I'm in Poo-na now. I dislike most of it. I like my room. And my roommate. And some other humans in the other floors.
I dislike a lot of things. Mostly attitudes that make me want to jump off the earth. Or push them off.
I haven't been around much. I dont have wi-fi. I miss the gym. There will soon be loads of work to do.
I shall presently kill Bob Dylan.
Thats all folks!

Goosebumps are those words said in a particular way at a particular time that get underneath your skin, and refuse to leave.

You will travel to many places
-is my Orkut fortune of the Day.

I went to Mocha and had a hookah!
-that rhymed.

If i promise to be madly in love with you for the whole day, will you buy me all the happiness you can find? If i only pretend to, do you promise to pretend as well?

Lets go in an Alto.
-and have Alphonso mangoes on the way.

Like, dude! Watch it.
What?
It.
Oh, it. I beg your pardon.

Interesting thing to note.
I hate Bombay traffic. This isn't like those "I hate this weather" bit, though i do hate the weather.
I genuinely hate Bombay traffic. I never want to live here. There are too many cars on the road. Thats way too environment unfriendly, for one. Besides, you can never reach anywhere on time. No matter, how early you leave.
I hate being late. My time is precious, even if i'm wasting it. Other people's times are precious too. Even if they are wasting it. Thats their business. I hate keeping people waiting. I try not to.
This has to be the worst place for keeping appointments. It took me 30 minutes to cross a stretch that is probably not more than a 12 minute walk.
I walked.
Life is good when I can walk it.
But the air is horrible.
I hate Bombay traffic. Its much worse than Calcutta traffic. I dont want a car. I want a plane. Or a submarine.
This city depresses me.
But i had hookah at Mocha. Doesnt it sound like hooker?
I didnt have a hooker, i assure you.

Goosebumps are special.
I don't wanna lose you,
But i don't wanna use you
Just to have somebody by my side

It can't be that bad now, can it? I can handle it. I can handle anything.
Except Bombay traffic.

Prints

Books books books. New ones, old ones, really cheap ones, not-so-cheap ones, bought-with-my-own-dough ones, mommy-gifted ones, scrounging-in-the-footpath ones, discovered-amidst-trash ones, wanted-to-buy-forever ones, pretentious-(perhaps)-but-i-dont-care ones, hoping-it-will-be-good ones.
These are it.

Brand new ones-

• No Exit and Three Other Plays: Jean-Paul Sartre
• The Sound and the Fury: Faulkner

Discovered amidst trash-

• Four Plays: Tennessee Williams
• Men Without Women- Hemmingway

Scrounged from the footpath, but brand new with amazing bargains-

• Tintin and The Calculus Affair
• Tintin and The Castafiore Emerald

Books still waiting to be finished- (Sigh!)

• Snow: Orhan Pamuk
• Tough Guys Don't Dance: Norman Mailer
• Jude the Obscure: Hardy
• Women in Love- D.H. Lawrence

Books I suddenly want to read again, this instant-

• The Colour Purple: Alice Walker
• Beloved: Toni Morrison
• Feluda: Ray
• Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: Roald Dahl
• Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: Joyce

Books I saw and wanted to buy and couldnt because of the guilt and no money-

• Endless, exhaustive and extensive.

Dear God, in my next life, make me a book. Its so much easier (and faster) to read people.

I can either blog or mail. I can't do both. I have a life. And an extremely slow dial-up. Ok, scratch the first, I just have an extremely slow dial up.
My folks and I can get on each others' nerves with amazing alacrity. It doesnt take too much, just a little overwork, hot weather, and well, me. But i love the fact that we are such a hang-up free, low-maintanance family. Non air-conditioned dhabas and rolls for lunch, are okay. So are autorickshaws in which three of us can barely fit into. Budget hotel, even no hotels are cool. 3-tier train rides? Done that. Calcutta buses, local trains? Check. Metros, a blessing. Non-bisleri water at restaurants, well, what else? Sure we all would love to travel in style and eat in style, etc etc. But sometimes it cannot be afforded. And thats cool too. My parents have always been painfully honest with me about these matters. I've been told what i can get and what I cant, and its pretty much no use arguing. Its a lot like Central Bank selective credit schemes. Branded designerwear that could pass off as street wear, for no particular ocassion is out. Books, worth the same amount or even double, are in, before you can bat your eyelids. Their logic sometimes goes beyond logic. I haven't been denied anything, ofcourse, but I've never floated in what you would call, plenty. There's always been room for wanting, but never needing. Not badly enough to die for. Besides, whenever I've gotten anything really big, they've always given me the feeling that i've earned it, somehow or the other. Birthdays are usually out, i dont think my dad's ever given me anything on my birthday since i turned 5. There are always those no-occassion surprises too, like surprise visits and cookouts and chocolates! We're not boring, predictable people, us. We try.
There's a song I wanted to quote because it perfectly sums up how I feel about a particular something. But i realize its way too revealing, and I shall save it for the mailbox. No sense wearing your heart on your blog, i always said. There are undoubtedly a lot of advantages to being your own person, chiefly a guilt-free head. But i miss some things, that I'd started to take for granted. Like phone calls, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. And someone to always talk to without the formality. As in "Hello...no, just." You can't do that even with the closest friends. They're bound to get tired sooner or later. Mostly I guess i miss being off my guard and comfortable. Sort of like propping your legs on someone else's leg, quite unconsciously, and not removing it. Or being comfortable enough to go to sleep mid sentence. Or to read a book without worrying about making conversation. When i think of all the effort that goes into making a relationship reach this state, i want to go right back into hibernation. Sure, there's always room for spark, excitement, chemistry and thrills and whatnot. But sometimes, i think i would just be okay with a book and someone to go for walks with. With whom i wouldnt need to worry about fat days or funny repartees. I could just talk about the weather, or i could just shut up and walk in comfortable silence.
Meeting new people brings out the worst in me, i think. With D i think we began comfortable. Or maybe it was the uncynical-then-me. Whatever. There has never been much effort there. Which is probably why it survived what it did. About 0% credit for that goes to me. I miss sweet-nothings. Sometimes gestures are enough. I've had it with deep, meaningful people, i think. They always have issues of their own to deal with. Suchaniceboy.Wheredidhego?

This is what I wrote in my journal (in the days of Anne Frank and bloglessness) a little more than 5 years ago when i was shifting base in a big way.
9th June 2002: ....I always knew I would have to leave here, I suppose. A part of me has always been an outsider in Bombay, sometimes trying to fit in, mostly looking on with detached indifference since an age where I couldnt even spell those words, let alone knowing what they mean. I dont know if where I'm going to will be any different. I don't know if I care. I just want to get away from the people i'v known all my life. Its not been all bad, it never is all bad. Its just never been close enough. I can't think here. Or maybe I think, too much. Maybe thats the problem. I want to go somewhere that I can do things besides thinking. Maybe, just maybe, inspite of what everyone says, I'll actually like it there. Who knows? Who can say?...

5-years-ago-little-me had quite a way with words, methinks. You can never, never tell whats coming. Do not try.
I always knew I would have to leave here too, but i wish i still had the 5-year-back enthusiasm of looking forward. I don't mind the going away, if only i were going away for something more meaningful. Bitterness just creeps in like horrid black smoke.
Its all ego, really. All ego. And a little of missing the grandparents and my little room by the chhat. Don't kid yourself though. Mostly ego. And self-love. Isn't that what it all is?

Adieu

Today felt like the end of something huge. Like the whole of 16-17-18. The giggle-years. Total bye bye. The no look back types. Because what would you look back at? What, indeed I ask?

There cant be anything worse than a lump the size of a cricket ball down your throat when you're trying your best to be brave for other people, and holding their hand and telling them not to cry. When all you really want to do is break down and howl and don't care who sees you at it.

Haha. When was the last time you did that, i wonder? When did it become not-okay to show how you feel? Ever since the 16-17-18 passed? But we're grown ups now aren't we? We have futures to live and money to make. Oh and some life to live, along the way. If you can spare the time, that is. Thursday at 5, then? Maybe we could take a walk. Eat an ice-cream? No? But ofcourse.

But who will i walk with now? And behind whose back will i cry? And what will become of you? Who will look after that mad little mass of all heart and no brains?

Okbye then? Take care. No, you take care. And call me. Sometimes? Once a week? A month then? Oh okay, on my birthday. Yes?