scorcese's the man!

man, how did i miss the charminar?

so i went down to charminar on a friday night. and got what the fuss was all about. the place has an incredible incredible charm. so much life! and to think i discovered manhattan before my own backyard!

i stopped several times to ask for directions and of course, heard a lot of 'seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedha jao's. when i stuck my awestruck face out of the car, one man convinced me to visit the chowmohalla palace... 'dekhne layak cheez hai... aap kabhi bhi aa jao... sirf jumme ke din band rehta'.

clocky. gotta hate the damn thing.

clocky.

an alarm clock that can run away from you! ugh. how horrendous is that?

apparently, "while this clock can survive small bumps and falls, it is not guaranteed to withstand an assault by someone who has had to drag it out from under the bed". but of course.

the worst good smell in the world

"the first thing i noticed about bombay, on that first day, was the smell of the different air. i could smell it before i saw or heard anything of india, even as i walked along the umbilical corridor that connected the plane to the airport. i was excited and delighted by it, in that first bombay minute, escaped from prison and new to the wide world, but i didn't and couldn't recognize it. i know now that it's the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it's the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. it's the smell of gods, demons, empires and civilisations in resurrection and decay. it's the blue skin-smell of the sea, no matter where you are in the island city, and the blood-metal smell of machines. it smells of the stir and sleep and waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. it smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage. it smells of ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches, and mosques, and of a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices, incense, and freshly cut flowers. karla once called it the worst good smell in the world, and she was right, of course, in that way she had of being right about things. but whenever i return to bombay, now, it's my first sense of the city - that smell, above all things - that welcomes me and tells me i've come home." -- gregory david roberts, shantaram

i know this smell. and this is exactly how it feels.