Loony is in Loonybin. Sweet delights and pumpernickel bread. And things so wrong, wrong, wrong. But so easily deceptive. If only you'd look a little dotties... if only you'd look a little...you'd find out it was all a little spot of deception. Idiot girls.

Let us go somewhere tonight. Like a river side, with stars for company and all that jazz. And just sit there and talk about stupid things we like to talk about and dream like little children. We'll enjoy the breeze and just, hang around, I suppose. We won't crib, well maybe a little, and we'll laugh like we've inhaled laughing gas and look out for the policemen. Then, when it's morning, we'll stop by at some shanty for tea and cheap biscuits. After that, I guess, we'll just go home and wonder what to say to our parents. Let's, let's.

suddenly want to get married and have dogs and babies and birthday parties and make gorom gorom rutis as opposed to bohemian free living travelling fucking and being billionaire bitch mistress of disfunctional famous now failed musician/actor/poet or arab with beautiful black arabian horses
I picked at a scab and now it is bleeding
I am bored of punctuation

Two things keep playing in my head :

the word moongphali
and
"treat chahiye treat naya priya gold treat. Tangy, juicy, tas-ty...than-da ka naya fun-da"

I have to stop falling alseep with the radio on.
I saw, or rather partially participated, in a film being shot (in such detail) for the first time. A real studio, a proper camera, refelctor, lights, editing software... it was rather nice. But it took forever. And Absolutist, I'm very very sorry, amar matha khete parish by all means. Dead tired, and essentially a whimsical keeper of commitments ( self adimittedly). Please mere phelish na, ba rege jash na.

Well...we had the play today. I liked it. I ate chips in the backstage with Dhruba and I dunno, handed around stuff to people. Imagine...a scatterbrain like me backstage... Heh. But, it was fun... and the actors didn't leave much scope for goof ups. They do their own stuff. Which is cool. Smoking, happy kids, who sing and dance impromptu and remember a lot of lines. And talk a whole lotta gibberish during rehearsals and otherwise. Which is addictive, to be very honest. Very addictive.
Khub bhalo Max, Lenny, Teddy, Sam, Ruth, Joey and Tatha of course :) Thanks for all the entertainment.

I was petrified of curtain call. Weird hair made mass public debut. I'm a very self conscious bitch. I mean, pretty sure, no-one even noticed or gave a flying fuck for that matter! But ki weird na ami, ki je bolbo.

Yesterday I saw a big fat rat in Deborshi's chaat. Tanaji reasoned it wasn't as half as fat as I am, but that didn't particularly pacify me. They wrote stuff about me and rats in the brochure. Rats everywhere.

People are so obsessed with appearances.....
I got very very mad today. At myself mostly. Articulation is a problem. Big big problem. You know that line...from Jerry Maguire? Where Jerry's talking to the kid...where he says sometimes you keep on talking and talking and no-one listens...and the kid nods and says something about something, which is not about this, but you gotta love him anyway? Well... good. You should know these things. Everybody should know worthless trivia anyway.

I heard Alice's Restaurant. I like Arlo Guthrie.

Kanti bujhte pare na why I don't write about chai-er dokan and Shombhu. He hates my Victor and his British bari and his "scotch on the rocks" or whatever. Okay, Teddy, I checked. Three stories out eighteen or nineteen had these Victor-types. Thassit. No more. And in any case, there's more to life than chai-er dokan, bhikiri baccha and leftists. For every Shombhu, there'll be these Victors. Fiction that people read randomly, and don't really think about, but enjoy nevertheless ( I hope they enjoy it?).
Ab bas.
I had chicken outside today. Very yum. I saw rats in Golden Spoon. Not at all yum. I mean, downright scary. Sudu, as is her wont, jore jore screamed in front of the manager "YEEW! There were RATS, Tanaji, RATS! DISGUSTING!!" But really, it was.

I cannot stop speaking in Hindi. I'm getting irritated with myself now.

Today was good fun. Tomorrow I have honours classes. Issh. Papers.

I think people who are full of trivia are very boring.
Really, when did knowing a whole lot of names make anyone smart?
I think I am a bit like that myself.

I feel a bit hennish at the moment. And taffyish. And very unpleasantish. I have a feeling, anyone I meet right now, will be like..."Chee...whatta an unpleasant person". You know, those needy, attention seeking types. Oh God, I do not like them.

All of a sudden I have things to do. I cannot tell you how noodle brained I feel at the moment. Gawd.

Homecoming

Umm...see... intellectuals, non-intellectuals jai hok, chole aye bujhli. It's a Gyan Manch do :)
23rd March. 7 p.m. The play's Harold Pinter's Homecoming
It's got the gang. You know, Thathagata's directing, TDG, Kanti, Deborshi, Sumeet, Ranjini et al are acting in it. I'm not much of a publicist. But spread the word anyway, okay?

I don't think it's got much to do with pretty pink teen queens...or hunch punch. But it promises a different kind of entertainment. So please come :)

Good deed for the day, done

ohh. how tired I am. need massage and TLC. Manged to dodge killer buses in Rabindra Sadan, and stinky office men in 5 o clock metro. I looked at a lot of pink ears and blotchy faces today. Felt all gloaty till I saw funny hair in mirror. Stole money from Porjo. And then later could not pay taxi driver two rupees. Not particularly regretful. Have been looted by both before. Ate a lot today. Girly talked. Then later had serious conversations with Guds (bye bye havefun!).
Had menthol :D (itsbeenaaages).
And I have decided I do not like James Blunt at all.
Also, I like the Janis Joplin version of Summertime and not so much Billie Holiday's.
I have nothing interesting to say. But this time, I won't delete the post. Promise.

I'm curious. Everyone seems to hate "intellectuals". So whom do they like, boka people?
I always thought an intellectual was a "thinker". Albeit, a logical thinker...a little scholarly even. Now why go call all the snobs, superbrats and struggling poets intellectuals? Jhola and Kurta maneyi antel? I mean come on, what's with the myopia? Some people pretend yes, but why call them antels? I think it's wonderful to be an antel. The world needs more thinkers....
Joto shob bandwagon bullshit. How's this for a new word? ...."PSEUDO"... Handy to be used as a prefix sometimes.

Ami hermit. Abir mekhe barite boshe achi. I want bhang, music, rong, telebhaja and naach. I wanna be pelted with balloons and throw a bucketful of muck at people. I wanna I wanna I wanna. *Sniff*

Today was a crazy day. And it's not over yet. So I don't know. It began with a dream about a dead cat. It was supposed to be my pet, and was you know, those blue blooded breeds. Very pretty, white and furry with blue eyes and all that. But it was not a very pleasant cat, and I didn't like her much. I saw her falling down the stairs and twist her neck, but pretended as if nothing had happened. I went home, did some stuff, and then thought, I must check up on the cat. And I knew very well at the back of mind that, it was dead. But I hummed, and skipped and finally stumbled as I saw this beautiful white cat, with stiff legs, and lifeless blue eyes staring up at me...lying stupidly at the landing of the staircase. And for some reason I thought it was my grandmother and I felt very very scared. I thought I killed my grandmother. And I started wailing out of fear and sadness and regret...and it was NOT a very nice way to start the day. I take my dreams very seriously.

Then I was on my way to college. Running pretty late for the 11 o clock class. And I get a call. "Nandini!", says Sudu in a worry-wart voice. "What?" I say in a I-don't-remember-voice. "You have some practical exam that's going on. Troy just finished his and he's leaving!".
You don't say. So I did my very best, to feel scared and then consequently told myself to keep calm (why?why?why?) and started chanting some names I usually chant when I'm nervous. As per Murphy's Law, the car had to stop at ALL the red lights and get stuck in ALL the traffic jams. And I finally reached, a good one and a half hours late for my exam. But since it was a practical, we had the leisure of going in two at a time...and my turn hadn't come apparently. I went in knowing nothing of course, and got a bit of a look-down because my attendance was super bad. Anyway, it went off okayokay.

Then we had FS, where I sat looking dazed and pondered about my horrible prose marks. I imagined all the nasty things that Bertie would tell me, and I FORCED myself to remain not-happy-not-sad...because I've had it with unhappy people, and don't want to be one myself. And well, it didn't end too badly, because I came back home to see India win and there was finally something to be happy about. Although, I've lost most of my interest in cricket, because everyone's become so negative about it these days. BUT, But , but...have promised myself not to blame ANYONE for ANYTHING that happens in my life. I hate whiny people. And I...you get the picture.

Well...that's it. End of boring post. I used different colours :)

I miss the happy people. Whatever happened to them?

See this. You must. Even if it takes time. I found it on someone's blog.

Juss for Srin

"Zeher hai ki pyar hai tera chumma "

(also Srin)

I am at this point obsessed with Picasso. And poetry. And post mod lit.
I am aslo, at this point of time, a little disappointed with people. Not angry or anything. Just disappointed. I am so weary of know-it-alls who really know nothing. Bored of agreeing with them, and being polite with them and gawdknowswhat with them. I am such a hypocrite. But not particularly shameful, no.

UPDATE:

I gabbed a lot today. I had very interesting conversations. Cricket, politics, ice cream, plays at the academy and the price of aam and angur. Then there was the conversation at T3 with Sudu and her 25 year old Mashi, Amanda from Canada. We spoke about India, film-making, architecture, books, travelling, families...things I like.
Oh I love days like this. When there's no confusion regarding your true self: Who you are, and what you want to be, and what your expectations from life are...absolutely honestly. You know, when you don't have to worry about people judging you, because even if they do, you know you're cool.

I like meeting new people. Or discovering people. A little away from this busy network of ours preferably. Oh you know him, who knows her, who knows them, blah blah blah. Tedious. Plain tedious I tell you.

The picture had to go. G, I think that's the first time someone said something like that to me. I don't know whether to be flattered or to hurl stones at you. No...I'm not flattered! What kind of warped idiot would be? Heh. The picture HAD to go.

Grin Grin Chop Chop

I am such a grinner. I don't think I have grinned as much as I did today, ever. And where the hell did my brain go? Where, where where? I am such a MORON.
Among other things...Tina's leaving today. But we've promised to keep in touch. Does everyone go away to New York?
I got swept away by self destruction and chopped off a large chunk of my hair. I look like those people from Edward Scissor Hands.
I crayoned stuff today. Made T a card. And read The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. No, I hadn't all these days.

Spread the Awareness

It can't do you any harm to read right? Click on Blanknoise, if you've not heard of it already. Read my take on it on Mooseheadstew.

I'm sorry. I had to remove "perfect man tag". Too embarassing. Hehe.
I still tag Preeta and Sudu. Though I doubt they'll go through with it.

Blog's me witness. I had a feeling about Crash :)

Very entertaining night. Air Bands, South Indian Detective movies, Desperate Housewives, Mangshor jhol, Film trivia, Crazy gay dances, baboushkas galore, and well...Skdb specialities. Whatta night.

Sukdev played a dampner though. Jerky car ride, not good for sensitive hungover system. And the biggest dampner had to be G bloody M. I can't believe I went all the way to college for that!

TDG tu vola breakfast vanayega! Kya hua! Anyway, great fun :D

Oh what fun. Met up with school friends today. Had lovely lunch and bitching session. Cha at Russel dhaba and adda at Dhar Roy's bari.
I like Jack Kerouac. He writes the kind of things that I feel. I need a Dean Moriarty in my life, god knows I do.
I think it's funny how we're all connected. Like Sudu's famous comment: All grandmother's are related...
I can't write anymore...the fullstops are bothering me.

I hate beauty parlours. They make me feel like a hopeless case. Like I'm bad for their image or something. And people wonder why my confidence is so wrecked. *Sigh* this is one of soooo many.

Ma and I had a funny conversation today that brought on a lot of memories. She was asking me if I remembered how old I was when she taught English at home to some girls, who were a little older than me. Well of course I did, 'cause I remember everything that happened in the past. I was seven or eight. And well, we were talking about that, and how I'd behave in front of them. Just as soon as she would sit with them, to do some work, I'd pop up with some problem and be like "ami na eii homework ta parchi na" or "Ma, amar khide peyeche" or something like that. I think my brother and I came up with some plan (and I know he'll vehemently deny this) to pretend as if we were adopted children. My brother and I would coop up in his chotto room that was adjacent to the dining room where these girls studied and would talk as loudly as possible - "Haa...Ma amader khetei daye na. Amra adopted na, tai." We were so terribly discouraging and wicked. My brother was paranoid that Ma would teach in St. James when he was still studying there. I used to pretend I didn't know my mother when she taught in my school, unless I needed money to buy something. No, it wasn't all that bad...but it was weird...I used laugh and say "Good Morning Mrs. Gupta". And my friends would be like "Hi Aunty...I mean, Morning Miss". I remember when I first came home from school, and Ma wasn't at home, peeping from behind the door and giving me a peck on the cheek as I entered. I had to make my own lunch and my own coffee. There was no-one I could talk about the day with. I hated it that, she had to work. But it's been a while now. And I'm glad she's working finally. I'm glad she's out of the house, doing what she wants and is somewhere where her inconsiderate, overdemanding children won't tyrannize her all the time. Heh. No. We weren't like that! But you know...I'm just glad that she hasn't given up on her dreams at 50.

Homefree... but not quite

I thought this was going to be the last day, but apparently there's some practical jazz happening sometime soon. Anyway, don't have to study for it, so yay :)
SO...now what? What to wear? The reclusive couch-potato suit or the social butterfly fancy tu tus?

Tomorrow my exams get over. My obsession with sleep has still not waned, and I just feel so hopelessly lethargic all the time. I think the only thing that is going to cheer me up is the return of Desperate Housewives. Yes, in case you hadn't figured it out before, I do lead a dreary existence.
Oh I read this fantastic piece of writing, which reminds me of my own childhood, so I really think you should check it out. It's already linked, but I want to make extra sure that you read it.
I got registered good and proper for my Part I exams. I returned my library book and paid my fees. So there is a feeling of wrapping up all the loose ends, and I feel rather satisfied.

I'm listening to Katmandu by Cat Stevens right now. It was given to me by Indrani, this pretty girl I worked with at ABP. She also gave me jilipi one day. I loved being treated like a kid there. I think I love being treated like a kid in general.
My mother just suprised the bejabbers out of me. A present out of the blue. I can't believe her :)
I loooove being a kid!

I am such a strange girl. I am a window.