'Tis the Season to be Happy.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Pondscoldcream-patisapta-yellowsunshinewhichlookslikemeltedbutterontheuthon-blackforestfromFlurys-monkeytupisinBenares-bathsinscaldinghotwater-komolaleburjam-chocolatecakefromNahoum's-chappedlips-blanketsinsunshine-coldnose-dancerehearsalstillyoudropdead-kulerachaar-gorgeousbenarasis-weddinginvitations-bookfair-butterfryfromBenfish-angulkatamoja.
'Tis the Season to be Happy.
'Tis the Season to be Happy.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Till when I was around 5 or 6 years old, packing for Benares trips used to be huge fun.
For me, that is.
There was this red bag I had. With yellow embroidery and tiny mirrors on it.
I lugged it around whenever I went on long train journeys. And packing it for Benares used to be a ritual.
I used to clean my desk first. And everything which didn’t belong to the desk went into the bag.
Plastic bottles full of aam-chur, my tattered copies of Thakumar Jhuli and Mahabhrater Golpo, sketchpens to colour my nails with (not being allowed to wear nailpolish, this is what I used to do), this small marble statue of an elephant ( it was cold to touch, and I pretended that it was ice cream and I was eating it), blue inland letters which Baba wrote to me from Benares, small multicoloured hair-clips…etc..etc..
I don’t know exactly why I took all these with me to Benares. They were not particularly important stuff (well maybe except for the letters and the books).
I just did.
Sometimes, when you are that young, you do things without really thinking why.
It was probably the fun I had pretending that they were important stuff, and being very busy packing them all in.
Subconsciously I probably wanted to see if things which couldn’t find place in my Kolkata desk could find a nook in my Benares flat.
And some of them did, infact. The clips almost never returned. And twice the elephant didn’t. Once I even left some of letters there. On Baba's huge working desk beside the window.
But then, one day, I lost my bag.
I was around 8 or 9 then I think.
During the next trip, I got myself a backpack and crammed it full of Dairy Milks, Enid Blytons and Nancy Drews.
But it was not the same.
My old red bag, which always smelt of guavas was sorely missed.
Have been cleaning up the desk inside my head lately. Its in a mess. Full of stuff which doesn’t belong. Fragile and yellow and multicoloured and cold and marbled and tangy and sour and whatnot..
Goddammit, I need to find my red bag.
Soon.
For me, that is.
There was this red bag I had. With yellow embroidery and tiny mirrors on it.
I lugged it around whenever I went on long train journeys. And packing it for Benares used to be a ritual.
I used to clean my desk first. And everything which didn’t belong to the desk went into the bag.
Plastic bottles full of aam-chur, my tattered copies of Thakumar Jhuli and Mahabhrater Golpo, sketchpens to colour my nails with (not being allowed to wear nailpolish, this is what I used to do), this small marble statue of an elephant ( it was cold to touch, and I pretended that it was ice cream and I was eating it), blue inland letters which Baba wrote to me from Benares, small multicoloured hair-clips…etc..etc..
I don’t know exactly why I took all these with me to Benares. They were not particularly important stuff (well maybe except for the letters and the books).
I just did.
Sometimes, when you are that young, you do things without really thinking why.
It was probably the fun I had pretending that they were important stuff, and being very busy packing them all in.
Subconsciously I probably wanted to see if things which couldn’t find place in my Kolkata desk could find a nook in my Benares flat.
And some of them did, infact. The clips almost never returned. And twice the elephant didn’t. Once I even left some of letters there. On Baba's huge working desk beside the window.
But then, one day, I lost my bag.
I was around 8 or 9 then I think.
During the next trip, I got myself a backpack and crammed it full of Dairy Milks, Enid Blytons and Nancy Drews.
But it was not the same.
My old red bag, which always smelt of guavas was sorely missed.
Have been cleaning up the desk inside my head lately. Its in a mess. Full of stuff which doesn’t belong. Fragile and yellow and multicoloured and cold and marbled and tangy and sour and whatnot..
Goddammit, I need to find my red bag.
Soon.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Friday, December 01, 2006
And then, one of these days, you think it is over.
You poke.
You prod.
Satisfied, you take a deep breath.
‘Finally’, you say out loud, ‘its gone..caput…’
And you get a curious tangy feeling in your mouth.
You look up.
The stars must be a little brighter, you think.
The wind whips your face. Its cold.
But you don’t mind.
Because, you are happy, aren’t you?
Because, it is over, isn’t it??
And on other days, you desperately wait for his call.
You poke.
You prod.
Satisfied, you take a deep breath.
‘Finally’, you say out loud, ‘its gone..caput…’
And you get a curious tangy feeling in your mouth.
You look up.
The stars must be a little brighter, you think.
The wind whips your face. Its cold.
But you don’t mind.
Because, you are happy, aren’t you?
Because, it is over, isn’t it??
And on other days, you desperately wait for his call.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Whipping out the dusty quill spew out brilliance is not actually my cuppa tea.
So I will stick to doing my tag (I have been tagged by this funny and brilliant female) without any frills and thrills.
And that’s that.
Hmmmph.
10 simple pleasures:
1. Reading . (Well yes…call me an aantel, a snob and what-say-you…but I can’t imagine anything more simple…and more exhilaratingly pleasurable.)
2. Remembering. ( It’s probably the masochist me speaking…because remembering certain conversations…random walks, sudden looks, touches…gives me the most excruciatingly painful pleasure ever.)
3. Watching people. ( It’s unnerving…sometimes strange people stare right back at you. But I love watching people. And if you are a JUDE student and have access to ZeLedge then oohhh lala…you’ve just booked yourself a front row ticket to the people watcher’s paradise…squealing females…jumping males…weird pink skirts…golden jholas…orange and green bras…hot professors… dreamy eyed geniuses…mushy couples..you get it all… right here..right now..)
4. Singing in the shower. (Nothing is more stress relieving than making John Lennon and Rabindranath turn in their graves while rinsing your hair.)
5. Washing my hand. (It’s probably weird. But I love to do this. I love the feeling of the dirt and grime peeling away…I love to see the grey water swirl and disappear…and I love the fresh feel and smell afterwards)
6. Being out in storms. ( No, not rains as much … but the stuff preceding it…the dust-getting-into-your-eyes-mouth-nose-the-umbrella-flying-right-off-the-tangy-smell-taking-over-your-lungs kind..)
7. Biting into a cheese cake/gorom topse maachh bhaja/ patisapta. (Do I really need to explain this one??)
8. Talking. (Pleases. Surprises. Dirties. Numbs. Hurts. Cleanses.)
9. Dancing. (I stumble. I falter. I fall. But I sway. I twirl. I laugh. I get away. I live.)
10. Sleeping. ( Shuts out the world. Let’s me be alone. And most importantly, provides the only place where I manage to get a date with Johnny Depp as well as a 100% scholarship to Oxford.)
p.s. Oh yes...and I tag (and I can't link..so I will just write their blogger user id's) aquilusaltus, phemonoe and scorpionragz.
So I will stick to doing my tag (I have been tagged by this funny and brilliant female) without any frills and thrills.
And that’s that.
Hmmmph.
10 simple pleasures:
1. Reading . (Well yes…call me an aantel, a snob and what-say-you…but I can’t imagine anything more simple…and more exhilaratingly pleasurable.)
2. Remembering. ( It’s probably the masochist me speaking…because remembering certain conversations…random walks, sudden looks, touches…gives me the most excruciatingly painful pleasure ever.)
3. Watching people. ( It’s unnerving…sometimes strange people stare right back at you. But I love watching people. And if you are a JUDE student and have access to ZeLedge then oohhh lala…you’ve just booked yourself a front row ticket to the people watcher’s paradise…squealing females…jumping males…weird pink skirts…golden jholas…orange and green bras…hot professors… dreamy eyed geniuses…mushy couples..you get it all… right here..right now..)
4. Singing in the shower. (Nothing is more stress relieving than making John Lennon and Rabindranath turn in their graves while rinsing your hair.)
5. Washing my hand. (It’s probably weird. But I love to do this. I love the feeling of the dirt and grime peeling away…I love to see the grey water swirl and disappear…and I love the fresh feel and smell afterwards)
6. Being out in storms. ( No, not rains as much … but the stuff preceding it…the dust-getting-into-your-eyes-mouth-nose-the-umbrella-flying-right-off-the-tangy-smell-taking-over-your-lungs kind..)
7. Biting into a cheese cake/gorom topse maachh bhaja/ patisapta. (Do I really need to explain this one??)
8. Talking. (Pleases. Surprises. Dirties. Numbs. Hurts. Cleanses.)
9. Dancing. (I stumble. I falter. I fall. But I sway. I twirl. I laugh. I get away. I live.)
10. Sleeping. ( Shuts out the world. Let’s me be alone. And most importantly, provides the only place where I manage to get a date with Johnny Depp as well as a 100% scholarship to Oxford.)
p.s. Oh yes...and I tag (and I can't link..so I will just write their blogger user id's) aquilusaltus, phemonoe and scorpionragz.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
I didn't want to come back.
I swear I didn't.
And even if I did, I wanted work. Work which choked, strangled. Work which soothed, lullabied. Work which made one forget.
But then the wind came...
through the narrow galis, past the old pan shop with its rows of shining silver jars full of zarda, past the oil stained walls of 'Khirod Kachori Bhandar' which smelt of ghee and smoke all day, past the shorts wearing and mineral water drinking foreigners who were disappointed with the University because, unlike the rest of the city, it was 'green, clean, vast and quiet'. It blew through the old haveli where a rickety old man sat smoking a hookah on his even ricketier old khatiya. It ruffled the leaves of the pipal tree, making the inhabitant monkeys chatter even more loudly.
And it brought with it the incense, the flowers, the gobar, the innumerable cows, the earthen diyas, the ash-smeared jatadhari sadhus, the brass trinkets, the glass bangles, the tinkleof the bells, the busy chant of the purohits, the trade-cry of the hawkers, the ever present gurgle of the river, the Gangarati, the colours, the faith, the courage - the sheer energy of moving, speking, throbbing humanity.
And I breathed it in. All of it.
And laughed.
I am back now. And the facade is safely back in its place again.
I am smiling.
See me smile.
I swear I didn't.
And even if I did, I wanted work. Work which choked, strangled. Work which soothed, lullabied. Work which made one forget.
But then the wind came...
through the narrow galis, past the old pan shop with its rows of shining silver jars full of zarda, past the oil stained walls of 'Khirod Kachori Bhandar' which smelt of ghee and smoke all day, past the shorts wearing and mineral water drinking foreigners who were disappointed with the University because, unlike the rest of the city, it was 'green, clean, vast and quiet'. It blew through the old haveli where a rickety old man sat smoking a hookah on his even ricketier old khatiya. It ruffled the leaves of the pipal tree, making the inhabitant monkeys chatter even more loudly.
And it brought with it the incense, the flowers, the gobar, the innumerable cows, the earthen diyas, the ash-smeared jatadhari sadhus, the brass trinkets, the glass bangles, the tinkleof the bells, the busy chant of the purohits, the trade-cry of the hawkers, the ever present gurgle of the river, the Gangarati, the colours, the faith, the courage - the sheer energy of moving, speking, throbbing humanity.
And I breathed it in. All of it.
And laughed.
I am back now. And the facade is safely back in its place again.
I am smiling.
See me smile.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Been hearing a lot about love lately. And seeing it too.
About how people fall in it.
Fall out of it.
Tiptoe around it. Apprehensively.
Circle it like a hunter circling its prey. And poke it. Tempt it to show its true self. Urge it to come out of its shell.
With words.
With actions.
With silence.
With inaction.
Am loving it. And laughing.
And remembering my first love.
And suddenly, the lanky, bespectacled, rather dumb young man is transformed into an unreal vision of unfulfilled dreams. Of hundreds of could-have-beens, should-have-beens and would-have-beens combined.
I put my crumbling, old, dusty unrealities away. Lock them up in that intricate curved box that somehow always smells of moth balls and guavas and push it back under the farthest recesses of my bed.
Now I am back.
I wish people luck.
About how people fall in it.
Fall out of it.
Tiptoe around it. Apprehensively.
Circle it like a hunter circling its prey. And poke it. Tempt it to show its true self. Urge it to come out of its shell.
With words.
With actions.
With silence.
With inaction.
Am loving it. And laughing.
And remembering my first love.
And suddenly, the lanky, bespectacled, rather dumb young man is transformed into an unreal vision of unfulfilled dreams. Of hundreds of could-have-beens, should-have-beens and would-have-beens combined.
I put my crumbling, old, dusty unrealities away. Lock them up in that intricate curved box that somehow always smells of moth balls and guavas and push it back under the farthest recesses of my bed.
Now I am back.
I wish people luck.
Friday, September 22, 2006
[M - Favourite English teacher from school.
P - Her son. A school senior.
We were talking about - M being partial towards me.
It was - A rainsoaked, gloomy Mahalaya morning.
I was - Bored. Stiff. With nothing else to do.]
P : Unhu unhu, biased teacher der motamot er kon daam nei.... motei cholbe na, cholbe na cholbe na[sloganer dhonge bolte hobe]...
Me : M ke biased bolo???? Sahos toh kom noy...Gantta khabe???
P : Nishchoi biased eksho-unoshottor bar biased.... aar gatta khabo na... khete bejaye baje.....
Me : M biased holey chaandtio sobuj cheese diye toiri. Ar gantta khawa na khawata tomar choice noy. Ota onekta castor oiler moto. Khetey baje...kintu khele akherey shorir sustho thake.
P : Castor oil ami motei khai na.... oshob na khelei shorir shushtho thake.... oguli sref shushtho shorik byasto korbar pontha.... btw, chand ta shobuj cheeze diye toiri hobar fundata bhalo..... eta quite possible....hotei pare....ar ganttata marbe ke ?? tuii ??
Me : Ami martei pari. Kintu tahole ekta moier dorkar hobe. Noile dhyanga dekhe kauke ekta jogar korey niye asbo khon. Ar chand moteo sobuj cheese diye toiri noy. Chandta asoley ek dola tulo..jar modhye buri bosey chorka katey. Eitukuo jano na???? Ar castor oil jodi na khao tahole gantta hochchhe neempata bata. Othoba chirotar jol. Dutoi boro baje khetey. Kintu shorirer pokkhe upokari.
P : Iyarki hochchhe??.... moi niye gatta marbar cheshta korle moi kede nebo.... chandta motei ek dola tulo noye.... tahole to brishtite bhije eituku hoye jeto.... ota ashole cheeze i.... tui thik janis na.... mohaloyar din shokal shokal rajyer baje jinisher naam bolchish kneo re ?? issh castor oil, chirotar jol, neempata bata... jottoshob, ontoto mukhshuddhir jonyo bhimnager shondesher kothatao bola uchit chilo...
Me : Tumi ekta ja ta...chaand toh thake megher uporey...brishtitey bheje koi???Ar cheese diye toiri hole atodiney poche durgondho beroto na???Achchha...ar chirotar jol ityadi bolbo na.Amar gantta = Banchharamer chitrokut.Eibarey sonamukh kore kheye nao dekhi!!
P : Dhet!! Tor GK ta joghonyo.... cosmic rain er naam shuinishni naki.... tae abar shunechi ontorikkhe khuuuuuub thanda.... tai poche ni.... khik khik egulo dhorte pare ni.....ei iye mane chitrokut mishti ta amar pochondo noye, naamta bichitro.... khele gola kutkut o korte pare... ke kothaye boddo mishti.... gatta khawate hole dariker rabri ba nidenpokkhe mohonlaler gujiya.
Me : Chitrokut bejay bhalo khetey.Khati gheeye bhaja.Kintu tumi jokhon bolchho...tokhon...umm..Mithaier mishti doi cholbe???Ar mohashoy...ontorikkhey jotoi thanda hok...koti koti bochhor dhorey cheese na pochey bosey achhe...mamdobaji????
P : Hmmm eta cholte pare.... kintu chandta poche je jayeni sheta to ratre akashj dekheli bujhte parbi.... Btw, yarki hocche, ontorikkhe jinish poche ki kore shuni ??? atmosphere nei kichu nie mae niden pokkhe hawao nei, shekahen emni emni poche jabe.... hobe na hoye na...
Me : Goley jabe na???? UV rays achhe toh!!!
P : Gole jaye to.... kintu ghore bole choriye jaye na... just despersed hoye jaye.... proti ponerodin ontor ontor dekhbi chandta gole jete jete aar nei.... tarpor dini abar ek thala dampulir moton ektu ektu kore gode othe....
Me : Liquid ghorey kikore???Adhar koi???
P : Liquid kotha theke holo? semisolid ba plasma r moton bolte parsih.... ghurle ota ekta shape hold kore thake.... aar gravity ache bole chhitke beroye na....
(Sorry. But, couldn't be bothered to translate the entire thing into English.)
P - Her son. A school senior.
We were talking about - M being partial towards me.
It was - A rainsoaked, gloomy Mahalaya morning.
I was - Bored. Stiff. With nothing else to do.]
P : Unhu unhu, biased teacher der motamot er kon daam nei.... motei cholbe na, cholbe na cholbe na[sloganer dhonge bolte hobe]...
Me : M ke biased bolo???? Sahos toh kom noy...Gantta khabe???
P : Nishchoi biased eksho-unoshottor bar biased.... aar gatta khabo na... khete bejaye baje.....
Me : M biased holey chaandtio sobuj cheese diye toiri. Ar gantta khawa na khawata tomar choice noy. Ota onekta castor oiler moto. Khetey baje...kintu khele akherey shorir sustho thake.
P : Castor oil ami motei khai na.... oshob na khelei shorir shushtho thake.... oguli sref shushtho shorik byasto korbar pontha.... btw, chand ta shobuj cheeze diye toiri hobar fundata bhalo..... eta quite possible....hotei pare....ar ganttata marbe ke ?? tuii ??
Me : Ami martei pari. Kintu tahole ekta moier dorkar hobe. Noile dhyanga dekhe kauke ekta jogar korey niye asbo khon. Ar chand moteo sobuj cheese diye toiri noy. Chandta asoley ek dola tulo..jar modhye buri bosey chorka katey. Eitukuo jano na???? Ar castor oil jodi na khao tahole gantta hochchhe neempata bata. Othoba chirotar jol. Dutoi boro baje khetey. Kintu shorirer pokkhe upokari.
P : Iyarki hochchhe??.... moi niye gatta marbar cheshta korle moi kede nebo.... chandta motei ek dola tulo noye.... tahole to brishtite bhije eituku hoye jeto.... ota ashole cheeze i.... tui thik janis na.... mohaloyar din shokal shokal rajyer baje jinisher naam bolchish kneo re ?? issh castor oil, chirotar jol, neempata bata... jottoshob, ontoto mukhshuddhir jonyo bhimnager shondesher kothatao bola uchit chilo...
Me : Tumi ekta ja ta...chaand toh thake megher uporey...brishtitey bheje koi???Ar cheese diye toiri hole atodiney poche durgondho beroto na???Achchha...ar chirotar jol ityadi bolbo na.Amar gantta = Banchharamer chitrokut.Eibarey sonamukh kore kheye nao dekhi!!
P : Dhet!! Tor GK ta joghonyo.... cosmic rain er naam shuinishni naki.... tae abar shunechi ontorikkhe khuuuuuub thanda.... tai poche ni.... khik khik egulo dhorte pare ni.....ei iye mane chitrokut mishti ta amar pochondo noye, naamta bichitro.... khele gola kutkut o korte pare... ke kothaye boddo mishti.... gatta khawate hole dariker rabri ba nidenpokkhe mohonlaler gujiya.
Me : Chitrokut bejay bhalo khetey.Khati gheeye bhaja.Kintu tumi jokhon bolchho...tokhon...umm..Mithaier mishti doi cholbe???Ar mohashoy...ontorikkhey jotoi thanda hok...koti koti bochhor dhorey cheese na pochey bosey achhe...mamdobaji????
P : Hmmm eta cholte pare.... kintu chandta poche je jayeni sheta to ratre akashj dekheli bujhte parbi.... Btw, yarki hocche, ontorikkhe jinish poche ki kore shuni ??? atmosphere nei kichu nie mae niden pokkhe hawao nei, shekahen emni emni poche jabe.... hobe na hoye na...
Me : Goley jabe na???? UV rays achhe toh!!!
P : Gole jaye to.... kintu ghore bole choriye jaye na... just despersed hoye jaye.... proti ponerodin ontor ontor dekhbi chandta gole jete jete aar nei.... tarpor dini abar ek thala dampulir moton ektu ektu kore gode othe....
Me : Liquid ghorey kikore???Adhar koi???
P : Liquid kotha theke holo? semisolid ba plasma r moton bolte parsih.... ghurle ota ekta shape hold kore thake.... aar gravity ache bole chhitke beroye na....
(Sorry. But, couldn't be bothered to translate the entire thing into English.)
Friday, September 01, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
This is what we do till the wee hours of morning when sleep refuses to entertain.
Me: Tomar khobor ki?? (Whatsup???)
J: Aar amar khobor aar ki... (What can be my news)
Making love to a rugged man called life...the bastard that he is
Me: And life has not been treating me well too...sometimes I wonder...does he take bribes??? I would be more than happy to pay up then...
J:He is a nasty bastard.Wont accept bribe too. .And in any case I am bankrupt.How do I pay him?
Me: I don't know..does he accept chocolate icecreams????
J: Would he now?I dont think.
He prefers wine.
Not chocolate ice cream.
Wine is stronger,red like blood and makes his blood warmer,
his ruthlessness murkier.
He wouldn't accept it.
And if you do offer him wine...he'll just want your blood....
Salty like tears...
Me: Tears are cliched....
blood then, yes....
red and warm and thick...he might accept...
or lets say,
musty, old, yellowing, crumbling dreams????
J: Dreams?Well lets just say I have come face to face with them.
And I have learnt to accept that they closely resemble illusions....
Lets say they are as useless as garbage!
Dreams are just what we believe would be absence of tears.
Active and passive nourishment for him..life's madness and badness....dreams in the passive form and tears in the active
Or lets just say the negative and positive sides to it--
his hunger,his thirst,his wants,his desire...
Me:Illusions they are, yes,
But madness they are not..no
vividly coloured swirls perhaps...
or soft balls of nothingness...
J: Madness,illusion,dream--all are stringed.All are thirsty.All are crippled.And all are parasites.Sucking peace,love,empathy.
Me: Illusions...madness not...
unreal visions maybe...
a bit blurred at the edges..
crisp and crumbly to touch, musty to smell...
J: All blurred...all hazy..all insanely fuzzy.
One can never see through any of them ever.
Illusion is darkness and the copulating ground of madness.What is more unreal than darkness.....than believing something to be true when it is not? Isn't it but madness?
Insane desire to see what is not, to hear what is not...without light, without resonance we build world - a colourful and chirpy world.
Call it unreal.
I call it illusions..yes...
of a lunatic!
Me: Blurred and hazy are but intrinsic characters of illusions...of dreams....
And madness, woman???
What are dreams without madness??
Without that tangy taste of lunacy...
The jagged edges of unreal-unknown-hood???
J: When I say madness I don't mean the sweet twitter of whims and fancies and fascination.I mean the ruthless waves of obsession,pride,ego of a sadist as well as a masochist.It's eccentric, it's weird..and it's scary.It curls my blood.My feet turn cold.
Lunacy is different.It's sweet and it's also bittersweet.
Madness is frequently salty, randomly bitter.Dangerous!It is!
Unreals taste yummy with a pinch of crazyness.
Reality tastes well...INSIPID!
Me: Tomar khobor ki?? (Whatsup???)
J: Aar amar khobor aar ki... (What can be my news)
Making love to a rugged man called life...the bastard that he is
Me: And life has not been treating me well too...sometimes I wonder...does he take bribes??? I would be more than happy to pay up then...
J:He is a nasty bastard.Wont accept bribe too. .And in any case I am bankrupt.How do I pay him?
Me: I don't know..does he accept chocolate icecreams????
J: Would he now?I dont think.
He prefers wine.
Not chocolate ice cream.
Wine is stronger,red like blood and makes his blood warmer,
his ruthlessness murkier.
He wouldn't accept it.
And if you do offer him wine...he'll just want your blood....
Salty like tears...
Me: Tears are cliched....
blood then, yes....
red and warm and thick...he might accept...
or lets say,
musty, old, yellowing, crumbling dreams????
J: Dreams?Well lets just say I have come face to face with them.
And I have learnt to accept that they closely resemble illusions....
Lets say they are as useless as garbage!
Dreams are just what we believe would be absence of tears.
Active and passive nourishment for him..life's madness and badness....dreams in the passive form and tears in the active
Or lets just say the negative and positive sides to it--
his hunger,his thirst,his wants,his desire...
Me:Illusions they are, yes,
But madness they are not..no
vividly coloured swirls perhaps...
or soft balls of nothingness...
J: Madness,illusion,dream--all are stringed.All are thirsty.All are crippled.And all are parasites.Sucking peace,love,empathy.
Me: Illusions...madness not...
unreal visions maybe...
a bit blurred at the edges..
crisp and crumbly to touch, musty to smell...
J: All blurred...all hazy..all insanely fuzzy.
One can never see through any of them ever.
Illusion is darkness and the copulating ground of madness.What is more unreal than darkness.....than believing something to be true when it is not? Isn't it but madness?
Insane desire to see what is not, to hear what is not...without light, without resonance we build world - a colourful and chirpy world.
Call it unreal.
I call it illusions..yes...
of a lunatic!
Me: Blurred and hazy are but intrinsic characters of illusions...of dreams....
And madness, woman???
What are dreams without madness??
Without that tangy taste of lunacy...
The jagged edges of unreal-unknown-hood???
J: When I say madness I don't mean the sweet twitter of whims and fancies and fascination.I mean the ruthless waves of obsession,pride,ego of a sadist as well as a masochist.It's eccentric, it's weird..and it's scary.It curls my blood.My feet turn cold.
Lunacy is different.It's sweet and it's also bittersweet.
Madness is frequently salty, randomly bitter.Dangerous!It is!
Unreals taste yummy with a pinch of crazyness.
Reality tastes well...INSIPID!
Friday, August 11, 2006
Books half-read/lying around unread -
1. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
2. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
3. The Native Speaker - Chang-Rae Lee
4. The black Tower - PD James
5. 100 short stories - O.Henry
6. Kim - Rudyard Kipling
7. The Last Man - Mary Shelley
8. Three Men in a Boat - Jerome K. Jerome (yes..yes..I haven't read it yet...shameful...yes I know)
9. Sankalito Bhromonkahini - Shankar
10. Purba-Poshchim (dwitiyo khondo) - Sunil Ganguly
11. Rijuda Somogro (5th part) - Buddhadeb Basu
And I have to sit and read up stuff like 'Anglo Saxon Poetry' and 'Beowulf'.....
Dammit.
Life sucks.
Big time.
1. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
2. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
3. The Native Speaker - Chang-Rae Lee
4. The black Tower - PD James
5. 100 short stories - O.Henry
6. Kim - Rudyard Kipling
7. The Last Man - Mary Shelley
8. Three Men in a Boat - Jerome K. Jerome (yes..yes..I haven't read it yet...shameful...yes I know)
9. Sankalito Bhromonkahini - Shankar
10. Purba-Poshchim (dwitiyo khondo) - Sunil Ganguly
11. Rijuda Somogro (5th part) - Buddhadeb Basu
And I have to sit and read up stuff like 'Anglo Saxon Poetry' and 'Beowulf'.....
Dammit.
Life sucks.
Big time.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
.....and suddenly....everything is so much sharper.......everything....it's like someone has retuned the old and rickety television set of a mind....even the lone raindrop which fell on my upturned face and trickled down..... almost unnoticed..... till my lips...seems colder, clearer and tinglier (pardon the awful choice of words) all of a sudden...
The above sentences don't make any sense....but then....nothing in my life makes much sense either... I think I have lost the power to differentiate between reality and make believe....and random conversations do not help.....
p.s. ignore this post..... am in a horribly incoherent mood today....
The above sentences don't make any sense....but then....nothing in my life makes much sense either... I think I have lost the power to differentiate between reality and make believe....and random conversations do not help.....
p.s. ignore this post..... am in a horribly incoherent mood today....
Monday, July 17, 2006
"Girls smoke only to maintain equality with the guys. They are only trying to imitate the guys by smoking."
"When a guy gives gaali, it is not good....but when a girl uses bad language, it is so bad...it is positively obscene. This is also an attempt by the girls to imitate us guys."
"I have selected a very nice topic for this year's debate. It goes something like 'Should girls smoke??'"
This...from a student of one of the premiere educational institutions in the city. He is almost 20...and also happens to be my best friend's boyfriend.
??????????????????????
Sigh.
"When a guy gives gaali, it is not good....but when a girl uses bad language, it is so bad...it is positively obscene. This is also an attempt by the girls to imitate us guys."
"I have selected a very nice topic for this year's debate. It goes something like 'Should girls smoke??'"
This...from a student of one of the premiere educational institutions in the city. He is almost 20...and also happens to be my best friend's boyfriend.
??????????????????????
Sigh.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Am in a lazy-sleepy-dreamy-grinny-eatluchialurdom-readpartofanovel-sleepagain-dreamagain-talkcrazy-dance-listentobismillahkhan-watchapursansar-haverandomconversationswithpersonewhosevoicesoundslikesandipray-walkintherainwearingshortssothatthelegsgetsplashed-spendhourssuckingaspoonfullachaar kind of a mood.
Nothing much happening in life really. Except for the fact that I am suddenly grinning all day and watching mushy movies. Don't know why. Don't want to know.
Except for that....nothing to do. Nothing to write about. (I can't believe two people actually wanted an update!!!! From me!!!!!!! Shniff...shniff..HK and A...me flattered...me honoured....)
So will post this all time favourite poem instead...
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue
By Pablo Neruda
Nothing much happening in life really. Except for the fact that I am suddenly grinning all day and watching mushy movies. Don't know why. Don't want to know.
Except for that....nothing to do. Nothing to write about. (I can't believe two people actually wanted an update!!!! From me!!!!!!! Shniff...shniff..HK and A...me flattered...me honoured....)
So will post this all time favourite poem instead...
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue
By Pablo Neruda
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Saturday, June 10, 2006
….and everything said and done I can’t deny the fact that it is mouthwateringly delicious and breathtakingly beautiful to see 22 sweaty but gorgeous… gorgeous men with perfectly sculpted bodies (yes…I have to admit 99% of the soccer players are…to put it mildly….pure hunks) run around the field in their shorts…chasing a ball.
I don’t know any of the technical nitty gritties of the game (and according to certain people this makes me no better than the ‘next air-headed bimbo’), but still, I am making it a point to catch as many matches a possible….just to ogle and soak in the sheer beauty of it all.
Oooohhhh!! Be still, my heart!!
I don’t know any of the technical nitty gritties of the game (and according to certain people this makes me no better than the ‘next air-headed bimbo’), but still, I am making it a point to catch as many matches a possible….just to ogle and soak in the sheer beauty of it all.
Oooohhhh!! Be still, my heart!!
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
...and apart from everything else...there were two elephants in the JU campus....yes..TWO..I kid you not...but as soon as I got onto one of them..(one of my old school friends was on the other one...)..the JU jheel magically (well..duh!!) turned into my school..surrounded by no less than acres and acres of yellow mustard fields...straight out of some Yash Chopra flick...(it looked weird though...a small, yellow building....within the mustard fields...too much yellow, I tell you..)....and I raced...ACTUALLY RACED....my elephant down those fields.(with my friend racing her elephant right beside me...of course)..the only problem being that as I had just come out of the department my ...(as in...I found the elephants and the friend waiting for me after I had come out of the examination hall..)....my jhola kept coming in my way...and I couldn't have a very comfortable ride...but on the flipside...there was a mahut somewhere I think...lurking in the background most probably...and while I was racing the elephant and trying to manage the irritating jhola at the same time...he kept offering me tiny cucumber sandwiches and patisaptas which looked simply delicious....
With dreams like these...any wonder why I love to sleep???
With dreams like these...any wonder why I love to sleep???
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
I had ‘batasas’ last night. At 1:30 a.m. Nice scrunchy, sickly sweet ‘gurer batasa’. While desperately trying to understand Coetzee.
Coetzee, ‘gurer batasa’, a splitting headache and watery eyes makes a very interesting combination. Inject some intense panic in it, and the combination turns positively lethal.
So I closed my book, switched on my computer and read The Sandman instead. I have been reading it a lot recently.
And nobody please ask me how my exams went today.
I made up stuff as I went along. Especially about Rushdie and "Haroun and the Sea of Stories".
And Hamlet Pow Pow Pow advised me to think of it as 'meta academics'.....because 'I made up a story about a story about a story'....
Wow!! Interesting thought....that.....
Coetzee, ‘gurer batasa’, a splitting headache and watery eyes makes a very interesting combination. Inject some intense panic in it, and the combination turns positively lethal.
So I closed my book, switched on my computer and read The Sandman instead. I have been reading it a lot recently.
And nobody please ask me how my exams went today.
I made up stuff as I went along. Especially about Rushdie and "Haroun and the Sea of Stories".
And Hamlet Pow Pow Pow advised me to think of it as 'meta academics'.....because 'I made up a story about a story about a story'....
Wow!! Interesting thought....that.....
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
'Jeebono jokhon shukaye jay
Korunadharay eso,
Sokol madhuri lukaye jay
Geetosudharose eso.
Kormo jokhon probol-akar
Goroji uthiya dhake charidhaar
Hridoyoprante he neerobo nath,
Shanto chorone eso.
Aponare jobe koria kripon
Kone pore thake deenoheen mon,
Duyar khuliya he udaro nath,
Raj somarohe eso.
Basona jokhon bipul dhulay
Ondho koriya obodhe bhulaye,
Ohe pobitro, ohe onidro,
Rudro aloke eso.'
If I had to choose a single literary piece to help me get through the rest of my life, this would probably be it. You won't believe the amount of bad times I went through with this as my sole companion (Too bad I can't sing...or I would have hummed this all day long)
Thanks, buddy, for creating this....(you don't mind being called buddy...do you??)
Thanks....for being there.... with this....and numerous others.....always...... whenever I needed them/you....
Ektu deri hoye galo (this should have been done yesterday)...but never mind....
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, anyways.
Korunadharay eso,
Sokol madhuri lukaye jay
Geetosudharose eso.
Kormo jokhon probol-akar
Goroji uthiya dhake charidhaar
Hridoyoprante he neerobo nath,
Shanto chorone eso.
Aponare jobe koria kripon
Kone pore thake deenoheen mon,
Duyar khuliya he udaro nath,
Raj somarohe eso.
Basona jokhon bipul dhulay
Ondho koriya obodhe bhulaye,
Ohe pobitro, ohe onidro,
Rudro aloke eso.'
If I had to choose a single literary piece to help me get through the rest of my life, this would probably be it. You won't believe the amount of bad times I went through with this as my sole companion (Too bad I can't sing...or I would have hummed this all day long)
Thanks, buddy, for creating this....(you don't mind being called buddy...do you??)
Thanks....for being there.... with this....and numerous others.....always...... whenever I needed them/you....
Ektu deri hoye galo (this should have been done yesterday)...but never mind....
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, anyways.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Fourteen years of toil finally paid off today. I am happy....very much so....
But the effect was perhaps a tad bit marred by almost 50 squiggly, hyperactive kids (not ONE of them was more than 5 years old) ....NONE of whom would keep their make-up on even for 10 minutes at a stretch.... you won't believe the number of times I was confronted with tearful eyes and smudgy make-up and wails of 'Didi gooooooooo....o amar kajol dhebre dilo goooooooooooo'.
Wuuuuufffff....I will go and have a big bowl of chocolate ice cream now.....my batteries need some serious recharging....
But the effect was perhaps a tad bit marred by almost 50 squiggly, hyperactive kids (not ONE of them was more than 5 years old) ....NONE of whom would keep their make-up on even for 10 minutes at a stretch.... you won't believe the number of times I was confronted with tearful eyes and smudgy make-up and wails of 'Didi gooooooooo....o amar kajol dhebre dilo goooooooooooo'.
Wuuuuufffff....I will go and have a big bowl of chocolate ice cream now.....my batteries need some serious recharging....
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Oh.....the woes of Dancing....
'Sen' is in deep trouble.
She has a show on the 7th.
And her knees are bloody and scraped and have turned black and blue from too much 'baghlei'. (That's a Manipuri term for going round and round on your knees...it is an integral part of the classical dance form)
Knee caps aren't helping. They hurt even more.
And though 'Sen' is possibly the worst dancer in the group...(she trips like a hundred times for each round of 'baghlei'she does...and is clumsy too...and can't go round in perfect circles as almost all the others manage to do..) she will have to put on a semblance of performance on the 7th....won't she???
So, does anybody have any tips on how to make black and blue and bloody knees heal in record time? (And while thinking please keep in mind that 'Sen' can't rest her knees completely till the 7th...she has rehearsals you see...)
'Sen' will be eternally grateful for a tip that works....and promises to feed the kind hearted soul as much chocolate fudge sundae as he/she desires....
She has a show on the 7th.
And her knees are bloody and scraped and have turned black and blue from too much 'baghlei'. (That's a Manipuri term for going round and round on your knees...it is an integral part of the classical dance form)
Knee caps aren't helping. They hurt even more.
And though 'Sen' is possibly the worst dancer in the group...(she trips like a hundred times for each round of 'baghlei'she does...and is clumsy too...and can't go round in perfect circles as almost all the others manage to do..) she will have to put on a semblance of performance on the 7th....won't she???
So, does anybody have any tips on how to make black and blue and bloody knees heal in record time? (And while thinking please keep in mind that 'Sen' can't rest her knees completely till the 7th...she has rehearsals you see...)
'Sen' will be eternally grateful for a tip that works....and promises to feed the kind hearted soul as much chocolate fudge sundae as he/she desires....
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Let's just put it this way.....
I have sore feet from walking and standing for too long ....
I have terrible, terrible, terrible mosquito bites all over my body.... even though my eyes are watering with all the mosquito repellant smoke....
And I got a terrible 'jhaar' from my dida for staying out extra late....
But I would gladly go through all these .... and more... to watch this just one more time......
p.s. Oh....and before I forget....I hereby declare that I am totally, irrevocablyand majorly in love with Puck...{or is it beacuse I liked the person who played it??....because when we went to backstage to get his autograph...(we were gushing sooo much that the cameraman kindly offered to take us backstage) it was HE (the actor's name is Ajay Kumar for those who don't know) who seemed awestruck at having to give his autograph...and kept on smiling a most embarrassed smile...as if he couldn't quite believe that this was happening}
p.p.s okay....okay....I know I am gushing....but what-to-do??... I can't help it.... I seriously AM mesmerised....and yes...I know the production was not perfect.....it had it's faults....but everything...right from the stagecraft to the lighting to the music to the acting....everything kind of came together and left me quite.....speechless....and....dazed...
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
Ufffff...........at last.....term paper submitted, tests and presentations given......lull in work for at least 1 day (I hope so....)
And.....one of my friends says - "Dhush....amra insincere noi...amra shudhu phaankibaj...there is a difference between insincere and phaankibaaj you see...."
Errrr.....there is????
And.....one of my friends says - "Dhush....amra insincere noi...amra shudhu phaankibaj...there is a difference between insincere and phaankibaaj you see...."
Errrr.....there is????
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Aaaaarrrghhhhh....
Term papers, presentations, tests, end sems......suddenly...everything....one after the other.....nothing done, nothing prepared....
And on top of that I can't get this song "Free falling" out of my head....and I don't even know all the lyrics. Only the tune keeps on coming back and haunting me.....
Aaaaarrrghhhh.....GET OUT of my head you stupid song.........GET OUT I SAY.....
And on top of that I can't get this song "Free falling" out of my head....and I don't even know all the lyrics. Only the tune keeps on coming back and haunting me.....
Aaaaarrrghhhh.....GET OUT of my head you stupid song.........GET OUT I SAY.....
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Spring is in the air. And love is all around.
And ‘Sen’ wants someone special too.
Most of ‘Sen’s friends are starting to get into relationships.
And ‘Sen’ is feeling kind of overwhelmed at the rate in which ‘Sen’s friends are falling in love.
But ‘Sen’ can’t find any suitable ‘someone special’ anywhere around her.
‘Sen ’ is very disappointed.
And ‘Sen’ has not been allowed to go over to Benaras. Or to Bhubaneswar either. Because ‘Sen’s end sem exams are looming ahead.
So ‘Sen’ is feeling kind of sad too. Because apart from the fact that she can’t visit any of her cousins before they go off to their B-schools, ‘Sen’ has also not studied AT ALL for her examinations.
(All she seems to do in the university now-a-days is to hang out with friends and ogle at a certain silver haired professor)
‘Sen’ thinks that she should really stop writing in third person.
‘Sen’ also thinks that it is high-time for some introspection and chocolate ice cream
And ‘Sen’ wants someone special too.
Most of ‘Sen’s friends are starting to get into relationships.
And ‘Sen’ is feeling kind of overwhelmed at the rate in which ‘Sen’s friends are falling in love.
But ‘Sen’ can’t find any suitable ‘someone special’ anywhere around her.
‘Sen ’ is very disappointed.
And ‘Sen’ has not been allowed to go over to Benaras. Or to Bhubaneswar either. Because ‘Sen’s end sem exams are looming ahead.
So ‘Sen’ is feeling kind of sad too. Because apart from the fact that she can’t visit any of her cousins before they go off to their B-schools, ‘Sen’ has also not studied AT ALL for her examinations.
(All she seems to do in the university now-a-days is to hang out with friends and ogle at a certain silver haired professor)
‘Sen’ thinks that she should really stop writing in third person.
‘Sen’ also thinks that it is high-time for some introspection and chocolate ice cream
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
This will be puzzling to certain people.....
What do you prefer???
Mountain Dew
Pepsi
or
Slice??
Or do you prefer the large bottle of water instead???
Mountain Dew
Pepsi
or
Slice??
Or do you prefer the large bottle of water instead???
Friday, March 31, 2006
Some general observations.....
Ragz looks extremely cute in a shocking pink glittery skirt...(yes people...i DID say ragz AND glittery skirt...and i DID say cute...yes...CUTE..)
Yucky blue tops which look horrible on the rack manage to look extremely good on P.
Mojo resembles olive oyle (that is the spelling...isnt it??) in a skirt. But manages to look sweet at the same time.
Anc, though he NEVER tries anything on himself, generally has a lot to say about clothes...and what people (especially girls) should wear and how they should wear them.
Yippeehippie should NEVER wear synthetic, glittery red tops.
And as for me...well...classic blue denims (for some strange reason) DO NOT suit me AT ALL.(Can you believe that?)
Who said impromptu expeditions to shopping malls can't be fun???
Yucky blue tops which look horrible on the rack manage to look extremely good on P.
Mojo resembles olive oyle (that is the spelling...isnt it??) in a skirt. But manages to look sweet at the same time.
Anc, though he NEVER tries anything on himself, generally has a lot to say about clothes...and what people (especially girls) should wear and how they should wear them.
Yippeehippie should NEVER wear synthetic, glittery red tops.
And as for me...well...classic blue denims (for some strange reason) DO NOT suit me AT ALL.(Can you believe that?)
Who said impromptu expeditions to shopping malls can't be fun???
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Some people can successfully pull off the "don't care" attitude.
Why is it that I can't?
Why can't I just NOT care as to what certain people think of me?
It is okay if those certain people are my friends...but it becomes difficult when I care about the opinions of people I don't even know very well. People I don't even like.
Why can't I just NOT care if I feel like an intruder amongst people most of the time?
Why can't I NOT brood over small, insignificant incidents?
Why can't I NOT indulge in introspection once in a while?
It would be a lot easier that way.
Why is it that I can't?
Why can't I just NOT care as to what certain people think of me?
It is okay if those certain people are my friends...but it becomes difficult when I care about the opinions of people I don't even know very well. People I don't even like.
Why can't I just NOT care if I feel like an intruder amongst people most of the time?
Why can't I NOT brood over small, insignificant incidents?
Why can't I NOT indulge in introspection once in a while?
It would be a lot easier that way.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The Pact (what we were supposed to do)
We are not to call up or chat with or send sms’s to or meet up(this part excludes my university friends because we have to meet each other when we come to the university) or communicate with each other (except for emergencies) for 48 hours.
By
Me and my friends. (Because we thought that we were communicating too much..and wanted to see if we could survive without keeping in touch with each other all the time.)
How long it was adhered to
Roughly 24 hours
What we actually did
Came to the university. Talked about the pact. Marveled at the fact that we had actually not communicated with any of our friends last evening. Saw a bus from the ledge. Jumped up. Decided we were feeling rebellious. And that enough was enough. Went running to the bus stop. Got on to the first bus that came our way (which, incidentally, was a Ramgarh-B.B.D. Bag). Called up most of our friends. Pondered over where we should go (so that…when the conductor came for the fare…we said something like …’kothay jachchi thik kore ni…tarpore dichchhi’). At last decided on going to Scoop (the Princep Ghaat Scoop). 15 people from all corners of Kolkata merged there. And had floats and french fries. And then they sang. And shouted. And joked. And giggled. And flirted. And said all kinds of meaningless stuff. And walked about aimlessly. And sat in the Maidan. (Because they found that Eden Gardens was closed to public till the elections). And talked. And sang some more. And generally scandalized everybody around.
Highlight of the day
When we ( mojo, yippeehippie, ragz and me)were congratulated on our ‘ganer gola’ by a ‘bhadralok’ in the bus. He said something like –‘ Tomader ki bhalo gola. Each one of you. Ar tomader moto meyera toh ajkal ar rabindrasangeet gayi na.’ I guess he didn’t hear all the Jim Morrison, Cranberries, Rang De Basanti, Goopy Gain Bagha Bain and Sound of Music songs (yes..yes I know..the range of our musical knowledge is mindboggling.) that followed the lone Rabindrasangeet we had sung.
My observation
If a sole evening spent without communicating with my friends results in such an expedition…then I want more and more of these pacts.
Why I enjoyed it soooo much
Because of the sheer unpredictability, madness and suddenness of the plan. And also because of the sense of adventure and the rush of adrenaline associated with it.
Yippeehippie deserves a very big thank you.
We are not to call up or chat with or send sms’s to or meet up(this part excludes my university friends because we have to meet each other when we come to the university) or communicate with each other (except for emergencies) for 48 hours.
By
Me and my friends. (Because we thought that we were communicating too much..and wanted to see if we could survive without keeping in touch with each other all the time.)
How long it was adhered to
Roughly 24 hours
What we actually did
Came to the university. Talked about the pact. Marveled at the fact that we had actually not communicated with any of our friends last evening. Saw a bus from the ledge. Jumped up. Decided we were feeling rebellious. And that enough was enough. Went running to the bus stop. Got on to the first bus that came our way (which, incidentally, was a Ramgarh-B.B.D. Bag). Called up most of our friends. Pondered over where we should go (so that…when the conductor came for the fare…we said something like …’kothay jachchi thik kore ni…tarpore dichchhi’). At last decided on going to Scoop (the Princep Ghaat Scoop). 15 people from all corners of Kolkata merged there. And had floats and french fries. And then they sang. And shouted. And joked. And giggled. And flirted. And said all kinds of meaningless stuff. And walked about aimlessly. And sat in the Maidan. (Because they found that Eden Gardens was closed to public till the elections). And talked. And sang some more. And generally scandalized everybody around.
Highlight of the day
When we ( mojo, yippeehippie, ragz and me)were congratulated on our ‘ganer gola’ by a ‘bhadralok’ in the bus. He said something like –‘ Tomader ki bhalo gola. Each one of you. Ar tomader moto meyera toh ajkal ar rabindrasangeet gayi na.’ I guess he didn’t hear all the Jim Morrison, Cranberries, Rang De Basanti, Goopy Gain Bagha Bain and Sound of Music songs (yes..yes I know..the range of our musical knowledge is mindboggling.) that followed the lone Rabindrasangeet we had sung.
My observation
If a sole evening spent without communicating with my friends results in such an expedition…then I want more and more of these pacts.
Why I enjoyed it soooo much
Because of the sheer unpredictability, madness and suddenness of the plan. And also because of the sense of adventure and the rush of adrenaline associated with it.
Yippeehippie deserves a very big thank you.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
....
A friend of mine to another friend -
"Your skin looks enticing and chewy".
Well...enticing is okay.
But chewy??
CHEWY?? Cannibal naki re baba??
"Your skin looks enticing and chewy".
Well...enticing is okay.
But chewy??
CHEWY?? Cannibal naki re baba??
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Rang Barse....
And now....
I am maroon. And my hands are a very neat pattern of black and blue. I look like a defeated boxer after a particularly heavy round of boxing.
Mojo is black. And green. And with her long hair she resembles a Maa Kali.
Anc is a sickly shade of green and grey. And looks alarmingly like Shrek or some yucky sea monster come up from the deepest depths of the ocean.
I has black lips.
R has purple teeth.
And S.M has yellow ears.
And right now, I think I prefer watching the older (black n white) version of 'Mughal - e - Azam'.
I am maroon. And my hands are a very neat pattern of black and blue. I look like a defeated boxer after a particularly heavy round of boxing.
Mojo is black. And green. And with her long hair she resembles a Maa Kali.
Anc is a sickly shade of green and grey. And looks alarmingly like Shrek or some yucky sea monster come up from the deepest depths of the ocean.
I has black lips.
R has purple teeth.
And S.M has yellow ears.
And right now, I think I prefer watching the older (black n white) version of 'Mughal - e - Azam'.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Aaaahhh...
The ‘aaaaaaaaahhhh’ got glorified yesterday evening.
So did the patting on the head.
Is A.B. the man or what?? His mannerisms get copied on stage!!!
So did the patting on the head.
Is A.B. the man or what?? His mannerisms get copied on stage!!!
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
My dad stays in Varanasi and most of my childhood was spent there.
Spent in the teeming, smelly, noisy ghats. Amidst bulls and monkeys and sadhus. In a throbbing, bustling city which was very very very alive.
And today.These random terrorists just came and destroyed my childhood haven. A place where I always turned to for solace.
I spent the worst 45 minutes of my life today.
I heard about these blasts on TV and I couldn’t get through to baba, pisi or any of my friends or my dad’s colleagues. I was sitting…watching TV.. watching those familiar roads and temples spattered with blood and gore..littered with the stray chappal, the purse, the chhata…watching those decked up politicians talking utter crap on all the news channels… while I was almost physically sick with worry.
I did manage to get through to baba and pisi after sometime… ( and I know that the university campus is the safest place in the entire city), but the worry still doesn’t go away.
Maybe it never will. And maybe in some distant future I will learn to deal with it.
But right now…I think I need my baba. In flesh and blood. And I need him to give me a great big hug.
Because my childhood memories were bloodied and blasted today.
Spent in the teeming, smelly, noisy ghats. Amidst bulls and monkeys and sadhus. In a throbbing, bustling city which was very very very alive.
And today.These random terrorists just came and destroyed my childhood haven. A place where I always turned to for solace.
I spent the worst 45 minutes of my life today.
I heard about these blasts on TV and I couldn’t get through to baba, pisi or any of my friends or my dad’s colleagues. I was sitting…watching TV.. watching those familiar roads and temples spattered with blood and gore..littered with the stray chappal, the purse, the chhata…watching those decked up politicians talking utter crap on all the news channels… while I was almost physically sick with worry.
I did manage to get through to baba and pisi after sometime… ( and I know that the university campus is the safest place in the entire city), but the worry still doesn’t go away.
Maybe it never will. And maybe in some distant future I will learn to deal with it.
But right now…I think I need my baba. In flesh and blood. And I need him to give me a great big hug.
Because my childhood memories were bloodied and blasted today.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Ooooooooohhhhhhh......
Well,… I have been tagged. And..so…here goes…
My perfect man has to be –
1.The most important point of all… IMPERFECT…I mean..I am not at all perfect myself, and having a relationship with a perfect man is bound to give me a huge inferiority complex….
2.HONEST….I loathe dishonesty.
3.TALKATIVE….strong and silent types make me nervous…and uncomfortable. I like to talk. And I like people with whom I can talk a lot. And I am not at all the kind of girl who gets subtle hints anyway. So the bottomline is…he has to express himself pretty clearly for me to get the point.
4.QUIRKY, OFFBEAT and most importantly HAS to make me laugh. And make me laugh a lot. Most of the time. And as I am crazy about food, HAS to feed me whenever I am hungry.
5.INTELLIGENT. And I don’t mean bookish intelligence. Though being well read is definitely an added bonus. ( This …though is connected to #3 as I can’t talk much with people who don’t read much.)
6.DECENT LOOKING. I do not want drop dead gorgeous hunks. I am never attracted to them anyway. But there has to be a certain amount of physical attraction. Has to be clean and has to smell good. ( It is a definite turn on.) Oh…and before I forget…. stubbles would be very much appreciated. Till a few months ago, I didn’t like them much. But recently I have realized that they make a guy look good. And I love their scratchy feel.
7.Has to be from relatively SAME BACKGROUND (both economically and educationally). I am not a snob, but I am sorry…a rickshaw walah CANNOT be my perfect man.
8.Has to LOVE me A LOT. And I mean a lot. And has to be insanely proud of me. I know that I am not the most attractive girl on this planet ( though he has to find me attractive). Neither am I the most intelligent. But he has to be proud of whoever I am.
p.s. All the above qualities (except perhaps #2 and #8) are not applicable to a certain silver haired professor in our department and another bloke who goes by the name of Antonio Banderas.
And I tag mojo, bilu, anc, contradictions, erebus, ragz, yippeehippie and onnesha. The rules of the tag being -
1. You have to write 8 points your perfect mate has to have. And you have to mention the gender of your perfect mate here.
2. And then you have to tag 8 other people.
My perfect man has to be –
1.The most important point of all… IMPERFECT…I mean..I am not at all perfect myself, and having a relationship with a perfect man is bound to give me a huge inferiority complex….
2.HONEST….I loathe dishonesty.
3.TALKATIVE….strong and silent types make me nervous…and uncomfortable. I like to talk. And I like people with whom I can talk a lot. And I am not at all the kind of girl who gets subtle hints anyway. So the bottomline is…he has to express himself pretty clearly for me to get the point.
4.QUIRKY, OFFBEAT and most importantly HAS to make me laugh. And make me laugh a lot. Most of the time. And as I am crazy about food, HAS to feed me whenever I am hungry.
5.INTELLIGENT. And I don’t mean bookish intelligence. Though being well read is definitely an added bonus. ( This …though is connected to #3 as I can’t talk much with people who don’t read much.)
6.DECENT LOOKING. I do not want drop dead gorgeous hunks. I am never attracted to them anyway. But there has to be a certain amount of physical attraction. Has to be clean and has to smell good. ( It is a definite turn on.) Oh…and before I forget…. stubbles would be very much appreciated. Till a few months ago, I didn’t like them much. But recently I have realized that they make a guy look good. And I love their scratchy feel.
7.Has to be from relatively SAME BACKGROUND (both economically and educationally). I am not a snob, but I am sorry…a rickshaw walah CANNOT be my perfect man.
8.Has to LOVE me A LOT. And I mean a lot. And has to be insanely proud of me. I know that I am not the most attractive girl on this planet ( though he has to find me attractive). Neither am I the most intelligent. But he has to be proud of whoever I am.
p.s. All the above qualities (except perhaps #2 and #8) are not applicable to a certain silver haired professor in our department and another bloke who goes by the name of Antonio Banderas.
And I tag mojo, bilu, anc, contradictions, erebus, ragz, yippeehippie and onnesha. The rules of the tag being -
1. You have to write 8 points your perfect mate has to have. And you have to mention the gender of your perfect mate here.
2. And then you have to tag 8 other people.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Mirror, mirror on the wall....
According to my friends ,I resemble ( at various points of time ) :-
1. A beached whale ( err...I am very short ... and I thought whales were supposed to be huge?)
2. A beached porpoise
3. A baby walrus
4. A female hanuman
5. A mouse ( Apparently I resemble Jerry's orphan nephew who used to chomp his way through tablefuls of food....well...ok...I get the point....but I can't help it if I like to eat...can I?)
6. A stray puppy
7. A teletubby ( Though that is only when I start jumping up and down on seeing a certain professor of our department...though I have to admit that I am rather chubby...no...no..not fat ...just ...you know...plump??)
p.s. Though how the same person can resemble a whale and a mouse is beyond my comprehension..... but then I always did say...if there is one thing that all my friends are blessed with, it is an active imagination...
1. A beached whale ( err...I am very short ... and I thought whales were supposed to be huge?)
2. A beached porpoise
3. A baby walrus
4. A female hanuman
5. A mouse ( Apparently I resemble Jerry's orphan nephew who used to chomp his way through tablefuls of food....well...ok...I get the point....but I can't help it if I like to eat...can I?)
6. A stray puppy
7. A teletubby ( Though that is only when I start jumping up and down on seeing a certain professor of our department...though I have to admit that I am rather chubby...no...no..not fat ...just ...you know...plump??)
p.s. Though how the same person can resemble a whale and a mouse is beyond my comprehension..... but then I always did say...if there is one thing that all my friends are blessed with, it is an active imagination...
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Today I got something that I had wanted for the last one year. But when I got it, I felt strangely empty and bereft.
Bereft of the wanting...if you know what I mean.
And now that I have it...it feels as if my want was strangely small and insignificant and petty.
I don't even remember why I wanted it in the first place.
Life seems very strange and complicated all of a sudden.
I think I need a chocolate icecream.
Bereft of the wanting...if you know what I mean.
And now that I have it...it feels as if my want was strangely small and insignificant and petty.
I don't even remember why I wanted it in the first place.
Life seems very strange and complicated all of a sudden.
I think I need a chocolate icecream.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
I had gone over to ‘yippee hippie’s’ place. Mojo came over after sometime. And having nothing better to do we decided to make crank calls. I didn’t know that calling up random friends and saying weird stuff to them would still be so much fun. I felt like a 12 year old again.
No gossip. No ‘pnpc’. No one hurt. No egos bruised. Just simple, unadulterated FUN.
I turned 18 last week. I had been waiting for a very long time for this birthday. At last…I thought I would ‘officially’ be an ‘adult’. I was tired of being the ‘child’ in my friend circle. I had been driving everyone nuts about how I was finally to become an adult. My mother of course..had something to say (she always has)…
“Adult hoye jachchho mane kintu ar ma eta koro, ma ota koro , ma eta dao, ma ota dao, ma eta nebo please..please..please??? bola cholbe na. Adult hochchho tahole u better behave like one.”
I, of course was too happy to agree. Who doesn’t want to be independent?? Amidst all the hullabaloo, however, I hadn’t given a thought to the fact that my 18th birthday would also be the day when I would ‘officially’ let go of my childhood.
And after today…somehow I desperately want to re-read all my old tattered copies of ‘Thakumar Jhuli’, ‘Aesop’s Fables’, ‘Roosh Desher Upakatha’ and ‘Molla Naseeruddiner Galpo’. ( Books which I had allowed my mother to give away to my 5 year old cousin…after I ‘officially’ became an ‘adult’)
“Ma, can I have them back again, please….please….please???”
No gossip. No ‘pnpc’. No one hurt. No egos bruised. Just simple, unadulterated FUN.
I turned 18 last week. I had been waiting for a very long time for this birthday. At last…I thought I would ‘officially’ be an ‘adult’. I was tired of being the ‘child’ in my friend circle. I had been driving everyone nuts about how I was finally to become an adult. My mother of course..had something to say (she always has)…
“Adult hoye jachchho mane kintu ar ma eta koro, ma ota koro , ma eta dao, ma ota dao, ma eta nebo please..please..please??? bola cholbe na. Adult hochchho tahole u better behave like one.”
I, of course was too happy to agree. Who doesn’t want to be independent?? Amidst all the hullabaloo, however, I hadn’t given a thought to the fact that my 18th birthday would also be the day when I would ‘officially’ let go of my childhood.
And after today…somehow I desperately want to re-read all my old tattered copies of ‘Thakumar Jhuli’, ‘Aesop’s Fables’, ‘Roosh Desher Upakatha’ and ‘Molla Naseeruddiner Galpo’. ( Books which I had allowed my mother to give away to my 5 year old cousin…after I ‘officially’ became an ‘adult’)
“Ma, can I have them back again, please….please….please???”
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
7 Things I Have Realised After Joining JUDE....
1. That the people around you have the inherent capacity of making you feel THIS small...(and I am not talking about only the Professors here).
2. That on a scale of 10 I would probably get -
a. 1.5 on how well read I am.
b. 1 for my knowledge of cinema.
c. 0.5 for my knowledge of music.
d. -1 for my knowledge of theatre.
e. 1 for my intelligence.
3. That our department probably has some of the (if not most of the) attractive and 'colourful' professors in the university. [ I mean...come on... almost every student around me (me included) has a huge crush on one professor or the other.. ] And trust me...discussing professors and their idiosyncracies is the favourite pastime of the entire JUDE student community.
4. That even extraordinarily brilliant professors are not ashamed to say "I don't know" or "I really don't remember" or "I guess I was wrong then..." infront of a class full of 40 students.
5. That I can read Tintin/ listen to Dylan all day and claim that I am actually doing my studies.
6. That not only is smoking in the department not out of bounds but professors can actually come up to you and ask you for fags.
7. That there is no other place in the entire world where I would rather study.
2. That on a scale of 10 I would probably get -
a. 1.5 on how well read I am.
b. 1 for my knowledge of cinema.
c. 0.5 for my knowledge of music.
d. -1 for my knowledge of theatre.
e. 1 for my intelligence.
3. That our department probably has some of the (if not most of the) attractive and 'colourful' professors in the university. [ I mean...come on... almost every student around me (me included) has a huge crush on one professor or the other.. ] And trust me...discussing professors and their idiosyncracies is the favourite pastime of the entire JUDE student community.
4. That even extraordinarily brilliant professors are not ashamed to say "I don't know" or "I really don't remember" or "I guess I was wrong then..." infront of a class full of 40 students.
5. That I can read Tintin/ listen to Dylan all day and claim that I am actually doing my studies.
6. That not only is smoking in the department not out of bounds but professors can actually come up to you and ask you for fags.
7. That there is no other place in the entire world where I would rather study.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Friday, February 17, 2006
Ahem.......
Okay…. Before beginning let’s make this clear that I love my university. Especially my department…… right from the ahem… ‘interesting’ and ‘colourful’ professors to the equally ‘interesting’ and ‘colourful’ students……from the DL ( well….I don’t really know if I have the right to comment about the DL because of the simple fact that it is probably my least visited place in the department)….to the AV room ( why the V part is included I don’t know…because the projector is almost always upto no good….) …to the rather dirty and cobwebby classrooms…. But well…..there is always a limit to everything… and people have to draw the line somewhere. And I draw the line as far as loving the loo is concerned. I mean…. I don’t know about the men’s toilet there….but has anyone ever been to the girl’s loo in our department??? I went some days back…( I had been there quite a few times before…but this was the limit)….and I nearly fainted at the ahem…’scenes’ which awaited me…..I mean what’s with people??? Why don’t they umm…’excrete’ at places meant for that purpose??? There is a perfectly visible commode for God’s sake….. And I am really puzzled about the people who dirty the loo….because no one…but no one in our department seems to be of the sort who would …ahem…do it on the floor….I mean can you believe it??? THE FLOOR!!! So who exactly uses the loo except for us??? I think the UG 2 people had a signature campaign or something complaining about the state of the girl’s loo…but I don’t think anything concrete has come off it….( except perhaps for a handwritten/printed sheet proclaiming the rules about using the loo which I doubt if anyone follows)
p.s. And to top it all, today I discovered that the lock to the loo was broken….
p.p.s. On a totally different note thank u once again to ragz and anc for the lovely presents they gave me. My friends do love me, don't they??
p.s. And to top it all, today I discovered that the lock to the loo was broken….
p.p.s. On a totally different note thank u once again to ragz and anc for the lovely presents they gave me. My friends do love me, don't they??
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Something I have been wanting to make people read for a long time
I know, I know....maybe I am tooooo much in love with Robert Fulghum (I have posted something by him in my blog before this). But I just wanted people to read this.....I loved this... hope others do too...
"PLAYERS
Definition: Persons with enough nimbleness of mind to accept a surprise invitation to jump into a quick game of imagination.
Example: Here's a city bus driver standing in the door of his vehicle, staring into the rain. An invitation from me, passing by: "OK, here's the deal: I'll pay for the gas, and you'll drive us straight to the beach at Santa Monica."He smiles. "OK, meet me here at midnight. It's the end of my run and they won't miss me or the bus until morning. I'll get some barbecue."A player.
Example: This lady with a shopping cart full of oddball stuff standing beside me in front of the cheese counter at the grocery story. My invitation: "I like the groceries in your cart better than mine. Want to trade? You take mine and I'll take yours. Could be interesting when we get home."She smiles. Checks out my cart. "You've got a deal,"she says. We take each other's carts and roll away. Later, she's waiting for me at the check-out counter. She knows and I know: we weren't really going to go through with it. But the few moments of madness brought new meaning to "going to the store for a few things."A player.
Example: There's a tailor shop on Queen Anne Avenue. Sign in the window says "Alterations and Repairs for Men and Women." The tailor is standing in the doorway. I stop. "I'd like to get altered and repaired," I say. She looks at me cautiously. Goes inside. Closes the door. Not a player.
Example: Vivacious young woman who works at the sidewalk flower stand at a nearby market. Last year she called me "Babycakes"just before Valentine's Day, but I haven't seen her since. Invitation: "Do I still look like Babycakes to you?" I ask. She looks at me shrewdly. "Sir, it is the policy of the store that employees are not to get familiar with customers." "Oh, too bad,"say I. She's no longer a player. As I turn my back and walk away, she whispers, "Thanks for coming by, babycakes."An undercover player now.
Example: Me at a well-known company to pick up copies of a manuscript, I am visibly annoyed - this is my third trip to get what was promised yesterday. The anxious clerk, Miss Saucer-eyes, is obviously new to the herd behind the counter and doesn't know what to do with me or for me. The work is still not done, despite promises. Getting mad at her won't help."OK, I won't make any trouble," I say, "Just give me a really clever, off-the-wall creative excuse - the wildest thing you can think of. Make me laugh and I'll go away."Miss Saucer-eyes is mute. This situation was not covered in training school last week. She whispers: "I'll speak to my manager."Not a player.Miss Saucer-eyes retreats to the back of the shop and consults with her manager, a high-energy, sharply-dressed woman. The manager marches briskly up to the counter, gives me a steely look, leans over the counter, and explains: "Sir, you may not know this, but this store has been a front for the Irish Republican Army for years. We're supposed to be turning in our firearms, and it seems a bazooka is missing from the inventory. When we find the bazooka, things will get back to normal. If I were you, I wouldn't make any trouble - just come back tomorrow, OK?”A player.
Example: A garbage man with monster truck. Cold. Rain. As I pass by, he says, "You look prosperous." "Thank you. I feel prosperous." "You look like the kind of guy who might have some frequent-flyer miles." "As a matter of fact, I do. Lots of them." "Listen, I need enough to get me to Buenos Aires, one way." "I've got enough. They're yours. But what's in it for me.?" "Here's the keys to this garbage truck. Even trade.”Yes! I've long had an urge to drive one of those things. I'd like to dump a whole load of garbage on a certain person's front porch. "It's a deal." "You got a license to drive a truck?" "Well, no." "Deals off - I can't be part of anything illegal, but no problem. Get a license. I'm here every Monday.”A player.
Example: Early morning. Lady standing at a bus stop. All seven people waiting with her have wires coming out of their ears. Radios, I-pods, Walkmans, or something. All seven are in a zone - nodding heads in time to music or staring off into space. As I pass, I say to the lady: "They're all alien robots, you know. Their souls have been sucked out of them." The lady gives me a hard look and moves closer to the curb. Not a player. A man who has just walked up says, "Yes, but they aren't useless. They're a street-theater company and I'm their manager. We're on our way to a gig downtown." "Really? What's the name of the performance?" "Bus Stop Stupor. Look for us everywhere.”A player.
Example: Clerk in a bookstore - older lady with dyed red hair. "Can I help you?" she asks. "Happy birthday," I say. (Makes people smile - sometimes you're early, sometimes late, but sometimes right on.) "Well, I hope you're coming to my party,"she says. "We need someone to jump out of a cake.""I'm your man." "You'd be expected to go-go dance in the nude.”"I'm not your man." "My mistake. Thought you looked a little kinky.”A player.
The lady waiting in line behind me - who overheard this conversation - drifted away from the counter and then walked out the door. Not a player.Later, as I walked by a sidewalk table at a nearby coffeehouse, I spot the lady customer who fled the store. "Sorry, hope we didn't annoy you," I said.She smiled. "Oh, no,"she said, "It's just that I jumped out of the cake last year. It hurts my feelings to think they're looking for a replacement.”A player after all.
People in the real world are more full of mischief than I could ever invent. Most are primed and ready to play. While I didn't make up these stories, I had to make some of them down - they were unprintably creative.
Look for players. They're everywhere. You may be one."
by Robert Fulghum.
"PLAYERS
Definition: Persons with enough nimbleness of mind to accept a surprise invitation to jump into a quick game of imagination.
Example: Here's a city bus driver standing in the door of his vehicle, staring into the rain. An invitation from me, passing by: "OK, here's the deal: I'll pay for the gas, and you'll drive us straight to the beach at Santa Monica."He smiles. "OK, meet me here at midnight. It's the end of my run and they won't miss me or the bus until morning. I'll get some barbecue."A player.
Example: This lady with a shopping cart full of oddball stuff standing beside me in front of the cheese counter at the grocery story. My invitation: "I like the groceries in your cart better than mine. Want to trade? You take mine and I'll take yours. Could be interesting when we get home."She smiles. Checks out my cart. "You've got a deal,"she says. We take each other's carts and roll away. Later, she's waiting for me at the check-out counter. She knows and I know: we weren't really going to go through with it. But the few moments of madness brought new meaning to "going to the store for a few things."A player.
Example: There's a tailor shop on Queen Anne Avenue. Sign in the window says "Alterations and Repairs for Men and Women." The tailor is standing in the doorway. I stop. "I'd like to get altered and repaired," I say. She looks at me cautiously. Goes inside. Closes the door. Not a player.
Example: Vivacious young woman who works at the sidewalk flower stand at a nearby market. Last year she called me "Babycakes"just before Valentine's Day, but I haven't seen her since. Invitation: "Do I still look like Babycakes to you?" I ask. She looks at me shrewdly. "Sir, it is the policy of the store that employees are not to get familiar with customers." "Oh, too bad,"say I. She's no longer a player. As I turn my back and walk away, she whispers, "Thanks for coming by, babycakes."An undercover player now.
Example: Me at a well-known company to pick up copies of a manuscript, I am visibly annoyed - this is my third trip to get what was promised yesterday. The anxious clerk, Miss Saucer-eyes, is obviously new to the herd behind the counter and doesn't know what to do with me or for me. The work is still not done, despite promises. Getting mad at her won't help."OK, I won't make any trouble," I say, "Just give me a really clever, off-the-wall creative excuse - the wildest thing you can think of. Make me laugh and I'll go away."Miss Saucer-eyes is mute. This situation was not covered in training school last week. She whispers: "I'll speak to my manager."Not a player.Miss Saucer-eyes retreats to the back of the shop and consults with her manager, a high-energy, sharply-dressed woman. The manager marches briskly up to the counter, gives me a steely look, leans over the counter, and explains: "Sir, you may not know this, but this store has been a front for the Irish Republican Army for years. We're supposed to be turning in our firearms, and it seems a bazooka is missing from the inventory. When we find the bazooka, things will get back to normal. If I were you, I wouldn't make any trouble - just come back tomorrow, OK?”A player.
Example: A garbage man with monster truck. Cold. Rain. As I pass by, he says, "You look prosperous." "Thank you. I feel prosperous." "You look like the kind of guy who might have some frequent-flyer miles." "As a matter of fact, I do. Lots of them." "Listen, I need enough to get me to Buenos Aires, one way." "I've got enough. They're yours. But what's in it for me.?" "Here's the keys to this garbage truck. Even trade.”Yes! I've long had an urge to drive one of those things. I'd like to dump a whole load of garbage on a certain person's front porch. "It's a deal." "You got a license to drive a truck?" "Well, no." "Deals off - I can't be part of anything illegal, but no problem. Get a license. I'm here every Monday.”A player.
Example: Early morning. Lady standing at a bus stop. All seven people waiting with her have wires coming out of their ears. Radios, I-pods, Walkmans, or something. All seven are in a zone - nodding heads in time to music or staring off into space. As I pass, I say to the lady: "They're all alien robots, you know. Their souls have been sucked out of them." The lady gives me a hard look and moves closer to the curb. Not a player. A man who has just walked up says, "Yes, but they aren't useless. They're a street-theater company and I'm their manager. We're on our way to a gig downtown." "Really? What's the name of the performance?" "Bus Stop Stupor. Look for us everywhere.”A player.
Example: Clerk in a bookstore - older lady with dyed red hair. "Can I help you?" she asks. "Happy birthday," I say. (Makes people smile - sometimes you're early, sometimes late, but sometimes right on.) "Well, I hope you're coming to my party,"she says. "We need someone to jump out of a cake.""I'm your man." "You'd be expected to go-go dance in the nude.”"I'm not your man." "My mistake. Thought you looked a little kinky.”A player.
The lady waiting in line behind me - who overheard this conversation - drifted away from the counter and then walked out the door. Not a player.Later, as I walked by a sidewalk table at a nearby coffeehouse, I spot the lady customer who fled the store. "Sorry, hope we didn't annoy you," I said.She smiled. "Oh, no,"she said, "It's just that I jumped out of the cake last year. It hurts my feelings to think they're looking for a replacement.”A player after all.
People in the real world are more full of mischief than I could ever invent. Most are primed and ready to play. While I didn't make up these stories, I had to make some of them down - they were unprintably creative.
Look for players. They're everywhere. You may be one."
by Robert Fulghum.
Monday, February 13, 2006
And this is to console myself ..... (especially before tomorrow)
| You Don't Have a Boyfriend Because You are Too Shy |
 |
Saturday, February 11, 2006
A friend of mine asked me this question some days back and I have been thinking about it ever since. The question went something like this -
What according to you is the all time best love story?? (and I don't mean personal accounts...I mean love stories from novels and movies...)
And though I have been thinking about this for sometime... I can't seem to make up my mind.
Some of my friends have some definite answers though...
Mojo says that it is "Love Story" and "Robibar".
According to Scorpionragz it most definitely is "Gift of the Magi". ( I somewhat agree with this.)
H says that he thinks it should be the movie "Pretty Woman".
And according to P it is (once again) "Love Story".
And so to everyone reading this post (intentionally or unintentionally) please take a few moments and answer this question of mine....
p.s. And this post is not because......(according to the greetings card companies) ..... 'love is in the air' nowadays....it is just a question I meant to ask people for sometime now.
What according to you is the all time best love story?? (and I don't mean personal accounts...I mean love stories from novels and movies...)
And though I have been thinking about this for sometime... I can't seem to make up my mind.
Some of my friends have some definite answers though...
Mojo says that it is "Love Story" and "Robibar".
According to Scorpionragz it most definitely is "Gift of the Magi". ( I somewhat agree with this.)
H says that he thinks it should be the movie "Pretty Woman".
And according to P it is (once again) "Love Story".
And so to everyone reading this post (intentionally or unintentionally) please take a few moments and answer this question of mine....
p.s. And this post is not because......(according to the greetings card companies) ..... 'love is in the air' nowadays....it is just a question I meant to ask people for sometime now.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Ahem........
Okay…..I am NOT good with people. Especially recently I seem to be freaking and pissing off random people
…which, believe me, is not my intention at all. I don’t think that I did anything wrong. But even then….if people were made unhappy by what I did….then I think that I should clarify matters a little.
To ‘A.G’ – I didn’t really mean to desert you. It was not my intention. And I am really sorry if whatever I did made you feel deserted. For the sake of our friendship I really hope that such misunderstandings are avoided in the future.
To ‘S’ –Okay….I am not really sure whether I pissed you off or whether I didn’t. But just so that things are cleared up…..I will just say that the event in question is just one of my pet freaks. I really can’t help it. According to someone I should have been more ‘subtle’and spoken to you face to face and all. But,…well I can’t really do ‘subtle’. ‘Subtle’ is just not my style. And if you were hurt (and I have serious doubts whether you were)….then I am sorry. That was just not my intention.
p.s. this post has too many ‘really’s don’t you think??
p.p.s. And I think I need to get my hormones checked. I seem to be bursting into tears under the slightest provocation nowadays.
p.p.p.s. And I think that 'babelfish' is a 'really' nice person.:)
…which, believe me, is not my intention at all. I don’t think that I did anything wrong. But even then….if people were made unhappy by what I did….then I think that I should clarify matters a little.
To ‘A.G’ – I didn’t really mean to desert you. It was not my intention. And I am really sorry if whatever I did made you feel deserted. For the sake of our friendship I really hope that such misunderstandings are avoided in the future.
To ‘S’ –Okay….I am not really sure whether I pissed you off or whether I didn’t. But just so that things are cleared up…..I will just say that the event in question is just one of my pet freaks. I really can’t help it. According to someone I should have been more ‘subtle’and spoken to you face to face and all. But,…well I can’t really do ‘subtle’. ‘Subtle’ is just not my style. And if you were hurt (and I have serious doubts whether you were)….then I am sorry. That was just not my intention.
p.s. this post has too many ‘really’s don’t you think??
p.p.s. And I think I need to get my hormones checked. I seem to be bursting into tears under the slightest provocation nowadays.
p.p.p.s. And I think that 'babelfish' is a 'really' nice person.:)
.....
A friend of mine claims that friends blasting her unfairly leaves her feeling indifferent. But it is not the case with me. They are my friends and I do care about their opinions.
Lately a lot of my friends have been behaving weirdly and giving me a lot of flak.
And they are being unfair. Very much so.
I know that. But I am still feeling a little guilty.
And it is not just them…..I ALWAYS feel that way…whatever be my position…notwithstanding the fact that I may be right in the matter, I always end up feeling guilty when people blast me….and it is not as if I am always wrong.
I think I am a little spineless in that sense.
I don’t think that I am liking myself very much right now.
In fact, right now I feel angry and hurt towards most of the world.
Lately a lot of my friends have been behaving weirdly and giving me a lot of flak.
And they are being unfair. Very much so.
I know that. But I am still feeling a little guilty.
And it is not just them…..I ALWAYS feel that way…whatever be my position…notwithstanding the fact that I may be right in the matter, I always end up feeling guilty when people blast me….and it is not as if I am always wrong.
I think I am a little spineless in that sense.
I don’t think that I am liking myself very much right now.
In fact, right now I feel angry and hurt towards most of the world.
Monday, February 06, 2006
?????
person x is not a very close friend of person y.
it was not person x's birthday.
it was not person y's birthday either.
it was a normal day. (i.e. no ocassion)
but still person y insisted on treating person y to some very tasty food from a certain canteen in a certain university in eastern india.
whether person y actually treated person x is not the point.
the point is that it made person x feel very awkward. very uncomfortable. and a little annoyed and freaked.
it was not person x's birthday.
it was not person y's birthday either.
it was a normal day. (i.e. no ocassion)
but still person y insisted on treating person y to some very tasty food from a certain canteen in a certain university in eastern india.
whether person y actually treated person x is not the point.
the point is that it made person x feel very awkward. very uncomfortable. and a little annoyed and freaked.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
RDB!!!!
I am not a veritable film buff. But I do watch a lot of cinema.
And…let’s just put it this way…..there are movies…. and then there are movies.
Some movies make me laugh.
Some make me smile.
Some make me sad.
Some movies I enjoy while effectively tucking up my brain in some distant corner of my head for a good 3 hours of undisturbed slumber.
Some movies get me thinking.
While some simply put me to sleep.
But there is seldom a movie which makes me scared. (Horror movies seldom scare me. And anyways I am not talking about that kind of fear.)
I am talking about my fear. A fear triggered off from the sheer intensity of feelings the movie manages to portray. Especially since somehow somewhere down the line I can very much ,and I repeat, very much identify with these raw emotions. Rarely does a movie make me afraid of myself and of my very own feelings.
Cinema manages to move me. Well…..at least some do. But seldom has a movie not only moved me…but has literally shook me by the collars until I wanted to stamp and rave and scream out the myriad feelings churning inside my head. Seldom has a movie made me want to do something. Do something earthshattering and pathbreaking and…….. something really really really worthwhile.
Cinema manages to make me sad and melancholy and thoughtful. But cinema seldom makes me cry. At least contemporary cinema doesn’t. And anyways I seldom cry in public. Crying is an emotion, which I reserve for more private places than a movie theatre. Seldom has a movie influenced me so much that I felt like not only crying but howling my lungs out. Seldom has a movie made me (according to friends) audibly sob in a theatre.
RANG DE BASANTI has made me feel and do all of the above. Things which movies seldom make me do. It has made me angry and sad and happy and overwhelmed….all at the same time. And most of all……..it has made me cry.
Go watch it.
I have nothing else to say.
And…let’s just put it this way…..there are movies…. and then there are movies.
Some movies make me laugh.
Some make me smile.
Some make me sad.
Some movies I enjoy while effectively tucking up my brain in some distant corner of my head for a good 3 hours of undisturbed slumber.
Some movies get me thinking.
While some simply put me to sleep.
But there is seldom a movie which makes me scared. (Horror movies seldom scare me. And anyways I am not talking about that kind of fear.)
I am talking about my fear. A fear triggered off from the sheer intensity of feelings the movie manages to portray. Especially since somehow somewhere down the line I can very much ,and I repeat, very much identify with these raw emotions. Rarely does a movie make me afraid of myself and of my very own feelings.
Cinema manages to move me. Well…..at least some do. But seldom has a movie not only moved me…but has literally shook me by the collars until I wanted to stamp and rave and scream out the myriad feelings churning inside my head. Seldom has a movie made me want to do something. Do something earthshattering and pathbreaking and…….. something really really really worthwhile.
Cinema manages to make me sad and melancholy and thoughtful. But cinema seldom makes me cry. At least contemporary cinema doesn’t. And anyways I seldom cry in public. Crying is an emotion, which I reserve for more private places than a movie theatre. Seldom has a movie influenced me so much that I felt like not only crying but howling my lungs out. Seldom has a movie made me (according to friends) audibly sob in a theatre.
RANG DE BASANTI has made me feel and do all of the above. Things which movies seldom make me do. It has made me angry and sad and happy and overwhelmed….all at the same time. And most of all……..it has made me cry.
Go watch it.
I have nothing else to say.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Hmmmm...
When you are addicted to something it tends to dominate most of your thoughts and eats up almost all of your spare time.
Sleeping is addtictive. Majorly addictive.
I think I am addicted to sleep.
Sleeping is addtictive. Majorly addictive.
I think I am addicted to sleep.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Heh!!!
You scored as Nice. Your nice. Please rate my quiz!
what kind of person are you? (shy,outgoing,fun,mean,immature,dramatic or nice?) created with QuizFarm.com |
Monday, January 30, 2006
Waaaaaahhhhh.....
I have crushes. Which 17 (soon to be 18) year old girl doesn’t? But I am frightfully worried that something is a little wrong with me. A friend of mine suggested it a few weeks back. And after that I did some serious introspection and came up with the following list of crushes –
*Richard Gere
*Prannoy Roy
*A certain silver haired professor in our department.
*Al Pacino (as in Al Pacino as he is now….not the earlier younger version)
*Kabir Bedi
*Wasim Akram
*Rahul Bose
*John Abraham
I looked through the list carefully and found out that most (well almost everyone) of the people in the list were old men. And by old I mean really really old….men at least 30 years older than me and with white hair. That friend whom I mentioned earlier had suggested that I was a geriatrophile (I hope I have the spelling right.) A geriatrophile means that I prefer older men. And I think that my friend is right. But I do not want to be one. I want to be a normal girl who has crushes and stuff on people her own age. What if I never get attracted to people my own age? The thought is scary. Downright scary.
*Richard Gere
*Prannoy Roy
*A certain silver haired professor in our department.
*Al Pacino (as in Al Pacino as he is now….not the earlier younger version)
*Kabir Bedi
*Wasim Akram
*Rahul Bose
*John Abraham
I looked through the list carefully and found out that most (well almost everyone) of the people in the list were old men. And by old I mean really really old….men at least 30 years older than me and with white hair. That friend whom I mentioned earlier had suggested that I was a geriatrophile (I hope I have the spelling right.) A geriatrophile means that I prefer older men. And I think that my friend is right. But I do not want to be one. I want to be a normal girl who has crushes and stuff on people her own age. What if I never get attracted to people my own age? The thought is scary. Downright scary.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Ha ha ha ha ha ha....u agree people??
| You're A Crazy Drunk |
 |
What Kind of Drunk Are You?
Am I really like this??
| How You Life Your Life |
 |
How Do You Live Your Life?
Hah!! Beat that........
| Gummy Bears |
 |
What Kind of Candy Are You?
Sunday, January 22, 2006
My Very Own Bunch Of Weirdos.....( Statutory warning: this is going to be VERY boring to people who don't know this specific bunch)
A random adda session at monida’s today set me thinking. We were trying to come up with characteristics of each other that we like.(okay…that was a pretty weird sentence construction, but I think ppl will understand.) The entire gang was not there. Only a few people. So I thought I would write about some of the stand-out qualities in my friends which make them the really strange and funny and nice-to-be-with and we-all-care-for-each-other and one-of-a-kind bunch of people they are. (Not all of my good friends are here, but only those whom I think are kind of insane. And ‘insane’ as the respectable alal of our dept. put it, ‘is good - very very good indeed’.) So…..here goes….
The I-AM-NOT-NICE-AND-DON’T-U-DARE-CALL-ME-THAT-BECAUSE-I-LIKE-PEOPLE-TO-THINK-I-AM-MEAN-AND-I-AM-REALLY-MEAN-ANYWAYS award goes to……who else?? Yippee hippie of course….she is the only person I have seen who actually likes it when people call her mean and not nice. And she not only likes it….she positively GLOWS with self-satisfaction. And the weird part is…she is not really mean….not as mean as SOME people are anyways. But she is really really trying hard to reach this goal….and by the look of things I think she will succeed if she keeps on toiling like this for a few more weeks….so…all the best girl….keep going….
The AHEM-I-REALLY-APPRECIATE-THE-VALUES-MY-PARENTS-HAVE-INCULACATED-IN-ME-AND-I-WILL-NOT-EVER-REBEL-AGAINST-THEM-BECAUSE-AFTER-ALL-THEY-ARE-MY-PARENTS-AND-KNOW-WHAT-IS-BEST-FOR-ME-AND-WHY-ARE-U-TURNING-REBELLIOUS-THEY-WANT-UR-WELL BEING-AT-THE-END-OF-THE-DAY (phew!!) award definitely goes to E.T.(go home). I mean…come on….the ‘rebellious’ people here are 17 or 18…and if u don’t rebel against your parents now…..how will they know that you are almost an adult….and can be trusted to make certain decisions by yourself?? And trust me…when there are parents who yell at you when you reach home at 11:20 instead of 11 (which is a really early curfew time anyway and I was escorted by a “grown-up” for god’s sake!!) it is necessary to have a fight with them. Not to say that I don’t appreciate my parents being my parents and wanting the best for me and blah blah…… but there are some times when u just HAVE to rebel….to get it out of ur system probably…but you just have to.
Apart from this, however, I think the MOST-SENSIBLE-PERSON award should go to E.T as well. She is extremely level headed and knows just when to resolutely jump off the ledge and head home to her beloved “Ziauddin Barani”s and “Maurya foreign policies” – a quality which I sorely lack and thus very much envy.
The DAMN!-SHE-IS-SMART-AND-I-MEAN-REALLY-REALLY-SMART award definitely goes to E.T’s “big sister”. She is suited for this award to boot. And whenever I see her I go “damn! She is smart, I mean really really smart”. And just like her venerable “sibling” I think she should get another award. And that award let me tell you people….is really really hard to get.I don’t think anyone has got it in the recent past. And that is the I-DON’T-BUNK-A-SINGLE-CLASS-BUT-HAVE-A-ROARING-TIME-AT-THE-UNIVERSITY-ANYWAYS award. And she does people….she does. You will almost always find her hanging around the ledge or at monida’s – a gold flake kingsize hanging from her lips….and yet…believe it or not people…she does every single class….and I mean EVERY SINGLE one of them.
p.s. and she has got an amazing taste in music. ‘Big sis’, can I get ‘champagne supernova’ now please??
The I-DON’T-TALK-MUCH-BUT-KNOW-EVERYTHING-HAPPENING-AROUND-ME-ANYWAYS award goes to ‘eevee’. She doesn’t like to make herself very prominent….and likes to remain in the background, but, believe me, she knows everything worthwhile going on in the university and in the life of her contemporaries. And of course how can I forget her one and only similarity with the overtly extrovert and giggly me – we both come from the same (ahem!) ‘background’ you see. And before I forget I think she should have the I-AM-VERY-VERY-STUDIOUS-AND-I-STUDY-A-LOT-AND-I-MEAN-A-LOT award as well. Amongst all of us she is the one who really toils the hardest at her studies…(honestly, how many people would you find who would actually DO reference work in the off periods?? I mean, come on…off periods and studies?? Puh…lease….give me a break….)
The POUR-OUT-ALL-YOUR-AGONIES-TO-ME-DEAR-AND-I-WILL-SOOTHE-YOU-AND-NEVER-YOU-MIND-AND-HERE’S-A-TISSUE-AND-WIPE-YOUR-TEARS-AND-BLOW-YOUR-NOSE-AND-THERE-U-GO-THERE-IS-NOTHING-THAT-A-PAT-IN-THE-BACK-AND-A-CUP-OF-HOT-CHOCOLATE-WON’T-CURE award of course goes to the venerable ‘mommy’ of the venerable ‘siblings’ mentioned beforehand. She is a true-blue agony aunt if I have ever seen one. She is sympathetic and a really good listener. And as yippee hippie put it…..acts as the human ear. And so….if u want to know all the deepest darkest secrets of the most happening people in our campus….you know who to turn to. Not that she would tell you anyways…. She is VERY VERY tight lipped about the secret lives of all her nieces and nephews…..people call her a birdbrain sometimes…but she is not people….agony aunts generally aren’t….
The I-AM-STRANGE-AND-CREEPY-AND-I-AM-LIKE-THIS-ONLY-AND-WILL-YOU-PLEASE-LET-ME-BUY-SCRUNCHIES-FOR-YOU-PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE-I-WILL-BAKE-YOU-A-SINFULLY-RICH-CHOCOLATE-CAKE-IF-YOU-DO-AND-AREN’T-YOU-GOING-TO-POKE-ME-TODAY-I-AM-REALLY-REALLY-HURT-AND-ESTRANGED-AND-WHERE-IS-ANC-I-AM-MISSING-HIM-TERRIBLY-TERRIBLY-TERRIBLY award goes to ‘alliterations’. He is really a good boy and very very nice at heart but he can be really really freaky if he wants to. And before I forget it, he makes absolutely AWESOME chocolate cookies as well. Trust me people, I am speaking from experience.
p.s. and, please, for god’s sake, STOP CALLING ME LI’L BIMBO!! It freaks the hell out of me…..
The DHAT-B**-KICHU-BHALO-LAGCHHE-NA-CHAL-MAL-PARTY-KORI-AND-****KE-KI-BHALO-DEKHTE-NA-AMAR-NA-OKE-KHUB-BHALO-LAGE-KINTU-AHA-BECHARA-AMAKE-DEKHLEI-PALIYE-JAY-AND-DHUR-B*** C****-I-DON’T-THINK-I-FIT-IN-HERE-AT ALL-THE-ONLY-PLACE-I-FIT-IN-IS-MY-SCHOOL-GANG-AND-I-AM-MISSING-THEM-YAAR award definitely goes to mojo. She is one of the very few persons I have seen who run wild all day…all semester….smoking and occasionally grassing and boozing away to her heart’s content. She shares all her notes with everyone who asks for them and studies really really little and yet manages to pass with flying colours everytime. And though this is just not fair and I am green with jealousy, I have to say….. ‘don’t lose this gift of yours girl’….
The I-AM-THE-DADDY-AND-DON’T-YOU-DARE-DISOBEY-ME-AND-PLEASE-DON’T-BUNK-YOUR-CLASSES-AND-PLEASE-PLEASE-STUDY-YOU-HAVE-AN-EXAM-REMEMBER-AND-WANT-TO-LISTEN-TO-MY-NEW-POEM-ABOUT-A**-AND-THE-NAME-WILL-BE-ECSTASY-THAT’S-IT-I-DON’T-WANT-TO-HEAR-ANY-ARGUMENTS award goes to my ‘daddy’. He is strange….bunking classes left and right one week and spending all his spare time in the library the next. But he is a good friend nevertheless and for all the micro economics notes that he very generously gave me….a big THANK YOU DADDY!! And don’t mind….but don’t you think that the venerable prof. will get a little tired if you gift him a 4 pages long poem every other week?? I know u love the prof in question…..I do too….but give him a break, okay??
The ALL-THE-WORLD (ESPECIALLY WEST BENGAL)-IS-A-STAGE-AND-SPEAKING-OF-BANGALIS-AND-STAGE-GOTOKAL-BUJHLI-TO-MADHUSUDAN-MANCHE-EKTA-NATAK-DEKHLAM….award definitely goes to S…our resident bheto, aantel bangali.…..With his jhola, cigarettes and his passion for everything concerned with natak and cha…he represents the typical Juite. I can picture him in the not so distant future with ekmukh dari , Punjabi, jeans, jhola and chappal….running around college street in a cycle….trying to get his little magazine published……go S…..
The I-DON’T FIT-IN-HERE-I-DON’T-KNOW-WHY-I-CAME-HERE-IN-THE-FIRST-PLACE-WHY-WHY-WHY- award has only one recipient. D of course. She is pretty. And quite sensible. But I find her strange fits of depression and intellectual conversation (as well as her …ahem…’puzzling’ dress sense) very very confusing.
And I won’t even get started on ‘little johnny’ …..everyone (including to some extent me as well) will run out of patience if I do…. So just let it be said that the ORGANIC-WALKING-TALKING-AND-HOGGING-ENCYCLOPAEDIA-BRITANNICA award undoubtedly goes to him. ( I am NOT starting on his other….ahem…. ‘characteristics’ for patience constraints…….u see….)
p.s. and S.D. please don’t mind….but I couldn’t think of any award to give you. You are the only ‘normal’ person I guess. Though u DO tend to do VERY VERY weird things on the ledge once in the while. (or should I say DID?)
The I-AM-NOT-NICE-AND-DON’T-U-DARE-CALL-ME-THAT-BECAUSE-I-LIKE-PEOPLE-TO-THINK-I-AM-MEAN-AND-I-AM-REALLY-MEAN-ANYWAYS award goes to……who else?? Yippee hippie of course….she is the only person I have seen who actually likes it when people call her mean and not nice. And she not only likes it….she positively GLOWS with self-satisfaction. And the weird part is…she is not really mean….not as mean as SOME people are anyways. But she is really really trying hard to reach this goal….and by the look of things I think she will succeed if she keeps on toiling like this for a few more weeks….so…all the best girl….keep going….
The AHEM-I-REALLY-APPRECIATE-THE-VALUES-MY-PARENTS-HAVE-INCULACATED-IN-ME-AND-I-WILL-NOT-EVER-REBEL-AGAINST-THEM-BECAUSE-AFTER-ALL-THEY-ARE-MY-PARENTS-AND-KNOW-WHAT-IS-BEST-FOR-ME-AND-WHY-ARE-U-TURNING-REBELLIOUS-THEY-WANT-UR-WELL BEING-AT-THE-END-OF-THE-DAY (phew!!) award definitely goes to E.T.(go home). I mean…come on….the ‘rebellious’ people here are 17 or 18…and if u don’t rebel against your parents now…..how will they know that you are almost an adult….and can be trusted to make certain decisions by yourself?? And trust me…when there are parents who yell at you when you reach home at 11:20 instead of 11 (which is a really early curfew time anyway and I was escorted by a “grown-up” for god’s sake!!) it is necessary to have a fight with them. Not to say that I don’t appreciate my parents being my parents and wanting the best for me and blah blah…… but there are some times when u just HAVE to rebel….to get it out of ur system probably…but you just have to.
Apart from this, however, I think the MOST-SENSIBLE-PERSON award should go to E.T as well. She is extremely level headed and knows just when to resolutely jump off the ledge and head home to her beloved “Ziauddin Barani”s and “Maurya foreign policies” – a quality which I sorely lack and thus very much envy.
The DAMN!-SHE-IS-SMART-AND-I-MEAN-REALLY-REALLY-SMART award definitely goes to E.T’s “big sister”. She is suited for this award to boot. And whenever I see her I go “damn! She is smart, I mean really really smart”. And just like her venerable “sibling” I think she should get another award. And that award let me tell you people….is really really hard to get.I don’t think anyone has got it in the recent past. And that is the I-DON’T-BUNK-A-SINGLE-CLASS-BUT-HAVE-A-ROARING-TIME-AT-THE-UNIVERSITY-ANYWAYS award. And she does people….she does. You will almost always find her hanging around the ledge or at monida’s – a gold flake kingsize hanging from her lips….and yet…believe it or not people…she does every single class….and I mean EVERY SINGLE one of them.
p.s. and she has got an amazing taste in music. ‘Big sis’, can I get ‘champagne supernova’ now please??
The I-DON’T-TALK-MUCH-BUT-KNOW-EVERYTHING-HAPPENING-AROUND-ME-ANYWAYS award goes to ‘eevee’. She doesn’t like to make herself very prominent….and likes to remain in the background, but, believe me, she knows everything worthwhile going on in the university and in the life of her contemporaries. And of course how can I forget her one and only similarity with the overtly extrovert and giggly me – we both come from the same (ahem!) ‘background’ you see. And before I forget I think she should have the I-AM-VERY-VERY-STUDIOUS-AND-I-STUDY-A-LOT-AND-I-MEAN-A-LOT award as well. Amongst all of us she is the one who really toils the hardest at her studies…(honestly, how many people would you find who would actually DO reference work in the off periods?? I mean, come on…off periods and studies?? Puh…lease….give me a break….)
The POUR-OUT-ALL-YOUR-AGONIES-TO-ME-DEAR-AND-I-WILL-SOOTHE-YOU-AND-NEVER-YOU-MIND-AND-HERE’S-A-TISSUE-AND-WIPE-YOUR-TEARS-AND-BLOW-YOUR-NOSE-AND-THERE-U-GO-THERE-IS-NOTHING-THAT-A-PAT-IN-THE-BACK-AND-A-CUP-OF-HOT-CHOCOLATE-WON’T-CURE award of course goes to the venerable ‘mommy’ of the venerable ‘siblings’ mentioned beforehand. She is a true-blue agony aunt if I have ever seen one. She is sympathetic and a really good listener. And as yippee hippie put it…..acts as the human ear. And so….if u want to know all the deepest darkest secrets of the most happening people in our campus….you know who to turn to. Not that she would tell you anyways…. She is VERY VERY tight lipped about the secret lives of all her nieces and nephews…..people call her a birdbrain sometimes…but she is not people….agony aunts generally aren’t….
The I-AM-STRANGE-AND-CREEPY-AND-I-AM-LIKE-THIS-ONLY-AND-WILL-YOU-PLEASE-LET-ME-BUY-SCRUNCHIES-FOR-YOU-PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE-I-WILL-BAKE-YOU-A-SINFULLY-RICH-CHOCOLATE-CAKE-IF-YOU-DO-AND-AREN’T-YOU-GOING-TO-POKE-ME-TODAY-I-AM-REALLY-REALLY-HURT-AND-ESTRANGED-AND-WHERE-IS-ANC-I-AM-MISSING-HIM-TERRIBLY-TERRIBLY-TERRIBLY award goes to ‘alliterations’. He is really a good boy and very very nice at heart but he can be really really freaky if he wants to. And before I forget it, he makes absolutely AWESOME chocolate cookies as well. Trust me people, I am speaking from experience.
p.s. and, please, for god’s sake, STOP CALLING ME LI’L BIMBO!! It freaks the hell out of me…..
The DHAT-B**-KICHU-BHALO-LAGCHHE-NA-CHAL-MAL-PARTY-KORI-AND-****KE-KI-BHALO-DEKHTE-NA-AMAR-NA-OKE-KHUB-BHALO-LAGE-KINTU-AHA-BECHARA-AMAKE-DEKHLEI-PALIYE-JAY-AND-DHUR-B*** C****-I-DON’T-THINK-I-FIT-IN-HERE-AT ALL-THE-ONLY-PLACE-I-FIT-IN-IS-MY-SCHOOL-GANG-AND-I-AM-MISSING-THEM-YAAR award definitely goes to mojo. She is one of the very few persons I have seen who run wild all day…all semester….smoking and occasionally grassing and boozing away to her heart’s content. She shares all her notes with everyone who asks for them and studies really really little and yet manages to pass with flying colours everytime. And though this is just not fair and I am green with jealousy, I have to say….. ‘don’t lose this gift of yours girl’….
The I-AM-THE-DADDY-AND-DON’T-YOU-DARE-DISOBEY-ME-AND-PLEASE-DON’T-BUNK-YOUR-CLASSES-AND-PLEASE-PLEASE-STUDY-YOU-HAVE-AN-EXAM-REMEMBER-AND-WANT-TO-LISTEN-TO-MY-NEW-POEM-ABOUT-A**-AND-THE-NAME-WILL-BE-ECSTASY-THAT’S-IT-I-DON’T-WANT-TO-HEAR-ANY-ARGUMENTS award goes to my ‘daddy’. He is strange….bunking classes left and right one week and spending all his spare time in the library the next. But he is a good friend nevertheless and for all the micro economics notes that he very generously gave me….a big THANK YOU DADDY!! And don’t mind….but don’t you think that the venerable prof. will get a little tired if you gift him a 4 pages long poem every other week?? I know u love the prof in question…..I do too….but give him a break, okay??
The ALL-THE-WORLD (ESPECIALLY WEST BENGAL)-IS-A-STAGE-AND-SPEAKING-OF-BANGALIS-AND-STAGE-GOTOKAL-BUJHLI-TO-MADHUSUDAN-MANCHE-EKTA-NATAK-DEKHLAM….award definitely goes to S…our resident bheto, aantel bangali.…..With his jhola, cigarettes and his passion for everything concerned with natak and cha…he represents the typical Juite. I can picture him in the not so distant future with ekmukh dari , Punjabi, jeans, jhola and chappal….running around college street in a cycle….trying to get his little magazine published……go S…..
The I-DON’T FIT-IN-HERE-I-DON’T-KNOW-WHY-I-CAME-HERE-IN-THE-FIRST-PLACE-WHY-WHY-WHY- award has only one recipient. D of course. She is pretty. And quite sensible. But I find her strange fits of depression and intellectual conversation (as well as her …ahem…’puzzling’ dress sense) very very confusing.
And I won’t even get started on ‘little johnny’ …..everyone (including to some extent me as well) will run out of patience if I do…. So just let it be said that the ORGANIC-WALKING-TALKING-AND-HOGGING-ENCYCLOPAEDIA-BRITANNICA award undoubtedly goes to him. ( I am NOT starting on his other….ahem…. ‘characteristics’ for patience constraints…….u see….)
p.s. and S.D. please don’t mind….but I couldn’t think of any award to give you. You are the only ‘normal’ person I guess. Though u DO tend to do VERY VERY weird things on the ledge once in the while. (or should I say DID?)
Monday, January 16, 2006
Bookworm's Corner
These are the books which I have read in 2005………
At least the books which have left a mark on me – good or bad…..Besides the ones that I mention I have also read many others….but they were either too boring or too crappy to write about….. So….. here goes –
*"Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy" – My biggest literary discovery in 2005 was Douglas Adams.I can’t believe what I was missing out on….. I have read all the 5 books in the hitchhiker’s series now…. Unfortunately though I found that the quality declined with each progressive book in the series…..
*"The Fountainhead" – I liked this book. I had read ‘We the Living’ by the same author a couple of years back….but I think that ‘Fountainhead’ is so much better. Absolutely fell in LOVE with Gail Wynand….but DID NOT like Howard Roark…thought he was too perfect for his own good. My biggest mistake though, was that I tried to read ‘Fountainhead’ and ‘Atlas Shrugged’ back to back….my head got SO full of high ideals that I had to leave the latter unfinished…..I am too unintellectual for this kind of intense reading I guess….
*"Five Point Someone" – I LOVED this book. Made for an excellent read during a boring train journey. Liked Hari….and especially loved the parts dealing with vodka,floyd and grass. Thought that Ryan was the ultimate college cool dude. I have not read ‘One Night at the Call Centre’ as yet….but have heard that it fails to live up to the expectations……
*"The God of Small Things" – I sort of found the book interesting. But some parts of it were way above my head. I liked Arundhati Roy’s descriptive powers though….
*"The Alchemist" – Probably one of the best books that I read last year. Became a true blue Coelho fan….plan to read more of his books soon.
*"Freedom at Midnight" – I LOVED the book. Thought it was really AWESOME. And developed a raging interest in India’s freedom struggle for the time being. But regretted not reading it before my class tenth board exams. Would have done better in history then. At least in Indian history.
*"Train to Pakistan" – Read it right after ‘Freedom at Midnight’. And the combined effects of these 2 awesome books were enough to make me wish that I had a time machine so that I could go back to the 1940s.
*"The Family" – Was shocked and amazed by the book. But in retrospection I think that it was a pretty good read. Comes nowhere near ‘Godfather’ though.
*"Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" – Finished the book in one evening as it was lent to me for one day only. So only remember it superficially….as a result of superfast reading. Liked it though. Liked it quite a lot.Thought that the idea of the half blood prince was brilliantly conceived and concealed till the end. But thought that Rowling had still failed to live up to the expectations that she had generated after the first 4 books. But half blood prince is still much better than her 5th book – ‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’. That was really really crappy…perhaps the worst of the Harry Potter series.
* Don’t know why but I went completely Erich Segal crazy after my board exams got over. So in the months before the results I read ‘Acts of Faith’, ‘Doctors’, ‘Man woman and child’ and ‘Oliver’s story’. Liked each one of the books. Oliver’s story was good but disappointed me because I couldn’t let go of ‘Love Story’. My favourite among these is probably ‘Acts of Faith’. Simple LOVED the book.
*I also went Ruskin Bond crazy last year….and started reading everything by him that I could lay my hands upon. His writings have this strange, ethereal, timeless beauty which absolutely mesmerized me.
*I liked ‘The Da Vinci Code’ by Dan Brown. So I naively thought that his other works would be good too. I was wrong. I read all of his other books in one go and ‘Digital Fortress’ was the only one I liked. Was especially disappointed by ‘Angels and Demons’.
*Read 4 books by Robert Fulghum and came to the conclusion that these were probably the best anti depressant medicines available in the market. The books had weird names though. They went something like – “All I really need to know I learnt in kindergarten”, “It was on fire when I lay down on it”, “Uh-oh” and “Maybe (Maybe not) – Observations from both sides of the refrigerator door.”
*Apart from these I read lots of short stories by Maugham. He is one of my favourite authors. Especially loved the story ‘Rain’. It literally sent shivers down my spine.
*I read lots of classics too. Some of which were a part of my course – and so compulsory reading. ‘Wuthering Heights’ was by far the best read among all of them.
*Reread many of my favourite books like ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, ‘Catcher in the Rye’, ‘Gone with the Wind’, ‘The Godfather’ etc. Found out that ‘Godfather’ still had the power to reduce me to breathless excitement. And though I read ‘Catcher in the Rye’ 3 times, was still confused by it.
That’s all I guess….those were all the mentionable books that come to my mind right now. The mentionable English books at least…..( I admit though that I may have missed out quite a few)
And following are the books that I absolutely definitely plan to read this year –
*‘The Manticore’s Secret’ by Samit Basu ( I am reading ‘The Simoquin Prophecies’ right now, and loving it)
*‘Hungry Tide’ by Amitav Ghosh
*‘The Namesake’ by Jhumpa Lahiri ( I loved ‘Interpreter of Maladies’)
*‘Lord of the Rings’ by J.R.R.Tolkein( I know, I know I haven’t read it yet…and that’s a bloody shame)
*‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ by Roald Dahl (I may have passed the age in which people generally read it, but I think that I should read it all the same.)
*Books by Teri Pratchett ( I haven’t read any)
*Books by Salman Rushdie (I haven’t read any)
*Books by V.S. Naipaul ( Again, I regret to say that I haven’t read any of his books.)
p.s. Tried to see if I could read mills and boons. Gave up after trudging through 3 novels. Actually got tired of heroes who had “ rugged good looks with broad shoulders and rippling muscles…” and passion which “flowed like hot and liquid honey through their veins”. YUCK!!
At least the books which have left a mark on me – good or bad…..Besides the ones that I mention I have also read many others….but they were either too boring or too crappy to write about….. So….. here goes –
*"Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy" – My biggest literary discovery in 2005 was Douglas Adams.I can’t believe what I was missing out on….. I have read all the 5 books in the hitchhiker’s series now…. Unfortunately though I found that the quality declined with each progressive book in the series…..
*"The Fountainhead" – I liked this book. I had read ‘We the Living’ by the same author a couple of years back….but I think that ‘Fountainhead’ is so much better. Absolutely fell in LOVE with Gail Wynand….but DID NOT like Howard Roark…thought he was too perfect for his own good. My biggest mistake though, was that I tried to read ‘Fountainhead’ and ‘Atlas Shrugged’ back to back….my head got SO full of high ideals that I had to leave the latter unfinished…..I am too unintellectual for this kind of intense reading I guess….
*"Five Point Someone" – I LOVED this book. Made for an excellent read during a boring train journey. Liked Hari….and especially loved the parts dealing with vodka,floyd and grass. Thought that Ryan was the ultimate college cool dude. I have not read ‘One Night at the Call Centre’ as yet….but have heard that it fails to live up to the expectations……
*"The God of Small Things" – I sort of found the book interesting. But some parts of it were way above my head. I liked Arundhati Roy’s descriptive powers though….
*"The Alchemist" – Probably one of the best books that I read last year. Became a true blue Coelho fan….plan to read more of his books soon.
*"Freedom at Midnight" – I LOVED the book. Thought it was really AWESOME. And developed a raging interest in India’s freedom struggle for the time being. But regretted not reading it before my class tenth board exams. Would have done better in history then. At least in Indian history.
*"Train to Pakistan" – Read it right after ‘Freedom at Midnight’. And the combined effects of these 2 awesome books were enough to make me wish that I had a time machine so that I could go back to the 1940s.
*"The Family" – Was shocked and amazed by the book. But in retrospection I think that it was a pretty good read. Comes nowhere near ‘Godfather’ though.
*"Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" – Finished the book in one evening as it was lent to me for one day only. So only remember it superficially….as a result of superfast reading. Liked it though. Liked it quite a lot.Thought that the idea of the half blood prince was brilliantly conceived and concealed till the end. But thought that Rowling had still failed to live up to the expectations that she had generated after the first 4 books. But half blood prince is still much better than her 5th book – ‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’. That was really really crappy…perhaps the worst of the Harry Potter series.
* Don’t know why but I went completely Erich Segal crazy after my board exams got over. So in the months before the results I read ‘Acts of Faith’, ‘Doctors’, ‘Man woman and child’ and ‘Oliver’s story’. Liked each one of the books. Oliver’s story was good but disappointed me because I couldn’t let go of ‘Love Story’. My favourite among these is probably ‘Acts of Faith’. Simple LOVED the book.
*I also went Ruskin Bond crazy last year….and started reading everything by him that I could lay my hands upon. His writings have this strange, ethereal, timeless beauty which absolutely mesmerized me.
*I liked ‘The Da Vinci Code’ by Dan Brown. So I naively thought that his other works would be good too. I was wrong. I read all of his other books in one go and ‘Digital Fortress’ was the only one I liked. Was especially disappointed by ‘Angels and Demons’.
*Read 4 books by Robert Fulghum and came to the conclusion that these were probably the best anti depressant medicines available in the market. The books had weird names though. They went something like – “All I really need to know I learnt in kindergarten”, “It was on fire when I lay down on it”, “Uh-oh” and “Maybe (Maybe not) – Observations from both sides of the refrigerator door.”
*Apart from these I read lots of short stories by Maugham. He is one of my favourite authors. Especially loved the story ‘Rain’. It literally sent shivers down my spine.
*I read lots of classics too. Some of which were a part of my course – and so compulsory reading. ‘Wuthering Heights’ was by far the best read among all of them.
*Reread many of my favourite books like ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, ‘Catcher in the Rye’, ‘Gone with the Wind’, ‘The Godfather’ etc. Found out that ‘Godfather’ still had the power to reduce me to breathless excitement. And though I read ‘Catcher in the Rye’ 3 times, was still confused by it.
That’s all I guess….those were all the mentionable books that come to my mind right now. The mentionable English books at least…..( I admit though that I may have missed out quite a few)
And following are the books that I absolutely definitely plan to read this year –
*‘The Manticore’s Secret’ by Samit Basu ( I am reading ‘The Simoquin Prophecies’ right now, and loving it)
*‘Hungry Tide’ by Amitav Ghosh
*‘The Namesake’ by Jhumpa Lahiri ( I loved ‘Interpreter of Maladies’)
*‘Lord of the Rings’ by J.R.R.Tolkein( I know, I know I haven’t read it yet…and that’s a bloody shame)
*‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ by Roald Dahl (I may have passed the age in which people generally read it, but I think that I should read it all the same.)
*Books by Teri Pratchett ( I haven’t read any)
*Books by Salman Rushdie (I haven’t read any)
*Books by V.S. Naipaul ( Again, I regret to say that I haven’t read any of his books.)
p.s. Tried to see if I could read mills and boons. Gave up after trudging through 3 novels. Actually got tired of heroes who had “ rugged good looks with broad shoulders and rippling muscles…” and passion which “flowed like hot and liquid honey through their veins”. YUCK!!
Friday, January 13, 2006
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr.......
I love feeling cold. Not the kind of cold that u feel when u hold an icecube in ur hand for too long……no….that cold is painful….my palm starts to hurt after sometime…..i like the kind of cold that u feel in ur dreams when u have kicked off the covers in ur sleep and are not awake enough to pull it back….but u can feel the chill nevertheless….the cold creeping up ur leg…..i like that kind of a cold….a cold which is kind of unreal and vaguely disconcerting as well. I like the kind of cold that u feel when u r getting ready for bed….a kind of reassuring cold which promises that a warm snuggling down under blankets with ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ is still to come. Cold is nice. I like the kind of cold which numbs your limbs so that you don’t know whether they are ur bodyparts or not. A sharp kind of cold which clears your brain and reminds you of how much alive u r. actually I think I was wrong when I said that I don’t enjoy feeling painfully cold. I do to a certain extent. It reminds me as to how excruciatingly, mindbogglingly alive I am.
I love winters. Winters remind me of multicoloured pullovers and school excursions and sports practice and running for long hours without breaking into a sweat and bonfires and notun gurer sandesh and gorom bhaat and gorom malpoa and gorom patisapta (which my dida makes) and baths in warm water and angulkata moja and komolalebu and the smell of ponds cold cream and lakme moisturizer and pears glycerine soap and once again warm snuggles under the blankets with "Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy" or "Moon and the Sixpence" or the latest "Harry Potter".
I can’t understand privileged people( not homeless poor ones but people who have warm blankets and heaters and so forth) complaining about the cold in kolkata. Feeling mindnumbingly, painfully, fantastically cold in Kolkata is a luxury. I plan to enjoy it while it lasts.
I love winters. Winters remind me of multicoloured pullovers and school excursions and sports practice and running for long hours without breaking into a sweat and bonfires and notun gurer sandesh and gorom bhaat and gorom malpoa and gorom patisapta (which my dida makes) and baths in warm water and angulkata moja and komolalebu and the smell of ponds cold cream and lakme moisturizer and pears glycerine soap and once again warm snuggles under the blankets with "Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy" or "Moon and the Sixpence" or the latest "Harry Potter".
I can’t understand privileged people( not homeless poor ones but people who have warm blankets and heaters and so forth) complaining about the cold in kolkata. Feeling mindnumbingly, painfully, fantastically cold in Kolkata is a luxury. I plan to enjoy it while it lasts.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
I AM LIKE THIS?? REALLY??
| Your Birth Month is February |
 Your soul reflects: Purity, modesty, and faithfulness Your gemstone: Amethyst Your flower: Iris Your colors: Purple, yellow, and light blue |
What Does Your Birth Month Mean?
| You Have a Choleric Temperament |
 You posses a sharp and keen intellect. Your mind is your primary weapon.Strong willed, nothing can keep you down. Your energy can break down any wall.You're an instantly passionate person - and this passion gives you an intoxicating power over others. At your worst, you are a narcissist. Full of yourself and even proud of your faults.Stubborn and opinionated, you know what you think is right. End of discussion.A bit of a misanthrope, you often see others as weak, ignorant, and inferior. |
What Temperment Are You?
I know....i know....i should have started my blog with something i wrote myself.....but then...i was reading this story and by the time i had finished it, i had this strange tightness in my chest...and trust me i DO NOT often get strange tightnesses in my chest.....so i thought i would share this...anyhow this story is like me in a certain way.....crazy and strange..... with a good dose of sincerity an laughter mixed in it....
"Good friends finally put together their resources and made themselves a child. Me, I am the godfather in the deal. I take my job seriously.
So far I have introduced the kid to the good things in life – chocolate, beer, cigars, Beethoven and dirty jokes. I haven’t told him about sex yet, but he’s got some idea of his own already. I won’t go into the details here, but if you have ever had a little kid or have ever been a little kid, then you know what I mean.
Also, I introduced him to crayons. Bought the Crayola beginner set – the short, fat, thick ones with training wheels. Every few weeks I would put one in his hand and show him how to make a mark with it. Mostly he just held it and stared at me. He had a cigar in his other hand and couldn’t tell the difference between it and the Crayola. Then we went through the office – stuffing phase, when the Crayola went in his mouth and ears and nose. Finally last week I held his hand and made a big red mark with the Crayola on a sheet of newsprint. And WHAM! He got the picture. A light bulb went off in a new room in his head. And he did it again on his own. Now, reports his mother, with a mixture of pleasure and pain, there is no stopping him.
Crayolas plus imagination (the ability to create images) – these make for happiness if you are a child. Amazing things, Crayolas. Some petroleum-based wax, some dye, a little binder – not much to them. Until you add the imagination. The Binney Company in Pennsylvania makes about two billion of these oleaginous sticks of pleasure every year and exports them to every country in the United Nations. Crayolas are one of the few things the human race has in common. That green and yellow box hasn’t changed since 1937. In fact, the only change has been to rename the “flesh” color “peach”. That’s a sign of progress.
The way I know about “flesh” and “peach” is that, when I bought my own godson his trainer set, I indulged myself. Bought my very own set of sixty-four. In the big four section box with the sharpener built right in. Never had my own set before. Seems like I was always too old or too young to have one. While I was at it, I bought several sets. Got one for the kid’s mother and father and explained it was theirs, not his.
What I notice is that every adult or child I give a new set of Crayolas to goes a little funny. The kids smile, get a glazed look on their faces, pour the crayons out, and just look at them for a while. Then they go to work on the nearest flat surface and will draw anything you ask, just name it. The adults always get the most wonderful kind of sheepish smile on their faces – a mixture of delight and nostalgia and silliness. And they immediately start telling you about all their experiences with Crayolas. Their first box, using every color, breaking them, trying to get them in the box in order again, trying to use them in a bundle, putting them on hot things and seeing them melt, shaving them onto waxed paper and ironing them into stained glass windows, eating them and on and on. If you want an interesting party sometime, combine cocktails and a fresh box of Crayolas for everybody.
When you think about it, for sheer bulk there’s more art done with Crayolas than with anything else. There must be billions of sheets of paper in every country in the world, in billions of boxes and closets and attics and cupboards, covered with billions of pictures in crayon. The imagination of the human race poured out like a river. Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev used crayons, I bet. So did Fidel and the emperor of Japan and Rajiv Gandhi and Mrs. Thatcher and Mr. Mubarak and maybe even the ayatollah. And just about everybody else you care to name.
Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A Beauty Bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air – explode softly – and send thousands, millions of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth – boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap either – not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.
Guess that sounds absurd, doesn’t it? A bit dumb. Crazy and silly and weird. But I was reading in the paper today how much money the Russians and our Congress just set aside for weapons. And I think about what those weapons will do. And I’m not confused about what’s weird and silly and crazy and absurd. And I’m not confused about the lack of, or the need for, imagination in low or high places. Pass the crayons, please."
by Robert Fulghum
"Good friends finally put together their resources and made themselves a child. Me, I am the godfather in the deal. I take my job seriously.
So far I have introduced the kid to the good things in life – chocolate, beer, cigars, Beethoven and dirty jokes. I haven’t told him about sex yet, but he’s got some idea of his own already. I won’t go into the details here, but if you have ever had a little kid or have ever been a little kid, then you know what I mean.
Also, I introduced him to crayons. Bought the Crayola beginner set – the short, fat, thick ones with training wheels. Every few weeks I would put one in his hand and show him how to make a mark with it. Mostly he just held it and stared at me. He had a cigar in his other hand and couldn’t tell the difference between it and the Crayola. Then we went through the office – stuffing phase, when the Crayola went in his mouth and ears and nose. Finally last week I held his hand and made a big red mark with the Crayola on a sheet of newsprint. And WHAM! He got the picture. A light bulb went off in a new room in his head. And he did it again on his own. Now, reports his mother, with a mixture of pleasure and pain, there is no stopping him.
Crayolas plus imagination (the ability to create images) – these make for happiness if you are a child. Amazing things, Crayolas. Some petroleum-based wax, some dye, a little binder – not much to them. Until you add the imagination. The Binney Company in Pennsylvania makes about two billion of these oleaginous sticks of pleasure every year and exports them to every country in the United Nations. Crayolas are one of the few things the human race has in common. That green and yellow box hasn’t changed since 1937. In fact, the only change has been to rename the “flesh” color “peach”. That’s a sign of progress.
The way I know about “flesh” and “peach” is that, when I bought my own godson his trainer set, I indulged myself. Bought my very own set of sixty-four. In the big four section box with the sharpener built right in. Never had my own set before. Seems like I was always too old or too young to have one. While I was at it, I bought several sets. Got one for the kid’s mother and father and explained it was theirs, not his.
What I notice is that every adult or child I give a new set of Crayolas to goes a little funny. The kids smile, get a glazed look on their faces, pour the crayons out, and just look at them for a while. Then they go to work on the nearest flat surface and will draw anything you ask, just name it. The adults always get the most wonderful kind of sheepish smile on their faces – a mixture of delight and nostalgia and silliness. And they immediately start telling you about all their experiences with Crayolas. Their first box, using every color, breaking them, trying to get them in the box in order again, trying to use them in a bundle, putting them on hot things and seeing them melt, shaving them onto waxed paper and ironing them into stained glass windows, eating them and on and on. If you want an interesting party sometime, combine cocktails and a fresh box of Crayolas for everybody.
When you think about it, for sheer bulk there’s more art done with Crayolas than with anything else. There must be billions of sheets of paper in every country in the world, in billions of boxes and closets and attics and cupboards, covered with billions of pictures in crayon. The imagination of the human race poured out like a river. Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev used crayons, I bet. So did Fidel and the emperor of Japan and Rajiv Gandhi and Mrs. Thatcher and Mr. Mubarak and maybe even the ayatollah. And just about everybody else you care to name.
Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A Beauty Bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air – explode softly – and send thousands, millions of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth – boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap either – not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.
Guess that sounds absurd, doesn’t it? A bit dumb. Crazy and silly and weird. But I was reading in the paper today how much money the Russians and our Congress just set aside for weapons. And I think about what those weapons will do. And I’m not confused about what’s weird and silly and crazy and absurd. And I’m not confused about the lack of, or the need for, imagination in low or high places. Pass the crayons, please."
by Robert Fulghum
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