Take it, take another little piece of my heart.

My sister's birthday is coming and it's as terrific an opportunity as any other to buy books which I want to read and gift wrap for her. Lucky we more or less read the same stuff or rather I bulldoze her into reading what I recommend. Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld, fantastic people, nice little book I stumbled on thanks to fly and I think there's something in its awkwardness that exists in all of us, especially if we dish out a blog post every week or so.

While planning her party, we decided on Chinese food which somehow brought back a memory of this store in Pune from where we'd get Chinese take away frood. I used to be fascinated by this place, it wasn't a restaurant in a market, it was just a take away shop literally in the middle of nowhere. It was so noisy and steamy and small and they'd take your order and pin it up on a rope and it would be ready robotically in minutes. So numbskullsister and me would play 'takeaway' with our puzzle pieces and mix them around in a tokri. The only plausible explanation for a tokri in our house I think could be because we were living in Maharashtra after all. (egad, images of kim sharma as a fisherwoman are coming to me after those 5 horrifying minutes of some random movie which permanently and irrevocably burned some of my brain cells.)

Also donated blood today! Yee haw, did it for the cool red tshirt we all know, and while I was lying there pumping my fist tiredly instead of feeling righteous as I should have, I was like dude, I just have a needle in my arm, someone who needs this is going to have all their bones smashed in . Count your blessings, name them one by one, thank the Lord for what he has done, kept playing in my head.

On a crankier note though, I am being forced to go out to my mothers friends house for dinner. She has this daughter whose a couple of years older than me, looks and dresses like a model, and has had sex several times with several different boys and was caught in school with her bra undone, which is public knowledge to everyone except apparently our mothers and mum dearest insists she's such a nice girl, I should try and be friends with her. Fuck, glad they're all so in sync. I'm sorry, not that there's anything wrong with her but some people I just can't take seriosuly, and she's one of them.

Something I'm really beginning to believe in though is All In Good Time, truly, life eventually calms itself down and things happen in their own time. When I was in middle school, in Bangalore, I always always wanted to become a senior prefect, not head girl becasue that was so passe but house captain, because that meant something, and I loved my house captain, she was so cool man, she'd run the captains relay on sports day, and march with the house flag. She'd sit on the steps of the canteen (for seniors only) with all these boys and I'd always wonder which one she liked. She'd come to my class and ask for me and badger me into taking part in elocution or something which I gladly did for her. It was so cool the way they'd stay back after shcool, and make those charts and practice for house competitions and stuff, and the 11th and 12thies were allowed to come on their bikes and so casually afterwards they'd zip off to some place to eat.

I left though, and I had no idea untill I was away how fucking impressionable I'd been. I got to be house captain of another school though and it meant shite, really it meant nada to me, which is not as awful as it sounds, it just was that way.

*Remember those shiny coloured Add-Gel pens in 1999? They were such a rage and I had a purple one and wrote LP in big bold letters on my arm and walked all over school one day. At band practice after school, Music Captain comes in and after he does his 'duty' and yells at us for not practising hard or long enough, he hangs around to chat and he says, so you're all into heavy rock and metal and all? and I'm like no ya, just Linkin Park, he's like what's the name of their album. FUck! I didnt know, lol, but anyway, Dad took me on a sunday, to music world I think, not the (then) new Planet M on Brigade Road, and I bought Just Push Play (Aerosmith) and Hybrid Theory and on the way back in the car, dad suggested that I play the tapes, and I slowly, delaying it as much as possible, unwrap the flimsy plastic wrapping and Papercut starts up..the sun goes down, I feel the light betray me, I hastily ejected and put aerosmith in which was no better, but thankfully we reached back because then you could actaully drive around in Bangalore and reach places in minutes not hours. Atleast it wasn't Public Service Announcement on the Marshall Mathers LP.

So into Jaded was I that when we came to Delhi on our summer holiday, on the customary annual visit to Dilli Haat, instead of yet another name necklace, I had jaded written with those alphabet beads, and Dad says do you even know what it means? I didn't.

Man, I was quite the emo kid. Today though, I'm somehow very happy to be me.

May Angels Lead You In

Car got towed, which was total bullshit, I went to the COLONY market, which is like 5 feet away from home (yea, yea environmentally treacherous etc) stepped out for 2 minutes and when I came out no little zen standing under tree, had to then go to the police station and pay 200 bucks, no challan, what bull. Also upgraded my RAM - all by myself and was smothered by the dust inside the CPU and, best of all learnt the caribbean capitals, so feeling most gangsta.

Some tennis talk now, skip if you're not into it -

*******************************************************************************

Andys match was such rubbish I tell you, I admit now what they've been saying for years, he was no variety in his shots, he moves really poorly on court and simply has nothing to fall back on except his serve. Plus what drama - baazi he was doing on court just becasue he was winning and a certain girlfriend was watching. Like yelling at himself and making faces when he's 2 games way from victory. Poof.

Go Safin! (yaay fly) People are like oh you support him because he's hot, so not true, that guy is the original and last of the mavericks. Honestly he doesn't care about what's proper, about being scoff, consistent. He can come out of nowhere and win. Incidentally, he's not a very good player when he's winning, he's fantastic when he's losing, him and Baghdatis, watch them play when they're 2 sets down. They get this super human strength and gun for every ball though they've been playing for hours and hours. Good Wimbledon it looks like and don't feel too bad about Novak, he's just starting out in his career and you can't be a number one player unless you've been thrashed by Safin, that's just how it goes.

*******************************************************************************

Right, so if life fails us or we fail life or whatever, we have to have a back up job right, like what would you do to get by and be happy doing?

El presents My List of Alternate Job Options

Driver, no kidding, think I can manage this well, esp. to an old couple, take him for golf, her to the parlour, club, whatever and at night for their parties. Park the car, road gaze, do what I wantfor 20 hours a day.

Setup an Illegal Parking Ticket Thing - Start handing out tickets wherever they're cars parked. Take 10 bucks per car, pay off cops if necessary, get protection from street gangs*(lol) if needed and eventually hire my own parking attendents and make money by advertisemets placed on their uniforms.

Bake - Don't know how successful I'll be because my cookies sure are fine but take forever and a lot of effort to make, and think I might get sick of chocloate by the end of it. Which would de disastrous for my happiness and self confidence but overall better fro my waist. So might have to do a pro con list before take this one on.

Word Whore - something like Florentino, write love letters for people who can't "expess themselves", or maybe be a word-on-hire, be a pimp or sorts, write out personal letters, break up messages, threatening notes, stuff like that.

Door to Door Movie CD Lender(or CD walli in short)- and when I was thinking about this, I became so excited that I might just do it. I already have a considerable database and anyway half the time I'm giving movies to people, so it is totally realistic. You want any? I'm only doing distribution don't ask me about my sources, that's confidential. :D

edit - also maybe teach piano, like at a very rudimentary level, my theory is pretty solid and I can fluff a lot if rich kids prents are wiling to dish.

So got myself covered I think.

Glory Days, pass me by.

Life is peachy folks, spiffy, bathed in sun streaming in through the clouds. Reminds me of that last month of school before the summer holidays, when I was 11 or something. For all my life and all of hers, my mother has worked and I've always reached home before she has, as in there was never a reception committee waiting at the bus stop like other kids, thangod. That summer though, she'd taken a month off, and when I'd get home, my icky uniform shirt stuck to my back with sweat, my heavy tearing bag full of useless books that I'd carry around including a fat dictionary, my hair all puffed up and hairband dangling along to one side, she'd answer the door.

The house would be cool for starters, the curtains would be drawn against the afternon sunlight and mum would give us first cold water, then food, which we'd actually sit at the table and have and not in front of the TV. Then watermelon, and an afternoon nap after. Ah, the all-is-right-with-the-world feeling.

In the holidays, she'd leave before we were awake, and when I did get up and go to brush my teeth, I'd see a big fat lipstick mark on my cheek, because you know, she kissed us goodbye.

Anway, joy is hibernating. It's staying at home and watching three seasons of weeds in a row. Fantastic I tell you. An american TV show you never knew existed and turns out to be so goddamn clever. That my friends is utopia, with no one bothering me, and becasue I'm only listening to these characters smack talking, in my head I start talking like them. And when I meet people in real life I can't think of anything to say to them except, um...I'm watching Weeds.

Right so some guys are just plain sexy, they have this charm that you can't define, can't catch or bottle, like Sloan you know, on Greys Anatomy, very irrestible, even when they aren't saying anything, you just keep looking a them and Justin Kirk (or Andy on Weeds) is one such fellow.

What else? Cooking Chocolate. That's the thing to eat. As mentioned earlier, nada oven, nada baking, so all supplies are going into tummy as raw material. Personally, I think cooking choclate is the real stuff, far superior than any wrapped thing I've had, tis not too sweet, plus its a proper huge slab and I've been gnawing away at it.

Favourite line these days - "that's a bit too populist for my taste." Speaking of which was watching 'left of centre' on VH1 which is supposed to be the original sidestream stuff, I hardly think Nine Inch Nails or Kasabian can be called offbeat, LCD soundsystem maybe. Besides everyone knows that them emo and indie kids are making the most money now.


In parting, I like the word exponential, not in maths(idiotic exponential differetiation) but like exponential growth in blog traffic. hee :D

This years love had better last

Sometimes you get goosebumps about just being alive, and I want to love you, Nothing Man.~Caught a bolt of lightning, cursed the day he let it go.~ Isn't it something? It is Eddie. How can it not be..

Hmm, exhausted is the word I'm looking for. So much work, so many things to do, usually life is happiest when I'm busy but I haven't got 8 hours of sleep in a row in about a month now. At the risk of sounding like a CPM politburo member, the "honeymoon" period with my blog is definitely over.

Met aforementioned friend, such a riot I tell you, some people are just funny, and I got lots and lots of american frat movies with naked boobies and lewd jokes off him, Superbad(ha-HA-Ha-ha), Oldschool, Van Wilder, Eurotrip, Girl Next Door, Blow...you get the gist.

Yes, Andy is engaged. Joy, normally I'd be happy but do you know how he met her? He saw her picture in a Sports Illustrated isssue and had his agent track her down. What a fucking cliche, its like boning your secretary. Gah. As fly says, it's like he picked her out of a catalogue. I mean imagine the call she must've got, hi, erm, there's this guy, who's sorta famous and a little rich and he wants to be in your pants. Sure, that's my twenties taken care of.

Also have become friends with that new boy at work place, even though he's a kid and all, we're pals now. Ha, dropped him to his hindi class today, these firangis types I tell you. Laughed about superbad stuff, and duh, Celtics won(heehaw) and he was all Lakers, na huh, there time had come, it was going to be Celtics, everyone knew that all along.

Read Wild Sheep Chase (Haruki Murakami,) and can definitely see why he's so popular. The story is literally about sheep and you're reading along thinking, man, a whole book about sheep, this should be weird, but it so isn't.

Something I've been meaning to put up here, I can't stress the importance of Zeitgeist enough, seriously folks, go watch it. Tis this really radical left wing documentary type thing, and even if you're skeptical and don't believe everything, STILL, it's stuff that we just have to know, and think about.

The Same Streets That I Live

So this is my expermiment, it's very trivial-esque I know, a poor cousin more like, but it's directly inspired by that. It's ok if you hate it.

Why save the kisses for a rainy day?

It starts with a perfect picture like this and before I realise, it turns into a soul mirror. The playlist in my head has Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad on repeat. It’s not even a rainy day song, but it comes out at me, cheekily, as though it knows that it can be the only song that resides in the vinyl of my cerebrum when there’s even a hint of a drizzle.

Eternity is in love with the productions of time.

William Blake is someone I have no connection with, I wasn’t taught his poetry, I didn’t study it and no one around me mentions him in passing, but I picked up that book anyway. I don’t feel intimidated though, by either his poems or the life around me caught up in raindrops. There is no reason why I should turn to his lines, maybe that’s why I do.

God appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night,
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of Day.

The waters wave and twinkle in front of me, rippling across their temporary home; their home can only be where they are. I feel the weariness after my philosophy exam, and the pub crawl after, not sure about my own two homes. After the late night I feel pulpy. I woke up without getting enough sleep but not sleepy or tired enough to go back to bed. The clouds build up in me but no rain comes, for mine is a much longer hibernation, mine is a reassessing of the Big Stuff, which I’ve put off for far too long.
*****

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.

That’s what they told me, and the thing is, the blessed thing is that I know exactly what I want. Live outside the city, somewhere in the plains not far from the mountains, somewhere sunny, maybe near a wooded area, and fall asleep each night to the sound of a fan whirring, to people breathing. One thing I definitely don’t want is to spend time in airports. Really, I have it all planned, it’s just the day job that’s the problem.
*****

But doesn’t it start with the way we live, or has it already begun?

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

Love seeketh not itself to please
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease
And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.

~

The cistern contains: the fountain overflows.

All those things stick you know, in the afternoons by myself, I am a different me, a pot smoking teacher in a boarding school, a writer in my mountain home, owner of a beach shack frying sausages, baking in a small town with my apron on - all those kid personas don’t go away. I still get to be all that.

When the day’s done though, it’s back to the notebook.
*****

For all those who've slow danced to Strangers in the Night

We came out of the movie hall, with the sun making our eyes crinkle and the warmth tingling the air-conditioned goose bumps on our arms. There’s a sleepy contentment that washes over us, as we make our way out in a community shuffle. He has his arm around me as we walk down the sloping parapet, back into the mall.

It’s hot but not too hot. Not unbearable, not muggy and there’s an ever so slight breeze.

We move past the food court into the open air sitting area. We smoke. We chat lazily. He talks about something in the movie which reminded him of something he did as a kid. He goes to get me a gelato, because usually when I see chocolate I want it. He’s being nice but I don’t really feel like it today. We have a spoon or two and watch it melt between us., forming an icky brown mess.

A person from a nearby table comes over, an old friend apparently, he smiles and shakes my hand, I’ve never met him before but he obviously knows about me, whether through him or common friends I don’t know.

It’s early evening, and a different kind of crowd is thronging the mall, less students, more families who’ll end the evening with dinner in this very food court.

I feel like a chilled drink, not a heavy, milky one and definitely not an areated one. The waiter comes over, I ask for seventy rupees worth of ice, water and strawberry flavouring in a tall glass. He brings it fairly quickly. I sip at it.

We talk some more. He’s restless I can make out, because he doesn’t know where he’s going to be this time next month, he’s wrapping his head around the ideas on his tray, and all of them are just ok. None of them involve me. Because I’m still going to be here. I’m happy though, I’m out with him and the impromptu movie turned out to be much better than we expected.

The ice melts and the drink tastes like water that’s been poured into a used juice carton. I abandon drinking it altogether and play around with the straw. We smoke some more. As the sky darkens, he pays the bill and we head to the parking lot.

I give him the keys, because he likes to drive. He’s a careful driver with no cursing and no sudden braking unlike me. We’re quiet most of the way, because the music on is good, he sings a little, I hum, we listen.

We reach his place, he gets out and I scoot over to the drivers seat, he gives me a quick kiss on the forehead and goes inside, I head back home. The music is awful now.

My parents are throwing a big dinner party tonight and I must get ready, wear something ironed and suitable and talk to some horrifically overdressed women and some debonair, aging men who were once young pilots and tell them, how I spend my time. I don’t mind, because we bargain stories, I get to hear about places like Kalaikunda, obscure Airforce bases where these men spent their youth learning to fly Jaguars and MIGs. Now they’re gentlemen of course who talk of their chicken farms on the Jaipur highway and holiday homes in Mashobra.

“I was at Tezpur and your grandfather was doing reconnaissance,” said a suited elderly man in a dull red turban cradling a whiskey soda in his hand, “he’d come down from Agra and we’d fly down to the China border together and he’d report back the next morning to Agra.” He’d cackle and thump me on the shoulder, carried away by the impishness of it, the merriment of the moment.

He’ll message me soon, to check in, in case I need a lifeboat, how’s the evening going? Should I call?

Fine, I’ll say. Just fine.

come back and haunt me, follow me home

So the boss type person at the NGO thing is leaving for good. Tis funny, but in this one week I think I know everything there is to know about him, he's jut one of those people. I was hanging around on my first day, not sure of what to do exactly, no one was taking any notice of me, I pulled out my book cautiously but as I sat vacant reading, he took me under his wing and boy, did I do a lot of work for him. He alternated between calling me M'am and bachoo, kaam ho raha hai m'am? yea yea, and aise nahi bachoo, ho hum ok. He'd make tea for us and he took a sip from my mug by mistake once and ever since then he goes, don't drink my tea. And he cracks lame jokes like;
he(nonchalantly while filling a form) what's the date today?
me: date,
he: aaj birthday hai..
me: whose?
he: hoga kisi kaa..
/guffaw.

Weird, don't think I'll forget this dude in a long while, considering I might never have met him.

So now I'm working on something else and heard that this guy from Singapore was coming down to also volunteer on the same thing and I'd decided I'd have a crush on him BUT he turned out to be a nanha munha school going baccha who likes Akon. Hovering friend said we've become grannies. Indeed.

Also, you know how to get everyone to agree to YOUR plan, like the place you want to go and the movie you want to see, esp when it's one of those impromptu things? Me has the gaadi, we're going ____, I say and everyone sits down meekly in the car. ~power <3>

Sometimes, a friendship is not equal, and with this one person I just know that I was a better friend to him than he ever was or can be to me. I listened dude to loads and loads of neurotic, egoistic stuff and said lots of nice stuff which I actually meant and prepped him up and anticipated his moods and didn't gloat when I beat him by a long shot even though he sat on my head in the rare ocassion(ahem) that me got two marks more than me. He said used to say I was his good luck charm...Don't know what happened to that really, classic case of Drifted Apart, but somehow I feel like there's something incomplete there, like when you give more than you get, the bank balances don't tally and the ledger can't be closed.

Moribund similies aside, his role in my life is not quite done it seems. I shall find out I meet him to cough:: take his insane TV show collection ::cough hang out and other such.

And now he's gone and seen Chester in flesh and blood, that's the ONLY thing that rankles me up. Say what you want about LP, I loved them and howdya manage solving maths sums without Hybrid Theory or Minutes to Midnight?

and you know the lyrics to In the End so don't pretend otherwise.

catch me if you can

Tag!

I am: his girl friday.

I think: thunk a lot as a kid, now I let it flow.

I know: the capital of every country, go on, ask me..

I want: a perfect body, I want a perfect soul. (~cause I'm a creep~)

I have: it pretty darn good.

I wish: something could have happened with V.

I hate: asshole drivers.

I miss: Bangalore and Meso

I smell: David Beckham Instinct, lol, Buddy and me share it.

I crave: Crackle, yea no fancy phoren chocolates, Dairy Milk does it for me.

I search: wiki since it's the new google.

I wonder: where these dreams go, when the world got in my way.

I love: good days when everything works out and all is well in el land.

I care: about my numbskull of a sister.

I ache: on days like today, for those friends I could've had, the train rides I didn't have, that white sari I didn't wear for Val and those photos I didn't pose for with him..

I am not: the kind to hold a grudge, unless you're my 10th standard history teacher.

I believe: when I fall in love, it'll be forever (damn Stevie Wonder, the song things become a reflex)

I dance: to Joan Jett and Dillagi kudi Gujrat di

I sing: in the car when I'm feeling good, Teenage Dirtbag(first love dies hard)

I cry: hardly ever.

I don't always: talk to mum and dad as much as I should.

I write: hehe, really?

I win: some

I lose: most

I always: reach late.

I listen: always, always, am eavesdropperviking but fucking hate radio ads.

I can usually be found: in the dingy seminar room in college watching subtitled films which I don't even like while Dinesh the peon sits behind, waiting to lock up.

I am happy about: not today hon, not today. ok maybe about blogging in general.

I imagine: there's no heaven, no hell below. and you-OUHHoooo may say I'm a dreamer~

I tag: amdp, Zaphod(if not already since he's quite the ma-uh-n), Arjun and roghan.

Cause I'm the one that jaded you

This is a long, self indulgent type post - so run away now and no one will know.

It all started last night, was watching the frenchie final and then the prize distribution after when people talk on and on, and basically embarrass themselves and put everyone else off to sleep. Reminded me of NS our crazy nut of a music sir in school. See, as the school band (not those shady school bands of south delhi schools but a proper Brass Band with percussion, euphoniums, trombones, trumpets, French horns et all) we had to play for the major functions - valedictory, passing out, sports day etc. and as soon as the principal or chief guest came up to give his speech, NS would say, instruments down, sit back, take a nap and start mock snoring. Was also watching Spelling Bee side by side and all those kids man, 12 and 13 and so brilliant got me thinking of me back then...

Now, NS was mad and a musical genius, and a godfather of sorts, he had the run of the school, no one could say a word to him. He knew everything about every single band member and would get us out of trouble and so high up in the hierarchy were we that no teacher could lay a hand on us, both literally and figuratively. We all had nicknames (mine sniffy, gremlin, iguana, nurse, and malai kofta) but you realise this guy was crazy right, I mean everyone was shite scared of him and if you got on his wrong side, that’s it - he’ll torment you the rest of your school life. Anyway, there was these boys who used to make my life hell, as in I'm sure they never intended too but it used to make me sick in my stomach and not want to come to school. Ofcourse NS got wound of it and would regularly come to class, rough them up a bit and never once acknowledge he did it becasue of me. If you ever read this NS - thank you whatever twisted logic you might have had!

Then, one fine day, a note appeared on Faiz's desk which said -

Dear Faiz,
I love you.
El

What an uproar it caused. Obviously I didn't write it, I was cleared immmediately and Faiz was like no man, 'someone' put it on my desk. Kriti - this bossy pushy type girl who all the boys were scared of and not even really my friend, took it upon herself to solve this case. She inspected and studied the note, the paper and the ink and pronounced that a gel pen was used. She made Faiz take out his pens and lo and behold the gel pen he had been using just in the last period was missing. *gasp* Faiz denied all knowledge so such a pen. So, she went down to the stationery shop and asked the sir there if Faiz had bought a gel pen that morning and it was confirmed that indeed he had. Case solved! Then the confrontation, she pulled me along to the basketball court in the 12:20 lunch break and demanded of Faiz- you wrote it, don't lie, she shrieked, and I just wanted to curl up and disappear.

And there was this other dude Olsen too(Anglo school ya, there was a Ryan, Harry, Steve, Gary, and William in my class alone) who'd follow me around in break..loads of other stuff happened, like these two they had a tug of war match and apparently whoever lost had to back off and some such - stuff I found out only later. Once I got a note, always getting these bleeding notes, that if I didn't meet Olsen at the Lunch Shed after school he'd jump of the builiding. Dramatic I know. Oh yea, I was quite the diva then and could have been in real life too, instead I turned into me. He failed the year though, and I moved school and sorta never saw them again.

And how dare they not be on facebook so that we can keep wary eyes on each other? It's a time bomb ticking, I tell you. If they were to meet me now. Huh, let's not got there.

Talking of blasts from the past, Akash was this dude in my colony and our dads worked together etc. and he took it upon imself to chase me and declare his ahem, feelings publicly - that dude just wouldn't give up. Oh, and he was the first boy who 'asked me out'. Guess what I did? Go tell mummy dearest ofcourse, what should I say to him? Mother's eyes duly popped and gave me the be friends lecture which I relayed to him. Let me give you some background info though -
a. He wore mickey mouse shorts
b. I was listening to nsync those days

Thats's how low we were.

He used to play this computer game Aladdin which was all the rage back then, and apparently when you win all the rounds, you get to kiss Jasmine the Princess and you can name her something. After this episode, he changed Jasmines name from mine to some other girl in his class. Oh the treachery. He kinda stayed that way then, always just out sight, refusing to make eye contact etc. So met him at a Lodi party last year after AGES and he was still wearing funny clothes and kept glancing at me furtively, while I hovered around the bar trying to sneak some vodka into my coke. You might ask readers, why couldn’t I have gone and said something but I spoke to his sister, friends and dad and he would run out of sight. I mean sure I’m not the skinniest person in the world, but atleast I’ve grown up!

Hey Andy, did you hear about this one?

*Blogging about Blogging ~ Right, so dunno how the whole thing started but do know that it's going mighty fine. I was expecting long months of a lonely 0 comments at the bottom of the post, but pipi and zorro were sweet enough to spread some love and left a comment on the first post itself. So if you're forced to read this it's their fault really; I would happily have given up after 4 posts (like one in every 2 bloggers did you know?) It's fun and oddly exhilirating being anonymous though lately I've begun mentioning this little corner of the internet to people I actually know, as in friends and stuff, the response is either - What do you blog about, or else What do you blog about? Search me.

*I'm tired of driving folks. I'm tired of traffic and and having the tank empty every three days and that bloody Sarthak on 95 f.m. in the mornings(don't even bother plugging my ipod in) and being at the beck and call of everyone concerned and I've had it. I'm going to sit at home for one whole week and not go anywhere my legs can't take me.

*Oh oh, I came up with my very own joke! ready?
#1 Darn, I'd give my left leg for an automatic car...haHA(geddit?)


*Finished Something To Tell You, which is every bit as good as expected though it dragged a bit towards the end but it saved it in time, and Charlie Hero and Karim make a comeback in this one, was most excited so see them again.

*Anyway, the best time of the year in descending order July (Wimbledon) September (US Open) January(Aussie Open) and May-June(French Open). Dude the parisian crowd is so droll. They're all suited up and don't clap for anything. The semi final matches are turning out to be fantastic though. Safina, ole ole ole! Except I'm not saying anything because I jinx these things.

It is time then to reveal to you fair folk, my One Great Love. Now this guy is sexy. I know, I know, he's American and boy-bandish and not even close to winning a slam ever again. Infact read this, it'll give ya more fodder. But I can't tell you, just how much I love him without reason. So much so, that people get embarassed when they're watching a match he's playing with me, apparently I can't contain myself. Infact, when this boy, was kinda trying to flirt with me and it was a big maybe between us, he'd watch Andy's matches and then call up after to discuss them and he' keep dissing him to rankle me up, which I happily obliged because we both saw right through it.



There is little that gives one greater joy than having him win a game 40-love with back to back aces and that swagger when he walks back. :grins: He's also very very funny, he's just naturally a charming guy, like when he was runner-up to fedDUHrer in wimbeldon a couple of years back, the interviewer at the presentation said - Andy, you wouldn't be in the mood to talk right now and he says "ya, I'm actually in the mood for a beer," and the crowd claps and cheered wildly and goes all, good fella that one.

Just look at him.

*sigh*

Riders in the storm, into this house we're born

~Gah, everyone is going on and on about their stupid internships but I'd decided to not do any of those. I mean aren't summer holidays supposed to be Riverdale-esque, with endless days of swimming and cold coffee or American Pie like with the partying and summer romances/getting laid-ness? When did this internship tamasha start? Especially if it's not going to help, you know Underemployment right? When 5 farmers can till the field but 7 are employed - that's exactly what internships are - either you have a big fancy contact somewhere and sit around in an AC office or you do some random type work with CSS or something. So got selected for 'Agenda for Survival', a course by CSE but chickened out, not sure why exactly, probaby am just plain lazy.

Anyway, got a little freaked because I'm indecisive and get convinced easily, and I'm starting something tomorrow, more on that later.

~Right, I'm not a rider, I'm a driver - my sister is but what with ferrying her up and down to the club, I sorta learnt as well and let me tell you I do a mean trot, ofcourse on some days the horse will refuse to move. My horse is Viktor (which is probably Victor as in the one that is victorious but I always think Viktor Krum) Anyway yesterday I just didn't feel like and we reached early, so like a true blue driver I took out the yellow kapda and started wiping the windsceen and windows, and then I opened the bonnet and fiddled around. And then, the driver in the Innova next to me took out his yellow kapda and we were polishing our cars together! Would have offered him a beedi and gone on to sit and play cards with him if I hadn't been summoned by the instructor and forced into riding, twas a good ride though.

But their names I tell you - Machinegun, Junglebaby, Topgun, Patience, Dollar, Ceasar, Leader and the Indian divas - Sundari, Usha, Nirmala, Meenakshi, Kajol, Anarkali...What would I name my horse? Zeus maybe, and my twin sons Alexander and Xerxes. You?

I remember vaguely going for horse racing in Turf Club Pune, sitting in those fantastic lawns with white picket fences and betting on horses called Desire and Destiny and fancy stuff like that.

But the ultimate relic of colonialism is in The Jorhat Gymkhana, betting there is like serious business. There's hordes and hordes of people who come for this annual gala - first the horses are kept in a ring and you inspect them and choose your which one you want to bet on, then go to the counter and put your money where your mouth is(just 10 rupeess for me.) The 'horses' are really ponies and the riders were barefoot in shorts. After every race there's a prize distribution and the owner is supposed to come collect the trophy and pose for a photograph. The Maaliks all wear dhotis and go to collect their prize in all seriousness and giggle but look staight ahead for the picture. Ofcourse the genteel society(mainly planters, no one famous sadly) come in hats and sat in the deck on top and have snacks and drinks. Much fun.

See riding is win-win, ek toh it's outside, and it's with animals and you know what they say, if you haven't loved an animal or had a garden, there's a part of you lying dormant that you'll never know. [/sermon]