Saturday, June 07, 2008

The Wery Madness of it all

The corridors are empty and there are distant sounds of metal collapsible gates clanking shut. A few lights cast a dim glow over the Lower Main and the Foyer. The rest of the place is shrouded in a foreboding darkness. Suddenly, there’s a tremendous clamour in the Upper Main, as twenty-three girls seem to jerk awake from a stupour and start looking, frantically, for an opening into the world outside. The sounds of racing feet and voices yelling to each other reverberate through the building, making enough noise to awaken the dead. While the blame is being passed around and Plans of an Adventurous and Daring Escape are made, a call is calmly placed…

“Balbir Bhaiyya. Please gate khol do. "

Someone overhears. The news spreads like a ripple. There is a shout of joy as everyone clatters down the stairs of the English Corridor and arrives at the Journo Corridor gate, hope gleaming in their eyes. And beyond the bars stands that reverent man, Balbir Bhaiyya. A following melodrama is essentially enacted. He withholds the keys. The girls plead with him, making loud and earnest promises of caution, obedience and the like. He contemplates. Someone desperately tries to make him comprehend the gravity of the situation. Her mother is waiting for her at the gate. Slowly, with an air of extreme benevolence, he pulls the creaking gate open. The girls race out, jubilant in their freedom.

This is the WMS. To cater to our insistent assertion of affection towards insanity and a miserable sense of humour, we endearingly call ourselves the Wery Mad Society. And it is our life’s mission to proudly live up to that name. This theatrical sequence is a common occurrence as we immerse ourselves in our music, as afternoon fades to twilight. We lose all track of time…

Our motley crew is characterized by eclectic eccentricities, each madness a unique and perfected art. And yet, we’re always in sync as each person adds a different note, a different colour and a different essence to the harmony of it all. We work like a song. Every person, distinct, effortlessly moulds herself into a part of the seamless flow of melody, energy, beauty and love.
The refrains of Scarborough Fair took on new meanings as we released our creative capabilities and plunged into the song. We emerged, gasping, exhausted, but triumphant, holding aloft the fragile trophy of newborn music.

At Lady Hardinge, on a battered stage, in a dilapidated auditorium, with the most anciently decrepit sound system and a deliberately disinterested audience, I turned to my choir-

“Let’s screw with their happiness.”

And we did. It was magnificent. Majestic. It gave me goosebumps. It gave us all goosebumps. We went to KFC to celebrate. The legacy of “vun piece of hod and crisby chiggan” was born.

Red and Black. The contingent. Powerful. Beautiful. We reassure each other. Always. A glance, a huddle, a hug, a silence. We’re there. Spontaneously. Without question. Silently believing in each other and us. We give space. We’re astoundingly tight. And then there are the theatrics…

Gaygay’s sarcasm, Meghana’s one-liners, Smiti’s vehement melodrama, Tania’s feigned non-chalance, Agrima’s vociferous “negotiations”, Jo’s shrieks, Kirin’s supersonic exclamations, Moumita’s incessant chatter, Pollobi’s declarations, Tarini’s whines… The mayhem they all succeed in creating makes them Very Spashull Children.

Chai, NLS, café, greenrooms, syncopation, acapella, sleepovers, friendships, the silence in the wings, impromptu momo plans, brain jams, victories, tears, laughter, more laughter, hysterical laiughter, hysteria… Countless memories that Kirin and I tried our best to capture on brightly coloured laminated sheets with photographs and captions written in her favourite silver pen.

It’s been a wonderful journey, a wonderful feeling and a wonderful year.
We made music together.
And I started believing in magic again.

Sunday, February 18, 2007


I find it distinctly amusing that this deliciously dormant blog still manages to gather new visitors…and they enjoy going through age-old entries. I don’t know if it saves me the work updating or increases the expectations to update. Either way, I’m in a random mood, so I shall update. Kindly be charitable enough to excuse any grammatical or expressional errors. I am not, currently, at my wittiest best. My mind is as sluggish as a shimmering hot summer afternoon. I shall, however, endeavor to please.
Before I forget, I must narrate a rather funny incident. Last vacations when I was in Kolkata, I remember being stuck in a colossal traffic jam. The inertness of the situation was not a shock at all. But the reason behind it was! Inching our way forward, when we got close enough to see what the hold up was about, I nearly split my sides laughing. For, you see, the Bengali population is, by far, the most complacent and, thereby, the most hilarious population in India. There was a sudden desire to improve upon the infrastructure of that particular road. Therefore, streetlights were being fixed. Now, there’s this unearthly long ladder held by two men at the base, with a man perched on top. The man has been fixing the streetlights on one side of the road. However, he needs to fix the bulbs on the opposite side. Now, any normal person would have descended the ladder and proceeded to transport it across the road. But, Bengalis are forever over smart. Thus, the man remained perched on top of the ladder, while the men at the base tentatively and painfully tried to keep balance, maintain the ladder at ninety degrees to the road AND walk across the road holding the ladder. The man at the top dragged himself along at the same momentum by virtue of an electrical wire connecting the two streetlights. And, to further obstruct movement, a crowd of say fifty people had gathered around and were yelling up advice, while inching slowly forward with the ladder-holding men! Truly a spectacle worth watching!
I have recently started re-exploring the magic of Disney animations. There’s something about the large dewy eyes and the magical quality of the music that fills one with an eternal child-like wonder. It revives a refreshing part of me that had gotten buried under a whole host of mundane and seemingly adult problems. So, while listening to “The Colours of The Wind” today, I rediscovered the joy of stargazing. Randomly. The sky was like a vaulted ceiling dotted with sparkling diamonds. The night air was crisp and cold with the smell of fresh earth. The sounds of human existence faded into oblivion with the magnitude of the universe. After a long time, I let my soul reach out to the sky today. And the world smiled with me. I rarely feel as wondrously happy as I did today.
I held my baby nephew in my arms. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. To hold so tiny a life in your arms and to see large eyes gazing at your face with innocence and trust is one of the most disarming charms in the world. And coming from me, it counts. I’m really not a baby-fan! But, there are so many things around you that can fill you with joy. All you have to do is look…

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

It's an illusion!!

There is an almost imperceptible glimmer of hope in my eye as I write this blog entry…I’m hoping against hope that someone, some wayward blog wanderer may stumble upon this. And if you do, and if you’re reading this, kindly redirect your gratitude and compliments to Skarans, who has been my sole inspiration in writing this entry. Now, before this becomes an Academy Award moment, I shall proceed.
I am currently in Kolkata, visiting my parents (no! I’m not married). Just that it’s difficult to call Kolkata home when I’ve been reared in Delhi. My vacations have been quiet. Too quiet. Reasons being many. Number one, I have no friends here courtesy the aforementioned dichotomy. Number two, Kolkata is the favourite hang out of retired army colonels and a rich variety of senior citizens. Number three, the current primary concern and, therefore, predominant topic of Bengali conversations (apart from food) is the delicate state of Mamata Di’s health. Personally, I am convinced that someone had been slipping her some fish throughout her ‘fast’. For, there is no other plausible explanation as to how a massive body like hers, which is so accustomed to guzzling humongous quantities of food, could survive this sudden deprivation!
So far, my vacations have been spent, if not excitingly, definitely eventfully. The first night I had to stay awake for midnight mass. Now any other time, I love the warmth and peace of a church. Just that, on this particular night, the warmth, peace and quiet at the unearthly hour of 1 in the morning in the church made me overwhelmingly sleepy! Not to say that I didn’t enjoy the sermons and the hymns and the ushering in of Christmas. Only, this time, the appreciation was dimmed by a drowsy haze. My father, who has a little less self-respect and inhibitions when it comes to holy matters, unabashedly fell asleep in church! It was only when a gentle snoring began did my mother, to her fuming indignation, realise her spouse’s apparent blasphemy!! The reason behind my sleepy state, though, was the fact that I had slept a grand total of say 10 hours in the past week. It’s called exam time and the acute terror produced by absolute ‘cluelessness’!!
The second earth-shattering, season changing event that has taken place so far has been my position of office. We’re shifting house. My mother, in a fit of benevolence, decided to appoint me chief – instructor – and - overseer of bathroom fittings! So, the better part of two days, I spent exploring the bathroom showrooms of South Kolkata, rummaging for commodes and matching faucets! I tell you, my life is the epitome of excitement! My new year’s eve was spent in a vain attempt to party. I must realise that there is no possible way I can successfully party with people who are all on the sadder side of 50! And, much as my mother may insist, her friends are NOT my friends and NO, I CANNOT dance to hip-hop numbers with them!!
There have been consolations though! My friend is apparently having a worse vacation than me! And she’s in Goa! The catch being, she’s in Goa alone with her parents! Therefore, she cannot shamelessly letch at guys and must smile politely at random acquaintances! There is, apparently this one acquaintance who has attached himself to her parents with the determination and tenacity of a leech! She frequently refers to him as ‘the obnoxiously boring fart’! This fellow, who plagues the entire family, has not left them alone for even a single evening! However, the peak of hilarity was when my friend mentioned she was spending New Year’s Eve with him and the songs that were playing were “you fill up my senses” and “I’m on the top of the world”!! Her life is a horrid combination of irony and irksome characters!!
On the up-side, my mom’s knitted me a fabulous sweater, I’ve caught up on missed family gossip and lost (after the unfortunate midnight mass) sleep! I have looted my parents and have gorged on home-cooked food. I have derived sadistic cheer from the fact that I’ve finished my exams and that my friends must slog!

Incidentally, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Saturday, May 27, 2006


I agree!! It has been long! But. I’m back, as I always am…I have a few amusing stories to narrate, along with an annoying tag to fill…so be prepared for a rather long post.
I am currently on my summer vacation. I have travelled form Delhi to Kolkata and from Kolkata to Mumbai, where I am currently settled in considerable comfort in my cousin’s house. (What a beautifully alliterative sentence that was, by the way- pls note, effects of majoring in literature!!) Anyhow, I left the dry, torrid and unbearable heat of Delhi to arrive in the humid, sticky and equally unbearable heat of Kolkata. I took leave of my dear, finicky father to enter into the loving embrace of my dear madcap mother. Yes, my mother, who I am having the pleasure of meeting after 3 months, is as eccentric as ever!! The day I arrived I was greeted with an anecdote of her brilliant faux pas! On the way back from the station we both saw a HUGE billboard outside the station advertising a Maha Sale- as it were- at such-and-such shop. My mother’s face took on the expression of utmost horror. Glancing at her expression, I grew quite alarmed, wondering as to what in that sign could have disturbed my dear mother so deeply. On further inquiry, I discovered the roots of her discomfiture. Apparently she couldn’t stand the magnitude of abusing at such a large and conspicuous manner. For a bit, I was nonplussed. However, regarding the situation from my mother’s perception, I quickly grasped the situation. My dear mother, who had been brought up in a manner where English was English and Hindi was Hindi and, under no circumstances could the two be used side-by-side, had completely misread the billboard. Her mind, not used to reading in Hinglish, had read and understood the sign as “Maha Saale”! She couldn’t believe that people could possibly be so vehement in their likes and dislikes as to display them so publicly. Of course, the fact that reading the sign as Maha Saale was incoherent with the rest of the stuff written on it, was something that my mother chose to give the royal ignore!
Another time was when I was asking my mother when she shampooed her hair last. The relevance or irrelevance is not the point to be discussed here. So, dear readers, do not focus on that. After asking my mother the same question several times, and on receiving no answers, I whined in exasperation, “Mooooooooooooooooooommmmm!!!Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Finally, my mother gave me her, still divided, attention. Looking at me with a vacant expression, she finally said, “Haan? What? Oh yeah, I shampooed my hair last, three days ago…Thursday…no, no…it was Friday…or was it??OHO!” and then the brilliant coinage that only my mother is capable of ladling out in infinite capacity “ I fried my hair on Thursday!!” Apparently, the Thursdays and Fridays were too muddling for her to deal with at one go!
I was visiting my aunt’s place, which is one of the most beautiful houses I have ever seen. Two stories high, it is a charming abode. Painted in cream with terracotta tiles and a lovely terracotta arch at the front…surrounded by a picturesque garden, facing a beautiful canal…. full of greenery and nature…one is woken up in the morning by the sounds of flowing water and birds chirp. It would, honestly, have been paradise on earth if it weren’t for 2 things. Firstly, the north winds. Thanks to this, the not so delicate smells of stagnant water tickle one’s nostrils one time too many in a day! Quite horrid! And the second are the mosquitoes that are present in plenty…. I swear to God, the amount I swelled up, I was more in danger of being branded with the ailment of elephantiasis rather than malaria!! Anyway, now I’m done with my tales, I must fill the tag!
* Taken a picture naked? No..unless you count my baby snaps!
* Made out with a member of the same sex? No
* Danced in front of your mirror? Duh-yeah!
* Told a lie? Only white ones!!
*Gotten in a car with people you just met? Nope!
* Been in a fist fight? Hell yeah!!!*Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back? Dunno.I dunno how da other person feels so….and this is the first time. Otherwise, NO!
* Been arrested? No
*Left your house without telling your parents? Maybe..dunno for sure…I usually holler!
* Ditched school to do something more fun? Sure!
* Slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? Yeah..
* Seen someone die? Yes
* Kissed a picture? My pup’s! no human ones!
* Slept in until 3? That’s my biological cycle people!
* Played dress up? Heh! Yeah!
* Fallen asleep at work/school? Yes
*Felt an earthquake? Yes .the music system fell on me!!!
* Touched a snake? Yup. They feel all nice and smooth…didja know that?
* Ran a red light?nope
*been in detention? No, but ive been chucked out of the class. A LOT!
* Been in a car accident? Thank god! No.
*Pole danced? Not exactly! Ive lamp danced tho…treating the lamp as a pole! Does that count?
* Been lost?Hundreds of times!
* Sang karaoke? a few times
* Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? many many times...
* Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? lol..yup..a few times
* Caught a snowflake on your tongue?nope
*Kissed in the rain? yes* Sang in the shower? yeah ..
* Got your tongue stuck to a pole? No. What the-??WHO DOES THAT??
* Ever gone to school partially naked? AGAIN WHY?????????????
* Sat on a roof top? Yeah
* Played chicken? Nope
* Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? No
* Been told you're hot by a complete stranger?sigh! no!!!
* Broken a bone? nope
* Mooned/flashed someone? Huh??
* Forgotten someone's name?all the time!! I suffer from an awful memory
* Slept naked? no
* Blacked out from drinking? I don’t get drunk!
* Played a prank on someone? OF COURSE!
* Felt like killing someone? No…ive hated enough people in my life though
* Made a parent cry? yes...with joy!!
* Cried over someone? Yeah…many someones!!!
* Had sex more than 5 times in one day? No. That’s not a nice question, btw!
* Had/Have a dog? ? Yes to both…
* Been in a band? Sorta
* Drank 25 sodas in a day….aka POP? nope
*Shot a gun? Yeah ..the balloon shooting game!!There!!!
All done! Now , I must thank Akshay for passing on this horrendous tag to me! On my part, I pass it on to no one, for I realise that these wretched things are a tremendous waste of time and energy! Goodbye folks! For another eternity!!!

Saturday, March 25, 2006


Hello folks! I just realized I haven’t given you guys an adequate introduction to the people I interact with on a daily basis in LSR. Let me begin with the faculty. They are a a myriad and bizarre lot. They include a junkie, a bra burning feminist and a hysterical old lady. We refer to them by their codes. E.g. AM, SN and PP take us for modern Indian literature. Let me go age wise. First of all, there’s this teacher who loathes our class with a passion unheard of. She, I think, is honestly and truly a little balmy. She acts as though all of us spend every second of our spare time conspiring against her and we plot evil plans against her all through the day. For the above reasons, she has burst into hysterical fits of crying thrice this year. The first time was when the mobile of a girl sitting in the back row started ringing in class. Now, honestly, sometimes we all do forget to put our mobiles on silent while in class. After all we are all human. However, our teacher would have none of it. Therefore, her consequent reaction was to throw down her book, glare at he class and then declare in a soft, cold voice that she will no longer be taking our classes. She then walked out of the room. There was a hushed silence in class as is after every teacher yelling any class gets. Then one by one, we decided we should apologise to her. So we went to the staff room. She wasn’t there. After much hunting, we found her in the tutorial block. In a small room she was, crying her eyes out. Of course, all of us were stricken with guilt and felt awful. We went in, apologized to her and tried to console her. Net result, she softened and agreed to resume taking classes .two weeks later, one girl arrived late to class. Our teacher flew into another calm rage. Threw the book down and stalked out. Found in the tut block, crying yet again. This time we found it odd. On asking her why she was so upset and explaining to her that we didn’t do it on purpose and that it happened with every teacher, she worked herself up even more. She screamed that we were all liars and that she thought we were conniving horrors, who only did these things in her class because we hated her. Of course, we were all a little taken aback. However, we made amends again. All went fine for a month, till she caught two girls giggling and whispering in the back row. She yelled at us, saying, how dare we make fun of her. She went through the routine affair of crying and stuff. Yet, this time it was different, she actually stopped taking our classes for a good two weeks. To tell you the truth, we didn’t mind. She’s old and boring and refuses to resign and is toooooooooo sensitive. So we didn’t run after her either. After a while, she burst into our class one fine morning and screamed at us, asking us why we didn’t ask her to take classes again. We replied that we knew she wouldn’t listen anyway, so we didn’t want to push it. She shrieked at us some more. Something about being cheeky little spoilt brats. And stormed out. She appeared for class the next day, in a thoroughly foul temper. She raced through the course cos there wasn’t enough time and cursed us through. Her parting words were “ I’m so glad this year is over. I hate your class. I’m glad we wont have to see each other next year. Good riddance to bad rubbish!” Nuts, I tell you!!!
The next woman in line is the bra-burning feminist. Its great to have a strong take on something and stuff, but honestly when you’re on the sadder side of fifty and certain parts of your anatomy tend to sag and swing, you honestly should think of wearing adequate underwear. Anyway, we are all convinced, that this teacher must have been a Bharatnatiyam dancer at some point of time because the way she moves her hands nd gesticulates while she teaches is something you have to see to believe. When a fifty-something woman with gajra in her hair looks at you with dream eyes, and moves her hands around her head in circles (like someone possessed) in order to drill the meaning of ‘exfoliating circles’ into your head, it is distinctly funny. Actually, it’s hilarious! But she’s a brilliant teacher, so no complaints!
Then we have a teacher who is addicted to paan parag, shows up fifty minutes late for a fifty-five minutes class and refers to us by our roll numbers. She’s quite crazy and makes no bones about the fact. She walks in and out of very serious seminars chewing gutka like a cow, oblivious to the fact that she’s a massive disturbance. She treats us like inmates of a prison: “ kaidi number 250” and so on! She reads in class:”page 35 children, Mr. bounderby said…” we look up and she’s asleep on her bosom, which begins from her stomach and ends at her knees. She wakes up after a short nap “yes pg 35…actually no, it’s dull, move on to pg 189!” it’s said that she had an affair with Salman Rushdie, but after they broke up, she’s been a bit touched up there!
Other minor catastrophes are our philosophy teacher and two of our Victorian lit professors. Our Phil teacher is young and asexual. She absolutely nullifies the existence of the opposite sex and has never had a boyfriend or a crush or even an infatuation. She doesn’t have any opinion on hunks, doesn’t even think of any guy as cute. She thinks George Clooney and Brad Pitt are ok, wateva!! The first one of our Victorian literature teachers is an over excited, hyper active woman who’s doing her M Phil. She talks at 500 decibels and shakes the table so much; we think she might break it one day. We’re planning to buy earmuffs next year, if she still takes us. The last one is a woman who claims that children are parasites and they live off you and that they suck the life out of their mothers. Now she’s gone and gotten herself pregnant. Brilliant example, huh?
Now, my classmates. There’s a girl who looks like the Wicked Witch of the West. She’s 5 feet 11 inches tall and is of a heavy body build. She dresses in black everyday. It would’ve been ok if she had worn a black tee and jeans or even a little black dress. But no, she wears this calf length black skirt with ragged edges, and a black poncho. She has long black hair and her skin is white. That’s because she is caked with makeup. Her lips and cheeks are a brilliant red; she wears black eye shadow and powders her face to an unearthly, eerie white. Her nails are red too and she wears golden shoes. I swear she’s not a figment of my imagination. Her sidekick/ friend is someone who’s top half looks like Pamela Anderson and bottom half looks as though she borrowed it from one of the seven dwarves and then had a sex change! Her face bears a resemblance to Crazy Frog. Then, there’s a girl in my PG who’s always mixed up. Yesterday, we were in the market when her foot banged against my heel. I turned around and said “ Ow! That hurt! What do you have that is so sharp on your foot?’ Thoroughly flustered, she got confused between her toes and her nail and loudly proclaimed “my nose!”
Well then, au revoir…

Sunday, March 05, 2006


Seems like it’s time for my monthly update! Well, well… I guess I have tons to say. I can now officially be referred to as a ‘good’ girl! I have spent the last two weeks in rescuing an injured puppy (by getting its foot amputated), taking milk twice a week for poverty stricken children and protesting against Bush and Manu Sharma. I feel utmostly proud of my achievements and myself. The life in the PG has suddenly taken quite a few interesting twists. The first one was when the PG wale uncleji decided to install security cameras all over our PG. Honestly, after having a curfew of eight pm and being locked in with double locks by nine and having a security guard posted outside 24/7, ‘security’ cameras was a bit much! Thus, all of us seventeen created a huge hullabaloo and went up in arms against the entire idea. As they said in yesterday’s march “ its not just about this, its about the system!!” Then, day before yesterday, we had a right royal ‘booze party’ in our PG. Considering our night life usually raps up by seven pm, we were in dire need for some ‘fun’! And what better way, than buying breezers and beers? So we ‘partied’ till about 4 am. We drank our drinks, went to pee, and then listened to some shit good music.
Oh shit!! I sound soooooooo wannabe! Nah, but it was damn nice. Anyway, yesterday at the march, there were some really funny slogans…as in not funny in what they said, but funny in the way they were said! The ruling one was “ we want justice!” so a bunch of highly passionate and enthused NSD guys screamed out “we want…” and the crowd cheered “justice!!” this was said at a fast and energetic pace. However, after a bit, people started tiring of yelling at such speed, so this wispy, wimpy guy took over. He was thin and shrunken and yelled out in a peevish nasal voice and crawling pace “veeeeeeeeee vaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant…” and the crowd cheered, “jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasteeeeeeeeeeeece!!” Brilliant that was! I couldn’t help but giggle! Then us LSR girls got sick of chanting, “we want justice!” So we started our own slogan: “Sarkar humse darti hai, police ko aage karti hai!” Unfortunately, ten girls yelling in shrill voices don’t overpower the crowd and our feeble yells died out. But we remained triumphant about the fact that at least we had taken initiative to do our own thing! After that we all put our candles down in front of Jessica’s picture. My hands and jeans were covered in wax, but it was for a good cause. From India Gate a bunch of us went off to Nehru Park to attend a Shubha Mudgal concert. It was really, really, really good, to get out and have some good, healthy fun. You miss out on a lot of good stuff when you’re in a PG. College has more or less rapped up most of the ‘fun’ stuff, and everyone around has dived into a pile of books. All one can hear around these days are mutterings of theorems or sighs of exasperation. Honestly, one would think it was the boards!! I have put on weight. For all I do is sit on my big fat bum and peacefully expand! See, when you’re staying about five minutes walking distance away from college, you NEVER feel like walking. Lethargy gets the better of you! So you get up at 8:45 am for a 9:00 class and leave at 8:57 in a rickshaw for college! And then you take a rick back during assembly time, have a bath and take a rick to college again. Then after college, you excuse is that it’s too hot. So into a rickshaw you go again! And it really doesn’t help to have regular meal timings. For in between meals, people invariably have food. And it’s this curious habit that emerges from community living, that makes you greedy, not hungry! If you want something from the back market, you just wait for someone else to go and then you give that person the list and the money! Geez! It’s obnoxious! Pure lethargy and pure lard is a horrible combination! And so, I have stopped eating in between meals and have started going on regular walks. Thus, my dad is convinced that I’m dieting and will become anorexic in a matter of weeks! In the same way he remains convinced of the fact that if I meet a hot guy once, means that I’ve met him everyday since! Fathers, I tell you! Pooh! I’ve gone back to reading Enid Blytons again. It’s great. After reading stuffy Victorian novels or complex Indian writings and critically analyzing both, it feels good to read about Naughty Amelia Jane once more!
I’m off now to drink Pheta hua coffee. Bye!

Sunday, February 05, 2006

there u go!

Hello people! It’s been a while, yes, but I return! I am currently a free bird roaming the streets of Delhi. Hang on! Let me revise that statement…more like I’m a stray, abandoned cow on the streets of Delhi who returns home at twilight. Yup! I’ve finally shifted into my pg. This implies a lot of things. Firstly, I’m officially no longer a resident of the city of Delhi. Worse luck! Secondly, I have a curfew of 7p.m…. a little hard to digest, don’t you think? Thirdly, I’m swelling up like a bullfrog thanks to the lovely, rich oily, proper Punjabi food of my pg. Fourthly, I’m about three minutes walking distance away from college. That basically means late nights, late mornings, very litlle exercise and a lot of lethargy. Fifthly and most importantly, this massive change of residence calls for some major major budgeting!
Let me introduce you all to the coping skills that are a complete prerequisite to being part of a pg like mine. The most important trait one has to hone in oneself is that of being loud. Honestly, in community living like this, its all about the decibel levels! The louder you are the better equipped you are to deal with situations. I thank god with utmost gratitude for the first time in my life for gifting me with vocal chords that possess in-built megaphone! I have had not much trouble in that realm, though I have received very stiff competition from Suneha, Tanya and Parvati. The fact of the matter is that everyone wants to be heard over everyone all the times on all subjects challenging all opinions. The net result of this bedlam was that the lady downstairs had a heart attack and had to be rushed to hospital! (I’m serious!) We do a lot of fun things in our pg. The pg opposite ours hosts all the foreign students of a certain college. The guys are HOT! So seventeen of us chicks at eleven at night all dressed to kill in myriad forms of pajamas, jimmies, and nightgowns, gathered in the grilled-in verandahs and hollered at the opposite pg to get their attention…”who let the dogs out?ho?who?who? mere bhais ko danda kyo maara?kyo?kyo?kyo” and then, we all went into hysterical fits of giggling and crouched behind the wall, peeping over to see their reaction. It was then that I reaised that living in a pg essentially means consciously walking into a houseful of romping toddlers! This for us nightlife as all evening excursions must end at seven if you please! Another one of my favourite pastimes at night is to watch horror flicks. Moonmoon and I are movie buffs, and we’ll watch any horror flick at night. So far we’ve been lucky and we’ve seen the grudge, signs, the sixth sense, silence of the lambs and the ring. We also rented a movie called the forsaken. Its basically about new age vampires dressed in thongs, driving red sports cars and continuously having sex. The horror part of it was only that after having sex these vamps would get hornier and draw some blood from their bed partners unmentionables! We weren’t so lucky with that one, no! It was quite ludicrous and made us wince in pain a bit…last night paro and I dressed up as sardars and danced around the entire pg singing haddipaaaa!!hua hua!!oye balle balle!!phurrrrrrrrr!! Brilliant fun that! The food timings here are really regular so dinner gets over by nine…but we stay awake ill four…so hunger pangs assault us by around one. That’s when we enter the kitchen. Don’t even bother to ask what comes out of there! If I tell you , you’ll barf, but it really tastes good. For instance, did you know that an omlette stuffed with maggi is yum? Or that malai, butter and jam beaten together makes the most delicious spread? The only problem with the pg is the owner…while being immensely caring about us and taking a lot of pains to see that we’re comfortable, this particular uncleji has strange timings of arrival. He comes early in the morning when we’re in our nightclothes or at night after dinner when too we’re in our nightclothes. I think that’s one of the reasons he has for opening two pgs for girls. He likes seeing then in their nightly best without bras! Hmph!! All we can do is pleadingly look at him and say “uncleji, kya hum aapke betiyon ke tarah nahi hai?” hopefully this statement will not trigger off a latent pedophile that might be tucked away somewhere in the depths of his personality!
Now comes the budgeting part…suddenly every pice seems to matter…lending of money and borrowing are common, but treating is literally unheard of! We don’t buy tuck, we cook with what’s there in the fridge. We don’t make calls we give missed calls. We don’t eat out, we invent. We don’t go for movies (though this Sunday we are), we rent them in for 30 rupees! And we don’t go for parties unless they are fully paid for by someone else who can afford it. Our birthday presents are all for minimal costs and we make wrapping paper here. We collect things like rubber bands off newspapers and safety pins and plastic bags…we pool in for bottles of shampoos…you get the gist!!

All in all, I love my pg…. its brilliant and the people are diverse and give a lot of scope for the imagination… and I can’t miss home, cos I’m at my home right here in Delhi… having a gorgeous time!

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