Melting Pot

Lot of motley ideas in my head this week. Some coherent and clear. Others not quite. Some humorous, others more serious.

I never thought that I would hear so much about an octopus. But I guess I should not be surprised since in this media age, everything is news. So, a psychic eight legged sea beast is definitely newsworthy. Paul, the octopus, is all rage these days. The resident of Germany, he has managed to predict correctly, the outcome of all German games in the ongoing Fifa World Cup. Strike rate not so hot when it comes to games not involving his own country. The Germans loved him till he correctly predicted their downfall in the semis. Now, there’s talk about him being dead meat, literally, with Germans suddenly hungry for exotic octopus curry. Spain – the winners against Germany in the semi final – have offered the beleaguered octopus political asylum. Paul is still considering even as he picks Espana as the world cup winners.

Argentina and Brazil both failed to make it to the last four and the football loving Bengali populace was crushed. My brother wondered when would the Indian team play in the football world cup, as he watched Bengali news channels devoting hours analyzing what went wrong with the Latin American big shots. In my opinion, an Indian team in FIFA world cup would be great but I do not think that we in Bengal need it so much – after all, we have two teams to call our own (if you don’t believe me. check out the number of Brazilian and Argentine flags adorning Kolkata’s lanes and bylanes).

India’s most eligible bachelor, arguably, MS Dhoni got married – chat mangni, pat byaah in the truest sense. The media could not decide whether it should be miffed since it was denied the chance to create a drawn out spectacle (remember, the Abhi-Ash wedding and Sania-Sohaib-Ayaesha triangle?). Or, should it feel grateful for the “breaking news” on a rather quiet weekend.

Elsewhere, the human tragedies continued.

(Dis)honour killings took place (or maybe I should say, reported) daily in remote and not so remote parts of a 21^st century, modern, progressive India. And the kin of killers in the national capital feel tremendously proud.

The politicians called another nationwide bandh earlier this week, ostensibly to demonstrate public ire at the recent fuel hike. Consequently, the same public (especially those working in private firms, like yours truly) will now have to work on Saturday to make up for the loss of a workday. I have heard of cases, where people have been asked to work on Sundays to make up for the bandh. May be we should call another bandh to protest against the side-effects of bandhs.

On a more personal front, I found two books I had been hunting for. Did a silent jig for that. Watched I Hate Luv Storys and found it an “okay-time-pass” watch.

Discussed the merits of White Collar vs. Castle with a friend. A quick recap. Neal  Caffrey is great eye candy – a pair of blue eyes , a Fedora hat and a crooked smile make a killer combination. But the show is slow. Does not have the thrill of homicide investigations and the witty (laced with innuendos) banter between Castle and Beckett. I am waiting desperately for Season 3. Meanwhile, when I get too bored, I watch White Collar. Neal Caffrey is compensation enough.

Work has been both slow and fast. A lot has been happening but not enough progress. Talk about running in the same spot.

Family invitations have been plenty, this being a wedding season. Have neatly side stepped attending any of them so far. Hope the good luck continues (no, I am not a recluse. I just do not like crowds, especially when I am supposed to be respectful and polite to all the virtual strangers being introduced to me). There was an invitation from a friend which I wanted to attend but it was a Sunday and I just felt plain lazy (there is a difference between being lazy and being a recluse).

All in all, it’s been a week that has gone by too quickly and too slowly at the same time. I wonder if I would remember this week for itself. Maybe, I will. Most likely, I will not. But here’s hoping that coming week brings with it seven forget-me-nots. Amen.