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.

get.off.ur.ass.

and go places. no, really. look!

ladakh. 'nuf said.

right said, sid :)

and the tenth is just as sweet

rescued by the hippies.

italian restaurant inside a cave

"calcata is also charmingly backward. there are many places to get a tarot card reading or a box of incense, but to withdraw money from an A.T.M., mail a letter or other modern conveniences, you have to drive to calcata nuova or three miles to faleria."

sounds like one heck of a place. and possibly a worthy home for some small eyed folks i know :D

i'm explaining a few things

and you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land?

come and see the blood in the streets.
come and see
the blood in the streets.
come and see the blood
in the streets!

-- pablo neruda

skyte. sky. kite. get it?

i've been accused of abandoning mon blog. bah, all this documentation of life, i tell u. i quite like hazy, air-brushed memories. but then again, i took all these pics so i might as well show 'em off. voila. sankranti, hyderabad.

kite sellers.

kite buyers.

school kid kites.

monster kites.

kite. kite?! kite.

kite flying. hard work yaar.

ah. results. fun.

heat. ice-creams. snatch!

airbrushed kite. prettyness.

spot the accuser!

yun hota to kya hota

naseeruddin shah's first movie as a director was interesting and entertaining. the humor was easy. the style was not self-conscious. you could see naseer behind the camera, his eyes crinkling. it left me thinking. reflecting. playing back scenes. scouting for reviews to see what others felt. always a sign of a good one.

u have to listen to this

there was a shrill shriek in the distance. darkness all around. then there was a gentle tug. rays of light and a paw on my nose. my eyes flooded with a toothless grin. and a bundle of drooling fluff was all over me. best wake up call ever :D


p.s. well, it wasn't exactly a toothless grin... there's one budding tooth that's not quite visible but sure can be heard.

it's may day!!!

the alarm went off this morning at 7am. i contemplated going to the biz law class for 1/2 a second. turned off the alarm & went back to sleep. and then peeked at the alarm. i saw the date. i love you, may :)

let the countdown begin!

finality kills creativity. i want to be confused, by choice.

so said prasoon joshi. i like the guy.

check out his interview here.

i spy with my little eye

that season called spring!!! saw more than a few signs of it this morning. and the snow, it's definitely not for the southerners.

when you figure...

... out what you want to do for the rest of your life, you are anxious to get started.

must be true. quote from 'when harry met sally'. quoted by steve jobs :)

of gauss, game and groggy

what a week! my b-school experience definitely doesn't fit the bell curve. the extremes would end up flattening the poor thing beyond recognition. actually, they'd end up skewing it to the negative.

swades

there's something about the music of swades that gets me. always. i loved it when i was home. i love it even more out here. stirs something within. and it's not just the music. maybe it's all the memories that go with it too. vyases, it's been a year since that dandia nite. driving through empty roads. chill in the air. wind in our faces. u humming away. me discovering swades. beautiful.

beautiful.

bat out of hell. back into hell.

hell is where there's no home.

now THAT's what i call cricket

i'm in love. again. the interest had waned with boring, clinical, undramatic matches. but edgbaston brought back the spark. what a perfect test match. there was *nothing* the coach could do. *nothing* the captain could do. *nothing* the manager could do. it was down to the tailenders to save the match. tantalizing stuff!

http://content.cricinfo.com/engvaus/content/story/215305.html

my heart broke when that silly english wicketkeeper took kasper's wicket. still, glad that it wasn't my man lee that got out. love the aussies. and glad the pommies made such a match out of it.

rain ride

the monsoons always sneak up on you. always.

there'll be dark clouds. gusty winds. swaying trees. and then just a misty spray. again and again. till you stop noticing.

and then one day, when you're on your way home and stuck in traffic... you notice how dusty the windshield is. and then you notice a few raindrops. very slowly, they start crowding the glass. too quickly, you turn on the wipers. you notice how the blades could've scratched the glass. too much dust. not enough raindrops. but they keep coming down. flick switch. glass wiped clean. glass blurred again. repeat. not raindrops anymore. not misty spray. rain. torrential rain.

struggling wipers. some old song on the radio. big puddles on the road. splashing through. not stopping. not quite seeing. best ride ever.

in the papers the next morning. uprooted trees. frozen traffic. power outages. snapped wires. all reported with glee. all drenched in 17.1 mm of rain. precious. more to come. yippeee!