Of Marriages and Mayhems Part I

In between a term paper thats yet to be written and a looming marriage of Rini, my cousin sister, I have more or less lost the conceptions of a time when I woke up at eight o'clock in the morning and started my day with a dose of soft rock and jiggly pop. The house is crowded with a bunch of OUTSIDERS from hell--- er, Hyderabad, and basically pulling all our body hairs on their ends just by being here. The Long-Distance Aunt, and her husband, and the husband's parents, and their three children, and their family friend (who has appeared into the scene because she claims she has never seen a Baangaali Wedding), who has two kids of her own ( the oldest being a year my junior) have suddenly taken over my room, my CDs, my BOOKS, my stuffs, and my life. The brats (aged 14, 16, 13, two belonging to the Aunt, one to her friend) are running around, disturbing my aura, disturbing my Mother, who seems to be at their beck and call 24-7, never begging for a raincheck. The worst bit is that, they constantly bugger my pets, (my Birds) who rebelled the first day by biting the 14 year old's hand, and resulting in eternal damnation in Cockateel Parties to come... and the older ones are the worst. Rinki, the Aunt's daughter has a crush on the Friend's boy who has developed a crush on me. Wild as this may seem, I have discovered that I am Crushable (i.e. I feel suitably crushed by this hulking crusher) and my woe lies in the fact that this has made the only person I like in that entire group 'jealous' and therefore I have lost the one friend I had in that Lot.

Anyway, the Grandparents are worse than mine. Those who does not know, I have a Grandma from each side of my parents remaining, (both my Gramps lucky enough to flee to eternal peace and quiet after 50 years of World War III) who compete with each other on being overactive. My affectionate name for both is Buri (old Woman), yet I favour my Dad's buri to my Mom's.
Well, Dad's buri is running like P.T. Usha at The Hyderabadi Gramps' favour. Mum swears they had something going when they were young (and still Do, from what I see) ... the Oldie has to lift one finger and his wish will be done. Incidentally, this old lech tried to feel me up when I touched his feet, hugging me tightly, and putting his right hand on my ass, gave it a tight squeeze. I've been running from the Lot ever since. And the Old Woman is no Worse. She is the step sister of my grandfather who sent her children over to Kolkata when they were young, and they stayed with us (all three of them), till they graduated. Needless to say, not a single penny came out of their parent's pocket. At this point, I admit I am being bitchy, but I hate it when these hypocrites arrive empty handed each year to our place, and leave with their hands full.

Back to the Buri. Its still Dad's Buri by the way. She's 77, though her vanity admits to only 75 of these years. Once a tyrant, age has reduced her to a general dogsbody around the house who is only too pleased to be running around trying to do everything. In this she generally succeeds, by the way. If there is anything she prefers more than being the doormat is being the saint. But she is even better at being Narad (Hindu Mythology sees this creature as being the instigator of major fights), watching with real pleasure as others cut each other up.

And then there was her Kaanchi Pyaanch (scissor twist action) where you fall into a Catch-22 situation. An Example at this point is called for.

Victim arrives late at night. Confronts Buri

Buri - Kothay gechhile??? (Where were you gone off to??)

Victim does not respond.

B- chup kore dariye achho je?? Mukhe ki katha shorchhe naa?? (Why are you standing dumbly? Are'nt words coming to your lips?)

Victim at this point begins to explain, but is cut off at the first three words....

B - Abaar Mukhe Mukhe Katha??? Choap!!! (You dare Talk Back?? SHUDDUP!!)

See?? Damned if you do. Damned if you don't.

And then there was that IPS Officer who came last Sunday for Coffee, tea and me... I mean, He came to look me over for a matrimonial match. Needless to say, it was a disaster. For once, I do not go for 30 year old KAKU types with Moustache and Paunch. For another, I hate being asked dumb questions by people who do not know what they are talking of.

An exerpt from the conversation.

Would-be - uhh... tumi Hamlet jano? (do you know Hamlet)

Panu (with extreme wariness) - hyaan... (yeees....)

Would-be (with all signs of apparent relief) - AMIO!!! (Me too)

At this point I must say that if this is the situation of Indian Police, No Wonder our Country is going to Hell.

The conversation ended after I calmly explained to him precisely why I could not marry him (and no, I did not have to mention his aforementioned vices at all) and that was that... One more day to live through.

But then I lament too much!! Trauma. Thanks Rimi for THIS.... its the least we can share.

My Andromeda... MINE ENEMY...

tI am actually getting popular in blogland cause 1069 times my profile was seen to this post since November 2005. I am NOT bragging. Check my profile to see it! Its true!!

For those who are concerned, this is a Bitch POST against my Best Friend ANDROMEDA, or A.

I love my best friend. I DO. I swear.

So there I was trying to celebrate my friendship with my best friend that has rolled on to its third year. Readers, take note that though she and I met 4 years back, I did not trust her for the first year or so, and considered her the most nyaka (Non Bangaalis read affectatious, but really, this word has no proper translation, if you know what I mean) person I have ever had the misfortune to meet in my sorry existence , that, incidentally I still believe.

So here's my list of complaints. But before, you all must know my woe. My tale of sorrow and pain. Here is a leetle incident. Believe me, we have had many.

Well, yesterday was one of the busiest days I ever had. And the weather did NOT help me a jot. The whole day was HUMID, and I soaked in it with Andromeda, sweat pouring down my body, taking with it my heard drunk morning litre of water. At these points of life I really Hate her, because she has the type of MILKY PEACHY skin that glows when it sweats, and looks like as if she's risen from some Arabian wet dream, all honey and softness. I, on the other hand, look like a ripe PAANTUA whenever I get hot and bothered.

Then we went to LANDMARK to get a CD for her Sister's birthday.

She argued with me for the better part of two hours over what to give her sister, and between X-Men and Lara Croft, she presented me with a fit of sulks when I asked if she would like Charlie's Angels.

And then was the part when at LANDMARK I went orgasmic over The Simoquin Prophesies and Mr. Pratchett, she looked and dismissed them with a bored... "WHO?"

And then came the time where she left me at the metro station and I had to wait for two hours before I got back home (at this point I might add that normally it takes only half-an-hour to get back).

Not only this.

My complaints are -

1. She does not return my books in time, and when she does, I find them marked with icky pink marker.

2. She cannot control her laughter. Once she starts giggling, she does not stop. And when she giggles, she shakes. And her body moves like a mass of pale jel-o, waiting to explode.

3. Flirting is like her second nature. It comes to her as naturally like a newly hatched duckling to water. Be one or a hundred years of age, no one is immune to Andromeda

4. BABY. The word was made for her. She Bawls, She Screams, She Throws a tantrum if I forget to bring her cherry wine lipgloss, or say no when she wants to walk ten kilometres on a May afternoon. BUT I HATE IT when she talks baby, mumbling out just to look pretty.

5. And I hate her on the phone, talking nineteen to dozen to her Boyfriend for ages while I look around, scratch my ear and in short, get bored out of my numb scull.

6. I hate her when she hogs my stuff, not using them herself and not allowing me to use them as well.

7. And I hate it when she does her lip job... sticking it out and going " BOO HOO HOO".... This girl does not cry "WAAAAH", she goes Boo hooo....

Et cetera Et cetera Et cetera

Yes. I am Spoiling for a fight with her. Its been three years and no showdown. Real couples have showdowns. Memorable fights.

*sigh*

I'll have to give up on that dream of living together and opening a lingerie shop called "Sin Creation" with her.

Oh well. I am short of candidates. Audition anyone????

I DONT CARE IF I DON'T

This world is after me. But I Don't care. Why should I??

This has been a disastrous week. I hate it with my soul.

Sorry reader, I have to explain the current state of misery, hmm??

First was the Vote ID making..... 3 hours in the sun.

Then was the SEMINAR from HELL, where I got Jharofied by TINTINDA.

Then came my TV appearance (and here I would like to thank all who did not see the programme thinking I was fooling them).

And then came this!!!

It began about 10 days ago when a long term chat buddy R*** called up after a year or so. I being naive, talked to him for all of 20 minutes, about several very general topics. After that we rang off amicably, and that was the end of it.

Today, I got a call from a fellow:

Caller X : Hello.

Panu : Hello? Ke? (who's this?)

X : Are you free now?

Panu : erm... what??

X : Look, I am a Friend of R*** ... he gave me your number and told me to call you.

Panu : But may I know who is this??

X : I'm X***

Panu : And why are you calling me?

X : R*** said you are very good at *uh* *slight gulp* certain stuffs...

Panu *genuinely bewildered* : what Stuffs???

X : You know, phone sex and things. He said, you were very good at it.

Panu : WHAT!!!

X : Er... whats your charge-------

*At that Point, Panu put the phone down*


I know my blog name is silly and suggestive, but honest to GOD, if it was not meant to tease or tempt. I just wanted to keep something my Chhota gave me.

And yes, I am no prude, but somehow I still believe in Virginity and Happily Ever After and the whole Valentinoesque sweeping off feet part (though I admit that sweeping off part is a bit difficult, considering my size).

But I hate being lied to and lied about.

HATE IT!!!!

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Ramblings of Panu-star

Today I was talking to good morning, midnight about our normal blog patterns when she said a curious little thing.

“ Ar Blogging korte bhallagchhe na re…” (Don’t feel like blogging no more…)

Somehow, a curious lethargy is spreading. I feel like screaming sometimes… there is no one who would listen. Its depressing the way I lead my life… my blog is the evidence. I take life WAY too literally and get kicked in the guts all the time.

Sorry folks, guess Panu is in self-deprecating mode again!!

Anyway, I should tell all who would believe (for this is kind of unbelievable) that I will be on TV. The reason for not believing me would be the date. 1st April. On that day, I will be on ETV Bangla at 6:30 p.m. sharp. For those who would want to recognize me, look for the young sidekick dressed in BLACK.

The whole episode took place a couple of weeks ago, when I ditched a couple of queer studies class to hitch a ride to the ETV studios where I was supposed to take part in a game show, Shashurbaari Bonam Baaperbaari (needless to say, the game seriously challenged my intellectual capabilities and took heavy tolls on my nerves and deducted at least 2 years from my rapidly dwindling life).

I went. I saw. I conquered. I saw bright lights and stars after the first battle. The second made me lose my temper, and I held on to my wits for the third. What struck me were two things:

1. My Matchmaking Mother immediately tried to pair me off with the “handsome” (according to her) singer on the show, without a single thought of him being married with two kids.
Her defence: tui to lamba cheyechhilish?!?! (You wanted height?!?!)

2. They had a 3-feet tall person who was my dance partner. And I, a modest five-feet four…

There is no fairness in life. At least, not for me.

Reader, consolations should be in order.

ITS A DOGGY DEMON LIFE!!!

My sister, at the ripe old age of Eleven and half is in love with a Japanese doggy demon called Inu Yasha. The worst part of the matter is that no amount of teasing, tormenting or bribes has stopped this nonsense. It was okay when she fell in love with Dinosaurs and then Pokemon, but then, it was not like this. This time, I'm afraid, its true love. She says, and I quote word perfect: "When I see Inu, my eyeballs turn heart-shaped."

Excuse me now when I gag.

The next bit is a bit more on the non-accusatory ishtyle, Meg and I also watch Ranma 1/2 together, and guess what? Ranma, the protagonist, a boy, becomes a girl when he comes in contact with cold water(or water at room temperature) and turns back to a girl when she(?) comes in contact with hot water. Sister says : "I am really confused about his/her gender."

And how I agree...

Oh Dear Darling Dastardly Demon of a sister mine... how you are growing up.

Is this the little girl I carried??

BrokenBack... Mount-ten

And here I was thinking everything was near-perfect in this perfect Romeo-Juliet studded world when suddenly last night, thank you illegal, pirated CD dealers and my Cable Distributors, I saw this am-a-zing flick. Brokeback Mountain. And did it ever break the mould. I was getting pretty sick of the chick flicks people generally have in mind for me, just because I once professed a love for Casablanca, Singin' In the Rain, & Pride and Prejudice (the BBC version with Colin Firth in it). They completely overlooked my love for Polanski's Macbeth, Kurosawa's Rashomon, Renoir's The Rules of the Game and American Beauty. Brokeback Mountain made me feel better after a long time.


The story is simple… boy meets boy, boy loves boy, and then… boy leaves and finds other pleasures of life… like riding of the other kind. For those who wanted the story, go watch it I say. It will, perhaps, induce a better response for those whom you call ‘homos’, or as Dad called it ‘Poduwa’ (that’s Bengali for you-know-what). What did the film signify to me?? It signified the arrival of a new trend, of the be-sympathetic-to-gays-they’re-human trend. It has been going on for the last few years… starting from the response of Boys Don’t Cry, leading to Monster and continuing still to my topic. I can say that the best film I have seen on this particular topic till date is Robin Williams-Nathan Lane film, The Birdcage, adapted from the French La Cage Aux Follies. The screenplay did not sympathize with the subject matter of cross-dressing, homosexual relationships, or drag queens. It made no apologies in being who you were, and showed how to be proud of oneself. In some ways, when in the end, Robin Williams brings Nathan Lane in front of Gene Hackman and says, “This is my wife.” with pride ringing in his voice, that is when I suddenly feel stupid tears in my jaded eyes.

In Brokeback Mountain, what struck me was Heath Ledger. He has matured a LOT since those days of chick flicks like Ten Things I Hate about You, The Patriot and A Knight’s Tale. I realized his capabilities as an actor in Halle Berry Oscared Monster’s Ball where he played Billy Bob Thornton’s gay son. Here, in Brokeback Mountain, he is beautiful. That is the sole expression I have for him. The encounter he has with his partner, Jake Gyllelhaal is short, but notable is the tasteful way Ang Lee handles the passionate and tender scene. Ang Lee is someone whom I respected in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but he is simply too true in his method of handling. There is a scene where Heath Ledger, the ranch hand, is lonely, and miserable… he misses his partner (and yes I forgot the name of Jake Gyllelhaal in the movie cause I was busy looking at Heath’s abs… perfection!!)… He inhales the scent of his partner from this jeans shirt the partner used to wear. What I saw was the way Heath Ledger’s eyes registered the longing and the acknowledgement of the loss simultaneously. I am being poetic, but his expression was priceless. There was something else in there perhaps… a smidgen of angst, maybe?? Or was that my eyes’ mistake??


In the end, I would like to point out two things. Brokeback Mountain got an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Director, which is a great achievement for Ang Lee, as he is probably the first Asian director to get an Oscar for a film (I missed the Academy Awards, and saw only the end of it). I hope it would be Shekhar Kapoor’s turn soon. He was highly underrated for Elizabeth. Incidentally, Crash got the Oscar for Best Film.

CRASH!!

Can you hear the heart break?? CRASH!!!

MUH MA-A-A-N!!!

Since I have been tagged by both Rainbeau Peep and ru, I have decided to join the team and tag other unsuspecting creature. I tag Good morning Midnight, Roy, JAP, Still Dancer, “SEN”sational, Deep, Srin and Illusionary.

The tagged victim has to mention 8 things that they want in their perfect mate, and they must mention the sex of the person concerned.

So here I was at Big Bazaar yesterday, deciding on the mighty decisions that were plaguing me… as deep and thoughtful as George Bush’s reason for kissing a baby for all to see {Michael Jackson, eat your confused heart (and some other sections in the process) out!!} and yes, the Kid leather Ballerina shoes that I finally bought was WORTH the bloody (being the apt choice) price I paid.

EE-ni-way, where was I??

Oh yeah, Big Bazaar. And I saw the PERFECT MAN!! He was 6 feet two, handsome as sin, with the purrfectest little cleft at the bottom of his chin. I fell in love with him at sight. On closer Inspection, he proved to be a honorable man, great with kids and completely willing to love the love of his life.

SO I BOUGHT THE MILLS AND BOON BOOK AND CAME HOME.


My Song has been slightly inspired by Salt-n-Pepa’s Whatta Man.

The ONE

My Man should be easygoing, nice and not uncool,

Should know his own way, he’d be nobody’s fool.

Thoughtful and smart, yet not shy to learn more,

Must clean my home, and mustn’t be a big bore.

Share with me his wit, his pleasures, and his pains,

Remind me stuffs that I always forget to name,

Would be my lover, my friend, my strength and all,

And should be at least in height, six feet tall.

That's all that what I want in my perfect mate,

The rest of this BIG matter I leave to FATE.


Copyright @ p.b. 2006

P.S. A little extra… since hope, that foul, deceitful thing asks for more… he should love my family, too.

BHWOT In JU

One line Disclaimer that I will Write in deference to Fish : I Don't Like POLITICS. So I shall make this post as trivial as possible, because, Frankly, m'dear, I don't give a DAMN!!

Paint yourself in colors of your choice cause JU is having the BHWOTs. The frenzy started to begin about 6 days ago when I actually noticed (since I am the last person to notice notices and posters and placards et cetera) placards being put up for the various groups of Politics whose members regularly play Table Tennis and Carom in the UNION ROOM, all together generally. Its only before the Elections when these people dye their general T-Shirts in Team colors and go out to display them to others, half knowing what they mean (sort of like watching English Premiere League where all us Indian watchers contently back Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester, or whichever team is winning at the time).

I really noticed the Bhwot business after Babelfish handed me a chit (that I thought at first was a super secret code that will devastate and decapitate the mortal world of us unaware fools) but after a look at the content, I realized that FATE was not that bizarre. It was just a piece of paper with weird names on it. Babel very patiently explained their cause, and I nodded (to my utter bewildered delight) at all the right places.

Today was our DAY. So I put my alarm at 8.45 a.m. sharp in the morning so that I can get there real early and cast my bhwoting rites as a loyal and righteous JUDEian.

Unfortunately I slept through my alarm. When my sleep-misted eyes opened it was already 9:45 a.m. and I realized I was LATE!!

So I took the fastest route to University, which, apart for my Ecjams or ADG’s class I Never take. The bus carried my bulky self like a little storm and WHOOSH! I was ready to exercise my rites.

Entering the college was harder than it looked. The gate was flanked by members of both the major contestants who reminded repeatedly to vote for number “two two two” and “one one one” on my voting paper. This started from college gate and continued to the corridors where the two and one gained more vigour. I walked as briskly I could, accepting all the chits thrown towards me and went to the sanctuary of my class.

Hoimoi!!! Volunteers who frowned upon my sorry self infested that place that I love the most in my University. My only consolation was that Arrow was there as well. I hereby declare that I am in love with you, darling Arrow, if you by chance stumble upon this. I will make a leash out of that beautiful mane of hair one of these days, my pocket … er… this is not the place to start a blazon (that's a courtly catalogue of the Petrarchan Beloved’s beauty) on Arrow.

So I was packed off by one of those over helpful ones who wasted no time in directing me to the room where the Bhwot co-ordinator sat in all her glory. I entered and saw the faces of Iru, Ari, Rajjo and Sreoshi who grinned right back. We were given the sheets. I immediately ticked off mine and then coerced Iru by tickling him (So there!! I did some rigging!!) shamelessly till he agreed readily to everything I said.

Just after getting out, I led some confused (for confused, read Unwilling) Bhwoters, who just wanted me to stop prattling, to the classroom and made them Bhwot as well, Debojoy and Denial being a few of the significant ones. I fell one short of class Darida, Anik, whom I almost managed to pull inside (by his shirt sleeves, no less), but stopped at the last moment as a very cautiously amazed Cassmortmain looked at the pair. Not wanting to put a bad impression on her idea of a safe, nice Bhwot, I let go (very reluctantly though).

Happily (for we were one of the firsts to BHWOT, we ran off to the BALCONY where cigarettes were immediately lit (boo for non-smokers). Deep was indolently sitting at a corner, to whom I grinned and declared my relief: “Doesn’t it make you feel like a spanking piece of a*se??” Deep grinned and bore that comment with courage taking all the wind out of my sails : “Swapanda tomake dakchhe” (Swapanda is calling you)

Me!! Why Me?? Hoimoi!! Hoimoi!!

I gathered up all my courage, singing dithyrambs (incidentally, it translates from Greek into “goat-song” that were the origins of the tragic chorus) in my mind. Bravely, like Mary Queen of Scots to the execution, I approached The Godfather’s room.

Enter Stage Left: Panu

Panu: Sir A-a-ashbo? (May I come in?)

Don: Na na candidate noy amar student chai!! (No No I don’t want the candidates, I want a student!!)

(Great. Now I am a candidate. Hoimoi!!)

Panu: Iye, Sir, ami Student. (Er, sir, I am a student)

Don: Bhwote diyechho?? (have you bhwoted?)

Panu(in a rush): Hyansir!! (Yessir!!)

Don: sabbaike niye Abar fire jao… tomra keu broadsheet e sign koroni!! Na korle tomader Bhwot cancelled hobe!! (Take everyone and GO BACK to the room and sign the Broadsheet, or your bhwots will be cancelled!!!)

Panu: ah… yessir!!!

I ran. To others. Gathered them up and took them to be slaughtered… er… signed.

Then the Don entered the room. Everyone was silent, watching the fearful symmetry of the pointy beard.

Don: Shoi korle?? (Did you sign?)

Panu: ah.. yessir!!

Don: Sabai? (All?)

Panu: yessir!!

Don: Kata Jaal korle?? (How many did you copy??)

Panu: I-Uhhhhh….

Exit Don, Stage Right.
Here I end my experience with the Bhwoting process. The post-bhwoting included me calling one certain white sleeveless bloused spectacled personality “Tonks!!” and her winking back at me… but then……

The Miracle Worker

My friend (coz he is actually, though not my closest one... he he) Ani has made possible impossible. Er, I mean, Impossible Possible. He has received an 81% in his first semester. What he has not done is stop studying for this sem, because it is pretty much not required to study for all the sems when you've picked up enough marks in the very first sem to pull you through the next three.

Instead he had attended a SATURDAY class of Queer Studies on Edward II in which we all teased him unmercifully and he constantly said, very modestly of course: Stop na!! When will all of you forget this thing?? Pleassee!! This is sooooooooooooooooo embarrassing!! (accompanied by bowed head and rosy bristly cheeks)

Basically, before I go any further, I should describe Ani's nature... He is this wonderfully sweet and incredibly nice guy, always nervous and somewhat adorably frantic person with long, almost hypnotic, bony fingers that I love watching. And oh, an apalling handwriting!!(though no worse than mine...)

He is very sweet when he talks nervously and frantically, like a little lost lamb. One of these days, I would really like to take Ani home and feed him some nice food... he sorta inspires my maternal instinct, I guess.


Supriyadi Said:
In front of me & Rajarshi... thats the really thin fair PGI guy, a new recruit), and I quote: he is perhaps one of the best students we have had in 10 years.
Moreover, to MM's thoughtless comment, "is he an outsider?" she looked at him with quiet contempt and said..."What do you mean by OUTSIDER Manojit???"
This was followed by a joint Aoaaj (Howowwoowwowowowooooooo) to Ani from me, Babel, Mou, Deep, And the lot, while Cassy watched with an indulgent smile on her face.

Moreover, when Tintinda saw the Marks, he said:Hyannn!!! Pelo ki kore????? (What??!!?? How DID he get it?)

Rimidi Smiled and said : Shanghatik bhalo koreche!! (Horrendously well done)

And our dear Anti-Lacanian just apologetically smiled and said with full proper care to me: amar Sapho Ekkebare hoyni. Ki je kori... (My Sapho is just not done. What to do...)

Another fine day, really.

Oh, for more comments on this highly marked guy, check out Rimi's blog.

Bhyalentine De Bashonti

Okay... so this post is concerned with the last week when, since they would'nt be able to roam around with me on V-day, people started to take me around to give me a nice 'be-single-its-good' treat. The first one was on 7th when my best buddy A took me to watch Rang De Basanti with her. No... this will not start one of those arguments over the making of the movie... I will talk about the hazards of seeing a movie in Kolkata. I will enumerate only the top 3features that readers might find similar to their own experiences...

3.LOST AND FOUND :

At precisely 5 minutes before the movie was about to start, A called. "Honey, where are you? I am at the cinema hall... I can't find you anywhere."

Panu: " So am I. Where Are you?"

A: " Am right in front of the hall."

P: "So am I. Where are you? I have the tickets with me. The show's about to start in 5 minutes."

A: "Can't be. Its not 1:00 yet."

P: " No its from 12:30. Dammit where the hell are you?"

A: "Am right in front of M*****. Where are you?"

P: "OH F*** b***** you're in front of the wrong bloody Hall!!! I am in front of N****!!!"

A(panics): "What do I do NOW??"

P: "Take a cab. FAST!!"

A: "Right. OK... "

Result : The first time we were about 20 minutes late to the show.

2. THE STORYTELLER:

In every movie one must encounter one sordid creature who takes great relish to spoil. One of them (on the net is RIMI) by chance sat next to me and then started the double narrative:

1) Film: Captain Ajay Rathod (R MADHAVAN) is carried by all the other guys in a mock-funeral march.

Spoiler: Ebaar o shotti more jaabe!! (now he'll really die)

Panu seethes but Amir is onscreen... so she refuses to let a marauding bi*** get to her.

2) Film: Amir Khan & Siddharth kills the defece minister.

Spoiler: Ebaar o Radio Statione giye bolbe orai murder koreche (now they will go to the radio station and confess their crime) (her partner gives a little "Tai?" after this disclosure).

Panu is really mad... but refuses to stoop so far to grace these lowly mortals with an answer.

1. THE ADDA

The ugly scene of Riot goes on .. the whole hall is silent and mourning...

Suddenly silence breaks with two dimwitted twitsters who decide to discuss their individual happenings

Dimwit 1: janish tarpor Srijonike giye amra sabai jiggesh korlam... tui ki really oke eta bolechis??(do you know, after that we all asked srijoni whether she did tell him that?)

Dimwit 2: O ki bollo? (what did she say?)

D 1: O bollo je na, actually naki o boleni... hee hee hee hee...( She said no she did not say that actually...)

Panu: Amarder bhul hoyeche cinemata dekhte esechhi... eta to adda maraar jayga... Tai na?? (We mistkenly came to see the movie... this is a place to chat, is'nt it?)


Anyway... for those who want to know if I enjoyed or hated the movie... for them here's my answer.... YES!! I did!! After Mangal Pandey's disappointment, RDB is DEFINITELY an improvement.

Its All Greek To Me

Another semester... and I have yet again changed my courses... not knowing what the hell to do... to T.S. Eliot from Renaissance Political Thought. Might sound stupid at this age, but sincerely, I have realized that it is not really my cuppa--- Politics.

So I went to tell ADG that I would like to change my subject...

P stands apprehensively outside The Godfather's door as ADG finishes his meeting. Enter door left The Star.

Panu- Erm... Sir..?

ADG- Hyaan, Bolo? (yes, speak?)

Panu- Iye Sir, Mane... Ami Renaissance Political thought bhabchhi chhere debo... sir mane, Nite parchhi naa ( Erm, Sir, I mean, I'm thinking that I might leave Renaissance Political thought... I mean, I cant take it any more...)

ADG- Oh FINE!!! Bhalo to...

Exit, Stage Right towards Net room.

Inference- Go Figure!!


Anyway, back to the drawing board... here's a list of 5 top greek words(and their meanings) I have learnt from ADG (the great).


5. Pathonta Gnonai this means knowing by suffering.

4. Kaka --- Bad. the meaning, that is. and Kakon kakistes means the baddest of the worst.

3. Hoimoi --- ALAS!!! this is the alas that carries itself with a deep sigh of distress...

2.Eromenos & Erastes---In Greek homosexual relations the young man and his Older Lover were called these respectively. The dominated Eromenos was the beardless youth within the age of 12-15, a shy, gentle and blushing creature, whose eyes would remain downcast and attitude submissive; he should not feel sexual desire, while his older bearded lover would be able to take charge of this boy, a strong character characterized by his erect penis, a sign of Masculinity.

1. Euryproktoi--- this means wide spread arse. An erommenos grows up and becomes aggressive. But if he remains submissive, then he is the worst butt of all jokes... a person who has been much used and abused. (This bit of info was accompanied by a wide grin from the guy).

A Really Excellent Picture

Well... I was haunting the Net as usual... and guess what I found Under it.... A case of BAD BREATH!! ...

P.S. My sister supplied this, actually.

Here We Go... One more Time...

Well, its a brand new year of sameness. Camus was right. The only way out of this mess is *Suicide*(For Suicide, do not think its physical or something. Its not. Its actually a Spiritual thingy).

So, I have taken up my optional subjects this term... *Guess Guess*

Its Renaissance Political Thought and Queer Studies.

Simply because Of two things... (A) Renaissance Political Thought is being taken by ADG, and I can legitimately watch gay porn and Will and Grace (with my annoying pest of a Sister's blessings) in public. Moreover, I have realized that I score better with my own sex rather than the opposite, so there!!

Anyway, I have discovered and seen some really amazing things during the last year... call them my new year discoveries for the year 2005.

(1) My little sister (she's 11) watches and loves LINKIN PARK and Oasis... I mean... I knew she loved Eminem's songs( all of them), but this is too much... she especially adores "points of authority", "Crawling" and "In the end"what has really moved me is her identification of me as her "Wonderwalls" (at this point, those who knows me knows that I am Trying to lose weight). My conclusion at this is short : Watch out 'Aantellectual' UNIVERSITIES... here comes another one in a few years...

(2) My pet Cocktail(if the spelling's wrong please do NOT contradict me... the person who gifted us the creatures told me that name) birds, Ghotu (short for Aghaton-ghaton-potioshi) and Chalu (short for Chaalbaaj) have learned to annoy me successfully... In the morning, precisely at 6.00, the two creatures start to yell..."O DIDI!! O DIDIDIDI...!!! OOOO DIIIDDIIII!!!!..." and heaven help me if I am not there by time... they scream the house down till I go and give them a "OI CHUP!! CHOAP!! CHUUP!!" and they return my annoyed outburst with "CHOAP" and then sofly coo "O GHOTU!! O GHOTU!! O DIDI!! AW GHOTU!!" and continue till I give them a good scratch around their head and then take them out of their cage for a little ride on my shoulder (I look like HANUMAN carrying RAM LAXMAN on his shoulders). And Ghotu loves biting my rings off my finger, and Chalu loves Muri. And they love dancing with ringtones of my Mobile.

(3) The JUDE Blog. Where everyone's posts get commented upon but myn!! (and I will turn some NASTY OLD ENGLISH POSTS TO THAT DAMN SITE IF THIS CONTINUES)

(4) The wonder of BLIND DATING. MY COMMENT: Love is blind. We are not.

(5) Kanye West. Diamonds from Sierra Leone.

(6) Dan Brown.

(7) My DAD's First love. I would rather not go into details. Its pretty gory.

(8) A whole array of NET Buddies. Thanks to some old and dear friends. Thanks to REDIFF Chat ... KHONIKER OTITHI, PROTONRIVER, BULET, HABULSEN, SUNSHINES BRIGHTLY, ARYANRAY, and RONGPENCIL... Thanx for being there when I sobbed and sighed. AND Some friends who were there WAY before.

(9) I have a LOT of enemies. It was not evident before, but now I can clearly see the people who are trying to make me fall. And the worst is the mirror.

(10) As my parents insist, I have realized that I am marriage material. People actually came to 'See' me (one day I will be cracking up laughing about the whole thing... with my psychiatrist!!) and (worse) they liked me.


Well... that concludes my yearly discoveries.. at least I can safely say that it could have been worse... or better ... at the end of 2004, I discovered I was BI.

Tis The Season to be Ugly... Weila lala lala lala la la la la leia lala

Tis The Season to be Ugly:" I mean, what was Joseph doing with his wife… family planning? And even if he was, why was he not popping the damn fruit, for Christ’s sake? Was he waiting for Christmas to unravel that particular present? (Oops, I think he was…)"

Read All About My Splendid New Disco-Bhari ... A Sen'x'ibly thought out reason of Christ's Creation, and the significance in the modern (suitably) hermaphrodite world...

Check out my other site where I regularly shed my tears of Sorrow and Suffering... aibbappsss

Look Back in --???

Well gentle readers, for the last one year and three months I have hated the Perfect Must-see Pujo destination of Kolkata for all those are young at heart... Maddox Square!!

I used to have a certain affection for that place before that time ( for numerous reasons of the heart.... I am sure gentle readers wil be much ashamed to hear my amorous ventures in that place).

How ever, as I was Saying,

The Incident: Last year Ashtami--- a buzzed me had stumbled inside my room after a hefty swig of BACARDI, WHITE MISCHIEF & OLD ADVENTURE at 2.30 in the afternoon. three hours later me was taken, kicking and screaming to Maddox Square, with School friends, and Family... YES FAMILY!!!!

My MOM AND MY 9 year old brat of a sister tagged along my sorry self.

Result: Cool Cute and Cuddly guys stayed off me, the guy I liked ACTUALLY came to talk, and saw my 5'6" 108kg Mummy darling standing guard, and constantly asking... ebar kon pujo dekhte jabo?? (missing the point of coming to the place altogether)and my 9-year old brat screaming... MA PIZZA KHABO!??!??!

Further result: My SEMI-BUZZED Self got rude stares, regretful looks and later, a sound lecture from the BOSS(mai baap)...

Inference- This year I did not go to MADDOX SQUARE on Pujo. I had a bout of MADDOX-FEAR.


HOW EVER... today I had to go to that place for some purpose or other... and whaddaya know?? Its was empty, with a few overbloated ladies trying to slim themselves down to fit themselves into dresses that would barely fit around their thighs, and little brats screaming for attention. All in all, just another park. Nothing special... with grasses and stuffs.

Gentle readers... the next PUJO... I hope I remember this thought, "Its just a Park!!"

A long Nostalgic Night

The letters slide drunkenly across my keyboard as I try to type the right stuffs.

After a long time, dad and I had a mano-I-mano over a pint of vodka and 6 Bacardi breezers. And since I am drunk(well, almost drunk... you know those times when you know partially that what you're doing is WRONG but too out of control to stop anything that you have started) this blog is not, I repeat, NOT Panu speaking... just a drunken old fool who is feeling depressed over being alive, and trying to come to terms with all that plague her sordid little days. The depression is for the obvious reason... exams. And hey, nonny nonny, its my anniversary!!!

On this day, two years ago, I made a fool of myself over someone not worth dripping over the carpets. I fell in that abyss of cliches that everyone hope to fall into at least once in their lifetime.

And yes, the end was not pretty.

And I still thought you would come to me. And the girl you love is studying with me, and to watch her everyday is a constant reminder of my foolishness... of what I can never have and she rejected. And I feel so guilty at times... of being such a two-faced hypocrite.

And I know that what you meant to me will evetually be a memory baby. But I can still feel the wounds that will not heal. They are softly digging further and further in me, and I can't get out of this godawful mess that I have made.

And it is all my fault, for I Just can't let you go. And all I do is miss you... though I know that the time was wrong.
P.S. Please readers, call it an exam-pression(can be both exam+expression or exam+depression... choose your call).. And this thing that I just wrote is just a dream, forget it after you finish reading.

And here I am, typing aimlessly and staring at the keyboard.

Another brick on the wall.

And another time when the teacher won't leave me alone.

Especially when I am trying to know the name of the bloody poems that contains such alien lines as found in my Exam Question paper.

Especially when my head feels like a mini-vibrator, throbbing and throbbing without any relief as I hunt for the new gel pen with which I destroy the virginity of the pristine white sheets that gaze back at me, reflecting my mind, which has gone blank.

I never expected myself to perform today. I felt no urge to perform today, because I did not feel the need to do so. Corny, huh? But then again, I think the only saving grace I have in me is that I am painfully honest to myself, and to be just that, I did not want to give this exam at all! It’s strange, because I take on exams like I take on everything else in life… without any seriousness at ALL!! And I suddenly realized today, that I am sick of this constant routine of study-exam-study-exam-study-… well, this never-ending chain that eats me up all the time.

Anyway, those of you were reading this with the illusion that this is some kind of funny blog that would send you off smirking, well, boo for you!!

THIS IS NO MATTER OF JOKE!! I HAVE JUST REALIZED THAT I HATE EXAMS!!

And to come to terms with this newfound knowledge, I went to the terrace to meet my wonderwall in the whole wide world, because I was feeling room-antique and bone-weary… the moon. And what do you know? Today the bluish white moon showed his damn pretty face (and yes, my theory is that the moon is a man) and smirked at my misery, not responding back like he usually does, just watching me back and showering me with moonlight, but as usual, this time he did not soothe me, calm me down, or love me. All he did was stare, like he was daring me to make a move first. So I did… I got down to the TV room and watched pathetic dances on StarOne (Nach Baliye). And it so damn irritated me that before the jhoojhess could make any comment, I simply left.

And here I am, listening to Linkin Park and feeling partially sated because at last the damn headache is gone. And that is all that matters tonight… I daresay I shall survive, but I guess am getting a tad jaded for all my years. But then again, perhaps this is the age to be jaded, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that I’m not the only one to feel so… Em’s leaving music.

How low can a day go?

Perhaps this is the way it’s supposed to be. All these years, and I have finally stopped pretending to have a happy ending. The fairy tale’s come to an end, and I’m left holding the glass slipper that will never fit.

How to Catch and Kill a Lion

There are several straight methods to kill a lion, and there are several gay ways to kill them. Taken from different sources, my research to catch and kill a lion has proven to be by far the simplest methods of all time. Corbett, eat your heart out, because here are some of the tried and tested methods of catching and killing a lion that beats sitting in the jungle and getting bug-bitten.


First, Catch the Lion


· ARISTOTLE’S Method
Teach the lion the significance of tragedy in life and that being born was the biggest Miasma, and that he would soon be singing goat song (dithyrambos) if he lived any longer… after a few more minute of this, the lion will easily come to you and beg for ear muffs. That is a pretty good time to catch it.


· PLATO’S Method
This is for the times when the lion enters a cave. Just put a large stone, block the entrance, and voila! You have caught a lion.


· NEWTON’S Method
Let the lion catch you. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. That implies therefore that you have caught a lion.


· HAMLET Method
Confuse the lion by teaching it the “to be, or not to be” dilemma. While confused, catch it.


· LACAN Method
The simplest methods of all… just make the lion understand that he has lost his signifier. While he is searching for it, just lead him by the mane, promising to lead it to his signifier…

· BILL GATES Method
Catch a cat and claim that you have tested its potentials to be a lion, and very soon you will upgrade it into one.


· EINSTEIN Method
Run in the direction opposite to that of the lion. Due to higher relative velocity, the lion will also run faster and will get tired. Catch it then.


After the seven easy methods of catching the lion, let us move on to PART II Killing the Lion


· TERMINATOR Method
Keep warning the lion “ I’ll Be BACK!!” and kill him any day. The lion will live in fear and die soon of fear itself.


· MAMATA BANERJEE Method
Tell the lion that if it does not die you will leave the ministry. Lion will immediately not want to die, and opposition party will send mercenaries to kill it.


· MANIRATHNAM Method
Put the lion in a dark room and make sure the lion does not get sunlight. Light a single candle in the room and keep singing “ROJA JAANEMAN” in his ears. The lion will be highly irritated and commit suicide.


· GOVINDA Method
Dance for six days in front of the lion wearing lime green chaddis with crimson banyaans to weaken it. On the seventh day read the political party speech he gave in Mumbai. The lion will die of shame.


· KARAN JOHAR Method
Invite the lion to KOFFEE WITH Ki- I Mean KARAN and Grill it with stupid questions about his failed career till it dies of boredom.


· YASH CHOPRA Method
Send a lioness in the forest where the lion lives. Our lion and lioness falls in love with each other. Now send another lioness in the forest. Follow it by another lion. Now first lion loves last lioness, but second lioness loves second lion. The first lioness loves the second lion but the second lion loves the first lion. Now, send a 3rd lioness to the forest and wait for 10 years. You don’t understand, huh? Read it after 10 years, and you wont understand either.


· RAHUL DRAVID Method
Ask the lion to bowl at you and you bat for 200 balls and score 1 run. Tell the lion you want to score a century. The lion will die of terror and exhaustion.


· GEORGE BUSH Method
Link Lion to LADEN and shoot it.


SO there you go, seven methods to catch a lion and eight easy ways to kill it. ENJOY THE LION!!

My love for Legolus

Since I am more or less sure that My love for Orlando Bloom is virtually zero, I cannot but express the deep, abiding love that I feel for Legolus, the Elf, who won my heart through the several reads I allowed myself of LOTR.

The reason : unknown.

However, Sirius Black is an entirely different kettle of fish.

I think I prefer older men. Hmmm... if I decide to spend the rest of my pathetic life with one, I'll get early senior citizenship advantages... that bloody near made me burst a blood vessel with joy!!

Here's (sigh) to you, my bachelor sweetheart, and I really wish you'll never keep a beard.

regards,

the one & only

PANU