Shopping for bubbles

Late Nights - Let's first talk about why people think being voluntarily awake at night is 'not healthy, beta'. Living in IIT has its benefits when it comes to being an insomniac. If biology works en masse on a species-to-species basis, you know you're well into the grand scheme of things because if you stop yawning at ten pm, so are around 3800 students. This educated guess (thanks, Mayur) includes professors. Isolation has been ruled out, because this whole jing-bang lot of disagreeable people go back to the Stone Age when we were all hunting in packs. How can my internal body clock be dysfunctional?
Nein.

The Secret To A Good Life - Given my present location, I think I can say yes even to my self-doubtful bag of thought-peanuts, because not staying in Bombay makes you think of Bombay more and more. I know why people living in cities are unhappy with their lives. It's because cities don't have halwai shops. Halwai shops, ladies and gents, are the world's most gastronomically attractive places. And if there is anything of considerable consequence that we have been doing ever since we woke up, it is eating. Food is the soul of that man called Life. Food encourages, food nourishes. Food loves unconditionally. Do you know the secret to a good life? I know. It's too simple to gasp at. The secret to a good, wholesome life is - more butter. You disagree with me? You know what you've been missing, then.

The Lizard's Point of View - The lizard lives on a reverse plane of familiar surface. Its 180 degrees is the shape of an unruly crescent moon to us, its 360 begins where we end ours. I've often wondered what would happen to my optic nerves if I were given a lizard's angle of incidence and reflection for one night. a) my beloved glasses would be the first to perish but b) gravity would become very timid a concept from what it is now. Quite a cracker thing to be de-conditioned of, even for just 24 hours.

The Letters 'e' And 'l' Are Beautiful When Doubled - I once nearly had a pen-friend called Priscilla. Isn't her name the prettiest you've heard? I would have written back to her solely for the musical thrill her name held to me, were it not for gusts of wind when I was copying her address down. Look at them, just look at the words -

eerie
melee
between
tweezers
preen
breeze
weed
fleece
sweep

You could write a poem a la carte Edward Lear's Classic Nonsense just because .. well just because of the way they sound when you double them.

The. Ees.

The
eerie
melee
between
the
tweezers, which
preen
the
weed
but
fleece
the
breeze, of its
sweep
.

And who doesn't love freebies?

Ditto with the twelfth letter. When cloned and put together, they sound like they just have to make a point.

The. Ells.

Of pills. And the shrillness of Bill 's illness.
Of gills. And the thrills of Will's kills.
Of hills. And the smell of Jill's dills.

Now, someone
was talking about the shallow
and hollow
but mellow
bellow
of a
yellow fellow

When all
he ever did
was yell
oh Hell!
(You see, he
fell)


[Shopping for bubbles will continue eternally. More so because the shopper's having a lovely time. Hope you did, and will too.]

Opening secrets

An April's week this year was spent with my grandfather, Nana. Days were spent going off in delightfully obscure lanes and chasing peacocks. Nights were spent lounging around and listening to Sufi and Pink Floyd. I found something which has always been my little quest wherever I go - a place to write. It was a huge rock on the periphery of a deserted playground, with a single bare tree and lots of scrawny bushes scattered around. I roamed around, answers elusively tingling my head but appearing like ellipses.

Ahmedabad is a fascinating place for people forever in search of something. The Sabarmati Nadi runs across the city, roughly marking a time divide. Its eastern bank is New Ahmedabad, riding high on bright billboards about home loans and weight-loss programs. The western bank is Old Ahmedabad, its shops yawning and waking up to animals and people. Walking through this part of the city feels like you're revisiting New Ahmedabad's childhood. If there was a place which could be similar to the smell of nostalgia between the pages of a forgotten novel, this place is it.

But Old Ahmedabad isn't timelocked. Time behaves like a curtain of separation which sways and folds, every now and then. There are old blankets worn soft with age, coloured with splashes and flashes of flouroscent modernisation.

Pink carbon paper.
Bajaj scooters with very shrill horns.
Beds of woven jute, or khaats.
Old men, sitting and smoking pipes.
"Yeh, Akashwani hai. Ab aap Salonika Dalal se Gujarati mein samachar suniye."
Torn kites.
Kids playing with WWF cards.
Pyarelal ki Halwai.
A paan shop every 100 metres.
Bhajan ringtones.
Melody, Poppins and Gems.
Verandahs.
Bottles of Old Spice.
Goats, pigs and bulls on the streets.
Stationary shops selling small notebooks lined in red.
Loudspeakers screaming "Shri Ram, Jai Ram, Jai Jai Ram"
Sridevi-Rishi Kapoor songs.
T-shirts about "Amrika".
Giggling girls, when you smile at them.
Women carrying pots of water on their heads.
Open doors.

Most people can be likeable, but there aren't too many people who can be deliciously out of reach. They inspire a sense of admiration, tinged with a grasping inquisitiveness. My grandfather is a personification of this quicksilver enigma. Nana is a mesmerising person. He's extremely well read, has a curiously ethnic sense of aesthetics and a deep sense of music. The best thing I like about him is the gentle, atmospheric mystery he exudes. He's almost like a mystic; the only difference is perhaps that he works for the government too.

The wonderful thing about mystery is the chase. It could be trying to understand people, places or simple puzzlement over a word-game. I remember trying to solve a word-game I had come across during Techfest with my friend Sharan at college. We were sitting in the canteen, quite literally breaking our heads over a word-jigsaw. Suddenly, the answer popped into my head like a fingersnap and I was instantaneously transported to the Olympics. The finish-line ribbon was floating around my waist and I was running across to the spectators, my limbs flowing in slow-motion. The exhilaration was so complete that I just sat there, grinning myself silly.

I think real mysteries never let you go. They are always there, teasing you, a neuron's spark short of enlightenment. It's always gratifying when you have it clasped safely in your hands, but darting after it, and shaking off its shadows is the real charm of a mystery.

(Photograph courtesy: Crowolf)

Captain Hook goes fishing

This one is solely for you, Sharan.


Ten Things You Wish You Could Say To People Right Now:
(you can withhold names if you want)

1. I wish I was there.
2. Patel Uncle, Vimal's - You have the brightest smile I've seen among shopkeepers. And your prices are the best. Thanks for keeping inkpens alive.
3. The five teachers in my life, of my life - I remain forever indebted for a million reasons.
4. Paridhi - don't listen to one word about 'not talking to strangers.' Those supposed adults are just plain chickens, and you're missing out on Cosmic Brilliance.
5. Arjun Singh and the Chinese Government - Fuck off.
6. Meryl Streep - you're a great actor. I'd like to meet you someday.
7. Roald Dahl, Alan Fletcher, Edward Lear, Robert Frost and Sylvia Plath - thank-you. So much.
8. Pearl Jam, U2, Michael Buble, Mohd. Rafi, S.D Burman, A.R. Rahman and all the bands and singers which have made the music I love and revere -
It's the terrible beauty in terrible pain
Like the smile of happiness you can't restrain
Stop me in the middle of an agony
And make me feel with bravery
9. Nani - Please don't worry about me. And please - don't ever leave me.
10. Kavita K. - You were a wonderful person. Thank-you for not forgetting me that evening.

Nine Things About Yourself:
1. I used to bite my nails.
2. I'd like to die free-falling.
3. I don't drink tea, but I can make it really well.
4. I hate it when people say 'k' while chatting.
5. I can't walk too long with my bag slung on my left side.
6. I like stroking barks of trees while walking.
7. I love dots, the sound of crunching gravel and dahi-alu-poori.
8. I don't think I can ever learn how to play basket ball.
9. I'm terrified of dying in the middle of a sentence.

Eight Ways To Win Your Heart:
1. Love life. It's incredibly attractive.
2. Smile.
3. Smell nice.
4. Write letters to me.
5. Make something for me. It could be a sock puppet or a song, it doesn't matter.
6. Enjoy silence.
7. Refrain from platitudes. Instead, show just the right amount of chivalry.
8. Be original.

Seven Things That Cross Your Mind A Lot:
1. You don't remember, do you?
2. Why?
3. Smile. Smile! It was funny!
4. Nice.
5. Just do it - it's simpler than arguing.
6. Bloody hell, that was scary.
7. You still don't remember, do you?

Six Things You Wish You Never Did:
1. Try embroidering a lion. I could never complete it.
2. Get up late on Holi ten years ago. I was in Lucknow, where the worst holis are played. Was woken up by being sprayed with water and sticky colours. Disgusting.
3. Underestimate my father.
4. Cheat in my class 11 Physics Final Exam.
5. Let my mother give away my purply-green pyjamas.
6. Take my music player to Thane. My sister lost it, and I've missed it deeply ever since.


Five Turn-Offs:
1. Negativity
2. Yellow trousers
3. Dirty nails
4. Smoking, drinking
5. Justifications


Four turn-ons:
1. Deep, earthy colours
2. Rain
3. Wrists
4. Twilight


Three Things You Want To Do Before You Die:
1. I'm not saying the first one here.
2. Learn tap-dancing and Urdu.
3. Make a movie for the hearing impaired and work in a circus.


Two Smileys That Describe You:
:Q
:!@#$%

One Confession:
Really now.
Anyway, just to humour you, I'm awful with sarcasm. I usually kill and stuff the corpse by taking it literally.

I Tag:
Shreyas
Jaya
Rohan
PS: Don't take the smileys seriously.