Four months in an elevator-obsessed city qualify as sufficient experience for writing a post on elevator etiquette. So here goes:
1. The tiny button outside the elevator is meant for pressing repeatedly. Its main purpose is not to invoke the elevator’s spirit to come visit you, but to give you a cool temporary thumb tattoo in this shape: <>
2. The elevator has two doors: the inside door and the outside door. The elevator will stop in its tracks if someone opens the outside door on any floor. Therefore, when you are standing near the elevator door with nothing to do, you can pass time by repeatedly opening and shutting the door. People in the elevator will have the time of their lives, and their lunch will get the opportunity to say hello to their breakfast in their intestines.
3. When you get off the elevator, you open both the doors yourself. However, since your ass is so obviously on fire and the fire extinguisher is so obviously on this very floor, you do not need to close the door behind you. The crazy woman holding two encyclopaedias in her arms can do it easily, and continue her upward or downward journey. After all, she wears her chaddi over her pants.
4. If any of the doors of the elevator are open, the elevator sings a song. Not in the nightingale kind of way, but in the tonsillitis-affected jackal kind of way. Since this is your favourite kind of music, you should hold the door open and have long conversations with your friends before deciding whether you want to disembark on this floor or continue your journey.
5. If you are standing in the farthest-most-est corner of the elevator, you should run over everyone else and still be the first one to get out. (I am ashamed to say I do this all the time, perhaps out of some subliminal urge to be first.)
6. If you are a watchman, and you see a crazy woman holding two encyclopaedias in her arms trying to close a derailed elevator door, you should turn your eyes back to the Marathi crossword in the newspaper. Later, you can giggle about her unique style of dressing.
February 22, 2005
February 21, 2005
Scary Fact
I’ve found dead mosquitoes in my house every morning for some days. Various rude volcanoes on my skin assure me the pests were very much alive some hours ago.
Is my blood poisoning them? Ohmigod! What is that evil broth that’s coursing up and down my veins?
And what’s with the stupid mosquitoes? Don’t they have some sort of sixth sense that tells them to keep away from Inky, the Poisonous One?
This is the cruellest parody of the shama-parwana legend I can think of.
Is my blood poisoning them? Ohmigod! What is that evil broth that’s coursing up and down my veins?
And what’s with the stupid mosquitoes? Don’t they have some sort of sixth sense that tells them to keep away from Inky, the Poisonous One?
This is the cruellest parody of the shama-parwana legend I can think of.
February 20, 2005
Rant, Not Poetry
Relax buddy!
You don’t need to hold the door open for me
Polished nails and bejeweled fingers
are perfectly capable of opening doors
As are high heels of walking over coat-less ditches
into corporate offices and stealing your job
If you really want to do something, then why don’t you
call in someone and have that glass ceiling removed
It’s hot in here, dont you agree?
You don’t need to hold the door open for me
Polished nails and bejeweled fingers
are perfectly capable of opening doors
As are high heels of walking over coat-less ditches
into corporate offices and stealing your job
If you really want to do something, then why don’t you
call in someone and have that glass ceiling removed
It’s hot in here, dont you agree?
February 17, 2005
Dilemma
Imagine this scene:
A little girl is walking barefoot in a raggedy frock down the road. On her head, she’s carrying a big, heavy bundle of wood. Her frame is barely able to support this load. A long way ahead of her walks her mother, carrying the load with ease, for she has carried it since she was a little girl herself.
Suddenly, the little girl stops. She spies a toy lying on the side of the road. It’s a doll with a missing arm. It’s probably spilt over from the overflowing garbage bin nearby.
Our girl had longed for a doll for many days now. She’s knows her folks can’t afford it, and dolls are resigned to the world of dreams, never to be realized. And here lies this doll, waiting to be picked up and taken home.
She wants to bend and pick it up. But there lies the catch. If she does anything except walk straight, the bundle of wood will fall to the ground. The delicate string that holds the wood together will break, and the wood will scatter. A sound beating is sure to follow. And as with all angry mothers, there’s always the chance that the offending doll will be snatched away.
Should she risk it for the chance of owning a doll, even if for a little while?
Advice please.
A little girl is walking barefoot in a raggedy frock down the road. On her head, she’s carrying a big, heavy bundle of wood. Her frame is barely able to support this load. A long way ahead of her walks her mother, carrying the load with ease, for she has carried it since she was a little girl herself.
Suddenly, the little girl stops. She spies a toy lying on the side of the road. It’s a doll with a missing arm. It’s probably spilt over from the overflowing garbage bin nearby.
Our girl had longed for a doll for many days now. She’s knows her folks can’t afford it, and dolls are resigned to the world of dreams, never to be realized. And here lies this doll, waiting to be picked up and taken home.
She wants to bend and pick it up. But there lies the catch. If she does anything except walk straight, the bundle of wood will fall to the ground. The delicate string that holds the wood together will break, and the wood will scatter. A sound beating is sure to follow. And as with all angry mothers, there’s always the chance that the offending doll will be snatched away.
Should she risk it for the chance of owning a doll, even if for a little while?
Advice please.
February 16, 2005
Shakespeare on Inkspill
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue,--the swan's
down-feather,
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.
(Antony and Cleopatra: Act 3, Scene 2)
Her heart inform her tongue,--the swan's
down-feather,
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.
(Antony and Cleopatra: Act 3, Scene 2)
February 15, 2005
:-)
For fifteen whole minutes, I was alone in a house with cable TV yesterday! Can you beat that! I’ll answer that for you! No you can’t! The remote control was in my hand! My fingers were curled around that rectangular source of all worldly power! The buttons were crying out to be pressed! The TV could accommodate as many channels as the satellite could air! I could actually see fifty different kinds of things happening! One channel was actually showing a clip from the “Rang De Basanti” mahurat! Aamir Khan and Atul Kulkarni! One channel was promising to show “Amelie” later at night! I saw “Friends” last night! The exclamation mark key is threatening to jump out of my keyboard!
Two sparrows and a pigeon today! Tara Rum Pum Pum! Happy Wednesday all!
(Note to myself: No more coffee in the morning for you Missy)
Two sparrows and a pigeon today! Tara Rum Pum Pum! Happy Wednesday all!
(Note to myself: No more coffee in the morning for you Missy)
February 14, 2005
:-(
The birds have stopped visiting.
The bajra I put out last morning was untouched when I opened the balcony door today.
There was nothing I could have done.
I have deserted my family again.
I hope the sparrow and pigeon who paid a cursory visit today will bring their friends along tomorrow.
I’m missing the ruckus.
The bajra I put out last morning was untouched when I opened the balcony door today.
There was nothing I could have done.
I have deserted my family again.
I hope the sparrow and pigeon who paid a cursory visit today will bring their friends along tomorrow.
I’m missing the ruckus.
February 13, 2005
Feb 14
Celebrating the silver anniversary of lonely Valentine’s Day evenings this year. Quite used to it now!
Fear of the Shiv Sena is stopping Radio Mirchi Pune from even mentioning the V-word, and they are playing their regular bhajans like “Koi nahin hai kamre mein”.
Good thing I did not bother to have dinner last night, or I would have regurgitated it onto the Times of India, which has a red rose under its masthead today! Ew!
Dream V-Day Date: “Dum bhar jo udhar munh phere, O chanda” Nargis and Raj Kapoor in Awara. Nothing less will do.
(And that is why I will observe all future V-Days alone)
In other news, the mater reportedly slept off for 12 hours flat after I left Delhi. These are the small things that speak volumes about me.
Fear of the Shiv Sena is stopping Radio Mirchi Pune from even mentioning the V-word, and they are playing their regular bhajans like “Koi nahin hai kamre mein”.
Good thing I did not bother to have dinner last night, or I would have regurgitated it onto the Times of India, which has a red rose under its masthead today! Ew!
Dream V-Day Date: “Dum bhar jo udhar munh phere, O chanda” Nargis and Raj Kapoor in Awara. Nothing less will do.
(And that is why I will observe all future V-Days alone)
In other news, the mater reportedly slept off for 12 hours flat after I left Delhi. These are the small things that speak volumes about me.
February 11, 2005
Indian Idle
Yesterday I saw the Indian Idol show after a gap of three and a half months. The last time I had seen it, enthusiastic participants from Delhi and Kolkata were making complete fools of themselves trying to be casually cool and seriously talented at the same time. It was great fun to watch!
Last night, four top contestants were battling it out to stick on for another week. As they took center stage to sing one by one, I felt quite disappointed. I would not pay to hear any of those voices. I know as much about music as Laloo about Italian, but I know that there was no magic in any of those voices. None of them is an idol. You would not know their voice if it played on radio. Without serious technological support, none of the voices would be able to carry a song on its shoulders.
Sunidhi Chauhan, Sukhwinder Singh, Sonu Nigam, Kunal Ganjawala all affect various internal organs in unique ways the moment their voices come on air. Where are their successors? Not in this contest. I refuse to believe that this is the best talent that the country threw up.
All the best to all of them. As for me, I’m waiting for the next round.
February 10, 2005
Another Letter
Dear God,
I promise to be a good child. I’ll do everything you asked me to in all the holy books that earthlings fight over. I’ll be an angel on earth and spread your message of kindness and light. All I want in return is one teensy weensy favour.
No, it’s not a valentine for Valentine’s Day. That would not be too bad, but this is far more important.
Please don’t ever make me have to get paperwork done from Delhi University. I will die if I have to do it again.
Love
Your child
Inky
P.S. It was raining this afternoon with the sun shining brightly. You must not drink in the afternoons. It's bad for your divine image.
I promise to be a good child. I’ll do everything you asked me to in all the holy books that earthlings fight over. I’ll be an angel on earth and spread your message of kindness and light. All I want in return is one teensy weensy favour.
No, it’s not a valentine for Valentine’s Day. That would not be too bad, but this is far more important.
Please don’t ever make me have to get paperwork done from Delhi University. I will die if I have to do it again.
Love
Your child
Inky
P.S. It was raining this afternoon with the sun shining brightly. You must not drink in the afternoons. It's bad for your divine image.
February 09, 2005
Letter
Dearest Migraine,
There is a time and a place for everything. This is neither your time, nor place. I am supposed to be having fun on my vacation, not holding your weepy, pukey, achy, breaky self in my arms all night.
Bugger off before I shoot myself in the head to get rid of you.
Love,
An old friend
There is a time and a place for everything. This is neither your time, nor place. I am supposed to be having fun on my vacation, not holding your weepy, pukey, achy, breaky self in my arms all night.
Bugger off before I shoot myself in the head to get rid of you.
Love,
An old friend
February 07, 2005
Black
Thank you, Mr Bhansali, for not giving a damn.
The last time you did that was Khamoshi. And that was far too long back.
You are forgiven the “khatta nimboos” and “kaimon aachhhhhooos”.
Considering the burden of expectation I had put on the movie, it was quite successful in impressing me.
Despite some weak moments and illogical events that irritate and distract, it is an amazing showcase of what good writing in the hands of good directors and actors can achieve.
Bhansali chooses his child artistes with care and they never let him down. One more unforgettable performance that sets the standards Rani has to meet!
It is special, because it walks proudly without either the Hollywood technological crutches or the Bollywood song and dance wheelchair.
Amitabh Bachchan can afford to die a happy man now. Coming up with a better role for him will be a tough call.
Rani Mukherjee walks the razor’s edge between the blind-deaf and the retard without faltering too often.
The let-me-wring-your-eyeballs situations that made guest appearances in Khamoshi make their presence felt in your handkerchief more prominently this time. It’s a Sanjay Leela Bhansali trademark: quite different from the way Yash Chopra and Mani Ratnam make you cry.
The movie came too close home at certain points. If you heard sobbing, you should’ve gone to some other theater or some other show.
The last time you did that was Khamoshi. And that was far too long back.
You are forgiven the “khatta nimboos” and “kaimon aachhhhhooos”.
Considering the burden of expectation I had put on the movie, it was quite successful in impressing me.
Despite some weak moments and illogical events that irritate and distract, it is an amazing showcase of what good writing in the hands of good directors and actors can achieve.
Bhansali chooses his child artistes with care and they never let him down. One more unforgettable performance that sets the standards Rani has to meet!
It is special, because it walks proudly without either the Hollywood technological crutches or the Bollywood song and dance wheelchair.
Amitabh Bachchan can afford to die a happy man now. Coming up with a better role for him will be a tough call.
Rani Mukherjee walks the razor’s edge between the blind-deaf and the retard without faltering too often.
The let-me-wring-your-eyeballs situations that made guest appearances in Khamoshi make their presence felt in your handkerchief more prominently this time. It’s a Sanjay Leela Bhansali trademark: quite different from the way Yash Chopra and Mani Ratnam make you cry.
The movie came too close home at certain points. If you heard sobbing, you should’ve gone to some other theater or some other show.
Exposed: My Tragic Love Story
I had known when I left that it was all over between us. You would not have dumped me so unceremoniously if you had cared one bit. That I loved you to distraction meant nothing to you. How foolish I was, thinking I had found my companion for life the day I set my eyes on you. We ticked, I told myself.
My wishing anything was of no use, was it? You let go of my hand and vanished without a word.
I missed you there. I thought I saw you once, but that was just me being mad.
I came back determined to pick up the strings and try again. But when I met you this time, I knew things could never be the same. And not because I had changed. Because you had changed.
Why the bloody hell do you have to have “Fast Track” etched across your face, you stupid watch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where on earth am I going to find a three-year-old model of a Titan now?????????????
Damn! Damn! Damn!
Moral: Watch out what you fall in love with!!!!!
My wishing anything was of no use, was it? You let go of my hand and vanished without a word.
I missed you there. I thought I saw you once, but that was just me being mad.
I came back determined to pick up the strings and try again. But when I met you this time, I knew things could never be the same. And not because I had changed. Because you had changed.
Why the bloody hell do you have to have “Fast Track” etched across your face, you stupid watch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where on earth am I going to find a three-year-old model of a Titan now?????????????
Damn! Damn! Damn!
Moral: Watch out what you fall in love with!!!!!
February 03, 2005
Bartender
(Inspired by the following lines from the Heretic: Love only lasts for strangers/ who met when the night was younger)
Madam are you expecting a friend?
I’m really getting late
My wife complains it’s become a trend
I’m not up to a debate
But it’s a great job I’ve landed here
Make some good money too
Here’s your…well let’s see…seventh beer
And the last, I must beg you
Arm in arm kids crowd around
I mix each one a drink
The music’s loud, it drowns the sound
Of how young lovers think
Later at night the gentlemen arrive
With the “ladies” around town
Blue Label makes our business thrive
And lets their gelled hair down
The last ones in are the lonely hearts
Trickling in hunched up to mope
Some broken often, in various parts
And shattered past all hope
A gentleman just looked in and left
Was he the one you sought?
Bald? Or should I say hair-bereft
Not him? I should’ve thought
You sure he’s coming? It’s awfully late
And I have to close up soon
They never keep the late night date
With old stars under the new moon
Madam are you expecting a friend?
I’m really getting late
My wife complains it’s become a trend
I’m not up to a debate
But it’s a great job I’ve landed here
Make some good money too
Here’s your…well let’s see…seventh beer
And the last, I must beg you
Arm in arm kids crowd around
I mix each one a drink
The music’s loud, it drowns the sound
Of how young lovers think
Later at night the gentlemen arrive
With the “ladies” around town
Blue Label makes our business thrive
And lets their gelled hair down
The last ones in are the lonely hearts
Trickling in hunched up to mope
Some broken often, in various parts
And shattered past all hope
A gentleman just looked in and left
Was he the one you sought?
Bald? Or should I say hair-bereft
Not him? I should’ve thought
You sure he’s coming? It’s awfully late
And I have to close up soon
They never keep the late night date
With old stars under the new moon
February 02, 2005
Going Home Today To:
Mom. Dad. Sis. Cable TV. Laptop. Friends. Enemies. Fog. Smog. Blog. Hot Water Shower. Wedding. Dark mornings. Dark evenings. Runny nose. Sunshine at Dilli Haat. Surajkund Crafts Mela. Paperwork. Cramps in both feet. Mom’s Cooking. Udupi. Sweaters. D-Cold Total. Cheat Auto Drivers. Adrak chai. Waking up late. Socks. Shopping. Mom. Dad. Sis. Friends.
Listening to Madhushala
It means so many different things to different people...
To me, it is primarily the journey of the writer/poet.
Inspiration is the madhu.
This blog is never going to review anything that is sublime, so this entry exits here.
To me, it is primarily the journey of the writer/poet.
Inspiration is the madhu.
This blog is never going to review anything that is sublime, so this entry exits here.
February 01, 2005
January 31, 2005
Weekend Diary
“Dilli jaane ke liye passport hona maangta hai kya?” the autorickshaw guy asked me this evening. I was returning from the airport, having seen off my friend who had come visiting over the weekend.
It was the first time I had a non-family-member guest coming over to stay, and things proceeded quite well. Which is fabulous, since I am not much of a hostess. (You who are nodding your head vertically…stop!) She is not an amiable guest either, so that complicates things.
Being in the same situation as someone often deludes me into believing that I am quite similar to them. Just a few months in different worlds have convinced me that nothing could be further from the truth. My friend and I are not two weird jokers from the same circus. We definitely belong to different troupes. We want the same things out of life, but for different reasons.
I even managed a trip to Mumbai, which behaved quite nicely weather-wise and stink-wise. I think I might just make friends with it.
Meanwhile, my passport to Delhi is ready. Am off this week for a ten-day break. I’ll need a window seat on the plane. I’m going to spend the two hours looking out of the window, through the clouds, at the ground. I am sure my home is somewhere on the way between Pune and Delhi. It is neither here, nor there.
It was the first time I had a non-family-member guest coming over to stay, and things proceeded quite well. Which is fabulous, since I am not much of a hostess. (You who are nodding your head vertically…stop!) She is not an amiable guest either, so that complicates things.
Being in the same situation as someone often deludes me into believing that I am quite similar to them. Just a few months in different worlds have convinced me that nothing could be further from the truth. My friend and I are not two weird jokers from the same circus. We definitely belong to different troupes. We want the same things out of life, but for different reasons.
I even managed a trip to Mumbai, which behaved quite nicely weather-wise and stink-wise. I think I might just make friends with it.
Meanwhile, my passport to Delhi is ready. Am off this week for a ten-day break. I’ll need a window seat on the plane. I’m going to spend the two hours looking out of the window, through the clouds, at the ground. I am sure my home is somewhere on the way between Pune and Delhi. It is neither here, nor there.
January 27, 2005
Sorry!
Dear World,
I apologise for misunderstanding what you were saying all these years, because of ignorance on my part. Somehow, I got the notion that the word “wedding” refers to the ceremony in which a couple ties the knot, and marriage refers to the life sentence thereafter. Therefore, when you told me the following things, I understood the things directly below the following things:
I went for my cousin’s marriage.
You went to live with the couple till they divorced or one of them died
My sister’s marriage is in Coimbatore.
Outside of city limits, she is a single woman who does not have to pick up other people’s wet towels off the floor.
My marriage is on the fifteenth.
For one day only? What a bother!
Making marriage arrangements is such a hassle.
You are making arrangements for possibly the rest of your life?
Dictionary.com lit a candle in my dark head today. I will now go for my friend’s marriage, which is in Delhi. On the fourth. I am sure he has made all the arrangements.
Regards,
Inkspill
I apologise for misunderstanding what you were saying all these years, because of ignorance on my part. Somehow, I got the notion that the word “wedding” refers to the ceremony in which a couple ties the knot, and marriage refers to the life sentence thereafter. Therefore, when you told me the following things, I understood the things directly below the following things:
I went for my cousin’s marriage.
You went to live with the couple till they divorced or one of them died
My sister’s marriage is in Coimbatore.
Outside of city limits, she is a single woman who does not have to pick up other people’s wet towels off the floor.
My marriage is on the fifteenth.
For one day only? What a bother!
Making marriage arrangements is such a hassle.
You are making arrangements for possibly the rest of your life?
Dictionary.com lit a candle in my dark head today. I will now go for my friend’s marriage, which is in Delhi. On the fourth. I am sure he has made all the arrangements.
Regards,
Inkspill
P3
Fifteen seconds into “Page 3”, I was regretting having come for the movie. An event manager was chirpily explaining to an NRI what Page 3 meant. As if India invented the concept, some months after Ayurveda, and a couple of days before the Zero.
Two and a half hours later, I felt like giving Madhur Bhandarkar a standing ovation for his effort.
It’s brilliant how the glitz, glamour, and nausea of the P3 world has been depicted and dissected so effortlessly. No comments on the story or individual characters, because all that should be experienced first hand ASAP by anyone who hasn’t seen the movie.
“And above all, Atul Kulkarni” the posters had screamed. With good reason! Totally in love with the guy, with no plans of recovering.
Bhandarkar has assembled a fine cast, and I wonder how most of those people felt while performing the roles of emotionally warped socialites, since that is how they are perceived in real life anyways. How would it feel to be just one aspect of yourself?
Konkona Sen is perfect for her role. I am glad she did not get anything more to do, because that would be sacrificing integrity of character to the actor’s histrionic ability.
However, I hate her for wearing “my watch” (lost on the road after three years of service, wondering if she picked it up!) and reminding me of it. Farewell 2500 bucks, you are about to be donated to the Titan Watch company soon.
Most memorable line from the movie: “Imaandaari ke saath samajhdaari bhi zaroori hai”
Until next time: “Watch it!”
(Due apologies to Manu :p)
Two and a half hours later, I felt like giving Madhur Bhandarkar a standing ovation for his effort.
It’s brilliant how the glitz, glamour, and nausea of the P3 world has been depicted and dissected so effortlessly. No comments on the story or individual characters, because all that should be experienced first hand ASAP by anyone who hasn’t seen the movie.
“And above all, Atul Kulkarni” the posters had screamed. With good reason! Totally in love with the guy, with no plans of recovering.
Bhandarkar has assembled a fine cast, and I wonder how most of those people felt while performing the roles of emotionally warped socialites, since that is how they are perceived in real life anyways. How would it feel to be just one aspect of yourself?
Konkona Sen is perfect for her role. I am glad she did not get anything more to do, because that would be sacrificing integrity of character to the actor’s histrionic ability.
However, I hate her for wearing “my watch” (lost on the road after three years of service, wondering if she picked it up!) and reminding me of it. Farewell 2500 bucks, you are about to be donated to the Titan Watch company soon.
Most memorable line from the movie: “Imaandaari ke saath samajhdaari bhi zaroori hai”
Until next time: “Watch it!”
(Due apologies to Manu :p)
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