I hate space!

Gravity 2013

I could not help it but compare it to Apollo 13, the excellent film directed by Ron Howard (of Happy Days). At the same time there is an overlap with 'Cast Away' where solitude and silence is the order of the day. Unfortunately, it failed to capture my attention as the previous two did. On the other hand, thanks to the high resolution, it gave some spectacular images of space comparable only to 'Space Odyssey 2001'
In essence, it is a story of three astronauts were repairing a space shuttle who were hit by debris of a blast. One died instantaneously whilst the other two fight against all odds to make it home in one piece. Dr Ryan Stone (Bullock), who had earlier lost her 4 year old daughter to a freak accident has to fight her inner demons to stay afloat and survive. Her colleague, the experienced astronaut, Kowalski (Clooney) helps along but also perishes along way the way.
So, it is left to her to hitchhike on Chinese space pod to reach Earth. This escapade displays some excellent CGIs but story wise, err.....

All things will/must pass...

A coincidence happened a few days ago to convince me that all things will pass and not to get upset about things. And it also convinced me to look at the other side of things. Somehow, wearing the other person's shoes, the problem does not look like a problem anymore!

 A few days ago, my neighbour's puppy started barking incessantly. Prior to that, nobody in the neighbourhood even knew of the existence of  a dog in their backyard until the eventful day. Calls after calls rang of the  hook of my neighbour's phone complaining about the nuisance so much so that he became phobic receiving calls and stopped answering them.

Almost like magic, during a casual conversation with my sister living 300km away a few days later, she was complaining that her neighbours were unhappy with their loss of sleep over the continual barking of her dog. She was at wit's end trying to get to the root of the problem with no avail.

Back in my neighbourhood, the barking ceased. It could be one of the follows: dog died/put to sleep/whatever offending the creature was removed/ dog just stopped barking/in somebody's cooking pot! Whatever it is, my neighbour never saw his neighbours the same way again after all the hurtful words hurled at him at the spur of the moment.

 On the other side of the 300km end, my sister zeroed it on the fact that the dog must be feeling cold after an overzealous grooming. After probably the disappearance of the initial irritation and adaptation, her dog stopped whining in the next few days and everybody in her neighbourhood were all smiles again. 

And life goes on.... Hurdles, tragedies, ailment, loss and calamities are just obstacles that we have to pass through in our voyage of life. No point getting upset as all thing must pass. Sometimes we pass with them too but we may be in a better place (so they say)......

Best thing since sliced bread?

I was made to think that I was missing the world, that I was outdated, that I needed something to commensurate the amount of time I spent on blogging and that I should learn how to spend for myself too, to pamper myself. I was made to think that I was important and was missing the sheer pleasure and ease of the greatest invention by man.
I went on thinking that I was stupid for not joining the bandwagon. The masters were at work with time-proven business psychological methods of Edward Bernays. Eventually, I started thinking that my mundane life would suddenly morph forever into a psychedelic colour filled Strawberry Fields. I decided that I had to have it at all cost.
And I took the plunge...
Now that I have got it, I have come to realise that life is still the same. There are no flying confetti and rainbow paved pathway. I still have to think and compose with my brain and type intelligently. It is just like art and craft. I have to create the art but craft of performing is different. How different? Just as familiarity breeds contempt, absence make the heart grow fonder..

It is in genes - running!

Born To Run 

Christopher McDougall (2009)
(A hidden tribe, super athletes and the greatest race the world has never seen)
Just finished reading a book (a non-fiction) about an elusive Indian tribe, a great foot race and a bunch of mad runners who do ultra marathons.

I think that this is a book that any serious runner should read it to get a better perspective on running and also on life itself!
The book starts with the author trying to track down a fabled and elusive gringo, Caballo Blanco, who had left his normal life in the US to live amongst a equally timidly elusive Tarahumara Indians in an isolated dry wasteland of canyons and desert-like terrain in Mexico in their simple way of life. The Tarahumaras are said to have been running all their life, first from the Spanish invaders and now from the drug dealers.
These Indians have tremendous ability to run extremely long distances with minimal preparations and donning simple footwear - a piece of rubber sole draped by leather strings. They do not need scientific modern training or complicated training schedules or expensive state of the art shoes. They shy away from races and treat running with respect.
The author goes on to narrate about some whacky American runners who are themselves champion athletes but who party like crazy and run equally crazy.
The running community seem to have a bone to pick with the mammoth shoes companies. Is it coincidental that the rate of running injuries seem to rise with the advent new modern cushioned shoes? The rate of injury, like plantar fasciatis, appears to increase in direct proportion to the price of the shoe. What is this with frequent need to change the footwear? Is there devious plan to boost sale? Interesting, look at the rampant upgrading of shoes annually. Only when you think you found your perfect pair of shoes, you realise that they are already out of production by the following year!

Caballo Blanco (died 2012, aged 57)

 There is a very interesting explanation to why humans should be running, especially long distances. Simians' feet are adapted to walking with its architecture. We, on the other hand, have nuchal ligament to support our head, Archilles tendon with loads of hard springy fibres, an efficient breathing mechanism and an excellent temperature regulating system via sweating. So, it is actually humanly possible to outrun a deer. Most animals (deer, cheetah, etcetera) can only run short distances with bursts of energy, crippled with risk of exhaustion and poor thermoregulation.
Anthropologically, we outlived the Neanderthals not because of bigger brain capacity. As living conditions on Earth deteriorated with global warming, the good life for the muscular and big-built Neanderthals became challenging. They had to start hunting as the the forests became scarce. Hunting of animals where you have to tire down beasts was the only way to do it. Homo sapiens succeeded where Neanderthals failed and outlived their rivals.

Copper Canyon Trail Run

The author finally catches up with the legendary ultra marathoner, Caballo Blanco. He partakes in a gruelling 50km trail run with the locals and survives to tell his story and the soul searching journey of 'The White Horse' @ Micah True@ Michael Randall Hickman.

When I get too old to work, I’ll do what Geronimo would have done if they left him alone,” he told McDougall in “Born to Run.” “I’ll walk off into the deep canyons and find a quiet place to lie down.” Caballo Blanco.
[Geronimo was a brave Apache Indian who ran in the badlands of Arizona from US Calvary only to die as a fugitive, a nobody as a drunk.]

Every piece with its magic!

Just like Sting's song which goes as 'Every little thing she does is magic', every piece of decorative piece that my parents had arranged and safeguarded in the living room cabinet all these years carry with them a figment of history of my childhood. It looks like each piece had imbibed upon it a piece of my life.
Perusing them during my last visit to my parents' home opened the floodgate to the avalanche of nostalgic memories.....

Riddled with scars of the test of time, this chick in spite of its cracking battle wounds of the ticking clock, it is still standing strong apathetic to its surroundings. In its lifetime, it had witnessed many a chance. The 70s, 80s, Y2K, the digital era and so on. Got this piece of pencil sharpener as a token after getting many 'brownie points' for good attendance at Sunday School. Yes, I went to Sunday School. I made me neither a believer nor a non but only enriched to appreciate the fact we are still  groping in the dark about the Truth. We go on making our rules as we go on or justify our actions by interpreting the old scripture as how we deem fit and suitable to our needs.

The sharpener contraption have long fallen off. I had another chick in my list of property. It was supposed to be my piggy bank. Only thing was that it was not a pig and it was made of cheap plastic (not much of a bank). My sisters thrive on my thrifty savings by cannulating out small changes out of the flimsy self made aperture at regular intervals without my knowledge until one squealed on the other when their comradeship hit a sour note once. Then I changed my hiding place to a compartment under a plastic mold of Lord Muruga. Unfortunately, 'Lord Muruga' was not much of a protector as my dough kept disappearing!

This herd of elephants may just a few years younger than me. The herd used to be bigger though. The golden elephants lost another adult member due to breakage. The grey-pink herd lost their mother and two other siblings.

Over the years, the coral had shrunk in size. After all, it had graced our household for almost half an century through thick and thin. Time, however, had not altered its bleached white hue.

This streak of tigers were presented to us by Auntie (Indra Shan) back in the 70s to satisfy Appa's taste for glass menagerie. I was particularly fascinated with the cub whose stripes inscribed an 'A' on its body!

Only memories... The gentleman in the centre, David, was born on the same date and year some 10,000km apart. David, born in England, decided to stay in Malaysia after completing his tour of duty here. They developed a bond which lasted until his demise last year.

The Flying Sikh

Bhaag Milkha Bhaag ( भाग मिल्खा भाग, Hindi, Run Milkha Run; 2013)

What better way to stimulate nationalistic spirit than via sports? And the silver screen forms the platform to disseminate this message further. After watching this movie I came to realize that this towering Singh is indeed had an illustrious life, on and off the track. Perhaps also with a little push with the magic of Bollywood!

Hailing from the Pakistan part of Punjab, young Milkha Singh was witness to brutal killing of his parents and Sikhs during the Partition. Almost plunging into a life of pilfering and dacoit, he swayed to side of righteousness by promise of love by a young lass. 

In order of getting his life in life in order, he enrolls into the Indian Army. The lad who has been running all his life, first from the mob during Partition and then in his clandestine activities soon started running again. Only this time it was on the tract. 

The movie managed to impress upon its viewers the essence of the transformation and determination of a wayward boy to a national hero of sorts. His representation in the Olympics is spiced up with the usual masala to excite the story. It was entertaining, though.

The actor (R) and the real McCoy

In real life, in fact, his life was such. In the 1960 Rome Olympics, even when Milkha was fourth in the 400m race, he broke the then held world record (contested)!

His final race in Pakistan saw him beat his old time rival and the impressed Pakistani President christened him 'Flying Sikh' for his speed.

My son and I were keenly watching for boo-boos just for the heck of it as it was a sort of a period movie. Many of the scenes were nicely tugged into old footage to made it look authentic. One glaring mistake was supposed to have taken place in the vicinity of Melbourne stadium after his loss in the qualification races. He is walking in anger along the terrace of the stadium. We were laughing our hearts out when the flags of Malaysia (14-striped and 14-pointed star) and Singapore displayed majestically in this 1956 scene! Otherwise, it was a good film worthy of the time spent.

Joke of the day: Girl says, "So, you are relaxing?". Milkha says, "No, I am Milkha Singh!"

Of foie gras, food and fond memories...

foie gras

I grew up amongst elders who always complained about the lack of taste in the food prepared by the then younger generation. The usual banter that they indulged whenever the elders meet is the reminiscence of the mouth-watering palatal stimulating dishes that their elders used to prepare back in the days. Sometimes I used to think that these people were indeed gluttons and lived to eat. One of them includes my father and my maternal grandfather. The latter literally sold off his ancestral property just to satisfy his taste buds and hypothalamic satiety centre. They used to recollect the times when the aroma of chicken curry cooked in one person's kitchen used to fill the whole neighbourhood and how simply-out-of-this food generally tasted.

I used to think that taste never changed. I thought their remote memory of input of olfactory nerve to the limbic system just reignited their nostalgic childhood memories. Until I heard the story of a man in Spain who reared geese to prepare them for foie gras, the natural way without the notorious force feeding which is often spoken about.

A journalist well versed with fine dining decided to trace this eccentric man, Eduardo, to his farm to interview and see for himself the truth of his claim. Eduardo has his own beliefs on ensuring succulent, juicy fat geese liver. The goslings are left to roam wild in an unfenced field exposed to variously selected grasses. Of course, security is a concern as he lost 20 to 30% of his flock to predators and wanderers. He does not touch the geese as it may lose its protective sebum. The herd is left to roam freely and happily.

Geese have an inborn ability to gorge themselves in preparation of winter. They eat and eat if they are happy.

At the end of the interview, the journalist had the chance to taste his product. To his astonishment, the dish did not need artificial flavouring. The foie gras did not require additional seasoning as all the various flavours were allegedly provided by the food that the geese fed on. According to Eduardo, modern farming had destroyed natural tastes in food.

I suppose there must be some truth in what the old folks were saying when we were growing up. To feed the ever-increasing population of the world, we managed to increase the production of food at the expense of taste.

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