Myopic Vision

Today owing to the gentle persuasion of my friend Charmaine Vessoaker D'lima, I've decided to re-visit my long lost diary of sorts. I started MYOPIC VISION in 2006, at the tail end of my 20's, when I was  full of enthusiasm and so cock-sure of myself. I  managed to successfully keep the momentum going on MYOPIC VISION for the whole year and then some. Somehow by 2011 or so I appear to have hit the pause button and it's stayed that way until today. I wish I had a plausible excuse for not keeping regular posts. The unholy union of procrastination and a sheer lack of enthusiasm are to blame. But thanks to recent FB posts, I'm being encouraged to write more. I'm too lazy to create a new evolved and professional looking blog, so I'm just going to stick with the one I have. I shudder to think of my what my views were back in the formative years of this blog - but I won't be taking them down. They are what they are - the true maundering of a very self

(A re-print of my Facebook post on the eve of ANZAC DAY 2020 - with a few additions) We can't gather en mass tomorrow to mark ANZAC day. But many of us will gather at our letterboxes, at the front door, in our lounge rooms, balconies and driveways to observe a minutes silence at dawn and watch the virtual service after. As a Kiwi of Indian origin, ANZAC day is not just about remembering the sacrifices of the ANZAC troops. To me personally it is also about remembering the Indian troops who fought alongside the ANZACS. Over a million Indian troops served in  World War I. It is estimated that over 15,000 of them were sent to Gallipoli. Approximately 3,500 of them were injured and roughly 1,400 of them died there along side their ANZAC mates. For many years, ANZAC day was about standing shoulder to shoulder with my Kiwi friends and neighbors. Many of them had a personal connection to soldiers in the two wars - grandfathers, granduncles and countless relatives lost in the bat

The only thing better than watching the opening ceremony of the London Olympic games was perhaps being a participant or viewing it in all it's glory in the stadium. What an amazingly spectacle of the Isles of Wonder and a salute to all the iconic things that put the great in Great Britain. Truly creative genius at its very best. And to Her Majesty, might we say Ma'am what a good sport one is.

To quote Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” and as the curtain draws on 2011, I find myself breathing a sigh of relief that a not so pleasant year is finally coming to an end. It’s been difficult for a variety of reasons. It has been a tough year for us all. But I know that despite it all, I’ve been one of the lucky ones. What I perceive of as being tough personally, pales in comparison to what some others have had to endure. I’ve been lucky enough to have the luxury of not having a home destroyed, or constantly living in fear of the next “big one” or cleaning up yet another burst of liquefaction. I may not always enjoy work, but I still have a job, a roof above my head and thankfully the ability to put food on the table. I’ve also had the good fortune to celebrate both New Zealand’s victory at the Rugby World Cup and India’s victory at the Cricket World Cup, two supremely spectacular events that brought a lot of rejoicing. So really I ought to be c

When I got home from work on Thursday, it was really dark. It's not unusual given that we are somewhere between a delayed Autumn and Winter. With only a dim street light to guide my movements, I headed towards my front door. As I walked along my driveway, I noticed a very large and abnormally shaped acorn on the grass. Curious, I bent down to inspect, when to my surprise the acorn moved. Thankfully I did not touch it, for the rather large abnormal acorn turned out to be a hedgehog.

I'm not really a royalist, but I have the utmost respect for Her Majesty. I think the Queen is a lovely lady who has spent her entire life in service to her country in a quite, dignified and scandal free manner. I'm not quite sure that my affection for her extends to the rest of the royal family. I find myself large unaffected and unexcited by them (though I am warming to cheeky Prince Harry). However, yesterday, like millions of viewers worldwide I could not help but get caught up in the whole royal wedding fever. It was inescapable, even on the other side of the world. So I found myself watching the blessed event. And it did not disappoint. The pomp, splendor and precision in the timing and organisation of the whole event is to be admired. You've got to admit that no one puts the 'Great' in Britian quite like the British and in particular the House of Windsor. I suspect for most Britons, it must have been a day to remember, celebrate and be proud of being Britis

I’m an overseas citizen of Indian origin. And as most Indians will admit there is just one unique obsession that that unites Indians all over the globe It defines the essence of the Indian national pride. It’s bigger than religion. It is a grand affair of the heart; something that ignites more passion that any other good love story ever has. It is quite simply, the game of cricket. India is a cricket mad nation and no wonder because, we, are really good at it. So when the World cup was being played on home turf, supporting the national squad was a given. And for the last month and a half, I have joined the 1 billion plus Indians and waved the flag, sang the National Anthem, stayed up late to watch and cheer the team on. (The games are played through the night in the city that I live in) And today, in a tough final against Sri Lanka, even as thing were going bad, I bit my nails, I prayed (I stormed heaven), I believed and I willed them on. And they did not disappoint. India won the Cri

April Fool's day is always a legitimate excuse for the inner mischievous child in me to shine without an ounce of guilt. Over the years I've played so many pranks and I think I may have even bragged about some of these in previous posts on this blog. This year, I went a little low key, playing only two pranks which is an unusual thing for me. Maturity must be catching up. The first victim was a friend Adel, who is a really good photographer. With the help of two other partners in crime we sent her an invitation to be the official photographer at the Royal Wedding. We took the trouble to pinch a picture of the official invite and tweak it a bit (it's amazing what Photoshop can help you achieve). We coupled this with a Royal letter from her Majesty's supposed communications secretary - a Mrs Deborah Bottomworth. It was printed on really good quality thick paper and we took the trouble of making it look like it had been posted from the UK. We slipped in into her mailbox at