freeze frame

crash and burn , spin and splatter
every sense convoluted
every reality distorted
then a fleeting stillness
that i stumbled upon in this dance of perspectives

can i stretch it?
elongate it so it lasts till i chose it?
can i walk inside the bubble?
and watch mesmerised

can i shift it?
a little to the left and 2 inches forward
can i add colour?
a rainbow perhaps?

can i own it?
play with it like a faviriote pet
dream about it like an obsession


can i make another one just like it?

dilli dilli , chilly dilli ...

hello sunshine , goodbye chilly dilli

thats what i thought the minute the " commander of this kingfisher airline" announced that we have finally landed in mumbai.. and the temperature outside is a warm 22 degrees , HELOOO SUNSHINNNEEE..

ok now for a lil boring background and some travelogue type murmerings.. between pauses for vishesh tipnees and smart alecky comments ( a la anthony bourdain)

6 days back i went to delhi for a big event.. or events rather, one happening almost everyday. I managed to squeeze in time to really see delhi a bit, something that ive been wanting to do for long but never really got the chance to .. so alhtough i didnt make it paranthewali galli and do the RDB jig at india gate.. i did manage to get lost inside sarojini market and eat gol gappas and kulcha paratha... :) And of course , notice some of those interesting little things that are "so delhi" . here's my list .. its not too big, just moments i caught and some i pondered upon between work, fatigue and while i was gorging on pancakes and mirchi pakodas ..

1. LOVE... LADKIYAAN... BOLLYWOOD... and my first impression of the delhi reporter

LLB - some radio channel runs this show in delhi and i kept hearing it in every car i sat.. the host is a fellow with a thick dilli accent gossipping about bollywood... i have no idea why its called LLB ( as in why the connect to the LLB degree, why couldnt it be bbm, bollywood...babes.. Masti.. or some such thing ) and im still trying to figure out what the copywriter was thinking ..

Delhi reporters - i had the misfortune of listening to some drunk TOI guy talking.. trying to instigate someone i knew for a quote by being mean on purpose .. maybe its his job but my skin crawledhearing him speak. so my first impression of the delhi reporter - bad taste in my mouth - reminded me of all the stories about delhi men and made me think maybe there s no hope still


2. WHEN IN DELHI , DRESS WAY UP

Delhi is an incredibly well turned out city. everyone is dressed to the tee with colour coordinated belt , shoes/ boots, jacket, inner t shirts and probably even their thermals are designer ..

At sarojini market you can score export rejects for give or take a 100 bucks each. 'Cheena' - A local delhi - punju girl with us made it extremely clear to every vendor within 10 miles of hearing distance that 100 was all we would all pay for any item we pick up. Anytime we needed any expert bargaining, the whole market would hear us yelling 'cheeeeeeeeeeenaaaa' which led to everyone knowing we were imports and thus promptly being rejected by quite a few self respecting delhi shopkeepers for our un-ignorant attitude..

i bought one pair of boots with orange , green and pink colours all in one shoe..one of the local delhi girls with me ( a perfect specimen of the well turned out, fashionperfect delhi) informed me very happily that i could just pass them off as 'original manish arora'!!!!... , just dont tell anybody ok?' ... hmm well ok..

but now there is DICHOTOMY!! . Should i tell people i bought these very cool shoes for 'just 500!!!' or that i bought the 'very IN manish arora'! ...

sigh! life 's a bitch

Anyway moving on.. Also at sarojini market you can find dilli exotica like 'BANTA' - a lime type drink supposedly the nimbu pani of mumbai ( which incidentally ididnt taste) and Sweet potatoes with masala and lime -YUMMMM for 5 - 10 bucks

3. CHILLY DILLI, BUT NOT UNBEARABLY

You can actually get used to the cold. yes there exists such a thing.. I spent six days there. the first outdoor event - 4 layers, second - three, 3rd ( which incidentally was a case of false bravado gone reallly bad sinc ethat event was in an extremely cold area and after a while i was turning a pale shade of blue) - 2 layers .. Strangely enough i didnt get sick , no cold nothing and i actually didnt freeze to death.
Just make sure you wear monkey cap, gloves and socks at all times. thats good enough

4. JUT v/s JAAT

attention this is a 'did you know' moment
apparently the northie JAT and the northie JUT are two different avatars and not simply two different pronounciations of the same animal.
this is what came from a very pretty Jut horse's mouth ( disclaimer : this is all hearsay and there may be few errors in reproduction since at the time i was salivating over luscious looking aloo parantas at Not Just Parathas - GKII delhi)

The originals were the JAATS - the warriors .. those bulky huge haryanvi fellows who double as bouncers at gurgaon pubs .. and then some of them moved north and got into cultivation .. so they for some reason became known as the JUTS.. usually in delhi and many of these converted to the SIKH religion.. so today's JUTS are sikhs mostly ( i think - cause they talk shudh punjabi) and they are all over delhi


5. 'oye ministerji, gun shun chala do, signal khulva do', aap bhi laal baati , yeh bhi laal batti..
overheard in delhi - punju girl at the wheel telling lal batti gaadi mein minsterwala in the next lane to use his 'firepower' and change the signal from red to green

I am sure the city has some killer female hindi copywriters... specially the punju dilli girls. Ive met three now and all of them crack me up with their hilarious rejoinders, dramatic descritpions of things , people and places and general murmerings.. they seem to be constantly talking, muttering something or the other , its one streamof constant chatter of completely crazy perspectives...

I recommed the hindi descriptions of a night of heavy drinking - a definite must - hear.
Current top of the chart is - simran followed closely by cheena

6. AND FINALLY --- There are people in delhi who have never been to bombay!!!!!!
Its a crying shame isnt it?? i wonder how they sleep at night
Both the drivers that i spent the maximum car time with have never been to bombay and it is their one dream to see the city.. it was very endearing and i felt terribly homesick as i was answering their questions on traffic, where the stars live and what happens on juhu beach

thank god im back. this is the bestest city ever. though delhi wasnt as bad as i had imagined it would be. at least it felt like a living breathing city , full of crazy experiences and anti mellow just the way i like it.. hope i can go again and experience more of dilli dilli ( like that black eyed peas song)

special thanks to GURPREET for showing me around, making sure i ate gol gappas, paratha kulcha, and rajma chawal and that i bought my very own mac kajal, and delhi clothes and for just being good fun!:)

mojo questions

i think i have forgotten how to write.

now its all slap dash one liners and slogans and taglines and headlines..
but no real words

that sounds totally idiotic.

question is however, how do i get my mojo back?
and the bigger question... did i have any to begin with

i went to goa for new year. i think i will live there one day. im happiest with the sand between my toes

unu Yongho

thats my new name. or actually my virtual one. its finally here. a virtual lifestyle & a parallel universe.
some company has gone and started www.secondlife.com which offeres well literally, a second life for anyone who has the stomach for it. i joined up of course.

its terribly exciting... i get a new name, a new face, new friends, new places to party , nightclubs where i can hear 'live' music, new job, land to own, a business to build, etc etc,

so i am now unu yongho. musician. :) i was thinking of becoming avatar creator , maybe i will switch in some time.. once i learn the ropes of this thing..

have a feeling im going to enjoy my virtual life much more than my real one. how sad am i. but for people who need some release.. second life is brilliant. simply brilliant.

sunday

another wasted sunday.

woke up in a foul mood at 6 30 pm on a sunday evening after a nap
before the nap had gorged on chocolate eclairs, lays chips and an oily puff
puff goes the diet..

what is it about sunday evening that always makes me irriatble?

think its the ominous looming of the end of the holiday
or the realisation that i didnt do nearly enough
or the fact that monday morning holds nothing interesting
or just a feeling of an overloaded stomach and guilt pangs

but today i did stuff. watched 3/4 of abbas kuorastami's through the olive trees
its bleak yet hopeful landscapes and lovely characters, each one so easily likeable
and just when everything was going good, the film stops for no apparent reason , once because of power failure and nce becuas eapparently the dvd had mothing more..

and then i leaped into a wild sheep chase, murakami's crazy book that i am finding secret time for
i steal glances at it at work and take it with me to the loo , and try and make out the bobbing up & down letters in the rickshaw.. what fun it is being completely consumed by something..

an then i fell asleep. perfect ambience, pillow, position, panghrun everything.. snore snore for the next 2 hours

maybe the trouble is. i woke up and the day isnt over. ive got at least 7 hours more..
and nothing fun left to do..

maybe i will download and watch frasier episodes.. or read the andy warhol book i got!! yay i bought th andy warhol book!!!!

chronicles - part 2

Early beginnings , mindless musings

Long years ago a little boy in blue shorts and fuchsia pink singlet walked around barefoot in a green house.

He stopped to smell dahlias and sighed and whispered secret scandals to the flowers
girls, charmed to see a boy in touch with his girlie side, swarmed to feel his little soft flesh that poked out from behind his ears. Our boy- hero was a regular heartbreaker, booty shaker.

The little boy’s parents thought he was their precious but his impish grin fooled no one. Underneath those curls and big brown doggy eyes was a brain with an Intel inside chip. Working quicker, faster and with an automatic recovery button the boy was a lean mean, mental machine
Everyone was intrigued by the little genius but what excited boy wonder himself the most was well as is the case with most diabolical geniuses – himself. He would stare at his own thoughts floating in front of him in awe. Over and over again. Till everyone around him began to wonder if he was dreaming himself up too. The local doctor was called to rid the boy of his waking stupor but no tantric, magician, phd ,mba, mbbs, phd, dmt, or lsd could solve the problem. And it wasn’t just because they were all acronyms either.

At last sri sri rishi rishi muni muni came came... He predicted that the boy would soon have a double dream where his true selves all two of them would be revealed to him in their dual splendor. And soon enough the boy fell into a deep slumber where visions of not 2 not 3 but all his 30 million nether and come hither worlds went flashing past like boomerangs only never to return.

When our hero woke, he felt a rumbling in his belly the kind which he had never experienced. every sense , every whiff of air he scented he could smell the rich oil and jeera. he leaped towards the kitchen and ravaged every triangle shaped svaoury he could find.

soon the pleasant rumbling gave way to a quieter more gentle sounds of the samosas turning softly in his belly.. . it was almost as if the samosa was talking to him. explaining to him what the big question and the big answer was. every secret of the universe spilled out in front of him like oil on tissue paper, or ink from a pen, or juice squeezed out a mango.. or well you get the picture or the story or ..

The samosa , bobbing up and down in bile was a great storyteller ,while also being a great swimmer.. what Fuchsia Boy- who incidentally knows how to do a fantastic crotch dance - did not know that he had managed to ingest the samosa seer. Soon he was called
dudeshwar raja - samosaon ka baadshah (old frying pan saying)

Samosa seer taught the little boy all about life and everything else, including how to escape if the weird white moonwalker comes your way .. and how to properly digest a samosa ( exact proportion of fluids ) but the most important lesson was - Samosa your secret weapon.. Yes, friends the samosa seer told our boy all the stories about the deadly samosa killer gang of 167 BC ( before cooking) .. and fuchsia boy soon realised he had ruminated on his life calling.. the one weapon that would need no grease. the SAMOSA. and thus the idea of becoming the samosa killer came to be digested..

reincarnation

delhi ahoy.

headed in the direction of the captial city and wondering what it holds for me.

i did a round of blog reading today. a friend of a friend of a firend - shreya lathia apparently is a famous blogger(shreyalathia.blogspot.com) . personal publishing creating virtual stars, luminaries of online literature.

what wonderful times we live in. you don like your life, go online and pick another. you pick a lifestyle & a name to go with it, join a chat room or a forum and talk to people about it, and finally write about it and get famous in the 'other' world. the process of reincarnation is complete.

its liek you can sit in front of a computer and live an entire lifetime.

now all we need is virtual reality tv. our virtual lives 'exposed!!'



meghana

chronicles of a dick head - part 1

sub title : my mind is a penis and other extrapolations

When the samosa killer discovered he was suffering from samosa flu cause by bacillus stupendous, he enrolled TA Cleo to pen down his last remaining memories. Yes the very same Cleo who is credited with masterpieces like the international best seller ‘parabolic peeing and hyperbolic viewing – a psychedelic healing experience’. The book was highly acclaimed and especially noted by the Duke of Paracetemol as a seminal analysis on cokeheads.

Here are a few excerpts from her as yet unfinished masterpiece – Chronicles of a dick head... A unique creative form that emerged from a con – genital rapport between Cleo and Major Major (a.k.a samosa killer) inducing deep deep thought that provoked her pen to write his memoirs.

"Professor. How brilliant you are!”.. Her nipples poked out petulantly out of her tight white shirt as she leaned over me. I had just finished the final blueprint of my new steno killer machine. What a masterpiece. Soon every single typing ink loving, spelling error making, breast heaving steno worth her shorthand would clasp her typewriter in fear at the very smell & sound of the whirring, growling ‘Steno Killer’

Steno Killer would be a revolution, it would shake the very foundation of the Shorthand Sirens- a secret society of stenos determined to convert every picture, every advertisement every television into long copy. It would viciously, vicariously vouch for vendetta and vindicate the very respectable copy writers who were spearheading the "Out with teh long, in with the short" movement

Ah! Samosa Killer rubbed his very obviously oily hands in grotesque glee. See what we will do to yoru short little hands my lovelies.. see how my Steno Killer will purge you of your so called skills.. heee haa hee haaa aaa..

..ahem.. err... the professor laughed.

inside me

when golden trees shed their glitter inside capuccino cups
when sweet smelling fantasy leaps out into reality
when arenas open and elements intermingle
arms outstretched i dive in deep and free

but bittersweet memories cloud minds, restrain spirits
impending darkness drinks in the light of the blue sky
laughter from forgotten moments shadows of a better life
haunt my footsteps, chase me in my dreams.

neo's choice

The One now has several two choices. as usual. freedom or freed from boredom? perennial peace or Fox 'breaking news' Bending spoons or dessert spoons? trinity in a shroud or gisele bundechen in a french parlour maid uniform? living for morpehus or living it up on morphine? No TV or TV on his phone , in his house, in his bedroom, on his laptop, as he looks up , down, sideways or angular The blue pill or well... the blu'e' pill Neo scratches his head, looks around and leaps out.

about madness

I look around and i see eccentrics everywhere. crawling out of the woodwork, popping up like jack in the box's , running around scuffling, shuffling , working feverishly, blowing smoke question marks.. and genrally tripping.

I guess we are all crazy. yeah i know. im stating the obvious. actually i make a living from that so im excused. But really normal is abnormal. or maybe its utopian. these days variants, deviants, para sub and ab normal are all the rage. check any disco after 11 pm. everyone wants to 'stand out'. it makes an interesting sight for the spectator.. watching the flunkies, junkies and kinky ski monkeys letting it all hang out. reminds me of the song californication.

my own madness is apparent when i get dream like flashes of though. getting flashes of jumping off a cliff these days. its a very nice image. i can almost feel the breeze at the back of my neck. think its perhaps a long time dream of bungee jumping. although id like to jump off into another universe. every time i get stressed, boing! im on a beach ..boing! now im surfing in australia..boing! now im shopping on london street..like a crazy ball im being transported by the 'trampoline of my imagination' haw haw

but god, i like the matrix, its fun here.

sequel to matrix 3: Matrix 4: the big sellout.

Neo meets trinity's ghost who has been transported into the matrix but lives like ..well a ghost. She looks like a goddess and tells him while looking deeply into his deep blue eyes that a deep realisation came to her... chicken and chanel can hardly be replaced with black leather & metal bugs. After all even a really long rave party must end. as opposed to botox which makes sure your youth never does. Neo begins to wonder.. is the peace really as much fun as Fox news during war time?... hmmm

next installment. coming soon. watch this space

thanks for all the fish

Thanks for listening all you guys.

Today there is dull yellow light on my desk , annoying clients in the conference room, leftovers of stress headache, paul oakenfold screaming ready steady go in my ears and the hope of an early evening out of office..

good stuff this oakenfold, shall download some more.

I ws surfing blog-hopping the other day and reached ateyas blog.. was reading her post about the teststerone spilling out from LOTR all over the train.. the words flowed and flowed.. i think along with the testosterone, little black letters also came spilling out from LOTR into her fingers, only difference is that they werent as boring as testosterone and they had their own quality..

i think here shoudl be a blog database... like a large database with millionsof categories.. and everyones blog featured on it.. yknow telephone directory types.. great reading material and absolutely the best place for media guys to find good writing talent i think.

Maybe it should be marketed as a job site of sorts... thats how the website would make money also. Pay a small premium to showcase your blog
(much much more flexible than the traditional resume format) to ad guys, publishers etc. take money from prospective employers to place ads.. the whole thing..

now who would give me money to develop and market this?


WANTED
'Ambassador of Kwan'
- Must have moolah enough to buy a small country
- Must completely believe that I could be the founder member of Ideas Alchemist Inc.
(tagline: ideas that turn green to gold - of course ill only market to America!. thats where the money is people!! not to mention millions of extremely stupid consumers)
- Must believe in me so much that he signs a
no-hard-feelings-if-idea-flops-badly contract with me

please contact me at ideasalchemist@gmail.com


Thats all folks!

'flow'

i cant rap, i cant rhyme.. all i can do is bide my time.. im hoping to get there, find my kwan.. so i write for a dime , from morning to next dawn...


hee hee.

complaint box

i think everyones given up on me. no new comments or anything...:(

so ill pretend noones listening and write whatever im thinking. which is kind of nice actually.

its 11 25 pm and im still in office. too tired to go home, sushama has kindly lent me her house.. thank god. im about to crash out and die any minute. i dream of sleep these days. i dream of an endless long sleep .. i try and create the perfect conditions at home to make sure i get the most from my 5 odd hours .. the temperatur has to b just right. ive got to have my warm jaipuri razai and all that jazz. rahuls place is nice though. its very comfortable.. im looking forward to it.

there is some incredibly annoying music playing right now. kishore kumar at 11 30 pm at unbearabel decibel levels ..sigh.. im close to breaking a few things.

life is lateral metaphors. life is black raised letters and mechanical movements of the tips of fingers. life is walking in between awake and asleep. im glamousiring this but its actually horribly dull. although the work i do sometimes makes it ok. amongst other stuff.

i still have no cam phone and no money now to buy it.

ok cribbed too much. goodnight

vertigo

heard U2's vertigo ( jackknife remix) in office this evening.

what an experience. a blaze of images whizzed past sucked into a deep blue vortex..
urban escape . is what the music video should be called if i could ever make it.

i saw myself standing on a building and leaping into the vortex and watchign people in the buildings i fell past , hair touching the glass panes lightly and fingers leaving their mark on ledges. fell past television reds, bronze patches of leftover makeup, rainbow kitchenettes and ugly bedrooms with stars on the ceiling ..

I close my eyes & open them wide into landscapes of black notepads.. mirror balls reflecting sweat droplets on 'crimson nails' reflected in shot glasses and hanging jesus drawing blood from necks, flashes of a waist chain glittering 'i scream' it says .. , i turn to watch sunglasses flicked across the table and visuals of everyone in the room flash through the lens.. like eyes flying ... i can see everywhere.. i can feel.

back and still boring

ok havent posted in a really long time.. people have most likely stopped visiting the blog anymore and have generally gievn up on me.. but here i am again. hopefully ill stay longer this time

im waiting to buy my camera phone next month so i will blog more.. only illblog on mobylog.. put pictures up there.. everybody please try mobylog , if you have a camphone its the best photobloggin site.

other news. another kelvan happening.. boooring.. one long weekend and ihave to sepnd it kelvaning.. very sad. but maybe sinnar and scenic beauty might make up thres also the prospect ofthe long drive there.. which will be nice

although id rather sleep. been sleep deprived for too long now.. feel zonked and woozy all thetime.. perpetual state of zonkiness.

now listenign to bjork on a relatively free day at work.. pagan poetry. screaming writhing vocals. making me feel all strung up inside.

have decided tolive on my own for the next four months or so till the wedding.. just like that .
have almost found a nice house, cheap rent and allthat. and also found a roomie.. keepign fingeres crossed that it willhappen..my new address could soon be DN nagar andheri qwest !! yay

ive never lived away from family and its probably the only time ll get to be totally on my own.. everybody thinks its a stupid move, think ill probably get too used to it and wont be able to adjust livign with a familya gain.. but im doing it anyway .. as usual :)

thats all now.. getting ready to do the usual ..

hitchiking

hitchiked on a sentence gifted
disconnected in an shot glass

crystals gazed out from behind the bliss
blue with black intersections on brown skin
the grey sky crawled inside the slits of my eyes
a strand of breath rested lopsided on a compromising ear
whsipering confessions of a street away from here

Feeling in convoluted emotions
ripping time away from time
tearing it to shreds and walking on glass
now im bleeding to feel alive

Watching the gravel through perspective views
sitting on the edge , slipping off the bed
and climbing back again
the hint of a smile creeping along the sidelines
words coming crawling into my fingers
eyes closed and im dreaming again

meghana

soul plane

I see you
on the taxi
watching the fog cloud up your window
tired dark violet skinnails scribbling on the surface
eyes betraying the contemptous smile
I think you see me too

stopping on the streetnext to you
adjusting pieces of me
brown upside down vision
caustic lips moving to the rythym of the acid rain
sliding down onto the sidewalk
fingers twisting to a desperate piano

we drive all nightto get to here
walk into minds climb the walls of space & times
cale laterally slip smooth
whisper into dreams
the circles & circles & circles go on
never stop spinning

me & you in the reflecting pool
simple.clean.joy
skinned.deseeded
raw

limbo

this is a strange place. somewhere between the private & the public. Till i knew that nobody really read my blog i could post whatever i felt like.. and now more people are reading it occassionaly and i have become vaguely aware of a few eyes on me. thats probably why i have started erasing and typing instead of just typing.

my sonu clicked me