I wanna be a skydiver

ma budday is comin soon. like super soon. 2 days soon. there's some bhajan thingy playin next door. it's not anymore. it reminds me of the buddhism stuff. maaaannnn that is almost creepy. i know it's a religion and stuff and i don't want to be disrespectful. that's not what i'm tryin to say. but just that when you wake up at 6.30 in the evenin with the muffled sound of 5 voices chanting in the room next to yours like it's a freakin cult it does scare shit out of you. try it sometime. take 2 days of not-sleeping-cuz-of-criminalminds-nightmares, add sleep-at-horrible-hourof4pm, then add super-crazy-neighbour-who's-friends-with-creepycatlady, finally add CHANTING!!!!!!! i was talking about ma birthday wan't i? yeah. so that. i'm thinking SAILOR PARTY. hahahahaha  as if! maybe a GAY PIRATE PARTY. lol man...i'm so fucking amusing to myself sometimes.

Enid still makes me smile

Here's this wonderful wonderful thing this guy wrote about Enid Blyton. I couldn't say it better. Enid was a law unto herself. A land of fun and frolic filled with food and adventures. It was a fantasy land and not the Harry Potter kind of fantasy, where it's fantasy and yet not really fantasy at all. Enid's world was so different from real life that it was beautiful. you always knew when you read her works that real life didn't work like that. you don't get to go off camping with your cousins when the oldest of you is 13. you don't get to fight with the bad guys and save the day. and yes, as you grow up you realize that maybe that delicious sounding salad with fresh radishes may not be your favourite dish after all. but that was the best part about her stories. she made lemonade sound like the mouth-watering drink ever made on earth. She made living in a boarding school seem exciting and mysterious. Her world was magical. A place to escape to. A place that was your own. It was your little secret hideout that no one could find or take away where you could go after a bad day at school or a row with your parents. It was your world and no amount of 'reality' could change that

calcutta is a super-awesome place (college streets is the absolute whatever-the-antonym-of-thepits-is!!)

you know what the best part of calcutta is....it's soooo fucking old!!! you go any place and some bong friend of yours is gonna go 'hey this is where satyajit ray used to eat' or 'you know subhash chandra bose used to drink coffee here all the time' or 'ishwar chandra vidyasagar used to pop down here for a sherbet'. you can't but love a place like that. you always get this feeling that you're part of some great historical shit. it's brilliant!!  And I mean BRILLIANT in big red capital letters with blinking lights and trumpets playing. it just gets to you this place. look at college street for example. you're completely down one day cuz you caught your boyfriend cheating on you with your best friend and then you go to college street and in the blink of an irritated eye, all your sorrow and despair and feeling of betrayal are all just washed out by the simple feeling of peace you get when surrounded by books. i'm talking entire streets lined entirely by book shops interspersed only with the most awesome food and drink places. if you died and went to paradise this is what it would like -

imagine this stretching for 2 km with smaller streets leading out every 200 m

The Indian Coffee House is wonderful it defies description. every time i go there i am completely and utterly overwhelmed! 

this is about 1/6th the number of people who are usually found
there at a given point in time

ICH has a style of its own. a complete lack of pretension. you go there for the simple cheap food, waiters who ignore you for ages no matter how hard you try to get their attention, the buzz of constant chatter, the smell of coffee and cigarettes, the large number of excited old men discussing politics like college students and the overabundance of kurtas and jholas not to mention the hot coffee with cream. you go there with your book and read for hours without anyone giving you a second glance, or with friends after a long day of book shopping or just because you have nothing else to do. 

and this is why calcutta is so amazing. cuz it doesn't matter who you are or where you're from or what you do or how much money you have. once you're in this city, she just accepts you like you were always a part of her. and no matter where you go, calcutta will always wait for you to come back home.

i'm wondering if i should start another blog on other things you know cuz well

Honest to blog! 

the end of an era

I never thought I'd come to say this but when I watched Jab Thak Hai Jaan yesterday I was truly and honestly sorry that Yash Chopra was gone. It isn't that I liked him. In fact, other than DDLJ i probably hated, or atleast, intensely disliked, most of his other movies. But seeing the tribute to him yesterday. Seeing another hopelessly stupid romantic movie with nothing close to reality in it made me realize that what went with him was a part of my childhood. Yash Chopra's death is the end of an era. To me, it is the end of my era. In our world of rationality and new age cinema I don't think we, at least, I, have much time for idle romances. But yesterday I remembered a time, when as a tiny little girl I had watched Sharukh for the first time. I'd believed in true love and fairy tale romances. I'd been besotted by Sharukh's boyish good looks (back then) and his charm and had wished deeply that i could have a guy just like him. 

tujhe dekha to yeh jaana sanam. pyaar hota hai deewana sanam.

Chillar Party and why I had an amazing train ride

I wanna write about Chillar Party cuz it's a pretty darn amazing movie! I spent all of the second half of the movie crying my eyes out in the train. which. was. EMPTY. okay...not so much empty as not cramped full. i had the whole bay to myself. so i spent a very nice diwali all by myself in an airconditioned coach in a train with bad biriyani and a coupla movies and a book for company. that's fun too. honest! the movie is beautiful. it's cute and feel good and makes you feel all gooey inside. it's a nice feeling. and of course crying helps. i don't know what it is about crying but once you let those little drops of tears flow they just keep on coming. and you cry and you cry and then you cry cuz you're crying. strange old thing. Oh and dogs are absolutely lovely but cats are the best! 

what a terrible, horrible, horrendously ugly day was yesterday

You know i don't usually talk about my day and what happened to me and what i felt and all of that. I leave it to the other bloggers. After all, you're not my diary. And I'm not 14 years old. So usually, there's no 'dear diary' business. But yesterday.........well, yesterday was so bad that I feel that I'm in high school again. Let me tell you what happened -

11.11.2012
Dear Diary

Today was a horrid day. I was in a foul mood all day, and ended up with an extended bout of crying in the night. It all started in the morning, when I woke up really late. I then had to have an argument with my boyfriend and his friend about stepping out. My boyfriend's friend's girlfriend and I wanted to go sightseeing here, get some air; the two boys wanted to sit in. It was all very unpleasant. We did manage to go out to see this beautiful little palace here. But we walked there, and as Ra (the Sun God, not Royal Airforce) and I don't get along very well in general, all that heat gave me a terrible headache and worse mood. We came back and I sat around getting very bored for a very long time and feeling quite, quite horrible about everything. Later in the evening, I see that my ticket to leave is not confirmed. A call to my friend (whose dad is a bigshot in the railways) usually does the trick. But well, let's just say that I had my overestimated my good luck. After that came the worst bit. The part where I told my dad and he yelled and yelled and yelled and told me what to do (as usual) and threatened to cut me loose (financially you see, because I am, after all still dependent on him). And that was quite horrible. cuz that's when I felt like I was 15 years old again, knowing that despite my resenting this breach of my privacy and being old enough to look after myself, and do my own thing, I knew that I had to toe the line. He has the money. I don't. So I cried a lot about this, and thought a lot about this, and I know (I mean, I really really understand) why women just absolutely must get an independent source of income. I can't be free until I earn my own money. Such a sad, cynical thing to realize. And no matter how good someone is, or kind, or how close you are, no one is above pulling the money line on you. It's cheap, it's ugly, it's true.

Sincerely
unhappy little girl 

I cry when I listen to Jagjit Singh

i hope there's a life after death because it would be so incredibly sad if no one gets to listen to him anymore. why do wonderful people die?! 

a tale of two or more cities

so here's the deal. i hate bangalore! ok so maybe not hate, but definitely intensely dislike bangalore. after the city i call home this place SUCKS. people are not friendly and everyone wants to charge you so much money for stupid things right. and there's just a general i-don't-givafuck attitude here wrt to other human beings n stuff. damn nasty. it's not like delhi though. bangalore is soulless. delhi has a nasty soul. i don't know what's worse. delhi i think. their attitude is if-i-could-i-would-stabyourback-and-laugh-maniacally. you see what i mean. delhi is worse. but it's got good places to eat. GREAT places to eat in fact. afghani restaurant in lajpat...parathewaligali in chandni....andhra bhavan...yumm! also old delhi is still pretty great. soulwise. you'll still get raped there though. i don't know about bangalore. i think you could get raped but not, say as much as in delhi. that's a horrible damned place. you know what's the best place on earth? Calcutta. oh yeah. you ignore all the dirtiness and the stench and the misery of the people and you know what you'll see? A soul. a character. a city au naturale. the way cities were always meant to be. chaotic, welcoming, crowded, filthy, friendly, charming. there's that guy who said about calcutta that if you stay there long enough you can smell the fragrance behind the stench. and that's so true. it's such a wonderfully lovely place. godbless! 

hindi the most beautiful of languages

हमारी प्रिय सहेली बगल वाले कमरे मे हिंदी का अभ्यास कर रही है, तो मुझे लगा क्यों न मैं भी हिंदी लिपि का अभ्यास करते हुए मेरी ब्लॉग को हिंदी में ही लिकूँ। अब इसकी समस्या ये है की ऐसे लिकते हुए मुझे बहुत कटिनता हो रही है। एक तो कई वर्षों से मैंने हिंदी का लिकाप नहीं किया है। न ही हिंदी की कोई किताब पढी है।  वकालत के अध्ययन में हिंदी का अध्ययन हो नहीं पाता। फिर बात है की जब अंग्रेजी की किताबें ही नहीं पढते, तो कहीं कोई हिंदी की पुस्तक बला  क्यों उठाये? इसमें कसूर मेरा ही है की मै अपनी हिंदी को अविकृत न रक पायी। अब ऐसे बतियाने से कुछ सिद्ध नहीं होगा। अच्छा होगा की मै अपनी हिंदी को दोबारा जागृत करूँ। इसमें उपरोक्त सहेली का प्रभाव और उसकी सहायता महत्वपूर्ण रहेगी।
वैसे ये 'इंग्लिश टू हिंदी' भाषांतर जो है, इसमे लिकना भी इतना मुश्किल हो रहा है। चलो अब बस।

खुदा हाफिज़। लाल सलाम। शुक्रिया महेरबानी। शुभ रात्री। 

"Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free"

                     

                                                      
                                                       Remember, remember 

                                                        The 5th of November
                                              The Gunpowder treason and plot! 
                                                           I know of no reason
                                                  why the gunpowder treason 
                                                       should ever be forgot!

                                                    

masculinism is funnier than feminism :D

I always thought that feminists (i mean the ones that can't take a joke) are really funny. to really, passionately believe that there is a huge-ass anti-female conspiracy theory in EVERY goddamn thing i think requires....well....a complete and utter lack of a sense of humor. but, here's something funnier.

Masculinism.

These guys call it "legal terrorism" and have a specially reserved hell for what they call "MALE FEMINISTS" also known as "PROTECTORS OF WOMEN" who according to these lovely men have been afflicted by the "LOOKING GOOD SYNDROME" (I'm not kidding you. these are their real words!)

Oh, and also, they claim that many men are also victims of "MISPLACED ASS SYNDROME". Now I can't seem to figure out what that is (surely, because my female brains aren't equipped to handle such sophisticated thought) but it seems to have something to do with Sachin and Mumbai Indians and domestic violence petitions and extra-marital affairs. (Don't look at me!)

So, if you're one of these misplaced souls, please read this for enlightenment.

Peace all!

If I had known

This song is written for River Phoenix. But when I heard it, I knew that it wasn't meant for River, it was meant for him. I can't miss him because I never knew him. But if I had known.....

So many times I stopped, then turned away 
If I had known that you would soon be leaving 
I might have listened in a different way 
I might have walked with you a little farther 
And on the bus I would have held your hand 

I might have said to you come on my brother 
Let's get going home. 

the most fucking beautiful guy on the planet

Phoenix is so gorgeous it breaks my heart!

                                                                                                         

thinking in points....please don't do!

so my friend writes this post about 10 minutes before i was going to write one on the same topic. and well, i don't agree with her. and since i was gonna go writing a post about this anyway, i thought hell i will! it's not copying or plagiarism or shit.

so believe it or not, the topic that got a hold of our minds was well point-thinking, meaning thinking in points. This is what she thinks. (she says its sarcastic but god man! you gotta know that it's sarcastic or there's no fucking point) anyway...this isn't about her. this is about him (although he writes well. organized he is damn him!)

and i say THE SHIT! what are we, like some kind of bamboozled monkeys trying to write Shakespeare or something? i mean, if i were a monkey (i mean, the banana obsessed creatures that live on trees and not the banana obsessed creatures that live in houses and work on computers) and i was put in front of a typewriter and told to come up with Shakespeare, i wouldn't be thinking "Right. Shakespeare. 1. We FIND OUT who Shakespeare is. 2. We UNDERSTAND how he works. 3. We begin to LEARN typing....and so on." Heck! that sounds like something from a management book. i were a monkey and put in front of a typewrite and told to come with Shakespeare, I would go "ook ook" eat my banana and promptly smash the typewriter on the idiot's head. if i could get away with it i'd also probably pull some hairs, break some glasses and generally be a nuisance to everyone.

the point is, we got this beautiful chaotic world right? and this beautiful chaotic mind inside us? why we wanna ruin it by thinking in points man. we gotta think whatever we feel like thinking and say it too. i'm not a number man!