aristera says

Sunday, November 27, 2005

 

yahan vahan ki baatein

strange week. met so many friends. suffered severe creative blog. ate divine food at o calcutta. my new haunt. posto, bhaat, machher jhol, chicken cutlets, malai curry, radha bulabi, mishti doi. aye jeevan.
shopped for upholstry and stuff for my own house for a change. feels good.
walked out half way through harry potter. anorther decent book made terribly into a book. the only films that did justice to a book are "great expectation" (infact the book is lousy and the film fantabulous) and breakfast at tiffany's. i so hated the potter trash. first of all rowling is no blyton. these silly kids skip blyton. its sacrilege. i was brought up on a healthy dose of famous five and secret seven. potter is playing to the galleries. rowling is like a call center pleasing the consumerist kid. ughs. the dumbledore in the fil was bad. padma and parvati as token indians were daft and sirius was barely there. harry played by dimwit cant act.
aparna sens '15 park avenue' releases on the 2nd of dec. hope i can catch first day first show.
am addicted to sex and the city.
want to read ismat chugtai in hindi (since urdu i ccant). the english translations are a tad insipid.
want to read zadie smith.
want to read two lives.
want the new madonna album.
want to buy a car.
want to fall in love.like ghalib's famous nazm goes.....bahut nikle mere armaan lekin phir bhi kam nikle.
www.chamique.blogspot.com is the nicest blog i have come across. ever.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

 

time to write anorther 55 word story

salted plain

He was 11 years old.
crossing the road.
on the divider.
he tripped over an empty bag of chips.
fell flat on his face.
a truck ran over the 11 year old.
there was blood all over.
the bag of chips was filled with blood.
i still hadnt finished the chips when i had casually thrown it there.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

 

fcuk you megalomaniac

i was tired. very low. made the mistake of calling a 'friend' up. a friend who is so self centered its not funny. insensitive. yes, i go way out and pull his leg. but never when he is low. and i essentially listen when he talks. but tonite, it just hit me hard. its always "oh i did this, i met so and so, this person said i am good, oh people love my style of writing, oh i get so many comments on my blog, oh i look so good, oh i know so much, oh i have a great life, oh me, oh i , oh myself". sometimes you dont need to hear this. sometimes you need to talk. and the person concerned is not to comment to this post. at all.

Monday, November 21, 2005

 

beta sweater pehno

my friend guppie explained to me..." humanbeings are designed for a lot of things. loneliness is not one of them". so so true. its been a long time. love lost. yes, it happens. we all have our 'why-me?' phase. then it sinks into the background. i feel old. its november. its cold already. i know everyone else will beg to differ. but it really is cold. go out late in the night. on an empty road. leading to nowhere. and you will no.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

 

The Art of Self Destruction

one of my favorite poems. i hope i am not violating much of copyright law by putting it up on the blog. ...

The Art of Self-Destruction

the art of self-destruction
no one does it better
i have mastered the cradft with great skill
a craft not easy to master, mind you!

working each stitch carefully into another
i knit a brilliant pattern together

and once it is there
this enviable piece of work
i pick at one loose end
and my creation threaten to fall apart

amused and intrigued, i start pulling at it
and watch how stitch by flimsy stitch
the unstringing begins...

i smile to myself, and keep going further

how effortlessly the links come apart
with what ease the pattern disintegrates

this fragility offends me
alarmed, yet curious to see
how far i can destroy it, i go on and on
until the whole thing falls into a
disassembled heap!

elated, i sit again
amidst the debris of anorther relationship

-Deepti Naval

(i post this poem as it describes my current frame of mind, so perfectly!)

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

 

Space and indian parents

Sadly, for indian parents ( I know I am generalizing) there is no concept of space. They do not think their children need space. Not when they are little, not even when they are adolescents, and sadly not even when they are adults. Its fine if one lives with the parents and gradually this absence of space grows on you. I cant put it in a better way. Its like you don’t know how it is like to have the space so its fine. But once you have lived away from home, for a while, and that too god forbid completely on your own, your tolerance levels nosedive. And being the indian kid that you are, you feel guilty as hell about it too. We are a warped lot, I tell you.

Friday, November 11, 2005

 

accidental fame junkie tagged me!

the seven thingy tag...

Seven things that I plan to do:

buy a mercedes for my 30th birthday
have a threesome
Travel around the world
read ‘a suitable boy’
buy a bhupen khakar and a jogen chowdhury
learn to drive
retire soon

Seven things that I can do:

Make pasta
learn to drive
paint
be very rude
drink away the blues
get soaked in the rain
pretend to be highbrow and hep and intellectual

Seven things I can’t:

accept myself the way I am
save money
read as much as I would like to
make myself read rushdie
understand ritwik ghatak films
tolerate lack of professionalism
stand commitment phobia

Seven things I say most often:

Bourgeois!
zaraa!
whatever!
baba!
likewise!
um…
tacky!

Seven things I love unconditionally (I added this, not part of tag):

1. bombay
2. bombay rains
3. art
4. vikram seth’s works and jogen chowdhury's works
5. lemon grass ( the restaurant)
6. my tattoo
7. paychecks








Thursday, November 10, 2005

 

one tenth hopefully...

been sleeping at the hospital for the last two nights. taking care of my granny. havent slept much... but thats fine. doing it out of complete choice. dont want anyone else to do it. what hits me hard is that everytime she tosses or turn and i get up to check her (i am a very very light sleeper), she worries about me! asks me to not get up, catch up on my sleep lest i wont make it to work the next day, will be tired, if i need an extra pillow, if i want a coffee. i just hope that someday, at her age perhaps, i am one tenth as giving, one tenth as magnanimous and one tenth as large hearted.

Monday, November 07, 2005

 

Rituals and Measure for Measure

The last few weeks I have browsed a lot of blogs which have their bloggers turning their nose up at rituals. Could name atleast 5 blogs which talk about it. For me, its pure symbolism. These nuances which make life so much more interesting. The sublime connotations of inviting the goddess of wealth (yes, we hindoos are metaphysical and materialistic at the same time. It’s the duality which makes us so unique…if billions can be unique, that is). The marigolds. Lighting the diyas as an act of warding off evil, inviting the good. Crushing the bitter fruit (only my granny knew what its called) with the foot to symbolise ravana’s or nakara’s evil head! There such a story behind everything. And we look elsewhere for our fables. Ridiculous! No harry potter gives you this interaction story montage. Participatory story telling at its best. So all you cynics…go burn up on dussera! Muhahahaha.


Measure for Measure

A la shakespeare. NCPA is one of the most beatiful modern buildings in bombay. So it was a perfect setting for a large production- complicite- to perform at. Nariman point. The queens necklace. Cuffe parade and walkeshwar. Bombay, I frigging love you. The entrance foyer is awesome. Sattvario floors, chndeliers, marble busts, winding staircases and heavy balustrades, the wall to wall carpeting. The fancy crowd. One of the best I have seen in the city. A refreshing change from the suburban television stars (ughs!). the lokhandwala-punjabi-dumb variety is what I am sick of. Ban the television or shoot that ekta.

The play per say was ok. The production design was brilliant (understatement). Lighting and audio video projection was fantabulously awesome. The humour was too british to be appreciated. Ran into half my aesthetics class there (ok, not half but 5 classmates), an ex-colleague, 2 other friends…went with a friend who is a theater aficionado of sorts. Spotted habib tanvir (who my friend insisted on addressing as habib saab). But I have no comments on that. The friend is from delhi. Actively invovled (was) in the theatre scene, performed on the same stage as konkona sensharma! Wow! We went to mondy’s (Mondegar for the unsuspecting) for dinner afterwards. Beer, peanuts, egg curry and rice. The good life!

But I felt a little cheated With the play. It wasn’t very prithvi. The setting was too grandiose and glitzy and big. It lacked the small intimacy of prithvi theatre and what it stands for. I still prefer my plays at prithvi, the small productions, high on script and acting. Low on production value. The irish coffee, the yummy hot samosas, the chicken junglee sandwiches (I hv no idea why its called junglee).

Am dying to get a copy of ismat chugtai’s works. Want to read lihaaf and tehri lakeer. Currently reading non-fiction by umberto eco. Still hung over from ‘last song of dusk’. Ouch.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

 

Last song of dusk

Its been a while since I read a book that made me so sad. Siddharth dhanvant sanghvi is bloody good. Critics say its too lyrical. Nonsense. Its liquid. Its so melancholic that it makes you smile. The magic realism is very marquez-like. But the context is so rooted. The characters are quirky and eccentric. Set in bombay of the 1920’s, this charming novel is sheer poetry. Like one critic on the back cover is quoted- kundera has a tropical heir.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

 

glass palace

met someone today who saw right through me. it was scary.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

 

diwali diwali

had a great long holiday. lots of food. mithai. diyas. mariglods. went to jazz for a kareoke night and sang on the eve of diwali. the songs were to bring in diwali. the vodka tonics helped. sang pretty woman. hahaha.
but had a great time. great. diwali day was more food. sleep. went to olive for drinks and dinner. wanted to do something glitzy and nice. indulge. did just that. then out of the blue. played cards all night and won some money. all that i blew up on the drinks. hehe. great diwali.
new year was more sober. slept all day. met relatives. cooked dinner. pasta. nice. diyas. dishes. haha.

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