Don't you think the joker laughs at you?

2011-04-05T00:57:00.000+05:30

Walk, smile, stop, run.

Run for the life inside you, as fast as your heartbeats can take. Not the feet, not the road, not the mind, not the world which flashes by in the inside of your eyelid.

Run till your throat runs cold, Run till that spot on the left of your stomach just above your waist stops paining because it’s too used to pain. Run till you can hear your heartbeat pounding on the palm of your foot.

If the world doesn’t get you, don’t breeze past. Get the world instead. Look past the shiny billboards, into the black sky. Take all the traffic noise, the halogen lights, the smelly armpits, the office hours, the monsoon muck, the mother’s screams, the power cuts, the smashed cell phone, and run.

Till you can’t.

Then walk. Smoke a cigarette. Smile. Stop. And run.

Two thousand and ONE, mind you.

2011-01-02T23:51:00.000+05:30

My good friend texted me on 31st morning, and it read,
"Happy new year,i am king lear,eating eating beer,2001 near."

Long live Dipankar Lahiri.

2010.

2010-12-27T14:39:00.001+05:30

lataguri
lataguri
pune
bombay
pune
goa
thrissur
allepey
benaras
mussourie
sankarpur
gangtok
lachung
darjeeling

about 75 days in all.
about 29 long distance train/bus/car rides. ( 5 hours + )

this year will go down as the year i opened my eyes.

Hey Apple! ( try it with the exclamation mark! )

2010-12-12T18:24:00.000+05:30

hi!

Yesterday, i carried out this experiment!
Of talking this way, you know! Like, everything you said! Would end with an exclamation mark!! (or two!! )

And i realised it was so cool! And so annoying!!

But mostly i figured that if everybody in the world spoke like this! This world would be so funny!!!!!
And SO annoying!!

So much, that there would be no wars! Because how could you take an order given like this seriously!
But you'd Definitely smash a few skulls! And while you were at it, you'd go, take this!

Haha!
Don't you think!

? ( !!! )

2010-12-07T18:46:00.005+05:30

Cats are strange creatures, in a not so nice way. I like kittens, because they don't take themselves seriously. But cats usually have that air of bekaar ka bhao around them. It's happened Thrice now, a cat ( twice the same one, the third time was a different one ) has come and made my room its home, and given birth there. All of the three times, i have been immensely happy about it. The first time, it was till the li'l ones could start walking, the second was till they started eating on their own, and the third, i don't know, they hit fucking puberty or something, but Every time, once the cat thought that enough homely comfort had been gained, she's taken the li'l ones away into wilderness or wherever. When i went to sleep, there were kittens on my bed, hopping around and slapping each other.When i woke up, there was silence. And THEN she comes back again, purring and looking for food, acting like nothing just happened. And i feel like standing up and Applauding. However, somehow, they seem to gain my respect every now and then. I don't know why or how, but it is probably because they seem like they Really don't give a shit. My friend Sumeet had this theory that all dogs are male, and all cats are female. Give the dog some affection, some food, he's yours forever, but a cat, will eat all food, will pretend to ignore all affection, and will not let you even touch her.

Unconnected (or not), but I have been seeing this cat around my window for some time now. This picture is pretty old, but i've caught it in deep, whatseemslike really comfortable slumber in the Oddest of places. Like in the gap between grills of a window, or the corner of the electricity supply box amidst all the wires, or on the thin band of whatever coming out of the building you see above the pipe in the photograph.

i like this cat

( haha, the photo looks like it's out of the Daily Prophet or something, with the snow and all :D )

My Stoic Friend

2010-11-27T17:20:00.000+05:30

It happened quite a few days ago, but exams and suchlike have been on my mind. The thing is, that during bakreid, Jannagar Road turns into a khataal. Last year, i remember posting a photograph of a camel which was parked for qurbani under my house ( i know, ive recently realised this blog is more than one year old and that doesn't happen very often with me so i Keep harping on the fact ), and there are gorus from Australia who come over at this part of the year, so really, if you get yourself a bakra, you might as well sacrifice it in your bathroom.

Any way, this year, as has been the custom in the family for a few years now, came along a little khassi, as they call it. They come, they go. I am not really affected by it, i don't like fussing. There's no bond built, they usually know themselves that it's their last night before they get sacrificed. It's the way it happens, it's all a part of the food chain, the way the world works. But to be honest, this guy was a charming little fellow. I got him from khidderpore, he had black and white spots, and i knew he liked me from the moment i set my eyes on him. He never once moved left or right, never once shrieked, he happily trudged along wherever i took him, through fields and chaat walas, into the backseat of the car, and stayed there. He reached home, i left him in my room, and started watching tv. My mum commented on the fact that he Just does Not seem to have a vocal chord, and thus, bang on cue, to showcase to my mum what a lovely voice he had, the fellow started singing. So i came back into the room and asked him to chill it man, that she got it, and he obediently quietened down. And he stayed there, the entire night, sitting, and then getting up to get some exercise, eating leaves, letting out a yawn, or a sneeze and then going back to slouching. He was probably writing an autobiography in his head, it looked like that, but i couldn't be sure.

And then next morning happened, and i looked at him, and said, buddy, time up. He understood me perfectly, i could see it in his eyes. With no signs of any protest, he came along, quietly, let out a barrage of goat-potty Right at my front door, and then hopped down the stairs, i shit you not. The others were getting halaal-ed at that point of time, so i didn't let him see that, though i'm sure he would have braved it in his own unperturbed way, the hero. And so he came onto the playing field, and this is the part where people get violent. I couldn't bare to see it, of course, let alone chalao the knife across his throat, but they told me he didn't even twitch through it all, in a way that he was a convenient fellow, and had no 'badan mein phurti'.

Of Course, i thought. He didn't really belong to this world of gleeful violence, you see. Actually, to be honest, and i knew this all along, i really just thought that he was a bit of a stoner.

The shrinking penis disease.

2010-11-15T01:58:00.000+05:30

So now, it's confirmed. It's true.

Three of Pathak's maids told him about a disease which is doing the rounds of the villages around calcutta where for the males the penis, and for the females the breasts are suddenly shrinking in size. I laughed it off, obviously, telling him that it's okay, everyone thinks it's bigger anyway, so one person thought that it Just happened, and hence everyone joined in to make themselves feel better. But then the next day i heard about the same disease from three friends in Entirely different friend circles, and all of them drew the line back to the maid at Their place.

Now google tells me that it's happened in Gurgaon too.

There are conflicting opinions, however, on what the cure is. While some believe you need to apply chuna on the ears and the neck, some believe you need to immerse yourself in a pond ( or any body of water) for a couple of hours.

2010-11-13T18:45:00.000+05:30

Very often in life, i think that cricket is something i shouldn't have let go in the way i did. More so with these super-slow motion cameras. At a thousand frames a second, they make a cover drive look like chocolate syrup pouring on strawberry. I recently caught myself jumping on the sofa going Look At That Man when they showed Laxman playing an on drive through mid-wicket in super slow mo. It's something else, it's something else. And then i sit and get sucked into a world. Of how the 96 world cup would look different if there were these cameras on a certain gentleman called Jonathan Rhodes. Or a Warne feeling the seam of the leather ball on the tip of his fingers during his walk-up ( you Can't call that a run-up, can you?) before a delivery. Or, haha, Courtney Walsh trying not to break into laughter and then finally not being able to control himself and bursting out uncontrollably when he sees the electric blue colour on Funky Miller's head while taking guard first thing in the morning.

Okayokay, stopme stopme. I can see this turning into an old-friends-and-alcohol-talk.

But then again, a Brian Lara backlift and pull shot, in super slow mo. There aren't too many things more breathtaking to watch in life.

2010-11-08T23:54:00.001+05:30

I know some sensational people. I told Anuj Gupta that i was studying metaphysical poetry for some test tomorrow, and he said, "Arre, koi behnchod kuchh likha itna sau saal pehle, te log ko abhi bhi usmein unglee karna zaroori hai na. Go find some work to do man, earn some money na"

Well, sometimes it's really difficult to argue with such Fine logic.

And yes, i'm also realising i know too many people who offer me these quotable quotes.

2010-11-04T13:38:00.001+05:30

So I got out of a comedy exam and bumped into Sion outside the union room. He had seen me before the exam too, and asked how it went, and i told him that i thought there was a Random-ass question.

"The first act is ingenious, the second is beautiful, and the third abominably clever." Comment on the plot structure of The Importance of Being Earnest with reference to the critic's views ( or something on the lines of that ). You know, What KIND of a question is that.

To which he replies saying, "Actually, i don't know about the plot structure, but i can definitely comment on the critic. He's homosexual."

I'm quite a Sion fan, i must say, and things like this just make me feel better about it.

stoned musings on a theatrical night

2010-11-03T00:16:00.001+05:30

अरे मार देंगे, हिला देंगे, जला देंगे साली दुनिया | यह जोश ही काफी है, दिखा देंगे दुनिया |

2010-10-29T00:53:00.002+05:30

If there's no other way to get rich in this life, i will write a book documenting the situations my dad gets into, and his reactions to each of them. I remember writing a post about the omni getting sold off not too long ago. Now, water has flown under the bridge and a Santro has taken its place in the parking lot under the house. My mum is indifferent, i still prefer the khatara, but my dad, it must be said, has fallen head over heals for the new car. It's his dream machine. "A Grey Santro with a red doctor's sign looks like a car with standard," is his modest opinion. ( the 'modest' is sarcasm. Don't be fooled by words, you should see his expression when he says 'standard'.)

And Of Course, it had to happen.

The car had just been parked outside Mocambo, and my dad had just entered the restaurant when, apparently, a drunk young gentleman behind the wheel of a Tata Sumo smashed straight into the car. There was nothing of the front left headlight left ( left headlight left, haah) , nor most of the bonnet.

Also, my dad asked me to sleep in his room that night.

In reality, it really irks me, this weird Affection for this inanimate object. His obsession with the car is Unimaginable. Or not so unimaginable. But I also remembered something he had said the First time the omni got a scratch. He said, "You know, every time there's a scratch on the car, there is a dent in my heart"

The aww-fulness of the situation sometimes does get to me.
But i daresay, his heart must be Really deformed right now.

2010-10-10T19:59:00.000+05:30

There’s a little bit of a craving somewhere. I don’t understand. I can hear the clicks of my fingers on the keyboard and the especially clicky sound of the space bar, and i can hear little girls go ring-a ring-a roses downstairs. I can also hear the blades of the fan, they make a sort of sound scape with the air around them. The faster the blades move, the more whirly the sound gets. I think i can hear my stomach but i’m not sure. What i Do know for sure, is that I love the peace after madness.

Maybe that’s why i love the madness so much, for this peace.

Fetched from the ruins.

2010-10-02T11:47:00.005+05:30

Photos from about a year back, and it Just caught my eye. As you will soon realise, this could not have been co-ordinated. And Priyanka Kumar is talented in many, many ways. It's true.

Poetry, sweet Poetry.

2010-09-30T14:31:00.004+05:30

Yahaan bhi hoga, wahaan bhi hoga.

Ab toh saare jahaan mein hoga.
Kya?

Tera hi jalwa.

Alright, to the rhythm and the beats so high

Tera jalwa jalwa hai right

To the rock and roll from mine.

Say hi to Johnny

2010-09-19T13:53:00.002+05:30

I think dreams are just some kind of a mean joke played on humanity by god. And that little moment, when you've woken up, but you're still half-dreaming, so you're still believing those things in your head when you can see the ceiling fan, that's the part when god starts rolling on the floor.

I had a dream where i was Johnny Bravo. With green round glasses instead of black. And my twelve inch biceps. Saying "Whoa momma." And it seemed perfectly logical, everything. In honour of the dream, i have decided that Johnny shall now be an integral part of this page.

I'm telling you.

2010-09-10T19:28:00.002+05:30

Auto Rickshaws in Calcutta often throw up masterpieces on their backsides. From "my name is Khan", to "Road Romeo", to poetic urdu couplets to "buri *insert drawing of an eye* wale tera *insert drawing of a pair of luscious lips* kala".

But today i encountered a rather earnest piece of advice from the auto message board. It simply said, "Avoid girl.bright future.have safe life"

Over and above everything, it just felt so Sincere. I have a feeling he Must have had a heartbreak.

Today's a bandh and i'm writing a bloody blogpost.

2010-09-07T12:10:00.005+05:30

The older we get, the more our priorities shift from important things in life. Today's a bandh. And i just caught myself lamenting on how i was supposed to get to place a from place b. Rewind five years, actually even three, and i would have found myself having the best morning i would have had had in a long long time ( notice the oh-so-cool use of two two hads and two two longs and damn i just overdid it, i know).

Bandhs were the Shit in school. Like rainy days, when school gave off and that too at the last moment, so you couldn't possibly prepare for it. But rainy days were still okay, because you had to sit at home and eat garam garam alu paratha, which is perfectly fantastic but just that the worth for those moments is less when you're a kid. Bandhs, on the other hand, meant you could get onto the streets and have a day-long tournament of para-cricket, and Everybody from the uncles who were champion cricketers in their good ol' days, to the Serious cricketers who played Serious cricket and didn't like playing with tennis balls in paras, to the maaru kids with their servants ( i Hate using that word, i really do) and their expensive bats and caps (who were shown their Real place on this day, haah, fucken brats), to the guy you never knew Existed in your para, they all came. And the mummies and aunties looked at the kid/husband/whoever abusing the hell out of one another on the streets from their windows and smiled and giggled.

I could never understand the hoo-haa about bandhs in life, everyone just seemed so perfectly happy that day. And ya, i know how nothing will ever happen to Calcutta if it keeps happening, and the amount of money the world loses, and how daily wagers have to survive another day with nothing, and i completely understand. I actually do.

Also how also it's all a big joke, really.

But this city's a little Like that, i say.

RIP

2010-09-04T03:48:00.002+05:30

Every person in the world who clicks photographs has a photo like this.

But, this be first photograph taken with the camera which is no more. Tried focussing on the focussing ring inside the mirror but didn't quite work out. Also, i'm a pretty self-obsessed guy, i know, it shows.

Either way, here's to rudolph.

2010-08-24T00:44:00.007+05:30

My father is a most interesting human being. He is one guy i've never been able to figure out. I can't say he's particularly smart, or dumb, or hard working, or principled, or anything. All i know is that he's a pretty terrible storyteller and a couple of people out there would definitely vouch for the fact that so am i ( you shall understand the significance of this statement a little later).

Haan, so I was just having a conversation with him, and he was trying to elucidate me on the significance of ramzan etc, and then the conversation somehow shifted to his beliefs, and His father's beliefs, to our ancestry, and then somehow to the significance of the little Syed before my name that i've always managed to shy away from. Now my father's faith in the concept of Genes is unshakable. It ranges from his defence of smoking (Apparently, how strong your lungs are has a lot to do with genes. Churchill lived till whenever, he cites, how do you explain that? Of course there's a little glint in my eye which he conveniently manages to not catch ), to the fact that he's an honest man (and he's convinced so am i ), to ( now wait for this one ) the inability of any of us to be decent at Math. I come from a family of doctors, my dad and two of his three brothers are doctors, and the only reason for that is because they supposedly all sucked at Math. Also, most of them are short-tempered, and so is my brother, here i guess i deviate a little bit.

Anyway, that's not the point.

The point is, i'm supposed to stand tall in the face of adversaries. Because Syeds are like that only. My forefathers fought against Akbar and told him to chooso his own because they thought Din-i-Ilahi was all shit. He wanted to prosecute them, so they ran off to Bareili, present-day Baro, which is apparently where i Originally hail from. So my puppa told me that i will make it big in life and rise and shine because i'm a Syed. At This moment, i failed to manage to put two and two together ( nobody in my door door ke rishtedaar has really managed to make it Big in life) and smiled and said No daddy, that's not because i am Syed, that's because i am Stud.

But then again, who was i talking to. My baap is the baap of bad jokes. His eternal favourite ( he's cracked it once a month for the last 15 years of my existence, i Clearly remember ), is that once the Indian contingent was sitting at the pool during the Barcelona Olympics when one of the officials came and asked one of our most esteemed athletes if he was relaxing. The athlete turned around and said, "No, i'm Milkha Singh."

Indeed, my father is a most interesting human being.

Ripley's believe it or not.

2010-08-06T11:10:00.003+05:30

Rituparna Sengupta's page on Wikipedia says that she got an award in 1997 for a film called "aamar gooder kuttar baada"

I'm not kidding.

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

2010-07-29T11:37:00.004+05:30

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.

2010-07-17T01:05:00.003+05:30

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.

2010-06-25T13:35:00.003+05:30

My brother is a closet Argentina supporter, i know it. One of the most common reasons for supporting a country is usually that they're arch rivals of the team your elder sibling supports. But my brother is not the die hard football fan, not even the ones who turn fans during the World Cup. He supported France in 98 because everybody around him supported Brazil, and this World Cup he's supporting Italy because he had an Italia tshirt and thought it was a good enough reason. Strange man he is, yes.

But that's not the point. The point is, that he happens to come across these random articles written on Maradona and Argentina and he forwards them to me, on the pretext that i'll enjoy them. And i just found one on his desktop. The other day he turned a supporter of Greece (he was supporting Angelopolis, he said) because they were playing Argentina and everybody likes the Argentinians. He screamed and shouted 'Go Greece' every time the the Greek goalkeeper made a save, or they managed to make a correct pass, i mean that's a real sad state to be in. But in spite of his rather embarrassingly drunk-loud-noisy support for the Greeks, i noticed it. His eyes lit up when Messi made a swish and a flick (yes yes, a la Vingardium Leviosa), he smiled when Maradona jumped and danced, his eyebrows raised inconspicuously when Milito pierced through the Greek defence, even though he might have been pretending to be gunning for the Greek defender at that point of time.

Well, one can't really blame him. It's just the game beautifully played after all.

2010-06-09T01:06:00.002+05:30

Very often, i see myself fitting in. More often, i see myself fitting out. In the middle of people, looking like people all around me, smiling at people, too many smiles, too many people. That’s when i know it’s happening. And i float in and out, mechanically. My feet move me, so i move, technically, and that’s good enough for most of me. Sometimes, it scares you because you keep seeing the same people everywhere. It’s like a nightmare you can’t get over. You can’t stay at home all day because you need to meet people to keep your mind from getting a little numb, so you get out, to catch some air and at least make faces at the dogs. And then you manage to bump into the same air around you, the same smell of your sweat, the same faces, the same places. And you get drawn back into the same story. Or you fit out.

Basically, i need a drastic change in my life. In a lot of ways.

Mera baap doctor hai.

2010-05-27T00:58:00.004+05:30

My father was overflowing with love and concern for his little kid who was running a high temperature and had aches all over his body today. So he comes back home, and tells me that he has got me some things which will make me absolutely fit-and-fine in no time. And unpacks, with a lot of excitement, a box which contains all kinds of medicine.

Clearly, a doctor's life sucks.

Eternal Sunshine, once again.

2010-05-20T01:44:00.003+05:30

The day started with that. And ended with that.

But in the middle, i visited a place called Ghalib Bar. It was one of those places, which i saw from the outside throughout my growing up life, and would wonder about all the kinds of things that could go on inside. They allowed me in even though i was wearing shorts because that's the 'international dressing' these days, they said. And once i stepped in.

Perspective-on-life-changing score, two out of two, for now.

Clear Your Mind.

2010-05-19T00:12:00.004+05:30

Tomorrow i will wake up to Kate Winslet, Jim Carrey, and Kirsten Dunst smiling at me.

And my perspective on life shall change, yet again.

:-)

Shehron Shehron Baat Chali Hai

2010-05-16T00:47:00.005+05:30

It's always cool to go to a mountain and marvel at the snow-covered peak glistening in the golden rays of sun it receives on the odd day, and indeed the expanse of the ocean in front of you while you sit on a beach, but there is a wind which blows across cities, which makes it rather interesting to notice too. There are these quirks which every city carries, which somehow say a lot more about the unconscious state the streets live in than anything else. Basically, i like visiting cities. Different different kinds of roads and buildings and different different kinds of people talk in different different kinds of languages and have different different disgusting habits, its all nice to see. :-)

For example, if you could imagine an entire city made up of streets which Only either looked like Strand Road (Oh, the impression a first time visitor would get about Calcutta when he's on his way in from Howrah for the first time, it's never ceased to make me chuckle) or Ripon Street, it would be called Jamshedpur. Imagine auto rickshaws riding innocuously on the extreme left in these huge, clean, carpet-like roads one instant and then plummeting into the hustle-bustle of a regular fish market the next, and then coming out again onto the surface again in the next. The explanation, is that half the city is run by Tata, and half by the government.

In Kanpur, they cuss. Left, right and centre. I happened to be at a tea stall run by an old gentleman who had shiny white hair. An early morning, when people in the Lakes would be recognising each other while walking and going 'Good morning Mr Banerjee!', he was going, "Arre Sharma bhadue! kaisa hai betichod!"

And in Pune, there are two wheelers Everywhere. A normal family has a scooty for each female member, a bike or a scooty or a scooter for each guy, and Then they have their cars. Oh, and Pune has my respect. I came across a PINK auto-rickshaw there. SHOCKING PINK (i can't really find a pink shocking enough in the font colours here, but it comes close), no kidding.

Also, i spent a night on the Marine Drive in Bombay (i wish i got show caused by somebody from the Sena for using Bombay, it would be so cool) and at around four thirty in the morning, the Lake-equivalent dadus came out to jog. Only, they were all plugged in to their ipods, and they Literally jumped over people sleeping on the footpath by the sea.

Wait.

Shit.

Imagine the quirks Calcutta would have for non-Calcuttans.

Oh Shit.

2010-04-29T11:32:00.002+05:30

"Haraf padhna pada type ka

Paani peena pada pipe ka.

Aankh aayi hai, pet chalta hai."

Recounted by the mother, who quite clearly still hasn't gotten used to "naya generation ka technology."

Tweet for twat.

2010-04-19T01:08:00.002+05:30

Twitter has started to really annoy me. It has this page3 vibe about it, the famous for being famous types. And it's taking over India. The Telegraph depends on it for its 'quote of the day' every day anyway. Shashi Tharoor can blame it partly for losing his minister-ship.

And the filmistars, oh the filmistars. When will they learn. Interviews were embarrassing enough. Now they proudly parade their stupidity around fifteen times a day. If i was prime minister, i would do the country a favour and just ban twitter, democracy jaaye bhaand mein.

2010-04-16T22:03:00.000+05:30

kaa be? kaa hua?

2010-04-03T00:57:00.003+05:30

I don't get this deal about people calling each other judgemental. Everyone is judgemental. When i look at a person, i think he's fat, or he's got a weird left eye, or he's really stupid, or she's really hot. And the moment i do that, i'm judging the person, willingly or unwillingly, on it. Some people air their views, some keep it to themselves, but that doesn't change a person's judge-mental-ity, does it?

Also, i don't know How dada manages to score runs. I am yet to see a batsman who seems like getting out every second ball that he faces, even if it might eventually go for a six. He's survived fifteen years of international bowling now without knowing what to do with a bouncer. And anyone who saw the match against the Mumbai Indians ( i Still can't get over this name.Mumbai INDIANS? ) knows that sometimes, when the ball comes towards him while he is fielding, it emits fevi quick. There cannot be another explanation.

In other news, the Sena has said that Sania has become an enemy of India. My dad insists that she will become a Pakistani citizen once she marries Shoaib Malik, and that it's her parents' fault, they should know these things. And no one finds funny the fact that Shoaib Malik married (or not) the first girl over the phone, and then dumped her because she was actually very different from how she looked in photographs. I'm sorry, but i have to admit i'm judgemental.

Other than that, shobi maya.

2010-03-29T00:42:00.002+05:30

Some people Always manage to leave you with a smile on your face. And some people never do. And then this mood stays in the air, loitering around, while you expect it to hit your face, but all it does is it lingers. Annoyingly.

And i can see it. I'm pretty sure i'll soon get back to hating college. There'll be too much heat, and too many people, and too much noise, and too little to do. And i'll drive myself nuts.

So i'll just stay away. :)

2010-03-17T22:21:00.002+05:30

Today, somebody called me 'intense and creepy'.

And then someone else called me 'a little sad boy from inside.'

Both were very serious. I have still not recovered.

It was written.

2010-03-13T02:05:00.005+05:30

Today, mother jane played this song which translates into "it is written".

Today was the last time i ever took my dad's omni out. It's going to a new owner tomorrow.

Today, was also supposed to be it's swansong. And you bet it was.

Okay. Let's begin from the beginning. My dad's omni is a khatara in the truest sense of the term. Its brakes don't function properly (you need to slam it down thrice for the car to come to a complete stop), it's gears are really fucked (you need to wrestle it down to the fourth), there's Nothing called a suspension (you'll think you just flew off a ramp if there's a pencil on the road), it makes these strange noises whenever you go past thirty (like the ones your tummy makes when you know it's having a Really bad day), it has an insanely irritating radio (which has Never stayed tuned into a radio station peacefully for an entire song), and its engine -which is under your bum if you're driving it or you happen to be the unfortunate one to sit beside the driver- heats up to boiling temperature within seconds. Just to give you an idea. And Every single time that i've hopped onto it, i'm Sure i've chucked abuses at it for something or the other.

But somehow, it's one of those things which are speyshul. Like the speyshul kid. And it's been a silent witness to the craziest of things i've done. I learnt how to drive in it, and though many would doubt how much i've still actually learnt, the first time i took it out on road with my brother, i hit eighty kmph, and almost killed a person. Neil learnt to drive in it, singing loudly and almost killing a line of people on cycles. I've gone on Countless number of early morning or late night cha outings with Raka, and others in it. I've driven it for most of the last three years without a license, because i wasn't eighteen. I've sneaked out of home every other day, in the middle of the night, and driven it around, listening to that very grating sound it made every time it crossed thirty. I once overtook a Mercedes on an empty stretch in it. I've had friends hop in and run around the city spraying propaganda(?) on public walls, and we almost got caught once, with a chaukidaar running after us while we were busy changing drivers and stopping to pick up one of the friends who was running after the car, screaming that he had been forgotten. I've seen sunrise at the ghats in it. I've crossed the Howrah Bridge in it, when there weren't more than four cars i could see. It has fit a cycle and two more people at the back, which seems way easier to do than it actually is. I've opened the gates of the car and sat inside, only to realise then that there was someone sleeping on its roof. I've never Ever had an accident, however minor, in it. I've had more than a thousand moments which could have turned into accidents with me or someone else dying in the process.

And then my dad got a new car. And so i thought i would get to keep the omni. I also made grand plans for it, the first of which was to get "Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahi, namumkin hai" plastered on its back. But it was not to be. Because the omni is going away tomorrow.

So Vikrant thought we'll give it a final goodbye today, and so it came all the way to jadavpur. It even housed a mini drink-session, and we also raised a toast to it. Then it went to park street, then to russel, and was on its way back to drop Priyanka to Baghajatin, in the middle of a beautiful drive, when suddenly, its tyres Burst.

Saale ke character mein hi khot hai.

I've never really felt so nostalgic about losing something, ever. Good bye dear omni, stay well. I'll always love you, in spite of your character. Or because of it.

Bye Bye Frog.

2010-03-11T11:14:00.003+05:30

Also, there's a virus on my blog. So the widgets need to go.

So say bye-bye to the frog. :-(

Till it returns, hopefully. :-)

Lataguri watch tower.

2010-03-11T10:17:00.005+05:30

There was a terribly pretty pathway which led to it, paved with elephant shit every here and there. In itself, it wasn't a particularly impressive structure, half-broken down, and with huge trees all around it. It also overlooked an unbuilt resort and a huge patch of grass where dogs fought. So much for a watch tower in a forest.

But once you Entered the watch tower, you would realise the Shit it actually was. From "i love my india" scratched painfully across the wood, to "Sasi is good girl" engraved with an air of righteousness, there were amazing things covering Every square foot of the place, the floor, the roof, the stairs. Everywhere.

If this ruddy site let me upload more photos in peace, it would much help the cause. But since it won't, here's the one which took the cake.

My favourite line was "one glass lassi??"

2010-02-23T20:56:00.005+05:30

My first tryst with Nissim Ezekiel came when i was in class 5 when i had decided, after much consideration, that i shall recite a poem by him for the annual 5 vs 6 elocution contest held in school. I realise Now, that i had pronounced his name as Ezekyle (rhyming with bile ) all along, and no one even corrected me.

Anyway, i was just reading Jewish Wedding in Bombay, and thinking what a stud poem it was. One doesn't really expect something like that from the prim and proper life that he seemed to have lived. I mean, he was a poet (How prim and proper can poets be? ) AND he undertook major LSD trips for a period of time in his life, AND he was a Jew (forgive the insensitivity), but there weren't too many quirkier things in his life. He seems like the nice-but-a-little-cranky grandfather kind of a person, who took his job as the most important poet of modern India rather seriously.

But what happened in the middle of all of this was, that i remembered the poem i had recited in class 5. Well, i don't want to say much about it, except that it is a piece of work which has definite potential to Radically change opinions about the man's entire Life.

For your benefit, dear reader,

The Patriot.

-Nissim Ezekiel

I am standing for peace and non-violence.

Why world is fighting fighting
Why all people of world
Are not following Mahatma Gandhi,
I am simply not understanding.
Ancient Indian Wisdom is 100% correct,
I should say even 200% correct,
But modern generation is neglecting -
Too much going for fashion and foreign thing.
Other day I'm reading newspaper
(Every day I'm reading Times of India
To improve my English Language)
How one goonda fellow
Threw stone at Indirabehn.
Must be student unrest fellow, I am thinking.
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, I am saying (to myself)
Lend me the ears.
Everything is coming -
Regeneration, Remuneration, Contraception.
Be patiently, brothers and sisters.
You want one glass lassi?
Very good for digestion.
With little salt, lovely drink,
Better than wine;
Not that I am ever tasting the wine.
I'm the total teetotaller, completely total,
But I say
Wine is for the drunkards only.
What you think of prospects of world peace?
Pakistan behaving like this,
China behaving like that,
It is making me really sad, I am telling you.
Really, most harassing me.
All men are brothers, no?
In India also
Gujaratis, Maharashtrians, Hindiwallahs
All brothers -
Though some are having funny habits.
Still, you tolerate me,
I tolerate you,
One day Ram Rajya is surely coming.
You are going?
But you will visit again
Any time, any day,
I am not believing in ceremony
Always I am enjoying your company

-----

2010-01-27T22:52:00.002+05:30

When you skip while returning home at 11 at night, you've Got to be a happy man.

And it's funny how it works. I bought an NFS carbon from park circus and went over to Vikrant's, and as it turned out, the ruddy cd didn't work on his laptop. But what Did work, was this old Counter Strike cd he found lying around somewhere. All that is cool.

But this is where Magic begins. We set up a LAN from his wi-fi, and played as a team, on the same game, from different computers. You don't understand the thrill this gives you until you see a player named International Khiladi running around beside you and you know it's controlled by some one in the same room. And i suck at computer games generally, and i'm even worse at something like Counter Strike, but who the fuck cares.

And with my newly-acquired terrorist look, i fit into the terrorist gang also.

So bring it on, fuckers and fuckees, Gunmaster Gogo is in the house.

2010-01-23T21:38:00.004+05:30

Today, i saw an ad on television where Virender Sehwag says that he'll be going to the stadium to watch the Hockey World Cup, which is taking place in India this year. It's so ironical.

"Dhanraj Pillai, whose career spanned from December 1989 to August 2004, played 339 international matches. The Indian Hockey Federation keeps no official statistics for the goals scored. There is no credible information on the number of international goals scored by Dhanraj. He reckons it is more than 170, but a leading hockey statistician insists it is closer to 120" says Wikipedia.

There was a short span of time when i followed Indian hockey very closely. They weren't anywhere close to the top of the game, but they were an amazing bunch of players to watch. Prabhjot Singh, Jograj Singh (penalty corner specialist who was involved in a car accident and has probably never played hockey since), Dilip Tirkey and Dhanraj Pillai made up a team which made life more exhilarating. This was a time when players were still allowed to charge out from the goal line at the time of a penalty corner. They would get hit on their bodies every second time, and would go back and charge out again, with the same vigour.

Dhanraj was as close as i'll ever get to watching a freedom fighter in a battle. He made one shout and scream at the television set. But such is the state of Indian Hockey.

Quote of the week.

2010-01-17T19:54:00.003+05:30

Sion, after bumping into me at worldview while everybody was getting excited about the solar eclipse, said this.

"Arre, solar eclipse ta dekhish na re. Akkebaare safdar theke iqbal hoye jaabi"

2010-01-15T03:01:00.003+05:30

Par main toh pal do pal ka raahi hoon ji.

khush rehta hoon, khush rakhne ki koshish karta hoon ji.

hansta, khelta, gaata bandah hoon ji.

aur rahne ki chaahat hai ji.

2010-01-08T20:57:00.002+05:30

Arre but at the end of the day, it's all the same shit na.

Nobody gives a fuck. Nobody gives a fuck about what's right and what's not, what should be done and what not. As long as it's all convenient. If i help someone, it's because i derive happiness out of it. I smile at you because i want to smile, not because i want to make your day. Or even if it is because i want to make your day, ultimately it's because even that will make Me happy. Because you see, You are the centre of your universe. And i am of mine.

Some days, you just feel pissed off because they all come and smile and laugh and maaro lyadh, and go back, and you know that's not what you want to do. But you don't know what you want to do either. Other days you feel pissed off because there are people Teaching you what to do, who don't know shit about shit themselves. And then you see other people laugh With them. And it creates this ugly contorted image as a whole. Of a pile of shit. Every single way you can look. And all you want to do, really, is go back to yourself. Because That shit, you can still take comfort in.

And then beer comes to the rescue. But not quite.

2009-12-30T00:58:00.005+05:30

Today i saw a dachshund.

Their lives exist till the bonnets of the cars. Imagine. That's so Fucked up man.

Every other day, i find things which change my perspective on life.

Also, i went bald today. Well, almost. One more of those things. I haven't lived long enough to remember the last time i felt cold wind blast upon my scalp. It's something else, it is.

2009-12-20T12:40:00.005+05:30

I have a yellow room somewhere, i know i do. I just saw it in my dream, and i’ve just woken up with a start, and i’ve dreamt of it before, and i can see it in front of me. It’s a bright room, with curtains always drawn. It has the softest mattresses which cover my bed, mattresses which protrude from the end of the bed, so that when you sleep, you gently slope and fall to the ground if you start moving too much. It’s how i get up from the dream, by falling to the floor. And it Always has people. Right now, it had buddhadeb babu sitting and writing poetry, no he was drawing venn diagrams, and there was tanmay, and there was someone who was taking a shower, and lots of other people who came in and out of the room at their free will. Before i went to the room i smoked a cigarette with my dad. But that was because i smoked a cigarette with my school teachers yesterday, that doesn’t have anything to do with the room. And the room has fancy lighting, like stage lighting, only it isn’t so dramatic.

2009-12-14T02:33:00.002+05:30

It's crazy to actually think of How much the bollywood of the 80s and 90s owes to Sanskrit drama. Everything that you consider as 'typically' bollywood, i just found out, is actually really, the Core of the Sanskrit drama traditions.

And i suddenly feel like such a knowledgeable man.

Also, the comparative literature course structures at Jadavpur are so cool, it's not funny.

This frog you see --------->

2009-12-09T21:20:00.002+05:30

has a very weird habit. When it catches mosquitoes which are not directly in front of its mouth, it does so by launching its tongue from Under its feet.

It's a talented frog, i say.

2009-12-05T19:33:00.007+05:30

A long long long time ago, i had held a bag of coffee beans as hostage and blackmailed Raka into writing me a poem. I told her to write it, for the sake of pure sadistic pleasure, on why she was lesbian. Now this was my evil mind at work, because she Had to get the coffee beans back ( they were all Fancy and were her mother's). There were other rules also. They needed to be at least 14 lines in length and had to be in proper rhyme to qualify. I secretly also doubted her sexuality, for i remember she couldn't stand a Single guy i knew, and that was definitely a problem since i liked her. Anyway, she wrote it, and it was titled, 'Why am i doing this?'

The poem was pretty fantastic, and i had even put it up on my blog, but she refused to take credit for it. Anyway, the old blog has vanished, and no traces of the poem remain, but i remember when i had made her write it. It was possibly after Creation, back when we were in school, where a Huge furore was created because during Impact (a supposed impromptu one act competition, for those who were never in the fest-loop), she had thrown an lmb school tie onto the ground while on stage. I don’t remember whether it was intentional or not. It doesn't really matter, and the crowd, quite obviously completely loved it. The best part about this story is that the tie remains with her, in her cupboard, adorning the neck of a stuff Dog.

In fact, Also inside her cupboard, is this poster which has intrigued me forever. It was gifted to her by her sister. Raka owns Zappa on the Crappa.

And now that i’ve started thinking about it, i suddenly have the urge to go through that cupboard. I’m very sure it will throw out interesting specimens.

Merlin Park is a nice place to hang out, yes. :-)

p.s. i half-felt like typing lmb in a Big,Bold font as a tribute to my dearest mr Dada.

What's your six word story?

2009-12-03T20:34:00.004+05:30

"dipsomaniac."

"What?"

"DIPSOmaniac."

"WHAT?"

"peeyakkad."

"aah."

goforit. :)

2009-12-02T03:14:00.001+05:30

Jannagar Road, the day before bakreid.

taken by the brother.

haan haan.Steal,Steal.No one's watching na.

2009-11-30T00:06:00.001+05:30

People are stealing my fish.

I'm positively pissed off.

>:-(

2009-11-27T23:05:00.004+05:30

Even the mosquitoes in Patna are bloody Bihari.

I killed six of them in seven claps today. And they still came and hovered around my palms.

2009-11-25T22:07:00.002+05:30

Tomorrow i leave for Patna. Bhai, Mummy, Daddy ke saath.

When i was much younger, it used to be the fantasy land. I would leave a mark on the terrace every time i left there and it would never remain till the next time i visited the spot.We used to go there once a year, and i used to start a countdown from a couple of months before we were supposed to leave. I used to save up money, and buy rubber cricket balls, a dozen of them, and take them there to play cricket with, because they only had plastic balls there. I used to save up money so that i could buy Everything that came up for sale on the train journey.

I remember there was a mali who would look after the garden. I used to whack his cycle and ride around the place all day. Also, there was a Mother Dairy factory very close to our house, which was one of those huge places i always wanted to enter, but never would.

I also made friends there. Who i would go back to once in a year.

Its been a long time. I don't even remember the names of most of the people there. And there's no excitement, Whatsoever, which really saddens me. But ya, i shall go and look for my mark.

:-)

2009-11-23T19:48:00.004+05:30

Once upon a time, for a long time, i had a white phone. It was a legend.

It could do magic. It would work after falling from the second floor. It would never be discovered in my pocket for around three years of going to school, where people would get their cellphones confiscated after doing whatnot to hide them. It also had the most trippy polyphonic ringtones. It had a green backlight. It didn't have a SIM card. It had the most violent vibrating alert in the world.

But all of these are normal things. But what made my phone special, was that it was a little bit of a retard, one of those endearing ones.

2009-11-20T23:28:00.006+05:30

I've been getting a fancy gettingbacktotherootsfeeling lately.

I wrote a long blogpost this afternoon, all pissed about how i didn't know who Surinder Mohan Pathak was. Here was a guy who worked at the telephone exchange, and earned a living by translating Hadley Chase and the James Bond series to hindi. He went on to write a James Bond series of his own in hindi, and by now has over 300 novels to his credit, included in which is a book which has sold more than three fucking lakh copies.

Also that everyone knows how good Allah ke bandeh is but one should actually watch Waisa bhi hota hai part 2 and see Where the song actually comes. The director has a sweet nice beautiful malicious way of taking each critic of songs-in-movies and thudding his head into the wall.

And that you know something went wrong somewhere when you realise that you're not really comfortable speaking in your mother tongue.

It's one of those things, where most of the music you listen to is Western, but when you get drunk you end up screaming out those hindi tracks. Or when you listen all the Kings of Leon stuff for thirty minutes on the bus ride to college and feel good about it, but your feet start tapping when a Dev D number comes on. and don't give me that shit about 'Oh dude, WhoEver told you i don't like indian stuff' because well, look around you, at your bookshelf, into your ipod, into your wardrobe and you'll know. And i don't really want to get into swadeshi mode. The post was a lot of angry ranting, but my net conked off in the middle and it didn't get saved. And i'm not pissed any more, frankly. But just that i have this sudden urge to Know hindi.

P.S. I think it's because i've watched Oye Lucky Lucky Oye, Sankat City, Waisa Bhi Hota Hai Part2, and Maqbool back to back. OR maybe it's just because i'm studying English Literature.

You talkin' to me?

2009-11-16T23:22:00.002+05:30

He looked all around. A look here. and a look there.

A crazy fight, a bike race, a slight kiss, a lonely walk, a shower scene, and a look again.

Coming Soon.

ticket kaato aur nikal pado mere bhai.

2009-11-13T23:15:00.003+05:30

Winter always does good things to me. But it's playing games, the bitch.

Anyway, there Is a nip in the air, and that's always a good thing. I think it takes me round about ten days in the city to want to leave for a holiday again. I have at least about three more years to spend in the city. That gives me about 150 weekends, and on a very very realistic note, i plan on taking At least one holiday a month. So that's about 35-ish holidays, which is a good number. A weekend break to Shankarpur is included as a holiday ( which i'm sure is going to be repeated often ).

But. It's been sometime since i've had a local holiday. We used to do this pretty often, where we would get up on a local train early in the morning, cut a ticket ( i know it's a weird thing to say, but a ticket kaato sounds So much better than a ticket khareedo ), hop onto a local train and just get off at a station which looks and/or sounds nice. I remember i once took a trip to a kanchrapara Just to see how it would be, and it ended up being a breathtakingly pretty little town. Anyway, often, they would end up being the most amazing experiences, with fields which extend to the horizon, and ponds in which one could bathe, and not amazing, but authentically local food and sweet people who would never ask you why you were there, but would just stare at your camera and smile. These train stations also would sometimes look fantastic, completely barren except for the random train which arrived every half an hour, and a tea stall with a guy who would go and get some water after you've asked him to make tea. Often enough, the places would suck too. Or it would turn out to be too hot, and walking randomly when you're burning and sweating isn't always All that adventurous. Or you would realise after you've gotten down at a place that there are elections which are taking place and it's very risky to be there at the time. So then, if you didn't like it, you'd hop onto a running train and get off somewhere else and keep doing that till it was sufficiently late to take the ride back to the city.

And the body used to ache and pain like shit once you were back. But that's also when you realise the worth of a sound night's sleep the most. Which in itself, can often be worth everything.

And yes, winter's coming, so it shall definitely happen again.

2009-11-08T00:24:00.001+05:30

Hello.

I have been meaning to do this forever.

Now i have.

High Five.