inking in

Happy New Year.

2012-01-08T09:38:00.000-08:00

I make an annual attempt to resurrect this blog around New Years. So here is the 2012 version.

I don't want to jinx it, but this vacation has been excellent so far. Despite the many reasons for it not to have been.

My resolutions for this year are:

i) finish the last 40 pages of War and Peace

ii) start working my way through Shakespeare alphabetically. If I move at the rate one play a month I should be done with him in 3 years. Just as I enjoy knowing that I can name and locate every single country in the world (am still working on the capitals) I shall be happier after I know what happens in every single play. And just to be sure I shall make notes. As I do not think I shall be reading Richard II a second time, assuming I make it through a first time.

iii) be less lazy about writing. Academically, and otherwise.

iv) travel more on long weekends, instead of doing silly things like homework.

v) figure out how to keep a plant alive. I want a cat. But if I can't care for a plant the cat has no chance. This is a trial run. 2012 plant, 2013 cat.

vi) stop watching That 70's Show reruns. Enough is enough.

3.12.2011

2011-12-02T15:01:00.000-08:00

on days like this, when its cold and rainy outside, when i have a mad amount of work to complete, and when i feel horribly sic fresh white sheets and oranges are making a big difference.

i must put up pictures of my room. it makes me so happy.

easter

2011-04-25T04:14:00.000-07:00

so for the easter holiday i did what so many others did- followed one sugar-high with another. one chocolate mousse cake thing, box of macaroons (form my lovely neighbour) and chocolate easter bunny down i think i might be over this though.

on the last few days my i'm catching up on some of the movies on my list ethta i have been wanting to watch.

1. teeth.
i loved this. was hysterically funny, and briefly wanted similar mutation myself.

2. letters to juliet
bah. but then what was i expecting.

3. flipped
i really enjoyed easy a. and i liked this one a lot too. and somehow despite how cutesy it was it managed not to be annoying. which is no mean feat.

4. unfaithful
now.. in general i dislike films about cheating spouses, because i find that they make me terribly judgemental and unforgiving, aspects of myself which i would like to ignore a smuch as possible. but this one i really enjoyed. and the film was so pretty. i loved the way the windy new york day was shot, and how lovely the whole thing looked.

and the new doctor who episode.
so they've taken him to america and shoved an fbi agent in. and nixon. well obviously. i'm still loving this series though.

in other news- egg curry happened with some success last night. and today- kadhi.

song.

2011-04-02T15:02:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3rDMJERl64

More movies

2011-01-11T11:27:00.000-08:00

The best film of the last few weeks has been Les Meilleurs Amis du Monde (The Best Friends in the World). I loved this one so much. It made me cry big fat tears; the guy sitting across the aisle from me in the flight was most amused. It was funny, and sad and sweet. This one is about two sets of married-couple friends: one couple+son is visiting the other(+son) in their shiny new holiday home. While on the way the visitiing couple accidentally hear what their hosts really think about them when one of their phones redials by mistake. The weekend is a series of plotted and then later un-planned disasters. I would definitely watch this one again. Plus it had a llama. I like movies with llamas.

Last week I watched Phas Gaya re Obama. Which I'm glad I went to, despite my misgivings. Except for the female-Gabbar Singh gang bits, where all these women had sex with men to torment them (where do I even begin to talk about how annoying this was) the movie was pretty funny. It could have been a bit shorter. But the end was great. And I haven't enjoyed the second half of a Hindi film as much as I enjoyed the latter part of this, in a really long time.

In comparison Band Baaja Baaraat had much less going for it- one very pretty girl, with lots of pretty clothes, a very attractive scruffy boy, lots of Delhi-city references and one catchy song are more than other people are peddling these days (Tees Maar Khan?!)- but it could have been a much much better movie. I am partial to movies that reference Delhi University. I could also watch a whole movie about DU hostels and faffing about north camous; and this movie started off with this which is why I have decided to like it, despite being most annoyed with the patchy end. And the heroine's propensity to try and solve all her problems by calling the hero an ass. I oculd also have done without the overlong body-glitter song shot against the Jodhpur Palace. Jodhpur and Delhi are my two favourite movie locations, and I love it when they get worked into the story in the way this film did. For this I will overlook the boring yellow-flower petalled song. But there are only so many trades that one can make before categorising a film as vaguely disappointing- which is what this one was.

In Transit

2011-01-02T01:48:00.000-08:00

It took me 34 hours to get home- from Geneva to Bangalore. 22 of these were in Doha- at a most pleasant hotel not far from the airport. Exhausted from two weeks of exams and two days, post exams, of drunken revelry I decided to stay in the hotel room for most of the day.

Enid- which I saw just before leaving for my Bangalore bound flight was very good. It made me detest Enid Blyton, and want to punish her for being evil to her children. But me enjoyment of the Faraway Tree tales, and the rest is quite secure- as the books have magically remained perfect in my head despite their author's apparent evilness.

On the flight from Geneva to Doha I watched three movies. Usually I like to eat and fall asleep but as I was stuck between two very twitchy men sleeping was impossible.

Weddings and Other Disasters was alright. Nothing special, but I don't watcha lot of Italian film- specially not recent stuff.

Heartbreakers- with Vanessa Paradis was very entertaining. It was a bit of a French lesson, which was good, and the dance bit was fun. I would recommend this one.

I also saw all but the end of Step Up 3- which I would not recommend to anyone. It was a foolish movie. And even though I love So You Think You Can Dance, there was no getting beyond how ghastly this movie was.

On Christmas morning I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Why does Brad Pitt make these slow and tragic movies- where everything seems to be on an epic scale- but is just - ... movies like a River Runs Through it; or the other where he plays the guy who steals is brother's wife- the woman who makes with all the men in the family. That particular kind of Brad Pitt movie I am getting very tired of. Maybe he's just so beautiful that they don't know what to do with him, except stick him in these frames with the endless sea, or grass, or mountains. (Is it showing that I don't like him much? I don't.)

And then theres all the stuff I watched this week- while at home- which I shall do a separate post about.

Happy New Year everyone

geneva

2010-11-27T18:37:00.000-08:00

so i wouldhave liked my first post about geneva to be about the snow, or the food, or the st bernards (but i have not seen any yet)
instead it is about an argument that consumed my saturday night. about quotas and reservations. though i had promised myself that after lsr i would stop having these.

it was a v long conversation with another indian girl, mediated by an excitable italian boy. who kept the conversation civil by interjecting when either of us got snippy.

it was about about caste, identity politics, reservation and education. i think economists should be put in reserved areas and not allowed to make policy decisions. they should do research and allow other people to decide how the world is run

it is impossible to convince someone who tihnks otherwise that the benefits of quotas and reservations outweigh negatives caused by the potential for misuse
and that saying that the govt 'should' do more by investing in education instead of having quotas is pointless as there are many things the govt should do but that having protective legislation makes the govt obliged to do some things.
increasing the number of things it has to do as opposed to making a wish list of shoulds.
which is really pointless as unless you are exceptionally placed the system is beyond repair for one or a group of 20,000 individuals
but economists live in a bubble. it is composed of the terms growth rate and development. and this is v problematic. they should be made to visit the real world. i dont understand why we keep studying the model of perfect competition. as we have all decided that it is never going to happen. we study not the perverions of the system; instead we keep thinking about what happens when it is perfect. it will never be perfect. it is pointless to keep thinking of what should happen.
but then perhaps it is no less utopian to imagine a less unfair world, than a perfect one.
it ended inconclusively.

movies

2010-08-25T13:27:00.000-07:00

Kynodontas (2009), is not for the squeamish. And that's about all I can say about it without some sort of spoiler. It gave me the creeps but I would recommend it to those strong of stomach. If you saw The Ballad of Jack and Rose- this is about three times more disturbing.

Other things I watched this month include

1. The Accidental Husband- thoroughly avoidable.

2. Serenity- not as much fun as as Firefly. And highly disappointing in terms of which characters Joss Whedon chose to kill and which he chose to keep alive at the end.

3. Firefly- which I loved. Though I think its a bit incongruous that 500 years into the future we will have spaceships, advanced medical technology and yet be dressed as if in the 19th century. Not a major problem for me though; didn't detract from my glee at the whole series. Though I do think the story arc could have been written out a little more crisply. Or something. More twists. More plot.

4. Coraline- which was ok. Excellent black cartoon cat and lovely music. But I shan't be watching that again.

5. P.S. I love You- bah. Though it was nice to see Hilary Swank in pretty clothes this is not enough to make me watch a whole movie.

who said

2010-08-15T06:23:00.000-07:00

i've just had a week of involved discussions about singing the national anthem, patriotism and why politicians should be shot on sight. now in a house like ours, where all of us are rather opinionated the degree of peace is relative to how many people are in the room. i resent being made to stand up and sing the national anthem when i go to the movies in ahmedabad. i don't at all resent getting up early and racing out at nine in the morning to find a flag to sing at on independence day. i think republic day is a bit of a fraud, though i do recognise that the constitution is quite important and all that. but singing the anthem is a gesture, and i feel like there's more drama attached to the day independence was acknowledged.

what i did today was go out and buy a pair of sunglasses. which is makes it no different from what i might have done on any other day. except that there was less traffic today.

i do find though that i am more open to reading poetry on state holidays- in general. so i spent the afternoon with agha shahid ali, cups of tea and home made cookies. and am spending part of my evening with k satchidanandan. here- have a poem. after this though i am going off to watch firefly.

Who Said?

Who said
that waiting is a
railway station in North Malabar?
That a dawn in uniform
will arrive there in a coffin?

Who said
that memory is a fragrant window
opening on ripe cornfields?
That our bodies grow cold
as light grows dim there?

Who said
that trees have ceased to follow
wind’s language?
That we must conceal
from lilies and rabbits
the news of the death of love?

Who said
that now noons will be
heavy like a drunkard’s head?
That evenings will have sick hearts
like a lover’s whispered songs?

Who said that we are running barefoot
over red hot iron
with a fistful of childhood rain?
That we will, at the end,
hand over our keys
to the same rain?

Who said that men once dead grow younger
and then they enter another Time?
That all the birds that vanished
at sunrise will return
when the world ends?

Who said
that we would understand everything
with no one saying anything,
but will still not share
anything with anyone?

© K. Satchidanandan
From: Vikku
Publisher: DC Books, Kottayam, 2002
ISBN: 81-264-0465-5

© Translation: 2002, K. Satchidanandan
From: At Home in the World:
Publisher: Full Circle, Delhi, 2002

http://india.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=2865

Dr who

2010-08-07T09:34:00.000-07:00

Dear David Tennant,
I miss you. I know you ran off to America to make a new series but they will not get how funny and cool you are without some guidance. Neither Russell T Davies nor Steven Moffat has gone with you. Nor has some other clever fellow found and schooled by the BBC.
So basically. Yes. Come back. Even of just for the Easter special, or New year special. Or whatever hoaxy special.
Ok.
Bye for now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxB1gB6K-2A

vaguery in the field

2010-07-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

It has rained in Ahmedabad for nearly a whole day, withonly a one hour gap in the middle. It has been most lovely. Splooshed about all morning and slept all afternoon. Drove across the waterlogged city in the evening and returned to Doctor Who at night. Now that I am no longer alone at home I can watch these at night (otherwise too spooky).

Meanwhile I am debating the wisdom of having my hair rebonded. I invite comments from any of you who have had this done- or considered it.

Additionally I wish to complain about the rigours of having to manage a large household (3 people) on my own. This means buying food and water, instructing the cook about what to cook when, and dealing with grocers, laundry women, gardeners and a whole host of other people who float in and float out. The thing about living inside an institutes campus is that nearly everything comes pre-organised. There are minions to help with everything, and helpful aunties to call when in doubt. And despite how easy everything should be its driving me mad.

One more week of planning menus and I shall be climbing the walls. I need to leave before I totally forget what it is like to go to work everyday. To have to make deadlines instead of thinking about how the vegetables are rubbery during the rains and that its not a good time to eat palak.

irritation

2010-07-17T14:49:00.000-07:00

i do not like being asked about when i plan to get narried. it annoys me further i am asked about my age. and it is intolerable when i am told that at 24 i have become 'pakki' in my ways- too old and hardened to be fashioned into the sort of person that a husband might want. i do not think that i was compliant at any age- but i absolutely refuse to be told off for the years stacking up. i defy you to find me one person who has grown younger as time passes,

and so being in ahmedabad drives me mad slowly.

so i am 24 and not possessed of child or husband. and this does not mean that my life is empty. now shoo. go away.

and what have i been reading?

2010-07-10T12:01:00.000-07:00

Loretta Chase: Miss Wonderful.

I enjoyed this book a great deal. And I look forward to reading more by Loretta Chase. Maybe it just happened at a needy moment- when more susceptible than ever to books that end pleasantly predictably. Or maybe it just was a book with interesting people and a hint of a story.

Not that the book was anything like what the link to follow talks of. Nothing that had you sniggering at it.

http://www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com/index.php/weblog/comments/random-thoughts-from-anonymous-reader-on-men-of-danger/

updates of a general nature

2010-06-16T12:29:00.001-07:00

fresh from a trip to turkey (so beautiful- but iffy about some of the food- why were so many things served cold?) and dubai (iffy about the place but oh- the food!).

and what have i been reading?

Moonraker's Bride by Madeleine Brent (Peter O'Donnell)
Was sure that i had read this before- but forgotten the story. All very predictable and very fun.

Master's Of Illusion: The World Banka and the Poverty of Nations by Catherine Caufield.
I haven't finished this yet, but I will, once my mother returns it. I allow myself to read no more than 50 pages a day because any more will cause an attack of some sort. caused by total horror.

ancic- recap

2010-05-26T13:34:00.000-07:00

ancic will be playing at queen's.

i will be scouring the sports channels in the hope of seeing him play, if only in the opening rounds. i miss him, i really do. watchingtennis used to be more fun, somehow, than it is now, without the ancics and ivanesevics around.

Reviews. More

2010-04-01T13:06:00.000-07:00

Ishq and Mushq- Priya Basil
I like books like this one. About people who live in places other than those accorded to them at borth. About women who have difficult relationships with other women. About food. With speciific references to Indian food.
There was a lot of cooking in the book. Though it felt like Basil had read Like Waster from Chocolate and thought, thats nice, I'll have my heroine cry into the food andmake it salty too. Other than for this it was much more palatable that most of the other stuff being churned out about diasporas.

Solo- Rana Dasgupta
The blurb had nothing to do what was in the book. There was a stray mention of a parrot, and no one gypsy- not tribe whowse lost language we pursued in the story. Despite the disappointing lack of parrots it was fun. Yet another person who read Amitov Ghosh and thought- ha.

new house-new cat

2010-03-31T11:37:00.000-07:00

so. it seems like the last few phases of my life have, thus far, been punctuated by different and distinctive feline presences.

in the first year at the ma there was the cat that snuck into my room every night and curled up on my pillow next to my head. then she had babies; one of whom had a preference for chocolate biscuits.

in the second year of the me, the orange, non chocolate consuming kit of the pillow-friendly cat moved with me to the next block. and was christened garfield (no i did not call him that to begin with, but he took to the name, and refused to respond to anything else). garfield liked to lurk at one end of the corridor, and race towards people as they stepped out of their rooms, then zig zag between their legs as they moved forwards, having to zig zag to avoid being stepped on. he also liked legs to stand still so he could rub against them. and was very selective about his food. he did not like to be fed fresh stuff, not even milk. it had to lie there, preferably in one of the hostel's many dustbins, before he would deign to look at it. to be able to allow my feet to pet him i set aside a pair of garfield socks, that i wore before letting him touch my feet. his bed was in the corridor distbin, and nothing could persuade him otherwise.

then there was a large black dat. who lived in a house with four other people, so was quitw spoilt. if you sat down for too long she would come and drape herself on you, and claw you for thinking abut shifting. i have often thought about her tail (most beautiful) wistfully, and want one just like it. would be so useful to use as a scarf, or fold up into a pillow.

andn ow i live ina house with a squashed faced patchwork black and orange cat. i donot know if it is a he or a she. and i don't think i'll get close enough to find out. he/she also sneaks in, but sleeps on the rug. and leaves as soon as i wake up. then returns when it thinks i should be asleep.

i wonder if this one will agree to being my friend

Alice in Wonderland and Jemima Khan

2010-03-14T12:13:00.000-07:00

The dancing bit of the movie was just weird.

Am in new found love with Avril Lavigne (had to google the song at the end, without which I would never have figured it was her).

And is it mad that I'm really glad I found Jemima Khan on Twitter- she seems so lovely.

The Dollhouse

2010-03-06T10:14:00.001-08:00

Because I work crazy shifts my weekends don't always arrive on Saturdays and Sundays. Like this week- Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Which turned into the weekend from hell. And the only thing that made it better was an internet connection fast enough to allow me to watch the entire second season of The Dollhouse . I never was much of Buffy person though I do enjoy the Buffy-Spike fanfic. And I never understood the attraction of Angel. However i am very sad about the untimely demise of The Dollhouse. Though I do not see how they could resurrect the story should some cable network choose to revive it.

What I like about the Dollhouse is that it didn't compromise on vocabulary (maybe many Americans just didn't understand what was being said- and this is why it is going off air). A character in it said soupcon (now I know how to pronounce this).
I truly and utterly loved some characters. Like I used to love those on That 70's Show, which was very deeply, but also very long ago. Think starry eyed teenager love.

The casting was very very good. Olivia Williams being the most lovely woman I've seen in a long time. And I thought the guys who played Topher Brink and Alpha were most competent. This is the second thing I've seen Alan Tudyk in (the first being the hilarious Death at Funeral) and I shall be looking out for him.

Meanwhile I also saw Lucky You. Which was .. bleh. Though one would think the beauty of Eric Bana should be able to make all things better a lot depends on the right hair cut. And after the perfect coiffures of everyone on the Dollhouse this really was a let down.

All this while being down with the flu. Now my weekend has gone and I have not done anything but meld with my couch. And tomorrow work begins again. Sigh.

The Harmony Silk Factory

2010-03-05T10:43:00.000-08:00

I can see this being made into one of those really lovely glossy world war two movies. With the Malaysian version of Keira Knightley playing Snow. It would be the sort that might be Oscar nominated for cinematography, costume, music and supporting actor. It would be the sort of movie with one really involved sex scene and long pauses in conversation, during which characters exchange meaningful glances while sitting around a breakfast table while servants shuffle in the background. You know the kind I mean.

I liked the first third of the book. When it seemed to be like the boy was in search of his mother. I liked the second part of the book when the father was established as not so much of a monster after all. But I got got a bit tired of the third narrator's voice, when it became clear that it was still a story about a boy hunting for his father (another one- yawn). I am tired of books about boys hunting for fathers. I am tired of boys who are hunting for their fathers. Mothers are important too. More boys should be hunting for their mothers.

Also, while I got the whole, pastel-watercolour approach to detail that Aw seemed to be doing I would have liked a little more explanation for why people do things. For example- this is a really wealthy family. It wasn't ok for them to allow their daughter out with just anyone. Now that she's married they send her off on a trip, in a boat with no servants, with no chaperone or maid, to an island retreat with no constructed shelter on it? Where they have to go hunting for food and cook it on their own- two Englishmen, one Japanese spy and two of the richest locals in this little Malaysian outpost. Sounds very fishy.

Aside from the obvious logical loopholes, of which there was more than one, I felt like the book was an anaemic version of a better draft, that must be lying around somewhere. If only in Tash Aw's head. It also seemed to draw a lot from the work of Amitav Ghosh, and tryig to be magical in the same way. It comes sniffingly close.

More books

2010-02-27T11:49:00.000-08:00

And then after that I read

1. The Guardian of the Dawn, by Richard Zimler
Which, set in early 17th century Goa, claimed to be ' a riveting historical mystery', 'impeccably reasearched' and ' a powerful reinterpretation of Othello'. It was none of these things. It was, in the beginning, a detailed description of Jewish customs four hundred years ago, nof of a way of life that Jews on the west coast of India might have had come centuries ago. And later it was a whine about the persecution of Jews during the Inquisition, and not in any way an examination of a set of historical factors, actions and circumstances. A large part of it was a justification for religious intolerance (as Tiago's impossibly intolerant father is the moral centre of the book).

And no, just because Tiago got to sleep with a Hindu that does not make it all better. That only happened because the author cleverly manages to have the Hindu girl convinced of how Hanuman is a character from a Judaic tale. No recognition of her seperate religious identity. She needs to be assimilated. And the Muslims of course are evil and must die. Even addressing the issue of self-loathing and guilt, as the book tried to do in the end couldn't salvage it for me. By about half way through I'd had it with the irritating family, and was completely unsympathetic to all but the Christian wife of the converted uncle (who the book was intolerant of). Anyhoo. I finished it. And I will not be buying Richard Zimler again.

2. Brilliant- Marne Davis Kellogg
This was not published by Penguin. And it had no pretensions to historical accuracy, 'spark of genius'(yes I'm still quoting the cover of the Zimler book) or profound exposrations of human nature. It was a fast and funny flighty little book about crooks who are past their twenties and still attractive. I haven't read all those many books with middle aged heroines, who like their food, sex and beautiful jewellery. I wouldn't read it again, but I would recommend it to someone who had to spend all day in bed with a cold, or recovering from a nasty ex boyfriend.

And now i am part way through The Harmony Silk Factory. I shall wait until I am atleast one third in to form an opinion.

new house

2010-01-30T11:18:00.000-08:00

so i finally have a place of my own. which is making me really happy. even when i get back at 10 at night and there isn't anyone else who might have kept dinner for me. once the weirdness of having only myself for company wears off i think i shall begin to like it.
and- this is no small announcement- i have discovered what is, in my opinion, the best chicken tikka roll in delhi, right down the road from the house. well- down the road and left. it was perfect. not too spicy, with onions and cabbage in a salad (not just reeking of onions), and with a really yummy green sauce, wrapped in the lightest rumali roti, that refused to turn into a stretchy rubbery mess, even after an hour ( i kept a bit- just to check).
most yum
and in two pieces, with 3 tikkas each, for a hundred rupees. not bad at all i thought.
joy

So this is what I have been reading

2010-01-18T09:46:00.000-08:00

1. Black Swan Green- by david Mitchell.
I loved Cloud Atlas, despite tiring a bit at the end, and not caring enough about the last story. All the other bits were great. I must read everything else by this man. And according to wikipedia he looks pretty nice too.

Black Swan Green I enjoyed a lot too.

2. The Memory Keeper's Daughter.

Did not like this much. Am now suspicious of things that have an Oprah's Book Club sticker on them. The last few have turned out to sentimental American pap.

Eating out in Bangalore

2009-12-14T14:08:00.000-08:00

The last few weeks have been a blur of socializing, madly mugging Spanish verbs, and zipping about the city on strange errands for parents and grandparents. All resulting in me having, and not really minding, eating out a lot. A lot.

I'm a little tubbier than I was last week, but once I go back to Delhi I won't be able to do this, not much anyway. Food of the kind that costs 200 rupees here costs about three times as much there. And is usually not better.

Some Delhi foods though I really miss. Like crispy chilli potatoes, especially of the form found in north campus. At every place that offers this in Bangalore I have ordered it, sometimes to the despair of companions, who have tired of eating potatoes at nearly every meal. Today, at a restaurant called Rendezvous in Koramangala we were served french fries with masses of chopped and fried green chillies. Nice, but not the real thing.

In the same way I long for the gobhi manchurian that places like Sukh Sagar, Megh Sagar and the others in Bangalore do, so oilily (not a word? but fun to type) and so yummily. Gobhi manchurian in Delhi is a disappointing affair. Gloopy and wrong.

My hunt for the perfect lasagne in Bangalore continues too. As I leave in less than a week I doubt I'll get any closer on this visit.

Oh well.

P.S- Rendezvous is the reincarnated version of Friends, that used to lurk in a lane parallel to the one on which the Koramangala Corner House in on. It has acceptable beef steaks (not to be found everywhere), and an extensive menu. I tried a strange drink called Pussy Foot- coke and pineapple juice (not to be repeated). I would have liked to have liked the place more. It's got a pleasant airy feel to it, with rubber wood furniture, and an attentive but not-too-enthu waiter. Didn't like the sauce in my pasta bake much though. And the garlic on the bread was a particularly tenacious sort. Despite having brushed twice, since returning home, the ghost of garlic breads past still haunts me.

2009-11-15T10:42:00.000-08:00

new found enthusiasm for crabmeat.
must.have.more.

more tv

2009-11-04T12:30:00.001-08:00

i have a faster internet connection now. this means that i can watch what i want, shortly after it airs.

in large part due to cat deeley (so charming), i have become addicted to so you think you can dance. this particular dance routine, i've watched about five times so far. and i think i'll be getting on to youtube to hunt it down again. and since i've just learnt how to put youtube clips here-

the same week in which i have watched the untouchables, watched a documentary on deep-dish pizzas, am having something of a mood overload.

also (totally unrelated)i have recently discovered
i) the wombats
ii)the pigeon detectives
the music is nice. but i'd listen to them anyway- such fun names.

True Blood

2009-11-01T14:31:00.001-08:00

Is such a fun show. And had me hooked from the opening sequence. The song and the montage, and the whole Gothic-South thing. Especially the slow-motion snake.

Having spent the last two days watching both seasons back to back I can't wait for season 3. Must go out and locate the books. I remember not understanding the fuss that everyone made about Buffy, or about Angel (boring boring boring). But this one is sex and drugs, then vampire-sex and vampire-drugs. With that Jace Everett song always in the background.

heh

2009-10-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

before jane campion found her and made the piano anna paquin's only acting experience was as a skunk in a school play.
heh

Tennis musings.

2009-09-10T14:55:00.001-07:00

I'm watching Cilic hurtle towards losing to Del Potro. From whom he took the frist set. And he looked so comfy at the beginning of the second.
I do miss Ancic. These new ones aren't quite the same. Djokovic is a brooding, sulky young man, and Nadal wears ugly clothes. Ancic was always well behaved, clothed in unoffensive colours and garments, and possessed of a lovely serve and volley game. Which fell apart on more than one occassion- but he was so pretty too. The makes up for many things.
Now Cilic is one of the few on the tour, who can still pull out a decent serve and volley game. I really want him to do that now. Or I'll be very annoyed that I stayed up till four to watch a match, and it didn't end as desired. Hmph.

Dinner at Agashiye

2009-09-09T12:52:00.000-07:00

went to dinner with my father and some of his students. to a place called Agashiye. twas a most beautiful house, wood-worked and latticed, opposite a mosque, in a neighbourhood that bore an eerie resemblance to the cantonement area in bangalore. all very seventy-years-ago in feel.
with that lovely amdavadi breeze.
but the food. oh dear. i do not like sugar in my dal, and in my potatoes, and in my paneer, and in my moong ki sabji. no i do not. the rose flavoured ice cream was wonderful though.

channeling carly simon

2009-06-21T01:22:00.000-07:00

so much anger.
joan jett, and some alanis morissette.
no one should forgive this kind of behaviour.
when my mum has a bad feeling about a boy, next time i shall listen to her. will save me the hassle.

an overwhelming feeling of ick

2009-06-17T09:10:00.000-07:00

so today i took an auto home. when i got off and handed him money it was to realise that he had my change in one hand and his penis in the other. i do not like being masturbated at. am having an overwhelming feeling of ick.

New Post

2009-01-05T19:09:00.000-08:00

A new post for the new year, just to remind myself, and the two of you reading this that the blog isn’t dead. Yet.

My aunty Leela is though. She had Alzheimer’s and arthritis and eczema, which is a pretty ghastly combination of diseases to have to live with.

Among the other people who died was Pandin- a friend from class (1st-5th).
I’m not very interested in children born- until they can talk and develop personalities. I prefer old people- the sad thing is old people don’t always stay old for long enough. They die.

Pandin was only 24 though. Or 25, I’m not really sure. We travelled together in Thailand when we were small. His mother bought me a painting-engraving of an elephant on rice flour paper that the monks at the monastery we visited made. We ate lotus hearts and other aqueous water plant parts. Pandin liked touching people’s ears- other eleven year olds objected to this, but I remember not minding the occasional inspection much.

This isn’t meant to be an elegiac post. I was only doing the accounts. I have the niggling feeling that I’m forgetting important people. But let’s move on.
I did mean to make a few remarks about whether or not one can ever really know another person, and if so how. I recall reading posts of this sort- that attempt to skirt the line between personal revelation and profound truth, but just end up as an exercise in over sharing. So I shall continue to work on that (the post), weed out all possible details that would aid discerning readers (yes mummy I mean you- I know you still check this thing even though I’ve been trying to will its erasure from your memory) make inferences to events that have actually occurred. While the nick name and the anonymity it pretends to confer is a joke, I really am happier crying about my life on the phone. Plus I remember griping about confessional blogs once too often to turn mine into one as well.

In other news I made the second of my twice yearly expeditions to Rishi Valley. Returned in the most fancy bus; with seats that reclined nearly a hundred and eighty degrees, plug points for cell phones, speakers near every seat, leather upholstery and more detailing, that probably escaped my attention. Four kilometres out of Madanapalli there isn’t a mobile phone signal. The incongruity. Climbed many rocks in RV, encountered, at close quarters one tree frog, one spider (large) and one lizard (large with livid pink and orange spots). The lizard bothered my sister, the spider bothered me, and the both of us ignored the tree frog- which peacefully sat on the ledge near the door and watched us walk in and out of the room. There were also many fire ants which we successfully evaded. With the thorns we were less successful- I fell into many nasty piles of them. My arms, unprotected by denim as they were, look like they have survived a hideous slashing, some sort of failed suicide attempt.

And here- having written more than I have in the last three months, I shall stop. Congratulate me. My blog. It lives.

flibbertigibbet

2008-09-09T10:49:00.000-07:00

is my word of the day

2008-08-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

oh the irony of applying for a commonwealth scholarship to study post colonial theory in the uk.

i remember reading somewhere- that the characters in epistolary novels must have been letter writing maniacs. racing to their desks to scribble away the minute an event had occurred, wearing out pens at a furious rate, if the intensity of the exchange of letters in the novel was to be believed. its possible though. because an exchange of letters can be so seductive. and you can read exactly what you want into the ambiguity that cloaks even the most regular of utterances.

have become completely obsessed with the blower's daughter. listened to it all day.

have also found an ice cream parlour in north campus that shows promise. it isn't in the same league as corner house, but then few places are. i hope it survives.

stray thoughts from here and there

2008-07-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

i absolutely detest playing mind-games with boys. its a complete waste of time, and you never know when you're winning. i don't see the point of playing if not to win, and in that sort of game winning would end the fun. or some such complicated game-related philosophising that i'm not up to.

meanwhile have rediscovered how much fun playing cards is. had flashbacks of the hostel (the previous , non cat-infested one) and playing bluff with two and a half decks. cards and scrabble. we played a lot of scrabble. i do not like monopoly however. the beginning is fine- all the racing around to by property is fun. i have a special fondness for the water works and for old kent road. its the squeezing rent out of your friends bit that i really find hard.

why does laura linney do multiple versons of the weird-mother role? in the squid and the whale. in driving lessons. she's very good at being slightly off.

due to being unduly clever while downloading them i now have several french movies without the subtitles. what i shall do with these i do not know.

richard thompson is playing in my head. this makes for the strangest of moods

Bah

2008-07-27T05:33:00.000-07:00

I can't remember the last time someone used the word chick in my presence as if it was legitimate word, to be used in public spaces without meaning to be ironic about it.

Why is femininity so often measured in the length of one's hair? This drives me crazy. And yet I wouldn't dare to brave my multifarious aunts and just chop the damn stuff off.

The resident cat is looking increasingly sharp about the ears. Does that happen to cats? Can their ears get pointier with age?

the things we do for love

2008-06-27T11:51:00.000-07:00

the star sports espn network blatantly ignores ancic matches. instead tonight they have chosen to air the safin-seppi match. ancic is playing ferrer in the fourth seed- on centre court- but no. thats not enough. he must meet federer for the match to be aired. the sort of encounter few survive, and unfortunately ancic hasn't. not since 2002.
so- am reduced to following the point tracker on the wimbledon website. which lets me know in blinky yellow letters what the score is. the actual play i am left to imagine for myself. it informs me that ancic is in a fourth set, losing the third in the tie breaker.
am also most impressed with tipsarevic. have always found him interesting on account of the dosteovsky he has, tattooed upon him. and yesterday against roddick he was nearly fully error-free. he wasn't just watching the roddick serve whiz past, which is what tends to happen on the days when roddick's serve comes out to play. he confused roddick by managing to return it. and, in a clever fashion, went after the roddick backhand.
the safin, seppi match has turned into a sluggy brawl from the baseline. its only a matter of time, i think before safin does himself in. the longer they play the greater the chance that he will lose his temper and combust on his own, gifting the match to his opponent. am a bit tired of all this back court rallying.
though i can't watch the match itself, i can sit and imagine ancic (so pretty in a somewhat bambi-like manner) serving and volleying away.

If I were a Vampire

2008-03-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

I do not spend much time working.
Instead I get online and find things like this.
Have spent some time since, singing 'If I were A Vampire' to my self in the manner of Tevye.

Random

2008-03-04T10:15:00.000-08:00

Ancic has risen 23 spots. He is now ranked 69 in the world.
I wish I knew my texts as well as I know the tennis rankings.

On Fleeing Libraries

2008-02-23T10:32:00.000-08:00

The MSN homepage has an article every week or so on where/how to meet men. The answers rarely change- and basically amount to any space outside your house. Which is self explanatory, since it would be odd to have potential objects of interest hanging about at home that you hadn't noticed before.

So when I go to the library I am not thinking- 'now I will go to a sort-of-public spot and browse for people'. Though I am vaguely aware that of all places a library is among the most acceptable- as it implies (perhaps not deservedly- because I don't always read everything I issue) that one is there out because one reads books. Books are good.

Today a boy; and I really wanted to ask him how old he was because he did seem too young to be that (and the only appropriate word that comes to mind is a bit archaic) forward was rather surprising in his persistence on making conversation. Having lived in Delhi for almost four years, I am no longer incompetent at making my displeasure known at unwanted attention from boys with too much time and distorted notions of what constitutes an acceptable mode of expression. But this boy- he didn't seem rude or letchy, or anything terrible. Except weird and possessed of a large vocabulary. Which made me want to not be rude, but also to race away. Which I did as soon as I found the books I wanted.

Now it occurs to me that he might have been bored and harmless. Perhaps I am too suspicious.

But kids are creepy.
This much I know this much is true

d school

2008-02-03T19:41:00.000-08:00

The D school canteen is now metal and glass- fancy stuff. The outdoor, makeshift version was nice. I did worry about the unwelcome addition that birds may have made (never happened), but it had charm. The new one has a roof. And no sunlight. The mutton cutlets are the same though.

We sat in the winter afternoon sun, S and I. So pleasant it was to just be: mildly traumatised at our lack of direction, complaining about the complications that boys embody, and discussing the many attractions of Pahadganj. A skinny dog walked past and settled on a pile of leaves near my left foot. An equally skinny, but more curious young thing- past the pup stage, but not yet fully grown- at that age when they eyes, tail and ears seem larger than normal- stopped by to make friends. I wanted to take it home, but I fear it will not get along with the cats that currently rule the hostel. Cats which are reproducing at an alarming rate I might add.

Three young men settled, some distance away. One opened a bag, took out a laptop and placed it on the ground- the leaf strewn and definitely dusty ground. What must it take to be that casual with a laptop? I tend mine like one would a rose cutting, which I have found to be a particularly recalcitrant and delicate sort of plant. Constant dusting and virus checking and that kind of thing. Not allowing food near it, washing my hands before using it and not allowing people with colds to venture near- in case they sneeze and release germs. They, on the other hand, didn’t even have a case for it. I wanted to go over and see if it was scratched from this rather disinterested manner of use.

One got up to dance-demonstrating what we took to be a new dance move- because the other two seemed to offer suggestions and make modifications. That was the end of the dancing. And all this while Tarkan was playing. First that cheesy and annoying kissy kissy number which all of us recognise, and then some stuff from later albums. Which I identified and S didn’t, because I went through a major Tarkan-phase two years ago after finding a poster somewhere and discovering that he was sponsored in Basel by the Doner Kebab Association (DKA). This has pleased me muchly. Doner kebabs are my friends. I find the existence of doner kebab society rather sweet- like an idli-chutney organisation, or an appam appreciation group. A harmless fringe activity. Here is some of the poster.

This is where I lived last year. Tarkan smiled creepily down us, and Herb and I had interesting discussions about his appearance. He has always been a source of much entertainment in one way or the other. Once when delirious with fever, and sick from the antibiotics I thought I saw his eyes move. He has not accompanied me to my new room. When I fall ill I do not want to feel like I am being stalked in my own chamber.

heath ledger

2008-01-23T09:26:00.000-08:00

heath ledger is dead.
and i am feeling more sad about this than one normally would about someone that one doesn't know.

end of the year

2008-01-02T04:52:00.000-08:00

It’s the end of the year (or so it was when written), and I’m trying to race but only crawling through Tom Jones while also writing this post, and knitting between chapters. Am surrounded by a mess of blankets, hot water bottle, pencils, pens, photocopies, laptop plus wires, balls of wool, books, clothes and a hula hoop. Similarly adorned are the other surfaces in the room which is driving me nuts but haven’t the energy to fix this. Can hear the music from two parties cutting into each other. From the back comes a rather drunkenly rendered version of We Will Rock You. To the right some guy is going on about Beautiful Girls. Ah- and now they’re all Staying Alive. Meanwhile the rockery ones have moved on to some sort of guitar noise thing, punctuated by shrieks.

Am returning to Tom Jones. If only this Fielding guy would stop digressing and get on with the tale. Two steps forward one step back. Thats how the book progresses. Like a snail on sleeping tablets- where did I get this phrase from? Eagleton I think. He’s full of animal imagery and is the only fun thing I’ve read in the last few days.
Coming soon- one post about Nepal

Aaja Nachle

2007-12-08T06:18:00.000-08:00

Didn't have much of a script. The one moment of interest was when the landlady mourned her state; “main ek file hoon” (imagine a sniffling howl of discontent here- its important to the effect). It was rather brilliant, actually, and sort of made the movie worth it. Along with Madhuri Dixit and her dancing, which in any case was the subject of the movie- as the title demonstrates. Perhaps its because I’m old fashioned and think that dancing should be about both hands and legs- but it did seems as if the choreography barely tapped into the skilful footwork that Ms Dixit is capable of. Most of the title track was composed of shots of her walking away from the camera and turning towards it luring the audience with her smile. Which though very alluring is not the only good thing that she can do on screen.

The supporting roles were very well cast, especially Irrfan Khan- who I would like to see more of. He really was good as the bad guy. So was Akshay Khanna as the not-really-bad guy. Though it is too much to expect an urbane, incorruptible, Mp, who looks like Akshay Khanna, is of royal descent and does think of himself as reflecting the opinion of the people. But then again, as one born into money why would he need the extra cash, as offered by shady businessmen? He has enough of his own and a golf course at home- must save on the club membership. The dialogue between the two of them was very fun and sexy- more of it would have been nice, but that would have meant less dancing-smiling and more story.

One thing bothered me about the film. The landlady wanted to audition for the musical, to participate and enjoy herself. The clerk-husband stops her, and on seeing that he has hurt her (the action of a ‘boring’ man) he decides to offer himself instead. Effectively stealing his wife’s thunder- parasite- feeding off her desire. She wanted to be in the limelight. She was told that she couldn’t and then he did it instead of her. Even when the position opened up for Laila’s mum, a second time, she wasn’t considered- not by Madhuri Dixit who knew the situation and is presented as one of superior talents and intelligence in the film, and certainly not by her husband. Basically she remained a file, just opened and closed by a less ‘boring’ man. I think it was her state as a file she was trying the change- not the clerk’s.

The volte-face of the corrupt businessman and politician (who wept what I thought were crocodile tears at the end) because of a musical-pageant thingy wingy was too much to swallow. Perhaps we could send all our politicians and businessmen of dubious moral character to watch the film, or a colourful show at an amphitheatre. Is this what the film is suggesting about the powers of Diya’s dancing and direction?

But then again it was a nice film to watch. If only for the energy. Right after a bout of foul exams, just what I needed. Not to read Le Divorce, the cover of which fooled me into thinking that it would be a French version of Under the Tuscan Sky. Soul-searching masquerading as a fun-flick. This I do not approve of.

Go away and turn left

2007-10-28T12:19:00.001-07:00

Generally I lean left,on issues, and sometimes rather forcefully so. But the way they function, as obstructive entities instead of a constructive task force is just maddening.
Sometimes The United States isn't the most dangerous foe. It's just the most vulgarly visible one.
Sometimes all that jhola-panti is just talk.
And men who go to lectures on Foucault and Derrida and say things like "ye sab to hamare dada hain- Marx-bhai, Lenin-bhai"
...
That's just wrong.
Marx is not your bhai. You may think he wrote a lot of stuff that made a lot of sense, and that more people should adore him then do at present.
But he is not your bhai.

Amusement

2007-10-26T09:45:00.000-07:00

For fun, go here.
Thank you Aishwarya. :)

School

2007-10-20T01:37:00.000-07:00

This is what school looks like in October. For once I was carrying a camera. The classrooms are to the left, junior hostels to the right and the games field comes up if you follow the path.

Reality Check

2007-10-13T12:24:00.000-07:00

Have been horribly addicted to Zee Sa Re Ga Ma Pa for the last few months. Seem to be among those who both eagerly awaited the final result of the music competition, and, rather dreaded its end. now what will I do on Friday nights? Yes I have no life.

The much advertised 'live telecast' was, as foreseen, a bit of a washout with too many glittery-spandex clad back-up dancers and too much lip syncing. Much of my time was spent wondering at the absurd clothing on display,

-Bappi Lahiri really does wear too much gold. I know many must have said this in the past but its so true that it can stand the repetition. Really.
- Akshay Kumar came wearing a coat and muffler but no shirt. Was he feeling cold or not- and why didn't he know?
- Himesh Reshammiya, who isn't an index of good taste in any sense, and shouldn't be taken seriously anyway, has foregone the better part of the front of his shirt for most of the season. A dose Himesh-cleavage regularly on Fridays and Saturdays- just what every girl needs to feel complete. The new sorta-shirtless look seems to be doing the rounds and it really bothers me, aesthetically it just seems wrong. If you don't want to wear a shirt don't wear one. Don't wear half of one.

Zee Tv and its numerous Zee spawn are shady and to be suspected. In blogging about them I feel shady and dubious myself. Though the post is about clothes- can I defend one form of frivolity with another?

But, I am on holiday. In a week I shall return to the real world- that alternate existence where there is no desire to send votes for Amanat. I'm sad he lost. And he gave away the watch he receieved as a consolation prize for six months of singing, to his mentor. I wouldn't have. How very sweet. In one week I shall mock those who react as emotionally as I have to a probably-rigged reality show. In one week.

poocha prashanam: the cat question

2007-09-19T12:53:00.000-07:00

One rather large, dappled cat has appropriated my bed.

Its a tiny room, and since September is still unreasonably warm we leave the windows open at night. There is a cooler- but it makes such a racket, and needs constant (ok maybe not so constant, but we are lazy) refilling.

Every morning I wake up to find a large and heavy furball at my feet. When I get up it does too, hisses at me and exits through the window. Never through the balcony door, which is also, always open. Why?

Now this cat is a rather wild one, given to hissing and hunting pigeons- which it does with great skill. There are feathers on the landing by mid-morning. It spends much of its time stalking about the corridors after dark, and yowling at the clothes that are hung out to dry. It can't be too clean as I have seen it foraging in the most questionable of areas. It doesn't look ticky. But how can I tell for sure? It arrives after I fall asleep and leaves when I get up. I must stop calling it 'It'. Maybe Orlando- as I have no way of telling whether he is a he or she is a she. Maybe Kiran- also nice and non commital. Maybe Princess Leia- it has delusions of grandeur. Maybe Jabba- as the Hutt is the unwieldy, slobbering, lecherous monster that this sleek, chic hunting machine is not.

What must I do? Should I let it be and thereby leave the window open for all sorts of mysterious cat-borne infections (my imagination runs riot)? Should I cart it, or rather metro and auto it to a vet in Khan Market? I can barely greet it in the day time, having to get it into a basket and be calm would be quite a task. And then the scene at the metro station:
-madam bag check karaiye
-bhaiyya iske andar billi hai. nahin khol sakti

ha

2007-08-28T03:32:00.000-07:00

hello blog
blog hello