Wardrobe Malfunction Malattraction

Yes I know you want to see it. Here they are.

Happy, you must be, like everyone, from the media to the masses. Everyone likes to see someone (or shall we say something) else slip, and what better then a model.
A professional who uses his/her body.
Then why do people and the law prosecute a guy who sells MMS clips on ebay. Because it is illegal? The newspapers are smarter, as they get away with it, by placing appropriate blocks of black.

Is the actual “thing” more shameful than the whole episode?

People’s reactions over the episode are being published. And the discussion is definitely not about the printability of the matter.

Some thing the models are actually attention mongers. Maybe some of them are. But then the whole thing is even more pathetic, as they have made puppets out of media and the people.

And even from a commercial point of view, one of the newspapers can position itself as Moral, by not printing it. And publicising that fact (of not printing it).

man and the fish

This is a film about a man and a fish.
This is a film about a dramatic relationship between a man and a fish.
The man stands between life and death.
The man thinks.
The horse thinks.
The sheep thinks.
The dog thinks.
The fish doesn’t think.
The fish is mute, expresionless, the fish doesn’t think,
because it knows…everything.

Film soundtracks are a great way of discovering new music. And some not so famous movies have awesome music. The lines above are from the soundtrack of Arizona Dreams. Composed by Goran Bregovic, and sung by Iggy Pop. “Tv screen”, “In the death car” and “dreams” are just awesome. You can download some of these using audio search engines like alltheweb.com and singingfish.com.

Thank you friends, teachers, coutrymen, plants, animals, …….a long list

DNA has published one of my short stories in it’s suplement ‘ME’. (it’s on the 42 page:)You may have read it on this blog here. The editor Ms. Sathya Saran had asked me if I could make the story longer. I had a tough time doing that without messing it. But I think I managed. The old one is still here, and the version 2.O can be read below the dotted line. And thanks for all the support. And all you ppl get a treat for your suggestions :).

Update: Forgot to mention rahul, who encouraged me to send my story.
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Round and round they went with the beats. The inner
circle moved clockwise, the outer one in the opposite
direction. It was a whir of every colour between red
and yellow.

Each had their favourite partner. And when that one
came, there would be an added twinkle in the eye and a
coquettish smile. The victim would then rush through
rest of the players to get back to her.

It was the ninth day of navratri. Lovers and would be
lovers where playing the celestial dance of garba, in
the footsteps of Lord Krishna and his gopis.

She felt thirsty. Moving out of the two circles,
narrowly avoiding dandiya sticks, she waved her hands
to grab his attention. She reminded herself to punch
him for giving “that” smile to the girl in the purple,
backless choli.

They had met hardly a month ago and of all places on
the mud flats of Sewri. The flamingoes had come by
their hundreds. And both of them were part of the BNHS
birdwatching trip. She was interested in nature from
her childhood. Her parents, especially her poor mother
had endured everything from tree snakes to spiders in
matchboxes.

He was hardly listening to the guide who was telling
them about the special type of soil and climate of the
region. He kept stealing glances. He tried to remember
everything he had ever seen on the national geographic
about flamingoes. So that he could say something
intelligent to her, start the conversation. It took
him totally by surprise when she said to him, “ So
beautiful, aren’t they?”.

Something made the many birds to take off together, a
sea of pink. While they were smiling at the sight, a
shower of pink feathers greeted them.

Their story which had started with the blessing of the
flamingoes, used other newer technologies to gather
heat. Yahoo chats and phone calls led to coffee shop
trips. And then the festival season came.

And here he was walking towards her thinking of
excuses. He had seen the speck of jealous anger in her
eyes. Her anger vanished the moment he went and
grabbed her hand, pressing it. His eyes said many
things. The dancing had not raised her heartbeats as
his eyes did. They ran out of the pandaal, and into
the parking lot. They didn’t speak. Speech was
redundant. The only apprehensions were about what
extent the other would go.

The festival does it to you. It’s as if all the cement
factories in the world had start spewing pheromones
instead of the usual smoke. Thankfully the cultural
pollution control concentrated their efforts on the
western pollutants namely Valentine’s effluents.

Everything was a blur after that. Time was getting
stuck and accelerating like a learning driver. The
ghagra stuck in the door. The kisses soon after. The
knots of the choli, which gave him some hard time.
The fumblings and the shy hands.

She stopped him. No it is not safe, she said. But he
was well prepared. Out came a small white packet. She
relented.

And exactly after 3mins and 40sec I swam into this
world. With millions of other competitors. But I
coud’nt see any of them. I was at the front. But what
was this white hurdle. The old man hadn’t said
anything about it in the dressing room. But I saw this
small hole, light coming out. I slithered out, with
some effort.

The target was soon in sight.

I became me.

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holi hungama

This time Holi reset my body clock. I used to sleep at 6am till around 2-3 in the afternoon. Which ate up all my day. So on holi day i decided to dayout.

First to hostel to my wingmates.
Narrowly avoided being thrown into muddy waters.
Then to batchmates who live nearby.
Narrowly avoided having an “azo dye dant manjan”.

Then 5 of us headed to water kingdom.
Pondy, rane, uppoo, gajju and I.
A long journey later,
(auto to andheri, train to malad, auto to marve beach, ferry to water kingdom)
in which we narrowly avoided being capsized by a killer whale, we reached the place.

Lots of lovey dovey couples and gujju families.

sidenote: T-shirt and slacks, should be banned at amusement parks.

In the mass of people we lost sight of uppoo and rane. They had not one Re between them and we had the key to the locker. Adrenaline from the rides kept them alive till evening when we found them.

I want to work for esselworld, for the post of “Ride Namer”, that is naming rides.
Boggle Bogie, chumunga vumunga, dhoondoo – lundoo, Jalebi Spin, etc..etc..
Now that would be an exciting job.

God of elfwood disappoints his subjects

Whatsup with me. I had another one of those filmi dreams. This time it was a fantasy, in archaic english.


Two little elves are sitting in the hollow of a tree. When suddenly the tree becomes a tree man. The elves are are not worried because this is not new for them. The tree man addresses them, “Elves prepare to die!”.

Now as everyone knows elves are “amar” and there is nothing which could kill them. So the elves start laughing at the treeman’s words.

Now furious, the tree man’s voice booms, “you little thimblings, you think I am an old barky tree, don’t you. I defeated the GOd of Elfwood. And that fearful little thing that you call your GOD, wept and cried, begging for his life.”

sidenote: in elfwood the gods can die, they are not “amar”.

Tree man: “Infact he traded his life in exchange of all the elves….HA HA HA HA…”

Now realizing the tragedy of the situation, one of the elves steps forward, “Take me first , Oh tree GOD. Because I can’t see my friend die. I’d rather go first.”

But then something miraculous happens, the other elf begins to transform. Half his body begins covering with armour, and his right hand changes into something really deadly. He roars, “Not so fast, O tree GOD, half my body maybe dung to you, but the other half can take you down. This is a armour worn by great human king Saladin. I could only get half of it, but even that is enough for you.”

And his deadly right hand begins to elongate and enlarge towards the neck of the tree god.

And then i wake up.

Filmi Sapna

Normally i never remember my dreams. But this time was different.

I am sitting in a bus stop type of place.
It’s dark.
and I am the only one around.
I hear some voices, female voices. Voices in distress.
I see two gundas taking two girls by force up a stair.
The girls are resisting. But the gundas are musclebound.
I step in, with a iron rod lying nearby.
“Stop it”, I say.
They ignore me.
The rod in my hand crashes on one of the gunda’s back.
He groans. “maa@#$#@#…teri..#$@#$”, he cries.
I am ready for more if the other one tries anything. But he is a little dazed.
And then the girl says to me, “Mind your own business, go away”, with an angry tone.
I say, “Fuck it….” drop the rod, which tan tana tans across the floor, turn around and go.

Next scene is: I am on the roof of the 2 floor building. And I can see the 2 men talking, about me, just outside the entrance.
In fact they are out of their daze and want to take revenge, and beat me up. They are waiting at the entrance for me to come out. Their eyes are on the door.
I look around….there is a electric pole about a metre from the building. I jump from the roof to the pole. Slide down silently. When I am around one floor down..I see some loose wires hanging. From the pole onto the wires, and a swing towards one of the guys. I land heavily with a kick on that guy’s head.

And then i wake up.

Teenage americana

Kamathipura is famous for another thing. It’s chor markets. Fridays and sundays, morning 4am to 7am, in an alley called “ded gali”, or 1 1/2 alley, is held the shoe market. Brands like NIKE, REEBOK, ADDIDAS, WOODLAND and others, any model less than 800 bucks. My sneakers are in pretty good shape, so I caught on my sleep while my roomies went and brought back a great deal. I’ll go there on a friday, as there is also an electronics bazaar on fridays. I need a floater, but that can wait for the rains.

Then went for some shopping to HUMA mall. Had the new flavors from kwality icecreams, with funky and alcoholic names. But the vendor says it does not have alcohol, just flavors.

And i am just back from go karting. It had never occured to me to try it. The closest i had got to the track was 5 years back, when fresh in mumbai, i heard about a movie shoot at the track. Back then celebreties were still godlike (for me) and when aishwarya rai had deigned to come, i had no option but to go. Part of a mob standing outside the tracks, patiently taking in the numerous retakes of a song. When the shot was ‘cut’, aish walked towards her dressing van. And the mob broke the lines. The few security personnel could’nt do anything. We ran towards the van. With numerous emotions flooding on aish’s face, most of them synonyms of fear, she looked even more beautiful. She was about to reach the van’s door when we reached her. Nobody did anything, she had such a presence. Everyone stood around making a circle with her in the center. No one said anything, for a moment. Then the security guards came back with backup. Aish lifted her hand and waved. And everybody waved back.The security whisked her into the van. And that was that.

5 years later had a even higher high on the same tracks. When i first sat at the wheel it did’nt take much time to get confident. And even before 1/4 of a lap i was speeding. And when the first sharp turn came, I took a left (or some such thing), on a clockwise track. Bang, into the tyres. The first thought was “fuck..is the kart alright, i don’t want to pay for damages”….but then i saw no hanging pieces, and the “pit man” came running. With a warning of doing it coolly, flagged me off, metaphorically. The rest of the laps were sheer fun, though i could not reach my full potential because of the “bang” scene in the back of my head. But go karting sure kicks any drinks ass, in the highness quotient.

Future plans, deep and i are spliting costs on a skateboard. And a BMX bike.

While my body is headed towards middle age,
i am headed towards teenage americana.

Scratched record, Duet vali besuri, manna de show

With due respects to musicians and old people, and particulary to musicians, I would like to say something. When your vocal chords get tired better stay at home. Well age is in the mind, but after a certain extent it effects our body too. Can’t he hear himself and doesn’t he respect music and his audience. And the accompanying singer was really bad, was making so many mistakes. And the even older anchor who was reciting antique shayari and sardaar jokes. My friend tells me he made the same jokes at a show in Goregaon too.

When someone is strugling at learning a art, i appreciate it. But someone who has made it to a perfection, to the top, i think should make a graceful exit, before starting to croak. Sing at your home, beside lonely riverbanks.

Some quotes, (paraphrased)…

“now i am singing such and such song…from the film, directed by my friend the great director, who unfortunately is no more, for the hero, …sorry i forget the heroine’s name.”

“In those days……..heee-haaaw, but nowadays blaah – blaah….”

“and this was composed by the great music director, who has left us long ago, and penned by the great lyricist of west bengal”

“and now let me sing a benGOli song about coffee houses, where the elite of all benGOL came to drink tea….oops coffee”