Today my friend "Ramu" read aloud a hot steamy passage describing sexual activity from a Mills and Boons novel.



Then I was asked to peel potatoes.



Then they cooked.
chicken.










It was only after relishing lavishly the result of dear friends toiling it out in the pigeon and cockroach infested kitchen [while I got to get away with just peeling potatoes]

I realized that the idea was to put up the picture of the final product of this whole gala cooking fiesta.

Anyway, I forgot. I was too hungry.

There is so much that I want to write about, but as I sit here with my rebellious contact lenses which want to pop out and rest in peace, I just don't know what to write about.

ok. Here's what I will do. Stop thinking and head bang for a little while.

ok..here is something interesting.
I just had this yahoo conversation with an unknown person who happened to be in my yahoo friendlist.



Subair Kb: hey
Adrita Sircar: hi
Subair Kb: hey u don knw me
Subair Kb: ur movie maker
Adrita Sircar: actually...i dont...i am wondering who you are
Subair Kb: im akso intersted 4 movie
Adrita Sircar: ok....
Subair Kb: for a actin
Subair Kb: can u help me
Adrita Sircar: help you?
Adrita Sircar: how?
Adrita Sircar: how are you in my yahoo list?
Subair Kb: i hav ptoyfolio
Adrita Sircar: who are you?
Subair Kb: if u hav any prob
Subair Kb: then 4gt
Subair Kb: sry
Subair Kb: to distab u
Subair Kb: bye
Subair Kb has signed out. (3/21/2009 12:18 AM)


I don't know what to make of it.
Here I am, looking frantically for resources to sustain myself in the city of dreams. Everyday I feed into my brains these fleeting images of the places that I like the most.


Everybody asks me to change.

Recently my local guardian said
"Stop living in a dream. Your life is not a film"

But my Life IS a film!

I edit real life visuals with my eyes. Every time I close my eyes, there is a cut. The train journeys are colossal track and trolley landscape shots. Music on my some friend's i-pod becomes the OST for my walk from the station to the campus. My reflection in the mirror is an extreme close up of my eyes. The flying kites are a low angle shot. My friends are a variety of mid shots. The basket ball players are a long shot and the dreaded ticket checker on the days I don't have a ticket should be an extreme long shot. Or else there are chances of me getting caught.

Some times I ask myself whether I am being a little too over-enthusiastic. What if I don't get a job. I will have to go back to Calcutta.
Then I open my eyes. The sea glitters with the glory of the sunlight falling on its water. The cars whiz past in a blur. The Malabar hill stretch stands tall and mysterious on the right. The skyscrapers stand taller on the left. And bang in front are the people. Some seated. Some standing. Some jogging. and the rest walking aimlessly on what is a wide pavement and a ultra low wall of sorts running along the glittering sea.

In a mid shot, that's marine drive for you.

In a long shot, it might be the Queen's necklace. In an extreme long shot it might be a blur of city lights and the urge to dream.
Dream big.
Dream wild.


But then people ask me to change. They ask me to snap out of my dream.
But how ?

Is this what they call going mad?
Is this what they call the big city blues?


Its not about people telling me. Its not even about the recession. I know there is this long time span of tear-jerking struggle in front of me. But I guess I am up for it.

And the very idea of getting to travel by train everyday. Pushing , scratching, spitting, clawing, shouting and abusing...these are the daily activities that people indulge in...inside a local train compartment...but despite that, I kind of heartily enjoy the act of traveling by the western railways. See. all you got to do is somehow make place for yourself. a window seat is generally preferable. A window seat which allows you to sit in the direction in which the train is going henceforth allowing you to get the best of the breeze plus the non-occupancy of the seat opposite you which allows you to put up your feet is the kind of situation which comes almost 6 percent close being in heaven and munching strawberries served with vanilla ice cream.

And if you don't get a window a seat, you can always take a chance and stand at the exit [you always stand in the direction in which the rain is moving] and pretend that you are riding the train.

Oh, me and my train games.
Pardon.

So what else do we talk about?
Me and my never ending episodes of having the special something weakness for some member of the opposite sex or the other.

What is WITH me?

Why can't, for a change , FOR ONCE, some member of the opposite sex have the special something weakness for ME?


I really think I should have sex or something like that. Only THEN I will understand WHY people sleep around so much.
and whats the deal with public display of affection?


I think I am too old to be 21.