A Country Bar Named Johnny B Goode

Places, Food and Books

Lame title aside, some books have a very strong sense of place or food (since it's me we're talking about) associated with them and will forever be locked with each other in ones memory.

All my Enid Blyton memories are very strong, because when I read them I was a) Hugely unpopular in school, I had NO friends, and I mean none, like I used to roam around alone during break and everything and b) We lived in this massive old bungalow with like miles of wilderness on either side (ok not miles but really dense undergrowth type things, and people used to spot snakes on an hourly basis.) All those Fatty mysteries were so real because we had a garage/shed kinda thing just like in the book and I had very strong visuals for the place. This is the same time I used to play Xena with colony friends and set out with laser killer pieces of stick and fight demons and witches that lived around our house.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - I got a day before my chemistry exam in the 7th, think mum or someone had just returned from Delhi and had got that book and a big box of melted choclates for me. Needless to say the book was devoured and I was eating that stciky choclate alongside and you can bet I was too lazy to go wash my icky fingers before turning a page and so my copy was brown finger marks all over, which makes me love it even more.

I remember reading A Suitable Boy after the second term exams in the 10th which I had worked super hard for and before the preboards (which I totally blew.) The parts when Pran is falling for Saeeda Bai and he's hanging around her place is very descriptive and well written. She entertains all these people and they have Shammi kababs and hookahs and there's always music and a singing (rather annoying) parrot remember? So I was reading this part and I was getting major cravings for kababs. As luck would have it, we'd had a big party in our house and there were these kababs in the fridge and omg its bliss when you're reading about something and your mouth is watering and you can satisfy it instantly! Zap it in the microwave and get back into bed..and no one bothers you because you can lock your door and say you're 'studying.' Good times I tell you.

English, August is one of my all time favourite books, I read it when we were living in a place so so like Madna it freaked me out a bit, and I got everything he was sayng. I was Agastya man, ofcourse I wasn't stoning back then, it was simple sitting on the fence and liking a book sorta thing.

Oh and for Wodehouse there was this wonderful obscure Gymkhana in some shanty town where them Britsh Bozos used to once live, and the loo/Ladies rest room was HUGE, I mean like the size of a persons house with sofas and reclining chairs, and dim yellow bulbs and mottled mirrors and I loved it. Discovered it really late, when it was about time to leave but I pictured the whole English thing. (argh, we've been studying colonialism and when we take notes instead of writing the British I write BB - British Bastards, oh the latent anger)

Delhi by Khushwant Singh was another book that had a huge impact on me but more than that people remember me reading it. It was the beginning of 11th, when the board results weren't out and everyone's sorta strung out, didn't really feel like studying etc, and our temporary classroom was in some basement type part of the school and I'd sit at the back and read this book, and I didn't really know anyone in my new class expect Puri who ofcourse would be off all over bunking, making new friends, doing his imitations which I'd seen a gazillion times before, and I remember Yadu coming over, reading the blurb and laughing his ass off, because it said, 'back from his whoring days' and guys can never stop finding stuff like that funny. When he sees me today, he usually mentions that book, still reading books about whores? he'll say and I'll laugh like it's really funny because it's sweet no?

Though I don't like to admit it, I've also read all the Shopaholic books(Fly take a bow) and this was the summer before college started and all of a sudden you have to go shopping for a whole bunch of new clothes, and you really need them right, no more uniform to put on sleepily every day. So I would just buy without thinking, oh heady days and then when I became a poor college student who refused to spend more than 15 bucks on lunch I was reading Shopaholic and Sister which had her super frugal sister who hates shopping and kept saving up or was broke and she was totally in sync with my new self!

Zorba the Greek is ofcourse for my fututre travels which I've mentioned earlier in this post.


PS - Is anyone else television blissed as well? New seasons of The Office, How I Met Your Mother, Entourage AND Greys Anatomy. Sigh, life can hardly get better..

Just because I'm losing...

Doesn't mean I'm lost.
Doesn't mean I'll stop.

What is it with the blogosphere these past couple of weeks? It seems like one person lost their nerve and so did everyone else simultaneously. It's a chain reaction with blog-blahness, and suddenly things are either too trivial or too huge to put in here. However abandoned readers fear not, for I am back with..err, vengeance?

So the easiest, let's talk about books. Have several to read at the same time, which is no fun but the most memorable one is Gabriel Garcia Marquez's - My Melancholy Whores. It's a nice, small compact book and fits in your hand nicely, besides it's hardcover which is a plus. I can bet you a huge load of cash that Marquez himself kept a diary where he counted the women he slept with. I mean first Florentino and then this guy. Or if he didn't, he thought about it alot.


Anyway, over the past couple of days I've had long long chats with old friends, and you know what they say, all birds come home to roost. Guess we leave bits of our selves scattered in the past that comes a full circle. They recount all their escpades, sexual and boy related, over the past couple of months, like getting sorta drunk and holding hands with Goan boys who jive. And then, after half an hour of them, it's like what about you? Man oh man am I glad I have no news.

Among friends then, there is that reassurance that yes, we have the same life for tomorrow and the day after and the year after that, and I'm really happy about that - someone has your back you know, who'll give your proxy attendence if you're not in class or pick up your fee form when they get theirs, or order two cups of chai without asking. It sure is nice to have a friend.

Z is for Zeppelin Time

This is something I found quite by chance. Basically you post a picture related to the theme - which on this wednesday is Z, and the first thing that popped into my pretty little head was, what time is it? It's Zeppelin time! ( credits: xkcd)

So this is the room with the poster right down there over the hole in the wall which was covered by a wooden plank.

And this one's the close up. Yes I know it's blasphemy to put a Switchfoot picture right above the Led Zep one but in my defence I made this years back!...yea, doesn't count does it?

And that's the other picture which I like a lot, bottom left hand corner, it's a classic, black and white, Page in a teeny sweater and Plant blowing smoke rings, ah to have been William Miller.

Here I Go Again

You can't decide when you have a good time, when you meet new people, where the day takes you. Some folks you establish are interesting but they may or may not become your friends and that's when I wonder, what do people think of me? That's the only time I'm conscious that, you know, I'm not a vampire and I must have a reflection. Or do I?

So I had this nice morning planned, would wake up, go for a swim, get a haircut and then go meet my lovely friends Shai and Fly. However, due to unforseen circumstances, mainly my stupid ass body sleeping through several alarms, I was fast asleep at the time I was supposed to meet them and had to hurry, hurry, rush, rush as usual. Fuck I hate that, maybe its an inborn rebellion to my fauji-precision-clockwork genes, but I simply cannot be someplace on time. Thing is in the morning, every second counts, and after dinner, one hour here or there makes no difference. Sure you owls would agree.

Anyway, day still went off well. Lunch was good, I love my friends and I also love being alone and sometimes in life you get a perfect balance, and today was such a day. Madonna(because they have the same teeth) also joined us, and he and me have this mutual appreaciation society thing going, we both say nice things about each other and refrain from the other stuff, because he's one of those people that you have obvious and huge differences of opinion with, but that's ok, he is he and I am me, and in the end, I know I can count on him, and I know I'll totally come through for him, if need be and vice versa.

(Oh, but Rohan, no same teeth anymore! :D)

Also, maanged to get my haircut. While coolio dude cut away, in the parlour, there was a lady/woman getting ready for her wedding, full bridal make up, hairdo etc. and sure, she was pretty, with a busty magenta top, red cartoon nails(not even vampish) with rotting brown mehendi (haai, haai) and her friends were fluttering around her, and I'm thinking the last thing I want to do on my wedding day is spend hours in a beauty parluor - you know?

I'm not a big one for days, like I hate birthdays, not because I'm emo or anything, I just hate all the hoo haah and pressure to do something on that day. So what would I do? Let's see, I'd like to wake up without an alarm clock, with sun on my face, and immediately have something chocolate. Then, hit the pool, you know those whole body floats? Yea, float on the water, sun myself, nap whatever, have something to read, this I'll have to plan very carefully, definitely not the newspaper, because I'm sure for the rest of life I'll remember, on page 3 the mcd head something said something about potholes. I'm kooky that way.

When I'm all deliciously wet and the sun is drying the water drops off, have fresh watermelon and grape juice, french fries(oily not deep fried) and maybe chicken-mayo-capsicum sandwiches. Then a rollercoater ride, or several, and paint ball and in the evening we can dress up and go somehwere nice, or do whatever he wants to. But avoid people at all costs. I'd love for my parents to have a big party in their house, with the lawn and fairy lights and everyone can 'congratulate the happy couple' but maybe sometime the week after.

What about you guys?

Incidentally, downloaded lotsa 80s love songs, just because, and have been blasting Can't Fight This feeling(REO Speedwagon), Whitesnake, The Bangles, Cherish (Kool and the Gang) , Dangelo and The Temptaions. heehee, I've also always had this neighbour thing. Like in the previous house we lived in, it was two floors, downstairs people had a lawn and we got a terrace, and this dude, Jha, used to make all his phone conversations from the garden, he'd smoke, talk loudly, and scratch his you-know-what when he thought no one was watching(ewwww I know.) My study table was right next to his window and trust me when I tell you I knew EVERYTHING going on in his life, no kidding, from his friends to his hassles with his parents, to the girlfriend to his job(pilot, waddya expect).

There was a point to this..oh yeah, so like I knew everything about Jha without him having any idea, I have this fantasy that somebodys always listening to the music I play. Almost like I DJ for some invisible folk down below. Don't get me wrong, I play for myself, but maybe someone will have huge overlapping tastes and come searching for my door, and we can hangout and burn CDs for each other and stuff.

Hmm..too many movies.

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.

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

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!

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]

A friend in need's a friend indeed, a friend with weed is better

My phrand, Puri's in town and he's leaving soon so we're planning to meet/will meet soon whatever. This guy was my buddy, you know you have those guy friends who are totally and completely just your friend and nothing else? Yup, he was mine, and he had this horrid girlfriend who made his entire school life miserable but he's still stuck on her and these days he hangs around her (all girl) college like one of those road side lafangas - eesh.

He used to sit in front of me and his best friend -Nathan, we shall call him on my left and me next to the window, and I had this tiny crush on Nathan, ok not tiny, but fot the tiniest while. We'd do stupid stupid things like play f.l.a.m.e.s. and other really mature stuff. All the teachers secretly liked Nathan and flirted with him and Puri would constantly get thrown out of class with his "But no M'am why?" and just be a total pain for them and full entertainment for the class.

At any given time I'm the store house for polo/wrigleys/centerfresh etc and in the fifth period before break they'd turn around and say - el, polo? because you know, break time is kissing time and the two of them would go off to their slut(if you're talking to a girl)/hot(if you're talking to a boy)/ girlfriends and I'd sit and read, think I was reading Suitable Boy those days, hang out with Lata and the Chatterjees for awhile. Sometimes, he'd go into the girls loo, yea don't ask, and I had to sit outside and keep guard, and I'd get a clear view of Nathan and his girlfriend mollycodling under the stairs.

O and when he sang Colorful by The Verve Pipe for her, who had to listen to it ten thousand times over the phone the day before? Later after we were all friended up, we realised our mummies were friends and our grandmummies were posted together in some shanty town while their husbands went off to war.

Anyway, around 11th or so they all discovered marlboro and bacardi and what not, and he'd call at random hours saying - oh man, I'm so stoonnnnnned, or I'm so higggggghhh, wasuppppp.. and I really didn't want to talk to him then so yea, maybe I was nerdy that way. We kinda drifted apart, ok that would be wrong, we couldn't stand each other for awhile, but that phase passed and it all got sorted.

But we're all grown up now, and these days we chat once in awhile and since he's in Pune he has crazy stories about taking a bus and going to goa unplanned in 3000 bucks and just smoking weed the whole time and "dude el, man I looked at the sea and there was no water, I swear. "

ho hum, so it goes my friend, so it goes.

Anyone who's ever had a heart, wouldn't turn around and break it

These are before-after shots of The View.











Pehle we lived in this lovely house and this <- was what we could see from the huge terrace. And aforementioned Pi used to live right across and we'd walk and talk and talk. We also had a Gilmore Girls marathon, and she taught me to to make a cinnamon brown cake - the idea of a cake without choclate was preposterous to me but ah, the fragrance of cinnamon filling up the house made me feel like a real baker. We've disposed the old Murphy Richards oven while moving and now no oven, no baking(microwaves don't count) and all this summer rain has really made me ache to get the egg beater and vanilla essence and tin of cocoa out.











Around two-three months back we shifted house and now we live in this densely popluated, not not-nice colony, and this is the view from the stairwell, no terrace here:(

Yes, people stared when I took it the picture.

But my room's a lot nicer now. There's no seepage and whitewash flaking off the wall for one. Then again, there's no M.E.S. to speed dial if the water/electricity/furniture/anything is broken/not working. First time we're living in a civilian colony(said with disdain) and not in a cantonment. Before moving was given dire warnings to keep head low and stay inconspicious etc etc. ha, it's me we're talking about - I'm the queen of working undercover, of being Harriet the Spy-esque.

None of that though, it's utterly unromantic.

The 3 mistakes of my life

Wokay, The 3 Mistakes of my Life happened to be lying around and I picked it up to read/flip through. Little did I know that it would give me so, so much joy.

Right, so this dude (Bhagat) is the most loved, most read, best selling vagera vagera author of this country, but what’s more and here I quote from the blurb - “Seen more as voice of a generation than just an author, this IIT/IIM-A graduate is making India read like never before.”

Whew, that’s pretty huge for one guy no?

And this time, Bhagat’s writing about sex yo! No kidding.

An excerpt: ~

************************************************************************************
We slid under the water tank and sat on the floor. She had brought six pink cushions and a rug. ‘I brought them from my room, so we can have a little party here,’ she said and passed a couple to me. Under the cushions, she had a stereo.

‘Music?’ she said, her face pretty as a song.
I nodded.
‘I’ll put on Boyzone, my favourite,’ she said.
I took out the packet of eighteen candles that came with the cake.
‘Let’s light all of them,’ she said.
I wanted to go switch on the terrace light as it had become dark.
‘Let it be,’ she said and pulled my hand as she lit the eighteenth candle.
‘What if someone comes?’
‘Both my parents have bad knees. They never climb up to the terrace. And Ish well there is a match on.’...

A song called ‘No Matter What’ started to play. Like with all romantic songs, the lyrics seemed tailor-made for us.

No matter what they tell us
No matter what they do
No matter what they teach us
What we believe is true

She kissed me like she never had before...her hands came to my shoulders and under my shirt.

I can’t deny what I believe
I can’t be what I’m not
I know this love’s forever
That’s all that matters now

...the music didn’t stop and neither did we.


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

And these two go on to lose their virginity.

Hang on, no I mean hold up, stop the traffic people, boy freaking zone??? Are you kidding me? And this is set in November 2001. 2001 for crying out loud, if it was Slim Shady or Hybrid Theory or even that horrible J. Lo it would be understandable. 2001 is so backstreet boys, even westlife, even Ronan Keating! Because if I remember correctly, Boyzone were broken up then and Ronan was going all I love it when we do what we do blah blah.

But nobody, I mean nobody was listening to Boyzone in 2001, 1995 maybe but NOT 2001.

Diversion, remember watching MTV Select at 4, then Nikhil still looked slightly human and immediately after, MTV Most Wanted in which Shenaz would very sweetly read out those big fancy letters. LAME. But I used to watch both religiously and there was a lot of talk among the bsb(backstreetboys) legions in my class to make a big card and send it to her and but ofcourse request Quit Playing Games, like it didn't play every freaking hour anyway.

Anyway, dude(Chetan), say and write what you want, but a book published in 2008, playing up on the youth factor simple cannot have 2 ‘young’ people having sex to a boyzone song. That’s all I’m saying.

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it now

I was a ninja on a bike. I was the kid with bruised knees who'd be jumping ditches and crashing, who'd race you and block your way if happened to be driving by in a car.

Oh how much I cycled on my yellow and purple Wild Cat bike. It was bought for me by my lovely grandaddy on the day my sister was born - you know, to encourage sisterly affection and all that. But I loved my BSA trailblazer the best, oh the trails I blazed on that one(hehe). O and the fun we made of Ladybird, I'd forgotten only about that.

In Poona, we lived in this rectanglish kinda colony and the gradient of the land was such that to do one chakkar you had to go downslope once and come back up panting. I used to happily whizz down one way and painfully trudge up the other side. On one random day I was so knocked out that I got off and walked up with my cycle and this sweet gentleman type uncle passing by asked me most kindly, whats the matter? are you hurt etc etc and I was like oh no, just dont feel like cycling uphill and immediately the smile wiped off his face and I got a diatribe for being lazy, so young and so lazy! Sheesh. Still remember it so must've got stored somehwere in there. <3

I loved that bike. Cycling down to the open air theatre to read the blackboard outside which would have the now-playing movie scribbled on(mostly sidey Bobby Deol ones like Soldier which was one of the better ones.) Then, we actually played holi and didn't sit holed up at home. We'd play Xena(YES, the warrior princess) and bike all over fending off demons and protecting our territory. And I'd ferry my dolls from the hammock in the backyard to the front gate because for some strange reason we made them all orphans in an orphangage who needed an outing and ofcourse everyone wanted a ride on my trailblazer. We'd play the best games; there were three of us, Sunethra, Diya and me. Last I heard of Sunethra, she could be found drunk and throwing up outside rpm at 3:30 in the afternoon (tsk, tsk) and Diya I used to bump into sometimes at the parlour and she had more to say to the lady who did her eyebrows than to me. Ah well, childhood stuff is best left alone.

But then, it got stolen, haaw, yes. From right outside our house, haaw, I know. Wept buckets and my Lone Ranger never quite made up for it, though I liked the name if nothing else. The best cycle story of all time though is that time I cycled on an airstrip. No kidding, I swear, a proper national AAI authorised one that too. We were in Jorhat and the Airforce/Military and Civilian airport is the same, as in there's just one airstrip which both of them used. Twas a stones throw from our place and I'd always cycle past one the many hidden side entrances eyeing it temptingly. One fine day I just turned in and tried my luck. I dunno if the guard was stoned or sleepy or just lost it for those few moments but he waved me in and oh my god, the thrill, the tarmac, the road, open wide wide beautiful road and I cycled away furiously like the film heroine of every fabulous movie ever made. But the gaurd(not a fancy FBI type, just a dude with a lathi on a chair) relaised withing 10 minutes and sort of tracked me down and escorted me off and NO one at home believed me, but you do right? And now it's on the record forever.

So there.

I said be careful his bowtie is really a camera

So el has a cold. Sigh, and you know what's worse than a cold? A summer cold and there's nothing worse than that except an advent-of-summer cold. A cold is pointless because:

1. head is heavy
2. nose is humungous (arbitary thought - rhymes with mundungus fletcher)
3. body has shut down

but you can't lie down and be sick and almost dying, you must get kicked out of the house for whatever reason. For all practical purposes, it's not a real thing.

So I went out and stocked up before the worst came on:

1. Pringle chips (barbecue flavour - decent, not my favourite which I am yet to decide)
2. Stick Jaws(the chocalate ones, not vanilla)
3. Fruitella(heart the chewiness and strawberry and grape flavour)
4. Sugar doughnuts(2)
5. Polo(duh)

Also invested in Two Caravans by Marina Lewycka. I enjoyed her first book and this one takes a while to kick off with the initial humour kind of flat but right now its rollicking. I like knowing authors from the beginning, from their first book. Sure I like Maragaret Atwood and Vikram Seth who've written a whole load of great novels but I don't know know them. So many people have read them, that the book isn't really yours as such. I like picking up a book that's relatively obscure and very good and just for recognising the familiar name and design(since they stick to their publishers) the second time around, I get excited and want to read it. I like her and Paul Torday too whose second novel I shall read next.

I downloaded,

1. Leatherheads(that George Clooney movie about football in the 30s, which is a camera print and absolutely awful so didn't watch it)
2. High Fidelity(which though I've seen several times on HBO, I felt like watching) and the book was good. I like Nick Hornby even though his books get made into jokey movies with Hugh Grant in them(About a Boy.) That dude(Nick not Hugh) is funny and knows what he's talking about.
3. Simon and Garfunkel - Greatest Hits - since no one owns tape players anymore and what good is a hard plastic covered cassette without a player except in the car?

Also, look what I found! WWE playing cards!It's all coming back to me, the hours and hours playing this pointless game which required absolutely no skill, because by the end of it we'd memorised the stats of the wrestlers and the art of peeking. So if you saw the opponents card you knew exactly what to call. I used to own this game, and shutup you - I didn't cheat, atleast not as much as you.

And remember - Trish Startus, ha, we used to get this kick every single time by calling out Breast - 41 inches. Though these days Khali is all the rage. Headlines Today dedicates half an hour to him at 10:30 I think when a WWE 'expert', which is a guy wearing a stone cold tshirt talks about the Great Khali and the anchor in all seriousness will ask - so will Khali win his next match? And the resident 'expert' goes, well, gaurav(insert forgettable name here) it's hard to say, he's been winning matches, performing well but there's a lot at stake here so we'll see what he can come up with under pressure, etc. etc.

IT'S ALL RIGGED DOOFUS. Though if they(Htoday) have Grandstand in the 9 pm slot, atleast they've come out of the closet about their entertainment/utter rubbsih status. I'll remember them fondly though because when they were a proper news channel, I happened to be watching when they announced the board results were out. R.I.P. Htoday.

*yes i discovered the 1-2-3 button today

I'll Back You Up

Have you ever hurt yourself really badly? As a kid or otherwise? Not the near fatal disease I'm going to - die write my will variety, more like a whack on the head or break a leg type?

I was learning how to ride my bike, could've been anywhere upwards of 5 and downwards of 7 years old and we stayed in this colony which had two blocks down and a massive uphill, easily at a 50 degree angle and the rest of the blocks in a circle above.

Now my side wheels were removed and there was this batman chappie who was jogging behind me. I made him swear to not let the seat go, and he kept reassuring me from behind, ya ya, I'm holding and I so knew he wasn't but I let it pass (because look, look I was riding without sidewheels!) Anyway after a very successful trip of cycling round and round, instead of taking another chakkar, I took the turn downslope to get home and I don't know if I forgot where the the brakes were or didn't know how to use them or what because I always had trouble starting and stopping (even when I learnt to drive a car, I could NEVER get it to start) and I'm cycling down steadily gaining speed and this guy is running madly behind me but I just couldn't help it and I went smack into a pillar of concrete infront of the garages. Ouch you say? Not really. I had to go get stitches on my head and chin and what not and had this huge scar on my left cheek but all that was ok, I don't remember it hurting as such.

What I do remember is that when we got back from the hospital, I was just lying in bed and I'm sure my dad must've used a few choice words on the bhaiya (because technically he wasn't suppsoed to let me go etc etc) and he was feeling so bad that he came and kneeled next to my bed and said 'gudiya mujhe maaf kar do' and I didn't really know what was going on but I wanted to give him a hug and say dude chill, it was totally my fault and he was feeling so terrible about it that my dad patted him on the back and told him to forget about it.

We were great friends he and I, I used to sit at the back of his cycle and he'd take me all over, and he'd push the swing higher and higher and higher for me.

I wonder where he is now? Rangaya his name was. And did he teach his kids to ride their bikes? And get a few hard knocks then as well?