When they decide to drown themselves in gallons of ethanol.
When they blow rings of life away.
When they sell their soul to the craving.
What seems so right to them, the evil treat.
That walk on the beach. The game of cards.
That potluck dinner. The long train ride.
The bliss you feel - the small joys,
Don't matter to them. Not anymore.
When they begin to look like the rest of them,
It's hard to pull 'em back. Astray.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
I predict a riot....
.... in my large intestine!! Read on to know why.
It was my last weekend in the most laid-back city in the world. And I was really keen on doing something fun to make up for my extremely lazy weekends this winter. Well, I indulged in Kolkata's greatest indulgence – No prizes for guessing – Food it is.
It was Friday evening and a good friend from Hyderabad was in town. He suggested Mama Mia in Ballygunj and we landed there. A fairly big scoop of Triple Chocolate and a yummy Sizzling Brownie later, I wanted something snacky. So we went to this Azad Hind Hotel nearby, which was more like a dine-in-your-car place. I stuffed myself with a double egg roll and a bhar (earthen cup) full of thick lassi. When I got home, I topped it all with some curd rice with my favourite mango pickle!
The next morning, I was in a hurry to get to the movie theatre to catch Madagascar’s sequel. I gobbled 3 thin alu parathas with the same favourite mango pickle and some curd. Couple of hours later, I couldn’t fight the urge during the movie interval and grabbed a large butter popcorn and giant glass of Mirinda. With the satisfaction of having watched a great animation film, I headed to New Market to shop and achieve the State of Greater Gratification. Agent S wanted to pick up cakes from Nahoum & Sons, a bakery which is apparently more than 150 years old! I accompanied him there and fell prey to the idea of treating my family (and err..myself) with a pound of rich plum cake. While I was waiting to pay for it, my eyes fell on the cashew cookies. I made a packet mine. After some jewelry browsing and the-right-black-bag hunt, I convinced myself that I’ll not get to eat chaat in Calcutta till June, and should grab some immediately. Spicy puchkas went down my throat in rapid succession. Across the road, I saw a vendor and on his cart were the words ‘Kesar Kulfi’ in a dull, faded red. But suddenly the letters seemed brighter than anything else and I animatedly asked him for one. In the meanwhile, Agent S bought a masala thumsup! I tried a sip of the fancy concoction made of Thumsup, a generous dash of lime and of course a secret masala-ish ingredient – thankfully didn’t like it much, stayed away.
I got back home and my worried Amma enquired whether I had eaten lunch. “Only junk food all day? Chi chi!”, she shrieked and the dining table was soon adorned with hot rasam rice, potato curry, and cruchy appalams to go with it. Later in the evening, my parents and I were getting back home from the Hanuman Mandir. Amma expressed her burning desire to make my last weekend nicer - Sharma’s to treat ourselves to Luchi and Alur Dom! Half a shingara and some luchis got dumped in tummy and I thought I would almost burst. My helpless groan probably sounded like raucous exclamations of delight to Appa. He wanted to honour the sweet tooth I possess!! Some pretty fancy milk sandesh, rabri et al were added to my human warehouse. “That’s all I can eat today!”, I mumbled. Little did I know that I would find a bowl of delectable gaajar ka halwa staring back at me on the table. Amma gave me a wide grin. Should I? Should I not? Should I? Should I not? I knew it could leave me quite winded, but I was being a brave soul. Who can deny Gaajar ka halwa? Not me I learnt.
It was a Sunday and I got busy with the day’s paper and my hot chai, as usual. But well, what can get better than hot jalebis on a wintry morning. Sometimes, I think my Dad’s telepathic! In an effort to be a good daughter, I decided to cook and looked up some recipes online. “Mutter Paneer and Jeera Rice for lunch”, I declared. It was surprisingly good and I ate heartily, also marveling how each grain of rice and each cube of paneer had been cooked to perfection. I suddenly felt the urge to (again) seek the State of Greater Gratification and went shopping in Metro Plaza. When Agent R and I ran out of batteries, we decided to recharge ourselves in Peter Cat, one of the most popular restaurants on Park Street. What I thought would be an evening snack turned out to be a late lunch, and may I add ‘heavy’ to it! Some sweet corn soup followed by Chelo Kebab (Steamed rice topped with butter served with paneer and vegetable tikka, and not to forget the portion of stuffed capsicum!) A friend stopped at The Street in The Park hotel to pick up a salad. Minutes later, I found myself lost in a brownie swimming in oodles of hot chocolate sauce. During the cab ride back home, I was thinking how I could write a book on ‘Do-it-yourself Weight Gaining’ or maybe ‘Expand your waistline in 3 days’ and the like.
Hmmm… Have I forgotten to mention anything? Oh… I also gobbled 7 or 8 rosogollas over the weekend. I am certainly going back to college looking like one!
It was my last weekend in the most laid-back city in the world. And I was really keen on doing something fun to make up for my extremely lazy weekends this winter. Well, I indulged in Kolkata's greatest indulgence – No prizes for guessing – Food it is.
It was Friday evening and a good friend from Hyderabad was in town. He suggested Mama Mia in Ballygunj and we landed there. A fairly big scoop of Triple Chocolate and a yummy Sizzling Brownie later, I wanted something snacky. So we went to this Azad Hind Hotel nearby, which was more like a dine-in-your-car place. I stuffed myself with a double egg roll and a bhar (earthen cup) full of thick lassi. When I got home, I topped it all with some curd rice with my favourite mango pickle!
The next morning, I was in a hurry to get to the movie theatre to catch Madagascar’s sequel. I gobbled 3 thin alu parathas with the same favourite mango pickle and some curd. Couple of hours later, I couldn’t fight the urge during the movie interval and grabbed a large butter popcorn and giant glass of Mirinda. With the satisfaction of having watched a great animation film, I headed to New Market to shop and achieve the State of Greater Gratification. Agent S wanted to pick up cakes from Nahoum & Sons, a bakery which is apparently more than 150 years old! I accompanied him there and fell prey to the idea of treating my family (and err..myself) with a pound of rich plum cake. While I was waiting to pay for it, my eyes fell on the cashew cookies. I made a packet mine. After some jewelry browsing and the-right-black-bag hunt, I convinced myself that I’ll not get to eat chaat in Calcutta till June, and should grab some immediately. Spicy puchkas went down my throat in rapid succession. Across the road, I saw a vendor and on his cart were the words ‘Kesar Kulfi’ in a dull, faded red. But suddenly the letters seemed brighter than anything else and I animatedly asked him for one. In the meanwhile, Agent S bought a masala thumsup! I tried a sip of the fancy concoction made of Thumsup, a generous dash of lime and of course a secret masala-ish ingredient – thankfully didn’t like it much, stayed away.
I got back home and my worried Amma enquired whether I had eaten lunch. “Only junk food all day? Chi chi!”, she shrieked and the dining table was soon adorned with hot rasam rice, potato curry, and cruchy appalams to go with it. Later in the evening, my parents and I were getting back home from the Hanuman Mandir. Amma expressed her burning desire to make my last weekend nicer - Sharma’s to treat ourselves to Luchi and Alur Dom! Half a shingara and some luchis got dumped in tummy and I thought I would almost burst. My helpless groan probably sounded like raucous exclamations of delight to Appa. He wanted to honour the sweet tooth I possess!! Some pretty fancy milk sandesh, rabri et al were added to my human warehouse. “That’s all I can eat today!”, I mumbled. Little did I know that I would find a bowl of delectable gaajar ka halwa staring back at me on the table. Amma gave me a wide grin. Should I? Should I not? Should I? Should I not? I knew it could leave me quite winded, but I was being a brave soul. Who can deny Gaajar ka halwa? Not me I learnt.
It was a Sunday and I got busy with the day’s paper and my hot chai, as usual. But well, what can get better than hot jalebis on a wintry morning. Sometimes, I think my Dad’s telepathic! In an effort to be a good daughter, I decided to cook and looked up some recipes online. “Mutter Paneer and Jeera Rice for lunch”, I declared. It was surprisingly good and I ate heartily, also marveling how each grain of rice and each cube of paneer had been cooked to perfection. I suddenly felt the urge to (again) seek the State of Greater Gratification and went shopping in Metro Plaza. When Agent R and I ran out of batteries, we decided to recharge ourselves in Peter Cat, one of the most popular restaurants on Park Street. What I thought would be an evening snack turned out to be a late lunch, and may I add ‘heavy’ to it! Some sweet corn soup followed by Chelo Kebab (Steamed rice topped with butter served with paneer and vegetable tikka, and not to forget the portion of stuffed capsicum!) A friend stopped at The Street in The Park hotel to pick up a salad. Minutes later, I found myself lost in a brownie swimming in oodles of hot chocolate sauce. During the cab ride back home, I was thinking how I could write a book on ‘Do-it-yourself Weight Gaining’ or maybe ‘Expand your waistline in 3 days’ and the like.
Hmmm… Have I forgotten to mention anything? Oh… I also gobbled 7 or 8 rosogollas over the weekend. I am certainly going back to college looking like one!
Monday, January 5, 2009
Guppy, The Brown Guy & The Indians
Statutory Warning: This is a result of one whole month in Kolkata and in an ad agency. Enter at your own risk.
There lived a man named Guppy Ram in a remote village near Puri. He loved a thing called Papeto more than anything else in the world. But the Jains in the village hated it and wanted to get rid of it. So he decided to change the way Papeto looked. So that they never find it and hence can never destroy it.
Guppy Ram sought the help of a brown guy who sprouted a white moustache often. This brown guy with the help of his hot Indian frens disguised Papeto and gave him a complete makeover. The Jains never found Papeto and Guppy Ram was elated. But then, Orissa got flooded and Puri got filled with water. This led to the birth of Pani Puri!
Guppy Ram was really sad and remained chup after that disaster. So Pani puri is called Gup-Chup in Orissa. And oh.. Guppy Ram was obese... Probably why in North India, they call it Gol-Guppa!
There lived a man named Guppy Ram in a remote village near Puri. He loved a thing called Papeto more than anything else in the world. But the Jains in the village hated it and wanted to get rid of it. So he decided to change the way Papeto looked. So that they never find it and hence can never destroy it.
Guppy Ram sought the help of a brown guy who sprouted a white moustache often. This brown guy with the help of his hot Indian frens disguised Papeto and gave him a complete makeover. The Jains never found Papeto and Guppy Ram was elated. But then, Orissa got flooded and Puri got filled with water. This led to the birth of Pani Puri!
[A few months later]
Guppy Ram was really sad and remained chup after that disaster. So Pani puri is called Gup-Chup in Orissa. And oh.. Guppy Ram was obese... Probably why in North India, they call it Gol-Guppa!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Terror Trail, Leave me Alone.
I finally reached Kolkata! I was glad to see Appa's driver at the station. "Jaffer Bhaaaai, Id Mubarak.", I exclaimed. "Is baar Id nahi hai.", he said, with a faint, forced smile. Before I could ask an insensitive question, Amma dragged me to the side and quickly told me how Jaffer Bhai's sister was shot dead! - in an encounter between some goons in Muzaffarpur, Bihar. A civilian - for no fault of hers - is dead. The drive back home was unusually quiet, except the reflection in the mirror that spoke to me, mutedly. The controlled tears brimming in his eyes asked me several questions.
My train to Kolkata reached the city, a whole nine hours late. The rumor was that a rail track in Berhampur, Orissa was bombed by the Naxals. Almost 11 bogies of the train were derailed. It felt terrible, but at the same time, I thanked my stars - rather selfishly, that I only got delayed. I told myself that I'll avoid taking the train on my way back. The next minute, a co-passenger is talking about how all the airports are on high alert! Then, I heard about the SIM scandal here, connected to the Mumbai terror attack. Police everywhere. My mind floated back to the Goa film festival - that's where I was when the attack in Mumbai happened. When I took longer than a minute in the restroom, a policewoman banged the door, rather impatiently. She probably thought I was a suicide bomber, desperate for some blood-spill.. waiting to destroy India!
When I look around, I see masks everywhere. I want to look through a sieve.
This's probably my biggest fear - There'll be noone I can trust. There'll be noone left to love.
My train to Kolkata reached the city, a whole nine hours late. The rumor was that a rail track in Berhampur, Orissa was bombed by the Naxals. Almost 11 bogies of the train were derailed. It felt terrible, but at the same time, I thanked my stars - rather selfishly, that I only got delayed. I told myself that I'll avoid taking the train on my way back. The next minute, a co-passenger is talking about how all the airports are on high alert! Then, I heard about the SIM scandal here, connected to the Mumbai terror attack. Police everywhere. My mind floated back to the Goa film festival - that's where I was when the attack in Mumbai happened. When I took longer than a minute in the restroom, a policewoman banged the door, rather impatiently. She probably thought I was a suicide bomber, desperate for some blood-spill.. waiting to destroy India!
When I look around, I see masks everywhere. I want to look through a sieve.
This's probably my biggest fear - There'll be noone I can trust. There'll be noone left to love.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Panic A-pack
I love travelling. I hate packing. There're some things you like doing and for everything else, there's no Mastercard! I have been trying to pack for a 4 day trip for the last 13 hours. Yes, I am a retard. I have been doing a zillion things in between, everything but packing. (This includes writing the previous post!)
I tried telling myself, "Just do it! It's half past three. You have a train in less than 4 hours. You can't go to the Goa film festival looking like a dumb ass! Just Pack!" It's not helping. I'm slow, almost dyslexic, when it comes to packing. Waaah!
I am gonna make a list of Things-to-carry, and then just dump them all in my rucksack. OK. Sounds good. I'm gonna just get done with this. I don't have an option. Do I? No. Just pack. Quick. Yes. [Deep Breath]
As I prepare and motivate myself to be mentally tough to complete this Herculean task with proper planning and execution, I read my friend's status message on Gtalk - "Whoever said nothing was impossible never tried slamming a revolving door." SIGH!
I tried telling myself, "Just do it! It's half past three. You have a train in less than 4 hours. You can't go to the Goa film festival looking like a dumb ass! Just Pack!" It's not helping. I'm slow, almost dyslexic, when it comes to packing. Waaah!
I am gonna make a list of Things-to-carry, and then just dump them all in my rucksack. OK. Sounds good. I'm gonna just get done with this. I don't have an option. Do I? No. Just pack. Quick. Yes. [Deep Breath]
As I prepare and motivate myself to be mentally tough to complete this Herculean task with proper planning and execution, I read my friend's status message on Gtalk - "Whoever said nothing was impossible never tried slamming a revolving door." SIGH!
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