Art(& Recipe) by – Samyukta Harish
“That’s not just stupid, that’s suicidal. Makes no sense at all”, he bellowed.
She turned and smiled. “Babe, not everything is a Bob Dylan song!”
“Give me one good reason, why you need to do this, and I won’t say another word.”
“Well, sometimes a woman just needs things. You’ll never understand. Jewels aren’t just mineral lumps; fur coats are more than dead animals! They’re just as sacred as your beers and motorbikes; only costlier!” she smirked.
“Damn it! I’ll get you a fur coat alright? And all the fucking stones. Let’s not do this.”
“Babe, I know you’ll get me things. But it’s the ones that I can’t get that I want!”
“It isn’t worth it!” he pleaded.
“Exactly! It’s the sheer improbability, the rush that makes it all so worthwhile! See that? The whole planet looks like an untouchable, shimmering jewel. Look at it…”
“Look at what? Fucking Fireweeds growing from Craevitus’ core? Parasites, sucking up minerals with their ass and shooting off rocks into space?
You know what? Their shit that builds up over time, your so-called ‘precious stones’, are flying randomly across the Craevitian atmosphere, like flaming cannonballs. Your ship won’t survive two minutes.”
“Well, I have a flight plan!”
“How the fuck can you have a flight plan?”
She gently leaned over and kissed him.
“You … are my flight plan. You’ll always come back to me!” she smiled mischievously.
As he took-off, she waved.“I love you.”
“Yeah. Likewise. ” he murmured.
Summer vacations during our school years meant lots of time and energy, on me & my bro’s hands. This used to be directly proportional to our Mom’s CQ (crankiness quotient). We stayed out of her way by ably channelizing our restless energies through countless hours of cricketing action.
During our 7 – 8 odd hours-a-day cricketing schedule, discounting loss in time between deciding the teams, fights, retrieving ball from the gutters & thorny vegetation, injuries, claims of cheating, losing the ball, identifying whose fault it was, more fights, getting contributions for the money to buy the ball, deciding who will go buy the ball, water/loo breaks, reshuffling teams due to sudden loss of players in team midway due to idiotic strict parents etc. etc., we managed to get around 1 to 2 hours of decent cricket. This was still more than the average, considering we didn’t have to account for time loss by running away after breaking tube-lights and window panes. Since we stayed at a company quarters, broken window panes were paid for by Dad’s company itself! Not that it accounted for much, but our talents thus were never bottled and we ended up playing hours and hours of unperturbed, unrestricted, bindaas ‘baap- ka- raaj- hain’ types cricket!
Due to all this, by the end of such momentous days’, we were usually super tired & thirsty, like … dogs in a desert! (I know. Sucky analogy. Replace with your fave animal, correlate & move on.)
Bro & I would usually find ‘it’ during our what-did-you-bring-for -us ransack ops, post our parents’ grocery shopping sprees, back at home, in the evening. As would be expected, sometime during the first week of the holidays, Mom would do the honors of getting it. And as soon as she would see that we have had visual and have locked on to it, she would yell, “NOT NOW! I am not making it now! Wait until tomorrow” The tribal dances all over India would start getting displayed by me and my bro, in an anxious bid to get our Mom to immediately make it. ‘It’ being our favorite summer drink – Rasna!
The making of the soft-drink concentrate, used to be nothing short of a ritual in itself. Mom would have finally buckled under our unremitting and undeniable ‘charms’ and begin the preparatory procedures. Knowing that we two will be playing a major hand in this operation, she will spread a few newspapers on the kitchen floor and make us sit cross-legged beside it. Then she would bring our biggest utensil and place it in the centre. The Rasna Orange & Lemon (occasionally Mango) pack would then be officially brought forth.
The packs would contain a powder sachet & a cute little vial with a red plastic cap, filled with a liquid. We used to have a collection of those little glass bottles. The instructions on the pack were then read out again, even though we knew it more thoroughly than our History & Geography chapters. The powder, the liquid, sugar and water mixes to create a heady aroma that made you literally want to dive in. After all this is done, mom would give us a ladle to stir on till the sugar dissolves. This was an awesome moment, as we used to stir away to glory with who-can-stir-the-fastest- without-spilling contests etc. More than once, the newspapers would come in handy!
The concentrate would eventually get made, and we then mega pester our mom to give it us in tumblers made of glass (exactly as depicted in the commercial) after making a thousand promises, to be very careful & not to break it. As soon as she obliges and gives us Rasna with floating ice cubes, our next brotherly contest of ‘who drinks the slowest, so that once the other guy finishes, I can smugly continue drinking’ would begin. After some point, with all the ice gone, we would be drinking super diluted stuff, but the contests were taken very very seriously.
Now, the real reason for writing this blog post, was a fond recollection that our Uncle (Dad’s cousin bro) told us, when we had visited him recently. He was reminiscing the times he had spent with us when we were little kids, and all the troubles we gave him. This once, Mom and Dad were down with a terrible bout of chicken pox. The task of looking after both of us fledglings had come down onto my Uncle. He used to run a tight ship, I remember vaguely, and after a super long hard day’s work the last thing that he really wanted to do was be in the company of a 6 year old and another 3 year old. We two would have done little to help him with anything, during the course of the day. It was an age when we used to bawl and howl to get our ways, and that would probably be what he would walk into immediately after his arduous train journey at the end of his tiring work routine, on a regular basis. But we were kids, and we used to do that without an iota of sympathy. I think it was my Uncle who probably prayed the hardest for my parents’ quick recovery at that point in time.
So then, my uncle’s most memorable recollection through all of this, were of the moments when he would be in the frenzy of conjuring up the dinner for all of us, and my li’l bro will time this to poke his tiny head from the side of the kitchen door and howl away, till he got … Rasnam!!! (Ahahahaha! Mallufication Alert!). As my bro’s case was being taken royally over ‘Rasnam’, Icouldn’t help but agree that Rasna was indeed a part of our growing up!
Unfortunately, it is when I look-back upon the beauty of small moments in life like these, that I feel that change has not always been kind. 🙂
Onam was last Friday. The same day, post lunch, I was paralytic for about 30 minutes. 😛
Mom had gone berserk. Those of you, who know her, well she was twice the mother she usually is. She had got a meal with 26 items in, including some 4-5 varieties of pickles alone. < She just made me correct the count, stating that it was 28 items. I probably missed out counting salt & water! > It took me about 15 minutes, just to open and check what each container contained, stare at it and say, “Et tu!”
^Yes That’s about all the utensils we have…
Now, Mom was supposed to be ill. No, she doesn’t take any power enhancing drugs. and yes, I get all the super hyper thingie, people associate with me, from her and her alone. If you are my relative, yes I KNOW I look like her too… yes, her with a beard on… HA HA Funny Bunny! Quite an Archimedes you are yourself!
Anyway, this day, Mom found a poor unsuspecting guinea human < not quite a pig … thin frail Gujju boy he be>, in a very good friend of mine, who lovingly yet idiotically, got her an Onam gift. What the poor guy didn’t know was that this gift would now be returned 26 (or 28) fold! He sat to eat, not knowing he was about to be eaten up by the food instead. My mom’s eyes gleamed through the steam rising from the rice. Me, Dad, my cousin, and bro gulped. Lunch happened. A week on, I am yet to hear from my friend, that is if he still considers me a friend anymore.
My Dad is a gentle soul. But that, only when he is asleep. At all other times, he takes great pleasure in ensuring that his elder son, yours truly, is an active kid. Which means, double checking whether the bathroom tap is off 3 times in 15 minutes, lights have been switched off, as if a djinn within the Phillips tubes flickers it back on periodically etc etc. Get the drift? Anyway, so he is an active guy. Dad loves to exercise, and religiously does it, but that hadn’t changed his cute li’l Mallo Pottobello by an inch, in the last 15 years. But, yeah, to his credit, he has maintained it! His favorite joke is a jibe at my fave bhurji joint – “Kha Kha ke Anda banega tum ek din!!!” This joke has a cult following at my old workplace!
This post isn’t being written to tell you how thoroughly wasted I was on this given day, it is infact to capture a brilliant moment that I shared with my Dad that lazy afternoon. <Pre-lunch ofcourse… post lunch is still a blur!>
Dad got nostalgic. He suddenly stopped midway, reading through an WOnam speshyal debble digest mag that my Mom had picked for wonly fordy rubies, and started talking to me… “ Kutta, naattilthe Onamille, athinthe rasam onnu verya!!!”
< Author just realizes what a dork he has been and has installed an active blogpost auto translator called autotranslator.exe. Thanx to Y2Kmon for his suggestion >
…and started talking to me … “Dog, the Rasam in the Onams that we celebrated back in our village, it was of a different kind!”
< Author upgrades version of auto translator to autotranslatorupgradedversion.exe. Thanx to BashedUpY2Kmon for his suggestion >
…and started talking to me … “Son, the fun in the Onams that we celebrated back in our village, it was of a different kind!”
Dad then went on to say how the advent of Onam in Kerala would be with the arrival of smells! A week prior to Onam, fresh cut veggies would throng the Thrissur market. The scent, he says, gets pleasantly heady, as the corrianders and gingers fight it out with the limes and turboojes. A week of anxious, restless wait sets in, which though beautiful in itself, gets painfully long in bringing up the morning of the much awaited day. Sort of like an extended Friday morning feel.
The best part about my Dad’s Onam, was the gift that my Granddad used to buy him every Onam – a tennis ball! In those days, it cost Rs. 2, which was a fortune. Dad remembers how he used to ensure that the demand found it into Granpa’s ears a month before the D-day, and how the frequency of the reminders increased exponentially over time. Grandpa, would then get one of the workers to go enquire about it, after the constant pesterings. Then there used to be the forgetfulness of these guys who had all the Onam preps to take care off, let alone hunt for a ball. Follow-ups and reminders to the worker guy happened persistently.
The other kids, less fortunate ones would have know by then that Dad would be getting a tennis ball soon and would perform regular status checks. Then finally a few days before Onam, Grandpa will finally say that the ball has been purchased and handed over to Grandma. There was a madddd rush just to see it. Then Grandma will do the usual ‘mother’ thingie … “No no not now, wait till Onam” , “ You will lose the ball, if I give you now, and then you wont get another” etc etc. Tantrums and cries and hulla happened. < Whenever I try to visualize this … I always picturize a little boy in shorts, but with my Dad’s face as of now, complete with grey hair and moustache! Makes me go ballistic> Then Grandpa will do the “Bachcha hain … dikha do, kam se kam” bit and appeal for a truce.
And then just like that Onam arrives! And so did Mom … She hijacked the convo and started on with the whole gurlie thing during Onam, as to how the girls used to dress in bright, shiny clothes and used to get up real early to pluck flowers and create Rangolis made of flowers, and how they make pyramidal structures of mud & rock called Trikkarappan, and how they used to compete with the neighbours, as to who had the better Rangoli and all. And just as my Mom paused for a breath… which she does, once in a while, my Dad pounced back to his story! A mistake, that was later balanced off with extra Payasam slurps …
So then, post an early Onam feast, with the treasured tennis ball in his hand, Dad speeds on to the ground. He is ‘the dude’ that day, as all the children gather around him, and tennis ball exchanges hands! They look at it and baccha party expert comments are passed. The teams are quickly made, and in true Mallu style, soccer matches(not cricket) begin with that little green tennis ball. No one stops, till the searing afternoon sun is long gone.
As he wound up the narration, Dad looked very, very cheery, almost as if he was reliving those moments, as of then. As for me and my bro, our PS2 Soccer game that we been playing on since morning, suddenly seemed very stupid and boring!
You wake up from your super cozy sleep from underneath two blankets, and see that you are the cynosure of four very very livid women, who got rudely woken up to an alarm that went off from your cell phone, at 4:30 in the morning! You immediately realize that the lunch for that afternoon would be on you … and you also realize, why in the world, the bloody 4:30am alarm that was supposed to wake you up, didn’t go off … THE PREVIOUS DAY!!! You wonder how many of the suicide points in these mountains, were mistaken testimonials, for revenge over incidents like these!
The mist, envelopes the entire valley. It throws a challenge to the lazy-bummers saying, “Well, if you want to see the beauty I veil, you will have to walk up to me! No distant admirer shit!”
The cold gets everyone good. Ever once in a while, you hear someone exclaim about it, or emote it with a wheezy cough, a muffled sneeze or a tissue-draped sniffle. The little toddler had bawled his lungs out for over two hours, since his arrival. With every passing moment, I was begining to get a hang of all that he was trying to say, “You dumb super idiots … what were you thinking, getting me here, off all the other places???” The subsequent goo goo ga ga swear words that followed, were lost to a quick cover-up operation by a sudden gust of cold mountain wind!
The tree never let me feel alone, even when I was sitting that far from any sign of familiarity. It sends my way, a gentle breeze, and extend an invisible hand of friendship. It asks me about the well being of its kin from whence I come. In a moment of indecisiveness, I lie. The tree smiles momentarily, relieved. It gifts me a leaf, while I choke through my guilt.
The lone light that hung over the trail leading up to the guest-house, goes to sleep, in the morning. It had had yet another long rainy night, and had kept sending a message of hope, to every weary traveller walking up this path. “ Hey, I know this is not much light for you to complete the journey… nevertheless, just letting you know that, your destination is just a few minutes away and you are quite safe now!”
Bob Dylan makes for some real fine company. Gets more interesting, when he invites Mr. Tambourine Man to join in.
The wind pulverizes you and swirls away with a smirk on its face, almost as if to say, “Hah! Guess you underestimated me!!”
The silence talks to you … and you let that one-way conversation continue, knowing that absolutely any reaction from you, whatsoever … would end it.
I walk the walk, with four very beautiful women, who very ironically, love to walk away from beauty… but find beauty in the walk-away! Women … Sigh!!!
Then, there was a lonely TV, I don’t think anyone had interacted with it in a long long time, even though it could have shared many an interesting stories. Guess interesting people can get lonely too, under circumstances!
The windows were like toll-nakas, that we encountered one too many, on our trip, “We can show you the amazing view on the other side … but will cost you a few degrees of heat!”
The sweat-shirts find their true sense of purpose in life, snuggling close around you, almost doing an SRK and saying, “Don’t worry boss … Main Huun Na!”
It was 11:30 yesterday night, and I was on the Andheri bound local, when I get the call from my brother. My best buddies were over, and hungry as hell. (They are never ever otherwise!). Could I get them some instant Maggi noodles, was the request. I shook my head, in a silent protest. I was just getting back from a reunion of old colleagues over a super heavy dinner and dessert stacked up so high, that my vision was blurred by a layer of brownies! To say that I was tired and sleepy, would be stating the mother of all obviousness. But I had to reckon with the fact that a night outer of furious PS2 gaming that had been lined up, and sleeping was to be way out of question. My friends you see, they are about as considerate as cannibals of Amazonian rainforests, when it came to sleeping on stay-overs. And at that point I couldn’t care less, about the existence of Amazonian cannibals in the first place.
I walk a lonely (Andheri-Sahar) road … searching for the fodder for them asses back home. It meant a forsaken rick ride, and a 10 minuter calorie burning walking exercise instead, making instant noodles, my instant enemy. I went about making more enemies, as I poked my head into any shop, that even showed a hopeful flicker of candle light, and asked… “Boss, Maggi milega”. It was always a gruff “Nahin”, followed by momentary deafness to my other queries. As of then, I certainly wasn’t evolving out to be la beacon por composure’e exquisitemente’, ( It’s French … nobody understands it anyway! Chill. ), with every close encounter of the ‘why-the-#$%^-are-you-open-at-11:45pm-if-you-don’t-have-Maggi’ kind.
Lucknow Zarda Shop was half a shutter down when I walked past it. I prayed a little prayer, broke an imaginary narial outside, fancied my chances, and poked my head under the hood and jack-in-the-boxed in front of the shop owner, who was just about finishing up on the accounts of the day.
Before he could shoo me away, I pounced on with a “Uncle, Maggi milega?”, and followed it with a ‘Puss-In-Boots’ look, straight out of Shrek, probably ending up more like Shrek himself, rather than the cute beady-eyed cat.
Either way, he smiled, and replied, “Bilkul milega” 🙂
Phew! Worth the effort indeed, when the quest ends in a success!
I then open my wallet and see a lone 500 Rupee note staring back at me. I gulped.
I enquired meekly, “Uncle 500 ka change hoga na?”
He suddenly looked up from his book he was scribbling in, and said exasperatingly,
“Ab yeh toh nahin hoga beta” 🙁
I checked my watch, It read 11:55 pm.
I asked, “Uncle, aap kitne der tak open rahenge?”
He countered, “Rehte kahaan ho aap”
I said, “Yahin, 2 minute par”, and told him my address.
I waited for his answer, all hopes lost.
He said, “Aap Maggi le jaao!”
Seeing my wide open mouth, he continued, “Mujhe pata hain, ki aap mujhe paise kal laa doge!” And he smiles a sup’r genuine smile. 😀
Continued he, “ Beta, khaane se badi koi cheez nahin hoti!”
I walked all the way feeling very very glad, about a certain ‘trust‘ factor that was shown to a perfect stranger. 🙂
I get into my home, and all the three, including my bro goes… “Abbe ye toh le aaya Maggi.”, and do a li’l celebration jig. Apparently, all of ‘em bastroids had had a bet amongst themselves, where-in all three concurred that I was too lazy to get ’em anything, and would end up making some excuses! Punks! But I was too overwhelmed to even swear at them, and went onto narrate this rather cool act of kindness. They all grinned and acknowledged the shopkeeper’s wonderful gesture, that ensured that a bunch of overweight kids got something to stuff themselves with, on a rainy Friday night.
2:30 am that night, we ate the noodles. Needless to say, it tasted super damn good! 🙂
I have a friend, who is owner to one of the most overworked sets of lachrymal glands in the history of human kind! She cries … to the extent that she makes Rudaalis look like amateurs. She cries when she is sad… she cries when she is happy… and she cries for all the emotions in between! She cries for friends, foes, animals, trees, inanimates, Sun, Moon, Stars, Martians, Ulaxoton-23 ians, atoms, molecules, particles undefined… She cries at home, work, libraries, theatres, parks, concerts… She cries! She cries on meeting friends and while talking with then and most definitely when they wave goodbyes…She cries! No she is not a whiner… her emotions are uber-pure…she is one of the most innocent people I have met! She cries. She made me think… 🙂
I have a friend, who rocks the Richter every time he revels…which in turn is every time! When he laughs… the joke, bows itself out of the way, and the joke thinks to itself, “ Damn I did not know I was that funny!” when he laughs, everyone goes silent for a minute… and then they all laugh. He maximses even the simplest of joys to the greatest extent, and in turn spreads a cheer about him. He laughs. They laugh at his laugh and then he laughs at their laugh and they all laugh, knowing not, whats laughter all about! Always upbeat… always laughing. No holds barred…uninhibited… pristine… and perfect like a sinusoidal waveform… He laughs. He made me think… 🙂
What the hell is happiness anyway??? I know that somewhere between these extremes, is a guy who defines Happiness. I am on an attempt to stay happy. And for starters, all I know for sure is that there is a beautiful happiness in making others happy! Why? I can only speculate! I get reminded of that scene from Schindler’s List, where they discuss the ability of someone to forgive another. I find this on similar lines… except this being wholly fulfilling and far less egoistic.
They say smiles are infectious, and I believe that this applies to happiness as a whole. You see strangers passing by, you smile, and when they happen to return… a momentary spike in our ‘Happiness Quotient’. They made an Oscar winner out of In Pursuit Of Happyness! Guess how many lost out the title of the film in the emotional overflow of the characters. There was a moment in it called – ‘ This is me being Happy!’, where in the protagonist works his skin off for 6 months, warding off hordes if trials and tribulations, before finally getting onto what he most desired. To me somehow what he felt at that juncture, wasn’t simple Happiness, in my opinion, what he felt was Joy!
To me Happiness is a state of general well-being. Joy on the other hand is momentary. One is definitely happy, when one is joyous, but this may not hold true vice vera, and there in lies the difference!
The way I see it, it is very easy to cry… also easy is to laugh… but maintaining a smile is the toughest! ‘Cause a smile, is something that has no definitive reason, behind its appearance. And smiles are the real measure of Happiness. I continue to smile anyway… and I try to be happy!
The total number of happy people, in this world just increased by 1 🙂
Oh no… not counting me…but YOU! You have a beautiful smile by the way!!! 😀
I saw six movies this weekend! Yes…my social life kinda sux! I am kinda living my retirement every weekend or so been the trend for the past few months. And to say the least, I enjoy this stimulation of the eyes, ears and brain, more than getting a weak tan from outdoor rendezvous’, much to the chagrin of my parents! Anyway my weekend was drawing to an end and I was looking back at the 48 hours that whiffed past me, when I made an interesting observation…
I experienced a range of emotions, thanks to them 6x70mm works that I inflicted upon myself, but in general, I emerged happy from most. Happy, ’cause irrespective of the end of movie, every movie watched was an achievement in itself. I dunno who I compete with, or why I harbour such ego inflating notions in this head of mine, but let’s just say that … I feel happy at the fact that, it’s one movie less from my endless ‘to be watched’ list. Anyway, this weekend too, I did a tidy job of striking off 6 ‘to-be’s, and was just contemplating as to which was the most happiest moment that I enjoyed the most. For the record, I saw a Hindi film, one Jap Animation, one British and 3 Hollywood films. Strangely, the happiest moment that I had, was not from a movie, it was from a random conversation that I had with my brother!
Bro had come home late, I was awake and we got on to generally talking about things in our lives etc. and were reflecting on the same. Then out of the blue, he asked me something … “Hey do you remember, my first day at school ?” < RTC: New school. Bro was in 5th and me in 7th!> I said, ” No, not particularly! Why?” Bro said, ” Well you helped me that day!” Now it turned out that, apparently the kids in his class had gotten homeworks to be done over the vacation, and were supposed to be submitting it that day. Punishment was predicted for those, in the form of Miss Sylvia, who didn’t manage to do it. Bro remembers that our classes shared the same corridor, and he had run up to me, and told me of his this very scary predicament. He recollectes me having acted all ‘big brotherly’, consoling him and telling him to reason with his teacher that he was a new admission, and that he shouldn’t be punished! He found himslelf feeling super-mega-ultra relieved after that! And, I found it very very surprising that he cherished a memory like this, about his Big Bro coming to his rescue! Then he said, ” By the way, I remember the name of the guy in class who sacred me with that homework shit… it was Bow Mean! Hahaha!” I said, “You mean Bhowmin”. “Yeah re… but what a funny name though!”, he chuckled and cuddled into his bed to sleep, without knowing that he just made his elder bro feel very very very happy!
I interact a lot with the films I watch, and I get to meet a lot of people, through them. I know and connect with these people, but sadly, they don’t know me. And what my brother taught me , with that conversation, was that, interaction must be two ways … and that sort of brings greater joys! Well … guess my weekends won’t be the same anymore!
I am sorta of the pious kind…not the ultra-devout version, but a certain someone, who believes in a God, and thinks that He’s kinda cool. I am a big ‘fan’ of Hanuman, dunno, there’s something very distinct about him, that amazingly captivates me. To me, he epitomizes supreme Godliness. The whole ‘mischievious-yet-so-powerful’ aura about him is max positive and invokes a deep sense of respect from me.
Life…as such, is full of… a) questions b) answers c) answerable questions and d) questionable answers . God sort of fits into human psyche, as the choice-picks for solutions to anything that falls under categories a) and d)!!! The natural tendency is to ‘thank’ God for all that he has given…and then continue to ask for more! I know so…’cause I do so…. Oh yeah…and one more thing…Faith is directly proportional to the depth of shit, one is in, and gratitude for a granted wish, is reciprocated at the speed of light, before moving on, onto the next item in the wish-list! That’s how it’s been…and that’s how it will be. I pray every night before I go to sleep…a little prayer, and a little thank you, for the day. My dad’s research suggests that with our age…the speed with which we pray, seems to be touching F1 speeds and time taken for prayer, were getting shorter and shorter…Infact, he refers to them as, SMSs to God! 😛
Ok, now the real reason for this sudden divine introspection…Saturdays, I usually take out time to visit a nearby Hanuman temple. Not a ritual in particular…but it has been happening for sometime now, since hostel days. It’s at the temple, that I pray for the week ahead for my family and friends, selfishly present my ‘please please please grant me these’ list, beg for forgiveness, put forth my offerings and…yeah spend a few quality minutes with myself, contemplating over stuff! This Saturday was different…very interestingly different. I had had a looooong ‘working’ Saturday, and was rather gloomy, about certain somethings going on in the complex mind-o-mine. With all this random mix of despair, anger and tiredness, I had just made my way into to the temple, when my eyes fell on this young lad of about 4 or 5 years. He had a little bowl of oil in one hand, and a garland in the other, which he had gotten to offer to the Gods. He had managed to get the whole garland tangled up…and his little face was a picture of extreme concentration, as he kept the bowl down…and set out to perform the incredulous tasking of re-aligning the garland. Once that was done….he nicely put the garland on the idol…and he started mouthing a prayer. The prayer was one of the strangest I had ever heard…it went….
Ho Khaike Paan Banaras Waaala…Khuli Jaaye Band Akal Ka Taala…………
I dunno whether it as Big B or the King Khan, who inspired him….nevertheless…even the busiest of Gods, would have been sure to take notice of this teeny-bopper’s offerings : a garland+ a bowl of oil + a Bollywood Hit!!! I am sure, there were many a smiles up there, as they heard something so totally from the heart, far from the usual boring mundane requests and laments…
Yes, They must have smiled….:)
I learnt a great thing at that moment – Prayers are just man made words…it’s the feel that matters!!! You might as well be singing Old MacDonald…for all you care…but a well sung version of that has more piety in it…than a random string of speech from a holy book, uttered with one’s mind on one’s shattered love life!
Faith is afterall … just a feel! I know…’cause a 4 year old taught me that! 🙂
So then…it happens…28th July 2007! This time around, the excuse was Rick Wright. The birthday boy got a toast from us…and set the tone for a party that was Wright-on rocking!
The first of the chamatkars happened at about 7pm, when Ameet calls up to check, where the hell I was, and he lets it slip that…BABA is in Hawaii Chappals and shorts! Bandra station reeled in front of my eyes…and I looked up at the heavens…and cried…and questioned HIS reasoning….whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy???? Did Baba think…that it was how he could give in to Temptations????
The intellectuals got a representation from Gargoyle…she came in to a pub with a book :O! Baba/Dhruv and gang…seemed reasonably curious, over the whole literary angle to the meet. Dhruv had gotten his buddies along…
15 Floydians…11 Floyd songs…I heard Gabbar Singh cry out in pain…Bahooot Na-insaafi hain ye! But, sadly that was the truth….All that the jukebox had was PULSE CD1…(No man…not even a CD2…no WUWH or Comfortably Numb etc….). So then we did…what must do…make it up! So then we invited in ‘From LA Umericcca, Born 1965 – The Doors!’, ‘The Sultannnnnns o Swing from England – Dire Straits’, ‘Grunge Incarnates from Aberdeen, Washington- Nirvana’, and add to the melodic meele…doses of GNR Scorpions Eagles and gang…and you would have had a Classic Rockin evening! And that was exactly what we had…
DT and Gunner…as usual were bang on time!!! I mean they…banged it…screwed it…in and out…and in all the ways they could….%##$%^$%^ 2 hours late! If they manage three in a row…they will be penalized…one round of drinks and 2 ice teas at the next meet 🙂! But they made it up…getting two new Floydians…in Vivek and Alok….( I can see Vivek going Floydian matlabbbbbb……)
HyperMan fought through the vagaries of an editorial job…tottering in late, but making it in nevertheless. His buddy, Thomas…Alas…couldn’t make it in. Also obvious with his absence was our Floydian test subject- Chaddi. But he has promised to make it…to the ones lined up🙂!
On a serious front…we got some cool stuff initiated. A few well laid plans…which may work out…or may just get laid 😉 …time shall tell! It seems as if we got some sort of a team thing going on…and at the end of the day…it will be just be our passion that will drive it all. May be we all are getting way over the top with all of our plans…but then Floyd was all about being over the top and doing stuff that others thought were weird and zany! I do believe that the handful of us…who sat through in that smokey room…having a good time, have it in us to ensure that the good times multiply manifold and reverberate all about!
Along the way…there will be many…who will see the whole thing as ‘A Momentary Lapse Of Reason’…but I guess slowly and steadily…the bricks are fitting in …soon enough we will have built a wall….that will encompass all of our love, admiration and adulation for one of the greatest bands that ever rockkkkkkkkked the earth – Pink Floyd!