Ho-Hum

Listen.

Listen to me now.

Listen because its too early. Its too late.

Shono.

They are in my head. These things.

Listen before these other things overpower me.

They just did.

Happy New Year. For all the things we had and didn't this year. For Orange Skies and Colorblinds and Jee Kardas and apple-bottom jeans. For the Fall-Out Boy and the 20 grand girl. For the dirty whore. For the greensunglass mamuni.For Ballygunge and its lost gallis. For time that will come back never the same. different but maybe the same?

For prophecies unfulfilled. For lunches owed. For the beauty of prettycolors. For manicured haircuts and Christmas-dida-eyemakeup. For Mamu. For Russell Peters. For mental cunts. For lit-ups and light up and lighten up. For Atrium and points of no return. For the lies we tell over and over. For things that were and will be. Miss is too little(?) too much. Forgive me, Vellore--the charm of your manicured greens may never be enough.

You know, "Its true."

J.Park 8 05.

And so I did.

Wrong Company.

Sucky playlist.

AND so I did.

And SO I did.

And so I DID.

Its a week later. And I'll tell you where I am supposed to be right now. Out with friends I haven't met for over a year but I've been clamoring to for so bloody long. I was always skeptical about this reunion not living upto the expectations I had set up for it so carefully and impulsively. Today seems to be the lucky day to prove my nagging suspicions right.

So I shall watch Chink-bubblegum now.

Maybe it will get rid of this inexplicable ache in the realms of bodymind.

Maybe it will help to curb the urge to light up.

For the moment, Im just tired of being the happy one.

In 15 minutes I shall be in my last teen.

18 was good. Yet somehow not enough. Not even close.

I need vodka NOW.

I need nice prem. As in ami ekta prem korbo nice prem.

I also have college tomorrow.

Barf. Fuck. Barf. Fuck.Barfuck. Fuckbarf.

K for...

I have an overwhelming obsession of late with Korean films. Korean rom coms actually. They make sense to me in some inexplicable convoluted way. Like the clumsy heroine who's too cutesy sometimes---u know in the korean-cell-phones-karaoke-and-numerous-other-Jap-gadgetsy sort of way. She ALWAYS falls for a very hot chink who she cant get her hands on and the movies don't always end happily. There's an element of reality, a simplicity(not in the storylines, mind you..) and simultaneously an edgy-ness, a Raat-Ki-Rani type freshness that sets them apart from a archetypal Hollywood romance. The leads are imperfect--never gorgeous enough that you can stare at them and ignore their trashy acting(which is the case with most Hollywood films of late) and endings never show disregard for logic and common sense. Watch My Little Bride and 200 Pound Beauty. They're classics.

In other news, Rain like Never Before Rain is pounding on my beloved college. So much so that Term Ends are getting postponed. There are rumours of a cyclone and a tsunami, by the way. If either of them happens, I'm throwing a party...arrangements will be made for it in the afterlife if I get swept away (by chance) in this one.

Tonight: Kate and Leopold. Not in Korean.

Also: Bombay...fuck you maderchods.

THIS must end now.

I aint want egg-jam no more. Please. Please. Im getting fat,pimpled and not to mention old. I can see crinkly wrinkly crow's feet. And other exaggerated forms of uglyness. Henry DeTamble is helping, but even there's only so much a time-traveler can do. Lenovo Technologies Ltd. dont you dare give up on me. I will steadily curl up and die.

Organic Chem next. Shei aarki.

O Maa.

I haven't written in quite a while now. I often wonder that if I just stop writing for a while, like quite a while, whether I'd have it within me to start all over again. You put a little bit of yourself into everything you write na... even if it is seemingly unrelated to anything that you have known or experienced. Maybe you don't even want to. But at some gandu-type subconscious level you do. Its not a measure of whether you're a terrifically bad writer or even a terribly good one. I can hear this huge booming Morgan-Freeman-type-voice in my head going, "One of the great Unsolved Mysteries of the Universe" as I write this down. Gandu voice kothakar. When you write anything, even DDMP, its like a tiny little fracture crystallised in time forever. The next attempt at writing is nothing more than adding a faded layer of cement to the fracture. Which is why when you abruptly stop you're scared whether you shall ever find it again. I'm listening to Golden Floor obsessively. Gary Lightbody just sounds like an orgasm sometimes. One you'd like to experience again and again. Definitely not a Tiny Little Fracture.

Tell me that you want to dance
I want to feel your pulse on mine
Just treat me like a stolen glance
To yourself
A dark shape on a golden floor
A sleeping planet with a molten core
From above we'd cut a slow eight shape
And much more
I'm a peasant in your princess arms
Penniless with only charm
As we're leveled by the low, hot lights
And disarmed

I'm not afraid of anything even time
It'll eke away at everything but we'll be fine

I'm folded in the bread you made
You're cold until my body bathes
You in the heat I kept aside
All these days

I'm not afraid of anything even time
It'll eke away at everything but we'll be fine

You. Dont you dare say anything about this one. Majhe Majhe hoye jaye.

Erao???

Things not to do when stoned.

• Stare at creepy lemon paintings.
• Stare at creepier paintings of girls-with-creepy-amber/green-eyes
• Stay over at Ms. Nayar's place
• Talk about German Nat Geo books.
• Finish more than a generous dose of Old Monk.
• Talk about people/places as randomly as possible.
• Listen to Radiohead on loop.
• Give relationship advice.

Things to do when stoned.

Repeat all of the above.

Overdue.3.

This shall be the end? Awww. I shall miss three-blogposts-a-day days.

Coorg is six hours away from Bangalore in distance. Definitely not six hours away in terms of the environment, way of living, people and places. It started with the twelve of us in a 22 seater bus. Eyes widened in wonder when I spotted CCD enroute. Gorged on some good old Choc-a-Vloc and remembered fondly how Choc-a-Vloc used to be like bhaat-ruti at one point of time. Eyes widened further in wonder when bill came. Almost equivalent to my fortnightly expenses in VIT. Kintu mum was paying. So all was right with the Universe.
Went through Nagarhole where Babai pointed at random cows and called them Indian Bisons just to see our heads moving like excited pendulums going, "Where, Where?". Listened to baaje remix gaan which even Mummy found appalling. Didi meanwhile acted like pucca Angrez Mem. Everytime sun made an attempt to touch Didis skin she covered herself to protect her Kidman-ness. Finally reached at 6.
Sexy weather. Sexy house. Correction. Very Very Very Sexy house. No hint of civilisation for miles.
Dinner made me climax almost. Amajing Coorgi pork, mutton, chicken. Even pudding. *licks fingers satisfactorily*
Called up Ms. Nayar. Promised her a post in the event of net connection. Event never came. Made J watch Shutter alone in that sunsaan house. Tarpor Mummy, Babai, Mesho, Dada, Boudi, Didi and I had interesting ghost-movies conversation over Smirnoff and RC. It was overcast. Lightning intervened at the right times in the adda of sorts...just when Exorcist was being discussed or I praised Emily Rose.
Visited the usual suspects. Leched shamelessly at hot monk doing his lessons at the Golden Temple monastery. Bought coffee and homemade chocolates. Then bought Caladryl for spider-bite. And Tic-Tacs for the sound. Came back on Saturday.
Saturday at Bangalore was so lazy that we showed up for dinner at posh restaurant in track suits. Thank god the place was candle-lit. Had sexed up Mangalorean food. Neer Dosa to be specific.
Por din Deforestation followed by farewell and endless Bhalo Thekos. Last minute instructions from Mummy. Looked for Sannu in the train. And found her. Phew!

Home and Back Again.

Overdue.2.

Journey to Bengaluru.
It even has Bengal in its name now. Haha. Waited for 1 and 1/2 hours for the train. Lalbagh. Some more Haha. Met two collegemates. Look bhery cute together. Its cute how the guy cares about her. R&R they are. Boshe Om Shanti Om dekhlam. Laughed hysterically at naughty pussy scene. Tarpor didn't feel like saroing in the AC so came out for a bit. Bhery cute couple were standing outside. Felt like massive haddi in Kakori Kebab. Then again I am the original datebreaker, arent I? We spoke about the dead. And I told them about Ms. Nayar's "nabhi collector" theory. The theory that after incarceration only your bellybutton(=naabhi) survives. So there must be a collector to collect them. Fuck world peace tai na?? Naabhi collectors are infinitely more important.
Saw tiny little stations go by. Gumnaam,anjaan,badnaam stations with names that belie their status. With people sitting on the platform waiting perhaps for the day that someone will get off there. Someone, anyone. That kind of loneliness is probably the worst. Apart from the loneliness that only few have the privilege to encounter. The loneliness of a City. A big one. With skyscrapers galore, phone lines far too many, internet cafes aplenty, acquaintances like bees. But
where
"You're a porcelain doll that sits in a window
You hold your breath when people walk by
Safely kept behind rose-colored glass
Neatly tucked beneath the spotlight

Waiting for someone to love..."

Did I just become...ahem...profound? Something to think about. Definitely.

Overdue. 1.

Its pretty natural that I missed Pujo like a madperson this pujo. I can't call it October or confine it within a particular week because its not five days...its a millenia of moja with capital M. So when Bangali Classmate came up to me and informed me of pujo in Vellore I was more than thankful/shock-ed out of my socket/pleasantly stunned by this announcement as it came from a place I had come to expect notmuch from.
We escaped from under the Bitch's eye in Physics lab, rode in an autorickshaw which costed us 80 bucks(yes, mother, this is how I fruitfully spend my monthly allowance) and we reached a hall with an entirely too big name to remember. The myriad fruits being offered to the goddess made me realise thatI was majorly hungry on account of missing breakfast. This proved to be a blessing in disguise because apparently you can't give anjali with food in your belly. So Me got divided into Me and HungryMe.
Me: Ashtami te anjali! Hope my good run continues to the term ends.
HungryMe: The gendaphool looks tasty. Will anyone notice if I have it instead of doing anjali?
Me: Bangali classmate will notice you dolt! Plus this is supposed to be punnyo. Isn't the doing-well-in-the-term-ends of any importance to you at all? Concentrate. The mantra is starting. Close your eyes. Now!
HungryMe(with eyes closed): Hunan Chicken. Chilli pork. Haleem. Chilli Chicken. Gendaphool? Hmmm....
Me: Again??? Do you also see boro boro roshogollas??
HungryMe: Yuck! I hate roshogollas. I'm thinking more on the lines of amarti, jalebis...
Me: Well better start liking them. Because that is what you're going to be straddled with in Term-Ends!
(Pujo Ends)
Bangali Classmate: Lets go get something to eat. I'm starving.
HungryMe(to Me): Loser! I hate to tell you... but I told you so. *does nanananana*
Me(to Maa Durga): I prayed honestly. With an H. Can I please go eat now?

The pandal had the usual suspects. The Mamunis and Tukuns and overdressed women and gregarious men. But it was a whiff of Cal. Which sufficed for the time being. Atleast till the 24th anyway.

Overdue. An intro

The fact that I havent been able to blog for the past week has been keeling me. Jaast keeling me. Part of it is due to my negligence but part of it is also due to well, network issues. Now I musht make up. Here it comes.

Movie Marathon@ VIT

VIT is a bhillage. One theatre with fans and wooden benches. One food court with Darling Special Chopsuey. Over sweetened coffee. Manicured greens. And hybrid species. Life sources are therefore restricted to what is quite adorably called a laptop. Neighbours become your besht friends. Just for the few seconds it takes to transfer a movie into your pen drive. You discuss the story of your life, alleviate the awkward tensions, speak in a common language just to find that special connection that will ensure your survival after in-time hours. You find an angel to provide you external speakers. Promise her things. Then you find a room. A room with a view. Enough pillows and a blanket. that just happens to be 711. The Room of Plenty. Of Dosas and Sambar Maggi. Of packed food and 4 am snacks. And then 6 people huddle together. The Laptop saves us all.
We enthrall ourselves with stories of men-in-movies-that-you-want-but-cant-have.

Women-we-want-to-be-but-cant-be.

And endings-that-end-just-the-way-it-was-meant-to-be.

They keep us happy. In this castle of corners, of rounded spires, of spirits of the dark, of cobwebs and cupboards. Of life in portions of electric kettles waiting to boil. Of in-times of shame and random messaging.

We're watching Shutter for a change tomorrow. I don't think anyone is going to pee alone.

Today is Eggjam Day. Next few days will also be Eggjam day with moderate amounts of butter cheese and chicken. Not by far a delicious concoction. And they will be called by a most peculiar name... CATs.

I wish my floor wasnt so dirty. Because I would have been rolling on it with Laughter otherwise.

Where's a pitcher when it is needed the most...

The Merit Student deserves lathi charge. For disturbing my peaceful shleep.
The Lau deserves lathi charge. For insinuating.
Kallu deserves lathi charge. EEE in management quota?

N does too. Just because everybody else is getting. Sorry.

Chinese people are this strange species.

Not because of the fascination with Red.
Or Mao.
Or because they hosted like this entire Olympics. A good one too.
Or because they invade my campus.

But because they can ride around on cycles.
And make out in public.
And enter class in dresses.
And be thin. Like without trying. Ever.
And the fat ones you want. Just want.
And the basketball players and their orgasmic abs. Which me and N stare at as much as is humanly possible.
And because Chivalry is not dead, amply proved by the frequent girlfriend-handbag-and-book-carrying. Without the least bit of disgust on their faces.
Should be a lesson to the likes of K(from now on to be called Merit Student) who creates a fuss about a 5 buck coffee treat(that too during the one month that requires him to be charitable) and A who creates a fuss about anything at all.

I want Farhan Akhtar.

Surreal Encounters of the 5:00 a.m. kind

By now it is a well established that I am in Vellore.... a town(recently given the status of a Municipal Corp) that lives in its own reverie of lechers, Raghavendrans and sambar.. and a college which detests yet promotes the same. Women here are very fertile-- thereby accounting for the 140 abortions last year. Men here have eyes made of Fevistick with the unique quality of sticking to any surface that passes by.
The night before last may not account for anything in the grander scheme of things(whatever they may be) but made me a talker here. It usually takes me quite a while to dish out strangeties of my mundane life (seeing how interesting they maybe to the person i dish out to)
Yet, K--patient, OCD-ed, kohled and sleepy... listened. And remembered.
The plan was to clean her room. The plan failed when the watch showed 5:30 am. And we were random-looking-at-ceiling-laughing. There were jokes that didnt make sense. Advice from both sides that were meaningless and unneccessary and a power cut that scarred K because I decided to play Monster Monster. And there was Lutullu. And talks about weird assed drunkenness and hitting people. And detailed descriptions of Ponks, MithunDa, My Lau and Dobheto. And better halves.

Waiting for the next inconsequential thing in the grander scheme of things. Maybe it shall make more sense.

Just.

Happy Independence Day. This post is about a week late. Yet not at all. Maybe its taken me a week to evaluate it completely.

Last Saturday, 9 Aug I stayed awake for 24 hours at a stretch. Why is still beyond me. How too. Was it just to keep a bet or was there a deeper convoluted meaning which I still havent been able to fathom? Fuck it. I had one of the sexiest morning walks listening to Teri Meri Milan Ki Yeh Raina followed by Supermassive Black Hole and a lot of random stuff which doesnt make any sense. My eyes looked Rhode Island Red if thats possible and my left eye is still carrying around aftershocks of that night causing me to look like the unfortunate victim of a particularly violent wrestling bout. But in the end K and I won. We didnt celebrate much. I slept. He stayed awake for another 12 hours.

Loojer.

Happy fraandsips day!

Things I shall remember:

1. K dancing to Soulja Boy in front of FC.

2. Desperate mech students trying to get on Tamil TV.

3. Having Rammstein talk with Pr.

4. Taking Piglet's case.

5. "Achcha we should get moving now. We need to study" courtesy Karnabehn. Which started at 3 and finally got over at 5.

Things I wont remember:

1. No booze.

2. Taking my case.

3. Piglet's eyebrows ( I promised!)

4. Apple Pie's big crush.

5. Coming back to the hostel.

"Certain flaws are necessary for the whole. It would seem strange if old friends lacked certain quirks."

They aren't old friends. Some not even friends. But thank you anyways.

In VIT, a lot of things pretend to be other things. There are these creatures pretending to be sparrows, these vulturish things which pretend to be crows and garden lizards which resemble gila monsters. So when it rains in Vellore its just one Awaara Badal creating an illusion of rain. Its starts at 6 15ish every evening by 6 20 its done and forgotten. And today was Sunday. Today of all days its wasn't supposed to pretend-rain. But it did. Not pretend-rain but rain. And we were in autorickshaws on each other with an animated driver who spewed smartass comments spontaneously.
Sample: Our autodriver to the other in Tamil: "Your auto consists of non-heavy women yet you are driving so slow"

Then there was Batman. There was the first dialogue which was greeted with an enormous applause because everyone assumed Heath Ledger would be saying Yanna Da to Batman. And bewildered look on D's face on seeing the Mummy's trailers in Tamil was priceless. Then autoride back with Lewis Hamilton driving.
Followed by FC with 20 naans. And Crappy Fanta. And P jokes. Then dancing in the rain with Temperature playing and S's skirt flying and me running with A's borrowed chappals. Getting wet incase I didn't already mention that.

This is what happens when it rains in Vellore.

I'm waiting for the next non-Awaara Baadal.

I CANT QUIT HIM.

Why must we be so serious after all? Anarchy is the solution right?

Now We Rise and We are Everywhere.

I've nearly discovered my twin in Kallu(who just by the way is extremely fair). We had an animated Grey's talk much to the chagrin of Neha who threw us aevil looks all the way through. Neha later told me the sad story of her life and now Pink, we have an official third member of the No One Is Brotherly Club. Why must they be, after all? All I manage is a "Hi, Where is ________?" when that's as far removed from the truth as a badger's very existence. I need a serious teacher in the art of seduction. Ana hasn't called yet. All Princeton-ness I say. I met a Bangali today. Radhar bondhu...who a friend found cute. I must tell 007. Errant Hubby must be contacted also. And must plot. Soon. *Evil grin*

Rungtu is leaving. His eyebrows and supplies shall be severely missed.

Developments

1. Sang Lutullu to my roommates who then decided to leave me alone in my room to introspect.
2. I got ragged a week back. I was asked to propose to my roommate and sing. Athough my intro in Hindi was the stuff MTV Bakra was made of.
3. Mohammad Ali Jinnah is the Class Representative. He got selected because of his name.
4."Yay Toh Hai Kipper, Doggy Jo Pehne Slipper": Airs on Tiny TV on Cartoon network.
5. Saw Splitsvillah at the parlour today. First taste of TV since 7 July.
Verdict: Ladies NEED a personal shopper
6. Somebody from Cal maybe coming. *Faint ray of hope* *poof*
7. Must speak to someone from my class. MUSHT.
8. Vellorian rickshawwallah lookalike tried hitting on me. I ran faster than autorickshaw.
9. Suda, Neha, Sannu make Kareena Kapoor look like a make-up-twirling kid with the amount of time they take for getting ready. Straightener, Curler, Volume Express Mascara, Here I Come!They're a hell load of fun although.
10.Girls saw boys changing in their hostel rooms all across the railway tracks. Someone waved at Shanky and me. We waved back--being what we are naturally good at, i.e, being desperate.
10 1/2 . Someone get me Imran Khan. Speedpost chalega!

Bonding Vellore ishtyle

Wat Da?
Wassup Da?
Reply: **^^^$$%%#%#%#$%^^&^&&^*^**(((&&^%%%$#@##$@@!$%%^&**(
That is what Telegu sounds like to a non-Telegite
Developments:
1.I have a Bablu Yadav, Bheem Singh, Bhuvan Kumar Singh, Chandrashekhar Singh. These people come one after the other in alphabetical order.
2. I took a pregnancy test for the first time in my life. Its returned Negative :(
3. I hate my batch and love the other one. Not because of the obvious reasons.
4. There's a Mohammad Ali Jinnah in Biotechnology.
5. I'm being made to do a subject which in medieval Europe was the stuff torture devices were made of: Engineering Drawing.
6. My Warden is General Mao.
7. Mess food is an exercise in futility. Vegetables trying to swim valiantly in an endless ocean of tel. And failing each time.
8. I'm marrying Bosco Anna at the end of 4 years if I am unable to find anyone else. His Mosambi juice saves my life each day.
9. My Modern Physics teachers is Called Mr. Hota. Agar Hota nahi Hota, toh bahut achcha hota.
10. Taking my roommates' case is fun. Shes ACR and the CR hits on her crazily. I have a dare to complete tomorrow that involves him. Damn.

I miss Cal. Playhousing. Radha. Pink. Rungtu. Dada. Raka. G3. Ana. Wrik. Lutullu. Peaaauun. Miss. Soulja Boy. TV. Balti Boy. And things that cannot be named.

Still figuring out whether it is two-sided or not.

Im ektu blank. Kaal first show chhilo toh. And Playhouse isn't a hoax after all. Tai.




















Yeah. I am.

They call it Burrabazar. I call it The Place Where Things Are Called All Wrong. But it wouldn't be Burrabazar if not for that, would it?

It calls Sunny Footwear shop Sunee footwear shop, which is technically the Urdu word for Empty. Which makes it strangely ironic because the sunee/soona jutor dokaan was filled wid mamunis of all shapes and jutor sizes.

I'm not as poetic as Ms. Nayar and among the Benaras-like serpentine lanes of Burrabazar in the myriad chumkied satins and silks I scarcely see beauty. But sometimes its difficult to ignore. It's a D-SLRs delight I guess. And for foreigner on a Discover India nanga bachcha tour, its probably paradise.

I remember there was a frantic auto ride with 750 worth thermocol on our heads. And the Talli Gallis of Mullickbazar with rundown cars for posterpurposes.

For me it was strangely surreal and playhousey. Not that almost everything in the last 3 weeks hasn't been that.

And more.

Special Mention: The Coondoos.

Aunty Aunty

Picture this.
Dark Room.
Rain.
Rooftop terrace.
30 people.

And Party Whistles.

Endless loops of Oms and otherthingsthatdontmakesense. But does. Somehow. Me being social autist taken completely into consideration. G's "party" was the first one I have attended in a million years. Redefined the term "kiddie party" completely. Party Hat. Whistles. Added dose of grinding with unknown people. And Seeing R &R stoned and screaming "Aunty, Aunty I want cake. Cake. Cake. Cake. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" when G's parents were valiantly trying to cut a Kookie Jar truffle cake to satiate 30 undernourished "special" kids. In our little corners we allowed the "Stonaars" to glide in seamlessly and book their places. We opened doors when G's dad wasn't playing Baba O' Riley and created a Wasteland of sorts. Definitely not Teenage.

Jai hok. Moral: I liked party. Had fun. Saw strange insect scaring R&R. Saw Mandark chew. chew.chew. chew his food. And G with princess crown on head. Made my day.

Dregs Of life. Here I come.

Phatigued I am. Thanks to Playhouse.

Yet again.

Surprisingly, quite unwillingly its now a part of my life. I'm not sure whether the people I see around me, throwing themselves at each other, Soulja Boying, acting like medieval Sufi saints, pushed around by a determined group of robust girls, Weeeing and generally acting "special", will ever be lifelong or even year long friends or anything more than casual acquaintances, but for those three hours we are all we have. And that truth is strangely comforting. Peaceful. Overwhelming. We may not like each other, know each other, acknowledge each other in the Someplacish world out there. But in Raka's Lalgola when Tipu decides to prowl and 30 retards are trapped in their worst nightmare, it becomes almost moja with capital M. And that's when Phatigue takes over.


Some would argue that this could be traced back to a single Spoint. But House of Cards has never sounded so good. Special thanks to Soulja Boy. And policemen on bicycles.

If I told you a secret
You won't tell a soul
Will you hold it and keep it alive
Cause it's burning a hole
And I can't get to sleep
And I can't live alone in this lie

So look up
Take it away
Don't look da-da-da- down the mountain

If the world isn't turning
Your heart won't return
Anyone, anything, anyhow

So take me don't leave me
Take me don't leave me
Baby, love will come through it's just waiting for you

Well I stand at the crossroads
Of highroads and lowroads
And I got a feeling it's right

If it's real what I'm feeling
There's no makebelieving
The sound of the wings of the flight of a dove

Take it away
Don't look da-da-da down the mountain
If the world isn't turning
Your heart won't return anyone anything anyhow...

So take me don't leave me
Take me don't leave me
Baby, love will come through it's just waiting for you

So look up
Take it away
Don't look da-da-da- down

If the world isn't turning
Your heart won't return anyone anything anyhow...

So take me don't leave me
Take me don't leave me
Baby, love will come through it's just waiting for you

Love will come through.


Travis was made for people like me and Ms. Nayar. So that, on days like this, when Boomerang ditches us and nothing in the world(least of all our love-lives) don't make any sense whatsoever, it's always there to make us make sense. Of cunts. and Purple Pansies with Yellow Speckles. And Boys who Never Grow Up. And bandhs. And Kolkata rains...

It's a little tragic to summarize whatever constitutes my love-life and admit that there's practically only one mention-worthy event in it.
And that too back when I was a boy. Maybe I should go back to that. At least then I knew there was no chance.
Now, when waxing, threading, pedicuring is a part of my daily lexicon, it is bleaker than it ever was.
I'm far from pretty. I'm overweight. I'm not very intelligent. But I look nice once in a while. Even thin. And I can be funny sometimes. And my grammar isn't fucked.

Srijoni Chowdhury has a boyfriend. And so does Ipshita Debnath.

Beatles is now playing "All I Need is Love".

I think I need weed. Right about now. because as Srin says, "Everybody MUST get stoned"

I'm tired of falling in love with men in books.


There has to be atleast one out there for me.


Sanity and humour is all I am demanding.

Ei Toh Chai!

Ki chai?


KAAJ.

Boroshoro.
Jaate time kaate.
That gives you something to look forward to.
That gives you something other to do than annoy your friend. You don't want to sound like needy, korun bachha. Especially because there is only one month left to notannoy. And do Moja.

Doberman Pinscherke guard korbo. Masseuse howa cholbe na. Poet ami noye. Tao. Majhe majhe out of desperation. Hoye Jaaye. This is why I shall never be a poet.

Sample this:

Written on Another Evening With Nothingtodobutannoy.

Inspire me, O Strange outlandish place!

With a moment between rocking back and forth

When you can see both worlds in clarity.

With a moment between creativity and madness

When you create your Ninth Symphony.

With a moment between a wink and a Smile

When you "unfold your love."

With a moment between perfectendings and credits

When you take a moving picture home with you, in you.

With a moment between a drag and a blur

When Tokyo lights up for you.

With a moment between opium and golden slumbers

When your Kubla Khan gently weeps.

Inspire me, O Strange inverted world!

For the sun has set on the western sky

And words have failed me once again...

With a moment between thoughts and reaching for a pen.

This is why. Never a poet. Always distinterestedmonologue.


FIND ME WORK.

Masseuses And Heras.

DI was the day before.
DI=Moja with capital M day. Even if the quiz sucks. And someone needs an ENT. Or a new Stanley. And even though you could do without it, Raji's White Rose doesn't make up for a Silver Grill Jungle King special. And insane monkeys falling over one another.

You remember the exact moment when you're heart aches for He-Man. When asked to distinguish between Dormant and Inactive bank accounts. And when you realise Hera's breast was responsible for the Milky Way.

And then those times when Weird assumes an entirely different dimension. When you are asked for a massage. A secsual favour as some would call it.


I'm slyly slitting his jugular vein.




Don't tell anyone.

The Tag

There's a reason tags are infamous. It's completely impossible to treat one as a wallflower. Even a bad one. Which is why wen the Lady of Shalot tagged me, I just had to.



A for Annesha. Name. Identity. Also a certain degree of narcissism.

B for Bollocks. Bumba. Biotech. Boobloo. Bappida also. And BCL.

C for Chameleon. Deceptive. Pretty. And in abundant in a metro of so much rang. And Cool Water. Cinder And Smoke.

D for David Cook. And Dhassaala. Dream Gaarl. And Djokovic.

E for Emergency. A word which I seem to require quite a lot. And Eleanor Rigby. Who I am destined to be. And Exit Music For a Film.

F for Fuck. Films. Foreign. Friends

G for Gandu. Gollywogs. GHMs . And Grey's Anatomy

H for Heelo. Hemlines. Heroes. Helen---of Troy and Bollywood

I for Imagine. And everything associated with it.

J for Jamai Shoshthi. And all the lovely fruits that came along with it. Like Jamrool. and also Jeebhe Goja. Jaaast.

K for Kool, Kewl, Kul, KKool and all other variants of the word. Kunal Kapoor. And Kirin.

L for LMB. And all the insane times attached to that godforsaken school. License to Kill.

M for Music. Muse. Morning. Maple syrup. And Murder. And Mummy.

N for Notagain. Notme.

O for Once. And One is the loneliest number.

P for Pinka. Politics. Poison. Pulpul. And pointless.

Q for Quincy which is a crazily funny name. And Queen. And Quixote.

R for Radiohead. Robert Downey Jr.

S for Samit Basu. Sharks. Seahorses. Salt. Saala.Sex. Shweta.

T for Thea. Who came first. And messed things up. And Thaaiiggger!

U for Uninterrupted. Ubiquitous. Understanding things. Upstairs.

V for Vodka. Vinyl.

W for What the faaaaaaaa? and When. And the Wildcats. And Wow. Courtesy Anasua. Weird.

X for XKCD. and Exclamation marks.

Y for Yanna Rascala, Mind It! Yeh Mera Divaanapan. You've Got Mail.

Z for Zonk!! The name of our band. Zoom. And Zeeshan. unfortunately renamed Tooshen .

New Posht

This is to get away. And also because of time. The abundance of it. And the Mahfouzness of it. Forgive me. I've said too much. And I havent said enough. Not yet anyway. Hmmm.