Hysteria, when you're near

Hello world, been busy-busy and rather enjoying the flurry of activity amidst the nothingness, Me? I'm happiest when they're lots of things to be done. One of which is something like this. I figure as bloggers you're writers and it's all for fun so you absolutely must check it out and send in an entry just for laughs. Book coupons if ya win! Besides it's just 250 words or less which is less than a blogpost so do send in an entry.

Finished On Chesil Beach and I'm a bit disconcerted to be honest. *disclaimer - spoiler ahead*

I thought it would be painful to read because cmon, two virgins on their wedding night, pretty specific no? It read ok and it's slim so you can finish it in one go but I honestly didn't see the end coming. They, as in the couple, split up and simply don't talk to each other after that night, I mean wtf? I was almost convinced when I read the last page, that yea, maybe doing nothing, not saying something can change your whole life, the entire course of your marriage but, after I'd thought about it for awhile my conviction wore off. It's hard to believe that two people who loved each other all that much never once, in their whole life didn't even try to talk to the other again.

Or maybe I'm missing something here.

By the way, Van is a big fan of Ian McEwan and he loved Atonement(the movie) which I didn't and he didn't like Pride and Prejudice(the movie) which I loved. (Both of them were directed by Joe Wright, very British and ~ladila~)

me:No! how can you not like that movie?
he: oh they butchered the book
have you even read it?
Studied it. (ICSE or some such) You know that part when Darcy first confesses his love to Elizabeth, he says something like I love you. Most ardently.
nod head, uh huh
They ruined it and made it a bollowood filmy sequence in the rain with the clinging clothes and dramabaazi and what not.

Huh, I'd never thought of it that way and I came home, dug out the book, reread that part - and if I was on the edge about him before, I well and truly crossed it then.

Yea I sound dweeby and all but it's my blog shog after all.

I could never do that, someone would see through that

What would be your Dream Jobs?

Here are mine; I've combined a couple of them(as is evident.)

1. Rock Journalist (1968-1972) - for the Rolling Stone or Cream a.k.a. Willaim Miller, get to review Led Zeppelin IV and Morrison Hotel and listen to Stairway when it FIRST comes out, meet CCR, Jethro Tull, Iggy, Bread and Frank Zappa and apparently you got loadsa free records. Be permanently on tour and then settle down somewhere, have tonnes of records and as time passes, they get more valuable and all of sudden I'm rich. I'll have old friends from the tour over all the time and some new ones, like Joe Elliot, have a free unlimited supply of booze, so my underground room gets converted into a pub place kinda thing, of which I chuck out all people who listen to crap and die happily because of all the experimental drugs pumped in my body before the internet kicks in and our souls get scattered all across it.

2. Professional Tennis Player(1990 - 2002) - Win wimbeldon three times in a row(but not make want people want to tear their hair out like Federer), stay long enough to rake in the big bucks and then quit and start a slightly fancy bar/restrauant and when it gets super successful have a string of them all over the world and since I'll be all sporty anyway, take to surfing at a later stage(in my 30s) and do loads of moonlight dancing on the beach.

3. Writer kind of person (1945-1998), put out one incredibly bad book that nobody reads, be a profesor of English or History at a university maybe in New England, have my students adore me, share cigs with the drama club teacher and be Staff Supervisor to the best college magazine in the country. Marry a stunning up and coming artist who's genius is recognised after I've been the only person who faithfully believed in him for several years. Dabble in photography, freelance on the side, translate stuff from Czech and Polish, do a stint with Lonely Planet, and then, at 50 write one brilliant novel about my country and war and love and life and everything and spend the next couple of years basking in the glory, writing the next novel, giving talks here and there, traveling in style and die famously and suddenly at 53 with an uncompleted manuscript in my desk that'll be auctioned off and never published.

4. Be part of Alexander's Vanguard(something B.C.), and travel with him across Asia Minor to the Ends of the Earth and shout Alexandre! Alexandre! Alexandre! and be written in history forever and always.

5. Paintball Park Patron, I love paintball no matter how much it's supposed to hurt and maybe own a water park as well(not a lame excuse for one but one with the longest/fastest slides or something) somewhere on the highway between Bangalore and Coorg.

6. Inherit an Estate, maybe in Costwalds or near Pondicherry or the east near Tawang but somewhere not too cold. Have a lovely cottage with wooden panneling and a fireplace and miles and miles or farm land with a wood enclosed as well. I'd have horses and ride them around in the morning to check on everything and a whole bunch of dogs, Buddy too, though a meaner tougher version of him and a meaner tougher version of me. Also lots of other animals like on willow farm and in Thornbirds. And I'd have a jignormous library which a hundred years down the line will be something of a mecca, not a tourist place with tickets but an open place where you could come and live there and spend your days reading or writing or both.

7. Park Ranger/Jungle Guide and be one of those people clamping down the crocodiles as Steve Irwin talks into the camera and become this eccentric old lady with a fondness for liquor and an overused rifle who knows far too much about the jungle.

8. Doc - surprise entry here but it runs in the family and I really regret not even considering it seriously, I hate to say this but my decision was guided solely by, Look I've just given my 10th boards and I dont wanna join Akash tuitions or some such and take freaking PCM and bleeding B and just for that I said chuck it. Just like that.

9. Minister of Magic, and a famous Auror with legendary stealth ninja skills.

Oh I'm not going to ask for 10, nine's just fine for me.

I am the Eggman, I am the Walrus, goo goo gjoob

I borrowed just one book from him though we talked of hundred others.

There were lots of people standing in the balcony, some sitting on the railing, talking of this and that, it was an Ed Board meeting which turned into a Film Soc(iety) meeting. People were milling around, what to do now, lets go eat, where, here no there etc etc. He (who we shall call Van) said, I've been reading this book Travels with Herodotus by this Polish guy, Ryszard Kapuscinski (yea, don't even try pronouncing it) it's really good, you should read it. Everyone else is kinda quiet because well, they listen when he talks. It's this huge big circle but he's looking directly at me even though the conversation was a general one to begin with and me with shiny eyes, Sounds cool, can I borrow it sometime? Yup, then the rest of the adoring girls start off with the let's go, let's go and they walk off. But he got it for me the next day.

I thought it'd be really hard to read considering its a) Non Fiction and b) Translated - two of my complete no-nos. :shakes head: But it was surprisingly quite readable(relief.) It's split up into chapters according to the places he's been to so you can read them in any old order. Apparently he was this hands on journalist sorta dude who travels all over the world and is insightful in ways you least expect him to be. Herodotus ofcourse is an ancient greek who was one of the first infact the first traveller of the known world who chronicled his adventures. So basically Ryszard travels all over from Libya to Persia to Benaras and what not and he takes Herodotus with him and kinda sees the world thorugh the prism of his teachings.

Then, for my happy birthday he gave me Zorba the Greek, he'd told me about it earlier and how much he liked it, and written inside was - 'To the embarrassed Birthday Girl, hope you enjoy it as much as I did' this might seem like an innocent thing but it so. is. not. His coming was the reason I was really excited about the party and the reason I couldn't sleep that night, I was on such a high.

And I just know like Ryszard carried Herodotus with him everywhere, Zorba will be my Herodotus, It'll go wherever I go and I'll know it backwards and forwards. I have a feeling he(Van) and me will be great friends because we really are very alike and I can think of ten thousand things to say to him and counting.

If only there wasn't that other girl.

And if only I had some balls.

Sigh.

Don't let the days go by, glycerine

We went to Mocha on tuesday, Kasha's birthday treat but more importantly it's a Young People thing to do and that's why we as young people faithfully went and 'chilled at Mocha'. It's full of people like us who have hours and hours to kill on any given weekday, twas much fun. Today is Dino's birthday and everyone's majorly excited about the par-tay, infact most of them put off going home by a week to stay back for this.

You know what I'm really glad about? (or glad for? where's that wren and martin) When you have just a couple of minutes to spare and you're hanging around, waiting in a crowded place and you want to dial a number and just talk for that little while? Well I have a number to dial, two in fact and I really do have friends who know me, who know know me and will call 50 times a day to talk if we feel like. It wasn't always like this, I went through a very long phase and having polite friends who I didn't get and who had no idea who I was and thats' more trying than anything, then nothing's better than something. So I'm glad.

The Meso has landed today.

The last time Meso (cuz sis) was here we went on this grand family holiday to Jim Corbett becasue shocker of all shockers none of us had been there yet. The park itself was a terrific disappointment almost like Sariska with only peacocks and deers, just a more puffed up version of the DGC or Subroto Park(haha) but the government type guest house cottage thing we stayed at had a lovely view of the lake and was simply delightful.

So many bloggers talk about the shaadi attack they get, and I sit back and chortle as my sis gets it. Her dad says, don't worry, yeh khud munda chun ke layegi what do we have to do? I know who she's got in mind. Her mum goes, she has NO ONE in mind very emphatically and vehemently as if that closes the matter. Though Meso says she can't marry someone who doesn't love Pearl Jam. Fair enough.

If you've ever watched a single episode of Sex and the City or read any American chick lit book, the ultimate cliche is "Marry an Investment banker" no? Bag yourself the big gun which is hilarious and now Meso's the hotshot, so it's like haha, tables turned and it makes me fiercely proud somehow.

I'd heard so much of IIM but when I went there to meet Meso it was just so different. Their rooms are tiny and it really is very hot. The first person I was introduced to was this guy from Tamil Nadu with this long long surname like Tiruchillapalli or something. He was quiet and dark with specs and smiled a lot. He was stoned throughout and because all the parents were descending the next day for their graduation ceremony or whatever, he was trying to sell the weed he had left, I swear, we'd cross people in those lovely brick corridor things they have and through some weird code he'd ask them if they wanted it and they'd say yes and he'd say ok meet me later. O then there was this bengali guy and they all have these wack nicknames like tiru and patpat and what not, didn't know who was who, but he smoked steadily with this small pringle box as his ashtray. One guy would come in and recall some incident that happened the night before, some dude who'd done something stupid with fair annise? or some hair removing thing and they'd all laugh, not just polite hahacoughhaha but big fat loud guffaws. Some other guy would come in and would say the same thing, heard about sattu? there's no hair on his head man or some such and they'd all start off again. It was so much cooler than I expected, they really were normal folks and not evil maths geniuses about to take over the world.

Maybe they were both.

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?