Barbecue Nation

A glorious new restaurant that has come up in what I believe is the best area in Bangalore to eat out at: Indiranagar. I mean fine-dining-wise more than your regular Church Street anything-goes kind of place.
Barbecue Nation is located at the very beginning of 100 Feet Road, Indiranagar, when you slide off the flyover from Koramangala. What used to stand there before this has of course disappeared into Oblivion [*wiggling eyebrows* If you know what I mean...].
So anyway. When we got there around tennish, the place was packed. Fortunately, we had made reservations earlier and were immediately taken indoors to the main dining area. There is outdoor seating as well as terrace dining, so you can take your pick.
This is how it works: There is a fixed price of Rs. 400/- per head. The fare includes five veg plus five non-veg starters. And a huge buffet after that.
Here is the best part. A lighted gril, coals and all, is placed/inserted into the centre of your table. The starters are brought to you at your table on skewers, and you have to barbecue them yourselves to your liking. Provided alongside the barbecue is a tray of suaces and basting brushes. You can go wild and have a lot of fun while cooking your own meal. In addition to the starters, included in this fixed price deal is a fantastic buffet spread of salads, soup, main course and dessert.
The service is splendid with sweet, friendly waiters bustling about and waiting to help.
Drinks come extra and ther's a nice selction to choose from.
I enjoyed the starters so much, I had no appetite left for main course AND dessert, so I opted for dessert, of course. For the rest who had a little of the main course, freshly baked, hot steaming naans and rotis were brought to our table as ordered.

It was lovely, lovely, lovely.
The interiors were done up very well with comfortable wooden seating, cushions and warm lighting.
I think I have found my favorite eating out place in Bangalore. Yay!!!

I'm baaaack

Of course, after all this while, I know this becomes a sort of Notes to Myself business. But anyway, I am. So there.

Yasin the Software Geek

My Febi's bundle of joy. [And mine, and mine!] Yasin all of 14 months, very busy with his father's laptop..and very focussed too.

Quick-Fix!!!!

Quick acknowledgement in the face of scary accusations of plagiarism:

The credit for title of previous post "Post party-um Depression", must be duly shared with one Giggly Items whose beautilful blog is linked on the right.
It has taken offence that I have passed it off as mine without so much as a blink. Well, well, well. I am blinking like anything. Like Bertie, in fact. I have no qualms in admitting that great minds think alike and that, in our case, dearest Giggles, even at the exact same time. Mooahahaha.

Guess we'll have to mud-wrestle to decide this one.
On that optimistic note, have a supaar weekends. Ta!

Post party-um depression

My dearest Tits and Jakkur Jazz,
It was wonderful and am gladdest for you rascals. Yay! Joy! My cups runneth over! Let the madness nevvver, evvver cease. For shuvvvvar.

Aw, Mithai-di, we miss you like anything. It was insanely nice meeting you and the rest of the loonies. Except that now, and for a month on at least or till my next PMS, whichever kicks in first, I'll be in a blue funk. [And when i say blue, I DO NOT MEAN PORNOGRAPHIC. Lillah!]
A beedi will never be looked at in the same off-hand, perfunctory way again. No other nape will ever be looked at, period. Sniffle.

Boomsa went back to Monarch's last night and stole your bedsheets, just so you know.

Come off, fast fastly. In the meanwhile, I'll make a preparatory trip to Blush.... Rrrrrrrr.

So long, maestro.

You have given us great joy.
Tashkor, Hrishida.

So, I really love these guys.

Can someone get them to come over? Please? For a small little private concert here in Bangalore?

Thanks very much.
Regards,
Black Veil, Long

How Green Is My Valley. Larks!

Ma and Abba are having a grand time up in the mountains. Them and their frund-couples from the last generation, having relievedly [and finally] dispensed with such afflictions as: [1] Us kids, [2] Us kids' weddings/educations/miseries, [3] Each family's private scandals and heartaches, have all come to that beautiful phase of life where, hopefully, it's all done with.
They're having a mad picnic in a place untouched by silly things as electricity, noise, and yes, even the wrong kind of people. There is a grounded goodness in our villages that one can only hope never dies. Ma's giggling over the phone yesterday telling me about it warmed me to the cockles of my heat, whatever that means. She was telling me about all those things I remember from my holidays there: misty days, cold breeze, hurts-your-eyes-green hills, sweet water springs, wooden cottages, bonfires, buffaloes, sheep and.... the inevitable- shish kebabs and barbecues! [Mooahaha. Sorry, Giggly.]
We are lucky to have that beautiful village on top of that remote mountain. Where Abba spends a lot of the year being a Son of the Soil. He revels in it. It has taken years off his considerable years. By the time I'm as old as him, I'll probably need an voice-driven wheelchair and 12 helpers. (I shall make sure they are good-looking and well-toned just for the heck of it.) But there be's my pater, swinging a scythe with the best of them. Turning over leaves in the apple orchards looking for tell-tale signs of things only he knows. Watching the movement of bees to predict whether we'll have honey this year. Sitting outside the village mosque after the evening prayers with friends, telling tales. [Some tall tales, granted, but...] He's happy and I'm happier for him.
As for Ma, if anyone ever deserved a break from life, she did. She's taken our family through it all. She is the mother from The Grapes of Wrath. I think a million times to myself, "How much more can she take?" And then I promptly go and add my own little two-bit to her world of troubles. There's a beautiful, she is. What I mean to say is, I hope we're done tormenting her for the anon. That laugh of hers yesterday- it was gorgeous.

Here's to you, my Parentals. Enjaii like anything.

Just.

It is so tiring to have to be pleasant and chirpy allll the bleddy time. It is.
Sometimes I don't want to, okay?

So, yesterday was an old, old Friend's birthday. From way back when I was a gawky, unsure teenager. I mean, she used to be a friend though I won't say we were ever tight. It's just that growing up with someone, no matter how weak the link be, feels like a whole new feel when you look back years later. So anyway, it was her hap-birthday. And it was an annual ritual of mine to write her a few wishful words on her big day. No matter that the greetings weren't ever returned or that we really had nothing else to say otherwise. Whatever. I liked to wish my friends, and I would. It was my thing.
Except all of that changed last year. What with leaving an unspeakably ugly phase of my life behind, severing ties with an Unwholesome Lot of People [ULP] I am glad to be rid of- [definitely very Killable - have formed vivid, graphic, and eerily doable plans of how to dismember, hang, quater etc. etc. one particular Festering Individual among them all, and say victoriously at the end of the Operation: "Said Fester Has Been Neutralised."]- it just so happens that leaving the Ugly also made me leave a large portion of the Nice behind. Persons from the Past I actually really liked, old acquaintances, a whole photo-montage of faces that I have grown up with. A whole childhood worth of memories. Have tied them up in pretty purple string and locked them in a cabinet. But the cabinet is at eye-level. And it has a glass door, so I cannot entirely forget.

'Tis a shame, what else? Tsk tsk.

So, on that note, Happy Birthday, Old Frund.
(And to hell with the rest of you!)

"A loss of something ever felt I—
The first that I could recollect
Bereft I was—of what I knew not
Too young that any should suspect

Elder, Today, a session wiser
And fainter, too, as Wiseness is—
I find myself still softly searching
For my Delinguent Palaces—"
-Emily Dickinson

It's a bleddy shame!

Getting your period very young

Makes you wise beyond your years
Makes you cries a lot of tears
Makes you lies to your peers
Makes you wish you was not heres
Makes you aches everywheres

If only I had got a comma instead.

I learnt the same stuff as everyone else in school
Then Life taught me other things
And Boomsa still udders

Mooooahahaha.
Dear Mad Cow
It is nice living with you.

Cheers and good luck!

A not so nice month

Actually, a very bad one. I speak of the first week of July through to the first week of August.
In no particular order, recent events that have really disturbed one :
-The Mumbai blasts. Inhumans, sullying the name of religion, and what's more, the whole world lapping it up so that now Islam=Terrorism=Jehad and some such claptrap. My friends and I talk about this often and it is relieving to know that they DO understand that that's not the equation, but really, how many people do? Or care? This is the pits. Especially since I for one, am proud as dammit of Islam.
-Israel: Has 2 soldiers kidnapped and unleash an unbelievably cruel assault on Lebanon as the world watches and the US [but of course!] pats its back. Hello? Civilians being killed. Women and kids in Qana. I suppose state-backed terrorism is okay because really, what else can one call this? Growl.
-Yet another tsunami hits Indonesia. This time round, it doesn't even make it to the front page of any newspaper.
-Alonso doesn't win any and Schumi takes many. Damn it!
-Sania hasn;t been winning ANYTHING either. What's up with that? I'm a big fan ever since I've seen her play up close and personal. Very infuriating to see her throw it all away. Over and over.
-More locally: Deeply respected guru-entity Long Legs left work. Mins like, all louww for her. Deeply saddened [to a surprisingly extreme degree] by her departure etc. and was in blue funk for days. Shortly followed by departure of another old hand, Long Locks, which sort of takes care of the Age of Experience at the Orifice. Feel especially bad for the Reams who pines and weeps silently in her deserted aisle.
-Felt a little at sea after the Mater left for back home. Little at sea means sadness.
-There were other things I'm sure, that made it distasteful, but I forget. Waste.

On a high note, after the dreaded past month, the 2nd week of August on is looking pretty spiffy. My dorling Boomsa has moved in with me. That makes it three mad cats in our cosy flat: Skinny, Boomsa and I. We are parting with all borrowed furniture of yore, and Boomsa and I have been frantically running around procuring essentials. Skinny is on work in the US of [barf] A. She'll be surprised when she gets back. As a helpful note to personalities looking for cheap treasures to strew around the house, I suggest you head to Shivajinagar and discover the whole new world you'll see there. It is a lovely!

And now, enough.

Infancy conforms to nobody: all conform to it, so that one babe commonly makes four or five out of the adults who prattle and play to it.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

But I still want babies. Maybe more than ever now.

Outlook, the perv

Tells me strange things like "You have unopened items."
[High five, Giggly!]

Mah dear Giggly. You are now linked.

Yay!!!!!

Welcome, Hanan The Barbarian

This site be's top secret for Orifice entities. Unless specially invited by moi.

Dear Tits...

It HAS been very long. I have been out of commission for a while, meaning I haven't had the split second required to update my blog.
Post arrival and grand news of fraternal foray into the higher reaches of Academia, the next bright spot in my last month has been esteemed arrival of my Parentals. They have brought with hem bonhomie, warmth and many many cheesy jokes which only us in our nuclear family enjoy and appreciate like nobody's business. We try it out on others as well, but.... No, no, let us not go there.

So anyway, the Mater has firmly entrenched herself in the kitchenette. So far, no one is complaining. Burping, yes. But complaining? No.
The Pater slowly imbibes the morning newsies from 0600 hours till well past 0900. With the tripe that our fascinating dailies have in them, I can only feel pained at what he has to sift through to make sense of the nonsense. With the grand exception of Jug Suraiya's JUGULAR VEIN for which I pine each week till its appearance in the Sunday Times.

Hope the Parentals don't get bored. We flock run out of the house to college and work in the mornings and return home disgruntled in the eves. What do they do in the meanwhiles? They relax, they have funs, and most importantly, they play cards against each oher! Moooahahahah. I love it.
We have taught them the way out of the back-of-beyond where my sister's digs are, so in case of dire boredom, they CAN always escape into a more meaningful part of civilization.

Yesterday we took them to a nice little resort out on Hosur Road. This place is not your run-of-the-mill weekend retreat for pampering and luxury. It is primarily an activity-related joint, and let me be more clear and say that these activites are sports. Hah.
So, we played badminton for a couple of hours, where Abba [being the Pater] whipped our collective arses and made us introspect sheepishly on our idea of our own fitness and skill. Then we took in a below par lunch buffet. Post lunch we all trudged to the tennis courts where we played an initial lacklustre few games, but towards the end we really had a nice go at it.
The Fraternal figure, being Usman, whupped our collective arses on this front.

The boys [being an Usman and a cousin Suhail] then frolicked and splashed about outrageously in the swimming pool while we sophisticated elders stylishly unwound on the sun loungers by its side.
Then the Rain gods had a party and poured like there was no tomorrow. In a bit we collected stray items of foowear, underwear, rainwear and other suchlikes and made our way back to Home Sweet Home. [When I say we collected stray pieces of miscellaneous, I of course mean to say that it was our stuff that had strayed and not any random pieces of underwear etc. that we found about the resort! Hmmph. As if.]

So today.... it is the morning after, and strange and interesting body parts are aching. I feel I have discovered several new muscles in my bum and back-shoulder region. Sorely, this shall soon be over!

I shall now get back to the first priority in my current life. Mins like, works is worships.
Byeeeeeee.

PS: Tits, have many funs in the Chennai, but don't you dare comment on pre-marital sex or safety measures to be used whilst so indulging! Take lessons from recent history.

Yay! My brotherly louww is now a college boy.
Let the games begin....

Qestion of the day: How hot is Anthony Hopkins?
Answer: Very.

ahoy

Frundhsips. Hullo, hullo.

Am updating at the behest of one kind Sir Vaibhav.
Unfortunately, have nothing to say really. Yes.... such is the excitement I experience in my life and times.

Let's say the most fun thing I've been doing in the past few weeks has been gallivanting around town with my little brother, who is now almost a foot taller than me. Life is unfair. Here's a 14-year-old strapping lad at 6 feet [what!!!!] and here am I, barely scraping the line at 5'3". BAWL!
We've been off for movies, to my favorite eat-outs, to musical almost-shindigs: TAKE 5 - a failed evening], to shoot hoops at the Amoeba stalls and win tonnes of tickets with which we then buy Snickers bars, and finally, we hang at home and play games on X-Box. He whups my ass all the bloody time.
He's a good lad. I have high hopes for him. He shan't be falling prey to the vices and immoralities of depraved drug-induced moronic somewhats. He has a steady head on his shoulders.
My main agenda in life for the anon is to get him into a nice scholl/college.
Where he will indulge in some curricular and many extra-curricular activities, thereby developing into a wholesome, well-rounded, interesting and not-annoying personality. Sigh. Yes. I have big smoky dreams for my baby.

How boring id this, I say. Do you guys really want to read bout my fermenting maternal instincts? Noooooo.
So.
Over and out.

PS: Sir Vaibhav, see you around, maybe.
[I might pop in to Bombay soonly. MIGHT. It's a plan in my head.]

Sigh. I know, I know. Had Fernando won this past weekend, I would have splashed my joy across all pages of the blog. Turns out that creep Schumi manged to keep him a nose behind for a lot of the time. Even to the end! Crikey.
Still. Now that I am well and truly over the bittersweet result of Sunday, here's my warm-fuzzy recipe. Guaranteed to bring a goofy grin on the mug of any aesthetically sensitive humanoid.Enjaaaaii.

Insipidity

May I just say it does not become an establishment to employ grumpy, snooty [and godawfully ugly] men as maitre des. Especially when said grumpy fart has no point to his existence except to annoy the bejeesus out of refined, suave, classy diners, such as ourselves.
Am making public the slip-shod treatment meted out to us jolly office-mongers, when we headed out to Mainland China, Church Street for much raved about lunch buffet.

All arrangements were smoothly executed the previous day. Over phonery items.

ME: Hi, yadda yadda yadda, nice weather, blah blah blah, do you still have a weekday lunch buffet at your fine dinery, kind lady?
KIND LADY RECEPTIONIST: Yes, of course, why not give it a shot? Alive and kicking as anything.
ME: Right ho, then expect around 30-40 of us from my orifice on the morrow. What shall be the financial damages?
KIND: INR 195/- per head, plus taxes.....

[long pause]

ME: Yes, I'm still waiting. So what will be the final financial damages, and let me be crystalline this time: how much INCLUDING taxes?
KIND: Oh, err, yes, of course. That comes to INR 219/- per head, Ma'am.
ME: [stiffly] Yes, thank you. It's a done deal, then. Let's shake on it.
KIND: Err....

So, anyway, any astute legal minds out there will notice that no stone was left unturned. All factoids were clarified, like butter. Weekday, check. Lunch Buffet, check. Cost per head, check.
In this glowing frame of mind, official invites were mailed out to orificers.

Come next day, and we folks [substantially lesser than 30-40, of course. That was just an empty threat] pranced off in the blasted heat to said restaurant. At the door we were kindly welcomed inside by a personality whom I assume was KIND LADY from previous day's conversation.

All looked rosy until then. The A/C had just begun to soothe frayed nerves. The faux Oriental music that they play in all such joints was mildly amusing. The ambience was building to a beautiful something-and-all when... when KIND LADY of our memoirs disappeared and a horrific substitution in the form of GRUMPY FART turned up. With nary a smile, and as if the weight of the whole weight rested on his podgy shoulders [and his podgy shoulders alone] he whisked us up and away to the 2nd floor of the dinery, away from the other human patrons enjoying their food items. His side of the story was it was "JUST FOR US." Aw shucks.

So anyway, that surprise being smoothly taken into stride, we were guided to a long row of tables attached bumper to bumper, so that at any point of time if Person A from the Left wanted to get up, the entire row of people on his side would have to shift base so he/she could move. This idea not being conducive to our sense of freedom and whatnot, we asked many times that the tables be rent asunder so that we, the jolly diners, could easily wander hither and thither. I mean, the whole essence of a buffet is you keep on jumping out of your seat to first survey the spread, then return to report your findings to your friends, then go back to clarify some minute details you had forgotten to check on your first soiree,and from then on, to get your first, second, third and fourth helpings. Right?
Wrong.
Our Lovely Shady Grumps had decided in his mind tha it would be better if we all just sat down at the beginning of our meal, and that instead of the Mahomet going to the mountain, the mountain would indeed come for us! That is to say, he said we should plonk ourselves fixedly on our seats, and that the buffet would be served to us at the table.

Ummm. Sorry, what?

Obviously, this threw the whole festive buffet atmosphere right out the window. But Grumps persisted. After our 3rd attempt at explaining to him that No, really, we'd LIKE to go for the buffet ourselves, we gave up. We were, after all, only human in the face of this monstrosity.

Only concession made: We got about a half foot of space in between tables. For what joy, I shall never know to my dying day.

So to cut a bloody long story short, the buffet came to us in painstakingly slow and unappetizing instalments. First, weak ,watered-down and warmish mocktails arrived. After about 3 years, the starters came. For a while after that again, nothing. Then soup. Followed by another thumb-twiddling episode. To preempt any further inexplicable waiting, we asked GRUMPO if he could please speed things up. Soddy fellow got slightly uppity. I believe he believes that the longer you take to serve your fooderies, the classier your joint will seem.
Sir? That is a fallacy. Please keep in mind for further use and pleasure.

The food in itself wasn't bad. Not to say it was excellentissime,, either. Just about so-so. And of course, we couldn't get rid of the niggling doubt that there were 13 more secret dishes on the buffet that they weren't letting us get a peek at. Grass-grosser-greener-side-theory.

All in all, on a scale of 1-10, that meal gets an overall rating of a piffling 4.78, purely on the merit of some good ol' Chinese fare.
The fact that we had to hand around spoons, knives, forks, plates, glasses and every other thing on the table for about half the time we were eating, didn't help matters. The waiters couldn't reach, you see. Too tight a fit. See above for half-foot spatial arrangements.

The clincher was, in the middle of all of this, a tragic incident occurred with a waiter shattering a glass of drinking water right at the feet [and trousers] of our belle of the ball that day- one Ms. L. Perfect shocked expression she had, as would make any thespian proud.

*Applause*

When the bill came, KIND LADY'S promise to me over the phone struck gold. 'Twas exactly as we had planned it. About the only part of the meal that was.
With a heavy heart we decided to leave tips for the poor incompetent waiters working under the whip of GRUMPS. For GRUMPS himself, we had no tip, no words, no nothing, no anything. We just wanted to leave him be.

Hope you read this someday, GRUMPO. And suffferrrrrrrr.....

My brotherly love has arrived in town!
Yay!
Yahooeeeey!
*supaar backward flip, triple somersault and perfect landing!*

Ranting. And also Raving.

Watched another couple of back-to-back Sex and the City episodes last night and realised why I don't try to catch it anymore. Am fully convinced that I completely dislike the show and the characters in it. Especially the whiny, confused, spoilt city-brat Sarah Jessica Parker-character. Or nympho blonde. Or deserves-to-have-sense-slapped-into-her-brunette. About the only bearable character is redhead. Sometimes. [She's one of them.....]
But really. This is a show I will never ever be able to relate to, on any level. Plus there's not a story line in sight anywhere. [Fans might argue that there isn't supposed to be one. Oooooooo-kay then!] Plus, when Whiny Parker does her laptop writing-narration bit, I find it puerile and silly as dammit. I mean, really, it sucks. More than anything else I feel like kicking myself for having wasted more time on watching the damned show.

PS: With the great big deal made about her [Aha! Her charcter's name is Carrie! I got it at last!] Carrie's sense of style, I find her wardrobe atrocious at times. Many times. Mins like, vaaaandi comes to me.


Disclaimer: This is not to say I have hostile feelings towards any of the actresses. I'm sure they'll do nicely elsewhere. I just find the characters in this show to be "eeeeyuk". I kid you not.

And again!

Nyahahahah. This is a guten year.

RRRRRRRRROOOOOOWWWRRRRR!!!!

And in other news....

Went to The Octopus on a Sunday Kroak Night for the first time, after hearing many nice things about it in the not-so-distant-past. Have to say, amidst heart-rending sobs and other whatnots, my insides did a double flip before finally taking the deep plunge into uber-cess.
The joint was flooded with Spinn-offs, bimbettes in contempt-inducing wardrobe and expressions, undergrown boy items with spwarks in their hair-ishtyles, flaky bits of coversation [vaaaandi!] and all-in-all, many many things that I utterly think ruin many a good evening. And have the potential to for many more.
Notwithstanding that my fruit punch costs thrice as much as a chilled-beeru, which I can understand if I'm given the right ambience and good music, the place was packed with humanities and most of its dregs. Plus, the music was, erm.... yes.

Give me lovely talentful nights of Boomsas, Ostriches, Shankies, Sherils, and yet others any old day. Mins like, so long as what I remembered of the nice old place can live peacefully in my head at least.

Ye gods, I cannot begin to tell you the horrors. And what's more, NO SHEESHAH. Waste, I say.

I asked Tits the other day whether she was overwhelmed by her new work-digs. Turns out she wasn't. Which is not to say she was underwhelmed. [Although that is what she claimed at the end of Day 1 there.]

I believe Tits was just about Whelmed. Which would mean she slipped in smoothly and comfortably into her new shoes. Same to same like me. I believe I was whelmed in just the right amount when I joined this here workplace. Like a smooth operator. Err, yes.

So what have we learned today?
Nothing.

Dear Thirtha

Happy Birthday. Very.

Hmm.

Err. This is what I have had to work on for the past week or so.
Highly substandard fare. C-Grade moving down to D-Grade.

But in retrospect, very amusing. Check out the interesting tint of green.

Nooooooooooooo!!!!!
Thy're stepping up software security at our workplace. And one of the silly measures being taken is cleaning out each system. That means our music. Naaaaaw! Not fair.
Don't they trust us? [Read as: I've already finished illegally downloading all the songs I want, they're stored beautifully in my D Drive, and I won't be secretly downloading more stuff in the near future, so Why? Why? Why?].
And anyway, how is my music going to hurt anyone? First of all, it's good music. And I swear upon many sacred things that my system hasn't slowed down any. Works like Speedy Gonzalves on speed. Eeks.

But... ugh.. sputter.. choke...

Take it away, ladies

Or Take 5 at least.

Much funs were had at a lovely shady joint [shady implying dim lighting] on 100 Ft Rd yestereve.
I had a Cooli Mooli. Need more be said?

Bye, Chy

Chy leaves this Saturday.
And we've had some great moments of utter and complete madness.
Have fun, longlegs. I shall miss you like anything and all.

Don't forget the masterplan. Earn millions in the Gelf, then come back here, collect me, and we head off to Japan for loafing, and just quite possibly, staying there.

Our earlier plan was a mansion in the Caribbeans, but we watched Memoirs Of A Geisha last night and it doesn't really take much to change our minds.

Speaking of which, it was a nice movie, and the surprise package [in addition to the obviouses of sweepingly beautiful visuals and soundtrack] was the actress who played Hatsumomo. Evil and drop-dead gorgeous. I think she's Gong Li or somesuch.

As for Ken Watanabe... I have loved you from The Last Samurai, good sir.
Hubba Hubba.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVELY

To my dearest- HAPPIEST ON YOUR BIRD DAY.
(Mins like better late than never.)

Whooooopeeeee!!!@!##@#!!%$?? for the 22nd. Such larks, Tits, such larks.
100 points to Pinaki for getting the perfect chocolate mousse cake to stuff our faces with after magnificent dinner.
Lovely to see JJ and Kash Disco Balls, The Bomb and her Eveready Reddy [!!!]. And of course the madness that is Aloks. Deedan was just thrilled to see The Bomb HAD a boyfriend in tow. Yahahaha.

Tum jeeyo hazaaron saal... [why? why? why would anyone want that?]

PS: Oink, Tits. Here's an old, old pic from the old, old days... Skirts for all us ladies. Me in blues, you in pinks. A mad girls'-night-out and our crazy stroll at 4 a.m. through the HAL bylanes. *Sniff*

[Remember when we got back home from Boibabh's restaurant, you found you still had the price tag on your new clothing items? *Titter titter*]

Tits came over to see after me in my time of being an eye-sore. Or rather, of having one. Zo zweet. We went to nearby Arabic food joint to pick up, err, food, for her folkses. I wore my shades and looked shady. I hope people thought I was a superstar and not a freak. This truth I will never know for certain.

This brings me to a deep, dark, disturbing thought which I must share with you,
my dear readers.
I strongly believe, and have for many years now strongly believed,
that STEVIE WONDER IS NOT BLIND!!!
I swear, I get goosebumps [Not goosepimples- I never get pimples of any sort. Ha ha!] everytime I see him grinning maniacally, because I think he's having the last laugh. [Also because I don't really like any of his songs.]
This piece of information is not mend to offend anyone, but hey! We are SO BIG on freedom of expression nowadays. [$#@^^$@!!!!#^%&&$@@@!!!! with regards to that issue].

Dear Tits
Thanks for :
1]Coming to see me last eve. [Even if I couldn't really see you back.]
2]Getting me lovely bakery items.
3]Not giggling at me and my eyewear.
4]Cracking very bad jokes and larfing like 14 hyenas. [Abbreviated career!]
5]Attempted matchmaking dreams, in tandem with Jakkur Jazz.

6]But the clincher was..... *rolling on floor and choking to death types*... your lame-ass attempted lecture session, with expected catstrophic result. Please, Tits, nyahahahha. Tum bhi na kabhi kabhi.

Pls to come off anytime and all. It was much fun items.

This too shall pass.

Pig sty.
Eye.

=Big stye.
Ouch.

This kills my grand plans for promiscuous socialising over the weekend.

enjaaaaiii

Special dedication: Boomsa!

What a long it has been since my last sortie here...

Spoke with Febi yesterday. Was highly interested in physiological, intellectual spiritual and supernatural development of her little one, the Yasin.
The verdict: All systems are go, and how! Yay.


This weekend saw us beaming at a mad, mad Ian Anderson at the Tull show. What a joyousness he is. Slightly off in just the right portions. Had much funs.

However, splendid thought it may have been, the concert brought home to me
a sobering and disturbing realisation. That.... slowly but surely, I am getting decrepit, palsied, run-down, ramshackle, tottering and possibly rheumy-eyed. Personally, I like to think of myself as 'wizened.' Ha ha.
What I mean is, whereas in the not so distant past I would have been bouncing off the walls and turning cartwheels even after the end of an exhausting, acrobatic concert of mayhem and more, I find that now, in my ebb-tide,
I am spent as an overused debit card towards the end of a month.
It was like so. I was unbelievably pooped.
Perchance [and I say this more to console myself than anything else], it was because I haven't got much sleep for the past 6 moths or more. Accumulate that lack of sleep and it probably translates into Exhaustion and Fatigue, strange, miserable Neck And Shoulder Soreness and the Omnipresent Headache.

Then again, and I like this line of thinking better, it just means I need to get a regular weekly weekend massage to take away my pain and sorrow. Nyahahaha. I love this. Methinks it's a plan. Tits, come off. Let's reasearch some nice masseuse individuals with hygienic joints to help us out. Joints means 'place of work', not elbows, wrists, ankles and knees. Of course, they MUST ALSO be hygienic.

Enough. I must away.

Personalities in Bangalore, kindly suggest places of comfort and care where I may head out to this weekend.
Thanking you,
Yours Kindly,
The Long Black Veil.

New blog

After many important, interesting and infinitely busy days, here I am, back at the blogging mill. Hello, Sir Vaibhav.
Or as Pinaki The Kyoot pronounces it: Boibhabh.
Pinaki is Bengali [Ah!].
Many thanks for reminding me that I should get back to it.

Had the most outstandingly debauch day yetserday. 'Twas a Sunday, and for the first time in my new digs, I slept in late. Or relatively late, at 0930-10ish. Had interesting breakfast [have I mentioned I love cooking?] and then lazed around beauteously.
Sunday, being my Fun day, I folded sleeves [mine] and started on house-cleaning activities. [Say, did I mention I love house-cleaning?]
When house was rendered spick and also span, I moved the entity that is known as me to the bathroom. Also spruced up that mother.
From there on, it was all therapeutic bathing rituals. Had long, long, luxurious type of bath. Sans bathtub, but it was long and luxurious nevertheless. I have recently acquired interesting scented bath-soap from Fabindia. Had much fun with it.
Also have Palmolive Aromatherapy Shower Gel. By the end of it all had to open bathroom windows to allow for easy breathing.

Wrapped in my huge bath-towel, was traipsing around the apartment, till I realised [once more, yet again] that my hall curtains stood at a respectable distance from each other, thereby providing the Outsides with a wonderful view of the Insides. Thank the Lordy I couldn't make out any human forms with binoculars or telephoto camera lens. Although a couple of lecherous crows were hanging about looking shady.
I don't think they matter in the large scheme of things.

Once I gathered my wounded honour, thinking in my head to the imagined voyeurs: Kya tumhare ghar mein maan-behen nahin hai?, I finally put on comfy PJ's and headed for the kitchen. Made lip-smacking something and all for me.
Lounged about, read papers, put on musical items on... OOOH! I haven't mentioned it: I have acquired byootious Creative MuVo Slim Player from kind family members. Have a look-see.

Met up with Boomsa and the Elder Chandrasekaran, and whoo-hoo! old acquaintance from school era at a Daily affair. The Ostrich perched with us after a bit. Ate muchly and more. And yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy! Jai Boomsa. It is having grand, lovely, heartwarming newses. Yaaaaaaaaaaayyyy.

Then. Aameley.
Rushed back home to prettify my face for impending Dinner at college-era-frundship's house. Coorg deal. Very sweet parents, very nice to see the Coorg after so long, very nice time had by all and fabulous dinner items.
Stuffed to the gills, and Tits dropped me home sweet home after.

Highlight of evening. On spur of moment, Tits and me bought the Coorg a dil-shaped balloon with "I Love You" written on it, from traffic junction en route to her place. Much funs it was.


I am tired. You must be too.
This ends my weekend update.

Ta!

Merry Christmas and Harping on the New Year, to all.

I love this time of the year. It's called the 'good riddance' phase.
Yay.

Yaaaaaaaahahahhahahahahaha!!!!

Oh, my God, the coincidence. The miraculous eerie coincidence.
Had a marvellous real-life rendition of this by Boomsa at Potato's Blushing Bride party this past Saturday night. Could not/would not believe that it could be an actuality.

And now, ye gods, I have video footage, with detailed and complete lyrics. Many thanks to the younger Chandrasekaran for making my day.

Pls read magnificent lyrics off her site first, then take the plunge for the video.

Boo at The Octopus

Yay, yay, yay.
I had much funs, dear Boo.
You and the Ostrich, red and green, Shanky on stringed instrument, great weather, good food, strong sheeshaa and Tadaaaaaa! We have ourselves a great evening, ladies and gen'lemen.

Am muchly proud of it. *huggs**mwuaaah*

I shall stalk it at all future performances though you'll probably find me out because of my long black veil.
And also, because you happen to know me.

So, until next time.

Sending out an SOS!!!

Hullo.
There's a reason for 3 exclamation marks in my title. It suggests Urgency.

The crisis is as such.
Am living in divine, large, roomy, airy, comfy, furnished 1-bedroom flat in a pretty sleepy residential part of town.
No, that is not the problem, thank you very much, smarty-pants.
That is the intro to the problem.
The trouble arises in the fact that that current flatmate is moving in to neighboring digs with Her Heartthrob.
Not leaving me in the lurch with immediate effect, but in time, that could be the state of affirs.
The crux of the matter is, if and when it happens, this writer shall not be able to bear the economic burden of monthly rent by her lonesome self. Sob.

So, hence, therefore, thusly, and ergo , am all eyes peeled for new lady persons to move in with me. This is very important. I am firm on this point. I will not have men/boys/ants/goats as flatmates.
This offer is open in Bangalore. For those of you in Delhi, Mumbai, Afghanistan or Jamaica, who jumped up with joy at this serendipitious [spelling ok?] news, too bad. Unless you want to go on living wherever you currently live and split my rent with me anyways?
*beatific smile at the thought*

So. Sing the Police song as stated in the title, and gimme a ring!

I watched that lovely, lovely movie Almost Famous over the weekend.

And again, was smitten by this gorgeous kid Patrick Fugit.
How sweet was he?
Awww shucks.

Of course, Kate Hudson was smashing, but this boy Took A Little Piece Of My Heart

The Octopus

Finally, after years and years, I made it to Opus.
Watched the Ostrich and buddies playing Hooky. Far, far better setting for brilliant music of the kind that they play. Pat on back for the crowd.

Boomsa was gorgeous in red swari. She was, as remarked upon by a gentleman on alighting from stage, having both traditional and spiritual. Yahahahahah.

Completely enjoyed the entire evening. Even the nibbles we had were good, plus I had a little Double Apple sheesha. 4 puffs exactly, because beyond that I tend to get nauseous.

Joke of the nuit: My fresh Fruit Punch- IRS 175/-
Friend's pint of KingFisher's- IRS 65/-

Ye gods.


Boomsa and Tinkerbell crashed at my house afterwards. Yeah!!!! My house, my house! I can say that after so long. It's a nice, warm and slightly fuzzy feeling.

Had mega-omelettes at about 0130 hrs in the morning because of hunger pangs. Boomsa is veg, but now, thank god, loves omelette. We shall have many more, my frundhsips. Just come off anytimes.

Watched Hook perform at Central last Friday. Vot a vonderfuls. I shall not rave much about the Ostrich, or the Shanks or the Prakashes, that make up said band. In a word, they were brilliance.

Very bizarre setting for the performance though. A mall. With 2 freaky kids causing Boomsa and me much discomfort and annoynace. Boomsa esp, since one of the kids was dressed in a strangely revolting polka-dotted pink thingy.

Post show, we headed onwards and upwards to the food court and I had me a chicken stroganoff. From an over the counter fast-food stall. In my defense I have to say I was very hungry. And so, I enjoyed even that.

Interesting aside: Was stared out of countenance by a lady sitting across from me. For the entire duration of my meal. Because we were of the same religious leanings and I looked so outwardly? Boo and friend were amused. They were certain that it was a stare-marathon with penultimate Matriminial Objective. Haha, I say. If only the lady knew!

And then..... Most interesting incident occurred as I vroomed away to my new digs. Was zipping along on a nice clean, open stretch of M.G.Road, doing a comfortable 40-50 kph, when from out of nowhere, a soddy and very smashed old man dragged his bicycle and started walking across the road. MoBiker Man in front of me screeches and swerves just in time. Myself, not so lucky. I screech, I swerve, and I fall. And get dragged along for a few seconds.
Contrary to popular belief, your life does not flash before your eyes in the last few seconds. Or whatever. Nope.
What I was wondering as I looked back in slo-mo at the oncoming traffic, helmet scraping ground beautifully all the while, was, which one of these lucky vehicles is going to *whump* over me in a bit. Not pleasant, but highly practical thinking, if I may say so myself.

Sweet, touching events unfolded once I had finished my Impressive Skideroo. A magical crowd gathered up to gather me. Some kind soul handed me my mobile phone which had made an escape bid onto the road. Some other kind soul handed me my toe ring. Wha..? How?

I have this to say about sudden accidents. The shock that kicks in for the first few minutes after is really very, very interesting. You get a third-person take on yourself. Sort of disembodied feel. Very nice, I say. I don't need to try drugs if I keep this up.

SO anyway, collected myself in about 10 minutes. Bid fond farewell to the sidewalk where I had been sitting.
On reaching home, found that the kurta I had been wearing [*sniff* one of my favourites too, from Brahma], had been rudely torn apart through my fleece jacket- also ripped; and my jeans were on their last legs. Had painful but necessary hot bath and thanked The UpAbove for letting me hang around here for a bit more.

Go, boys!

A very satisfying weekend

In spite of Tits not being in the picture, I got a lot of goodness accomplished.

Firstly, rented 3 movies to watch at homestead. Fever Pitch, Wimbledon, and Alfie. 2 out of 3 were ok. Alfie sucks. Pls avoid. Jude Law, I love you terribly, and in a wildly unladylike manner, but really. Nevermind.

Received Birth Announcement Card from the Febi, with a dreamy picture of little Yasin. Yay.

Saturday: Went with Pinkai to drop Deedan to the airport. She was off to Calcutta to binge with brother-and-other kin.
Aloks and Pinaki followed suit Sunday morning. Returning on Dec 3rd.

Thunnn.
Met with Laura Love after ever so long. We decided to catch up over [and after] a movie. Time-and-choice being of the limited edition sorts, we ended up going for a movie known as Garam Masala. Hot Spices, if you please. The horrific title had already given me a sense of Impending Doom, but we went in nevertheless. The only saving grace was that we bought Gandhi Class tickets, so that's not too much money wasted. [Although this again is debatable, because any money spent on that crap is a waste.]
Within the first 15 minutes, we began to dream up imaginative ways of escaping in the dark. It started with little fidgets. The forced laughter we attempted [it was a comedy, and we thought, let us try] tapered out soon enough. Gave way to whimpering.
Brave as dammit, we weathered the maddening assault on all senses up until the Inter val/mission. And then, my, but how we ran! Like Speedy Gonzalves multiplied by 2.

Let me mention that I have sat through pretty atrocious movies in my time. But, this was just taking it to another level. There comes a Tide in the Affairs of man, which taken at the Flood, leads on to Greater Fortunes? Yes, Mr. Wodehouse? Well, we thought that the tide was up, and we swam for it.
The Greater Fortune turned out to be soothing eatery known as The Bread Bar, on Church Street. Frazzled nerve endings were patted into silence by mammoth sandwich I ordered and devoured. Accompanied by chilled pineapple juice which is very good for you. And you, also.

That was Saturday. Ooh, yes, and also received exciting invite [re-invite actually] to head to Boomsa's manney for luncheon on following day.
Could hardly sleep, what with the anticipatory drool that comes before sampling Shout's cooking. Or is it Scream? I forget.

Sunday dawned bright and byootiful, but I was asleep when it did. Reached Boomsa's post-noon. The Boys were preening on rooftop. Somu wanted a tan. Hyder didn't know why he was there, but he was. [He came down later, and oh-my-God, what funs.]

Yeeeaaaaaahhhhhh!!! I met Boomsa FINALLY, and my dil went hmmm-mmmm-mmm. Of course, that's what it does nowadays, don't you know?
Met Poatato!!! Yeeaahhh. So nice. So very amazingly nice it was.
Met Potato's Pink, and didn't know it!! Yeeaaahhh. [*slap* I know, quite pathetic.]
Was truly all gladness. He's a lovely, and together, they are a lovely.
Met Uncle Anand. Yeeaahhhh. He did his Baywatch act and got Hero#1 for 5th year running. There's no matching up to this dude.

Boomsa did some nifty work with baby potatoes, of the botanical, not human, kind. A pinch of this, a dash of that, some magical hand-waving, chanting, spell-weaving, and vee-oh-lah! She had readied the most lip-smacking Potato-Pallya ever.
*resounding applause*

Frunds arrived. My toes did inevitable toe-curling exercise. [I really need to do something about this, it can be awkward for the hosts.] Fortunately, live match b/w Pakistan and England was going on, and I could direct my super concentration that-a-way, and away from lower digits. Inzamam, I love you. Also, Mohd Yousuf nee Youhana.

[Speaking of lower digits, thanks yous, El, thanks yous, I am loving all the sockses.]

THEN.......*drumroll*... LUNCH BEGAN.

Ach Crivens, the spread that was! The aromas, the tastes, the overall effect! The ghee, the love, the magic! Eeks. We all tried our best. No stone was left unturned. We dug deep into our innermost selves to pile in as much, and then some more, of the Foods. When no more was humanly/pigly possible, we had to stop. After all, haha, there was dreamy creamy chocklit cake and ice cream to follow, was there not? There was.

I could go on and on, but I am feeling faint.


In a word, at the end of it all, we had to loosen out belts. [And if possible, discreetly undo our topmost pyjama button.]

I could've and would've stayed at Boomsa's for many more leisurely hours, but, ye Gods, prior commitments had been made. Had to vroom away to pick up Chy and then change into our witch-robes, just in time for the Harry Potter-Goblet show, or so we thought. We were late. Missed the Quidditch Cup, and the Veelas. Hyuk.

The video quality at Symphony sucks. Ptttthhh.
Cedric Diggory is dreamy. I shall watch out for this lad to grow up into something very interesting. Heeeehhahah.

Post movie, we upped and downed Brig Road. Very bad idea on a weekend evening. But this was emergency sich-way-shuns.

Bye-byes to Chy, and headed homewards. Was aching, creaking in various muscular regions. I never knew muscles could creak, but they do. Shows how much you know. Bah.

If I were a sensible person, I would've crashed immediately on return, in accordance with early rising for MY JOB.
But the, I have never yet been accused of sense or sensibility, so what I did was, by mistake started checking the movie channels. And yahoo. I found Monster. The second half of which I had never managed to watch, and lways wanted to, and tadaaa, that's what I did.
Brilliant, Ms Theron, very brilliant.
Butt seriously. [And there's another story behind this] How did she do that? How can a flawless beauty, manage to look and act like Aileen Monster.
I loved it/her/them/all. After suitable weeping at end of flick, finally did the needful and curled up in the dark.

PS: I always get the loveliest sleep after sobbing my heart out for a movie. Is it a universal phenomenomenomenon?

The Other Morning

Was having breakfast in our Pork [Pantry at Work].
The fare included Hot Veg Channa Something, along with hot chapatis.
And steaming cups of chai. Nothing to complain about.
Except that the chapatis were slightly overdressed in left-over flour.
Mr Baker had forgotten to do the dusting that morning.
With the end result, that by the time I was done smacking my lips and patting my full stomach, I had white powdery particles all over my clothes, and more obviously, all over my LongBlackVeil [yes, yes, there is a reason I call my blog what I do!]. Mins like to say, I was looking tardy and as though I had just dunked my head in talcum powder.

My kind frund Ruth pointed out to me that I needed to get the muck off me, and I said out loud: Ok, then. I'll just head to the loo and get De-floured.


Umm, really. You try saying it out loud. In a room full of grownups.
That's my story.

This here is a direct Copy-Paste job from Roger Stevens' Blog.
He writes beautifully. Go and see off.


Hey Diddle Diddle

Hey diddle diddle
The cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the bed
The little dog laughed
But not for long
Because the cow landed right on his head.

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting.........YASIN.

Absolute stunner, Masha'Allah. Based solely on that fact, one might think he may not be Febi's , but it turns out he feeds a hundred times a day, so he's definitely got some of her genes. Much love to you, my Febi. Take good care. *hugs*

Have a look-see.

Looooooooooooooo.....oooonnnng day at work.
Very.
Can't...see....straight....
Must...go.....home.



PS: Boomsa, pls to excuse ellipses, and their entire kith-kin.

The Weekend- Part 2

Almost into the next weekend, and I have thus far been shamelessly putting off writing the sequel to the gripping post in re of the revelries of last Sunday.

Frankly, I myself am quite bored with the whole deal. I can only assume that you will be even more so, and yay, much to your good fortune, I shall only give a short synopsis of the remainder. [Yahahahahha! You thought you'd ecsape with nothing at all? Well, well, well, just goes to show you who's boss around here!]

So, to conclude. Tits collected safely, we made with the luggage to her apartment. Slept in late the next morning. Woke up and had a long, serious, heart-rending tete-a-tete with Tits about how best to spend the rest of the day. At each turn we drew a blank. Nothing. Absolute flummox deal was happening.

Finally, in the nick of time [meaning before all was lost and we had had lunch], we decided to do the risque thing. Throw caution to the winds. Be all-out Take-That-In-Your-Faces-Haha!

Yes, we decided to rent some movies, laze around in our PJ's [Tits' had sheep on hers, I wore a sedate peach], and in general, try and change the face of the Universe.

So, we got Big Fish, which is beautiful and mad all things nice. That Albert Finney guy is something. Ewan Mcgregor is splendid to watch, and I'm not even close to being his fan. Jessica Lange is lovely. So is daughter-in-law. The son was very bland. Will Bloom I think. Ho hum.

And that was that.

Shortly after the crazy movie finished, I upped and made for my room. Bid teary fare thee well to frund Tits, and spent last happy solo night at my digs.
Slept fitfully in apprehensive state of mind, thinking evil thoughts about impending arrival of roomie on the morrow.

I have concluded my story. Fanmail should be directed to my official cllections site. Only envelopes with Hard Cash and/or Sodexho passes are accepted.
Thwanx.

The Weekend- Part 1

Still recovering from long weekend, followed by a well-tried-but-who're-you-trying-to-fool 2 days of work, and then another long weekend.
The grand newses is that Tits [photo alongside- She looks saucy in blue, yes?]
is back!
A rowdy bunch of individuals [being her Ma, Pa, Parsi-Bhai Nousher, and Me] went to collect her from Bangalore Airport, this Sunday morning at 0025hrs. We made a grand success of being a nuisance to all and sundry. (Especially to sundry, whom we took a dislike to from the word Go.)
Before leaving to get her though, we made a Saturday night of it by ourselves.
We played some mad Scrabble and had a shamefully late dinner at 2330 hrs.
Once again, Aloka took the cake and ate it too. With a blush-indusing word like GROPERS, she creamed us at Round 2. Then on, we played just for the sake of playing. 'Twas all a lost cause. She finished up at almost 300, and Nousher and me hadn't even scraped together a respectable 150 each. Sigh. Oh, well, let it never be said that I'm a sore loser. I grinned and bore it. Again.

At 0000hrs P.D. [Post Dinner], we had this mad craving for a round of decadent dessert. Thereupon ensued a lambasting of The City We Live In, for not having any respectable Patisseries [or for that matter any ol' place] open after 2300hrs. Hugely disappointed, fuming and other suchlikes, and with no time to spare to vent further emotions, we left for the Airport. One faint glimmer of Hope seemed to be a Cafe Coffee Day [or Cofay Caffee Day, as Aloka would have it], at the Airport itself...... Suspenseful music ran in the background while we drove to said premises.
And..... Yayyyyy!!! What a joys when we saw it was up and running. Forgetting fastly about impending arrival of Tits, we headed for a feast at ze Cafe. Had something hilarious called Chocolate Funda.
Pls note: The nomenclature was hilarious, but the taste wasn't.
Oh, yes, it was a lovely.
Grabbed a capuccino, and decided we might as well pick up Tits since we there already.
While whiling away time, waiting for her, we passed snide comments at Tom, Dick and Hari. We hooted. We whooped. We giggled unabashedly. We visualised silly situations of Tits taking so much time to come out because she was going to stroll out with a blond, blue-eyed, tall Swiss hunk, and say: Ma, I have something to tell you....
Then we changed the situish around to make it more plausible- that she'd walk out with a tall, blonnde, blue-eyed Swiss bimbette lady, and NOT a hunk. [This thought truly scared me to the bees of my knees].

Anyway, all said and done, out pop Tits, thankfully all alone and without the blonde vamp of my nightmares in tow. Reached home late [or early, depending on whether you're a glass half empty/full sort].

Sampled Swiss chocolates immediately on arrival of home, just to ensure that her baggage hadn't been swapped and goodies switched with fakes. Err, yes.

And that was that.

Also, my right wrist is paining, and I don't want to type anymore.
There is much more to be said for the weekend, but that will have to be tomorrows.
Oh, please, nahiin nahiniiin, don't hold your collective breaths.

Dear Blog,
Eid Mubarak

Saturday

This past Saturday was going really well. Met up with Tits for her last-minute shopping. Met Quasimodo after a long time. We were just 3 gals hitting town, shopping out, giggling maniacally, acting seriously juvenile and all such things that go hand-in-hand with the above scenario. Felt elated at the end of the day for all the good shopping we managed. [More elation at the thought that all the heavy bills would be footed by the parent comapny of said Tits. Yay!]
And so we trudged to Chez Tits, with many, many obscene bags of goodies.

And we were still in mid-grin, when we noticed something on the telly.
Familiar sinking feeling in the abdominal area. Familiar slow-mo sitting down, and sudden silence as we quietly watched the ugliness unfold.
Shiny, happy people out to enjoy 2 of the biggest festivals of their worlds. Having fun times just like we were having that day. And then, in a matter of moments, their lives were turned over, messed up.

News stories about incomprehensible things like this always manage to hit me hard. Oftentimes I'll be sobbing while watching documentaries by BBC [who do a very good job of it]. I'll watch the late night news and go to sleep disturbed and , there's no other word for it, sad. So, of course the Delhi blasts left me upset for the entire night. I was full to overflowing with opinions, anger, disappointment and what-have-you.

And then, just like that, I clean forgot. Got on with life, wot.
And I really find that quite disturbing. On a personal level.
I believe I was seething, raging, fuming, yadda-yadda-yadda on Saturday, when I watched the news streaking in across various channels. Ready to jump up and bellow out at whoever-the-hell-they-thought-they-were.
So, what is this? What's up with my mind? How gross.
That's about it. Now I'm disgusted, so I'll just leave off.

So.

1]Looooooooong weeekend.
2]Happy Diwali. More sound, less light this year round. To be precise, the explosions started at 0547 hrs Tuesday morning. And went on till well past midnight. What larks. Still, if one stuck one's fingers in each ear, and gritted one's teeth, it all looked pretty pretty from the rooftop. So now you know what I did.
3]The Shro has flew away to Geneva on work. My heart aches*.
4]Met frund Thirtha after oh-so-long and it was nice. Same old same old.
5]Slept in late on many days.
6]Grinned and watched as Pinkai sweetly lit up diyas in and around the house.


*To make up for said heartache, I crashed at Shro's place..*lopsided half-grin*

About my last post. I can see people reeling in the streets, not getting it. Smile!Here's the smallish explanation.

My dear crazy Fabida had a beautiful boy express delivered to her by a Stork, the Sunday prior to the one just gone by. She was undecided on a name. THEN, she became decided on a name. That name is YASEEN. And it is a gorgeous name for us Muslims.
To clarify further, Yaseen is the name of one of the chapters in the Holy Quran. That is the link I had put up on the previous post. Or rather, it was the translation of the original Arabic. It is quite stunning in the Arabic, and English, of course, doesn't even come close to capturing anything like its true meaning. Still, there it is.

Hope some brows are unfurrowed.

Named

Hello, mister mister.
I hear you've been established as Yaseen.

That's lovely, mother. Very beautiful.

Here. Do Something.

Febi Bebi

My dearest sweetest Fabida...
God bless, God bless. I was skipping with joy, I was hitting the roof, I was calling up unknown people to say:
Hey!! Hey, you!! My frund from the good older days, my partner in many unspeakables, my madness-equivalent from before I can clearly remember, is now a MOTHER! Can you believe the magic in them few words? The prettiness of everything? The way the colours are all brighter in a "Requiem for a Dream" kind of way?

I'm completely stunned, grinning, and kicked in the extremest.[Ye gods! Not in the 'extremities', in the 'extremest'. There's a world of difference.]
Oh, but I am a happiness.

The Big Day:
Sunday, 23rd September, 2005- circa 1900 hrs, California somewhere.
That would be, let's see, Ramadan 19th/ 20th, Hijri 1426, yes?

Spoke with your Samir the next morning. Could hear him smiling all the way over here.
He says you have a whopper: 4kgs and then some.. Yay!
Tell me fastestly what name you decide upon.

I am going away now. To do a celebratory tribal jig. In some corner where innocent children won't be liable to chance upon such a ghastly sight... We hope.

Vitriol, why not?

What pisses me off is that it has taken less than a month for the entire world and its uncle to forget that there was a terrible terrible quake, along with its aftermath, in Kashmir.

And what pisses me off even more, is that from Day 2 onwards, what was being thrown around in discussions more than relief and assistance packages, was whether the 2 ballsy neighboring factions could use this tragedy to become better friends and smile over coffee someday.

In further pissification news, I spoke with my people back in Kashmir, and even there, no one is really bothered. Bollocks and more.

The first snows have fallen. In any case, post September it always is bloody chilly up in the mountains, whether it's snowy or not. If it's not the snow,
it's cold, painfully cold rain.

And my people have no tents, no blankets, no nothing.

Aww. I hope India and Pakistan can really learn to better understand each other.
I really farking do.

Bumming on the Beach, Plan A

The last week and more has been a little crazy.
More than a little. Breathing space at work was cut down to bare miniminimumunimunum.
Or something.
This week has been so-par-suksex-full.

Am planning on romantic weekend trip with Tits. We have to first settle upon a place,
then cross our t's and dot the i's.
Mins like to say, we have to finalise everything. After we initialise them.

Looks like it's going to be a next Friday eve to following Sunday night thingy.
And we've sort of centred down on Podicherry, as the place to be going for.
Boomsa, shall we make it a cosy threesome?

*bwuahhahaahaha*

Come off, I say.

Afterwards

That's relief packages being chuted down. Tragic doesn't beging to describe things.

Many books

Have received and been floored with books.
The unit of measurement would not be 1,2,3 no.s.
More appropriate to what I received last eve would be in tonnage. To approximate, I think I rceived 14 tonnes of book from Boomsa, sourced from the kindly OldMonk.
Yay, mins!

Thwanxx thwanxx thwanxx.

The Lovely Bones

Bones called me the other night.
And we talked and we talked, and nothing in particular was dicussed,
and everything was said, and in short, it was lovely.
It was a wonderfuls just to hear her.
Love you many, Boneses. See you here swoonest.

PS: Have also started reading book of same name by Alice Sebold, given me by a Boomsa. So par, I have been sukseksfull in louwing it, Hanifi.

Just seeing this brings tears to my eyes... *sniffle*
Six in a row. Yippee.
And that's the way it's done!

Many thanks to Vignesh [via Boomsa] from whose blog I've pilfered
this-funniest-of-all link.

Have a look-see.

Yesterday, being a second Friday [I swear I don't know when the original
First Friday was], there was the thingamajig-gig that always happens at at B'ista.

Li'l Jude sang with siblings. 2 of them, in fact.
She was, and they all were, very brilliant. Superb song selections.
K.D. Lang, and Del Amitri, John Mayer.

Coming back to the siblings.....
Have come away crushed on either/or. Depending on whether the song was
heavily acoustic guitarred, or, on the other hand, heavily electrified.

I swung both ways last night!

Make that...... TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, yes.
The All Nation Transport Disruption Authorities have delayed the arrival of one Micheal, by a day.
He will now be arriving this eve, I hopes.

The background on nomenclature for Micheal:

Funny story. A juvenile invention by the 2 of us on one of our train trips across miles and miles of the Karnataka-Express route to Delhi, and thence the Puja Express route to Jammu. Since we effectively spend 4 days in and around trains, we have to come up with bright snappy ideas to while away our time in an innovative yet bizarre fashion.
On one of our trips we decided to speak only in Kashmiri [!!!] and to create faux names. Now, this boy looks eerily like an imported item, so we decided to give him an ordinary run-of-the-mill Kris-chun names.
First thing that came to mind was Micheal. [Don't ask why.]
And there you have it.

For future reference, please remember this formula.
Micheal = Suhail Qasim Malik.
Ta!

Micheal is coming today!!!!
Yeaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Will make it meet Boomsa, Tits, Chy and other assortments.

What I Learnt Today

Another word for volte-face is tergiversation.

Hmm. Really.
Try using that in a conversation.

About a girl/boy

It's getting on towards the end of the month.
This means that apart from the Obvious [What Obvious you ax? Why, that this is
the magical time when people like me are dead broke, and scrounge off assorted Boos and Tits], what is not so obvious to anyone else, but which I'm going to throw into the limelight right now, is that it is getting closer and closer to that Yahooooeeey Day when my Febi is going to have her first baybee... Yeaaah!!
I have already fixed things so that I shall be deemed Mother-in-Absence.
Mins, best to get these things cleared up beforehand. Febi doesn't know it yet, but I've hired Powerful Suits to draft some pretty intimidating paperwork.
Just to stay out of murky waters, wot? Helps to keep things clean, like.

In case you think I'm being sly, conniving, scheming, serpentine and other such things, Febi, let me say it before you. I am! Hahah.
Don't worry, though. I've asked the Suits to carefully put in Clause 420 which states clearly you'll have visitation rights once in a fortnight. The catch [yes, yes, there's always a catch, Febi!]- the catch is that you'll have to be dressed in a manner that pleases me. No more of your frilly, lacy Drusses, or your polka dotted stillettoes. I mean, it is my noble and conscientious duty to the child, that I shield him/her away from all the ugliness in life.
That includes disturbing wardrobes. Be warned.
And I hope to God you've gotten rid of those yellow-and-purple-striped bloomers that you're so fond of.

*bwuhahhahahahahahhhahaaaaaa*



PS: Did you see the subtle charm with which I put in "him/her", while referring to incoming stork-delivery? As if one doesn't know!!!
[snickers]



[Twix, as well, while we're at it.]

In Memoriam

I forgot to mention nice play I saw over weekend.

Things started off very badly. I'm talking about pre-show events,
not the actual play. Puh-leez. Like, be patient, y'all.

So, first, the ughly part. I speak of our traffic. Our mind-numbingly infuriating [query: Can we put in oxymorons like this? I mean, this is a bit extreme] traffic.

Started from CMH Road at 1830 hrs to meet Boo,
who was waiting three skips, hops, and a jump away
at Barista, St. Mark's.
In an ideal world, or even a mildly reasonable one, I should have made it before 1845 hrs. Neverrrr. Due to circumstances beyond human control [and almost endurance], I managed to meet the lady only at AAARRRRGGHHH..... 07:20 p.m.!
That's 50 minutes for a distance of less than 3 kilometres.... I might as well have rolled over to meet her. Probably would've been faster.

Anyway, once that was done, we were fretting over whether we were going to get tickets. Hope dawned in the form of one Alexei, whom Boo sms-ed to acquire the same.
Sweet lad accomplished said task in style, and we sat down comfortably for the showses.

And can I say, what a loveliest it was. I have come away feeling very impressed.
4 characters, all of whom carried their parts brilliantly. The play was almost a replication of same movie, but what a good replication it was. I have to say this was the first time I haven't been disappointed at the end of a show. Everything else I've watched has been mediocre. That's what I think. Please don't anybody get your hackles up. This is just me, yada-yada-yada-ing.

So, to sum up. Very Nice. Yay. Got money's worth.
Oi, that reminds me, haven't paid the Alexei yet.


Then....Aaameley, went to a Tavern. Lounged in sweet, scented corner, which Boo got to know really well, hyahahahaha.
The Shro was there with Sunny. Had late din-din at neighboring Empire.
Last scene of our night: Crashed at Shro's manney. Where else?!

That's all.


I mean it.

Presenting...........

*.................*
*drumroll........*
*flourish of trumpets.........*


AN OLD MONK

Him of booklending fame.
Which, of course, reflects on his good, pure, and compassionate 'art.

Birthday Bashes

Dear Deedan

A very happy birthday for yesterday.
You are SUCH a babe, at 83!!
Had many sinful funs at your place.
Ate like the forbidden pig,
popped a can of Red Bull! Ushushsu, indeed.

And as for today.
Happy Birthday to a sweet thing. God Bless always.

Am lates...
Have to run to buy tickets for "Closer".
Play based on movie of same-name-fame.

Have heard good things about it.
They better be true, or someone's going to have to answer to the Wrath that will be me.
See you, Boo. And Alexei. And Shro, maybe? With a Sunny smile?

The Ka-ching Thing

No, not a new, misspelt verb form.
It is in fact the phenomenon of my nice workplace allowing the likes of me
[read as 'New Inductee into Clique of Employed' (N.I.C.E)] to volunteer to work on Saturdays, and make extra, much-needed moneys.

after all, it's all about the money,
you dumb,dumb, da-da-da-dumbs!

Haha. So this was my first entrepreneurial step.
That is, today was.

3 earth-shaking events have already come to pass this morning,
and its not even 0745 yet.
Here they are in order of importance, or actually not, but just as I remember them:

1] Overslept by 20 minutes and missed orifice cab. [*noooooo!*]
2] Added a bloke called vaibhav, who's from mubai, on right-hand side, under blogs to browse. [*surely you jest?!!*]
3] Brought brand new beautiful furfle bags as accessory in crime,
to work. [*can these things be!*]


such is the exciting life behind the blackveil.

Yippeee.
Odie got a new job.. I am all happiness. It's so ugly when nice people are stuck in barf-esque places, day after day after day.
Good for you, sweetness.

yesterday

was brilliant.

Met up with one of my oldest girlfreinds, from when I was back in Dubai.
Circa 1993 onwards, if you please.

We had a very nice time. Sweet dahling bought me lunch, and, if that wasn't good enough, we then hit Crossword, where she surprised me
with Plath's The Bell Jar.
wow. my cup kind of ran over right there, and i might have even wet my pants.
hah.

and then, and then, if you must know,
I had a laughathon
with Eats, Shoots and Leaves.
what larks, indeed, boo.

so, it was a grand sunday.
today hasn't been bad at all, either.
work is non-existent, which means I have ample time
to play online Scrabble, download music illegally
and do other such things that are looked down upon
by the moral police, wherever they may be.

i am such a bad girl.

methinks I'll go and get a beer now.
inebriation is about the only Vice unexplored by me today.
oh, no wait, then there's drugs and carnal pleasures.
but patience, one at a time.

swapna aur hanif...jwava city mein!!

har har..
had a loveliest times woth the boo yesternight.
we met for, mins, chwatting only. and to swee each udders.
spur-of-moment sms from boo had me running for my jacket and bike keys, just as soon as I was able to collect my scattered limbs off the ground beneath.
boo's hindi messages often have this sort of effect on one. one is floored, like.

also, finally met her very ept [and very hot] friend alex.
must say, boo, very eye-candy.
but in a sweet, school-boy innocent sort of way.
Unfortunately I have come away with maternal feelings for the tot.
Esp. after he throws out random remarks like, "oh, I was in a crash today."
Eeks. hullo? a little less conversation, a little more melodarama, maybe.

so, anyway. then...
boo tells me i'm in for very saucy sockses from the foreigns. yay!!

*turns cartwheels while strewing confetti*
[and let me tell you, that's a very difficult thing to do.]

A Boo, being M.I.A.

scooby-boo, where are yooooooooooooo...?

dear Hanif,
where it is?

aww. shucks.

and again...

my cup runneth over.

which is just as well.
i believe in the coming season i'm going to have to slit my wrists, seeing as the favored hotties are going to be joining Ferr-ugh-ri.

just so, boo. just so.

direct copy paste from here.

very close to my heart.
and very true.
and very true.

Monday, August 29, 2005
All these years and all these people have not and will never wash the dirt off me. But somewhere someone wrote a book that has given me the directions to a half-life. I realize that in my story, there will never be a prison sentence. But there will, eventually, be a death that I can only hope will be ruthless. Till then.
I am relentless
I am relentless
I will wait to watch you die
Wait for all the worms to crawl by
Into your flesh and frightened dying tones
Eat the hands that touched my lovely bones.

I am relentless
My mind reeks of your mange
Your sweaty touch hangs on to my rage
Your despicable mouth and one-hundred-fifty pounds
Upon my mind, my soul, my body’s howling sounds.

I am relentless
I can’t wait to stand laughing by
Stand and watch you pleading as you die
The worms I send will return to infest me
Like you once did, but I’ll live, naturally.

This poem will forever be work in progress. Thank you, Alice Sebold.

and again!

tres bien, mclaren..

not copyright infringement, just loooooove.

an excerpt. from the first of his that i read.
and was hooked, lined and sinkered. erm, yes.


Maskerade
by Terry Pratchett



Chapter One

The wind howled. The storm crackled on the mountains. Lightning prodded the crags like an old man trying to get an elusive blackberry pip out of his false teeth.

Among the hissing furze bushes a fire blazed, the flames driven this way and that by the gusts.

An eldritch voice shrieked: "When shall we...two...meet again?"

Thunder rolled.

A rather more ordinary voice said: "What'd you go and shout that for? You made me drop my toast in the fire."

Nanny Ogg sat down again.

"Sorry, Esme. I was just doing it for...you know...old time's sake...Doesn't roll off the tongue, though."

"I'd just got it nice and brown, too."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, you didn't have to shout."

"Sorry."

"I mean, I ain't deaf. You could've just asked me in a normal voice. And I'd have said, 'Next Wednesday.'"

"Sorry, Esme."

"Just you cut me another slice."

Nanny Ogg nodded, and turned her head. "Magrat, cut Granny ano...oh. Mind wandering there for a minute. I'll do it myself, shall I?"

"Hah!" said Granny Weatherwax, staring into the fire.

There was no sound for a while but the roar of the wind and the sound of Nanny Ogg cutting bread, which she did with about as much efficiency as a man trying to chainsaw a mattress.

"I thought it'd cheer you up, coming up here," she said after a while.

"Really." It wasn't a question.

"Take you out of yourself, sort of thing..." Nanny went on, watching her friend carefully.

"Mm?" said Granny, still staring moodily at the fire.

Oh dear, thought Nanny. I shouldn't've said that.

Hah!

Paul, thou art beside thyself;
much learning doth make thee mad.

Bible: New Testament.
Festus, the Roman Procurator, in Acts 26:24.

byootiful

just see what writes.. just and only see.

"Sergant Colon was a picture of misery drawn on a lumpy pavement in a bad crayon on a wet day."


you mad mad mad man.

yessssss.
finally!
*does ancient kashmiri tribal jig*

NOOOOOO!!!!

not this! not ferrari.
pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeez. kimiiiiiii!
first alonso, now kimi...ugh. no. scuderia be damned.
[fading...] noooo....

ps: all exclamation marks are completely understandable.

of small worlds

found out Ruth [from work] was a junior at cottons. except that we were never in the same campus together. jus that she knows people i know. like bones, varsh, smreetei, chy and other things.
also, scarily enough, she is related to victoria and nancy!

ruth is just now telling me of the famous-fish-face of a smreetei.

jest only...

one is thinking that one should write another shwort story for the chy.
it's all forming in my head but the practical difficulties one faces in actually putting pen to paper are maddening. mins, how to take that first scwary steps? or rather, when.

i usually have unbelievable 'write cravings' circa 0200 hrs,just when i'm about to drop off to sleep. when the temple known as my body [yahahaha!!! what a phrase] refuses to assist the crazy brain in overdrive. highly annoying.

welcome back, boo!

and many much thwanxxes for the fretty presents all in a row.
i'm beginning to vicariously enjoy my freinds' holidays like you won't believe. hyaahahaah.
am jest now only already wearing 2 of the junkiest anklets ever. in colors that boggle the mind. stunning.
once again, thanxx use.

a funny chandrasekaran

some people are so funny. and i mean humorous. that's a good thing.
i happen to like smiling.
so i expand my blog to include smile-inducers.

most links, courtesy boomsa.

This is where I be

Yeah Yeah Yeah!!
not by usher.
this is day 1 at new job. am liking immensely. that is to say, we're in training, and i'm learning things that i will eventually be doing and which will ultimately reach a real-life individual somewhere in the world. i gather i'm going to be enhancing the audio-visual experience of t.v and film viewers.. yahahahhahahah.
what a funs.

Rowr.

to the lovely ladies.....

must be said exactly as the magical dave matthews says it, or else, the phrase loses its mass appeal.

i am very happy and i'm smiling, and i will walk miles to drink water. provided it's going to be with my crazy,lovely, gorgeous friends.
had a wonderful yesterday. got the job i was itching for, and which had let me hang in anticipation for a bright and cheerful 3 weeks. aaarrgghh. the lovely ladies know all about the angst.

thunn. afterwards, when i was trying to wipe grins of my mug, i met up with boomsa. she was in the grandest mood. she was stunning in saffron. mins, shiuw-sena types.. bad mouthing mussslims like me.
we had larfs over that, in addition to everything else.
she made me realise that i would never be able to say 'psyched buggggers' like she can. or do assorted crazy things that are unique to her face. she was a brilliant.

thunnn. crazy chris waltzed in with his angel jerusha. the hair was only the start of magic in her. she was a package deal of GREAT. also finally saw kavya, chris's wife, in real life. i mean apart from at their wedding. she's lovely.

[boo left for a mumbai today. have funs.]

thunn. rode like speedy gonzalves, god bless his soul, to shro's folks' maney, so i could shware more of my joy.. took pastries and things for thems. deedan loves it. aloka was very sweet to me, with a hug. plus futher expansion plans for Saboka's. also, she has a brilliant 10-year plan for me! pinaki looked on beningly, and smiled beatifically.

that was yesterday.

today i spent almost in entirety with the madness called laura. we talked and talked and talked and yes, it was very nice. all these chicks i hang out with constantly remind me that i did a good things by coming here, rather than wander out to discover the new world. note to self: old is gold.

recommend coffee world to all people in and around koramangala. go there!
mins, thats it. bwaai.