In Rome do as Indians do

Gujarati film crew has descended in the neighborhood adding dollops of colour to a forlon English autumn. They have been spreading the love and the samosas freely. Walk by for sweet tea or a bit part. They welcome anything including rude stares. And they always smile back. The leading man with highlights in his hair and the finest Dharavi leather, the leading lady freezes in her sequined Ghagra. It's been a total and bloodless conquest of the suburb. Priceless.

A mango shade of summer

I am reminded of raw mangoes. Summers spent under granny's tutelage honing mango-picking into the rarest of fruit art. You needed to establish their credentials -- age, colour and potential -- pick them and gently coax them into canvas bags for a tryst with their destiny. The ordained weren't to hit the earth, if they did they would be guillotined at once. The good ones were always hiding in the harshest nooks and the juices stung. They had to be wooed and conquered. The brightest were set aside for ripening, the rogues were pickled and the corrupt donated. We would alight from our perch like warriors surveying the spoils in canvas baskets.

Bastard with a T

Movie Alert: Inglorious Basterds

Tarantino messes with history, your head, makes you curse the ticket price and yet leaves you smiling. It's a huge exercise in self indulgence but it is still Tarantino. Basterds has all the not-so-secret Tarantino ingredients -- dark humour, dark banter, dramatic stand-offs and bright ketchupy violence. And it has Christopher Waltz doing a star turn as the self-annointed Jew Hunter.
Tarantino has done better but Basterds is still worth a look. A little thin around the script and gloriously infuriating.

Bee my guest

There is a buzz in my ear ... I need to find that bee in my brain.

Riddler on the roof

Do you always have to write within the fence of form and structure to make sense? I doubt so.

Absolute power doesn't absolutely corrupt? Big bad mafia chief is a family man. Never take sides against his family. There is always a prodigal son. And he always returns. If you live by the sword, you will die in a patch of tomatoes. There will be blood. Blood is thicker than water, especially if it's Sicilian vintage. Child is the father of man. All hail the new king. There is enough white space for a sequel and a remake in a faraway land.

Capisce?

Passwords and PINs

I am a professional password forgetter. I also have tendency to blank out in front of cash machines. What was that damn PIN number anyway? It's technology's greatest revenge on man, the password and PIN curse. To be fair to people like me, how many of these damn things can a man or woman remember really. I once thought I would be really smart and had one common password to all ills but kind of ended up being locked out of life. Maybe, all computers, cash machines should have retina readers. Yeah, that would be nice. One eye opens all.

How did they get to Woodstock?

How did they all get to Woodstock without mobile phones? Imagine thousands of unwashed, stoned flower children finding some obscure farm without Google maps and text messages. And the organizers never advertised. Brilliant.