Saturday, September 22, 2007

Om Shanti Om

Is "dard-e-disco" that inscrutable condition wherein one's limbs remain paralysed and one sees in one's head missiles being shot from a thousand splendid guns the morning after a night of heavy drinking and dancing? That Shah Rukh had better watch out.

I'm beginning to miss being able to be funny without five shots of vodka down my throat. I've become a weekend alcoholic, or have I said this like, seven hundred and nine times before? My sense of humour is ablaze with a glass in hand. And only then. Dear Lord, give me fodder for funny in my life. [Lily, c'mere. :-p]

In Behrampore, young Inayat settled for five rupees to show us around the tomb of his forefathers, the nawabs of Murshidabad. Like this one. His ancestors left such testaments to opulence and technological foresight as the Hazar Duari Palace, whose marvellously progressive architecture has to be seen to be appreciated. Inayat's brother ferries tourists across town in his rickshaw, while Inayat sells his unlived glorious past with rehearsed precision as a guide at the burial ground of his famous forefathers.

In a macabre way, there's always a lot to laugh about. In a macabre way.

Friday, September 14, 2007

The lawless

Every day, she paces up and down the platform, crossing the red line - the forbidden. Staring at the tracks, till the train comes, and she stands frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights.
Every day, I say a little prayer, begging her not to jump.

Fighting for meaning, that's us.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Conversations

At a seedy nightclub

Shaggy: Hullo! I'm gay now!
Me *whoa? this is the first time we're speaking. Also, you were so screwing some women I know*: Oh? Heh. Uh...heh. How does that feel? *for lack of much else to say*
Shaggy: Oh, I don't know.
Me: Uh, but .. I mean ... aren't you supposed to know? I mean, you know, with the shift in perspective .. and all.
Shaggy: I've realised that the greatest love is self-love. So I just love myself. Say, can I have your number?
Me: Ok, waitaminit. You think you're gay because you love yourself? Dude, I hate to break this to you, but in the heterosexual world that's called masturbation, and straight men totally do it too.
Shaggy: *breaks into incomprehensible poetry*

I keep stupendous company these days.

At the gym, a place in distant memory

Lady who smiles in greeting every time we meet: Are you almost done?
Me *getting off crosstrainer* : Yea. *in a hushed whisper* Be careful though, the man on the treadmill has terrible gas!
Lady *stony stare* : That's my husband.
Me: Oh? Uhm! Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry. *fake apologetic grin* Well, maybe it's the boy on the left, then?
Lady: *looking fearsome, as though she will slap me long and hard with not a moment to lose*
Me *catching on after an uncomfortable silence*: Uh. Your son?
Lady *goggle-eyed and spitting fire*: My brother! *stomps off. understandably*

I am never going back there. Never. Ever. I'd rather be fat and socially acceptable than fit and socially handicapped.

In other news

I need slippers. Posh, but cheap.
" " pretty clothes that make me look less-fat. "Slim" - no can do no mo.
" " my sense of humour back.
" " to do something about the fucking exhaustion and my bloody eyes.
" " " figure out the conundrum that makes 30-something single men with very broad shoulders think I'm 35 years old while 20-something DJs dedicate "Sexy back" (and a song that goes "if i lick your ice cream will you lick my lollipop?" but we're not talking about that any more. kids these days) to me.
I need to bring sexy back, mairi. Starting tomorrow, I eat only cream crackers. My double chin now extends upto my effing ears. Everytime I tilt my head I feel this great wave of fat waddling to the side. I mean, I've always had that in the hip area, but this is new. And not nice at all. Crackers, I tell you.

Explain to me why I just spent five hundred bucks on chocolate, though.