Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Snapped at my sister for not reprimanding the teacher. She snapped right back at me, and said that she didn't want Rohan to be like our family. She wants her children to be gregarious and 'well-rounded' and not terminally dysfunctional social misfits.
Technically, I could box her ears, because she's younger than me and we live in India where family elders can do exactly what they want with, well, family youngers! Held myself back, though. Trying to be Gandhian except when it comes to alcohol, nicotine and seafood.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
There's a theory going around that the little coward must have sent himself a letter saying that he'll be attacked on the 25th of Dec by a bunch of North Indians. I wouldn't put it past him. He's been shivering in his shoes ever since his security was taken away. Bullies. Cowards. Same difference.
Am seriously considering lurking around Mantralaya singing, "I want my Y security" to the tune of Knopfler's "I want my MTV".
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Since I was at a loose end, I asked BH to get me one of the books, and he dutifully handed me the very first in the series (Twilight) with a visible sneer.
Hell, I loved it for many reasons:
1. Well-written, not trashy like most best-sellers are
2. Sparkling wit
3. Exciting sexual tension
4. Dead sexy hero - hot, dangerous, witty and noble- sigh. I want! I want! I want!
5. Clumsy heroine with self-deprecating sense of humour
6. And, of course, the thriller bits starring other evil vampires
I'm DEFINITELY going to buy the rest!
P.S. Wish a vampire had sunk his fangs into me when I was in my early twenties - no need for anti-ageing unguents and freedom from frail, creaky bones and all that crap.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Hello, I smoke Wills Navy Cut. Which, my darlings, also implies that I DO NOT HAVE self-esteem issues. Do understand that some people select a particular brand because they enjoy the taste, not because of the stupid hyped marketing shit it stands for!
Hopping mad. Hate, hate, hate wannabes! And sneaky, pushy restaurant-wallahs.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Streep was marvellous as Julia Child with an annoying loud excitable voice, frumpy hairdo and dowdy clothes - she managed to be charming inspite of the drawbacks. Now, if only the entire movie had been about Julia Child I'd have recommended it warmly. But that Julie Powell bit bored me to tears. Such a whiner and moaner without a sense of humour at that. Unforgivable. And all that rubbish about feeling Julia Child with her and listening to Child's voice in her head while she was assiduously following her recipes. When people tell me they hear voices in their head, I urge them to lie down on a nice comfy sofa - in a clinic.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Office is stuffed with Marathi manoos and its great fun watching the 'score' on the TV in the canteen. Howls of 'Jai Maharashtra' rent the air everytime the MNS gets a seat. Oddly enough, not a single cheer for the Shiv Sena. Raj has evidently done a great job of purloining their party propaganda. Besides, as the Marathi bai manoos' in the office sigh, he's better looking than his cousin!
Monday, October 19, 2009
-Saw the end of the last Indiana Jones flick, and the beginning of the first. Enjoyed the silly jokes almost as much.
-Saw Inglourious Basterds. Like everyone else, loved the movie and Christpher Waltz. Was also delighted that Hitler was made uglier than ever before.
-Saw Wake up Sid, and unlike everyone else, yawned through the flick. Where was the humour, dude? However, have to concede that it was way better and way more honest than that dreadful Dil Chahta Hai - remember that movie where Amir Khan pretended to be a teenager? EEEEK. Evidently Botox was not around in those days.
Have sternly informed BH that I cannot take popular culture anymore. It doesn't agree with me and till Bollywood gets real cool instead of this wannabe cool I will not suffer it.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Had big fat huge row with man at polling booth, as usual. He was too lazy to find my name and tried to send me back home. Gave him a stern lecture on kantala in the time of democracy. He cowered and with fumbling fingers found my name in the log book. Jerk!
Now at work, muttering darkly under my breath about whip-wielding employers who deny virtous democratic souls a holiday after they keep the wheels of democracy moving. Sigh.
Friday, October 9, 2009
'Would you believe they're bombing the moon?'
And on to another subject: While all our intellectuals and activists are making scathing remarks about the Maharashtra government for declaring EVERYTHING shut on election day, I'm NOT with them. Hey, I want a holiday!!!
And yet another subject: Obama gets the Nobel Peace Prize for what? Hello, he hasn't done anything remarkable yet! That prize should go to American citizens who voted him in. They deserve it.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Safely ensconsed at home now with chips and Thums Up for company. Must confess though, that while I don't enjoy being stuck in traffic jams, I love the music, particularly the drums. Some of the Ganpati and Durga puja drummers I've heard are so bloody fantastic, it's such a pity they don't have the opportunity to jam with Carlos Santana. Now, that would be music to my ears!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Flipped through Macbeth (my favourite play, and one of my favourite heroes - Batman and Winnie-the-Pooh are part of my unholy triumvirate). Never realised this before but it hit me real hard today - I have a wee bit in (ulp) common with Lady M. Check out this line, it's one I repeat (in modern English, of course) to BH every night. "Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale..."
Jeez! My astute sister is right -I'm a freaking control freak!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
A few years ago, I felt a warm glow spreading through me when he likened Raj Thackeray to Mini Me. And today, I laughed uproariously at a sentence in his HT Sunday column, Counterpoint: '...any suggestion that Sardar Patel can't walk on water is anathema to the BJP...' Fanfingfastic - it's not what you say, it's how you say it! The rest of the article is brilliant too, but of course. Ooh, what a writer!
Wistfully told BH that if he wrote like Sanghvi, I'd be the happiest woman in the world. For a change BH didn't sneer. He looked wistful too - not because he gave a rodent's posterior about making me the happiest woman in the world, but oh, to write like Sanghvi! Had to reassure him that he wrote wonderfully well too. I mean that's why I had the hots for him, because of all those amusing notes he'd pin up on my softboard in office.
And now for a spot of perspective. I don't lurve Sanghvi's Rude Food column in Brunch. It's hit or miss, and frankly, I don't live the high live (nor wish to - ew) so I can take it or leave it.
I don't think we agree on music either. Frinstance I love Tull (and always will), he scoffs at Ian Anderson's Flamingo act on stage - which I rather like, hello, it's iconic. But when it comes to politics, Sanghvi's my man - my main man.
And while on the subject of music, my ex-colleague and bore-buster Pearl the Perilous One, sent me an mp3 clip of an early '80s Brit band - The Cult. Great sound, sexy lyrics. Almost like The Doors without Ray Manzarek. Yum.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
BTW, my humble contribution to this fantastic, much-looked-forward to annual event:
They dragged me with brute force to the door,
Callously kicked me down the stairs below-
And screeched like the oft quoted Raven, “Nevermore!”
I staggered to my feet and limped my way across the street,
With fumbling fingers groped for my pack of woe,
And struck a match - Ah, even in adversity life can be sweet.
So now I wander lonely spewing dark, belligerent clouds,
That lurk on high o’er the stained cityscape,
And insidiously creep into the lungs of the teeming crowds.
All I ask for is Keats' Grecian urn to tip the ash,
While contributing generously to the city's smog,
It wouldn’t hurt would it, that dead sexy touch of dash?
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
So, I've been working full time for one week now, and I must say I miss my nighties so bad, it hurts! Trying hard to be stoical about it. Sternly reminding self that when bills have to be paid, even jharoo-pocha assignments are a blessing. Consoling self that the people I'm working with are rather nice, but know deep down inside that even if I worked in an office with a pub and live rock acts and a Belgian chocolate dispenser, I would hate it because it eats into my time. God, working from home is such a joy- was such a joy. Sniff.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
I enjoy counter phrases best of all. Like 'chicken poop for the soul' instead of that icky sticky 'chicken soup for the soul.' Have lost count of the times I've been asked to contribute to the Indian edition of the 'chicken soup' series. "Sorry," I've said firmly, "nothing remotely fuzzy or heartwarming has happened to me ever, thank heavens. But I have loads of material for a 'chicken poop' edition, if you so desire." They never desired that, tragically.
Which brings me to Chinua Achebe's lovely book, Things Fall Apart. Read it over 10 years ago, and was very moved. Have forgotten the story by now, but what remains deeply embedded in my mind is the title. So philosophical and stoic and strong. Things fall apart. Love the implication: So what? Deal with it!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
And the rains have been flushing rats out of their burrows and into our homes. Not bashful at all, these rats. BH was watching TV one night when Rat the First scurried in from the window and squeezed its flexible body into a crevice the ways only rats and roaches can. Driver got me a rat trap and it had an occupant the very next morning! Driver, BH and househelp marvelled at its size while I refused to take a gander. Thereafter, Driver deposited the rat at Carter Road, near the sea. Rat the Second (even bigger) sauntered in last night while BH was watching TV again. BH's hackles rose and he displayed an alarming tendency for raticide. A chase began (cannot report it because I'd hastily locked myself in the bedroom) . Half an hour later BH entered the bedroom sorely disappointed- the rat had eluded his murderous attempt. We have now concluded that BH was a cat in his past life - the hair on his limbs stood on end for a couple of hours thereafter- not with fear but with intent to kill. His wish was granted soon thereafter - he swatted a housefly to death. Ah, those are the other pests the rains bring with them. And fruit flies too. Vomit!
BTW, the rat menace threatens to take on serious proportions. Best Friend has reported several in her home in Santa Cruz, my neighbour says he saw a mouse scampering near his computer mouse at his office in Haji Ali - the office bought 14 rat traps and all were packed to capacity the next morning. This is a plague warning for Mumbai city. Where on earth are the BMCs rat catchers?
P.S. BH now is threatening to get a pet snake to deal with the rats much more exciting than rat traps, he insists. I'd much rather have a transmigrant soul that's currently in its feline avtaar.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Of course, on the rare occasions when I venture out for dinner or a movie, I dress up spectacularly – in my best faded pants and faded tees. Of late, Beloved Husband has started gasping, ‘You’re going out in that?’ He feels so strongly about it that a few weeks ago he tossed his ATM card at me (it missed me by a whisker) and gruffly said, 'Go to Esprit, go to Mango, go anywhere apart from Nike or Adidas, use all the money you need and BUY SOMETHING REMOTELY DECENT AT LEAST!’
I was shocked - never has he flung vast amounts of money at me before. Almost felt like a glamourous bar dancer. Meekly followed his instructions though, and bought a couple of things. Was too dazed to go the whole hog as instructed. Later, asked Best Friend if his reaction had been OTT. ‘Nope,’ she shook her head sadly while fiddling nervously with her fork (and refusing to look me in the eye), ‘I’ve, um, been meaning to talk to you about it too.’ A crushing et tu Brute moment for me.
So now, I’m seriously contemplating a makeover. Haven’t acted on it yet coz I’m still sulking with both of them (hey, it’s MY life), but mean to. Someday this year, perhaps. Let’s see.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Damn. Too old to be called baby, way too old to be called babe as well (sigh). But now have come to the conclusion that perhaps Monica estimates ages from an emotional rather than physical point of view. For eg: shoe drawer fell on foot this morning and cracked a nail on one of my toes. Almost fainted when I saw the blood. Hobbled to the doctor who did what doctor's do: whipped out a syringe for an anti-tetanus shot. Howled, screamed, wept, had to be held down by the hefty receptionist and, most importantly, did NOT feel a twinge of shame when the doctor sarcastically asked, 'How old are you?'
Monica's right. I am a baby!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Thereafter, we walked to Westside in Kala Ghoda to buy towels and a change of clothes. The doorman let us in with a broad grin despite the fact that we were leaving puddles the size of Powai lake in our wake. No one in the store darted curious looks in our direction either. See, that's what I love about Mumbai!
This was followed by tea at Leopold (boring - and the food is trashy too!) and then the nicest part- a longish stop-over at The Ghetto to keep us warm and cosy for the drive back home.
Yearned to repeat the experience yesterday but Best Friend said no - politely but firmly: 'Wimbledon finals. Federer. The monsoon can wait. Besides, we've got to go during the day to watch out for Tavleen Singh's dog poop,' she cannily added, to ensure that I didn't attempt to persuade her to change her mind. I was silenced.
Heck, why can't the Marine Drive party-pooper Tavleen Singh get off her high horse and buy a pooper-scooper? Her doggone battle with the BMC is raining on my parade!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Spent last evening with said friend who urged me to join twitter- t'was fun. Once a week I leave my lovely reclusive lifestyle behind and venture out to see the world.
First stop: Rhythm House- just had to buy a Tears for Fears album or my heart would have stopped beating. Haven't stopped listening to Mad World and Shout since.
Second stop: Dingy, grungy restaurant in Colaba that has reinvented itself as a rather lively resto-bar. Used to hate this place during my hostel days but the makeover is pretty decent. Smirked when I caught sight of a pompous TV news anchor who is better recognised as the soggy umbrella-weilding sod commenting on the monsoon in depressing Milan subway every year. 'It's raining again,' he says in an alarmed voice that never fails to make my astute sister turn an unflattering shade of purple. 'Of course it's raining. you eejit,' she snarls at the TV screen, 'it's the bloody season for rain. Moron!!!'
Anyway, the drip was attempting to muscle his way into the crowded joint. 'Do you know my name,' he haughtily asked the doorman and sundry waiters who yelled ' No room, no room'. He demanded to speak to the manager. Dunno whether the manager knew his name, but honestly doubt it. Who recognises him when he's dry?
Stop 3: A tedious one-hour traffic snarl on the sealink. Thought it was supposed to be a seablink- a dash over the sea and then land ahoy and all that, but nope. We crawled - snails would have outpaced us. Never again, shudder.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Here's a little piece I wrote inspired by him in the mid-eighties, when he was at the height of his career and I was just embarking on mine. Goodbye Wacko Jacko and thanks for all the fun!
Once upon a time there lived a black queen who had a mulatto step daughter called So White. He disliked her with a passion because she was far prettier than him, and all his gay friends became straight the instant they saw her. This made him feel like the odd man out, a terribly uncomfortable feeling if you really think about it.
After a great deal of sleepless nights alone, he hired a punk to lure her into the depths of Harlem, and to do away with her there. Once in Harlem, So White’s womanly intuition took over, and she escaped. The punk didn’t bother to pursue her, because, as the old Harlem maxim goes, 'Why chase girls when you can chase cocaine?’
So White clambered up a rusty drain pipe, pushed open a window, and tumbled into a room belonging to an acid group called ‘The Dwarfs’. The seven men – Junky, Dopey, Stony, Drunky, Hippy, Snorty and Cokey accepted her immediately as they desperately needed someone to play the tamborine because their woman, Moll, had taken off with a New York Philharmonic cellist. And So White took to them instantly because she saw in them the realisation of her favourite fantasy : Seven at one blow.
The Queen happened to see her playing at his favourite gay bar in the Bronx, and immediately made enquiries. Having extorted her address, he injected some more female hormones into his veins, singed his hair, wore white socks with black shoes, dark glasses, and, armed with a syringe containing an overdose of heroin, he rang her doorbell determined to mainstream her. The minute she opened the door, he shot the needle into her arm, and sang ‘Beat it’. On returning home that evening, the Dwarfs found her lying in a stupor. ‘Dipsomaniac broad’, snarled the disgusted Dwarfs (no doubt due to the influence of their strict mormon upbringing). They dragged her out into the porch, and set out in search of a tamborine replacement for that night’s gig at Brooklyn.
A few days later, America’s chart-buster Prince, happened to stumble over So White on one of his nostalgic walks down Harlem. He fell over and in love with this mulatto vision, and rushed her to hospital. Several hours later she opened her baby blue eyes to find him perched at her bed side. ‘Who are you?’ she whispered weakly, ‘Prince’ was his modest reply. ‘Oh you’re shamming’ she chuckled, ‘and cute’. Upon which he French kissed her, and she passed out again, but for a shorter period this time. After their marriage and subsequent divorce, they lived happily ever after.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Gasped when I browsed through episode one - SB’s torrid encounter with a door-to-door bra salesman. Man, SB is amazingly purty and smoking hot! BUT the artist currently known as her creator is hotter still. Fantastic eye for detail, even the wall paper in SB’s house is laboriously detailed. Haven’t laughed so much in ages- the situations are ridiculously corny and cater to age-old adolescent fantasies. This is Nancy Friday, Indian ishtyle- why do ghissa-pitta doctor-nurse scenarios when the cricket-playing young lad next door has more resonance? Have to admit that I hastily skimmed through episode one- too yucky for my taste.
Must reluctantly concede, however, that it’s a good job. The apna haath zindabad lot now doesn’t have to rely on alien blonde, blue-eyed wenches to keep them happy!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Aila and El Nino be damned - bring my monsoon back!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
My latest freebie is Tarquin Hall's The Case of the Missing Servant. Giggled appreciatively through the book, didn't feel remotely slighted by his satirical take on Indians and Indian-English - thought it was done very affectionately. Loved his hero Vish Puri, India's 'Most Private Investigator' almost as much as I adore Andrea Camilleri's grouchy, commitment-phobic Inspector Montalbano. And enjoyed Mummy too - she was quite a character! The story was okay - but the way it was written was very engaging. Hall's tongue-in-cheek style lifted it out of the ordinary.
Can't wait for his next book on Vish Puri - am willing to panhandle with a little more determination so I can buy it myself!
Friday, June 5, 2009
1. Carly Simon's You're so vain still tops my list. Think it always will.
2. Pink's So What I'm Still A Rock Star deserves second place. Never been a Pink fan but this is such a fun getting over song. Enjoy the 'you're just a tool' part the most! Hats off to her - she got him back despite the song! Way to go!
3. Lily Allen's Smile. Love it!
4. Amy Winehouse's Back to Black. Super smokey voice, great lyrics, great music. It's 4th on my list only because I prefer 'sit on this, jerk' getting over it songs to dark intense emotional outpourings. That means you STILL haven't gotten over it, Ms. Whinehouse.
5. What's Up by 4 Non-blondes. Okay, so it isn't a getting over it song but still it's a great chick anthem!
And as for Gaynor's I will survive - well, it's so fuddy duddy in comparison, innit? Yawn.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Note to self: Install a gigantic bathtub, toss ice-cubes into it and jump in with a book - the way I used to deal with those interminable powercuts in Cal.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Never left home after school to work in a strange, primitive country - Mumbai was just a different city and hardly primitive compared to Cal! Never commanded an army while I was a teenager. Never did acrobatics in a fighter aircraft, let alone flew one. Was never chased by a German fighter plane. Never broke my nose repeatedly in separate accidents - though I did stick a pea up my nose out of curiosity (to check if I could still breathe normally - btw, I couldn't!) and had to have it surgically removed. Never suffered from temporary blindness - however, I did smear Vicks Vaporub on my eyelids once to find out what it felt like to be blind. Heck, I've never even be caned!
The things that happened to him may not have been nice, BUT adversity (if you manage to survive) gives you such richness of experience. Sigh. I'm just another deathly dull and boring hamster on a treadmill. I don't even deserve a name - people like me should just have impersonal numbers.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
1. Me: Drill Sergent: Planning their every movement with annoying precision. VERY unpopular but got stuff done, innit? Going to inherit a bad debt, most likely.
2. Sis 1: Very pleasant but we have learnt something new here. Never ever attempt to socialize with her when she's had only 4 hours of sleep. A rottweiller would be cuddlier and way more charming. An asterisk in the will is called for. Most definitely.
3. Sis 2: The potential star of a Karan Johar Bollywood flick -'Mommy, Daddy, nobody lurves you more than I do, gasp, kiss, hug, gasp, kiss. Mommy, Daddy, nobody lurves you more than I do, gasp, kiss, hug, gasp, kiss.' Can't bring up the will here. Heck, she's been this way since she was born. Mum used to call her the Lap-lander because she always contrived to land up in their laps till she left home an aged person after college!
We looked at each other and groaned, 'Chee! Can't believe we share the same genes!' Yet we hope that we all gave them a good time in our own wierd ways.
Mum was in nostalgic mode. She's lived all over the world but her best memories were of the years she spent in Sierra Leone with cool mist shrouded hills and sunny beaches to choose from. Thank god she hasn't ever heard Bryan Adams or she may well have broken into 'Those were the best years of my life.' The three of us would have vomited together. Ah, those genes show up when you least expect them.
My fav anecdote: M.K. Gandhi was assasinated. My grand-dad held a small service at home, where not 1 but 5 minute's silence was called for. Mum and her siblings broke into giggles during the solemn occassion. My grand-dad glared ferociously, broke the silence, and gave them a scathing lecture on Gandhi's sterling virtues. Mum defended herself staunchly: 'Sorry Daddy, but his ears are ever so funny!'
Those damn genes again!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Young African-American family in Noo Yawk. Their baby, Ernie, has just uttered 'mother' for the first time.
His mum gets very excited and calls her husband.
Mum: (Gushing) Guess what? our Ernie's learnt half a word!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
"The Congress is winning," I screamed, instead greeting him with my usual polite namaste. He broke into a broad grin and did a sort of victory dance too. Well, more of a jig. And then he told me that in UP (where he's from), people are sick of caste politics. They believe that the Congress is an inclusive party, and they've begun to prefer that.
Second highlight of the day: Watching the BJP (Arun Jaitley) admit defeat in public. YAY!!!!
Third highlight of the day: The Congress may not ask the SP and oily Amar Singh to join the UPA fold. Hooray!
Fourth highlight of the day: Watching an ashen-faced Karat mumble some rubbish about the party getting into introspection mode. What's to introspect, dude? You're the biggest problem in the party!
Friday, May 15, 2009
And if the trends prove right and they win (looks likely), like bloody wow - India gets a secular, sensible, stable government with an intelligent man at the helm!
A question for Mr. L.K. Advani: So who's weaker then? Manmohan Singh or you? Hah! BTW, the poor old weak dear (Advani, not Singh) hasn't emerged from his house to face the TV cameras yet. He's probably moaning with an ice-pack on his head - his last chance at becoming PM has been ground to dust - YAY!!!!!
A question for the Left parties: Why the hell did you let Karat behave like an eejit? He's to blame for your sad showing. Make him stand in the corner - or throw real eggs at his face!
BTW, over the last few days, I saw TV footage of a smug Jayalalitha smiling graciously while receiving 3 bouquets (Modi, Karat and can't remember who else). Today, looks like no wooers will be lining up outside her door. Tsk.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
So yeah, now that I've got an uninterrupted look at Slash, I can die. It would be nice though, if someone told me what Meatloaf meant by 'that' when he sang 'I would do anything for love but I won't do that!' Then I'll die with a wider smile on my face.
And omigod, did you ever imagine that someone would do Led Zep on Idol? Adam did just that last night and he was good! Better still was his duet with Allison the rock chick. Gosh, this has just got to be the hottest season on Idol!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Right, I've done my bit - but I'm not relieved at all. VERY worried about that darn third front!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Meanwhile, I'm getting a bad case of the shudders re: our elections. As far as I'm concerned, votes that go into parties led by Pawar, Patnaik, Jaylalitha, Lalu and Paswan (to name a few) are really votes for Prakash Karat. Ew. How horrible is that? The future of our country is being orchestrated by a bitter, spiteful man who will do anything to ensure that PM Manmohan Singh is vanquished.
On the flip side, even if that ghastly third front does win, it will probably collapse within months. A shoddily cobbled together coalition of regional parties is incapable of ruling a country. Petty squabbles for power will follow, divergent interests will clash, and the stability of India will hit a new low. Am not looking forward to the future anymore. Sigh.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
BTW: have always wondered why Coldplay is regarded as hot- that band leaves me cold.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
American Idol, however, is a bit of a bore. Nice voices, but not exceptional, in my humble opinion, and horribly terribly pop. Only two singers, in all the seasons I've watched have given me goosebumps. One was Lakeisha Jones, a woman with the sexiest, bluesiest voice I've heard. She was on a few seasons ago and was bumped off sadly- I've been gnashing my teeth since then, wishing and hoping that she makes it somewhere somehow - she was terrific! My god, I saw Dreamgirls because I heard Lakeisha sing 'I'm telling you I'm not going' and I was sorely disappointed with Jennifer Hudson's version in the movie. She squeaked the song in a Mickey Mouse way and ruined it completely for me!
And this season, it's Adam Lambert. He's edgy and exceptional and delivers every time. The best thing about him is that he doesn't bow down to Idol's sad pop demands and stays alternative. Last night he did his version of Mad World (Tears for Fears). Gasp. Still have goosebumps the morning after. He's given me a reason to stop missing Kurt Cobain.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Not crazy about Oprah, but feel compelled to pinch one of her lines for the beautifully irreverent Pink Chaddi Campaign lot- 'You go girls!'
BTW, I hope America saw that footage too! What the hell are they allowing that pathetic Zardari and weasley Gillani to do?
Thursday, April 2, 2009
I clearly recall the run up to the last general elections- most of the celebrity political analysts I read were confident that the BJP would win a thumping majority. Hmm.
So there I was at Dilli O Dilli with a bunch of people: 9 of us gloomily bemoaning the thought of BJP rule for another term. One of us, though, was very cheerful: Sanjay Kapoor, the super editor of Hardnews. Sanjay eloquently rubbished our theories. He was absolutely certain that the Congress would come to power. We eyed him dubiously and quoted the regular supposed-to-be -hot-shit poll pundits. He laughed and told us to watch and wait. Bloody hell, he turned out to be bang on!!!! And in usual Sanjay fashion he didn't call us and crow 'I told you so!'
I spoke to him yesterday and asked him who would win this time round. He confidently told me who would lose but asked for a few more days to predict who would win, what with these new equations turning up. I trust this man- he has an ear to the ground and a keen, analytical mind. So, ha ha, I will know who is going to win before I cast my vote!!!! Hurry up, Sanjay- can't wait to know if i should bring out the champagne to celebrate or countrymade brew to drown my sorrows!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
At 8 pm, when I brought the candles out, I heard him sigh wistfully. 'There are two good movies scheduled for 9,' he muttered.
'Well then, you'll have to miss the first half hour, won't you?' I snapped.
'I could always watch TV by candlelight,' was his forceful rejoinder.
'Sure, and I can leave the fridge on too,' I said brightly.
He fought with his consience for a brief moment.
And so he watched TV by candlelight and I left the fridge running.
We did switch off all the lights and fans though. We did our miniscule bit.
Friday, March 27, 2009
So- while I was at a traffic signal, a vendor shoved at pirated copy of Adiga's White Tiger through the window. I declined to buy it since:
a) Already own it
b) Do not buy pirated books
But, I was inspired to tell Raju, my driver, the story of the novel. He was fascinated!!!! A lengthy and lively debate followed on the moral issues thrown up. Who was more despicable? The driver for murdering his employer or the employer for making him take the rap for his wife's accidental murder of a street child?
Gosh, I really wish this book could be translated into India's regional dialects and sold at a nominal price. Or at least, made into a Bollywood style flick so India's silent majority could see it.
That would be a step in the right direction for social justice!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Moral: Never pray while flying!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
A few days ago I called an old school friend who cheerfully said, 'Hey, I was just about to call you- you'll live a hundred years!'
I shuddered and made her take her words back. Living a hundred years is a goddamn curse, not a blessing! That conversation brought to mind a promise I'd made to myself when I was in my teens:
Plan A was: I would kill myself on my 30th birthday to save myself from the indignities of aging. I briefly contemplated my promise when I boisterously brought my 30th birthday in at a pub and shrugged it off with a 'Naah- not yet. Not sure if they have vodka in heaven, and besides there's so much more to look forward to. Better to go with Plan B.' Um, it turns out that I was wrong about the 'things to look forward to' part!
Plan B: I'd work very, very hard and save money to buy a cottage in Manali with a garden. Then I'd retire from the world and grow things in my garden. Not pretty perfumed flowers, but calming weed. That would be my compensation for suffering from failing eyesight, liver spots, gout, lumbago, arthritis, menopause, housemaid's knee, whatever! But you know what? Plan B doesn't excite me anymore.
The tragedy is, I never had a Plan C as a fall back option. I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself as I grow older and decrepit. Being an alcoholic is silly and boring - unless, of course, an effective hangover cure is discovered. Seeing the world is tedious with all those annoying security checks and terrorist-proof restrictions and even worse, you may die in a strange place and return home in the baggage hold and take your final cruise down the baggage conveyer belt. How sad is that?
Maybe I should learn something new to keep me excited about living. Now if only I could figure out what.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I'm getting fonder and fonder of Union Home Minister P Chidambaram as the days go by. Check out this excerpt from an article: 'Taking on Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi, who had described the shifting of the IPL out of India as a "national shame", the Home Minister said that most people in India thought that the Gujarat communal riots of 2002 were a national shame.'
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Damn. Gnashing my teeth. Hope they come to Mumbai again and get an entire show to themselves!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
His latest trip in life is to cruise around the city (his words, not mine!) while listening to the album his parents own. I accompanied him for a drive today and he was astonished when I hummed and sang along.
'Rock is for boys, not girls,' he admonished me sternly. After I shut him up with a threatening 'Oh yeah? Sez who?' the problems began- he started questioning the lyrics. For example:
'Why is he saying, "We are what we are?"' he scoffed. 'How silly is that? Everybody knows that they are what they are!'
I tried to explain but believe me, it isn't easy to lighten up dark lyrics for a 5 year old. Every song- every single song on that album was analysed in depth. I am now seriously considering writing a children's guide to rock lyrics.
Was relieved to get back home to discover Rehan (Rohan's one-month old sibling) waving his arms and legs in the air while listening to baby jazz on his boom box. The only lyrics were 'Rock with Elmo!' (said in an excited squeaky voice). Nothing to analyse there, whew.
Gosh, am so exhausted after that drive I've decided to skip the gym today. But I have to confess that I'm delighted that Neil Young was right- rock n' roll will never die.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
So now with deep resignation I have decided that I must buy an oven and learn how to make good old-fashioned cheese patties for myself. Sigh. It's so difficult to live in these times.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
This is bound to shock my swear word phobic parents no doubt (hey, the only bad word Dad uses when he's reached the end of his tether is a prim 'ruddy') but a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do. Sometimes I wonder if I was exchanged in the hospital as a baby- but then I remember that I have Mum's smirk and Dad's active dislike for Hindutva* parties.
Teri maa ki daal! Oooh- delicious.
* Just as well that none of us have introduced him to prospective Hindutva - propagating grooms. I'm certain he'd have roared, 'Yeh shaadi hargis nahin hogi' in Bollywood ishtyle. His current grouse is that none of us have married Christians or Muslims. Sigh. What to do, Dad? The good ones were already taken.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
What's hilarious is that my sister now has a set of matryoshka* dolls- both Rohan and the sibling look exactly like their dad! And now for Rohan's latest favourite joke:
Q: What has two trunks?
A: An elephant on a holiday.
*Or rather, patryoshka dolls!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
On my last working day there, I cleaned up my pc with joy and deleted my songs-to-get-over-working-in-a-shit-hole-angst list. There were howls of protest all around thereafter from my colleagues in the creative dept. 'You deleted that song too? That's mean- it helped us feel better about working here too!'
Am not a potential psycho killer anymore- but I still enjoy that song.
Monday, February 9, 2009
It's been set up by the Consortium of Pub-going, Loose and Forward Women (ha ha- lurve the name!).
I'm going to be sending a whole lot of pink chaddis. Beloved Husband has asked me to add a fair number on his behalf too. What fun! Astute Sister is debating what kind of pink chaddis to send- ugly cheap ones or pretty satin and lace numbers. Friend in Banglore is sending dead sexy g-strings.
Will be in a pub on Valentine's Day (the movement calls for that) to celebrate the freedom of women in India!!!! Even if my back packs up again and have to be on a wheelchair!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Finally, on Saturday night I begged him to delete all my computer games. All! Or else, in desperation I may even have got addicted to the even more infantile Purble Place. Hastily darted out of the room when he pressed the delete button. Couldn't bear to see him doing it.
With Spider Solitaire out of the way, I hope to start a new productive phase soon. Right now I'm going through acute separation anxiety. I miss that bloody game so much it's killing me! But I will survive!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Union Minister for Women and Children Renuka Chowdhury has said that Muthalik, the perpetrator of the Mangalore pub attack, behaves like an animal because he has no wife. Perhaps Miss Nirmala (if single) would fit the bill? It's evident that they would easily win a Wills Made For Each Other contest!
Ooh, I'm having a whole lot of fun with Miss Nirmala - I've decided to give her a starring role in my next column. She's earned it, dammit!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Holiday was nice but I prefer cool hills to hot beaches. Pretty beach, though at Kashid. The sea was gloriously blue, not murky grey like in Mumbai and not too much rubbish washed up on shore: some pretty stones, driftwood, and a dangerous piece of wood with rusted nails- eep. Lots of slippers and shoes too- not in pairs but singles. Creepy- wondered if they belonged to people who drowned. After that, could NOT bring self to step in. Best Friend pooh-poohed my pessimistic suggestion and enthusiastically tested the waters (as is her wont) - and after 2 seconds rushed back to dry sand gagging because her toe snagged on what felt like 3 plastic packets and something that felt like a cucumber landed on her foot!
For me, the best way to view beaches is on an armchair in a balcony. Nice spot to watch the tide come in and think lofty thoughts about life, the universe, and everything without dead people's personal belongings brushing past me.
Beloved Husband AKA Health Nazi did his usual- jogged on the beach daily and made me feel like a slob.
Ooh, 'tis lovely to be back home in my own comfortable bed with clean sheets sans gritty sand!
Friday, January 23, 2009
I look at Madonna and our desi queen of eternal youth Shobhaa De, and I want to weep even more! I walk like their mothers- so not fair!
Am hobbling off to the beach tomorrow- no swimsuit in my suitcase but a bleeding orthopaedic belt. Really, what a drag it is getting old. Have been listening to that song a lot, of late (Mother's Little Helper). Never liked it much before but now it's sort of grown on me.
What else is happening tomorrow? Oh yes, our Prime Minister will be undergoing surgery in Delhi, while in Mumbai, apun ka Raj will be attempting to re-establish his raj again- another rally is slated in Thane. So it seems like it may be a very busy day in Mumbai's hospitals too!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Right, the celebrations are over and the hard work begins. I'm curious, very curious to see how this unfolds. And what's the bet our media is going to pick up on the 'Hindu' reference in his speech and crow with delight over it in their usual OTT fashion! Ew- cringe inspiring.
Monday, January 19, 2009
I had to invest in a wire mesh for all the windows in my old house. Didn't bother in my new house, because there are so many trees around. But does that stop them? Naah. Two eggs have been discovered on a cupboard. The cook offered to fry them for me with a smirk- I thanked her kindly but declined. Ew. My friend Ranjona says these days pigeons prefer to live in houses- they've forgotten how to live in trees! Maybe we should talk to philanthropic builders about creating a special room in all buildings for pigeons- wait a minute, there's no such thing as a philanthropic builder- that's an oxymoron!
Crows, though, are bloody intelligent. They only attempt to pop in to the kitchen when a non-vegetarian meal is being cooked. On regular cauliflower, peas and okra days, they deign to pay a visit! Smart- very smart! I have deep respect for them. They have a clear purpose in life, unlike stupid pigeons!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
On an impulse, though, I bought White Tiger a couple of days ago and it's fantastic! Well written, a page turner, witty, and disturbing enough to make you wince. This is not, as some critics darkly mutter, 'poverty porn'. It's an honest look at India today. Every Indian should read this book- it should be made compulsory. I say this with the fond hope that sensitivity towards the underpriviliged may replace guilt- and India may finally shine for all. Thank you Adiga- and may your tribe increase!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The reason: Just saw Anil Ambani on TV at the Gujarat 'We lurve Modi' bash saying that the BJPs Narendra Modi was his choice for PM - well, words to that effect. Hmm. Interesting, considering that the Samajwadi Party and the BJP don't exactly love each other dearly.
And, after reading HT this morning, am mildly curious about what Amar Singh's other little brother's wife Maanyata has done in the past. Apparently, this babe has many skeletons in her cupboard. What? Was she a gangster's moll? Boring. And considering that eejit Sanjay Dutt's murky past, why should that shock us? Now, if only she had Dawood Ibrahim's skeleton in her cupboard- that would wake me up!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The title of the movie, however, should be 'Pop On'- the music was unadulterated pop music crap and I'm astonished because Shankar, Ehsaan and Loy are pretty good. Have done a couple of jingles with them in the distant past and those really rocked! BTW, someone should tell Farhan Akhtar that he must not sing ever- he has a feeble scratchy voice without the sexy rasping quality of say, Rod Stewart or Bryan Adams. Yes, yes, I'm not a Bryan Adams fan (shudder) but I have to admit that he has a very interesting voice- more suited for rock than that sugary shit he dishes out.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
And while on the subject of the ridiculous, entertained 5-year-old nephew Rohan today. He had the sniffles so I read out A.A. Milne's poem about Christopher Robin being down with sneezles and weazels. He enjoyed it so much that I had to read it out hundreds of times- have a sore throat now. But no sneezles, weazels or measles! Rohan discovered a wonderous thing: I read out A.A. Milne's dedication to his son, and he gasped with eyes as round as saucers, 'You mean he's not a fantasy person?' I assured him that Christopher Robin was as real as I was. I could see Rohan the cynic looking very puzzled. There was deep silence for 5 minutes- very rare. I was waiting for the next question: 'So are Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Rabbit and gang real too?' The question never came, though. I think the clever cat worked it out in his head!
People go on and on about how wonderful it is to be a mother, but I think it's even more fantastic to be an aunt- that way you get to do only fun, irresponsible things with kids- potty duty and punishments are the responsibilty of others!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Get up to the roundhouse on the cliff-top standing,
Take women and children and bed them down.
Come on, are women and children safe anywhere anymore with terrorists around? Which brings me to the horrific situation in Gaza: if the Mumbai attacks hadn't happened, by this time I'd have signed zillions of petitions condemning Israel. Petitions that I'm sure no one reads but at least signing them makes me feel a wee bit better. But not this time round, no. I feel sick when I read the newpaper reports and look at the gut-wrenching visuals on TV. But then I remember how ruthless the Mumbai attackers were.
The death math, though, is sickening: A handful of Israeli soldiers versus hundreds of Gaza civilians. That's what makes my sympathy attempt to swing towards Gaza, BUT I have sternly promised myself that I will never ever be on the side of terrorist supporters anywhere in the world. Never ever. The people of Gaza voted for a known terrorist organisation. It's not as though they suddenly woke up one morning and discovered to their horror that Hamas was pure evil. My view may be simplistic, but I'm sticking to it. Like Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, I have zero tolerance towards terrorists- and I say this more forcefully than he ever has.