Newbies- II

Ok, the first list did not quite work out the way I wanted, blame it on.. oh just forget it. One should always look forward to newer things

So here is part II

Next purchase: Almost French by Sarah Turnbill

New song stuck on my lips: Anyone else but you by Moldy Peaches

New favourite author: Pico Iyer

Next film to watch: This list is quite long actually. Eat, pray, love. The  Social Network. The King's speech. The tourist.

New thing on "to buy when I have a real job list" is a Vacation to Venice

Neon Nights

Disclaimer: Do not try this under any circumstance. It is seriously injurious to your health and modesty!


I hopped out of my auto. It was still few minutes to dark, the vendors were screaming louder to sell all that they had to so they could return home with cheap liquor and some peanuts. I peeped into the little scrap of paper I was clutching in my hand trying to locate the address I scribbled in hurry. Unable to find it, I sought for some local help. The man muttered something to another autowallah and in a few minutes and few blocks away he stopped.


I admit I was woozy after the long flight from Bombay and was quite disoriented and in that state did not bother to enquire where I was being taken, I was just happy to know I was going somewhere. I got down again and as a practice tried to look for some clues below the signboards. I read P-A-H-A-R-G-A-N-J. It sounded familiar at first and without too much thinking I paid the driver and started walking to find a place to stay for the night.


Cheap and affordable was written all over the place but what wasn’t is all that i figured in that one night. I quickly checked into a hotel called Chanchal. I know the name sounds funny but it was the only place which was affordable and I saw many foreigners getting in so I thought it would be clean as well. After the ritual I left to look for some place to eat. It was 9.30 and it looked as if the city had begun to snooze already. I hand cycled my way to Connaught Place and spotted Moti Mahal. I grinned like a glutton and quickly settled for a nice meal of Biryani, Saag and Raita.


By 11 p.m. I retreated but Delhi being Delhi I couldn’t find a ride to the hotel for a long time. Having nothing to do, I thought of walking down as it wouldn’t be more than a 20 minute walk. I reached Paharganj and it looked as an entirely different place. In two hours it turned into something I wouldn’t have chosen to stay in. There were men of all sizes and shapes looking at me lustily. I increased my pace and they hankered after me. I heard comment flying from all direction and hitting me like arrows of filth and disgust. I cursed the man who murmured into the ears of my autowallah, I cursed the relative whose address I couldn’t find and cursed the night.

I sensed the red neon signboards screaming at me as though I had entered a place I shouldn’t have. This was Paharganj for you. I swear those five minutes on the streets of Paharganj left me feeling not just raped but exhaustingly overpowering. The gaze, the stench of sick craving and above all the neon lights reduced me to a piece of meat.

I pranced my way quickly and reached my room huffing and thanking God for all that did not happen but could have. Many must have got lucky that night and I was just lucky to not.

You are what you read

A very funny thing happened today. I and my roommate were having a very casual conversation. She suddenly looks at my stack of books on the rack and says, "The other day X came to our room and couldn't believe you read all that. She didn't know you were smart enough to read James Joyce." I couldn't help but smile. Sometimes it makes me wonder how many people on this planet are judging me right now? I wear pink does that mean I am a bimbette? I love shopping, so that makes me a spoilt brat? I don't scream out of my lungs to  put forward a point in class, so does that make me dumb? I don't publicize myself so does that mean I am not good enough?

It is very surprising how we have categories for people and how we put them in these categories in spite of not knowing them enough. It amazes me how little we think of each other and so much about ourselves. What makes us gloat or be pompous to the extent of making exhibitions of ourselves. Why do we feel the need to prove a point all the time?

Co-incidentally I was having a conversation with another friend who happened to tell me how I don't feel the need to be out there. Well yes she is right.

All that is on

It was a fairly good weekend. On second thoughts it was one of the best weekends in a long time. A and I sneaked S inside our hostel which was not a big task. We partied all night long and slept off ranting intellectual shit!



Today was made because of the awesome Almond Tarts, they were heavenly. A walk around the quaint little lanes of Koregaon Park can be so inspiring was also discovered only today. Lush green, purple air and blue skies.


The rest remains the same with a little change maybe, I smile a lot now <3

Done.Dried.Happy

It is ready, well almost. After a series of mini mishaps, it is looking neat nonetheless. Only wish I hadn't carelessly dropped a bottle of paint on it.

Popistic Paris

Inspired by: Andy Warhol and his popism

Wall goes colourful

more shall be added soon as an when the colous drip off the brush!

Sums up!

This place is not fit for the fearless brave hearts, but ideal for the timid. The ones who find strength in other people's weakness. The ones who hold higher moral grounds in spite of their stained consciences. So what exactly are they achieving? Are they hiding in the burrows of their disparity by making life miserable for those brave hearts? The timid gets away with this behaviour because timid lives in a constant anonymity but the brave hearts are the most visible. Their actions are noticeable sometimes even generate curiosity, jealousy or plain defencelessness amongst the timid. The timid hide their incompetency not by overdoing the brave heart but by bringing the brave heart down by hook or crook. 

Food for thought if not your conscience...

Will cynics ever make good journalists? In a school where every student should be taught about truth, values and ethics are instead made to give in to the system. Instead of teaching them to stand for themselves, the so called educators are making cowards out of these poor pupils. By either threatening them of losing a chance to make a good career or by making futile promises they are trying to gag their mouths.

We are living in such vulnerable times.

Right now

I hate loathe being taken for granted. It is settling in quick and I do not like it one bit. Just because I am not obnoxiously upfront doesn’t mean I do not mind, it just means I am being patient. And one should under no condition test it beyond a point. Do not drive me to do things I don’t want to because if I do, I won’t regret them under this condition. I see no wrong in it right now.



I don’t scream or shout. I am not difficult. All I ask for is a little bit of this and that which comes for no money. All it takes is a red heart. A big one.


I am not threatening or warning. I am simply speaking to my blog.

The Parisienne

4.30 pm Paris: While braving the heavy graffiti laden walls in the outskirts I caught glimpses of the mighty tower and it seemed nothing close to romantic. I let out a deep sigh and turned away to browsing my Ipod. Though my eyes weren't on it anymore, my mind was still unknowingly lingering over it. I wasn't even close to being mesmerized but a frail thought of disappointment started settling in. I quickly diverted my attention to the old buildings and even the more modern tall ones which reminded me so much of Bombay. So much was written and said about the Eiffel tower before. Tall claims from friends and reviews by other travelers who gave the testimonials of it being the perfect mush spot. And there I saw it stand in all its steel glory in a blackish grey garb just like a tombstone- pale and dead. It just stood amidst life as a silent observer.
In the next 20 minutes I was in the middle of busy Parisian roads trying to reach the main center for a good French meal.


10.30 pm Paris: Within hours of being around the same place suddenly I felt as if I had traveled thousands of kilometers and was transported to a different world altogether. The Paris of the crazy , hot afternoon was nothing like the Paris of night rather twilight, considering it get darker only after 11.30 pm in the summers. Rows of light in different shapes, sizes and colours spread out through the entire city, till eyes could find a boundary. Like twinkling little stars they shone as I made my way to the Eiffel again. This time my eyes transfixed on its beauty, she looked like a beautiful bride almost ready to walking down the aisle.


The clock struck 11 and there was a sudden urgency in the air, people turned towards the tower and there it looked as if someone had infused it with kilohertz of life. She sparkled, twinkled, dazzled for five minutes and those were the best five minutes of my life. What would have been more perfect if I had that someone to share a little French kiss with and then probably I could have claimed to live the French way :)

My virtual Bombay

What do I do to keep in touch with Bombay when I am not in Bombay?

1.       Subscribe to Brown Paper Bag and read it religiously. The two scouters are like my saviors. CNNgo  is pretty cool too.

2.       For all the Bluefrog  gigs that I do not make it to, I have Awdio. It is the coolest thing ever only if you have good internet speed.

3.       Read highlighted lines from the Maximum City by Suketu Mehta and Shantaram

4.       Get updates from fellow Bombaywallahs.

5.       Snap at people who call it Mumbai or Mumbhaaai or Mumbaeee.

6.       Dream of Bombay every night

I need some Bombay 

<3

Its not just a book..

This is one of my most favourite poems.. 

Love for This Book - 
Pablo Neruda
 

In these lonely regions I have been powerful
In the same way as a cheerful tool
Or like untrammeled grass which lets loose its seed
Or like a dog rolling around in the dew.
Matilde, time will pass wearing out and burning
Another skin, other fingernails, other eyes, and then
The algae that lashed our wild rocks,
The waves that unceasingly construct their own whiteness,
All will be firm without us,
All will be ready for the new days,
Which will not know our destiny.
 

What do we leave here but the lost cry
Of the seabird, in the sand of winter, in the gusts of wind
That cut our faces and kept us
erect in the light of purity,
as in the heart of an illustrious star?
What do we leave, living like a nest
of surly birds, alive, among the thickets
or static, perched on the frigid cliffs?
So then, if living was nothing more than anticipating
the earth, this soil and its harshness,
deliver me, my love, from not doing my duty, and help me
return to my place beneath the hungry earth.

We asked the ocean for its rose,
its open star, its bitter contact,
and to the overburdened, to the fellow human being, to the wounded
we gave the freedom gathered in the wind.
It's late now. Perhaps
it was only a long day the color of honey and blue,
perhaps only a night, like the eyelid
of a grave look that encompassed
the measure of the sea that surrounded us,
and in this territory we found only a kiss,
only ungraspable love that will remain h

I love metaphors

What could be the worst kind of self-realisation? Mine is more like a one act play. It sort of brings me down at times, I have no one to blame. It starts with me and ends with me. I drag along others to play their part, sometimes they fit the bill but most of the times their presence just fucks up my script. It turns out to be quite a play. Real emotions, tears and resonating evil laughter in the hall. There is always a bad guy and I play that role really well. In the end you know who wins? The bad guy is aware of my Achilles heel, the bad guy knows that I am vulnerable, impulsive and an ugly thinker. I do not wish to repeat the show anymore. It was a bad script, just like a bad nightmare.

Right now

It is my right to be mean and bitchy today. Tomorrow we'll see!

What's up California

Right from The Beach Boys, Buffalo Springfield, The Doors, Eagles to Motley Crue and Green day, I love'em all. Surprisingly they have all originated in California. I still haven't been able to figure what could be this... there ought to be some magic in the air... Till then

"Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light
Or just another lost angel...City of Night
City of Night, City of Night, City of Night, woo, c'mon

L.A. Woman, L.A. Woman
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon 

Drive thru your suburbs
Into your blues, into your blues, yeah
Into your blue-blue Blues
Into your blues, ohh, yeah "

Boxed In

Pack.Unpack.Pack.Unpack.Pack.Unpack I am tired of living out of boxes.

0-0

Recently when a Turkish hacker kind of equalized twitter with 0 followers and 0 following, many felt lonely and many egos were shattered. So this sounds a little silly, a bug sends you in a tizzy and you start consulting a psychiatrist? Are we so dependent on twitter to satisfy our already inflated ego?



So when Ashton Kutcher went up to the mirror to check him, those with a few numbers of followers were secretly happy. They were all equal for a few hours. Such a waste of time no? Ever thought how many people in real life think you are cool? How many in real life respect you for what you are and not just one of the herd?



This is what prompted this post:- shekharkapur: U guys all there? For sum reason my twitter a/c shows zero followers suddenly. U think I’ve been hacked? (on his twitter page)

Who's in?

Block July 15 to July 18, 2010 this year. It is Ladakh Confluence in its second year, bigger, better and of course lovelier with a whole lotta love promised. The line up looks something like this at the moment: -

Manu Delago

Christopher Pepe Auer

Karsh Kale (Website under construction btw :P )

Viku Vinayakram

Rajasthan Roots

Young Musicians of the world

Something Relevant  (Wonder why, well ok!! )

Jamie Catto

Supersonics  ( :-) )

(Courtesy: The Ladakh Confluence 2010)