Shadows of violet,
silhouette of a dream.
Her hair was like fire,
like a flowing whiskey stream.

Be alive while you are alive.
Don't mourn your death before you've died.
Love will come and love will go,
don't kill it through its drive.
Be alive while you are alive.
Every breath is a treat
every whimper, worth another try.
When you are cold or even if a hundred years old,
Thank god that you still thrive.
One eared, one legged or even if heartbroken,
be alive while you are alive.
Don't mourn your death before you've died.

Yearning for a touch,
a sweet kiss on the forehead.
For deeply engrossed entangled fingers,
kiss of warm breath,
for silences of sounds.
Longing for a whisper, a smile or just a sign.
But for now and the empty silences,
theres is just a whimper and a long wait.


(to Sumbul and Yasser...)

Rising alone, in a lonely morning of a crowded world.
Who is with who? It don't matter any more.
I am with who i chose to be with. Me.
She is all I've got.
I am not being tough on myself. Time is.
Uncreased, unspoilt, the crisp white sheet beside, lies gaping at me.
I have no answers and I've stopped asking questions.
Sleeping in a bed that forever feels cold.
Living in a world that forever feels numb.
Angry with myself but anger betrays me.
Anger coagulated, refuses to surge through my veins.
Trying hard but I feel I've never tried enough.
Its good to love yourself.
But the day you are left with your reflections, your shadows, your echoes and just that,
you know that solipsism is a punishment.
I laugh.
After all love and hate are the two sides of the same coin.

Deconstruction of love, if i dare say it.

When you are in love there's is no ego, no pain, no hassle.
When you know you have someone, all you care bout is his love.
You pretend, you lie, you deny.
You may even try to complicate things.
But no matter how hard you try and how God damn badly you may wish,
the complications are all made up.
Love is not complicated. Its simple, its easy.
But its we who make it so difficult, so freaky, so awfully dreadful.
Its a human trait, a generic flaw in each human cell to never see things straight.
Love is when you doubt it, when you are never sure if, 'this is it'.
Love is not imposing, its just there when its there.
You can never force it to exist or force it to leave.
All it wants is for you to realize, in few of those sweet moments that its there.
It never asks for more but its misunderstood largely to have done that.
It never complains of rejection or celebrates conjunction.
That is basically done by people like you and me, not love.
But it is a little selfish i must say, because though it is mostly believed to be for someone else it actually is for you.
Love is a gift that is meant for you and you alone.
It is an experience meant entirely for you,
even though you may share it and celebrate it with fellow winners.
Of all accusations if i may agree, I would agree to just one thing...
Love tends to proliferate tremendous foolishness.
And I say, what the heck, there is no harm being a fool amidst a race of millions dying to be smart.

A blazing flame,
a stirring whisper.
Behold; art thou an omen
or just a mere sign?
Buried within
the heart of seven deep oceans,
a secret untold;
malice of the greatest sinner.
The roar of the deadly beast,
and the dark tales unfold.
Frenzied, we search the light.
Art thou going to rid us,
redeem us of all crime?
Where is that divine glory,
when is the resurrection?

We gain some and we lose some.
Sometimes, time runs out.
And sometimes we throw it aside and stride.
Let go, when we want to.
Hold her in the arms and cry.
He has resolved to always win,
been through the slack and survived.
Survived, has he?
Not survived.
He lives...

The adventures of Harriet, Debra and Alexis

Harriet, Debra and Alexis had gone drinking with their friends the night before and when they returned home the sun was almost about to crack through the sky.
Debra collapsed and gave into the subtle seduction of sweet slumber, while Harriet and Alexis shamelessly exploited the web world. Not for long though, coz when they woke up it was way past midday. While the world was trickling into their dinning halls for luncheon, these girls fired sausages for the holy ceremony of breakfast!
Hours flew by and three corners of the room remained occupied by three bodies, heads dug deep into man's miracle - the laptop!
The silver shiny moon glistened in the sky, it was 11pm and it was time for the girls to venture out of their respective cosy corners for some dinner.
"Oh gawd we've been sitting at the same spot all day" said Debra.
"Not just that we've been on our laptops ever since then" added Alexis.
"Oh come on guys we did not budge from our spots because we were busy" said Harriet.
They really don't give a fuck about Delhi's late night orgy of patriarchy as they dare to step out at the oddest of hours in best of spirits.
Uncaring they walk the dark streets, get followed by a car, spot lecherous men, get into an auto, reach JNU, buy bidis and eat parathas cause that's just about what they can really afford.
As the bidis are lit up, the night is filled with faint aromas of fresh burning leaves. Highly natural, yet Debra couldn't resist to say that, "Aaah i can smell it. Feels like i am sitting with a bunch of rickshaw walas!"

They pride themselves over their courage to face the chilly winter nights of the capital city(that too in an auto) which actually is highly commendable and awfully insane. Get onto another and back again. This time, all awake, fingers clanking and heads dug deep into same ol laptop screens. One chatted, one socialized with random people, one wrote a blog post, made a sweet memory in her heart.

Yawn...

I have never blogged in pointers....however i think it kinda helps at times when you are too lazy to put down a holistic little creative piece. Bullshit to that! Sometimes you just wanna talk, and talk shit, talk in pointers and thank your dear buddy Anurag Kotoky for clearing your pointer inhibition!
Post August pandemonium....
1. Lost track of day and night.
2. Work is an obligation that must be finished before you surrender yourself to lord Bacchus.
3. Classes are meant to be walked out of after you've got attendance.
4. It is compulsory to then make a toast over some adrak wali chai.
5. Inevitable to find your friends from certain radio and television department to already be present there.
6. You may not have money for lunch but you must have money for cigarettes. In anycase murali might have written "udhar nahi chalega" but he doesnt really mean that, does he?
7. Great heated discussions over burning smokes on how someones gonna die because of their smoking habits and then wonder deep down inside that it could be you.
8. Get another smoke.
9. Plan to go out in the night, vaguely.
10. Clueless at 5:00 pm, chatting away to glory.
11. Lying on the grass, staring at the sky, listening to music, smoking more, smoking up if you get lucky.
12. 7:00 pm someone pulls you out and sends you off to the hostel, only to pack your things and leave.
13. Collect money, empty each little pocket with every little bit of chillar and get booze.
14. Still stuck with bluemoon....alas!
15. Drinking, drinking.....sloshed? maybe not.
16. Walk to JNU half alive, half dead but still craving butter chicken.
17. Eat, smoke, eat, have coffee, eat, smoke.
18. Walk......(maybe sing, at times when you really feel like/care to)
19. Reach base camp and crash with your fellow refugees...
20. Wake up.....of course you are late for first class. Might as well sleep more.
21. Balls to attendance.....(ummm....but we still do hope we make a 70%)
22. Reach college post lunch, hung over, wearing same old clothes, unbrushed, unkempt.
23. Hit tea point.....chai, sutta, more loans, more smokes, more talk.
It goes on....

A Tribute

Faceless. Amorphous.
But i know you still exist.
To be or not be is the question.
To be, I say, you chose.
The horror the horror of going down the drain.
Little boy i know you still remain.
Nameless. Innocent. Sacred.
Today i name thee;
Son of God, you are called Christ.
You are the sufferer, the silent victim of time.
Wrath filled your heart maybe,
but little boy remember, that thy mother had dearly loved thee.



And i know one day you shall return.....


(To Christ....with love)

The Hallucinations of the bong mind

This was probably the most wasted Pujo of my life. A complete shift of paradigm (Sam would say). I made two trips to CR park, which were strictly okay. The good thing about it is the fact that i did that probably after a decades time. The funny bit of this pujo was Gunjeet and Anush getting overly excited and then thoroughly bored. Prateek of course was oblivious to all of it.
I had fun because i had sunshine in my pocket all three days. Like I've always hated non-sunny days.....now i love sunny days even better.
My pujo was colourful....like Eastman coloured Hindi movies. Okay probably a lot more subtle, but then they percolated into each other to create the most psychedelic shades witnessed in the history of mankind.
I could also call the straw ride the best part of the pujo but i am tempted to say that my bloated gut amazed me beyond limits. And that, my friend is the best part of this pujo. There is of course much more to it but it is pretty pointless noting the pointless points. So the hallucinations of the bong mind pronounces this pujo to be......the most overwhelmingly random pujo of her life.

Does your tea smell like sex?

We aren't all tea drinkers in this world. Some say, "chai piyo mast jiyo", while for some it just ain't the taste that gets them going! Vir Sanghvi thinks that the mikaibari darjeeling tea smells like sex but I think that ain't where it stops! If your tea liquor resembles the sight of a sun kissed early morning sky then it sure has got all the thrills of sex! Even the mere thought of dry tea leaves simmering under hot water, arouses all our senses. The tantalizing aroma of a bubbling hot pot of tea is absolutely irresistible. The British gave it to us but i think we do the tea better than anyone. In India, tea can be found in its various avatars. While some like the sugary sweet, milky dhaba tea some would just reject it as sheer blasphemy! But I think each has its unique characteristics, and ruling it out simply on such grounds is unfair. One must be open to the various interpretations of the tea! After all we can't blatantly ignore the famous yak milk tea of Ladakh! Sources tell me that its salty and pretty disgusting to taste. Well i guess that's where the sex turns into a nightmare! But I am sure its got its fans too.

I think of tea as a must have for rainy days, along with hot boiled corn glazed with melted butter. I think of tea, as an indispensable companion of every Sunday evening get-together. I think of tea with a hint of fresh lemon grass when I am blue. I think of tea along with fragrant lime, mint leaves and crushed ice when its hot. I think of tea as the best part of every heated discussion. I think of tea to go along with warm cakes. I think of tea and roots of ginger as therapeutic on damp winter days. I think of tea, strongly made with generous quantities of milk and sugar when i am stressed. I think of tea in a large ceramic mug, warming my hands when i am contemplating. I think of tea accompanying a warm glowing cigarette pressed between my fingers. Its almost orgiastic! I think of tea as the scintillating mistress of the moon lit evenings. I think of tea, the very first thing every morning :)

One morning

Distances. It is only when the psychological one gets wider than the physical, that they bite! But then they say we are all just six degrees apart. She had just sat on that bench to catch her breath when she found herself sitting next to a tall gentleman, dark glasses, stern face. One could call him good looking if they please but she had seen better. It was a call from God she felt. After all she wasn't meant to die today. She slided herself towards him, and pretended to read out the newspaper lying next to him, while a couple of agitated ladies came by, glanced at them and moved on. Phew! There was a sigh of relief. She pulled it off after all, and all thanks to the lovely gentleman who played along, without budging even a limb in protest.
"Thanks sir!" She said in a haste and got up to leave when he grabbed her wrist and said, "Not so fast lady!"
Oh ow! That smelled trouble. He knew it all along, he was one of them. Yikes! She was so busted, she thought.
"Look sir, it is not my fault, i have not done anythin and you cannot touch me like that!" In one short breath she popped out the entire sentence. When she did that, she was always nervous. And when she got nervous, she always wrinkled her nose. And when her nose wrinkled, her eyes automatically shut themselves. But anyway, this guy won't let go.
"Hmmm thats interesting, i knew there was something wrong here. Otherwiseee...why would anyone suddenly read out the newspaper to me, when its not even mine?"
"Dumb logic. I like to read out aloud, especially newpapers. You've gotta problem with that, deal with it yourself." She was just about to shrug off when the brigade of agitated ladies returned on their course. She rushed back to the newspaper and the man.
"Please, just for a little while, stay shut." And she began her newspaper recital yet again.
Thankfully, soon enough the ladies trickled back into their homes like little rats and the newspaper recital, (by God's grace) was called off.
"So what is this all about?" asked the helpful bench man.
"Nothing, nothing really. Nothing that concerns you." She sounded stern. She tried hard to.
"Sure, all i gotta do is yell and you'll need to recourse your concern lady!"
Yup she was in trouble either way, so she'd rather tell her tale than not live another day to narrate it again.
"ummmm.....well." she began.
"Yeah i got that part."
"Hey! Would you first stop oggling at the sun. And its not even all that sunny as yet, I dunno why people think shades make them look cool."
"Unrelated," he sang out, "the story lady??"
She could kill herself. Who was she stuck with. Lord, why do you do this to me...she wondered!

"Okay, ummm...yeah i know u got that part. Ummm...yeah so as u can see I am obviously a...a...a......"
"Girl?"
"Yeah, that too but....ummm...nevermind that. So i was in that house. That one down the road...the red one."
"Aha...."
"And....a...a..i was sorta not supposed to be there. And this is not my first time there. Somehow his wife sorta found out about it and she kept a tab on him. And she was supposed to be outta town but i dunno from where she suddenly popped up, with all these women and baseball bats and saucepans, that i just opened my eyes and ran for my life." she paused, "yeahhh...thats pretty much it!
"Aha...so wife caught u in bed with husband and you ran for your life? Shouldn't the guy do that instead???"
"Yeahhhh......you could say that, but you know they could obviously call the cops. And that would just be disasterous for me. God knows for how long i'd have to be off job then."
"The worlds getting more and more bizzare each day!"
"Gosh, how old are you, hundred and eight?? Anyway, i am off now." She walked a few steps and paused. "But what is bizzare you know, is that you talking to me the entire time without looking at me, especially when you can see what...what i am. I don't know whether its a good thing or bad, coz it definitely says that you've got some kinda prob!"
"Firstly, I am not hundred and eight, just thirty two, three and two. And these glasses, they have nothing but hollow years behind them. I see you, I surely do. But all i know is, that to me, if you ask me, you look nice."
She felt her feet had suddenly frozen. But she decided to fade away. And before she did that, she turned around and said, "Nice. Thats a beautiful sound for these ears!"

The nicest sounds of the past....

The sounds of the past have an archaic shimmer in them. Its the shimmer of silver deposits that time besets upon it. And just like antiques their value only grows with every strike of the clock.While teaching Yeats, my proffessor once said that the best time for each of us to sit back and contemplate is at the time of the sunset. This is more or less a natural process and very often we unknowingly find ourselves doing the same. And it is during these dimly lit evenings, when the pink sky yawns over my head that I like to savour the best things in life. They could be thoughts, they could be memories, or probably just a simple cup of tea. But what i love most is humming those tunes of yester years that still glow in all our hearts with a fresh brightness. I am talking about the classics of Hindi Cinema, the undying sounds of the past.

I think my favourite songs as a child was waqt ne kiya. Of course its only later that i realised its deeper engravings. Another of my favourites would be aayega aane wala from mahal. This song is hair-raising. The whole enigmatic feel to it is beautiful, though its more because of the visuals than the songs.
Kishore Kumar and Madhubala's Haal kaisa hai janab ka, is one adorable song. Along with this, there is Acha ji main hari chalo. Similar themes, classic happy songs. The song I love love love is bhanwra bada nada aye. Its got a perky feel to it which is adorable. And the sexiest song ever is na jao sainya. I think i am yet to come across a better seductive song. Its simply beautiful. Chalte Chalte yunhi koi mil gaya tha, from Pakiza is again very close to me. It has a reverberative quality which is unusually good. Ek ladki bheegi bhagi si is a great playful song and kishore kumar makes it all the more wonderful. And that one song which is always fun to sing no matter what is...sar jo tera chakraye...ya dil dooba jaye...hehe! It is also very difficult to not mention songs like hum hai rahin pyar ke hum se kuch na boliye.....and hai apna dil to aawara naa jane kis pe aayega!
Moving on, theres one song that i really like.....tumne mujhe dekha..from teesri manzil. I have no idea why i like this song but i just do. With this i've got to mention oh mere sona re and aa ja piya tohe pyar du, pyar deewana hota hai, aayiye mehrban, aa janeja. Aayiye mehrban is another of those great tantalizing songs. My favourite song as a child.....raat akeli hai....a very cute song indeed. It has a lot of life in it. It has a feel of hot bubbling water, full of vigour! Bahon mein chale aao and roop tera mastana are almost everyone's all time favourites. These are irreplacale romantic songs! My list is going to be a long one i feel. There are so many more to go. Jhumka gira re, mera naam chin chin chu, hawa ke saath saath are some of the really fun songs! Hawa ke saath saath especially is a very fun song to sing along with someone who enjoys the song just as much! And the best song to sing while blowing out smoke rings is main zindagi ka saath nibha ta chala gaya...har fikr ko dhue me udata chala gaya! The song definitely has the cool factor goin along with it. Singing it while smoking always makes u a wee bit cooler and gives you a good psychological boost!Coming to my most favourite romantic song ever....i've gotta mention pal pal dil ke pas. It is such a fragrant song. It has an effect very close to what a bag of freshly crushed lavender would have. It makes you fall in love with the song itself! A little later there were songs like ek main aur ek tu...which were to die for. Outta the more recent old songs theres neela aasma from silsila, katra katra from ijaazat, khali haath sham aayi hai....i think gulzar makes the last to stand out even more. Well i guess thats about it but i'd mention my best loved song now, its mera kuch saman. The song tells a story and i just love it. There are many more, and i'll make an account of them later. For now..these are a few of my favourite sounds!!!

Loving Calcutta

The quirky city which has forever been my vacationing spot, has suddenly occupied a new place in my heart. I hold Calcutta responsible for not having toured the hill stations, the sea beaches or the forests of India. While every kid would narrate grand tales about their visit to simla or Jim Corbet or the backwaters, i would just listen to them and take a quick virtual tour to these places in my mind. This is all because, come summer and we would pack our bags to Calcutta. Its like a ritual that I've been performing for twenty odd years. I always liked Calcutta, after all it was where my grandparents and cousins lived. But i always liked it like a vacationing spot. I liked it because every time i went there my grandfather brought home bags and bags of Bajar and my grandmother prepared treats for us. It was where i was allowed to loaf around the house all day and night without being interrogated. Being in Kolkatta was like being in a festival. Everything happened in a grand scale and royal style. And pretty much like a festival, it ended in a short time as well. Yet, no matter how terrible i felt going back home, i always loved "home" better than Calcutta. I could never imagine living in Calcutta, I grew up to pride myself over my cosmopolitan coolness and looked down upon the general crowd. It was too dirty, to sultry for my everyday living. It was a city i liked because i was treated well and made to have fun by the conscious efforts of my grandparents and cousins.

Now, Calcutta has changed quite a bit. It has definitely come up in terms of infrastructure and is climbing the steep steps of the cool-o meter! But irrespective of this face lift, the heart of the city still remains untainted. The spirit of the city is unshakable. This time when i went to Calcutta( I just got back yesterday!) i saw a different side of it. This time the city gave me a brand new perspective. Although the motive of the visit was an unhappy one, i would say this was probably my best visit. For starters, I got to spend a lot of time with my brother which made me realise how strongly we bond. I met members of the family, of whose existence i had no knowledge of. And this time i got to meet some really good people. My brother and i have a common friend and because of these two i got to meet their other friends. I had very stringent notions about the kids in Calcutta and they mostly weren't good. I exclude my cousins from this categorization, coz after all i have my own biased opinion working here. I had always heard of all these friends of my brothers but honestly, i weighed them very low on my opinion metre. I don't know why i did that, i had no reason to, but somehow by the virtual appearance of the matter and by the workings of my general hang ups i thought them nothing great. But now I've learnt not to judge a book by its cover. I think i had the best time with these people. Things went beyond my expectations and i found myself liking all of them. The very things that i disliked earlier were the things i thoroughly enjoyed and fell in love with. I never expected myself to be amidst a bunch of Calcutta kids and like them and wish being a part of them. It is still pretty surprising to me! I liked the way they talked, their lingo and the way they were. They are so different from what i have around me, and i liked this difference. They are such good people.

All of this started as a joke when i said that id like to shift to Calcutta for the food. I never meant it. And then i saw the Ganges. All my life I've been to this city with the river trickling through it and never did i interact with the river this closely. Strangely thought but my grandfather made way for this to happen. Having the Ganges in front of me and experiencing its grand beauty and the the local flavour was to die for. This was particularly very good, but also otherwise i was shocked to find myself liking things that i hated, was embarrassed of. For example i detested how bongs were always so loud, they screamed at the bus driver if he drove slow, they spoke bangla almost everywhere and they spoke weirdly too. But in Delhi if u scream at the driver he could bash you up and actually its only good that there the people are so vocal. After all a bus should be on time. I liked that. I liked that we went out for dinner and i could talk to the Stewart in bangla. I liked that i could call shopkeeper kaku and not bhaiyya/uncle, friend's parents were kaku kakima instead of uncle aunty, the kaku-kakima's were like real parents and not parents who were replica's of the "cool" twentieth century mothers on television. For the first time i lived with a pet, a big golden Labrador who is a complete brat. Sheroo who's presence in the house was a big point of apprehension for me turned out to be my bed buddy! The guy would invariably climb onto the bed once everyone was asleep and place his royal ass right at my feet coz everyone else has the gift of good height but me! So sleeping at my feet meant more space for mister spoilt! Not just that, Sheroo would very innocently place his face on my lap during every meal in the hope of making a share of my food. And God alone knows why, but for the first time i did something with him that I'd never do with anyone else. I shared my prawns. Prawns, the most precious thing on any one's dinner plate went into the guys big belly! Ah well i must say i couldn't bear to have him stare at me with hopeful eyes for that long. But now that I am back there is no dog to come home to, who would sniff and jump at you, wag his tail and follow you around.

By the end of it all i felt that I whose is so averse to change had taken a big leap! Yes, i fell in love. I fell in love with everything about that city. I know all of Calcutta is not Salt Lake but I still like it. All my life i tried to stand apart from the people of the city and all my life I lived with a myth, a myth of a fake sense of superiority. These people that were so hospitable to me, were mocked by me and then i realised that in my desperate attempt to hold myself different i was not being Me. I was trying to be someone else, i was trying to be other people who were not Me, who i thought were cool and to whom i wanted to belong. All this and all was a fake notion because in my Delhi bubble world i never realised that in my desperation of detaching myself from those Calcutta people i never realised that i was actually one of them. And now i wouldn't be lying if i said i want to shift to Calcutta. A part of me wishes i was there and a part of me craves to be there. But now i am back to my cold urban apartment, with its cold walls, cold bed, cold closet and heavy silences. I miss the warmth of the city, the voices and sounds of the house and the strange cycle rickshaw horns.
I am never as comfortably as I am in Calcutta. It seems like, my place. This is not just because of my Mashi and family who make every trip of mine every so good, or the city centre or Khadi, but Calcutta makes me happy. With all its quirkiness, abandoned tram tracks, monginis, CPM graffiti, cotton saris, palm trees, potholes, rolls and taxis; I have fallen in love with Calcutta.

Absence

Absence means to have a mark on the attendance register, that manages to keep all the DU students on their toes! Absence means a note in the almanac and a flu faking kid! Or does absence mean something more?
Only a couple of days back i was standing at the silt kissed banks of the Ganges participating in a job highly despised. Honestly, it was a beautiful morning with the locals splashing around, the massive straw roofed boats and the silhouette of the Howrah bridge. Memories of The Namesake and the Hungry Tide were flooding my mind. But amidst such pleasing sights, there i was with my brother throwing my grandmothers shakha, paula and shidur into the water. Shaka is a shell bangle and paula is a red coloured glossy bangle that are symbolic of a married woman and they are usually worn by Bengali women. Shidur is of of course the vermilion worn by almost all Hindu married women in India.
My grandmother had packed her things well. There were those old rusty tin boxes where she stored her things and i was thinking that there must be so many memories attached with them. She was married off when she was all of fourteen and its since then that she and my grandfather were companions. My grandfather was handsome; he and his other three brothers, all exceptionally good looking men. Men of honour, men of great knowledge, compassion. But when people leave, some material belongings have to go as well. So we threw those ancient tin boxes, one of which once had a coat of yellow paint on it and the head of the queen of England embossed over it. We threw those belongings of my grandmother that were her friends from over fifty years, just like my grandfather.
Its a job i suggest one should avoid doing till the very possible point. Trust me, that was a moment that i probably can't forget for the rest of my life.
The things floated and after a while they were no longer visible.
It was like the closing of a transaction, the end of a chapter and the beginning of absence.
Not being there physically is equal to absence; but doesn't absence also have a certain presence embedded in it?

Why are we running after white skin?

Hum kyon gore twacha ke taraf bhag rahein hai? This is a literal translation of the title, though i think it only unveils the secret of my poor hindi than the sentiments behind it. But anyway, a couple of days back i saw this ad on television which had a swarm of gora men n women dancing around on screen and most importantly they looked very happy. Now, now.....is being gora directly related to being happy or beautiful? The product was called ponds white skin beauty or whteva the hell it was......it was pissin off. The heroine of the act had a pale white face with pink radiance to die for(whteva!!!) and the silly(equally white) hero was oggling at her like a white snow owl. Even the fuckin mother was paper white. I don't think i saw a single coloured person in that ad.
Well...whr exactly are we going with all this shit? How can rubbing some creme on your face(tht makes u gora) make life picture perfect? Ronald Barthes would be able to provide substantial criticism and i wish he would do that. Its a perfectly smart strategy on the ad makers part coz he has successfully lured us with the pictures of the make belief after effects of using the product. So, what the ad says is that use our creme, become fuckin pink and hey maybe an equally pink boy will oggle at you! Thats tempting enough for the majority of the population to go purchase the creme. But i have certain doubts regarding the product. Now, what if u r not naturally gora n instead blessed with some colour; what happens then? I mean, imagine a dark chic with pink cheeks....yikes!
Anyway God bless the grand creators of these products and God bless the brigade of naive people who actually believe it will work.
Well in my opinion if you want to become gora there is only one sure shot solution - Call michael jackson.

Party Fragrances

There are so many different kinds of parties but every party has a distinct fragrance of its own.
Parties in the summer always smell of the fresh air of the air-conditioner. Have you noticed that a room smells different when it is air-conditioned for a long time? That's the smell i am talking about.
There ought be a wild concoction of everyones perfumes tingling together like a wicked mist in the air, and untill you sit close to someone you never know whos wearing what. And then amidst all this are the other fragrances that are desparately trying to make their presence felt.
Mr. Jonny Walker neednt work that hard on it, and nor Mr. Benson or Hedges! They have had a long alliance with our nasal chambers, we know. Somewhere around the corner is also miss Apple Cider clothed in her shimering green attire. So what if she is non-alcoholic, she still does makes up a great deal with her ever sweet taste! And how can we forget the lingering fragrance of the freshly cut up melons and mint, goin along side kebabs and cocktails?
You can pick up an ice-cube and look through it while sipping on your Forster, but the fragrances around will not change the picture through the ice.
The warm glowing lamp, the candles floating on the monuental terracotta bowl, or the pink and white hibiscus flowers floating along the light; they all have their own fragrances. But best of all are the fragrances of conversations, of warmth, and of joy. I recognise seasons by fragrances and hold memories through the very same aromas that once concretized in my mind can refresh fond moments anytime with its slightest touch.

5 Best Romantic Movies

So i just finished watchin When Harry met Sally and thought it would be quite interesting to put down a list of five best romantic movies. Of course this list is mine and my prejudices ought to be at work here! hehe! Well i have quite a few of my favorites to mention here but it is hard to put them in any order of sorts, so i am just gonna bring em up without rating them.
Starting with Dirty Dancing - yes it has been a favorite of mine since quite some time and i have seen it again and again, almost everyday thanks to zee studio. I dunno why i like this movie, i can't express it in words but i sure do know that by the time we reach the ending i am taken over by this triumphant feeling that actually goes beyond the ordinary sense of "triumphant feeling"!
Love love love the last dance. It totally takes my breath away! Gosh i can't believe i wrote so badly and inadequately about one of my most favorite movies. My feelings for this movie cannot be tapped in words, its just that i like it a lot. Why, I dunno myself.

Now, moving on to my latest favorite, Love Actually - One of the primary factors that makes this movie so beautiful is the British accent....hahahha..so awfully silly, but that's what makes me crazy about Notting Hill....Hugh Grant kick starting the film with his breathtaking soliloquy in his extremely sexy British accent! haha! Getting back to Love Actually, ummm....yes apart from that, the background score is an absolute winner...its different, its rare and its just the way i like it! It becomes even better because of Colin Firth who is just phenomenal in the film, especially after playing Mr. Darcy, seeing him do Jamie was so cool. And I guess I have made it quite evident that I have quite a huge crush on him! Aurelia and Jamie were the cutest couple, with their little language issue going on. Colin Firth's language school scenes were so funny! Hugh Grant's dance was a killer concoction of "sexy-sweet" and undoubtedly got me into splits. Keira Knightly's track was one of the best, she looked gorgeous. The little kid's part was also one of my favorites. Claudia Schiffer bit was just hilarious! The last scene is the cherry on the cake.

Ok now is the turn of When Harry met Sally. I know why i like this movie. I like it because of Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan. Billy Crystal more...no Meg Ryan more...urghhh can't decide. Actually this movie is so wonderful because of both Harry and Sally, and the way they are. Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan just pulled it off really really well.

And now i am in a fix between Notting Hill and Pretty Woman. Pretty Woman was like my introduction to romantic movies so its quite special. Besides it is pretty damn good! We all love Pretty Woman, it is such a feel good movie and so is Notting Hill. Both have the "wish fulfillment" motif built in and its a formula that is highly appealing to all human beings so one can't go wrong there. The fantastic element of the films make em so popular because we all love fairytales. But i would still say that i hold Pretty Woman at a much higher place than Notting Hill.

Ah now to my summer holidays special! I saw While you were sleeping one summer and fell in love with it. It is such a sweet movie. Its a simple story but well told. It doesn't have fancy costumes or locations or anything but it still is so cute. Its a very special film for me. It makes me very happy!

But, Love Actually has the most effective feel good factor; for me at least.
So these were a couple of my favorite romantic movies. Everyone need not agree with it or may find it a perfect replica of their list but these are still very popular movies that i have spoken about, there are some movies that i love which people haven't even heard of!

About Red III

He walked through the garden, right into the house. Burt Bacharach singing raindrops falling in my head straight into his ears through the ipod dangling around his waist. He imagined birds chirping around in the greens as the sweet breeze travelled over the wild flower hedges, acquiring the characteristic lightly scented attribute from the woody stems and the delicate yet brightly coloured petals.
The kitchen door swung open and he found his uncles and father steadily engrossed in their respective newspapers. The dog frantically jumped around him as he noticed her sitting on the corner chair looking over her large glass of milk straight into his eyes. He knew she won't talk to him. What was the matter, he never knew. He never knew why she was in such a rotten mood, that too in the summer holidays. He was still in conversation with Burt Bacharach and they decided to carry on, but outside of the kitchen. He felt so triumphant about his great ability to remain untainted by a certain person's ill temper that he rejoiced within. However this triumphant feeling was shortly overtaken by its evil cousin guilt and he could not bear to get along with her.
He contemplated as he crushed the handful of lavender that he had grabbed from his grandma's kitchen garden, over his creme bed spread. "Will she come and tell me or not?"
He lay there silently for several passing moments and finally stormed out in a bout of rage.


With the evening sky and the soaring moon he traced his steps back like the home bound birds. But what was all the hullabaloo about? He heard his grandma talking on the phone, "What does the doctor say? Breathing trouble due to severe allergy caused by......lavender?