Sunday, 26 February 2012

Another Sunday. Lunch mein Anday.

If any bird mocks I'd rather kill it. Kill it violently.

Mocking a person, comparisons, vitriolic criticism and constant nagging  NEVER help. They can never act as a stimulus. They can never encourage. They just kill. Silently.

The other day I was returning from another one of my routine trip to the library/ mall/friend's place ( reminded of nyaka Belinda with her bibles and billet-doux , seriously she was such a nyaka) ...anyway so I see this child hopping and skipping and occasionally walking and behind him  his mother asking questions , " kyano ota paro ni? quarter past 3 mane kota bajche tumi jano na? " etc etc.

As he grows up he'll learn how a clock works. Give the child a break. The bus rides to CU were were all about such scenes.  Parents, they want the best for us but one has to let go at times. With 5 year old kids gyrating to chikni chameli on  various channels and even younger kids belting out romantic cheesy hindi songs and the veterans of the industry encouraging such nonsense as the parents proudly shed childhood is bidding a hasty goodbye or perhaps  being redefined. I don't know. 

Among other news, I am dramatically losing interest in newspapers. They just spoil my mood. And I don't like that Madan Mitra. I am being polite. Every time I see him on screen I feel like slapping him. However I like feeding birds on my terrace. Ma gives them rooti, I give them muri, because one does not have to tear the muri into tiny pieces, so less work that way. The crows are rather sly .I admire them, for a while I was furious with them because they gobbled up a chorai pakhir chhana - a baby sparrow as I helplessly stared. BTW baby birds are very ugly and very helpless , no feathers , one feels they'll die in a minute and they keep screeching. Poor souls. Yes so the crows come and eat muri and hop about while the sparrows pay their solemn respect to this size hierarchy and remain in the fringes ..out of fear of course. I actually imagined a sparrow sitting snugly inside a crow's belly like that guy in the Bible inside that giant whale. Yes a sparrow shall fit. 

Have you ever seen a dead bird? Like a deflated balloon? One minute in the air , 3-D and the next minute a dusty flat 2-D carcass. A whimpering end indeed.

As you might have guessed I am slowly losing it. I am lazy , feel like going back home whenever I step out yet I am not one who can adjust to staying at home no matter what the purpose. I need to know when the vacation is ending to enjoy the vacation. I need to grumble about the fact that its such a short vacation. That is how I enjoy staying at home, the joy of grumbling about the end of leisure. So when it is a self-induced never-ending kind I feel supremely restless.  

Oh the new Nokia Lumia ad is just bleh. the amazing everyday? Did they never have constipation? Everyday is not amazing. IT IS NOT. Just yesterday a friend told me about a dog being caged. A golden retriever. Such people deserve a ferocious doberman not these happy-go-lucky goldies. Bastards. 


PS- Oscars tomorrow. Please God give Streep the award. Please. Be kind. I am terrible with punctuations. Such a shame.  

Monday, 13 February 2012

This new trend. This plastic thing. I rather like it. The stores refuse to give a plastic packet for free and charge for them. Good, very good. But I like this trend not because I am an environmental crusader but because I love the beautiful paper packets that some stores give.

Global Desi , an apparel brand gave me a rather beautiful bright yellow and blue packet. While the penguin store at the Book Fair gave me a bright orange one (their signature Orange). The Nokia store gave me a black one with bright multi coloured squares, the Lumia packet (though I had purchased a rather low-end phone:P ).

I always saw those American sitcoms where the characters returned home with their groceries in a mundane brown packet and I thought "how inconvenient!"..but now even some local groceries have stopped giving plastics....yesterday I purchased some goodies at The French Loaf and there was a Re.1 added in my bill for "a small plastic packet"...

I don't mind a world sans plastic, as long as they keep giving me cute carry bags.
And that doesn't make me any less profound . *wide grin* 

Wednesday, 8 February 2012


An okay-shokay car was moving along a smooth road, everything perfect. Suddenly a huge tree trunk fell out of nowhere and crushed it to a pulp.

The car was my nice healthy diet, begun only this morning- cornflakes, apple, single toast (sans butter ***SOBS***), an egg (all this not together, in the span of 4 hours may be). 

The tree trunk is the half-packet of Haldiram's bhujia that my feeble will power succumbed to while watching the gutsy Bullock in The Blind Side. 

***loud grunts***

 Diet was not for a slim avatar but a reaction to a gnawing fear of something like an endoscopy, a scary test that a dear one went through. A pipe down the food-pipe. Healthy food = no ulcers= no endoscopy. If only................. 

Anyway, things that need my attention:
1. toe nails. They are  growing long. really long. I can't find my nail cutter and I am simply not going to waste money on a pedicure. I am broke. So I spend some valuable minutes imagining getting hit by a table leg or something more sinister and my toe nail coming off etc. 

2. a desk growing vertically. a frame, a vase, pens that don't work (this is one crucial element that makes a desk a desk), papers, books, newspapers, bottle, earphones a bag which has god knows what, a nokia packet which has god knows what and , well, dust, of course. At this rate, if I wake up one morning to a cock-a-doodle-do by a cock perched on my desk, I won't be surprised. 

3. piles of clothes , here and there and everywhere.

4.errr. study. (the reason I gave myself for quitting the job)

Sunday, 5 February 2012

A small mixer grinder.
A sunshine yellow  yolk
turns into a dull beige
with the whizz of an angry button.

A huge oven where things  bake for days
till they burn.

Oh then there's the ceiling with the dripping sooty-oil
and the silent red cylinder full of combustible stuff .

Occasionally the 30-second protest of the pressure cooker
under pressure. or the suffering simmer of some curry.

The clean gas, the clean slabs, the clean chopping board and the glistening knife
and the dustbin-
the dustbin, which makes the cleanliness possible.

and speaking of cleanliness
The rags. The tired rags
 in tatters, letting in the odd circles of light.

Unused glasses, with a film of grime,
perched on a slab covered with old yellow newspapers.

So there. That's a kitchen.
Of course, that's a kitchen.

Friday, 3 February 2012

Madame Idiot.

That's what I am.

For not reading Chander Pahar before. Now that is taken care of.

For not reading any of Ashapurna Debi's works. Have begun Prothom Protisruti. Reading every page and mentally kicking myself for reading it so late in life. I already adore bnere paka Satyabati.