Living with MY nose!

I sort of remember smells. I guess with barely any normal vision, I needed a heightened 'other' sense. And weirdly enough; my nose won. That and an elephant's memory that remembers all unimportant things, smells included.

The smell of India's world cup victory will therefore always be the musty-old-carpet smell of Seminar Room 1. It came rushing back to me when I was sitting there for a PhD proposal seminar...quite the same sense of anticipation and excitement, I'd say! There is of course the smell of "the-world-is-my-urinal" walk to Amul's ice-cream or CCD. And even typing CCD brings to mind that amazing coffee shop smell. It's almost like I go to the shop for the smell and not the coffee. What about the smell of moss when I walk up the hill to my flat? I'm not sure how I feel about that. But yes, last year when the winds brought to 441 the smell of "chatim" flowers and Lakshmi said it was smell of durga pujo, it was like i was home.

The smell of baking when you cross Glenary's in Darjeeling. The smell of Shivangi's tea just in the moments before it is ready. The smell of biriyanii that ma made for a birthday when I wasn't home...smells for which I just have to close my eyes.

There are smells that all of us know: the new rain, the railway platform, the dirty drain overflowing, johnson's baby cream soap shampoo on a baby!

Then there is the weirdest one, the people smells. The cologne mixed with tobacco, the deodorant whose name I don't know, smell of a sweaty brother, the smell of my grandmom's soft old white sarees.

And finally there is the greatest smell of all: correctly cooked meat.

Aaloo bonda and Chai

We went to Sanjay Gandhi National Park in Bombay today.
Our auto guy didn't know where it was.
We were starved.
They didn't let me eat aaloo bonda and chai before entering.

We walked a few miles to get to the ticket counter.
We saw boards of badly painted animals.
The safari starts at 9 in the morning.
At 9:30 a.m. the ticket counter had not opened.
They didn't let me eat aaloo bonda and chai before entering.

We sat there in sweat.
We nibbled on biscuits Sowmya had kindly brought.
I don't like biscuits.I saw the man opening the gates to the ticket counter.
We went and stood in the queue.
The counter opened and the man left.
We didn't eat aaloo bonda and chai before entering.

Another man came in.
He dusted the counter.
He left.
Yet another man came.
He gave us the tickets.
We boarded a bus.
We waited.
The first man sat in the driver's seat.
By then I thought that the first man would jump out of the bus to make lion sounds.
We didn't eat aaloo bonda and chai before entering.

The safari was a lie.
Its a zoo.
A white tiger, a tiger, a tiger cub, a lion.
They honk outside the enclosure.
The animal comes out, struts its stuff, leaves.
We didn't eat aaloo bonda and chai before entering.

The lion is old.
Will probably die day after tomorrow.
He roars like my grandpa coughs.
He made me sad.
And we didn't even have aaloo bonda and chai before entering.

We thought we'll walk to the 'caves'.
We started.
It was 7 k.m. away.
We didn't go.
You see?
We hadn't eaten aaloo bonda and chai before entering!

We ran out of the national park/bad zoo.
We crossed the road to a vegetarian restaurant.
I got a BAD dosa.
Shivangi got potatoes in her uttapam.
Our Kaapi made me throw up a little.
We hadn't eaten aaloo bondas and chai before entering.

We took autos to aksa beach.
You see we wanted to feel better.
Our auto broke down after one signal.
We took another auto.
The beach was pretty and then it was not.
Dirty.
Very dirty.
Diesel all over our legs.
By then I could cry that we hadn't eaten those aaloo bondas and chai before entering.

Even if you get life again.

I absolutely loved 'Zindagi Na Milege Dobara'.

Despite all my efforts to love sophisticated cinema, I fall yet again, for the simplistic, rainbow palette of a peppy-song-filled Hindi movie. I do so, unabashedly. And here's why.

I am the queen of mush. Old friends bonding over old jokes that never get old will get me...EVERY time. Old friends trying out new things brings a child like joy to me that no amount of chocolate can. No matter how different their context, no matter how bizarre the thing they try to pass off as philosophy, no matter how utterly lame the plots is, an unlikely story is what I love about cinema.

Of course I don't imagine living like that, doing those things or being half as spontaneous. Of course I wouldn't hope for people like them in my life. But what can I do if I love the broken voice of Farhan Akhtan mocking wrong accents as we do all the time. Of Hrithik being as uptight about life as I am often. How can I possibly help loving a movie that finally casts Naseeruddin Shah as more than an item boy...there's a man who gets sexier everyday.

I loved it.

Remember

Even so, remember me
Even when I am far far away,
Remember me.

If old love gets clouded by the new
Even when I am close by
And you cannot see me
Remember me.

If tears fill your eyes
When the playing stops
One tender night
Remember me
When work stops
One autumn morning
Remember me.

If I fall, if I die
Even if you don't cry
Even so, remember me
Remember me.

Translation from one of my favourite Tagore songs: Tobu Mone Rekho. This isn't an exact translation and isn't very good. Just one of my favourites. And I had to share it.

Dusk until Dawn

It's a strange place, this. When you are finally able to take that step out of yourself you see how bizarre it is. How bizarre you are. How utterly inexplicable any of this would to be, to the world.

We don't sleep. Our days don't end. We get no closure.

We fall in love and hate at the same time. We create philosophies of our own. We contradict ourselves every minute. And even as these people with split personalities we get loved and cared for. We are missed.

We want privacy. But we want to know where everybody is. Okay that's just me.

We live like a family, with all its attending problems. We have our internal favoritisms, our contradicting feelings towards the same person, our love-hate sibling like relationships, the son, the bro, the sorority. We are sublimely incestuous.

It is easy here to forget who you are and who you had wanted to become. To lose any ambition you may have started with. To do everything you had vowed you would never do.

Contradictions are aplenty. Disappointments even more so. The ones with friends here are lucky. The ones with mere acquaintances are luckier still.

We live on an island in a reality TV series. We watch the sun rise. We then, don't go to bed.

I am in love.

The things we eat.

True to my very Bengali nature I believe in good food. I worship good food. And I (often) talk a lot about good food.

Let me mention that this sudden passion to put in black and white my true love for food was brought on by the truly splendid "tundai kebabs". Thanks to Ashank and his good taste in all that is good food!

Of course this was preceded by three days in Goa; pretty much a non-vegetarian's paradise. Such sea food is not to be had anywhere else. Grilled pomfrets with french fries, roasted red snappers with fresh salads, crispy calamari, pan fried prawns, beef curries, pork vindaloos (a tad hot that one!) and such other joys at every corner!

Of course there's that list that we were making the other day: luchi and aaloor dum (or shada torkari), a very very very red and the very very spicy crab curry, biryani, mutton resala, aaloo posto, postor boda, well all things posto actually. The malpoa that thamma makes. The cheesy omlettes ma makes. The maggi with eggs that I make. The chicken pakoras from home of which I can't have enough. Koraishutir kochuri. Iilish, keema samosa...ah yes keema samosa. Mint with chocolate chip ice cream. Sayantani's Peach Melba. Brownies from Nahom's, Dolly's Tea.

Then there are those things which I would never love but some get teary eyed about: lauki, ripe jackfruit, banana chips, kochu, pumpmkin and basically all the leafy stuff.

For future reference, the key to my heart is a hearty meal consisting of any (or all) of the above. Which is why I love my mom!

That dishonest and That stupid.

So we have encountered both: the utterly buffoon-like and impossible thief.

The one who cannot just do one reasonably sensible thing; the one who looks at his watch with a cup of tea in his hand, the one who cuts the branch that he is sitting on, the one who cant add two to two and the like...
We have also seen (or heard of) that soulless dishonest man! The constantly lying, cheating dog, without a bottom line of integrity?
Now, think of a person with BOTH these attributes! To be that dishonest and that stupid would be deadly. No I mean DEADly!!! Like something that is worthy of or brings on death!

I have heard people say that its the stubborn fool that is the scariest (or the gullible and passionate young man). But no. This combination of the idiot with the cheat has to take the cake. They are capable of doing most harm to themselves and even more frighteningly to others. They could rob a bank and put the money in their own bank account, they could shop lift a scarf and put it around your neck in the shop itself, they could well, lets just say they could do a lot of harm.

So watch your backs! I have a feeling, one is lurking around the corner!