Growing Up

Has had some serious growing up to do in the last week. First that, then this. You feel wretched, then you pray, and then you smile and you carry on.

Reminds me of this:


And this 🙂

P.S. First day in a brand new city by the way.

P.P.S. I should be damn kicked about this.

P.P.P.S. Actually watched Dubya-Man on the flight today (Fair Game; recco: great movie!) How unbelievably cool is that!!



Friends are pretty nifty beings, you know. No matter what’s going on, you can be always sure he will be covering your blind side. You can be a prat of the first order, but you know that fellow will be always there for you. That’s the best bit about friends; you can always take them for so bloody granted. Good times or bad, just dial his friggin number, ping him online, and you can get back to all those memories tinted in sepia coloured happiness.    

Blogs are equally nifty. You can write the darndest things in them. At times though there are things so intensely personal, you just can’t think of them as being meant for public consumption. But write you have to, write you must! So, you decide to condense memories over a decade and a half into a miserable little blogpost. And you just have to end up asking, a few reams of printed space, is that what all these memories are worth? 

All the times you spent together, laughed together, cried together, and were upto your necks with your usual brand of nonsense! Remember that broken window-wala incident (heh, we really did have to scoot that day, didn’t we? Poor Srinivas, or rather poor Srinivas’ window!) Or those late-night cycling tourneys, and that time where you made me crash into a car (err, ok, it was my fault! But, I was talking to you!!). Or, being pretty sure we had broken the Nerd’s leg in that 7th floor deuce ball cricket session! (I still can’t get over the sheer number of varieties we used to come up with to play cricket!) Or those insanely long TT sessions. Or those nuggets of wisdom Kaku used to let loose with at the pool table. Or for that matter, just randomly gallivanting around Golf Green. I could just carry on and on with this!

Oh, by the way, I still take exception to all the grief you used to give me over my Durga Puja attire! Pajamas and tees are perfectly good stuff! And not everyone, has your sartorial sense!

All I can come up with is Pickles, yaar, NO!

Thanks for having been always there for me. Seeing me off at 4 in the bloody morn when I was about to leave for my job; and last time I was in Cal, coming to visit me straight from your dialysis at 11 in the friggin night, just because I had an early morning flight the next day. I was bloody pissed then. I still am pissed now. But thanks man. Thanks for every single thing you have done.

It has been a privilege and an honour to call you my friend.   

Pickles, bas ab aaraam se rahiyo.

Some Bright Spark

Once called parting such sweet sorrow. Now, parting, I don’t have any issues with. ‘Tis packing which drives me up the friggin’ wall.

In plainspeak, kal kaand hone wala hai! In 2 x 20 kgs cartons, straitjacket-level duct tape and A4 size address labels (which I am not entirely sure about!).

As a minor aside, I have noted most of my previous posts have been filed under faff. Ain’t my fault, patient and long-suffering reader! Such, at times, is life 🙂

A Dragon Lives Forever

There are only so many phones you can do Fosbury Flops or Ferris Wheel imitations with! There are only so many digicams which once went strong at the turn of the last millenium!

Painted wings and giant springs do make way for other toys 🙂

Motorola L6 et Kodak CX6230, requiescite in pace!

On Movies

Caught the trailer of Conviction recently. The background score for that (tres cult as that is) has been lifted from here. And here. Which is just a wee bit sad!

Maximus Decimus Meridius might have put on a fair bit of fat. And, a double chin. And, have been reduced to browsing Youtube tutorials. But for all that, the man still packs a mean enough punch. 

The 39 Steps. Criterion. Farce. Genius.

P.S. Something I was reading recently suggests the best way of combatting a vampire is to steal one of their socks. Point being that vampires are insanely anally-retentive, and would therefore be unable to function if they can’t locate that sock thingie. Well, I have lost two socks, heck, two friggin’ differently-coloured socks, in the last month or so. And it is BLOODY pissing off. Wonder if people would notice me tramping around in mismatched socks!

P.P.S. Is currently involved in a full-on battle of attrition with his cellphone. I currently enjoy a slim lead but Motorola’s catching up fast!

P.P.P.S. Istanbul’s good. But I still prefer Snow.


My laptop’s power adapter caught fire last night! I can charge my mobile phone if and only if it is inclined at an angle of 82 degrees to the horizontal (apart from the fact of course that it is operational only on speakerphone mode)! And my digital camera can easily give Methuselah a good run for his money in antiquity stakes!

In short, life (including most electronic appliances associated with it) is absolutely and irrevocably conked out 🙂

For all that though, I still somehow contrive to land up in places like these:

Topkapi Palace, Istanbul

 Istanbul, teşekkür ederim 🙂

Where I Search for a Suitably Diwali-esque Bollywood Number

Its just a tad surprising, you know. Holi probably has something like a zillion odd songs to its name, Diwali on the other, hardly has any to talk about. Frankly, this is the only one I can think of:

Which is just a wee bit sad. I think if I was Diwali, I would have been pretty pissed! Seriously, if the only song I had to my name was from a movie having Boman Irani dressed as Santa Claus, and where the plotline revolved around a jackass trying to con his way out of paying the pizza-delivery boy, I would have been furious 🙂 

In other news, I am heading to India tomorrow.

And One for TT

Back in University, the Skulker and I had penned something called “The TT Chronicles” for our Yearbook. It was verbose, it was wordy, probably had enough adjectives to fill out a goodly-sized Wren & Martin, and was more or less, absolute tripe. It also took a fair number of potshots at some people which were perhaps not appreciated, and did not take one potshot which was definitely not appreciated 🙂 But as usual, I digress.

Today, I came across an article in FT along somewhat similar lines. Ok, maybe not! But ’twas about TT and much good it was 🙂 

I give you Ping Pong with the FT: Harry  Evans. And a short extract therefrom:

Top Five: Ping-pong joints

 Spin New York: With backing from the likes of Susan Sarandon and Edward Norton, Spin’s 2009 opening symbolised ping pong’s new-found celebrity appeal.

 Spin Hollywood: This west coast branch, in LA’s Mondrian hotel, offers coaching from table tennis champion-turned-fashion model Soo Yeon Lee.

The New York Table Tennis Club: Former champions Alex Tam and Deng Yaping are among the members at this Flushing venue.

The Fleapit: Micro-brewed beer and “tunes with a certain bounce” go with the regular table tennis nights at this bar on London’s Columbia Road.

The Book Club: Tuesday night is “King Pong night” at this Shoreditch bar. Entry is £1 – with £30 worth of drinks to be won

As you can see two of ’em are in London.

And one of them is even called The Book Club 🙂

The Brothers Traverse

One day Frank woke from a dream of running, running without effort or pain at a speed not even horses got up to, not pursued or in pursuit, just running for the hell of it, the heaven of how it felt, he guessed.

As nights went on and nothing happened and the phenomenon slowly faded to the accustomed deeper violets again, most had difficulty remembering the earlier rise of heart, the sense of overture and possibility, and went back once again to seeking only orgasm, hallucination, stupor, sleep, to fetch them through the night and prepare them against the day.”