... makes you buy things you wouldn't dream of buying in a thousand lives. Like this pair of blingy slip-ons i picked up on a sudden whim from a shop in the lane adjacent to Anand Sweets in Commercial Street. If there's anything i hate more than the colour white, it's shiny white. And to think i saw these and flipped for them. 
Oh well. Just another lesson to keep an open mind about everything. The more you dislike something, the more likely you are to end up with it, and worse, end up liking it. Buuuut, the brighter (pun unintended) side of this buy is:- If not my teeth, at least my chappals are sparkling white.- I didn't spend a fortune on them. Or a mini fortune. Or a micro-mini fortune. (No, i didn't get them for free either.)- I'll never get lost on the dance floor because people can spot me through the white glow of my slip-ons. Unless, of course, the slip-ons have slipped off my feet in the process of doing some hunk on the pool table in the corner.- If this pair follows the same principle as all other painted-on glitter footwear, then the reflective silver surface will rub off with wear and leave behind plain white - which is a great deal more tolerable than shiny white.
I can't believe i still care enough to listen to you and not put up that post full of bitter thoughts. Asshole.
The city of peaceful people saw the most terrible day in their lives when the Fire Monster came ploughing through the magnificent forest that formed the boundary of the city. Fireballs splattered across tiled roofs and paved roads, scarring people for life. But the worst hit were the trees in the city park - their green, leafy shade had provided shelter for generations of children, lovers, families and frail old people. Where there was the pleasant scent of nature and vitality, there was now the smell of burning wood and charring leaves. The fireball had hit the middle of the canopy and slowly licked its way through the entire length of the trees. Spots of bright red and yellow dotted the branches where the leaves were, while the barks stubbornly resisited the onslaught of fire.The Fire Monster had nothing against the city. It just loved destroying things because it was a wicked, violent being. Its mother had promised that for every city it destroyed, it would grow stronger and more handsome. Only, every city that fell prey to its evil ways left a deep groove on the Fire Monster's body, making it uglier and more unapproachable with every passing day. The Fire Monster let out a loud belch and followed it up with a booming evil cackle on seeing his latest handiwork of destruction. His joy was shortlived though, because all the peaceful people got together and prayed with all their faith for some means of rescue from the Fire Monster. The smog-filled sky broke clear in one place and the Rain Man came riding on his Numbus. Raising his hand, he sprayed jets of freezing cold water on the city, dousing every baby flame in the vicinity. The Fire Monster bellowed with rage and let loose a canon of fireballs at the Rain Man. A battle ensued, with the Rain Man fighting the Fire Monster valiantly with icy sprays of water. As with all stories protraying the battles of good and evil, this one too celebrates the glory of good over evil. Which means, the Rain Man won the battle by dousing the Fire Monster and reducing it to a puddle of blubbering gases. The peaceful people were very happy with the outcome of the events, but their happiness was subdued because their beautiful city had been razed to the ground by the fire. Just then, a cherub gah-gahed and pointed its hand at the city park where the tall trees had been burning moments ago. The peaceful people stared in awe at the sight - the icy water from the Rain Man had taken the fire dotting the trees by surprise, freezing it in its place. Now the trees were full of red and yellow dots shaped like flowers with uneven petals! The Wise Old Man of the village whispered, "Gul Mohar". The Golden Blossoms. The sun emerged from the dissipating smog, and the flowers seemed to grow in size, full of vivaciousness and glowing good health.The peaceful people gathered around the trees, hugging them tenderly. The barks were injured and burnt to their insides, but life was running through them. Slowly, the city of peaceful people was rebuilt, and the Gul Mohar trees were given the place of pride. Relying on faith and plenty of water, the peaceful people cut branches of the tree and planted them all over the city. Soon, word about the wondrous trees spread from village to town to city to state to country. People from all over the world came to see this wonder, and carried saplings back to plant in their hometowns. And so the legend of the Gul Mohar spread. During summers, every Gul Mohar tree comes alive with thousands of fiery blossoms glistening in the sunlight. It blooms with the fire of the Fire Monster, and the sparkle from the icy sprays of the Rain Man. 
For two days, i'd been thinking about Byaatch (referred to from now on as N to preserve the goodness of our relationship) and wanting to talk to her because it had been a while. So i was quite taken aback when i heard from her last evening, asking me if i wanted to go for a movie. Sure, i said, let's go! And that's how ended up in the half-empty Fun Cinemas Screen 4 for U, Me Aur Hum. The great adventure started at the entrance to Fun. Y also joined us, and it was the first time i was actually spending so much time in his company - previously it had always been "Hi, how're you, what're you upto" and many such inanities when i went to meet N at home. We weren't allowed to take food in, so we ended up gulping down spoonfuls of supercold Chocolate Walnut Brownie Gelato / Strawberry Sorbetto and babbling like month-old babies because of frozen tongues. I thought we'd got the best seats in the theatre, when i realised that half the theatre was empty anyway so we could sit anywhere we wanted. There was a couple next to us, occupying the corner seats and trying very hard to watch the movie in peace. Unfortunately for them, we started squawking the minute the titles rolled in with millions of mushy quotes on love from Pascal (yeah, mathematician Pascal), Thoreau, MK Gandhi and more floating among clouds - "Oh my god, lemme outta here!" and "You gotta be kidding me man, i sprinted up the stairs for this?" followed by loud laughter from yours truly because the clouds looked positively B-grade. Y decided this was a good time to tell us something about the movie: "I heard it's really bad." We decided to endure it. Not a difficult task, considering Y and I were cracking bad ones throughout the movie while N tried in vain to shut our voices out of her migraine-heavy head. We didn't need too much help on the PJs either, because Mr. Director had put in plenty of them in the movie, along with a dhobi list of the most colourful desi gaalis. Divya Dutta proved to the world that she could beat Pam Anderson hands-down where bust size was concerned, while that woman from Kisna who did weird things with trees and ropes was the epitome of bimbettishnes in this movie. The chemistry and easy relationship the friends share was commendable, although i had a hard time imagining doctors being that way. The first half was pretty average - it had N crying out "What has he done to my favourite heroine?" in anguish. The second half was much better (and intense), minus freaky low angle shots that try to show viewers peeps of underwear. There were moments of comic relief though - there's this shot where Ajay Devgan goes down on his knees and says to Kajol "I didn't forget anything, you did! How could i do this to you, forgive me blah blah blah" and appropriately, a phone went off in the theatre with the song from Humraaz as ringtone "Bhool na jaana, bhool na jaana...". Then there was this scene when Ajay Devgan (yeah, the movie is about him, and him and him) is sitting with the rest of the gang and philosophising on life - a pretty intense moment when N was ready to cry. And i leaned in towards her and asked, "Are you sleeping?" I also missed many melodramatic dialogues because i couldn't hear them above my own chewing of the Palak Papri Chaat.We finished the movie, satisfied that it was worth at least half the money we paid to watch it. Plonked ourselves on the stairs deciding on POA. Headed to Millers 46, where i had a very yummy BM. All through dinner and 'refreshments', we cracked bad ones on dialogues from the movie, freaked Y out by claiming N and I were 'seeing' each other, asked him to get a girlfriend and were up to general tomfoolery of the sort. It was an evening well spent. I went back home feeling peaceful and nicely sleepy.
If you escaped a flood on St.Mark's Road the morning of Saturday the 12th, you're lucky. I'd drooled all over the place on Friday night after seeing the H2 zoom by menacingly. Yes. The H2. Hummer for the senile, demented or plain stupid. After a completely pakau day at work, i had a brilliant spark of spontaneity - let's go for a movie! (So i'm excited about seeing the big screen after months of poverty, so what?) So we went for a 10 'o' clock show of...ummm, Krazzy 4. I'm not going to apologise or get defensive about watching the movie because i laughed a little for the first half. We had plenty of time to kill before the movie, so we ordered in plenty of Breezers from downstairs and glugged away. I had mine like i had Bailey's long ago - in one shot. (It isn't that i'm an unofficial member of Alcoholics Anonymous or something, it's just that the flavour was a horrid Blueberry that seemed like Harpic diluted with sweetener and soda.) After which, i did exceptionally well at the Brain Game on Facebook - i even beat my boss' score! A got jittery, so we left, reached Inox, stuffed our faces, finished the movie and were on our way back home when i saw it. At first i saw a looming shadow with bright headlights for eyes, and then it emerged in all its splendour - a sleek and shiny H2 purring like a wildcat waiting for its prey. Its road presence is unbelievable - all that horsepower waiting to be unleashed on the unsuspecting puny Sumo or Scorpio that dares to cross its way. I can't even begin to imagine what it could do to a good old Maruti 800.The Hummer stayed with us for a while - i got high ogling at it for a whole kilometre. I think by the end of the journey home, A would have been happy to give me to the aliens because of the number of times i'd said "Oh. My. God." in this incredulous voice, squirming in the car seat to get a good look at it from every angle possible.Obviously, after it passed, neither A nor I could stop talking about it. I remembered a story of some bigshot in Bangalore who got a Hummer to India, but had to pay shitloads on taxes and stuff to let it run on the roads; by the end of which, i think he just about gave up on ever driving it around. So i ventured to ask A, "How much do you think it would cost, inclusive of taxes and all that jazz?" "2 crores, souped up and taxes paid", he replied calmly, shrugging the amount off like he would a speck of dirt on his tee.I don't know how i got back home. I'd fainted by the time the inverted commas on his reply were in place.Oh, and that night Murphy's Nth Law came into place, all tried and tested: The sexier the car, the uglier the driver.
I was in Goa the last few days for the Adfest. I was staying at a gorgeous resort in Colva, every aspect of its pristine white structure setting off some distant longing in me now buried.On the evening we reached there, we went to the beach. As we walked towards it, i realised that i had been to the place before. Four years ago. In white shorts. Where i'd burnt my leg against the red-hot silencer. It seemed so long ago. Memories came flooding back. Tears, laughter, moments of tension, wind whistling past, one little slap on my cheek and many consequences. Like that was not enough, the next day i discovered that i was going through the same lanes, the same roads i had travelled once upon a time. I could see it all in my mind's eye, and couldn't help wondering how ironic it all was. That i should go back now, when it was all over, to the place where it had all started. Unconsciously, i had come a full circle.
Holi came and went, but my desire to be knocked out by bhang didn't. Truth be told, i've only raved about the thought of bhang and never really done anything about it. Until recently when N managed to procure some from a man who comes to office selling chudwa-chabeena. (Talk about contacts.)Super thrilled at finally getting my hands on some, i decided i put it to good use the very same day. I read up on bhang (turns out its the cannabis family), and heard freaky stories about people who've gone crackpotty under its influence - A was telling me about a friend who found a little road impossibly tough to cross, and scared me further with "Don't do it alone" and "If you start laughing, you'll keep laughing, or it will be the other extreme". Sigh. Three days later, i still had the packet with me. Unopened. On Sunday, i thought WTF, let's just do it. Mom was in the room correcting papers and Dad was out. I didn't have the courage to carry the packet to the kitchen - a night shirt isn't a very good place to hide little packets, unless you count the brassiere worn inside it and the stories of hiding-secrets-in-the-bra that have been the stuff of Indian legends (and movies) for so long. I didn't dare do the latter for fear of wasting the bhang, so i quietly crooked my finger and removed a generous amount, hid it in the folds of my night-shirt and ran to the kitchen. I mixed it up, drank it and then waited.And waited and waited and waited. Zilch. I could've been having ground parthenium for all it was worth. Nothing happened! P called - i had spoken to him for hours on end because i was contemplating suicide a day before, and in the process had told him about the bhang. So he called and checked up on me. "So, did you have it?""Yaa.""Did you watch a funny movie like i told you to?""Yaa, sort of, but nothing's happening.""You are a bewdi. That's why. How much did you have?""A third of the packet. Why?"
And before he could speak up, i said, "I didn't use too much jal jeera as base also da. Still, nothing happened."I'm not surprised at his silence since then. I mean, bhang is supposed to be mixed with thandai or buttermilk only. No diary product (other than cheese) has ever seen the dust in my house, leave alone the fridge or the kitchen, and i was way too lazy to go out and buy myself Masti Dahi. So i made do with whatever i had. There was Fanta, lime cordial and jal jeera. I chose the lesser of the three evils. Jal jeera. Shikes. God save bhang from the likes of me.
