Ziddiii.....

Found this while browsing: http://www.intach.org/pdf/DelhiHeritageWalk.pdf
Interesting

My colleague (and friend) Chitkoo has quit a "relatively lucrative" career in investment banking to start an adventure tourism company. Some food for thought.

In the meantime just...

Rubaroo

aye saala
abhi abhi huaa yaqeen
ki aag hai mujh mein kahi
hui subaah main chal gaya
suraj ko main nigal gaya
ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2

jo gumshuda-sa khwaab tha
voh mil gaya voh khil gaya
uulon hathaa pighal gaya
kichhaa kichhaa machal gaya
sitaar mein badal gaya
ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2

(dhuaan chhataa khula gagan mera
nayi dagar naya safar mera
jo ban sake tu hamsafar mera
nazar mila zara) - 2

aandhiyon se jaghad rahi hai lau meri
ab mashaalon si bhad rahi hai lau meri
naamo nishaan rahe na rahe
ye kaaravaan rahe na rahe
ujaale mein pee gaya
roshan huaa jee gaya
kyon sehte rahe
ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2

dhuaan chhataa khula gagan mera
nayi dagar naya safar mera
jo ban sake tu hamsafar mera
nazar mila zara
ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2

aye saala - 4

Sree is house-hunting, but I don't think she'll ever find anything. She PGs on Marine Drive, but is looking for a better house , or rather a house in Bandra. While I don't think that living in a PG is quite it, I don't think she'll ever get around to living in Bandra after Marine Drive. The commute wuill kill her, and so will the place in egenral. Of course, I try to keep her hopeful, coz, as long as she is looking I will frequently find good company for otherwise dull Sunday lunches. Though she can be irritating at times, her company overall is quite a pleasure.

Weekend Findings

The World Is Not Against You- It Is Indifferent.

The above sentence was intended at unpublished authors. Some people use it more loosely. As did someone this weekend. I don’t know whether I like indifference in people. Unfortunately, I have limited chances to find out. People tend to react strongly to me. Too strongly. And my reactions to them are most often quite mild.

Hence, T.O is not against you, he’s indifferent.

This is what someone told a friend, loud enough so I could hear, on Friday night- in a slightly inebriated state. At that time, I was Outside the Shack. Smashed. And NASTY. Even by my standards.

Things of note this weekend. Bought a kilo of mutton biryani – that’s one-kilo mutton in rice. For AD’s party. Attendance was thin. So ended up eating quite a bit. It was heavenly and I just couldn’t stop eating for a while. There was little else to do. I was outnumbered eight (media/ entertainment) to one (investment banker). For some time I tried to follow the conversation. Soon the only parts which could distract me from my Old Monk and Mutton Biryani were the references to whose doing who. I have always been a great believer of vicarious pleasure. Or jealousy.

Was made to talk to a "prospect" on Saturday morning. Somehow managed to have a sensible chat- after a heavy dose of Alka-Seltzers. Three-fourths of the talk-time was spent cribbing about a certain common client. She in an agency, me in the Bank. Wasn’t too bad. Actually, been in sales too long- can have a half hour chat with almost anyone. As long as we speak a common language. Was asked, again, whether I could speak Bengali. Said:“Bolte, podte, likhte paadi- kintu podte anek shomoy lage, jaa likhi taa keo podte pade naa aar onno karo hathe lekha podte paadi na”. Delivered this sentence in chaste Bengali. Without halting.

Later, Hemu and I went shopping. Discovered to our respective dismay that Levis no longer made 501s in sizes 38 and 28.

Spent Sunday morning walking around in Bandra. No cricket this time. Walking, thinking and talking to myself, I came to the conclusion. That the Bandra I live in is a shadow of the Bandra I loved when I moved here five years back. When the traffic from work was not so bad. When fewer roads were dug up- lesser one-ways. There were fewer options, and also were fewer new faces. And strangers who were there were just as likely to be sitting (please note) next to me in Toto’s or in the morning local train to Churchgate. When Lotus House Books was a regular haunt- after RV and I spent about six months trying to find it. Danai was typically with Moods. To be followed by Canara Bar. Precious Sunday afternoons spent bitching about the Bank. Softened to submission by Old Monk and/ or weed, pondering what it was that went into the Bandra water that made the women so desirable- behenchod, paani mein kuchh hai. Of course, when I was younger and more tolerant, less judgmental blah, blah, blah!!! (Moods- in the seven-sigma event that you’re reading this, I miss you too.) I think I should move to town. Some building near the sea. So does Debbie. With a swimming pool.

The evening was particularly hopeless. First, had an argument with Debbie on gay flicks in general and Brokeback Mountain in particular. To make things worse, I tried to explain my stand in these matters. Spent the next few hours in Viper’s place, where I burnt music while his Mom tried matchmaking for me (bio-data hain kya?). I laughed through the discussions knowing that both her sons have arranged their own marriages. About 8GB of music - which later didn’t play on my systems at home. Hell!!! In spite of a university rank in engineering, I have neither luck nor knack for gadgets and technology. Wandered off to watch a play near Kala Ghoda- Nu, Viper and me. No tickets. Went to sit and browse at Cha Bar. Again, no luck. Ended up buying books I didn’t really want- the power of the following combination of letters- SALE. FYI, the count of unread books at home is 31. Tried Inox, to watch a movie- nothing worthwhile at that moment (Mixed Doubles?). In sheer desperation went to Ruby Tuesday- the worst decision of the day. All evening the mono-minute a decision had been made- Nu seemed to have an alternative. So when she began to moan and groan that Pizzeria would’ve been a better alternative, I just snapped at her- something I haven’t done in a while- for no apparent reason. Kept drinking beer through the day and felt really weird over dinner with Angie and Co. Somewhat sick. They tried to talk me into a cholesterol test. Insisting that since my consumption didn’t show up around my waist (I have not grown out of a trouser in ten years), it must definitely be piling up in my nicotine constricted arteries. Tall ask. Thumps disclosed he has Triglycerides. Whatever that is. Seriously.


Slept. Fitfully.

The English Patients

I am not a student of history, albeit I tend to be slightly fascinated by it at times. Whatever little I read in school is now almost subterranean for me. Consequently, I am unable to really figure out why India was colonized by Brits and we left with such a Victorian hangover.

The reason why I mention it now is that over the last year or so, I have stumbled over a treasure trove of European (or Latin American, Iranian etc etc.) cinema. And I have fallen in love many times over, with the brilliance on display. Only if I could understand the languages in which they were made. Being a veteran of DVD movies, I do realize that the sub-titles are never as accurate as the original screenplay. Since my involvement with Hollywood predates any other by at least a couple of decades, I do notice at times that the movies I stumble upon in French, Spanish or Italian have sometimes been re-made in Hollywood and the two are just worlds apart. For instance, whoever has seen Wicker Park and L’ Apartment would know what I am talking about (of course in this instance it helps that Monica Belucci was so much better looking).

Of course not to say that good films are not made in Hollywood. I even don’t think that my all-time favorites will ever be in a language other than English. There are many memorable films which have come out of their studios, I just think that others are a lot more experimental in their approach towards film-making. In many cases they have made me think longer than any Holly production. They don’t have to be wonderful movies, or even hugely memorable. Just interesting and fresh. Amelie, Maria Full of Grace Motorcyle Diaires, Cinema Paradiso, Three Colours, Decalogue, Jeux d’enfants, Two Women and so many others. The best part is that most of these movies don’t even come recommended. I just find them lying around in a neglected corner of my suppliers shop. It is like you just put in a disc, not knowing what to expect and two hours later, you’re a slightly changed person. Even the women are so much better looking. There definately is a culture thing as well- I mean a society in which menage-a-trois is a part of the regular vocabulary has to be more interesting than others. Of course I am sure such unbridled experimentation also leads to some disasters (IK- are you reading???)- and I have been subject to some of them, but on an average I have been lucky.

The same of course is true also of English independent cinema (Before Sunrise/ Sunset), but well that’s the way it is supposed be.

Avoid VD

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mindwritten by Charlie Kaufman

Joel: Random Thoughts, for Valentines day, 2004. The day's a holiday invented by greeting card companies, to make people feel like crap. I ditched work today. Took a train out to Montauk. I don't know why. I'm not an impulsive person. I guess I just woke up in a funk this morning. I have to get my car fixed. "Hi Sydney? It's Joel. Listen, I don't feel very well today. No. Food poisoning I think." It's goddamned freezing on this beach! Montauk in February. Brilliant, Joel. (referring to his sketchbook/journal) Pages are ripped out, don't remember doing that. It appears this is my first entry in two years. Sand is overrated. It's just tiny little rocks. If only I could meet someone new. I guess my chances of that are somewhat diminished, seeing as I'm incapable of making eye contact with a woman I don't know. Maybe I should get back together with Naomi. She was nice, nice is good. She loved me. Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who shows me the least bit of attention?