The Idea-smithy

This was written a long time back. I’m recycling it since I don’t think any of the people who read my blog now knew me then. And because I like this piece.

29 October 2004

8 a.m. on a weekday morning. Mumbai’s crankiest best. Sweepers shuffling dust into the air with a vengeance, cars spelling out “Eat my dust” in their fumes, people shuffling to work. I stood at the bus-stop frowning into thin air, waiting for a bus that was always late on days of important appointments.

A little boy and his grandmother walked past me. The boy in a pair of faded trousers and shirt hanging out in a state of shabbiness only little boys can perfect. The grandmother was little, white-haired, bespectabled and slightly bent in that endearing ‘grandmommy’ way. Both were holding hands tightly. For a moment I wondered, who was escorting who?

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Unless I’m greatly mistaken, these are the pipes that one uses to smoke ganja? I remember seeing these in little shops on my way home from school as well, and wondering what they were. Back then, I figured they were some special attachment to be used on taps. My curiosity continues unabated and I’m still wondering whether these aren’t illegal. If I’m right, they are…sort of.

I could be wrong, however. Does anybody know what these things are used for? I didn’t have the nerve to walk up to the shopkeeper and ask him. He didn’t seem perturbed by my taking photographs though.

Blogging is exploding like no one’s business with every next net-connected person signing up for their own URL. It is great to have this kind of freedom of expression combined with the sheer reach of the internet. In the meantime though, it surely is imperative to remember such things as etiquette. Good behaviour isn’t just lip service, it goes a long way in making things run smoothly.

This is a list of some things that I’ve culled under the general idea of good blogging etiquette. Note, you are a blogger if you have your own blog and/or if you read and comment on other people’s blogs. Readers and commentors are as much a part of this space as the writers are. Most of these are probably really obvious especially to long-time bloggers. Yet I see so many instances of these being thwarted that I thought I’d just put up a general guide.

So here’s IdeaSmith’s guide to being a gentleman/ lady on the blogsphere:
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After this, another string of random thoughts on breaking up and the afterlife.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

You watch them speak to and of the one they love.
And think, unflinchingly, that they don’t speak to or of you that way.
The only part that hurts is the realisation that they once used to.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

When you cannot remember what you were thinking or how you could ever have made that decision and conclude that you were a completely different person then- that’s when you know that you’re completely over them.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sometimes getting over someone or something is giving yourself permission to be happy.
At other times it’s letting go of the luxury of being sad.
And occasionally, it’s just realizing that you are bored of misery.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

You talk about forgiving and forgetting like one follows the other
And some people say that they can forgive but never forget
But in my mind, that’s still vendetta since the memory stays alive and hurtful
I’d much rather forget, even if not forgive
At least life can go on unbound by a straining bond

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

I am not sorry that you are sad I’m no longer a part of your life
You must be punished for the crime of having hurt me, after all
But I’m just sorry that it all still matters to me
Probably even more than my absence matters to you.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Love is the experience of a person, but also emotions, places, mementos and other people. Being okay with the person is just the first step and not even the easiest one at that. Complete closure is when the entire world that you’ve built and shared with the person starts to feel alright again. It is when, finally…

Friends don’t walk on eggshells around you. Friends aren’t unsure of how to behave with both of you.
Houses, roads, parks and shops don’t make you catch your breath because you were there with them once.
It doesn’t feel ‘wrong’ to be at a certain restaurant with someone else.
Watching a romantic movie or hearing such a song doesn’t send you down a trip of nostalgia.
And you don’t feel guilty about a gift because you’ve gifted someone else the same thing before.

But then, by that premise, there is no such a thing as complete closure. Love is a color that taints you forever.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

If you don’t care anymore whether they love you or not, perhaps you never really did.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Fear of loneliness is a good enough reason for a relationship, even if it isn’t a noble one. At least half the relationships around are founded on it and survive quite well.

Sheer habit is another such. What’s wrong with being in a rut? Some people call it stability.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Lack of excitement is a good enough reason for a break-up.
So is lack of commitment.
Far more than lack of love.

For love may be the name we give the ride, but excitement is the fuel and commitment is the nuts-and-bolts that holds the carriage together. And we all know what happens when you try going anywhere without fuel or in a cart that falls apart.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The experience of being loved is really as moving, if not more, than the act of loving.
So believe it or not, no matter how unfair it all was, there is justice in the end.
And they will probably miss you far more than you will miss them, when this is done.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sometimes a person can do you a great service by not letting you fall in love with them because they think you deserve better.
Even if you disagree, if that’s what they think, they are probably right.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

You have the right to be as miserable for as long as you want.
The grave stupidity has already been committed when you fell in love anyway.
Why feel ashamed now?

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Cheating and lying are unpardonable.
And it is divine to forgive, a sign of shining, enlightening love.
But no one said you had to be a superhero.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Breaking up can make you feel unlovable, like you were never really loved after all.
But there are many reasons to not love a person.
Duty, ego, fear, indifference, commitment-phobia, emotional detachment.
All of them realistic and logical, none deeply noble.

And there can be only one reason to love a person.
Because you do, that’s all.
That’s neither logical nor noble.
But yes, it is wonderful.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Some of us hold on simply to assure ourselves that we were really, truly, honest-to-goodness, till-death-do-us-apart, irrevocably, madly, fiercely in love.

Perseverance is more important than happiness to some. And ah, how hard we try!

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

If you tried and the other didn’t, consider that a gift offered wasn’t accepted. Whose loss is that?

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There are plenty of other fish in the sea.
But you can’t fish anymore if the last one reeled you in hook, line and sinker.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

When it comes down to it, no one is indispensable. If they had been, your lungs would have been attached to their nostrils and your stomach, to their food pipe. That’s a far more practical apparatus.

A lover cannot have been a Siamese twin. And vice versa.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Oddly enough, the very things that attracted you to each other in the first place are the biggest reasons for your breaking up.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Part of mourning the death of the relationship is grieving the loss of their affection for you.
The other part is grieving the loss of your affection for them.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

This post actually started out as a draft for the ‘7 series’ on Mumbai Metroblogging. It didn’t make the deadline then. Considering that Mumbai trains are in the news again, I think it is worth an airing anyway.

I’m relying on the fact that most of us in this city, live on little oases or islands of our own madness and know very little about the rest of the place. And for outsiders, the beehive is positively mind-boggling anyway. So here’s a special edition of how-to-survive Mumbai by a thoroughbred Mumbaiker.

I always think of the railway network as the central nervous system of this city. It is fairly impossible to get lost in this city. The minute you find yourself out of sorts, you just make your way to the nearest railway station and voila! You’re back on the Mumbai lifeline.

There are three train lines in Mumbai – the Western line, the Central line and the Harbour line. The Western line starts at Churchgate while the other two, both begin in Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus (Oh how I hate that name! It’ll always be V.T. to me). Central and Harbour run together for about 3 stations and then diverge. Central meets Western at Dadar. Harbour on the other hand, rather tricky, forms a ‘Y’, forking off at Wadala, with one arm ending at Andheri and the other moving on towards Panvel.

Since the city is essentially one long strip of islands going North-South, the train lines run that way. Every station has an East and a West side (barring the terminuses of course). Everything in this city is measured by this. Simple logic check: The sea is always on your right when traveling up to town.

Some of the stations on the three lines are designated ‘Fast’ due to their status as key points in the city. Slow trains stop at every station while fast trains stop only at ‘fast’ stations. The exceptions to the fast train rule (that I know of) are the Western line which stops at every station between Churchgate and Mumbai Central before picking up the ‘fast’ pace. If it is a Borivili local it also slows down, stopping at every station after Andheri on.

Each station has a designated 1 or 2 letter code. Careful with these though, ideally these should be standard considering that all 3 train lines are plugged into each other…but they are not.

A step-by-step how-to on making a local train journey in Mumbai:

a. Finding the stations: Figure out the best entry and exit stations. (This may be useful). These are not immediately obvious and I would not recommend relying on the postal address to tell you the best station. Sometimes the nearest station isn’t the one mentioned on the code or you may be closest to really maddening station and the next ‘slow’ one may be a far easier alternative. Ditto on the exit station too. If you are meeting someone at the other end, ask where you should get off. And if your friend doesn’t know either, ask someone who does know. Forget all you’ve heard about this city’s cold-heartendness, people are always willing to help. At worst case, ask the clerk who sells tickets at the counter or the shopkeepers at the station.

b. Buy a ticket: Most stations have a counter on the East and the West side each. A few have them on the overbridge (in addition or in isolation). By default there will be one at the entrance and if you don’t see it, ask someone. It is a fineable offence to travel without a ticket and the T.C. is not likely to be impressed by the story that you were looking for the counter. Please keep your ticket on you for the entire duration of the ride and do not discard until you are safely out of the station. (This may seem obvious but from friends who’ve gotten into trouble for throwing away the ticket after buying it, I know it isn’t) The rules are simple, you should know them and if you don’t, then ask. Of note, probably the one place you can get change is at the train ticket counters. I could be wrong but I’ve haggled with auto-rickshaw drivers, bus conductors and shopkeepers over the elusive 1 or 2 rupee coins but never with an attendant in the train booking counter.

c. Find the train you need to take: The major stations have indicators at the entrance showing the terminus points and departure time of trains leaving from each platform. The smaller stations will usually have them on the overbridges, one each positioned near the staircase going down to the relevant platform. If these two don’t exist, check the one on the platform though this can be a tedious job if you are on a multi-platform station and end up having to run up and down staircases.

d. The compartment: Once you figure out the platform, find out the compartment you have to get into. Mumbai trains have a first-class and a second-class. Most of the compartments are ‘general’ which means both men and women can travel in them but 2 (or 3 depending on which line you’re on) compartments on each train are for ‘ladies’ only. Of these one compartment turns into a ‘general’ after 21:00. Confused? Don’t be. The compartments are marked with red stripes for first-class general and green stripes for first-class ladies. Seasoned travelers know the exact spot on the platform that their compartment will stop at so you can assess from the crowd milling around where you should be. If all else fails, ask. This city may be busy but there will always be people willing to help you.

e. Getting in: This is the biggie, isn’t it? The crowds are intimidating for any new traveler (and hell, some of the old ones too!) Local travelers usually have their little tips and tricks on how to but for the bulk of it, it is simply about gearing up and getting ready to fight for that brief few seconds. Please make sure to stand at least 2 feet away from the edge of the platform….even if you see other people standing closer. Falling incidents, getting run over are common enough. Besides, when the train arrives, you’ll see people hanging on 3-deep and a lot of them have the nasty habit of reaching out and slapping the bystanders. Don’t ask me why, that’s how it is and you just learn to find a way around it.

You are also advised to tie off/put away any loose ends. Flying dupattas, saree palluvs, scarves, stoles and bag straps can becomes nooses when you are caught in the crunch. Preferably keep both hands empty and nothing in a pocket that can be easily accessed. If you are carrying a handbag, wear it the wrong way with the flap pointing towards your body to avoid pickpockets. And finally, wear sensible shoes.

The worst way to get in is go barging right into the center and getting knocked down by the bar in the middle…or worse still…stuck with limbs of each side getting pulled in either direction. I’m not exaggerating, it is fairly painful, not to mention immensely dangerous if this happens as you run the risk of getting stampeded, fractured or falling off when the train starts moving.

Getting in from the very corner seems to be the easiest way but this is a trick mastered by very experienced travelers since you have to not just where the compartment arrives but the exact spot of its corner. Then you have to ensure you are far away enough to avoid the slappers, hang back to avoid being carried along in the current of people getting off and rush forward just at the right time to be able to get in. Not recommended…you don’t have to be the first to get in. Getting in last isn’t a good idea either since you’ll end up standing on the sideboard, feeling pushed outward everytime someone breathes. The middle is the best option.

f. Staying in: I cannot stress how dangerous (and uncomfortable) it is to hang off or even stand on the footboard. Besides the obvious dangers of falling off, you will also be bombarded by a volley of abuses by people inside the train who are being suffocated and resent that you at least have some breathing air. Then you will also be flattened by the new wave of entrants at every station. You are not likely to get a seat unless you are at the terminus point, at least 10 minutes ahead of departure time and that only on a Sunday or holiday.

The seat running from window to window up against the wall can seat 8 Mumbaikers peaceably (and I still resent overweight people when I travel by train…it may not be their fault, but what the hell, in a space-starved compartment, even a few inches extra, inconvenience everyone else). The other seats facing them can seat 3 and a half each. What’s 3 and a half? Of, that means 3 people crammed in tightly while the fourth jams into the 2-inch space left, sitting sideways with legs in passage. About 6 or 7 people can stand in the space between these two rows of seats. It is a common practice when you get into a compartment where all seats are taken, to check where everyone is getting off and ‘reserve’ the seat from there on by telling them. The seatee will in turn help you get the seat when they get up and stand by you if there is any dispute on the seat. Does that sound funny? Try standing in a sardine-packed train for a 40-minute journey, survive one of the frequent fights that erupt and you’ll be more than willing to bargain for a chance to park your butt for 5 minutes. These rules are taken as the law among train-travellers.

g. Getting off: Prepare at least 2 stations in advance. Of note, some trains have a list of the stations stuck to the inside of the compartment just above the entrance. If not, once again, ASK. If you are sitting, stand up, collect your baggage and start the process of moving out towards the central passage.

Do not try to reach the exit since this is neither fruitful nor good Mumbai manners. People will be getting in and out in the interim stations and besides risking being carried off into the wrong station, it is a severe inconvenience for people trying to get in or out. As you near your station, do check if the people ahead of you are getting off as well or whether they are part of the ‘interim/ at the next station’ crowd. If they are, it is perfectly permissible to yell the station that you are getting off at and try to get some leeway to move forward.

Under no circumstances should you get off a train that is moving, even if at a speed slower than your walk. You may be a superb athlete and/or in great condition. If you want to keep things that way just don’t get off a moving train. For starters, speed is not the only thing. There will be (as is the case everywhere in Mumbai) people around. The crowd trying to get in will not appreciate an overeager traveler jumping off into their arms, the crowd inside will cluck in disapproval thinking of the trouble they’ll have trying to get off over your body since it is assumed that you will only fall flat. As a reverse of the getting in, the middle is the best place to be. That way you aren’t pushed out too early and you won’t get swept back in with the current of the incoming crowd. The key to surviving Mumbai’s crowds is to know the current.

And finally my 7 quick survival tips for Mumbai trains:

1. Practise holding your breath at long intervals. Preferably in hot, smelly conditions. Consider carrying an oxygen cylinder, fitted to your cap.
2. Lose as much weight as possible. You are never too thin for a Mumbai train
3. Do stretching exercises. You can also never be too tall for a Mumbai train. But do learn how to duck the holders on the ceiling. Of note, the ones on the Central and Harbour line trains are set lower than the ones on the Western line. Are Western liners just taller?
4. All loose ends must be tucked in, wrapped, knotted. No flying dupattas, palluvs, stoles, bag-straps.
5. Wear closed shoes. Preferably with thick soles and pointed toes to edge your way in
6. Carry a bag that doesn’t bulge too much, doesn’t open easily, will not separate from its handle/strap on pressure and can fit comfortably under your armpit.
7. Wear chest-pads. Elbow-guards too, with spikes if possible.

Bon voyage!

Ideasmith has been busy. Ideasmith has been unwell.

Ideasmith has been recycling posts. Ideasmith has not been replying to comments and mails.

Ideasmith says SORR-EEEEE!! for being less than perfect. Ideasmith needs a break.

Don’t go away please, I will be back…thodi hi der mein haazir.

(of course you knew that already except this time I’m saying it too!)

And in the meantime, pat me on the back for having a post featured in Hindustan Times Blogosphere section last week. Yippeee…the thrill of seeing my words in print never leaves me.

Me:

Do you want to be made to feel very hungry?

SNC:

No.

Me:

Look at this anyway.

SNC:

I don’t want to be made to feel hungry. I am hungry.

SFOS: *shaking hands with SNC*

I’m SFOS.

24 hours just never seem to be enough in this city, you know? Every minute, every day feels like you’re running just 10 minutes behind. The one bit I really agreed with this otherwise horrific movie on, was the tightly managed shuffle for space and time. There’s a Rahul (Sharman Joshi) in every Mumbaiker. Managing a social life is always a joke – other people’s or your own!

Careful planning makes it possible to strike up a close friendship, despite the stretched-to-snapping-point schedules. How? There’s the mammoth time-budgeting through the week for the one day when one can get out of office in time to reach place A at the same time as the other person. Of course place A is only the least inconvenient meeting spot for the two people, not necessarily delightful in its sights or other attractions. And then there’s the fact that this rendezvous may happens about 2 minutes away from what is euphemistically known as ‘the ungodly hours’.

But all efforts bear fruit as my date swishes onto the kerb Superman style just as my taxi pulls up or I jump onto the footboard (Spiderwoman like?) of the exact compartment in precisely the same train my friend is taking! Yes! Commuting is indeed a social occasion in Mumbai!

I appease my I-hate-Mondays whininess with the thought that I do after all have a whole lot of people I’m going to be meeting during the week. The fact is that I do. And how surprising is that in a city that’s known for its crowds? Mumbai doesn’t make me particularly religious except when it comes to the near-holy adage that

IdeaSmith proposes, Mumbai disposes

Thus work spillover cuts into drinks with friends, which must be compensated for on another day. But what the hell, there was the half-hour phone call in the middle of the day with buddy about a relationship emergency.

So drinks-with-friends on Tuesday turns into the Wednesday play that you had planned to review on the weekend. Fantastic, you’d never have managed tickets otherwise! That now leaves us with the problem of…ah, what to do with:

1. Today’s original plans
2. Evening free on weekend
3. Person who was supposed to accompany you to the play

You’re just going to have to shift that mid-week coffee with former colleague into an hour-long phone call on the commute tomorrow. And drop best friend a message to explain why your line’s going to be busy and to discuss her new dress with you on email instead.

The second is the least of anyone’s concerns…if a concern at all, since time, like space is at a premium in this city. The last– ah, that’s tricky.

• Movie? (Nothing great showing. Who wants to see SRK’s abs again? And Ranbir Kapoor isn’t that cute)
• Drinks? (Work the next day! “I don’t drink!”, no good pubs in the vicinity)
• Shopping? Works very well if said friend is female. Works reasonably okay if said friend is male and in dire need of new clothes, gift for mum. We trade favours.
• Dinner? Boring option, safe option, but always an option.
• Watch the play again. Last resort but think of it as the price to pay for getting off the guilt of ditching them earlier and their not being able to catch it later.

That’s taken care of. Lock kar diya jaaye. So the first concrete block is laid on your weekend calendar. What of the rest? It’s amazing how quickly things fill up.

There’s the old school friend, now in town whom you haven’t managed to meet in 4 months.
There’s that non-promoted, surprisingly good movie that you must catch, even if you have to get up early to see the morning show.
There’s the city spot that you’ve been dying to visit ever since it stopped raining for photography.
There’s your grand-uncle who you want to sit down and write a real letter to, since email is only a word to him.
There’s shopping for a gift for a birthday around the corner.
There’s errands to be run, bills to be paid, cleaning to be done.
There are also a zillion books to be read and more getting written every day!!!! Honestly, sometimes I worry about how I’m going to find time to buy those books, let alone read them (never mind even afford all of them).
And finally…if there’s an hour free somewhere, there’s always somna for this sleep-deprived populace.

*Sigh* The thing about having a lot of options is that you don’t always get to exercise all of them! Life is about trying though. Always for more.

Jack’s eyes lazily scanned the room, taking in all, accommodating none.

Gillian paused mid-speech, in spite of herself and her breath stuck in her throat. Then she caught herself and smoothly moved on, ramming her words into each other to create an artful slip of tongue. The ripple of amusement that passed through her listeners washed away the traces of anyone noticing her real mistake.

From her peripheral vision, Gillian knew that he had moved into focus and was weaving his way slowly but definitely towards her group. She never did the ‘corner of the eye’ thing…it was too obvious and blatant, a real pathetic ‘I can’t help looking but I don’t want to be seen looking’ gesture. No sirree, she was never pathetic. No sidelong glances, no downcast gazes, no secret looks, she didn’t do those.

What Gillian did do was yoga. It kept her eyesight as flexible as her fingers, her mind as nimble as her feet while dancing. Yoga allowed conversations to become like dances. Where you could move, navigate and control without actually thinking or making an effort to. Doing without trying. And what Gillian was doing without trying was turning herself and her little knot of people into a Jack-magnet…by sheer non-magnetism.

The man on her right turned slightly to accommodate the newcomer. Jack was smiling as he looked at the guilelessness in the eyes that seemed to be focusing and finally noticing him. Interesting, he thought.

And then, inspite of herself, Gillian smiled. Graceleness was her art and artlessness was where she was most graceful.

* Yes, the title is an unabashed rip-off of “I am Jack’s cold sweat” from the movie Fight Club.

I’m convinced that it must be my karmic destiny to live a reverse-life. To enjoy things that most people find boring or bizarre. And to agonize over things that ought to be fun. I’ve been racking and shelving and cupboarding (okay, I’ll stop!!) my brain to come up with something to write that is ‘different’ from my usual style.

What is ‘IdeaSmith’s style’ , incidentally? Weepy, sappy? Poetic and eloquent? Biting and sarcastic? Verbose? Narcissistic? Intelligent? Pretentious? Easy? Identify-with-able? And what is that supposed to mean?

*Sigh* And I thought this would be fun! Not a philosophical exercise!! Gah.

Poetry, how-tos, rants, fiction, cityscapes, causes, journaling…I’ve done these. What next? Oh okay…how about….a recipe? So here my ‘food’s-just-fuel’ gastrophobe self takes on a culinary recount…is that different enough? Here goes…

How to make a Bradtini (followed by an Ideatini)

You need:

60ml Bacardi Reserva rum
Half a glass of pineapple juice
A stirrer
2 ice cubes
A bottle of Tabasco sauce
A taste for spice

Do:

Pour the pineapple juice into the Reserva till it turns opaque but not quite as yellow as the pure juice.
Stir. Lick stirrer. (Yes, this is necessary).
Drop ice cubes in. Stir again. Lick stirrer clean. Keep aside.
Splash 2 drops of Tabasco sauce. Do NOT stir.
Taste. If you’ve licked the stirrer clean, the surface-lying pineapple juice would have left an aftertaste which is a great prelude to this drink.
If you can taste pineapple, add more Tabasco sauce.
Stop when you feel the sting on the tongue. Tabasco has a sneaky way of tasting really nice and then abruptly setting your tongue on fire. You want to be taken just to one second before combustion and then doused just in time by cold pineapple.
Drink up!

How to follow it up with an Ideatini

Substitute the pineapple juice in the Bradtini for gauva juice.
And add about 2 teaspoons less than the quantity of pineapple juice added to the previous drink. This results in a more full-bodied but lighter-flavoured drink.
If dragons roar within you too, you could use chili powder on the rim of the glass as well. SLUUURRRRRPPP!

Footnotes

If you want to experiment, try other fruit juices but only those that are thick-bodied and/or have a sharp tang like citruses. Watermelon doesn’t fit either description and makes a gawdawful concoction that I wouldn’t name after my worst enemy.

Alternately you could also try white rum; it doesn’t mate quite as soulfully with fruit juice as golden rum but its a workable combination. Steer clear of dark rum though, it doesn’t go well with the sunny nature of this drink.

And if you’re wondering, the A.E. introduced my uncultured palate to the first drink, whereupon I christened it after him. The second is my version of it and hence I pronounce that it goes by my name. Bottoms up!