The Sandstone Splendours of The Warrior Princess

There is nothing quite like history shivering down your spine. I find natural history speaks the loudest. It's there for you to see. How the winds and storms have sculpted monuments in their splendid poses. And if you are truly receptive you might feel the goosebumps of the people who might have once sunk their feet in those very sands. Scratched their elbows on those very rocks, and foresaw their progeny from those very cliffs.

Geological formations always stir that something ancient within me. I hold them in awe. They capture my imagination so strongly, that sometimes I feel like I am living another era. And it's the sandstone formations that completely captivate me. They are so dramatic. The sweeps, the strokes, the powerful hues, the resonating histories.

In the windmills of my mind, I see myself as this mystical warrior princess, galloping through the canons of Utah. Meditating atop the Petra monastry. Laughing as my Prince moors his ship by the Painted Cliffs. The alternative canvas of my life.

As an explorer I don't see myself chasing animals, or oceans, or mountain peaks. I see myself chasing rocks, and canyons, and tectonic faults - starting with Sandstone formations! I want to take you through some of these.

Petra

You might remember Petra from the new seven wonders of the world campaign. It's a 2000 year old city in Jordan carved out of sandstone rock face flanked by stunning sandstone mountains. The Nabataens very smartly married human skill with natural art. The entrance of Petra is via a gorge called Siq . What makes Siq such an amazing thing is that it is a natural geological fault produced by tectonic movements. I like to think of Siq as a punk-rock look for the Sandstone world. If Petra seems so gorgeous through just the imagery I see, I can't imagine how it must be to actually be there and walk through those paths. Okay...let me speak less and show you more!

Psst: Click the images to view full size.



Petra treasury (top); Siq opening up to the treasury; Petra monastry; Sandstone formations

Painted Cliffs

The Painted Cliffs are found on the Maria island of Tanzania in Australia. They remind me of a Vanilla marble cake sprinkled with some caramel yellow. This shade makes them unique. Most other sandstone formations border on strong orange or Ochre, but with the Painted Cliffs you will see swirls of light turmeric yellow with pale pink icing. Painted Cliffs sound all the more exciting because they swirl above the seashore, and to get the best view of the cliffs you have to trek along the rocky base by the Ocean.

Glen Canyon Group

This will be my explorer's pilgrimage to Northern America. The Glen Canyon group is a sprawling set of formations across the USA (Nevada, Utah, Arizona) and part of Mexico. Of all the brilliance that dots the North American landscape, this is my calling. This is probably what John Denver is singing about! There are four main formations in the group and my favourite is the Jurassic Navajo sandstone (a.k.a The Wave - Arizona). It's just breathtaking.

Jurassic Navjaho Sandstone (Arizona Wave)
The Wave is found at the slopes of the Coyote Buttes on Navajaho land. The Wave is made of Jurassic-age sandstone that is approximately 190 million years old. Hiking to The Wave is supposed to be quite an adventure because there is no formal trail and many people lose their way!

Totem Pole Monument Valley (top); Fisher Tower (bottom-left); Alstrom Point

The Totem Pole is a prominent feature in the Monument Valley which is found in the Colorado area. When I go there, I am either going take that ride on horseback or maybe just hop on the hot air balloon! The Fisher Towers is most famous for its rockclimbing challenges. So therefore I shall only view and photo it.

I find the Antelope Wave so sensual in its appearance. Similar to the Arizona Wave it's an unbroken undulation of wind and water weathered sandstone. Over millions of years! Masterpieces are not made so quick people! And how many times have we seen the Delicate Arch in those stunning starry night photographs. I don't know what makes it special, but I am curious to find out.

Antelope Wave (left); Delicate Arch; Moab (bottom right)

Horseshoe Bend of the Colorado River


The Horseshoe Bend is so dramatic! It's almost like the river is circumbulating it in pilgrimage. That green green is the Colorado River. Oh many a historical novel I have read with grand descriptions of voyages along the river. Oh me the warrior princess, galloping alongside the Colorado - master of the sandstone monuments....

PS: This one is for Musheer. We probably are the only siblings who fought over who owned the rocks!

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Fanny Facials - Jiggy With It!

Warning: Not for classy ladies like my sister - who might find this article in poor taste :)
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Read about extreme beauty treatments in the paper today and of course the Fanny Facial caught my fancy instantly. My first response was wow! Let me find out if there's any spa in Bangalore offering that. And once the excitement ebbed, I doubled over and laughed like I haven't laughed in a long time. I mean, just think of the the poor beautician spending the one to two hours flapping, massaging, stroking, steaming, pore-cleaning, and jiggling your bottom jugs. And she can't even look away. She can't do it without staring at it and examining it. A bowl of jelly. Maybe lumpy dough. Or God forbid, a couple of overbaked cakes!

Oh-h Fanny Facials...that must be such an experience! The girls know how close she would need to get to clean the pores!

"Cucumbers to cool your moons anyone?"

So I hear that one of the popular Fanny facial treatments at a spa is called "Moon Glow Facial". Umm given that we Indian ladies are not white, I have to ask - can you really convert our dented asteroids into just-a-little-splotchy moons? Really? Can ya? And tell me, when are they releasing Fair Rear & Lovely? And what about some Tush Rouge. Can I get some of that?

Lol. Never mind. My moons are just fine. Thank you very much.

I also have to wonder whether these fanny facialists have a serious fanny fetish? You know how foot-fetish people end up working in shoe stores....? Because I can't image any other reason, why one might want to spend their time staring at people's asses.

And by the by. I have discovered that a dedicated Fanny spa in Canada is called 'Susurrus'.

Susurrus???

Sus-sur-russ???

Really??!!

Eheheheehe!!! We all know what that sound is.

Ummm...err... that is the delicate sound of a lady exhaling the wrong way!

 

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Funny Bane - Aha. Ha.

" ... The torture ends. And it's almost like years have passed. You silently walk back and try and squeeze between two fat aunties so that you are invisible. And it works. The soft pudgy flesh of their arms grinds your cheeks as they talk...

Being funny is a demanding task. Especially if you are labeled the 'funny' one, and people wait for you to turn up and be 'funny'.

What. A humorous bone does not equate a clown suit okay? It's a nice thing though. It's endearing that people wait for you to give them their laughs.

But you know that scenario? When you enter a room and everyone gets all excited "Oh it is here, it is here!"? And then they will all look at you eagerly like a huge bunch of smiling beavers. Okay I don't know what beavers look like - but I imagine that's how they would look. All round-eyed with stretched smiles - with a slightly defrosting look about them. If you are a funny person, then you know what comes next. What comes next is that people suddenly stop their entire banter and eagerly beaverly gaze at you to add fuel to the funny flames. They are waiting. With such high expectations. They are waiting. READY to laugh. The laugh is right there. Crouched and poised, waiting for the gunshot. It doesn't matter what you utter - they expect it to be simply hilarious. And so they are waiting. And waiting. Imagine their eyes. All wide and round and poppy and poofed. Their teeth twinkling with saliva. Ants marching under their lips. The air is charged with expectation.

You look at their faces. You are not ready. And instead of fuel, you end up throwing in juice. Not fuel. Not water to douse it. But juice. Juice that turns the flames to wheezy smoke that makes everyone cough like they are forcing a laugh. Or in such cases - really forcing a laugh. Aha.ha.

Yes. If a normal laugh goes like "ahahahahaha". This will be

"aha." "ha".

Like a snort. Like the sound you might expect when a dull president attempts a joke.

And suddenly you are thrown back to the time when you were going through your super-awkward adolescent days. The period when they still think you are a kid. You don't think you are a kid. But you don't know what you are if not a kid. Then they have a big family gathering that's going boisterously well. But then suddenly your granny or uncle decides that people are having too much fun. So they call you to the center of the huge room to 'perform'. And then you are standing there. With cheeks on fire. Praying fervently that some genie will rescue you. But people who own you are grinning with glee. Or the worse scenario - when well-meaning mother hens are putting their Child Psychology training at work and trying to give you a "spot" in the event. Trying to "build confidence".

The Genie never turns up. You force your lips to move and keel with all emotion "baazigar O baazigar...." and watch those just-entered-college second/third cousins cringe Tom Cruise style. They might have brought a cute friend along. And in your head you are thinking "Billions of blistering Ambrish Puris". There in one corner two balding uncles with soda pop glasses would be nodding and bobbing their heads "good girl. good girl. very nice. very nice". And if there was someone like me. She would be tittering away in the background. While the mothers would glare to be quiet.

"Baazigar...Ooooo...baazigarrrr....tuhe bada-"

"aha. ha." comes the laugh.

You mumble a thankyou. The uncles and mother hens clap. The torture ends. And it's almost like years have passed. You silently walk back and try and squeeze between two fat aunties so that you are invisible. And it works. The soft pudgy flesh of their arms grinds your cheeks as they talk. There is a rumble. The talk gets animated, the grinding escalates, and you feel a heat. It's the Genie. You are happy. You can finally escape. You ask him to take you to the future. Skip all the coming years and take you to where you are an adult. At ease and chilled out in a big gathering. You are belle of the ball. The star MC on stage. People are hanging on to your every word.

Ahahahahahahaha.

.

Aha. Ha.

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Uncle Patrick and His Azure Speedo

I saw some kids splashing in the deep end. And nobody else around except some humans who were languishing in the Jacuzzi. Then suddenly a walrus burst out from the center of the pool. A white Chinese walrus with black swimming goggles. I reacted. I was expecting more like a sweet Chinese penguin.

In the eternal Singapore Summer of 2006, I decided to finally conquer the blue demon of mine. My fear of water. So, I got all excited and started looking out for instructors. Unfortunately given that I could only make time after I returned from work – finding an instructor became quite difficult. And then my friend’s aunt suggested I try Patrick – the swimming instructor for most of the kids in their condo (including theirs). I hesitated. I figured that it was very easy to teach kids. Kids are malleable. And strangely fearless. I was a brittle adult - hanging on to my dear fear of life. 

Anyhow I was convinced after a bit and then I called him. He agreed to take me on after he finished with his last child group class. I was happy he was going to give me a one-on-one for a group rate. Anyway I wasn’t going to join the kids. No sir. I wasn’t going to be the loser aunty who crashed in on the kids’ pool party.

Anyway. I went. All clothed in my muslim lady’s swim suit. A bright cobalt blue. Ah, now I know the instant image you guys have. Either a spandex nun’s habit or a deep sea divers’ outfit with a seamless head cap. Scccccraaaaatchhhh. Scratch that image off. Think 80s aerobic suits. Full tights and a lycra t-shirt. Not that strange it would be I thought – because a lot of instructors were donning full suits to prevent chlorine tans. But usually they would pick a sober black or navy blue. But aunty Rabia decided to pick the super-bright blue one. It was just this image I had of myself – all ethereal in a blue suit by the blue sea (a pool would do just as well). Except that I didn’t realize how thunder-striking it was to the eye.

So anyway, I land up at the pool. Internally super-nervous. But also light-headed with excitement. I saw some kids splashing in the deep end. And nobody else around except some humans who were languishing in the Jacuzzi. Then suddenly a walrus burst out from the center of the pool. A white Chinese walrus with black swimming goggles. I reacted. I was expecting more like a sweet Chinese penguin.


“You Raubia?” he walrussed.
me: Ahan
“Hi, I am Patrick”.
me: ummm … okay … if you say so.
“You got my 80 dollars?”
me: Yep I do. Quietly thinking to myself ‘I don’t know if they will be yours yet – Walrus … umm I mean - Patrick’

And then we chatted for a couple of minutes. He told me he was 35, an Electrical Engineer by day, and did this for fun and extra cash. Allright. I thought. He can’t be that bad. Seems like one of us. And anyway it was a trial run. Let me trial it out.

So I got into the water, and transformed into one of those kind of girls. You know – the kind who shriek and accompany it with a vertical shooting of the arms like gay magicians? I held on tightly to the rail. What’s that thing? That ladder to get into that pool? Ok that thing’s rail. So I held on and gay magicianed for a while, while Patrick briefed me on the minus one, zero, and one of swimming. And each time the water spooked me I would shriek and he would go “Don’t worry uncle Patrick is here”. He tried to stick to a suave “Pat”, but that didn’t work. And every time he said “Uncle Patrick” I would think “Oh man, that sounds soooo wrong”.

After about ten minutes, I was to take my first head dip into the pool. So I mustered all my courage and submerged my head. Suddenly my ears went “pluggggg”… I was blinking water … I turned my head … water . water..tiles..water..and hovering in the near horizon was something blue. Something very azure. Something very tiny and azure on something very white and Chinese. OMG. The walrus was wearing nothing but a speedo!!!! Then a brown Indian Muslim Walrus burst through the pool. Gasping. Gasspinggg. Gasssspinngggg.

I don’t know what I was expecting. But I wasn’t expecting an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny blue puckered bikini!!!

I sent a silent apology to God. Sorry Allah, I didn’t know. I was expecting male hijab. A pair of trunks decently strapped on to his legs. I tried my best. See, I am all swathed in blue lycra. Every inch of my normal self has it. Sorry Allah.
Once I was over thaaat fit. I was suddenly like. OMG, doesn’t he teach kids??? That is exactly why I was expecting him to be decently dressed. Sorry peoples. My muslim sensibilities aside – speedos on a kids swimming instructor just doesn’t cut it for me. It doesn’t. It’s WRONG. Especially on someone who says “Don’t worry Uncle Patrick is there.”

There was no way Uncle Patrick was gonna get more than 80 dollars from me. But, I really didn’t want to be impolite. Damning those manners hammered into me, I continued the last part of that lesson - which was floating. I was still so caught up with the whole speedo thing, I didn’t realize how scary floating was going to be until I was actually floating!! Then I prayed fervently to God. Pleaseeee God, please don’t let me sink, because I really don’t want Uncle Patrick to have to rescue me. No no, please let there be maximum distance between me and that blue speedo. That really cant be the last thing I see before I die!!

God was kind. Apparently I have so much buoyancy, it’s hard for me to sink. And I floated on my back, staring at the dark azure sky. I floated….oh..so….peacefully. Oblivious to all the nakedness around me.

Our session ended after that. But when the brown Indian walrus in the blue river rafter suit stepped out of the pool followed by the white Chinese walrus in the azure bikini – the kids stopped splashing around. Even the jacuzzi stirred to review the oddly-matching pair.

Uncle Patrick wasn't too bad, but I didnt see him again. And I never tried to find another instructor cos no one else could possibly float my goat better than the man in the azure speedo.
Uncle Patrick.

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Wannabe a new-age Indian

I know countless people who refer to the act of being on their honeymoon as ‘mooning’, and each time – I react. Because before I encountered the mooning verb of the honey kind – I only knew the mooning of the buttocks kind. This western slang refers to the act of displaying one's bare buttocks by removing clothing, e.g. by lowering trousers and underpants, usually bending over. Mostly to express protest, scorn, disrespect, but can also simply be done for shock value or fun. (Wikipedia)

This difference in meaning actually delights me because thank God this is not one of those instances that displays the Indian wannabeism. For once we are willing to stick to our own definitions!

Speaking of wannabeism - why are we so desperate to claim all the Indians around the world??? Fine claim the NRIs. I grant you that. But what contribution did you make to fourth, fifth or even second-generation Indians? Other than some DNA matter that most likely will only rear its head when they acquire Diabetes in their thirties or suffer massive coronaries?

And it’s the media that’s largely to blame. How familiar is the “Indian girl runner up in swimsuit round of Milwaukee beauty contest” ? Then you read on to discover she’s something like a fourth-generation Indian – whose great grandfather on the maternal side migrated from India some centuries ago. So what makes her Indian? The genetic Indian stamp somewhere in her DNA? Oh well, then all Americans are Europeans and all Australians are English. And oh by that yardstick – a large number of Indians are East Europeans, Central Asians, Arabs, Chinese, and part Portuguese as well. Ever see Mongolia claiming “Genghis Khan’s descendants rule bollywood”? I don’t think so. Ethnicity and national identities are a very dynamic phenomenon. Give a couple of hundred years and new races and nationalities will emerge. Educated Indians know it. You do don’t you?

But I am going way too far with this. I know that our thinking is less complicated. It comes from a natural social tendency to affiliate ourselves with anything popular and claim our claim upon it. How many times have I cringed when my own relatives go – “you know that xyz personality? I am related to him. He’s my wife’s sister-in-law’s brother-in-law’s brother”. Ok, so you shook hands with him at your sister-in-law’s brother-in-law’s funeral. We know that you know him now. Yes yes - Personally. Yes yes, now each time you run into him he goes “Arey bhai where have you been, I never see you.” And of course he turns and extols your greatness to all the others around. Ya. Right. “And arey want some help from him? Don’t worry I’ll just tell my wife and she’ll just call her sister-in-law and request for this favour.”

Hand me, hand me my dupatta now so I may bury my face in it and stifle my scream!

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Then there are allll the idiots on TV. Forget the blind import of popular American cultural chickpeas – it’s those stupid overused English language phrases that grate. “Last but not the least” and even the “Ladies and gentlemen”. But you have to hand it to the superlatives. Nowadays, even when a kid comes home with a prize, the parents react “Superb! Fantastic! Amazing! Mindblowing!”. And my mind goes - Aye, if you don’t shut up now I’ll blow your brains so fantastically that you will be amazed at how superbly I did that. Harrrrr.

But what’s more worrying is how we are importing cultural memorabilia without any context. How many people have we seen wearing t-shirts with the Playboy bunny? Then you have people dressing up in S & M outfits. Complete with the leather shorts and dog collars! God, I even know a baby boutique called S & M!! I am sure the owners thought it would make a "cool" name. And look at how burlesque has integrated itself with Indian dance routines. Hello – ever really used a garter?? Do you know why women dress up androgynously in some of the dances?  I don't see the problem with adopting something, but if you have to do it, do it right. Like if you really think western food is cool – then please go eat some freshly cooked pasta or steaks rather than stuffing dangerous burgers and pizzas down your child’s throat.

Then there is the other trash that is being stuffed down our throats. WAGs, Kardashians, and up-to-date baseball player gossip. Who cares man?? And even if we don’t – these Internet repurposing ‘reporters’ will make sure that eventually all of us do. And then when some random Hollywood actor comes down to India – you will have all the a-list ‘Bollywooders’ trying to get a meeting with these. And if they do – you will see one big photo of a grinning ‘bollywooder’ with the poker-faced Hollywood nobody. Why do you want to impress him. Why??? Why??? Why????

Hand me, hand me my saree now so I may bury my head in it and throttle my scream!

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Bovine aspirations – Mooni badnam hui

If I am reborn – I’d like to be a cow. That is, if I am reborn in Bangalore. That would be the life. No no, I am not going to give you the regular spiel on how cows can walk on roads etc. Or maybe I am. But it’s not the fact that they can. It’s how they do. I just lovvvveee their confidence.

How they sway dug-gu--dug-gu with their beautiful Jennifer Lopez bums …
giving their bitsy bitsy thumkas : ...thumak … thumak …
while their anklets go chann….chann….

Their tail swishes around like the village belle’s plait –
and a light breeze ruffles the hair at the end …
...almost as if it were modelling for a Sunsilk ad … hair blowing in the air in slow motion. Sssssrrrrrrr.

How they gently lift and shake their heads as if to show off their jhumkas …
...and sweetly look up to the sky and give out a contented “mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo …..”. 

And some roadside Romeo responds “woof woof” .

And our lady just tilts her head slightly and gives the Romeo a gentle indulgent glare with a “dhat!”. Offering a token protest as the heroine of the road - but revelling in her popularity. Softly drooling …and quietly humming “Mooni badnam hui…”


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Then there are the other advantages. Cows have inbuilt Bhajji-Bonda radars. We know that the best bhajji-bonda stalls are often always in the trickiest of lanes. Lanes you will struggle to find on your own. But somehow, the cows know them. They may roam to Gandhibazaar or Sampige road during the day. But right as the burner is lit, they will be in attendance in the bylanes of Kamraj road to claim their mirchi bhajji. Their pregnant bellies and breezy tails jostling with the people. But of course, they will never get one. Cows like all naughty animals of this world – want more than they can handle. And we humans know it.

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Being reborn a cow would also put an end to a lady’s weight issues. Full is good. Round is sound. Big bums are zexy. Anything less than 500 kgs would be underweight. Wow. That's the dream. You can just eat …. and eat … and eat ….. all – day – long…

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Finally, the best part about being a cow is - being well-groomed is an inbuilt quality. Firstly, they have automatic heels. So their gait is impeccable. No Miss Jay can fault it. Second to that is the ability to just plonk themselves at any given ground. In the sexiest pose possible. Two front legs will be demurely tucked in. The other two will be neatly stretched out. Shoulder’s upright. Chin straight. There  is NO way. Just no way that a sitting cow can have bad posture. Then, there are the buzzing flies. She may shake them off like – well – flies. But they are actually her beauticians. Nibbling away at all the grime and bacteria. Facials round the clock. And without nails – no need of mani-pedis. Everything looks good as is, just super low maintenance.

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And somehow, when I think of being a cow .... all else around me fades. I can simply imagine myself - lolling down the road ... but I can't hear the traffic and I couldn't care less about the road goondas. I see myself bellowing in the most resonating voice ... speaking to this invisible audience. I am the operatic mistress - and the gallis are my stage. I can flirt with the grass without sneezing. I can headbutt anyone around me who pisses me off ... and if I don't care I can unhurriedly walk past ... ass in the air, swatting them with my tail. And the best thing would be that I could never ever be a bitch ... because I would have the most beautifully liquid eyes in the world. And when someone would look into them --- they would flutteringly fall in love with me and whisper ...

Paro .....
Radha ....
Munni .....

Sigghh.... Bovine is truly divine ...

Mooni badnam hui ..... la la la ... hmm mm hmm.....
Here's a video I made for my Mooni .... watch it!



 

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Earthquakes, Volcanoes and The Ring of Fire - I

Indonesia, Japan, Philippines, New Zealand, Chile – familiar sounding names for volcanic eruptions and earthquakes isn’t it? And vaguely I knew that it’s cos they fall in the oft-heard of Ring of Fire. But now after the recent disturbances in Japan, I really wanted to find out about this ring and share the same in the simplest way possible. I want to permanently remember this information, and hopefully those of you who are interested will manage to do the same.

The ABCs

Think of the earth’s surface as a jigzaw puzzle. Tectonic plates are pieces of that jigzaw puzzles. What lies above these pieces is a thin layer of crust topped with the seas (oceanic crust) and a thick layer of crust topped with the ground we stand on (continental crust). Collectively it’s called the lithosphere. So these jigzaw pieces are kinda all little different in what they are made of. What lies below is a molten matter known as asthenosphere. Now imagine that these jigzaw pieces are kids forced to share a bed. They are constantly jostling and sliding to find a comfort zone. If that bed they are sharing is a water bed – then the whole thing will get horribly wobbly. And that exactly what happens. This jostling and sliding of the tectonic plates is responsible for the earthquakes, volcanoes eruptions, and also mountain formations. Side effects include tsunamis.

The point where these plates join (boundaries) is what matters to us the most, as it is at these points of friction that the activities occur. They are manifested as fault lines on the earth's crust. The friction could be a result of either the plates moving away from each other or sliding/colliding with each other. At most times they are simply grinding against each other rather gently, but still over a period of time result in pent up energy releasing through earthquakes. Volcanoes will occur when the molten lava and gasses are disturbed and find a way to escape through these joining points. Both volcanoes and earthquakes can result from a collision or a moving away of the plates. Think back to the jigzaw puzzle analogy. Push them against each other and they get all crushed. Pull them apart and then your puzzle falls apart. Unfortunately since our jigzaw (the plates in this case) rest on a liquid base, the movement is unavoidable.

Fault lines are not invisible. Check out their awesomeness through these images.

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Tectonic plate movements

Skip to Pacific Ring of Fire

With the interaction of the tectonic plates – three things happen:

1. They move apart
   
2. They grind against each other
   
3. They slide/collide – one ends on top of the other

When they move apart	When they grind against each other	When they slide/collide
Referred to as divergent boundaries/faults. When the plates move apart they cause rifts that are filled up by magma from below leading to new crust formation These typically occur in the oceanic crust and result in mid oceanic ridges that are underwater mountains that sometimes break the surface like Iceland and also result in formation of volcanoes and oceanic trenches. When they occur in continental crust (land) they form rifts on land like the Great Rift Valley. The fault lines along the divergence can result in earthquakes	Referred to as transform or conservative boundaries/faults When the plates grind against each other the crust is neither created nor destroyed. Most of these are found on the ocean floor. Although the plates grind in harmony the built up stress over time can result in the release of energy through earthquakes. Volcanoes are not a characteristic of conservative faults	Referred to as convergent boundaries/faults. oceanic-continental slide:When a plate comprising of oceanic crust collides with a continental crust plate the slides under the continental crust and sometimes forms a volcanic arc like that of the Andes in South America. oceanic-oceanic slide: When both the plates comprise of oceanic crust collide they form island arcs like the Indonesian archipelago. continental-continental collision: When two continental plates collide they result in inland mountain ranges like the Himalayas. An oceanic-continental or oceanic-oceanic slide results in a process known as subduction. The subduction process is what causes the majority of the world’s earthquakes.

The Pacific Ring of Fire 

The Pacific tectonic plate is one of the largest plates and is in constant friction with close to seven other surrounding plates. The boundaries it shares with the plates are of all three types. It’s moving away from some, getting too close to some, and sliding past some. The ring forms a horseshoe shape starting from New Zealand running along the east side of Asia touching Alaska and coming down the west coast of North America to South America, and eventually merging with Antartica. The ring is actually a continuous belt of volcanic arcs and oceanic trenches (talked about in the previous section). So if you are living in a country that is either atop one of these or near one of these then it’s almost like sitting on huge landmine that can blow off any second.



And the blow offs occur quite regularly. As the most active region for earthquakes and volcanoes of the world, the ring experiences a minor occurrence of volcanic eruptions or earthquakes everyday, and a moderate one on a weekly basis. People living in places like Japan, Indonesia, Alaska, California are probably familiar with these effects. Indonesia particularly is resting on a highly volatile zone. Not only does it find itself in the Ring of Fire on the north-east side, but is also close to the Alpide belt on the south and west side. The Alpide belt is the second most active and dangerous belt. Together these two belts generate around 96% of all earthquakes on earth. It’s almost like the two belts are playing Foosball with Indonesia.

Naturally this region offers great bio-diversity and ecological makeup. This I will explore in part II.

Some very interesting earthquake facts are presented here.

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Reproduction is a-sexual matter

Put ‘sex’ in the title and suddenly it gets like a zillion hits. Even if it was something like ‘asexual’ and followed by ‘reproduction’. Or even if it’s something like ‘reproduction’ followed by ‘a-sexual’. Don’t tell me that you people were/are honestly interested in learning about reproduction. Cos reproduction is like a byproduct that you really don’t care about right. Like pooping is a byproduct to eating – but we’d rather ignore the connection.

And if you are vigorously shaking your head – tell me did you really pay much attention in biology class on the wee wees and the woo woos? Quick tell me what's a zygote? Donno right. What about fallopian tubes? You know vaguely. Your mind said "something to do with the uterus". But you don't know what exactly. I know you don't know cos when I was in middle school Whisper (the lady brand?) made rounds of schools to tell us all about the wee wees and woos woos, and most boys in my class couldn’t think beyond “Whisper” and most girls couldn’t think beyond “Oh no – the boys are Whispering!”.

So we all know that the majority don’t really care about technically why sex matters.  Oh wait --- errr – eemm, as a good ‘unmarried’ Indian muslim girl I shouldn’t even be mentioning THE WORD should I? But sorry folks. This is my blog and I am one year shy of thirty. There, I ‘shy’ed. Would you like me to blush a little? There – my brown cheeks are blushing maroon. Happy? And by the way – don’t kid yourself. You visited this page precisely because of THE WORD. But with due respect to my uncles and aunties, and just to see the outcome, I shall for the rest of this post refer to THE WORD as err ‘Knitting’.

http://www.timtim.com/drawing/view/drawing_id/380

And dear uncles and aunties – if you are worried that your little boys and girls are reading this post that is talking about knitting matters – don’t worry – they have already been reading Dr. Batra’s advice column in the paper. Religiously. Where every week – every dude asks the same damn questions about knitting and the size of knitting needles. And Dr. Batra dutifully clarifies the doubts about needling err I mean knitting and needle sizes, and patiently explains that as long as they are pointy you can happily knit away on the excursion to the Honeywell office. None of you misses it either. You can't help but read it. I know because the paper dudes put it right next to the most interesting feature in BOLD LETTERS that announce “here it is, here it is!”.
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Remember the days when a tick mark gave you a score, and an X meant it was wrong? Usually used by teachers to mark an incorrect answer in your notebook. Never could they have thought that one day a conversation between two grown boys could be such:

Boy 1:  “So what did you get?”
Boy 2: “Triple x”
Boy 1: “Dude....Score!”
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But seriously, what is it – I don’t get it. Is the world in general knitting too much? Too little? Or are they doing it wrong? Or do they want to do it wrong (eyebrows wiggle wiggle and a cheap guffaw).  See, even comedians get the best laughs when there’s lots of knitting innuendo sprinkled in. Comedy is dirty. Books are dirty. Movies are dirty. TV is dirty. The internet is super dirty. No wonder the human mind has become so dirty as well. Or perhaps it's the other way around.

The more open the world (at least the Indian world) seems to be getting about it – the more the obsession is escalating. I don’t agree with this whole Indians are repressed theory. Indians are not repressed. They are simply depressed cos they are discovering that it was all hullabaloo over nothing. If you don’t believe me just check at the book store. You will find lots of disgruntled people trying to return the Kama Sutra and get their money back. Or maybe it's just a case of ghar ki murghi dhal barabar. :P

BUT IT TURNS OUT THAT I AM WRONG - cos I did some researching on what Indians are Googling about naturally expecting it to be THE WORD cos I know I read that Indians are the largest consumers of dirt on the net. But I was shocked. Here are the actual results:

"HOW TO GET PREGNANT" is the most frequently googled question by Indians followed by "HOW TO KISS".

Wow, I was definitely expecting something err a little more advanced. But apparently people we are still stuck at the wee wees and woo woos stage!! By God, something needs to be done about that! So my sincere advice to the little Indians - please stop Whispering and pay more attention to learning about knitting matters. See, it’s verry simple. To make your sweater, you have to put the needle into the yarn and go Knit. Pearl. Knit. Pearl.

And if you are having trouble understanding that - please ask your mummy.

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