Tagged by Oliver

So. I have been tagged by Oliver(No-the one without the twist).And I will have to answer these questions. Here I will pretend that I am extremely bored and bothered for having to do something so utterly monotonous. When the truth is, i am jobless and am happy and excited to be tagged at all. So there. I start with a confession.


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

Faint traces of burn marks on the fingers of my right hand. Was in class 9. The day of Diwali. Was making rangmashaals on the terrace. Very badly burnt my hand trying to test a concoction of various powdered chemicals. Was a painful experience to say the least.

P.S. But by the time this (accident) happened I had finished making all the Tubris and Rangmashaals and very heroically lit all the fireworks that I would (had this not happened, that is) ; only this time with my left hand.


2. What is on the walls in your room?

Very boring yellow walls (the colour of the cow's teeth in the Orbit White ad to be precise). 'Wall contents' undergo changes that have nothing to do with the seasonal changes, in general. Currently I have sheets of paper pasted on the wall next to my bed with trigonometric formulaes related to multiple and submultiple angles written. I am supposed to know all of these from Class 12. But then a lot of things never turn out to be like they should. I also have sheets of paper to write down names of random songs, books, quotes, thoughts. Alternatively, I utilize all the glass surfaces on the pictures, my bookshelf,etc to write stuff. The ideas thus written appear to float in the middle of nowhere. Like they should.


3. What does your phone look like?

Like a double horned rhino if you look at it from the left. And a cock-eyed spaniel from the right. Well. Mostly.


4. What music do you listen to?

Jazz. And really old school Blues. Rabindrasangeet. Indian Classical. Norah Jones. I love her.


5. What is your current desktop picture?

A Norah Jones' poster I edited myself. Now here's a secret. My desktop pictures are always Norah Jones' pictures.


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

A Steinway Limited edition Grand Piano. Precisely this.


7. Do you believe in gay marriage?

You mean gay/'happy' marriages? No. I don't.



8. What time were you born?

I was never born. I am. I was. I will be.



9. Are your parents still together?

YES! What was the key word in the question again? Still?



10. What are you listening to?

My sound card driver conked off. I am listening to myself sing, thus. And shuddering. But wait. You just might wish to know what is it that I am singing and subsequently listening to(and sub subsequently shuddering at). It's a song by Ella Fitzgerald.



12. The last person to make you cry?

What's next?



13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

Cool Water. Davidoff. The Smell of wet soil. Before it rains.



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

Duh! As if...



15. Do you like pain killers?

No. Why would anyone want to kill pain. Or kill anything for that matter? Just Be!



16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

No. I am not.


17. Fave pizza topping?

Extra cheese. And salami. And chilly flakes.



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

Baked fish. From Amber.



19. Who was the last person you made mad?

My mom. Don't ask how. You already know. They are ever so willing to get mad at you.



20. Is anyone in love with you?

No one I know.

No wait I think this will speak very poorly of me as a person. And make me look like a love lorn loser. So I think I'd better say something like...Well there are a handful. But I couldn't care two boots.

Does that sound better? Yes. Definitely!





HA! I am done. My turn. I tag Shonai, KoYell (I think you are through with your papers,no?), Subhayu (jobless as ever), Dhruva and Tania. Yay!

Aftertaste

I had seen her on my way to the park. In the growing darkness she would sit along the roadside. And then when the street lamps would come to life, she would pack her polythene sheet into a bundle and go home. On a local train. With her green figs.


Figs, like berries...the greenest and the most wonderful I had seen. They were the colour of the dark leaves of the banyan. And fresh. Unscathed. I could not help thinking about them. She was beautiful too. And she sat with her figs everyday. You would imagine her to be just another vegetable seller. But I had seen her eyes. She sat there just like that. I had never seen anyone buy figs from her. There were occasional drunken brats that would pass lewd comments at her. She would calmly look down and ignore them.


I wanted to buy them figs from her. But I wasn't even sure if she wanted to sell them at all. I thought to myself-'what if she is just sitting there for nothing?' But I knew I had to buy the figs from her. I had been looking for them forever. Days went by.


I finally gathered enough courage to go up to her.



-Excuse me. But are these figs for selling?

-They are.(she did not look up)



It was all that I could ever ask for. I took out the biggest rupee-note that I had.



-Give me all of them, please.



She went on to put them in a packet for me. When she looked up and saw the note in my hand. Her face fell.



-But I don't have so much change on me sir.

-I don't need any change. You don't know how eagerly I have been looking for these all these years.

-You are over-paying sir. It would not be fair of me to accept so much in return of the handful of berries that I have to give you.

-Trust me, I am not. I cannot afford to pay you in cash the value these figs bear to me. Please give me the figs. I cannot give you any less.

-But what if you feel cheated later. What if you come back tomorrow to ask your money back?

-Why would I? Believe me Miss, I will be grateful all my life for these berries. Please.

-No. I can't.



And saying this, she packed her polythene into a bundle and started walking towards the Railway station. Like she did everyday. She went back home with her figs. Perhaps planning to come back one day to sell them to someone who paid her just the price she wanted. Just the worth she thoughts her berries were.


I started walking towards the park. The taste of the figs in my tongue.






P.S. Anuj D says:When the sun started to move around the earth, had it not any idea that the earth would fall in love with it; when the oceans started to wave up & down, had it not any idea that the water would fall in love with it; when the birds started to fly, had it not any idea that the sky would fall in love with it; when the breeze started to flow, had it not any idea that the beach would fall in love with it. When she was born had she not any idea that I will rise in love.

*Cheers*

There are times in my life when I am contented. When I meet dear friends everyday. Hours of addas atChampadi's or at Vivekananda Park are everyday affairs. When I can sit on the grass and look up at the sky and think of nothing in particular. Or imagine being me twenty years down the line and looking back at the me that I am now. I take pure sadistic pleasure at the fact that the me I am now is and will be the happiest me that was is or will be.

When afternoons are spent walking in the hot summer sun trying to get to cooler places such as Laddu's sat-tola or Chini's opposite Presidency. When no distance is too long to trudge. No excuse lame enough not to. With a company where being broke never makes you stand out. Where people have a reason but no plan. Where roadside lebu jol and lime cordial pegs cordially cohabit.

Where no one expects you to smell of lavender at the end of a hot sweaty summer sojourn. Where girls can fart fanatically and still get away without being damned and with little or no defamation. These days are kind. These Times are wonderful.

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you've got;
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away?


All those night when you've got no lights,
The check is in the mail;
And your little angel
Hung the cat up by it's tail;
And your third fiance didn't show;

Roll out of bed, Mr. Coffee's dead;
The morning's looking bright;
And your shrink ran off to Europe,
And didn't even write;
And your husband wants to be a girl;


Be glad there's one place in the world
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
You want to go where people know,
People are all the same;
You want to go where everybody knows your name.

Whatever

( Please click on the play button to listen to the song while you go through the post)

The syrupy darkness of the night ruffles my gelled hair. A touch of a button. The window slides up. Goodbye sticky darkness. Goodbye disordering darkness. It’s silent inside. Serene. A submarine ride for a swim. A space capsule for a free fall.

A hundred Kmph is smooth. Just about do-able. Soppy thoughts can get to you in no time. And before you know they will be making you feel gooey all over. In places you never thought were. A hundred Kmph is just the bare minimum. Huh. Can’t even read the speed limits. Couldn’t care less. I don’t think of you.

Visions of you on a motorcycle drive by,
The cigarette ash flies in your eyes, and you dont mind, you smile,
And say the world doesn’t fit with you.
I don’t believe you, you’re so serene.
Careening through the universe, your axis on a tilt, you’re guiltless and free…

For no reason I can think of I want to slow down. For once. It was one of those usual tiresome loathsome days at the office. Plastic politeness no longer makes me want to puke. The steps of the social ladder are slippery when wet. You better not puke. Or pee. Or cry. When you want to it’s best to excuse yourself to the washroom.

Where’s the soul.
I want to know, New York City’s evil.
The surface is everything, but I could never do that,
Someone would see through that.
And there’s this burning, like there’s always been,
I’ve never been so alone, and I’ve, I’ve never been so alive…

I slide down the windows. It’s breezy. Like a summer evening somewhere up this road. When people had a tough time keeping their hair off their face. Off their dark eyes. People. Just generally. When it felt so good to walk under leafless trees that left only patches of the evening sky to seep through. It felt quite nice. It felt just okay. I mean I am happy now. Very Very happy.

Careening through the universe, your axis on a tilt, you’re guiltless and free,
I hope you take a piece of me with you,
And there’s things Id like to do that you don’t believe in,
I would like to build something, but you’d never see it happen
And there’s this burning…

I stop the car and get out. And sit down on the grass on the roadside. Like I haven’t in a long time. Do people still have a hard time keeping their hair off their faces? And dark eyes? People? Generally?

Where are you? This moment? Are you happy too?