The Yellow Cities one by one

Is there anybody out there?

2009-10-29T11:28:00.003+05:30

Yeah, so it's been forever. I think of this blog like an old apartment I once grew up in. I just have to hit the archives and I can see it. I went from super kitsch to super drool. Brilliant. Anyway, in case you've been lurking around here for no particular reason (a squatter!) - this is where I've moved. It's my new home. It's kind of publicy, but issokay, I'm totally selling out.

www.whatadragitis.blogspot.com

And so...goodbye

2008-02-24T21:34:00.002+05:30

As you must have guessed by now, my interest in this blog has waned. Actually, it's all worn out. I've had a long and happy time with it, but I think it's time to say goodbye. Although I'm not too sure whether I'm going to delete it forever. It'll just be, gathering virtual dust. So bid goodbye to the musicalmosquito. It's been fun.

Buzz.

2008-02-16T21:08:00.004+05:30

When will you realise, my dear sir, that the world does not revolve around you? For the first time in ages, I find my secure little wallflowered existence in jeapordy.
See, it is not so much the lab rat life I lead here that bothers me. In fact, I even like some of the things I do here, as a lab rat or otherwise. But it's the maze tests that get to me the most. I prefer things to be straight foward. I hate playing games with people I think are unsporting. And today, I might have done just that. Well, like they say, every lab rat has its day, and today I just had mine.

2008-02-13T21:52:00.004+05:30

Fucken place. The past two days felt like school because we got back home by early evening. We were packed off like good little children because of the riots and everything. But nothing ever happens here, where we stay, because it’s made up of deadness and dust. Hah. Sounds so silly. Deadness and dust. Like P’s notes in English classes. If there was ever a place that came close to Eliot’s Wasteland, this would be it.

They took away the dogs from Hira’s. Hardy, Whoopie and the pretty one with the hazel eyes and dainty legs. She was my favourite. Whom did they bother anyway? Idiots.
I miss home. I want to curl up on my bed and sleep. I hate this place. I can't even gather up the energy to rant man. Fuck it all.

2008-02-08T21:27:00.000+05:30

I saw the The Third Man today. I'm disturbed and in love. Noir is so sexy, I could marry it.
It's very cold here.
I miss Bengal Club. I smelt it in my memories today while sitting in class. Especially the way the starched napkins smell there. And I love the way the plates are so hot when they put it on the table.
I'm listening to The Rolling Stones after ages. It makes me feel like I'm 17.
Ever felt like a Beatles' song? I feel like one. I used to think it was Elanor Rigby, but it's really I'm Only Sleeping.
Please don't spoil my day
I'm miles away
And after all
I'm only sleeping.
They had one for everything, didn't they?
I've been craving to read Araby for some time now. Just that first line - "North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free" - it keeps repeating inside my head. Maybe I'll read it in a bit.
I think, I will arise and go now...and go to U's room, to have some maggi.
Sorry this is all very random.

Happy Feb

2008-02-07T19:19:00.000+05:30

Today has been a truly excellent day - though its not completely over. It started late last night, with the kids smuggling loads of alcohol into the room, just when I'd given up on the day. I had just finished watching the second cd of Breakfast at Tiffany's - which is FYI, my fix of happiness when I'm blue - and was planning to blog about how boring and lifeless my life is - when in walked these guys - and well, life's a'good. I didn't drink much, but I somehow ended up pouring a lot of hot candle wax on myself (don't ask). Anyway, we finally got our clothes washed this morning, which is, I think, the main reason for all my happiness today (see, how the little things can make you happy?) Then the kids came in again and brought with them eggs, milk, bread, butter, maggi and coffee - and we had the most fantastic brunch ever. I felt like a true-blue hostel gal at that moment, with our electric kettles and boilers and mini kitchen paraphernelia. U had the Beatles anthology with her, so we ate, sang and danced all together and I've been listening to it all day and feeling absolutely fabulous. The I decided to make some postcards, but ended up posting them to myself, and they are now up on the bulletin board. This is one of them.
There were a lot of empty beer bottles from last night, so N and I, after downing some gin (in the bloody afternoon) decided to plaster them with newspaper strips. There wasn't enough gum, so we did just one and it looks pretty cool. I put it on top of my cupboard and I want to turn it into a lamp (I miss environment-friendly yellow light). But I'm pretty sure I'll just get lazy and not do it.

Anyway. Today is my happiest day in February. So Happy February people. I'm so glad it's still cold here in Pune.

Bangalore

2008-02-05T22:11:00.000+05:30

So yes, I like Bangalore a lot. As soon as I reached there, I got this great vibe, and it stayed with me till I left. I was only there for two days, but it seems like a very long two days, because the first day, I barely slept, and the next day, so much was packed in, in so little time that it just felt long. I got my nose pierced the first day, which is like, crazy, because I hate my nose, and any kind of attention to it is just weird. But I just wanted to, so I did for a fifty, and now it feels pretty okay. I loved how everything was so alive and how people were generally nice and liked listening to good music. It was all very commercial and superficial, but who cares, I had fun. And I thought the IIM campus was simply gorgeous. Soodoo met the most interesting man ever for an interview and shit, I wish the world would make more men like him. For more - see this - http://www.loungepiranha.com/. I won't say much, because well, its not really for me to say, right Soodoo? :D
Anyway, I met Chamki, my little imaginary friend on the right there, and it was good to see her so positive and happy and well, a little "gossipy" as she says. We shared a teensy little joint, and spoke like we're friendly neighbours who see each other everyday or something - which is always a good thing.
Hmm...among other things, I had a shower in the boy's hostel without really knowing it and I met the most unlikely people in the city, people I thought I'd never meet again. I also clicked pictures in front of Rahul Dravid's house, because when I was a kid, I was crazy about him, and I wanted to run off to Bangalore just to meet him. So for nostalgia's sake, I took a picture. Do not judge me. Or do, whatever. Haha.
My return journey was funner still, because I've never travelled by a sleeper bus - and that too for 18 whole hours. I am never travelling by semi sleepers again - this is coolness.

Pune is the same. Dusty and lifeless. I have static in my hair again and flaky dry skin. Placements are on, so everyone looks clean and bathed. A little prayer for a certain someone. Hope you get a great job bugger. And I love the corporate "ch**t" look like you put it. Sell out, but only for a bit okay?

*pics later.

2008-01-31T20:54:00.000+05:30

We finished shooting our documentary today. Woke up, barely had a shower and ran off to catch the bus. Came back and slept. And had a very nice dream. I have an exam tomorrow. I don't feel like studying. I am going to Bangalore tomorrow right after the exam. I don't have clothes - more importantly, I don't think I have underwear.
I feel very unsocial and blah. I just want to sleep, sleep and sleep some more. It's very nice sleep weather. I want to finish reading this book I've started on since forever. And this photography book I have to read for my exam is making me all restless, which is something I don't want to feel like right now. Also, it makes me want to have a random fling with a photographer dude. Those NatGeo types, with that khaki sleeveless jacket thing they always seem to wear. I am SO bored. Nothing excites. Sigh.

2008-01-28T01:48:00.000+05:30

Today Sudu and I cleaned out the third cupboard where we stock our food and stuff. It's not like we wanted to, but had to, because rum had leaked and the cupboard was stinking like a alcoholic, hence. I saw my first ever Marathi play today - it was a play reading - Harold Pinter's Betrayal - and though I didn't get the language - I got the modulations, the expressions - and shit, they were brilliant. And I couldn't complain about the fact that one of the readers happened to be pretty hot - in a very hulky kind of way - and we get to shoot him for our documentary - yay! The past few days were fun - yesterday there was a quiz thing, which I kinda-sorta helped with - and I was remembering the school days when quizzes were taken very seriously, just like everything else. Yesterday was a complete antithesis of those days. We all seemed so wasted - like we were not quite there - but still kinda having fun. Oh ML, I wish I could give you a hug yesterday - but I settled for a clammy handshake instead. You were good fun, I promise. I sometimes get scared that you'll think I'm patronizing you. But even if you do, there's not much I can do about it is it?
Okbye.

2008-01-25T23:26:00.000+05:30

Today I was pretty stoned and had to cover a film appreciation thing that was going on. The auditorium was practically empty, with only a few sprinkles of life or intelligence and it was perhaps a good thing, because I hate loud noises when I'm so far gone. And then, right before the thing started, someone started playing Coming Back to Life, which is kinda sorta my stoned song, and it felt just right...

Where were you when I was burned and broken

While the days slipped by from my window watching

Where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless

Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

While you were hanging yourself on someone elses words

Dying to believe in what you heard

I was staring straight into the shining sun

You know when you're all stupid, and think every song that's written, is written for you?...well nevermind.

Sigh. This post is so college.

I miss MSN messenger. And Fangs Fogarty. Whatever happened to him?

2008-01-24T01:08:00.000+05:30

Tralalalala. It's just plain wrong to be so happy about something so trivial. But who gives a fucking damn. Thanks for today.

2008-01-23T00:47:00.000+05:30

Today we all painted on a huge 75 feet canvas. Even P, who’s not into anything at all really. And I also got my first bike ride in Pune, which is always a load of fun. But my teeth chattered like nobody’s business in the darned cold. I smell of turpentine.

This picture here makes me feel wonderful.

2008-01-21T22:07:00.000+05:30

It's a strange story, yours and mine. It's like we know, but not quite.
"You're playing games with me, aren't you?"
"Games? No. I'm not playing games".
With that smile? no...of course not.
Sometimes I want to tell you that, this is not who I am. This is what I've become. This weak spluttering thing, with no imagination or life. And I've been like this for too bloody long. If you would have met me during some other time, in some other planet, or maybe in my dreams, I'd be nicer. Not some lazy, godforsaken sloth who'll be a slave to anyone or anything. I don't blame you, or anyone. It's just the way things are now. A few days ago, I just sat and thought about it for a bit. And I didn't feel angry, or sad or happy or curious or anything. I felt absolutely nothing. I couldn't find enough torment inside me to write silly little poems or contrived stop-motion phrases about the angst and pointlessness of it all (existence i.e.). I really wish I could. It would give me something to laugh about.
I'm a boring enough person. There is not much turbulence in my life. It's all very predictable and sometimes even enjoyable. I can't complain much. You really needn't have happened. Come April, and it will all be over anyway. But what's with the foolish games? Can't you let a stupid person be?
My readers must pardon me for this hormonal post. I've often read other blogs, and wondered, damn, when will I get my chance to be type out a soppy, angsty unrequitted lover kind of post. You know, where the guy's always a bitch, and you are all weird and wonderful in your passion and shit - saying your goodbyes and letting it all come out. Great vouyeristic reads. Anyway. My story, like I said, is strange. It's difficult to explain to friends, or to myself even at my most honest moments. Maybe it's nothing, Maybe it's just a little castle of teenage confusion I like to build and dwell inside for a bit. Maybe because I'm instinctively maternal but also untrusting and distant because of what life has taught me. Maybe it's because I see a great adventure in the little things that are exchanged between us. Like a text message or a cigarette or an unexpected smile.
I hate being so haunted.

Anyway. Mercentile interest taking over. Check out the 'Vautch' section. Come to Fest o Comm if you are in Pune. And see this too while you're at it. http://www.simc.edu/festocomm.htm

2008-01-17T23:05:00.000+05:30

Today was a fun day. I spent all day att PIFF (Pune International Film Festival) and had an overdose of popcorn and intellectual porn. There was an Almadovar retrospective, and I always thought I liked him, but all the films I saw were kind of repetitive in their theme and quite honestly, filmy. But still, watchable. But my favouite was this Polish film called Sztuczki (Tricks). What a treat. Watch it if you can. There were others too. Zim and Co was another favourite. There was this Argentinian film called Time without Time which was also very interestingly made. There was another one from Turkey called Bliss, which I wanted to see, but we were too late for it. Anyway, it was marathon film watching for the past two days and if hadn't been for the lousy attendance, I would have gone for some more. But shit, we all went absolutely mad while watching this film called The Mid-Street Gang, which was about Thai-speaking dogs. A recommendation NOT. But you could still see it for kicks.

Oh well, so after all this Sudu, Akshay and I went to Sheesha, which is not quite like the Sheesha at Calcutta, but a huge semi-open roofed, jazz bar with this semi-morrocan decor. I like their music, and the food is passable - great 'ambience' and all of that. Anyway, there was a live jazz band from Brooklyn who call themselves 'Sundar Shor' (Beautiful Noise i.e.) and they were pretty darned good. After that, we had ice-cream at Naturals and came back. Sudu is presently playing mid-night badminton (I played yesterday) while I ramble on.

Okbye.

2008-01-15T11:32:00.000+05:30

I have to write something about digital films and I sure as hell don't want to. Maybe if you asked me a year ago, I would, but now I really don't. I'm reading The Dharma Bums, and it seems just right after On the Road, because it's so calm and at times identifiable (god, I hate words like that). People here (and everywhere as a matter of fact) think I'm incredibly lazy (and it's apparently written all over my gait) and they are right. Sometimes I feel like letting the world end, while I just catch a few more winks of sleep. I can't get the fret and the flurry. I like doing things slooooowly. I do it better if I do it slooooowly. Anyway.
Yesterday was fun. It started with Visual Communication classes, which always make me feel like I'm a kid and I can do anything I want. Followed by Radio, which I also like a lot of late. And then the practicals - photography and audiography. Audiography got over early, so I was in the library reading my Kerouac, listening to Akshay's jazz collection (oh my god Nina Simone I could marry you) and checking out PN's very finely shaped behind. PN is this incredible hulk/hunk from the senior batch, with all these apparent brains and a demi-god like status in our college. Only, of late, I see him strutting a lot, which makes him more human and likeable, so I extract as much visual pleasure as I can from him, free of any guilt. That man, likes being watched. And I, like watching. So good.
Among other things, the 'authorities' have banned me from entering the audio-visual library, because I left the computer open after watching a film. *sigh*, If only I could tell the damn megalomaniac, it was because of the film I saw. It's mindfucked me to distraction - Thank You for Smoking - it did. Dolts.
I cannot believe the Golden Globes are over. It's so sad that it had to be this way. Anyway, loads of films that I want to watch. But fucking AV-library has shut its doors on me, dammit. Piracy. My last resort. See, discipline always leads to crime.
Oh hey. See this - http://digitallmovement.blogspot.com/ . When I think about it, it's kinda cool. It's a digi-film fest that my college is arranging, and I think it's one of those few good things they've done. Of course, we have to whore ourselves to the public to get any kind of attention, but still, perhaps its worth it - we will find out soon. Maybe, next year, some of you can send in some of your films. I was thinking of Kanti-Tanaji's City of Literature, but then I haven't seen it myself, and those guys are just incredibly unavailable all that time.
Watch the promo. The guy in the video is quite gorgeous. Taken. But gooorgous. The best of the lot. Heehee.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bQPKYDmzvU

2008-01-12T21:57:00.000+05:30

Ah internet. In my room. Luxury. But. Now I don't know what to type. It seems like poetic justice though. I got the net on the single most disastrous day at college. Only it seems futile to bitch, because honestly, who gives a damn anyway. This blog seriously embarrasses me sometimes.

Catch-22

2007-12-26T11:13:00.001+05:30

Sorry, it's the return of the stupid blogger. Back in Pune. Went to Goa, got burnt, but in a good way, got real, am 22 now and it was a good birthday. Will be off to Mood-i for godknowswhat and am looking forward to that. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year in case I can't say it again.

Life through a Lens

2007-12-02T14:12:00.000+05:30

It was nice. A room filled with sunshine, books, art and pleasant company. What more do you need?

I have new clothes now. I haven't had new clothes in a long time. They're going to last me the next 16 years.

Yesterday there was a shingding happening. I didn't go, because I felt lazy. But then, something good came out of it.

There have been incidents in my life that can be summed up best by a particular Yahoo emoticon - you know the one that blushes outrageously and wants to hide its face in the sand like an ostritch? Yeah, that. This one was 3 -4 years ago - at what can easily be called my first, ahem, date. So for my first ever date, I took along two of my friends, I dressed like a retard and the first words I uttered were - "Please don't tell me things like I look fat in this T-shirt". Kill me, like right now. It got progressively weirder and my friends just giggled and had nothing much to say. And I just went on waving my hands and baring my teeth and speaking utter bull. Social skills, were clearly not my forte. I am so ashamed of the way I behaved that entire day and I wasn't even drunk. But anyway, we kept in touch, only fleetingly (surprise, surprise) , and then, last night we spoke for two whole hours and finally laughed about it. And he was awfully nice.
It's funny, I don't know what gives me the guts - but I just feel like saying it - I felt like I missed my chance to be with someone really nice, warm and funny. We always had so much to talk about. I dunno where it all went. Anyway, at least now, I'll be able to look him in the eye and not wither away and die in embarrassment! I might initially, but then that I do with most people. I have a terrible history of FMS.

V is the only guy I've been connected to (for dearth of better words) who has no inclination towards music. The first time we ever spoke, was about music - he wanted to listen to what I was listening to - and Tracy Chapman's Change has never quite been the same since. But he's not into music at all. He asked me later on, whether I was some kind of "music freak", to which I didn't know what to say. Anyway he's weird. He's one of those boys who doesn't love his bike. I mean, name one boy who doesn't love his bike. Especially if it's an Enfield. I'm not a boy, and I don't have a bike, but I love his Enfield. "It's just something that I've always had" he mutters. Idiotboy. Anyway, he can go fight revolutions inside his head, I'm just going to have me a little fun my Tom Joad.
And also have dalpuri with my Musicman while I'm at it.

2007-11-27T19:42:00.001+05:30

Oh shit. Seriously sexy.

A little late in the day, but whatever. Happiest 99 bucks I've spent in a long time.

I always had a thing for Johnny, haha ;)

2007-11-24T13:11:00.000+05:30

I went to college yesterday again - and finally met the two profs I had been yearning to meet since forever. Was not expecting much - just some cordial chitchat - and well, it was a bit better than that :)
Shit, I miss it all. Senti-mental, but while we're on it, I went to SPE after eons yesterday and heard all my favourite songs. So yay for me.
Oh and I stumbled upon this gem. Take a look sometime. Reminds me of a friend of mine. Haha.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pR8YuIGqWi4

2007-11-21T17:32:00.000+05:30

aaaaaaaaaarghhhh. What is WROOOONG with my city??? Damnit. Sitting like a bloody zombie in front of the TV and watching all this shit. It's so bloody insane.
Everything's weird now.
Anyway. Screw it all. I'm just pissed.
I watched 3 back to back episodes of Heroes and cooked pasta. Also had some wine, which was old, and probably should have not been had, but what the heck. Had a debate with the father and brother over the nuclear deal, and fuck, we sounded intellectual as hell. I don't think we really are - but sometimes, we just get into the mode. My brother's a little severe (something tells me, he'll turn out to be a pretty strict parent - or at least when he wants to be) and Baba's always got a logical, practical counterpoint. But it's fun (up until Dada starts to tighten his jaws - thass when I stop).
I was watching commercials. Like, a lot. And shit, there's so much you've got to be, if you'd really believe them. Lambe kale ghane baal, sunder komal twacha, no phati erias - Fuck, guilty on all counts. They should have one on lips. I like my lips, and there's this particular patch of skin on my forearm that I'm very content with. The rest of me's crap. But these two, I'm totally in love with.
Totally unrelated, but I had this weird dream, where I was a part of some Devil worship Cult, where you could transform into food and people could eat you. I was being converted to chicken strogannoff - but I only went as far as cheese. I was smoked cheese.

2007-11-20T00:25:00.001+05:30

I want to go to some quiet mufassil town and eat lunch - dal bhaat, take a shower with neem soap and sleep in a darkened room with shabby curtains and a quiet whirring fan. It's like a recurring fantasy in my head.
Anyway, I went to my third 'celebrity' interview - terribly underprepared, but managed alright I suppose. I was helped out by R, who knew 'chuanno' was 54 and I didn't (59, I thought!). I'm pathetic with Bangla numbers - I'm very confused between 40 and 60. Oh well.
I bought Barefoot in the Park today. I'm just in the mood for giddy romcoms. Didjya know Jane Fonda and I share the same birthday? Also Frank Zappa and Govinda. Brilliant no?
I really have nothing to say. Just got tired of seeing the same thing on the blog. I'm particularly thankful to one of my favourite bloggers for putting this up on her blog. It made my week, it really did.

Update:
I went to a cool, broken down house, and smoked up with R. Haha. I feel like a complete idiot when I boast about these things. But then, I am a complete idiot, so it's ok.

2007-11-17T01:03:00.001+05:30

You know how you have one of those days, when everything's just fine - you know - perfectly fine - you're with people you like, you're doing things you like - but you just feel psawbbbh? Yeah, that.

I had a really good interview with an 82 year gentleman this morning. I was amazed at how coherent he was, how calm and happy he was. I've seen old age both at its best and its bitterest - but he made me feel hopeful. It was a nice way to spend the morning.

I finally went to the film festival. I met the old festival-faithfuls, and we all went to poster gully at Chandni and picked up some vintage (and not-so-vintage) posters for our hostel rooms in Pune. Then we had veg-chow at Raju's kitchen and then the film (something about O-shien going Hula - which is really mean, but whatever). Anyway, didn't feel like old times somehow.

We had cha at Vien and talked a little shit and came back.

There's something about growing up that's so disturbing. Like you know, shit, college is over, there's work, there're deadlines to meet, fake smiles to flash, yet...we're not quite there. There's that little bit of naivette-nostalgia you desperately want to hang onto. A few days ago I spent a lot of time with school friends - and today it was college. And it just feels like a rockstar's son. I dunno - just psawbbbh.

Dead On and Basic Instinct - well - someone's having fun at least :)

2007-11-13T14:05:00.001+05:30

So this, is what it has come down to? Such a fucking shame man.

Happy Festival of Lights

2007-11-08T21:59:00.000+05:30

Went to New Market today. Just some stuff, that caught my eye. Happy Diwali.

2007-11-04T22:47:00.000+05:30

you know, distance makes me forget you're really like this.

In my head, you're more like James Dean or something.

2007-11-02T01:24:00.001+05:30

Buy DVD. Press Mute. Watch. Or wait. Shut mind off and watch. Don't mute. I quite liked that music thing.

2007-10-31T21:05:00.001+05:30

God, when did sorry start sounding so trite? I can't say things like that. Anyway, I'm semi-happy, semi-blue. I went to college the other day. It was a little surreal. The sun was almost gone and some guys were playing football. The building was tube-lit, and gloomy as usual, like the day we went to collect our marks. It was also a bit like film-club just got over and we were getting ready to leave for home. The benches were gone of course, but the building-side was still the same. I half expected the two-year old literary club notice put up by my senior still to be there. It wasn't. I don't know what goes on in college anymore. That lit quiz was almost a symbol, cult-like. Anyway, I was walking over the lawn, feeling this strange feeling - where for a moment I couldn't decide whether I was in school or college or in Cal or in Pune - I had lost all sense of space and time. K was with me, but not quite, and he made matters more confusing. What was he doing here, anyway? But then this place was his as much as it was mine, maybe even more so. But still, where did he fit into the picture?
College during evening, has always been a little weird. I've always felt like I've belonged to this place, but only to a certain extent. Of all the places I've studied, I know I love this the most - but it's like it doesn't love me back, strange as it may sound. It's like everyone else seems like they're at the right place, and I want to believe that I am at the right place too - but I'm not, not quite. Despite those warm afternoons on the grass, those classes, those conversations, classic, delights - I don't know, I really don't know. Maybe it was just the time, that purply time of the day, when everything just feels flat melancholic, like waking up startled during dusk. I hate that. And I just stood there with K, who's always kind of been around during moments of deep contemplation without quite realising it, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't miss the place, because I never quite left it - and it all seemed a little pointless - like, we were waiting for some big answer to come to us right there in front of the lending library, when everything was, as a matter of fact, a damp squib. And then the bugger tells me, 'you should totally love'. Yes, well, I probably should. But man, that statement could have waited. Because I just blabbered on about X, which was completely unecessary and stupid and I didn't know whether I meant a word of what I said. It was like disturbing a moment of perfect banal realisation with pretention. But pretention is the order of the day it seems.
Anyway, a little while later, I was on my way home - taking the same old metro-auto route, and taking the metro at 6 o'clock is probably a stupid thing to do, just in order to refresh memories. Stuffed between smelly armpits, I patiently waited for my stop to come, and when it did, it again felt like I had never left any of this - that I was still 19, and I was still waiting for the big bad world to happen to me. I guess it happened to all of us. But when I look at K, I still see that 15 year old boy I met with the sideburns and dreams, who still talks excitedly about regular things, and turns everything into a philosophy. And I know, I'm not alone in these things.

picture by Amitabha Banerjee

Room no. 315

2007-10-29T21:45:00.000+05:30

To begin at the beginning, here's Nicole's song:
I love you
You love me
Ho-mo-sexu-ality
They all think that we are friends
They don't know we're les-bi-ans.

From L to R: Wondergirl, Shaggy, Psycho Sudu, Nicola

W: Boobs!
Shaggy: Woah, wha?
Sud: Ooh, porn on my laptop.
Nicola: Oh whatddo we have here? Vouyer op.

W: See mine, here? They're the real deal.
Shaggy: See, you'll never know how good mine are till you feel them with both hands. Like so.
Sudu: Oh yeah, babeh.
Nicola: Hahahahaha, idiots, everyone knows I'm the Hottttest.

And to conclude: it's not what it looks like. It's so much more :)

2007-10-27T23:41:00.000+05:30

It's funny how your deepest fear can be your deepest desire. Not funny, funny - but you know.

2007-10-24T01:02:00.000+05:30

Fuck the pretention. It would be nice to stripped, ugly, raw, just a piece of bloody flesh. It would be swell. You know, whimpering aloud - wanting to be hated or loved. Even as my tongue trips over redundant pieces of talk, the same, the same, the same all the time - I feel okay, because I see the complacent cushioning that I snuggle up against. And I sleep okay at night.
You're a happy thought on a restless day, V. Sometimes I wish you weren't such a bastard and I wasn't such a fool. But I'm glad anyway. Let's ride together somewhere someday.

(Sudu try not to roll your eyes - remember I'm only 13).

2007-10-22T01:02:00.000+05:30

Just came back from Rishikesh. That's where I was for the Pujas. We went white water rafting. My entire family. Which was fun, really. And then we all jumped into the river and nearly died of cold, but whatsapoint of rafting if you aren't putting your life on the edge a bit? Anyway, many backbreaking journeys later(the roads, are quite literally the pits) - and also some work that entailed feeding cows, I'm back home. We also had hot crispy jalebis every morning, which needless to say, did wonders for my waistline. But then again, I'm kinda happy, cause I fit into these pair of jeans that I used to fit into way back in '05. It's not much, but then, happiness is all about the little things, right?

2007-10-15T19:43:00.000+05:30

Am home. I don't blog anymore. I write in a diary. Which is fun, but I miss the attention once in a while. I don't think there's much to see here anymore, other than some random scraps of information, which'll sound corny, euphemistic and very contextual. So, I'll just, make this pretty. Put in some art and shit. Okay?

This is the comic book work I've been working on - but really randomly.

There's some stuff inbetween - like storywise, but yeah, this is it so far. Done during classes out of extreme boredom and a little inspiration from here and there.

One of the reasons why Pune has become bearable, and even a tad exciting, is because of a creature who looks (and this is a sudden realisation!) a bit like this. Damaged, therefore desired.

This is something I get to do a lot of. Both travelling by auto and taking pictures. There was an exhibition recently, but honestly, it could have been better.

This is a dead frog. Just thought you might like to see one. I found it in this pretty place I went to recently.

This is one of my coolest acquisitions. I just got it. I love it.

Another aquisition. But relax. It's the soft copy.

More later.

2007-09-19T17:34:00.000+05:30

How long has it been, a century? See the bird on top? And see the shit below? Crapitude, such crapitude. Sorry about that. Life's just been a bit of a blur of late. But I'm getting used to it. Heck, I think I've even gotten to like it more or less. My room, my looser pants, my private space amidst the chaos - it's all cool. There's been enough drama going around me to keep me entertained, including some very dirty test scores and well, general weirdness, shall we call it? Men, just for the record, are strange things. Very, very strange things. But infinitely entertaining. Life would be terribly boring without them.
I've been sketching and doodling a whole lot since I got here. It keeps me happy. I'm working on a comic book. The lab has a scanner - maybe I'll upload some stuff later on.
I've been missing Xavier's a bit of late. For some reason, not room no. 19, but a drab little B.ed room on the 4th floor. I'd kill for a class with Bertie. Shit, I didn't realise what luxury I was in till I got here. I'll get out of this place and spend and entire year doing nothing but reading, watching movies, travelling, drawing and perhaps writing. Well, maybe not immediately - but two years from now perhaps.
Anyway, a trip is planned for September. Just a whole bunch of us in deep, deep nature without phones, laptops and all of that. Nice.
Oh and happy birthday Ma - my first 20th away from you.

2007-08-25T17:19:00.000+05:30

What we have here... is a failure to communicate.

2007-08-19T14:43:00.000+05:30

Ok really. It's not that bad. "Such angst". Haha. It's cool. It's all cool.

I-day

2007-08-14T16:55:00.000+05:30

I-day asche. Ki kori? Bangla-te likhi?
At the convocation thing for the batch of 2007, we had this guy who came up on stage and told us how we were completely disconnected from our roots, our language, our culture and yadayada. You know how it is. We're also told everyday, how hard our parents have worked to send us to this fan-fucking-tastic place and and how many sacrifices they’ve had to make to ensure that we get quality education. We're also told constantly how unworthy we are of this place, of all this sacrifice and hard work, because all we do is eat, drink and make merry and blow money like fucking tissue paper.

Right. I understand, how we're easy targets. Yes, we are a priviledged lot. 90% of our tuition fees are indeed funded by our parents. 80% of us have never worked before. We've had things easy. We've never had to struggle. We're complacent and smug. We have that dreaded "attitude" thing. We talk in English most of the time and we like wearing strange clothes. So yes. Please feel free to direct all your old-age and mid-life crisis angst at us - the soft, happy-go-lucky pampered princes and princesses of Generation X and Y.

Man. I've never come across a bigger bunch of upstarts in my entire life. You have "vision" the size of a fucking peephole. Yes, we need to know our language. We need to love our culture - not just know it with a gun against our heads. We need to travel across the country. We need to fix the problems that plague our country. We agree. And we will. But we will also talk in English. We will also wear strange clothes. We will also eat, drink and make merry. And that attitude will always remain like a fucking cream pie thrown at your face. We will take care of our families, our friends and our environment. And we will do it, not 'cause we have to, but because we love to. Stop making our responsibilities sound like some kind of Cysiphus' stone. And stop making poster children out of those who've had it rough. We all have our own problems. And we all have to learn how to deal with it.

So yes. We know very little about the Nation's struggle for independence. The generation that comes after will know even lesser. But we'll try not to hold it against them. They will, like we do, have to fight their own battles for freedom. The country had been freed 60 years ago. It's about time you freed your mind. Please, let us grow.

2007-08-05T02:37:00.000+05:30

I'm home for a bit. Like home-home (the real deal). It's nice. It's like I never left. It's afternoon. It's my room. And it's beautiful outside. I didn't realise what a cool home I have up until now. I've always been a little hostile towards this place - but it's a part of me now. I like it when it's bumming around in its shorts like me - and not all dressed up for the people. The bulletin board in front of me has The Telegraph cut outs of Bertie in his beret and the Herbie Hancock-Wayne Shorter jazz pass. It's a little bare - but still - it's mine. I know tomorrow, when I leave - and settle in once more into the Pune room, it'll also be home. But for now, this is it.

The room, fortunately, looks lived in. The parents are looking happy. Dada's looking nice (for once, he's been waiting for me to come home!). Oh and shit, the food's good. I missed the food. I missed the peace.

I can't hear myself think in Pune. Which would explain the infrequent blogging. But as soon as I stepped out from that world, there was a definite "ting" at the back of my head. Right now, I can't write funny, but I can think funny. I can people watch without being vitriolic or harsh. And that's a start.

Shit, maybe it was just Fear and Loathing, but I was going mad at the airport. Every person or thing that caught my eye, turned ridiculous - like when you're stoned out of your skull and the walls walk and shit like that. There was the American with the onion rings and snake neck, the Gujju uncle with the triple chin and cool phone, the over-priced chicken cutlet in front of me (which wasn't the kind of chicken that required a fork and a knife), the thin planes that looked like condoms taking off- shit - I was cracking up inside. I promised myself, next time I get on a plane - I will load up, true and proper, so that the entire experience of waiting and waiting and waiting some more, gets a little funner. So far, the self-induced mind numbing process has been highly successful - and the induction (?) always takes place with coming back to life blasting through my laptop speakers. Such is life.

Anyway, guess what? Nofunjokes is blocked on the college network, because it apparently has pornographic content. Hmm...Imagine that flashing onto a fucking 21 inch screen as the professor walks by.
Anyway - some killers from U and I forget who -

"Why did the Tamilian not have more than 239 peas?
Because after that it would just become two-farty."

"What would you a name a famous piece of fart?
After the Last Supper"

"Why was the egg really sad?
You would be too if you got laid only once" (I lurve this one :D )

And so it goes. Oh, I went to Lonavala last Thursday. We didn't do much, other than get wet and eat - but it was nice anyway. Met a fun couple who sold expensive food and a concept called a little art cafe in the middle of nowhere. It was nice in an elitist, pretentious kind of way.

Dang. I'm just writing too much now. Anyway, just so that you know - Happiness is a warm Wada Pao. It should probably be "Vada" - but dublew looks nicer.

2007-07-22T19:45:00.000+05:30

Shit. Tomorrow is D-day.
Had our freshers on the 18th. Ah, god bless alcohol. Bless bless bless. I'm such a nicer person when I'm wasted - seriously. My Leg!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-07-16T16:14:00.000+05:30

yay. wifi.

2007-07-13T13:27:00.000+05:30

yeah - that's us. Udaya's missing. Nicole, Chippy, Shagufta, Nidhi, Sudu and Dala.

2007-07-07T19:12:00.000+05:30

Yeah. So that was hormonal or what. Like that shit book said. I'm ok, you're ok. The past week has been semi eventful. I was in my maiden major motor accident. The auto flipped (haha) and I have a subsiding head bruise. But shit happens. It happens to the best of us.
I still hate a lot of things about this place, but nothing surprises me anymore. I'm listening to Change (Blind Melon, thank you for existing once upon a moon), and also the Damien Rice version of Creep (which by the way, fucked up and started playing really loud in the comp lab and freaked everyone out - only he says so "very" special - and I'm glad - and I don't care if it's a little gay). Also a semi-object of interest is sitting right behind me, who, (like all men inevitibly end up thinking) probably thinks I'm creep and a weirdo. But I think so do all the seniors. Man, so much has happened - I don't know what to write and what to edit out. Bullet points

Shit
shit
shit
shit
hot photoshop teacher
cool camera teacher
hostel/ room
Dala, Shagufta, Nidhi, Udaya, Nicole
SUP-remely retarded seniors
Graphic novels, comics, movies, books, music, people with similar taste
the concept of Vee
Freedom
Loss of it
Vegetarian food - vada pao, mishti cha in the rain shack, a phuchka wala from Cal

And then some. God, I dunno. Anyway, will be back. Hopefully in one piece.

P.S.> I've been promised a bike ride back home :)

Up the shit creek without a paddle

2007-06-29T19:45:00.000+05:30

Right then. The comp refuses to get wi-fied. Maybe it hates this place as much as I do. Two weeks, right? Yeah. Hate it. And tomorrow will be the final nail in the coffin. I like the hostel. I like some people. But it's the work that depresses me most. I remember reading Leo's blogpost and thinking, fuck man - I'm not getting into this. I'm not going to waste two years of my life kissing ass and doing general shit. I'll travel, I'll read, I'll shutterbug, paint - do whatever - but do what I like. And yesterday, while talking to Sud, I realised how I failed myself in every possible way. As a student, as a person - man, in every way, in every fucking way. I hate here. I hate now. And I don't particularly like myself. U said (U is not 'you', but a friend I made here) - you need the cynisism. You need to think 'the establishment' sucks and you need to poke yourself a lot, so that when you step out of this glass palace, you won't hurt easy. Maybe. But the very thought of spending the next two years of my life being miserable and alienated is slightly disconcerting. And I'm just not like that. I don't fight people, and I rebel rarely. Just give me my mindspace, and I'm a happy kid. I don't have any mindspace. I am not at all a happy kid.

I don't miss much funnily. I'm okay with being away from home and all that. But I'm really not okay with a shitload of disappointments. I need my fix of happiness man. I need to read the Telegraph in the morning and I need to surf through the net to search for useless Take That news. That's my fundamental ditzy right, right?

The other day we had a surprise birthday party in our room for N. Funny how the room has become everyone's hangout. Of course, entry is exclusive. But that night was kinda pro bono. Everyone came. It was fun till it got too much - and some people posed at me with cell phone cameras and asked me to play guitar. Nighmarish. And I do believe there was hip hop in the dark. And also some uninvited creepoids. Then I ran to U's room. A little later ever N was there - while the others kept at it. Weird. We all know they came for the cake. Heh. Anyway. We need shit like this once in a while. It's morbid here. Seriously morbid.

2007-06-23T20:29:00.000+05:30

Man. I can't blog. I don't like blogging from the comp lab. I will as soon as I get the wi-fi thingie. Shit. This sucks. I'm in major bitch mode.

2007-06-11T23:51:00.001+05:30

A city should always be like a city. I haven't done much in Bombay this time 'round. Just sat around at the guest house, read a bit, took random photographs and washed clothes.

It isn't too bad. I just need to keep myself distracted from all kinds of going-away blues, which, touchwood, hasn't hit me THAT hard yet.

I walked down to Subway today (because it was the closest and the healthiest) and ordered some shit- thought I'd have a nice quiet afternoon lunch, doodle, read - but - space in Bombay, as the urban legend goes, is indeed a luxury. Jam packed at 1.30. So I ordered with a Gargantuan effort, quietly slunk back into the room and read Archies and the 4th chapter of Fight Club. Also doodled and read an uber pretentious art magazine.

This sad little doodle of mine, under the philistine patronage of some rich fuck, could fetch me a lot. And I mean, a LOT.

Money is no fun without taste. I quite like the rich. As long as they're not stupid about it. I am such a snob about these things.

Anyway, I have nothing much to say. I mean I do, but don't feel like it at the moment. So this may be edited later. So yeah, later.

2007-06-10T20:48:00.000+05:30

Aaaaaand I finally see it. Preeta, it IS addictive! See Vautch section. And the dude who says "well what do you expect? They're Canadian", looks like S. Yes he does you UF.

2007-06-09T22:55:00.000+05:30

I can't blog. This isn't home. This isn't my computer. It feels weird. Ma leaves tomorrow, and although I don't feel anything significant at the moment, I know it's gonna suck. I am hopelessly in love with my parents, no matter how disfunctional it gets sometimes. I have a new room. It's kinda cool, with a proper bathroom and everything (that's all that matters anyway) and the campus is quite shiny and brand new. It's too early to call it pretentious, but seems awright for the time being. The hostel (yes, it's the hostel), is quite a jailhouse - it's not the "party animal" (haha) in me that's complaining - but fuck man - I'm fucking 21 - whatever happened to choices? I had a smoother life when I was a kid fresh out of school, I tellya. People don't believe I'm a graduate (well, I'm not so sure about that myself), they're EXtremely skeptical about the driver's L, and all the "aunties and uncles" I meet here, good naturedly ask me, "Ma-ke bina reh paoge?" Not just Ma, man. Baba, Dada, Calcutta, everything. Lots of Bongs (as in Bengalis) here though. Damn, and I thought I'd cuss all the time in Bong and get away with it. My brother insists I improve my Hindi. It's an ok Hindi, but not particularly robust. I think it's the way I say "bhaiya". Like I'm 10 or something. I tried sounding older, but ended up sounding rather slutty. I'm more convincing as a 10 year old I think.
Ma and Baba desperately want to believe I'll become thin here. Fat chance (I kill me - sheesh). Dada thinks I'll positively die in a scooty accident. Preeta thinks I'll find some hot fellow to fuck around with (what? In that jailhouse hostel? Kinky?) and that kind of rubbish, Guds thinks I'll become a sleep-deprived freak, who has to study all the time and has dark circles under her eyes. This dude I met recently says (from experience) that I'll get fat(ter still?) and Sudu thinks we'll have secret literature classes at night or on every Thursday in our rooms.
I was just wondering whether I could manage to smoke up in that terrace place without getting caught. I've already started being uber-friendly with the guards, but they seems like freakishly honest people so far. *sigh* Where's corruption when you need it?
Anyway, am in Bombay now. Bombay buddies (like a sequel to "boys"), we should meet and have beer, otherwise what good are you? Hehe. Will call to bother.

2007-06-06T00:34:00.001+05:30

Okay. I have just got to stop deleting posts. Actually, I have to stop writing crappy ones. I dunno. I'm just a little confused and angry. So don't mind me.
I'm looking for the right song to listen to as I type this, because that'll determine a lot of it. I decided on Mardy Bum, because I kept listening to it over and over again on the Volvo bus on my way back from Pune to Bombay. I dunno why I write 'Pune', because I always say 'Poona'. Anyway, that's where I'm going come 7th and am going to stay there for a bit, so goodbye and all that. Distance never has anything to do with keeping in touch. Either you keep in touch, or you don't. Simple as that.
I had a pretty cool day today, considering I hate shopping and everything. Especially in the heat. But I had good company and I really felt like hanging with P and G. So yeah, it was fun. I don't know what the fuck I bought, but yeah, it was cool.
There were just so many people I had to meet. There were so many things I needed to do. Then I thought. What. The. Fuck. I'm the one that's leaving. If you care, call. If you don't, don't. It doesn't change a thing. I wish I could spend tomorrow at some kind of spa, getting a pedicure and a massage - but I'll be busy fixing a broken tooth and visiting this doctorwoman who's amazed at how much weight I put on everytime I visit. Shit happens.
I also wish I could spend time at home, bumming around in my shorts, FINALLY watching 'The Departed' cd which I bought today with my clothes money, but nooo. Man, I dunno. I loved those movie afternoons. When I used to come home early from those extra classes, had the entire noon to roll a joint and watch cool movies. Then the bell would ring, and the house would not be empty anymore, and the smoke fumes would more or less disappear. Ennui, but it was all good. I liked feeling that way. Unhurried, unoccupied and comfortably numb. All this is vaguely disturbing. I hate being rushed.
I love Cal, I truly do. It was a good 21 years. It'll never be the same, but in the words of the great Man, "duh". Well obviously.
I can't do a Wonder Years thing. Yeah, it was great. And I have no fucking idea what comes next.
Signing off from Cal,
Loony.

2007-06-01T13:10:00.001+05:30

The Mafia has something to do with it, I tellya. The twin disappearences of Arun da and the Green Benches cannot be mere co-incidence. Read the covered up, Omerta'd version here.
I have a whole lot of dispeptic memories of the canteen, so I will side-step that issue, I hope you understand. Arun-da though, was quite a character, and I wish the Don all the best - your still, staring eyes have made me fumble with coffee change several times, just so that you know.
The Green Benches, were never quite off limits for us. I mean, it was, but no-one cared. ID cards have been snatched (mine a record 3 times) by a certain egg-headed "gentleman".
Lessee - how the Green Benches featured in our lives -

Classes bunked - double check

Major bitching sessions/adda - check

Impromptu guitar jams - check

Incorrigible flirting/bird-watching - check

Back/Head Massages - check

Studying - never

Shelter from the storm - check

Film-club plans - check

Reading books/ listening to music - check

Ice-cream begging - check

Birthday cake cutting - check

Photography sessions - check

Cat chasing - check

Photographic evidence -

Puppy-Jhinuk - undoubtedly responsible for some of the" incorrigible flirting".

Johnny and Troy. It's a cross between music and bitching, I'm certain.

Sunetro - Suckers, they fell for my charm! Muahahaha. Ze ize-creme iz mine!
Sud - Hehe. Who paid?
Preeta - Aaa? Huh? Paid? For what?
Me - I think I said it's on us. But I don't think I have any money.
Sud-Preeta - Neither do we. Shall we make a move then?
Preeta - Sunetro, baba, ashlam re - class ache.
Sunetro - Muahahaha...huh?

Ooh. Intellectual and all! Eh, take the picture men. Aar pose korte parchi na.

Preeta - Ah. Ki lagche.

Sud - Kake?

Preeta - Amake.

Sud - Haffy Vudday Shorteeee! (Shit, I hope my cake doesn't poison her. Then she'll die on her birthday. Ooh.)
Paroj - smile smile (kaaat na re babah. I want cake).
Trina - yay! (What am I clapping for again? Seriously, I can't think with my hat)
Me - Thang Keu thangkeu (Shit someone's taking a picture. doublechindoublechin. Oh Shit).

Dropthecakedropthecakedropthecake. Yesss! These humans are too easy.

2007-05-30T02:02:00.000+05:30

I'm a little kicked right now, and I'm not too sure why, but I think it's got something to do with blowing all that money at Oxford. Or maybe it's because I met P, and we walked to college, did the back-gate stuff and reminisced and bitched. The gate guy saw me snapping the demolished green benches, and furtively shut the gate. We bitched some more, had shikanji at Delights and smoked, before Ma suddenly appeared out of nowhere and we dropped the cigarette phat and looked all deer in the lightsish, but somehow managed to escape unscathed - you know, parents, denial, and all that jazz. The Delights guy was all like, aap log aur kyon nahin aten, and I felt so happy that he remembered us as regulars that I said through a curtain of teeth, oh, hum logo ka college ho gaya, although, it wasn't a particularly happy thought. Shit, college is over.

Hmm. Anyway. I realise we've been saying "Dude" a lot these days. And it's funny, because when we started it, it was in a very playful, snobbish manner - because c'mon, "Dude" just sounds so wannabe. It's like saying "Take a chill pill" or "babes" or something. But then, we say "chill" a lot too. In fact, any conversation under the sun, would inevitably include a sentence like this one: "Like, seriously dude, you need to like, chill man". Yeah, weird - more so, because it implies that someone or the other is always "freaking out". It's true enough though. Someone always usually is.
Heh. It's like Shakespeare classes all over again - if you're laughing, you are essentially laughing at yourself. Whattosay. We get carried away with everything. Like the Hindi thing. Every-fucking-one would speak in really bad Hindi. Bong-Hindi-Hindi. And we still fucking do it. Damn it. Ney-heeeeee!! Or the adding a "the" before everything. Or doing the Gopalan Mullick talk. "Like, short of, what you say, and all that". Gawd.
The entire ape connection makes so much more sense now. Anyway. Whatever it was, it was. It was like, college, dude. Like, chill and all [note to self, not you]. I wonder though, what next? It's not quite this though, is it?

2007-05-28T01:04:00.000+05:30

Ladies and Germs, presenting Couchsurfing. Go jump.

2007-05-27T02:46:00.001+05:30

I know what it amounts to, all this. Ulcers and spectacularly bad poetry. But I think I'll live.

Mersault recollected what his mother told him when he was in prison - something like, if you are forced to live inside a hollow tree trunk, you'll hate it at first, but eventually get used it.

"I often thought in those days that even if I'd been made to live in a hollow tree trunk, with nothing to do but look up at the bit of sky overhead, I'd gradually have got used to it. I'd have looked forward to seeing birds fly past or clouds run together just as here I looked forward to seeing my lawyer's curious ties and just as, in another world, I used to wait for Saturdays to embrace Marie's body".

Yes, well.

Guess who broke down?

2007-05-26T17:50:00.001+05:30

I like lights out by 8. I like it when you're driving down an unknown hilly road and you switch off the headlights and see nothing but darkness. I like getting wet in the rain and listening to thunder. I like it when the phone doesn't work, and I like it when I can sleep like a baby at 11. I like being caught in a storm in the middle of a lightless night with nowhere to go. Most of all, I think, I like being alone.

Because when I come home, I come home to an empty house - and funnily it doesn't matter. And when I call someone I find the phone busy or just have hasty, disinterested conversations.

And when I'm alone, I can think of the wonderful things I'm going to say. When I'm alone I can dream effortlessly. Because when it comes to meeting or talking, time keeps giving us the slip or you . So when I don't meet or talk, maybe it's because I love you. Ok?

2007-05-25T21:49:00.001+05:30

Fuck me, I'm a bit Philistine, ok? But I still love the travel. To the hilt.

2007-05-22T13:16:00.001+05:30

I am extremely depressed about the camera. It's acting up right before the trip. Anyway. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed.
I'll be leaving tomorrow, early morning. I finally have accomodation, but am still quite clueless about the concert. I wish there were more people, you know, kinda like KGP '05. But issokay. I think the "f-buddy" and I will do fine. Heehee.

2007-05-21T03:02:00.001+05:30

I saw Metro last evening, and it was fun. The Konkona-Irfaan story was, well, mine. Hehe. I could get by with just one or two positive people around me. As a family, well, we're close, but we all have our issues. We function in a semi-disfunctional way, as most families do, I guess. But sometimes I miss the positivity. I think the Grandparents had something to do with it. As long as they were around, hale and hearty, life was simpler. For both my parents and us. Now we're all kind of grown up, and not really old - and have too many things to do at the same time. It's really like a prolonged adolosence. I can't quite explain it.
My friends are all a bit like me, I suppose. Exasperating, confused, moody and rebellious. Some are calm. Some are spitfire. Some just don't know. We're all close, but all a little isolated at the same time. That's how it is at this age I suppose. These are just the girls. The boys, well, I don't know. They've all had a kinda vague influence on my life. There are no Will and Grace or Harry-Sally kind of friendships, you know - not pretty enough to be a girlfriend, nor warm enough to be a good friend. Yeah... I am kind of distant with the guys, barring maybe one or two. I just run out of things to say after a while and they're not interested enough to keep me interested, you know? But we get along, in this vague superficial manner. And I guess no-one really cares.

It's easy to feel isolated in the city, I guess. And after a while, you're okay with it. I hate any kind of interference with my space. Everyone has space issues. But you don't know what to do when you have too much of it.

I think we should all get a dog. Or that Honda Robot dude. Asimo? Humans just don't cut it anymore.

2007-05-20T00:05:00.003+05:30

What do I like about my new haircut?
Nothing.
What do I hate about my new haircut?
Everything.
Who looks like a fat wannabe Zeta Jones with mop hair from Chicago?
Me. Me. Me.

2007-05-19T17:39:00.001+05:30

Total number of books owned
I'm not sure. Quite a few between the four of us.

Last book(s) I bought
The Outsider, The Grapes of Wrath

Book(s) I'm currently reading
The Second Sex, Grapes of Wrath, Heart of the Matter

Five books that I have really enjoyed or have influenced me
Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mocking Bird, On the Road, The Collected Stories of Roald Dahl, Of Mice and Men (also - The Great Gatsby, Blues for a Black Cat, Nine Stories, The Sound and the Fury, The Old Man and the Sea, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest)

Books I plan to buy next
Fight Club - Chuck Palahnuik, Slaughter House Five - Kurt Vonnegut, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson, Tortilla Flats - John Steinbeck, One of those cool coffee table books with loads of pictures - either about films, retro music or art down the ages.

Books that caught my attention but have never read
Dharma Bums, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, a lot of stuff by Vonnegut, Hemmingway and Capote, Terry Prachett's Discworld series - there's a lot I need to read.

Books I own but have never got around to reading
Catch-22, Love in the Time of Cholera, The Bridge Across Forever, Women in Love - and a whole lot more actually.

I pass this onto Sudu and Vatsala.

Now Seriously Sam

2007-05-19T01:21:00.001+05:30

This is not my Spidey. This is a deux ex machina parody. And better viewed in Bhojpuri.
Shit, it could have been so, so good. Guess this dude scores for the time being. And they shouldn't have done what they did to him. *sigh* The world is full of disappointments.

2007-05-18T14:48:00.000+05:30

Wow. Camera, is hard work. I have aches all over my body and was pretty close to hysteria yesterday after 2 and half hours of sleep and standing on my feet for over12 hours in stifling heat. Yet. I had fun. I was far from satisfied with my work, but I was proud of all our efforts. Now I know why the place insists on Yoga (my degree college will henceforth be referred to as, the place). You need patience. Loads and loads of it. Hats off to film-makers, actors, camerapersons and the rest of it. It's fucking hard work.

Anyway. After the shoot (I know I speak of it like everyone knows, but now you do), I came back home dog tired and watched Manhattan on Tv. I saw everything in terms of left pan, tilt, track, zoom and continuity. But Woody Allen being Woody Allen made me feel all fucked and fantastic. Neurosis and New York. I had to love it.

Mary Wilke: Don't psychoanalyze me. I pay a doctor for that.

Isaac Davis: Hey, you call that guy that you talk to a doctor? I mean, you don't get suspicious when your analyst calls you at home at three in the morning and weeps into the telephone?

Mary Wilke: All right, so he's unorthodox. He's a highly qualified doctor.

Isaac Davis: He's done a great job on you, y'know. Your self esteem is like a notch below Kafka's

Man. There's so much to read. So much to watch. Speaking of. I will take up Srin's tag in the next post.

2007-05-16T00:59:00.000+05:30

Driving past college today felt so weird. Like it was just another building on Park Street. I half thought of strolling in, but it's not the same. I already feel like a bit of a stranger in there. Too many new faces. But the library man has my library card. Which doesn't really matter, but I'm sentimental about these things. Oh well. I'll grant him my card. He was after all, exceptionally nice to me all these years, not fining me even once for returning books so late.
I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have chosen films over literature. I should have been a struggling writer, writing trashy Mills and Boon novels under anonymous names like Ellora Thunderbolt. I'd be perfectly happy with that. I'd be happy with that and also be happy with making gorom gorom rutis and taking the dogs for a walk. I'd be 'that woman with the dogs', whose specific role in society would always be a bit of a question mark.
There's nothing more I want to do now than waste a year. Preferably away from people I know. Incommunicado. I'm a little tired of questions, of expectations, of disapproving glances. Maybe I should get married to some stranger and move to some strange land where they speak a different language. And have lots of dogs. It's funny. I don't think I'll ever give up on the notion of being rescued by someone utterly different and wonderful. I wish I could force the damp squib in me to shut up for a while and let me dream and be silly for longer periods of time.

Anyway. I have a massive headache. I can't bear to look at the screen any longer.

Remember before...

2007-05-13T01:58:00.001+05:30

I got arty and took a lot of random cross-eyed pictures?

To the girl who always helped me keep it real, you are much missed :)

2007-05-12T03:01:00.000+05:30

Today, yesterday now, actually, was great fun. Operation Soo-doo Day, a great success, if I may say so myself. :D
I can understand how some non-Calcuttans can find Cal a tad boring. The culture-shmulture jazz is just too heady after a while, and if you're the party type, you aren't exactly spoilt for choice. Also, Cal is not the kind of place you go upto random strangers at a pub or a disco and hook up or whatever. A good group of friends is imperative for any kind of activity here. And Cal is a small place. Nearly everyone knows everyone (or chooses to). However, if you are a bit, uh, socially challenged, just dress really shabbily, put on a pair of glasses, carry the dirtiest possible jhola, wear loose chappals and hang out in college street, boi para and all that jazz, and pretend to be an intellectual. You see, intellectuals are so smart, they don't really need company. Of course, that's all bullshit, and the above described individual doesn't have to possess an ounce of intelligence, but that's how it usually works- you dress that way, you're branded an antel. And if you are an antel, a little bit of solitude and eccentricity is your birthright. Anyway, I digress. Like I was saying, you can run out of things to do here, after a while. Even with a good group of friends.
But, here's the thing about most Calcuttans. We like things the way they are. Too many changes disturbs the average joe Bong. And for heaven's sake don't disturb the average joe Bong. An uprising in a distant village, never heard of before, can shake the Bongs out of their peaceful slumber and motivate them into... a standstill - in other words, we have a lot of bandhs. We just stop everything and get even averager and Joe-er. There are a bunch of idealists (sometimes antels - the ones mentioned before, sometimes just local goondas) who get a little excited and write a street play or just break a couple of car windows, or blog or have a session of adda (which in plain English means bitching).
So we, a bunch of schizophrenic Bongs, struggling between revolutions and the comfort of tried and tested ways, do indulge in the latter, on a day like today. That was a round-about way of saying, we all went to Nicco Park today (which has, I think added 3 more rides ever since it opened, what, 14-15 years ago? ) and we REALLY had fun. Hehe. Don't you just hate me for making you read so much?

2007-05-09T22:11:00.001+05:30

I'm 21. I spend 85% of the day playing Spider Solitaire. I've plunged into uber-reclusive hell.

2007-05-08T01:16:00.000+05:30

These Scots I tellya. They are the coolest. And undoubtedly the machoest. It takes guts to wear one of these, especially if you're strictly following tradition (that optional underwear thing always fascinated me...I mean, it does get cold in Scotland).
A wonderful lot, with their whiskey, kilts, bagpipes, Burns and that killer accent of course. Yeah, so they're a little conservative with money, but that's a good thing, eventually, right?
Anyway, love them... even if all my perceptions are generalised ones, and as is with me, thoroughly conditioned by popular culture.

And of course, if a certain Scotsman does happen to ride a bike and look like this -
well...you'd understand, surely.The reason why Ewan Mcgreor scores above the Jude Law types, is because he's a little rough 'round the edges, you know? Like the Rent boy thing won't leave him. And he wears his Scotsman pride on his sleeve. Which is always a good thing. Long Way Round has been a bit of a Godsend really. Bikes, crazy routes, reality tv, Ewan fucking Mcgregor. Oh yeah. I'm a happy kid.
God, never shave.

2007-05-04T19:48:00.000+05:30

Well, that's it then. Exams are officially over. And this is the time I've dreamed about ever since I was, what, 10? Although, back then, the mental picture was deceptively utopian: I had a vision of myself in the near future, as this slick type of character in black leather (don't ask, it was 1996) with the most fabulous body and fabulous everything else, well on her way to becoming Mrs. Rahul Dravid (again, it was 1996).
One thing's remained though. I was equally unambitious then, maybe even more so, lulled into security by comfortable test scores and easy living. All I ever wanted to be was an artist (as in, a painter), which was a notch above the previous ambition of becoming a washerwoman (I was fascinated by clothes being washed - something dreamily delicious about it). But then, hormones happened. Computers happened. I thought I'd be some kind of a computer engineer, because that's what smart people were doing all of a sudden. This was the pre-math disillusionment stage. Then of course, algebra and geometry happened, and all kinds of crazy ambitions were immediately shelved. In between, I went through a "I want to act phase". So there were a couple of banal workshops and dreary roles, my spirits not particularly helped by the fact that all the puppy fat of yore, suddenly seemed to have taken on wild dog proportions. Try and imagine a massive adoloscent girl wearing shiny yellow pants, a cherry red shirt, a pair of wings and a beak on top of her head. Yes, me. So I stumbled and stuttered through that excruciatingly long phase and ended up becoming one of those "nice quiet girls" who don't really exist, but somehow seem to have found a place for themselves in the classroom register. Of course, there were the usual indoor comforts - books, TV, food and little else . College just happened, and I'm kind of glad that it did, because it brought me back to my little girl dreams. Other than a brief, and equally ridiculous repetition of the actor phase (this time a notch lower than the aviary sect - I was a fly. A twenty year old fly, with wings and the works. Sheesh) - I felt pretty happy. I was reading, writing, travelling - and enjoying a strange, albeit limited, kind of freedom. Literature didn't teach me to become a writer, or a philosopher or a journalist or a teacher or whatever. On the contrary, I realised how little I actually know, about books, about life and most importantly, myself. It made me see myself, exactly as I was. Not a brilliant A-grade sort, and not the bleak little wallflower I had allowed myself to believe I was, either. I could be an artist, and not just the painter-actor sort. Heck, I don't even know for sure what sort. But somewhere there, I see a way. It's unaffected by your words, it's unaffected by test results, it's unaffected by the fantastic lives of other fabulous people. It isn't quite the leather-girl-potential-mrs-dravid picture. But it's somehow, more exciting. But shit, it would be good to have leather girl's body. Shame.
P.S.> There was a 'rock-chick' phase as well. The less said about it, the better.

2007-05-03T18:20:00.000+05:30

So, where will I stay in Shillong? I'm going, spanking psychedellic in my London Hippie avatar, of course, to the Dylan Fest on the 24th. *clapclapclapclapclap*
But, I have no place to stay, no train reservations and absolutely no spiritual light intensifying flying substances (s.p.l.i.f.f.s.).
Oh well. I'll figure it out. I will make ze desi woodstock dream, happen.
And on that dramatic note, I have my EVS exam tomorrow, which is not particularly dramatic, bit I am sincerely concerned about Global Warming. Do switch off your cell phone chargers when you're not using them, willya? Go on, do your bit you lazy bastards.

2007-05-02T00:57:00.000+05:30

Okay, this is completely against ethics and all that jazz (no permission sought), but I'm guessing half the world reads eM's blog, so I'm not going to feel too bad about putting up this link.

Read. It's a blog post that I still think of from time to time - and that's kind of rare. The gentleman in question is an excellent roller of joints and gut wrenchingly hates sub-urban Bombay. Also a pretty brilliant writer, but I'll leave that for you to judge.

2007-05-01T01:35:00.000+05:30

I feel less worried about copyright matters right now with this template.
Finished the honours papers. I feel quite sad though, looking at my books, all the photocopied notes and notebooks with hasty scribbles. I'll miss literature. Unless... well. I dunno. And as the picture clearly suggests - this is what I need. Haircut and goodbye to the caterpillar brows.

on second thought, the picture was scaring me too much. Not something I want to look at everytime I log in!

2007-04-29T12:48:00.000+05:30

Yeah, so I have a very dissatisfactory template, which I promise to change later on. But, I just had to see some kind of change. Watch this space. Check out the listening to section.

Yes, me too.

2007-04-27T18:18:00.000+05:30

I was actually quite happy about filling this out. Purpose, finally.

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:
A very deep and prominent one on the left middle finger. I was, ahem, sharpening a pencil, with a pocket knife and things went out of control. Oh well.

2. What is on the walls in your room?
Oh lots of stuff - Paint, lights, pictures, calendar, bulletin board with the usual shit.

3. What does your phone look like?
A little abused actually. I keep dropping it. A lot.

4. What music do you listen to?
Whatever drifts into my ears. They usually play Himesh outside my building all the time. Also on the radio. Given a choice though, I like listening to a lot of retro and mood dependent stuff.

5. What is your current desktop picture?
A very moody picture of Kurt Cobain. Very 90s I know.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Sleep.

7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Sure. What’s there not to believe?

8. What time were you born?
2.53 a.m.

9. Are your parents still together?
Yeah, knock on wood. They’re good for each other.

10. What are you listening to?
‘Fake Pallindromes’, Ma doing Pujo, rumbling clouds.

12. The last person to make you cry?
Calcutta University – person(s) running, controlling, populating.

13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
I really like that Gillette Pacific Blue Aftershave smell, Fahrenheit, after rain smells, the way Ma, Baba and Dada smell- Clean, bathed and cool, kerosene, fresh paint, bel phool, cuticura powder, orange peels, freshly cut grass. Yeah, smells are important.

14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
Oh anything. As long as it’s natural, and not Zee horror show-ish.

15. Do you like pain killers?
I need. I don’t like. Or not-like. I just need.

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Not if he's stuck inside a storm drain or something, no. I'd help, encourage - do all of the baywatch stuff, I would. I truly would.

17. Fave pizza topping?
Pineapple.

18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Chocolate. More like, Cadbury Crackle. Do they still have Crackle? In that yellow-purple wrapper? I have a Crackle craving.

19. Who was the last person you made mad?
I don’t know whom I made mad…all seem to display certain amounts of insanity. I dunno if it was me, or if they were like that to begin with. Fuck knows.

20. Is anyone in love with you?
Oh, the entire world daahlings, the entire world. I'm irresistable.

I tag Sudu, Preeta (who's too lazy, I know), Srin (who may have already done this before) and anyone who wants to do this, actually,

kiss and tell

2007-04-26T17:53:00.000+05:30

I was watching Breakfast at Tiffany's today (again, yes) and besides being one of those movies I'll never get tired of watching, it's also got one of the best Hollywood kisses at the end. You know, in the rain, with Cat in the middle. Also, I was wondering all these days who A looks like - and I figured, if you photoshop him a bit (ok a lot), he'll look like George Peppard (Paul - Fred baby - Varjak). But Daaah-ling, never mind. I'm the hysterical kind of happy a person becomes after a disastrous exam and an overdose of uber-romantic films. Also, there's a storm outside - and storms always make me happy.
Here's my list of favourite kisses - and yes, they're all corny and tasteless - like all good Rom Coms should be:

Holly Golightly and Fredy Baby (with Cat) in Breakfast at Tiffany's
Scarlett and Rhett Butler - Gone with the Wind (the mad one, at the foot of the stairs)
Brick and Maggie - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (that last scene y'know - "shut the door Maggie" - oh shit)
Bridget Jones and Mark Darcy (the thong-snow kiss) - Bridget Jones' Diary
Jerry Maguire and Dorothy Boyd - Jerry Maguire (That kiss in the porch - where he goes "oops' and accidentally tears the straps of her dress. You know... before Tom Cruise lost it, and had that entire mid-life crisis thing, he had always been a bit of a benchmark for 'hot'. Even before Brad Pitt and other pretty boys happened - there was Mr. Cruise - in all his Cocktail glory)
Dr. William and Alice Harford (Tom and Nicole *sigh*) - Eyes Wide Shut (please - Baby did a bad bad thing and all the mirror-making-out didn't mindfuck you?)
Ok I forget their names but - Mel Gibson and Goldie Hawn - Bird on a Wire ( it's not a particularly memorable film, but there was that one kiss, where he went "shut up" and wham. I'm pathetic, I know. But *sigh*)
Richard Gere and Julia Roberts - Pretty Woman (well obviously duh)
Hugh Grant (what's a Romcom without him? Although I liked him best in About a Boy) and Julia Roberts - Notting Hill (it was coming you know. Gleep. It's not even funny how many times, how many fucking times, I've seen this hugely predictable movie)

Ok I should stop! But feel free to add your favourites - I don't believe for a minute you don't watch the soppy stuff.

2007-04-25T21:32:00.000+05:30

It's the fork and knife existence that just gets to me sometimes. Just lying there, on the table, prosaic and stark, completely at home with the bread crumbs and slowly spoiling milk.

Sometimes when you're sitting alone at a table, aimlessly spinning a pencil or a paper weight, imagine a soft, sad and slow music playing in the background. Imagine a camera zooming in on your eyes, slowing its shutter-speed and capturing blurry blinks in mellow light. Imagine it tracing your lips, capturing inadvertent nervous tics. You know, just. What have you got to lose...you sexy little movie star you.

At four, I always hear the trains. Loud and clear, it's whistle shrieking shrilly through the morning air. And then the chugchugchug. And then the screeching brakes. And then again the chugchugchug. It doesn't bother me. Sometimes, I stay awake for it.

Try not to look at me with drama-queen eyes. I'm a real douche. And I'm okay really, with this sedate, brainless calm. I'd hate to rain on your parade. Go on. Rave and rant a little longer. It's almost fun... like a weird prickly sensation... like a foot gone to sleep.

Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still

I think I've done fairly well. Now lets go and burn some bridges.

2007-04-24T23:16:00.000+05:30

Who was it who said, "I'd rather live the American Novel than write it"? Veronica Lodge I think. Yeah me too, man. Calcutta! Thou shalt not be my Egdon Heath, so help me God.

No really, help!

2007-04-21T23:12:00.000+05:30

Yeah, okay. So I fixed the blog problem. Life still sucks though. Exams on the fucken 23rd in the same old hell hole as last time. Anyway, I'll stop complaining, shit happens, such is life. Yada yada. One last whine - I have so much left to dooooo! Dammit!
Okay done.
Right. I have nothing to say really. Life is unbelievably dull. I'm just pushing limits. I know I have to study, but you know - one more this, one more that. I play spider solitaire with such ferocity, that I've started dreaming about it. And I feel the tension pounding at my temples in my sleep when I can't get it right. Fuck, I'm so losing it.
I wrote a poem - (sorry, cannot translate it)

Amar akta goru.
Tomar akta goru.
Aktar nam Poteto, onno jon Tometo.
Dujonei shoman -
Kintu akta holo khoiri, akta holo lal:
Etai toh jeebon bapu, etai toh jeebon.

2007-04-20T23:18:00.000+05:30

I've fucked the template. I can't figure it out.

2007-04-19T17:54:00.000+05:30

I really didn't want to bring it up - but it's just such a terrible shame about VT. My brother graduated from VT in 2004, and we were all there in 2003. It's got one of the most beautiful campuses I've seen - we strolled around for what seems like hours, amidst maples, pines, duckponds and beautiful architecture. It was a 45 minute drive from a bed and breakfast in Roanoke - and Blacksburg was so quiet, so tame - not like the America you picture in your head when you're seventeen. But VT was like a little town in itself. A very pretty town at that, with students lying about on the grass with their books, laptops and music, very much like those university brochures you find in the libraries. It all seems too surreal to be true. Wish you well Hokies.

2007-04-19T02:28:00.000+05:30

oh shit it's 230 and i am looking for irish names on the internet and not studying and not bothered about using punctuation marks i love yeats and i love shaw and i am happy high with godonlyknowswhat ok bas

2007-04-17T18:00:00.000+05:30

How's that for "cute" jazz? Heh. I read this really funny comment about Jamie Cullum - "Jamie Cullum is to jazz, what Van Gogh was to art - he has no ear". Cheeky, but what do I care. I like the music and I sure as hell like the bloke. Late night television sucks. There's nothing on but C-grade Bengali films and the same news over and over again. The other night though, sometime around 2 or 3, I don't remember, I chanced upon The Kumars' at No. 42. I always found Kumars' a little dopey, not exactly funny, kind of cringe inducing - but watchable, especially when you're a bored insomniac. So Jamie Cullum was the guest, and well, he had that Billy Joe Armstrong thing going for him so I decided to watch. He studied literature and played jazz and laughed like a 5 year old. Not bad - I thought - and watched some more. And then there was a rather insipid Cybill Shepherd tasting pakoras and what not - but I stuck around - there was a mention of a live performance. And well, it was a song called Photograph.

I'm hooked. Check out Twenty Something as well on the Listening to section.

2007-04-15T00:06:00.000+05:30

Too many changes, too little time. I'm sick of farewells.

I have two caterpillars across my forehead. Two thick little eyebrows. Like a gawky adolescent. It's fascinating me a bit, so I'm keeping it for a while.

See? Like so thick. I look like a different person.

I was listening to The Doors after ages today. Indian Summer and Hyacinth House. It reminds me of Kalimpong. It was so much fun. Cards, treks, rafting, picnics, that addictive milk sweet thing.

Sheesh. I have totally transcended to Aunty stage. I even feel it. Although sometimes, if you ask me how old I am, I might just accidentally say 17. When I'm at home in my shorts and torn tees, reading Archie comics and twiddling my toes, I don't feel a day above that. And now with the eyebrows, heh, more so. But, man. I am OF age now. I can vote, drink anywhere in the world, work, marry, legally produce babies, drive, pay bills. That only.

*grumble*

2007-04-14T00:02:00.000+05:30

Freedom was a bus ride. An auto-ride. Messy hair. My camera, a cigarette and a new road.

Love was a metro ride, Toni Morrison and impulsive food.

Ok. This sounds pretentious.

But nonetheless, two important lessons learnt while in College.

Also rolling joints.

2007-04-13T00:07:00.000+05:30

pic courtesy: Prachi

It's difficult not to gush. But I think I've done my share at the gig. Grateful Dead, I expected. Neil Young (woohoo!) and Dylan had to be. B.B. King was a pleasant surprise as was Dave Matthews Band. But Tin Pan Alley kind of fucked you beyond repair. Oh shit. Oh double shit.

But I think the originals were what made this gig super-special. Guitar, poetry and a voice from Heaven. And you wonder why I'm a "helpless" sycophant?

For more - see Rama's blog and Vatsala's blog and Patrick's.

2007-04-11T23:13:00.000+05:30

I seriously need an anonymous blog.
And among other things, a terrible shame about Johnny Hart. We've known each other since like forever man.
"Man", just looks so lame when you write it, no? It's such a useful little word. Very versatile. Not as much as "fuck", but versatile enough. In a polite kind of way. Like in front of parents. I usually say a lot of things in front of my parents. But not "fuck". Even "bitch" is difficult. "Ass" is okay, but "asshole" isn't. I don't think I heard my father say "fuck" so openly and conversationally up until a few years ago. Ma, I can't even imagine. When she's really mad at someone, she'll say "capital Bee". Which could mean "bitch" or "bastard". Oh, I'm not too comfortable saying "bastard" either in front of them. "Shit" goes. It was kind of weird when I was 10, but I think they got over it. I think it was the weirdest when I said "prostitute" for the first time- not even "whore" or "slut" - just "prostitute". You know, while passing the Alipore Bridge. It just seemed funny, because they knew and I knew, but we all pretended like we didn't know. And I have a penchant for saying awkward things during awkward moments. So I said, "Yeah, what's the big deal? They're prostitutes". And it was a triumphant moment because I was twelve and my grandmother was sitting next to me and Ma gasped. Jeez, I could be so lame. Twelve year olds can be such pains. They should be totally banished and not allowed to return till they're seventeen or something. If they're like me, they should wait till they're about thirty.

You know that terrible phase, when everything you say is an innuendo? You just can't help it, and it just happens. Even a simple sentence seems loaded. And you laugh at just about everything. It just so happens that I like hard bananas. They're the only kind I can have. Can you imagine saying that to someone? Whattodo now. Or like when you call someone up and ask "Are you coming?" or when you say something like "She was getting off". I mean that simple. But you're just too far gone. It's not even funny. But I dare you not to laugh, when you actually say it or hear it. Innocently of course. I was watching the Tonight Show that day, and there was this guy who claimed he could make every single word sound like it had something to do with sex. And he opened a random page from the dictionary, and heh, it was actually quite funny.

Anyway. I'm just bored. I have to study really. It's just too hard I tell you.

....Aaaand he's back :)

2007-04-10T10:31:00.000+05:30

This is how the T2 article begins -

Bertram Da Silva - far better known as Bertie in St. Xavier's College and beyond - has put Blake on the backburner. He will be teaching poetry of a different kind: Dylan's poetry, and his own. The favourite professor of English is stepping off his dias at the head of the class and is making his much-awaited return to the musical stage, a journey that had started during his own days as a student, 27 years ago, at the same educational institution.

And this is how it ends:

Have you ever been lonely, Motorcar, I don't want to write this song and Moonlight lady are some of the originals that will be heard for the first time by students of this cryptic, sometimes caustic, yet always inspiring teaching.

They wouldn't miss it for the word.

It's a Thursday night comeback at the Princeton Club. And a good way to begin the morning I tell ya.

For more, read T2 (article's by Mohua Das and the picture I found via a random google search, and had a bit of a goldmine moment - for more see Ghoxe's Flickr album - who will probably kill me - because none of this is with his permission. But then there was no copyright, and I feel politically correct but morally insecure - so. )

Oh and this maybe interesting as well, for trivia buffs like me.
And this and this.

2007-04-08T15:30:00.000+05:30

Gawd, I feel abnormal today.

R.I.P. Miss Kapoor

2007-04-06T21:16:00.000+05:30

Aaargh. I'm mad. There was this kinda transvestitish hot looking guy on Kasautii (yes yes, we've been through this before - I vautch), and they've changed him! I'm like, mortified, crushed and so not watching it anymore. Ekta Kapoor has tried my patience a gazillion times, and I had always triumphed, dedicating my largely useless life to watching two, not one, but two, of her useless soaps - despite the plastic surgeries and the inane storylines and the migraine inducing editing (the infamous "double-take" really helped me understand the extention of time concept in FS, haha). And that is not all - I had to face all kinds of ridicule at home (especially from a sports&news type brother and father), had to make up all kinds of random excuses for intellectual friends who called me up precisely at 8.30 or 10.30 and I battled severe serial addiction when I was out of town and/or away from a television set. I'll make no excuses. I loved the dumb stuff. Except when you had some slutty, grating item number from some shitty K-movie that you made with your Balaji money - then I just changed the channel. But it was cool. I could deal wth all that. I could excuse all the stupid, unnecessary side actors (again flickety-flick) - as long as the main characters were all there - carrying the "story" forward. I could have my dinner in peace. BUT. This is Harakiri. You changed (not killed off, nono, that would give me more faith) the prodigal son of Prerna and Anurag? How DARE you? Stupid bitch. *sigh* - I finally succumb then - the last of the K-serial watchers. I give up. I give up. *doublesigh*

My very special visitor

2007-04-05T01:02:00.000+05:30

I know it looks like I'm trying to strangle her, but I assure you, we're on very good terms. This is my little Kochu, who came from far far away only to meet her Naughty Mashi. And I didn't have a camera :( (which explains very low res. cell pic)
A day very well spent. House smells all doggy and happy.

2007-04-04T01:15:00.000+05:30

Man. Where did all the time go?

2007-04-02T15:27:00.000+05:30

Fuck. I'm bored with booze. I'm bored with people into booze, drugs, sex and really bad poetry inspired by the city and Eliot. Seriously. I just look at you and zzzzzzzzzzz. I mean it's great and all that, that you know so fucking much about things of absolutely no fucking importance, but I wish you knew more. I just get so bored with people singularly interested in being non-conformist (conforming to non-comformity I call it) and being different, that it's difficult to talk to them about anything else beyond their sphere of understanding. It would be fun if you could really be as random as you pretended to be. And a little less condescending. A little more tolerant. A little more clear headed. A little more considerate. There's nothing more irritating or boring than wasted people. It's not cool. It's not amusing. It's stirs up no feeling of pity or sympathy. They're all so dull and grey and uninteresting and exasperating. I've had enough of them, really. Wannabe actors, activists and bohemian gypsy tarts with their fucking iPods and jholas and dirty hair - blrgh. Go get a brain that's yours. Retards.

2007-04-01T11:10:00.000+05:30

I seriously love pigs

2007-03-31T18:24:00.000+05:30

This one was truly made for Preeta Mallick. I think she will find Heaven here.

The story behind this picture....

2007-03-31T00:04:00.000+05:30

Is rather funny. No, no, don't worry. It's got nothing to do with Ronan Keating or a rekindled love for *ugh* boybands (there can wunly be wunn!) - but something to do with a crazy, crazy uh - occurance. This may seem a little exclusive - but for the benefit of those who know the occurance - the resemblance that this picture bears to the circumstances in question - is uncanny. Shite. The tease.

2007-03-29T23:51:00.000+05:30

When all the casualties of love have packed their bags and left, and all you see is an empty home and an unmade bed, don’t look back in anger – or in pity or in pain.

It's a funny thing. When you think of all the things you could have done or should have done, but never did. When sometimes, your unwavering optimism...wavers, and you feel like the best years of your life have gone by chasing phantoms and shiny disco balls. I just wish they meant a little bit more, that's all. I don't regret giving you up, or giving up on you. Peace to the dream.

Sud in the City

2007-03-28T00:35:00.000+05:30

Haha - see - now that's more like you :)

2007-03-25T14:11:00.000+05:30

I think I need gun therapy.

2007-03-24T00:37:00.000+05:30

I have Tarot cards! And also some books I've been wanting forever! I went to Starmark today - and boy, do they have a good collection. I have vowed to spend more time there as of now. Going back to the cards - I've done a couple of readings - out of curiosity at first - and then, because I felt totally connected with them. They told me a million times NOT to ask them about the match though. Sheesh. I won't. I won't.
I was supposed to kickstart my studies today, but didn't happen. Aargh. Whattodo. Trick is I guess, is to think poe-sitively. Heh. The Poe jokes haven't happened in a while no?

2007-03-21T19:32:00.000+05:30

This on top is Pushtmashkin's Cellar. When the time is right, he will be formally introduced.
Now I want to whine. Which is why 90% of the people I know blog anyway. See, the funny stories just don't happen, the hormone shattering social life is non-existent (when was the last time I had a proper night out?), the daily events cannot be scripted to sound fantastic - some people can do it - like the eM sorts - but she's too cool for school anyway, so forget her, aaand - I think I used to make an attempt of sorts to make myself presentable - and even pussyfoot (nono, ignore puns) around the prospect of flirting - before, but now I just don't give a fuck. Will the frumpy-dowdy bag lady with the love handles please stand up? It's all very terrible, with Ma looking all panic stricken for a moment when I casually mentioned I'm not really into the boyfriend or marriage thing, and I'll think about it when I'm 30-odd. Heh. It sounds very - oh nonchallant - phoo, I don't need a guy-ish - eesh. Oh my god, I've become of those desperate fat woman friends, trying to conceal the horny humper within. You know - the ones that look longingly at a couple - and then be all "I don't need a guy. I have my books, music and blah blah boring - Go feminists! Go singles!"...y'know? Yikes.
But no. I mean, it is great to be single (although I'm not much of a feminist) and all that - but it's definitely fun to have a mate - especially one that comes without a whole lot of emotionial baggage. But it's just SUCH an effort! Right from combing your hair, to losing weight(oh but fat girls do have boyfriends, just so that you know) and being all conversational and funny(I could do that bit really well when I was younger - talk about the things they wanted hear - and talk about it really well) - but even repartee is such a bother - too much brainwork. It just seems so much easier to smile and stare vacantly. It always works for the pretty ones. But the ones with the "nice personalities" just have to have something to offer right? Sheesh. I'd rather be single than go through all that. And besides, it's all about the hormonal vibes anyway. So if my body isn't giving off the right signals, I'm always going to be chomu fat woman, who smiles too much (have you seen my bloody orkut album? Sheesh) and is that "nice" friend in the lives of every fuckwit boy.
Man, whatever happened to instant chemistry?

Summer

2007-03-21T00:03:00.000+05:30

*sigh*...winter's gone already. But summer's had a couple of wonderful memories too. It is my least favourite season, oh yes, but... May. I like May oddly. And I like mangoes. And Kalboishakhis. When we were kids, there used to be a lot of loadshedding. I was told, it was all Jyoti Babu's doing. So everytime there was a loadshedding, I used to imagine doing perverse things to Jyoti Babu - like sticking him with pins and throwing him off a cliff. I'd run about in my underwear, semi-neurotically, from one room to another, shouting "kokhon light ashbeeee? kokhon light ashbeee?" And the lights would not come back till late into the night, like 3 or something, by which, we would have fallen asleep, in Dada's room, because we got the southern breeze there the best - and of course, Ma hath-pakha'd diligently. Ma always had very strong hands - the way she haath pakha'ed, beat eggs, coffee, cake batter. And there would be stories. Because I was afraid of the dark. Baba's stories. About some young man on a train going to Bardhaman or something from Kolkata, and his adventures - which never ended - because either we'd fall asleep or Baba. But the stories were all very excellent. You'd have to hear them, to believe how good they were. "Buddhi khola golpo" he called it.
Another summer thing was cycling. Although, that happened all year 'round. But summer, was the best time, because we didn't have badminton, sports day or the rains to distract us. We raced all over the para, doing crazy stunts, sweating like maniacs, staying out till 7 - and sometimes if we were plucky, 8. And there were those long, long walks - and calling out to the stars. No, no - I'm not being word-pretty - I really shouted at stars - at the top of my lungs. I embarrassed my friends a great deal sometimes.
Then there was chaan. Cold water showers with some lemony soap. Especially after coming back home from all that playing. Sometimes I'd bathe 3-4 times in one day - conducting some T.V. show or something under the shower. And singing. There was this great bathroom hit - "Sajani" something, which I made up. It was brilliant. Very classical, and Raaahul-pani-khatam-ho-jayega types (remember the Le Sancy ad?).
School was the worst during summer. Especially when our water got over. We'd sweat like pigs and wipe it on our shirt sleeves - which would inevitably turn black. Then suddenly, while sitting in a stuffy classroom, waiting for the bell to ring, we'd smell a storm and stare out of the windows. And everything would become more tolerable.
So, even today, when there's AC, and all the comforts imaginable, I grumble about summer, I stop and think about the N9 days - and the happiness that the cruel season could bring.

2007-03-20T12:37:00.000+05:30

Oh my. Mr. Jack Nicholson, is undoubtedly one of the sexiest men alive. I could wolf him down on any given day (If you haven't understood, blame it on Preeta and your limited knowlege of useless trivia).
Well, the insomnia rages on adamantly. Books haven't been touched. Letters haven't been received. Weight is status quo despite neurotic evening walks. Haven't stepped out of home (and the surrounding 2 km) since the past week or more. Isn't life just lah-dee-dah.
But...I could live unsocially for the rest of my life, I think. And be happy. Life is spent doodling, watching TV, listening to music, pottering about in the garden, looking out from the window/terrace, walking. I don't read. I don't write. I don't do anything that requires too much of mental labour. And it's not too bad, really.

And P.S. Orkut. That's it. No facebooks, boxes, baggages whatever. It's too much work! And it's the same people anyway. Stick to one. You won't be considered unfashionable. Promise.

2007-03-18T00:27:00.000+05:30

I cannot for the life of me, hook my bra from the back. How do people do it? How how how? It's crazy! This is going to be my second survey, I have decided, after the entire other "shamne theke/pechon theke" issue is solved. It's not as perverted as it sounds. Believe me.