Precipice

My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me. I am angry. Very angry. Very angry.
I am beyond the questions. They have betrayed me. I want to shout. No, scream. But, I just took a resolution. I will stay calm. Yes, I will stay calm. My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me.
The flashbulbs will go off. Without me. The newspapers will talk. Not about me. A household name. Not me. It's seething inside me. But I will stay calm. I need to. For their sake at least. Why should I be the gentleman. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. Their living guts. And all you fuckers too. Fuck you all. Fuck You......
I am angry. I promised to stay calm. I am calm. Can I be calm. I'll meet those phoneys. I'll be calm. My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me.

Mumbaiyya

This blog is addressed to all non mumbaikars (like me). The name Mumbai or Bombay features in my list of cool cities. So does Paris and L.A. My choices are obviously a result of my experiences, both real and imaginary. I have for instance experienced Paris by night but only imagined sunny L.A. But that is beside the point. The main thing is that Bombay is in my list of cool cities.
How it got there is a long story....

To me Bombay had always been this place in the Movies. Almost every movie somehow mega glorified Bombay. Scenes from Rangeela with Urmila swaying her hips and Aamir khan being studly shall always have Bombay encrusted in the Background. So Bombay, for me was this ethereal town. In the movies it firmly remained. Until one summer after first year of college, I decided to visit it. Believe me it was everything that I thought it would be. My first few days was an overwhelming experience. I tended to observe the hubbub in Bombay from a higher plane. The people dashing. The horns blaring. The extreme wealth. The utter poverty. It was like the movies. Every bit of it was true. After the first few days, I needed to meet someone at a certain time and at a certain place. I didn't realize but I had already divorced myself from my detachment of Bombay. As I ran to take the next local from Dadar, flagged down an auto, and cursed the many beggars, I was oblivious to the reality that I had now been officially inducted into Mumbaihood. And the story continued.

Many more Mumbai trips have happened since them. I have met some amazing people, been to cool hangouts, done very fun things and today Mumbai is easily up there. Right among the best of the lot.

Post Mortem

Where do people go when they die ?

I really don't know the answer to that. Somehow this always comes under the purview of every religion. Either acknowledging it or the complete lack of it. There is no middle ground. But, I want to know what happens to me when I die. Do i switch off like a machine and then everything goes into utter darkness??.... The thought is scary. But as always, the spark of ingenuity in me has come with an alternate explanation.

I don't care what others say, but this is where I will go, period.
A place with lots of good food and drinks.

Cutie

She stood there blocking my path. In ordinary circumstances, I would just step aside and proceed totally oblivious. But her eyes held me. She was a cow albeit a very cute one. Her eyelashes so pretty, that it almost seemed like she had kajal on. As she chewed her cud, ruminating on her daily forages, I began to wonder whether she actually noticed my presence. There was also the outside chance that she might suddenly get very touchy and decide to gore me with her unsightly horns. This thought started nagging me. At first it started off as an itch in a corner of my head and then it started creeping into my nerves. Within a few moments, it had developed into a full blown paranoia. The docile image of her bovinness been replaced by that of a raging, depraved and wild animal. Flares after flares of adrenalin rushed through me. My face flushed. My blood was hot. I could feel sweat on my back. I wanted to run, but couldn't decide which direction to flee. I just stood there transfixed, rooted at the spot. Well, time passed. I remember feeling very hungry, and the mess food tasting godly.

P.S. Those who can know will know.

Blackout(s) II

The shadow of a human hand fell on a whitish wall. The shadow danced a slow clumsy dance. It flickered and jumped as if it were the least bit comfortable. Then suddenly there was darkness. A gust of wind had knocked open the window. The wick of the candle lay smoldering. The red glow gently diminishing with every swirl of cold air. Slowly, the last embers died out. The night sounds made their eerie presence felt. The sound of crickets filled the dark void. "Where the hell is the matchbox ?"

The dog that said no.

Every now and again, there occurs an events so improbable that it shakes your entire belief system. I encountered one such event today. The essential premise of man's superiority over animals is that we are able to think and take well thought out decisions. More thought, less instinct. In fact, we take pride that we can delay instinct so much that it becomes rational thinking. It is perhaps in our instinct to eat meat when hungry, but a strict vegetarian will tell you otherwise. As I said before, thought prevails over instinct. What I could no digest was why a dog(belonging to the canine family)would refuse to eat meat and choose sambar rice instead. Strange. Maybe genetic mutations are happening at a faster rate, and very soon we will see a new breed of vegetarian dogs. But consider the possibility, that the dog refused the meat by choice. Could this mean that, we humans are not so unique after all.

Blackout(s)

The buzz near my ear was seriously irritating me. I swear, I hate mosquitoes. By now, a layer of sweat had formed on my face, which somehow encouraged me to sweat even more. The buzz reached a crescendo. Ok enough! the mosquito had to die. Whack..!!!... ya, it's dead. A feeling of satisfaction came over me, that me temporarily revel in the glow of this terrible blackout.

My room was getting too stuffy for my liking, so I went out to the verandah. The 3 AM moonlight greeted me, with a certain sense of foreboding. All around me the trees were bathed in the dim light. I was feeling lonely all right. I placed myself on the verandah wall and thought no thoughts. Just this nagging feeling of wanting to sleep. Images of the previous day and the day to come flitted before my eyes. 3AM is a very wierd time. It's not yesterday nor today nor tomorrow. Well I just remained. thinking no thoughts.

What is Happening in Kashmir?

My daily dose of news comes in the form of newspaper delivered with a loud thud. This is my cue that the day has started and the world has indeed turned a full circle. Lately I just don't feel like getting up and reading the news. It's not because of my laziness, I'm simply afraid of what I might see. Violence is everywhere. Bomb blasts, genocide in S.Ossetia and now riots in Kashmir. Seriously, what the hell is going on in the garden on top of the world?

I'm a proud Indian, I have enormous faith in the army and I'll stand by every decision they take. However, I can't help but draw parallels in history. Whenever, the indigenous people of a region are genuinely pissed, change happens. Trying to stop the rising tide of change by imposing martial law and killing innocent civilians is never the solution. Such a scenario is only going to have violent repurcussions. The founding fathers of our country have always told us to tread the path of peace and non violence. Even happenings in Palestine, Iraq and Vietnam have have shown us the prolonged effects of the use of force. I sincerely hope that an amicable solution is found to whatever it is that the people of Kashmir are upset about and that the violence ends soon.

Peripatetic me

My Halcyon days were spent in the winters of Delhi. The holidays were a time for friends and family. On one such winter, still a wee lad, barely started going to school, I was basking in the sun. Sprawled out on my grandma's lap, I was gently purring like a Persian cat that has just had an entire fish. My grandma used to shower me with grandmotherly affection and narrate to me Panchatantra stories packed with morales( none of it has sunk in :( ). She was examining my feet and she told me something that I can never forget. She had noticed a small mole on the sole of my right foot. She said that this signified that I would do a lot of travelling, just like my dad.

Hmmmm... I'm 20 now and I certainly have travelled a lot. From peering down at the Big Apple on top of the WTC, taking a hike on the Great wall, celebrating Bastille day in front of the Eiffel tower, shopping on Orchard street, staying at a Nazi Concentration camp, swearing at pimps in Bangkok, conquering the Himalayas,Alps and the Appalachians to visiting temples in every nook and corner in India. I have been there, done that and I am definitely going to travel a lot more too. It is easy to give into fatalism and make up theories to explain the reality around you. It's convenient to say that this is my fate and feel good about it. I make no such claim despite my grandma's sincere predictions. One thing I'm sure of, fate or no fate, my dad loves travelling and I have his bug.

Turn on, Tune in, Drop out

Came across this recently. Very Nice.

" Turn on' meant go within to activate your neural and genetic equipment. Become sensitive to the many and various levels of consciousness and the specific triggers that engage them. Drugs were one way to accomplish this end. 'Tune in' meant interact harmoniously with the world around you - externalize, materialize, express your new internal perspectives. Drop out suggested an elective, selective, graceful process of detachment from involuntary or unconscious commitments. 'Drop Out' meant self-reliance, a discovery of one's singularity, a commitment to mobility, choice, and change. Unhappily my explanations of this sequence of personal development were often misinterpreted to mean 'Get stoned and abandon all constructive activity.' " - Leary

Siddhartha by Herman Hesse

Questions of the spirit and the soul have never really troubled me nor did I have too much time to even pose such questions. Everything has been about fulfilling my needs in the present. Herman Hesse calls this living in samsara. He states that living in samsara makes you acutely aware of your senses. Feelings of joy, anxiety, pleasure, pain, etc. take on a new meaning. Somehow this is not such a good thing. Hesse claims that there is an alternative. There is a higher plane that humans should aspire to reach, something about detachment from the self and being one with everything. Realising the intransience of time and the value of wisdome over knowledge. You get the picture.

Like a true cynic, I mock all that he propounds. Obviously, my negative overtones have a reason and that reason is not so complex. I just love living.

Glades

A tender flower looked at the prince over the mildewed grass,
wondering who the fellow was, sleeping with a face so calm;
Something's wrong with his pallor though she, something about his eyes,
never have I seen a chap so still, so completely detached from life;

Many moons had passed,many stars had shown, over the garden glades,
and he began to bloat,he began to smell, much like a rotten corpse;
Oh! What an arrogant lad thought she, how dare he look so bad,
somebody should tell him firmly, to go die somewhere else;

Autumn passed and winter came, over the hallowed land,
the flower she was no more, much like all her friends;
The prince, lay he, still like a bunch of bones ,
who are we to judge, who are we to dictate, over the grassy glades;

Goodbye France... I love you

Well my journey has come to an end. It is time for hugs and goodbyes. I am supremely sad to be leaving. Wish I could have stayed on for some more time. In the short duration that I was here, I really have fallen in love with France. The life, the culture and the people shall forever remain with me. I know I have many more places to go, many more things to see, more people to meet, but I am sure that this place has touched me like none other. Even if I come back to France later in my life, things will not be the same. I will have different needs and expectations. Well, it won't be the same. Maybe it was meant to be just a dreamtrip. A dream that I will forever cherish. It is now time to wake up.
Goodbye France. Au Revoir.

French cuisine

What can I say.. they are simply delectable... This is a picture blog about what you might generally expect to have on a typical French lunch meal. It's hard on the veggies, but that's your personal choice.

You start with the Entréés which are basically different varitieties of salads and fruits.

Fish salade


Shrimp salade



Carrot Salade


Cold meat salade



Then you move onto the main course, where there are exceptionally large number of choices. You pick a main dish which is generally a type of meat or fish and have it with something like vegetables or rice.

Poulet(Chicken)


Dinde(Turkey)


Brochette


Poisson(Fish)


All the main course dishes demand that you have it with something...

Rice



Vegetables



Frites( Yes the French love French fries :) :) )


And finally the desserts, I don't know how they do it... but they are simply godly. How thye achieve such taste and perfection shall always remain a mystery to me.

I don't really remember the names of them. Feast your eyes anyway.

The Vin Chaude experiment

My trip to Chamonix(French Alps) was simply out of this world. The snow white mountains, the beautiful valley shall forever remain etched in my heart and mind. The mountains can be very chilly(snow cover) and once you come down into the valley, you feel like having something that'll warm ur senses. One of my good friends had suggested that I try vin chaude(Hot wine). It was certainly an experiment cuz I've never had anything like it. Everything till now had been served chilled or at most at room temperature.

It arrived in a goblet, looking no different from normal wine. Until I saw all that was in it. A variety of exotic spices and cardamom sticks hung about in it. It was hot to touch. And the smell it emanated... ummmm.... I suggest if any of you ever go to Chamonix in ur lifetime, don't forget to seal it with a Vin chaude.

Patra Series III - Kela Power

It was the night before 'fete de la Musique'(Festival of Music) and the next day promised many great adventures.

22:00 hours : I rushed out off the Paris metro to rendezvous with Patra at the Eiffel Tower, who had promised to meet me there in great urgence.

22:10 hours : I was right under the Eiffel waiting for our man Patra to turn up, but to no avail.

22:20 hours : Made some frantic missed calls to Patra( I had 30 cents on my phone )

22:30 hours : A message arrives from Patra saying that he is on the Metro.

22:30:30 hours : I get frust. Y the f*** did he make me run all the way here?

23:00 hours : I decide I've had enough of sitting under a giant four legged erect male organ. I go for a walk around the park.

23:30 hours : I stroll back peacefully to find Patra standing at the designated spot, smiling contently. His reason for being late. "Arre I went to eat dosas at Gare du Nord(Paris India Town)". Something shrieked very hard inside me. It wanted to shout things like - "***tirade of adult curses*** Dosas ????? I have been standing here and waiting all this while for you and you've been eating Dosas???? ***tirade of adult curses*** .. !!! ", but since I'm so good natured, all that came out was "I see"

23:32 hours : We decide to climb up the eiffel tower(by foot) and stand in one of the many long lines.

00:10 hours : We reach the head of the queue and a big black guard looks at us rather sheepishly. "Open your bags please", the monster bellows. I timidly show him all my earthly possessions lest he bark at me again. Now his attention turns to Patra. "Open your bags please", the monster bellows yet again. Well fed Patra smiles and with an air of cool confidence opens his bag. The incredible hulk rummages through it, and suddenly lets out something like a giggle. Patra and I snatch a puzzled glance at each other. The giggle turns into a roaring guffaw. Mr Titan finally looks at Patra and lays bare the mystery "Ooooohhhh.... Banana.. HAHA HAHA HAHA". What he actually meant by that was "Kele khaane waale bachcho... tum kya terrorism karo ge" ... :D :D

Melancholy Marvin

Everybody loves Raymond. Does anybody love Marvin? I don't. There is something seriously annoying about depressed people and when a robot gets depressed , you've had it...!!!

Marvin is one of the many characters in h2g2(hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy). If you haven't read h2g2 , i suggest you do so immediately. It's not well crafted like LOTR nor is it over hyped like Harry Potter. The book is simply a laugh riot that'll have you falling off the chair so many times that you wish you had your floor done with Turkish cushions.

Now getting back to Marvin, he is utterly depressing. He can take the most joyous of occassions and turn it into the saddest catastrophe. I'm telling you, the robot is a hazard..!!!

If the year was 1984 and I was Big Brother, you can be be sure there's gonna be one sorry bot...!!!

Yinsomniyaaaaa ??

Cant keep my eyes open now. I can just feel this is going to be a very arbit blog. No maybe the arbiterer of the earlier blog that I was thinking of writing.

That sound in Nice is still echoing in my ears. it brings about a mixture of sleep, tiredness and bordeaux Rosé.

K my eyes are closed now, I am opeining them in intervals of a few seconds trying to force myself to appear interested. What does it remind me of ???? IT does remind me of something. Yes those terrible hours in high school, when everybody in the world wanted to judge you by that one exam.

K, my left hand is refusing to cooerate. Am too sleepy, goodnihgt;

me

All about Rosè

There are many varities of wine. Some sweet, some sour, some just plain brilliant. Rose is one of the varieties and I won't go into how it is made or how it is served or bla bla.. All I want to talk about is my experience with Rose champagne(Champagne is the drink that fizzes all over, Schumaker loves spraying it around). Patra and I had a debate over whether there can be a rose champagne.

Somehow my experience has been limited to Brut and Demi sec which are both White wine varities of Champagne. I proceeded to vehemently argue the case against Rose champagne. Patra was more open minded and raised the intellectually creative question of why a rose variety can't exist. I came back with "If it is indeed possible, somebody would have thought of it". And the issue was laid to rest.

Until I went to the supermarket the other day and saw a row full of Rose champagnes just sitting there. I am the cat and curiosity got the better of me. I remember waking up the next morning expecting to have a terrible hangover, but guess what, Rose and champagne love each other... :) :)

cycle tracks

The abundance of cycle tracks around Europe never ceases to amaze me. A cycle here, a cycle there, they got cycles everywhere... :P :P

The Europeans are serious when they talk about Euro norms and controlling the pollution, though it's a lot cheaper to not have a car.. :) :)