I had gone to Chembur today. On my way back, i got into the same bus which I had taken while going to Chembur. It had the same conductor too! I consider this as a good omen. This is the third time such a thing has happened. Nothing good happens as such...but you know, I still think its lucky.



And the short bus ride was a ride of familiar faces. There is this stout, fair wheatish coloured man, with brown curly hair and squinted eyes that I see every morning on my bus stop. He was on the same bus too. And then there was a girl from school. The fun part was when a bus passed by and I saw an acquaintance sitting on the last seat of the bus. I am quite good at wrestling for a seat in the bus. I don't mind stepping on a few toes.



Pieces of glass have pierced my feet and I have left blood footmarks like in Ramsay movies. Then there was this time when a scooter ran over me. When I was 6, I banged into a stationary cycles brake and the skin near my eyebrow was cut open; the scar is still there.

Then there was one time that I was riding double seat with a friend on his cycle; his foot got caught in the wheel, the cycle tipped over, i fell on the friend who was half my size, my chin slit open, his head did and then the cymbal crash....the cycle completed its revolution by crashing its seat on the friends head. He slipped into unconciousness and I carried him(leaving a blood trail) to the nearest hospital..which turned out to be amaternity hospital. I had barged in and there was no one at the reception..so I did the filmy "ARRE KOI HAIN?"I also carried him with both arms on the first floor, through nursing mothers looking at me with shock and still trying to cover themselves. Hmm So yeah. Those were my major injuries.



Oh! I also dropped a catch and the season ball hit me right on my eye turning it blue and black for more than 2 weeks.

I have never been to a dentist.

Egg and Me

Sharing:
The bed: He sleeps diagonally.
The computer: "I want it in 10 mins"
"You will get it only for 10 mins"
"No"
"I am not getting up from here then."

Family Talk:
Mother: Who has taken the
Either of us: I think he ate it!


Brotherly Love:
//Recognising my number from the caller ID//
Egg: Kay aahe (What is it?)
Me: It is nice to say a Hello/Hi when you answer the phone.
Egg: Hmm. Hello.Hi. Kaay aahe?
Me: Tell Aai I am having dinner outside.
Egg: Why?
Me: Because. I am having it with my friends.
Egg: Where?
Me: Just tell her.
Egg: Too much of outside food you eat haan. Not good.
Me: Don't act too smart.
Egg: Get vada pav for dinner tomorrow?


Helping Each Other Out:
On a cold winter morning
Me: Wake up..its 6.17 don't you have to go to college?
The Egg : Moan
Me: Chal , uth naa
Egg: Groggy Grumble
I switch on all the possible lights.
Me: 6.20 OK!
Egg: Holiddaayy naaaaaa!
Me: O! Ubck.


Trust:
He flung a ball at me while I was watching tv and yelled "EAT". The super cool being that I am, I catch the ball while my eyes are still fixed on the thing going on the tv. Without asking him what it was or even looking at it, i put it into my mouth. It turned out to be a Ferrero Rocher. Such a cool.

And Happily living ever after:
We don't talk much. We were watching tv. He poked my side and as a reflex I whacked him at the back of his head. No words spoken before or after. We continued to watched tv.

Incoherent. Banda and me on our way back home. Easterlies. The road is quite nice, irrespective of rain, dust, wind, heat, whatever the weather is. It gets you thinking while you are driving. Nothing could be seen from the windshield. Both cribbing about our own issues. Champion cribbers, us. Sometimes talking at the same time together. Not even listening to what the other person is saying. And there were times we weren' speaking together; but when we started, we spoke our own thing without even acknowledging or asking or even responding to one another. We don't know whom we were speaking two, there were just two of us in the car.
But we were quite cool about it. Infact, I didn't even realise that such a thing had happened until two mins ago.


I pronounce things wrong too. And they loff at me. But i hear funnier ones. Spices for species was really funny. And Schindler's List was called Sikandar's list...super funny too.

Before going to office on the first day , my mother told me no matter what the profile of the person was, to address him/her as sir/madam. That's what I have been always taught, even in school. During open days at school, I sometimes also referred to my friends parents (excellent small talk makers, all of them) as Sirs and Madams. Just a habit.
So, the first day of work..."Sachin sir..."
"Arre, he he he...Sir nahin re..Call me Sachin"
Me: Okay Sir!
Buhh.


More on Sir
It is difficult to communicate with people who know only their mother tongue.
I ask them "Can I speak to Ramesh?"
He tells me "Ohhkay Sir"
Then there is a pause for some time
.
.
Hello.
.
.
I say "Ramesh, good morning"
The same guy is still on the line "Ohhkay Sir"
I say "Tell Ramesh. Phone. Me."
He says "Ohhkay Sir"
I ask "Message. Dont Forget. Your name?"
He says "Ohhkay Sir"
I hang up.
He calls me back "Sirr..Ramesh, Lunch. Ohkay?"
Ohhkay Sir.

More on Phones
"Hello, good morning, <> "
Good morning. Can I speak to Mr. Jo Bhi please?
"Ok hold haan"
Ohhkay Ma'm.
I remember a friend of my advising me to say "What do you want me to hold on to baybei?",
in such situations.
Ting ting tingting ting TING TING TING TING ting..tingting ting ting ting tingtingting.

"Hello?you are still holding, no?"
Yes baby. Why not.

Ting ting tingting ting TING TING TING TING ting..tingting ting ting ting tingtingting.

"Jo Bhi has not come today"
WHY..YOU LILLULL!
D'OH!



Then?
Coffee for me and beer for the lady.
Some spectacle that was.

Then?
then..we continue to live, shit happens and then we die.

Ji. Maaval, Tal: Pune

They are, what you call 'academically uninclined'. Some of them, I doubt have even passed their 10th. They refer to each other with names like 'letya', 'jaadya', 'baarkya', 'vikram sheth' etc. They have gaudy gold chains around their necks with the top two buttons left unbuttoned showing of their...supposedly manly chests. They are those typical guys, who will talk on lengths and flirt with 'mohalle ki meena'. They become 'karyakartas' and 'sevaks' in this season. They do everything from knocking every door to collect 'vargani' , setting up the pandal, cleaning the premises twice a day to bursting the last fancy cracker minutes before the actual visarjan. Good job, they do.

Yes, too many inverted commas over there; stop whining. There will be more.
The evening of the first day is for sports and 'running race' is the most popular sport. Like stadiums, we have ends too. One of them is the mandap end and since there are deserted buildings on the other side of the road, the other end becomes 'bhoot bangla end'. A 30 metre end from the mandap to the bhoot bangla end. The kids line up at the start line. "Onyo maax...gat saaat". Kids are weird; instead of getting set, they will crouch like cats before they jump. Onyo maax, gat saat, ek, do, saade, maade... buhh. JUST SAY TEEN AND LET THE KIDS RUN! But he will continue with endless build up before he says start. Oneeee...Twooo...Th...false start. It is much like a shoot which needs several re-takes. There is match fixing here too. One of the runners gets a tip that the "go" is going to be said quickly after the two and three instead of the long build up.

New Bombay gives a 10 day break now where as Agnels and Sacred Heart give it for Christmas.

Singing, solo and group dance competetions are the main events. They all want a ring side view. Our sevaks then drive them out. Sometimes they give them taplis and push them back and some ocassions they adopt the more gandhian "Thing's won't get started unless the first line of the chairs begins where the mandap ends. Obviously, the original first rowers get displaced in all this and then there is their favourite crib, "Lekin uncle mainne 7 baje se jagah pakdi thi!" Yes, they have become 'uncles' now. Some of them call me uncle too. UBCK.

Every year, sitting in the middle rows are a couple of didis. A didi, typically is a girl who has just touched puberty, with her eyebrows done, probably for the first time with her oh I am so cool for you all expression. She is confused if she could still cheer out loud or is she too old for it. A typical didi is a veteran on stage, who has been there done that. Her comments are supposed to be wise and sometimes funny.

Didis and uncles compere many events too. They move around the 15X15 stage with a microphone in their hands whose wire they are constantly twirling and twisting in their hand. I suppose it is the compere thing to do, just like those VJs clasp their palms together. By the way, the wire is 5000 miles long, stripped at places and it runs across the stage(causing a few to trip over it) and over and around the speakers.

The kids come for elocution and singing.
"I am a little teapot //wipes nose// ..Short and stout ..here is my //deep breath in which can be heard on the mic// handle and here is my //wipes nose//spout. When i get all steamed up//another deep breath// ...when i get all steamed up...when i get all steamed up...(uh. oh. what's next??)...TIP ME OVER AND POUR ME OUT!! hihihihihi" // huge smile that it is finally over, runs off the stage still wiping the nose//

Then it's the turn of oh so cute 2 year olds to dance. They hold their fists in the air and jump up and down. With them, are their mothers trying to encourage them with their fists in the air too. Aunty, your daughter is two, you aren't. Buhh. Then at the end of it the aunty complains how the other kid was given 2mins and 2 secs while her kid was given 2 min 1 min 59 secs only when the time limit is only 2 mins. Your daughter is two, aunty, you aren't. Buhh.

Fancy dress has atleast one sardar kid leaving his hair open and being a woman, a teacher taking attendance amd that lady character from saas bhi kabhi bahu thi doing the "ara ra ra ra". I veto the sardard kid. My all time favourite.

Flash back .1990-94. I stood 2nd/3rd in the running race.Magan Mall and Atul were arch rivals for the running race in their age group and Pompy used to show off his cycling skills between races. I won the drawing competition also. Essay competition too. I had won Camel water colour cakes. I was also a part of a group that won the drama competition two consecutive years. Calling it a skit takes away the punch.."drama competition" only, please. All round champ only. Such a cool I was then. Now times have changed....kids are quite stupoid these days.

Pretty Madhura stands in the truck. She waves out to her friends below and blows a flying kiss to her baby sister. Quite a beauty queen she is. I think she ate half of the tub full of sheera too. Lucky her.

And then we danz. My all time danz favourites include:

1. Moongda

2. Jogiya Khali Vali

3. Bilanchi nagin nighali

4. Yeh desh hain veer javano ka

5. Kajra Re

It takes acute coordination. Your hands need to be swaying, while your head is too, mind you both should be out of sync. Legs can be in air too, one or two at a time. Svaadanusar. Props include a saffron flag (nothing to do with Shiv Sena), a saffron bandana and handkerchief( very important to have one). You can take the handkerchief in your hand and move it around in concentric circles, ellipses or even figures of 8 if it would make you happy. You can also make it into a flute for some nagin song while the other person makes a hood on his head by holding his hands together and moves like, what he thinks is a snake. You can also twirl the kerchief, hold it behind your neck and move it sideways while doing sit ups and looking towards the sky. You can mix and match. The kids get tired after 2 hours of danzing and that's when Letya gives some of them a tapli and goes "AYE! NAACH RE!"Pure expression. And that is how we danz.

The morning after, the roads are pink and scattered with left overs of fire crackers.

And after the dust settles, the kids start playing what the drama they saw for 10 days.

Noisy, yes. Buhh. What are we without all this?

"Have One Puri Sir, for Our Good Sake"

The Ganga has been written about in 50 millions books and staying in the city you might think she must be dirty by now: ash from pyres being thrown into her, lepers, beggers and sadhus taking a dip into her or any other presumptious thoughts living in a city can give you. No matter how much one writes about her or praises her, one has to see her by oneself to understand how great she is. People dont revere Ganga... Ganga makes people revere her. Magnificent. She will humble you. She will leave you awestruck. Yes, she is holy. She will make you go down on your knees, forget life and get disconnected. Yes, she will wash away all your sins. She will give you a high without hashish. You can just sit along the banks of her canal at Haridwar with a blank mind forever. It’s romantic, it’s bloody addictive, to sum it up it's intoxicating.

They say, “I am spirtual, but not religious”. I ask what is wrong with being religious anyway? Rishikesh is both spiritual and religious. Just at the base of the hill, with its beautiful suspension bridges making it a lovely pit stop before you proceed higher up to the Garwhal hills.

Some 250 kms from Rishikesh is a small town called Joshimath where Adi Sankaracharya is believed to meditate before he attained enlightenment. ‘Kalpavriksha’, the tree under which he meditated is one brilliant banyan tree. The stories of the temples of Joshimath are quite fascinating. 8 kms from Joshimath (connected by road and ropeway) is Auli. If you go to Auli,make sure you just start walking randomly into the woods, lose your way and follow a couple of forest officers to discover the most beautiful pastures on the top of any mountain you must have ever seen. Absolute serendipity. Suresh offered them our packed lunch. "Have one puri, Sir, for our good sake." They aren't any great words of wisdom from a saint but they were kind words from a thorough gentleman - ones, which I will always keep in mind and assosciate with this trek.

Gobindghat is 30kms from Joshimath and it is a strenous 13 km trek to Ghangaria at 10,000 feet. The furious Alaknanda accompanied us all along the trek. Ghangaria is like the base camp up there, where one can go to the Valley of Flowers and Hemkund Sahib.

I am not a flower person. Ask me what my favourite flower is and I will think you doubt my masculinity. Valley of Flowers. I found my "favourite flower", the Blue Poppy. Its petals were made of glass. It is a piece of fine artistry. It is believed that Hanuman had taken the sanjivani for Laxman from this valley. Honey bees must be loving this place. Honey bees must be coming for their honeymoon over here!

The toughest part of the trek was the one to Hemkund Sahib which is at 14,000 feet. I remembered something from my 9th standard English textbook. It was an article by Bachendri Pal in which she said "Its not just about getting up there, even mules do that." True, that.Contrary to popular belief, that it is a dirty walk where you can smell horse dung, I would say it is a walk where you can see stunning landscapes of the lush Himalayas, characteristic of the Garwhal range. These are colours that an artist will crave for and kill for. No matter how good a camera would be, it wouldn't be able to reproduce those colours. Along the path, one can find the flower Bramhakamal. Google it for its mythological relevance. It looks like a cabbage but smells better than any perfume from Arabia. Chants of ‘Satnam Wahe Guru’ and people reciting ‘Ek Onkar Satnam, Kartapurak' keep you going up the steep. With stumbling legs and a dehydrated body, you somehow reach the top. Just the sight of what is on the top, quenches your soul. Take a dip in the lake – it’s freezing. It will make your skin and mind, both go numb. It will relieve you of all the exhaustion experienced will climbing. Speak about experience of a lifetime and this will be definitely be one of them.

On our way down from Hemkund, we saw, no, we experienced the Rabbit Mouse. Funny little cute creature, the mouse does not have a tail, has big ears and feeds on grass!

Back to Gobindghat and to Badrinath, which is 25 kms from Gobindghat. With Tibetan architechture and the diamond embedded golden crown to adorn him, Bhagwan Badri Vishal sits royally in the ranges of Nar-Narayana.

Mana Gaon is the last Indian village in the region which is 3 kms away from Badrinath. On the outskirts of the village, emerges the mythical river Saraswati. No one knows where its origin is, it just comes out the rocks! Triveni Sangam at Allahbad is supposed to be the confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati, where Saraswati is believed to coming from under the ground. The Bhim Pul is a huge rock, believed to be put across the river by Bhim since Draupadi was too afraid to cross it. The road further leads to Vasundhara falls. Locals believe this was the same path taken by the Pandavs on their way to heaven. I couldn't but help notice the agility of mountain goats on the way. Fearless, i say… they run down vertical slopes. Mad creatures.Landscapes with white round stones and glaciers can be seen from Vasundhara, and when the sun rays fall on them, well, one needs to go there, putting it in words would be an insult to the beauty of the great Himalayas.




Photos at :

http://www.flickr.com/photos/zii

First it was : Are you on hi5?
Then it became: Are you on orkut?
Now it is : Are you on facebook?

SHUT. UP.

The next person who asks me that question....i promise i will hit him/her with a dudhi.

Habits

1. I pull my socks up everytime I sit in a vehicle.
2. I take a U-pin and straighten it, after which i hold it between my teeth to strip of its coating. On an average, I strip some 5 pins a day.
3. After having a bath, I wear my watch before my clothes.
4. Count the number of steps at a new place.
5. Separate out the khaddi shakkar from my saunf and give the sugar to some one else, except for one crystal that I place in the centre of my saunf pile for decoration.
6. Pass the ice cube through the stirrer and place it on the glass as if it is being barbequeued over the drink and let the ice drip-melt.
7. Move my lips to popular songs whose lyrics I don't know as if I had written the song and I won't deny doing it.
8. Type my windows password before sitting on my chair.
9. Type out the link, in the window I am chatting in, instead of opening a new window.

Random

I like gulmohar. Not one single gulmohar though. No, I am not girly or gay, I dont like the flower but I like the tree. I don't know if it grows in other seasons or not but that is one thing I usually assosciate with summer. The rains destroy the gulmohars. Their maut, the death becomes. They get scattered on the road on both its sides. At six thirty in the morning, with eyes half open, there is nothing else on the road, it looks like the road itself is on fire. Illusions become stronger when the wind blows and the flowers are fall from the tree and the ones on the road swirl around. Quite a sight it is.

I read an article about 'bum wax' on DNA's front page today. What is this world coming to?
Mumbai Mirror once showed a picture of Dravid spending some time with his family after the world cup and asked readers to rate if he was fit enough. Agreed that they played like bum waxes, but don't shoot a person when he is in a towel spending some quite time with his family, please.

Women have gases too, they just release them surreptitiously. I remember, while in junior college, a friend told me how a girl and him were appearing for a test at the tuitions that he attended when he heard a fart and it smelled too. You know how it stays when you are in an air conditioned environment? Yeah, that's exactly what happened. The girl gave him a "Oh you are so gross" look. Funny girl; there were only two people in the room and it wasn't him for sure.What was she thinking? He just pointed at her and laughed. He told me this story and named it "Light travels faster than sound!" I still wonder how the hell does light come into the picture anyway. Ubck. Anyway, he is the same person who says things like "The birds are chipring." Funny fellow.

I never drink water from the tumbler when I am at home. It has to be directly from the bottle and since I dont stick the bottle to my lips I have to look up. So today when I was drinking water and I looked up, I saw a lizard on the ceiling, upside down with its body stretched and head held upright (well, it was upside down...so..downright?) and arching. Tee hee.

All ugly insects migrate to my house during monsoon. There is a big brown coloured flying thing which my brother calls a 'moth'. Its loitering around somewhere now. It has one single wing and a black head as big as my middle finger's nail. I feel like killing it one phatka but then two issues come to my mind, one; it might be seeking shelter and as such has not come in my way yet and two, I dont know how much body mass is behind that wing and I dont want it to be rubbery and blobby and blood to squirt if I give it one strong phatka. I need help, its three inches wide and quite repugnant.

I make good funnies some times. I am proud of :

Q. What do you call a Parsi cup cake?
A: Bawa Cake.

Q: What do you call Brian Lara's genitals?
A : Privates of the Carribean.

Yus.


Parle G dipped in hot tea and made into cerelac is an absolute delicacy. There is nothing Indian about Suneeta Williams other than her origin, cut the crappy "India is proud of you". Do moths die when bum wax is applied to them? All girls should be Fionas and should choose Shreks over Prince Charmings. There is nothing dignified about the Presidential election. Fashutana writes about gradual relaxation of security in Mumbai and Kashmir these days. What is this country coming to? I like friendly conductors in buses. Its the God's Day :-)

Hello. //extends arm to shake hand// This is what I do when I have nothing to do.

Then? then?
"..Then a panda ate a potato and fell over."

My Mom Read My Blog.

Thanks to a genius of a friend, who told, my mother of all other people in this world that i had a blog.
So she
1. "Son of a bitch" and asked me to have a better caption...thats the first thing she saw.
2. How Banana bastardised all the she dogs.
3. Sympathised with Alice and told me I should be nice to her.

She thought it was a one-off post on some site. Which is a good thing. Good thing she didnt read
1. unicorn below the waist.
2. Babe aunty/ badi hokar babe banegi.
3. Our hots for a married woman in Goa.
4. Would have called me a MCP for wanting to kill pretty girls...or could have thought i am one of those loony homicidal freaks who targets girls only while they are in the shower, like in those horror movies and must have thought no wonder her son is single.
5. Me wanting to castrate mosquitoes.

Ubck.

Renuka, you're quite a genius indeed.
Shakya, stop calling me kutta, you son of a bitch!
anonymous people: you suck, mention your names.

Son of a Bitch!

Kalu Bai
1986- 1993

Mind the pronounciation, it is the Maharashtrian hard L in Kalu. Very loving by nature. Unlike the pampered brat of a dog i have now, was very down to earth, used to relish on milk and bread, never demanded fancy food. In 1992, when I had chicken pox and didn't step out of the house for a few days, the good lady came outside my gallery and peeked inside to check where I had been. Kept all the 'bad dogs' out of the compound. Would fall asleep on petting her. Kalu went on to have kids with Lalu ( who was an orange-brown mad dog with a torn ear and hence the name). I dont know why, but like they say street dogs who drool a lot have rabies, i had a theory that dogs with torn ears are mad and will bite any time. I kept away from Lalu and so did Kalu bai. The above file picture shows Kalu Bai in a pensive mood in 1989 when the foothpath in the background was under development. She suffered from cancer and eventually left us all in the winter of '93.





Tom
(a.k.a. Tommy/Tomya)
1988- 1994
I don't know what happened to the other puppies, I think Lalu ate them, Tom was the only one of Kalu's puppies that I got to know. Tom was the definition of a loyal dog. He was intelligent and unlike the brat that I now have, never chased his tail. He used to sit outside the house, i suppose had taken the onus of being a watch dog on himself without anyone asking him to do so. Tom was a smart dog, he was black in colour with white patches in the middle and had brown eyebrows( see the above picture closely), just like his mother. He loved heights, used to climb on roofs thinking he was tom cat while we used to stand below with our hands in the air praying that he wouldn't jump down and creating a havoc, jusstaa like they show in the movies when a suicidal person is about to jump from the terrace. (Roof = the roof ON the terrace). The secretary had never locked the terrace before this, inspite of 6 year old children(read as me) almost falling down from it; but he locked the terrace for a few weeks whenever Tom wanted to feel 'on the top of the world'. I dragged him home to save him from those municipality's dog catcher once. Had also trained him how to run inside the building whenever they came. He was quite an intelligent dog.

Tom had children with Chameli. Chameli was nice too, but she was a gypsy by nature. She left her children back and went on a world trip, or so I was told.

Tom dissappeared in 1994. He was 'probably' picked up by the muncipality, or so I was told again. Till date I refuse he was picked up, he was too intelligent for them.


Tommy's children
1994 to ...
(i dont know if they are still alive or not)

1. Bam Bam Bigello
Grey in color, had brown eye brows too. Used to sniff into people's shorts.

2.Miss India.
She had blue eyes. Aishwarya was crowned as Miss Universe then, and was named after her. A bastard drove his cycle over her and she died young.

3.Undertaker
He was black in colour with thick fur and was quite dumb. He was the biggest in the lot. Was quite a bully. Disloyal too. Bugger.

4. Tatanka
Was the jumpiest in the lot. He got hit by a car while he was being his jumpy self in the middle of the freakin main road. Idiot.



Banana
1993 to 1997

The younger had attended his pre-admission interview for his admission in nursery. There he was shown a banana and was asked what is the fruit called. He couldn't answer it. He got to know it was called a banana and that is what he named the first thing he saw in sight. Banana followed him from outside the school, where he was loitering to my building. He got along well with the other dogs, since they were about his age. He was quite a player. He knew every bitch in the town. He must have bastardised a lot of puppy dogs in the area. Believe me, the number of unknown puppies HAD increased while he was there. He decided to take off with some she dog he fell in love with and never came back after that.


Alice

From 1994

(Harami Blogger won't let me post her pic)

Have already written about her before.

We had picked up Bimbo, a puppy dog from the premises of a temple. Bimbo used to eat everything from newspapers to chappas. Bedsheets too. He used to bark at my grandfather when he snored. He pooped in everyone's shoes. So he had to go. We exchanged him for his sister, Alice. Alice was totally anti-Bimbo. Till date, she is very fussy about the food she eats. She loves dragging the banana peel out of the dustbin and eating and people think we don't feed her properly and thats why she retorts to such tactics. Spends most of her time sleeping and shaking her ears and paws while she is at it.

Wimplo

(Don't know where he came from but has been hanging around the building for quite some time now)

Wimplo is mad and drooly. His ear is torn too. He is mad. But he doesn't bite. He likes to get pampered. He too, will eat any shit. Is very protective about his territory. Has a good rapport with all the cats in the area, I don't know how. Yea, thats about it about him, he is mad and drooly.

Miscellaneous :

1. Had a turtle for a day named Sheru . Had to leave him.

2. A sparrow for a day. Died on a saturday.

3. A cat named kitty. Had to leave her.

4. We had a pomeranian when I was 3 named Steffi. Was given away.

And Iyer, this is not like you and and your tripod ( who,by the way, ran aaway from you..nyehehe) ; dogs are far more cooler. Yea.

The devil's yesterday. Everyday activities make you tell time without looking at the watch. No 5.45 aazan today. I woke up on time, without anyone having to wake me up. No elderly gentleman sitting in his white ambassador which has a board which reads "Bhabha Atomic Research Centre" at 08.23. I even know his car's number. Shoe lace did not open at 8.26. The old mad beggar did not drag herself across the signal while swearing in the air at 8.29. (I was looking for a better word for "mad beggar", you know the kind who wear soiled clothes and has shabby hair which is probably as hard as a municipality worker's broom stick and who talks in the air. I also asked a sub-editor of a famous newspaper/magazine about it.
As you can see, journalists, these days are quite useless. I was also looking for better way to say my shoe laces did not open ) .
My shuttle did stop at the signal between 8.33 and 8.34. No grease on cuffs. No getting caught up at 137 second long signal on my way back home. Unusual deviation from a typical monday.
All because of global warming I'll tell you.


No more of

"Send this V V
V V V
V V
V V
V


(After 3 unsuccesful attempts at making a heart out of ?, * and V, i quit. it was supposed to be a heart...assume the current design to be a heart, then )


to 10 people to get tru luv" please.
And no, I will get my hear punctured ,but wont, definitely will not send it back to you.
People who send such forwarded emails should be made locked in a room with a horny octopus.
Excuse the symmetry of the heart.
If you are one of those who actually send it to people hoping for something to happen, dig a hole in mother earth, fill it water and drown. No, wait. Do not waste resources. Just bury yourself.


Goa joke, which i forgot to mention the last time.
Cheenu to Banda: Kya! Are you always horny? You're like a unicorn below the waist.
Jokes are funnier when the person on whom they are, does not understand them.

Impostor alert : www.zii.blogspot.com
not the real thing. Nyeh Eh.

This day, last year we were in Goa. I clearly remember Banda arguing with the tout about how Sakrant was almost over, the 'season' had ended and the hotels should not charge more. Cheenu told him that it was not in the tout's hands and they started arguing over it, one of the million arguments they must have had in the year of 2006. Some of the other arguments these fellows had were about how 9/11 was a conspiracy by the US, should Demi Moore be termed as a whore or not in Indecent Proposal, since ladies in Kamathipura only do it to feed their children, how a photo should be clicked etc.

So there we were, desperately looking for a room at 8pm and you would know, the public transport in Goa closes down at 7.30 and taxi drivers charge you ridiculous amounts. And then started another Banda v/s Cheenu arguments about if we should run to Mhapse instead and i prayed for something good to happen in the midst of all this...and it did. A bearded middle aged man appeared out of nowhere. I thought, if Jesus was about 40 and he would have started to lose hair on his head, he would have looked exactly like him! His name was Anthony Gonzalvez.
Ok...so it was not. I would have liked if it was though. He was Anthony D'souza and he took us to his Roop Mahal, Prem Gali, Kholi no. chaar sau bees. Kholi number char sau bees was situated on top of a small hillock which oversaw the Mandavi and the base of which was situated a gaonthan. The room was small and had lemon yellow walls with roof made of layers of broken pots. ('Thatched with broken pots'...or something like that). The room needed cleaning and we asked Anthony to do it. Anthony had a cottage, he stays with his family on the upper floor while he used the rooms below as rooms for a lodge.

Our room needed cleaning and we asked Anthony to take care of it. He called out to people upstairs in konkani. We were waiting in the lobby for our room to be cleaned,tired and weary and wanting to throw our bags and hit the bed. I could hear footsteps, typically of a person coming closer to you. A lady was 'descending' down from the wooden stair case. First I could see her heels, then her knee length skirt and then....Cheenu nudged me with his foot. Typical of us guys, i'll tell you. So there she was...'descending' upon us...saw her heels, her legs, the waist and whoah! the face! She was the prettiest banty* ( pronounced as bunty) we had seen. Speak about love at first sight. Now you see why I speak about Anthony as a God sent gift?

Most of you must have visited Goa and your Goa tales might be far more adventurous than this but we have seen Nina so...go stick a L on your foreheads.
And there are some who have not been to Goa yet //cuts a giant L from the newspaper// here..this is for you, stick it on whatever you like.

So..there stood Nina in front of us. Nina was Anthony's wife. Believe me, she was more beautiful than all those topless white chicks on the beaches. Mesmerised, all three of us, all at once. But all good things come to an end you know. Another set of descending crashing foot steps but this time it was Bruno. I don't know what his real name was, but I thought 'Bruno' would be an apt name for a human bulldog. He was topless too. With a hairy back and black shorts. Black shorts only. He spoke with a slur and had a beard too. His tongue was out of his mouth while he spoke. ith that being said, i would like to add, although Bruno looked like Bruno, he was a thorough gentleman.

Bruno and Nina cleaned our rooms. Beauty and the beast. With our eyes fixated on Nina.

I don't understand what is it with firangs and their fascination with Indian cows. They take photos of their ladies feeding the cows. They take photos of an electrician on the pole. They take photos of municipality workers fixing tiles on the foothpaths. They also have drunken sex on the beach right next to the place we were sitting, corrupting our young little minds.

"Staying on the beach in the night is illegal", said one gentleman. Buhh. So..we kept wandering about and stayed on the beach. In the morning on the same day, Banda had his hind on the wooden massage beds cum chair that these firangs use and was made to get up since 100 Rs/hour were to be paid to use them. It was a full moon night with gentle breeze and it couldn't be more romantic, especially with the light from the lighthouse on the Aguada fort falling on us after regular intervals . Only, I was stuck with these two jackasses instead of some one special.
Anyway, Banda was so happy about getting to use those chairs for free in the night that he could have written it in 10 foot big letters on wet sand and could have made a figure of a mooning Bruno.
It got so bloody cold in the night that Banda pulled my hand over himself like a blanket to keep himself warm. A sleepy mind wanted to twist his arm and yell out "go bury yourself in the sand to keep yourself warm, you faggot!", but the sleepy minded decided to be nice and just put his hand back to where it was originally.

I could go on. Someday later.
For now, an evil Monday awaits. Buhh.



For the uneducated,
* Banty = babe+aunty
also, if you wish to expand your knowledge,
BHBB. ( pronounced as bhabha)
= Badi Hoke Babe Banegi.