I know it's raining more than it has in the last 100 years out there.
I know most people are spending the nights wherever they are, be in at work, in their car or even, in my all time pet hate — crowded, squalid Dadar station.
I know it isn't much fun to have to walk through knee-deep or waist-deep water, which isn't exactly of five star swimming pool quality.
So will you consider me a complete nut if I say, despite all these, despite the fact that I will never get a decent-sized three bedroom apartment with lovely city view for the price I pay here in that submerged suburbia, I would still jump and pack my bags and take the first flight out, if only I got a chance to move to Bombay?
Don't get me wrong. I'm not cribbing. This is wishful thinking part II.
I did not like Delhi. Warmed up to bits of it by the time I left. I miss Khan Market. Ok not the whole of it. Only Cafe Turtle and Empire Stores. And now that I'm not working, it would have been fun to have gone pottering around Dilli Haat and Priya (Ok. Fact & Fiction) and when I felt obscenely rich, at least in my imagination, even Santushti and Hauz Khas Village. Though given the heat I doubt I'd have stepped out of home voluntarily. And would've been working had I been in Delhi I guess.
Sorry. Diversion happened there. So Delhi, by the end of my five year stay, was grudgingly passable. I quite like Bangalore. It's green, people take care of trees and the weather makes me smile and it has some nice places to hang around.
It's just that I like Bombay much, much better.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
Wishful Thinking
After partying nonstop for for six days and five nights, I am dropping dead. Literally. The house looked terribly empty this morning without our mad friends and the ensuing chaos...
...And it struck me hard that after a point, you continue making good friends. The kind you can comfortably party with on weekends and go on treks and drives. But none that can read your pulse as well as the old ones can.
So for once, after a long, long time, I wished, really wished that I was back in Bombay. The city where I made at least half a dozen friends-for-life.
...And it struck me hard that after a point, you continue making good friends. The kind you can comfortably party with on weekends and go on treks and drives. But none that can read your pulse as well as the old ones can.
So for once, after a long, long time, I wished, really wished that I was back in Bombay. The city where I made at least half a dozen friends-for-life.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Inside Hogwarts
Had booked an advanced copy at Crossword but was able to sit down with Harry only late last night as we had guests over the entire weekend. One of them even looked at the book with a slightly amused eye. Humph! Dear guest, go join AS Byatt. I'm glad to be a childish adult.*
Was at page 358 before I looked at the unearthly hour on the bedside clock and decided it wasn't worth reading with really droopy eyelids. Not to mention the head.
But the joys of not working can be wonderful! Shall dedicate rest of the day to Potter after checking mail (and blogging and reading about other Potter maniacs and wondering if Kahini is doing this too. We were both quite excited during the last book).
The weather is lovely and inviting enough to drag the bean bag into the balcony (not to mention a mug of hot chocolate) and race through the adventure which I think has a somewhat insipid start and an overall feeling of sadness despite the raging hormones. But makes a great read nevertheless.
Go back to work then, all you lovely people.
Ciao!
* Thank you for the link Parmanu. I don't agree with her views but they are interesting.
Was at page 358 before I looked at the unearthly hour on the bedside clock and decided it wasn't worth reading with really droopy eyelids. Not to mention the head.
But the joys of not working can be wonderful! Shall dedicate rest of the day to Potter after checking mail (and blogging and reading about other Potter maniacs and wondering if Kahini is doing this too. We were both quite excited during the last book).
The weather is lovely and inviting enough to drag the bean bag into the balcony (not to mention a mug of hot chocolate) and race through the adventure which I think has a somewhat insipid start and an overall feeling of sadness despite the raging hormones. But makes a great read nevertheless.
Go back to work then, all you lovely people.
Ciao!
* Thank you for the link Parmanu. I don't agree with her views but they are interesting.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Arranged Adventures
My little cousin (he isn’t reading this, so I can call him that) is getting married sometime soon. At least he plans to. He’s barely 25. Has a great and well paying job and thinks it’s time he got hitched and settled down.
If this were a Suraj Barjatya movie, his parents would’ve been ecstatic and a Bhagyashree type bahu who loves peeling carrots in the kitchen would’ve made her entrance already but my cousin has to deal with a formidable mom. And a somewhat baffled dad.
Maami (maternal aunt) and mama (maternal uncle) met in school when they were 16. He fell for her. She being a good girl from a good Bong family kept her feelings to herself. Until she was barely 20 and her parents decided to get her married off to some rich Bong businessman, who according to maami, looked like a toad and smelt worse.
Maami rebelled and helped by her brother went off to study in a college and live in a hostel somewhat far from home. Sometime later, she came home during the Durga Puja holidays and in true Bong romantic fashion bumped into mama in a Puja pandal (the place where the idol of Goddess Durga is kept. Scene of much merry and matchmaking).
The rest as they say is history. They married four years later, both of them working to save up for the future as parental support wasn’t exactly forthcoming. I have no idea why the parents on either side were opposed to the match since from the time I’ve seen them, they seemed to be on very cordial terms, but the cousin grapevine puts it down to ego clashes.
To get back to our young man, this is where the problem comes in. His parents cannot understand why, at an age when he should be going and checking out the world (and girls) and has all the liberty to do so, should he want his parents to open the matrimonial section of Sunday TOI and Anandbazaar Patrika and check out a girl for him.
And what they or my parents (who didn’t face parental opposition but did not need their help to find each other) cannot understand is: An arranged marriage? When we have given the boy all the liberty to choose whoever he likes, caste, creed, colour, language not a hindrance (as long as it’s a girl, they aren’t that liberal yet) and whenever. No deadlines here, please.
The boy, who was in Bangalore for a day on work and dutifully met me, thinks arranged marriages are wonderful. Here’s his logic: I’m working. I don’t have the time to meet a girl and even if I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to put in much time in getting to really know her, her background, etc. If it’s an arranged marriage my parents can do all that (Like date the girl and find out which books she likes, I suppose?) and once all these background issues are smoothened out, life is much easier.
Me and P sat silently, looking at each other throughout this self-assured dialogue delivery. Later P told me that some younger kids at his workplace thought the same way my cousin did. And I remembered a conversation with a friend long ago about how it’s mostly our generation (The 30 plus ones) who like taking risks, like waiting till the right one saunters along or deciding they don't need marriage to 'settle' altogether.
Is adventure no longer for the young?
If this were a Suraj Barjatya movie, his parents would’ve been ecstatic and a Bhagyashree type bahu who loves peeling carrots in the kitchen would’ve made her entrance already but my cousin has to deal with a formidable mom. And a somewhat baffled dad.
Maami (maternal aunt) and mama (maternal uncle) met in school when they were 16. He fell for her. She being a good girl from a good Bong family kept her feelings to herself. Until she was barely 20 and her parents decided to get her married off to some rich Bong businessman, who according to maami, looked like a toad and smelt worse.
Maami rebelled and helped by her brother went off to study in a college and live in a hostel somewhat far from home. Sometime later, she came home during the Durga Puja holidays and in true Bong romantic fashion bumped into mama in a Puja pandal (the place where the idol of Goddess Durga is kept. Scene of much merry and matchmaking).
The rest as they say is history. They married four years later, both of them working to save up for the future as parental support wasn’t exactly forthcoming. I have no idea why the parents on either side were opposed to the match since from the time I’ve seen them, they seemed to be on very cordial terms, but the cousin grapevine puts it down to ego clashes.
To get back to our young man, this is where the problem comes in. His parents cannot understand why, at an age when he should be going and checking out the world (and girls) and has all the liberty to do so, should he want his parents to open the matrimonial section of Sunday TOI and Anandbazaar Patrika and check out a girl for him.
And what they or my parents (who didn’t face parental opposition but did not need their help to find each other) cannot understand is: An arranged marriage? When we have given the boy all the liberty to choose whoever he likes, caste, creed, colour, language not a hindrance (as long as it’s a girl, they aren’t that liberal yet) and whenever. No deadlines here, please.
The boy, who was in Bangalore for a day on work and dutifully met me, thinks arranged marriages are wonderful. Here’s his logic: I’m working. I don’t have the time to meet a girl and even if I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to put in much time in getting to really know her, her background, etc. If it’s an arranged marriage my parents can do all that (Like date the girl and find out which books she likes, I suppose?) and once all these background issues are smoothened out, life is much easier.
Me and P sat silently, looking at each other throughout this self-assured dialogue delivery. Later P told me that some younger kids at his workplace thought the same way my cousin did. And I remembered a conversation with a friend long ago about how it’s mostly our generation (The 30 plus ones) who like taking risks, like waiting till the right one saunters along or deciding they don't need marriage to 'settle' altogether.
Is adventure no longer for the young?
Monday, July 11, 2005
Inky has sent me a book meme. Since I'm always confused when it comes to selecting favourite books etc, have been putting it off for a while but you never know about bad luck (or bad lux, as kid in my school would say). So here goes. Please skip if bored.
Number of Books owned:
Between 350-400? Haven't counted. Occupies one whole cupboard at the moment.
Books I recently brought:
Snobs: Julian Fellows. Same person who wrote Gosford Park, which I enjoyed quite a bit. Haven't started reading yet.
Black Friday: S Hussain Zaidi. Since P grabbed it before me, I started it last Thursday. Then switched on the television and heard about the London blasts. Eerie...
Skin: Margaret Mascarenhas. Bought it finally and re-read. I love this book. The incidents and characters are like peeling the layers of an onion.
Last book I read:
Well...finished Black Friday last night. So has to be that one.
One book that I couldn't finish:
Ha ha. The White Mughals by William Dalrymple. I did read the first, second, third, fourth, zzzz..., fifth, zzzz...and the last chapters and many of the pages in between but frankly, after a point I gave up. It was too heavy for bedtime reading anyway...
Five books I cherish:
This is a difficult one. There are so many of them. So just putting down the ones that randomly come to my mind.
Neither Here Nor There: Bill Bryson. Anytime I need a laugh.
84 Charing Cross Road: Helen Hanff. The one I have also has The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, Hanff's London travelogue. I LOVE this book.
Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe: Fannie Flagg. There's something about this one. It's a look into a different kind of life altogether.
Bridget Jones' Diary: Helen Fielding. I even like the film. Purely because of the two men in it, actually.
Comfort Me With Apples: Ruth Reichl. If you like reading about food, love, travel and finally finding your feet, read this one.
Now who shall I pass this on to:
Kahini (who introduced me to three of those cherished books and many more, at different points in life.), Subs and Colours.
Had to bug you girls, even if you've been tagged before.
*wicked laugh*
Number of Books owned:
Between 350-400? Haven't counted. Occupies one whole cupboard at the moment.
Books I recently brought:
Snobs: Julian Fellows. Same person who wrote Gosford Park, which I enjoyed quite a bit. Haven't started reading yet.
Black Friday: S Hussain Zaidi. Since P grabbed it before me, I started it last Thursday. Then switched on the television and heard about the London blasts. Eerie...
Skin: Margaret Mascarenhas. Bought it finally and re-read. I love this book. The incidents and characters are like peeling the layers of an onion.
Last book I read:
Well...finished Black Friday last night. So has to be that one.
One book that I couldn't finish:
Ha ha. The White Mughals by William Dalrymple. I did read the first, second, third, fourth, zzzz..., fifth, zzzz...and the last chapters and many of the pages in between but frankly, after a point I gave up. It was too heavy for bedtime reading anyway...
Five books I cherish:
This is a difficult one. There are so many of them. So just putting down the ones that randomly come to my mind.
Neither Here Nor There: Bill Bryson. Anytime I need a laugh.
84 Charing Cross Road: Helen Hanff. The one I have also has The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, Hanff's London travelogue. I LOVE this book.
Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe: Fannie Flagg. There's something about this one. It's a look into a different kind of life altogether.
Bridget Jones' Diary: Helen Fielding. I even like the film. Purely because of the two men in it, actually.
Comfort Me With Apples: Ruth Reichl. If you like reading about food, love, travel and finally finding your feet, read this one.
Now who shall I pass this on to:
Kahini (who introduced me to three of those cherished books and many more, at different points in life.), Subs and Colours.
Had to bug you girls, even if you've been tagged before.
*wicked laugh*
Monday, July 04, 2005
The July 2nd Indian Express had an interesting page one photograph. I tried looking it up on the express site so that I could post it here but it's not available.
It showed Ahmedabad's Joint Commissioner of Police, K Kumara Swamy, being carried by (possibly) a constable through a flooded street in the city.
this is no humour in uniform,' said the caption.
I wish it was. Because the joint commissioner's legs seemed perfectly capable of wading through the waterlogged street. Despite that he had chosen another human being, his junior by many many ranks, as his mode of transport.
Why?
Well, simply because his car had broken down! How could a senior officer of his stature dip his precious feet, not to mention his sturdy, well polished boots through all that dirty water. Never mind that there's probably a lackey waiting at home to clean those precious boots.
I do hope the Jt. Commissioner took this step because of some physical problem. Arthritis perhaps. Or maybe a wound that's taking days to heal.
But if this is the way he moves around, whenever there's a bit of muck, who says we've moved away from the days of the Raj?
It showed Ahmedabad's Joint Commissioner of Police, K Kumara Swamy, being carried by (possibly) a constable through a flooded street in the city.
this is no humour in uniform,' said the caption.
I wish it was. Because the joint commissioner's legs seemed perfectly capable of wading through the waterlogged street. Despite that he had chosen another human being, his junior by many many ranks, as his mode of transport.
Why?
Well, simply because his car had broken down! How could a senior officer of his stature dip his precious feet, not to mention his sturdy, well polished boots through all that dirty water. Never mind that there's probably a lackey waiting at home to clean those precious boots.
I do hope the Jt. Commissioner took this step because of some physical problem. Arthritis perhaps. Or maybe a wound that's taking days to heal.
But if this is the way he moves around, whenever there's a bit of muck, who says we've moved away from the days of the Raj?
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