Away from home

When she look back in time, she was just glad she even made it.  But it wouldn’t have even been for the brief length of her stay, had it not been for J.

She remembered the time they met at the Apartment.  He was covered in a blend of sweat and mud.  Filthy.  Kicking a ball all the way into the carpeted lobby, shouting “Chennaaaaaaai! Supperrr Kingsaa!”  She could almost hear a Rajni song at the back.

“Oh Lord! I have to share the apartment with HIM!”  Her mind’s eye dilated with shock.  She cursed the day she got a job in Hyderabad .  People in that part of the town are indeed difficult.  Just like their food.   Unpalatable. Too blunt – too sharp. Quick to take offence, and unmindful of others. She had had a long week.  Was tired of house hunting and didn’t have a soul to kill time with.  Right now, anything would do. Anything! Before she knew it, they were off to the Charminar, which till date she would strongly recommend you avoid.  ‘Can’t believe I let him talk me into it!’ she thought. Can’t understand what attracts people to it.  For most of the climb she thought of better places to die in a stampede.  Charminar turned into a movie, street food, a failed attempt to learn tamil (obviously, J’s fault), and times we’d all spend in club 8.

As it turned out J was a regular guy.  He talked about women he wanted to sleep with, men he wanted to bend it like. Loved movies, hated books.  Didn’t even read P.G. Wodehouse! Now that is miserable. Yep.  And he’d walk. Walk, walk, walk.  Till your shoes tore, your soles were sore, died of thirst, or simply died, he won’t stop.  She was certain that he would not have realised if she was run over by an auto.  No wonder he had no girlfriend.

J smoked like a coal factory. If the pollution control board was to inspect, he’d never get clearance. These things you have to ignore. After all, that there was someone in the heart of Gult who could speak English without murdering it entirely, was itself a wonder. The trade-offs we make!  *sigh!*

J could play football and win at scrabble if he cheated. But he was on fire on the dance floor! A phool-jhadi in fact!  ‘I so wish I had a video!’ she told him as they all got out.  A confidently malfunctioning thumbi robot dancing to Gal mithi mithi bol. Only a burly telugu man announcing undying love to another hairy telugu man while stripping naked made him stop dancing.

One day J was invited by the ladies of the night. These had till now gone unnoticed by her. Rather these were the first ones she was to see.  Before she realized he disappeared. She didn’t get to see J for dinner that day. By then the city had settled like dust around her. The five months in hind-sight went pleasantly well.

Looking back she is reminded of her first lesson in International History which applies even more in foreign lands.  Your enemy’s enemy is your friend. So her first impression of J didn’t matter.

A Tam in Hyd is God sent.

 

China-Made

It has been difficult managing two blogs. And I see no particular reason in not combining them. The lines were blurring and it is in fact very time consuming. Not to forget, I was running low on content.

Very long since I wrote anything that was not work related. But the sickness and the time off helped me think. Wisps of thoughts slipping through my mind like chocolate that always seems to vanish!

On Safekeeping

Yesterday I had to find the purchase receipt for my notebook. I bought it less than a year ago and was so concerned that it would conk off that I even photocopies the slip and kept it safely. Now, have you ever realised how cumbersome it is to find things that are kept ‘safely’. The whole point and purpose behind keeping things safely is that one can locate them again. That it doesn’t take the end of time or at least till next spring to find them. And yet, yet despite my endless effort to keep things ‘safely’, they are lost. Best to let things be. A policy equally effective in other aspects of life. For instance, the food we buy. I remember all those times I bought cherry tomatoes (they look beatifically delicious! that roundness and minority of size.) I buy more so that I can safely make a salad one day. And I also remember the equal number of times I have trashed at least a good half of them for rottenness! How about mobile phones? The more you love them, buy cases to keep them tucked away, the lesser they last. Remember the HTC! And the ones you want to get rid off, stick, like glue! The Sony that was committed to me even when I helped it to yogurt and then washed it under a tap! (I was super drunk!) The list goes on.

On the general state of things

I realised that what we as a nation need most, is men (please! we can make English gender neutral by not being paranoid about frivolous things such as these! There are bigger issues you may want to tackle. And as for history and literature not being gender neutral – well, the fault is with historians who never thought to capture what happened to women.) of honour. If we don’t disown the dishonourable, how can we expect them to change?

I found some extremely cute hair bands. They were China-made. Its surprising that we never think of making the same stuff, which should be cheaper considering it would then be domestically manufactured.

On Books

I find that I am a very prejudiced reader. Not a good thing. But I just can’t help it! A lot of Indian writing has eluded me as I found it to corporeal (Salman Rushdie’s Midnight Children – left it at 100, Train to Pakistan – couldn;t get past 10 I guess). So I tend to be picky. And I guess my introduction to specific writers (read Enid Blyton) for a good stretch of childhood had something to do with it.  Despite my issues I found Adichie’s The Thing around Your Neck fresh and captivating. A set of short stories by a Nigerian writer about people from or in Nigeria. I now leave you with a piece where  Adichie reveals a bit more of herself and the danger of a single story.

Adios!

Tags: Books

Of Challenges and Consequences

One of the biggest challenges in life is owning up to your actions. But one bigger than that, is facing the consequences.

Over the past many years, I have made mistakes, my conscience singed many a times. But owning up is often an act of recklessness: turned to with ease. The rush of warmth that flows from the tip of ones fingers to the head when wielding the sword of wanton honesty. An act of defiance in isolation of the ledger of life. The moment of freedom when shouting on the top of one’s lungs, is a momentary murder of the conscience, a space where acts merge with existence and become one. I am not Me. I am what I did. I am the Infidel, the Murderer, the Beast.

Soon the clutches of fate latch on. But one finds the fabric of life fraught with lies of little meaning but much consequence. A whirlpool of causal mess. In the past there were friends to merge forces with. Who would fight for honor and defend to death. But, distances emerge where distances are. So often its hard to find a shoulder for rest, an ear for un-judged listening. Even an honest rant: admission of guilt and the yoke of fault would not mend the well treaded even paved path of the unwise.

Try not to find yourself in a spot, undeserved, where it is not your fault, but to defend yourself leads to debts you would dare not bare.

Sweet Child

O Vermilion! your head must you rest
Upon my lap, before we bid adieu.
Make not wait, tarry no longer,
Linger, make this moment last a few.
Why must youth hurry,
or age come crumbling soon,
where time has left l’le said and lesser done
And dreams were more than hope
Could pray subsume?

O Vermilion, your curls! I run
my fingers long and old through
In them rest, rustle and weep, my dreams of you.
Alas, like hair, your soul shall turn shades
And like the sky blur on cloudy seas.
But then so will the day and upon a noon,
when I shall hold not a grudge against you,
My spirit would free you, i’d be with you, i’d be with you.

English. Dead or Alive?

The fat line between fiction and reality, dreams and Mondays disappears, albeit momentarily, when waking up to unexpected e-mails, a box of roses and bouquets of candy. The day moves on, the hours trudge by and the not-so-friendly reminders remind you of your shoes. But you know  it is time to wake up when you text your seniors something like this:

“Dear Sir, I hope you have fully recovered. I was wondering if you would like me  to collect the letter and thereby obliviate the procedural hassles of emailing it to me.”

While obliviate comes from oblivion it is still not accepted by Microsoft word and was not what I meant to say (obliterate was it)! I can see the red line. And I definitely was not using T9!

I understand that English is a living language. In order to ensure it survives ages we allow its corruption. New words come in and old ones become passé. But there is no way you can play with grammar and call it evolution. I lost the right to point fingers after Obliviate, but “Dad Gift”* and “I love you, but.” ** are just  not acceptable. What are we teaching the next generation?

Talking about examples, dude have you seen the latest outlook magazine? As if sex in the city is something new. Interestingly I have yet not seen that particular  issue at home. Need to remind parents I am not 15 anymore.

* WagonR UP 16 C 3251

** Kunal Kapoor in Chunari main laga daag

Aamchi Mumbai!!

This is a post that deserved a whole lot of photos! Deeply regret not having a camera with me!! I had been to a conference organized by my office. Was fun. Realized a lot of things about the world and myself! So here is the list.

1. One more way to a girl’s heart  - giving her a  hair washed. relieving, refreshing, add to it a bottle of wine – romantic!

2. It really matters to be in the clothes you mean to be in the city when you land. (as long as you are not vacationing – no point in jeans and floaters if its going to take you ages to get your room keys and another 15 minutes to change into that chic skirt and heals for the meeting)

3. They do allow liquids below 100 ml through security check. No point skipping your deo to buy and leave it behind before your next flight.

4. Too much of anything is too much. Applies to everything, including late nights, air conditioning and the B.

5. Air ports ought to have twisters and airplanes, foot massager.

6. Sea-link Road is great. But marine drive is loads better

7. Ambani may have a mall  to himself, but for affecting the Bombay skyline, deserves to be malled.

8. With that horrid structure, that sticks out like a sore thumb more than a phallus, the Ambani’s have put Chuck Bass to shame. We need an Indian version of Gossip Girl. (Basically same thing with Indian faces and in Bombay. No nekka dialogues, no dubbing)

9. I am virtually aggressive and personally un-intrusive and reticent to the point that I can merge with the back-ground (something my pallor makes easier). Something I need to do something about.

10.  Some of the most amazing things come with the most dreadful bills!

Tags: Cities, Fashion, Gossip Girl, Mumbai, Woman

This Diwali

Hi All!

Hope this Diwali is extremely enjoyable for everyone, your families and your bfs/gfs …

At home we have lit the house, made cookies and chocolates.. Tomorrow there is pooja at office. at 8:30 in the morning. See. See, this is why I don’t like religions. On the  one day off they will make u wake up early! Will try to put up pics.

I was sitting here, in my room… the noise outside remote. And was thinking to myself. Whom would I love to be with this Diwali and what would we possibly do. I thought of Malu, and tara. We could start off with a Dominos special pizzas for four … And the Shallot Pizza! .. Followed by icecream all stored in the freezer. And we could watch You’ve got mail yet again, or ten things I hate about you, or letters to juliet (a recent rom-com – must watch!). Or even gossip Girl, though that would involve taralika’s initiation.

After the food high would die, Tara might try to talk us in to going commando for work and fall asleep (yes that is after the food high dies!). While malu and I would chat away, if sleep did not fluster our eyes. And may be we would even find that forgotten bottle of red wine and watch the sun rise. And be the devils to scream our way in to tara’s sleep and go for a walk followed by Cha!

And if Jozzy was free we could fly away on our broom sticks, with Gryffindor hearts! In our heads we would walk through secret passages, turn through tapestries, speak to the armours, and run up the changing staircases with vanishing steps! And try making an infusion of wormwood and asphodel.

That would be a lovely Diwali. But till then, we have cookies, and chocolates – almond rocks, liqueur, fudge!

Hope you all have a safe and jolly time!

Tags: Books, Diwali, Festivity, Friendship, Harry Potter, Movies, NUJS

Ta-dum Ta-dum Ta-dum

Can’t seem to find my feet.
Aren’t they below my knees?
Where linger thoughts that prop
Me o’er the confused lot?
Bewildering, amusing,
the time and space we share
Its like a puddle of chaos
A strong breadth of devil’s snare
Twisting, creeping, wrapping
tight ’round my leadened mind
O make this drop, stop short
And now that you have shown
me my feet, Where are my shoes,
Tell me?

Encounters with an Idiot -II

I am a blast ended Skwert! I am enraged. I am tremors of anger you feel rolling down the street to the next town! I am, rage itself today. And just cause they have bigger cars, just cause they have a dick for a brain, I can not, really believe me and I apologize for shockingly unfair reality as it is,when I say, I can not grant them a priority right on the road! You can not bump your car into mine, I say bump and not hit cause bump was all it was, and then ask me or any other person, for heaven’s sake, to drive on. You can not claim what is not yours, you can not be uncivilized, you definitely can not be illogical, you can not possibly think through your ED affected dick for a brain and expect me to still give you the way, or any thing else! Yet, you did.

And yet, I had to. And I did. But they me gave another realization of how men in Delhi are and a reminder of why I think this place is not worth the change in my pocket. It reminded me of why and exactly how badly I wanted out, and for reasons I had for so long in neglect let bury.

For the rest who either personify this dick-headed breed found only in Delhi, you would be delighted to know you are dick heads. That after all would be the epitome of male chauvinism anyway. And those who can identify species of the said breed, please, on my behalf, please let them know they are indeed nothing more than dick heads.

Delhi has this unique and innate ability to produce these.

Tags: Delhi, Traffic

Treacle Tarts and Blast Ended Skwerts

Mom and I were on a baking spree this weekend. Yummy cookies and Spicy chocolat drink! Ummm… Think we shall distribute these now that the season is here. I am currently just thanking my stars that there is still time for the deafening Diwali. O how I wish I could escape the city and hide under a tree!

Talking of cacophony, I have recently gained acquaintance of a metal (uh-hmph) player? How could an avalanche of noise quell to music? I would disown my siblings if they ever took to this ricocheting mess they keep making a profession out of. I am very curious if sounds translate differently in the minds of others. Or else would we not all like the same thing? Or is it that we are intrinsically different, and can only appreciate different things? Whatever it may be, I hardly can make out the difference between these bands and blast ended skwerts!

 

November 19, 2010

 

The next harry potter movie would be out on November 19!!! I was so excited upon learning this, I did a rerun of all the previous movies, just to remind myself of all the points the movies got wrong. And however unbelievable you may find this, I am reading my favourite part six yet again! I even narrated the first harry potter to my mom. Introduced her to the different characters, and frankly, I think she was mesmerized. I make an awesome storyteller! I truly believe that one should only attend their first show of the movie with devouted fans, and persons of expertise in the field. You don’t want to be interrupted with “Ay enna wada banda kaun hegaa eh” or “Enu dhadi ni bandani andi?!” Take my word, go for it alone if you have to, but don’t gamble your first show of the 3d movie with unaware company. Its going to be breathtaking! So who is holding on to their Hippogriffs?!

Tags: Books, Food, Harry Potter, Movies