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23 February 2004
Rain, rain come back again
Over the weekend Pasadena and the rest of this region in Southern California have been under the effect of a low-pressure region, or "system" as the weatherquacks would so pompously call it, in the Pacific Ocean. This is probably my first experience of rainfall sustained over two days in the United States. To the best of my recollection, rainfall in Urbana though literally stormy seldom lasted for more than a couple of hours. Rain has a particularly spectacular effect here in Pasadena. The clouds lend a completely different complexion to the skies and the San Gabriel range looks sequestered and mystic with many swirls of dreamy smoke lining all its mountains. The heavens lower themselves by many thousands of kilometres and are just out of your reach as you stand on tiptoe. However, there is not the same intensity with which cyclones visit Madras. Fierce pellets of water dropping fast and hard trying furiously to bore holes into the scalded tar on the roads, gales at fifty kilometres an hour blowing and buffeting humble two-wheelers with arrogant impunity, G.N. Chetty road swilling with sewerage water and celestial offerings alike within half an hour of downpour, the reds and greens of traffic signals blurring to oil-colour pastel pigments, yellow, orange and blue translucent ponchos barely covering the pregnant posterior protuberances of rusty jute school bags sagging down off gleeful kids, auto rickshaws puffing out highly noxious fumes under strong protest as their temporary for-hire drivers feign to fix them, demanding and ultimately securing a haul and push, green MTC buses already listing to port with reckless footboard travelers now further encumbered by having to gargle muddy water in and out through the four pairs of wheels -- the effect is stunningly visual. Instead here, we have gentle questions asked of the unheeding wayfarer with meek taps on the heads and backs of palms that are immediately thwarted by prompt umbrellas and Columbia raincoats.* * * * *
I'm like
The Language Log has a take on the growing prominence of the "like" in typical American speak. It is not clear, at least to me, if they seek to condone it by calling it a hedge and a replacement for "if you will" or worse, if by doing so they wish to rationalise and absorb it as a healthy development. Not surprisingly, I have pretty harsh and authoritarian views on this garbage expression and I am sure I am not alone in this regard. How, for instance, is one expected to stay through a conversation, much less make sense of it were it to be peppered with a "like" following a verb, a noun, an adverb and an adjective -- "To me like this is like so like like a likely like possibility that like I like like it.. like."* * * * *
V. Gangadhar is my favourite columnist on The Hindu for the simple reason that most of his articles are about mundane trivialities of life and homespun wisdom which are seldom touched upon by more brooding journalists. Quite aptly, his column is titled "Slice of Life" and appears every Sunday on The Hindu. An article of his on the raison d'etre of thayir saadham (which I have not unfortunately been able to locate online) is a tender encomium to that staple of traditional South Indian fare. He nearly outdoes that by a tribute he pays to Bombay's dabbawalas with an article that speaks in glowing terms of these tireless lunch-carriers who have converted the simple trade of food-couriers into an efficient art.
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