As Time Goes By...

So the last few days have been a whirlwind in motion, what with my never-ending interviews with no luck and the trip to Sikkim and all... *sigh* painful, painful days spent at Oly, sweating and sipping long glasses of alcohol-tinged soft drink drowned in Ice.... and then waiting to get the return tickets confirmed... Ah what extreme life I lead!!

And then the Peep and I over dark darker darkest chocolates discussed the pains of being alive, and how to drown it by getting a tonne of lard and God-knows-howmuch caffeine in our veins in deliciously shaped packages... Ah the horror, the Horror.....

So then I was returning from Cheeni Kum the other day.... The MAN can still run, I say!!!! I was bowled over yet. Somehow a man above 60 should not be allowed to be that sexy. Its just me. I just saw him.

And I was coming back and the auto was amazingly packed, and I had the side seat and was getting all the air on my face, doing Lord-Knows-What to my already unmanageable hair. And I was quite outrageously happy despite my Mother who had come to see the movie with me... and been gushing lyrical over it. So I got down from my auto and what do I realize?

The print on the auto seat was one large picture of Gerard Butler from 300, this one to be precise.




And well, his mouth was open, and I had been sitting on top.


Btw, I shall be imparting erotological wisdom pretty soon so stay tuned to the next light year or so.

"I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,

But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,

Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;

And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,

Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:

I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. "

Dowson knew what its like. When the pain in your gut eats you away and you hide your face against the pillow and scream and cry your heart out but still there is no relief, and you promise to the distant North Star at three in the morning to make you forget.... to heal... but it does not help.


It just does not. Its so pathetic... this sham of indifference that you adapt. "I Do Not----" is such a lie, and your friends listen to you sympathetically but you still feel guilty because half your mind is not there, its been locked away for life, and the effort is so much that you feel drained.

Damn I am being sickeningly pitifully "nyaka"....


So dushhala, I dont bleeding care any longer. I dont think I am all that bad. I am healthy, apart from the ache I have from the Topple... and all, I think I am just fine. I am dancing and boozing and singing and basically my exams are over and I have got myself a JOB. So I am fine. Fine.

Oh me who must have to fight over the Kaichu with The Peep and the Sen. I shalt not chharify ek piece of medini in this.


Kaichu you are MINE, and MINE AND MINE.

There, thats done.



MINE I TELL YOU!!! MILLS AND BOONS KI KASAM!!!


DIBS.

Oh me!! Who saw the bad movie of the year.... and has to fight over the Kaichu and find cash ASAP.

Taaaaaaaa---------g

Peep tagged. I tag others. Just you wait... heathu and cheshire cat.





1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:


I have one on the forefinger of my right hand. Age 9. An argument that I won against Ma.






2. What is on the walls in your room?


An amazing Poster of Two brown and white puppies dominate my North Wall. One of those puppies have eyes that make me want to do the "BOOCHOO... OOLIKIMITTICHHANALEBABA" to it. My South Wall has a poster of Harry Potter. And there is a bookshelf on that wall that lost a door because of overflow. Knowledge! How heavy it sits sometimes.






3. What does your phone look like?

Its white and pink and violet and blue. Very Girlie. My Dad chose it. Its Nokia, so basically Indestructible (I have tried, trust me) and the only thing that has happened to it after four years of misuse is a little scratch on its cover.






4. What music do you listen to?





All sorts. I am not picky. It all depends on my mood.






5. What is your current desktop picture?





This picture:
Courtesy : Avikda. He is a fabulous artist.



6. What do you want more than anything right now?

Peace. And a Vacation.

7. Do you believe in gay marriage?

I do. As soon as it is legal in India, I am marrying Andro. And Kaichu. And Jane. And D. And Jhumpus. And Maddy.

I think Polygamy is punishable... na?

8. What time were you born?

Bikelbela probably. I forgot. I just know that the day was Bangla Bundh. So my dad and my grandmother had to walk 6 miles to reach the hospital.

9.Are your parents still together?


Yes. I still think they made a mistake, though.


10. What are you listening to?

The Night.

12. The last person to make you cry?

K.

13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

Gucci's Envy. Calvin Klein's Contradiction for men. And the smell of roses and Lavender Talc. And the wet khus khus on hot summer days.

14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?

Umm... Hair colour? Eye colour? erm.... I think it depends on the person and suitability.... though long hair turn me on. And piercing.

15. Do you like pain killers?

Can anything kill pain?

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

I did ask someone out once, so no, I dont think I am.

17. Fave pizza topping?

Pepperoni and plenty of cheese. And jalapeno peppers and mushrooms and shredded lamb.

18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

Chocolates. Dark chocolates dripping with caramel... oozing nougat and more caramel. And a glass of frothy cold machiatto to go with it.

No matter what People thinks of my taste. Dark chocolates, NOUGAT and CARAMEL.


19. Who was the last person you made mad?

I make everyone mad. I am insane, je. But I think the last person I shall make mad will be Panu.

20. Is anyone in love with you?

I wish.

I really do.
There. I does allsorts of stuff. I tag two people, ar parina.

Wonder of all wonders, why must I turn my head and smile graciously at every mistake I have ever made in my life?

Because I am a pushover.

A pushover who knows she is a pushover. That's the worst kind.

So screw me!

Anyway, whatever. All these amazing love affairs just pass me by, and I am left holding the glass of Vodka (Fuel, by the way).

So there was this man who told me he was going to come down in the merry month of May, but did he?

Nooooooo. He is too busy getting screwed up by his job and his precious CEO who is as big a jerk as he is.

And is Panu getting any thing out of this? Just because this is just another time a jerk has stood her up (well, except, this time, she has been stood up for a whole frigging month rather than a lousy two hours… but anyway, how does time matter here?) and all this humongous annoying shit is just buggering the hell out of her, and I am tense and wary because this world has ended and the bleeding sky has fallen, and yet another fabulous faux pas has been committed by the DAD early this night, and well, MA being Ma, is rattling on about her historical lessons (Chapter One: So in 1984 your mother told me that she did not want the curry too salty and I was only a child of 24 who barely knew anything……) and the SIS was being nasty and painted a few masterpieces on her canvas in revenge and I ended up throwing caution (read carefully charted out diet plan for the next lifetime) to the wind and indulged in a plate of Chicken A-La Olypub (and Oh Lord was that Bliss or What) and then came back to a roomful of nastiness… not to mention the half an hour I had to stand outside a seedy joint, waiting for someone to come out who did not at all like me standing there waiting…

And that's where this post ends.

This Image.

Need I say more?

Twist... Twist....

so everything went sort of surreal this evening.

There I was walking down College Street in the afternoon, my mind clouded with worry over my impending doom (read MA finals without studies) and Andromeda's general physical condition, and I was on my way to meet Maddy for a simple tete-a-tete at coffee house, only to find out other members of my gerobaaj group

So over Chicken Kabiraaji and cold coffee and The Diary of Don Rigoberto and Tutu Bhutu and lots and lots of adda I was basically relaxed, and it stretched till Paramount where over cold glass of cream green mango sherbet we were discussing Satyajit Ray and Soumitro and Sibram Chakraborty and whatnot.... and I looked at the shining faces (sweaty and glistening) and realized that this was what I was going to miss.... this sense of relaxing shall just leave.

And suddenly I did not want to stay with them any longer. I felt like the serpent in Paradise and I wanted to get away. But then I was stuck in a little shop around College street corner, and I was back five years, when I used to pay 5 rupees for one book and come home loving the bargain and the book. Animal Farm.

The man looked at me with accusing, yet strangely gentle eyes, and said, "Why have you not come for so long? "

I gave some non-committal reply, feeling guilty. It was as if I have not looked after my best friend... and I was guilty of ignoring them.

And I looked at the books and I walked on.

And then the world went *topple*.

Can topple be a sound effect? It so is what happened to me this evening.

And I looked at the scattered books and my purse and my ankle turned in a strange angle, and I vaguely realized that it was not the way it should have been.

So I pulled it back to normal with a little twist and then crawled into a taxi that one of those pedestrians called up and then the world went black for around five minutes.

I woke to pain and pain and pain.

And then My Dear Dad gave me the dose of two painkillers and two large whisky.

And yes, I am shot.

I am twisted and back on line. I am BAAACKK!!