Music in my head: Anathema - Hindsight
Today's weather: Back to normal, after two anomalous, pleasant days.
For a guy who has nothing to do, I've been doing quite a lot lately. I went to another party, at an Asian themed restaurant- complete with Karaoke, except that they'd hired two people to Karaoke for the guests. There has been talk of hiring super-sophisticated French-Italian-Gourmet trained 'Eaters' for guests. It's all hush-hush now, but the little birds say that the illustrious wait-list includes such rich and famous people as Lalit Modi who're looking to spend their shady money in every way possible.
So I sat there listening to an insipid version of 'I want to break free', sipping on a glass of beer, watching my dad shoot nervous glances at his now 'grown-up' son, and all of a sudden, I was treated to a dire spectacle. I had seen an old lady sitting at a table across the restaurant. Now, it is not my habit to notice old ladies, but this particular woman was about a hundred feet around the equator (I'm allowed to crack fat jokes, because I'm fat). I had dismissed her as a venerable old cat. But, lo and behold! There she was, pumping her fists and gyrating to the Karaoke, the quintessential cheesy-comedy-restaurant-fat-lady-dancing scene. Thus, the emasculating Karaoke came with a groovy fist-pump in the nuts of your eyes (forgive the crude metaphor).
The food wasn't particularly good, but then buffets rarely are. I don't eat fish, and half the table was sushi. I drank my beer, ate some chicken and tried to picture my safe place in my head- a lush meadow with cows grazing beside an arena where thousands of metalheads are banging their heads to such demi-gods as Dethklok, Opeth and Meshuggah. It didn't work, of course.
Result: No more pseudo-karaoke parties.
.
Showing posts with label delhi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label delhi. Show all posts
June 09, 2010
June 03, 2010
Party Poop
Music in my head: Simon and Garfunkel - Scarborough Fair Canticle
Today's weather: Dustbowl
Yesterday, I had to go to a party. Not the cool kind, like the once we used to have back in the day. Yeah, I can use the expression 'back in the day' now. I just got my final CGPA. But I digress. I had to go to a party, with my folks, at an Army mess, dressed up in ironed clothes and polished shoes. The bane of the existence of every self-respecting Army brat. Yes, you get as many (soft) drinks as you want, and you can eat as many pieces of Chicken-65 as you want, but that's not the end of the story.
This is what usually happens at such an occasion- I enter the Drawing room with my folks. Everyone exchanges pleasantries. They ask me which class I was in. I smile a big fake smile and explain to them that I have, in fact, completed my B.Tech. They proceed to explain to me how I don't look my age, and sometimes add an anecdote which proves that looks can be deceptive. This is all acceptable. Yes, I have a very high tolerance level for extremely irritating, mind-numbingly boring conversation.
Next, they beam at me and tell me- "Accha, bete, bacche log TV room mein baithe hain. Tum vahi jaake baith jao. Hum pepsi udhar bhijwa denge. (Ok son, the kids are in the TV room. You can go join them. We'll send you some pepsi.)" I look at them with a quizzical expression. I just told you that I am twenty one years old, you age-ist old person. Isn't that clever? That's like discrimination based on age, like racist is discrimination based on race. In that awkward silence, I think up clever things like that. And then, of course, the big grown ups get their grown-up drinks and form their little grown up conversation circles. And that's freedom.
The window of opportunity to escape from the Drawing Room without having to be escorted to the TV room is very small. So I usually just get the hell out at the first chance. I go hang around at the garden or something. This time, when I walked out, I saw a metallic staircase. It was as if a spotlight from heaven had lit it up. I walked up these stairs, very slowly, immersing myself in the anticipation. It led up to the roof. There was some construction work in progress. I had found my spot.
It was magic. I was transported back to Trichy. There was this ugly structure coming up right in front of the main gate. For months we couldn't even figure out what it was. Then we realised that it was a flyover. We figured out a way to get on top of it. And then after braving a mercilessly sweltering Trichy day, we would go up there at night. We would sit there, listen to music and watch the headlamps of the cars, buses and trucks flicker as they passed by in the distance. And we would talk about the EPL, the sucky Profs, how the Project was a pain in the rear, how the lights look like they're dancing to the music that's playing, of cabbages and kings. And the cool breeze would refresh us, and the guards would give us suspicious looks. But at that moment we hadn't a care in the world.
And two months later and two thousand kilometers away, I felt like I was back. I felt the buzz of passing traffic. I played the music in my head. Headlamps of speeding cars danced in the distance. I narrowed my eyes to slits until the lights were a blur. I could hear stuff in the background- "Dude, Torres is God", "Dude that Prof can't even spell redundant", "Dude I've left my lip-marks on my Prof's rear. I hope I get an A", "Dude Steven Wilson is genius".
Then suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. As my eyes came back into focus, I half expected myself to be greeted by the Guard anna. "Bhaiyya, khana lag gaya", he said. I was back from my sojourn in time. I went to the dining room, picked up some dinner, pretended to be interested in the dinner conversation. They could've been talking about cabbages and kings, for all I care.
The next time I'm caught in a tedious conversation, I'll just excuse myself, find the roof and sit there, looking at traffic, in my happy place, with my friends.
"Did you ever imagine the last thing you'd hear as you're fading out was a song?....
... Arriving somewhere, not here..."
Today's weather: Dustbowl
Yesterday, I had to go to a party. Not the cool kind, like the once we used to have back in the day. Yeah, I can use the expression 'back in the day' now. I just got my final CGPA. But I digress. I had to go to a party, with my folks, at an Army mess, dressed up in ironed clothes and polished shoes. The bane of the existence of every self-respecting Army brat. Yes, you get as many (soft) drinks as you want, and you can eat as many pieces of Chicken-65 as you want, but that's not the end of the story.
This is what usually happens at such an occasion- I enter the Drawing room with my folks. Everyone exchanges pleasantries. They ask me which class I was in. I smile a big fake smile and explain to them that I have, in fact, completed my B.Tech. They proceed to explain to me how I don't look my age, and sometimes add an anecdote which proves that looks can be deceptive. This is all acceptable. Yes, I have a very high tolerance level for extremely irritating, mind-numbingly boring conversation.
Next, they beam at me and tell me- "Accha, bete, bacche log TV room mein baithe hain. Tum vahi jaake baith jao. Hum pepsi udhar bhijwa denge. (Ok son, the kids are in the TV room. You can go join them. We'll send you some pepsi.)" I look at them with a quizzical expression. I just told you that I am twenty one years old, you age-ist old person. Isn't that clever? That's like discrimination based on age, like racist is discrimination based on race. In that awkward silence, I think up clever things like that. And then, of course, the big grown ups get their grown-up drinks and form their little grown up conversation circles. And that's freedom.
The window of opportunity to escape from the Drawing Room without having to be escorted to the TV room is very small. So I usually just get the hell out at the first chance. I go hang around at the garden or something. This time, when I walked out, I saw a metallic staircase. It was as if a spotlight from heaven had lit it up. I walked up these stairs, very slowly, immersing myself in the anticipation. It led up to the roof. There was some construction work in progress. I had found my spot.
It was magic. I was transported back to Trichy. There was this ugly structure coming up right in front of the main gate. For months we couldn't even figure out what it was. Then we realised that it was a flyover. We figured out a way to get on top of it. And then after braving a mercilessly sweltering Trichy day, we would go up there at night. We would sit there, listen to music and watch the headlamps of the cars, buses and trucks flicker as they passed by in the distance. And we would talk about the EPL, the sucky Profs, how the Project was a pain in the rear, how the lights look like they're dancing to the music that's playing, of cabbages and kings. And the cool breeze would refresh us, and the guards would give us suspicious looks. But at that moment we hadn't a care in the world.
And two months later and two thousand kilometers away, I felt like I was back. I felt the buzz of passing traffic. I played the music in my head. Headlamps of speeding cars danced in the distance. I narrowed my eyes to slits until the lights were a blur. I could hear stuff in the background- "Dude, Torres is God", "Dude that Prof can't even spell redundant", "Dude I've left my lip-marks on my Prof's rear. I hope I get an A", "Dude Steven Wilson is genius".
Then suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. As my eyes came back into focus, I half expected myself to be greeted by the Guard anna. "Bhaiyya, khana lag gaya", he said. I was back from my sojourn in time. I went to the dining room, picked up some dinner, pretended to be interested in the dinner conversation. They could've been talking about cabbages and kings, for all I care.
The next time I'm caught in a tedious conversation, I'll just excuse myself, find the roof and sit there, looking at traffic, in my happy place, with my friends.
"Did you ever imagine the last thing you'd hear as you're fading out was a song?....
... Arriving somewhere, not here..."
May 19, 2010
Randomness in Rhyme
Music in my head: Agalloch - Not Unlike the Waves
Today's weather: Dilli ki Garmi.
In this sweltering, sweaty, summer season,
Delhi's deadly dry.
A chicken stranded on Chandni Chowk
Turns into chicken fry.
You'd think that tricksy tripsy Trichy
Had a trident up your rear.
But damned Delhi, apart from being smelly,
Has the trident trembling in fear.
I'm stuck in a small little stupidity rut,
Chewing chicken from Chandni Chowk,
To muscle up and move what's on my head-
A great big writers' block.
P.S. I promise that the forthcoming entries will make more sense. I just had to get the ball rolling somehow.
Today's weather: Dilli ki Garmi.
In this sweltering, sweaty, summer season,
Delhi's deadly dry.
A chicken stranded on Chandni Chowk
Turns into chicken fry.
You'd think that tricksy tripsy Trichy
Had a trident up your rear.
But damned Delhi, apart from being smelly,
Has the trident trembling in fear.
I'm stuck in a small little stupidity rut,
Chewing chicken from Chandni Chowk,
To muscle up and move what's on my head-
A great big writers' block.
P.S. I promise that the forthcoming entries will make more sense. I just had to get the ball rolling somehow.
December 29, 2009
What I'm doing now
Music in my head: Fovea Hex- Neither Speak Nor Remain Silent
Today's weather: Artificially warmed.
This is where things stand, at the moment.
I'm going to rewatch Avatar tomorrow morning. I didn't have enough the first time. When I go back to college, I'm sure someone will have downloaded the BluRay Rip (Internet Cops, it wasn't me) and I'll watch it over and over again.
I'm listening to Steven Wilson's top 50 albums, on a euphoric post PT high (click here for the list) and there's a lot of interesting stuff in there- and I'm particularly enjoying the brand of minimalist music- drone, doom etc. that he's recommended. Thanks SW.
I watched 3 Idiots a couple of days back, and enjoyed it. It's almost nothing like 5 point someone, but I liked it all the same. I could point out a million inconsistencies, but I am not a cynic, so all of you go and watch the movie (I'll be waiting for my cheque, Mr. Chopra).
And I am wrapped up in bed as I am every winter, watching Battlestar Galactica, Monty Python's Flying Circus, The Simpsons, and whatever is on TV. I'm also reading a lot- the low point being Dan Brown's new book, which was stereotypical conspiracy theory, with the worst anti-climax yet, and that includes the ending to Angels and Demons. I read a few Robin Cook books- average, and re-read Shantaram, enjoyable as always.
End of transmission.
Today's weather: Artificially warmed.
This is where things stand, at the moment.
I'm going to rewatch Avatar tomorrow morning. I didn't have enough the first time. When I go back to college, I'm sure someone will have downloaded the BluRay Rip (Internet Cops, it wasn't me) and I'll watch it over and over again.
I'm listening to Steven Wilson's top 50 albums, on a euphoric post PT high (click here for the list) and there's a lot of interesting stuff in there- and I'm particularly enjoying the brand of minimalist music- drone, doom etc. that he's recommended. Thanks SW.
I watched 3 Idiots a couple of days back, and enjoyed it. It's almost nothing like 5 point someone, but I liked it all the same. I could point out a million inconsistencies, but I am not a cynic, so all of you go and watch the movie (I'll be waiting for my cheque, Mr. Chopra).
And I am wrapped up in bed as I am every winter, watching Battlestar Galactica, Monty Python's Flying Circus, The Simpsons, and whatever is on TV. I'm also reading a lot- the low point being Dan Brown's new book, which was stereotypical conspiracy theory, with the worst anti-climax yet, and that includes the ending to Angels and Demons. I read a few Robin Cook books- average, and re-read Shantaram, enjoyable as always.
End of transmission.
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