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?!

The Smell of Winter

Have you seen it in you? May be not. But one can associate smells with phases in life. Like Biore reminds me of school days – syncopation, black velvet, abba, A.V. Room, cords and mikes. And the smell of mutton –  the bad sleezy smell you only get in our college- of cribbing even before exams at my real home on the fifth floor.  Bad booze, of Outlawed. Dhoop, of the girl who lived in 306, and played secret smile before every presentation. Neem – the first few days at High Court, when my knuckles hurt as much as  my feet, blacks and whites, and all things that didn’t fit right, and at times still don’t. Cheese – melting cheese of dominoes, tara, getting high on cheese and shallots, fighting over ice cream, and hardly managing to reach in time for attendance in Petro-mining. Strawberry hands n Strawberry knees of night outs at Roxy, lips wet with cosmopolitan, girl talk and  hiccups, partying till we dropped dead, rose cheeked, shoes worn, if Shubho had not already torn them! Coffee to wear out the booze, and creative conversations on how all other girls were complete skanks that night. And Lilies. Lilies of late night strolls, caffeine in my veins, Iris on our lips, and at times unrealizing in our feet too.

The other day I got a whiff of him. But like tides and the sea shore,  I see it come before it goes.

On other things-I simply loved Three Idiots! And yes, I watched it again!! Awesome screenplay, almost no errors in direction, couldn’t have had better casting.  Awesome. Just Awesome.

Shashi Tharoor is again in a mess for saying the truth. He ought to realize he is wasting himself in politics. Better write a few more books, I say!

Wonder who won todays’ match.

I had the most amazing brunch at Diners today. A round of the  fresh, straight-from-the-farm fruits, with water melon juice! Fresh too!! And cheese – a variety of. Chicken salads..Followed by soup and broth. Breads bacon and sausages.. yummm..  and three – three rounds of desserts. Chocolate pudding, with walnuts, well roasted and bitter. With dark chocolate sauce… dreamy.. Then a round of mixed fruit cake.. yes reminds me of Kookie Jar trips.. and then the divine.. Divine Dark wine Mousse.  Hmm.. Nice.

Fortune Cookies

There is an awesome restaurant in Noida for chinese, Fortune Cookie. I haven’t been there is a while, but nothing beats their diced chicken! Yumm.. And they have this custom of serving you fortune cookies at the end of the meal. This was the part I used to look forward to the most. A tiny bit of paper, your future it holds. And when you receive advise from an unknown source, you actually take it!!

My office has started to subscribe to all sorts of astro advice.. my intellectual level is 76%. I am presently the smartest around here. .. doesnt say much does it .. damn..

Christmas!

Jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell rock..

Its been long since I updated this page. But there is so much to tell.

I hope you all had a merry Christmas! I decorated the house, with boughs and holly, bells and stars. We even wore Santa caps. Defence Bakery is soo good.. rich, rich rich plum cakes, and what wonderful cookies. I love the Christmas spirit.

I remember from college, a junior who when sailing by my corridor said, Sim next Christmas, is not going to be Christmas at all, for you wont be there. When I asked why, she said something about  them associating Christmas with me. But its all not the same here.. People are so different, different in everything. How they approach any problem, be it work, friends, women. Also I am stuck in a mans’ world. I am the only girl in the office. I am scared, I now forget to wear ear rings sometimes! And ask about the score.. Do you think I becoming a boy?

I met my college crowd. Some of them are so cute. I got a Jim Morrison coaster! Wow! .. Thanks Vasu, you are a doll. Did I tell you how much I love Christmas? But I have not bought a thing yet.

I think this city very cold. Cold as fish. And fake. It is as if everyone is wearing a microscopic lens. No one lets go. Its all bottled in and it stays there.

I checked this thing called Bio-rhythm.. its hilarious. Apparently my intellectual level is 0% and physically i shall be as high as 8%. well.. Makes me feel that I should take another day off.

O Avatar is such a bad movie. I shall devote a post to it.

Adhi Chinni

Frequently now I find my self strolling in Khan Market, where the hip find their happenings, the poor seek to increase their belongings (one asked for “just hundared pleeaz”), where there are corridors of just magazines, and mind you, you might find one in French, but definitely not in the Hindi or Marathi! This is Dilli for the Ameerzaadas, fresh from the tava parathas, old wine and beer at Chonas, Pastas and Paninis, glasses worth more than the milkshakes  they serve!

There where I have no bearings, and my friend who is forever most spatially impaired (a lefty who always turn left when in doubt), we pass a while reminiscing the good old days. It still amuses me how we are capable of glorifying the past, we see it all across the country, and now also in me. Lemon Tea and Mojito, over stories across hostels. A few laughs and we are soon ready to leave behind the comfort of controlled weather conditions. Walking in to the blazing sun, the sordid sight of men peeing by day and by night!

In the midst of the distracting odor of greasy parathas and kababs, and euro perfumes,  I found this shop, called “happily unmarried”.  A small rectangular room which could barely fit 4 people at a time, was full of some classic drunkards jokes. Stereotypical and funny. If you go there you may still see the Chinnis on the mugs on the rack.

Diwali

As I entered the gurudwara, after slipping off my shoes and ensuring that the dupatta covered my head ( I dread being forced into line publically, so I have had to learn to comply consciously), my mother suddenly stopped in front of me and turned saying, “Do you know what Diwali means to Us?”. Drawing from me a silence I knew she sought, she continued to explain.  Her eyes that cry on cutting onions, and laugh at a Govinda movie, that hurl abuses at the younglings who make the evening an utter mess and disgrace in my muhalla, now were large with and I suspect wet with pious and faith, and success as she spoke, explaining yet again why it was named the Bandhi Chhod Diwas. I had known the story for long, but not its name. After all I have heard it every Diwali for 23 years now!

I usually evade the ritual and courtesy most wear on their sleeves, of going to temples and mosques. May be its because I am plain lazy, not to forget the black sheep of my family (there are too many tales about that! Something I do intend to put to paper soon) or simply because I find it a tad too boring. I hope to encapsulate why.

As we sat this Diwali in the Gurudwara, while the rest of Delhi burst crackers and did the lights, we heard a lady granthi sing a hymn. I should not comment upon the singing as I too only secure the kind audience of my self and the mirror if at all, I could hardly ignore the general fatigue that had burdened the mood there! To my misery, everyone was either singing along, or staring onwards with glassy eyes! It seemed more of a funeral than a communion with God. And in case one wanted just that, a communion, it was best to pursue it individually, not trouble others with norms, glares, and not to forget the chanting-cum-clamorous singing. And the little boy! Oh the little boy, firangi and all, was just a delight! Especially so as he was conducting his antics in the temple. Standing apart from the congregation he alone captured the purpose behind so many 1oos of us there. Dancing, trust me with his booty swinging to the beat! he was a joy! Why did we all laugh and smile at him, not cause he was cute, (after all no one was smiling at me!) but because he was having fun. He was being himself, lost for the moment in the music and no, not for attracting attention or anything! But not for long. The long gnarled hands of authority came out from nowhere and seated him next to his grandma. That’s when I left, there was really nothing left to see.