a day in the life of a cheesecake

A Secularist's Rant

2012-02-03T01:17:00.000-08:00

And what about us? With all the powers-that-be around us busy getting offended or capitulating to those who did, where do we stand? The fans. The lit lovers. The people who actually took the trouble and made the effort to go all the way to Jaipur to get a chance to meet our idol in person?

Now I'm offended. There! Suck on that! I really wanted to meet Salman Rushdie. I really like his work. Who had the right to stop me from doing that? Let's forget the fabricated death threats connived to keep Rushdie out of the country, the battle over freedom of speech, the offending of the sentiments of random Muslim groups, even the politicization of the whole bloody affair. Let's for a moment, for just a teeny tiny second, focus on ME! The Reader. Because we were the civilians there, caught in the cross-fire. We were the ones who suffered too but were mostly cast aside with the crowd. I wanted to meet an author I have admired for years. I was disappointed because of the entire drama unfolding over these events. And I am angry. May I even go so far as to say, Offended.

With all the fuss being made about religious sentiments being offended, I have to ask: What about the offending of secular or even literary sentiment? Why are these not given equal priority? I feel disappointed, enraged, offended as a reader. Who's answerable to me? The minute you mention a god, what elevates the status of your arguments? Tolerance? Respect? Who the f*** respected MY desire to meet a great writer?!!! Where was the respect for my literary and secular sensibilities?!

I am tempted to imagine what would have happened had Rushdie come quietly into the country. Come like the thousands of human beings travelling to and fro from the country everyday. He didn't a visa. He didn't need anybody's permission. Perhaps the enraged clerics of the Darul Uloom Deoband would never even have been aware of his visit. Would it have hurt them? Would it have made the Muslims of our country any less Muslim? Would it have posed any threat to the secular fabric of our country if a single man had flown in to Jaipur, attended a literary festival, spoken to a certain gathering of people about (predominantly) LITERARY ISSUES and then flown out? Would it have been so hard? Certain members of the populace might have been made very happy. I, for one, would have realized a life-long dream of being able to meet Mr. Rushdie in person; maybe even get a picture taken with him. The people who claimed offence at his visit would, in all probability not even have KNOWN, much less CARED!!!! Do you see the irony here?

It's not just censorship, it's the frustration. What if I read Salman Rushdie? Even if I read the Satanic Verses (which I have). It didn't change my opinion of Islam or the Prophet. Ask a Muslim person who's read (as in FULLY READ, not just extracted paragraphs taken out of context) the Verses. Seriously, what are you afraid of? A lot of people read Rushdie for PLEASURE!!! Maybe because he writes well! It's not all political spiel and not even intended as such! I feel like hammering such common sense ideas into the heads of ultra-fundamentalist Muslim clerics. Yes, I agree, Muslims have been ill-treated in India. They continue to fare poorly on the socio-economic register. But hopefully it may be realized this wasn't exactly Rushdie's fault! This is not even insecurity or paranoia. It's plain RIDICULUOUS!

I challenge: If even one of the people who protested against Salman Rushdie coming to attend and speak at the Jaipur Literary Festival can logically (not religiously!) explain why he shouldn't have been allowed to do so, I swear I'll retract everything I've just said here.

On Political Awakening in Sheep-Ville

2011-08-26T07:10:00.000-07:00

A man holds a country to ransom. And the country cheers him on with ever-increasing enthusiasm. It only happens in India. Or more specifically, in Sheep-ville.

Sheep-ville—the geographical/demographical location in time and space that comes into being when the populace loses the capacity and/or inclination to think for itself and lets itself be swept away on the wave of “popular opinion”. Which, of course, unbeknownst to this populace, is being very carefully and strategically moulded by a section of vested interests.

Recipe for Fascism:

Come to Sheep-ville; take up a sensitive issue; promise a panacea for it; call the hyperactive media for live coverage; prepare rabble-rousing spiel; pull off a few dramatic antics; wait for an impotent government to inevitably panic, and then proceed to lay down your own law. And that too in the world’s largest democracy.

People love a demagogue. But they have lost the love of critical thought. Why bother? It’s only one out of the two that provides the sensationalist entertainment that is the craving of the day. Down the other road lies the effort of deep thought, genuine research into the current issue and the growing fear of the implications of what has been proposed. The chilling realization that an elderly, rather harmless looking man, is actually on his way to creating a system of totalitarian domination. And behind him are a gang of long-standing “social activists” who, perhaps being tired of having championed causes away from the limelight, are waiting for their moment to emerge triumphant and gloating. Like vultures. Finally! But all behind the front of a harmless-looking, elderly man. So who are you going to trust now?

And he comes armed with a weapon of great historical import. Satyagraha; which he has now converted ever so deftly into blackmail. He has targeted a scandal-riddled government, one that has bathed itself multiple times over in public money, but has been ineffective in curbing the inflation of necessaries; one that only on occasion comes out in great fanfare with a welfare scheme, only for it to fall flat on it’s well-intentioned nose; one whose ranks are filled with aging, babbling, impotent leaders or junior league puppets, all of whom regularly fail to inspire a people’s confidence in it’s ability command the complex fields that are national/international politics.

But here’s something that people of Sheep-ville perhaps failed to consider: The impotent and ineffective government that he’s targeting just happens to be representative of them. It just so happens that THIS is the government THEY elected to power TWICE!! The last time being only about 2 years ago!

If B represents A, but C targets B, how is it that C can be said not to be targetting A as well?

It’s a matter of principle. I believe even Gandhi would have agreed.

Another point of beauty about this whole hood-winking scheme is how the bone of contention is hidden in the form of a legal document. A law. Now, in this fair country of ours, ignorance of the law is no defence before a court of law. Yet how many of our fair citizens actually do know the law? Probably not many apart from those who make a living off it. And even that is questionable! Most people go through life on the principles of common sense hoping we don’t put a foot wrong and get hauled up before the intimidating Court because they aren’t going to listen if you tell them you didn’t know. It’s a fairly safe bet that if you brandish a law, people in this town aren’t going to bother reading it.Because the Law is SCARY!!! You can’t understand the Law unless you have a degree that says you can. So the best thing to do, under the circumstances, is to listen to those who claim they can, flash a degree that apparently says they can. Or those whom you trust, i.e. The Media. Another something to chew on: What if these very people depend on YOU for the survival of their interests and so aren’t really going to say much beyond what you want to hear? And what is it that you want to hear? Things you already know. The government is evil! The government is corrupt! The government extorts the taxpayer’s money and leaves them in the lurch anyway! But them? They truly represent YOU! “Civil Society”! Of which you’re a proud member! They have a magic solution! We shall make corruption Vanish! How? By creating an institution with the power to control the government! But wasn’t this the government elected by the people to represent them? Nonsense! WE represent you now! And ONLY WE have the power to make your lives better! And what’s the guarantee they won’t turn out to be as irresponsible as the government itself? ENRRRR! Wrong question. Therefore, no answer.

The people of Sheep-ville are the eternal victims. It’s quite tragic actually. In chunauti, it’s always a choice between the devil and the deep sea. Nobody ever really represents them. Everyone is a slave to their own vested interests. You’d have thought they’d have learnt to treat such claims with the adequate amount of scepticism by now. But hope springs eternal. Always on the lookout for the next superhero. But every superhero must have power. And power corrupts. Ergo. Logic is mathematical, however, emotion is not.

And so we return to our original scene. A man holds a democracy to ransom. A democracy which will not realize what it’s lost until it is suffering the consequences of the fine print it failed to read... Oops.

God bless Sheep-ville.

TINA

2007-11-13T09:23:00.000-08:00

Dear TINA,

You have left me with no alternative (if you'll pardon the puns), except this feeling of helplessness. All we could do was watch whatever was handed out to us. Cynicism had led us to curse you, dear TINA, you who has been there for the past thirty years, right alongside the Left Front government, their bosom pal, whom they strove to preserve. We never realized your presence when we were growing up. Not that we registered any political presence at that time to speak of. But now that we have seen what you imply, our frustration is growing. What do we do? Your presence so effectively erases the ultimate solution a democracy has to its problems. But then again, it seems we have slipped from our position as a democracy. In that case, TINA, your presence has been justified and we were fools not to recognize the threat you pose now, earlier.

Hope had been lost when we first recognized your face for an inevitability, TINA. But hope is now returning. There are other ways other than the obvious way. We shall find them. For now the time has finally come when people have been too deeply betrayted to be comforted by their apathy anymore and they have thrown down their blankets of endless, cynical, hedging talk and decided enough is enough. Anger is pure and primal. And for us, it spells the re-incarnation of hope. Even in your face, oh TINA. We don't need the paltry excuses for opposition that you give us to chew on. As far as we are concerned, we are the only opposition this government truly has to fear. There are intelligent courses of action, and we shall take them now. No escapist withdrawal into the arms of polite debate or the mindless tantrum of a bandh shall suffice, for we chafe for action. Your lover has spilt blood on the ground, TINA, and we have smelt it.

Your love affair is over, TINA and the Left Front. There is a force called civil society which you never had to encounter before, but which has mustered its forces now. And yes, there is a force behind the talk, or atleast, there is a force NOW. And NOW is what matters, is it not TINA? For in anywhen, in any now, you can be deposed. And we are about to make sure that happens......somehow.

TINA, TINA, you bitch, I'm through.

Another childhood idyll falls

2007-09-10T10:40:00.000-07:00

This time it was the old favourite storybook series: Malory Towers.

There had been a time, when I was twelve years old (i.e., not too young!) when I had had a heated debate with a literary critic about why she considered Enid Blyton politically incorrect, why she said women were misrepresented in her stories, because at that time, I still would not have taken a word against the author I had spent my childhood with. This time, as I read, I watched in mental horror as I myself critiqued her rigid sensibilities. Malory Towers, a haven to which all us youngsters had once wished and wished our parents would send us to, slowly dissolved in my opinion as a haven and became a structured prison!

Not only is xenophobia more than painfully apparent in the characters of the two Mam'zelles, Dupont and Rougier, one being stringent and an ultra-prude while the other is gormless, but the conventionality and strict codes of conformation struck me as being even more painful! The girls themselves are snobbish, heirarchized and extremely exclusivist. For the first time in my life, I actually sympathized with Gwendolen Mary!!

There seems to be a central core of exemplars in Darrell, Sally and Alicia. They decide who gets to fit in or not. Anyone who is different, is put down in a list for rectification. As if difference is necessarily a flaw! The talented girls all have weird quirks. Belinda and Irene, talented in art and music respectively, are scatterbrained, and often make fools out of themselves. Alicia, who was a little on the wild side, becomes acceptable in the later books, only after she has been tamed to the norms. Her wildness is only allowed to express itself in harmless tricks and jokes. The potential for her to become subversive is clipped, even before it has a chance to assert itself! Mavis, a girl who had an enchanting voice, was flawed with the sin of pride. Once she has been taught her place, she is willingly accepted, but her place is apparently well behind those of the main trio. Bill, a girl who loves horses, has her feminity disregarded. Since she is a good rider, obsessed with horses, comes from a family of 7 brothers, she is branded the archetypal tomboy without ever getting a say in the matter! She isn't ever given a chance to grow into the woman she will eventually become, no space to discover her own identity for herself. In the fourth book, she is given a friend in the form of a girl named Clarissa, who, on account of becoming friends with the much marginalized Bill, is from the next book onwards, similarly side-tracked. Identity is a big problem in Blyton's school stories. All the girls seem to be bred towards a similar purpose. All the girls are white, and Christian. No representation of diversity. If one cannot fit in, one's edges MUST be trimmed until she can be forcefully made to fit inside a singular mould. The fact that in school, one makes choices regarding the sort of person she wishes to become doesn't appear of consequence to Blyton. In this respect, I believe she misses out on the point of school altogether! By the end, one gets bored. Through 7 years of school, all their education has done is to negate all notions and values of individuality. There is strength in community, not in singular purpose. The women are always denied the opportunity to assert their individual wills or personalities. Even academic excellence is not given precedent over social viability!

Gwen, according to me, is the most rebellious figure. In her continuous unwillingness to conform to the desired norms of womanhood and responsibility, no matter how negatively Blyton paints her, she stands out as the sole opposition to established authority. Because of this, I keep on cheering for her now! That there can be alternative human beings to Darrell Rivers can only be seen through Gwen!

People like my parents keep on stressing how evergreen a writer Enid Blyton was. In my opinion, creating a false idyll for children is ultimately disappointing. I don't know how I would have reacted to a socially conscious narrative between the ages of 5-12. In my currently enlightened state, I would like to believe socio-political awareness should start as early and as naturally as possible. But perhaps I would also be doing Enid Blyton wrong if I didn't consider her environment. Her era's prejudices seem extraordinarily blatant to us now, but maybe our own will seem just as blatant in times to come.

Schindler's List

2007-08-06T10:54:00.000-07:00

Forgive the blasphemy, but just a coupla weeks back, I saw Steven Spielberg's classic, "Schindler's List" for the very first time. But in seeing it at this age and in my current circumstances, I think I pretty darn well ruined the film for myself.

Let me explain:

I don't know if it's plain some kinda immunization to death and destruction and mass murder or what, but for the first time, I felt a total lack of sympathy for the suffering of the hundreds of Jews. And as I realized this lack of sympathy, I simultaneously felt a sense of shock at myself. Spielberg's film is obviously meant to make the audience witness the horror of the death camps, the unthinking cruelty of the Germans, and against this backdrop, the charity of Schindler, who, as a businessman, is only capable of buying the Jews in order to keep them alive.

Well, in my opinion, all this highlighting of the suffering of the Jews is very fine and dandy, but was this any justification for what the Jews themselves have perpetrated in later years?? I am referring here to the seemingly unending conflict in Israel-Palestine. I felt a sense of anger in watching the film. The Jews themselves have spilt so much Arab blood, was that some sort of revenging themselves because of the massacres of the Jews down the ages? Having, as a community, faced so much violence, one would think they would be the first to want to avoid any more warfare in the name of faith, community, ethnicity, whatever.

I was talking about these conflicting emotions to some friends of mine later, and they also mentioned something very interesting. In the west, there is some kind of belief that this has been only genocide in world history. The suffering of the Jews has been glorified so much and the Holocaust heroicised(what's the right word here??!!!). What about all the other ethnic cleansings, genocides, mass murders in so many other nations world over since time immemorial?? Many of which western powers have themselves perpetrated or sponsored.

My parents,while watching this film, kept on going "tch tch, eeesh" and constantly shuddering during scenes of brutality. They kept on re-iterating what a cinematic classic this was. All this time, I felt infuriated, helpless and more and more angry. I couldn't divorce the Holocaust from my own experiences of history. I mean,since I was born, Israel-Palestine has always been a zone of seemingly perpetual conflict. And I am now twenty. The Gulf is still uneasy. I'm sure one cannot blame the entire Jewish community for the Israel-Palestine situation, but isn't the western world demonizing the entire Muslim and Asian community because of terrorism??

At the end of "Schindler's List", I got up feeling extremely disgusted and nauseous and realized I had probably ruined my reception of the film. But I couldn't help it! What are you supposed to feel at the end of a battle of such conflicting emotions? How do you react to the murder of a community which you know will turn out to be cruel, heartless warmongers themselves?!!! For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to feel.

A Little Matter

2007-07-14T09:46:00.000-07:00

There are many little things we can do to save the Earth. Here's a reflection on saving paper that occurred to me in an auto today.

My parents are academicians. There are lots of empty notebooks lying around in the house courtesy the conferences they have to attend. I have always tried to use them as an alternative to buying new notebooks for college. It's a great way of saving paper. But this is only in college. Think about school.

In school, we used to have prescribed khatas which were the only brand we could use. These khatas generally used virgin paper, and a lot of it at that! (does anyone remember metropolitan khatas?). We could never use any other form or brand of notebooks. Isn't this a colossal waste? There are quite a few notebook brands available nowadays that make the khatas out of recycled paper. Or even for kids in situations like mine, who already have tons of khatas lying unused around the house; wouldn't it be great if they were encouraged to use the resources they have instead of using up additional unnecessary resources? And in school we needed a LOT of paper!! And then there were tuitions. I mean, a khata is a khata. Does it really matter what brand or colour it is? These are one of those unnecessarily trivial and useless rules schools still steadfastly adhere to. Instead of incorporating subjects like EVS to spread the message of conservation, teaching kids little conservation tactics like these, I think, would work better.

Ribbons of the World Untie!!

2007-07-14T09:07:00.000-07:00

I have lots of ribbons.
Red- In support of people with HIV/AIDS and also in support of the spread of correct information regarding HIV/AIDS

Purple- Against Child Sexual Abuse

Blue- To Save our Planet

White- For World Peace

Black- Against Racial Discrimination.

I could have lots more ribbons for all the evils in the world today, if there are enough colours to go around.
What a lot of problems we have in our world.

Baby Booze

2007-07-05T06:28:00.000-07:00

A/N: The following is not meant to be read by anyone who knows my parents!

It's all very fine to make a classy face,

And claim that you know wine,

But you're going to botch,

Tasting Scotch,

Unless you make yourself supine.

Distraction never caused no harm,

To the appreciation of the beery barm,

And many a tale,

Will go well with ale,

But Whisky, would lose it's charm!

When you're well fed,

Wash it down with mulled mead;

Or with a quart

Of the finest old port,

But take Whisky alone instead.

The old vodka and ginny,

Might make excellent Martinis,

And brandy go well with cake,

But I'll insist to a fault,

With good single malt,

You can never make a mistake!

A pirate and his rum

Are faithful old chums,

But Whisky makes a finicky choice.

Only those who have class,

And a tall soda glass,

Are privileged to hear it's voice!

Don't drink in a crowd, when you're down and depressed,

Whisky's to be had when you're free of all stress!

'Coz when things look bleak,

That you won't last the week,

The old booze'll just worsen your mess.

Mix it with soda, or put it on ice

Whisky is not your everyday vice!

Nor meant for macho swiggin'!

Sit back, if you please,

Be perfectly at ease,

Until you're ready to begin.

Croon to your liquor, as if to a lover,

Come to a deep understanding.

Then go for the dip,

And take the first sip,

Than wait!...don't be demanding!

Burning, burning, wait for the fire,

Of this celestial brew,

It'll singe your throat with an acrid warmth,

Once that first mouthful is through.

Go ahead, get drunk if you want,

I'll admit it's hard to resist.

Speaking for myself, I'm far more pleasant,

When I'm perfectly pissed!

Mind you! I'm no dipso! I'm just appreciating,

An example of manufactured art,

Besides, Scotch is best when had with discretion,

I've maintained that right from the start!!

So let's raise a toast,

And ardently propose,

This the finest of blends.

With a "Weis Heil!" then a "Hic!..."

Next morning you'll be sick,

But believe it was worth it in the end!

High in the hills,

Where the amber distills,

Closer to the heavenly guys.

If they take an afternoon off,

And nip down for a quaff,

I wouldn't be at all surprised.

To ancient gods and old friends

2007-06-14T08:36:00.000-07:00

I have a question about answering a particular question that bothers me.
How does a person like me answer that deceptively simple question asked at most polite social gatherings by scarcely-met relatives and acquaintances: " So what are you planning to do after college?"
How do you politely break it to them that "after college" is like a black hole you don't wish to look into? How do you break it to them that you are "between dreams", as it were? That your effective plans for the future have been trampled on and you're looking at Stage One with no more energy or enthusiasm to script a new dream. That you've been pushed into Cynicdom and Un-belief. That the hope you'd had of scripting your own future has been effectively flushed down the toilet, and once again, you're standing on the threshold of making the decision of living your real life on the sidelines, just letting that portion fill up the cracks in an otherwise solid block of "I-don't-caredness".
The answer is, you don't. You just smile as usual (while inwardly squirming) and reply with something socially acceptable; preferably impressive sounding, list a couple of Ivy League universities off the top of your tongue, paint your prospects the colour of money; and equally fake.

Another thing, on a completely unrelated track.
I was watching Star Wars Episode I: A Phantom Menace the other night. Now, anyone who has known me at all in the past, will know about how addicted and crazy I am about Star Wars. Once upon a time it was my one and only obsession. But this time, I dunno, for the first time in my life, I couldn't relate to what was going on on screen. I was (I found my own self going "hawwwwwwwww!!" when I realized it!!) quite bored. Now, I know I've seen Ep I atleast 50 times before, but with Star Wars, getting bored is NOT an option! And this was supposedly my most favourite of the Star wars series!! I began to nitpick with the technicalities, notice flaws in the script, think how banal the dialogue was, wonder why George Lucas (once my hero) couldn't have done something worthwhile like Frank Coppola and Steven Spielberg have................in short, absolutely blasphemous thoughts had begun to course through my brain.
Growing up is hard. But to realize that old ideals, fantasies and worlds have no meaning for you any more, is a different ball game. It startled me when I realized it and began making me question how much I myself had changed to cause these corresponding changes to take place. Something I had once thought impossible had now actually happened. One cannot remain a child forever or take childhood with oneself when one grows up, but to lose a fundamental fantasy, something that had been such an integral, fun part of my life before, was jarring. It was like losing a bit of myself, especially a part I was extremely fond of and secure with, something I had a great deal of affection for still. But I also realized another thing. This had been coming and I had only been denying myself the inevitable. After a point, you just have to hold the funeral, shed your tears, and move on. I think I buried Star Wars the other night. My memories of them have probably become just that, memories, something that will fade in time. Somewhere along the line, I had left my Neverland behind.

STORM!

2007-06-12T08:14:00.000-07:00

What is it I love about thunderstorms?

I love the jhoro haowa that arises as a prelude to every one. The tang of moisture gives it away at once, especially at the end of an oppressively humid, temper-fraying day. Even if not accompanied by the rain, the jhor is enough to always set my nerves a-tingling. Storms are so .................wild!! It seems to touch the raw, primitive side of me. It makes me want to DO things. I always find the storm imparting some kind of energy to me. I feel energized, activated. Like I can do anything; like a superhero.

At my Rashbehari house, often, at times like these, the beginning of the monsoons, if i caught the whiff of a jhor beginning to arise, i would race up to my chhad. There would be a canopy of dense, dark thundercloud encircling the horizon. Looked like an umbrella over the world. I would climb the parapet and enjoy the wind blowing against me while all around, windows and doors crashed against each other or the wall, and people in all the neighbouring houses scrambled to pick up the washing. Chaos in the dark, and I loved every minute of it!

I loved waging an imaginary battle against the wind, needling it, taunting it, to blow harder and harder! I loved to get wet in the really fierce, hard rain, that penetrated through to the skin at one go (weak and wimpy drizzles are just plain annoying!). But of course, in situations such as these, I would be forcefully pulled off the parapet and into shelter before I could get properly wet! :(

When I was in school, somehow the storms would freakishly coincide with home-time and me and a couple of my friends would rush out without umbrellas or raincoats on purpose into the downpour and waltz intentionally down the long drive to the gate. By the time I got home, with my hair plastered to my forehead, and annoying semi-dried trickles down my back, my books would have to be spread out to dry on the floor, and I would get a royal pasting! ( As if I ever learned!) Unfortunately, it was easier to be as carefree in younger days when one didn't have to worry about transparent tops!!

I am still thrilled and awed by the sheer power and majesty of thunderstorms. I think they are the most regal of natural phenomena. I try and link scientific explanation with natural fact, but in this case, reason somehow always fails. it's much more logical to the imaginative mind to believe in gods waging war with lightning bolts and clouds ramming against each other to give vent to thunder. Storms embody passion for me, and the source of unspeakable, inexplicable elation. And also, (at the risk of seeming to drop intellectual tidbits!) storms remind me of a passage from one of my most favourite Shakesperean plays:

CASCA:

Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth

Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,

I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds

Have rived the knotty oaks; and I have seen

Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam,

To be exalted with the threatening clouds:

But never till tonight, never till now,

Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.

Either there is a civil strife in heaven,

Or else the world too saucy with the gods,

Incenses them to send destruction.

CASCA:

Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this!

CASSIUS:

A very pleasing night to honest men.

CASCA:

Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

CASSIUS:

Those that have known the earth so full of faults.

For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,

Submitting me unto the perilous night;

And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,

Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone;

And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open

The breast of heaven, I did present myself

Even in the aim and very flash of it.

CASCA:

But wherefore did you so much tempt the Heavens?

It is the part of men to fear and tremble,

When the most mighty gods by tokens send

Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

[ Julius Caesar; Act I Scene III ]

Innocence and Apu

2007-05-17T10:03:00.000-07:00

The following was written a couple of weeks ago on being struck after watching Apur Sansar for the nth time:

Something has struck me about Apu. In the scene where Pulu and Apu discuss the pros and cons of Apu's novel. At that very moment something struck me and for a minute I couldn't put my finger on it. After a while, I realized what it had been. It was Apu's innocence. Even as an adult, he is so innocent! One can see it stamped on his face. By innocence, I don't mean the innocence of the Christian paradigm. I don't even mean sexual innocence. I mean a real all-encompassing innocence; of a different kind. I have been wondering why that scene had struck me so forcefully then. I have realized it is something that can probably never be recaptured. We, of my generation, have no conception of such an innocence. Even as children, we could never have appeared as innocent. I have been wondering why. To a certain extent, I feel, but this again is debatable, that there is a certain inevitability connected with this loss of innocence. I don't think it has anything to do with the moralities of the people of different generations really. I think it's the time. My generation can be as convinced, as enthusiastic about a project as Apu, even as sensitive, but I don't believe we can be as innocent.

It's a matter of conditioning. It's who Apu was and what his world was that made him so innocent. Our world has changed and so have the times. It has had its impact on us too. We are different children, youth, adults from who Apu was at the corresponding periods in his own life. We also have our own standard of innocence.

Also Aparna. Which girl of my generation can truly emulate Aparna? I don't think any. Even a girl from the most backward village in rural India cannot match the innocence of Aparna. It's not a question of virtue or lack thereof. It's a question of cultural conditioning. In my experience, no girl in urban India can ever conceive of surrendering herself to her circumstances in the manner of Aparna. Call it the influence of women's lib., awareness or whatever. No woman, however sweet, can not question her man, however romantic. Frankly, it's even quite unthinkable for men. They cannot even hope to expect it. The power of men over women has obviously decreased( and maybe that's the reason "power-crimes" like rape have increased).

The question really haunting me is, what's with this loss of innocence?? Is it a good thing? Or a bad thing? Or an ambiguous thing? Is it not a certain question of inevitability? Can the blame/credit/ whatever be put on anyone? Hasn't the quality of innocence applicable to my generation changed? Have we lost anything, if at all? We, like Apu, after all, are only products of our own times and circumstances.

What would Apu have done placed in our times? With that kind of innocence about him, would he have been able to cope? What of Aparna? I think Apu would have gone mad! In a sense, is then not Prashanta, of Shakha-Prashakha a figuration of Apu in modern times? We the restless youth of today, can probably find a closer relation with Siddartha of Pratidwandi.

In Apu's place, similarly, someone of my generation would seem hopelessly incongruous, no matter how much he tried. It is by no fault of his, but this innocence, or lack thereof, is stamped on the faces of those from different times.

Celebration

2007-03-29T10:00:00.000-07:00

What a cake. Aha! What a divine cake!! And the occasion made the taste extra special.
Injustice cannot survive against the righteous because Mr. 9mm is the shepherd here!!
A complete re-interpretation of Coleridge. Never, in his heaviest opium dream, could he ever have envisioned his works being put to such use.
Xanadu will never be the same again!!!!

JOY BABA KUBLA KHAN

WHO'S YER KUBLA NOW????

EH BABY???

JUDE, as usual, rocks!!!!

Dirty Holi

2007-03-03T07:54:00.002-08:00

I played Holi today, finally after 2 years, the way I wanted to. Down and dirty. I came back home a mixture of black, purple and pink. Not to mention my hair clogged with mud. It was bad!!! As in, it was actually good.
But I also noticed quite a few things. I was very happy with the amount of colour I had on me, and yet I was disappointed. Holi in my apartment complex was a different experience and I wasn't sure I fully liked it. Now, I know I don't mix easily, and I don't have many friends in the complex. But I had gone down with hopes that today was not a day of how many people one knew. Sadly, I found, it was. Community spirit? Dead. Non-existent. I went downstairs to the field fully armed with bucket, pichkari and abir. And for a full 15 mins stood feeling awkward and distant. There was no one I could approach to begin festivities and for a moment i had a sinking feeling that this was going to be another one of those disappointing Holis where I was the only one with enthusiasm and ended up broken hearted because of others' lack thereof. Thus, I jumped when I saw a couple of acquaintances from college and somehow, awkwardly managed to invite myself to play with them. Then the fun began. I got doused, painted and dragged through mud, and enjoyed every moment of it. But camaraderie was too innocuously missing from the crowd. Everyone was huddled in their own known group and wouldn't even accidentally squirt an unknown!! My acquaintance's friends too, didn't seem to want to involve me as we hadn't been officially introduced!
Also, some old school friends turned up and as usual, the growing distance between us made itself felt. (Sigh)
Maybe it was just me. Maybe I had expected too much. I mean, I'm not that good at mixing with people either.
My grandmother told me today that she had not seen a single person in our para come out to play Holi and not a single person with any colour about them.
(Sigh) What is Holi coming to these days??
Even in the space of the holiday, it seems, strangers can't be friends.

Across: 1) Word Puzzle (9). Down:1) Mad(5)

2007-02-23T08:48:00.000-08:00

Across:
1) Self(1)
have been
2) Assaulted (8)
by an irrepressible
3) Word Puzzle (9)
mania. Every
4) Beginning of the day (7)
before i have even fully woken up, or even eaten
5) Morning meal (9)
I am compelled by an inner urge to unfold the (I believe universally acknowledged obnoxious T2) and
6) Engage in (6)
myself with the daily crossword. Other
7) Homo sapiens (6)
belonging to the family are only acknowledged with
8) Snorts (6)
only until they go away. Lately, I am being
9) Informed (4)
that this is a rather bad habit disapproved of by many in my immediate vicinity. Even in
10) Institute of higher education (7)
I force unwilling friends to unseasoningly tax their wee little
Down:
1) Cells comprising the brain (sl) (4,5)
to help me solve the daily crossword. In response, all I elicit are groans of
2) Objection (9)
however, finding one who is willing to
3) Participate (9)
I happily annoy all in finding weird synonyms for ordinary words.
To add to this, I have become a
4) Fan (6)
of a sport; namely
5) Ball game played with small racquets on a table ( 5, 6)
In this, however, all my
6) Compatriots (7)
are willing and eager participants. We are giving the
7) Young members of the male sex (4)
of the tt room good run for their money. And believe me, girly TT, our own invention is soooooooo way more
8) Enjoyable (3)
The guys are just too obsessed with adrenaline to actually enjoy themselves; and also, quite conveniently, having a TT table in the club in my apartment complex, I am able to
9) Gratify ( 7)
my cravings for play whenever i want!!
Ah! Crosswords and TT!! if i may say so myself, I'm almost becoming an
10) Batsman cum bowler in cricket ( 3-6)!!!!

Solution:
Across- 1) I, 2) attacked, 3) crossword, 4) morning, 5) breakfast, 6) occupy, 7) humans, 8) grunts, 9) told, 10) college.
Down- 1) grey cells, 2) complaint, 3) cooperate, 4) addict, 5) table tennis, 6) friends, 7) boys, 8) fun, 9) indulge, 10) all-rounder.

[In title: across- 1) crossword; down- 1) crazy]

P.S.-- i know it's not a proper crossword, kintu amar oto lack in life-o nei!!!!

These Brits are crazy!!! ( toc toc toc)

2006-12-25T08:18:00.000-08:00

My dad just got back from the US of A and he returned via Heathrow, London. although this was right after the fog hungama there, he didn't have nice things to say about the Brit airport authorities.
Heathrow doesn't allow drinking water to be carried in to the airport. Not even when the bottle has been given by the airline itself!!!! (I'm assuming an airline wouldn't hand over a bomb!!!) And there are no free drinking water facilities in the terminal!! If one wants water, one has to buy it with British currency. I mean, that comes to a lot looking at it from a third world country's point of view!
Plus, there are apparently only 3 toilets in an entire international terminal!!!!
But here's the clincher. In Heathrow (not just any ol' airport, mind!), the phones don't work!! My dad tried to make a local call , but the pay phone swallowed his ENTIRE pound coin!!!! My dad was outraged! He lodged a complaint with the airport authority who promptly handed him a bureaucratic tour guide for retrieving a pound!!! I mean, who'd bother??!!
And this isn't all!! Not in the least!!
Here comes the main part:
Landing in Delhi, he discovered his main suitcases hadn't arrived in India at all!! He had to miss a flight so that he could register a complaint and alert authorities to this problem. And the baggage handlers at Heathrow had chosen this ripe time of the holiday season to call a go-slow strike!! I mean, talk about brilliant timing!! Plus, the fog delays had caused spillovers onto other flights!!
My dad has now sworn that never again will he ever take a flight via London. He even considers the arduous almost-20 hour Pacific flight, but he says he never wants to set good Indian feet on bloody British soil again.
My dad was reciting this whole tale to my aunt this evening, and my brother corroborated on the pound-swallowing-phone scam. Apparently some scoundrels get rich this way! But my uncle made a brilliant observation. He had worked in Dubai all his life and he described a fantastic ploy used by the Pakistanis at airports. Apparently, they would take a one dirham coin, make a small hole in the middle and tie a string to it. Then they'd drop it into a pay-phone and wait for it to connect. After talking for as long as they wished, they'd fish it out again and carry it off!!! Talk about full talktime!!! They'd probably keep such a coin for this purpose only!! We all agreed that the Brits deserve the Pakistani treatment to keep them off the scam rackets!! maybe there's something we can learn from them folks after all!!!!

Everything dies. Even stars burn out.

2006-12-12T09:15:00.000-08:00

We live in such a very sad world. There is not a scrap of true happiness to be bought, for love or for money.

And those who manage to find any, even a shred, even a touch, know deep inside that the world will make them pay for it with double its weight of unhappiness or fake happiness, which is worse. Nothing comes without a price tag, my dear. One moment of true joy is paid for with a hundred spent in wistful longing of it.

And yet we live on. We move on. Impersonality is created to shield us from the grief that would overwhelm us if we wetre truly connected together to form a world-community. It's a blessed protection. Each person deals with their own problems individually and watches everyone else's on TV. And they shake their heads thinking what a sad world we live in. But they/we are grateful. Atleast it didn't happen to us. Or people we know. Or care about. And we go on living, shielded by the fact it happened to soemone else. We can even have the luxury of getting bored of the violence and brutality, we skip over those sections of the papers and go on to the comics. Or we change the channel. Atleast it happened to someone else. We are relieved.

But then it doesn't happen to someone else. The terror strikes too close for comfort and our shield is jarred. Why, I knew that person!! I've spoken to her! Invited her over for dinner last year! She had such implacable manners! And she's dead. Murdered in her house where she made the folly of living alone with just a servant. Gunned down by ruthless criminals over money and a property deal. By those very criminals we see caricaturized in books and movies. So much that we've forgotten they're actually a part of reality while still seeming to vaguely acknowledge their presence in the real world , in real society.
And then one begins to think the inevitable next question: "Whew! That was close! My God, who's next? Could it be………………………me? My family?"

And then you begin to get scared. Very scared. Really scared. Because that's the world today, everywhere. It's bleeding fear.

Sometimes it makes me feel so helpless. I wish I could be a superhero and come flying to everyone's rescue, solve everyone's problems, make everyone happy. Atleast the solving of the problem keeps your mind off the horror of the problem itself. Where's your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman when you need one?!

And then you find something that surprises you further. People don't like Superheroes! They don't want their problems to be interfered with, solved by other people. It's intrusion. Keep tyour big nose where it belongs. And you retreat, embarrassed. Gee! I was only trying to help. And then you don't know what else to say. Even conversation dies. Like everything else. Even stars burn out.

My tiger bestest!!!

2006-11-13T06:12:00.000-08:00

My Hobbes has discovered the way to his Calvin's heart:

a) Lotsa birthday booty

b) A charming lunch treat at Peter Cat.

Mesa happy, mesa impressed.
I love my Hobbes!
Slurp, slurp!!!!

Since Bimbo wanted to know........

2006-11-02T10:42:00.000-08:00

10 Simple Pleasures of my Life:

1. Reading an old favourite book. Eg) The Lord of the Rings, just got me out of a depressed spell so am particularly grateful to it.

2. Ice cream.

3. A walk around Santoshpur. The jheels look beautiful at sunset.

4. A long drive.

5. A quiet cigarette. Alone.

6. a cup of GOOD coffee. It's so hard to find one!!!

7. Craziness.

8. An unexpected phone-call from a long lost friend.

9. Old Scotch.

10. A kiss.

How do you like your "Top Girls"

2006-11-01T11:02:00.000-08:00

If this is what is called blatant publicity or blowing one's own horn, then so be it.

Hear ye , Hear ye.

Come one, come all.

There is a play on the horizon. On the 14th of November, to be precise.

It's called "Top Girls", a British play, but like all things British these days, appropriated by us Indians and spiced up a little with our own kind of curry masala.

What's it about??

It's about what it claims to be about. Women on Top.

Do you like them that way??

If you do, or still can't decide, turn up then, at Gyan Manch at the hour of dusk and see for yourself. Perhaps we'll make it easy for you to make your choice, or perhaps we won't. Tickets from British Council.

If you don't, what the heck are you doing reading this in the first place??

P.S. This is the Jadavpur University Department of English ( J.U.D.E) play for the year. If you are an ex-JUDEan come and cheer us on. If you are an aspiring JUDEan, it wouldn't hurt you to see your prospective seniors in action !

P.P.S I'm in it. Now you just HAVE TO see it!!!

Mujhko pehechan lo/ Main hoon Don!!

2006-10-29T01:12:00.000-08:00

The world remembers people who smoke cigars. I won't even bother to give examples.

Today, I received a present. My very first cigar. Chocolate flavoured. For my very own .
Need I also mention the plastic smile of glee that comes free with it?
A certain very special friend of mine uncannily read my mind while I was in the shower ruing for the n-th time how one of the main things left to do in my life was to smoke my very own cigar; not to steal drags from someone else's. That is dissatisfactory.
Many in college witnessed this unprecedented event. I was not about to let the event of My First Cigar go to waste. I firmly believe in the adage, if you've got it, go ahead and flaunt it!! Believe me, I did not waste a photo-op like this!
And my regard for the gifter went up a couple of hundred notches.

My friends, what a cigar!
If Fidel Castro's grandkids were to get a treat, they'd get a cigar like this!!
It was beautiful. Chocolate brown in colour. Of ample thickness.
And the smell. No, the aroma………….. it was erotic at best!!! You know, after all, what a sexual food chocolate is!! Just a sniff left my senses a-tingling.

And now we come to the actual smoking of it.
There was a fitting ceremony for its lighting and the flavour was HEAVENLY!!! So smooth, so mellow, yet not devoid of just the right degree of acridity. But the best part was the flavoured tip which left a sweet residue of chocolate on the lips after each drag. It was all said in the slow smile of blissful satisfaction to be seen on the faces of all who were honoured by a drag!! I made it last for a long time; I think for about an hour. And at last it was over. Over!! I could hardly believe it!! I stared in homage to the memory of the best First Cigar, at the stubbed-out butt of it. Then in a sort of last-rites, I threw it into the middle of the jheel. Rest in peace o remains of My First Cigar. Sigh.

To smoke a cigar one needs attitude. After all, even a Classic, otherwise admired, pales beside it. Otherwise, why would the world remember people who have smoked cigars?? Dons of the world smoke cigars. ( I say, our Don C should be snapped smoking one!! I dare say it would make a fantastic addition to the HOD's office once framed!!!)
As Don Cheadle said in Hotel Rwanda : Then thousand francs is just money; but a cigar worth ten thousand francs? That's class!!

The Rape of the Lock

2006-10-19T11:12:00.000-07:00

By common consensus, Tintinda's new haircut is absolutely adorable!!!!

But the question haunting everyone's mind is:
Will he now have to change the picture on his weekly Telegraph column??

Milon da-hling!!

2006-10-17T11:30:00.000-07:00

Let me begin by saying that folks with relatives (especially with older relatives, or younger squeaky ones also qualify) in teh colleges where they study are to be much sympathized with. Take my case, for example:

I was in college for rehearsal of our esteemed departmental play and feeling a bit weak due to lack of nutrition. I needed something more fortifying than milk and toast. Much more fortifying!! In other words, I was in desperate need of a fag. Entering college and finding neither of the gate 4 cigarette shops open, I made a beeline for Milon da's who, understanding the JU nesha and the subsequent hunger pangs, thoughtfully keeps his canteen open during the holidays.

Approaching, I was about to enter when........I stopped in my tracks. A certain aunt who teaches at a certain department in JU was having her belated lunch there. There was no way to avoid contact. I swerved and made for the back entrance and finding Milon da in person made a polite request for 2 Classics and a coffee and a hundred-buck note changed. He acquiesced, but I would have to be served at the front counter like everyone else, not escape from the window with my booty. I dithered and dawdled, wondering how to pull off an incredible sleight-of-hand from under the nose of my aunt ( otherwise a very sweet and nice aunt, I might add!).

Well, in I had to go, so desperate was the need for a life-reclaiming inhalation of the smoke of fine tobacco. You can understand the feeling, I'm sure! I smiled at my aunt and we lapsed into conversation and banter. She offered me dalpuri, I politely refused saying I was in a hurry for rehearsals. All the time I was edging towards the counter trying to make sure the fags would be hidden by my body when Milon da decided to reveal them and thinking up a wild story of how I had been forced at gunpoint to go and buy them for a very strong friend whereas normally I wouldn't dream of touching tobacco products of course!! Milon da served the coffee on the counter and then much to my surprise, silently drew my attention to the 2 Classics waiting, deftly hidden behind the laddu-jar! No doubt, he had added 2+2 and obtained the unsurprising 4! I gave him the warmest smile I could muster, swiped the fags into my pocket and nonchalantly picked up the coffee, confident my aunt could not have seen anything. I smiled at her in farewell and strode out into sunlight with my faith re-affirmed in the sensibilities of the peoples of this world.

Conclusion:- Milon da is a dude, accustomed, no doubt to loyal customers who sometimes have the misfortune of falling into potentially scandalous situations and saving their lives in return for continued patronage. Patronage he will continue to have, most certainly, and a heightened confidence in my tackling any such future incident.

I've got a feeling - an attempt at a story

2006-09-25T09:57:00.000-07:00

It was pitch dark and quiet. He wondered why he had woken up with such a start. He rubbed his eyes, stretched and yawned. And then it came again. The touch which had awakened him. Cold and clammy, followed by an instantaneous withdrawal. He gave a small yelp and moved away. Who was in his room at this time of night? "Hello?................Is anybody here??" He listened intently, but there was nothing. Not even a sound of movement. Another touch. This time on the left buttock. He shivered. The strangest thing was, he couldn't see a thing. Not even the fudgy outlines of the furniture. Another touch; behind his ear. He tried to catch hold of whatever was touching him, but his fingers closed upon air.
Now he began to get nervous. He had to find the light switch. The frequency of the touches, those clammy yet invisible fingers, was growing. He got out of bed and began to feel his way to the wall. It felt as cold as concrete. But where was the switch? And how come he hadn't bumped into any furniture yet? What was going on? The thing or things were still touching him and withdrawing. Over and over. And he still couldn't see a thing. His heart palpitated and he found himself beginning to go breathless with fear. He tried to find the door. But the walls seemed unending. Had he turned blind? He moved back towards his bed. Where was it? His hands seemed to be moving in empty air. There seemed to be no furniture in his room! He couldn't find his bed, couldn't find anything! The floor was cold concrete beneath his feet. He hugged himself. Trapped? In an empty concrete cell? How could this be happening?? He tried to yell, shout for help, but his throat had dried up completely. He was getting short of breath.
The invisible fingers, things, whatever-they-were, were touching him, over and over, never ceasing. He could do nothing. Nothing helped. Exhausted, he stood still in the centre of his room, too tired to shrink back from the touches. He sat down on the cold floor and hugged his knees to his chest. It was then that he noticed it. He couldn't feel his toes anymore. Instead, a familiar clammy feeling was slowly moving upwards from his feet……………………….

It's an attempt. I'm not defending it. Lame, I know, but............................. spooked anyone???

Reflections on a phoneless 10 days

2006-08-27T07:35:00.000-07:00

I am phoneless.

My Hutch connection has played up and it appears to be taking an eternity to resolve. This has resulted in me nightly lambasting multinational corporate capitalist consumer victimization. The slavery under which I am bound to my cell phone has, thus, recently struck me. No, this is not going to be a cynical essay on how (wo)men are being enslaved by their own machines. I am a firm believer and condoner of that particular state of affairs. I am a stereotypical teenager and a sellout to my mechanical accessories, and not ashamed to be so, so there!

Life without my cell is dreary and slow. Since I my service seems to have expired, I am unable to do a thing except receive messages. And I feel doubly helpless when I cannot respond to them. In disgust I have stopped taking my phone out with me, and the empty feeling in my pocket, without the familiar pressure against the thigh, often sends me into minute paroxysms of panic; I feel like I've dropped it or my pocket has been picked. I cannot help it, I have a neurotic fear of pickpockets.

I think I have forgotten my ringtone, and to receive those IRRITATING. ANNOYING AND ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING advert messages from Hutch telling me to pay an additional 6 bucks to download Jhalak Dikhla Ja or Rock n Roll Soniye on my phone when I can't even listen to Knocking On Heaven's Door, just makes me want to either chuck my phone at a concrete wall or pop a blood vessel!!!

Every call I make these days from my now-only-hope landline conjures up images of what my mum's face will look like when the phone bill arrives not only coloured with Internet charges but now with additional illegal phone calls!! "Ek ghonta dhore kotha bolbe na!!!!", " Collegey ki bondhuder shonge jotheshto golpo hoy na?? Aabar bari phirey phone!!" and "Billta ke debe chandu??" ( the last statement made in a sugary sweet tone with laced with venom) have once again made their way into my bounds of routine hearing. I am reduced to making clandestine calls when she's either out or in the bathroom.

And it's not like Hutch employees ease the blood pressure either. They are so superficially sweet and stupid it makes you want to kill them or cry. Call centre people, as much in the dark as you are! You can never even find out on which torture rack they're slowly murdering your connection!!!

But the bit which really bites is the greenbacks! The way they suck up your dough and then make YOU run around for it just kills you with the irony of it all. In the end they'll make sure you give up in exhaustion and they've got it all for themselves without even lifting their baby-pink asses from a faux-leather couch. And THEN, you'll hafta pay MORE to start over to either the same or a different capitalist telecom company coz by this time they've made sure you're enslaved to your phone!!!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hate life without my cell. I hate it I hate it I hate it. I don't care if I had already lived a robust and healthy 18 and a half years without one. I want it NOW!!!! Yes, kindly note the lure and addiction of technology on today's youth.
I miss missed calls, and replying to messages, and getting a call on a bus, feeling the familiar pressure in my pocket and my ringtone!!!!!

If I don't explode with impatience and frustration first, I think I'll just tyaagofy it all and become a phoneless sanyasi.

A note found beside my pillow:

2006-08-18T09:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Owner,

I have packed my bags, and I'm leaving on a holiday. I am giving u a night's notice. I don't officially know when I'll be back; expect me when you see me.

I shall take a long vacation by the seaside. It's just what the doctor ordered. I shall stretch and relax in the sun, take relaxing long walks in the sunset, oggle at the ladies................ aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Just what the doctor ordered! What you will do while I'm gone I don't know, nor do I scarcely care.

Your life has become mundane and boring. Except for the plays you do occasionally. I like the plays. Tell me when you do another play. I might be tempted to return.

Ever since you entered college, you have changed. You're no longer the person I knew before, and I'm not sure I like the new you. The new you is to keyed in to reality. Your head is full of new things, things I have never seen before. I want the old life back. I miss all the old things you used to love. I miss your old chaat. Don't tell me you've grown out of them???!!!!!!! Good gracious!!! If that is so, then I'm leaving for good!!! Now it's just a regular joo!!!! Where has your imagination, your old fancies gone?? Don't tell me you've become an ADULT!!!!! With your mind full of finances and future planning!!!!

The thought of what goes through your head these days gives e the heebie-jeebies! It seems you can't even write anymore! Tch tch tch! What has humankind come to!!

I need this vacation! Tata, toodooloo! I'm off. I don't know where I'm going, but probably somewheres about Hawaii. Give me a ring if your ever in the neighbourhood, I might suffer you to drop by. Goodbye then,

Yours truly,
Your Brain.

2006-08-18T09:09:00.000-07:00

You Are: 20% Dog, 80% Cat

You are are almost exactly like a cat.You're intelligent, independent, and set on getting your way.And there's no way you're going to fetch a paper for anyone!

Are You More Cat or Dog?

Feelin' Woozy and Feluda

2006-08-02T10:26:00.000-07:00

I feel fat. I feel growzy, grumpy, and infernally fed up. Like somebody dragged me out of bed at 9:29 in the morning. ( I generally never wake up before 9:30 a.m. as a rule!!) I want to machine gun somebody and scowl and growl at everybody else. For no better reason than just wanting to. And to top it all, Prodoshda theatens us with a surprise Old English test!!!!! My life sucks. I will now sit in the corner and mope.

For some curious reason, I am going through a particularly avid Feluda phase right now. Probably because my mum wanted to make the most of a once-in-my-lifetime interest in a Bangla book and busted her credit card to buy me the Feluda Shomogro.

Dammit!!! I didn't beat Feluda in deciphering the riddle in "Royal Bengal Rohoshyo"!
I re-iterate: My life sucks.

2006-07-19T03:48:00.000-07:00

My Inner Hero - Paladin!

I strive to help others, and to bring truth and harmony to the world however I can. Whether times are good or bad, you can always count on me. I'm a shoulder to cry on, a champion for the helpless, and an all around nice person.

How about you? Click here to find your own inner hero.

An ordinary Superman

2006-07-19T01:38:00.001-07:00

I know a Superman.

Perhaps we all do. In many ways we are so many Supermen, -women, -boys and -girls ourselves.

But this one I find has become extra special. Extra super.

Supermen save lives. So has he.
They have super powers. So has he. Except that they are called Patience, Tolerance, Forbearance, Endurance and Perseverance. Quite astonishing what one can achieve even when one doesn't fly or wear his underwear over his pants.
Supermen have people standing beside them watching as they accomplish what the ordinary person can only dream of achieving. Well, he has me watching in awe atleast!
Supermen have doubts. About whether they're doing the right thing. Saving the world, saving lives has its own consequences. So has he. I can testify!
Supermen get headlines in leading dailies, media coverage, hot photographers itching for their story. He hasn't. He's just doing his "saving-the-world and making-it-a-better-place-before-bedtime" routine quietly, unacknowledged. but doing it all the same. And doing a ruddy good job!

But who is he? A bird, a plane, THE Superman now scorching skies over Calcutta??
No.
He is one of us. An ordinary citizen, an average Superman.
But no less super than the superest of them all!!!

Zizou- A loving tribute

2006-07-13T08:41:00.000-07:00

It was July, 1998. I had a year or so ago finally unravelled the charms of cricket and was under the strongest conviction that nothing else could ever displace it from the pedestal of my favourite sport. But it was also World Cup time. Football World Cup that is. The hype and euphoria sweeping the city was bound to have an effect. I wanted to be a part of the conversation too!! But...........I didn't even have a team to support! One thing I knew, whatever happened, i would NOT support the universal favourite team of Calcutta, Brazil. Call it gut feeling. I had no reason not to support them. So i said a hasty eenie-meenie-minie-mo and picked the team in red, white and blue. France. They also seemed to have a balding midfielder everyone was going ga-ga about. He seemed to be quite intriguing, Zinedine Zidane. I decided I would follow his career with great interest!
So I did. I was one of the very few weeping tears of joy after the finals where France beat Brazil and Zidane headed in two immortal goals.

That was just the beginning. Since then, my official football hero has been Zinedine Zidane. I followed him from Italy (Juventus) to Spain (Real Madrid) as he changed clubs and his exploits on fields around the world. Though cricket fervour had once more strongly taken over, I managed to follow football in the pages of the Telegraph.

World Cup 2002. Saddest tournament of my life. Will not elaborate. All teams i supported lost. Aha, barely even caught a glimpse of Zidane's magic.

World Cup 2006. Germany.
Who ever gave France a chance?? I admit i didn't. Not after their first round shows. But then. It was like a chastising slap in the face. How could I ever have lost faith in Zizou?? Did my judgement count for nought?? His magic returned for the last time.

For once, let's forget the red card, let's forget the head butt; he gave me atleast not just a footballing icon, but a hero. I never saw Pele, Maradona, Platini, Beckenbauer, But I did see Zidane. I saw him in the making. He is a footballing great from OUR generation, that makes him extra special. I saw him play in the game of his life and also in his last match. I don't care about him head butting Materazzi; fucking pizza boy probably deserved it! He will remain the hero as garlanded around the Arc de Triomphe in July, 1998.

Au revoir, Zizou. Merci beaucoup.
Vous et notre le champion pour eternite!!

In honour of: The boy who wanted more

2006-07-12T10:45:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, (read: a lazy tuesday afternoon) a beral, a bear and a grumpy old tiger were sitting in a canteen known as moni da's and eating lunch. The tiger was being grumpy and refusing generous offerings of food. The beral and the bear were gorging on momos and soup. Finally being stuffed, the beral asked the bear to finish the soup, and also being stuffed, the bear asked the grumpy tiger to finish the soup, with a very sweet smile ( if i may add!! ). The tiger grumpily took the soup and tasted the first spoonful. "Mmmmmm!", he said in surprise, "The soup is GOOD!!" We shared askance glances. "Ok", we said. At this juncture, a certain Biletus approached and gave the trio a graphic description of what went into the making of the soup. A behind-the-scenes-expose, i might add! The bear and beral grimaced, having just eaten. The tiger, grumpiness disappeared, slurped up the rest of the soup undeterred! And then.......

AND THEN.....................

An unthinkable thing happened!
The tiger, looking up from the empty soup bowl asked in a plaintive voice," Say, do you think if i went up to moni da and asked for soem more he'd give me any??"
Pin drop silence.
Time froze.
It took an eternity for someone's discarded matchstick to fall to the ground.
All stared in awe at the tiger.
It was at this precise moment that the tiger's nerve failed.
"Is anyone willing to have a plate of momos so that i can have the soup?? I'll sponsor it!!" he bawled, across moni da's premises. There was an instant uproar. Such an offer had never been made in the history of the sacred establishment!!! It was an offer that couldn't be refused!!! The regular patrons searched their stomachs, but alas! The offer had come too late!! They had all had their lunch and eaten it too!! Would the offer go to waste then?? No! A certain Deep gallantly offered to stomach the momos just so the offer could stand in the history books of moni da's but...................

BUT...................

A fresher, new to tradition, having no sense of hallowed history and the momentousness of the moment, got up and offered her bowl of soup to the deprived tiger. the tiger, grinning a Cheshire beral-er grin happily accepted, and without spending a penny more, got more!!!

And he lived happily ever after.
The End.

Battle of berlin and Miracle at Frankfurt

2006-07-03T09:44:00.000-07:00

I have been proved wrong in this World Cup.

Argentina (bewails) my dearest dearest Argentina! Such a team did not deserve to be thrown out of the World Cup so! How magnificently they played and I will not hear a word against them. (sigh) The World Cup has lost a great spectacle in losing Argentina before the finals. Wept inconsolably all night after they were defeated.

On the other hand, in one of my previous posts, I had bewailed the seeming fate of my beloved France. But what a comeback!!!!! I will allow that post to stand as testimony to the kind of miracles that can occur in the beautiful game. I didn't even dare to watch for I was certain they could not beat Brazil, but wow!! Even after 8 years, the much-hyped Brazilians have not been able to decipher French football. Happens; if you get too cocky to do your homework!!

Therefore, unfortunately, have figured that I cannot watch any of the remaining games of the Cup because it is evidently proved that when I watch a match, my fancied team loses!! Sorry, but am terribly superstitious this close to the finals.

Vive la francaise!!!!

Prefect-giri on Admission Day

2006-06-24T10:32:00.000-07:00

After a long time I wore a badge and yelled at people to stand in a line. After a long time I silenced people with a glare. After a long time I had the responsibilities of people's futures thrust into my hands. It felt good. Warmed the cockles of the heart.

I'm not a bossy person by nature, you know, but there's something about running around doing jobs which in the space of a moment assume false importance. Well, actually very real importance for people who are looking for Darshan Bhavan and end up in the second floor girls toilet!!

It was admissions day and I can safely testify that all the first years atleast went around with an odd sense of déjà vu all day. Could it possibly have been a whole year in this place??? A whole YEAR cut off from our limited stay at JU?? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!

I still remember the day I was in the place of these affrighted looking youngsters, not knowing which jheel was THE Jheel and unable to fathom the charm of this heavily littered and overgrown campus. However, much toxic H2O has flowed under the Bridge (which it seems is officially closed down for good!!sigh!), and the lethargen in the air has infiltrated my soul. At the risk of sounding like an aantel, I have understood the grave implications of the word, lyaith, travelled the nicotine stained road from Flake to Classic, ingested enough so-called "chicken" at Moni da's and even premmed on ledge and stair!!;)

Tch, tch, much can happen in a year.

I missed the old posts of false responsibility of good old school days. Responsibilities, nevertheless, without which school would have severely lacked in discipline as well as charm. Assemblies every morning wearing the Prefect badge proudly on the lapel, running around for Disha (GDB school's fest, for the information of the uninitiated) as well as numerous other fests and events, organizing Teacher's Day, Rabindrajayanti, Farewell and Investiture ceremonies

Is this turning into a nostalgia post?? Trust me, it isn't meant to. Its just that the legs remembered some cellular memories as they ran hither and thither with cellotape and various sorts of papers from time to time!! 'Twas good to do some WORK for the institution for a change!!!;)

P.S. Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to inform you that my current official heartthrob and hero is Lionel Messi. Anyone having any opinion against him are politely requested to keep their traps shut else they shall be made permanently dysfunctional. Thank You!

2006-06-18T10:18:00.000-07:00

There has to be a better way of starting a day than waking up.

THE BEAUTIFUL GAME!!!

2006-06-16T09:47:00.000-07:00

HAVE BEEN MINDFUCKED!!
Just saw THE game of the 2006 World Cup and am unlikely to ever forget it!!!!
Argentina vs Serbia- Montenegro
Move over France, make way Brazil!!! Here's the team to officially watch this World Cup!!
Argentina- the aristocrats of the Beautiful Game!!!
6-0- The largest victory margin in any World Cup finals game, and what 6 goals they were!!! Six diamonds in fact!!!
The second goal, by Cambiasso, was the best goal ever in any World Cup match!!! Enough to rival Maradona's "Hand of God"!!! People, I am NOT exaggerating!!! To completely dominate the ball and hit a goal after 24 (yes, you heard right, 24!!!!) passes involving 8 players............. Holy Mother of God Goal!!!!

And to remain true to my own tenets as described two posts earlier, HOW DARE THE REF SHOW A YELLOW CARD TO HERNAN CRESPO????? HE WAS SO ONSIDE!!! THE SCORELINE SHOULDA BEEN 7-0!!!! IT WAS A BEAUTY OF A GOAL!! The referee is heretofore deemed "El Bastardo".

Sorry, am still mindfucked. Now shall go and try to sleep.

France, 2006- An Elegy (in Benglish)

2006-06-14T10:32:00.000-07:00

Aamar France-er ki holo?
Tora ki aar ekti goal-o
Marte parli na against the Swiss???!!!
Has it really come to this??
Zidane-er passguli korli noshto?
Dekhe, aha!, aamar ki koshto!!
Henry! Tui ki ghoomochhili??!!!
You made the French attack look silly!!
Arsenal-e aar chance nei tor,
If this way you fail to score!
Jani tora beshirbhag buro,
Tobe ki ebarer tour-o
Hobe 2002-er moto?
France-er tara ki shotyi goto??
Zidane, bechara, retirement-er mukhe,
Take-o ki jete dibi na shukhe??
Jah! bari jah! koshto dish na!
Fans-der jonyo toh care korish na!
Jah! Aamader aar barash na koshto,
France-er World Cup dreams je bhroshto!!

My Cuppa!!

2006-06-11T09:28:00.000-07:00

May I have your attention please ladies and gentlemen. This is not a drill. In fact, this is an announcement:
World Cup Fever has officially arrived.
Albeit a bit late. This time it only hit me two days before the World Cup began.

Let me give you a list of the teams I shall be supporting:
France, Argentina, Czech Republic, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Germany, in this order.
As you can see, my list DOES NOT include Brazil or England. Therefore, supporters of these two teams are informed most respectfully to go blow!!!

Anyone who does not support a team as supplied by me are also informed most respectfully to go blow!!!!

All those who are wise enough to support a team of my choice only are permitted to talk to me on the condition that they shall bow to my superior analysis of the game and agree most vociferously with whoever I deem to be offside and who onside. All players who play for teams of my choice and Chelsea are herefore elevated to Rank: God. They shall not be questioned and their performance is to be praised at all times. Any referee making decisions against them are to be abused in choicest Italian. If, as seems to be popular opinion, Brazil wins this World Cup (again??????!!!!) , you are all to grieve and be in mourning for at least two days.

This announcement ends here. Enjoy the World Cup!!!!

A Birthday Party

2006-06-03T10:36:00.000-07:00

There are those beings in the universe who make it a pleasure to throw them a surprise party. You turn out the lights, wait until the person enters, then switch them on and yell "SURPRISE!!!!!" The person screams, yells or does an impromptu jig. Then there are tears, "Oh! You guys!! You're the BEST!! "s, and group hugs.............wait a minute, is this getting too girly?? Well, never mind!! This is how one SHOULD react to a surprise party. Especially one which has been meticulously planned and executed with even quenya and Bacardi Superior thrown into the bargain!

Yesterday, we threw a surprise party for a certain Mr. B. Dragon, who is turning very aged. WE yelled "SURPRISE!!!"
Reaction? Grunt. (Or a very close approximation of the same).
He took the presents, a few half hearted smiles, even at the painstakingly etched quenya. Bottles were opened, cakes were cut, (not all though, I noticed one lying very sad and neglected under a pile of Lays packets), ham sandwiches were dug into. A very disheartened party. No singing, dancing, no excitement at the unexpected party. An i-Pod Nano was braggingly displayed. Much to be admired, I admit, but a tad inappropriate maybe?? I mean, what friends would go to the inordinate trouble of hunting all over New Market for a silver hip flask as a birthday present?? Tsk tsk, old reptile.
people were disappointed more than surprised. Thums Up was drunk in silence as well as the old "peace pipe" in the form of a glass of Superior. All in rather disillusioned quiet, until the Dragon decided to liven up proceedings by jamming (of all things??? at a BIRTHDAY PARTY????). After a few sessions of growling and roaring, as the Aged Member displayed his vocal talents, curfew hour loomed near, therefore I had to leave.

In short: Insipid.

Thank you very much.

Ghore Baire-II

2006-05-25T10:13:00.000-07:00

I hate fakes.
I hate fake people, I hate fake things, Ihate fake money, I hate fake smiles. I hate them all.
I may not agree with Holden Caulfield on much, but on this, I do. I hate fakes.

I hate it when a house just feels fake. Not like it cares that you live in it. When it's all made up to show off, but not to live in. As it is, it takes a little getting used to, this whole moving shit, but on top of that, it is announced that in this house, things are going to be perfect; that they'd better be or else. Now that sucks. This house?? Like its something different? Like it's somehow a second chance to make up for the past mistakes made while living in the old place? It can never compare to the old place!!! Now that was home, as I've mentioned before. What's this place? Some swank apartment where people come and gape and say: "Wow! You've done the house up sooooooo beautifully!!" That's what a house is meant for??? BULLSHIT!!!

I hate it when I can't blast my music. I hate it when I can't come home late. I hate it when I can't talk out loud or scream. I hate it when I can't bring my boyfriend back home. I hate it when I'm forbidden to put up posters on my walls because its expensive paint. I give a fuck about neighbours. I wish they didn't exist. This is MY house and I will do what I like in it.

I hate it when a house just becomes an excuse to keep up with the Joneses. Who the fuck cares man? Be your own Jones. Ur pad should be YOURS. Even voiolently so. Make it individual. When people come over, DON'T do it up. Just to show you couldn't care less. It's YOUR house. You shouldn't care anyways. They don't like it, well, there's one door, exit, stage left.

The one thing wrong about our new place is that it feels fake. Not like it intended to. It was made to feel fake. I hate that. I've grown pretty much used to it now, but its kind of a floating adaptation. Like I know it's not going to last anyways. Just a couple of more years. For that, this will have to do. If I go anywhere else, move anyplace else, this will not be the place i will remember. I will remember a place with peeling paint, a magnificent chaat, Zidane's posters, old newspapers, old books, creaking doors, four poster beds, red flooring and the incessant drone of Rashbehari traffic. I don't like too much quiet. I want to KNOW that I'm in a city!

Home is a special place for me. But fakes are like so see-through. Homes should never be made out of fake houses. And that is all I have to say about that.

Ghore Baire

2006-05-24T09:42:00.000-07:00

Its been about a month since we've moved base.
That, dear readers, was why I was out of the blogosphere for such an extended period of time, unlike my usually regular habits. No net connection for quite a while.
Well, like it or not, I'M BACK!!!!

As I said, before I diverted, it's been about a month since we moved base. I'm now living in Udita on the Bypass.
I have mixed feelings about this whole moving biz. First of all, this is an apartment, unlike our earlier house. It still feels like a hotel room, as compared to home, but now gradually less so than before.Nevertheless, i've had some good times here. But Rashbehari will always and forever be my home in the sense of home being where the heart is. Arguably I've spent the WORST times of my life there, but some of my fondest memories are also in that there place. Guess it's the same with all homes huh?

I have a feeling Udita will see the same, but I guess it will never be the same. I can adapt, but I've grown up. The adaptation can never be as permanent. I spent the most volatile, formative years in Rashbehari. that's essentially where I grew up and its flavour will be forever linked to the person I am today. I moved in there when I was almost 11, and left after seeing my 19th birthday. I don't have too many clear memories of the house i lived in before that. Some, not a lot.

In one of my previous posts, I mentioned that I'd miss my chaat a lot. I did, and I still do. For a few days after coming here, I felt entrapped. Caged even. On my first night in my new apartment, I was forced to pull an all-nighter to finish a term paper. Not exactly the best of beginnings, but there. I do not hastily judge houses. I believe they play an EXTREMELY significant part in shaping the people who live in them.

But I'm still not completely used to this place yet. I still feel a little disoriented in the mornings when I wake up to a different ceiling above me. I doubt if I'll ever be able to regard this as anything but a pale imitation of home. It's funny, but I've discovered an innate psychological resistance to my settling in here. No matter how hard I try, i just cannot get used to the heavy taste of the water around here!! Even after a month!! But that's probably just a lame example. I guess I've passed the age where I could move and be excited about it. Now its just like whatever.

As regards this whole moving biz, I have discovered (the hard way), that it brings out the worst in people. So any time you have the urge to move, don't!

These seem to have become some of the most turbulent times of my life. A dislocation only adds to it. But this is only the beginning. I have a feeling the fun's only started.

2006-05-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

LOOKY WHO'S BACK!!!!!!
Sorry I'm late guys, traffic was a killer!
So.............. what'd I miss??

2006-05-22T00:17:00.000-07:00

The Gang has deserted Uncle Anc .... sniff sniff....

Tutsie Tutsie

2006-04-23T00:16:00.000-07:00

Tsk Tsk... this blog has not been defaced in a long time. So uncle anc thought; why not deface it again....

P.S.: The Ragdoll's virility, or lack of it, is suspect.

A Funny Thing Called Love

2006-04-12T09:34:00.000-07:00

My well-organized life has been completely upset. By the last person I expected it to be upset by. How could this happen to me????? MOI!!
Ladies and gentlemen, there I was, perfectly happy and single. Smelling daisies on the roadside, I might even add. And I was happy flitting and flirting hither and thither. And then............................
AND THEN..................................

The world collapsed. Or maybe I just started seeing it differently. A certain somebody fell (sorry, understatement of the year!!!!!) perhaps 'got hit on the head by a grand piano' is the expression I'm looking for!! As I was saying, a certain somebody made a certain decision that not only changed his life, but mine as well!! And now I'm sunk. In the same swamp he's thrashing about in himself. We're in a fine mess!!! How did this happen??
There I was, shopping in the "use-and-throw" section. How did I end up finding him?? He was supposed to be at the opposite end of the store, in the "serious" section!!! How could this happen to me? When I thought I was safe? When i thought this "Love- Shmuv" thing would never find me? I had the perfect hiding place. And then up he comes and says, "Boo! Gotcha!"
How did this happen? I was hidden at the back, in the last line. He found me like a homing beacon. And I thought I was safe!!

Sorry for speaking in metaphors, but its a technique I have of hiding the fact that I really don't know what I'm talking about. I think he's the one who's made a mistake. He refuses to believe me!! Trusts me more than I dare trust myself.

Things are changing, ladies and gentlemen. Things are changing a little too fast for me to control. And for the first time, I have a co-pilot in my ship. I worked alone, I was the lone ranger, and now I have a "pardner" to work with.

The weirdest thing is, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. It's kinda like the movies, and much though I hate to admit it, I'm enjoying it thoroughly!! Its bizarre when things happen so unexpectedly, but thanks to the person who sprung it on me, it's not a half-bad surprise!!!!

Analyze this:

2006-04-04T10:12:00.000-07:00

Well! Whaddya know!!! I was a little girl once upon a time!!!!!
Go figure!!

Comment of the Day!!

2006-03-27T09:08:00.000-08:00

" Acchha, what's with Shion and this Jhinuk Sen?"- Uttaran Dasgupta, Ug-I, English, JU.

What indeed!!!

A Jolly Holiday

2006-03-22T09:04:00.001-08:00

How does an adventure begin? With these very words:
"Ragini, come down in 30 seconds, NOW!!"
Then:
"Ok, here's the plan. We are going to get on the first bus we see and go. We don't know where, but we're just going to go. Ashte chaile bag niye ekhhuni chol!"
Well, my brain began to grind. I had well-laid plans about religiously attending all my classes. But then................this had the smell of a quest!!! It was an offer I couldn't refuse!!! With a "Jah bal!", I left, with the remains of my well-laid plans scattered in my wake!!!

We actually did get on the first bus that we saw. 'Twas a "Ramgarh-BBD Bag" minibus. Luckily, we got a row to ourselves at the back, and from there began hatching further devious plans. First things first. Destination? Hmmmmmmm................ After much thinking, Scoop was settled upon as the destination of choice. Mojo decided to call up all the people she and Bimbo and Suchi collectively know, which amounted to a lot of phone calls, and the entire bus getting to know of our destination. Stage next was our commencing in collective joyful mood to give vent to our vocal chords. We began with "Light my Fire", and went on to "Paathshala", "Purano shei diner kotha", "Aha ki anondo aakashe baatashe", "Jingle Bells" and all the songs of "Sounds of Music". Reminded me quite a bit of the olden days of school picnics!! Besides, free music, isn't it the order of the day??!! We even got complimented by a veteran bus-jatri on our way out!! Not bad eh??

We had a lovely walk down to Scoop from BBD Bag, munching shosha and trying to evade a pagol who was following us!!

It was just one of those days when people obey without question ! Everybody turned up!!! Quite a bawaal we had there!! Too much fun!!

15 people and only one hot chick!! Can you believe that??? And do you know what the most fun thing was?? Spoiling the conjoining of the only hot guy with us with the only hot chick!!! Unbelievable!! We're still kids!! AND WE LOV IT THATA WAY!!!!!!!!

Eden- The holiest of holy places. Not just in the West, but also roundabouts here. Did darshan. Wasn't able to get in inspite of ceaseless whining. Bimbo's trick doesn't work for me. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!
Eden jabo, Eden jabo, Eden jabo, Eden jabo.......................someday (sigh)!!!

In the end, true to form, we ended up indulging in serious lyaith, where else but on the grounds of the hallowed Maidan. In front of Asutosh College Sporting Club, to be precise. I threw grass at passing aeroplanes, but didn't do much besides. And then, my good ol' uncle Anc intruded on the reverie and dragged me off to be polite and attend an Allah-forsakenly stupid panel discussion. Damn!

But all in all, a good day in the life of the one and only cheesecake. One for the albums and the toasts.

Cheerio.

For the kid who goes "waaaaaaaaaaaaah" in the night

2006-03-13T09:18:00.000-08:00

I refuse to accept your tag because:

1) I do not believe in the concept of a "perfect mate".

2)I believe in relying on something a bit more sublime than 8 simple points when choosing my mate. Trust me, I'll know it when I meet him!!!

3 days in the life of a cheesecake

2006-03-11T08:37:00.000-08:00

9 March, 2006:

Today was a day of violence.
In all my classes today, my senses were violently assaulted by boredom. Probably due to the tankloads of medication I'm on to keep all kinds of chaap at bay!!!! I kept on feeling like I was in a drug-induced stupor. Which I probably was anyways. Yet I did all (yes folks!!! for a change ALL!!!!) my classes today. talk about dedication!!!!
Even at rehearsals today, I was witness to violence. Bodhi jumped on Anc, Raka jumped on Anc and Bodhi, Mo jumped on Raka, there was quite a brawl. I'm glad to say that any chaap I might've had, got flushed down the toilet in the morning!!!I got a preview of what might happen if the play's a disaster!!!!
Fingers crossed. Prayed tonight, after a long time!!!!

10 March, 2006;
Got up this morning, panic-stricken. Didn't get a wink of sleep last night. Not surprised.
Anc still hasn't got his lines. Not surprised. No chaap. Not one bit. Not even a teensy weensy bit.
The play seems to have been well received. Anc has stolen the show, as expected, but deservedly. Am not happy with my performance. Hence am a bit gloomy. Glad I get a second chance.
Worst thing is, I think Dhruv was there!!!! DAMN!!!! Wish I could've acted better!!!!

11 March, 2006:

Woke up with a familiar empty feeling inside me. Familiar to the ending of plays.It's over???

2006-03-08T09:17:00.000-08:00

The bear's belly be'eth burning, brewing, boiling, bubbling betraying my boundless belief in its cast-iron capacities- to borrow a tendency from an alliterating friend of mine.

Folks, I have been unwell these past few days. My stomach has been feeling like blancmange. held together by a titanium airframe of medication,.........but blancmange nevertheless.

Am saving my energies for my upcoming production "Death of a Godot". (Note my dedication!!!!) All must surely come.

The Bear be'eth highly bored.

2006-03-06T20:56:00.000-08:00

Tut tut,

Friends are not what they used to be.

People can be so stupid indeed.

Mr. Contradiction, here's your bill!!!!

2006-03-01T09:32:00.000-08:00

Today we hoodwinked the Kolkata corporation. We be'eth outlaws, criminals, vigilantes even!!!

WANTED: Dead or Alive (whichever most convenient) for the forgery of the signature of a certain mr. contradiction,
i) A bimbette (forger-in-chief)
ii) An alluder (co-conspirator and bystander)
iii) A bear ( co-conspirator)

A kind reminder to the same mr. contradiction that he be'eth now in debt to the afore-mentioned Terrible Trio!!!
A list of his debts and how they should be appropriately repaid:

The bimbette- 5 different ice-cream sundaes on 5 different days from nowhere but a Mamma Mia outlet!

The alluder- A big hug and wet kiss

The bear- Boy! He owes me big!!!!

Dancing With Wolves and Cats

2006-02-26T08:47:00.000-08:00

The past few days have been a sort of continuation of each other.

When I left you last, I was wallowing in guilt over missing classes. Well, guess what, I missed more!!!! The very next day, a certain Mr. Black and not Mr. Contradiction as well as the rest of the gang once again managed to drag me away from the hallowed premises of my college to the house of a certain young hippie, shitting her pants out!!!
We played yet another round of raunchy Truth and Dare (another!!!! This sexually frustrated thingy is getting to me now!!! I am not that frustrated surely!!!) . But we also ended up dancing. Long time since I've done that and not gotten laughed off the floor!!! 'Twas fun. Infact, it almost made me forget the agony of bunking a class!!!

And on the next day................i understood the real meaning of being mindfucked!!! The very same Mr. Contradiction did me the signal favour of showing me a movie I had long wanted to see. And I was mindfucked!!! Completely and absolutely!!! The movie in question was the musical Cats. Thank you, Mr. Contradiction!!!

I have henceforth sworn that someday I will act in Cats either as Mustunkus or Mistoffeliees. The movie, in fact, lent a completely different flavour to our rehearsal session that day!!!

I am studying now. Have a crappy test tomorrow which I know I will do badly in. The rot has gone deep. I am not who I used to be.

Truth and Dare in "Bad" Company

2006-02-23T08:43:00.000-08:00

I was made to miss more classes today. I swear it was not intended!!! I even fought the matter out and yet.......... The people dragging me away from the pains and pleasures of academia are herefore assigned to mortify in Hell!!!

A certain Mr. Contradiction dragged the lot of us unhot, unromantic, unhittable people to a certain CCD. This lot consisted of a certain hippie, an alluder, a bimbette, a mojo, and yours truly, the Bear. After smoking a couple of Classics and trying to escape some sudden unwanted company, we ended up deciding to play the (so-called) tried and tested alleviator of boredom, alias Truth or Dare.

We did a few of rather "scandalous" dares in front of a wondering CCD public cum management. This included pestering fellow customers, and swindling one out of a Benson & Hedges. Unfortunately, I was not the lucky swindler in question!!!

We stuck around for so long, infuriating the public with our presence that the establishment finally decided to deprive us of the A.C. to get its displeasure through!!! We left..............finally!!! Only to end up in Doyeeta's place to carry on lazing!!!

Truth and Dare continued. Certain scenes which we had thought prudent to censor from being performed on CCD premises were completed successfully!!! Next, in the course of Dares, we got to witness some ultra hot guy-on-guy action!!! No prizes for guessing who were involved!!! Also, in the course of events, we came to the rather inevitable conclusion that the lot of us (with the obvious exception of Mr. 29!!!) are extremely sexually frustrated!!! Scary, to say the least!!!!

The exciting day of lazing ended with a stirring rendition of "Gaar Me Danda De" after which we dispersed to return to our "average citizen" alter-egos!!! I had bunked an entire day of college.
"Beelzebub has a Devil put aside for me!!!!"
Tch tch tch, not good.

In reply to below:

2006-02-20T09:50:00.000-08:00

How DARE you!! On MY blog???!!! You have some nerve!!!!
You take that back RIGHT NOW!!!!
Or meet me, u n me, outside, right now!!!

BASTARDO!!!!

U'r dead, Rushing jaws!!! DEAD!!!

2006-02-20T09:45:00.000-08:00

I hate the Beatles.

Pathetic pop rock band.

Nothing beats the Rolling Stones.

If I were in the 60s, then I would have been a Stoner rather than an insect.

A Walk to Remember

2006-02-20T09:00:00.000-08:00

Folks, I appear to have landed in bad company. My gang today forced me to bunk two classes!!! TWO!!! Next sem I'm so not gonna get Bimbo's "Non-Bunker of the Sem" award!!! I'm feeling really bad about it though!! Terrible rush of guilt.

Today we walked. We walked a lot !!! Went to Presi to do some much-needed socializing!! On the bus, on the way, some of us decided that we really need areas of specialization to lecture on about and make other people feel inferior. We also decided that Anc has too many of these!! D'arvit!!!
In Presi, I ran into some old friends (from GDB). Actually had a rather good time there!! An old friend from the ol'quizzing circuit going around with an ol' "flame" from school (ask me about the flames later!!!). We met up. Talked about some old times/ And drank ourselves some beer (read Paramount-er green shorbot!!!)/ Still crazy after all these years!!!

Then, Shubhayu swindled us into accompanying him to a jamming session. Which never occurred. We just ended up walking. A lot!!
Our sojourn ended with us lying under a starry sky on each other's laps in good ol' Vivekananda Park.

As a P.S., I aim to start a campaign protesting curfews for girls. It's not fair!!!! Why do guys get to stay out as long as they want and then call us "itor-marka"???!!! I protest. In the current spirit of active politics-ism, CHOLBE NA, CHOLBE NA!!!

"Who the hell am I?"- An identity crisis

2006-02-16T09:48:00.000-08:00

A freaky thing happened today. A certain talking contradiction talked contradictorily about me today. He said he didn't regard me as a girl!!! Pray what did he regard me as? You are neither a boy, nor a girl, nor neither, or either!!! Thou be'est a sex of thy own, he told me. I am not like the girls he has known. (he has known many, I can safely testify!!!)I am so different, in fact, he fails to classify me!! I be'eth too boyish, he says! Jeezus!!! I know I'm tom-boyish, but isn't this taking it a bit too far???!!! What or who the hell am I then??!!!
People, my brothers and sisters, thou that hast known me these many long days, I prithee, put a voice to my question. Dost thou agree? Or not? If thou dost, I prithee again, tell me what I am. In the words of a certain Black dragon, I be'eth a bear with little brain. I acknowledge myself confused.

2006-02-15T19:06:00.000-08:00

Tut Tut,

The Bear is a Boor.

The Amazing Adventures of the Lonely Hearts Club Band

2006-02-14T08:44:00.000-08:00

Today was Valentine's Day.
A day when we, the illustrious members of our illustrious club, meet and bemoan our collective lack of romance.
This club includes: My good friends R, D, B, A and yours truly.
Others cannot join because they are either hot or already have/had too much romance in their lives and would simply make us feel bad.

Yet, today was a memorable evening. There was plenty of drama (pun intended!!!). Our play's first act was staged for an audience of one Professor A. Lal. We goofed up. Big time. And then he compliments the Lion's impromptu, says I have no sense of character and that my mouth looks like its always smiling, and that Lucky needs working on. Hence, all but one came away with heavy hearts. I guess I just tried impressing the guy too much. Mesa sad.

After that, we fooled around a bit on the ledge. And then we (i.e. R, Diviani, A and guest Lecturer at the Club Band, the Lion/ Aged Member) thought, "What the heck!!! We love ourselves, don't we? Darn right we do!!!" Therefore, we decided to have a treat, all by ourselves!!! We headed off to one of R's favourite haunts, the "Grub Club" and sat together as a group date. There was terrible music playing, for the terrible couples around( I'm just being mean!!!), but the chicken was good. I raised a toast, hobbit ishtyle, to us, lonely members of the Lonely Hearts Club Band. However, to add salt to our wounded, already-lonely hearts, a candle was placed at our table. A heart shaped candle in a bowl of rose petals. We all sighed, and played with the flame, fearing that this time next year we'd end up the same way. My good friend A, of course, strongly vowed he wouldn't. At the end, after Diviani left after intervention by her mom, and R and the Lion had a little usual spat at leaving-time, the Lion, A and I walked down Southern Avenue having a quiet lonely heart-to-lonely heart, bemoaning our fate and trying to foresee our romantic future. I left the Lion and A, sharing a plate of batata puri at Vivekananda Park.

Things change and things stay the same. Yet another Valentine's Day passes me by and I realize: I'm older than I once was, and younger than I'll be. That's not unusual. A V-Day will come when I don't only get kissed by girls.
Signed-
Sgt. Pepper.

In reply.........

2006-02-13T09:05:00.000-08:00

To reply to Anc's post, speak for yourself, fatso!!!
I am NOT obese!!! I am highly satisfied with my weight (which, if I may point out, fluctuates during the course of a day and corrects itself depending on mealtimes!!!!)
I could do with a little trimming, but then I would become un-cuddly and un-googlybear-ish and anyway I am to lazy to , so there!!! [pout]

On The Only Religion I Have Ever Believed In:

2006-02-13T08:25:00.000-08:00

Recently, I seem, by utter default, to have become a legal defender of Rahul Dravid and a complete Sourav-basher!!!!

Please note that this is extremely unintentional. I am certainly no Sourav discreditor. I believe he was the best captain ever to have occurred in Indian cricket. However, here I must point out, that whatever the statistics say, I never had much faith in him as a batsman. Yes, in his heyday, he was, at times sublime in his
drives on the off-side, but with such a long "bad-patch", I had, of late, lost much faith in him.
Neither, if I may be allowed to point out, am I one of the many, should I say, madly in love with Rahul Dravid. I certainly admire him as a great batsman, superior even to( if I may commit the blasphemy) Sachin Tendulkar. He is undoubtedly the Indian "Wall" and a textbook example in batsmanship. But no, I am not his particular fan.
Perhaps you will ask who then I am a fan of. The answer is Irfan Pathan. Actually I love the entire Indian team. But if I had to sleep with one of them, my choice would be Irfan!!! ;)
For entertainment's sake, my choice is Virender Sehwag (Veeru!!!!).

Now, regarding the problem I mentioned at the very beginning, it's actually all my grandfather's fault!!!
He is one of those who reads Anandabazaar Patrika, and swallows, hook,line and sinker, every word it proclaims. And hence, like many other contemptible Bengalis, he firmly believes that Sourav is the victim of a conspiracy theory, and Rahul, in allegiance with Greg Chappell and Kiran More, is plotting to keep him unfairly out of the side because...................................HE IS A BENGALI!!!!!
Many of you might agree with this theory. But in my opinion, it only shows the worst side of Bengali sentiments. If the race is so great, then how come it has not been able to produce any other great cricketer other than Dada?? I refuse to act like a sore loser. I agree that it is extremely evident that Greg Chappell and Kiran More have no sympathy to spare on him, and are out to implement their own agendas perhaps. But to drag the good name of Rahul Dravid into the fracas, simply makes my blood boil. And my grandfather refuses to acknowledge his own injustice!!! Yes, Sourav has been treated in a shameful manner, not befitting that which should be accorded to one who has served Indian cricket so well, and the entire nation should protest that. But Sourav, I believe, would like to come back in his own style. By letting his bat do the talking and not as a sympathy measure. I would say, in doing this, we degrade him even more! If he seriously cannot contribute with the bat any more, then he should gracefully retire, but I am sure he would not wish to be a liability to the team.
Even worse, of late my grandfather has been questioning the contribution of (hold on to your hats, folks!!) SACHIN TENDULKAR!!!!! Even to me, ( no Sachin fan, I guarantee you!!) this is sacrilegious!!!! I refuse to have the stature of this great a maestro hauled up! My grandpa says " Well, they keep on saying Sourav isn't contributing with the bat, is Sachin?" My mouth hangs open. I have nothing to say. In his opinion, if Sachin doesn't contribute atleast a century in every match India plays, he doesn't deserve to be in the Indian team!!!!
If he isn't superhuman, he is not Sachin!!!
Now if THIS isn't the heights of ungraciousness, I don't know what is!!! Sachin Tendulkar is, by far, the best cricketer India has ever produced!!!( Kapil Dev ranks a close second!!!) None, and certainly no Indian, has the legitimate right to question this stature of his! I think his stats speak for themselves!!!! Not I, and not even anyone who reads Anandabazaar Patrika should even think of such disgusting and completely unjust criticism. Sourav, even in our wildest dreams, cannot be compared to the Little Master!! He just can't, whatever you may say. Sourav is mortal, but Sachin is truly GREAT!! And now, even when he has contributed handsomely in India's last 2 ODI's vs Pakistan, my grandpa still refuses to acknowledge this very simple FACT!!!
In fact, our "arguments" have reached such an outrageous level that no amount of reason helps ( i refuse to scream at him) and I almost dread visiting their house ( the issue invariably comes up!!!)!!!!

A plea from a soul in mortal agony at such injustice: HELP!!!!!!

2006-02-12T08:53:00.000-08:00

Ragini and I look extremely fat in videos.

Well, it might also be because we are rather obese.

gotten tired of numbering...................

2006-02-10T10:30:00.001-08:00

Our college fest is disapointingly bad. (Please don't show this to my daddy!!! He will BLAST me like he did once before!!!)
I went today thinking, last day, party hobe, masti hobe.
Instead,................
I got eaten by mosquitoes
Got the flimsiest certificate I've ever received as first prize (!!!!!)
Heard two good songs murdered
Saw men humping each other and calling it dancing
Came home early.

All this made me miss my good old school fest, Disha, and other school fests in general.

Also, I suddely realized I'm missing my old gang. Have decided, therefore. to pay them a nice little visit at the old sxc tomorrow.

2006-02-10T10:30:00.000-08:00

Number Ten: Competition

2006-02-08T08:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a rather eventful day.
I bunked a class ( can u believe it folks???!!!!) for an extremely heated and emotional debate on "Rang de Basanti".
My auntie Priyo and friend Uttaran formed a team and opposing them were my uncle Creon, Bimbabati, and myself. [My daddy made a brief appearance but had to run off for Sanskriti work soon after]
I will not deal with it here, but let me just say that a film need not necessarily motivate anyone to ecome a revolutionary for it to be successful. A film is an illusion toying with people's feelings. That's what we even know it does and we pay for exactly that. Just because "RDB" is a film about the youth awakening as it were, it doesn't mean it can awaken us. Maybe we are already awake. Changing oneself is the most revolutionary thing one can do. That's how, little by little, a nation changes. "RDB" touched a fundamental emotional chord in a lot of people. That's why it is successful. Its message is one of non-violence. It shows us that militantism can't and will never be a solution. One needs a deeper answer to our problems.

Did a quiz after a helluva long tym. Felt good! Plus.........WE WON!!!! Unfortunately, it seems we will not be getting anything, but still............
It was a good quiz and has definitely whetted my appetite for more. Had kinda forgotten what it felt like.
Now am back!!!!

Episode VI: The Return Of The Anc

2006-02-05T11:00:00.000-08:00

I want money. I want more and more money.

The Ninth Edition: A world of one

2006-02-05T09:27:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry, but this is an intensely private post.

We will be moving house shortly (next month, hopefully!) and today it got me thinking....
I live in a world of one, a world of me. I love the peaceful Sunday when you have no plans and no pressure of studies weighing you down. You're pretty much free to spend it as you want. Today was just such a Sunday.
And it is on days like today that I seem to rediscover the fact that I live in world of one. My chhaat forms that entire world. I live in a rather old-fashioned house with a nice exclusive chhaat which is part of the apartment. That is, the kitchen, dining room and a small hole in the wall (formerly a bharar ghor, now my own study), are all situated on the chhaat.
My chhaat is my Gondor. So many little idle everyday memories are linked to my chhaat, that when the time comes, I know it's going to be hard to leave. My chhaat is a boundary. Two different worlds exist on either side of its borders. When I am on my chhaat, I can hear the sounds of traffic, of modern everyday life, grinding along on the streets. If I lean over the parapet, on the side of Rashbehari Avenue, I am confronted with the image of modernity, of life on the move, the life which swallows you up as you step outside. But on the chaat, I am only confronted with the sight of peace. From my chhaat, I can see an uncluttered vista of the city skyline. The sky actually does form a never-ending dome above my head. And one of my most favouritest of past-times is to sit on the step outside my room, and quietly watch the chils circling overhead. I am treated to the most magnificent shows of aerobatic manoeuvrability and control. This has funnily always reminded me of a line in Pather Panchali, where Apu watches a chil circling slowly above an aswathha gachh until it disappears. I so relate to that image of tranquility!
My chaat is my Gondor. It's one of the old kind of chaats where the parapet is fashioned like old fortress walls. There actually are short stumpy towers at intervals along it. And facing my chhaat, there is a communications tower on top of a building where every evening a glowing red eye is turned on. I call it the Eye of Sauron. Since earliest childhood, this little imaginary device has turned my chhaat into a paradise, a castle. I still believe in it to this day.
The sun shows its various moods on my chhaat. I have seen glorious sunsets, with the sun sinking like a blazing ball of fire. I have also seen mellow sunsets colouring the ice-cream clouds a pink, a purple, an orange. I have seen rich tangible sunsets, when my neighbour's window panes become sheets of molten gold with the rich light. I have willingly scorched myself in the fiery arms of summer, and basked lazily on quilts laid out to warm in the balmy sweet warmth of the winter sunshine. I have seen the moon about to drop clean out of the sky, and its dusky face, hidden in a veil of clouds embraced by a lunar rainbow. I have seen it when its the colour of honey, glowing red like the eye of a drunken wolf. And the afternoons are the best times of all, because below the incessant noise of rushing traffic, there is a drowsy silence and I feel like I'm the only soul awake in the neighbourhood.
And the books that I've read on this chhaat! I think my ardent fascination for fantasy arose from the fact that my chhaat just departs such an unique flavour to them. It is a screen to receive the images my imagination portrays onto it. I have read Star Wars on days of rain. I have read Robert Jordan at the heights of blazing summer. I have read Jonathan Livingston Seagull under the very skies of perfection.I have travelled with Frodo out of the Shire in perfect spring; and as Saphira rose with Eragon on her back, dusk has fallen on me on my chhaat. Even now, I associate certain atmospheres with certain stories.
My chhaat has been my childhood stadium. I've played cricket, football, tennis, badminton on my chhaat losing n number of balls, shuttlecocks and other toys. I have had several hundred sword-fights, lightsabre duels and rapiered encounters on my chhaat, a bhanga antenna-r rod serving me faithfully everytime. I have rushed out from whatever I was doing, attracted by the drone of a low-flying aircraft. I have eaten apples and stolen begun bhaja from the kitchen when no one was looking. I have followed lines of ants leading away from the carcass of a cockroach, away by the gutter, behind the pillar, up the wall and into a hidden crack. And then? Never have I found out what lay on the other side of their secret tunnel.
I have had romantic telephone conversations; revealed scary details about how I got drunk to a terrified friend; gossipped away to glory and craned my neck to gaze up at the diamond pricks on a clear night when I thought the sky could not possibly be more beautiful. I have danced in the rain and caught colds from the chill. I have wept and laughed and poured out my secrets to nobody in particular on my chhaat.
Sigh.
Indeed it will be hard to leave. My creative and imaginative spirit is inextricably linked with my chhaat. All my creative inspiration has been derived from this one source. But leave I must, one day. That day I will find a new world of one. Away from my Gondor, away from my skies and my chils, away from my one step beneath my room. It will be hard but I will harden my heart. This place, for me, can never be replaced. The best I can do is move on. I will find a new planet. Someday.

Take 8: Two shows

2006-02-03T09:13:00.000-08:00

Today was a particularly eventful day.
Asides from being Saraswati Pujo, I partook of two shows today of exactly opposite intensities.
I went with a bunch of friends to see "Rang de Basanti". And was floored!!!!
Fuck!!!
I haven't been this moved by a hindi movie since "Lagaan"!!!
Fuck again!!!
And the atmosphere too brought back memories of that memorable film. There was screaming and cheering( for various reasons of course!) which added to the moving experience.
In a nutshell, like "Parineeta" was my choice for hindi film of 2005, I doubt if I will be seeing a hindi film to rival "Rang de Basanti" this year. Still............the year is young and hopes are high.

After that, I rushed and scrambled to attend a play at Oxford [ Victoria Station- Harold Pinter. Produced by Theatrecian]...............which I ended up missing thanks to the incredible traffic!!! All I got to attend was the incredibly boring post-play discussion. Also, thanks to my good friends effectively DITCHING me ( u know who u r!!!), I actually had to put a straight face through the whole thing!!!! The only amusements came from Dhruv Mukherjee, the only entertaining and intelligent speaker, and the guy sitting next to me who was sketching Prof. Lal's portrait the whole time.

Well! There u have it. Yet another day in the life of a cheesecake.
Will someone wake me when it's over?

Episode V: The Anc Strikes Back

2006-02-02T08:50:00.000-08:00

Erp. What am I doing here?

Testing ... Testing ...

Good. My work is done.

Post 7: As promised

2006-02-01T10:46:00.000-08:00

Am sleepy so will make this quick.

Since nobody believes a certain group of us on a rather unique incident which occured today, here is my testimony to the truth of the claim.

Today, at a certain Milon-da's canteen, my hithertofore mentioned good friend "A" was, while serving as errand boy as usual, like the good samaritan he is to a certain no. of lazy asses which refuse to budge from our homely ledge, buying food for another good friend of mine, code-named "suchi". He kept her food thonga on the seat beneath the tree and turned away for a moment ( for what purpose, I cannot recall) and I was in the process of lighting a comfortable gold flake kingsize after a satisfying meal when, much to yet another good friend of mine, "R"'s consternation, a crow ; yes, ladies gentlemen, a crow( Damn! I've forgotten its Latin name!!), swooped down and grabbed suchi's thonga. However, although we tried ( earnestly my friends!!!) to save it from the terrible beak, it appeared our noble corvus had a hungry girlfriend he had promised to treat and had forgotten to bring his wallet!! It flew our grasp and devoured the contents, much to our collective dismay ( Dismay, folks, for we felt for the loss!!).My good friend "A"'s face was indeed so: <80 . But on our return , suchi and others, not witness to such an unusual turn of events, refused to believe us and instead laughed in the faces of us, gallant disciples of truth!!! Ah! The injustice of it all!!![sigh]

Here it rests, therefore, for all to see and judge as they will, but as a parting shot...............
ITS TRUE!!!!PLS PLS PLS BELIEVE US!!!!!
PUHLEEZ!!!

Episode IV: A New Stalker

2006-01-28T23:18:00.000-08:00

Why are we talking about stalkers? Shall I rush to "A"'s defense and denounce all of you? Or, can I not be bothered enough in this matter.

I think that I will choose the latter. Toodolooo !!!!

Fraction 6: Albeit........

2006-01-28T08:51:00.000-08:00

There one other thing I have to report which deserves a completely new space.
You might have read about this in a few other blogs, but having been an eye-witness, I too swore to put up my report.
Yesterday, a certain friend ( let's call him A, shall we??), came up to a group of us sitting idly on the ledge (as usual!!!) in a bit of a flurry. For a few days, hithertofore, he had been plaguing us with a story of an internet stalker he had on his tail, who had apparently "freaked him out" by sending him pictures of herself in her underwear.For my information, refresh my memory if you will, but if a girl sends a (horny??!!!) guy naked pics, doesn't he happily and willingly bite the bait???!!! Strange, if u ask me!
Anyway, yesterday, he came to us with the news that he had found his stalker who had introduced herself rather shamelessly to him by accosting him in the corridor with "Hi! I sent you the pictures, remember...........?" Conclusions jumped to, he had come running to us in the afore-mentioned state of flurry.
Now we, being we, had expressed a keen interest in this "stalker", so he had rushed off to fetch her for us and to prove his story to the world!!!
And here comes the good part. My friend A, produced before us a rather innocent young dame whom he introduced with "Here! She's the one! She's my stalker!! You've been stalking me!! You're freaking me out!!!" This girl, as all others might be, looked around at all of us with an expression of bemused puzzlement and said in a meek voice "I'm not a stalker. I don't know what he's talking about. I took some pictures for him on my cell phone and sent them to him as he'd asked, and he accosts me claiming I'm a stalker!"
Well! At about the time one considers "too late", realization dawned on my friend A. This was actually a very nice and considerate girl who had quite obligingly sent him photos of himself (not naked!!!) that he'd asked for!!! A first rate faux-pas!!!
Blushing in hilarious embarassment while we were doubled up with laughter, he claimed "Well, that was most certainly a howler. Yes sir, that was most DEFINITELY a howler." !!!!! He rushed off to apologize profusely..........again and returned blushing even more hilariously. " Well, that was exceedingly embarassing", he said.
It was at about this point that all of us present made a solemn vow that THIS had been the blogging moment of the day, and accordingly I have put forward my faithful representation as seen by yours truly!!!

Chapter 5: A Contrast

2006-01-28T08:03:00.000-08:00

A record was broken in my life today.
While watching "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King"for the third time in my life, I actually found myself wiping away tears. Folks, this has NEVER happened before!!! A movie made me cry!!!!!Incredible!!!
Also, while watching the movie, I noticed something. Here is its account:
Due to the fact that I have a test on Homer's " Iliad" coming up very soon, I had been endeavouring to acquaint myself with its contents since this morning.And to be completely honest, I found it appalling!!!! There is no word in Elvish, Entish or the Tongues of Men to describe the kind of disgust it wrought in me.
How can a book propagating such intense hatred, be considered the finest work of Western literature?? Maybe I'm missing the point here, but aren't we benumbed by the horrors of human hatred enough ?
I do not claim to be an idealist. War is a reality. Has been since the beginning of human history, and will be till the end of it. I have seen enough of war movies as well as live coverage of violence, read enough of newspapers and heard many news bulletins, to be numbed to its effects by now, like the rest of my generation. People die, and people live, and people kill to survive. Fails to have a significant impact on me.
What does not, however, is genocide. Indiscriminate mass slaughter. Murder of innocents. I suppose the numbing down hasn't been strong enough to deprive me of outrage at this yet. And I am afraid this is what I found in the "Iliad".
To even wish to wipe out an entire people, to burn their homes, desecrate their corpses, make slaves of their innocents and mock them in their defeat, sickens me. As I hope it would, any remotely decent human being.
How can anyone hate so much? Is it possible? For vengeance, yes, I accept hatred can take a murderous form. But here, what do they hate for? A petty issue of pride. For the abduction of one woman, an entire race must needs be wiped out. A race that did not will the abduction in the first place. Now this is just a bit too thick.
And what kind of gods did these Greeks believe in? Gods who for even pettier sakes must abandon mercy and willingly aid and abet manslaughter??!!!! I wonder, if it was believed that these gods created the human race, what kind of immortal sadists are they that they find joy in pitting one against the other and watching with glee a shower of blood? Even helping it on its way? It's enough to make all belief in any religion null and void!!!
I found solace in LOTR after this. Yes, I was treated to yet another spectacle of blood and gore, but the best thing was, pride had no part to play in it. Especially not sickening hubris! War is futile. Men realize this in both, the "Iliad" and LOTR. But in one, pride destroys all while in the other, hope remains after sacrifice to build on. There is a reason to fight in LOTR. As Sam tells Frodo, "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and that's worth fighting for." In the "Iliad" whatever good there might have been in the world before the war, is effectively destroyed in the course of it.
Historians say the war in Troy never happened. I should sincerely hope so. Human life must not be slain at the altar of human ego. But the fact that the "Iliad" is hailed as the foundational work for the rest of Western literature, I suppose, says a lot about us. Some critics say it is a pacifist epic. How then could it have so effectively portrayed the unslakeable bloodlust of men that has succeeded it in the centuries that have followed?

Segment 4: Why being 19 is hard

2006-01-26T07:29:00.000-08:00

Its hard being 19 years old.
Really!!!!
I swear it!!!!
Well, since you don't believe me, here's why:

When you're 19,
1. You wake up one morning and realize you've still not gotten around to doing all those things you planned when you were 18!!!!

2. You're half way through your first year of college ( hopefully!!!) and you find yourself thinking "What next??"

3. You realize you must must must take that driving test you've been putting off for so long and begin whining for your own car. That way, if you're lucky, you'll get one by the time you're 26!!

4. The amounts of money which, hithertofore, seemed like unforeseen treasure, now doesn't seem half enough. You find yourself beginning to have the eerie feeling that money's slipping through your fingers.

5. At this point, you begin to realize the values of employment, or joining the Mafia.

6. One of two things happens to your sexual appetite. Either you get horny, corny and desperate (like a certain uncle of mine ;)!!!), or sex begins to bore you and you roll your eyes at the mere mention of it and think, like, "Next!!!"

7. You get legally classified under " Officially Ugly" by virtue of the photos clicked for your driver's license and voter ID card!!!

8. You realize for life that it would be a good thing having an alternative to love.

9. Your little nieces and nephews get really annoying!!!!( grrrrrrrrr!!!!!)

10. You realize that in another year you're going to be.............. OLD!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!
"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME, GOD???!!! I THOUGHT WE HAD A DEAL!!!!!"

There!
10 reasons!
Now I hope you're convinced!!
If you're still not..........wait till YOU turn 19, you young whippersnapper!!!! (Kids these days!!!!)

Episode III: The Revenge Of The Anc

2006-01-18T21:46:00.000-08:00

I am feeling vindictive and mean. Very very mean indeed. Come any closer and I will bite and yes, this means you.

Part 3: Account of a midnight snack

2006-01-18T08:44:00.000-08:00

It was the night before Ashtami, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse!!!

(fake snore, fake snore, fake snore.)
(silent peep from under the covers then nudge nudge nudge)
Pssst........ Mona!
Zzzzzz........hnnnnnggg?? What?
Are ur parents asleep now? Its 1 a.m.
(yawn) Wait. I'll go check.
(Slither.......... squeeeeeeek...........tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe..................sssssqqqqquuuuuueeeeekkk.......tiptoetiptoetiptoe..........squeeeeek......)
Ok, they're asleep.
And Mini?
She's asleep in the den.
Ok. Hey guys, wake up. Has Ragini gone to sleep again?! Uff! Then she won't get any of the food!
What? Food? Where?
Aha! There, magic words.
Ok, wait. Mona and I will go and get the food here...
Oh no u don't! We don't trust u! U'll eat up half the stuff just bringing it here!
Uff! Miti! Stop being a kid! U guys go and bring the stuff.
Maji, u know where the booze is right?
Yeah. Come with me, we'll mix a peg.
Yeah, can't take more than that. It'll be too suspicious.
Ok, we'll wait here.
Be careful now. Don't make a noise.
And don't eat any of the food!
(chorus) Yeah, yeah!
SHHHHHH!!! What's the matter with u guys???!!!!
(Squeeeeeek.........manytiptoe, manytiptoe, manytiptoe..........squiiiing........whisper, whisper, whisper...............tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe...........craaack......."quiet Maji!!!"........burble burble burble........" ok that's enough. Now put it back!"................careful tiptoe, careful tiptoe, careful tiptoe............squeeeek........"CAREFUL!!!!"...............)
Ok, mission accomplished!
Join in!
What've u guys got?
Well, there was chicken and the salad left. Gt even wanted the cold aloo-dum!
Good good. Here, pass that!
Stop hogging, man!
No.......I want the leg piece!!!
Shhhh! U want to wake everyone up kya??
Got the booze?
Yup
One glass. We didn't want to steal more.
Yeah, what if someone found out!
Chill, yaar!
Ok, we'll all take a sip.
(Sip)
BLEAGHHH!!!!
YUCK!!
What the hell did you mix, Maji???
Its awful!!!
Oh its the whisky with the orange vodka............
I TOLD you not to mix that!!
Shut up, yaar!
Well, don't have it. You'll make urself sick. Leave it, we'll chuck it.
Hey! No way! Here, give it to me. I'll finish it.
Don't yaar, Ragini. Crazy or what?? It's terrible!
Its booze.
Miti! U're stealing all the sausage pieces!
WHAT!!
Shhhhhh........pleeeeeez!!!
I want some!
Miti, stop being a hog!
The aloo dum's not bad. Even if it is cold!
Yuck! Maji, we're never allowing u to mix drinks ever again!
So who asked you to have it?? Leave it no.
Pass me a piece of chicken yaa.
I want some salad. Ragini, salad?
Yeah, I want summa that too.
Uff! Put down the glass no!
Hawwww! Dipika, ur eating all this mayonnaise???!!! U'll get fat!!!
Yeah I am eating it and shut up, ok!!!!

(Moments of silence. Slurrrrrp........slurrrrp........crunch, crunch.............scrunch........lick,lick....sip "bleagh"...........mmmmmmmmm........scrunch, scrunch..........lurp,lurp.........lick, lick)

Ahhhhh.......
Yeah man, I'm so full!!!
That was awesome!!!
Here, u wanna lick the salad bowl?
Ooooh! Yeah!
Yummy, I want that too!!!
No way!
Please, c'mon Miti.
Ok, Sangy. But onlyif u say I'm a sweetie.
That's dumb!
Say it.
Uff!
SAY IT!
Shhhhhhhh!!!! What's wrong with u???!!!
Ooops! Sorry!
Ok.
What?
Ur a sweetie.
I know (smug smile)
Now give.
See? I finished it.
What?
The booze.
U HAD it???
Ur crazy man.
Hahah!! U'll just can't take alcohol!!
Woteva.
Wow! The whisky feels amazing!!!My throat is getting warm..........Oooooooooo!!!
Uff! Stop it man! U sound like a pukka drunkard.
(snigger snigger)
Finished licking the bowl?
Hey, is that a chicken piece?
No, just a bone Gt chewed. Want it???
Hmph. No thanks!
(giggle giggle)
Ok, we'll have to wash the dishes, man. So somebody come and help.
Mmmm. Ok (grunt) I'll help.
And be VERY quiet!!!!
Yeah yeah!
(Squeeeek.......tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe............clatter....."CAREFUL!!!"............"Sorry!!"............soft bump.......ssssssssssss.............scrub, scrub,scrub.........soft clatter............"Ok. Let's go.Coast is clear".........tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe.........squeeeeeeek........"aaaaah!")
[Meanwhile............]
Ummmmmmm! That chicken was amazing no?
Yeah. As always!
I liked the aloo dum.
Of course, Dipika!
What's that supposed to mean, Ragini??
Nothing!
I'm full to bursting man (sigh)!!!
I'm hardly surprised.
You don't say!!
Oh, here. Ur back?
Want some ice-cream?There's still some left.
Mad or what??
Yeah! if I eat any more I'll puke!!!
Ummm. Speaking of puke, after that horrible booze, I don't feel so good........
Humph. Serves u right! Told you not to have it.
Bathroom's there. If u wanna throw up, just do it.
Heehee!! Just kidding!! I never throw up after booze. I can handle my alcohol, thank you!!
Harumph
Stop bragging man!
If u want to, just go to the bathroom ok?
I don't need to, told u na!
K.
I'm gonna sleep.
After all that food?? How can u??
I can.
Ok, good night.
Hmmmmmm. So, what do we do now?
Let's play truth or dare!
Ok!!
(Scramble, scramble, scramble)
Uff, move no to that side a little!
What about a pointer?
Sangy, go get that pencil.
Ok.
Here we go......
(Spin.....)

THE END

Act II Scene II: Thoughts that I have been thinking aka the politics of toddler birthday parties

2006-01-16T08:59:00.000-08:00

Enter Me, followed by a train of Everyone I know
ME: Guys, I've been thinking.......
EVERYONE ELSE: A dangerous pastime.......
ME: I know.But still. And do u know what I've found?
EVERYONE: What? Tell us, tell us!!
ME: Everybody's grown up!!!!!
EVERYONE:(collective intake of breath) Nawwwwwww!!!!!
ME: YES!! It's true. Aren't you all quite grown up?
EVERYONE: Ummm. Well.....much as we hate to admit it.......YES!!!
ME:You see?? This is what I mean. Everyone's grown up!!!
EVERYONE: Hmmm. So, what caused this enlightened discovery?
ME: Well, you see, I told you I was thinking and......
EVERYONE: And?
ME: I found out.
EVERYONE: As simple as that was it?
ME: Well, not exactly. I told you I was thinking. At the same time, I was also wondering.
EVERYONE: Why?? What could you possibly have been wondering about??
ME: Well, you see, yesterday was my friend's birthday. My all time best friend's birthday. She's in Bangalore right now, so this is the first time we didn't have a party on the 15th of Jan.
EVERYONE: Awwwww. What a pity!
ME: Yeah ! I know! I could have gotten aloo-paratha and aachar last night! Anyway, this was what got me wondering....
EVERYONE:(shaking heads mournfully and sympathetically) Tch,Tch,Tch. No aloo-paratha and aachar? What a shame! Tch, Tch, Tch.
ME: That we don't have parties like we used to.
EVERYONE: Huh? We've still got the booze!
ME: Uff! Sometimes booze isn't enough. Sometimes booze isn't what you really want.
EVERYONE:(another collective intake of breath) It isn't?
ME: No.
EVERYONE:( tries to draw in another collective intake of breath but finds has run out of breath!!) WHAT???!!!
ME: That's right. Birthday parties have degenerated. Now they're no longer birthday parties, they're excuses to have an adda. Damn!
EVERYONE: Uhhhhh.........isn't that what you really would like on your birthday?
ME: See? That's my point! You've all grown up!
EVERYONE:(thinks: "this Roman is crazy!!!")
ME: I know you probably think I'm crazy, but guys, c'mon! Can't you remember the times when birthday parties were way different from just another adda session. (Of course, at the time I'm talking about, we never even had the conception of what addas really were!!) We would go to birthday parties were we never even knew all the people. We would never get a chance to just sit down and chat, we were always kept occupied with silly games.(Sure, now even I call them silly, but back then, we thought them real cool!) We would keep running around and would often bump against the legs of some grouchy old relative of the birthday girl/boy.(No offence to grouchy old relatives!!!) The kid's parents and other assorted appointed management committee members, in the form of varied aunts and elder cousins, would , in vain try and keep us tots in control, and would invariably fail. There would be a fight and the wounded victim would wail and would have to be pacified with an early bit of cake.
Then there were the games. They were gladiatorial, to say the least!! The best man would never win and only those who had devised special strategies over years of birthday parties or could get in a special bit of cheating would win. The rest of us would grouse about the unfairness of it all, but like the seasoned gamblers we were, would queue up to try our hand at the next game! And then, just before the food was called out, there would be the piece de grace , the khoi-bag!!! Now, as far as I'm concerned, I know the khoi-bag had a conspiracy against me!! I would struggle up, right to the front, beside the birthday kid who would be dangerously wielding a long stick, preparing to burst the bag above, only, once the goodies began to flow, to be pushed to the back of the ferocious mob of tots and left with a handful of thermocol balls, the worst of the toys, and a broken heart!!!
EVERYONE: Awwwwwww!!!
ME: That's right. It was hard being a kid those days. <>But the food would make up for it!! If it was a rich kid's birthday party, there would be an ice-cream man and/or a phuchka-wallah. We would chime in on the " Happy Birthday to you" once the kid had blown out the God-knows-how-many coloured candles populating the cake and always, invariably giggle naughtily on the part:" Many boyfriends to you"!!!!Sad. Very sad. In fact, we still do! A tradition nobly upheld, although most of my friends already have boyfriends(committed ones too!!!)!!! Very, very sad.
EVERYONE: (knowing looks) (snigger snigger) (giggle giggle)
ME: At this time, we would run around, opening the prizes we had got or looking longingly and bitching about the ones we hadn't got!! Cups of Pepsi, Coke, Mirinda, etc. would be spilt. Everyone would go home with atleast two stains on their spotless party clothes, one brown(for the Pepsi) and one any other colour(whatever the cake was). No one would be able to finish what they had taken on their plates, and their would be considerable amounts wasted ( unthinkable in times like now when we have to pay for our own food!!!) It was also at this time our parents would conveniently choose to arrive, to pick us up, and despite many protestations be invited to have a bite of the feast. Schmart!! Learn for future use with your own kids!!!(wink)
Time to leave, and here comes the best part.....................the return gift!!!! Prizes or not, you returned with a bit of booty atleast !!!!And once in the car, we would fall asleep before reaching home, it had been a tiring evening of social excursion!!!
Ah! To think, what hapless barbarians we had been!! Looting and plundering with no bounds!!!
EVERYONE:(nostalgic sigh) Ah! Yes, those were the days of our lives........!!!
ME: And now?? Much to the delight of our parents, we have degenerated from our profiteering days. Gee, I don't even remember when my birthdays became what they are now!! How merciless is time!!!
EVERYONE: Hear, hear!!!
ME: This is why I say we shouldn't have grown up. Don't you agree?
EVERYONE: Methinks there is some truth in her sayings. Indeed t'is true! Are we dogs or are we Romans? We knew how to feast once.............ah yes.........what feasts..............when Caesar was around!!!
ME: Oh shut up! I'm talking about kids not Romans!! We were better feasters as well as looters and plunderers!! We used to get invited to do them!!! And we could conquer all, once, with a cutie smile.
EVERYONE: (another nostalgic sigh)
ME: Those pretty fluorescent envelopes, sometimes even with a theme!! What a pleasure to find them on your little school desk after break. Now? Now all we get is a................phone call. Sometimes, only a message!!!
EVERYONE: (collective groan)
ME: We've really grown up haven't we? I mean, its irreparable isn't it? WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
EVERYONE: Awwwwww. Don't cry, sweetie. We'll give you a treat!!
ME: (sniff) Promise?
EVERYONE: (sing-song) Yes we promise.
ME: Cross your heart and swear to die? Poke a needle in your eye?
EVERYONE: Yes, yes,baby.
ME: Alright, I guess an orgy will just hafta do. Ok, guys, bring out the bottles, lets have a fiesta!!!!!
EVERYONE: YAY!!!!!!
All exeunt singing "Livin' La Vida Loca"!!!!

FIN

Episode II : Clone Of The Original

2006-01-16T08:51:00.000-08:00

Aha.

Here we are.

On a Blog.

You and me.

Didi and Gogo.

"What are we doing here?"

Episode I

2006-01-15T09:17:00.000-08:00

I'm bored.
Cheesed off rather.Else why would I be doing this?
I don't even know why I started this blog. I suppose in the hopes that the day I have something to say, I'll have a place to say it.
Of course, assuming it looks good in pencil-on-paper first!!
You see how cheesed off I am?? I'm even making lame jokes on my blog...........and knowing it too!!

Ok, question arises: Why are you reading this again???
Ans: Good question!!! Why are u??!!!
I have nothing to say. Seriously. But I am a good writer. I think.
I hope one of u guys out there will be able to motivate me.
Or maybe its just timing.

I'm really bored.
But I hope i won't be next time. I'm off. Yawwwwwwwn.
Seriously, u can expect some good stuff from this space. As soon as I can think of some.
Till then toodooloo.

Oh, and keep supporting cheesecake !!!