s. That Barista guy sure knows nothing.

This blog is now officially replying to comments. Atleast as much as it can. This decision is in effect retrospectively from the last two posts or so.

Also if you see me on MEEBO do say a hi. I am feeling all interactivity-like.

Still looking for swanky blogs for design inspiration. Tell tell.