this isn't sadness. This isn't lonliness either. This is some quantum of ethereal space, amidst which i am floating. No need for gravity, no NEED.

i have decided to spend new year's in my own company. Alone? Maybe, but not lonely.

What a tumultuous year has gone by, and i see that more rises and falls are to happen. i would like to start the year in calmness. No big bang for me. Simple quite...no dressing up, or dancing, or drinking. Simply be rested. The first day of the year should reflect the rest of it, and i would like mine to start with a quest for nirvana.
Lets see how my search continues, but for now, bonn anniversarie!

when life's a gamble

I'm not one for the tables. I can barely hold a set of cards right, let alone play a game decently. My failure at winning a simple game of DONKEY, led me to completely dislike all games of cards, and in the process, stood me against gambling quite strongly. Gambling i believe is firstly for people with money to throw around. I don't have that sort of money. I barely make ends meet and i don't plan on loosing my rent money on a game of Black Jack. Al this withstanding, recently a friend got me to come aboard one of those floating casinos, for a bit of lady luck langdi. I made a fuss, but at last accented. I have often enough been to casinos for my stories, and this one was no different. OK, so maybe I want being shown around like at all the other places, since i Left he TOI tag at home, but it was nice none the less. The upstairs open areas is one kept for dancing, with a live band and a free bar. It is also where gamblers come for a quick smoke before hitting the tables again. I sat sipping my second Pepsi, watching middle aged, and those on the wrong side of middle age, dancing to a number of bollywood numbers, while laughing and drinking. These were not crass people, they were well dress, mild speaking tourists, all down for a bit of masti.

Off to the gambling area, i promised to kept o the slot machines, but found them dreadfully boring and instead decided to watch my friends bet away their earning.

Things didn't go just as easy as that. With all that free booze the friends got to tipsy to even stand properly, and i found it left to me to continue the betting. With no idea of how to play any of the games, i started off with five card poker and then to black jack. Oddly enough, i was winning. Not willing to get like the rest, i stuck to coffee and Pepsi's and found it helped my game considerably. I was winning, and being wise while at it. By the end of the night, i had made Friends with most of the staff, an bunch of the customers, and even went home, (well since it wasn't my money, id have to say my friend went home, with twice ass much as what they came with)

A good experience none the less, i would still guarantee myself, that a personal visit to a gambling joint is way out of my interest. I plan to stick to wasting my money on food and movies.

Moral: go ahead gamble, just use someone else's money

chatter pox

ever said something you shouldn't? Spoke too soon? Spoke too stupid too soon? Happens to most of us, one time or the other. Problem is, it happens to me more than just often. It happens on a regular basis. For those who know me they have learned to ignore my slip ups or simply laugh at the goofy ones. And i remain safe. But then once in a while comes along a newbie. Someone who doesn't know or recognise my eccentricities as simple repercussions of having fallen on my head at a very young age. So i say "Hi, your pants look so gay." Only to be given a rotten look and a huff away.

But isn't always that simple. m not just saying things that would annoy people, i say things that hurt people, anger people or really break people's heart's. And i never realise, continuing to blab on. This time however it all caught up to me, and my stupid antic got me into a very hot soup. Still at the rim of the bowl right now, but by the looks of things, it might get better. If not better, it definitely wont get worse than what it already is. or could it?? Zwikes.

i have had enough of my racing tongue and it's maladies. I wish to sear it off and freeze it in a bottle of cleaning acid.

moral: Shut up, just please shut up

in times of loss, all we can think about is the pain. That searing feeling that burns away a bit of flesh as it peirces your heart. Drama with a capital D indeed, but we know we've all gone through some bout of ti or the other.
Well we all pick ourselves up, tie our belts a bit tighter, and walk on. A bit safer this time.
Im hurt, sore hearted, but like all other times, i'll repair. The worst part is that the ones i would really have loved to have longer, are the ones that leave faster.
im standing at the warf, and their boat has sailed, leaving me with the annoying sea gulls.

Happiness has become me. TYhis is not talk about what brilliant thing especially happeend in my life, but more of a culmination of a number of good things, events and people. Goa stay had it's upas and deep deep downs. Its slumps and it's bumps.

I was living an off road rally, and just when i thoguht my major would break down, it made ti through one more mucky dicth.

And i am safe for now. Safe and happy.

I have a job that enatils me comming to work at twelve in teh afternoon, where i laugh and do what i love.

I have friends though not too close ones, they are there to share a smile when im out of stock.

I have relationships, new and interesrting

I have family that is waiting to see me and celebrate my brithday with me.

I have a fast bike, that is a bit broken, but still a mean machene

I have happiness.

I have God.

stumble, fall, get up

it's one of those things that leaves you, grinning, stupidly, while you walk down to road to work on a overtly sunny day. And yet you grin, foolishly, unaware of the glaring men, and the laughing boys. yet you don't see the dust flying around as the rackety goan buses pass by, or the heat stinging you neck r event eh constant messages from your boss, asking why you haven't come to work yet. It all flies above you, like those mosquitoes that hover around the crown of your head, as you cross a field, trying to get a shorter way to granny's house.

Today is such a day. I'm not travelling to meet gran ma — I'm grinning foolishly about the recent past. Of paper plate lunches at five thirty in the evening, and furtive glances that go unseen, or unmentioned.

This is what the beginning is all about. The squigglies, that squilch around in your tummy. The odd sense of breathlessness that forms every time the two of you get to near. Beginnings are for this.

and as till wanders, there are two possibilities — all those squigglies turn into beautiful butterflies. things get better, closer, dearer.

Then there is also the chance of them getting infuriatingly annoying. cheap, rude and uncaring.

And things blossom, or like most often my case, dry up and wither, and those squigglies, turn into flesh eating maggots,t hat only time and port wine will kill.

Tomorrow you wake and somehow the sun rises again. Things get fine, and you see a butterfly flutter by. You follow it to the remainder of life.

book attack

writing writing — everywhere

writing has filled up the air.

Mr Lawrence, Mr Mistry

everything from sci-fi to histry

words are floating in my head

i plan to read until I'm dead.

until then each page i turn
reading till the writings burn.
till the book it self does close
or i go into a comatose

charlie and the cheese cake

Food! for those who have known me for more than twenty mins, they are bound to take notice of my fascination for food. Well cooked, well decorated and well served — all's well with me.

This love for food night very well explain my shift to Goa, — a gastronome's delight.

six months into the goan living, and i still drool over a plate of tongue, well made xacuti or a hot plate of garlic butter fried prawns. just writing about it has be drooling so one can easily understand that to me food mean forever.

while the meats have their patriots, i have a rather large (decaying) sweet tooth. Not simply eating them, but even making food delights me. Baking is my niche. Cakes, souffles, pies....baking dishes are my treasure trove, complete only with my collection of cook books.

But lets leave the apron to some one else this time.

What i actually want to talk about is the heavenly, angelical — cheese cake.

Soft creamy, slightly tangy, slightly sweet, all ending in a well formed base of crust.

Goa has not yet offered me a decent enough cheese cake, so i still adhere to eating Creameaux's Tiramisu. The closest thing i can get to a good dessert.

but it still doesn't compare to the cheese cake.

For those savage imbeciles who still think Cheese cake is made of cheddar — i beg to differ.

i travelled to mumbai this time around with two aims,

one: to spend all my time with family. Done

two: to eat as much cheese cake as possible. I have realised that will never be possible. There will never be enough of cheese cake to satisfy me.

Seven places, i tried the dessert. Too creamy, too fake, too dry, too superlatively perfectious.

seven hundred "MMMMMMmmmmms" later i had to leave the city, back to Goa and its lack of cheese cake.

Two more months to go before i get a hand on another piece of mumbai made CK.

I'm delirious...hoping some where a Goan has decided to make dark cherry cheese cake.

Till then i have learned one lesson. Be like the bears.

Moral: Eat for the winter

To pao or not to Pao

Away from Mumbai for the past six months, i miss the street vada pavs and the cutting chai that so well accompanies it. But it's not like Goa falls short in the street food dept. Say hello to the choris pao and the cutlet pao. for most people who made their way to Goa, sometime or the other, the choris pao is no stranger. Available in most local restaurants, they all take a bit. The cutlet pao however is an altogether a very goan street snack.


On those hot, hungry nights, when pages have gone two hours late and the people at the printers are hollering through the phone, we take a break and head to Miramar beach. still unsure of the place it is very conveniently called the Cutlet Pao place. Aside from cutlets of beef fried in raw and dashed with salad, then stuffed into a pao, they also serve a variety of choris pao, chilly fry, sorpotel, and a bunch of other dishes that have found their way from either a chicken, pig or cow.
Not one for red meats, i somehow can never escape an offer to eat there.
I once decided to go there along with Llyod and Jerome for a bite after work. For all the hardwork we put in this seemed like a befitting pay-off.
the place opens at around five, and when we ask for whats ready, they have only two things. Pork chops that i don't eat, and cutlet pao. So i order the cutlet pao. ? I eat here often enough to know what a good cutlet pao tastes like, and when i bite into my order, i know that this is not it.
My pao is dry and the cutlet is somewhat stale, with a rather odd mushy taste. I cone to a theory that they sell off last days portions first and then start off with he new stock. This being done in most restaurants and fast food places. So the next day, in order to test my theory, i got here at eight o'clock and buy another cutlet pao. It's crisp, tasty and the bread is soft. Perfect...well as close to perfect as the Miramar cutlet paos can get. The ones in Calangute are by far better, even on the worst of days.
So now I've come to the conclusion that one should wait until at least the first twenty percent of the orders have gone out to make your own. Then your assured to get a good plate of food. Obviously if you wait too long chances are all the good food might get over and you'll be stuck eating the worst part of the stock they could find to fry.

moral of the story: Old is not gold...Old is stale.

The fish and the fool

part of my job has me spending my precious weekends going for various parties and writing unintelligent articles about them..then again, what ever pays the bills. Five months into the job, and I'm fed up of the continuous hey, hellos that follow around. Worse i find are the questions like, "Are you working tonight as well?" and the annoying, "Why don't i see a drink in your hand?" Tired of the monotony of this i went MIA. A month it worked. When i re-entered the scene, i couldn't recognise half the tracks being played. Great i thought. Now my reentry came in the form of the newly opened Shiro's Poison. A sister club of the one in Mumbai, the troupe of us from work went for the very suave opening. The place was impressive, with its humongous statues centering the circular dance area, the beach front deck and the alfresco dining area. This would be one for the elite. A definite. While Malini Ramani and Tarun Tahiliani talked about the Lakme Fashion Week i too mingled, but not with the likes of Gautam Singhania who also was there, in an atrociously ugly sleeveless shirt and cowboy hat. while chatting up the boys we made a dash for the bar, and took advantage of what would probably be the only time we could get to drink at this place. My sabbatical from the night scene had clearly taken it's toll on my drinking capacity. One drink down and i could already seen stars — but that could also be cos they were all invited for the shindig. Two hours into the party i made contact with the devil himself, offering me his juicy sin filled fruit. OK, so it was a waiter with a tray of sushi. "Sushi" i exclaimed, with childish glee, and ended up eating way too many pieces. .......................FAST FORWARD...........................

Next Day: The sun is burning down into my neck and i can feel all that raw fish swimming around my stomach. Is this what a hangover feels like. But the symptoms are completely wrong. No dizziness, no headaches, nothing. So blame it on the sun, and buy my self a bottle of water. Half a litre later, i find my self clutching the side of a wall, throwing up water and more water. Having it out of my system, (literally) i get into Loreco, my colleague's Mahindra and we set of for work. All is not good, in tummy land and as the jeep slows into the parking lot of the office, i rush out and puke another litre of water. Don't know where that came from though, since i only drank half a litre. Take two steps another litre escapes me. Walk up to my floor, rush to the wash room, and another few ml. Somethings wrong. How could i be retaining, (well not for long) so much water when i am not even drinking any? Settling into my seat i begin my round of editing, and writing. *200ml more-out* Nishi the doll that she is, offers to take me to the market for my round of pears. I'm addicted to that fruit.. every bite i take, brings that Aamsutra ad to mind. by the time we reach the office, i have already finished one pear, another fifteen mins later i have also unmouthed that pear. Pears are not that cheap, and I'm furious that I'm wasting so much.

Looking back on last night, i know who to blame. Those damn roles of rice and fish. food poisoning, or maybe I'm just not one for raw stuff. now I'm sitting at my desk, waiting for a lime juice as i make my will. i have already thrown up 400grams of the half kilo of fruit i bought. With no reason to live i look back at life and regret. : i should have opted for the tooth-picked chicken.

Moral of the story: well done::never rare.

My Men

funny men.
boring men.
Skinny men
snoring men
Men self obsessed
men so depressed
dirty men
flirty men
macho men
skirty men
men still boys
men just toys
brave men
grave men
master men
slave men
men intellectual
so many...yet i get the man whose homosexual!

the unending topic

Jerome Anthony...does the name ring a bell, if it doesn't then this is surely the guy we're talking about.

But no...seriously...he's big..really big, especially when at 5'2 you stand next to his 6'2 phrame.

At first glance the man might be a bit too in love with his job. On second and third glance you realise he actually is that in love with his job..."TOI this and TOI that" — yeesh!

I for one can say nothing good about the working conditions aside from the fact that i get to meet nut jobs like him.

But now i might be exaggerating a bit. The DUDE isn't all that bad.

One of the fun people i have met here, Jerome always gives me a lift when i need one...(which is almost every day) Look beyond his outside appearance and you will see...ribs I'm guessing...i don't really know. never though of really checking!
Well now its been four months staying in this rum infested joint and I'm surprised that Jerome has also made it.. Didn't expect him to really leave that soon, but surely did think he'd fall into a field on one of his tipsy days and never find his way it out.
Luckily for me he hasn't fallen into any kind of trouble like that..
Private Charlie as he got promoted to when he joined the army has now become the lead of a nefarious group of rebelling army outlaws who have sought out a new headquarters from where they plot guerrilla attacks.

Wooozie!

Tooth about Dentists

evil crazy dentists
live to make me cry
crazy evil dentists
their drills just want to pry
Psychotic old dentists
they can't even see your teeth
unqualified dentists
once done offer you a sweet!
Lara Rebello

Stinky Oinky

stinking little piggy
came snortng down my lane
stinking little piggy
drove my poor nosrtils insane
stinking little piggy
stinks so much, i dont know how
no more stinking little piggy
just stinking choris pao!
Lara Rebello

point to make

my best friend is a porcupine
he’s quite the prickly sort
and though his needles are two feet long
he is still pretty short.
one day I mistook him
for what might be a chair
too tired to keep standing
I plunked on what was there
my best friend isn’t a porcupine
I can’t stand the prickley lot
for all I did in friendship
Now a cactus butt is what i’ve got!!
— Lara Rebello

running knows

My nose has got quite runny
my head is spinning too,
and everytime I sneeze—i sneeze and run out of tissue
my voice has gotten blockey
my sniffles have increased
and if I continue long this way
I soon will be desceased!
— Lara Rebello

fowl food

I went to catch a chicken,
I wanted one quite bad
but my feathered feast kept avoiding me
and that just got me mad.
sharpened was my knife, hot my skillet too,
but the stupid li’l chicken didn’t want to be my stew.
—Lara Rebel

sheep ship

three little sheep—in a boat
three little sheep and a grumbling goat.
"whose doing the rocking?"
"why is there so much water?"
The grumbling goat continued,
for a hour and a quater
The three little sheep couldnt take it any more
now the boat’s got three little sheep
and the goat’s on the ocean floor.
—Lara. Rebel

blind dating

dating is a fishy game....especially if your boyfriend's a sailor.

but even if he's not...there's bound to be something causing a stench.

there are two categories of daters(actually there are around four hundred and twelve, but I'm not in the mood to talk about them)

on one side you have the long term daters: they believe relationships are fixed deposits. your investment lay accumulated for approximately three to six years. they invest most of them selves into their relationships and in return they get higher interest, in the form of one year anniversary gifts, weekend trips and something called stability..sweet very sweet

now on the other hand are my kind of daters: the short term-wham bam scram types. we believe relationships are unreal and long term accounts are useless, and we'd rather invest in stocks, relying on the constant rise and fall, buying and selling...the constant shifting.

our motto being: who need one when i can two..three..four..not necessarily at the same time, but variety is indeed the spice of life!

in Women Of Brewster Place, one of the characters; butch explains his concept of short term tet-a-tets in relation to sugarcane chewing.
most people chew and chew, extracting every last drop of sugar, till all that remains is a mouthful of coarse stalk, leaving your mouth itchy and irritable. the trick to eating sugarcane is to chew out the sweetness and know exactly when to stop, before the stalk crumbles.
so what do people find so wrong in this. they shake their heads at my style of dating, as if it is wrong to opt for only the happy times. does a relationship have to indeed require times of trouble, pain and disappointment in order to be worth of anything?

so what does time do to these two varieties of daters ??

the fixed deposit kind, so used to long term relationships, are less able to value the importance of marriage. since anyway all of their commitments have previously been as long as the average American marriage. but also they have a better chance of getting married at all.

the stockbroker dater on the other hand, ends up either alone, unready to commit to anyone, or down the line hears their grand kids bragging about how their grandpa was such a playboy.


what at the end of the day is of most value i guess is the amount we relish every moment of our time..either spent alone or shared with someone else.

murder she wrote

i have killed my writing skill. the bitch goddess creeped up on me and tried to sink her venomous fangs into my naked skin. but as i herd the sound of her creative promise, i turned around and shot her in the head.she shrieks out in verse...is that a haiku she moans??the poet and playwright drink from her wounds, desperately seeking inspiration from what has now turned to stagnant piffle.and the early maggot, while i see it pass between eyes, beauty made blind, she retches and dies with a last whisperto art

undercover drop

we live in a time of secrecy...no one knows what is. and yet lying captive in all these constrains we dip it low- pick it up slow- turn it all around and...
as i glance at the numerous pieces of lingerie lacing the walls of this store i wonder..which dimwitted git decided that it was worth wearing underwear?
Throughout early Greece, Rome and Egypt, one rule held: the higher your status in society, the more clothes you wore. Slaves often wore nothing at all. how come then has this rule been turned on its head..today the higher ure status, the smaller the bloomers.
so would it be right to imagine that while a domestic help might wear granny undies, her memsahib dorns thongs?

underwear amazes me...amuses me...
i remember going to the lingerie store the first time without my mum...new to this line of shopping the sales BOY boringly asked me what kind of underwear i wanted.

--well underwear...what do u mean by what kind? are u talking about brands??

--no ma'am, what type of chuddies are u looking for.?

--clean ones??

--with a disgruntled look- do u want bikini panties?

--er..no no..I'm not going swimming!

--(sigh) do u want g-strings?

--what!!! u guys sell music notes here as well?

by this point i was too afraid to extend the show of my stupidity, and quickly left the shop.

today undies, hide as well as reveal...for example

if she had dorned on a pair, Britney would have hidden what no one really wanted to see in the first place, while on the other hand Djimon Hounsou, in his crisp white ck's, revealed to us what we did not even know was there!!
the underwear industry has seeped into all of society..even Adam after eating the deceitful apple decided to wear a fig leaf....the prototype of the contemporary brief?
the whole idea behind underwear was to prevent you outer clothes from chaffing you, and also to absorb any sweat...in case u end up sweating your ass off!



but today with advances in air conditioning as well as fabric manufacturing....

couldn't we just as easily drop it like its hot(because its hot!!)

sex, lies and celotape

sex sells...and we all shop at the same market.

so maybe we still shake our heads like granmas, wondering where the innocence of television went.

er..hello...television was never innocent. it may have been a bit blind-eyed before..even a tad chicken.

however bausch and laumb made the obvious visible.

SEX SELLS...and boy at what a going rate!

then why are we still tutt-tutting? could it be that even though its all around us, on our deos, milano biscuits, even our commodes, are we still shy of something so 'everywhere'..still shy of sex.?

the state education board thought they could dry up the youth's curiosity about sex by stopping the sex education programs. then afraid it could have severe repercussions, they decided on sex education that wont make mention of the sexual act or of any of the sex organ...er...so an example of the class lecture would be

"so a boy who loves a girl will show his Love..and then baby is born"

-"but ma'am how does he show his love?"

" by getting married..and don't ask questions pintu!!!"

so what does pintu do now?? well simply watch a season of friends. he not only gets to know how BEST to show his love, but also knows that he's gotta show it in a rubber!

i think sex is a brilliant marketing concept. i for one, would rather buy a can of axe for their devilish ads than a bottle of zatak..then again i don't really have a thing for being followed by hundred year old Egyptian mummies. these guys at the TV, found their niche and they're sticking with it..for what could be better... and war unable to compete has been trenched.

so love rules..or does love making?

hai mumbai

limericks are fun...

Mumbai this concrete disaster
Of industry and Parisian plaster
Where the only stars to be seen,
Are those stripping on screen,
And then off screen they strip even faster.

In this city bright twenty four hours
With billboards or just too many cars
Every turn finds
Desires of all kinds
Though regrettably no more dance bars!

Public transport holds little to admire
If hasn’t derailed it has surely caught fire.
And if the cause isn’t that
Then a tire’s gone flat
And you think
Damn! I should have got a cycle on hire.

But through all of the corruption and crime
I find a city that’s particularly mine
So through morcha or bandh
I love it this way
Who even cares if it’s Mumbai or Bombay?

ways

im a very lucky girl. i'm not too sure why i believe that, but i feel lucky. i feel grateful for me! no one is perfect, and no one has the perfect life. everyone is just working really hard towards trying to live the perfect life. some just get closer to their target that others.
i think if u can go to sleep thinking that if u were to die in your sleep, u know u had lived a good life loving as many people as you could and doing as much as you aimed to.
some days i go to sleep feeling that way. happy. content. and there are other days when i pray to god to not take me away, cos i still have to try strawberry cheesecake or fall in love..properly.
life will always be like that. peaks of contentment and valleys of despair.and through this rolercoaster ride we suspend our hands in the air, aware that god will keep our seat belts intact.