Sunday, November 22, 2009
Stringing words together
An irritated but lazy morning. Nothing much (being the operative word) to read. A hay-wire auto trip. The first taste of the election chaos. Celebrity hopping, if I may call it. Clicks. Snaps. Meaningful conversations. Cozy dinners with close-knit friends. Life has so long been quite nice. But I am still watching out. And nowadays I am finding words more helpful.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Phew!
Of laughter and morchaas. Status messages and much needed slumber. Cool profs and corrupt ones. Sounds and Goof ups. Facebook conversations and online cacophony. Gogo and crime master. Phew!!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Last Man Falls
So the last man falls.... after so many trips to the various hospitals in Hyderabad, albeit none for my own health, I finally walked into the premises of good ol' KIMS - as a patient. It was indeed a whole new experience ;)
... and I walked out with a whole set of advices, medicines and blood test report which had a platelet and wbc count below normal.
Remind me next time to narrate the story of my visits to the hospitals in the twin city
Friday, September 18, 2009
Mahalaya EFL-U ishtyle and the fever!
A lonely laptop connected to a speaker, perched on top of a water cooler. One bunch of not-so-enthu with why-are-we-here looking bongs huddled on the third floor. The Bengali poster was the one thing that got them there. The first one since I have come to this place. Breakfast at Reddy's with the ever-so-looming apprehensions of submission - of assignments and bibliographies. And then the fever hit me.
The pic will come up sometime soon - right now it is adorning one of the walls in my room.
Friday, September 11, 2009
The Class
So I enjoyed the class. Didn't fall asleep, that is. Now I don't know whether to feel good or disturbed about it.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
A Painted room of one's own
And finally we got a room of one's own.
And then we painted the room. And this is how it looks...
Monday, June 29, 2009
Bored and ...
It’s been over a month since I shifted base to Kolkata. As I sit here beside that same old window from where I watched the comings and goings of the world around me, I wonder were they for real? I mean the days away from here. Time flies. But everything looks just the way I left it.
It is just midnight. The traffic signal is a blinking red. It means that there is no one to man the post, so one must be careful and cross it their own risk. A man is standing underneath it staring at it, almost stupefied by the red. The next time I turn to look at him again, he is gone. Was he Time? The fruit-juice vendor is departing to the lower end of his shop that comprises his home. His family sleeps somewhere in some distant place in Bihar. There are many more like him. But they are not as lucky as him. He has been a little too lucky this year. With the monsoon delayed he can still sleep in peace without the constant fear of water gushing into his 4 feet by 3 “home”. The cabbie strategically parks his car – so that he is the first in line the next morning to pick the first passenger to the railway station. An early entry there means a day of good business and some multiple trips. The urchin decides to lay claim to the road that has denied his existence all day. What can the road do? He has to help these helpless yet indomitable little beings. They may not have a claim over the road, but surely, they have a claim over the sky. A group of bikers rush passed. They are making their way out of the city. Another roadtrip in the making – their minds and bodies tensed anticipating the result. Everyone knows that the road is the safest place to be. A lone cyclist makes his way back - followed by the last bus. The dim light almost shrouds the shady figures that are sitting in it. The men line up to sleep on the footpath - their torsos bare and a loin cloth on them.Some, trying to avoid any untoward disturbance sleep on top of the shade of the bus stop. I have always wondered how they got up there.
There goes the lunatic walking right in the middle of the road. With no traffic this is the best time to fulfill his life’s dream – that’s what the common saying goes. The Press truck whizzes passed. Deadlines have to be met, deliveries have to be made. The city might be sleeping – but it is like a sleeping monster. It only needs to awake and it devours everything that it sees in front of it. Trucks loaded with goods make their way into the city almost stealthily. It must replenish and the city’s stock and quietly make its exit. The sophisticated city people do not like the ugly sight of them. Typical!
It is just midnight. The traffic signal is a blinking red. It means that there is no one to man the post, so one must be careful and cross it their own risk. A man is standing underneath it staring at it, almost stupefied by the red. The next time I turn to look at him again, he is gone. Was he Time? The fruit-juice vendor is departing to the lower end of his shop that comprises his home. His family sleeps somewhere in some distant place in Bihar. There are many more like him. But they are not as lucky as him. He has been a little too lucky this year. With the monsoon delayed he can still sleep in peace without the constant fear of water gushing into his 4 feet by 3 “home”. The cabbie strategically parks his car – so that he is the first in line the next morning to pick the first passenger to the railway station. An early entry there means a day of good business and some multiple trips. The urchin decides to lay claim to the road that has denied his existence all day. What can the road do? He has to help these helpless yet indomitable little beings. They may not have a claim over the road, but surely, they have a claim over the sky. A group of bikers rush passed. They are making their way out of the city. Another roadtrip in the making – their minds and bodies tensed anticipating the result. Everyone knows that the road is the safest place to be. A lone cyclist makes his way back - followed by the last bus. The dim light almost shrouds the shady figures that are sitting in it. The men line up to sleep on the footpath - their torsos bare and a loin cloth on them.Some, trying to avoid any untoward disturbance sleep on top of the shade of the bus stop. I have always wondered how they got up there.
There goes the lunatic walking right in the middle of the road. With no traffic this is the best time to fulfill his life’s dream – that’s what the common saying goes. The Press truck whizzes passed. Deadlines have to be met, deliveries have to be made. The city might be sleeping – but it is like a sleeping monster. It only needs to awake and it devours everything that it sees in front of it. Trucks loaded with goods make their way into the city almost stealthily. It must replenish and the city’s stock and quietly make its exit. The sophisticated city people do not like the ugly sight of them. Typical!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
