Is our world today a happy place?
Thinking specifically of our urban world - it's the inherent loneliness and helplessness in us that leaves us with despair and pain. And it's this loneliness, insecurity, and despair that brings people to drugs, self destruction, depression, and crime. Incest. Domestic violence. Rape. Murder. Thoughtless shooting down of classmates. Throwing acid at the girl next door.
Rage.
More than poverty or hunger, I think it's these psychological disturbances are a scarier root to crime today, and in the future. Terrifying.
Can we look out at our world and say, Ah, here's a happy place?
And how can we set it right?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
And the Oscar goes to... Hollywood!
I was watching the Oscars a couple of days back, and I saw loads of people get emotional, and everyone's speech had things like, "Movies educate us, transport us, inspire us, make us dream. What would our lives be without movies? etc. etc." I saw some winners come on stage and cry and be genuinely emotional, and I saw others come on stage and put up a show.
And I thought to myself, this is the greatest orchestrated drama ever. The absolute stiff upper lip Americanized.
Cinema, to me, is freedom and expression. But what Hollywood is today, is just the opposite. It's a big huge enormous sham. I don't care if its a money making racket... I fully endorse money making, and I hope to make money someday off films. What's killing me is the pretense and superficial artificiality of it all.
The whole orchestration of it. The dresses. The smiles. The clapping, and laughing at ridiculous jokes. The acting. Oh God, I cant bear to write about it. Where are the punks and the junkies? Someone needs to go to the Oscars stoned.
And I thought to myself, this is the greatest orchestrated drama ever. The absolute stiff upper lip Americanized.
Cinema, to me, is freedom and expression. But what Hollywood is today, is just the opposite. It's a big huge enormous sham. I don't care if its a money making racket... I fully endorse money making, and I hope to make money someday off films. What's killing me is the pretense and superficial artificiality of it all.
The whole orchestration of it. The dresses. The smiles. The clapping, and laughing at ridiculous jokes. The acting. Oh God, I cant bear to write about it. Where are the punks and the junkies? Someone needs to go to the Oscars stoned.
The Hyderabad Film Club
I've been a member of the Hyderabad Film Club for the past one year. I'd say I've easily missed around 60% of the screenings. Shame. The film club runs out of an old, old film studio, Sarathi Studios, which also claims to have the oldest film projector still functioning in India. (I've seen the projector, and let me tell you, it was a privilege.)
(Fyi, very few film clubs these days actually even have a 35mm film projector at their disposal - it really is a big deal.)
The film club, unfortunately, has a very small membership. Each time I go for a movie, I'm almost always the only young person there. Everyone else who comes is atleast 60, and can just about wobble their way in and get a seat. I wonder if they can even keep pace with the movies. And sometimes, I wonder if they only come for the adult sex scenes that are very frequent in these international films. Anyway, my point is, there are no young people. And I don't understand why.
Last week, I went over for a movie after a really long time. The old man who manages the film club, (quite a character, always dressed completely in white, and with a long white flowing beard) shook my hand very gravely, and asked me when was I making a movie. He wanted to act.
The Film Club screens about 7 films a month. Of which, around 3 generally are French movies, presented by the Alliance Francais. Really interesting films made by young and not yet famous French film makers, that I would never even get a chance to see otherwise. The others are random other international films, or if they're doing a retrospective on a particular film maker, or a country, then those films. Austrian films, Czech films, Japanese, you name it.
Somehow, so far, I've liked the fact that no one I know goes to the film club - it's been my personal-get-away-from-the-regular-world space. But, I think the film club deserves better. A younger audience - definitely. And a word on my blog.
(Fyi, very few film clubs these days actually even have a 35mm film projector at their disposal - it really is a big deal.)
The film club, unfortunately, has a very small membership. Each time I go for a movie, I'm almost always the only young person there. Everyone else who comes is atleast 60, and can just about wobble their way in and get a seat. I wonder if they can even keep pace with the movies. And sometimes, I wonder if they only come for the adult sex scenes that are very frequent in these international films. Anyway, my point is, there are no young people. And I don't understand why.
Last week, I went over for a movie after a really long time. The old man who manages the film club, (quite a character, always dressed completely in white, and with a long white flowing beard) shook my hand very gravely, and asked me when was I making a movie. He wanted to act.
The Film Club screens about 7 films a month. Of which, around 3 generally are French movies, presented by the Alliance Francais. Really interesting films made by young and not yet famous French film makers, that I would never even get a chance to see otherwise. The others are random other international films, or if they're doing a retrospective on a particular film maker, or a country, then those films. Austrian films, Czech films, Japanese, you name it.
Somehow, so far, I've liked the fact that no one I know goes to the film club - it's been my personal-get-away-from-the-regular-world space. But, I think the film club deserves better. A younger audience - definitely. And a word on my blog.
Voyeurist
I think everyone is curious about the lives of strangers. Everyone eavesdrops. Everyone spies. Some, possibly to an obsessive degree, and some, for a laugh.
I've recently moved to a new apartment, and am still settling (or unsettling) in. I've put my computer right in front of my window, so I can gaze outside while pages load, or just gaze outside anyway. There's not much I can gaze at except the building some 12 feet away and the Window. The window directly opposite mine.
I've been curious about this window ever since I moved in. Who lives there, and what do they do? Can they hear the music I'm constantly playing, or the guitar when I play it?
Have they seen me?
This morning though, I saw a face. Early riser. Yoga practiser. Pious, and peaceful looking. An elderly man. Stretching his arms now. And, catching a glimpse of me peeking at him. Getting uncomfortable. Turning the light off now. Gone.
I've recently moved to a new apartment, and am still settling (or unsettling) in. I've put my computer right in front of my window, so I can gaze outside while pages load, or just gaze outside anyway. There's not much I can gaze at except the building some 12 feet away and the Window. The window directly opposite mine.
I've been curious about this window ever since I moved in. Who lives there, and what do they do? Can they hear the music I'm constantly playing, or the guitar when I play it?
Have they seen me?
This morning though, I saw a face. Early riser. Yoga practiser. Pious, and peaceful looking. An elderly man. Stretching his arms now. And, catching a glimpse of me peeking at him. Getting uncomfortable. Turning the light off now. Gone.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Slamdunk me
It's a full moon night, and my head is spinning with angst and brain-rush. I wish I was old, content and lesbian. All this being young, passionate, and restless business is too hard.
Anyway, I thought about blogging to write about songs that always stay magical. One of them, for me, is Broken Wings by Mr Mister. It evokes a strong emotion each time I hear it. And it will always have the same effect. Right now, it is successfully amplifying my head-spinning-with-angst-and-brain-rush-disorder. Very much so.
I have nothing else to say about magical songs. I hope you have a few. Keep them safe and close. Terrifically useful.
And now, back to soothing my stomach ulcer and to watch Dr. Strangelove Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb for the sixth time. Farewell.
Anyway, I thought about blogging to write about songs that always stay magical. One of them, for me, is Broken Wings by Mr Mister. It evokes a strong emotion each time I hear it. And it will always have the same effect. Right now, it is successfully amplifying my head-spinning-with-angst-and-brain-rush-disorder. Very much so.
I have nothing else to say about magical songs. I hope you have a few. Keep them safe and close. Terrifically useful.
And now, back to soothing my stomach ulcer and to watch Dr. Strangelove Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb for the sixth time. Farewell.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Hair goes
I've just had a hair cut. Turns out to be the most drastic haircut I've had since 1995. I went to a fancy, well known salon - Manea. Sitting there in the reception, checking out the chic women and men lounging about, it seemed that more than a salon, this place was a hangout for the Page 3 victims of Hyderabad.
I waited, and then was introduced to the stylist who 'would take care of me.' He took me to a seat, fluffed my hair about, and asked me what I wanted.
"Trim." I said. "Something stylish, though."
"Funky?" he asked.
"Stylish," I repeated, "but not outrageous." He laughed. I should have known at that point. That laugh meant something else.
He proceeded, with utmost craftsmanship, to neatly divide my hair into four parts and slowly start snipping. I admired his focus, and I thought, "Ah, such an artist-like concentration and sincerity." I watched. Snip snip snip. So much shorter? But I decided to trust him. So much concentration must lead to something nice right? Snip snip snip.
20 minutes later. He smiles. Brings out the mirror, and shows me the back of my head. Am stunned. I run my hands over the back of my head. It can't be...
He brushes and swooshes me out, and guides me to the receptionist, whose eyes seem to pop out, and then says: "That looks great."
Ha. Sure.
I wont bother outlining the reactions I've got so far. And I've never seen people be so frank in saying things that can translate into - 'Oh, such a shame.' Where are the polite liars?
My only consolation is that, I don't have to look at me. I will avoid mirrors, and other reflecting surfaces. And I will ignore the sniggering. A tough test of character and will power.
But, as I've always consoled my friends, and now I will repeat to myself six times a day - hair grows. Bring on the Parachute Coconut oil.
I waited, and then was introduced to the stylist who 'would take care of me.' He took me to a seat, fluffed my hair about, and asked me what I wanted.
"Trim." I said. "Something stylish, though."
"Funky?" he asked.
"Stylish," I repeated, "but not outrageous." He laughed. I should have known at that point. That laugh meant something else.
He proceeded, with utmost craftsmanship, to neatly divide my hair into four parts and slowly start snipping. I admired his focus, and I thought, "Ah, such an artist-like concentration and sincerity." I watched. Snip snip snip. So much shorter? But I decided to trust him. So much concentration must lead to something nice right? Snip snip snip.
20 minutes later. He smiles. Brings out the mirror, and shows me the back of my head. Am stunned. I run my hands over the back of my head. It can't be...
He brushes and swooshes me out, and guides me to the receptionist, whose eyes seem to pop out, and then says: "That looks great."
Ha. Sure.
I wont bother outlining the reactions I've got so far. And I've never seen people be so frank in saying things that can translate into - 'Oh, such a shame.' Where are the polite liars?
My only consolation is that, I don't have to look at me. I will avoid mirrors, and other reflecting surfaces. And I will ignore the sniggering. A tough test of character and will power.
But, as I've always consoled my friends, and now I will repeat to myself six times a day - hair grows. Bring on the Parachute Coconut oil.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Beer Bars
What I'm missing about Bombay -
The beer bars. The shady lovely little beer bars of Bombay at every nook and corner. With the most amazing service - prompt, friendly, super efficient.
Here's a funny photo we got enroute to Goa year before last.
The beer bars. The shady lovely little beer bars of Bombay at every nook and corner. With the most amazing service - prompt, friendly, super efficient.
Here's a funny photo we got enroute to Goa year before last.
The Reduced Shakespeare Company
Just got my Internet connection fixed at my new apartment. Feels good to be online 24 x 7. Of course, it's going to slow down my reading of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but I'll deal with that later.
Yesterday, was talking to SA about Shakespeare and I remembered this book a friend had insisted I read... The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by the Reduced Shakespeare Company, also known as The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged).
That was the funniest book I read in a long, long time. The Reduced Shakespeare Company, is a group of actors who've been performing abridged versions of Shakepeare's plays. Hamlet was reduced to a 25 minute play, and Romeo and Juliet, to 20 minutes.
Eventually, they wrote The Complete Works, which is still a tremendous hit. Imagine, a hour long play, 4 actors, who keep improvising (so each performance is different) that describes all the Shakespearean plays.
Of course, I've not seen the play - I've only read the book, but it was a treat. I also remember there being some incredibly funny footnotes on most of the pages, even the introduction, and prologues were ridiculous. I xeroxed a copy of the book, I think I should scan it and upload it. A must read for Shakespeare fans.
Yesterday, was talking to SA about Shakespeare and I remembered this book a friend had insisted I read... The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by the Reduced Shakespeare Company, also known as The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged).
That was the funniest book I read in a long, long time. The Reduced Shakespeare Company, is a group of actors who've been performing abridged versions of Shakepeare's plays. Hamlet was reduced to a 25 minute play, and Romeo and Juliet, to 20 minutes.
Eventually, they wrote The Complete Works, which is still a tremendous hit. Imagine, a hour long play, 4 actors, who keep improvising (so each performance is different) that describes all the Shakespearean plays.
Of course, I've not seen the play - I've only read the book, but it was a treat. I also remember there being some incredibly funny footnotes on most of the pages, even the introduction, and prologues were ridiculous. I xeroxed a copy of the book, I think I should scan it and upload it. A must read for Shakespeare fans.
Discordianism
We took on a new religion a few months ago. Mel, Garreth, and me. An impulsive, reckless decision on our part, and we have to pay for our actions now.
Discordianism. A religion that idealizes chaos and discord. A quick Wikipedia search, and we embraced it eagerly. Chaos? Bring it on, we said.
Soon after that, Garreth permanently marked Discordianism on himself, by getting a tattoo on his left arm of the symbol of Discordianism.
But, things weren't meant to be that way.
One morning, Garreth woke up, and everything changed. He couldn't remember his name, or his identity. Not the slightest idea. Frantic, he rushed into the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror. No clue. Desperately, he pulled his hair, and they came off, but still no recollection of his life. He pulled his shirt off and started at his body. Hmm, nice nipples, he thought, but he'd never seen them before.
Finally, he turned, and lightning struck his building. Amidst the chaos, he caught a glimpse of the Tattoo. And then, he remembered who he was...
I am Dischordian, he said. He picked up his guitar, and harmonica, and walked out of the door.
Discordianism. A religion that idealizes chaos and discord. A quick Wikipedia search, and we embraced it eagerly. Chaos? Bring it on, we said.
Soon after that, Garreth permanently marked Discordianism on himself, by getting a tattoo on his left arm of the symbol of Discordianism.
But, things weren't meant to be that way.
One morning, Garreth woke up, and everything changed. He couldn't remember his name, or his identity. Not the slightest idea. Frantic, he rushed into the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror. No clue. Desperately, he pulled his hair, and they came off, but still no recollection of his life. He pulled his shirt off and started at his body. Hmm, nice nipples, he thought, but he'd never seen them before.
Finally, he turned, and lightning struck his building. Amidst the chaos, he caught a glimpse of the Tattoo. And then, he remembered who he was...
I am Dischordian, he said. He picked up his guitar, and harmonica, and walked out of the door.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Note to self
If I post one more post I have posted more posts this month than days in the month gone by.
Vday
Everyone's being soppy and wearing pink. So, Happy Valentine's day. And here's a song to go with it.
Who's reading my blog
I was going through my Google Analytics information about this blog, and here are some keywords that people searched for and found - my blog.
google daughter who loves to be spanked by moms
Really? How did they find out?
- breathe in breathe out while gyming (hmm, ok)
- freedom struggle quotes in telugu (no idea what that means)
- night temperature of mumbai on 8 feb 2007 (yes, I also provide noon temperature on the moon)
- mallu girls nude sex photo (oh. my. god.)
- sodawaterbottleopenerwala (I'm Parsi, I probably have a cousin with that surname.)
- things that rhyme with brandy poem (that would be my brave attempt at poetry)
- staccato beds (I had to do a Google search to see what this means. Nothing, apparently.)
- Tam Bram (Prrriyaa, they're reading my blog!)
google daughter who loves to be spanked by moms
Really? How did they find out?
Advice
When asked in a TV interview, how could she look so good at age 70? Sophia Loren replied:
Posture. My back is always straight. And I don't make old people's noises.
Posture. My back is always straight. And I don't make old people's noises.
YouTubed
Last night, in a desperate attempt to cheer up a roommate who'd suddenly burst into tears after being on the phone with her boyfriend, (all this after she's been making really sweet plans for Valentine's Day) ((men!)), and when we figured that the tears weren't stopping, I pulled out my laptop and played the Million Ways to Be Cruel Video, and then the video of friends and me doing the dance.
And of course, the tears stopped, and they were laughing (at us - Agents M, P, S and me) and we then went online, and they showed me this video:
The Condom Song in Telugu. I was very impressed. Good job.
And then of course, the absolutely hilarious Benny Lava. If you haven't seen this...
And of course, the tears stopped, and they were laughing (at us - Agents M, P, S and me) and we then went online, and they showed me this video:
The Condom Song in Telugu. I was very impressed. Good job.
And then of course, the absolutely hilarious Benny Lava. If you haven't seen this...
Monday, February 11, 2008
Down the memory lane
Since forever, I've loved making lists. Absolutely ridiculous-waste-of-time-habit. Although, now being occupied and employed, and enroute to saving the world, I've not had much time to make long, ridiculous lists. However, today, the genes-and-brain-wiring got the better of me, and I said, fornicate under the consent of the king everyone. I'm going to make a list - the kinds of which has never been seen before, except by the librarian of the Unseen Unversity.
The list I made today is called Books I've Read. It's the most self-satisfying thing to do. My history of list making goes back to school days, when I used to list out the 50 States of the USA and make lists of Danielle Steel novels I'd read. (I was devouring those soppy novels at the rate of one per day.) But today's list is special. It was like going back in time, as I tried my best to dive into the recesses of my memories and pull out titles of all the books I've read.
My first book ever was a book by Enid Blyton called Bed-Time Stories. Fairly tales which have gone a long way and has permanently imprinted on my mind the love for fairies, and magic, and romantic notions about all good things. But that was as a kid. Another more important memory is my 9th birthday gift from mommy, when she very earnestly took me aside and said that reading is one of the best habits anyone can have, and then she handed me the first book of Enid Blyton's fabulous series - The Famous Five.
Just thinking of those books and browsing lists of them took me back to the hours I've spent reading in my summer holidays, not eating till I finished my book. The Five Find-Outers! So absolutely hilarious! And Malory Towers... I swear, my kids (and all my friends' kids) will be gifted these books, and lectured about the good mental health effects of Enid Blyton.
I was lucky to read her at the right age and right time. I barely managed to enjoy Nancy Drew, or the Hardy Boys, but quickly moved on to the aforementioned soppy novels, and then literary classics.
Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, PG Wodehouse, Terry Pratchett (all fabulously British) are the regular favorites of book lovers, but in addition, I was lucky to be part of The British Council Library where I read lots of unusual and rare or unheard of books. Many of which were absolute gems.
Well, its a nice list. And now I have to get out of here.
The list I made today is called Books I've Read. It's the most self-satisfying thing to do. My history of list making goes back to school days, when I used to list out the 50 States of the USA and make lists of Danielle Steel novels I'd read. (I was devouring those soppy novels at the rate of one per day.) But today's list is special. It was like going back in time, as I tried my best to dive into the recesses of my memories and pull out titles of all the books I've read.
My first book ever was a book by Enid Blyton called Bed-Time Stories. Fairly tales which have gone a long way and has permanently imprinted on my mind the love for fairies, and magic, and romantic notions about all good things. But that was as a kid. Another more important memory is my 9th birthday gift from mommy, when she very earnestly took me aside and said that reading is one of the best habits anyone can have, and then she handed me the first book of Enid Blyton's fabulous series - The Famous Five.
Just thinking of those books and browsing lists of them took me back to the hours I've spent reading in my summer holidays, not eating till I finished my book. The Five Find-Outers! So absolutely hilarious! And Malory Towers... I swear, my kids (and all my friends' kids) will be gifted these books, and lectured about the good mental health effects of Enid Blyton.
I was lucky to read her at the right age and right time. I barely managed to enjoy Nancy Drew, or the Hardy Boys, but quickly moved on to the aforementioned soppy novels, and then literary classics.
Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, PG Wodehouse, Terry Pratchett (all fabulously British) are the regular favorites of book lovers, but in addition, I was lucky to be part of The British Council Library where I read lots of unusual and rare or unheard of books. Many of which were absolute gems.
Well, its a nice list. And now I have to get out of here.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Witches Promise
Talking about Witches, this video of Jethro Tull's Witches Promise is super. Ian Anderson's expressions are priceless. I tripped on it for weeks.
Fantastic fantasies and not
A free day is a lovely phenomenon. No one around. Unexpected glory. I have much to say. I've been talking to myself all day, simply because I was walking around alone, and couldn't blog then.
This post is for Terry Pratchett. Thank you Mel and Mishoo for passing the bug. I've enjoyed his language, and imagination a lot. But most of all, I enjoy his style of turning the simplest things upside down, and bringing out the humour in the most commonplace things. Darn, I can't do justice to him.
The book I've been reading this week - Lords and Ladies - starts off questioning starts. The start of the universe and life. When did it all start? He says:
"Much human ingenuity has gone into finding the ultimate Before.
The current state of knowledge can be summarized thus:
In the beginning, there was nothing, which exploded."
I died laughing. He's brilliant. Read his discworld series - especially the stories with the Witches.
PS: Talking about books, today at Walden I saw a new Fantasy series. The Edge Trilogy or something. The back of the book was all praises, about how this book will be in print in the next millennium as well and how it is going to change the course of fiction. Blah blah. Everyone these days is writing fantasy - witches? Bring 'em on. Elves, goblins, and what nots. This book had an overdose too, and he also mentioned 'flesh eating trees.' Now that, I thought, is pushing it. Trying to be original is something, but flesh eating trees is not that. Maybe I'm over-reacting. Time will tell if my paths will wander into the Deep Forest with the flesh-eating trees. But I have a feeling...
This post is for Terry Pratchett. Thank you Mel and Mishoo for passing the bug. I've enjoyed his language, and imagination a lot. But most of all, I enjoy his style of turning the simplest things upside down, and bringing out the humour in the most commonplace things. Darn, I can't do justice to him.
The book I've been reading this week - Lords and Ladies - starts off questioning starts. The start of the universe and life. When did it all start? He says:
"Much human ingenuity has gone into finding the ultimate Before.
The current state of knowledge can be summarized thus:
In the beginning, there was nothing, which exploded."
I died laughing. He's brilliant. Read his discworld series - especially the stories with the Witches.
PS: Talking about books, today at Walden I saw a new Fantasy series. The Edge Trilogy or something. The back of the book was all praises, about how this book will be in print in the next millennium as well and how it is going to change the course of fiction. Blah blah. Everyone these days is writing fantasy - witches? Bring 'em on. Elves, goblins, and what nots. This book had an overdose too, and he also mentioned 'flesh eating trees.' Now that, I thought, is pushing it. Trying to be original is something, but flesh eating trees is not that. Maybe I'm over-reacting. Time will tell if my paths will wander into the Deep Forest with the flesh-eating trees. But I have a feeling...
Sin Soaked Holiday
I woke up with a big swollen eye. Not pretty. Alarming enough to stop me from going to work and want to visit a doctor. This would be the first time I've visited a doctor in Hyderabad. Doctor pronounced everything ok, and I was free to do as I pleased for Rest Of Day.
The weather being absolutely, perfectly, romantically dreamy and overcast, I set off walking around the lovely KBR national park. Must pause here to appreciate the existence of my ego. This ego would not allow me to show my face with swollen eye to ANYONE I know. However, pertaining to people I didn't know, the Ego felt ok giving them a full dose of the ugliness. In fact, I decided I would try and scare some people, by suddenly appearing around corners with big swollen eye. However, this little experiment at being Boogie Man didn't work. People scarcely look other people in the eye. Shame.
After that, I walked around, and enjoyed a lovely unexpectedly free afternoon in Hyderabad. And I thought about how its been 19 months that I've lived here, and how from day 1, I haven't ever felt homesick, or really lonely in Hyderabad. I have a family here. (Figuratively, I mean.)
The overcast weather reminded me terribly of Goa. I dunno why, but now the rains always remind me of Goa. Probably because of the trip when all ten days in Goa, it rained, and stormed, and we got drenched each time we stepped out.
I continued wandering and found myself at Walden. Never been there before, but there was something I was longing to buy, and I knew I'd get here. And financial destruction ensued. I bought two expensive, but absolutely must-have books, and a full painting set. Everything except an easel, which would have cost me 2000 bucks, and I was bright enough to remember that I'm already broke this month (aftereffects of Iron Maiden, flying back to Hyd, and purchase of Miss Guitar). But painting material is here. And painting is something I've always done with eye infections. Spent one whole week painting when I was down with conjunctivitis. Fabulous.
The blood is feeling young, and hopefully should spill some passion.
And the eye is doing well, thank you.
The weather being absolutely, perfectly, romantically dreamy and overcast, I set off walking around the lovely KBR national park. Must pause here to appreciate the existence of my ego. This ego would not allow me to show my face with swollen eye to ANYONE I know. However, pertaining to people I didn't know, the Ego felt ok giving them a full dose of the ugliness. In fact, I decided I would try and scare some people, by suddenly appearing around corners with big swollen eye. However, this little experiment at being Boogie Man didn't work. People scarcely look other people in the eye. Shame.
After that, I walked around, and enjoyed a lovely unexpectedly free afternoon in Hyderabad. And I thought about how its been 19 months that I've lived here, and how from day 1, I haven't ever felt homesick, or really lonely in Hyderabad. I have a family here. (Figuratively, I mean.)
The overcast weather reminded me terribly of Goa. I dunno why, but now the rains always remind me of Goa. Probably because of the trip when all ten days in Goa, it rained, and stormed, and we got drenched each time we stepped out.
I continued wandering and found myself at Walden. Never been there before, but there was something I was longing to buy, and I knew I'd get here. And financial destruction ensued. I bought two expensive, but absolutely must-have books, and a full painting set. Everything except an easel, which would have cost me 2000 bucks, and I was bright enough to remember that I'm already broke this month (aftereffects of Iron Maiden, flying back to Hyd, and purchase of Miss Guitar). But painting material is here. And painting is something I've always done with eye infections. Spent one whole week painting when I was down with conjunctivitis. Fabulous.
The blood is feeling young, and hopefully should spill some passion.
And the eye is doing well, thank you.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
www
I bought my first domain yesterday for Garreth's Dischordian. And since then, I've been thinking about what to do with the page and more importantly, how. Came across this funny image.
Also, am attending a BarCamp that's taking place at Google next weekend. Its the first time am attending anything of the sort, and it's quite exciting. The rules of BarCamp states that I must blog about it. If you're in Hyderabad on 16th Feb, (or can make it there), be sure to attend BarCamp Hyderabad5.
Also, am attending a BarCamp that's taking place at Google next weekend. Its the first time am attending anything of the sort, and it's quite exciting. The rules of BarCamp states that I must blog about it. If you're in Hyderabad on 16th Feb, (or can make it there), be sure to attend BarCamp Hyderabad5.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Notes from a pre-flight wait
I'm waiting to take my flight to Hyderabad. Actually, am still at home, so not literally waiting, but still almost there. I've to leave home in the next half hour.
It's cold. Everyone's saying it, and everyone knows it, but I have to say it again. Fuck, its cold. My Google Desktop Weather Announcer announces that the low temperature for Mumbai tonight is 8 Degrees. And that, is cold. Bombay hasn't seen such chilly-ness for 45 years, someone told me. Brr... it is cold, I repeat.
I saw Mel's baby yesterday. He's beautiful. Touch wood, and I wont say anymore because am superstitious and all.
I also attended a Split gig last night, at the new pub in Mulund called Bond. Weird name, but nice place, and dear Hardik allowed me to use his Canon Rebel XTi DigiSLR all evening. I must have taken 400 photos of ze boys.
I was thinking yesterday, I owe loads of happy and brilliant fun evenings to Split. Really, so many fabulous evenings. Glad to know them. Split splat.
Now, I must leave. Farewell, beloved Mumbai.
It's cold. Everyone's saying it, and everyone knows it, but I have to say it again. Fuck, its cold. My Google Desktop Weather Announcer announces that the low temperature for Mumbai tonight is 8 Degrees. And that, is cold. Bombay hasn't seen such chilly-ness for 45 years, someone told me. Brr... it is cold, I repeat.
I saw Mel's baby yesterday. He's beautiful. Touch wood, and I wont say anymore because am superstitious and all.
I also attended a Split gig last night, at the new pub in Mulund called Bond. Weird name, but nice place, and dear Hardik allowed me to use his Canon Rebel XTi DigiSLR all evening. I must have taken 400 photos of ze boys.
I was thinking yesterday, I owe loads of happy and brilliant fun evenings to Split. Really, so many fabulous evenings. Glad to know them. Split splat.
Now, I must leave. Farewell, beloved Mumbai.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Kala Ghoda Festival, 2008
One last thing I have to mention. My wanderings towards the end of my day today got me towards Kala Ghoda and I was thrilled to see that the Kala Ghoda Art Festival was on! This would be the third consequent year I managed to attend it. (The first, two years ago, is where I bought my beloved Bow And Arrow, whose experimental existence is described here.)
Secretly, I've been looking for the Bow And Arrow seller again. Simply because my Arrow broke. No sight of the chap this year either. There was a lady selling little windmill-flags and little gaudy bows and arrows. I sniffed and walked on.
But wow, what a sight. Kala Ghoda gets grander and more awesome each year. The theme this year mainly seenmed Eco Awareness. I really really missed my camera today, and had to make a pitiful do with my phone camera.
The main courtyard had around 10 really impressive urban art installations. One was a giant wheel made of cycles. Amazing! There was a giant shoe made of little shoes. A huge metal man-mosquito. And a superfunky structure made out of an old computer, cds, wires, and circuits. It was shaped to be a horse.
They are also selling cars - The eco-friendly Reva (electric car) with fabulous art work done by famous Mumbai artists.
The exhibition area was great too... stalls and stalls by artists and organizations, and the place was filled with tourists, and young artists, and a very interested audience. The festival also has a music festival, and I was thrilled to find Garreth's name on the list of performers. Garreth, with his solo act - Dischordian - is performing next Sunday.
All in all, a very impressive space. Fabulously put together, I was impressed by the care and detail of everything - lots of toil and love had gone into making this large space so good looking. Am hoping to head off there again tomorrow to get a better look.
Secretly, I've been looking for the Bow And Arrow seller again. Simply because my Arrow broke. No sight of the chap this year either. There was a lady selling little windmill-flags and little gaudy bows and arrows. I sniffed and walked on.
But wow, what a sight. Kala Ghoda gets grander and more awesome each year. The theme this year mainly seenmed Eco Awareness. I really really missed my camera today, and had to make a pitiful do with my phone camera.
The main courtyard had around 10 really impressive urban art installations. One was a giant wheel made of cycles. Amazing! There was a giant shoe made of little shoes. A huge metal man-mosquito. And a superfunky structure made out of an old computer, cds, wires, and circuits. It was shaped to be a horse.
They are also selling cars - The eco-friendly Reva (electric car) with fabulous art work done by famous Mumbai artists.
The exhibition area was great too... stalls and stalls by artists and organizations, and the place was filled with tourists, and young artists, and a very interested audience. The festival also has a music festival, and I was thrilled to find Garreth's name on the list of performers. Garreth, with his solo act - Dischordian - is performing next Sunday.
All in all, a very impressive space. Fabulously put together, I was impressed by the care and detail of everything - lots of toil and love had gone into making this large space so good looking. Am hoping to head off there again tomorrow to get a better look.
The God of small impulses
Today I lived on impulse. A whole day in Bombay, by myself, with a very vague agenda, and lots of time in between.
In Bombay it is so easy to do things impulsively. I can stop anywhere and there's street food handy. I ate a samosa on the railway station, on an impulse 2 minutes before my train arrived. I got off the train on an impulse and went and bought something I wont reveal I've bought as yet. Wow. Nice move. That tasty samosa was a good omen.
Nothing like a good day in a chilly wintery Mumbai doing nothing but whatever you want. I bought loads of things, wandered loads, and randomly ate things.
But my train journey gave me a nasty shock. Fast train, really pacing, and suddenly a loud crash and the train is shuddering and I can hear metal cracking... A whole packed compartment of women freaking out... I thought the train was derailing... or was it an explosion? And inside a packed train, you're terribly helpless.
Turned out that a bike got hit by the train. And two boys. Very horrifying. By the sound of it, the bike must have been smashed beyond repair. I don't want to think what happened to the boys. All the other women in the train were talking about it very casually, it's sad, but train accidents happen a lot. I remember reading somewhere that the train drivers actually suffer depression at times because of the number of people they 'go over' in the course of a career. It's unreal. To save the lives of the thousands of people on the train, sometimes you don't have a choice but to take a life. I wonder what makes these people cross the tracks so rashly?
Impulse?
In Bombay it is so easy to do things impulsively. I can stop anywhere and there's street food handy. I ate a samosa on the railway station, on an impulse 2 minutes before my train arrived. I got off the train on an impulse and went and bought something I wont reveal I've bought as yet. Wow. Nice move. That tasty samosa was a good omen.
Nothing like a good day in a chilly wintery Mumbai doing nothing but whatever you want. I bought loads of things, wandered loads, and randomly ate things.
But my train journey gave me a nasty shock. Fast train, really pacing, and suddenly a loud crash and the train is shuddering and I can hear metal cracking... A whole packed compartment of women freaking out... I thought the train was derailing... or was it an explosion? And inside a packed train, you're terribly helpless.
Turned out that a bike got hit by the train. And two boys. Very horrifying. By the sound of it, the bike must have been smashed beyond repair. I don't want to think what happened to the boys. All the other women in the train were talking about it very casually, it's sad, but train accidents happen a lot. I remember reading somewhere that the train drivers actually suffer depression at times because of the number of people they 'go over' in the course of a career. It's unreal. To save the lives of the thousands of people on the train, sometimes you don't have a choice but to take a life. I wonder what makes these people cross the tracks so rashly?
Impulse?
Stuck in the middle of words
It's that time and phase when I find it hard to write. Am struggling to write. There's so much I have to write about... but the words.. are... sluggy.
Bike ride to Srisailem! I haven't even mentioned the great adventures.
Am in Bombay and having a superfunpacked agenda.
Mel&Sim have a baby boy. The best news I got in ages. (Mel says his baby looks like an alien) Boy, I can hardly wait to see him.
Split gig tomorrow.
And finally, I attended the Iron Maiden concert last evening. I've always been terribly reluctant to spend so much money on something that lasts only a couple of hours. Rs 1650? I wouldnt have a few months ago... But, am glad I attended. Quite an experience.
I felt as if the Gods had come on stage to perform. The whole experience - the stage and changing backdrops. Bruce's insane energy and power. His costumes. And the fact that every single note and key was perfectly in place. Every single solo, ever single time. And to think they're nearly 60 years old! What a feat.
I solemnly swear that I'm attending every concert I can get my ass to.
Bike ride to Srisailem! I haven't even mentioned the great adventures.
Am in Bombay and having a superfunpacked agenda.
Mel&Sim have a baby boy. The best news I got in ages. (Mel says his baby looks like an alien) Boy, I can hardly wait to see him.
Split gig tomorrow.
And finally, I attended the Iron Maiden concert last evening. I've always been terribly reluctant to spend so much money on something that lasts only a couple of hours. Rs 1650? I wouldnt have a few months ago... But, am glad I attended. Quite an experience.
I felt as if the Gods had come on stage to perform. The whole experience - the stage and changing backdrops. Bruce's insane energy and power. His costumes. And the fact that every single note and key was perfectly in place. Every single solo, ever single time. And to think they're nearly 60 years old! What a feat.
I solemnly swear that I'm attending every concert I can get my ass to.
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