Friday, July 28, 2006

Amazing Bollywood - I

I travel to Pune atleast 3 to 4 times a month and always take the Volvo bus service. This gives me a chance to watch Hindi movies which I otherwise don’t. I have been surprised by a few movies but most of the time the movies reaffirm that my conviction of most Bollywood movies being in a decrepit stat of affairs.

Now is the right moment for me to mention the multi–starrer Dus in this post. I am not going go on a scene by scene autopsy; talking about the climax will be fun enough. For those who have not seen the movie, here’s the gist of it – Abhishek Bachchan is flying a plane loaded with explosives that can blow up an entire town; Esha Deol is sitting beside him with a I–will–die–for–my–love–if–I–have–to look on her face (at least this is what I guess she was struggling to portray while the pained look of someone suffering from acute constipation was what we got to see).

Abhishek is a member of the Indian version of a mix of CIA & FBI (as in, they work pretty much like FBI but their duties and responsibilities are pretty much close to what CIA does) and Esha is a member of the terrorist group who turns coat at the last moment for the sake of her love. They have just decided to take the plane beyond the city limits, cause if the timed explosives burst within the city limits, thousands of people will die. Now, on the other side of the town, Sanjay Dutt (who is playing the top boss of that FBI–CIA combo and also Abhishek’s elder brother) is almost about to nab the master mind behind the terrorist act that they have just foiled. In other parts of the town Sunil Shetty and Zayed Khan are also doing similar acts of bravery and saving this world from terrorists. All these people are at all the times connected to each other by some miracle of modern communication.

Now the clincher – the plane Abhishek is trying to take out of the town is running out of fuel and Abhishek has two choices in front of him – he can either dive into the lake with the plane ( thus kill himself but at the same time save thousands of innocent lives) or he can eject himself and let the plane fall wherever it manages to fall. Dear Abhishek is unable to make the choice. So he asks his elder brother – correction – his boss to give him order to dive into the lake. The boss – correction – elder brother feigns being under immense duress. In an example of the hammiest of all ham scenes – Sanjay Dutt is rolling on the floor of the lobby, screaming and kicking, quite unable to utter even a single word (while the terrorist manages to run away). Sunil Shetty & Zayed Khan, who are always tuned in to the action somehow, start screaming their throats hoarse, asking Abhishek to dump the stupid plane and jump off. They also address the almost–paralytic Sanjay Dutt and ask him to command Abhishek to jump off of the bloody plane. Abhishek continues demanding that his boss should give him the go–ahead.

This drama ensues for quite a few minutes (it sure felt like it went on for hours and hours) and in the end Sanjay Dutt does this world a favor by allowing his younger brother to dive into the lake with the plane.

I am amazed the writers thought there was a conflict there. Hello? When the choice is death of thousands of people vs. a soldier and his moll, I think only a dumbo will write up the entire climax based on that dilemma. And as if this was not stupid enough, two of the soldiers are egging for the third soldier to dump the plane on top of the city and save his life. Amazing Bollywood.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006




Good Design - IV

This cup and the accompanying thing that can be called a saucer are on my 'wanted' list. Villeroy & Boch, a German company is one of the finest tableware makers in the world and has been doing it since 1748.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006




Creativity

I have often wondered if creativity is like sleep. Sometimes you are brimming with sleep and sometimes you stay awake all night. There have been times when I had to write something & just couldn’t do anything. There have also been times when I open my note book and words start flowing and by the end of that spell when I reread my work I feel good and there is a sense of achievement.

I write short stories. They are really really short most of the times, thanks to my lack of patience. I am more of a Pop kind of person. Sometimes I finish a story in a single sitting. Sometimes I start on a very good note but somewhere in the middle I lose the fizz and it takes months to complete it. Is this the case with everyone? Or am I just partially creative?

I wonder. Do I wonder a lot?



Bomb Scare

The Tuesday bombings have managed to turn the reclusive Bombayite into an alert citizen. I was in the middle of devouring Brandon Routh when someone in the row behind me shouted “Someone’s left a bag here”. There were some 40-50 people in that large auditorium. I turned around to see a fat bag sitting on its own two rows behind me. The guy who raised the alarm started picking up his stuff and making a move. It didn’t take a second for all the others to follow suit. Somebody started shouting “Be Calm! Walk out slowly, do not rush”. My heart was fighting to leap out of my throat. I joined the thick line making its way out of the theatre. By the time I reached the doors of the auditorium, the theatre administration had reached there in full attendance. The lights were turned on in the auditorium and the big doors were being closed, when a guy came running from the toilets shouting “What Happened? Wait, let me get my bag!”

All of us who were still loitering there hoping it to be a false alarm laughed and cursed at the same time. So, it was a false alarm. The guy was saved much embarrassment by the darkness in the theatre.

There was this wiry lady in her spaghetti top, super tight jeans and silver manolos, carrying a Louis Vuitton pouch who was complaining about allowing bags in the auditorium. The lady forgot that unlike her some of us carry our stuff with us or are returning from college/school/work or just finished shopping.

******************

Bags have become carriers of trouble now. I wonder if people standing in the train are offering to put someone else’s bag on the over head rack anymore. You never know who might get off without taking his bag.

I wonder a lot.



Of arranged marriages & life long relationships

I have always wondered about the chemistry between couples from the last generation who had an arranged marriage. My parents included. My dad had seen just a black and white picture of my mom and my mom had been given that privilege. My grandfathers decided everything and one fine day they were married.

My mom is a pure vegetarian. Her strictness about this matter can be easily understood from the fact that we have a separate set of stove and utensils which are used to make egg. That’s it. Meat can not be cooked in my house. Lately, ever since both their sons left home she has been a little lenient about this and dad can order meat from outside. This was but one point where my parents were on the either side of the divide.

My dad was a smoker and a social drinker. He still is. My mom dislikes both these qualities (??) in a man.

My mom loved watching movies. My dad could never manage to sit through a 3 hour long movie. He invariably used to doze off. This is something about my dad that I have never been able to figure out. He sits in front of the TV and watches sports – every kind of sport. Someone watching football or cricket or even hockey is okay but I could never understand the desire in some people to watch something like Golf or Car racing or the mother of all – a Cricket Test Match. I could never understand what is so great about watching two men trying to dodge balls or hit them half heartedly over a period of 5 days. Needless to say, my mom detests sports. I think it is ‘watching sports’ more than ‘sports’.

My mom is a great cook and a food lover. My dad has very specific taste in food and doesn’t love experimenting at all.

My mom is quite talkative and as expected, my dad can spend days without uttering a word.

My mom loves visiting relatives and friends and my dad considers socializing a pain.

My dad loves spending on good things in life and my mother starts fidgeting even at the mention of something that might mean dishing out moolah.

My dad gives quality more weight than quantity. My mom on the other hand keeps buying stuff just because it is cheap and we end up with a whole lot of unnecessary stuff that we might never need.

My dad likes an uncluttered house, while my mom is quite a trinket collector.

The point I am trying to hammer in is that these two people who are in the 28th year of their marriage are totally opposite personalities. But somehow they have stayed together and have managed to raise two sane and working kids and are now looking forward to their old age. Like any other conservative Indian family there has never been a public display of affection between the two. Public here includes their children. If one were to look at their lives from our point of view, they have had a dreary & unromantic life. Of course they have their funny moments, but life doesn’t move on humor alone. Where is the love? What has kept them together for so long despite them spending half of their married life standing on each other’s nerves?

Is this what they call “working on a relationship”? Have they made their relationship work? Is this the formula to a successful relationship? Adjustments, understanding, patience, ignoring shortcomings, lessening expectations. It sounds like a punishment to me.

Do all couples who are brought together in the same manner end up falling in love with each other? Has our generation managed to discover the secret to a long term relationship? We, with all our preferences, expectations, rules, prejudices and definitions.

I wonder a lot.


Good Design - III

Next in line is a urinal designed by Phillipe Starck (Once Again!) for the German company Duravit. This urinal is featured at the Munich Gallery of Contemporary Art. Starck & Duravit (The Marcedes Of Sanitary ware industry) came together in 1994 and ever since together they have been creating wonders. Most of these items have won the Red Dot Design award and various other awards.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

The Business of Selling News

On the night of the Terrible Tuesday I sat at A’s parent’s place watching TV, flipping through the news channels. I haven’t subscribed to cable TV in this new place we moved into last year. I have been off of television for the longest period ever in my life. But my TV watching habits are not what I want to talk about here…

Of all the channels telecasting the details of the carnage, one stood apart for various reasons. In order to avoid unwanted controversies I will henceforth call that channel – Indian TV.

The aforementioned channel tried to become the staple channel of all news devouring couch potatoes by cooking up the casting couch drama (the Aman Varma & Shakti Kapoor stints). A strategy which might work in this mad race of television channels and short attention span of the viewers.

Anyhow, there was R. Kapoor talking about the blasts with his trademark mono-emot-iconic face and the lower half of the frame was covered with a thick band of super-imposed text screaming “Breaking News” and “Exclusive Video, coming up next”. The text kept blinking for more than fifteen minutes or so - in the manner of a Volvo-Bus to Pune which will be kept waiting until there are enough people on board for it to start the journey.

The text then changed to “Exclusive Video after the break”. This was followed by a long 5-7 minute slot of ads which kindly informed us as to how a detergent made of the same materials as any other, except with a special and more expensive perfume in it can clean even the dirtiest of clothes in less time.

That was followed by a Casanova father and his can’t-act-to-save-his-life drug addict son bonding over cancer-inducing mouth freshener (gutka); how a dead father’s blessings are going to take India to the path of success and growth when it could not keep the sons together.

Next in the LONG line of adverts was about how writing with a pen that has a meter in it helps you keep a tab on the length of material you have written, as if we don’t have enough figures making our life difficult (OH, and let’s not wait, this is like the 10th minute passing as we all anxiously are waiting for that “Exclusive Video” they’d promised before breaking into a rash of ads). Aaaaaaaand… how a designer “toilet” made a lady stay in the toilet all day to forget about everything else in the world; how drinking a particular brand of insecticide (Darth Cola) makes your TV watching experience all the better.

We also learned how putting pulses (dals) in wheat flour noodles will make sure your children run around in circles with circus clown-type-rigor-mortis-smiles because they were sick and tired of eating the same dal-roti (lentil soup and flat bread) all day and everyday (have I mentioned that this is all ABSOLUTELY CRASS BULLSHIT?).

Let’s not forget the one that showed how you wonderful it can be if your SUV (which must be hidden from plain sight under SNOW in your front yard) can be uncovered with the help of a beautiful damsel (especially if she smiles and acts the way James Bond-Gals do) – oh yeah, and she MUST use the blades of a chopper to clear the snow from the SUV in order for you to experience a FULL THROTLE orgasm!

Humph! Poppy-cock!

There was more but I couldn’t stomach writing it all down…

So, after the break, followed by more breaks, followed by even more… etc. The proclamation was still flashing at the bottom announcing this MUCH AWAITIED exclusive video which apparently only this channel had.

A little later the much hyped video was there – the handy work of a guy who returned to the Bandra explosion site with a camera and shot the scenes of body parts strewn across the length and breadth of the explosion site. I watched the entire video. Ghastly though it was, it did help me understand the entirety of the situation.

Let’s admit it, for most of us “Terror Tuesday” will be counted as just one of the many days we’ve faced down in Mumbai that left us a little worse for wear, but nothing more. BUT, for many hundreds of unfortunates, that day was the end of their lives as they knew it. The fact that I barely escaped death (by a window of just 4 minutes in fact) etched that day a little more deeply into my memory.

What I am trying to say is that the video shot by an amateur did help many of us experience the gruesome reality of that day. For all those who didn’t have a friend or family member affected by the blasts, those uncensored shots gave them a dose of reality and made them realise the pain others were experiencing first-hand.

But… I really didn’t work up myself to write about the effects of that video; rather, it was to write about the manner in which it was presented. The channel did as much marketing of the small video as was possible within that limited time period; as if it were an exclusive video of an upcoming multi-star-cast movie. You could say that what pissed me most was that they topped it all off by trying to earn as much as possible from that footage, regardless of the meaning of the content, as possible.

I wonder if people working with news channels actually jump with joy when they come across something as exclusive as that video was and start counting the TRP’s that are assured by something like it.

I wonder if advertising agencies go berserk buying spots on some such night when they are sure that everyone will be glued to their televisions.

I wonder if the reporters pray for a night like this to come and add to their fortunes. There they are, with their mikes in their hands, shoving them up into people’s noses with the quintessential cameraman trying to capture the face of “the crying woman who wants to hide her face but is too distraught to do so”; continuing with the reporter screaming into her mike about the “plight of this young woman, married only two months who has lost her husband in this gruesome act of terrorism”. Screaming even louder – “What is her future now? Where will she go? What HAS SHE DONE TO DESERVE THIS??? Who will answer these questions? LET’S NOW SHOVE MY MIKE WHERE SHE CAN SEE IT AND ASK – HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT ALL THIS MA’AM????”

Arrrgh! I felt like getting up and smacking the son-of-a-bitch over her head.

I wonder a lot.
In The Lou, On My Phone

I’ve never refrained from receiving calls while I am sitting on the toilet – but, when I do I always become very conscious about the noises that are inevitable. For instance, (I would suggest that for those of you who are faint-hearted or get grossed out easily, you take this as your cue to stop reading!) I try not to make any ‘plop-plop’ sounds by moving my buttocks backwards so that the waste falls to the ceramic and not directly into the water. Also, I never douche myself while still conversing. And finally, flushing the toilet if STILL on the phone is TOTALLY out of the question, entirely.

But you know, this behavioural quirk of mine had a new light shone on it just recently… I’ve been given an eye opener!

I’d caught A while he was still at home and in the process of getting ready to leave. One of his numerous ‘getting ready rituals’ is sitting on the toilet with Mr. Robert Jordan or Mr. Terry Goodkind (or whoever is the flavor of the moment) and savoring a few chapters. This is a time consuming activity for him.

Anyhow, that day when I called him he was sitting on the toilet and was just finishing off. All of the sudden I heard some static, or I thought I did. Then, a little bit later there it was again, except LOUDER (I began to think his signal was flashing in and out). I asked him if everything was okay with his phone – and now here I digress…

He’s been meaning to buy a newer and more expensive phone for ages and I gasped to think that he might have a valid reason to do so; which would thus take away my reason for telling him each time he mentioned it, ‘There you go again, wanting to spend on your fanciful whims.’

Well upon being asked he blithely informed me that what I was listening to was FIRST the plip-plop of his feces meeting the water beneath, followed by him using the jet spray to douche-clean and finishing off with the grand finale: The Flushing of the Toilet.

I gasped again... So THIS was how my ritual of shitting sounds to the person on the other side of the line?

I must say, this was certainly a GREAT and IMPORTANT news flash for me! From now on I’ll never hesitate to Shit Away, even if talking to someone in the lou on my phone!

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Fate

Fate… this four letter word has been underestimated, undermined and discredited by many a winner throughout the history of mankind. They say ‘fate’ is an excuse for incompetence, ignorance, failure.

On Tuesday, I got on 17:46 Borivali bound slow-train from Mumbai Central. I had been up since 6 in the morning and had a very tiring day, so I dozed off as soon as the train started to lumber its way forward to my destination.

Fate… these four letters, and these alone can explain what happened next.

Upon nearing Vile Parle Station, I suddenly woke with a jolt. I’d been fast asleep the whole way (something of a 30 minute journey). As I glanced at my watch I noticed that I had a good lot of time on my hands before A would be free from his class to join me at home. I really can’t pin the exact reason down, but for SOME reason I suddenly felt that it would be great to get off at Andheri and buy a LAN port which I’d been meaning to buy for several weeks.

I got up to leave the train and buy that obscure item – regardless of the fact that I am generally a lazy and procrastinating personality. To explain it away, to brush off this strange, nearly paranormal desire to get up and shrug off my sleepiness, I can say that this computer part was only readily available from a shop I know is no more than 10 minutes from the Andheri Station… but that wouldn’t REALLY justify my actions… Fate would be a much better word to use here.

I got off at Andheri station at 18:20 or so.

At 18:40 KS called me from Bangalore and told me about the blasts. KS informed me about another friend of ours who got injured in the Mahim blast. I immediately made my way to A’s parent’s place. By that time phone networks had busted. I was unable to reach A or anyone else. When I reached A’s parent’s home I got the full details of the bombings. It was much later during the night, while watching the continuously recurrent updates regarding the bomb blasts that the TIMINGS of the blasts really struck a chord.

The train I got off from must have reached Jogeshwari (next station) by about 18:24 (it usually takes 3-4 minutes for a train to reach Jogeshwari from Andheri). The blast at Jogeshwari happened at approximately 18:25. I will always wonder if it was the same train and the same bogie that I’d been sitting in not more than 4 minutes ago.

My lifelong doubts in the workings and existence of Fate suddenly came CRASHING down on me. I was shaken and amazed.

Amongst the numerous stories being shown on the news channels, the story of a Goregaon based diamond dealer struck me as a clear work of fate as well. He started for home much earlier than most days and lost his life in the Jogeshwari blast.

My friend who got injured in the Mahim blast is recovering in Sion hospital.

I am still not over all this. As per the latest reports the death toll was at 190 and the injured list at around 650. I think about the families of those 190 people. I think about those injured who have lost an eye or a limb or a leg or some other vital part of their body. I think about the people who were on the tracks till next morning, helping others, clearing the bodies and debris. I think about those parents/spouses who will always fear about the lives of their loved ones who have no option but to travel by the trains. I think about the ‘lifeline’ of Mumbai and I feel the vulnerability of this lifeline. I think about the times I have slept in the train while commuting from Churchgate to Borivali. Would I be able to close my eyes while I am on the train? Would I be even taking a train anymore? Would I be able to prevent a similar thing from happening? Do I have a choice?

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Top 10 Reasons My Faster-Than-Light Car Rules:

10) Stephen Hawking always wants to carpool.

9) Breaking the laws of physics is only a misdemeanor in most states.

8) Traffic enforcement is pretty much limited to cops with Ph.D.'s in Quantum Physics.

7) Bugs - they never see you comin'.

6) I can get to the good hookers before Charlie Sheen.

5) I made a fortune selling pizza with the slogan "It's there before you order or it's free!"

4) I sleep until noon and still get to work by 8:00am!

3) I'm never in the car long enough to hear an entire Madonna song.

2) My cigar butts don't land in the back seat, they land in last week! ... and the number one cool thing about my faster-than-light car is ... 2)

1) I get a license plate that reads "ME = MC^2"

Good Design - II

This citrus juicer is another example of brilliance of Phillipe Starck. His designs are essentially simple and simply brilliant. Mind you, all his creations are highly functional and there is nothing superfluous about them...at least, that's what I think.

Good Design - I

This Chappal designed by Phillipe Starck for Puma is an eye-catcher. I am a Starck fan and this is one of his numerous creations that I love very much.
A Super Day

It's been a long and wonderful day. Holiday in the middle of the week. Don't you love it when you get a Friday on a Wednesday? I have been working my ass and blowing my mind off lately. Two of my close gal-pals have come over and we are having a nice time together. Movies, cooking, lots and lots of blah-blahing and whole lot of bonding.

It is half past eleven in the night; my partner is in the kitchen, supervising the making of the Coffee; I is whiling away the time by messaging someone on the phone and C is busy making the perfect Coffee. I felt this urge to write. And here I am blotting the screen.

I used to write a lot. Much before the Blog days, I used to write in my nice note-books. Used to write all the time - a boring lecture, waiting for friends at a coffee shop, at home when not in the mood to study and had to pretend due to parental pressure. Used to write just about anything under the sun - the pronunciation of the Bengali lecturer, his affair with the senior, about the tall and sick looking guy who was somehow under the impression that he resembled Ritik Roshan, the 178th crush, younger brother's attitude problem, mom's incessant nagging about my studies, job, career, life and everything in general, my 179th crush, my first brush with a gay site on the net, about Ganges and it's ghaats and many more things. I also used to do some poetry and short stories. Then I landed a job and came to Mumbai.

Coming down to Mumbai was a big thing. I got almost lost in this big city. Fortunately I met my boyfriend in the second month of my coming down to Mumbai. We have been together ever since. We just completed three years of our togetherness.

I am listening to Albinoni's Adagio in G and then I have lined up Vangelis, Vaughn Williams (Greensleeves on Fantasia), Vanessa Mae (Listen to her new album Choreography) and some contemporary music. I am big-time into music. All and any kind of music. Contemporary (Enya, Mike oldfield, Secret Garden, Loreena Mckernitt, Sarah Brightman, Bond, Vanessa Mae, Dario G, Enigma, Deep Forest, Gershwin, Hevia, Riverdance, the list goes on and on and on and on....), Pop & rock, Hindi movies, Western Classical, Ghazals. I can't bear shouting and heavy metal. Feel sorry for the singers and the listeners when I look at the rock shows, where the singers are going crazy on the stage and the listeners are following suit. But then I don't think i should be judgmental. Probably those very listeners will look at me and think "yawn! Who listens to the ant-music?"

We watched Raising Helen (I love Kate Hudson - in a very asexual way :-)), Mickey Blue eyes (Somehow I never felt anything for Hugh Grant. I might not look at him closely even if he danced naked before my eyes) and soon we'd be starting on another movie. Right now, all three of them are discussing mosquito bites and red ants.

Tomorrow onwards work starts; it's going to be as bad a 7 a.m Virar-Churchgate train. No wait; add boarding at Andheri to that. I have to go to Kolhapur ( I have to figure it out on the map) & Goa next week. Later on I have to go to Ahmedabad; then Pune; then Bangalore and thereafter chennai. By the time I return from Chennai, it will be the end of the October. I don't mind the traveling part. That’s when I get some respite from work and phone calls. The best thing about my job is meeting new people. Guys, guys and more guys, punctuated with a few girls. It feels really bad when I come across some great looking guy with shitty attitude. What a waste.

I guess, I will leave this here....will join in later.
Write Something

I am itching to write but nothing is coming to my mind. Just read the postings by my friend Polonius and had an overdose of inferiority-complex. Have recovered partially. This fast recovery can be credited to my inner self telling my brain "ki bachche ne abhi abhi blogging shuroo ki hai. kuch din aur do, ye bhi unki tarah likhega." Sigh!

I got a few responses for my story. Apart from the regular "nice stuff, keep writing" responses there were a couple of guys who congratulated me on the way I took things in my stride; they commented upon Krish and Aarif and how I am lucky to have such guys in my life. Duh! Last time when I posted a story, I used the words " my story" by mistake and a lot of people wrote to me under the impression that I had narrated my own life story. Humph! So, this time i took extra precaution and wrote " a story written by me". But it doesn't seem to be much helpful. I will save my snide remarks for other times, after all these guys wrote nice things to me.

I am listening to Wild Horses by Natasha Beddingfield. Funny last name, nice song.

A's parents will be returning from Canada in November. He is expecting his Apple ipod, his new silver flute, lots and lots of music and fantasy books, Martha Stewart sheets, whole lot of dance clothes and other supplies, M's laptop, a semi-professional video camera and many other things. Poor mummy, all she has been doing in the last few months that she has been there is coordinate between her children and the different vendors.

M's career seemed like going somewhere after she did that RGV movie with that hideous bitch in the lead. But it seems TL got more footage out of it despite doing a non-descript song, just because he is already a known name.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Cooking

I have been bugged. There is something in the air that's making me lazy. I am naturally a lazy person. But there is more than the usual amount of laziness. I am very successfully avoiding thinking about my responsibilities. Strangely enough, my mind which is acting lazy otherwise, is very aptly finding reasons why I should put off a work. I am hungry. It's my turn to cook. But I don't feel like moving from my place. Can't order from outside; we have been eating a lot of junk and will be eating out on Sunday; so the circumstances dictate that food be cooked at home - healthy food. I can cook good food. I mean I have that culinary gift. I have heard people saying "haath mein jaadu"- that's what I mean by culinary gift. I can make tasty food, but I hate cooking most of the times. Mostly because i am a very lazy person. My brain is lazier. It keeps inventing excuses and i keep following it.

We ate strawberry preserve and biscuits for lunch. Great combo. Also requires no time and energy in its preparation. Perfect for slothful trolls like the two of us.


Reliving 26/7



For once the forecasts have been accurate. I stayed at home after reading the weather forecast in yesterday’s paper (torrential rain accompanied with heavy wind) and I am glad that I did. It’s the same even today and I am once again at home, in the warmth and safety of my 1 bhk. Sitting in front of my computer with a large and steaming cup of coffee, I am trying to relive 26/7 in my mind. Shivers…

Yesterday morning I had gone on the terrace to clear the garbage & debris blocking the drains. I plucked out tonnes of (it seemed like) hair, empty toothpaste tubes, toothpaste tube caps, leaves, paper, plastic bags, cigarette stubs and whole lot of such stuff. While climbing the stairs I fantasized about letting myself drenched in the rain water. Getting wet on the secluded roof is not a bad idea. One can hop and jump and do whatever they want to. With all these fantasies brewing in my head, I reached the top of the stairs and stepped out on the terrace. The moment the first few drops touched my body I let out a subdued shriek and immediately got to work on opening the umbrella with fumbling hands. It was cold. Chilled actually. The job of cleaning the drains which seemed like a joyful act in the warmth of my room became a daunting task. I somehow finished it and rushed to safety.

Both of us have been at home since yesterday morning. Having a break during the week is always welcome. We have been watching movies and catching up with our reading. Casanova, In her shoes, Fun with Dick & Jane – all nice and funny movies. Casanova is a period comedy, reminds you of Shakespearian comedies. In her shoes is a very cute and warm movie; loved every part of it – a must watch. Fun with Dick & Jane is also funny and cute, hilarious at times. The producers – badly done, boring (except for a few fleeting moments here and there). The last emperor – depressing.

I started this post to talk about our experiences during the deluge in 2005. Last year on 26th July, it rained a damning 944 mm on Mumbai. Statistically, the amount of water that poured on Mumbai during that single day was more than enough to cater to Mumbai’s 12 million plus population for a year (subjectivity to this statistical rendition due to highly emotional quotient of the render when thinking about the fateful day).

I was staying at my partner’s parents place in Andheri west. They had gone to Canada for a few months and we had the place to ourselves, along with A’s sister M. When we woke up that day it was raining heavily and none of us paid much attention to it. We went about our daily chores. The only discount to the daily affairs that we made owing to the rains was that none of us reported for work. By ten, it started getting an occasional mention, like, “wow! Do you realize it has not stopped raining even for a second since we woke up this morning?” We made bhajiya (onion rings and other seasonal vegetables coated in gram-flour and deep fried; usually taken with tomato ketchup on the side or chilly-coriander-garlic-ginger-tomato chutney) and hot tea and sat on the ledge watching the rain falling on the Mumbai skyline. The view from the 14th storey window was breathtaking for sure.

By eleven M started feeling an itch to do something and decided to go out in the rain on the pretense of paying some bill or the other. We got her ready to face the rains and send her off.

By two we had not heard from M and her mobile was not reachable. It had not stopped raining yet and we were beginning to worry about M.

At three we received a call from M, who was using someone else’s mobile (all GSM networks had either died or were in the process; at least my Hutch was not working; CDMA phones were alive and kicking. Luckily, A had a Reliance mobile)to tell us that she was stuck at Meethibai junction in waist deep water. The first thought that came to my mind was – eeoow! Meethibai Junction is so full of garbage! Then realized the plight of sis stuck in waist deep water and hit the panic button as expected.

Both of us got ready and left the house immediately. Asked her to stay put and be brave. While going down the stairs (power cut made sure I do what even an year long gym membership had not been able to do to me – sweat; as no elevators work without power) I was thinking of the shortest route to the Link road, where was going to hail a cab and be at the Meethibai junction within a matter of few minutes.

When we reached the Fun Republic/Balaji lane, the specter in front of our eyes made no sense. The lane that connects the Veera Desai extension to the Link road had turned into a mountain river roaring down the valley. We took the plunge and moved forward towards Link road, at the same time my plans for taxis came crumbling down beside me. The water level was around our thighs but the flow was so heavy that we were finding it hard to stay on our foot.

Wading through this mini-mountain river had not prepared us for the scene that was waiting for us on the Link road. All of a sudden we were standing on the sets of ‘The day after tomorrow’. There was an endless train of vehicles stalled and left on their own on both sides of the road. People making it on foot, wading through almost waist deep water. At some places the water was as deep as upper abdomen and that is some height considering the fact that both of us are 6 ft tall.

We started towards Indian Oil Nagar and were going to take a left turn from Saurashtra Circle. We continued walking towards our destination (Juhu Gali Junction, where M was sitting in a bus, waiting for us). While we were crossing Indian Oil junction we saw a guy walking on his own, huddled into himself, totally drenched from top to bottom. Everyone was in a group of 2 or more people, as it was not really possible to move without help. We went up to him and offered him our hands which he took gladly. This was probably the only good thing that happened to us that day. After both of us took his hands from both the sides I noticed our catch – a really nice looking fellow and was immediately a little thankful to god for giving us such a perfect reason to hold hands with a straight stud. We started talking and came to know that the guy was a Pakistani from Karachi, on a visit to his aunt’s place. Poor thing had to go to Mahim; found him guys who were on their way to Bandra and he accompanied them after thanking us duly, with a firm shake of hands and a hug.

By the time we reached the Juhu Gali junction it was eight thirty in the night (it took us four and half hours to travel a distance that usually takes just about 15-20 minutes under ordinary circumstances. We found her bus and got into it. M was almost hysterical in a subdued sort of way. She kept telling us about her experiences over and again, as if she was not able to believe what had happened. I perfectly understand – being born and brought up in Canada, she has had a very secure life and that day’s experience shook her from within.

The other people sitting in the bus gave a loud cheer and clapped for us when they heard that we had come all the way from Veera Desai looking for our sister. It was a bit embarrassing.

We spend the night in the bus. The good residents of the housing societies on the Gulmohar road send water, tea & snacks to all the buses (there were more than 20-25 buses stuck on that road and all brimming with people seeking shelter.

Throughout the night people kept moving through the water and I was stunned when I heard that someone had walked all the way from Churchgate. I was not able to sleep and kept looking outside from the window at an Indica car, almost submerged in water. It worked for me like a sand clock; I kept feeling better everytime I looked at it and found that the water was receding.

Next morning at about 5:30, the three of us started towards home and by 8 we were climbing stairs to our 14 storey apartment.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Normality:

"Normality is merely a matter of consensus, that is a lot of people think something is right, & so that becomes right.

If you force yourself to be the same as everyone else, it's a distortion of nature, it goes against God's laws; for in all the world's woods and forests, He did not create a single leaf the same as other."

Sunday, July 02, 2006





Bridget Jones' Diary

I finished the 11th Wheel of Time book and was bookless for a long time. Not because didn't have any to read (Samit Basu's sequel to Simoquin Prophecies, Anurag Mathur's Department of Denials & The last two books of the Amulet of Samarkand series were lying on the shelf cursing my reading pattern) but because I was caught in the WoT warp. I am sure this must have happened to you as well - you finish a good book and then you live in that book for sometime, not willing to leave that fantasy world you create while reading the book.

I couldn't start a new book, but had to have something to read. I need a book while I am sitting on the shitpot, or in a rickshaw, train, waiting for an appointment, travelling, before sleeping. So, at such times I pick up one of the Bridget books. Love the way Helen Fielding writes. And Bridget is my favorite British woman.

" Tuesday 25 February

No. of times driven past Mark Darcy's house to see if there are any lights on - 2 (or 4 if count both ways). No. of times dialled 141 (so cannot trace my number if he dials 1471s) then rang his answerphone just to hear his voice - 5 (Bad) (V.Good for not leaving message though). No. of times looked Mark Darcy's number up in phone book just to prove to self he still exists - 2 (very restrained). Percentage of outgoing calls made from mobile to keep line clear in case he rings - 100. Percentage of incoming callers creating angry resentment for not being Mark Darcy - unless ringing to talk about Mark Darcy - and urged to get off the phone as quickly as possible in case blocking calls from Mark Darcy - 100."

The movies are a lot different from the books and though Rene is a delight and does full justice to the character, I like the books better than the movies. I am thankful to the casting director or whoever settled upon Rene's name for the role for giving me a perfect face to put to Bridget.


Can't figure out a thing...

So I am blogging now, once again and unlike the last time I am posting regularly. But there are a few things I'm unable to figure out. You don't have to look too closely to figure out the bad shape my blog is in. The Links area is missing & the Previous Posts consists the enitre first line for title.

Have been visiting blogs since morning and the works people have done on their pages is mind-numbing. I tried doing something with the codes and messed up badly. The link to my story blog opened wikipedia and the rest of the links were not even visible. Tried installing a counter, or I did install - but can't find it either. Guess, will figure out things as time passes by.

Lost a big order to a competitor. Had predicted this outcome to my boss long ago. But then he was being Deepak Chopra-ish you-can-do-it type person. He believed I will be able to pull a rabbit from the hat. I don't know how am I supposed to infiltrate the fortress built on greed with currency gates guarding the conscience and good sense of few strategically important people.