Vagera, vagera, vagera sounds like Viagra, Viagra, Viagra.

Yesterday was shabbebaraat, which is an Islamic version of All Souls Day (ya, the pretty-much-only thing which separates this religion from that is the sword, and obviously, you can't say anything more than that because if you've seen cows slaughtered, you know better) and every festival, regardless of what it's supposed to mean, gets the entire Park Circus onto the roads. Which also means that you can't possibly figure out the road from the pavement from the naali which separates them except for when you feel your feet getting wet or feeling moist (depending on whether you've stepped on piss or shit). The funny part is, that they(we?) burst crackers on this day, and don't ask me why. They(we?) make and eat halua on shabbebaraat because the prophet had apparently broken a tooth and couldn't eat anything else on the day so he ate halua (oh man, how i would love to be the prophet just to see this from the clouds), so one can never know.

But anyway, poor old Neil wanted to have cha, so we met in the middle of this cacophony, which he obviously did not expect, and in all his innocence remarked, "Era jekhaane paaye, bomb phataaye kyano?"

All i can say is, well, who knows these things?

And if you're waiting for how the title of the post will eventually fit in here, of course it won't. After all, i'm your friendly neighbourhood attention-whore.

Because life is a Sacred Game.

Sometimes when i read a book, i end up thinking of characters who just pass by and wonder what it would be like if the book was about them. And it happens most when you are in a train compartment because you see characters all around you.

I met an old sarcastic couple. I mean, i've never met an Old Sarcastic Couple before, and these guys were the most fictional real characters i've seen around. And i met the most photogenic little kid i've ever seen, who patiently sat and saw all the photos on my camera, and a hijda who was a Man (i'm sorry, but again, i've never seen a Beard on a hijda, come on) And in the middle of this tedious journey, i was thinking of all the crazy things i did, and how Kerala was like a Wow which stretched on for a week, and about the paddy field i rode the scooty into, and about rocks which looked like sculptures, and mind you, this was when i was taking a break and looking out of the window from the book i was reading, and in the middle of vast green crop land, i saw a bunch of deer hop around.

And suddenly my world stopped. And i tried to savour in the moment. That somewhere, at the end of my month-long cacophonous existence, i saw a sight most spectacular in its simplicity. And its weirdness.

But that's the thing, the book will never be about the deer.

And well, thank god for that.