After you use Firefox, your expectations from a browser are high. And, frankly, I had expected Google Chrome to be at least similar to, if not better than, Firefox.
Yet, I will say that I like the clean look of Chrome and the search functionality of the address bar (Omnibox) is handy. And, it hasn't crashed once. Also, I like the fact that related tabs are kept together. Neat.
But, apart from that, I find quite a few things missing, and I find them more disappointing because this is a Google product.
Like, for instance, if I want to see all the pages I visited, there is no drop-down button on the address bar, or on the back button of the browser. Do they assume, that I will always open a new tab to see the screenshots of the pages I visited or that I will open the 'history' folder?! Ridiculous.
Also, the back button on the browser sometimes refuses to work if I click it just once. It takes at least two clicks to get it moving.
Plus, how do I bookmark a page in just a click or two on Chrome? No idea.
And, new mail on Gmail is slightly slower to show up on Chrome!!! I have actually seen this with both Firefox and Chrome open.
Again, it is very irritating to have to download the Google toolbar for their own browser. I mean, you didnt have to make it this lean.
Maybe I am not fully aware of the solutions to these issues listed below, but am an above average internet user. If things are not obvious to me, something is wrong.
23 January 2009
21 January 2009
Slumdog, colonial legacy, etc.
The other day I was chatting with a friend about Slumdog Millionaire. He said it was one more of those unbelievably un-ending attempts to sell India's poverty. (Really! If only India's poor knew how valuable they were. They must know, of course.)
Anyway, from Slumdog we went on to talk about contemporary literature and how I felt we lacked one, one which is truly representative (though I don't see how one text can ever be representative of India). He disagreed and said we did have contemporary literature, only it needed to be translated into English (from Bengali, he meant. My friend is a Bong.)
Then, I clarified that I was talking about stuff written by Indians in English. To which, he said, “But why should we write in English? What's the need?”
It seems so clichéd to talk about all this, but here's my bit for what it's worth:
Anyone who loves to write will not mull over which language to write in. We write in the language that comes naturally to us, the language in which we think.
Now, this should logically be the mother tongue, right? Mostly, it is. But because many Indian children are educated in English right from the first day of school, they may use English + mother tongue equally well.
I think in English a lot: this could be because of my profession, my education, or just my inclination. But, as long as I know and love my mother tongue equally well, I don't see why I have to shy away from the fact that I would prefer to write in English.
English wields a lot of political power over Indian languages, it's true. But, after more than 3 centuries after colonial rule, cant we get over the hangover and see it as a language, and not as something we grudgingly use because we were forced to use it 300 years ago? I mean, learning or speaking English shouldn't automatically mean you despise or refuse to learn any other language, be it Kannada, Malayalam, Bengali, etc. If you choose to do so, [that is, look down on your mother tongue or Indian languages], that is your choice.
I do not like to look down or hate a language. I, for one, absolutely love to learn new languages, and love to discover the whole new worlds, new cultures, sub-texts buried deep in the womb of each language.
It is sad that most kids today cant read or speak a complete sentence in their mother tongue without faltering. And parents are hardly bothered with that. I had once read somewhere that the less you use a language, the more you lose in terms of the knowledge that comes with the language, like the different people who speak it, their occupations, knowledge about their bio-diversity...
For instance, there could be herbs or spices that grow only in a particular place and only people who live there know about it. They have a name for it in their language, possibly a whole culture built around that local uniqueness. But it remains outside your awareness and if the language perishes, all such knowledge, will, too. (My grandma can look at a herb and say what remedial powers it has. This language will die with her -- Of course, we'll always have our KAPLs and Daburs, but at the household level it will be lost. – Neither my mother nor I have bothered to learn this from her. Of course, this is not really about language politics. It's more of post-colonial India's suspension between the knowledgeable past and the liberating present. Aah, there we go again... making India's colonial past a reference point.)
Well, to sum it up: I don't see a contradiction or a dichotomy in myself if I say I love my mother tongue and English, and choose to write in English. I sometimes write in Kannada, too, for my own consumption. I frankly don't think it is worthy of putting it out in public. If I could give enough time to it, I think I could write as well in Kannada as in English, but, time... that is the one thing I don't have.
Anyway, from Slumdog we went on to talk about contemporary literature and how I felt we lacked one, one which is truly representative (though I don't see how one text can ever be representative of India). He disagreed and said we did have contemporary literature, only it needed to be translated into English (from Bengali, he meant. My friend is a Bong.)
Then, I clarified that I was talking about stuff written by Indians in English. To which, he said, “But why should we write in English? What's the need?”
It seems so clichéd to talk about all this, but here's my bit for what it's worth:
Anyone who loves to write will not mull over which language to write in. We write in the language that comes naturally to us, the language in which we think.
Now, this should logically be the mother tongue, right? Mostly, it is. But because many Indian children are educated in English right from the first day of school, they may use English + mother tongue equally well.
I think in English a lot: this could be because of my profession, my education, or just my inclination. But, as long as I know and love my mother tongue equally well, I don't see why I have to shy away from the fact that I would prefer to write in English.
English wields a lot of political power over Indian languages, it's true. But, after more than 3 centuries after colonial rule, cant we get over the hangover and see it as a language, and not as something we grudgingly use because we were forced to use it 300 years ago? I mean, learning or speaking English shouldn't automatically mean you despise or refuse to learn any other language, be it Kannada, Malayalam, Bengali, etc. If you choose to do so, [that is, look down on your mother tongue or Indian languages], that is your choice.
I do not like to look down or hate a language. I, for one, absolutely love to learn new languages, and love to discover the whole new worlds, new cultures, sub-texts buried deep in the womb of each language.
It is sad that most kids today cant read or speak a complete sentence in their mother tongue without faltering. And parents are hardly bothered with that. I had once read somewhere that the less you use a language, the more you lose in terms of the knowledge that comes with the language, like the different people who speak it, their occupations, knowledge about their bio-diversity...
For instance, there could be herbs or spices that grow only in a particular place and only people who live there know about it. They have a name for it in their language, possibly a whole culture built around that local uniqueness. But it remains outside your awareness and if the language perishes, all such knowledge, will, too. (My grandma can look at a herb and say what remedial powers it has. This language will die with her -- Of course, we'll always have our KAPLs and Daburs, but at the household level it will be lost. – Neither my mother nor I have bothered to learn this from her. Of course, this is not really about language politics. It's more of post-colonial India's suspension between the knowledgeable past and the liberating present. Aah, there we go again... making India's colonial past a reference point.)
Well, to sum it up: I don't see a contradiction or a dichotomy in myself if I say I love my mother tongue and English, and choose to write in English. I sometimes write in Kannada, too, for my own consumption. I frankly don't think it is worthy of putting it out in public. If I could give enough time to it, I think I could write as well in Kannada as in English, but, time... that is the one thing I don't have.
06 December 2008
Romulus, My Father
A couple of days ago, they were showing Munich on HBO. Coming so close after the Mumbai attacks, a lot of the anger seemed familiar.
But this post is not about Munich or Mumbai, there's only so much you can discuss hate. Munich just reminded me of Eric Bana's other movie I recently watched: Romulus, My Father.
The movie explores the relationship between a father and son very intimately. It has speaking silences and spaces (something that I loved very much): the director, Richard Roxburgh, doesn't see the need for dialogue or narrative in some of the strongest moments of the movie. The movie had potential to be a very melodramatic one, yet it shies away from the overt expressions of melodrama.
This is perhaps Eric Bana's best performance till date. There is a natural, quiet way about him that suits this movie well. Kodi Smit-McPhee, Bana's son in the movie, is very lovable and shows very sensitive acting. There's a lot of joy in the movie, thanks to Kodi, despite the sadness that runs through it.
The movie is based on Raimond Gaita's memoir. Gaita grew up in rural Australia through his mother's painful absences and unstable behaviour and his father's resilience.
I would love to watch this movie again for its silences and the gaunt Australian landscape.
04 December 2008
09 November 2008
Scribbled between 102 and 103 degrees
I wrote this down in my diary on 25 October in the throes of typhoid. For your reading pleasure/misery:
I am ill and looks like will continue to be ill for some more time. I sleep almost all day and then wake up abruptly in the middle of the night, fully alert and nothing to do. So I gaze at Linc's calm, sleeping face, listening to his little breathing sounds.
After a very long time - I really cant remember when was the last time I slept non-stop for 6 days - I have some quality time to myself :( And I have been thinking ...
I have been thinking of:
a) how illness/disability can wipe you off from the public scene. Not that I am being wiped off. Nah, not yet. It just made me think - of people who have been pushed behind the scene, who have to be 'lugged' in and out of their homes once in so many months for something absolutely unavoidable like a visit to the doctor's. They might be in their teens, but there's no movies for them, no eating out, no flirting, in short, no life.
It is all the more harder on those who have known a 'normal' life until the crippling event happened. Yet, people with real hard cores crawl and limp back to where you can see them once in a while. I had interviewed one such person - Mahesh of Mobility India. He wasn't very bitter about what he had been through, and I remember wondering why not.
b) Sir. His typical reaction on hearing that I was sick would be, "Oh Viju! That's horrible! You must do this ... and you mustn't do this..."
Linc often catches me talking of him in the present tense. For me, he refuses to be relegated to the past. I get a feeling I will miss him throughout my life. Some people just don't have the right to die. At least not him.
c) all the bedtime stories my father told us. He has amazing story-telling powers, complete with sound and visual effects, making the whole thing very dramatic. He dug out stories from - where else - the Mahabharata and Ramayana. He never repeated stories unless we requested for it, but he absolutely refused requests for more than one story at a time.
I wonder what stories today's parents are telling their children. Is it the TV that puts them to sleep? I dont know... how many stories do you think you could tell your children, day after day?
I am ill and looks like will continue to be ill for some more time. I sleep almost all day and then wake up abruptly in the middle of the night, fully alert and nothing to do. So I gaze at Linc's calm, sleeping face, listening to his little breathing sounds.
After a very long time - I really cant remember when was the last time I slept non-stop for 6 days - I have some quality time to myself :( And I have been thinking ...
I have been thinking of:
a) how illness/disability can wipe you off from the public scene. Not that I am being wiped off. Nah, not yet. It just made me think - of people who have been pushed behind the scene, who have to be 'lugged' in and out of their homes once in so many months for something absolutely unavoidable like a visit to the doctor's. They might be in their teens, but there's no movies for them, no eating out, no flirting, in short, no life.
It is all the more harder on those who have known a 'normal' life until the crippling event happened. Yet, people with real hard cores crawl and limp back to where you can see them once in a while. I had interviewed one such person - Mahesh of Mobility India. He wasn't very bitter about what he had been through, and I remember wondering why not.
b) Sir. His typical reaction on hearing that I was sick would be, "Oh Viju! That's horrible! You must do this ... and you mustn't do this..."
Linc often catches me talking of him in the present tense. For me, he refuses to be relegated to the past. I get a feeling I will miss him throughout my life. Some people just don't have the right to die. At least not him.
c) all the bedtime stories my father told us. He has amazing story-telling powers, complete with sound and visual effects, making the whole thing very dramatic. He dug out stories from - where else - the Mahabharata and Ramayana. He never repeated stories unless we requested for it, but he absolutely refused requests for more than one story at a time.
I wonder what stories today's parents are telling their children. Is it the TV that puts them to sleep? I dont know... how many stories do you think you could tell your children, day after day?
11 October 2008
Working from home... and loving it!
A few months ago, I began working on my own as an editor and writer. And I must say that I like the experience, with all its accompanying risks. I had never realized that there is such a market out there for good freelance writers and editors in India. After working in all kinds of companies – MNCs, newspapers, proprietary firms, start-ups – I thought I had seen it all.
But working from home has its own rules, which, if followed, will work well for you. A few things I learnt from my short stint as a freelance writer and editor are:
a. Discipline. There’s no one to watch over you, which is good and bad. It’s up to you to keep your mind on track all the time, without giving in to tempting distractions like watching TV or chatting/talking to family and friends during work hours.
b. Clarity. The terms of work should be very clear between you and your client. If something is not getting through over e-mail or chat, call your client and discuss it thoroughly. Unless you completely understand your role, do not commit to anything. And if the client says the details can be worked out later, insist on doing it before you take on the task.
c. Do not compromise. You should know what your rock bottom price is and, however hard the client bargains, do not go below this. At the end of the day, after all the hard work, you want to be satisfied with what you earned. Otherwise, what’s the point? You might as well take up a regular job.
d. Be fair to yourself and your client. There is only so much humanly possible. Keep this in mind when taking on new assignments.
e. Take time off. You might end up working all the time and sometimes it may be necessary. But take at least an hour off each day in which you do only what you love to do.
f. Smile. Yes, handling clients can be tough, but relax: at least you don't have a boss to manage. How many people can afford such luxury?
Working on your own can be dicey, as you never know if a client will come back or not. But good work is noticed, and what the heck? No job is secure unless you are employed with the Government of India, is it?
But working from home has its own rules, which, if followed, will work well for you. A few things I learnt from my short stint as a freelance writer and editor are:
a. Discipline. There’s no one to watch over you, which is good and bad. It’s up to you to keep your mind on track all the time, without giving in to tempting distractions like watching TV or chatting/talking to family and friends during work hours.
b. Clarity. The terms of work should be very clear between you and your client. If something is not getting through over e-mail or chat, call your client and discuss it thoroughly. Unless you completely understand your role, do not commit to anything. And if the client says the details can be worked out later, insist on doing it before you take on the task.
c. Do not compromise. You should know what your rock bottom price is and, however hard the client bargains, do not go below this. At the end of the day, after all the hard work, you want to be satisfied with what you earned. Otherwise, what’s the point? You might as well take up a regular job.
d. Be fair to yourself and your client. There is only so much humanly possible. Keep this in mind when taking on new assignments.
e. Take time off. You might end up working all the time and sometimes it may be necessary. But take at least an hour off each day in which you do only what you love to do.
f. Smile. Yes, handling clients can be tough, but relax: at least you don't have a boss to manage. How many people can afford such luxury?
Working on your own can be dicey, as you never know if a client will come back or not. But good work is noticed, and what the heck? No job is secure unless you are employed with the Government of India, is it?
28 September 2008
My whirlwind Goa trip
We didnt have too much time, but still had fun. It was also a historical moment for me, because I have lived just 4 hours away from Goa for most of my life, but never could be there. Some beach pics here.
19 September 2008
Yippee!!
I won an award. I dont have any acceptance speech ready, but will say this: thank you Vinod. Felt good.
Now, I know am supposed to pass it on, but that will take some time. Please bear with me.
Today, I got in touch with two long-lost friends. It felt as good as a fresh breeze from the Ganga on a damp, sweaty day In Kolkata. It was also very hilarious remembering what we were then and fitting it into our present life scenarios. One friend asked me if I still participated in debate competitions. I don’t know why but I almost fell off the chair laughing.
I thought of all of our lives. Our great little magnificent lives. And I thought of the things that we used to talk about – homework, boys in class, Shah Rukh Khan, periods and how evil they were... Aah, we talked a lot then. And sang and laughed like crazy.
I felt amused by the things my friends remembered about me - it was like looking at myself from the window of a time machine.
My friend said we couldn't keep in touch because of our changed priorities. Is that so, I thought. I'd give my right arm to talk away to glory to my friends on the terrace of my Hubli house. Have priorities changed? I don't know, I'd rather say we are too involved with our lives, any which way you look at it.
Few people have the presence of mind, the will, and the opportunity to step aside a moment and go after the thing they started out looking for. Praveen is such a person. He amazes me with the single-minded way in which he's trying to seek something that's close to his heart.
Whenever I think of him, I think of my life and what am doing with it. But then I realise that our lives cannot be compared. In fact, no one life can be compared to another, I'd say. Each to his or her own.
I thought of all of our lives. Our great little magnificent lives. And I thought of the things that we used to talk about – homework, boys in class, Shah Rukh Khan, periods and how evil they were... Aah, we talked a lot then. And sang and laughed like crazy.
I felt amused by the things my friends remembered about me - it was like looking at myself from the window of a time machine.
My friend said we couldn't keep in touch because of our changed priorities. Is that so, I thought. I'd give my right arm to talk away to glory to my friends on the terrace of my Hubli house. Have priorities changed? I don't know, I'd rather say we are too involved with our lives, any which way you look at it.
Few people have the presence of mind, the will, and the opportunity to step aside a moment and go after the thing they started out looking for. Praveen is such a person. He amazes me with the single-minded way in which he's trying to seek something that's close to his heart.
Whenever I think of him, I think of my life and what am doing with it. But then I realise that our lives cannot be compared. In fact, no one life can be compared to another, I'd say. Each to his or her own.
13 July 2008
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