Little Blue Pill For The Big Bad Universe? No?

General feeling of impotence taken over.

Now, if I get even one comment that seems like a 16 year old wrote it and went teehee over my use of the word impotence, I will tell them to fugg off and I will not post the comment.

The impotence I am talking about isn’t treatable with a little blue pill.

There are several reasons for this and I shall proceed to enumerate herewith:

1. being sick when out of Delhi. This is unavoidable. Also, its not that if I were in Delhi I wish I were sick. I have had one miserable experience with the flu and that was last year. No, the point where I was shivering under piles of blankets, I was home alone with no food. I had to drag my pounding head to the grocery store, stock up, walk home and did collapse, but thankfully at home. And it was scary as hell because no friends could make it during the work day, I couldn’t get to a doctor and I I couldn’t sit up because I would get a throbbing headache and throw up. My dad’s a doctor. I’ve never had to worry about being sick because if I am, I rely on my Dad (my mum actually who seems to take charge but if its really serious, seems a bit ineffectual and my dad takes over).

Anyway, am sick. And it sucks. Not that I claim anyone likes being sick but I wanna be home with the dogses, under my own quilt with a fridge full of food and home.

2. last night I read about the Mattoo and the Jessica Lall case. And I haven’t really followed them but here’s the thing, in keeping with my linear thinking and sense of fair play, the thought process is as such: bad man kill woman over booze, man mucho stupido, man must be punished.
   meh? Isn’t it that simple? No come on, look, just look! Lets break it down further and try dialectic:

Me: laws exist to keep people safe yes?
Them: yes
Me: to live in society you must follow laws
Them: yes (unless those laws impinge on your sense of freedom but my argument is if everyone holds the right to freedom as the highest good, then nothing enacted should intrinsically impinge on it but that’s another whole argument or another thread would be that the correct definition of law should be to uphold everyone’s right to freedom until it impinges on someone elses right but theres the argument of how much freedom is too much freedom and I am way too fuzzy headed to argue it through)
Me: if you break laws, you get punished
Them: yes

…..
????
No?

3. certain other happenings which is nobody’s beeswax ‘cept mine but will write about it eventually once I know what the hells bells is going on…and won’t mention it because I don’t know what’s going on but once I am sure will put it down on ’paper’ for better or for worse

Martha! The Neighbors Are At It Again!

Making gay porn that is...no wonder the shades are never up
Or perhaps its just a mental block
It works thankfully

And I'm still sick
And the boss is annoyed im sick and refuses to accept i stayed home all weekend

Bah Humbug!
Wow, its only end October and I'm already full of Christmas cheer...and snot

What If...?

I have this bad habit of sitting and imagining every scenario possible. Okay, I'm lying. I used to. I used to think about every situation I was confronted with and lie in bed, trying to fall asleep deciding how I would react and if I said this then that would happen yadda yadda yadda. It's kind of hard to run through it going if A happens, then B may or C may happen and if they happen, yeah you can run through the alphabet and get no where.
And you know what, you are still apt to be caught with your pants down (and stop it you pervs)

Maybe there isn't any way to prepare for anything. All you can do is throw your head in the air, stick your chest out (ladies, please, join in!) and leap in the deep end. Yeah, you always run the risk of drowning. But see, there is always a sure-fire solution -- don't step in the pool, don't say hello to the cute stranger, don't answer the phone, heck don't leave the house. And I guess everything that follows the plunge is life. And I wouldn't want to be the one who dies and realizes toward the end he should have jumped in, should have called the girl or should have danced that dance.

You can get burned over and over and over again. You can feel completely wretched and promise yourself never to do it again, to never take a chance and to make sure your protect yourself. But somehow being smothered in pillows to save your touchy from that hard landing, somehow, while taking care of that you seem to forget that the fun part, isn't the landing, but the jump (yeah, am alluding to sky diving which I have decided must be done in the next 13 months) (tangent: odd how i asked that everyone hope the flight goes fine, just tow weeks back and now I am talking about jumping out of one)
But yeah, what I was saying is that you can be terrified of many things you come across. But here's the thing, there are enough things in life that are hard to come by. Is choosing not to jump in, prudence or stupidity?
I know there have been a few times where I chose the stupid but safe option. Heck, I was longer with the Ex than i think, in hindsight, I should have been. But it felt safe. In any case, I think it was one of the better things that happened to me this year (and thankfully, while I was too scared to jump out, I was pushed out but I was also given a parachute, I just didn't know it).

I don't know how things will turn out. But I do know that they will in a way that i can't predict nor prepare for. But at least I know this: I will have fun on the way down and even if I get knocked about, won't squish when i hit the ground.

Remember, just tuck your knees in and roll...the rest, isn't really up to you...its weird but i can live a life I call my own but seemingly, a lot of the pivoting moments, have just happened without me knowing or realizing at the time...fucking A, bring it on, I'm right here!
:o)

A True Rant!!!

Goddamnit! I swear I am ranting ‘coz im sick. But I’m looking at this company that just doesn’t make sense to me, there are four different consulting firms, each with their own point of view and I don’t understand anything and I feel light headed and like shit and I have never felt this stupid in my life, no seriously, I feel like a fucking retard, I just don’t understand this stuff and there’s no one I can ask, my boss has been busy all day and I just don’t know what to do.

I need a holiday. Seriously. I want to go back to India for just a short while and forget work and this whole horrible feeling.

Fucking ticket cost me $1800.

(Sigh) can’t complain too much though, at least a few things are going by way an never mind your beeswax what…no go on, git!

Sorry, am just…I wanna go home, crawl under my duvet, wake up on the 9^th of December when its time for me to go back to NYC.

Goddamnpissassshittylittlefuckingpieceofcrap...
I feel like crap at every level of the meaning of feeling like crap

Work in progress (update 2)

So this is all about growing up then. No, not what it’s like and not a rant…literally about growing up.
It kind of reminds me of my granddad telling stories about when he was a kid and used to walk hours to school barefoot and had a blackboard and chalk to write with. He became a geophysicist and set up the observatory in Kolaba and Kodaicanal and was a head-honco at the Meteorological Department. Me, I don’t know what I will grow up to be but touchwood will be something good.
Now I don remember much about Austria. But I know I was born there. And that’s all I have to say about that. I have heard wonderful things about Vienna and how beautiful it is. I heard about the Islamic influence on architecture in Salzburg and the river running through it. And I know I learned German just so I can go back
But one of my earliest memories was waking up in a big bed under a green, furry blanket, the kind I haven’t seen except in Saudi Arabia. And I loved the fact that it was empty when I woke up, and I would flip and sleep horizontally on the bed just because I could. I guess I’ve always enjoyed my space. And I would finally get up at 10am (how do I remember that?!) and drag my blanket in one hand and a book in another. And I remember these books – The Questron series where you had this special pen with batteries and a sensor at the end and if you pressed on the wrong answer, the red light would go off but if you got the right one, it would make different sounds and lights would go off on it. I finally figured out that certain colors would trigger it and remember driving my folks nuts because I took it everywhere to see if I was right or not…
And I remember dragging my blankey (Say it like Garfield does, come on now, you know you want to!) and the book and a small pillow that my grandmother had made and sent from Gwalior and would drag it to the kitchen. And I would always plop down on the ground (white tiles and the apartment was sealed to keep the desert out) and lie playing and watching my mother make pancakes. And to this day, she makes them just right (thing and large, crepe like not small and fat). In fact, she still sues the frying pan she had back then (which she rarely scrubs because she believes it holds the taste better!) And I never had to attend school, there weren’t any in the campus where I grew up and at 11am my mum would teach me. And I still have the Dick and Jane books with the dates written in pencil so my mother knew where she had left off. Of course, the book will fall to pieces if you open it now but still. And I remember subscribing to umm, Sesame Street and The Electric Company. I learned a lot through Sesame Street and hope its around for a long while.
My dad would come home for lunch since the hospital he studied at was right there.
I remember I got a toy phone for a birthday and ran the wire down to my best friends place and would speak to him on that. I guess as kids you just want to grow up. Of course, now it’s another story.
And I remember the oddest of things, its funny what you end up remembering – like the giant box in which the quilt came, going down to the seaside, filling it with sand and putting it in the defunct bathroom so I had a sandbox to play in. Or collecting shells in a bottle with water to see snails and to your horror finding hermit crabs sticking their pincers out…the periwinkles, which my mother told me, were used to make experimental drugs to treat cancer (“…like Nana has?”)…There was the campus where I used to ride this kids bike and we once found that the inner part had tons of nests. And I remember shaking a low branch and an egg fell out and broke and I remember feeling so very guilty I started crying. There was the empty swimming pool next to the tennis courts where my dad used to play tennis with his friends and the kids would be ball boys.
And I have a vague recollection of a birthday where my mum made a train shaped cake and I put Bertie Bulldog and his compadre on it, the wheels out of biscuits. I remember hating the other kids opening my presents (word to the wise, let a kid open his presents, give him 5 minutes and he will get bored of them)
It was a nice childhood though I do remember one fight my folks had…anyway, why remember that?
Oh dear, I remember discovering that crayons wrote on walls too and I remember hiding in the closet writing on the walls. I don’t know what happened when my dad discovered it but he still recalls yelling at me. I guess that’s why I don’t remember.
I still have the blanket that was the first thing I ever wore, it was my eldest cousins and passed on to his brother. Of course, after me my sis used it and following her, every puppy brought into the house. I think my mum still has it, I hope she does.

Oh and if I am a bit fucked up too, I blame my mum! She made me watch so many horror flicks but the one that got me the most was the ‘Thriller’ video and I used to crawl under the carpet to watch it. And my folks were in the whole PDA stage at the time and full moon nights would go for a ride with me (in the Nissan Sunny, I cant believe I remember the car!) and there was this huge stretch of highway that just suddenly ended into desert and well, it was gorgeous (I think) but I screamed bloody murder coz I was freaked out.

I remember my folks took me to Jaipur and introduced me to my maternal grandparents and I had heard of them guess I warmed up. Of course, a short while later I had to begin school. You see best b’loved, thus far mum had taught me at home and that was *fine* by me! So anyway, it was um, Maharaja Sawaii Mansingh School in Jaipur and the auto would come in the mornings…wait, I get ahead of myself. I remember the first day of school and my folks dropped me off and I didn’t quite get the concept of them leaving me there. Not the first day anyway and I remember telling my mum it was boring and they didn’t have Sesame Street. But I think I figured it out the second day and had a bit of a cry. Oh well. Well, to be fair it got worse when my folks went back to Saudi Arabia. Dude, what the fuck?! I didn’t see them for two years but my mum sent back tapes of Sesame Street (look, call me a snob but all I had to watch was Doordarshan and even then the only decent shows were Áa bail mujhe maar’, ‘Shrimaan Shrimati’ (or something like that with Anu Malik) and ‘Spiderman’ (but only on Sundays when the neighbours kids would come over to watch it as well)

Anyway, turns out my folks weren’t missing (okay, fine I’m being dramatic) but promptly went and made my brat of a sister! I remember being fascinated when I went back to Saudi Arabia, yeah right, for all of one day before I realized she was sleeping where I used to. I tried trading her for an ice-cream once. My folks weren’t amused

Anyway, two years in Jaipur was enough (Std I-B and II-B, house: Kush (the other being Luv) and my favourite teacher was the English teacher, Mrs. Rama Dutt and how the fuck do I suddenly remember that?!

Cut to Delhi and my dad moved in with his brother (fuck, I remember the house and where it was…I guess I aint that old!) And it was nice until my sister got chickenpox, gave it to me and my cousins who must have been around 17 or 18. Good job sis! And I remember school…oh man, I was the afternoon shift at DPS Vasant Kunj which meant going after lunch and school starting at 2pm, sitting in the heat while the day-schoolers went home. Dude, you don’t have a bunch of kids sit outside in the field in summer, its Delhi you dumb cunts.

And it is kind of weird but there were two sections and none of them mixed or so I think but the girl I would later fall for, several years later was in the next room and I never knew. Its odd if you think about it, I mean how incidental stuff like that is and a minute here or a wrong turn somewhere could send you flying head over heels (pun intended)…either life does crystallize or love is completely out of whack with the rest of the known rules of logic.

Oh god, summer homework…im going to throw up…don’t remind me

I remember the nauseous feeling of coming home in the school bus when it was night and barely getting time to play with other kids because I had homework…man, whoever thought of the afternoon shift, I hope their fingers fall off.


But yes, after two years in that steaming circle of hell (did I not say we would sit for an hour at 2pm in the summer in a fucking field?)
But junior school was fun....I can't say I remember much of it but then again, wasn't particularly eventful. Now DPS RKPuram was a whole new ball game. Not really since I wasn't one of the cool kids and was happy being a wallflower so long as I had a few friends. But I remember being a bit scared on the first day (dude, there are hundreds of buses to get you home, I didn't want to be the schmuck who calls up his mum coz he got left behind) so I remember this girl who used the same bus as I showed me where it stood (G64 I think). Oddly enough, turns out that that girl wasn't a senior (she was tall dude!) but in my class.
Oh dear.
She was just weird and later I just saw that she had to be the world's biggest fruitcake. At every event where there were a bunch of people, she would have her parents meet the guy who scored the highest marks in the last major exam. No, listen, seriously. At the class picnic, she took the FatOne across Nehru Park, clear fucking across to meet her folks. After a school function, all of us were standing around and she introduces her folks:

Her: achcha mummy, these are the guys from my class
Guys from her class: oh hello
Her: and this is XYZ
XYZ: uh, hi
Guys from her class: (what the fuck?!)
Oh, XYZ is super smart and went to um, the second best med school in the country.


oh wait! it gets better
Her: Zaphod, I have to go, my father is here
Me: oh okay then
Her: Hey XYZ my dad wants to meet you
All of us: (whhaaa'at?)
And she takes XYZ up
The scenario: my birthday party in my basement...I hope she gets fat and stupid and is married to some schmuck and I get to meet her...of course, sarcasm would fly right over her head...always did

Anyway, then you had the jocks. No, seriously, you are walking down the hall, you see this group of guys, you keep walking, suddenly they grab you and hit you a few times. Now look, I can get into a fight and I have been in a few and yeah there have been bloody noses (no, not mine, very funny ha ha) but honestly, if its one of you and eight other guys, don't fucking tell me you are going to stand up coz you just know you will get ass-raped if you do. Of course, then you tell your freinds, meet them during break and duke it out.
Or if you are like me, squirt superglue in their keds when they take them off for pseudoyoga and smile for the rest of the day.
Fuck that shit, i'm getting my own back!

But it is more vindictive to know that one of them is a bouncer at a club (here's Rs50, be a good lad and go park my car, and oh, don't scratch it)
Would I ever say that to a stranger? No. Not if you pulled nails. But I would to the guy who considered him self the big swinging dick in school.

And then we have the high-school beauty queens, the one who is now an actuary and can barely saw a waord because well, rest of the conversation is over her once pretty head. Yeah, it's kinda sad.

But 11th was the best year I have had. There was no pressure since I was in between boards. I discovered booze and weed . Oh dear.

A Nighttime Song

I was talking to Hook last night and told her i can know a person a lifetime and not know them, or i can meet someone and instantly connect and be extremly curious about them. But that doesnt mean i want to know everything all at once. I want to find out over a lifetime. Like SB or Guppy, I want to know them over this life, I want to be the one who helps at their weddings and sees them off, be there when their kid is born.
But those are friends...there are a few people i have met in this life that you just want to know slowly but completely.

Heck, i think its the song Sophia by Nerina Pallot and the fact that i'm in my bed and its completely still outside and there are candles burning in the windowsill, long shadows flickering...the song begins again, with the slow piano, makes me say all this, and its scattered i know but who said thoughts followed a straight line? not when i write, when i write i let them flow without checking them and i feel so very free...

come over...come listen to this song with me, rest your head while i write so when i pause i can look over at you sleeping, come slide under the covers with your arms wrapped around me, you seem like a person with a lot behind their eyes...and i want to know your secrets and share mine...




Okay, this was meant as apiece of writing, im not being all intense or anything, i just wanted to write this...its my equivalent of painting a picture without a model, without a landscape, something i just wanted to paint without a concept in mind...


meh, my white peice of paper, my words and my eyes...

Divali Blues...or Not!

Oh dear

I'm blue (you can just hear the song, can't you?...who was it by? Eiffel something?)
Last night was so la la as the Germans would put it. Went boozing and blazing to Abester and Isabebe's place. Can't say I had a blast but it was be partying to avoid the funk of missing home.
You can try and cover it up but once in a while, it just doesn't go away.

Its Saturday morning and I'm in bed, have a great apartment, a spanking new laptop, nice TV, good food but nothing covers up me missing home. I call up the folks and see them on the webcam, the dogs in the background and I want to be there.

I call up 11ses and as always we talk about movies and ooooo, no , oooooo, Virgin comics is doing a bunch of Indianthemed comics like Ramayan and Devi and Snake Woman and the Sadhu and please, before you judge, go check them out at www.virgincomics.com They are beautifully rendered. Bobo and I devoured X Men but only the Virgin Comics version because they aren't comics, they really are graphic novels and I love the detail in each plate. But it's neat to see the weirdiest ways in which India has shown it self. Yes, the brain-drain started in the 80's and continues but ramped up recently. Now you have Mittal and Tata making waves what with the acquisition of corus. You have Hollowood coming down to India (I know, not new but still) and now in graphic novels. That, I must confess hadn't seen coming but nonetheless, it is really neat.

I spoke with Tough Cookie and she has a NY relationship. Since she works on weekends, she barely sees her boy. But it was great catching up with her.

Spoke with the Ex whose new beau is in the US and I commented on her and long distance relationships but turns out he is back in a month.

And what else, may decide to go to a temple today because I haven't been since I was 16 and I don't know, I seem to be forgetting what it was like to go to one. i remember as an 8 year old, I was staying with my grandparents in Jaipur (this is the point where I didn't see my folks for 2 years) and there was um, the Birla temple walking distance from home and my grandmother used to take me there and I loved sliding on the marble, especially rock-star style, you know, when you run and come sliding down on your knees playing the air-guitar and I remember the other kids looking at me weird and I tried explaining the concept to them. Didn't work too well because they were sliding but they kept trying to figure out why I had my hands (playing the air guitar). Oh dear, lost in translation to say the least

ANyway, my floor in the house in Delhi is getting ready and I can't wait, talk about a bachelor pad...large screen TVm, steam room in the bathroom, my Dad really outdid himself and I have no idea why is building something so fancy. Anyway, can't wait though it will be weird not staying the same room I spent the most angst ridden and the happiest years. Well, we will see, always hard letting go of an old room

Bawa seems eager to have me hang out with him, guess the hometime blues are striking everyone. Look, each time my mum hears me talk about London/NY she says, 'lucky you'. Ma, it ain't all its cracked up to be.

Aw shucks, I sound more morose than I am and let me warn anyone reading this, this is the place I rant and whine and bitch and cry. I amn't like that in real so please, let's not confused

break for a phone call

Right, I feel a lot happier now, I had a conversation about remake of the Don. It was the first Hindi movie I ever saw. it was in Panchshila Park at my uncles place and it was the first time i had been allowed to stay up 'all night' as I put it. My cousin brought Don, another movie and a big bottle of Thumbs Up (remember that?!) and Binnie's chips...and I was fascinated! We also saw another Hindi movie which was supposed to be a horror flick and I threw a fit (I was 7 or 8 and my mother had put me through enough viewings of the Exorcist so it's understandable) but my cousin insisted I would find it funny. And he was right.
We spoke about Taqdeerwala which is brilliant when you are blazed. And on everything I talk about with someone I have known forever and then some.
Felt like home...

Now I'm happy

See, doesn't take much to give this slob a smile.

PS: happy Divali to y'all!!

Ticket To Anywhere Please

I need a holiday. I haven’t had a decent one since December last year. Everyone seems to take a week in the summer and another around Christmas. Me, had to go and live half the world around and take two weeks together. Buts it reaching the point its hard to get out of bed (weather doesn’t help) and just finding it hard to motivate myself to learn something new. I mean I look forward to it but I’m petering out of steam. It’s just, I’m tired! And every week it’s the same story and okay, beginning of the year, I don’t care how hard I work, toward the end, partying every weekend isn’t enough. I need to wake up and not have anything to do. My batteries need a recharge.

I am looking forward to India now. Delhi is nice and all and have a few new people to meet (eM, am holding you to your word and will even accept bribe and write to you) and hahahaah, there’s the high school reunion i.e. redemption. Okay I was a geek in school and you had the usual cliques including the big swinging dicks. Well, one of them now is a bouncer at a club (here’s 50 bucks man, park my car…thanks…not that I would ever ever say that to anyone ever but have to to him, the schmuck) or the stud who is still tall but fat and bald….or the others who run daddy’s business. I can’t wait to find those idiots and see how they turned out. Oh fine, sue me I’m a vindictive cunt, now piss off.

And there’s Bombay where Tough Cookie, 11ses are. I can’t wait to see either of them since its been years and they are both delightful girls. Cookie is a news reader and research person. Bobo and I were remembering her last night with Bawa sitting there (wondering what on earth we were talking about and why was he not involved).

She is one head strong woman, one of the few and I love that about her. I miss 11ses Punjabi accent and when she gets excited she gets all flustered and lets loose this long string of Punjabi, Hindi and English or when she sulks she gets this big scowl and refuses to talk. That’s how racoon get crabs by the way ( NOT the disease you PERVS) – they keep tapping it with their paws till the crab sulks and refuses to come out of its shell. The raccoon then snaps it in half, yeah I’m a big Gerald Durrell fan thought haven’t re read anything since I was 17. She’s a fun cookie, we always talk about movies and books and the opposite sex. Plus she has this way of saying ‘leh’ that just cracks me up. And then she sulks, Tough Cookie goes after her saying ‘arrey! Itnee aukhar kyon ho rahee hai! Senti mat ho yaar!@ in this way that makes you feel ashamed for sulking no matter what happened. Those two crack me up all the more when they are together.

I spoke with 11ses a bit back and inquired about Cooki and 11ses says they are a married couple and there are times Cookie is out of the house before she (1ses) is up and comes home too tired to eat. Its true, they do sound domesticated!

And who else is in Bombay, there’s ShortBud who dated/s Guppy and was so psyched when he heard I was making it to Bombay and absolutely insistent I crash at his place.

And of course, Goa where I haven’t been since I was 14 and saw my first real live booby (some firang who decided to go topless…then I gawked, now I would just point and laugh because parading your boobies in India aint smart!).

I wanna goooo hooome!

Duuuuuuuuuuude"...you want two women in your bed, you take them!"

Duuuuuuuuude……duuuuuude, what the fuck happened

Yeah, it was a night and then some

Feather (I miss ya babe! GIVE’R!) left for Canada today so had to show her a good time right so I get home at 8:30, 9pm Bobo, Hook, Feather, Abe, Waffle, Cypriot and I head out…oh wait and Hook’s friend

We go to the Royal George and get the table outside and it begins…me, I’ve barely slept and am cranky and hungry and a few beers (I wont say how many, I need some self-respect here kids) and I am good to go.

Have to admit, Hook is fun. I mean we can tease each other mercilessly and well, you’ll see.

So anyway, 11pm rolls up and George closes so Hook’s friend takes us to same basement bar which is completely non-descript and right across my house, I have no idea how he knows these places but its open until 4am I think. I think Hook and I proceed to get steadily but increasingly drunk. We talk about Delhi cliches, growing up, what life is like, booze, sex, Skype marketing (turns out we have the same name in mind for the time we are growed up and have them bay-beees and if it’s a girl…odd but what the hey). Now, she and I are happy in our corner, just talking and an hour or so later we see:

1. Bobo assaulting Vodka (not the drink, she was tight already) but a boy (and getting her mack on, yeah baby!)
2. Groupie with her legs about Waffle making out
3. Hook’s friend (guy) and Hook’s friend (girl) hooking up but everyone thought he was gay
4. Me happy in one corner to talk with Hook
5. Feather leaning against the pillar and may as well make out it with
6. Abe MIA

Oh, also realized Isabebe is cute…so remember me ranting at the universe, I take it back

(embarrassed grin)

Right now am curious about Isabebe, Hook and well, one other person and out of them I really enjoy speaking with Hook and (one other person)…oh deeear!

So anyway, Hook and I end up at my place and spend an hour over wine, all alone speaking about cynicism, love, life, circumstances and geography (oh why on earth is that such a huge factor…it aint fair! So many interesting women and they aren’t in NY!...ugh)

Anyway, 3am and its beddy bye time and Hook’s in bed with me…4am Bobo sticks her head in, ‘dude, one of us is going to slide in with you, pick, me, Feather or Abe’

So now I have Bobo and Hook on either side and I’m trying to fight off Bobo to get space who is smashed and is sprawled out on half the bed, im trying to avoid squishing Hook because she’s tiny…dude…What. The. Fuck

5am Feather sticks her head in and goes, ‘guys, Abe is acting pervy with me’, I look up and yell at him ‘keep the mouse in the house dude else im gonna kick your ass!’. Hook gets hungry, we go to the kitchen to see pink shirt Abe prancing about, she gets rajma and cereal while im yelling at abe who doesn’t care.

Back to bed, I turn over, so does Bobo, with an outstretched arm and thwack! right in the kisser….you want two women in your bed, you take them!

One is assaulting me and one is tempting me like….yeah well

So again, I was complaining, you know what (looking up) I’M SORRY! So of all the new delightful women I have come across in the past month, am flirting shamelessly (is there any other way?) and can think of two I really like talking to

Which, for the time being, is fine

I get in to work, my boss is like, ‘dude, you missed out on a long night, it was brutal waking up’
The head guy tells me about shots he did

I didn’t have the heart to tell them I went out, got drunk, ended up in bed with two women and have slept two hours

All I can say about my life, which I think I may just love is

What. The. Fuck

Oh and I am SO VERY GLAD that it hasn't let me turn out like this guy...

On My Table...

1. 4 piles of papers for the four deals I work on and inevitably when I move one to the shelf, another takes its place
2. Tic tacs
3. Earphones because I am always plugged in
4. Pos-Its…whoever came up with them is brilliant
5. A bottle of water – is in line with the whole getting into shape thing
6. A copy of the Financial Times which I try and read when my boss is done but never seem to get to
7. a menu from this middle eastern place I eat at thrice a week
8. Duct tape…was here when I moved to London, god alone knows why
9. 5 screens which seem to swallow me up, especially when I lean forward and get absorbed in work
10. a jar of instant coffee…a necessary evil

New York New York!

Mr. Beeblebrox Does The Big Apple (no, not in that way but I did make the city mine)

Is it delightful to go for a breakfast meeting at 7:30am, have your guts in a knot from too much coffee and a clenched jaw from stress? Yeah, I needed a break and off we went.

You have to love airport checks. Is it ironic that I wrote about skin color and I was standing in line at the check point smiling to myself wondering what the odds were I would be pulled aside for an extra check? It’s even money if you ask me given I am brown and was rather unshaven Friday. So the guy pulls me aside and goes, “You have been selected for an additional, random security check” Whee! Lucky me, now where’s my million dollar check? None? What, I get the special brown color discount? So he takes me into a special booth (now now, you pervs) and says, this is a whole body scan, place your feet on the marks, stand with your arms in the air. So I stare at the carpeted wall wondering what next, a butt probe? No, instead I just had to turn around and do it over. But there was this picture of a white woman standing in place to show you how to stand. Right, how many white women in business suits have done this again?

I did indulge in duty free shopping, took Hook’s advice on Issey Miyaki for men and Aqua Di Gio which Bobo approves of as well. And yes, thanks to Mother Beeblebrox who deigned to visit in August, I have no T-Shirts left. She didn’t approve so after going through my cupboard (Ma! Really now! Thank the stars I keep stuff that would give her a minor heart-attack *touch wood* are kept somewhere else). So now you have me wearing a damn t shirt, straight out of the laundry. But Heathrow (unlike the crappy airport at Milan) had a Pink and a Hackett where I proceeded to get into holiday mood and shop.

The flight was thankfully uneventful but thank you’s to the folks who wished me a good flight, the ones who didn’t, why not?!

I was stressed thanks to BB who hadn’t even picked up the concert tickets from my office but we made it and saw the show for an hour and a half and that shit was over the top. You have Bruce Dickinson a very youthful 40’s…jackrabbits all over the stage, a packed stadium, fireworks, four, yes kiddies, four guitarists playing riffs like Death on their heels…near orgasmic (what can I say, live music, especially when its good sends me to own little Heaven). And of course, the show didn’t disappoint. There’s one video clip of a giant tank popping up with Ed Hunter sticking out of it and looking around. What can I say, Maiden’s new album has to do with war and death and stuff like that (would elaborate but I haven’t really heard it). Unfortunately, they were on tour to promote the new album which well, isn’t as good as their heyday but there’s nothing like listening to a band you grew up to with BB who was screaming his lungs off, a little air guitar on your part, thousands of screaming fans. Then there was a giant mecca-Eddie on stage, 12 feet high who came on during the song ‘The Evil That Men Do’. I loved the set, even though they played their old stuff for about 45 minutes but it was worth it! And the tickets were the best in the house baby! Right up there in front, close enough to see the guitar strings! (now guess which instrument is my favourite). And heck, watching these guys, its no wonder every guy wants to be a rock star…

BB, his friends and I went to Mr. Bigg’s which used to be a hole in the wall – think etched wooden counter, barflies, music and the smell of stale beer. Fine, call it a hole in the wall but my friends and I have consistently ended up here after a wild night about. The place has two happy hours -- 7pm to 8pm and 2am to 4am. But a hole in the wall it no longer is…they have TV’s all over with karaoke, a hostess to seat you (she must have been in her 30’s but that didn’t stop me from grabbing a ciggie with her and just talking about the City…she was attractive! I cant help myself…oh dear, the times I have said that!). Mo and her bf (who has all the personality of a dead tree stump) met us there, him preppy as ever (think white shirt with cardigan vest and argyles) and she looking as cute as always…anyway, I think she dragged him out which was flattering.

SB and Ash had already hit the sack when BB and I got home and Saturday was great. I went to Macy’s (love the one day sales) and the Apple store on 5^th ave. I think I recently read a story saying that some Muslims take offence to the fact that it is shaped like the Kaaba and should be destroyed. Hold on, step back a minute. Because it’s a cube shaped building, it is offensive? Dude, Cleopatra’s needle, the Washington monument, they are all phallic in shape, how about those? No, seriously, it’s a freaking computer store, get your head out of your butt and get real…Jesus, there’s no accounting for people. Einstein said it best when he said there were no limits to space and human stupidity.

Now, lets talk about sexy. Sexy is a lot of things – Adriana Lima, the new Lamborghini, the report on Iraq and WMD’s, my new computer…the MacBook Pro, 17” of design and pure lust…no, you don’t understand how good that computer is, I literally drool over it…fine ya, im a geek but that think is…its so money baby!

And, it set me back a pretty penny but it was my last major purchase for the year.

Oh and I think what made my day was seeing Guppy who I think may have come down from DC to see me. I love that girl…LOVE! She is the nicest person I know without being sweet, she is down to earth considering her background and is just a big (shes 5 feet and a few) softie. Plus she’s always been there when I was low, I’ve taken care of her when she’s been piss-ass drunk, I’ve been in fights to keep guys from taking advantage of her (and I mean that, especially when some loathsome prick finds an inebriated girl, he has his hands all over her…dude, makes me sick) and I know I’m going to be the idiot who gets buzzed at her wedding and spreads joy to the world…and it’s a pity I didn’t get a chance this time to grab coffee with her but seems as tho she is done with SS…but then they have split up so many times, my question is always which stage she is at this time around…

Saturday night finds me, Ash, Guppy, SB and BB at The Forbidden City which SUCKS DONKEY BALLS. We have reservations for 9:30 right (btw, it took us an hour to find a place that was still taking reservations at 11am on Satuday for dinner, what gives people?!) and waitress is you must be out by 11:30…fine, its new, perhaps they have a list. No forks, only chopsticks, half the items on the 10 item entrée list as unavailable, the appetisers, like the entrees apparently for anorexic models, portions so small I actually say out aloud ‘where’s the rest of it?’ and mean it. Oh well, I know I am never going there again.

Post dinner end up at Kush which well, was nice at one point when we could get a booth, a sheesha that actually works and drink that were under $8 (I tend to have 10 drinks in an evening, going out costs money and now I know why I end up broke, do the math people). Turns out Ash has broken up with Bawa for a pretty crappy reason, ironic because I just wrote about it as well.

Me: so why did you two split up…should I ask or wait for the story to make its rounds?
Ash: I have one word for you…
Me: ???
Ash: religion

Dude, What. The. Fuck? How can someone who is smart and works at a multinational investment firm be … be the kind oh my folks will pick for me. For the first time, I felt bad for her, because she really want into him and it’s the first time I’ve seen her like that. Anyway, we got into a discussion about inequality in relationships and well, it’s everywhere.

Guppy was interested in flirting with the Tree Stump even though all of us warned her about her personality but well, you gotta do what you gotta do. I naturally flirted with Mo a bit, who was well, more friendly and flirtatious than usual. Anyway, nice girl and all but well, nice girls are nice, bad girls are interesting. Besides, she seems really into him what with planning a mini-break in December with him and his brother is getting married in April so his brother and fiancée and the two are going on a holiday together. And this is a guy who doesn’t let her sleep over. Say it with people, What. The. Fuck?

BB and his friends don’t gel with my college group. I am not taking away from anyone here and BB is still my BestBud but well..it’s like he is still the guy I knew in high-school where as the girls, I grew up with in college. We went through shit together, enough stress over everything, heartache and growing pains and it seems though he hasn’t gone through it. I hope he does soon.

Plus well, argghghhhh….i felt guilty about going to expensive places…and I HATE feeling like that because I never want to have to apologize for getting paid what I do. I worked my ass off in school, I did crappiest of jobs like waiting on snobby FOB’s in school at a restaurant, them making jokes like ‘oye waiter’ and the girls giggling like idiots…I have spent a dime from my dad’s allowance on booze or going out, why the hell should I feel guilty. But I did. He wanted to stay home and get booze and said why bother going out. But dude, its NY, its me, I like my fancy pants stuff once in a while and I haven’t done that since leaving the city. How do I tell him? And I can’t do that when my friends from college want to go out all dressed up, its just fun! And it became painfully obvious – the place we went to hiked up sheesha prices like no tomorrow (this is just a small example) to $30 a sheesha (that *is* ridiculous but I work hard, I don’t care at this point!) and well, his friends and he kept hogging it and Ash had to get another because she said there were too many people on that.. Theirs gets over and they start pulling on the one she got. I think I died a bit when she said could you please get it back. So in my inebriated state I had to take care of this.

And it wasn’t just that. Ash and I get along despite a bad history because we both like to see life like it is and despite the fact that it sucks at times, we still love it, we love what we do, we love the City and once in a while like to sit and talk. So we got the last of Bawa’s substances and proceeded to get like kites and drink wine. She and I are sitting, listening to Floyd and Pearl Jam (She: so, two good things came from his (Bawa’s) leaving: his playlist and this dime bag). We were talking about love and life and how sucky this year has been and in walks BB who then acts like a 16 year old, tries to get us to play Blackjack and hijacks Ash’s computer and playlist. Besides, I think she wanted to talk to me alone and he was off watching TV.

I love BB but sometimes he acts like everyone is like one of the guys and there are no responsibilities in life and the sun always shines.

Arghhhghghgh, I hate it when two world mush in to each other which is why Bobo and Bawa are weird for me (but please don’t let anything affect what you have going on Bobo, its just a bit odd for me but not necessarily something bad)

The evening at Kush came to an end when I wanted to close my tab. The nice lady bartender was a sweetheart but there was one scowling black guy who didn’t speak to (he had his own end of the bar). I wanted to close the tab and was waiting 20 minutes with everyone waiting on me.

Me: I would like to close my tab please…
Him: okay….(still standing there)
Me: um, is there anything else? (when I open a tab, usually the bartender remembers me and in my state, I forgot I hadn’t ordered from him)
Him: I will give you three guesses, think about it while I tend to the other side of the bar…and you don’t have to talk to me like that just because I am black.

Come on kiddies, you know the drill, one, two, three…

Yeah, exactly

I got the lady to close the tab and I’m like I didn’t mean to cause offence but no need to assume I was rude because of his skin…she said he had had a bad night, well guess what jerk-off, thanks for ruining mine.

We leave when BB is like, ‘duuuude, why didn’t you start a fight’…well, maybe because there are women here, maybe because im not 17, maybe because everyone has a shit day and I don’t want to be the one who adds to it?

BB wants to go out more. I don’t want to, no one else wants to, everyone has had a long rough week at work…but then BB proceeds to make fun of everyone and leaves with his friends…man, sometimes I wish he would grow up…anyway, I’ve known him most of my life…am just realizing I can’t mix friends…pity, I loved my 23^rd when I had delhi friends, school friends and college friends, about 30 of them at a club where we took over the floor, I was buzzed and every where I turned to, I knew people and just felt great! (so maybe I do like being the centre of attention! ….sometimes)

Ash goes home and crashes, I proceed to make like a kite again and go with SB to get pizza, 99 cent pizza! $6 for a pie! My fucking miserable three rib appetiser cost more and left me hungry…yeesh

Sunday I drag my ass out of bed at 2pm and after BB leaves, Ash, Guppy, SB and I do brunch (at 3:30pm) at a nice diner near their house.

But it felt good to go back. I loved the evening in their balconey because everything was as it should be, the river (with a cruise shop docked), Jersey across the water, 11^th ave stretching out, lights changing in rhythym, cars flowing, the big billboards breaking the skyline and as always, all three girls trying to get ready at the same time, me out having a smoke and a glass of wine. Yeah, very sappy poetic but its one of the few places I can be and for a change allow the world to pass me by. I’m along and yet have to turn around to see my closest friends, I can walk in like its my own place and it is…it just feels like a place I belong. And I am so glad Guppy is moving to the city…

These girls have disctinct personalities of their own and yet are so close – Ash the i-banker in a skirt and fast paced walk who like me, wants to dominate, she’s the mindfuck who looks like a Cheshire cat, loves playing games, can do the whole fancy meal thing and enjoy it for more than what is it but understands why I love it so much (it’s just a reminder to both of us of where we are but also where we came from and we enjoy understanding that everything we do or how we spend our money, it doesn’t matter, what does is that we have made it this far and that gives us quite a rush)

SB who is the sweetest girl on earth and gorgeous to boot even though she had one meaningless relationship that lasted 3 mos. I don’t understand why guys don’t trip over themselves for her. She is awfully shy at first and I guess that comes off as being a snob but she is by far the most innocent girl I have ever met (I had to explain the bases to her last year…and shes 24 now)…

Guppy who I have mentioned before…

Anyway, getting back to London was a pain…turbulent flight, an old English woman who was a total lush (and was pounding the whiskey…what the fuck granma?!) BA loses my bag (its one fucking bag you numbnuts on one direct flight, what is wrong with you?!)

I’m back now and tomorrow is a busy busy day…back to the grind…New York, don’t change, I’m coming back soon!

PS: have reallllly neat clips of the concert which I will put up soon

PPS: Shortifer, still owe you a mail and I promise to deliver!

Black Cats & 4 Leaf Clovers...

I am flying on Flight 13 on the 13^th of October

So, if someone reads this, hope that everything goes fine please?

And tell Mother I love her!

Blood Is Red

Have you ever seen a color TV?

Well, first out I got a bunch of rejection letters which made me feel like crap about myself. But when I finally got in to this school in Boston, I was psyched about leaving home, beginning a chapter of life and finding out who I was going to be…oh to be wide eyed and naiive again!

But I hated that place. I guess the growing up part hit harder than usual. The school I went to was rich, white and not-WASP’y but rich-frat-rat with a BMW kind, girls all tall blondes who wanted boob jobs for their 21^st birthday. Kill me, kill me now...oh wait, I already went through that place, no need, you can put the gun down…on second though, pass it over here please

And I guess I was mentally prepared for having a whole new lifestyle, of approaching work and interacting with people, I knew there would be this whole exotic-fruit thing as Bobo puts it and the novelty, both on for me and for the guys I lived with.

PS: I hate dorm style to this day…you never have any privacy, you can never be alone in the room, there are always people outside. One year was enough for me, next three was in an apartment that was part of the housing department. But there are other reasons as well which I will now go into.

I remember quite a few kids being unfriendly and I figured it would take them more time to warm up what since they figured I knew nothing about American culture…yeah right! No, seriously, I had a girl ask me if women in India wore bras…if I had seen a colour television, if I was used to wearing shoes, if I had elephants instead of taxi’s

Dumb cunts.

But I was prepared for this (not this level of ignorance though, my first exposure to Americans). But when one guy wouldn’t let me into his room (when the rest of the floor was invited…well, except this black kid) or another one said stuff like ‘Hindu bastard’ or ‘towel-jockey’, I wondered if American’s were just twats or stupid. One guy was making fun of me being Indian because his dad was laid off from Union Carbide after the Bhopal gas tragedy. Trust American’s to have such centric points of view….

Anyway, I hated my room, hated the sounds of other people around. And there would be days when I could go without saying a word to anyone. Look, don’t tell me, ‘oh but you could have joined student groups or clubs’. I didn’t know any better. You take a 17 year old who hasn’t lived away from home before, in another country with no one he knows and who is not used to anything, studying the American college way, the interactions and top it off with guy’s who give shit to another white guy who hooked up with a black girl, yeah, you got a great recipe for depressions…

And there were barely any Indian kids in the place either…the one’s who were, were of Indian descent…the ones who were fresh off the boat, well, they had their summer homes in Maine and BMWs (kids of some of the biggest families you can think of in India) and had their own cliques…then there was me who worked part time at the cafeteria and on weekends at the call centre

This college charged about $40k per year to attend. I had to call up alumni to ask for donations. Most hung up on me. One burst out laughing saying that they had taken enough. Another gave me a long string of continues expletives and said, “there, that’s how I feel about that place, really wanna ask me for money?”

I don’t blame them. When I transferred out of there, I got a call asking for money, I told the girl exactly what I went through at the place and asked her if she would give money back…I think I upset her…oh dear

And then every other weekend were dorm dinners and the ones who wouldn’t go…because they didn’t know about these dinners were this black kid, this Asian kid and me. And even then I didn’t do the math. Because this is Boston. Because it’s the twenty-fucking-first century baby…that’s why.

I didn’t want to believe it.

And I don’t want to think about depression either. Why? Because I don’t want to and don’t ask either. Those months are one set I wish never happened and I don’t want to remember what I was back then… or where and I don’t mean location wise either

Anyway, I remember when I transferred out of there, I remember getting the letter and I was ecstatic. And there was this one semi-decent guy who was a nice guy (was 6’2, Irish, drank like an Irishman, wanted to teach middle school kids…I hope he is doing that now)…and he asked me why I wanted to leave…I guess I had had way too much vodka (don’t ask with whom because I wont answer) and I guess I broke down and told him everything and remember saying ‘I can’t help it if I’m brown’.

I remember being so happy packing the next day, I was going to go to India for the summer break and the Resident Assistant stopped by and told me that that guy had spoken with him and that I should have come to him, the RA if I had issues. I told him that one, I didn’t think it would ever be an issue, two I was too blind to accept that that was the reason and no one who has any level of education can have prejudices like that and third, there was nothing he could do about a mindset that is so irrational that you can’t even believe it exists.

The flip side...

Anyway, I left without a regret. And thank god for the other place I got into. I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to go back to Boston.

But yeah, in hindsight,

1. I realize I don’t have to put up with crap from anyone about anything, least of all being India. If anything, looking around and what I do and how I got here, I love being who I am and a large part of that is being Indian
2. if I meet an idiot American, I have no problem telling him exactly what he is and what I think about him
3. I know I never want to settle down in the US ever. Boston taught me where home is and where it always will be
4. If I can live through that, bring it on, I can live through most anything
5. if I ever hear a racial epithet, I will lose it and now that I am completely justified in doing so

And heck, it isn’t something that gets me emotionally choked up any more. My room-mates at school (the one I graduated from) where great guys. In the third year it was me, two white guys and this black guy. We used to make so many racial jokes toward each other, me pointing at them during parties at our place, telling a girl really loud ‘look at ‘em white boys, they can’t dance for nuts!’ and those guys laughing their ass of, me making my way with great fan fare…or the black guy looking at his palms one day (which were really white) and quietly going, ‘oh, I’m finally evolving…’

And all of us just sat stunned because normally it’s the most insulting thing I can think of but we all treated racism as such a fantastic concept, that we just had to joke about it because who can take it seriously?

So, between camel-jockeys, differences between Indian (no, you aren’t the Big Chief kind, you are the dot kind…you know, Native Americans vs. the bindi kind)…we were just so irreverent about it…course, the penis jokes just flew what with one black guy in the apartment, two white cracker and me … hell, like we were laughing about it (and the girls in the apartment were shocked we were insulting each other like that…they caught on when I explained to them, that between the white boy and the black one, I was just right)…

Then one Halloween, Leo, the black guy was doing laundry, and he walks out into the living room with a sheet draped on him…and he goes (he always had a deadpan voice), “I’m the Grand Wizard (of the Ku Klux Klan)…now watch me lynch myself” and dove into the carpet. Or Jason, the other white guy who came out wearing all Fubu and a Hoody and fake bling rapping about being a white boy…of course, no one took it outside the apartment but it was just hysterical.

My roommate came from a small town in Virginia where there were hardly any black folk (as he put it). We were all sitting around discussing racism (trying to anyway considering we horsed around most of the time) and Ben said his family was coming up during Thanksgiving. I said I would be in DC and he said okay but I was just warning you, my grandmother wouldn’t talk to you. And I go, what the hell, I’m not black! He goes, yeah but you aren’t white either…Leo asked what would happen if he went and visited Ben at his grandmothers…apparently she wouldn’t have let him into the house…

But again, see, Ben’s grandmother was from another era…how do you explain kid’s who are my age, live in a metropolitan city in the world and still believe this stuff.

One of my favourite imaginings is to be working where I am, perhaps a few more years senior, have one of those kid’s CV’s land in front of me, call them for an interview and teach them a thing or two…anyway, if karma has anything to do with it, I hope they end up working for a non-white guy…

And this is why, I never want to settle anywhere but in India…fine, that may be a bit of a knee jerk reaction, but heck, do you blame me?

Let me leave you with this...just so you shake your head in wonder and go, What. The. Fuck?

A Reply

I moved to London in July. I didn't know anyone in the city. I had recently come out of a long term relationship. I did work my butt of but once that was fine, I just went home. I always took the long route, I passed by all kinds of things I never thought I would see.

There's this street near Old Compton that has a few 'cabarets'. You see all these women in skimpy clothes that not only leave nothing to the imagination but pretty much give you an idea of what to expect inside the club (which somehow always looks the same on the inside, not that I have been but pretty much any hour of any day, its always dark and smoky in there…guess the windows are painted black (image of the nail polish those girls use).But I turned the corner to see cops handing out leaflets. I presumed they would say prostitution is illegal. Instead it was from the City of Westminster warning patrons to check prices before they go in because there were complaints of being overcharged. Well, interesting to see cops warning of that rather than anything else!

I know I tried to walk around the city along. It doesn't feel the same. Or at least the cafes with happy smiling people, couples, friends and lovers seem a bit cold. The only thing to do was to make them part of the woodwork, part of the picture, like a postcard I stepped into Marry Poppins style.

I remember going to the museum alone and I hate that. There are so many things to see and so many thought but no one to hear them but me.

Of course, the only time I would fine peace being alone was taking pictures. This city is beautiful for doing just that. I like pictures that take scenes from the ordinary and put a frame around them and leave them out of context. Somehow the intriguing bits come out when its taken in isolation.

I can't decide…wait, at 16 I couldn't decide if I was a loner (naturally books influenced me and in this case it was the Steppenwolf by Hess) or gregarious (PG Wodehouse in a weird kinf of way) and well, have accepted am a sociable loner. Yeah, I made peace with dichotomy of existence a long time ago. I love being around people. I love watching them and how they talk and how they say certain things that only they can and in a way that makes them them. But sometimes I like being the guy behind the camera, the one they all respond to but the one you never see. When I get a bit drunk and take pictures of people in groups, I love taking them laughing (ironic and unintentional but that’s when they are in the City of Laughter and Forgetting…and are just happy). It's the most honest happiness I see. Or I try and be a goofball so that even if they are looking at me, it isn't contrived, its isn't that stupid cheesy grin (mind the pun). I love candid shots. I would rather have a collage of those than a 'group picture' is a silver frame.

I have to smile at the times I have taken pictures of women friends who always grab the camera and say they don't look perfect in it. But babe, I don't want you to look perfect, I want you to be you. Yeah, you look drunk in it but aren't you should I remember you that way that night? Don't show me the perfect side because its fake. Everyone is flawed and I love you for them, in spite of them.

I don’t like my own picture being taken. (another ironic smile at dichotomy, I blog to remember but I don't like pictures because they remind me).

Anyway, sorry I don't know how I ended up saying all this, I tend to just write…

But I hear you when you say friends are like family. In retrospect I have spent more time growing up with friends than I have family, at least over the past 5 or 6 years.

I read the part about not being able to sleep. I remember and Enid Blyton I had as a kid. I bought it at a second hand book sellers in Priya when I was just this high…and it was from library in London, yellowed pages though and I loved the book…anyway, had this story about twins who decide to stay up all night but finally realize its not the best idea…I don’t know why I suddenly remembered that…but inevitably, if it’s the weekend, and my friends are off their own thing or there is no one around, I inevitably can’t sleep, just toss and turn until I flip through the channels or finish a book…

Sorry if it seems harsh but glad you realize how important it is to talk…I am curious about people as to how they are true loners…just as I am about people who always have someone around them…I can’t stand both extremes to a great degree…

And you may want to rephrase what you said, its not that you need to talk, its perhaps that you want someone to listen? Of course, I could be speaking a load of croc…

But the last line of your post did make me smile and freak me out a bit…you wrote about wanting someone to come down and visit you…
“Come on over, won't you?” is something I said/felt a week or so ago…

Gott Ist Tot

I remember taking this extraordinary class in school called Western Philosophy & Religion (the ‘and’ isn’t used to imply a connection, well, not a water-tight one but it was a class on philosophy as well as religion)

So okay, I think of God more as well, this guy somewhere who has a terrible sense of humour, a sense of humour that I will find funny once I am dead and sitting with him getting drunk (me getting drunk, not Him) and okay so I have a slightly irreverent view but I would prefer a god who has his/her own quirks.

I don’t like the Old Testament version of an omnipotent and fierce God. Why do we need one like that? I think back in the day (back in the day being OT times) since people were in tribes, they needed something like a parental figure to keep them in check. Also, natural phenomenon like thunder and lightening were scary. So, attribute whatever you don’t understand to an all powerful being that can be harsh. Same with the flood and Noah, rain is one thing but the deluge had to be caused by something harsh. So either you create the devil or you make God mean at times. The idea of the devil isn’t really there explicitly in the Bible. Its usually a fallen angel and I think Satan means ‘the opposer’ who isn’t evil but inherently opposes everything God does. So, the idea of the devil is done away with and that leaves God as being a strict parent.

I do like the Buddhist view of having a human who is far beyond this plane and knows better and I really like the idea of getting along and peace.

But I think Christianity and Islam are a little too fanatical. I agree the Inquisition had political roots but still, don’t bandy the banner in the name of God to kill some innocents. And don’t say that whoever doesn’t believe in your religion is a kafir or infidel.

I do like Hinduism that accepts other religions and says, fine, if they believe in something else, then so be it. But then again, I think it would be necessary to understand the genesis of these religions to understand the level of tolerance.

Christianity absorbed pagan rites like Easter (what on EARTH do eggs have to do with Christ?). However, it became a state religion almost. So, if slaves pick up other religions, it’s a smart political move to break them down, especially if another religion is a unifying factor.

Islam would have been conceived with nomadic tribes in mind right? So you try and unite them under a single banner. Again, religion. To wage war on another tribe, call them infidels, say your prayers to Allah and charge. Of course, then when all of them became Muslims, come up with sects and rinse, wash and repeat.

Of course, Hinduism has its own defects but I blame it more on misinterpretation. I would like to believe Vedic texts are more like guidelines i.e. this is what you should do to be a good human being instead of you better or else!

What I don’t get however is how much time and energy is spent on something that I feel should be personal. Look, I would like to believe in god (why is another question) but lets just leave it at that. Okay, I know how to do a havan and I know shlokas but I learned that purely as a way of continuing tradition. I want my kids to know it as well. Part of who I am is that long line of ancestry behind me. It’s part of my identity. While I don’t believe in havans, its I guess part of my heritage and the world’s longest continual religion deserves some respect.

While I do respect it, I don’t believe in it.

PS: am not trying to ruffle feathers here, am just being me...if my views are completely out of whack, sorry!

Delhi! Gimme Gimme!

A few of my favourite places in Delhi.

Disclaimer: I have not spent a significant amount of time in Delhi in years…also, most of the places are tinged with memories of the Ex which is while I want to come back to Delhi, I am scare that when I do land, I will fall apart. Like the Wicked Witch of the West. Except I am not ugly.

And I don’t wear dresses.

1. Big Chill. Look, you come here with me and I will buy you a banoffee pie if you like it. I love bananas….nuts about them…B-A-N-A-N-A-S over bananas…get the picture? And the Al Funghi pizza which is as much fun to say out aloud as eating it. The ginger fizz may have gone down a bit. But its still pretty strong. The Ex lives around the corner. I used to pick her up, we used to spend 10 fretful minutes trying to find a space to park, me bitching out the traffic, taking loops on that main rood wondering why the fuck it was such a pain. And I would buy cigs from the guy opposite in the corner. And I always had to sit with my front to the door. And I would always check out the new movie posters. Hells bells, I knew my order before I got the menu. The Ex and I would argue about what to eat because she always wanted to share and I wanted a whole, fucking A, I’m a big guy woman! (okay, I’m not fat but I have a decent appetite and have you tried their chicken breast with that sauce and lemon?).

That place felt like home, I remember hearing Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down for the first time there. I remember meeting all my Delhi friends when I returned to India after my first year abroad. I remember sitting with Khadi (a friend from Hindu) and talking about how I was going to rule the world. Which I still will. I promised her New Zealand. Anyone dibs on anything else? Anyway, I don’t think I can go there with friends any more, heck, that was my place with the Ex. And now someone else sits facing the door. Perhaps a date? That would kind of help. Yeah…that’s the only way I can go back there hmmm…someone throw out a slice of pie won’t you please??

2. Mocha. Fuck off, I discovered that place before the teeny boppers did, where the guy knew me and BestBud on sight. While the Ex was working, I had 3 mos. off for the summer. BB lives in Greater Kailash II , a 15 minute drive from my place and we would meet up at Mocha. Have you seen the ummm, fuck, I forget the name but that huge slice of chocolate cake that three guys can’t finish on their own? I’ve had nice times, there, lying with my head buried in the Ex’s middle, going there with other girlfriends, or just with BB and smoking a sheesha. Okay so fine, I am a sap, judge all you want but I remember the last time I was there. I just wanted to hang out with AB and the only time we were both free was a weeknight at 11pm. I remember ordering mint tea and a sheesha and its just polite that if you order before the other person is there, you ask for another cup for them. So AB came in and saw the cup and asked what I was drinking…mint tea. She said it was the nicest thing anyone had done. You won’t catch me blushing and I don’t, very little fazes me. You can stab me and all I will do is drive and get myself patched up. You can tell me the most perverted The Aristocrats style joke and I will laugh but not bat an eyelid. Compliment me and well, hm, yeah…well…gee

But it was a nice night, I loved just talking to her about anything and everything. Dang it, I see a pattern, anyone I can talk with that openly, I can conceivably fall for.

3. The terrace of BestBuds house. People, you have to be there. I think that’s where we grew up. He has lived in that house forever and then some.

That was the first place I got drunk. It must have been class 11…no wait, after the 10grade boards. We made a video of how BB, The Fat One and I were doing after a month of nothingness – in short, a video where we were dead with boredom. I still have that video. I was thin, had a faint moustache, BB was thin and the Fat One had his hair.

The first girls-guy party was at his place (just two girls came…yeesh). And it was really awkward because that was the time The Fat One and BB figured out I liked AB. And man, it was so high school with them giggling at me…fucking A, if I smoked backed then, that’s when I would have gone to the terrace for a quiet one.

I remember his tiny room with a huge Iron Maiden wall hanging I gave him from Clyde’s at Palika. And inevitably when one of us would get a new cassette (whatever happened to cassettes? I had about 150 of them…now, I have an iPod…yeesh, I’m sure Schumpeter would have had something to say on creative destruction) we would be at his place, the volume cranked up dreaming about these bands and seeing them live.

Man, so many memories. I remember the parties which inevitably became a free for all and everyone in GK I I would land up.

I remember playing cricket in the park by his house where you had four pitches overlapping and you had to make sure the ball you chased was the one that belonged to your game.

His neighbours have this huge building which leaves one side of the terrace with a big wall. MT had a projector and it was a big deal every winter, just guys, tons of beer, a movie, the Fat one in the corner on the grill, not letting anyone near the grill because he wanted to play chef…I remember late night, everyone drunk, I would climb up to where the water tanks were, smoking a j, looking out at Delhi, wondering why I left home, if the city had someone special for me, if I would come back, the planes flying overhead, each one carrying someone somewhere, someone going to be where they were meant to be and wanting to get on that plane and get out, grow up and find me…wanting to meet the me I was going to grow up and be. I also remember abortive attempts to grow some in this disused bathtub with mud in it. Apparently his mother had tried to grow flowers in it. Man, if I had some of the seeds mate with the flower seeds, go knows what would have sprouted (yes, I know it doesn’t work that way)

And I remember how it would always be just me, BB and the Fat One. One time near divali, BB and I took to blowing things up. Amongst the casualties, one was a file that ripped in half sending one part our way. BB and I dove into a small side room on the terrace just to realize that’s where the extra gas had been stored…so we dove back out. Oh yeah, there was this empty Amul cheese tin which took off into orbit…we never saw it land

It feels good going to his place, the door is always open and if its not, I’m standing under the kitchen window yelling Aunty!!! Lemme in lemme in…and I can hear her laugh as she comes down to say hello. And his dad who always offers me a drink. And his brother who is my age (am the youngest of the lot…even Bobo is older!) comes out looking sullen and we trade insults.

Oh yeah! There was a pool party at his place…of course, that was just an inflatable pool which could hold four at a time…but heck, mix it up with lots of ice and beer…I ain’t leaving…well, I did when three fat guys decided to get in…I was invaded by way too much fat coming at me….

4. The golf course at the Qutub Minar: have spent a little time playing golf with my Dad. He is better than I even though I introduced him to it. And it feels good to be reminded of that...the fact that he is better. Well, he wasn’t around much when I was growing up but it feels good to have him be a dad. I am closer to my mum than him but he has the only one who can say my name in a way that makes me feel like a kid. My mum is the only person who calls me by my nickname. And my dad is still taller albeit by half an inch. And whenever I used to go out as a kid, he would look me over to make sure I was presentable. And it’s a habit I still have.

There are others but I will save that for another time.

I realize it may seem as though I live in the past…ain’t true, it was just me missing home last night