doleful doledrums

My obsession with Pot.

2012-01-21T10:59:00.005+05:30

I had always known I would love the stuff. I am dreamy any which ways. Its the best feeling in the world. True that. But I also think its becoming a little heavy to handle. I am not addicted. But I love the stuff. What am I supposed to do? Clearly, I am not okay with my brain cells getting damaged and all the other things that happen to you when you smoke, but I love the stuff. So I have decided I am gonna smoke up only on weekends. Starting from Friday night, which was yesterday. I smoked and had a good time. Which I always do. So here are some things I collected from all over the internet. Not really. Just urban dictionary and my current favorite, Tumblr.

weed

makes you feel like floating
makes you superrr hungry
makes everything funnyyyy
makes you pretty sleepy(only when you come down)
makes sex feel fuckin AMAZING

can be smoked or eaten if baked into cakes or brownies


	a beautiful thing if used properly. all it does is make you happy. yo pass that joint around brother. A green plant god put on the earth for me and you. Grow buy role smoke enjoy. doobage, bud, herb, left-handed ciggarette, wacky tobacky, pot, smoke, gonga, reefer, the 11th special herb in KFC's recipe, green, dank, you get the picture. Hit that weed and pass it to the left! Puff, puff, give, damnit! the dried leaves and flowering tops of pistillate hemp plant that yeild cannabin and are sometimes smoked in cigarette form for its intoxicating effect aka fucking awesome

post eight trauma

2012-01-20T20:10:00.002+05:30

Will I find an auto?
should I smoke up? (since i will be let off early today)
Am I addicted to weed?
What about the fact that I love smoking that shit.
What about the fact that I've been off it (effortlessly) for the last two weeks.
what about the fact that I've been thinking too much about it.
What should I do?
Fuck it.
I don't care.
I know what you'll say. "smoke gaanja. but do not go out of control"
And I'll tell you what. I'll do that. No going out of control.
So anyway, off I go.

seriously, this is funny :D

2012-01-01T14:35:00.004+05:30

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ginettesqulette/1572974592/sizes/o/in/photostream/

People who I cant leave behind

2011-12-22T17:16:00.001+05:30

I want to. Because, frankly, there is no point running around trying to mend a broken friendship when the other person is just not interested. And here I am crying my lungs' out, trying to hold on. Like fuck you.

the other universe I created

2011-12-21T15:01:00.001+05:30

http://stillalittledreamy.tumblr.com/

2011-12-20T18:04:00.001+05:30

There should be a steadfast method. Discard bad memories. Clean up your negativity and thrive on the absence of paranoia. I have written so many letters to unidentified recipients over the years. Because my cleansing process started WAY back. Talking to imaginary people, making imaginary friends, creating (imaginary) parallel universes every day. I just fought my way through unhappiness, just by talking it out, writing it out, even when in my clear sober consciousness, there was not even a speck of doubt about imaginary people never coming alive. I would imagine my death and cry profusely at times; otherwise I would think of my parents and my sister as dead, in some god forsaken accident which saved me, but they died. I would cry my heart out, for things and incidents that never happened. I would cry out at times when I suddenly felt I was so alone. I can remember NUMEROUS instances when I saw a tree or a bird and started crying because at THAT moment, I was all alone, with no one, no friend, no cousin to enjoy that flicker of a happy moment with me. Over the years I realized I would never stop crying. Even TODAY, I can cry at the drop of a hat, a small word somewhere, a glance perhaps, an idea, a realization. it could be any place, it could be on a day when I wake up smiling and appreciating the fact that life is indeed, beautiful.

But then, I like being left alone. I cannot stand too much of socializing. I cannot stand people at times, even if they are very close to me. I want to spend time alone. When I am new to a social group, I am ALWAYS the quiet one. I could be talking a lot when I am high, say a bout of verbal vomit and then I am closed again. Dreaming with my eyes open. Like I've always done. Not really caring about what people all around me are saying or doing or wanting me to say or do.

Bottom line - nothing really matters. its all just an illusion, no seriously.

Life = butter?

2011-12-16T12:54:00.000+05:30

So the end of the year is lurking around somewhere in somecorner. I am trying to avoid thinking about it as much as possible. I am also,trying to avoid Facebook, cigarettes and well…it’s hard to admit but yes… weed.Yes, you heard it right. You know what was happening to me during this timelast year? You don’t; because I did not blog about it. Now I can. I have beendebarred from facebooking because apparently, somebody complained about mebeing on facebook all the time. This is 100% true. This is because I love myjob. And my job requires me to find out stuff about band members who might justcome into the music show that I am working for. Anyway, so ridiculous ironiesapart, here I am. 12.38, relatively non-wintery afternoon, because there is no bleeding winter in Bombay. I have alaptop and free internet and I have absolutely no work. Life is gooooood I say.:D Oh, and I just got invited to a party on Christmas eve with the theme “bringout the devil in you”. Errr ok. Anyway. So, last year…..

I was somewhat feeling weird/mind bogglingly happy about thisnew “relationship” that I thought I was in. so what was happening to me? I errrrrrm…well…ummmm…okay so I went to OlyPub for the first time. In spite of the fact that I used to wellll …um…I had mycollege in Park street…but I was a *cough* different person when I was incollege. So the first time I went to Oly pub was almost around 12.38 in theafternoon; last year; most probably on the 16^th of December. Theafternoon was somewhat weird and mostly fun because this guy finished up likesix bottles of beer and was very verydrunk in just about twenty minutes, all the uncles (because we were sittingdownstairs, and it was an afternoon , oh well) were staring at us because wewere sort of arguing/laughing/coochie cooing all at the same time. Also we tooksmoke breaks. I was generally very happy. Right. So the second time I went toOly pub was on that same day, in the evening. AFTER I had my much awaited check-up done and the doctor told me I mighthave stones in my gall bladder. So I ended up making out (with the guy who at7.45 pm was almost 600 bottles of beer down) in the unisex toilet.

Anyway Christmas has become very very weird over the years.The Christmas before that, I had discovered the art of smoking up alone. So, Iwill not go into the details. This time, I will probably spend my Christmas evein office…and then go over to a party where I don’t know a single person exceptfor the host, and just have a blast, which I always have when I am high.

Enough for now. Later.

Oh and I have quit smoking because I have NO money.

there is....

2011-11-19T00:11:00.000+05:30

a very thin line of difference between a job and joblessness, add to that sleep and watching TV...it becomes a mess and confuses the shit out of me. So I was jobless and my money was running out and I was generally weed-ing my way out of concern for a certain "career" or a certain "future". I even started writing a short based on my experience of joblessness. Could not complete it for the life of me, because errr I was jobless...anyhoo...it goes like this...

The sleep cycle.

Those days I was spending my jobless days by the window, smoking profusely and trying to ward off pigeons wanting to settle down in my room. My sleep cycle was fucked, though. I was fucked, hence. My days would start from late in the afternoon. I would wake up to make myself a gala lunch. Mostly I went with bread and eggs. I would somehow waltz through the whole evening spending quality time with Facebook notifications and wait for the night to begin. I would spend the entire night trying to sleep, would fail. By the time the birds started chirruping, I would wait for the horizon to get lighter. By the time the horizon got lighter, I would wait for the sun to rise. By the time the sun was up, my neighbours would also be up. Somehow, the neighbours’ early morning activities would loll me to deep sleep. I would sleep throughout the harsh hot October mornings with carpenters rocking it with their instruments against wood. Also, the pigeons would try and fight with me trying to find a place inside my room. But I would sleep through all of that.

Those days, I was broke. But I had mastered the art of spending money wisely. I would spend on sausages and cakes and books and the odd mp3 player now and then and cigarettes; lots of it. The above things being the only things I would include in my answer to “What would you wish for in a stranded island”, the only things I would not spend on were clothes and accessories and shoes and cosmetics and the likes.

and that is that.

I don't think i can blog anymore. or write a film script which I was taught in college. Sigh. I am going down the drain.

Oh, and i think i got a new job.

fighting listlessness.

2011-10-11T17:19:00.000+05:30

Okay. So I m back to being jobless again. I make hordes of plans everyday. I do not live up to any of them.

that's right

2011-08-25T03:04:00.002+05:30

I am the only person who reads this blog. or renovates it. or cares.

Anyhoo. so dear spiders stuck in cobwebs all over the universe, I got a new job. I am sort of this assistant whose job profile comprises fun things varying from ordering masala dosa with the special chili chutney for my boss to helping her come up with polite questions for her chat show guests. I get to travel in her white Mercedes Benz and talk to her about dumbfounding things like rain shoes and Rajiv Gandhi and the works while we take our "ciggy breaks" on a smoking terrace specially designed for people who work for channel [V]. I don't. Work for channel [V], I mean. but my boss is famous and rich and a has been actress, so its allowed for us. Now this terrace has these cement benches with "park your rear" painted over them.

My sleep cycle is fucked up though. I do not get sleep before five in the morning. And when I do sleep I end up struggling with weird dreams like living in a 200 year old mansion along with Shah Rukh Khan and his family. Before I lose my mind, I have to smoke and then desmoke and then write questions for a certain Rani Mukherji. Yes, that's a part of my job profile.

Wish me luck (please).

breaking news

2011-08-05T02:25:00.000+05:30

I am sitting in a one room flat full of giggling people.

I missed you, Bombay.

2011-07-23T10:08:00.000+05:30

The last three weeks have been a blur. The end of this chapter. Come Tuesday, its Bom Bom Bombay again. Back to filling water in buckets early in the morning and saving it for the whole day. Smoking by my pretty pretty window. The rains. Plus an acute bout of joblessness. Its easy to ward off depression in a place like that. I could go all the way to churchgate and buy some old books. Or the smelly Versova beach. I could meet people. Find myself a job. Back to slogging my ass off. One stretch of painful ass-slogging and then blowing off money on a weekend. Parties that start at two in the morning. Parties that start at ten in the morning on an off day. Never getting bored of Marine Drive. All I need to do is get myself a job. Thats it. Then I am all set.

Dil. Garden. Garden.

2011-07-10T11:47:00.002+05:30

I is happy. The nice kind of happy. Of bike rides in the rain and early morning coffee and late night confessions and over exposed sunny photographs. I realized that I should really sit back and enjoy this break. No job. No alarm clock. No money either. But what the heck. I am having the time of my life. The stone I was crawling under? Oh yes, its been lifted up my shoulders. And how! I've never been serenaded like this before. Pampered and floored and swept off my feet and genuinely cared for. Shit I am so happy.

And its so easy. To endure betrayal or pain or a bad phase just in hope that things will be alright one day. Once the darker cloud shifts, its all over.

A petunia plant.

2011-07-08T21:26:00.001+05:30

People learn from their mistakes. Some people are smart enough to commit silly mistakes and mend their ways. I drag on my mistakes to be colossal and wait till the time my system rebels against me to tell me I am wrong. I have been wrong. Have done the wrong things. I am ready to make amends. To start over. To start from scratch. Resurrected a small little part of me. This blog.

its a happy bye bye.

2011-02-19T15:11:00.000+05:30

I have moved. Here.

It used to be all so cool.

2011-01-28T00:26:00.005+05:30

To be confused and not know shit about shit and be lost in thoughts and stories and reveries and day dreams. But something hits you back the moment you realize you are no longer a kid. Parents have grown old and depressed. The same people who at one point had me frustrated with their rules and ideas and principles have come down to looking up at me for approval of the decisions that they take for themselves. They want me to find their jokes funny. At times I am so convinced they are a little scared of me. As much as I know all this is natural, it makes me sad. I want to go back to the times when I had to lie to them about how I was just "revising" when truth being I had not as much as looked at the syllabus.

I know exactly what is wrong with me.

2011-01-19T21:35:00.002+05:30

I need to do something drastic with myself.

Get married, perhaps. Not too good an idea and besides I don't see how it is to be executed.

I started writing a murder mystery titled "Monalisa Guest House". Truth is I am too scared of it now. It is turning out to be some piece of shady mysteriotica. I hate myself too much. I don't even want to open up that document. Its taboo. I hate myself.

Post number one hundred and seventy seven.

2011-01-12T21:49:00.003+05:30

I loved stargazing. Looking up at the inky black horizon. Gazing at the little glowing flecks of hope that twinkle so merry. Joining them with imaginary lines. Joining the stars. Easy swift movements of comfort. And in the cities, where there are no stars to be seen, there is just a glowing film of pollution. Of dust and smoke and human toil. The sky is not inky black. It is a strange shade of mixed colors. Orange from the lights, and black from the universe. And I still love it.

Sometimes at work, during brief moments of relentless exhaustion, I look up and stop short. I stop short to gaze at the beauty and vastness of it all. The sky changes its character with every hour of the day. Many a times, I have noticed vultures circling around against the milky blue of a sky at dusk. Vultures making merry. Flying about. Celebrating their mighty and pompous wings. Shrieking with joy. Their shrill laughter against the softness of clouds.

And later at night I used to prop myself up on the windowsill. My mind flapping about in a haze of smoke. My eyes red with the dope and the tears. The sky would be a velvety black. The clouds all mighty and gregarious. Prepared to burst forth. The wind making them restless beyond repair. And suddenly from amidst layers of silky angry clouds, would emerge a pale yellow imperfect round shape. The moon. Haggard. Beaten. Withered. But shining still. Fighting the clouds.

The Art and craft of happy floating.

2011-01-09T12:58:00.002+05:30

Floating is a good thing. Free floating is better still. I have immersed myself in the healthy and happy feeling of knowing that at the drop of a hat or the ring of a bell or the snapping of three ugly fingers, I can, really just stop. Feeling. That is what empowers me to write such beautiful blog posts with no point but ah, such clarity of thought.

The stitches on my stomach have probably a lot to do with the fact that I constantly hurl myself down the silky mesh of dreams and fantastic little dreams which are all about food. No more. no less. Or, maybe, on second thoughts, a little more than just food.

The year that passed was definitely a bleeding eventful one. With fun frolic and fiesta galore. But the end of it, and the start of the new year, my friends, will have to be the the most depressing times I've faced in a long time. And I mean a long time.

Having said that, one must also mention that certain things happen which distract one from the dangerously depressing times looming large. Things that navigate one's perspective towards the bright and the vague and the floaty.

The importance of an Auto wallah.

2010-11-23T02:29:00.005+05:30

Now that I am suitably stoned and suitably satisfied, I shall update my blog. Now this, my dear friends is called a proper blog update.

7.50. AM. I was frantically washing my face with something called multani mitti . That is what is the right thing to do. Not having a bath is okay. looking like as if you've not had a bath is a strict no. Sometimes I look like I've not had a bath even after having a long and shower gel-y and shampoo-y one. But that is besides the point.

8.20. AM. I was throwing (and missing) certain very life-altering questions at the universe; my stars and suchlike. "Will I be able to somehow seduce an auto wallah to agree to take me to Sakinaka despite the heat and the rain and the bad roads and the bleeding Andheri West to East traffic jam?"

8.55.AM. Poof. I've reached. On the set. Right in charge. Battling odds. Dodging questions. Woman with a mission. Armed with omelette paav. Too good to be true.

9.15.PM. I was throwing certain very life altering questions at the universe and suchlike. "Will I be able to somehow seduce an auto wallah to agree to take me to Andheri West despite the rain and the mud and the fucking east to west traffic jam?"

10.14.PM. Back home. Online.

Guess I suck at proper blog updates. Will stick to improper.

Out with the truth.

2010-11-17T03:35:00.003+05:30

I miss Calcutta. Like you miss spring when its gone. Like the moths miss electricity during the day. Like the sailors miss salt on a green meadow.

What can I do? While I WAS there I wasted the WHOLE fucking span of time wasted my breath and my teenhood and the good times and what not BROODING over things like how I am fat and how I don't look good and how I don't have enough friends.

Now I want to go back. Bombay is great, really, but the people...well ...ummm... they're all just fine but I am missing something and I can't quite explain what.

And I cant go back.
I am sad.
Will be there in December, though.
Hmmm.

Long Due.

2010-11-07T00:25:00.004+05:30

Somebody please tell me how to go back to the good old blogging days. Of sleepless nights of blog digging. Of catty conversations with interested strangers. Of making friends and living it by. My virtual life has skipped a beat. Has gone slightly amiss.

My real life is a roaring glory. Earlier I used to feel this need to blog. To make a tamasha out of mundane real life activities. To sort of decorate....invigorate my dull passive existence with words and some more words and yet some more spare words. I don't feel that need anymore. Therefore, I do not blog anymore.

But today, I celebrate the coming back to life of my blogging instincts. Its just like the good old times. I feel this strange need to hold the good times that I am living. I feel the need to jot it down.

Many many moons ago I used to sort of envy this woman. I used to think she has this fantastic life. Twenty something. Single in the city. Adventures, men, boys, sexcapades, alcohol, music, clothes, cosmetics etc etc etc and a lot more.

Suddenly, I feel like as if I have this life. Plus there is a LOT more than just Adventures, men, boys, sexcapades, alcohol, music, clothes, cosmetics etc etc etc.

Like for example this happened to me some few days back.

As I frantically pressed the lift button, calling the lift to my aid, because I frantically needed to go buy cigarettes...why? because there was a party happening in the next half hour and it was two in the afternoon and guess what? I had not defecated since morning and I just had to somehow get done with the number two business and how...just how was I supposed to do that without a cigarette?

The lift came up to my floor. The couple standing inside checked me out morosely and waited for me to press whatever button I wanted to press. And there you go. The lift had stopped working. The man tried to channelize his macho energy to somehow magically make the lift work. The woman kept staring at me morosely...and the truth is..my friends...we were all stuck inside the lift.

Then, the man turned, and asked me .."Have you had a bath today?" I swear, this is exactly what he asked me. Then he went on to explain his casual question by adding "no, I mean the lift stopped working just when you came inside...so...."

I wasn't smelling. I had put on perfume. That is exactly what you should do if you have gone without a bath for more than a day.

So anyway I really dont know why I am still going on with this story when clearly I am doing nothing more than making myself look like some kind of a dirty bell-bottomed orange hippie. Like someone who has not had a bath and has sprinkled perfume to cover it up. Okay. This is it. I shall end my post right here right now.

My next post is going to be this poetic rant about how only [middle-aged] women check me out and compliment me nowadays.

This one's called The Mango Rabari.

2010-10-16T14:51:00.002+05:30

Continuing with my obsession with mangoes, this Pujo has been just like one full bati of mango rabari; refrigerated and just bloody divine.

I've been making up for all those days of living on cold and chewy rice and weird smelling chicken for lunch and the fucking obnoxious misl-paav for nashta. This is sooooooo good. I've had aloor dom and doi machh and fish fries and egg rolls and BEST of all I had tetor Daal after like what? Ten thousand years!
And plus all I have to do is get myself inside a pandal and pretend that I am in Calcutta. Its just the same. I was not even the slightest bit aware that there are these many Bengalis in Bombay.

Feels good.

One thousand mango trees.

2010-10-07T16:19:00.000+05:30

As the boat wades through the chartered water; the known path, my dilemma carves out its way; through forbidden territories, fearful memories and an unstoppable flow.

The boy with the goat reminds me of Tilu. Tilu the tree-hopper. Through green mango leaves, the green pond water and the green football field grass, his face flashes in the dark corners of my brown memory.

His life is a green memory; His death, red and scary.

The blood had oozed out first from his nose and then the back of his head. For a full half hour, I had almost marveled at the sight of his blood; oozing out gently and steadily. I had shivered uncontrollably for many many nights after that day; thinking about the magnificence of his blood; his life; gushing out from a bodily orifice. Tilu the tree-hopper died of a great fall. A great mango tree fall.

The boat reaches an island. It reeks of fish; and ghosts. Its called the Madh island. The light technicians blabber out stories of the dead. How easy they come, I realize; the ghost stories. Like as if ghosts have no life. Like as if they wander about in the wilderness of Madh Island and the likes out of sheer carefree glee and what not. Like as if they enjoy scaring people. I am sure they wander because they are free. Free from the pain of death. They are over and done with death.

Tilu was a living ghost. A free spirit. While I idled away my time admiring the shiny cobwebs and the afternoon sunlight coming in through a creaky half shut door, Tilu made nests on the various different branches of the thousand or so mango trees on my uncle’s acres. Aam Mamu; my uncle, pot-bellied, effeminate and stinking rich had acquired his wealth from his mango business.

He had shrieked at the sight of Tilu’s blood. He had shrieked at the thought of my audacity. Looking at Tilu’s [dead] body with unblinking eyes. Then he had run helter skelter to call people, make arrangements and pass the load on to my mother; in labor. Later that day, she gave birth to a still born baby boy; my brother, the unlucky one; he who died at his birth. I thought he was rather lucky.

Feet firmly on the island now, I march on to my destination for the day. A film set. Agnes Villa, the ‘bungalow’. I reach before time only to find myself measuring out the gothic spaces, the dust, and the broken props from some long gone production; memories from a past life. The sea breeze; enriching with its morning freshness; preposterous with its fishy stink, flows in and out of reach of the sprawling grounds of the sprawling villa.

Tilu had asked me to marry him once. I had agreed immediately. Then he had laid out his grand post-marriage plans.

“We shall have a tree house”

He had said.

“And you will have to cook food”

That was all he said.

My mother; with her rotund and still expanding abdomen had laughed so hard that I could almost hear my baby brother shrieking and kicking from inside; aghast at not being able to find it funny. Even I thought it was pretty cruel. To laugh off somebody’s [one’s own daughter’s] wedding plans. Tilu had laughed too; at my annoyance.

“I am a servant boy”

He had said.

“You will have to run away with me”

I had eyed my Goosebumps suspiciously.

The searing heat makes my sweat trickle down my back. As I run around on the grass and the steel and the mud and the wood; doing my work; earning my living; squabbling with people and making ends meet, I realize I just cannot stop thinking about my hero today.

His oily brown self used to glide in and around the dirty green pond and I would stand; agape; leaning on the freakish and rusty veranda railing. At times he would break his concentration and look up at me. Down the years; I have refreshed that scene again and again. His vision; his sight; his point of view. I could get excited at the mere idea of a servant boy of eleven; gazing high up from a warm summer swim; to the malkin’s daughter of ten; girl in a red frock; gazing down at him; wondrous and wonderful; marveling at his natural skills. No wonder he was infatuated. I am sure he was infatuated.

My father had never wanted me. He’d left my mother while I was still inside her. I never got to meet him. I could not care less. He was just a name. a still face inside a photo frame. Just a name, a face and some tags. Poet; artist; profound, and what not. They said my mother was too pretty and too simple for him. She should have married somebody richer. He should not have married at all.

“What if they say the same things about us”

I’d asked Tilu.

“They won’t”

He’d said.

“I will never leave you”

True. He never did. Still around. A bundle of remembrances.

The face of a boy with a goat; my co-passenger on a boat to Madh Island; the stink of the sea; the freshness of the dirty green pond; the scattered props of a wrapped up film; his scattered skull and the pool of blood; the wood beneath my feet; the sweat trickling down my back; the shiny cobwebs in the afternoon sun and the Island ghosts wandering painlessly in the wilderness.

Somewhere; far away; against a dangerous green background; stands a bright red tree house.

Yet

2010-09-14T13:15:00.003+05:30

another beautifully, fantastically, awesomely mundane start of a fresh new day. As I sit here writing this post from what has turned out to be the dress and props room for the rest of the schedule, I suddenly feel hungry.

Now, the word "hunger" shoots off so many thought patterns of various different tangents in this meek little brain of mine, I feel its hard to digest. I feel full. Already.

So, we shall not talk about food.

Instead, I will indulge in narcissism.

The perfect hippie.

2010-08-01T15:08:00.003+05:30

Now this is what was churned out of my think-tank early this morning. While the bai cooked dal and prathas, my brother's irritated roomie decided to ignore me by not even sparing me a glance, forget the good old good morning, I slipped out of the door, still clad in my night shorts and lit up a ...errr...okay...i did not have a joint...so I had to make do with gudang garam. And yes, one whole bar of milky bar.

Life is good. Sure is.
The flat that I stay in used to be a no-smoking zone. And then came a high tide of smoke, a rebellion in disguise, and swept everyone away with the beautiful, absolutely fantastic smell of weed. So now it is a partly no-smoking zone and mostly a yes...yes...yes!....smoke-up zone.

I had an off for five days straight, back to back, which made me feel like going up to the shoot scheduler and giving him a happy blowjob...well okay...not as much..maybe just a warm hug and an eyes brimming with tears appreciative look, which I completely forgot once I realized I had three whole packets of Sakinaka Machhi baazar stuff stashed away somewhere in my whirlpool of crooked clothes. Not only that, I also completely forgot I had promised my mother, and other assorted people who care about me having a complete no- cheap thrills safe and secure little life that I am never ever going to smoke grass.
Happens.
Like it happened to Kumar on his way to White Castles.

So I smoked up and finished up all the stuff in three days flat. And whats more, there was more. Suddenly there were more people around with better stuff and better rolling abilities. The remaining two days, I got high and drunk like as if there is nothing better to do. Then I met this guy and did some bizarre stuff like standing straight under a tree and a torrential Bombay monsoon at its best downpour at four in the morning for almost two whole hours with the Bandra sea glistening angrily with moonlight and the street lights shining bright orange in glory and not a soul in sight, only some jazzy cars passing by, celebrating the slippery roads with great zest.

Today I shall and I MUST get my hair cut.

Fuck it.

2010-06-26T19:05:00.003+05:30

I have never done this before. Two posts back to back within a span of half an hour. Are you happy now? dear blog?
I have decided it has been enough of grey clolour tones and murky posts about the rain and the wetting of my eye-lashes and suchlike. I am a happy person and even if the guy I was in love with turns out to be an alien who went back to his planet, I refuse to become all grey and murky.

*pats herself*

Anyway, I got myself a bright new pink zoozoo Tee. It is just adorable.

My protruding tummy still makes me look pregnant.

2010-06-26T18:27:00.003+05:30

Growing up hasn't been all that bad, I sometimes reassure myself. I mean look at me. I earn money now. Crisp and warm notes right out of the ATM machine. Baking hot. Ready to be flushed down the drain on bouts of impulsive shopping. Clothes and more clothes piling on top of some more clothes. One of these days I will buy myself a spunky new phone. Sometimes, I look at myself while smoking. I sit right in front of the mirror ashtray in place, make-shift or otherwise. I love how I look, mostly tired but with some kind of a spark, blowing away those smoke rings into the dust hung in space. I swear, dear blog.

And guess what? I DID it! After years and years of wasting those playful teenage hours and minutes and seconds with obsessing about how fat I am, I have finally lost weight. Most of it. Although I am still not reed thin. I don't think I would ever like to be. I still have my paunch. The protruding belly. Thats a part of me. Not just bodily, it is a part of my character. It is me.

One good thing about monsoon - its Grey.

2010-06-09T19:10:00.004+05:30

Its dark and furious and different shades of Grey. Just like how my life has turned out. Pretty weird. If you consider the loss of one's purity after viewing "Bandit Queen" weird. Or earning one's daily bread out of picking out matching earrings for middle aged actors applying a hundred or so layers of make-up on their wrinkled cheeks and thereabouts. Or having pet pigeons named "Jeffery" and "Archer" who live and coo right outside one's window.

2010-06-04T10:50:00.002+05:30

I wish it rains. The clouds can play cotton-wool and help me dab my eyes, the lightening, can make me forget everything, jolt my system and have me staring, wide eyed in wonder. The trees shall all get uprooted and colonies drowned out in blackness with load-shedding at bay. I wish it rains. The earthy smell shall make me forget all the pain and the water shall stream out of my system wetting my eyelashes in the process. Like a dream come true. I want it to rain.

The loo is my peace haven

2010-04-19T16:29:00.000+05:30

When the roof fell down (in my absence) right just above what was "my" corner in the one room kitchen something place in Bandra, I thought, "Cannot get worse than this."

But then of course I was staying with this old and understandably frustrated woman who happened to be my aunt and who happened to have a lot of problem in letting me use the loo to do my poo peacefully in the morning. She debarred me from using more than half a bucket of water and I cannot, for the life of me get over with the number two business with just half a bucket. So there was a time when I'd decided going to Infinity Mall to do my morning business was rather more comforting.

Then there was this phase when my roommate's psychotic ex-lover would come over and they would have fights in Assamese and its far more frustrating than people fighting in say...Malyalam..because I would understand zilch out of it...But Assamese I understand in bits ..so its rather ugly when my roommate hits the guy with an iron rod (there is an iron rod at the place where I live) and the kid starts shouting (my roommate happens to be a single mother) and the psychotic lover bends down on his knees and asks the kid whether he can be her "Daddy" ..to which the kid sneers and says "You don't really have 1)money 2)good looks 3)a car or a 4)proper house (people who live in one room mhada flats never seem to consider their rooms a proper house and truly so because a room is a room and not a proper house) ...so you cant be my Daddy"
To this, the guy starts wailing and my room mate hits him again and he says that he will bugger off only we give him back his TV. To this my room mate and her kid's maid (Yes, I live with a room mate, her kid and the kid's maid in a one room something) start the arduous process of unplugging the TV and packing it into a carton box after emptying the contents of the carton, by which time the psychotic ex-lover whimpers off only to leave my room mate and the maid start the arduous process of taking the tv out of the carton and plug it properly back to its place. Then there is peace.

But what exactly makes the loo my peace haven?
Last night I made joints inside the loo, smoked up and washed my clothes. Oh what a time I had. The whole bathroom was COVERED with detergent soap bubbles and was inexplicably nice smelling. On top of that I shampooed my hair. More bubbles. After kicking around and frolicking in the fun times of being stoned inside an overtly bubble-filled bathroom, I emerged smelling nice with wet dripping hair like some kind of a Goddess of freshness.

Zombie-panti and more....

2010-03-21T13:45:00.002+05:30

I am sitting upright in this comfortable chair and there is a Jackie Chan movie going on in the background. This seems to be one of those lovely lazy Sunday afternoons when life comes to a standstill and all that matters is the groaning fan above and the shaft of afternoon sunlight which has somehow found its way in though the door kept slightly ajar.

I like this office on Sundays. I have quite often found myself sitting in this very chair, upright and comfortable with a Jackie Chan movie in the background and more than often, it has been a Sunday. The office food is different on Sunday. There are lesser people, lesser activity and less number of abuses being pronounced. Sometimes it takes me by surprise how easily people abuse. One abuse per sentence. At least one 'beep word' thrown in to make the language prettier.

'Hi, Good morning, kya mausam hai benchod, itni garmi mein kam karna, ma chud jati hai din bhar kya bataun, gand marane ke liye bhi energy nahi hoti hai...upar se ye garmi benchod...."

I wonder how much time it will take me to start talking like that.

Anyway, so its hot all right. Very very hot. Almost like Calcutta.
Last week, I came home from work all drenched with sweat to find my roomie and her kid and the maid sitting and yapping with the fan switched off. When I politely asked them why they've not put the fan on, they pointed up and to my utter horror I saw there was no fan. Apparently it had stopped working and had been given away to be repaired and would come back the next day.

Three hours later, I got up from my deep slumber and shooed away the mosquitoes feasting on my blood, somehow managed to walk over to the fridge, took out a bottle and took the HUGEST gulp possible only to find out, it was not water, it was a bottle of vodka I had taken out in deep sleep. Now I was wide awake, what with a super neat vodka shot burning down my throat. I couldn't go back to sleep. Did not feel like sleeping, somehow and did not want to wake up my roomie or her kid or the maid. So without switching on the light, aided by the moonlight streaming in from the window along with a thousand or so mosquitoes per minute, I rolled a joint, smoked up and sat there thinking.

Nameless

2010-01-30T15:23:00.004+05:30

So there was this grand ISKON procession crawling right in front of me, and I was busy thinking how much the auto-wallah looked like someone i knew, someone long forgotten. There were white-skinned people dressed in orange dhotis and serene white kurtas distributing peanuts as prasad, there were trucks full of yogis doling out steel glasses filled with holy water that people lapped up, drank furtively and washed their faces with. The chanting was almost reaching this sort of a climax, a crescendo with the dust and heat and flies and the impatience of the fucking traffic jam and suddenly, I had a feeling that there is going to be a bomb blast.

I saw myself fly right up into the sky, my chest burning, my limbs on fire and my hair sort of swooning to this hum that was constant in my ears. I felt peace. That is, until I landed with shards of glass right in front of this car showroom. I landed right in front of this big white car which smelled good. I landed with a thud and the sound of shattering glass. I looked up into the smoky sky. After three seconds, the auto-wallah with a face worth remembering landed right next to me. He was definitely teary-eyed. And the sky was definitely orange and smoky gray. My eyes were burning so I shut them. Outside, I could hear screeches replace the constant hum. Women wailing with all the force that is left in their system and children shouting out of pain and uncertainty. From behind, my auto-wallah hugged me tight to keep us still. He started whispering something into my ears. Words from a prayer, perhaps.

Then I opened my eyes to see the auto-wallah staring at me in the rear-view mirror. "Kya timepass hai", he murmured, half to himself and half to cover up for the blatant stare. I decided to get off and walk. He seemed quite relieved. I paid him the money, crossed the road , started chewing the peanuts and headed home. I was home in no time.

Ting ting ti ting.

2010-01-01T17:07:00.002+05:30

Happy new year to awl and sundry.
Tis' a blissful time of the year and I have converted myself into what I always wanted to be. Independent modern woman who attends parties and consistently finds herself in a state of inebriation one way or the other. Fuck that. Make it independent modern woman with bad spelling. I could not even get the spelling of independent correct the first time.

So now that I have become this party-hopper who drinks vodka with orange juice and travels from Andheri to Bandra(stoned) in an auto(stoned) just for doughnuts(stoned,totally)......... okay...digression ahead---->

Do you know how amazing doughnuts are? They are just.... I don't know what to say...somebody please put some words into my mouth...actually...please put some doughnuts into my mouth...make them milk chocolate with black currant jelly flavored.

Anyway, so I admit. Here is my admittance, my confession, out there in front of you, on your face, wrapped in a gift paper with shiny little doughnuts printed all over. I am a changed person. There is something about my ...whats the word... gait...that has changed tremendously. I am less responsible, less scared of cats and crossing roads, less bothered about things like blackheads and dandruff and whatever and yeah now I am the kind of person who's got these prominent collar bones. Not that i dint have collar bones before, just that I seem to have lost weight and well yeah.

I just realized, I have nothing else to say. Or well, I could tell you about the first time I got stoned alone and I played with lights and colour and sounds and taste(doughnuts) and I played with myself sewing together all thoughts with a heavily changed perspective and making this amazing doughnut out of what usually is my slow functional brain.
Thats it. Now I know. You know when you read autobiographical books and there are these years which are marked....like ....randomly...for example...for some guy Philip...the year 1984 was the year of his homecoming as a war hero, when he returned in his muddy soldier attire adorned with many a stars and his eyes dull with the cloud of smoke he had just left behind at the barracks.....okay..before i get too much into the character...what I was saying..The year 2010, for Dreamy will be marked as the year when doughnuts became her new cheesecake.

Cheers to that. Happy new year to everybody!

2009-12-30T01:39:00.001+05:30

Its so funny. It just is.

Fish-Finger, Fish-bowl, Finger-bowl

2009-11-08T18:18:00.003+05:30

Just think a little and then think a lot and then finally you might just come to the conclusion that the title makes absolutely no sense.

But random-ity is what makes life worth living right? So Here goes.

I have no money. The colour pink generally brings happiness to my soul. I feel like having sickeningly sweet doi Machh. I have chipped nails which are looking so very ugly you cannot imagine. I wish I was a short girl. If there is one person out there who has been getting my soulful love for years now but is darn pretty ignorant of it, it has to be A.R.Raman. Its not admiration. Its not awe. I am not your everyday two-penny fan. Its love. Pure love. True love.

The studio that is the set for this comedy daily that I work for is on a road which is very very dirty. Which is largely due to the fact that there is this huge garbage dump point (yes, on a main road) right next to it. But once you come inside the compound, its ...well different. The first thing that might catch your attention is this jail-house building of sorts. Its a set. It looks very very real. The other day I was leaning on one of the walls inside the building, and my pen accidentally tapped against the apparent grey stone wall. Whoa! I was suddenly reminded of all those Nancy Drew novels where people would tap on walls to find them "hollow" and then they would go on to discover that there is a secret passage hidden. I always used to wonder what it would be like to tap on a wall and find it "hollow". Yes. Dear people, dreams, fantasies and childhood wonders do come true. So the jail house wall ...I dunno felt hollow. It was then that I went on a rampage going on tapping on all the walls visible to figure out that the entire building was actually wooden. (like duh). But what I am trying to say is that, its all so make-believe. Nothing is real and yet so many people watch these daily soaps/films/ads and they believe in them. I understand that is because so much effort goes into making the sets look like real. But then, at the end of the day, its like...its cheating.

But all's good as long as its for a good cause. And I have started believing in the slapstick that the show churns out. First of all, its actually funny. I think the editing and the sad sound effects take away a lot from the funniness, but then to see it happen from scratch, to read the script, brief the actors, help them change into their get-ups, witness then learning the lines and then finally to be awed at how much these actors improvise and forget the comedy, to realize how much life they bring into a simple script. And its so damn funny watching everyone from the sound guys to the spot guys to the director struggling hard to stifle their laughter while the take is going on.

So I've come to the conclusion that even if the pay is lesser than the smallest peanut you can imagine and the Oh-God-How-will-I-survive type of depressing thoughts that crawl into the back of my mind the first thing as I wake up in the morning, I guess its worth it.
Its worth it.

153

2009-10-22T00:23:00.003+05:30

I was going through my blog archives and whoa! Its like looking at me in retrospect, growing down bit by bit. I used to be so very worldly wise.

As a kid, I had problems galore. But I was wise enough to foresee the good times ahead. Of course I did not see myself getting sloshed on the beach in the afternoon somewhere in a sleepy little town three hours away from Bombay. I did not see myself so very happily emotionally attached to my long hair. I did not know my nose would find its lovely nose-pin and would live happily forever. I did not see myself going without a bath/dinner for two days. I did not know I would have to travel in an auto on the glistening Bombay roads at three in the morning.

Digression from the main theme ---->

I still remember how amazing it used to be.Three in the morning. To be dead tired. To come out of the office and not get an auto and walk on the ghostly Veera Desai Road for twenty minutes and then finally get one and get on it, sit, rest my head on the imprinted occasional Ajay Devgans and Kareena Kapoors of the interior decoration of some auto, which by the way looks divine by the orange street light which drops in a bit inside the auto as the driver races with the wind, takes a sharp right turn, and I catch my breath because I see the grey-black sea of Juhu against the same orange street lights which fascinate me so.

Anyway, so I did not exactly see the niceties that life had in store but I knew twas all out there.
Having said that, I was also largely aware of the not-so-niceties that life had in store and I take them as they come. People call me laid-back, chilled-out, immature, lazy, happy. Is it difficult? I don't understand why it is so damn difficult for some people to be happy. Like if you step on a muddy puddle and dirty your jeans why can't you just look up, throw away your umbrella and make eye contact with the sky and look at the raindrops as they come. You can always curse the weather and crib about it later.

But look who is talking. Hah.
Me.
Me who keeps compaining about the one room flat and the humidity and money.
Money.
God, money.
It can change who you are.
Happens with me nowadays. I keep missing out on the favorite parts of songs because I keep finding myself fretting too much about the future.

That's why I liked this film so much.

It reminded me of me. Made me feel good about procrastination. Made me feel good about not having studied for most of the exams that came my way. Made me feel good about not knowing how to cook. Made me feel good about wasting away millions of minutes on marine drive. Made me feel good about being the kind of person who likes to click pictures of her feet.

Suddenly feel like updating my blog..

2009-10-20T23:49:00.001+05:30

or not

First things first.

2009-10-07T10:23:00.002+05:30

I don't know.
I have no idea.

Now those sweet little words you see up there, they are fast becoming my convenient answer to most things around. for example,

1> Whats wrong with your phone?

2> So what plans?

3> Have you wondered where your (pseudo) 'relationship' is going?

4> What do you feel like having for dinner?

5> How do you feel after coming back to Bombay?

6> Do you like the rains?

7> What do you think about prostitution ?

8> What do you feel?

9> How do you feel?

10> What do you think?

11> Do you feel?

12> How?

13> You think?

14> why?

etc etc etc...you know , and the list goes on and on and ON.

So for the updates.
My phone is not working....because it got drenched in water...how? I don't remember. I think I was sloshed and was taking a bath after puking....well..there was this song playing from the film Dev.D in which Abhay Deol, high on rum and thumbs up had just about put his head inside a bucket full of water. I felt like doing the same...because I was also high on rum and thumbs up. I think the phone was somewhere around in the picture and well...its not working. Not switching on. I will have to say I kind of like it. I am not that much of a phone person. The best use that I've made of my phone has been to record myself singing and then invariably ending up trying to convince people that its ME who is singing. Anyway...

So I like having gone incommunicado. Not that people ae dying to get in touch with me...still. Nobody knows what I am up to. And anyway...in this entire stretch of two months that I spent at home in Calcutta I was so disoriented I dint feel like talking to anybody. In real I mean. Online communication is a different game all together.

And the first time in 22 years I had what I can call a very "uneventful" birthday. Like there was a time when birthdays used to be a big deal. Like the BIG of the biggest deals. Things change. And quite surprisingly one is so okay with the change.

Like I never thought I would even think about quitting smoking. (refer to the last post :|)...but now I am. Thinking. Not quitting.

Also, having cheesecake for dinner. Did I EVER think I would have just cheesecake for dinner? Yes I did. Think. Not have.
So now I've had it too.

Anyway, so Today is my "interview".
See if I pass with flying colours, I will get to be second assistant director for a comedy show on TV

So, please pray. :)

So long.
Toodles.

Arguably, the silliest.

2009-09-17T18:54:00.003+05:30

So I woke up in the morning and was very sad to be doing so. I am not too fond of waking up, you see. I had had the craziest dream ever.

~The Abrupt Beginning~

Me and two of my cousins were visibly harrowed as we knocked on that grey door. Surprise! My high school crush [HSC] opens the door. After all these years, he had not changed a BIT. The same hazel eyes, the honey skin, the million dollar smile. My, he looks like a cross between Paul Walker and Hrithik Roshan!

Thats what I thought EVEN IN MY DREAM.

So anyway, his house had rolled up mattresses and purple curtains and a lot of people praying, stationed here and there. My dream, having a direction of its own had still not figured out what I was doing at his place and that too with Mou Di and Kutti, my cousins. We were offered Rooh Afza in tall glasses on an off-white plastic tray.

(I HATE Rooh afza, said the sub-conscious me, to my Dream)

(Well what can you do, I LOVE it, said my Dream, to the sub-conscious me)

So anyway, while HSC was showing me his latest collection of Techno magazines, my cousins were ruefully sipping Rooh afza and the sub-conscious me and my Dream were still at it, I fell asleep. I mean even in my dream.

After this, to avoid confusion, I will jump directly to the part where I wake up, in my dream.

So I wake up and I find nobody around. The disoriented, confused and spineless character that my Dream is, I walked around to find out that HSC's house was actually a palace. Well two minutes ago, it was an apartment with a grey door, but now it was a palace. There was this woman clad in white robes who showed me around. I have no idea where she came from. On asking my Dream, it uttered some eleven words.

"What Do you expect, I am an ordinary dream-next-door"

So there were these large beautiful rooms with Brocade curtains and mahogany four-poster beds.

I was wide-eyed and mesmerized. So much so, that I could not help spinning around and asking the Lady in white,

"Who is the bleeding art director?!"

The Lady in white was just about to answer me when the sub-conscious me questioned my Dream, once again,

"When did I become such an expert? How did I know its a Mahogany four-poster bed? I don't know nothing about wood material....."

It was at this point that my Dream icily lashed back at me, saying "will you shut up already? Get your butter popcorn and enjoy the show". In doing so, I agree, my dream unknowingly did the wide-awake me a good turn, because seriously, the interruptions were beginning to get difficult as far as this post is concerned.

Anyway the Lady in white took me to this hall where exotic looking women were sipping wine and playing cards and stuff. She told me they were all HSC's cousins. At this point I realized I was really not thinking much about where my cousins had disappeared and just after this realiztion, my cousins appeared out of nowhere and offered me three pieces of "Big Bubble" chewing gum.

I was aghast. The following conversation followed.

Me: How could you two leave me alone and go away...and that too when I am sleeping?! Amen't I your little sister?

Cousins [in unison] : Oh, cut the crap. you're ALWAYS sleeping and besides we got you chewing gum.

Me: Okay. Cool. I appreciate that. So wassup?

Cousins [in unison]: what is up is definitely this flesh trade your sweet HSC is organizing.

Me: what? Flesh trade? HSC? Organizing?.....wait..I never knew what it is like to "organize" a flesh trade......you know it sounds more like a school Fest or something. hehehehe.

Cousins [in unison]: stop giggling like a silly school girl. This is not high school. This is a major scam. You see all those exotic women? They are HSC's cousins and he's gonna SELL them all to buy a new guitar!

Me: In that case, I think I should scrap him and congratulate him. He has finally grown up.

And then, I woke up.

~The equally abrupt End~

Cheap Thrills

2009-09-15T10:33:00.003+05:30

This "break" at home has sort of numbed me down. It was like as if I was running fast and then suddenly I stopped short to bend and tie my shoe-lace. I feel very light and flowy.

I was walking on that stretch, from Navina Cinema Hall to the Anwar shah Crossing and I suddenly realized how amazingly nice it would be to just free oneself all things possible. From the dirt and grime and heat and conspiracies and envy and and News Channels and Poojo sale posters and pimples and split ends and opposition parties. Not only all that, but to be free from feeling emotions. Life would be so much simpler. Do what you're supposed to do, follow the everyday rule book and have no aspirations whatsoever. And anyway this whole locha about ambition and expectations and dreams to be fulfilled etc is just too tiring. Life would just be all about the cheap thrills of painting ones's nails or digging one's nose.

Plop

2009-09-02T15:15:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, I said " o'fuck" in front of and within hearing range of my mother. There I was, lying sprawled out on my bed, facing the ceiling, writhing in agony coz of this acidity that was spreading all throughout my body and....... plop!

this lizard falls on my stomach.

Now about this acidity, I am sure it is something much bigger than your everyday acidity-next-door, coz its pretty painful and comes with chest pain and stuff. I just call it acidity coz I don't know what it really is. I take refuge in procrastination when it comes to paying a visit to a doctor. I think I have taken after my father who has had Liver Cirrhosis for the past ten years and its only been detected now.

Moving on to the other colourful things in life, my cousin has sort of planted this phrase so very deep inside my shallow mind that I can't bleeding stop thinking about it and using it as often as possible and wondering in sheer amazement about how very apt it is. The theory is that, since its the chickens and pigs, as opposed to the dolphins and mice who are getting back at us, 42 might not be the right answer after all. So the new answer to the meaning of life, this universe and everything might be,

"stuck in between two semi-permeable membranes"

For once, I was very happy about not having the perfect abs, because the lizard sort of stayed put on my stomach for 12.5 frames, and then it slithered off my rotund tummy. Who knows, had my tummy been flat, it might just have not slithered off and felt very much at home.

Bogus

2009-08-22T10:53:00.002+05:30

Sometimes I feel like galloping some thousand moons forward so that I can find out what becomes of my bogus, bogus life. I wasn't prepared for this. I had imagined music and sunshine and fresh droplets of the ocean and milky rose petals for myself. But then I guess I was disillusioned. Hah. Its such a joke. This universe. This universe with all its moons and planets and all their orbits bound in space and time. Its all just a joke. Why do we take it so seriously. Why do we even bother.

Plastic surgery and other stuff.

2009-08-10T18:59:00.002+05:30

How is it possible? I mean why does it happen all the time....with me? No I mean seriously, what IS it about me that drives people 25000 kilometers away from me when I MOST need them. And then I sit and fret, stand and fret, lean and fret, dream and fret, I fret while having the most delicious self made pasta, in fact I fret even when I am sly and smoking near the bathroom window.

I think I am a born fretter. You know that thing that nobody teaches you and you dont see much people around exercising it and Bang ...you think you've got THE thing that will make you stand apart from the whole universe and a dozen? Well....fretting it is, for me.

But then I've heard that really old Burmese Women fret all the time too. Or maybe they dont, but they look like they do because of the wrinkles. I don't have natural wrinkles, but I fretting comes naturally to me. Just like glibtalk.

Maybe its this. This very wavering in and around a very simple thing and making it look enormously momentous by using words like enormously and momentous when it isn't one bit enormous or momentous in the first place. Or, talking about things which would require the words enormous and momentous to be used when I was talking about something to do with driving away people. Or, surreptitiously leaking out important information about self to gather popularity in the guise of seeking solutions for important problems. Like for example, all of you all know by now that I smoke slyly near the bathroom window. In fact you can always black mail me by threatening to reveal that to my parents. but then I wouldn't mind at all, since I was the one who gave you the idea in the first place.

So back to where I started from. I can't really help it can I? The sudden rush of emotions. The sudden rush of colour to my fat cheeks, the nose becomes unnaturally bulbous because of the sniffing and fretting happening simultaneously inside my system, and then I shout. I give people a piece of my mind. Even if they are cute and Assamese and with the most weirdly amusing laugh ever. And then because of all the the things happening as described in the fourth line of this paragraph, my calm and composed exterior boosted by the newly straightened hair goes for a toss, and I think people get scared. Thats it, I found it out, the reason, why people are 25000 kilometers away from me when I most need them.

They are scared of me. Me and my bulbous nose, et all.

Neither me, nor my nose. We can't help it. Sorry.

So, if people are happy where they are, they should be happy to know that I will be happy someday. The day I completely convince myself that I have absolutely nothing to help things out. Not even plastic surgery for my nose. God knows, I've seen Rakhi Sawant with Plastic surgery all over and it sure isn't pretty.

Purple is my new pink

2009-07-23T00:30:00.001+05:30

and I love it.
I want to go back to writing long laborious randomly nonsensical posts about my non-happening life. So lets just make this post one of those.
I am suddenly in love with these cups of hot chocolate that i keep consuming throughout the day. There is this deserted corner in the office building which overlooks a tennis court. I like standing there and looking at the sky. There are skyscrappers and then there is the slum with houses which have these electric blue plastic sheets on their roofs. Identical. All the houses have it.

I have been having these dreams about sea waves gulping up the entire universe. And I am fed of boring reality show contestants with untweezed nose hair and Bad English. I've decided to colour my hair a deep shade brown. I have finally got done with the capturing of the UK unmixed version of episode 18 of Rakhi ka Swayamvar and that makes me DAMN happy since I get to go back home. Home = this tiny match box sized size one room apartment where three girls live with their larger than life suitcases and bangles inside clothes hangers.

The happily effed up situation

2009-07-11T03:09:00.002+05:30

There are times when you know you are fucked. But then, you are happy to be fucked. I mean even metaphorically. So this is what, after coming back from one crazy trip....here I am at three in the morning, sipping coffee at office... and working.

The good life, here I come.

At times

2009-06-05T12:01:00.003+05:30

in the evening, when everybody would be out there flying kites and gossiping about how some neighbour's achaar did not taste as good as it tasted last year, I would always look up at the sky and smell the small town aroma. I always thought I did not belong to that place. Something to do with my chronic imaginary flights. I always dreamt about a big city life. Big roads, buses, billboards, pollution, traffic jams.

Patna was different. There were box rickshaws. I used to go to school in a box rickshaw. When it rained, the man would cover the box with a blue plastic sheet. One of the best feelings I've had. To be caged inside a box rickshaw covered with blue. The rickshaw would rock its way through the bumpy roads and I would listen to the rain. Still I felt there were greater things to be done in life than looking up at rain drops falling on a blue plastic sheet.

There was a time

2009-05-29T14:33:00.002+05:30

when Two minutes Maggi was such a craze. Not just a craze, it was actually the cause of much envy and much khunshuti. How I envied the people who used to get the yellow snakelike fancy food in their fancy plastic red and white round tiffin boxes and I had to make do with Luchi Aloor dum. Or rooti aloo bhaja.Or the simple bread butter with loads of sugar sprinkled in between inside my sturdy and boring looking oblongish steel tiffin box.

And look at me now. I have Maggi for breakfast, for lunch and sometimes for dinner too. I sit here talking about Hindu Muslim riots and olive green eye pencils available for sixty five bucks and Madhavan and Milind soman and Sea Hawks and Captain Vyom and the importance of tea over alcohol.

Talking about alcohol, yesterday I had this completely nonalcoholic drink called Fruit beer. Its funny how it is possible to have a very good time cribbing about not having a good time. Walking from Mahim to Bandra Reclamation to Carter road and sipping fruit beer with paneer masala dosa. This is how I am dealing with unemployment.
How I love saying this agan and again. I am jobless and happy.
Maybe that is because I've been jobless for exactly three days now. Before that, I was in this completely different universe. A hindi film set. For eight days I was in this different parallel universe called a Hindi film set. Where spot boys spot you standing in the heat and say "Aapke saare dukho ki dawa mere paas hai Maidam jee, ye lijiye" before handing over a bottle of chilled mineral water.

My friend told me yesterday that I did not know what it is to be depressed. He said something about waking up in the morning and feeling like as if he is inside this white room with no doors and windows.
And then I got thinking, really, I don't know what it is to be depressed. The faint recollection of being really sad in the past one year was when somebody deleted me from his orkut friendlist. Or when I couldn't buy this T.shirt which had "Can someboody here speak in English?" written in seven different languages. How I have let things like t.shirts and cruel online friends take over the real problems or the potential REAL problems. Like child abuse? perhaps.

But then I think it is a good thing.

Back to Bombay

2009-05-15T11:11:00.003+05:30

A lot of uncertainity.

Wide eyed wonder.

The colour yellow.

The sea.

The fastness of it all.

I wish to live the good life.

Very soon I'll be officially jobless in an expensive city.

Since I have no work....

2009-05-07T13:51:00.006+05:30

I clicked pictures inside my room.

Sixteen mile long dangling,depressed,deadly randomness.

2009-05-01T21:40:00.003+05:30

Like they told us in one of those pseudo film direction classes, you should always start and end with the same thing. They were talking about films, of course, but you see, I have this irritating habbit of drawing parallels between my blog and almost anything and everything possible. I once compared it with a grasshopper and the north star simultaneously.

So I will start with....

If there is anyone out there who can help me with employment, please do. For details, you can always mail me, scrap me, ping me etc.

So life is pretty honey-dripping types sweet and rosy at present, since I am home. I am back to my originally hectic life of waking up in the afternoon for a late brunch, taking full adventage of having an unlimited internet connection and trying to make friends with the ants and lizards who are hell bent on sharing my room with me.

Apart from that I have things to worry about ---->

Friends who come up with statements like "I want to become a montessory school teacher, that way I wont even have to do a B.ed." One year back this same person came up with something like "I want to be a free flowing particle in the universe"
Global warming. No seriously.
I will call this my "situation". This needs detailed explanation so I might as well should just come out of the bullets mode. Somehow I lose my concentration when writing in the bullet mode. Its like as if the bullets are asking me to bleeding hurry up. This is happening even as I type this line. So well .....

There you go!

Yeah So my situation is that ten months back I kind of did things that I wasn't supposed to do. For example I screwed up my whole perspective towards the male species.

So for that even if a random guy...I mean a non-friend type random guy... comes tells me " Hey, can you tell me what time it is?" or something as basic as "Is this a fast train?"

Suddenly, I start feeling ultra sure that he is talking to me only because he wants to have sex with me.

I don't know why its like this. Or wait, maybe I do.

But that does NOT stop me from having fleeting, fluffly, dreamy-eyed, rosy-mushy crushes on people. I mean, imagine! ...amen't I like WAY too old to have school-girly crushes?

So you see, if I am absolutely convinced that all that guys want is sex, then why can't I ...like ...NOT keep falling for people?

Moving on,

My parents have suddenly become very eeriely cheerfull and they kind of have started treating me like a celebrity. Also, they don't fight in front of me, which makes the home atmosphere all the more eerie. Plus I am sure there are ghosts of dead lizards roaming around and worse still lizard ghosts are not confined to the walls..I mean they fly around...like free flowing particles in the universe.

Like I started with something, I will end with the same thing.....

If there is anyone out there who can help me with employment/pseudo-employment and suchlike, please help.

C for chocolate

2009-04-17T23:28:00.005+05:30

Clearly, I cant say that my blog is an account of what happens in my life.
Its more like a ....doodle pad.

So, dear Blog, what do you know about my life?

Did you know that most of the times I end up feeling fake. Not Salty, not frustrated, not betrayed, not loved, just...fake.

Did you know that I am terribly fond of chocolate. In any form. Melted, Manually melted (happens when you hold a chocolate cube in between your fingers and hold yourself on for five minutes before the piece of heaven between your fingers becomes something like a semi-solid piece of heaven, melts in front of your eyes and waits for you to finish it up)

Somebody called me "chocolate ki betaaj Badshah" the other day.

Did you know that most of the times I am torn between putting up the "fun girl" act and letting people come to know about the extent to which my depression can depress itself.

Did you know that I have stopped caring about the very few people("Certain online acquaintances")I worshiped/fretted over/gushed about/dedicated my existence to/liked/cared about......one year back.

Did you know that right at this very moment...I want very badly NOT to sound depressed because there is enough I should be happy about.

Like my new ear studs. People who make me happy. The colour pink. Laughter. A deep baritone voice. My finger nails. The internet.

Coming back to the comforting zone of a friendly banter again,

I am planning to go to this place called ..well either "Bhandarkar" ...or "Bhandara" .so something like that. (enough is enough. For once I feel like writing at length so I will not spare the details. sigh. This is ging to be one long post)

So this place is like four hours from Bombay and has in store for us useless people, a dam, some temples, some old forts (obviously, needn't have used the word "old"), and a water-fall...which is named "Randha Falls" and which I repeatedly mis-read "Radha Falls" in the travel catalogue inspite of people pointing out the "n" and people casting me suspicious looks and asking me "are you not wearing contact lenses" the tone of which is more suited for a phrase like "are you not wearing under garments?".

Anyway. So I am a tad excited. Or else life is pretty boring. I am again confused about whether I really want to go for this trip or I would rather shop with the one grand that I have.

since I am going to board the train to *place with a name starting with B* in the next six hours, I should really stop thinking about other options.

But heck. I can sill speculate.
Clothes From Colaba. A cute bright pink neck piece. Party Clothes and a lot else for the price of a water-fall and some forts.

Some people will call me a loser. People like this particular female in my class who has a nasal twang and a job which pays her five thousand a month. On my happy and rather ecstatic pointing out of the building where I live in during the shoot for our last project in Mahim, she had given me a tight lipped smile andhad said aloud to others "It must be so nice to live in a chawl like this".

I think the Calcutta trip next week will be a good thing.
At least I'll get to have kheer kodom.

Ma behen and all that jazz.

2009-04-03T18:16:00.004+05:30

It is one of those sticky hot afternoons when you don't really have anything to do and you cant even sleep because its so damn hot. I remember Patna during the summers. This was before I bore the brunt of humidity ruling over my life. Before I had had the experience of living in Calcutta/Bombay. The time when I hated the idea of an afternoon nap. For me, afternoons were meant for treasure hunts. In that big dark house in Patna, treasure hunts were not that difficult to organize. I would be all alone, since all the other members in the family were either fast asleep or watching "Shanti" on TV, I would slip away to the gol baranda, which was not exactly a room, neither a balcony, you could call it an inner balcony of sorts. It was a storeroom for paper. All kinds of paper. From long forgotten medical files to just abandoned exercise books to grocery bills to the weird orange coloured "Economic Times" stash of newspapers.

I would sit there for hours leafing through the stuff, sad that it would soon be given away to raddiwala. I have this thing for paper. I just hate the idea of throwing away paper. So therefore you might as well just find inside my otherwise pink glossy handbag, some very ugly brown wrapping paper remnants.

It is on one such afternoon, that I first came across the word "ejaculation". I Was thinking of asking my father the meaning. Just that he wasn't there in the afternoon so I had to resort to the dictionary. I did thank God afterwards.

So it was then that I did not know what I was missing by not having an afternoon nap. I was missing the following:

my mother's physical proximity. As in getting to sleep near her. The smell of Pond's cream.
The drone of the big, steel colored water cooler which could easily pass off as a refrigerator due to its hugeness. The smell of the water cooler.
The absence of humidity.
the pleasure of it all. Afternoon nap. A cool room in an old house with rickety windows and a cooler-refrigerator with its drone.

So now I sit here. Roasting away, sweating away, not able to sleep and no Pond's cream to smell either.

2009-03-20T23:23:00.009+05:30

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.

Eight months

2009-03-10T18:39:00.005+05:30

away from home

and I am as confused as ever.

New issues in life.
I am yet to get the hang of people and their sexed up energies.
(Not that I have a problem with people having sex)

And also I am dealing with my long standing problem with this whole confusion about "feminism".

Anyway, so the first time ever I can't blog about what I really want to blog about because I know people might just check my blog and they'll come to know what they shouldn't come to know.

Among all other types and genres of confusion, the main question hovering around my existence like a honey-filled blood-thirsty bumble bee(if there is a thing like that), is

Will I ever get a job?

I don't mind being the eighty sixth assistant director maintaining kiss continuity for Emraan Hashmi in some shady film. As long as it is the Hindi film industry, I don't mind.

I just need to stay in Bombay.
Pay my rent every month.
Pay off my education loan.
Eat nice food.
And basically just have people around who wouldn't mind going to marine drive with me every single day.

I don't think I need anything else.

oh and Cheese cake every weekend from Wich Late in Colaba.

Thats all I want.

And for the other thing...

I am happy

Its like the smell of the first monsoon shower. Or smelling oranges on a winter afternoon.
Or a due drop on a white flower early in the morning.

Something like that.

CAUTION:Sentimental Tomfoolery ahead.

2009-02-13T16:43:00.003+05:30

I have lost the ability of thinking and figuring out the difference between right and wrong. Why waste time? My philosophy is simple...umm..i don't even know whether this is...err..a philosophy.

I do what I like doing. If I am laughing at your joke, it is because I get the joke and I think it is proper to laugh properly. BUT, it might also be because I have no idea what your joke was about and I did not understand it and obviously i don't find it funny, but I think laughing is the right thing to do..even if its a pretension of sorts.

so if its about right and wrong, its about what is right or wrong for ME.
I understand the confusion of my readers. I agree, this post is not going where it is supposed to go. In fact its not even going anywhere. So herein, I shall get a hold on myself and write what is right for me to write. err whatever.

I am not sure whether I can pull this off. Maybe its just too much.This post. A fine example of "overacting". Some might even call this sentimental tomfoolery. Right. so herein I have come across an apt title for this post. "Sentimental Tomfoolery". Sounds good. Hmm. Maybe one day I will write a book with this name. "Sentimental Tomfoolery" by Fayme Verdier. Yes. That is my future pen-name.

Anyway. Stop digressing. Get to the point.

This post is dedicated to You.
No I will not take any names. I know this sounds like but
No this is not about my
boyfriend/
potential boyfriend/
dream boyfriend/
imaginary boyfriend/
ex-boyfriend [not that I have any]
would be boyfriend [ not that I have any]

and the likes.

Just someone. At the cost of sounding cheesy...wait...not just cheesy..... hyper cheesy, hyper corny...someone special.hyper cheesy and hyper corny just about succeeds in reminding me of pasta. Steaming hot Pasta.

Ok stop wavering away from the point. Focus. Will you?

I think this is the point where I should declare that this post is platonic. This post is purely platonic. This post is the most purely platonic post in the history of Doleful Doldrums.

Yeah.
so anyway.
So this person turned 23 today.
Happy birthday.
I have already wished you and you said "thanks for remembering" and I made a straight face.

so anyway yesterday I wanted to wish him at twelve..I mean..today..I wished to wish him at twelve in the morning, but then I realized I have run out of balance and so basically I was stuck because I wanted to wish him and I couldn't. so..err..I pretended to call him and well...I spoke to him for one hour...I mean I pretended to speak to him for one hour...I would say something pretending to be me and then I would reply..pretending to be him.

No big deal. Have done this kind of a thing a lot many times before. In fact, it is because of such exercises that I think I have what it takes to be a potential schizophrenia patient.

Anyway. This "him" person is one of my favorite people of all times.
And I kind of had had a fight with him this December and I had kind of [horror] hit him in public and I had kind of decided to "kick him out of my life" after he kicked me out of his orkut friendlist. errr anyway. So it took me this pseudo phone conversation at twelve in the morning, on his birthday to realise that it is kind of impossible for me to kick him any which way. Ahem.

I wanted to write a lot about just how much I had looked up to him and just how very important he was to me ...I would like to say in "my life" but unfortunatly I will have to call it the peak of my online social stint.Also, I wanted to thank him for the sheer amount of support he generated. He might not have liked it, had he known, which I know he did not, but he was my default support system.

I couldn't help it then. I can't help it now.

All I can do is dedicate a godforsaken post in a dying blog.

Happy birthday.
Thank You.
god bless you.

Something weird

2009-02-04T13:04:00.004+05:30

has been going on with my time since July. Everything is a blur. One of the reasons why i stopped blogging regularly, I mean my kind of blogging. Long elaborate posts about usefully useless things like how cockroaches might have a complex about not being able to fly around like other insects.

But then, here ...since July... SO much HAPPENS in one single day....its so very difficult to summarize all of that into one fortnightly post.

like for example...if I have to talk about this week... I would have to tell you about ...err..well what day is today?..wednesday?..ok..well I have to start with Sunday.

Sunday:-

we were shooting in college. A song. It was a workshop about Hindi film song shooting. Now a hindi film song is something that exists in two different universes all together. What we see on screen....the final product..is SO bleeding different from the shoot, well anyway...so we were shooting. There was a dance director. There were six male dancers and one female dancer and the song was something like
"a a a a aaaa khushi se khudkhushi kar le"

As usual...confused soul as I am.. I was..well confused about whether I was a part of the direction team or a part of the production team. So I just remember running around a lot. A LOT. Taking care of continuity, concentrating on the lips of the male dancers. I HAD to. You will have to believe me. That was part of my job. To check whether the dancers were singing the right lyrics. Learning Marathi. The dance director absolutely refused to communicate in any language other than marathi. So I learned "song shoot manjhe lot of hard work".

Anyway. So that was Sunday. On monday I was involved with what I would like to call my acting debut. As "stinky pumpkin". Well it was a tiny role in a tiny film. Of a nightie clad house-wife ish Aunty who along with other nightie clad house-wife ish aunties keep gossiping about the protagonist. They sit on the building staircase and complain about the shortage of water and then barge into the protagonist's bathroom to check whether she is using illegal means to acquire more water than others. and the Protagonist thinks "Oh! what a stinky pumpkin!"

I was carefully picked for the role as nobody else wanted to do it and well I am fat and I wear a nose pin. so well...Make me wear a nightie..and you will get a perfect Aunty ji.

Anyway... on Tuesday we went location hunting for our next short fiction film. The building is in Worli, Mumbai. The flat is on the fifteenth floor. Its a Duplex Apartment with sea-facing bedrooms. Sigh. We were to shoot in the kitchen..as the film is about this person baking a cake and how the cake falls at the end of it all. Sad story. Very.

Anyway.. so the person gave us the extremely pleasant news about how the building society people will not allow to shoot. Which had obviously not struck her when we asked her whether we can shoot. so after one crazy hour we found out another kitchen which was not very pretty but we will have to make do So we are supposed to shoot tomorrow. We have the budget. The money. But we don't have lead actors...hahaha...

So anyway, keeping up with my habbit of abrupt post endings, I will end right here.

In reteospect

2009-01-19T16:25:00.002+05:30

"Just to express how mindnumbingly jobless I am. I remember all chat conversations with almost all online friends over the last one week.I maintain five blogs.I change my display pictures in various social networking sites for like trillion times a day.I gather information about real life people from their virtual profiles and public online conversations.I read my spam mail with unnerving enthusiasm.I listen to the same song twice. Once with headphones and then again with the speakers on.Back to back.

I need to get a life.
An offline life"

yoooohoooo!

That was written one year back. It feels so nice to have what you always wanted. So I am running for marathons, making four minute films with 40k budgets [whoa], planning weekday hill station outings for 17 bucks and dancing to "choli ke pichhe kya hai" on stage where the audience shouts out my name and hoots and whistles.

Yayness.

Ho ho ho

2008-12-25T17:18:00.002+05:30

Some murky sentiments have been swimming around in some goddamned, shabby, larvae-infested, stagnant water pool in the depths of my brain. It is high time I offer tem some limelight.

What is it about me and irritation? I wasn't the kind of person who would be tagged 'irritating'. Not after my dramatic personality make-over in seventh grade, when I realized cracking sad jokes about one's insecurities made one feel much better and sound much cooler. Before that I used to bore people with my fantastic horror stories.

But then how am I to know? Maybe I bore people even now. Maybe I am still irritating. This is an irritating post. This post is about irritation. This post is to analyze how/why/whether I am irritating.

Me and my ever-increasing, never-decreasing insecurities.
Me and my histrionics
Me and my larger-than-life philosophies.
Me and my smaller-than-a-molecule ego. No, wait. "self-respect" is the word.
Me and my blog? [which is fast becoming a dust-collector]
Me and my sad, sad, sad jokes.
Me and my bullet points?

Fine. Got rid of the bullet points.

What you will now read is a chance conversation between me and me. [Did I tell you this post is going to be irritating?]

So I have lost out on precious sleep because some dude deleted me off his Orkut friend list.

Now, COME ON! what is wrong with you Dreamy?!!!!
Isn't that just a little TOO much of nyakamo? I mean why lose sleep? why feel bad? after all its Orkut!!!! for God's sake. I need to get hang of the fact that now I finally have a "real" life. So online social life be damned. Random online acquaintances be damned. Please do not cling on to nice times that you've had chatting on yahoo messenger. Now, Yahoo should have no importance in your life whatsoever. Please do not have pleasant dreams in your nice cuddly early morning air-conditioned sleep about people who mattered so much to you when you did not have much to do besides sleep, eat and chat online. Those days are GONE!
Kindly move on.

Hey. If its SO effing easy to "move on",
why don't YOU "move on" with your fat behind and show me how to do it?

Please do not call me fat.
It hurts.

You are fat.
Kindly stop feeling bad about it.
Kindly stop extracting undeserved pity/sympathy/laughs out of your
1> jokes about you being fat
2> Insecurities about you being fat.
Enough.

So what should I do?
HOW do I stop feeling bad about being fat?!

Simple.
Lose weight.

Oh. no.

No, I mean why can't you?
Everybody loses weight.
Your old friends, your new friends, friends who are already sickly thin, your mother, your father, Adnan Sami, Kareena Kapoor,Hillary Duff, Ginger-your friend's dog, Aakash Chatterjee-your imaginary boyfriend.....

ok ok please stop. This is getting too depressing for a Christmas post.

DEAL WITH IT.
lose weight.

So you are telling me, that this...ummm..this...pain that I feel inside just coz some dude deleted me off his friend list ...the solution to this is to lose weight?

No, my dear Me,
The solution to ALL your problems is to lose weight.

Ahem.
Amen.

2008-12-06T00:07:00.002+05:30

"This is a future predicament:

You will be lying in one corner.Fatigued like never before.You will be gagged with the pollution fumes outside the window, and the hopelessness inside.You will be thinking about the trillion little ways how life shows you the middle finger.Your nerves will be racking with the sheer frustration caused by the unfairness around.

It is then, my friends that you'll need to close your eyes and start seeing these various colorful images.Six pairs of feet fooling around in a pool of dirty Ganges water. Six watchful eyes staring at you, all smiles. They're so sure.Almost like as if they have the world entrapped within their fists. Two people, their cheeks smeared with pastry-cream.The cake itself, resplendent in glory. The glittery green tree on the cake. All of them wary of the people around them. People with too much of happiness. Too much of surety and assuredness. Almost like as if, the happiness is only and only because of the people surrounding them.Seven people, standing on the green bridge.Six people, posing and pruning in the middle of the street. The lollipops in their hands no less proud than gold trophies. Seven people, conjoined with happiness. All mere snapshots. They'll make you think. Think of the stark contrast between the happiness of something still and something full of life which refuses to exist. You will look at yourself in the mirror.You will look at the photographs.And then my friends, you will smile a little. Thinking of the times bygone and, hopefully, the times that are about to come."

This was written on the 6th of January 2008.

1.I think I am much lamer than I used to be.
2.My english-speaking skills have taken a [I suspect permanent] nose-dive.
3.Please don't talk about my writing skills. Whatever little I write pertains strictly to lametard assignments like --->

You are about to give a presentation. What should your checklist cover? What are the mental notes that you would revise at this point? How would you ‘present’ yourself?

Like fuck you. If I have to "Present" myself..why I can't I just "present" myself..why do I have to WRITE twenty fucking pages DESCRIBING how I will "present" myself!

4. I think I am wasting my time and my parents' money.
5. I am tired of thinking about the bleak future.
6. I take pretty bad decisions. Have taken pretty bad decisions in the past..but then I could blog about them and feel good. But now I can't even blog.
7. I can't blog. I can't write anything else other than my stupid assignments for which I invariably end up getting maximum C+ .
8. I can't TOLERATE any more of people around me talking about the blasts.
9. I have to submit a 40 page assignment in which I KNOW I will get a C+.
and just to make it a ten pointer rant...

10. I feel like I am a parachute/ I think I have an ulcer inside my stomach.

enough :|

pretty

2008-11-05T03:28:00.002+05:30

weird situation to be in...for my 123rd blog post.

There is a moth roaming around in this room.

I just discovered I really like butter.Was hungry...ate butter for a midnight snack.

Was wondering whether butter is a snack. Come to think of it..what is butter?
Exactly how much time to we spend thinking about something as nice as butter? Its semi-yellow, its semi-liquid, its semi-snack, its semi-back-up dancer-ish [somebody had said ketchup is like a back-up dancer for advertisements....or no wait....or was it burgers and samosas being the backup-dancers for ketchup ads?...anyway...you get the point right?..please lets not lose the point]

so where were we?..yeah back-up dancers. I remember there was this time when I used to be a college kid. Although at that point in my life I wasn't really aware of the wonderful-ness of being a college kid. It is now that I have to worry about things like an education loan and the disqualification of instant noodles as a dinner option, it is now that I am fully aware of the fun and frolic of college kids.

Anyway...so where was I? yeah...at the time when I was still a college kid ..and I was about to encroach upon the shooting of what was our first film...our star actor backed out. So my extermely professional team member had pulled up an extremely proffessional face and in her worldly-wise manner had scolded me. "We should have had a back-up actor".

I had cracked up. It was'nt the first time I was cracking up while being scolded. So how do we go about appointing these backup actors?..

"Excuse me, I am making a film..will you please act?..oh..I am sorry..I can't really tell you what the role is coz..well...ummm..I am confused...I don't quite know myself..and secondly you're just a back-up actor...we'll pull you in when our main actor backs out.
Yeah..main actor backs out and backup actor....well...backs up. Thats just about the plan we're sticking to right now".

I want to fall in love right now. At least then I can afford to a bit more of dreaminess. Necessary for survival. Necessary for the blog's survival at least.

And then, there was a Tag......

2008-10-25T20:23:00.002+05:30

A tag that got tagged to the taggee by the tagger on the 8th of September, 2007.

anyway, the taggee has has finally decided to accept the tag.
So here we go.

The tag requires the tagged one to write six quirks about oneself.

I have forever been, and forever will be scared of eye-brow pluckers. Its something about them. Not that they all look alike. Herein I should mention that because of my intense fear of such people, I have been observing eye-brow pluckers of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities and cultural opinions for the last five or so years, since I discovered the existence eye-brow plucking in our mortal lives. But it should also be noted that I've been getting enough reasons to fear such people. Recently when I visited the nearest beauty parlour, one such specimen pointed out at me and told her collegues, "look, she's got such dicey eye-brows".

The exam days of our school/college schedule have always been my happiest. Much to the dismay/envy and constant confusion of my fellow mates in school/college, I've always been surprisingly chirpy and upbeat for a person who is almost always under-prepared for all sorts of tests and exams

I am in love with my pictures. I have more than one thousand pictures of my own self, edited, coloured, photo shopped and otherwise. Give me a camera, good lighting conditions and some privacy, I will start clicking my own pictures. After clicking, I will gaze at them, admire myself, will transfer the pictures to my computer, will gaze at them, will admire myself , will change my orkut display picture, gaze at myself, will admire myself, will change the picture again, will gaze at the changed pic.....will admire myself...its a never ending phenomena.And yet, I continue being insanely insecure about my appearance.

I have a thing for people with a deep throated voice. You can be a dacoit, a transvestite, a male chauvinist pig or even a Raj Thakerey, if you have a deep throated voice, you will be a different person for me.

I like the idea of being confused. If I were not as confused as I am about all things in general, I would be such a bored person. Now that I am confused..at least I can think..about the difference between a public bus and a private bus and why is pee not called poo and vice versa and just where the hell is Chowringhee......[by the way..the spell check for Chowringhee is"Wrongheadedly".]

I fail to understand how people can be so casual and lackadaisical about other people who consider Rakhi Sawant good looking. I mean you can call her hot and sexy, because I really don't know what the words "hot" and "sexy" imply...but good looking? My target here are the people who consider her good looking. I have no issues with Rakhi Sawant whatsoever.

I tag my dear friend The deevah because much to my sadness and discomfort, she has stopped blogging. also, I tag all other bloggers who have not blogged in the past two weeks. Please wake up. Thank you.

2008-10-14T16:49:00.001+05:30

There were days in my childhood when I'd wake up in the morning to smell the sweet fragrance of coconut being cooked. I would readily wake up and rush downstairs to witness the large scale manufacture of the coconut sweet.

First the powdery accumulation of grated coconut. Then the semi-solid goor being laid out to cool. Then the final mixture. I would cry my heart every time they refused to allow me to make the auspicious sweet.

Not that I like cooking, but the very idea of having that sensation in the fingers when you're trying to mould the burning hot mixture into perfect round shapes and the sheer ecstasy of popping stolen narus inside the mouth being well aware of the fact that the Goddess Lokkhi is right there, staring out from the heavily painted eyes of the earthen idol. I always thought Gods and Goddesses were particularly understanding. therefore no sense of guilt ever came in the way of sealing the sweets. In fact, the sweets tasted better if they were stolen.

Today is Lokkhi Poojo. I wouldn't even have known had I not come online.
Sigh.

Its official

2008-09-30T16:41:00.004+05:30

I am in love with Bombay.

2008-09-23T14:48:00.002+05:30

Yesterday, my photography teacher [to my utter bafflement] appreciated my project. Once the extremely embarrassing task of the public screening of photographs got over, he asked me, "So how did you manage to get such "lush" colours?!"

So the great great Dreamy, the greatly baffled Dreamy stares back at the teacher, wipes off her perspiration [yes, she has this strange love story with perspiration which involves her trying to wipe it off and perspiration obviously is totally in love with her so...well...err....will continue this subplot later..now back to the main story...] .....

So Its not like as if the great Dreamy is online and can just google for an answer or not reply for quite some time and then say that she got DC. She is in an actual class with actual people all around her and she has just about wasted seven seconds staring at her teacher not knowing what to say..and then she sticks to honesty..

"I don't know"... to which the class laughs, the teacher laughs and the great Dreamy ends up feeling horribly miserable.

Why couldn't I have said something...something intellectual and artsy...like "the lighting was just perfect" or something like " I captured what I thought looked beautiful" etc etc... I think I should just stick to writing. I should stop talking all together.

How wonderful would life be if I answered everybody's questions in writing. I mean its not like as if i don't like talking. But then there are so less people to do the talking to. All my life, I've felt this lack...lack of people to talk to. I guess thats why my online social life was such a hit. WAS. thats the sad part. So I used to talk to myself. From ever since I can remember, I've been talking to myself at night. I swear I created my own characters and would imagine up some setting in which I would be talking to these imaginary people. A setting wherein it would be natural to be talking, unlike talking to oneself at night. The technical term for all this would be script-writing, with myself as the main character, of course.

So before I go ballistic with over-flowing sentiments, I should do that particular thing. Something I HAVE NEVER DONE BEFORE. *cough* I am going to rant on my blog. In fact I am going to write personal letters to not so imaginary people.

Dear real person,

Firstly, you piss me off. You might think being arrogant is extremely attractive ...something like a chick-magnet, but then, I don't think your arrogance serves its purpose. I am not attracted to you. Even if I was, I would be attracted to your extremely worldly and painfully materialistic possessions. So that means either I am not a chick or arrogance is NOT a chick-magnet. [sheesh I have to stop using that word "chick-magnet"..even though I confess I've kinda fallen in love with it...chick-magnet....chick-magnet.....errm ok..I will stop now and get out of these brackets]

Dear Boy [I know. I am horribly uncreative when it comes to addressing people]
You might think that I am falling in love with you because I keep replying to your messages and keep calling you and well sometimes I think I have "DESPERATE" painted boldly across my forehead ....well.. I am not. I call you because I like talking to you, well, that was before I found out that you think I am in love with you because I have called you all the way from Bombay.

I think I DO have DESPERATE painted across my forehead, or else, why...WHY? would somebody think I am in love with him JUST BECAUSE I happened to have called that person on two alternate days?!

Thats it. Thats enough for now, I think. With God's blessings,I might be able to publish my next long post after thirteen thousand years.

So long then dear blog.

Exactly

2008-09-17T12:50:00.001+05:30

how many days have I gone without blogging?

mairi. shotti.Never thought.

Choco-nut cookies

2008-08-05T14:00:00.002+05:30

I have suddenly become this deep philosophical woman who in her spare time has to think about where to dry her only set of home clothes and also whether its better to buy detergent cake or powder, thinking about it from the washer-woman's point of view. I also have to think about what to have for breakfast/lunch/supper. I mean not in the way I would have thought about it had I been in Calcutta. There, it was a matter of what I should suggest my mother to make. Here, it is more like whether to eat Good day biscuits or stale chapatis from the Dabba of last night or just skip breakfast all together.

I end up with Good Day biscuits on the train.

but I am LOVING it. I repeat, I am loving it.
The freedom of it all. To be able to wake up at whatever time and not bother about making the bed. To be able to skip breakfast and lunch and not feel guilty about it and/or to be busy enough to not even feel hungry. To be out every single day and not have to account for it at the end of the day. To roam around on my own with no definite rhyme or reason, definite plans or direction whatsoever. To travel by train every single day. To be lost among a horde of people in a crowded station and have zero possibilities of running into someone I know. To be be traveling on my own, taking care of myself, holding on properly while standing near the door, knowing and being fully aware of exactly what its going to be like if I fall out of the train. To memorize the names of the stations and try playing the guessing game as to which side the platform will come.

And today, I got lost! I had to go to some Feroz Shah Mehta road and had NO idea whatsoever how to go there. so I decided to cab it from Churchgate. No cabs were ready to go, the drivers pointing here, there, everywhere, some where as baffled as I was when I told them where I wanted to go. So I decided to chuck it all. I started walking wherever I felt like walking. I started walking up to the prettiest of buildings,smelling the architecture looking at all things around, the sugarcane juice wallahs, the lottery ticket sellers, the junk food stalls, The mobile repair shops the Irani Cafes,the second-hand street book shops as if I was born just today.

Then I made eye-contact with this cab driver who had that look. That "I-can-see-that-you're-lost" look that particular cab-drivers have at particular times. So this particular time, I came back to reality and realized I HAVE to go to Feroz shah Mehta road at any cost. So I asked him the way. He explained it to me and I asked him to take me there. Once inside, I told him I was lost. He "tch-tch" ed kindly and very forthrightly started spelling out the directions as he drove. So if he had to take a left, he would SAY it before turning left.
He charged me just ten bucks instead of thirteen.

post number 112

2008-07-26T14:00:00.001+05:30

Yesterday I saw two alpha males dancing to the tunes of "Tanha Tanha yahan pe jeena" on the dance-floor. Since then, I've been mulling over how drinking milk should not make you feel cow-like. I think a lot. But all thoughts are kinda detached and terribly disconnected. Another fierce example of this would be the nice-smelling photography teacher showing us pictures of naked females in modern-mythological costumes. Now this suddenly made me think of Manmohan singh. I mean, what would he have to say to that? How would he feel?

After that I was seized by the terrible feeling of wanting to know Manmohan Singh better. Does he like Santa Claus? Does he know he looks like Santa Claus?

Also, the lady who scratched my face on the local train reminded me of the fact that a toothbrush might be absolutely useless a product without a toothpaste, which in turn made me think that both toothpaste tubes and toothbrushes might just be like back-up dancers for each other.
And all day long, the only thing i can think about is a green parrot for a pet which will kind of make me feel good for not having a cat for a pet.

2008-07-22T16:22:00.002+05:30

I have exactly seven minutes to type out this post. Out of the thirty minutes that have been allotted to net surfing in an entire day, my gods have decided to let me use only seven minutes for blogging.

2008-07-15T16:04:00.003+05:30

I thought I would be away from blogging.
I was so wrong.
Seems like I will have to copy paste from my blog for most of my assignments.

Apart from writing print ad campaigns for pre-puberty boys' underwear ( Don't even dare ask me the connection between this and TV production), and confusing the hell out of myself by trying to figure out whether I've lost weight or gained weight, I do have a very busy life.

Time for some pikchaars

2008-07-09T15:26:00.002+05:30

I deleted the last post. Errrrm. Not that that many people had read it...but , contrary to what I used to believe, people I know in real life also read my blog.

And ask questions. Plus I am in a new environment with new people around me and I kinda have to constantly trick them into not realizing just how very cheesy I am.

But the truth is, I can't even operate a geyser. I mean the geyser in the bathrooms just refuse to operate when I have to take a shower.

Imagine you are late for college and you overslept and you overdreamt and you're cursing yourself hard for that and the bleeding taps won't give you cold water.

Plus there is this whole chocolate counter in the college canteen. Chocolate tart, chocolate pastry, chocolate mousse, chocolate croissant, and also.. well... umm.. chocolate *cough* balls. I haven't had the last one though.

Nopes, no title for this one.

2008-06-27T08:26:00.004+05:30

My official going-away-from Calcutta post.
My plan was to get the new camera, [NIKON D60, for the people who associate cameras with make and model] click some "Calcutta" pictures and post it here. But know this, and know this for once and for all. Technology and me, we don't click.

Yesterday, while eating lunch, I became very philosophical. The generally quiet-during-heavy-lunch-consumption me was agitated at having come to a conclusion.
"I'd rather lose my dignity, behave like a loser and be happy than maintain it and be unhappy"

I think it was the prawn curry.
Ah, the prawn curry. My mother has been feeding me like as if there is no tomorrow, and even if there is, I am surely gonna die tomorrow.

So, after getting the camera, clicking pictures of my friend's pet pug doggy eating up the bow out of my friend The Deevah's newly bought shoes, I had a walk down Park street....or wait..I should discuss the totally hilarious afore-mentioned incident first.

so I am at my Friend's place, who's getting me the camera for cheap. Lets call him Subhash Ghai. Not the camera, my friend, lets call him Subhash Ghai.

So Subhash Ghai has this awesome house with an awesome-er view from the balcony. After getting the camera, I decided to click a pic from his balcony. Once I am done, The Deevah, the calm and composed Deevah, shrieks.

"Subhash Ghai!!!!! your DOG is eating my shoe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Subhash Ghai - [pretty non-plussed] "Yeah...."

The Deevah [visibly shaken] - "subhash Ghaiiiiiiiiiiiii DO Something".

Subhash Ghai gets up scolds the doggy and rescues the golden bow.

Subhash Ghai - "sorry about that"

The deevah - " its ok, I will attach the bow again"

Me - " in fact the shoe looks better without the bow"

The Deevah - "in fact, yes it does. Thanks doggy".

Doggy - :|

This has to be the worst going-away post ever in the history of blogging.
And definitely the most abrupt.

So long and thanks for the fish.

Oh, and something *blush* happened yesterday :D [No questions to be asked]
Oh, and I am a fool for not noticing things right in front of me.
And I will be traveling all on my own for the first time ever.
I wonder what I'll do when I have to pee.

oktatabyebye

Extensively bloody post

2008-06-17T19:18:00.016+05:30

Confession time.

Sometimes, the only thing that keeps me from updating my blog is my smug laziness enveloped in pretentious multi-tasking. Whenever I am online there are at least six tabs open. Out of them six tabs, at least three are blogs and out of those three, at least two are bloody good enough to instigate me to update my own blog.

The problem is my laziness. I am too lazy to hit the "new post" button and even when I do that, I am too lazy to even think about what to write.

But I have a lot to tell y'all.
Firstly, my two new favorite words are y'all and bloody. Expect a heavy dose of that.
Secondly, I am an ass. I mean it. I am you friendly neighborhood donkey. Ok wait donkeys don't neigh...do they?

All I have been fantasizing about for the past week is the purchase of my long-time-due new phone. And ALL I wanted was an mp3 player endowed phone. You see, none of the media players on my comp are working. Please don't ask me reload windows or whatever..because
a] I will not understand what you're asking me to do [donkey,remember?]
b] I won't be able to do what you're asking me to do..thats because ...
i) see point a]
ii) see the first line of the second paragraph.

To clear the confusion, I will get back to saying what I started off with. All I wanted was a phone with an mp3 player. I dint have no grand money. I dint want no grand phone. Just a simple phone with an mp3 player.

A very soggy, rainy, bitchy, muddy, watery afternoon thereafter, with radiant flashes of how there were so many bloody phones around me in that store...so many companies..so many colors.. sets..features,how I was dazed and hence a little blind and confused and obviously spoilt for choice and as I came back home, all drenched and excited, the kind of excitement you can only and only have after buying a new phone, I realized the phone doesn't have one.

Mp3 player.
Thats what.

I couldn't exchange it because I'd already detached the free sim card that came with the set.

I am adopting various ways of consoling myself. Like trying not to listen to FM radio. Various people around me are trying to console me. The best consolation award goes to Nunkuda for telling me that Bombay FM is not all that sucky.

This constant business of meeting up with online individuals is getting more and more undefinable. Maybe thats because in the past year, the year that saw the violent revolutionary birth and the irresistibly glamorous growth of my online social life, I never got the chance of thinking about how it would be if the virtual became real. Again, that, in turn might be because I don't think much and I am just elementarily lazy. All that big talk with big words apart, I concluded there isn't any difference between reality and virtuality.

The people are the same. The stories, the same. The jokes, the same. And guess what? even the straight face is the same.

Seriously, there is no difference between a chat window and a coffee table.

But what the heck. I don't even have an mp3 player.
*sniff*

234

2008-06-11T21:12:00.003+05:30

So its raining Heavily and I am casting suspicious glances on all the ladies inside the ladies compartment. I mean thats all the action that I am allowed. The compartment is so packed that for once, I feel comfortable about having slippery feet and the minimal chances of falling down.

Btw, Mahim is just the next station and I finally gather up the courage to ask people which side the platform is likely to appear. The ladies cast back suspicious glances at me. Cast not-so-suspicious glances at each other, mutter some stuff in Marathi, look back at me, shrug their shoulders and nervously say, "kya mallum?!" while their eyes dart from one side to the other.

I know. Happens. People get confused. I can't blame them. Plus I am all drenched, my kajal all smudged and my contact lenses have shifted places and I am blinking abnormally and am not exactly a pleasant sight. Its normal if people are scared of me.

But Time is running out and the we've reached Mahim and the train stops. Horror. The station is on the left side and I am standing on the right. By the time I get the real hang of things and shout a feeble "Mahim uttarna hai!!!" while trying to push people into pushing me so that I get space to go to the other side, [I am big, mind you] The train starts moving again.

A girl with Ponytails screeches "you wanted to get down at Mahim?!"
"Too late..but then ..well Yeah..Kind of.." I mumble...
Ponytail girl pulls off a yahoo "surprised" emoticon and screeches again "She had to get down!!!!!!!"...
The unthinkable happens.. the train stops.

"You know you can still try!!!!!".. ponytail girl is on a personal mission.

"Well..yeah..ok..if you insist ..." I am visibly bewildered and frustrated.

But the pushing game has started. Its not about me anymore. Ponytail girl pushes me. "She has to get down!!!!!!"[ in screech mode]I push other people. Other people push some other people . But uh-oh. Train starts moving again.

Bombay was great. The greatest thing about Bombay is its greatness. But. all the greatness comes only second to the absolutely fantastic phenomena called The Pedestrian Subway. They've actually got a subway for people for the purpose and the only purpose of crossing roads!

And I have to blog about my cousin. Apart from the fact that he is nice and arrogant and freakishly funny [quote: its very difficult to take a crap inside a jungle. You cant do the whole job on a fixed place. You will have to move around a lot] He has a massage chair. A massive inflated black colored Massage chair on which you can sit and have a remote control and command the chair to vibrate. Well that kinda sounded perverse. but you get the point..right?

I have been meeting up with a lot of online acquaintances. Feels really nice.

Oh and making this post into a confession of sorts, I am a very shallow person. I almost always have exceptionally lame reasons for doing stuff, but I can't tell people those reasons coz then they will find me ..well..lame ..so I invent fantastic reasons.. like I make up fake reasons and after a certain point of time ..I start believing that those reasons are for real.

Like I wanted to take up Mass communication after boards coz I somehow knew I would not have to study that much[plus there was this certain inspiration from Shaktiman and Company]. I led parents, relatives , some more relatives and the interviewers/professors and new found friends into believing that I am really interested in journalism. But I never was. Then came the time to apply for post grad diploma courses. Of course, I led people into thinking that the institute in Bombay is THE best. and I changed my direction from journalism to TV production simply because it would be easier to get through to the TV production course.

But its getting increasingly difficult to convince relatives. Like everybody inevitably comes up with the same question when I tell them the course name.

"Ok.. so now you're gonna act in TV serials?"

Me: Well ..umm...no . not really.

the quest for knowledge being unquenchable,

"so..like whats this TV production all about?"

Me: You know all these channels ..they come up with these shows ..right? ..so well ..a lot of people work for those channels and ...and.... you know....they do stuff... I will do the same.[!]

"What kinda stuff?"

Me: Frankly, I have no idea.

"??????????????"

Me:.. Of course ..I will have an idea ..in future.. ..umm... you know...after I've finished the course.

I just hope I do.

Green is the colour

2008-05-21T23:59:00.007+05:30

That be the song I am listening to right now.

I am not the kind of person who prepares drafts before posting, which is why I shouldn't have experimented with the draft option that blogger provides. I ended up editing and re-editing the drafts and then hated it all so much that my favorite word right now is "random". But then a girl should try out new things. Why, I know not.
Also, I was kind of waiting for new comments on my last post. Now that "77" is a very cool and soothing number to look at and sits royally beside the "smoky imprints" of the last post, here I am to narrate the story of my life.

I am 20 years old because I was born 20 years back.

That was the story of my life in its most precise form.

Now the song has changed to "Incomplete_enigma" - Deep forest, Vangelis, Spirits of the Nature. I always confuse between the artist-name and the song-name.

Talking about confusion,
I look very, VERY confident when I am lost and confused. But I look lost and confused when I am the most confident.
But whats causing all the tension and worry is the fact that I am feeling really really confident about the upcoming interview. THE Interview,btw really really want to get through. Now all I have to do is to be confused so as to look confident. But thing is, how do I forcefully confuse myself? Wait, I think reading and re-reading this very paragraph will do the trick.

Ok, now a little bit about my film. MY FILM. How great does that sound?! And well it is my film because,

a> I did the subtitles. That means, I cried, begged, rolled over on the floor begging other classmates for a little bit of time. Just 45 minutes. I just need to do the subtitles, because, the thing is, even though the technically adept people taking care of the technical stuff have come up with the most fantastic sound ever recorded.No sarcasm NO SARCASM, dreamy. Stay away from sarcasm,will you? but you see, just one problem. People are not being able to understand the dialogues. Now the technically adept people will obviously say that its because of the actors' ALL the actors, mind you. diction problems, but the thing is, without the dialogues, the film is nothing. Anyway. I fought the bravest, the most fastidious battle of all times in order to be granted some 45 minutes for the subtitles. We had to beg...no..I had to beg for time from other classmates because we'd run out of time. The time alloted was long gone and the film far from finished.

well iye, thats it. Thats the only claim I have to consider the film my film. Apart from coming up with the concept.

Anyway. All's good now.apart from the fact that I have been alienated and kicked a lot, a lot by the most unexpected people

But me is happy today. [What with 77 comments and all!]
Me is really really looking forward to the blogmeet. [27th May, T3, 5pm]
Me is going to end this post by putting up some production stills.

The actor actually turned my pink bag into a character!
My favorite-est photo/frame/scene/sequence of the film

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting, the cutest shrink of all times! :D

Oh, and I am going to Bombay. Yay! actually, it should be YAY!

Untitled.

2008-05-01T16:12:00.003+05:30

Well ok.

It all started from Rishi's tag post comments. A huge brouhaha over our children, their names, inter-blogger-offspring marriages, heartbreaks, heart brakes, hurt breaks, heart hurts, brakes break, broken hearted brakes etc etc.

So I thought we should all meet up and talk.
Going by my feeble and yet to develop managerial skills, I thought it would be best if I think up about of all the bloggers I know, from Calcutta and link them all to an exclusive pre-blog meet post.

On second thoughts, I realized and realized quite correctly that I am too lazy to link them bloggers and I' decided to just name them.

so, Rishi, Nunkuda, Onnesha, Poojo, Ad libber, Amazing Greys, Noisy Autist, Shuvo, Saptarshi, Dhruva, Royal Bengal tigress,Monidipa, Mishtizaa, undifferentiated, Inihos, Doubletake-Doublethink, Arka, Zilli girl, The None and Arsenik [if you happen to be in Calcutta] , all of you are cordially invited.

Again, going by my managerial skills I would ask you all to invite all bloggers you know from Calcutta to the meet.

We have not yet decided the date and place. It could happen around end-May or early-June and might happen at any place which also serves stuff other than booze and beef.
:-|

The exact time and exact date could be decided in the comments section. :D

p.s: I will keep editing and re-editing this post as and when I keep remembering more and more bloggers I know from Calcutta.

A post about the next best thing to every freakin' thing in this world.

2008-04-24T01:37:00.000+05:30

More or less on this very date , particularly in the month of April, exactly one year back, I was in a similarly contemplative mood that I am in right now.

The exact reasons for being so might not be exactly exact, but they are more or less exact.
I had my university exams back then. I have my university exam tomorrow.
But there are differences too.
Last year I was mildly paranoid about not having studied. This year I am mildly paranoid about not being mildly paranoid about not having studied.

Last year I was contemplative about what questions might adorn the question paper next day because I wasn't too sure I understood the meaning of the terms cited in the syllabus.

This year, I am contemplative about what questions might adorn the question paper tomorrow because, frankly,
1>The photocopy of the syllabus, which has been , if you must know, photocopied from another photocopy of the syllabus was too light-inked to decipher.

2> I am both profoundly confused and confusingly profound about the different papers. i.e. I have been confusing the contents of Paper 6 with that of paper 5 and the contents of paper 8 with that of paper 7 ..etc . so logically , tomorrow is the exam date for paper 7 and I am , as you might have guessed not too sure about what to study. The faintly- discernible, too light-inked to be true syllabus isn't helping either.

3> Three days back, when I was in a similar situation and was aimlessly convincing myself to study for the exam to be held the next day, yet another wonderfully and weirdly fulfilling thing happened. To understand the exact nature of the wonderfulness and the weirdness, you must know a little about ...(sigh)..the syllabus of that particular paper. The paper in question was Editing and the newest new syllabus devised by the university had nothing to with Editing. So, our tactful editing teacher, who by the way, refuses to understand the basic exam-hating tendencies of the youth at large and of our department in particular told us categorically that it would be best to study all the editing related stuff mentioned in the old syllabus and all the non-editing related stuff mentioned in the new syllabus. Apart from confusing my alert-yet-immune-to-confusion state of mind, the religious following of my teacher’s categorical instructions would mean, to cut a long story short, a lot of studying. Which, my alert-yet-immune-to-confusion state of mind was not fully equipped for. So I decided and not so surprisingly ended up doing the next best thing to every freaking thing in this universe--> Procrastinating.
So I was in a multicolored mood. The colors being confusion, alertness, irritation, impatience and a certain level of uncertainty on the lines of “so will the university set questions conforming to the editing related old syllabus or the non-editing related new syllabus.”

Here comes the wonderfully and weirdly fulfilling thing I was talking about.
The exam got postponed.
By one whole month.
Now another wonderful and weirdly fulfilling thing happened while I was writing my Paper 1 exam.
All my life, the one thing I’ve hated conspicuously and consistently is writing exams. I mean the actual act of writing answers on cheap quality paper. Now this hatred stems entirely from the fact that my classmates, at all given stages of academic life have shown this affinity towards becoming paper-crazy maniacs during exams.

Like they will go on writing and writing and writing and will go on asking for extra sheets. Now this always makes me heinously insecure about getting the lowest marks, since, clearly I take the least amount of extra sheets. I can’t write. To be more precise I cant write crap for my answers. To be a little more precise, I can’t waste my dazzling crap-writing abilities on answers being written for exams.
Those abilities are to be wasted here, dear blog.
Personally I don’t think I am much of a writer. Since I can only write on topics either dangerously specific, like “a close study of the moles on the upper lips of the hypochondriacs in the Shuiguohu district of central china” or scathingly vague, like “Does George Bush really look like a monkey?”

Anyway, back to the wonderfully weird thing that happened. My classmates-turned paper-crazy maniacs found out that the university has adopted a new rule of debarring students from taking extra sheets!

To top it all, I seem to have the most creatively distracting conversations only and only during the exams …like,

Fraand : Hi, Ads , are you studying?

Me: I am feeling very lost and naked.[I generally come up with alarming answers when I am asked alarming questions as such]

Fraand: Yeah, what will happen?

Me: I am sure tomorrow will be a mixture of the two kinds of nightmares people generally have. One, where they turn up in the exam hall with zero preparation and two, when they suddenly realize they’ve come out of their house without wearing any clothes.
Fraand: hmmmm.

Me: so did you study?

Fraand: yeah, I was studying the factories act of 23 September 1938.

Me : WHAT? Excuse me? How the hell is that in the syllabus for video production? More importantly, what the hell is that?

Fraand: I was studying for the next exam. Not for tomorrow.

Me: ok. Whew. I almost had a heart attack.

Fraand: so wassup with you?

Me: Nothing. I am just feeling very dazed and confused since morning…

Fraand: and?

Me: Yeah, in the evening I watched Harry Potter and Ally Mcbeal side by side. My head is a lot clearer now.

Fraand: you know what I realized?

Me: what?

Fraand: we don’t know what we look like. I mean we have just seen ourselves in the mirror or in snaps or on video. All those are virtual, reflected images, we will only be able to see the REAL us after we die!!!!!!!!

Since I anyway have lost and forgotten the point I’d set out to make in the beginning of the post, I’ve decided to end this post without any conclusion and therefore definitely very abruptly.

A tag, my past life and some sugar cubes.

2008-04-13T17:50:00.005+05:30

This is not entirely a just-a-tag post. I will rant a lot after this tag.

Was tagged by Onnesha. Yet again!

1. LAST MOVIE YOU SAW IN A THEATER?
Jodha Akbar

2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
Crime and punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME?
Snakes and ladders

4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE?
JAM.

5. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Wet chalk. Cement. Shoe polish. Langra aam.

6. FAVORITE SOUND?
I don't like sounds. Or wait. I like it when theres lightening cracking up the sky.

7.WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD:
Betrayal.

8.FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE?
"Oh come on.IT was just a dream."

9. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
Errrrm..Pizza hut?

10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME:
Khunti,Khisti,Khichuri.

11. FINISH THIS STATEMENT.
"If i had a lot of money i would...go for a liposuction and some kind of a surgery to even out my uneven teeth.

12.DO YOU DRIVE FAST?
I don't.

13. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?
Oh please. I am not that big a despo.

14. STORMS-COOL OR SCARY?
Cool. I would do anything for a storm right now.

15. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR?
I Don't have a toy car. As yet.

16. FAVORITE DRINK?
Mango drink. Any kind.

17. FINISH THIS STATEMENT,
"IF I HAD THE TIME I WOULD... multiply that with the ample amount of time I already have and then build up this bigshot Palace outta all the Time.
Shucks I am getting more and more depressed.

18. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS ON BROCCOLI?
Yet another question which makes me go "ummm..what?"

19. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHOICE?
The darkest brown possible.

20. NAME ALL THE DIFFERENT CITIES/TOWNS YOU HAVE LIVED IN.
Patna. Calcutta.

21. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
*bursts out laughing..and is laughing very hard and hence is unable to answer this question*

22. ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU:
She writes like a dream. :)

23. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED?
I don't know. Finding out will require me to so something similar to an ab crunch which I absolutely refuse to do.

24. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE BORN AS YOURSELF AGAIN?
Yes. But a thinner version,please.

25. MORNING PERSON, OR NIGHT OWL?
Both.

26. OVER EASY, OR SUNNY SIDE UP?
Sunny side. [Frankly, I dint get this question]

27. FAVORITE PLACE TO RELAX?
My balcony.

28. FAVORITE PIE?
I don't eat much pies.

29.FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
Chocolate and black current.

30. OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU TAGGED THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND FIRST? I don't think I will tag anyone. You know, just for the heck of it. :D

So its that time of the year again when I start hallucinating a lot and generally make and support a load of nonsense every now and then.

Like I discovered that I am losing the thin line of difference between studying and sleeping.
The situation at home is indeed very soothing. My mother has opened up about her expectations from me. and she just wants me to pretend to study. So every day, I have a bath in the morning and I lock myself up in my room. My mother seems happy with my pretension and I just sleep and stare at the blank computer screen. I also listen to Bryan Adams. A lot.

Although, come to think of it, I do have to study a lot. I mean they start from the 18th of April. The exams. And all I can think of is how to differentiate between mauve and violet shades of dried up nail polish.

And I was on Facebook and I had this dangerously lame feeling. Something to do with around 20 of my friends having sent me the invites to the "what were you in your past life?" test.

It was scary.
Since I've been staring a lot this week, at things , at animals at sugar cubes even, I have mastered the art of selective staring. Like when you select an object out of a cluster of objects and just stare at that object.

I feel very peaceful after having stared at something for more than six minutes at a stretch. I also feel a little stupid but then peace, is the essence of life. I will do anything for peace.

But the facebook-staring-exercise-gone-wrong was far from peaceful. Just how would you feel if you saw something like..

[Some jobless person]wants to know what you were in your past life.
[Some jobless person] wants to know what you were in your past life.
[Some jobless person] wants to know what you were in your past life.
[Some jobless person] wants to know what you were in your past life.
[Some jobless person] wants to know what you were in your past life.
[Some jobless person] wants to know what you were in your past life.
[Some jobless person] wants to know what you were in your past life.

etc etc.

It just scared me so much that I stopped staring.
Instead, I decided that I should behave like a responsible person for a change and do something to change the world. If not change the world, then at least do things that will not ruin my future and will help me to become a better human being at the end of the day.

I started playing scramble.

So all you people, whenever you have bright and grand plans of changing the world and you're about to set forth to fulfill your ambition,don't even think about taking me along.

I was thinking about all people I've had crushes on till now.
I was amazed to find out that I think very highly of myself.
Just when I was fooling around with fond remembrances of all the school girl crushes I've had and the odd three crushes that I've had while I was in college and then this thought struck me "how lucky of those people that I have had a crush on them!".
But then this thought was so very weird and arrogant by my standards that it was strongly unfamiliar.
And then this other very useful thought struck me.
"Maybe I should blog about it."

And then I thought.

"I won't be able to explain stuff as nicely as ..say..Salman Rushdie...See thats the difference. Thats why he is a writer...and me..I am just a blogger".

Now this was the kind of self-demeaning thought that made me sigh a sigh of relief and assured me that I haven't changed after all.

Now all people reading this post...you might be wondering yet another time... Whats the point?

but then I would have to remind you yet another time ...there is none. Even if there is one, its well hidden under my plump confusion about the state of affairs in general.

So well..what I wanted to say is that. I had this brilliant idea of getting back at all those random people who have made me look stupid at some point. [You see I often am at a lack of arrogant get backs in real life]

I start off with a junior in college with a French beard of sorts. I had wished him "Good morning sir" once.

so, Hello mister... Its not my fault that YOU look old.

Then there was this guy who had passed snide comments when I was feeding some street dogs in front of Classic stores.

so again... Hello mister... [is this Hello mister thing getting very cheesy?]

I am so sorry I dint feed you first. I was just following the "Bitches first" rule.

[Technical clarification. It was a bitch,which of course, I found out later]

Before I get into a bash-full mood, I will go sleep a little. =))

Another Tag.

2008-03-30T12:40:00.003+05:30

okay folks.

Since my exams, [FINAL exams,mind you] are earth-shatteringly near and are dancing the tribal dance, I will be blogging more often.

I was tagged by Onnesha.

A for Adrita, "aakash chhoa" and adorable

B for Bandra.

C for Ceasefire, Cindrella and chi chin faak

D for Dostoyevsky

E for egg roll

F for financial security.

G for GMBC

H for "him vs him"

I for Insipid inspirational input

J for Judgment Day

K for Kaleidoscope

L for lalaland

M for motichur ka laddoo

N for nautch girl

O for opaque

P for pedestrian

Q for queer queues of quintessential queenships

R for rag dolls

S for Sindbad the Sailor

T for toffee

U for umbrella

V for Veronica

W for Waste of time

X for xylophone

Y for yelling

Z for zing.

I tag all people on my blogroll and specially Arka, because this tag reminds me of alphabet soup.

Kindly ignore

2008-03-28T00:02:00.004+05:30

the last post. I personally don't like myself much when I am all so dark and philosophical. True, shit happens, but then the idea is..at least my idea has always been to twist circumstances and situations in retrospect and make them sound funny.

So here I am.
We've completed shooting for our film.
I am happy that its finally over.
I realized , as usual a lot of things while the shoot was going on.

1> I get frustrated very easily.

2> I look dangerously pregnant when I am frustrated. Now this, could mean a lot of things but my personal opinion is that my potbelly protrudes a little too much when I am hyper.

3> I don't run away from responsibilities. I just sulk. and later, perhaps laugh it off by writing a funny post in my blog, which, btw could be lethally irritating if you happen to know me and have been with me while I was sulking.

4> Out of all the things I need, a hair straightener and an i-pod or an mp3 player or a plain FM radio tops the list.

5> Life is all about shouting when things don't go your way.

Anyway. Enough. It was all a maddening experience.
I thought the madness was over, but yet again I was surprised to be proved wrong, and I was proved wrong while editing.

Enough. I should be talking about something else.
I thought my headphones are not working. I was sulking all along, and then, one fine day, I discovered that I had unmindfully turned the volume control knob and thus leading on to the misconception that they are not working at all.

The point is, now I can listen to music. :D

They just told me there is no word like unmindfully.

Its either mindfully mindful unmindful mindfulnesses mindfulness' or mindfulness.

I have no clue why I am boring you to death.
Maybe I should copy paste stuff from my real diary where I've been writing ever since I discovered this fountain pen in one of the bags containing all the discarded knick-knacks from our ex-households.

so here it goes...

"I should be writing more and sulking less. I suddenly feel strong enough to conquer the world.

I want friends like r.d.a. You know, the assuming types..the kind of person who's gonna decide on showing off his glittering brilliance with JUST an I-Don't-give-a-damn attitude.
Of course he doesn't give a damn, no doubt about that and its far from pretense.

r.d.a wrote six-page letters to d.d.b.I wish someone wrote ME six-page letters. sometimes I wish I could communicate only through hand-written letters.

Since I have nothing else to write about, I am gonna try and write about my college.

My college, is beautiful. It is vast and magnanimous and it deceives me into thinking that at night, there are ghosts who dance on the spiraling front stair-case railing.

During the day, it just looks at the hordes of students like a retired Government officer, who used to control things, at some point, but now, is just too tired to do anything beyond staring nonchalantly [sometimes with a mixed look of despair and concern].

Classic stores, is the hub of a lot of activities. Most people go there to buy cigarettes, roll joints and basically to chill with an air of indifference. I personally like that place because it gives me ample opportunity to look at people seated inside the Cafe Coffee Day.

I just stare at those people and speculate about the difference between Us and Them. I mean here I am, not smoking while with friends who are smoking. Sitting, practically on the road with a bitch seated beside me who sniffs me every now and then with an air of approval and there they are, inside an air conditioned shamiana and sipping cold coffee or whatever from those ridiculous looking glasses...."

The true Hero.

2008-03-22T00:34:00.004+05:30

Its very difficult to write readable stuff at a time when a person has been dreaming about far-off railway stations and has been trying to convince people that her film's protagonist might be a schizophrenic...but thats just besides the point.

Anyway.
My goldfish died today. It was two weeks old. I was thinking about naming it, and well, it died. Right at that moment, while I was holding the dead fish in my hands I realized I need to run away from things. Run far away. Perhaps some place where they have dingy-yet-pompous railway stations.

List of things that make me happy nowadays :

The song "Ye jo zindagi hai" From 1947 Earth.
MTV Roadies.
Milk Powder.
My future prospects.

No seriously, it would have been natural to wince at the very mention of the word "Future"...forget about "prospects" and "education"..but nowadays all these phrases open a new avenue of thoughts. Very refreshing thoughts of me living far far away from the people who surround me now.

How amazing would it be to stay disconnected. Cut off. Invisible. Unnoticeable. How amazing would it be to not be answerable to people, not justify the one thousand and thirty six useless and meaningless things that make it easier for me to exist.

But then I am getting whiny again.

So what would you all want to know about?
My college life? Its gone. Ceased to exist. My friends? they're all there for me. Just that I've been having dangerously desperate thoughts of detaching myself from all my friends. Throughout my childhood/tweenhood/teenhood, I've been craving for that perfect life with good friends all around me. I craved so bad that at age 20 I actually am in a position to boast of the perfect life with three or four good friends.

But now I want to distance myself. Just listen to music and watch TV and read books while traveling by the metro. There is nothing else that I wish to do. Surprisingly, I don't even want to talk. I wince every time my phone starts buzzing. That explains why I haven't been blogging much.

but then there is the future to think about. I have to start reading the newspaper. I have to get through. I have to go far away.

OK. What else should I tell you.
My film.
Ah.
Now I know whats so sweet about making films.
The notion of making things inside your head come real.
Something that was just another blurb of colour inside your brain,suddenly is a recorded entity. Digitized. Ready for you.On the timeline. Waiting for you to fiddle around with it. Cut. copy. Trim. One frame?

Coffee and ginger biscuits

2008-03-04T02:11:00.002+05:30

I was tagged by Ad libber and Poojo.C many moons ago and I had told some people that I was about to post a very long and whiny post about why things go wrong etc.

so this is it.

First the tag.

Write a post,it doesn't have to be very big,about that person-literary character,comic book hero,some guy in a movie,a random person you will never meet - we will start a list that will probably never end.

Hmmm.

Pete Crenshaw.

He was my childhood hero. I was with him. All through out the mystery of the shrinking house to the green ghost, the invisible dog , the silver spider, the stuttering parrot, the screaming clock, the singing serpent , the whispering mummy and what not. He was tall and athletic. A basketball player. He was scared of ghosts, nonetheless. He was not brainy like Jupe or studious like Bob. He was just plain cute. I was in love with him.

Then he grew up and I grew up and came across "Crimebusters". He got a new girlfriend, Kelly Madigan and I surprisingly was not Jealous. I just pretended that I was Kelly Madigan.

Anyway. So Pete Crenshaw was my GHM.

I could have written about people like Chandler Bing or Fokir, but then I have been delving deep into nostalgia for the past few days and ah, those were the days. Life was all about books and TV and school was all about the library period when I was at my happiest best.

I tag all those blog readers who have GHM s :)

Now for the long and whiny post.
Allow me to irritate you.

There is so much to talk about. Like college. It happened. Was happening. And now suddenly, poof! Its all over.

Like people. Like people who take you for granted, because you are mostly a fun person. I mean like Yeah, I can't spell out things without cracking at least one silly joke. Mostly about my body weight. But then what do you do when people try to manipulate things that matter to you by exploiting your very cheerful and carefree nature.

But I am not giving in.
I am not going to make this blog the one-that-serves-as-the-receiving-end-of-dark-and-Gothic-rants. Instead. I am going to do something that I've never done before.

I am going to torture you with my poetry.

I will sing a song.
Not necessarily in Bong.

As you may not know.
I am going to irritate you so.

I wish I had a bigger loo.
Where I'd get amazing ideas too.

Not that my loo is bad.
Its so tiny it makes me mad.

So one day when I have loads of money
I am gonna sit in a bath tub full of honey.

Then I'll sing a song.
But not necessarily in Bong.

Ok. Thats it.
I have ended up torturing myself. So no more.

Btw, wasn't this supposed to be a long and whiny post?

yeah. so I will whine a bit.

I got to straighten my hair [temporarily] because of a super ego clash between two very egoistic ladies. I love ego clashes of this sort. Which are so damn funny. [just wait, I will get to the whining part later. For now, listen to this. A very interesting story].

So lady number one and lady number two were both in charge of the bridal decoration and finery and suchlike associated with the reception party of one of my cousins.

Lady number One is a member of the largely extended family and Lady number Two is this hot-shot celebrity and all that. She is a known and much popular face in the Tollywood industry.

So because people in my family generally go gaga over celebs and all , they decided to go for the idea of taking the Bride over to a beauty parlour of Lady number Two's choice.

Now Lady number...ok know what.. I am just too bored to type the whole story so I will give you a gist.

Lady number One got really pissed about the fact that people were giving more attention to a celeb and in order to calm her down, one very sensible person told her that she can get her own make-up done from that very blessed parlour.

Well, so she denied and asked me to get my hair straightened instead.

How I loved my hair for the past few days.
So straight.
So So So very smooth and silky and surreptitiously shiny.

Herein I will throw in a one-liner whine.

I shampooed my hair today and its back to its wavy form,not straight anymore. So I finally stopped behaving like as if my hair was an untouchable.

Ok. My mother said two very hashhokor things today.
1> [While she was trying to make me see the logic of eating kichhuri with a happy face as that is one of the very few food items that I absolutely hate eating, apart from malpua and pattishapta. OK yes I know majority of the people like these things but you know what, I am not a part of the majority. I eat chalk and cement and earthen cups for God's sake]...Anyway so today, in the afternoon, my mother said something like "You should eat khichhuri, learn to eat khichuri with a happy face because when you go to jail you will have to eat this very stuff and you know what? they're not even going to make it as delicious as me.

2> [Our two-in-one music player is not working and has to be repaired] So my mother said, "Can't you just pretend to be a guy.[my son] and do all the guy stuff,after all your father doesn't stay here". Well just imagine. If I were a guy. I mean just imagine, if I were just the way I am and I were a guy. A guy who spends 98.67% of his time in front of the mirror looking at his hair and blogs about his hair using words like " smooth and silky and surreptitiously shiny".
Heehaw.

Moving on,
its awreddy 1.56 am and I am am NOT sleepy. Although I signed out of Yahoo messenger saying that I am. I've been reading random blogs and its funny how I really want to read blogs from all over the world and I end up reading and thoroughly enjoying blogs that belong to JUDE people.

I wish I was in JUDE. I mean the name itself is so cool. And that has nothing to do with the fact that it reminds me of Jude Law. Also, it has nothing to do with the fact that I've had dangerously ridiculous "what if" random thoughts about all guys from JUDE looking like Jude law.

As I always say, I have too much time and too little to do.

BTW, tomorrow I am gonna attempt studying on the Victoria Memorial grounds. Please Don't ask why. Its a long and arguably uninteresting story.

:-|

2008-03-02T16:20:00.000+05:30

Get Your Monster Name

Tag time.

2008-02-26T02:12:00.002+05:30

So this is a random tag that I picked up from here.

I was about to go to sleep but then the idea of writing a full blown tag post is just so very better than trying to go to sleep in this weather. Its SO hot. why is it SO hot?!
Before I go further, Ad libber and Poojo.C, I know I am supposed to be doing this other GHM tag, and I will do that just after this one, I promise. I will not even wait for this post to get a minimum of 12 comments [like I always do].

So here we go...

It starts with,

Life Ten years ago:
My life revolved around the daily trips to school at six o'clock in the morning inside this wonderful,wonderful Box Rickshaw. I look back and I sigh a deep deep sigh coz , those were the days. I was actually small enough to fit inside those tiny box rickshaws. But then life goes on and people grow fat and then they remain that way but perhaps some of their double chin-ness withers away which gives people the false impression that they've grown thin. Anyhow, Ten years back I was ten years old and I thought I was so going to be a nurse when I grow up. Florence Nightingale types. I hated the fact that I did not have a "best-friend" and that I was friends with the people from another section and I found it extremely difficult to hang out with the people from my own section. And then I was friends with these people called Prachi, Ruchi and Namrata. So we had our awesome group of girls. Namrata-Adrita, Ruchi-Prachi. I loved my friends. They had matching names. I loved being the "blackboard monitor" coz that way, I had this amazing free access to chalks,which I could eat when I was hungry or bored and it also required me to write the H.W and C.W lists on the blackboard which I absolutely adored doing. My fixation with chalks and blackboards persists. On the 8th,9th and 10th of March we have the shooting dates for the much awaited degree film. One of my "crew-members" suggested that we carry chalks during the shoot coz it helps to maintain continuity while shooting. I am looking forward to the film shoot.

Life Five years ago.
I had come down to Calcutta after my I.C.S.E and I was sure that I was going to have a blast living in this city. I was right. Amen.
Calcutta, I associate with happiness and uselessness and the sheer happiness derived out of uselessness.

Life tomorrow.
I have to shampoo my hair. And you know that time of your life when you've just shampooed your hair and its not dry yet? Tomorrow,I will spend that span of time in tense anticipation of whether my hair will be unnecessarily frizzy-dry or amazingly straight n' dry.

Five locations I would love to run away to.
[These are the five places I would love exploring on my own]

1.Bombay.
2.Prinsep ghat.
3.South City Mall. [:-|]
4.Chowringhee. [I still don't know where Chowringhee is, will somebody please tell me where Chowringhee is?!]
5.Maybe Paris or London or New York City for that matter.

Five bad habbits I have.
1. I gossip a lot. Specially at times when I am supposed to be working or studying or whatever.

2. I tend to look down on people who study a lot. You know,the types whose lives revolve around notes and attendance and photocopies and syllabus and exams and suchlike. My life revolves around my blog and how many comments I get per post. Good enough. I was dangerously happy even as I typed the previous sentences.

3. I am elementarily lazy.

4. I keep on obsessing about my looks and weight issues.

5. Sometimes I am just a little too outspoken.

Five things I will never wear. [Or I can't wear,rather]

1. Skirts. Any type. I have knocking knees you see.

2. Eye-shadow. I mean the make-up item,of course. There can be other types of eye shadows na!..I mean the real eye shadow. You know !your REAL eye's shadow. ok. enough said, you get the point?!

3. Skinny jeans or cigarette butt jeans or whatever weird name they might have. coz, uh-huh the name is not enough to make me look skinny enough.

4. A lehenga-choli. I have something against Lehenga cholis. You know, they are like my very own nameless faceless enemies and I know not why so.

5. False eyelashes.

Five biggest joys at this moment.

1. For the first time EVER, one of my blog posts got 31 comments! YAY. It was like a dream come true.

2. I am making a film in which two of my online friends are acting. :D

3. My hair has grown really really long.

4. I have contact lenses and I don't have to wear my glasses anymore.

5. My nose is pierced and I am looking more like my mother nowadays.

Something to achieve by next year.
Confidence. Lots of it.

Something that impacted me last year.
My online social life.

What will I miss about 2007.
The feeling of being 19 years old.

Five things I want to do before I die.
I don't know. I am myopic.

I tag Nunkuda, RR, Poojo.C, Adlibber, Onnesha,The Girl with a zillion namesakes, Mishtizaa,The none,Noisy Autist,Amazing greys,Whats in a name, Arsenik and Electronic goose.

Dear Blog,

2008-02-24T22:12:00.001+05:30

Happy birthday!

Fragmented update

2008-02-06T10:15:00.000+05:30

Something must be wrong with me.
I don't feel like replying to my scraps. I mean I want to, but am just too lazy to make that effort of hitting the "reply" button and typing out my boktobbo.

I got my nails colored today. Bright and shocking pink.

Now that college is coming to an end. I really really want to walk to Delights and order a grilled sandwich while bunking some sociology pass class. I want to sit in the Green benches and watch the people floating around. Maybe admire a bike or two. I want to walk the whole stretch starting from the computer science center via the numerous auditorium steps , the reception, the commerce office area , the bank , the field and go to the canteen.

Just like that. You know.

The winter is over.
Its so hot already.
Howcome people aren't really feeling the hotness as much as I am? I mean people in Calcutta are still going about flaunting their monkey caps and wind cheaters. Why can't they just come to terms with the fact that winter is gone and just move on with their lives. Their lives sans the winter-wear that is.

So I was in class that day, and the H.O.D was REALLY confused about how to set up the schedule for the extra classes and such like. So all he did was to gather up all his documents and shout "I will never come back to teach you people again". That is because people weren't paying him much attention. People were
a> talking about very interesting things like how to wax hairy arms in a jiffy, talking about future plans and suchlike [thats the in-thing,btw, to talk about which institute to go to after graduation]
b> Reading the newspaper.
c> trying to un-twitch their twitched eyebrows, coz , seriously, Our H.O.D has this magnanimous effect on people.
d> sulking about the fact that life is so inglorious.

You don't have to guess what I was doing.
Coz you won't be able to.
I was trying to hold my pee in.

Yes right. I was trying to hold it in, because I don't like the idea of going up to the professor [any professor] and asking to be excused. Like duh, everyone will come to know that I am going to the loo!Thats a shame. Really. Like when I'll be peeing, there will be people who know that I am actually peeing. sheesh. That just plain scares me and makes me insecure.But then most of the people don't really excuse themselves to go to the loo to pee,necessarily. Almost everyone knows that half of the people go to the loo, to talk on the phone. you know, if there is an important call and all, the very second someone's phone starts vibrating , they rush to the professor, get excused, go to the loo , close the door carefully and just talk in hushed whispers.

But all my friends know THAT NO ONE EVER CALLS ME.I hardly receive any calls. [sob]

ok. Digression complete. Back to my story.

So once the professor stormed out of class, we three people[being the nice and goody-two-shoes type of students] ran after him, to the staff room.
To say sorry and just talk about the exams and syllabus and suchlike [though my idea was to go up to him, give him a pat on his shoulder and say. "I know, shit happens"]

BUT, he was not there in the staff room.

So If I were a film editor, I'd have shortened the duration of the shots and increased the number of shots, right at this point, in the story, just to heighten the drama and suspense. But since I've already taken the pains to type out the previous sentence, I hope you get the point about me trying to heighten the drama.

Anyway,

so HOD not in the staff room. All of us surprised.All of a us a wee bit tense[where did he go in such a short time?!]. All of us highly anticipated[adrenalin rushing et all].Me frantically practicing the "shit happens" dialogue" momentarily having forgotten that nature was calling in on me a few minutes ago.The other teacher in the staff room gives us her dose of snide remarks which are a direct result of the fact that once upon a time she used to be this political journalist working for a Bengali News channel[wow] but then she got kicked out and now she is stuck in some overhyped department and she is bored, she is old, she looks like a man and she is frustrated and GODDAMMIT they dint even make her the HOD.

Me, in the mean time was already super excited about the HOD gone missing and was cooking up stories about "HOW the HOD turned into this dust particle"..... when suddenly the loo door opened and he walked out of the loo and started washing his hands.

So bottomline?

He and me both had had the urge to pee.

I am sorry. I just use and exploit this blog to vent out my angst. My readers have to bear with me.

I am,

2008-01-27T01:41:00.000+05:30

rediscovering my love for orkut.

"sad to c ppl arnd changin'. That was the profile name of some mildly devastated soul. Frankly, I never really think a lot about change. In fact, I don't think at all. I mean since this afternoon, I just about had this thorough debate with myself about whether I think the right things or not. I came up with astonishing facts about myself. These rainy afternoons, they just get to you. They just do.

In the evening, I had a glass of lemonade with a besan ka laddoo. Not because I was hungry, but because after staring at the lemonade bottle inside the fridge, [which seemed a bit out of place and largely annoyed] I thought I should do something weird. Like have lemonade and laddoo so that I could blog about it later in the night.

Now in future, IF ever I go for the auditions of MTV Roadies, I will have something to say when they ask me why I think I am weird. In fact, I don't think I am weird. In fact, I don't think at all. So Latin-logically speaking, I don't exist. More importantly, I am not.

Did you notice how the previous sentence was so very contradictory to the post title?

Anyway, lets talk about other random things.

I really like my mother.
Today, in the morning, I was checking out random blogs and blog pictures, and I came across this picture of a girl and her friends painting a wall. It was an awesome snap, very colourful and all that. So why I like my mother is because she saw the pic and found it equally fantastic, to the extent that she promised to buy me some paint and asked me to paint one side of my room.You know, wall graffiti types. How cool is that!
Now I can proudly proclaim that I have a mother who gets inspired by blogs. Makes me real proud indeed.She said I can have whatever "junglee" design I want. I am sure, after I am done with the painting, even if it turns out to be professionally horrendous, she's gonna say that she is happy that I have inherited her "artistic" traits. hmmmph.

Its funny how I dint know what "hmmmph" meant till a short time ago. RR, [very kindly] enlightened me. But then before enlightening me, he did derive extreme pleasure out of confusing and baffling me by saying "hmmph!" every time I asked him the "full form of hmmph".

I have a tough life.
After all the pains I take to pierce my nose, 90% of the people have been telling me that my nosepin is not visible because of my large nose.Now positively thinking, even if I myself, as an independent entity am not dominating and overshadowing by nature, at least my nose is.

I've also been a victim of amazingly pathetic and henceforth confusing behavior patterns which , come to think of it, might just be a figment of my imagination, given that I am mostly a harmless person, but more jobless than harmless,really. And what could be a better living-laughing proof of that than my dear blog.

So, when I find some body carefully avoiding me, I start avoiding that person myself. I am not that much of a trend setter you see. But when the situation gets out of control and more irritating than necessary, I ask that person why I've been avoided. After that happens, I get an answer which is like a wannabe puzzle.
Something on the lines of:

"I've been avoiding you, coz you've been avoiding me".
And then the useless good-for-nothing lump of mass that is biologically called a brain and thankfully is mine gets confused and I say something like..

"wait a minute, hey thats exactly what I have been doing. Avoiding you, coz I thought you were avoiding me!?!?!"

And then I get another answer which has more philosophical after effects and is not that much of a puzzle.
"I am not sure, coz I've lost all sense of time anyway".

And then I plunge into this shiny and wonderful make-believe world where I've lost all sense of time and I am paid to "think and talk". How wonderful.

But then I am snapped back to reality because of my recently acquired staunch believe that "I don't think at all". So bottomline: I will be partly good-for-nothing even in a shiny and wonderful make-believe world.

Oh, and I also think that my life, lately has become all very dramatic and its like almost as if I am starring in an American Teen Drama TV show, or something.

Like I was wearing a saree on the Valedictory Day, [which was torn while hopping skipping and jumping], and I was wearing heels and was running all around the visibly deserted college grounds looking for a college friend who was rumored to be in great danger and was not reachable on his cell phone.

They other day, I burst out crying in front of everyone and everyone did not laugh at me for being such a baby , but instead held my hands and comforted me. And then I realized that I could pretend that I am indeed a Teen Drama series star, but then my lavish plans could not be carried out coz I'd have to look and sound really stupid if I blurted out my teen drama fixation.

like:
"Ads, please, don't feel bad.Stop crying. Its alright. We're with you."

Me: hey KNOW WHAT?I feel like a TV star!to be more precise, Like an American Teen drama Series star!"

I mean , its not like as if I am not sounding stupid right now, what with all those colourful hyperlinks and all, but then its ok to sound and look stupid in a blogpost.

Anyhow, that'll have to be the end of this post.

So long and thanks for the fish.

Tiny.

2008-01-21T00:14:00.000+05:30

He sneaked in through the window.
While she sat, biting her nails, batting eye-lashes and dancing and grinning from time to time, he lay right in front of her.
She was, of course, oblivious. She had grand plans for the night. She wanted to make that special cup of coffee and listen to that very special sound track. She had plans of dreaming the funny dreams. Eyes wide open.She also wanted to talk. Think aloud, perhaps. She was just too full of herself.

He wanted to be noticed. He had a life, after all. With life comes hope. He wanted to be with her. Maybe even talk to her.

Alas, the night faded away. She'd fallen asleep in front of the blinking screen.He was swept away in the morning.

He was, after all, a tiny dust particle.

Absolutely, unbelievably awesome.

2008-01-12T12:58:00.000+05:30


	Adrita Pills: Will cause you to practice your make out skills
	'What effect do you have on people?' at QuizGalaxy.com

That pretty much makes my day.At least I am not entirely useless.

Lately, I've realized, I am more happy when I am busy. Like college drags the life out of me sometimes , but its fun to come home after a long day spent pretending to learn stuff that is obviously not going to be a part of my future profession. Radio Mirchi has sold its soul to the amazingly pathetic dard-e-disco song."Amazingly-pathetic" was somebody's email ID. I don't remember who, but that person was in my teacher's mailing list. Amazingly pathetic is a pleasant phrase.

It is a matter of utmost abnormality, if a person, at age 20, wakes up in the morning to think and ponder and wait for a TV show that is to be aired in the evening. When the show gets over, the person gets really bored.The name of the show being "Gossip Girl". No seriously, I love that show.

I love Linkin Park too.I love milk powder too. Before I start turning this into this amazingly pathetic [yes,I will say that again and again] blissfully boring "I-love" nonsensical post, I'd like to tell you that actually, I have nothing to tell you.

At least I am honest.I am updating my blog because I am bored.
FYI, I am getting my nose pierced next month. Thank you. Then I will successfully start looking like a wannabe. The idea thrills me.
What also thrills me, is the idea of packing my bags and going off to Bombay, after my college gets over.I think I'll like Bombay. Your opinion about Bombay will be amazingly welcome in the comments section. :)

I like my editing teacher.He treats us students with potato chips and Frooti and the occasional cups of coffee, the ones working way after normal college hours for the Valedictory . You should know some technical details before I go further with the story.

Every year, our college has a Valedictory function. The students who are passing out are thoroughly serenaded. Also, a ten-minute film is projected. That film being called the "Valedictory Film" for the amazingly pathetic reason that is the lack of originality.Anyway, so the MCVV students are supposed to edit this wonderful film that is to contain wonderful footage from all the wonderful events [footage that has been painfully recorded by us students by something that I'd like to call an old and manically depressed video camera] that took place in our wonderful college, in the wonderful year that is now bygone. Wonderful being the overused word, the editing job ain't at all that rosy. Because,

1> I don't know editing.
2> I don't like physical labor in the form of running up and down eight flights of stairs and gathering amazingly pathetically useless information about who did what and where did who originally plan on doing who else.
3> I am generally a very lazy person.
4> I don't like doing stuff that will not be appreciated.
5> I am the eternal compliment fisherwoman. So technically,if I can't work on the editing software, I am most probably not likely to get any compliments for the editing job.

Having said all that ,I also wanted to pretend to look busy with the Valedictory thingie and skip classes and be in the good books of the editing teacher et cetera. Therefore, I thought about giving the Voice-over for the film. Now that automatically makes me a very intelligent person in my own eyes because,

1>I get to listen to my voice again and again.Considering the fact that I always had eloquent dreams of acquiring an alter ego and chatting up with her, the recorded sound does sound unusually human and hence I am one step closer to making my eloquent dreams come true.

2> I get top-class VIP treatment.Like people set up the equipment before the recording starts and I sit in a chair like a big fat hen, and the people ask me whether I am comfortable enough and when will I be ready to record etc.It makes me feel very much like a songstress.What with the microphone and all.

3> I get to pretend to be busy with the film, while doing absolutely nothing at all, except staring at the computer screen and cooking up wild stories like "When the cursor fell in love with the timeline".

4>I get to do cranky stuff like recording random conversations with crankier people and deleting them immediately because we'd just been discussing the master plan of throwing our H.O.D outta the college.

5> I actually get to sing and record that, [for timepass, of course] and then people tell me that I should start singing for a profession.

Yeah like that was one of the highest points of my college life. When Naan told me the following:

"I wouldn't ask you to take a up a profession where you wont be able to make money, and I am asking you to take up singing"

If I were online and if it had been someone else, I'd have used the straight face. Since I was not online, and it was Naan, I barely blushed and made a mental note of blogging about the moment.

Anyhow, So where was I?

see this always happens. I start off with something. Then start giving technical details. Then I forget what I started off with in the first place and then I have to scroll up and re read what I'd written.and Then I get too tired and take pity on the blog readers and think about how long the post has already become and ultimately, I throw away the idea of giving out my original story [which in this case, was about my editing teacher who gives us Frooti,potato chips and coffee treats for staying back at college till 8.30 at night] right outta the window, which is closed, and it is hot.

And I thought I'd nothing to tell you.
Amazingly pathetic.
Poof.

Oh, lastly, don't get freaked out and all but I had this gala dream where all the bloggers I know were present. I think it'd have to be a blog meet or something.Just that the location was some under-construction factory site.And Ad Libber deserves special mention as she was the only person to pay me minimal amount of attention, the rest were just ignoring me. :'(

Its high time

2008-01-10T20:43:00.000+05:30

People of the world, stop taking me for granted.

What happens,

2008-01-05T01:21:00.000+05:30

When one fine day, you wake up in the morning, and this thought hits you like a blood-thirsty mosquito, or like a vengeful Rickshaw driving through the Jadavpur to Ranikuthi route.

"OMG, I have to make a film".

Pretty weird, I know.
It feels awesome when your concept gets chosen.
It starts feeling less awesome when one fine day, you wake up in the morning, and this thought hits you like a blood-thirsty mosquito or like a vengeful Rickshaw driving through the Jadavpur to Ranikuthi route. , "OMG, I have to make a film".

Well, apart from writing the ..err..trying to write the screenplay , shot division et all, I m spending pretty much a lot more time musing on HOW very easy and uncomplicated life would have been, had I been made to write a short story or better still a random blog post.

Anyway.
My teacher called me by some other name today. Totally trivial and "brush-away" and "laugh it off" worthy types incident, but somehow, it made me real sad.You know, those times when you think your life is after all, a bed of roses, and then suddenly you see this huge monster [monsters ARE huge, duh uh, whats wrong wimme?] coming your way, and you try very hard to keep the rose petals on the bed intact, and then the monster just comes and does not harm you or anything but sneezes a very self satisfactory sneeze, and then well [stressing on the hugeness part] the rose petals are blown away anyway.

The only reason why I went forward and actually typed out the previous analogy is that I thought it'd gimme and it DID gimme a REAL hard kick to think of my professor as a monster.That too a huge one.Well monsters are huge anyway.

So college is fun. I get to harness these absolutely fantastic "people skills" that I've got, by behaving properly with friends.There are times when I falter, say the wrong thing or do something "piss-offable", I face the music with appropriate calm and composure.The music ranging from crude offliners that make one look like the cruelest person alive and cruder rudeness when one tries to make peace.

Here I must and I must must must quote a detached piece from a phone conversation I recently had. The guy asked me not to take his name, so just for the fun of it, the kind of fun that a person wants to have at 1.11 am in the morning, I am gonna call him Voldemort.

Voldemort: .......I mean look at me, inspite of being told again and again that I am making the worst type of career move possible, instead of being told that I am ruining my life , I am gonna go forward and stick to my decision.

Me: Dude, you've been told that travel journalism is a bad career move?..you surely hang out with the wrong kind of people.

Voldemort: Its my parents we're talking about.

So today, I realized that I can't [even] set a camera on a tripod properly.Please read the second line of this post.The one inside quotes.

"Not a very taggish affair"

2007-12-29T21:09:00.000+05:30

but what the heck.As RR would say, frig frig frig!!!. :D

List of the things you want to do in life before you kick the bucket

[kick the bucket and pick the potol, heh heh heh].

1> Ask Paris Hilton a very personal question. Doesn't Tinkerbell look like the dirtiest animal ever?
2> Eat something like this. All by myself.
3> Learn how to swim.
4> Put my swimming skills to good use. [you know, "Baywatch" style]
5> Buy a very,very VERY, VERY big car.With my own hard-earned money.
6> Bungee-jump.
7> Make out with Jude Law.
8> Buy one of those huge doll houses.
9> Have an all white wedding, with some guy, in some church, somewhere in some village in Italy.The church should be majorly white in colour.The window sills should be red and the cake should be white with blood red candles init.
10> Knit a sweater. All by myself.
11> lose weight.

Sigh, I realized how all my plans are so very short term. I mean I had to rack my brains so very hard to come up with eleven odd points about what all to do before dying.
ask me what all I have to do today, I will hand you a list.

Finish off the remaining biscuits, persuade my mother against spraying the smelly insecticide, act dumb and hence irritate whoever is online, make a huge effort to not think about how my film is going to turn out to be the stupidest film EVER, listen to all the songs stored in the comp lest the sound system goes awry tomorrow, try and make my microphone work for the zillionth time, read all the random blogs I have bookmarked. Watch "Gossip Girl", eat that piece of half stale sweetmeat thats preparing to commit suicide inside the fridge.Think about polishing my toenails, play online word games, dream about what's gonna happen at the new year's picnic and new year eve's sleepover party irrespectively.

Ok, its 9.05 PM and those are my plans for the next one hour.

So, well,I promise I will come up with better points for the "kick your bucket" thingie just one hour before I die completely.

I guess.

So long, and thanks for the fish.

I tag The Deeva, and whoever else who is excruciatingly bored.

An ode,

2007-12-21T19:35:00.000+05:30

to my online social life.

I joined orkut because of reasons which are not at all on the lines of friends thrusting forward peer pressure in the form of emails which scream to make us join whatever social networking site the mail might be screaming for.

Many many multicolored moons ago, someone created my friend's fake orkut profile, with her real phone number splashed across and her semi-real mostly photoshopped snap where the photoshopper had made her wear a swimsuit.

I joined orkut because I just had to do justice to the voices inside my head which kept on telling me what I should do.

So, much brouhaha aside, me and my friend joined orkut to check out how she was looking in the afore-mentioned photoshopped snap. Such thoughtful friends,we are. Sometimes I think I should be opening up an anti-depressant clinic or something. To help people with their hardships,of course.

When I joined, there were a total of two people in my friendlist and orkut was something like a machine which specialized in instigating boredom and inflating the already existent boredom.I thought of Orkut as a device which could, on-your-face, tell you accurately, exactly how much you lack in life.

Can we have a jump cut?

There you go. Thats the present situation. Well technically thats not the present situation. Thats the situation in KFC on Tuesday, at 3.48 PM approximately.

Anyway, jumping back to where we jumped away from.

From satisfactorily silly emoting-through-emoticon contests to earth-shattering late night scrapbook effing sessions.I've seen it all on orkut.

I joined GMBC
at a time when I did not know what an orkut community is all about. Good that I did not know, because its everything but just another orkut community.

Lets just keep aside the "friendships formed" and all that jazz.
Think awe.
Total gawky-eyed admiration.
Total total gawky-eyed admiration that would be likely to be on your face once you come across some hidden treasure buried deep inside your garden's friendly mango tree.THAT is what I felt, the first time I delved deep into GMBC.

Before this post turns into something that will like totally whack me out strong enough to make me forget what I set out to do in the first place, lets just talk about the people in the pic posted above.
Thought pattern of the people in the picture:

Person in the extreme right~
*Exactly how wide a grin should I put up, so as that my double chin is not prominent? this much, this much, or this much?..I think this much is fine.*

Person in the middle~
*exactly what facial contortion should I try putting up, so as the total unibrowness that is the unique selling proposition of my face is brought forth prominently and beautifully?...err..wait, the pic's already been taken.Damn*

Person in the extreme left~

*......................................................................................................*

I am too scared to even think about what hes thinking,forget putting it up in my blog.

On second thoughts, reading betwixt the dots, :

* I have to look as sarcastic as possible in this pic.More sarcastic than sarcasm itself. Uniball should remember the offline me because of the expression of my face and not because I couldn't open a bleddy ketchup pack, hmmm the sarcasm on my face should be the torch bearer of my offline avtaar..oh shit, I forgot, I have to click the pic*

anyway, so that was our meet which was actually a wannabe GMBC meet, but then it got confused because the meet was necessarily all about educating the Unibrow guy ,who'd unjoined the community a few days back after he got bashed left middle and right , about how GMBC is so bloody great that people actually gossip about the threads and the posters and the non-existent members and the bygone members and the regular members and the once-famous-now-anonymous members and the history of how the owner came into being and the silent lurkers and the noobs and the well..umm...ok.. err...Sigh...I think it was a GMBC meet after all.

Anyhow, by now, I think all my non-GMBC blog readers are either

a] So bored that they're thinking about sticking a toothpick inside their mouth so that it does not close and hence it becomes easier for them to yawn.

b] Are so utterly confused that they're thinking of spamming the comment section.

c] eagerly waiting to read option c] after reading option b].

So, well, my apologies, but if you are feeling like REALLY out of place, heres some trivia:

Had it not been for GMBC, this blog wouldn't have been the way it is.

It would have had only and only jilted-lover-hence-heart-broken-thus-thoroughly-frustrated types poetry and all.

:D

Eighty two.

2007-12-15T22:02:00.000+05:30

Another very random, extremely useless and totally unnecessary blog update. Nothing has changed since my last post. My life is all very perfect except for the problem that is and is slated to be and is totally destined to be, the excess flab on my tummy. No seriously, post the attainment of my contact lenses, I am like so totally wallowed up in self admiration. You just have to see me seeing myself in the mirror.THEN, you'll understand.

Okay, so I've unjoined the Gym. :-|

I can't wake up in the morning and walk to the gym and then look at all the instruments and then keep thinking about exactly how much of my parents' money I am wasting, coz clearly, I am not at all worried about me having excess fat on my thighs or arms, or wherever, I just need the abdomen cruncher.Then the gym instructor wouldn't let me ignore all the other machines and just work on the cruncher and then....you know what? I am gonna spare you the details. I unjoined. Period. Poof.

I am planning for a liposuction very pretty soon. Like after fifteen years or something.Till then, I am gonna avoid looking at my myself in the mirror, and just dream about the fantastic good-looker that I will turn into, post the liposuction, of course.

Shit, what is with me? What am I talking about?

The fat on my tummy.
Yeah, so I was watching some flick starring Hillary Duff, and my mother just had to shatter my two-hour long daydream based on how I would look If I had a flat abdomen and a spectacular wardrobe like Hillary's , by saying something terribly sad.Something on the lines of how-good-I-would-have-looked-had-I-been-thin-specially-so-because-
I-am-taller-than-the-average-bengali-girl.

So I scared her off with my liposuction plans.

Tomorrow is the very important national level entrance test date.
I am not bothered.I mean I am gonna go and sit for the exam, but thats about it. Nowadays I've really been thinking about how I go on wasting my parents' money.Anyhow this is the last time.I am gonna be a very responsible person hereafter.

So let me tell you about my reading-room experience.

The reading room is that place in college where people from our department often go, when

a] They are avoiding someone.{coz, you know thats one place where people will never look for you..}

b] They are feeling very hot. {the room is air conditioned}

c] They want to sit and observe people in general and also prepare for an upcoming life-altering presentation, by reading two very different books simultaneously, i.e, one para from bookA and then one para from bookB. {I am afraid, this last option might apply just for me}

So, the reading room incharge was behaving wild that day. I entered the room with a guy, who I know for only three days and with who, for fairly unsolicited reasons, I feel uncomfortable.

Exactly why I ended up with him in the reading room is a vastly fulfilling story in itself. Some other time.

So the incharge plain started shouting at us just as we were trying to look for a seat.He implied something like, students [couples] always sit at the back and coochie-coo and how HE as the INCHARGE will NOT let something like that happen, that too EARLY in the morning.

So after having been shouted at, we sat down. I planned on carrying out my plans of the aforementioned preparation for the presentation agenda, BUT the incharge kept on shouting at other people and threatened to take all of us to the principal's office if even one of us uttered even a single word.Now these are the kind of people who intimidate me severely by reminding me of my P.T teacher in school, which I tell you, is NOT a pretty memory.

So, after a fairly short time, "pin-drop silence" reigned supremely glorious in the reading room and I am sure the incharge felt supremely self-important and fulfilled after an early morning success story. Only, all this was shattered by me.

Thing is, just as the bell rang, the hyper-excited person with extremely uncontrolled nerves that I am, I jumped up and the thick wooden chair that I was sitting on, got affected by falling down. The chair fell and shattered the hard earned silence, plus each and every one in the reading room including the incharge was looking at me like as if I were some alien.[Not that its a bad thing,though,being an alien] So shivering with nervousness, I pulled up the chair and mumbled a fairly incoherent "sorry sir". At that, the incharge gestured with his fingers and called me, I went to him goody-two-shoes. The following conversation took place:

Incharge: Why are you so excited?

Me: I am not excited Sir, I am nervous.

Incharge: Ok, why? You have an exam?

Me: {hah!} A presentation, Sir.

Incharge: ok, just be cool! you know what I mean? just be COOL.

It was then that I realized, that 94.5687 % of my problems persist because I am always so jumpy.

To think of it, the presentation got canceled.

I went to the zoo today.

2007-12-10T20:31:00.000+05:30

So, since I am not an eight year old, I was pretty much bored. My friends enjoyed a lot. Since, I do not own a digicam, handy-cam, camera cell phone, and I do not have the urge/compulsion/slightest enthusiasm for making short video films titled "The last possible reason why the lion roared", or "Why have the monkeys stopped consuming the nuts thrown at them" or "Look, the hippo actually wagged its tail after 3 hours 26 minutes 45 seconds and 12 frames of standing still", I was generally just looking at the animals and trying to figure out what they were thinking.
so this is what I came up with.

Animal #1, [thinking aloud] :-

Oh my God, look at that girls' skirt!!!!. Is this a fashion show or is this a zoo? These human females I tell you.For once, the animals should grab some eye-balls. I mean its a zoo for God's sake!

Animal # 2, [conversing with animal #4565 in what we call a telepathic mode of communication]

Hey, whats up with the crowd outside your cage man? What? They're taking your snaps? Did they feed you?.. Ah, shucks, these humans always have such pathetic aim, I tell you, the nuts always fall into the gutter. I mean yeah, they Don't even care.Like they could eat the nuts themselves. Why throw if you know you have bad aim. Yeah, thats their problem. They know but they won't admit.Ever.

Animal # 3, [engaged in a deeply philosophical monologue].

*yawn*. These college kids have actually bunked classes to come see us in the Zoo?? I mean it was okayish with kids and their over-enthusiastic parents and PDA wannabes. But actual college students? Whatever happened to the discotheques and bowling alleys and the plain simple college canteen for that matter.

And it was here that I realized that I should stop pretending to be an animal and own up to these thoughts being my own bored musings.The irony being, it was I who had uttered the word "Zoo" when the people around me were frantically discussing where to go after bunking classes.I mean why do people always have to take me seriously when clearly, I am joking.[and vice-versa too, but thats besides the point, coz thats not the question in hand].

So I saw a lot of tigers and lions and suchlike. I discovered that an obscure cobweb is likely to entertain me more than some random capped-comedian.I also figured out that I can get pretty bored under situations when there are like a total of six people around me clicking pictures like mad-hatters and worse still, clicking pictures of exotic goats and red-backed monkeys.I also discovered that I can like totally bring about my own doom.

so people wish me luck, coz from what I can see, a concept of mine is on the verge of getting chosen, for a class project. It, [my concept script] is most obviously waiting in what we all like referring to as "the waiting list". It will make it to the final list only and only if my presentation is impressive enough. For the presentation, my dear friends is all about me concocting a whole ten-minute movie script by tonight.So wish me luck, coz if my script is among the chosen seven out of thirty-five odd concepts, I shall probably be dancing the Tooooblee-to-do-todooo dance and shall in the meanwhile also be considering that the whole theory of "why a certain me is like,not a total loser" still stands a chance.

Also, I would really like it, if I grew up to write a book like this.

Tagged.!?

2007-12-08T15:21:00.000+05:30

So I have been tagged by Nunkuda and The None.
The following, I am sure will not make much sense, I am sure, apart from the fact that my horrendous choice of music[thats what people from all walks of life keep telling me] shall be revealed.
Rules:
1. Put your MP3 player/Media player on shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what.

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY?
Dangerous Game. [3 doors down]

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
The Dream of the dolphin. [Enigma].

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
In America. [Creed]
Now this, my dears is not true.

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Love hate tragedy. [Papa Roach]

Err..I can't explain how I am feeling .Seriously, there are too many things inside my head.>

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
You never know. [Dave Matthews Band].

I am kinda liking this game..err tag. :D

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
To the Moon and Back.[Savage Garden]
<:-?>

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Dumb.[Nirvana]
Now this is getting more and more interesting.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Home.[12 Stones]

Hmm. Yes..thats right.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Banana Pancakes.[Jack Johnson]

Food. It is. :D

WHAT IS 2+2?
Road Trippin'. [Red Hot Chilli Peppers]

Ok, no offence, but this question kind of reminds me of maths.

DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Comfortable. [John Mayor]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
GMD.[Bodhi Tree]

<:D:D>

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Flying in a blue dream.[Eric Johnson,Joe Satriani]

Now THIS makes a lot of sense.See! I am always wrong.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Singular Indestructible Droid.[Papa Roach]

What IS a singular indestructible droid???!!!

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Cracklin' Rosie. [Neil Diamond]

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Crawling. [Linkin Park]

I KNOW. They will never come to terms with the fact that I am actually a fully grown woman.

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Punjab. [Karunesh]

Yea, ok!

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Mera Bichhra Yaar. [Strings]

hmmmmmm.

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Don't look back in anger, [Oasis]

so I am not wrong after all. This is not making much sense.

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?

You're beautiful.[James Blunt]

:-|

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Panchhi. [Jal]

High flying,All of them.

WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
Ye Jo Zindagi hai. [1947, Earth]

wokay!..end of Tag.

I Tag, Angry Voices, Mishtiza, Dyaus and the Deevah.

I ran away.

2007-11-30T23:18:00.000+05:30

Literally, I bloody was running on the road. Running away from that cold, expressionless face.I am highly ashamed of this blog post. What I try and do is keep away all the real ranting and cribbing. If I am in a glum mood, I'd rather not come online. Tonight its different. I really need an outlet.
Just because I write about happily idiotic things doesn't mean I have an easy life. Just because I've a heading "Life blogger" doesn't mean the posts are what my life is all about.

In fact why am I even justifying what I write and what happens in my real life!

anyway, a blog is a blog is a blog. Gotta update it once in a while. Gotta fill up the space with some useless banter, try to be a little funny here and there and just wait for the comments to go up to 12 or something.Seriously, I thank all those who are kind enough to read the non-sense.

*lets out a deep sigh*

I specially thank Nunkuda, who I remember was the only reader I had back when I started this blog.

*wipes a tear*
Back then, I used to get only two comments per post. One would be Nunkuda, another would be me , answering him.

*blows her nose*

I have a bad cold.

anyhow, I just pray to Dear god, let not such a time come yet again, when I get only two comments per post.May I get at least 12 comments per post.

So back to what happened.
I ran away at the sight of a girl.
I am really scared of her.
She glares like as if she's going to eat you up.
One fine day, I stopped talking to her.
Not because I am scared of her though.
I don't like expressionless people.
She had nice eyes though.
I was informed that she was called up by a guy, who told her on the phone, something that goes "I like you, I want to go around with you, what I REALLY want, is to sleep with you".
I stopped talking to that guy a long time back.
There are a total of two people who I've stopped talking to.
There is one girl who stopped talking to me.
That was because I wrote stuff about her in my blog.
I am really sorry.
She has started talking to me again.
This blog is very dear to me,Honest.
Please comment after reading, thank you.

So here is the point where I will copy paste a yahoo chat.Parts of it.
Its between me and a 4.am online friend.

4.am online friend: any new stuff you got?

me: stuff=what?

4.am online friend: songs etc?

me: not really, couldn't listen to music only

me: sound card had gone awry

4.am online friend: why not?

4.am online friend: whooooa

4.am online friend: you HAVE a sound card?

me: errr..I am sorry, extremely sorry for this asshole-ish statement..I dont really know whether i have a sound card. I mean I don't know what a sound card is for that matter.Just that I had some problem in listening to music and someone [online] told me that probably my sound card has gone awry..I really dont know what is the ral situation.

me: real*

4.am online friend : ok

4.am online friend: I can understand your frustration.

so thats that.
another thing I wanted to post.

The train of thought inside my head, while I am traveling by the metro.

Damn this compartment is stuffed. Nice perfume fumes though.Did I spray the deo today?.Thank god I did.Do I have a notebook, thank God I do. Ooooooh, I have extra pens today. I will not give them over to people who do not have anything to write with, in class. they always jhapofy the nice ones.

Shit, I am late for class.What Do I tell the professor?the train was late.Wait, would he know?or should I tell him that I was traveling by bus and there was a traffi.... O MY God, that guy is cute.
Is my hair ok? aah, ok. Nice guy. Office going.I mean an office-going cute guy.Damn, he must be committed.Gay.both.ok, why am I thinking like this?.am I really that frustrated? No I am not. So no thinking about the cute guy. Though theres no reason why I should stop staring.Exactly why do I have this book open in my lap? Ok, when I opened it, I did NOT know there'll be a cute guy. Office going cute guy. Nowadays, all the cute guys in the metro happen to be my juniors in college. Damn I am in third year. Damn I am late for class. I should stop mulling over the late for class thingy. I mean there's nothing to do right. I am inside a metro for God's sake.and I am not driving the train. Plus its only human to be late. Awright, I am late, I am not a driver.I am human. I am staring at a cute guy. His cell phone is not that flashy though. I like it. Oh, God. One more station to go. Then a long long walk. Me staring at a cute guy. OH MY! cute guy staring back at me. Is my hair ok? Tall aunty staring at me. Tall aunty staring at the cute guy. Tall aunty staring at me staring at the cute guy. Tall aunty will also get down in this station.Cute guy will also get down in this station Quick! stand up, do NOT let tall aunty stand beside Cute guy. Ok, now I am standing beside Cute guy. Cute guy standing beside me. So happy I am. Happiness is short lived. The station is here. The cute guy will get down, go away, for ever and ever. The train has stopped. Damn, I have to get down before the cute guydoes. That means I can't follow him. What is WITH the rush. oh, God I can't see the cute guy anymore. sniff.

SHIT, I am late for class.

2007-11-26T21:19:00.000+05:30

What fun.
Its like getting ice-cream with hot chocolate sauce when you were expecting something like a dry cream cracker.

One of my friends was jumping and hopping around with joy. A friend with a million dollar, cherubic, one-dimpled smile.Another one was spotting parrots inside dilapidated Greek architecture. One was clicking away to glory. The pretty one was sitting pretty.The one sitting next realized a butter-fly was so much better off than him.The inextinguishable one was making me laugh. Really.

The Banjo Players Must Die.

2007-11-18T01:12:00.000+05:30

I suddenly have this sensationally nerve racking urge to find out more about a particular Doctor who has a cell-phone number similar to mine. Now this similarity of cell numbers, is acute, I presume. The difference is of a mere one digit, I presume this too.

So because I have a very smooth lifestyle, with minimal work and a gazillion very creative ideas centering around "how to kill time" and that same gazillion multiplied by thirty six equal to whatever number of blog posts dedicated to this very special, smooth and jobless lifestyle, I suddenly have this urge to find out more about this particular Doctor. In the last three years that I have been handling and man handling my one and only cell phone, I have received numerous "wrong number" calls asking for "Daktar shaheb".

Now I want to freakin' know this Doc.
JLT.
emni emni.

Other things include, milk powder.I love consuming milk powder.That too emni emni. JLT.

My results are not coming out. I am sure I am going to flunk in one of the papers. Ok, this is a very different kind of exam related whine ok?I have tried and imagined a lot and henceforth come up with the following:-

The external examiner of my camera practical exams will have given me more marks than I deserve because:

1]Of the sheer innocence that oozes out of each and every pore on the skin of my face.

2] The fact that I have the kind of body language that makes prominent the fact that I have potential, but sadly enough, its coated with layers and layers of sad luck and body fat respectively.

3] Of the shaky resemblance of my face with his wife/daughter/premarital girlfriend/post marital girlfriend etc etc you get the picture?.

I am sure by this time, you're so very disappointed about this being just another run-of-the-mill-exam-whine post that you've actually stopped racking your brains over what in a jalebi-dipped-in-vanilla-ice cream's name could the post title be all about.

anyhow, the title of this post is also the title of this fantabulourgasmicaly bizzare and thus very entertaining ebook that I've been reading for a while now.

I am also becoming increasingly lazy and hesitant even when it comes to clicking and typing.
So what I will do is, give you random useless banter about this , that, a little this about that and a little that about this.Also a little bit of that this, and a little bit more of this that.

The above line just proves how I am very very very much destined to rant and blabber off my gibberish banter all throughout my life.Thing is, will people listen to it?.

There are not many things I dislike. Really, if we happen to play the rapid fire game someday, and you ask me this question.Wait, lets imagination we're playing the rapid fire Q n'A game right now.
So you ask me what I dislike, and I will think a lot, and then probably come up with something like "My gym trainer". Thats very very personal, and the reason for the dislike is brutally obvious. So umm..ok so for the 46734724th time, I digressed, What was I saying?

Yah, there aren't many things that I dislike.
But then there is ONE thing that I dislike SO much , that I actually make an effort to stay far far away from it, in the process I realize that I am giving it a lot of importance by making the effort of staying away, then again, I can't bear the sight of it, but I hate it, at the same time, I can't flick my eyes away from it.

I am talking about MTV "Meet or Delete".

The following paragraph is what I'd written somewhere else about this show. A few days back.

"The new MTV show 'Meet or Delete' is so crappy, it makes me want to bang...err..that..and bang my head against the wall, also.
I mean whats with these "dating" shows...

Actually, the problem is the producers and suchlike clearly target the hip, young, good looking "kewl-dudish" genre of TV watchers, but what about the lazy, fat , procrastinating couch potatoes like me? I am sure there are lots like me out there.

For you, there are the make-over shows! you might say that, but tell me the truth, who are you kidding? Are you not aware that even the makeover shows don't have fat people being made over. I've diligently followed some 7 episodes of "wear their skin" and I did not see one participant who was fat.I mean this is unfair, the fat people should get some coverage. Actually, know what? I am sure 78% of the fat people in this world are not insecure about their obesity, the only people who are aware are the "obsessed- and- possessed- with oneself" type [meeee!] and the ones who are actually thin but want to depress the effing chocolates out of the actually fat people around by continuously whining about how much weight they have put on..or how flabby they are looking in some God forsaken outfit."

But ^ the above things were written because I'd seen this episode where there were two guys trying to "impress" a fairly good looking girl. So I might have felt a wee bit envious of why no body wants to impress me blah blah, and why do the girls always get to choose blah the blah blah.

but TODAY, I saw this episode, which did not frustrate me at all. I was not even one bit envious of the two slutty girls cat fighting over what seemed to me like ummm ..errr...ok, this guy, who had tattoos, and who claimed that he could make "girls crazy " , and umm..and who wanted the girls to "impress" him by doing "wild" things to him ?[!]?[!]

what is wrong with MTV?

And the wild things included dancing ..sorry..item dancing in the middle of the road.

So I officially give up on MTV.

Why am I talking about TV anyway?
Oh, thats because todays episode of that meet or delete show had me real
shaken.

I am sorry if I bored you, I know many people don't watch TV, coz its boring. Umm...but many people also read blogs because they bored.
So are YOU bored?

The good hair day.

2007-11-12T15:04:00.000+05:30

For once, I have actual photographs to prove the post content, the good or bad being relatively relative howsoever.

The questions however, could be,
1] why.
2]what
3]where.

Now if that wasn't enough for you to get accustomed to the total nonsense that is going to be the rest of this post and that which is so very characteristic of this blog, you are hereby forbidden to blame me afterwards. In the comments section or otherwise.

So the place was Princep Ghat.
The day, however did not start from there.

The day started from CCD where the better half of a certain chocolate brownie shone quite bright. There were some other contenders in the bright and shining category. That be the great philosophical experimentation of the great great Dreamy and the greater still MishtiZaa.

Now MishtiZaa and Dreamy are pretty good friends. Inspite of the fact that MishtiZaa has pretty much snatched away THE Dream Guy from your dreamy Dreamy.

But MishtiZaa and Dreamy are a great team. They aspire to share many many more things other than chocolate brownies. Their philosophical banter is often termed as "bhaatt" [refined nonsense] by the noobs, but one fine day, the world will shine the brightest when that very Bhaatt will take them places and make them famous.

So the philosophical experimentation that I was talking about.
This has something to do with birds, cages and earrings.
Have you ever tried releasing birds from inside cages?
Have you ever tried to think of the cage as the bird's mere accessory?
Have you ever thought about the bird being the cage's accessory?
Have you ever thought about the sheer creativity that it takes to flaunt both the bird and the cage as YOUR accessory ?

Well think about it.

anyhow, its time for picture number two.

Some call it two-timing.

I am calling it posing for the camera. [duh.]

So this is one guy who is sure to laugh the loudest if ever you happen to crack a joke.
He is so joke-crackable that he laughs even when he does not get the joke that is being cracked by the joker in the first place.. Enough cracks at the joker. Onto the next snap.

[ trying desperately to come up something that is a tad more interesting than "picture number three"]

*fails miserably*

Picture number three:

Awesome place, awesome fun.
again, I will state the obvious. The Sun is setting. Set set set.
Umm ok., I am very bad at describing photographs which are self-explanatory. What I am good at, on the other hand is the quick confession that I am probably bad at more than half of the things that this world is concocted of. Just for your information/useless knowledge, The "sun is setting , set set set" is somewhat on the lines of this cheesy Hindi song I once heard while traveling in an auto-rickshaw. "Rain is falling, Chham Chham Chham".

*smiles maniacally thinking that she is the funniest ever*.

erhem. The next snap:

The madness underneath.

what sums it all up :

There you go! ! :D, note that one particular shoe in this snap is feet-free.

Ok, snaps courtesy MishtiZaa and Shayon.[who provided the much needed batteries for the camera.]

Personal note [made public] to MishtiZaa:-
I am so sorry I am calling you MishtiZaa. I think its a cool nick, but The profound thinker that I am , I think you will not like being called MishtiZaa.

Anyhow, before I start thinking again, this post is at its end.

Thank you for reading.
tatabye.