A Little Walk Back in History

I came upon this documentary made by a young film-maker/journo in the late 70′s. It’s about the brutality of the Indian Government/Police during the Nation Wide Emergency of 1975. It’s hard hitting, and surprising that such an intense film was made so long ago- I don’t know of many Indian documentaries made during that era. It’s extremely insightful

Blood Sucking Life

Killing mosquitoes gives me the biggest high. I know a lot of you will cringe at that statement, take a look at my room-then you’ll truly be disgusted. It’s like a dead zone with mosquitoes slapped against the walls, smudged on the ground.

And just as I typed that I saw one meander past my screen. Operation Dead Wings now comes into effect. I switch off my fan/air conditioner-anything that can cause movement of air particles, because then the mosquito can just get pushed out of the way just as you try to smack it. The best method is to push the mosquito downwards or against a wall. Then Smack! You may use your slipper, a book you’re reading, or a ruler-like my mom did the other day. Anything with a flat surface.

Some people think this is really cruel. They say things like “But what makes you think you have the power to kill a living being?!” The thing is, that if I don’t make my move first, it will instead- when I’m asleep, that too on my face. And just look at the stats for malaria cases in the city this season. A website said :’ just like every mosquito doesn’t have malaria-every guy’s not a cheater’. Well come to south Delhi, then we’ll talk. Every guy is a bozo and every mosquito is a blood sucking malariaite.

This week has been tough. Mainly because there are so many changes happening. Finishing undergrad (I don’t care if I sound like a broken record) is momentous and the little cricks and turns of relationships only makes it more memorable. Suddenly everyone is their own selves and unanswerable to others. Those days of having a coffee salted with tears over what so-and-so said, sitting in depressive silence due to some universal hormonal wave-and then suddenly bursting out with laughter, has all come to an end. You don’t send text messages asking what your friends are doing more than once a week-that’s ‘old and overbearing’ now. You don’t have to share each and every episode of your life, we’re a little too busy with our own stuff.  If you’re feeling low and being poop-faced about it, go do something with yourself. And that’s how one chapter ends and another starts.

Now all that’s left to do to tie up the lose ends, is to study for the finals. To pine over work that simply doesn’t have any intrinsic worth anymore.

I’m going to kill that bloody mosquito

Curious Case of Behenji Button

My exams are in 14 days and I don’t feel the pinch. I think I’m over all this stuff……In fact, I feel to old to care. Yep-that’s it, I’m an old hag in this 21yr old’s body! The more I think about it, the more I have come to terms with a simple truth about myself: I seriously do not act my age.

Here are the top signs/reasons:

1) I am paranoid about ‘time’. Whether it’s the time to reach a certain place, or the time it takes to travel somewhere.

2) I scold little kids often and get a rise out of it.

3) I always take the side of my 60+ yr old professors in class

4) I love to watch Door Darshan on a rainy day

(The guru dude is hot to listen to…the woman…let’s not start)

5) I cannot stand anyone making noises with their mouths- that includes chewing noises or swallowing noises which some people do as a pastime.

6) If people (usually guests) at home watch their daily Indian soap operas, I HAVE to sit behind them and heckle at the losers on screen. I do this while they say the dialogues. There’s so much stupidity, if I waited for each line to end, I’d run out of time.


7) I’m starting to find every item of food too spicy and rely on cold milk as a cure. That’s exactly what fuddy-duddies do.

8) I always forget a good idea.

9) I randomly finish things at a certain number (includes number of sit ups, salute to the suns, things to write on a list) , under the pretext of it being my lucky digit. In reality, I’m too lazy to go on. But…9 is my lucky number. Shut up.

So what on earth is the remedy to this?
I barely got back from a health check up, and I woke up with granny body cramps! It’s a catastrophe I tell ya. How much older can my soul grow?  If I find that there are others who feel like this, I’m just going to have to blame globalization, and then start an anti-globalization group. On the other hand, when I’m not feeling old and I’m all bubbling with joy- I begin to think that life is really simple….Sometimes when things like that hit you it can freak you out, because you just end up wondering what exactly you forgot to stress about. Or maybe that’s just me.

Take care of yourselves and eat lots of fruit, wear woolens (although its 40 degrees Celsius).

Puddle of Tears

I swear Sharifa leaves  puddles after she mops, just so she can see me tippy toe over them and lose my balance!

I gave myself a Marilyn hair-do....And I'm not as oomphy . Oh what the hell this is my alter ego's blog .

She’s a lady who helps us clean our home…..yes, she’s a ‘maid’. We have them in every home in the city. Even my dirt poor friend who lives in semi- slum conditions has one. They all ‘take too much money’ (they are underpaid as hell) ‘never do any work properly’ (they don’t really see what the big deal is about having a spot of dust in a corner, they live in appalling surroundings) ‘they take advantage of you if you’re nice to them once’ (they get yelled at a lot and they’re never  given a day off) and they are untouchable. When Munni , the last lady who worked for us left, I gave her a hug – indeed they are touchable. I even did a small feature on her earlier

If I’m working in my room and Sharifa needs to sweep or mop (it’s not actually mopping , she just has a bucket of soapy water and a hand cloth) I leave my room, or go stand in a corner with one foot on top of the other like a deranged trapeze artist. Yes I’m quite entertaining that way….

And it’s back to studying folks!

All social ties have been unraveled and my phone will now grow a fuzzy beard, because exams are just around the corner. In the meanwhile I’ve been spending more time at home (when have I ever gone out?) and wallowing in nostalgia already by thinking about how my uni days are about to end. College life in Delhi isn’t like typical university life. You feel part of a family (which you really hate 88% of the time) where any small thing is made a really big deal of, whether it’s missing classes or having a roadside treat with friends. Every single thing is pulled out of proportion and it ends up being a larger than life experience as a whole. I’m going to miss it. But oh well, tougher times to look forward to I guess.

This is a song that my college has been singing for years at competitions, it’s ‘Advaita’- an Indian (Delhi based I believe) fusion band with their version:

For something more soothing and fusion-esque :




The Behenji Booster

This weekend has been a complete blur. I don’t remember it starting, I can’t recall what I filled it with, or even brushing my teeth-forget bathing. I tried to do something I used to be half decent at, ie a print ad for a social cause. But nah. Too bad brain, the lazy body won again.

I wonder if it had to do with a certain injection I got myself. The tetnus jab. After grazing my arm on a hospital door (which is soo sooo stoopid)  I ran and got a freshly refrigerated spit-full of the vaccine. A nurse, who at first seemed like a nice gentle soft spoken thing, told me to go to a room and get a nice meaty part of myself ready for the needle. Everyone knows where that is. The funny thing is that once I was lying there, the nurse sort of transformed…..

She appeared to be a little chirpy. I was told that the injection wouldn’t hurt because I was ‘so strong’ and ‘so good’. I didn’t even ask her anything. But oh well, whatever made her day I guess.

A day later I was woozy as hell. This apparently is a normal side effect, but it kinda boosted a really terrible side of me!
The ‘talk-to-myself-coz-I-can-and-I-wanna’ side! This includes singing really disgustingly stale songs in different voices , saying things of no consequence really loud and repeatedly, and best of all- texting someone non-stop till I end up having a conversation with myself ! This is how it generally goes:

And meanwhile the person’s probably like

…sleeping and hasn’t heard the buzz of the phone yet….

(I’d hate to see the look on his face when he wakes up and checks his phone!)

Well this is how I get when I’m ill and sloppy. Let me know if you do the same, or if you found this post a waste of time. In that case here’s a nice hypnotic Columbian disco track by Quantic for you:

And I shall post an interesting little tidbit when I feel a 100% again. If ever.