Monday, August 06, 2007
Beyond Compare
The show was supposed to kick off at 6 pm, and audience memebers were requested to dress formally. So obviously a huge chunk of Bangaloreans traipsed in well after 1845 hrs, dressed in cargos, dirty jeans, scuffed sneakers, three-fourths and other horrors.
The seating arrangements were godawful- the venue was basically a big shamiana with rows and rows of plastic chairs. For our tickets worth Rs. 600/-, we were hoping to be in a nice enough place to be able to comfortably view the performance but unfortunately we were quite ways behind and managed to NOT see any of the stage. We had to make do with the big-screen projectors. This being a ghazal concert, what was important was that the sound quality be good and thank the Lord, it was. Great audio throughout the show.
(Except when the caterers just outside the shamiana took to collectively rattling their cutlery, or when the rumbling from the nearby Freedom Jam made itself heard. At which point Ghulam Ali paused mid-song to say, "Iss aafat ko guzarne do.")
At 7 pm, Jagjit Singh took the stage and we had a lovely two hours' worth of his most popular numbers. He took us through the best of his repertoire: Mein nashe main hoon, Yeh daulat bhi le lo, Baat niklegi toh phir, Kiskaa chehraa, Kal chaudvin ki raat thi and Sarakti jaaye hai among others.
The audience was lapping it up, singing along with Baritone Jagjit in most places. He threw in a few pleasant variations on some lines but for the most part stuck to the script and the crowd had a fun time feeling full of itself thinking, "We know our ghazals so well."
Jagit Singh wound up around 9 pm and made way for the fabulous Ustad Ghulam Ali. There was a touching moment or two on stage when the dear old men started hugging each other, smiling and pulling one another's cheeks like so many 4-year-old kindergarten girls. Pleasantries done with, Ustadji took the stage.
And then........ *drumroll*
For the next two hours, we sampled the brilliance that is Ustad Ghulam Ali. He dazzled the remaining audience and how! Ghulam Ali took on each new piece as a separate work of love, slowly guiding the audience, explaining the difference between a ghazal and a nazm, giving a short, pleasant preamble to each number, giving due credit to the poets, and, when in the song itself, explaining the Urdu shaaiyiri to the crowd as needed.
The gorgeous rolling deepness of Ustad's voice, his ease with the language, his genuine love for the form were all evident during his performance. The audience were loving the poetry, of a much higher quality than Jagjit's engaging but simple lyrics. Each sher was followed by a resounding cheer after the spilt-second it took them to understand what had just passed. Unlike Jagjit Singh, Ghulam Ali gave us a variety of ghazals not many in the crowd had heard before. It was right up the alley for those of us with a genuine love [if not understanding] of classical music and shaayiri, a guided tour with arguably one of the best ghazal singers in the world. I had goosies for a good part of his performance, along with a silly smile and much contentment at the crowd's pleasure.
Unfortunately, all of the audience was not deserving. As with all big gatherings, there has to be an Embarrassing Group. I had had a nasty sinking feeling at the beginning of the show itself when I saw the very obviously cavalier, non-serious set of people coming in for the show. And the foreboding came true during the performance.
After Jagjit Singh finished his segment, a lot of our overfriendly, noisy, culturally-deficient Bangalorean friends left since the popular hit ghazals they were familiar with were done. Good riddance. Unfortunately a lot of annoying, brash items stayed behind, talking loudly to each other during songs, walking up and down the aisles, taking calls on their cell-phones [good grief] and other indecorous behavour.
If this wasn't bad enough,we had unbelievable audience members somewhere in the very front [and therefore the freebie/ uber-rich ticketholders] repeatedly disturbing Ghulam Ali during his performance. He actually had to stop in the middle of his songs and ask them to stop goading, taking videos, talking/whistling, clapping out of turn etc. Also, as if this was a college band performing cover versions at a cafe somewhere, some freak kept on shouting his farmaaishes to Ghulam Ali. "Oh, God, do you realise who is up on stage, you twit?" The cringe-factor went very high for me, personally. I wanted to tear those people from their places and boot them into the rain outside. What was more infuriating was that none of the organisers stepped in to take preventive action. Terrible. I can only apologise to the maestro for the (mis)behaviour of the hooligans left behind to mess up the evening.
Ustadji took in all this unpleasantness in his wonderful stride ["Yeh toh inke pyaar ki daleel bataati hain"], kept the audience entertained with jokes and anecdotes and wound up his performance with his very famous numbers Hungama hai kyun barpaa, and Chupke chupke raat din. The 11 pm axe was hanging around everyone's necks or he might have carried on for a while more. Unfortunately, things had to come to a close and they did wit a sweet farewell from Ustad saheb.
At around 11pm I made my way out, for the most part a very happy girl, but also, with slightly murderous thoughts directed towards the Embarrassments.
What's going on, boys?
Before the whole world and its uncle jumps in to fling mud at Alonso, though, have a look here.
Look like there MIGHT POSSIBLY BE another side to the story. Mayhap young Lewis was a little bit to blame himself? This is not to say that Alonso doesn't have a habit of getting headlined in the most awful stories. One must admit, the guy has a knack.
In any case, I adore both drivers though I have no idea how they still manage to work around each other. Slight awkwardness at the office, what?
Great run by Raikkonen as well, but overtaking was always going to be next to impossible on this circuit. [Thought to self: Why, oh WHY did he switch to Ferrari?]
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Well done, Sania.

Sania Mirza is on a roll. After an iffy performance at Wimbledon [just back from injury etc], she's moving up and how. She's the fittest she's ever been and if she would only work on that serve of hers plus reign in on the unforceds a bit, she's going to get nicely dangerous.
Well done at Stanford and San Diego, Sania. Seed-toppling is very nice [for us].
Have a personal soft spot for Mirza because her match at the Bangalore Open [where she won the doubles finals, 2006] is the only tennis match I've watched in person. Also, I think she's a smarty-pants. I'm going to keep track of this kid.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Bonzo has a new friend
His name is Party Pooh. He's a nice guy to have around simply because no matter what you do to Pooh [like take his head in your teeth and shred it to bits], he'll always smile stupidly back.
Bonz takes turn loving and hating him. I caught him here at a particularly weak, mushy moment when he was just nodding off and I naughtily Placed Pooh under his "Protective Paw." [Transliteration like yenything.]
My plan is, when Bonz grows up and starts having friends over for beer and poker, I'll pull out these incriminating snaps and ruin his social life. Mooooaaahahahhahaaaahaaaaaaaa.....
Click header for more pics.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Hunkal Trek, weekend of July 27-29th
Spent a fantastic weekend in the Western Ghats near Chikmaglur at a gorgeous private estate in Thogarihunkal, called The Hunkal Woods. Trek weekend organized by Kaushik Bajibab of Wishbone Interactive, and featuring Gerry Martin. Other star cast comprised of a Xavier and a Vivek Sundaram.
Met some really nice people, walked a lot of kms, used muscles that had been inactive for some time and returned with very nice memories and photo-pictures.
Highly recommend Hunkal Woods as the place to stay. Very out of the way, excellent service and perfect stay comfort. Run by a very young Nandan Gowda for the most part.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Catharsis
And so it unfolds… Same old story, different people. Everywhere I turn nowadays, I get a different version of the same old, same old.
Girl – 1 no.s.
Well educated, good job in hand, financially independent, strong sense of space, great parental support and the common domestic situation nowadays where a girl is allowed to think freely for herself, have a say in matters, be moody, be crazy, be normal, and in general be as bull-headed as all the previous generations’ overbearing paterfamilias if she so feels like it.
Cut to Boy - 1 no.s
Modern day Indian male, “I am so progressive”, is friends with as many girls as boys, (prefers hanging out with the slimmer, prettier, more fun girls but pretty bearable otherwise). Also well-educated, having job, not necessarily financially independent, but so what, beta hai na? Anywho.
Girl meets boy, they fall in like, they fall in love, things are hunky-dory for a couple of years, they’re young, no need to think about anything serious just yet, just have a lot of fun and enjoy time with each other etc etc. Boy is extremely nice to girl all along, seems smitten as hell, girl is smitten of course, girl’s friends begin to approve of this ‘gem of a boy’, girl’s family is in the loop because really, the girl is completely comfortable with her choice of relationship, nothing shady about it at all.
A few years later, girl starts wondering ‘where are we headed’ [yes, please note: the girl has to start thinking this]. Girl brings it up with boy because there is no possible reason why he should have even thought about it. I mean, good grief.
And this is where the disturbing twist in the tale begins.
I mean, after years of friendship and adoration and through-thick-and-thins and what have you, is it really unfathomable for a boy to see the light and take it to the next step with the one he professes to [as he repeatedly does] love?
Boy dilly-dallies for a while, then a while longer, then forever it seems. What is the problem? Girls’ parents [who have more often than not nowadays] a very sensible, open and mature relationship with their girl-child, talk to her freely about this. Girl has a great support group in friends, family, family friends. If not parents [okay, it’s been known to happen], there are a lot of other people the girl can have a heart-to-heart with.
Except, disturbingly, the boy. Se can’t get through to him on this.
Boy has become a little aloof, doesn’t meet up as much or as readily, they don’t go out on cute romantic dates anymore, only in big noisy groups, he doesn’t talk about it too much, pretends to carry on just as they have been all these years except for the tiny niggling fact that it has bee all these years ad really, pull up your damn socks now!
Girl starts feeling a little not-so-great. Everyone thinks they are as rock-steady as ay couple can be, everyone constantly beams upon this ideal twosome, this made-for-each-other duo, but slowly everyone also starts wondering [like the girl did long ago], what next?
Girl starts feeling a bit ill-treated. So she brings it up with daft boy again. Boy has turned into blockhead with no realization of the decent thing to do, and possibly, a distinct lack of balls. Strain enters into formerly perfect relationship. Girl would tell boy anything and everything earlier; he was her best friend after all. Not so anymore, because now when girl starts talking about the one thing that really is bothering her, it is to be construed as nagging by the poor victimized boy.
God damn.
In the meanwhile, girl’s other good girlfriend is going through similar shit, one step further in fact. Boy had agreed to marry girlfriend, they were engaged, they had a beautiful understanding of how they would live their new life together, until, as usual, the boy’s balls seemed to perceptibly shrink and then cease to exist because of gargoylish pressures from materfamilias.
Boy turns into A-Grade wimp, refuting “strong-companion” tag and taking on the new [and yet age-old] moniker of “Mama’s boy.” Girlfriend becomes secondary, mother’s unreasonable and draconian needs come first. And all this after boy-girl had mutually agreed to live their future life a certain independent, dignified way. Boy-wimp suddenly is quoting such text as “I only agreed because of you…” and “I’m sure other girls would have no problem with my Ma” etc, cringe puke.
Well, darling, if other girls is what you were aiming for, if other mousy, non-thinking, compromising, Hindi-movie-sati-saavitri, saree-clad, demure, eyes-downcast, mindless girls is what your dream was, then why the #$$@ did you spend all these years misleading your best friend- a beautiful, modern, independent, strong-willed, intelligent, jeans-clad woman of the 21st century? I mean, if you wanted a glorified housemaid who could carry off a silk saree with élan, bending down with ease to scrape the feet of all the elders in your family, adhere to your glorious patriarchal notion of a good wife and respectable daughter-in-law, why the hell did you pretend to be a “progressive, forward-thinking” git with 2 cents’ worth of sense in him?
Here’s the problem. The young urban Indian woman has come of age. Her eyes are wide open, she has a beautiful head on her shoulders, she knows who she is and more importantly, she knows what she wants. There is no earthly reason for her to compromise on this, especially to unreasonable demands. Which is not to say she won’t bend over backwards if she feels it’s worth doing. That’s because young Indian woman is sensible, compassionate and strong.
This puts young urban Indian man in a quandary of sorts. He thinks he is modern, liberal-minded and a staunch supporter of feminism. All this is well and good until he is actually in the hotspot himself and then the veneer fades a bit. Young NRI in America decides that he in fact wants to marry a nice, homely Indian girl from back in India. Young urban Indian man decides he’s had a lot of fun with his girlfriend(s), and now it’s time to find ‘wife-material’. Mama will definitely have some ideas. Non-conformity is out of the question. You will bow to my traditions, my cultural expectations, my schedule, my rules. It’s all right to have been this way so far, now that you want to be my wife, fall in line. Ye gods.
Dave Matthews was on to a good thing there years ago:
“Why are you different?
Why are you that way?
If you don’t fall in line
We’ll lock you away…”
So, like I was saying, this sort of thing is happening too often and to too many people I know for it to be a one-off case. My girlfriends and I have talked this over and over. [Yes, one of those bitter, bile-ridden girl-talks where we diss men and their lot with an earnestness that has to be seen to be believed.]
We’ve hit upon a few theories as to the current state of affairs [urban p.o.v.]:
- Women rule. This is not chest-beating bravado [that’s what men do.] This is fact.
- Women now know they rule, and so do men, and that’s what’s causing all the trouble.
- Women are starting to lose patience with can’t-get-their-act-together male forms.
- Women have a great support system and like-minded girlfriends to hang out with and feel better about themselves and everything.
- Women very often meet up to chat with said like-minded girlfriends and release pent-up anger, vitriol etc and in so doing have realized that life is perfectly wonderful without the added troubles of nurturing a boy-toy for years and then finding out he’s a wimp anyway.
- Women are kicked as hell about adoption getting easier. If there was one thing that was bothering us about lack-of-suitable-boys, it was the fact that we’d have to miss out on motherhood. Not any more. Ha ha!
- Women are definitely on to a good thing here.
- Women-friends who have totally lost hope that any suitables will ever exist again, will probably decide to move in together in a few years, raise their adopted children and run neat, organized but still very mad, fun households together. [And everyone will be cleaning up after themselves. Bonus!]
- The next-gen of kids that will be the outcome of growing up in such mad happiness will hopefully have got their bearings right and things will look up for the next lot of young Indian women.
- Which is not so say that the next-gen of young Indian men won’t be thanking their lucky stars it happened like this! They’ll love us, their brilliant mothers to bits. And we won’t pull a draconian on them.
Over and out.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
One fine Sunday afternoon

Ozz and Suhail loafing in the pool at Guestline Resorts after the fun and games. It was a beautiful day even though I barely lost to Ozz at tennis by one close game. Dyammit. I shall blame my blisters.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Also celebrating their 27th....
Ma's elder sister and her hubby. Ma and Khala got married the same day. They had their first child 10 days apart. [I know, it's almost creepy.]
Monday, June 18, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Post Partum: post parts, um....
"Look, Ma! No balls!"
These are our little babies, after Doc Pawan Kumar [5-ishtaar rating] took care of their privates. June 4th, it was. And funny Doc said, grinning, [to lighten the atmosphere]: "I'm sorry. They'll never be fathers now."
The boys are just dandy now. And they have taken to the outdoors like their naughty mother. I only hope they realise they should poop and otherwise expunge outside, and not come running for the litter box when they feel the urge. Silly cats.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Cheeni Kum.....
For a louwwwly review of this movie, read louwwly Suma's blog, here: http://blog.360.yahoo.com/sumantics273
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
At the Insaneguptas'

It's a Boy!!!!
How gorgeous is this? Masha'Allah!My darling frundship Alisha/Zubin [the A to Z of nomenclature as it were] has had, partnered in crime with her lovely husband Navin, a gorgeous, fabulous, sweetheart of a baby boy who shall be henceforth known as "Noah".
I am a SuperAunt yet again.
Fatty and Chinju, you make me very happy.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Saturday, March 31, 2007
And then there were none.
What a stupid question. What is there to do? We'll just have to stop calling them "Ladies".
Amazing Race!!!!
(See our application. Click on the title.)
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Read additional synopsis here
haaaaaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.....
(Muttering profanities like yenything)
And look at these sweet babes. Awwww.
Haw haw
Well done, Ireland. A wet fish smack in the face of the "champions" Pakistan. Damn them. Growing up being a huge fan, drooling every time Imran Khan deigned to smile, crinkly eyes and all, actual breathing trouble when Wasim and Waqar would clean up the oppositon [and especially when Wasim would smile, glare, stare, huff up, even do nothing, so long as that hot mama was on screen], Saeed Anwar pre- and post- ghastly beard stage, Moin Khan yakking non-stop behind the stumps, "Val done, bvois, val done!", Inzy lazily winning matches, Abdul Razzak being a serious good boy, Saqlain and more recently Danish looking nuts during their bowling and also otherwise, Shahid Berserk Afridi shamelessly losing it more often than not on-field, and hundreds of other tiny, proud memories over the years. And it's all come to this. *Bitter laughter to fade*Wednesday, March 07, 2007
In retrospect, we've moved

Hello, Cats!

Boo and I have kids now. Please wear full-sleeved pants and protective upper-body clothing when you come to visit us. Our affectionate, wild, nutty chicks have a tendency to endurance test any visible skin. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED......
Friday, March 02, 2007
Catch-22
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/8731/
Enjaaai. And for those of you who haven't yet read it, what gives?
Happy Birthday, Mama
Hope you have a superb birthday, mater. Have funs, have laughs, have a lot of good fooderies, and have someone give you diamonds. Haw haw.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Barbecue Nation
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
Thursday, January 18, 2007
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. | |
Friday, September 15, 2006
Quick-Fix!!!!
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!
Monday, September 11, 2006
Post party-um depression
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.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Can someone get them to come over? Please? For a small little private concert here in Bangalore?
Thanks very much.
Regards,
Black Veil, Long
Monday, August 28, 2006
How Green Is My Valley. Larks!
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.
Sometimes I don't want to, okay?
Friday, August 25, 2006
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
Thursday, August 17, 2006
It's a bleddy shame!
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.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006

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.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
A not so nice month
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.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
Welcome, Hanan The Barbarian
Monday, June 26, 2006
Dear Tits...
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.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
ahoy
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.]
Friday, April 28, 2006


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.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Insipidity
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.....
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Ranting. And also Raving.
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.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
And in other news....
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.
Friday, March 24, 2006
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.
Monday, March 20, 2006
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.
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...
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Take it away, ladies
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?
Thursday, March 02, 2006
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.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVELY

To my dearest- HAPPIEST ON YOUR BIRD DAY.
(Mins like better late than never.)
Whooooopeeeee!!!@!##@#!!%$?? for the 22nd. Such larks, Tits, such larks.
100 points to Pinaki for getting the perfect chocolate mousse cake to stuff our faces with after magnificent dinner.
Lovely to see JJ and Kash Disco Balls, The Bomb and her Eveready Reddy [!!!]. And of course the madness that is Aloks. Deedan was just thrilled to see The Bomb HAD a boyfriend in tow. Yahahaha.
Tum jeeyo hazaaron saal... [why? why? why would anyone want that?]
PS: Oink, Tits. Here's an old, old pic from the old, old days... Skirts for all us ladies. Me in blues, you in pinks. A mad girls'-night-out and our crazy stroll at 4 a.m. through the HAL bylanes. *Sniff*
[Remember when we got back home from Boibabh's restaurant, you found you still had the price tag on your new clothing items? *Titter titter*]
Monday, February 13, 2006
This brings me to a deep, dark, disturbing thought which I must share with you,
my dear readers.
I strongly believe, and have for many years now strongly believed,
that STEVIE WONDER IS NOT BLIND!!!
I swear, I get goosebumps [Not goosepimples- I never get pimples of any sort. Ha ha!] everytime I see him grinning maniacally, because I think he's having the last laugh. [Also because I don't really like any of his songs.]
This piece of information is not mend to offend anyone, but hey! We are SO BIG on freedom of expression nowadays. [$#@^^$@!!!!#^%&&$@@@!!!! 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.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
This too shall pass.
Eye.
=Big stye.
Ouch.
This kills my grand plans for promiscuous socialising over the weekend.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
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.
Monday, January 09, 2006
New blog
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!
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Yaaaaaaaahahahhahahahahaha!!!!
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
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.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Sending out an SOS!!!
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!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
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
Friday, December 09, 2005
The Octopus
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.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
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.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
A very satisfying weekend
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?
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
The Other Morning
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Ladies and gentlemen, presenting.........YASIN.
Have a look-see.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Friday, November 11, 2005
The Weekend- Part 2
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.
Monday, November 07, 2005
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.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Saturday
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.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
So.
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*
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.






