‘Pokemon Go’ to be banned in Switzerland!

PokeMon Go

In what will come as a big shock to all the ‘Pokeman Go’ fans in Switzerland, it was announced today that the hugely popular game ‘Pokemon Go’ will be banned in Switzerland as of Sunday 21 Aug 2016. Banning means that ‘Pokemon Go’ will no more be available for download on the app store, all the Pokestops and the captured Pokemons will disappear.

What’s more important is that all the people (especially kids) who have installed ‘Pokemon Go’ on their phones or iPods, must uninstall it before midnight on Sunday. If this is not done, their phone or iPod will turn into a Pokemon and capture them.

There are two reasons why ‘Pokemon Go’ is being banned:

  1. Many kids have entered chocolate factories while hunting for Pokemons and have fallen into the tubs where they are made. And people who buy them in Migros or Coop complain that these Chocolates don’t taste sweet any more, but they taste like children, which they don’t like.
  2. The second and the most important reason is a girl called Ananya Luthra (also called Zuks) has been spending too much time on this game. Nintendo, the company, which makes this game, wants her to spend more time playing with her friends, so they agreed to ban the game.

So, to remind you again – all kids, especially Ananya must uninstall this app immediately after reading this!

Probably the last entry (for a while ….)

This blog was started to express my views about things, events or thoughts that intrigue or interest me.  While that list is endless and continues to grow, for the last two and a half months I have not found the time or the inspiration to post anything here. The reason being that I have been working on a book. As I write this, I am close to completing it. God willing, more may follow sometime soon. (whether they get published or not, is completely another matter and will need to be tackled in its own time). Currently, all my mental energy is devoted to that project. Apart from working on that book, I am also trying to write down my thoughts about my writings in a personal space.  It is a dialog with my characters and a place to help clarify my thoughts about what I am writing and what might come next. So as much as I would like to write or post anything here, there is really no time ….. (at least for now)

Occasionally, I find a piece of diamond or gravel that I share on my other blog … http://moregrapes.tumblr.com/. It is easy, I just post it from my phone as I come across it during the day or night.

As my literary journey develops, details will be at …. http://www.brijeshluthra.com/

Till then, godspeed….


The sinister plan behind daylight savings time (the one that they dont wan’t you to know)

If you live in Europe, you would have noticed that Daylight Saving Time (DST) started last Sunday and the clocks moved forward by an hour. Well, not all of them – only the super intelligent electronic clocks moved forward on their own. If you still have some old-fashioned analog clocks, they were blissfully unaware of this phenomenon till you reached up to them, dislodged them momentarily from their hanging place and turned a small knob of some kind. That circular motion moved a cylinder helically around its axis, which turned the arms of the clock to display the proper time.

Of course, all the above was true if you were aware of the fact that DST started yesterday.It is possible that hundreds of people were blissfully unaware of this (much like the clunky analog clocks) and only realized this fact when they missed an appointment, a plane or a soccer game. The whooshing sound made by that mysterious missing hour in the day, as it rushes past you, is a puzzling sensation. Having experienced it a few years back when we moved to Europe, I can vouch for it.

But why does this happen? Why should we move our clocks forward an hour in Spring and move them back an hour in the Autumn? You can blame it on William Willett an Englishman, who was one of the first and most vociferous supporters of DST back in early 1900s. He argued that it saves energy, promotes outdoor leisure activity in the evening, reduces crime etc.  Many people are in favour of this, the most obvious choices being retailers, outdoor sports enthusiasts etc. But in reality, the most enthusiastic supporters of this concept are sleepwalkers. The extra hour of sunlight helps those early owls to ‘see’ better as they embark on their sleep walking rituals. This enables them to reach the altar of Hypnos (the god of sleep) bright and early and be among the first ones to collect the juiciest dreams being doled out, before Morpheus (the god of dreams) barges in. It is a widely known fact that Morpheus does not own an electronic clock and does not read newspapers, thus is never on time anyway. 

And of course, there are the opponents to DST. They argue that actual energy savings are inconclusive, it disrupts morning activities, causes people to lose sleep and is generally a hassle. I am firmly in their corner. The most obvious opponents of DST are burglars. The added extra hour of sunlight robs them of the opportunity to rob other people of their precious belongings. Because of their nature of work, the burglars cannot afford to be too vociferous, so they tend to keep it quiet and grudgingly live with this inconvenience. The only time their voices are heard is around springtime when some dumb burglars, who do not own an electronic clock (much like our man Morpheus), land up at their robbing rendezvous an hour earlier than planned and are pummeled unconscious by the puzzled homeowners who have sat there wondering why can’t they get sleep and why have the burglars arrived early today?

All this conjecture is fine, but we seem to be digressing from the point of this post. What is the real reason for DST? Let me get back to that ….

DST was not introduced because of all this hullaballoo about saving energy etc. This was an idea thought up by clock manufacturers to boost their sales, after the famous ‘Clock depression’ that prevailed through the 19th century. Many theories exist about why the ‘Clock depression’ happened. The foremost being that in the 19th century people were generally starting to come to the conclusion that time and space are an illusion and the time for clocks had passed. So to keep track of an illusionary thing, no one was buying real clocks. Another reason doing the rounds was that clocks, with their incessant sound of ‘tick-tock, tick-tock’ were the prime cause of untimely insanity among the masses. So doctors started prescribing patients to get rid of their clocks and put sun-dials inside their houses instead. But once people put a sun-dial inside the house, it did not show the time of the day as it did not get any sun. So it further reaffirmed the first belief that time is really an illusion, and the vicious circle continued.

Once people had a clock, there was no need for them to replace it. It just stayed nailed to the wall, tick-tocking away. Typically the clock didn’t break or start smelling after a few years, so the clock manufacturers had little repeat business. But all of this changed when Mr Willett,  a builder by day and a clock manufacturer by night, came up a with cunning plan. This nefarious plan rested on two arms.

  • Firstly, we should artificially change the time a couple of times of year. He figured if it is given a scientific sounding acronym like DST, which has the word ‘saving’ in it, people will think it is of paramount importance and will agree to follow it.
  • Secondly, he introduced a new global design standard for clocks. The new standard ruled that the knob which you need to turn to change the time would now be placed at the back of the clock, and not on the side. And the hole or the hook by which the clock is hung to the nail on the wall, should be made inconceivably small and be hidden away in an unreachable place so that it is practically impossible for you to hang the clock back on the wall, once you have taken it off.

Both these standards were passed unanimously in the annual horological conference of 1907 and have worked like a charm since then. Every year, millions of people try to change the time on their clocks around spring and autumn. Having successfully fiddled with the small knob and changed the time, they are then unable to hang the clock back properly on the nail where it was originally stationed. The imperfect alignment of the nail and the hole, induces the Newtonian laws of gravity and causes the clock to fall to the ground, spectacularly smashing it to smithereens and giving people a small glimpse of what ‘Big Bang’ would have been like. The guilty man (another statistically proven fact – it is always the man who performs this annual ritual) then looks to redeem his honour in front of his family by buying another clock and hammering a new nail. The vicious circle continues and the clock manufacturers continue to rake in the moolah.

I was one of the people who fell prey to this ancient nefarious plan and smashed our clock last sunday. On my twitter feed, I read about this exact accident being repeated in places around the globe. The otherwise pristine streets of Zürich were riddled with broken clocks being thrown out of their windows by the disgruntled owners. All this was celebrated by the clock manufactures at their lavish parties at the glitzy ski resort of St. Moritz. 

The clock makers have made billions out of this annual ritual and are now the secret owners of the many of the largest holding companies in the world. One of the lesser chronicled sagas of global business is the economic rise of the clock manufactures in the 20th century. The following graph shows the rise in fortunes of the clockmakers since these momentous changes were introduced.


Apple, never the one to lose out on a business opportunity, has quickly recognized this and is said to be working on an iClock. Since they yet do not own the patents for the clock design passed in 1907, the iClock will have some cunning features to overcome the issues faced by folks like you and me.

  • To honour Steve Jobs, it will be surrounded by a black rubber casing (like his turtleneck sweaters) to cushion the inevitable falls
  • The user will be able to circumvent the knob and change the time via an app (though the app will only run on the iPad 5, which you will need to buy separately)
  • The entire back side of the clock will be a giant black hole, which will be backward compatible with any nails or walls manufactured since 1907

All the clock-breakers and Apple fans the world over have hailed this revolutionary move and crowds have already started thronging outside Apple stores, waiting to get their hands on the iClock.

The clock makers on the other hand, are reportedly building a new super telescope so that they can spot Darth Vader’s ‘Death Star’ in the far reaches of the galaxy. They hope to convince him to use the dark side of the force to make sure that Apple’s plan does not work and the clocks still continue to fall and break around DST. 

Who will win, only time will tell. Till then, leave those clocks alone and enjoy the extra hour of sunshine and the beautiful spring weather.

Music !

Heard this conversation in a movie I watched recently.


Q – “Do you like Music?”

A – “Do you breathe?”


What a fantastic answer … ain’t it.

If I were to think about it for myself, I would fall into the same group. Music is one of the pillars of my life. Since I lack the ability to be able to play an instrument or sing, I devote my energy and whatever free time possible to consume music – literally. Plus that spares the family the ordeals of listening to my heartfelt but drastically tuneless outputs.

At possibly anytime of the day there’s a song that’s playing over and over in my head. This happens when I am relaxing, travelling, most stressful moments, when I have to make important decisions, when I am analyzing something, subconsciously processing feelings, information or a course of action. This happens without an iPod or a phone constantly blasting music onto my eardrums, which for some reason I can’t stand. I  prefer to listen to music as singular activity. Sit down and listen to it, pay attention, give it respect…. It keeps me sane and grounded. I wouldn’t be the same without it.

Since music is so important, I want it to sound good when it is played back.  Thus the forays into audio gear – Electrostatic speakers, tube amps and stuff.

The choice of music I delve in is pretty eclectic. It ranges from Phish (a musical genre in themselves) to Dylan to Beautiful south to Blues to Sufi and everything else in between and sideways.  An intensely emotionally charged and powerful piece sung by Abida Parveen inspired me to jot this down. The purity of her voice, the simple words, the sparse but striking musical arrangements emerging like a dream from the electrostatic panels of the incredible Cadence Amaya speakers was a riveting experience.
So what’s the point of this post? Does one talk about breathing? … perhaps we need to ….

Morning encounters with noisy goblins

There are times when you are stuck between the devil and the deep sea. On a hot summer day this choice is easy to make. I would take the sea over the devil any day. Sipping a cool drink on beach while the waves of the sea gently lap at your heels,  is a much pleasant alternative to the red skinned, two horned devil pricking you with a pitchfork.

But the choice between pink goblins or noisy ones is a slightly more tricky one…sometimes even a non-choice, as you cannot really avoid any of them. You see, both of them invade into your early morning slumber. The slumber tastes especially sweet on a cold winter morning when it’s -10 degrees outside and just the thought of stepping down from the bed sends a chill down your bones. If you have a daughter, you are bound to run into the pink goblins sooner or later (famously elaborated in my last post). And if you live in Switzerland, then on every last school day of the year before the christmas holidays there is no escape from the noisy ones. Try what you may, they will track you down faster and more accurately than a heat seeking missile.

Switzerland and noise are like chalk and cheese … hardly to be spoken about in the same breath. Yet once a year at precisely 6 AM in the morning, the streets of practically every town in Switzerland turn into a cacophonous orgy of noise, clang and din. Rumor has it that Martians and other funny looking bug-eyed aliens routinely bypass earth on this day for the fear of their delicate spaceship controls being fried off by the high-pitched noises emerging from an otherwise calm alpine nation.

Some of you must be wondering what could the possible source of this noise be? Fret not, as you are not alone. Many theories have been put forward to explain this phenomena over the last few years. Some of the common misconceptions that typically do the rounds are as follows :

  • All the Swiss cows fart in unison on that day
  • The millions of cheese factories have their annual cheese cauldron cleaning day
  • A secret chip implanted in all the cuckoo clocks gets activated and they go off simultaneously
  • The funkily named subatomic particles have a head on colliding party inside the Large Hadron Collider
  • All the swiss watchmakers throwing down their delicate tools with a relief that over the upcoming holidays they will not have to work on those darned minuscule watch parts
  • All the bankers count their gold coins together trying to prove off that ‘My pile is higher than yours’

But as you have guessed by now, these theories as interesting as they may sound, are nowhere near the truth. The real reason that yours truly has discovered is as follows. On the last school day of the year before christmas holidays, the swiss school kids get a license to shock the hell out of poor souls peacefully slumbering in their beds. A typical street scene on that morning looks like this.

All the kids dress up in their warmest clothes, bring out the noisiest substance in their home (which is often themselves) and run to their school in the wee hours in the morning when all is still dark. There they are greeted by the teachers who wait for this day eagerly every year. On this day the teachers, who have suffered all year round at the hands of the kids, have the possibility to give it back to their parents, using their own kids as a means. Carl Jung called this syndrome ‘You oughtta know!‘. Alanis Morissette then famously plagiarized the words of his theory and conjured up a smash hit.

And smash and hit is what the kids have a license for that morning. The otherwise docile kids walk around all the streets banging away at their metallic instruments and screaming at the top of their voices. The louder they clang, the more appreciation they get from their teachers and other kids. The wackier the instruments they use the produce the sounds, the higher up the kids move up on the ‘Cool wall’. If you want to make it big on that day and be a star, old pots and pans banged together will not do. If your dad happens to be a heavy beer drinker or your mom an obsessive tomato sauce freak, the byproducts of their passion can come in very handy that morning as well.

Drunk on the motley sounds gleefully produced by their noisy orchestra, they march on. The procession continues till the time the kids either grow ravenously hungry or their instruments break or every single person in town is woken up and comes out begging and pleading for some peace and quiet. The kids are then rounded up by the teachers and led back to the schools for a hearty breakfast before they are unleashed on their parents for the rest of the vacation.

This tradition has been apparently going on for a few hundred years is lovingly called ‘Schulsilvester’. The intent being to welcome the new year and drive away the old one.  How far that is true is anyone’s guess, but the streets are surely a lively place to be on that morning.

Here’s to a smashing 2012 !

Morning encounters with pink goblins

Thursday and Friday mornings in the Luthra household are not for the faint-hearted. Compared to what the hapless dad has to go through on these two fateful days, Frodo’s journey across Mordor in the ‘Lord of the rings’ was a cakewalk. The invasion of Normandy beach was a stroll in the park. The ascent of Mt. Everest was easy as pie. History needs to be corrected. Each of these and many other similar feats are wrongly lauded as epic achievements, stories of success achieved against insurmountable odds. After I finish this post, I will get to work to correct the Wikipedia entries for each of these so-called achievements to set the record straight once and for all.

The real achievement that should be lauded is for a dad to get a 5 yr old beauty queen ready for kindergarten in the morning. I am not just talking about throwing on some clothes, a jacket, a pair of shoes, stuffing the snack box into a satchel and packing her off. No sir… we are dealing with the reincarnation of Kate moss here. (The perfectionist bean counters out there will immediately retort that Kate Moss is still alive – but they will be missing the point)

The ritual has to start the previous evening. A UN committee meeting is called before bedtime to scan the entire wardrobe and present at least 3 dress options to her highness. The choices need to possess the right mix of eclectic flamboyance, colour co-ordination and panache. You have to foresee the frame of mind that she might be the next morning and will the hues match the aura that will be surrounding her when she arises from her beauty sleep? And if any of your hapless proposals contain any shade of pink, blue, red, green, mauve, beige, purple that she might have touched in the last week – they will be shot down with a nonchalant wave of the hand. This will be carried out while she is focussed on the ‘5 minute princess tales’ and admiring the necklaces and scarves of Rapunzel, Ariel, Snow-white or any of the perfect princesses and mermaids sketched out in their full gleaming glory.

And if you are having a really bad day, one of the princesses’ sketches will be shown to you across the room and you will be asked to choose a skirt that is of the same colour as the Mulan’s bracelet. Mind you – you have to be quick. The picture will be shown to you for exactly 2 nanoseconds from across the room, at an awkward angle, while the book is being waved around. And you don’t get a second look. I guess 2 nanoseconds might be enough for Karl Lagerfeld or Coco Chanel, but certainly not for yours truly. Plus it does not help that the almighty decided to bestow upon me the gift of a slight case of color blindness which ensures the inability to distinguish between certain shades of red and green.

This lethal combination of fleeting image recognition misapprehension and genetic chromatic cognition disability leads to a blue skirt being produced for her highness’s inspection. But the demand was for a light purple one with a hint of mauve. The choice is shot down faster than Billy the kid’s ‘quick-draw, shoot’ ritual. Then comes a sigh – “Ok, I will choose it myself”. The cosy comfort of the bed fluffed with a hundred cushions is temporarily relinquished. The floor is blessed by the touch of her feet as she saunters across to the cupboard with feline grace. In a flash the correct  drawer is smoothly pulled out and the light purple skirt with a hint of mauve is delicately produced and a triumphant proclamation laced with a hint of slight exasperation is announced  “Papa, this was the one I wanted”.

The dad thanks his stars, gives a goodnight peck to the daughter, arranges the chosen clothes neatly, breathes a sigh of relief, turns off the light and walks out the room to join his wife in the living room. ……. But as he walks out, he cannot hear the faint laughter of a million little pink goblins that reside in the bottom shelf of her highness’ cupboard. “The real ordeal awaits him in the morning …. heh, heh, heh….”

The million pink goblins live in this …

pink goblins residing among a million frilly bands, hair clips and other indescribable things

Come the next morning, after the chosen clothes have been adorned, the next gauntlet in thrown. ‘Papa, can you pls choose the right hair clip/band that will match my dress?’

Gingerly, the bottom most drawer is opened by the dad. He stares into it like a hapless to-be victim staring into the eyes of shooting squad. As the dad reaches into this treasure trove containing a million frilly bands, hair clips and other indescribable things, the pink goblins living inside this drawer get to work. They take the matching hair band that will pass her highness’ approval and hide it right at the bottom of this bottomless pit. Try what he might, the dad cannot produce the correct accessory. The pink goblins feast on his helplessness and prolong his fruitless search by continually changing the hiding place of that perfect hair band.

Time ticks on…. the uber-punctual swiss train that dad is supposed to catch to his office thunders towards the station. Desperation starts to creep in and his pulse quickens. With one eye on the clock and the other eye on this bottomless accessory pit … he continues to struggle against the goblins. Because the veins near his temples that are now throbbing at full pressure, he cannot hear the laughter of the pink goblins which has now reached a crescendo. If he had a third eye behind his head, he would notice that her highness is busy browsing through ‘The tales of mermaid Ariel’ to choose the colour of her dress for tomorrow.

As point break approaches, he calls out for help. Her highness drops her book with a sigh, reaches into the accessory pit and in an instant pulls out a light pink frilly hairband adorned with purple and silver stars which will provide the perfect contrast to her skirt and jacket. Dad mutters a quick prayer to all the 27 million Indian gods and a handful of the western ones as well. The pink goblins have been defeated once again. They retreat to their frilly dungeons and plan for the next morning’s assault.

Dad and little Ms. Kate Moss emerge triumphant into to crisp winter air. The daughter, decked up in her full resplendent glory, sashays down the path to her kindergarten while the dad rushes along hoping to get to the station before the train gets there. All is well with the world again.


Today was a thursday and battle was won. As I sit here and write this in the still of the night, I can hear the pink goblins whispering and plotting. I must now go to bed to ensure my energy is conserved, as another epic tussle awaits us in the morning……

Are you trying to be smart ?

Surely you have heard this phrase before. Most probably when you are trying to pull a fast one, aiming for those perfect last words to show how witty you are really are, trying to be arrogant, or ‘cool’ … or often when you have just a staggeringly stupid act. Usually when one hears these words, the irony is lost on most people. No you were not trying to be smart – you were just being yourself or you really had to prove a point. The reasons usually don’t matter.

But what if you were actually, really smart? And someone came and told you nonchalantly – ‘It’s ok to be smart!’ What would your reaction be – ‘Are you trying to be smart or are you just a plain old chauvinist?’ And is this comment driven by your jealousy because your grey cells aren’t really as grey as the one who you are trying to put down? (At least this is one situation where a shade of grey is better than being black and white) . Again … the reasons usually don’t matter.

But what matters is that there are millions kids out there who are being told this exact thing – ‘It’s ok to be smart!’ This phrase stopped me in my tracks. It was emblazoned in large friendly letters on an educational toy(called brain quest) that we had picked up for our kids during our summer vacation in USA.

Admittedly, it is a reasonably good educational aid with interesting questions, put together in an easily referenced and digestible format to build up the kids’ general knowledge. We have had fun with it and it has been handy on a few long road trips….. but what a way to advertise it! It’s like telling kids – don’t fret, it’s alright if you are more intelligent than the others. If you know more than your friends, no need to feel the odd one out. Your knowledge will not be considered unnatural. You are not a mutant or a nerd and you will not be persecuted. And to top it all, a picture of a small boy wearing large geeky glasses rounds up the message. The message is really complete.

Isn’t it the whole point of school – to learn, to experiment, to grow your knowledge? Talking to a an american friend, a ratification emerged. It seems like the general level of interest in real knowledge is indeed diminishing among a majority of school students. Kids who know more than others are usually made fun of and considered ‘nerds’. All kinds of euphemisms are drawn up and hurled at them. Regardless of this situation, it does seem a fairly convoluted way to promote intelligence and knowledge.

This holds universal truth that extraordinary ability usually stands out and is most often lauded, or in a minority of cases is scoffed at. (Just thinking of this brings Howard Roark from ‘The Fountainhead’ to mind). Imagine telling Einstein this – ‘It’s ok Albert, we don’t really mind you being so brainy. We know why your hair are always standing up. Just trying being quite when you are around people, and don’t think up answers to the scientific mysteries on a daily basis’ .

But the point is – ‘It is really ok to be Smart!’ … you don’t need to justify it or hide it. While we will continue to use ‘brian quest’, but every time I will pick it up in the future, this question will jump up at me again. And my answer will be .. ‘Oh really. thanks for the tip!’