happy birthday!!!!22 fucking years!!!!you're old enough to be married man! on a serious note, do u think u should be serving chicken on your birthday? think about it. anyways, here's a happy birthday coming to you from...um..let's see.. JQ, Stephen, Ronan, Race, and i hope to get the other name ASAP. lol. happy birthday!

thoughts

been a while since the last post. as i used to say to my now-virtually-non-existant diary, i dont have an excuse. just plain lazy. among other things i went to see ady's play the other day. how was it you say? well not bad, considering the only thing i can compare it to is her other play. better script, good music (has the same number of songs as any musical so i was, to tell you the truth, a bit confused as to the purpose of the play. but what the heck, i wont be complaining about good music). and oh, most importantly she wasnt the "one" and the "only" on stage. so tht, i must admit, was a huge relief. but the thing tht got me most was how "real" she was. ok this will make sense only to those who've had long, "emotional" conversations with her. the whole act--crying, "does he love me?", "he doesnt even care enough to ask!" and the crying some more--almost had me repeating my lines in the play. so which which is which? either shes a damn good actor or shes a damn good actor. ahem. anyways enough said and done.

hm...

guess i owe this post to bodhi. thanx to him i got back to "my fair lady" after eons. come to think of it i could actually list that film as one of my all time faves. at least the soundtrack. so here's to one of the songs which i know to be really really real. i do know what it feels like just to be "on the street where you live". i shall not go into details as to how big a fool i made of myself thanx to this song and my own insanity. but on hindsight it was worth it.

I have often walked down this street before;
But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before.
All at once am I Several stories high.
Knowing I'm on the street where you live.
Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?
Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?
Does enchantment pour Out of ev'ry door?
No, it's just on the street where you live!
And oh! The towering feeling
Just to know somehow you are near.
The overpowering feeling
That any second you may suddenly appear!
People stop and stare. They don't bother me.
For there's no where else on earth that I would rather be.
Let the time go by, I won't care if I
Can be here on the street where you live.


ps: really really real? huh!? never mind.

a blonde joke

ok this one's amazing http://kevinsnet.livejournal.com/2649.html

French blog

recently i've been getting a lot of complaints about the "french-ness" of my blog. no one noticed milton. everyone saw the french. ah well, c'est la vie. but here's a piece of news for my non-existent french connnection. late night radio france internationale--the music's awesome. and for those not linguistically inclined this might interest you--the sheer number of hindi songs played is seriously not funny. any guesses why?

The Lonely Night

Through the lonely night the train rushes on,
Ceaseless in its haste,
Stopping for nothing, fearing for times of waste.
Darkness blindfolds time's ever-rushing passenger
Pushing it on to the edge of doom.
Cloaks as dark as the hour of midnight
Cover the train as it rushes on through the lonely night.
Suddenly a tiny ray of light awakens the sleeping giant,
A small ray of hope
Bewildering it, only to be plunged into the depths of blackness.
Sleepy stations fly by, human figures fixed by the harsh light
Of the few bulbs strung carelessly
As if daring to defy the dark.
The stark background engulfs it
And before long it is gone, gone forever into the realms of reality.
The train plunges on into the nightmare of dreams.
The stars above look down upon it.
Cold and distant, they know what it is to rush
They know what it is to be alone.
But the moon is not there
Perhaps it is too large, too garishly bright.
Perhaps it is just the new moon.
But the night knows no reason, no logic, no reality
The train moves on, trying forever to escape
The clutch of a hand as cold as death.
It races with time, wins over it.
Only to be defeated.
Only to be plunged into the pall of despair.
Only to be left rushing through the long, cold, lonely night.

me on tv!!!

hey guys, will be on tv for a debate on the 7th evening. think at 7 on bangla ekhon. kinda like self advertising, but wht the hell!!!

Nevermore

Souvernir, souvenir, que me veux-tu? L'automne
Faisait voler la grive a travers l'air atone,
Et le soleil dardait un rayon monotone
Sur le bois jaunissant ou la bise detone.

Nous etions seul a seule et marchions en revant,
Elle et moi, les cheveux et la pensee au vent.
Soudain, tournant vers moi son regard emouvent:
"Quel fut ton plus beau jour?" fit sa voix d'or vivant,

...

Sa voix douce et sonore, au frais timbre angelique.
Un sourire discret lui donna la replique,
Et je baisai sa main blanche, devotement.

-Ah! les premieres fleurs, qu'elle sont parfumees!
Et qu'il bruit avec un murmure charmant
Le premier oui qui sort de levres bien-aimees!

--Paul Verlaine

?

what if bad mood and grumpiness were like...well...like things you could simply fold and put away?maybe even frame and then just shove it into some dark corner. makes one wonder at the power of the "what if?"

SCREAM!!

dear rahul,

what happens when you see something you've hoped all your life you'll never see? some people become hysterical. some people shut up. some try and shred the past into pieces. it doesnt work. i've tried it. i know. why is it that some people never get what they want? why do you have to have at least one person on that dreaded other side? im tired of explaining the difference between a crush and something more. im fed up of being laughed at by everyone. even those who pretend to understand. maybe after all this, it should just go away. common human decency. should i be careful what i wish for? maybe...i see him. nice. her. a killer. a long time ago i had vowed that i would kill her, without knowing who she was. no wonder my friend didnt believe me. didnt think i had the guts. i didnt. i dont. once some one very nice almost dragged me to meet him. hand-writing analyst. thank you. but what happened? nothing. nothing happens. shit happens, yes. nothing else. sometimes i long for a magic wand to...no, i have a lot to be thankful for. i am. truly. but what do i do with that tiny black&white newspaper cut-out which i tried so hard to blot out, in a cab on a sunny afternoon not so long ago? when will it go away? ever?

lo, lola, lolita

this book has something about it. for one thing, it evokes very, very strong emotions.

help!!!

i really need the sutta song. can any kind, understanding soul please comply?!

train catching

few things to do when you miss your train:

never thought you'd need this huh? well you never know which bond flick script you might be writing next, so go on, take a look.

1. look for a auto driver who does NOT have a f****** cellphone. and even if he does have one, pray to god he does not use it when your rushing to catch the bloody train. ps: why does every soul down south have a frigging phone on them?!!!! were'nt we supposed to be a 3rd world country or something like that? news-flash: it's a totally different world that the south indian (read: bangalorean) auto drivers live in.

2. when you near the station and see a train at the platform from the auto, do not shout (with any form of conviction) "that's a local train". reasons? a) local trains don't have ac sleeper class coaches. b) they don't leave at the exact moment when your train is supposed to leave.

3. if you have any friends already on the train, they must NOT pull the chain. yes i know it looks tempting, but the 1000 rs. fine, especially when you're returning from a financially taxing trip, along with a month's imprisonment is not the ideal solution. go ahead and scream at them, but that red chain is a massive "no no".

4. oh by the way, if you're talking to those very friends on your phone dont ever say "no no, oh shit no!". the line might just get cut and even though you dont want the chain pulled, this could lead to a lot of very heated souls. a better choice? "pull, pull, yes, yes!" (and no, im not running a porno blog.)

5. this one's a beauty. look around for some nutcase who tells you "you're too early for tomorrow's train". boy, all that temper really gets the adrenalin rushing, and trust me, you need that for the rest of the pre-train journey.

6. suddenly see an apparition of a cabbie who's willing to drive you to the next junction for 600 bucks. (you cant be too sure if it's the same bugger who made that guiness record-winning joke). make a dash for it. dump you luggage and yourselves into some squishy omni and pray very hard. your back, butt, knees and leg might ache away to glory. but on the bright side, you won't realize that your whole body is aching. i dunno, but it's one of those crazy tricks tough situations pull on you.

7. looking for a variation? here's one. have one friend call his/her parents 5 mins before train's supposed to leave and say they've not reached station yet, and then have the line cut abruptly. then mistake their no. for your own parent's and actually take that damn call. after that i leave it to your imagination. i'd ideally tell them that we're safely on the train and then hope to high heavens they dont really figure out that no self respecting train ever has a blaring car horn.

8. now comes the interesting bit. look out for all the red lights. sigh. get furious, coz nothing's below 72 secs. then voila! you're past it! zooming ahead of those dumbjock drivers. try counting the number of lights you jump. but take my advice, dont try it. it's way more fun just looking outside open mouthed and thinking "boy, bond must've had one heck of a time!" but this one's seriously not for the faint-hearted. count on having lost at least a few years of your life on that ride. oh and, i know you'll not have the time, try and get the cabbie's address, just in case you want to post him a x-mas card. it's worth it. or better still, keep in touch coz you never know when you'll be late again.

9. once at the other station, run like crazy, bag and all. now you'll know why everyone tells you tyo travel light. but never mind, too late for regrets, just run. ok, when you're throwing your bag on to the tracks to run across the blessed train, never jump before bag. those things are bizarrely designed. even the devil could'nt pull them off the platform without yanking off his arms.

10. anyways, now next to the train. safe, right? wrong. indian railways is one of those things which just might not want your happiness, let alone have you go back home in one piece. they have these dastardly things called general sections. (once described very aptly as "general sex" compartments where the only criteria is that you have to keep up with the sex. think there are no takers for this theory? try contacting JU 3rd year english and ask for chicko.) so you haul yourself and your blessed bags onto this crazy contraption and look around. lo behold! there arent any passages between coaches! why? coz these damn things are'nt connected at all! so off you go again, this time looking for a familiar looking coach. by the time you locate one and are up, bags and all, the trains off again, chugging like a little ol' lady. but thankfully this time you're on it.

11. the last part's easy. just lug everything behind you and go on a cross-train sprint, looking for your compartment. now you know what the members of the fellowship felt like. you also know that once on the train there's no need to run any more, but somehow your body doesn't seem to respond to that logic. and that running with luggage between people who, lets' just say, love their inertia of rest, is a task that would challenge even hercules.

so now that you know what to do, try it sometimes. you could always reach on time, but hey this one's fun too. almost like a movie. especially so when im not in it.

ps: variation: after all this you're still adventurous? go into the next coach for a smoke late at night. finish, come out, and what do you see? you just saw a passage, now you don't. why? coz some jackass just wanted to shut the bloody connecting door. now, dont panic. if you're lucky, the train will have stopped at a station, you'll find some one willing to open the train door for you. a short jump, a quick jog, another jump up and you're home safe! see, it was'nt so difficult now, was it? now if you go into all the possibilities...the train not stopping at a station till say the wee hours of the morning...spending a night with perfect strangers...the train leaving without you on it...again...ah well life's a miracle, aint it!

hm...

is there any easy way of knowing that you're in love? i mean, how do you realize that you have fallen so hopelessly for someone that you are willing to overlook every fault in him just so you get to see the best things? is it when every thing that you do seems to be linked inexorably to him? is it when you really can't think of a situation where he's not there? what is it? well, when you come to think of it, there's no one answer, is there? all the things which seemed so corny before suddenly becomes not that bad after all. evening walks, endless talks about...well...nothing, seeing that awesomely cute blush appear at a private joke. when lo behold! you can write love poetry! sounds familiar? cliched even. yes, but then what is it that brings a smile every single time you think of singularly common moments? maybe the question i really should be asking is that how do such all-too-publicly discussed emotions suddenly become so private and individual? and you know what? the funny thing you'll notice about lovers is that they're a horribly superstitious lot. this that or the other and they get freaked out thinking some catastrophe is on their way. touchwood.
well anyhow i've drifted far and wide from my original query. in all liklihood, there's no straight answer to these questions. like every other bugging question, i guess. but nonetheless its fun to think about it, whatever be the outcome. or the lack of it! happy thinking!

just a simple story

have you ever wondered how most of the stories we love are the simplest ones? ones we have heard so many times, yet every time we hear it again it just feels as though it were the first time? i guess a lot of people have thought about it, judging from the never-ending stream of narrative throeries. but somehow i think great stories are what they are because they can make you feel so comfortable--like the smell of newly washed linen, like the all-too-familiar bus ride to college, like the long-lost photo which has amazing time-machine like properties. you know them. yet you want to know more.
just today i heard such a story, which i'm sure will sound banal and inane and, frankly speaking, cliched in any other time or place. my mum told me and my brother this story of a little adventurous kitten and ball of wool. been-there-done-that you say? i thought the same thing. but somehow, as my mother went on with her tale of a little girl watching a kitten unravel a nearly-knit sweater, i could see my mother's curly haired 11 year old self fascinated by so "story-book"-like an act. i could see my grandmother and her friend chat incessantly, unaware of this minor wool-tragedy unfolding before their very eyes and the little girl gleefully sharing the kitten's sense of adventure. the house, the room, my grandmother's friend--i have never seen them. the cat has died its nine deaths, possibly in all the proverbial 14 generations. but yet, there's something that i know so intimately about the story. a recreation of a memory, a borrowed memory. a story which became a part of my mother's memory and then became mine. that's a really good story. that's a classic.

F*** ***

have meant to talk about this for a very long time. tell me something, does double standards mean the only thing to most people? i mean just when the chips are down they rush up and greet him like a hero. and then when he does the same thing say a month later he's the worst thing on god's earth. and why? just coz he chooses to be a gentleman. well yeah, gues u could call him a loser. after all, in this day and time i guess very few actually know the meaning of civilized human beings. but this has really gone on for way too long! and the best part is yet to come. nobody, and i mean nobody wants to back the guy who's done so much! they all go salivating after this creep! tell me, is it asking for too much, is it really asking for too much when i say give him a chance! and he aint even doing too badly! he's doing his job damn well. u know what? i think that's where the problem lies. no one likes someone doing their job too well. reminds them of their own inadequecies. doesnt it? u tell me. anyways, u cant either coz u part of that same daft gang. just why cant u see? all of u are making a mistake! just because he keeps quite does not mean he's a chicken! there are just somethings which u have to do! he has his responsibilities and he knows them. and rest assured better than u guys do!

Going Back

have you ever had this experience of going back to school just to find that you no longer recognise anything or anyone? i guess most of us have at some point of time or other, but the funny thing is that it does not take long a time for such a thing to come to pass. maybe just a couple of years. and then bang! before you know it, your old classroom's been walled up. those glorious broken windows whose charm you never seemed to realise while in school seem to look out into the greenest fields of memories. the half-pants and full-pants marching and the winter rain gushing in seem all the more real. it's then that you sit down and look back at all those physics classes not with disgust but with the fondness of an aging grand-aunt. the painfully long and suffocating chemistry classes seem suitably sepia-tinted, and even maths doesn't seem so bad after all. you let out your deepest sigh and wish for things which might just have made you shudder not so long back. a short walk out into the basketball court. even here things look painfully changed. remember all those gossipy chats behind those trees? even walking with the black cardigan held just like dravid might? things of the past. no more trees to chat behind. dravid too safely ensconced in marital bliss to be available for such dreamy romances...you walk up the wooden stairs and past all those messy classrooms. somewhere you hear the confident tiptap of shoes long past their expiry date. faces vaguely familiar, teachers strangely friendly, everything bordering on the glorious unknown. where's that place that you felt you completely belonged to?...all those who've been through this would agree with me on this one thing--yeah it's one heck of an experience.

000

the other day day as i sat watching the disasterous india-sri lanka cricket match, someone next to me commented--"khela dekhe ar ki hobe? shob i to got up". according to this gentleman the only reason why ganguly played so slowly was because he wanted india to lode. sounds complicated? not at all! see, if he plays slow, then india dont score too many, then sri lanka stand a better chance of winning and then finally because of india's loss ganguly stands to gain back his captaincy. impeccable! and that's not all. apparently laxman was crucially injured at the beginning of the 1st match because he too wanted to play his full role in bringing saurav back to the helm. with conspiracy theories like these who needs the cold war!