To My First Best Friend...

Roshun,

*I am writing this down because you gave me virtually no warning of your departure to Hyderabad.*

This is not a letter where I would be all nostalgic and dippy and sobby sobby, and recall all the times we got each other into deep shit. This is not a letter where I would give you old counsel like the Ladki ki ma and say ta ta to you and go off in a merry manner.

This letter is to tell you that we won't perhaps be meeting again as we did, be happy in that innocent manner that we were, or even have the same surname (what with you getting married and all).... but baby, you were the first ever friend I had, and thats why you hold a very verrry verrrrrry special place in my bloated soul, and you will have that for as long as I live and breathe (until and unless I have alzheimer's or go into a coma.... disasters not to be taken into cosequence). We have had 20 long years of friendship.... and I wish for many more... even if we do not see each other as often as school, or even college.

When I kept the phone down the other day, and realized that this is perhaps the last time before you begin a new life in another city, I felt so damn sad, not exactly because my friend was going away, but because it was you. And I was worried. 'What if's crowded my mind. I have looked out for you for so long now, I feel bereft because you are gone.

I sound like a damn funeral march. But I am actually happy for you. Very happy. Finally you are gone to a place where they wont hurt you anymore. I am so damn relieved. I love you, you know. Right down to your not-so-fat arse.....

Come on baby, you Know I will never stop making fun of you, I mean, I will commit suicide the very day I fail to respond to a jibe from you.

With muh blessings, fly away. By the time you read this, it will probably be an old post in my blog. But you know what they say, about gold, old and other rhyming words...my poetess.

Keep being the way you are,

Peyaj.

Bus Stop Blues

Whenever I need sonmething God refuses point blank to give it to me. And the glaring example is a bus in time.

Today, Adt called up.

"Darling I need so-and-so-cream from A*** please get it for me I need it byebye[click]"

Okay. The cream's worth a bunch, so I had to go.


In the heat of the afternoon at 4.00 p.m. kolkata time, Panu stands in the deserted bus stop waiting for a bus to arrive.

No Bus.

5 minutes later


NO BUS.


5 more minutes pass by


NO FREAKING BUS.

Panu looks up to the shade of the tree over her.

Now the equivocation begins...

Oh please crow, dont shit on me. Oh Lord, get that Goddamn Bus!

Oh please crow, nice crow.

Sweet crow.

5 more minutes

Panu gets desperate. No freaking Bus still.


O No, something gleam in the distant horizon. A bus!! A BUS!! Oh LORD, thou Exist!


Route 45. O no, God is dead. Bleeding Nietzche!!!

The first commandment in Bus Bible comes to mind at this point to Panu's heat-encrusted brain.

thou shalt not get up on a route 45 bus until it is a matter of life and death

This Was a matter of life and death.

The reason why I hate this bus.

- Groping by extremely uncool people, most of them over the age 45.

- Glares from overdressed Marus who go into constant boob-comparison.

- Constant leers from the conductor who acts as if he has never seen someone over 130 pounds/60kgs in jeas and kurta.

- The Lebulojensaala... dont wanna explain this one.

- Bus moves in extremities... either extremely fast or...

- Pickpockets and con artists who has taken the level of pinching goods to the height of artistry.


No FREAKING WAY!

Panu gets up on the bus. A moment later, zooms past the Bus of her dreams. CRAP!

Panu gets down. Takes an auto to the destination. Zooms past another bus. Crap repeated. Panu gets real turdy by this point.


SO THERE!!

Off my chest...

P.S. here's the pictures promised of HUGH.

The HUNK OF THE MONTH

As promised to the few webpests who trawl through this blog, I have a spread of Jackman.

But first............

Sorry. Had to get that out.


Where were we?? Ah, Hugh Jackman.

Sod! Lost the Jackman Pics.

Well, lets change it to Heath Ledger... HJ to HL. Cause.... MMMMMM he is HAWT!

Ah, there's my Honey Pumpkin.

Ah.... scrumptious in Black and white.

And this one's ... Ummm..

And this one... Here is a close-up on Heath.

I Just soooo love straight men who play Gay!! This one is for you Jay!!

OKAY

Before I begin the post, I believe I will be starting a Hunk-of-the-month thingy .... and the first one is Hugh Jackman!!

this post was a mishap. Why else would dear Panu sit up at the late hours to pour out bitter misery and murderous passions to the unsuspecting handful of poor creatures that make the mistake of entering the rightful space she owns in the blogsphere?

Panu can give very simple reasons for this mishap.

a. She was under the delusion that she was Liz Taylor after her 6th divorce and therefore this whole post was a sign of the old gal finally going off her rockers.

b. She had a bout of stomach flu after the three humungous scoops of Bavarian Dark Chocolate Chip Ice cream with chocolate sauce, wafers in a chocolate and nut covered waffle cone that she shamelessly wangled out of a poor, unsuspecting creature who didn’t even guess what hit him till he was paying the bill.

c. She had finally read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time By Mark Haddon and My Name Is Red By Orhan Pamuk on the very same day when she was supposed to study Foucault’s The History of Sexuality II and was thus suffering a massive attack of guilty conscience.

d. The aforementioned 1st book in c. was the direct reason for her to believe that she was detached from the rest of the world and a math freak (as if!! Panu suffers everlasting Mathophobia to its full extent).

e. She was swamped by old familiar faces and was swamped by nostalgia as she joined Orkut and made 84 friends in 1 week and 3 days flat, and realized she was virtually the last person to know about it, everyone else(other bloggers, that is) were talking about it since ages.

f. The particular guy mentioned in the post was featured in one community in Orkut that she too joined.

g. She found out that her biological parents still went at it like rabbits, for she discovered their condom supply (and this is the end of this point).

h. She received a large box of Belgian Non-Industrial Chocolates from her cousin Big Brother along with Yves Saint Laurent’s Paris perfume which resulted in a late-night -drinking party with father and the Brother, directly inducing all of the long-buried pains to emerge from the darkest parts of personal wastelands of Panu’s consciousness.

i. The exams. Bloody buggers. And still bugging the hell out of her poor, pious soul and ass.

j. Old diaries that came out with the annual room cleaning. This room clearance thingy is Panu’s greatest grievance every year. Panu hates a clean room. A room is just not a room unless it’s down and dirty.

k. A and her boyfriend’s intimacy. Jealous Panu sneaks around, unable to express her own grief at seeing unworthy hands maul her precious Andromeda.

l. Her second blind date and third marriage proposal.

m. The aforementioned Belgian Big Brother’s revelation of living together with a Belgian Girl friend (to the utter consternation of the parents) who is six feet tall. Brother and Girlfriend look like Ken and Barbie, reminding Panu (poor darkling that she is) how Even Undateable creatures ( Own admission, mind you... here Panu is being a bitch and loving it.... back off Helen, Bindoo, Dholakia) are getting adoring drools and she getting nothing. No loving. Nada. Nil. Zip. Zilch.

n. She has been lost in The Waste Land, drowning in Death in Venice, sweating with Sappho, fighting with Prufrock (not JAP the blogger), simplifying Symposium, courting Kureshi, screwing Sula, massacring Murder in the Cathedral, Sexing the 'Peare, Snorting at Sade, Hammering at The Hollow Men to no avail. She is still grappling with her syllabus and ending with nothing.

o. A visit to a Medical College Fest (Zephyr, 06) and screaming one’s head off with Bhoomi’s songs.

p. And this is the end of it, Panu has just discovered that http://aibbappsss.blogpot.com (mark the lack of the ' s' in blogspot spelling) leads to a Mega Site for Bible.


Lots of mishaps are going on in Panu’s otherwise nonexistent life. Simultaneously. Panu hates doing so many things together. Even Superwoman needs rest. But it seems this lazy ass is doomed to an existence of misguided activities, doing things that she should not, saying things that get her into trouble. Panu tries to control these wayward emotions, but just when she believes that she’s got them under her thumb, out pops a new one. And then the eternal, flaming racket repeats again.

Well you who has passed all these barriers of broken bits of my life, know now, what exactly have you been doing reading my post.

Correct. You have been reading what I went through in one single day of existence.

“Beauty is truth; truth beauty”

Or, in the immortal words of Porky Pig:

"That's all, folks."

Cameras Back to Me!!

Ah!! the sweet smell of freedom. Though the poor nose is blocked, and head still aches like shit, this babe's back on the track to waste blogspace with absolutely nothing else to write about but herself.

So, I would like you guys to turn your attention here before you move on. Jay has written this lovely post on Art and Digicams, ( and several other unmentionable things), that take me back to my favourite artist in the small screen...



RICHARD KARINSKY!!!



And talking of Artists, here is one more whom I like... rather, this one's a picture by him.

And before I go off track to do something else, I better tell you that I too am aspiring to be an artist. And I shall be specializing in Blog Blobs.