The Huggy Dilemma continues (3/4)

Back with the next set of analysis


3. THE GOLFER HUG
This kind is definitely the most irritating! Usually bestowed by the very 'girly' girls and intolerable 'aunties'.

You know you're in trouble when they see you and yell "Sweeetooo” loud enough for ALL your friends to hear. They'll trot up to you, and then suddenly get into this weird pose. They bend forward from the waist, leaving their butt sticking out in mid air and grab both your hands where the golf club should have been. Then they hook their chin onto your shoulder and nuzzle your reddening cheek with theirs. This, as you are well aware, is very embarrassing (not to mention emotionally scarring). They also end up leaving half their make-up on your face!!

Men are Lucky! They are… I've found a foolproof repellent for these decked-up pesty aunties. If I were a man… I’d have kept a moustache/beard, the type, which would draw blood. A permanent 5-o-clock shadow would have kept any Sweetooooo wielding hugger away! Once shredded by the lethal Bika Beard, the ladies would stick to saying a distant "Hi!" from the safety of their sofas. (Though my name wouldn’t have been Bika then... but that’s not relevant!)


4. THE PARTY HUG
Though one doesn't encounter this kind of hug on a day-to-day basis, it is still worth a mention.

Walk into any 'cool' party, and you'll get a good feel of this hug the minute you enter.

You make your ‘entrance’, and most probably, someone who you hardly know will spot you. It's probable that you both don’t even remember each other's name… but it would NEVER DO to reveal that!!

So, you fly across the room to hug each other like long lost friends. Say “HIIIEEE! How ARE you?” and quickly lead into frivolous but necessary conversation about lost weight, newly acquired (swapped) spouses and how fabulous his/her new look is!

The danger of this hug type is that by the time you make it thru the masses and get to the food you have to start all over again to hug everyone goodbye!!

(Note: Sometimes this hug is accompanied by a peck on the cheek. To avoid this, the 'Bika Beard Technique' (mentioned above) proves very useful. If you are a woman, then even the slightest hint of a beard is just as effective.)

So, in sum - I still haven't managed to find the hug that suits my personality best … but I do know that none of the above are for me. So, until I find and perfect that 'Universal Hug', I'm going to keep experimenting and practicing...


NOTE: Some of my men volunteers have already found out what sort of hugs are unacceptable. It's was a simple test: if you get slapped, then you better reject that type and drop it right there-n-then.. the hug type I mean… Somehow it was all these ‘rejected’ types that were the most favorite. I wonder why ? :)

Stranger than Fiction - Strangers are Strange

Strangers are strange. The more I think about it, the more I find this to be true.

Now I don't claim to be an expert on human nature, but I have discovered one plain fact - people I don't know, such as you, are infinitely weirder than people I know.

For example, I don't know anyone with a split personality, slightly cracked - yes, but not totally split. Neither do I know anyone who is jealous of their dog, or anyone whose hobby is collecting used toothbrushes. I have never come across a woman who is a plastic-surgery addict, or a man who claims to have married an alien.

Where are these people?
Why don't I ever meet them? (Actually thank God I dont - cos i'd have a couple of things to say to them)

I know they are out there because I watch The Oprah Winfrey Show, and I'm sure she wouldn't lie. Being a science student, I know how the universe is wired. I own two physics text books and the whole set of Childcraft encyclopedia, so I feel qualified to make the following logical deduction: Everyday more and more people are born. Therefore let us say X number of people grow up to be weird by the age of 18. Out of the total people born, I know a small percentage, and as demonstrated earlier, these people are not strange. Therefore, the odds that a person I don't know will turn out to be a weirdo increase. It therefore follows that the greater the number of people I know, the greater the chances that the rest will be strange. (Ok, I realize that was a bit hard to follow, so I'll wait till you read it again.)

And out of that technical but brilliant reasoning I have evolved one startling new law: Ambika's Law of Weirdity: Law states that if I don't know you, you are probably strange, ranging from the mildly eccentric (the neat-freaks and ketchup-on-everything types) to the totally whacko.

Now just relax.

Take slow, deep breaths.

Stop banging your head on the wall.
I agree it isn't nice to suddenly discover that you are mental-institution material, but there is hope for you. After much thought and deliberation, I discovered a solution to your problem.

Since the root of your problem lies in the fact that you don't know me, the solution lies in changing that rather unfortunate situation. So, out of the goodness of my heart, I have decided to be available for anyone who wants to meet me between 9:27 p.m. and 5:01 a.m. Monday thru Friday.
No appointment necessary.

And it's all absolutely free, though a small but tasteful gift would encourage me to get to know you sooner. Also, as I am a non-profit organisation, a small donation (totally voluntary of course) would aid us in helping future sufferers. By the way, since we are to be friends, you might like to know I'm partial to chocolates! You are probably wondering how you are getting away so easy!

There is, I'm afraid, a slight problem. If you recall Ambika's Law, you will remember that the more people I know, the greater the chances that the rest will be weird. So, by getting to know me, you inadvertently put your other friends and relatives at risk of being weirdoes.
What of the invalids who can't come to see me? What of the aged, and the ill? (Please note, I don't make house calls.) It is a grave moral choice that you alone can make! Whatever you opt for, remember that I am always here for you. Except on weekends, so please don't contact me then. And please refrain from calling me at home. And don't stop me on the road. I was brought up never to talk to strangers.

and as my mother always says, "Strangers are strange!"

Hugs and Other Social Dilemma's (Part Deux)

Continued from Previous Post

Thanks to all my 'guinea pigs' who volunteered intimate/personal information and took part in 'sting' operations. Credits at the end of this series.


* PART DEUX *

In my experience and now its been substantiated by our extensive research, there are 4 major hugging groups:

1. THE CLING-ON HUG
(No relation to the alien beings from Star Trek, though I'd prefer those Klingons any day!)

This method is practiced mainly by people who
(a) are very affectionate
(b) have evolved from Koala bears or
(c) are trying to pick your pocket.

Imagine -- you're walking down a street, whistling and swinging your arms, or whatever it is you do, when you'll suddenly hear a loud squeal. Before you can react, someone pop’s out from behind a lamppost and jumps on you. While trying to fight off a heart attack, you discern that the person attached to you is in fact a friend, but not someone you are too fond of. It's no use trying ot get out of that clinch as they just wont let you go. Most likely you'll have to go home, get a crowbar, and pry the hugger loose.
The worst part is that the bus conductor never believes that you had NO SAY in your choice of accessories, and insists that you pay for 2 tickets instead of just your own!


2. THE TOUCH-N-GO HUG
These hugs are usually courtesy of the cleanliness freaks and the 'I'm too cool for you!' types.

They believe that by hugging you they might catch a variety of deadly diseases, or worse still may lose their social standing. They behave accordingly. They'll walk up to you and suddenly grab your shoulders (pinning your arms to your sides in case you are tempted to touch them with those germ-laden paws of yours). They will then proceed to bring one shoulder in your general direction vicinity… and consider the hug given.

Personally, I prefer these types. They don't expect me to do anything, and that's what I'm best at! :)

(to be continued)

TELEVISION 101: Doctor Who

This 101, my very first, is dedicated to my dear friend Kase. I broke his heart the day he realized that my interest in fantasy was .. well, for the lack of a better word - ZILCH!
Hope this makes up!

_____________

What is it about?
The Doctor, a man not from Earth, travels around time and space in the TARDIS, which looks like a blue police call box on the outside, but is infinitely large on the inside. He is joined by Rose Tyler, an Earth girl. Together they have amazing adventures throughout time and space.

Who produces it?
BBC1 in the United Kingdom

When is it on?
Saturday evenings at 7:00 PM GMT

When does it premiere?
26 March 2005

What’s this about a previous series called Doctor Who?
In 1963 the BBC created a television series called Doctor Who which ran for 26 years before being “put to rest” in 1989. An attempt was made to bring the series back in 1996 via a TV Movie produced by the American FOX Network.

Is this new series a continuation or a “reimagining” of the previous series?
At first glance it seems to be a little of both. Russell Davies, the producer, says he leaves it up to the fans as to which it is. The production company states they will not ignore what has come before, but will not be tied down to it either. Only time will tell which it turns out to be.

Who is the Doctor?
In the original series, the Doctor is a centuries old Time Lord from a planet called Gallifrey. Tired of the stagnant lifestyle on his planet, the Doctor stole a TARDIS and set out into the universe with his granddaughter Susan. Over the years, the Doctor saw many companions come and go and he even changed his appearance several times through regeneration.

What mean you regeneration?
When the original actor became too ill to continue as the Doctor, the producers at the time came up with the brilliant idea of regenerating the character. Basically, anytime a Time Lord is about to die, his/her body renews itself at the cellular level. This has the affect of completely changing the Time Lord’s physical appearance. Over the course of the series seven different actors portrayed the Doctor: William Hartnell (1963-1966), Patrick Troughton (1966-1969), Jon Pertwee (1970-1974), Tom Baker (1974-1981), Peter Davison (1982-1984), Colin Baker (1984-1986), and Sylvester McCoy (1987-1989). McCoy returned for the first few moments of the 1996 TV Movie and regenerated into Paul McGann, thus continuing the series continuity into the movie.

Who is the Doctor in the new series?
Christopher Eccleston is the Doctor!

Does the new series begin with Paul McGann regenerating into Christopher Eccleston?
No, it does not. This Doctor has been around for a while, though he does make a comment about his facial features when noticing himself in a mirror, implying that he may have recently regenerated. The current production team assures us that this is the Ninth Doctor, making a strong argument that this is a continuation and not a reimagining.

Who is Rose?
Rose Tyler, played by Billie Piper, is a young woman living in present day London who gets caught up in the Doctor’s efforts to save the world. She joins him in the TARDIS at the end of the first episode.

What is this TARDIS?
TARDIS is an acronym for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. It is also the name of the time and space traveling capsules that the Time Lords use. The Doctor stole one from his home planet.

Why is it shaped like a blue box?
TARDISes normally have a chameleon circuit that allow them to take the shape of anything, making them blend in wherever in time and space they may materialize. In the first episode of the original series the TARDIS was in 1963 London and had assumed the shape of the police phone boxes that were in use at the time. By the end of the first episode it was discovered that the chameleon circuit was broken and the Doctor’s TARDIS was forever stuck as a blue police box.

Both of them fit into that box?
The TARDIS is dimensionally transcendental, which is technobabble meaning that it is larger on the inside than the outide. In fact, it is nearly infinitely large on the inside.

Anything else I need to know to start the new series?
Not really. That is pretty much all the basics. For all the info you could ever want to know about Doctor Who, I highly recommend visiting Outpost Gallifrey. Exhaustive information can be found there about each and every adventure with the Doctor and tons of background info on all the characters and actors.

Hugs and Other Social Dilemma's (Part I)

I REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO HUG PROPERLY.

Before the men take–off on this one, jumping up to offer their services, I would like to clarify – this is purely an academic exercise.

So, like I said, I need to figure out the proper way to hug.
It's an essential skill one must possess....and I just don't have it.


I'm okay with the handshake - I stick my hand out; a firm grip, shake the other hand a couple of times and then withdraw, discreetly wiping my hand on my pants.
Even kissing is cool, though nose collisions do happen sometimes. But hugging the politically correct way, that totally escapes me.

My first problem is height.
It's rare that the person you'll be hugging will be of the same height as you. I'm not exactly short, and so I usually have to bend over a bit. Unfortunately, I either bend too much or too little. Too little is still tolerable, at most I wrap my arms around the person's head and give them a moment of suffocation. But it's worse when I go down too low and head-butt my co-hugger in the solar plexus. I'm not good with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and I dislike it when my friends insist on lying on the floor, turning blue.

I thought that perhaps if I go a bit slower, taking into account relative speed, distance and angular acceleration, I might be able to pull it off. But NO !! Houston - we've got a problem! If you go too slowly, the person thinks you don't want to hug them, and then you've got a cranky person on your hands for the rest of the evening. On the other hand, if you try to be faster and get into the clinch before the other person has time to confuse you, you both end up darting at each other's torso in quick jerky movements, looking like a couple of lizards in a mating dance! (Sorry Lizzy, Sorry Sam! Didn’t mean to put down your kind)

A bigger stumper is the 'magnetic lips problem'.
I can't figure it out…when you hug someone, don't you usually turn towards them slightly, rather than stare out over their shoulder like a baby who is being burped? I always do, and I invariably find my lips on some unintended part of the person's anatomy. I've been everywhere! I've magically found my lips on nostrils, eyelids, bald heads, I even once found them attached to a man's earring!

When asked what exactly it was that I was doing, I didnt have an answer. I was as surprised as he was! I had intended my lips to stay free of all interactions with this man, but of their own accord they'd taken a liking to his left earring. I managed, however, to convince him that I had mistaken the design on it for some holy symbol. The rest of the evening, I had to prove my religious fervor by making the sign of the cross every five minutes, getting on my knees facing west and chanting loudly in phony Arabic, and touching every cow we passed the whole evening. Still, he never spoke to me again. (Though I’m not sure why I’m complaining, I wasn’t interested in being friends in the first place)

AS USUAL, THE WORLD is at FAULT.
Humanity as a whole is responsible for my shortcomings!!

Why do people complicate things by displaying individual styles of hugging? There should be some standard action, sort of a Universal Hug. It would make life easier. But, rather than sitting back and whining, I'm trying to classify the various huggin styles.

Surprisingly, a pattern is emmerging. Obviously more research is warranted. I'm only in the elementary stages of research these days, but just to share with you - I've already been snapped up by government agencies to carry out a mopre extensive and comprehensive investigation (top-secret, of course!). Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to disclose much... but considering we're such good freinds, i'll share some basic analysis soon... Please keep the information secret. I think the army plans steal my research and to use my findings to improve hand-to-hand fighting techniques or something, and you never know who might be listening….

(to be continued)…

.... arbit ramblings

It's a beautiful day,
but I live in the middle of a city.

I'm surrounded by concrete and bricks, metal and plastics, artificial sights and sounds.


The view from my garden on a winter afternoon

And all this while, the sun still shines down bathing the world in warmth... cool breezes wash over my garden animating the grass and flowers. The parrots return to my fir tree for Spring - flitting greenly thru the brown, their screeching creating an odd sense of peace. an for that brief moment in time, i've forgotten the discordant roar of engines, the cries of the malcontent and am CONTENT IN THE MORNING CALM.

Why then, should I venture out if these simple joys are right here at my porch? isnt it better that I stay inside rejoicing, remembered nature and its beauty?

(a late hour - early in the year 2005)

Too Much Information

Along with my thoughts on EVERYTHING under the sun which get immortalized here, i'm starting a new feature - Its called The 101 Series.

I plan on focusing at random intervals on random topics of interest. This could be a TV Show or a new album or a new resteraunt i've discovered. You'll be privy to either my thoughts (so totally FICTION :) ) or the actual background and trivia (FACTS) on that '101 of the Month'.

Some weeks the focus could just be me ! :)
Or worse still.. YOU !

This month's first installment will be on the upcoming premiere of Doctor Who. Look for it later this week.

Beam Me Up, Momma !

Of late, I've begun to have serious doubts about myself. I HAVE! Don’t take this lightly – this is truly a serious issue.

The closer I look, the weirder I appear to be. I'm not talking about the occasional pimple or my tendency to grow mooney with the full moon and even the fact that I hide important things in unusual places and then NEVER find them; in that respect I'm no different than your average filly. I'm referring to what lies within.

My inner soul, if you will. An assortment of questions have popped into my head - now with growing frequency, and, probably liking the roominess of the cozy cerebral cavity, refuse to pop back out again.

Who am I? Where have I come from? I don't mean in the overall sense of 'where did life originate?' or 'what is our purpose here?' and the Big Bang theories…I know the answers to those! (But I promised someone I wouldn't tell, so…) My problem is that I don't think I'm a human being.

This suspicion didn't stem from my discovering a slimy green tentacle snaking out from someplace scaring passersby; I have much better reasons than that. Actually, the first suspicion started when I compared myself to people around me… not only in office but with people I met in my quotidian interactions. Now as a rule, I don't do that. I find it futile and petty, and a waste of time.

But on this occasion, the exercise was forced on me by my dearest childhood friend, Tanya, who, in a moment of disgust and possibly rare divine insight exclaimed, "Bix, why can't you just be normal like other people?" Now if you knew Tanya you know how hilarious this concept is coming from HER! But we’re talking about someone I know very well, who knows me even better. I started to dispute her basic assumption of other people's ‘normality’, but I saw her point - she was saying that I was different, an odd-ball, and I was determined to find out why I had this air of non-conformism around me!

I began to grill her on how I compared to the common public - my pros and cons. The pluses and minuses of my alleged ‘odd-ball’ personality which had vexed her so. “On a scale of 1-100 with 100 being - Rate my Oddity!”, I demanded of her. More dicrete questions like rate my propensity for the strange on a scale on 1.24-7.64 and so on. She looked at me with apologetic eyes and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you!""Upset? Who's upset?" I responded, wondering what she meant. And that's when it hit me.

I fret, I fume, I worry about others but I don't agonize over myself (Yes KC I don’t… not until recently)! I doubt I've ever really sat down and been disturbed about my life! What about the time when I was all set on becoming an artist and life (read: dad) intervened? What about the time that my Stats grades in freshman year were – well, statistically LOW? I remember worrying about having to take the exam again to improve my grades, but no worrying. What about the day I lost my mum’s wallet, ID cards, money and tickets to the Jahaan-e-Khusarau concert? I wondered what she'd use to murder me, but I wasn't upset about it. What about the day I skipped my __ well, never mind! There it was – the more I thought about it, the more bewildered I became.

I started with the whole list of emotions - Jealousy? Nope, not really unless you count eyeing my 12 year old niece’s the bigger Hot Chocolate Fudge at Nirula’s. Cowardice? Nah – I jumped out of a plane at 15,000 feet with a strip of plastic attached to my back… (Some insist that should be deemed as Stupidity though) Bravery? Nah, not even that! Resentfulness? Morbid Suspicion? I was getting really freaked out now! Fanaticism? Insecurity? Inner Serenity? Nothing!
"Baby," I told myself, "You are one boring human being!" And then, slow as the 3rd moon rising on the planet of INSEAD QUOI S6 in the Googloidian Galaxy, the doubts began to creep in.

What if I wasn't human at all?

I thought about it some more. And the more I thought about it the more sense it made… Being un-human (as opposed to inhuman), might explain a lot.

My dancing, for example. I don't mean some sort of complicated Flamenco steps or the FoxTrot; I'm talking of your regular jerk-your-body-around-to-the-beat kind of dance. I'll be on the dance floor, trying to get some kind of coordination and rhythm going. "Come on, guys! All to the left!" I'll say, addressing my limbs. "Good, now everyone to the right. Now left again for variety!" At this point my right leg will decide to assert its individuality and move off to the right, resulting in my doing a surprised and painful split. Or sometimes I'll be doing some kind of fancy step when my elbow, who's been quietly watching someone else on the dance floor, will suddenly take offence and hit them in the eye. In my haste to apologize, I'll forget to stop moving and my other elbow, keen to join the action, will proceed to ram somebody else in the face. In the chaos that follows, I'll manage to wrap my legs around each other, tie my arms in a knot, and step on my own head, in that order.

Now that I analyze it, my ineptitude is probably due to the fact that this isn't my normal body. Imagine trying to do a cartwheel inside a caterpillar's body. Sigh! No one understands us aliens. No one understands what we go thru – I think I’ll suggest an acclimatization course at QUOI 6S.

Another convincing factor in my reasoning is the fact that I have a memory span shorter than that of a forgetful goldfish, (i.e. 9 seconds). My brain just has no storage facility for memories or past experiences. In fact my memory is worse than that of…oh, I already said that. See what I mean!

Here's a typical conversation: In class, English lecture, around 9:40 a.m.

Teacher: …and now for some questions. Ambika, would you please stand up!

Me: (humming) Da da dee da!

Teacher: Ammmmmbiiiikkaa!

Me: Huh? Oh, wait, that's me! Yes sir?

Teacher: Sir? Sir? I'm Mrs. Mehra!

Me: Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot. The mustache threw me off!

Teacher: I'll throw you out if you don't shape up. Now tell me, who is Hamlet?

Me: (Having totally forgotten, look around the class for a Hamlet-type person) Him! It's him! That guy with the sly look!

Teacher: Huh? What nonsense! I'll ask you again, who is Hamlet?

Me: (Memory wiped clean again, look around for Hamlet-type person) Him! That guy over there, the one with the sly look!

Teacher: OK! Never mind! Tell me, who killed the King?

Me: It wasn't me, I swear it! I think it was him (pointing)! I don't know his name but he's got a really sly look!

Teacher: That's it, leave the class, Ambika!

Me: (humming) Da da dee dum!

Teacher: You! I'm talking to you! Get out!

Me: (startled) Y-y-yes, sir!

(Actually something like this never happened to the class-monitor-nerdy me – but I think it adds character to the Boring Human Life that I sadly chose)

Obviously, my brain was not meant to be cluttered with useless memories. On my planet, we probably need the space for galactic calculus or interplanetary algebra. None of this wimpy 'who killed the king’, what was I dad’s favorite movie' kind of junk.

And I BET we're better looking than you humans are too! I mean, come on! Take my ears for example. Have you ever seen anything uglier? And if one wasn't bad enough, one has to have two! There's no escaping them whichever side of the body you approach from! I can't wait to get out of this cheap body and back into some good quality designer skin!

Now that I'm pretty sure I'm not from this world, I'm going to see if my 'parents' have any idea where I came from. I bet they stole me from some Royal Space Cruiser when they were out moonlighting in their youth of the Seventies… maybe Flower Power was really synonym for Space Pirates.

I've never really believed this whole respectable marketing guru in the cement industry act of my dad's, and my mother seems to know just a bit too much about planetary formation (along with everything else on Earthand now i know off Earth as well).

So, until I can return to my home planet, I'm going to waste Earth's natural resources, shamelessly pollute the environment and fight with everyone around me just because they're different.

Oh, wait…. That would convince everyone that I’m human after all!!!

I’m brilliant and the big Red also says so!