this summer as the sky lay barren, sup and i wondered what we wanted to smell of
floral? hmm. high notes. no.
musk?..too heady.
fruits!vanilla! hmm. no. feel hungry all the time.
tea tree then maybe. but can be nondescript. wave close to general smells.
but you know they can make ittar out of ANYTHING! her aai said
so i can smell of wet earth? - mitti ka ittar, she said it was called.
so thats it! thats what i will smell of. wet slushy earth waiting to sprout.

so off we went in the summer heat under JJ flyover to look for
perhaps
a bearded old man that hawked the smell of pregnant earth in little faux crystal bottles to make
his measly living.

exit romance.

there was this chalu guy in stonewashed jeans who frogged us cause we dint know better.so anyway, we bought another bottle from some place else. everyone seems to hate the
smell of it.ma says chheeee. no one wants to come near me when i wear it. so i mix green
musk in it or tea tree or some florals. bleah.

deep stuff

what is the vector form of sridevi?

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tabu........

(because sridevi did chandni... and....tabu did chandni Bar)

83 and 121 on request

eeeks i really need to lose weight

Remains of the day

disclaimer: nights of hard work have gone into the photoshopping by the maker/taker of the images
therefore muttering obscenities incoherently shall not be tolerated. (is that fine now?)

remains of the day

....has been taken off by the bitch

as the pomfret sat marignating (is that how you spell it? with a g?) .... the parsheymaach fried..

then...the pomfret was laid to be put in the oven... it smelt like green things smell. wholesome and slight garlicky teekha tangyish. hmmmm...

as the pomfret grilled, the brown and yellow mustard seeds ground on the big black stone..
and shorshey bata parsheymaach making the eyes run already.

hmmm....... meanwhile. pomfret was out! crisp on top... hmmm. browning...

but then...we forgot about the chicken... damn!

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I am having withdrawal symptoms for don mclean. I cant find where I put alllll those songs … mc lean, dylan, baez and all of them.
So I am going to have to sing to myself and pretend that its playing…

It's just the sun that's shinin'in your eyes.
It's just the moon that is the sun's disguise.
Just the sky, with clouds a blowin' by.
The sun and the moon and the sky, and you and I.

It's just the rain that's rollin'down my cheek.
It's just the wind that makes me hear you speak.
It's just the song that anyone can sing.
The rain and the wind and the song and the love you bring.

It's just the world that gonna break your heart.
It's just the past that's tearin' us apart.
It's just the time we have so little of.
The world and the past and the time that we fell in love.

It's just the sun that's shinin'in your eyes
It's just the moon that is the sun's disguise
It's just the sky, with clouds a blowin' by
The sun and the moon and the sky, and you and I.

currently i am making do with Jason Wade's shrek ost"you belong to me"hehehehe ... hmmm nice voice his

ps: i've had to connect 17 times to be able to post this....

before the whole fiasco, there was some kaam going on in the house. in that phase, maa changed the curtains and put the scary bronze curtains that turn the living room into the addams family. ta-da-da-dum click click. when its really harsh sunny outside, the living room would have this 19th Century neo gothic interior lighting. also, we got some of the furniture out. my favourite mirror you see here.

my visit to the hospital

after i went to the zoo, i went to matheran. the day i came back from matheran i visited J. Lata was there too. I came back home and i was sick. the next day i was in bed. so today i am out of bed and i watched some films. it was all a blur. ma thinks ki mujhe lata ki nazar lag gayi. she wants to put mirchi on me. meanwhile, i visited the hospital. i hated every moment of it except for the meals. i also now have a morbid fear of any intravenous injection. i have a morbid fear of hospitals, nurses. basically very morbid stuff happened.
but i must tell you what lies behind that breach candy hospital!!this real fancy pool next to the sea.
hmmm, okay. i have dialup tcp/ip. so photos take a while. so i will have to keep typing to keep awake cause i just took my medicines.
today i also went for coffee with my teacher ajay and friend diksha. diksha gave me famous five to read cause i couldnt read for a while.she also gave me this morbid autobiography of a mother in auswitch. gaah. i am not reading that stuff. ajay has bulbulous eyes- the kind that frogs have when theyre trying to digest a heavy meal. but i wonder what a heavy meal is for a frog. the first day he came to class he wore a cool white shirt and a moustache. and asked, so did you guys notice the light today? he never paid attn. to any of my answers. may he rot in hell. once he asked us "name emotions". anything i named was never an emotion. may he rot in hell again.
diksha hated me the first day of class. she thought i was the xavier's type.
okay. one picture loaded.
should i load another? maybe i should. i will fight this drug.
lata is a thin reptile like thing. her daughther looks like her and is as irritating. i am sorry i dont like kids that age. diksha hates kids too. she says kids are too spoilt these days. she likes streetkids. hmm. kids are damn irritating these days and theyre damn smart. lata's kid is so spoilt.and she wears pink pants, pink tops, pink hairclips, pink socks, pink shoes and sucks on pink candies. i want to throw up. when i was small they fed me chillies you know. ajay seems to like kids. i suppose its stuff that happens to you when you get past 30.
i also met cherry today. she's a little mad so its nice. i dunno why her hair color is like that. ahhh! the page crashed. so i have to reload the picture. i dont like this medicine. its making me so groggy and its difficult to type.
oh the cab driver was so so drunk and he refused to stop the cab and he refused to drive like a human being. i dont know what he was thinking. what an asshole. why does he have to kill me NOW? lata even dances like a reptile. but she's damn funny in class. she has this sarcy sense of humor.
in a way i miss lectures. i miss my TY eng lit lectures and i miss some scm lectures too.

when will i post my matheran pictures...should i post them at all? that memory seems to have been completely washed out. YAY its loaded.

O i have to tell you about baba iaga.
She’s not like the rest of the young Ukrainian, Belarussian witches. She’s not young like rusalka, she isn’t pretty like Margarita… baba yaga rocks man!
Okay so Rusalka is interesting too. She lives in the east slavic waters and emerges in the night to dance circles in the fields or sits in the trees combing hair. The souls of maidens who committed suicide by drowning cause they were pregnant out of wedlock. Rusalka seduces young men into the waters by her singing and tickles them so they drown. *giggles
Margarita is are boring. She is the PYTs. She serves as her master’s muse and redeems him with her love et cetera. *throws up

Baba iaga is ugly, old thin, has a bony leg sometimes. She lives in the middle of a forest in a hut that stands on a chicken’s leg… so when the folktale hero comes in she can turn away, hide and detect him by smell. She flies in an iron kettle. She likes human flesh, especially kids. Sometimes she can be very kind and grant you the water of life, flyby horses or magic thingies like combs that turn into forests, hankies that become deserts or mirrors that turn into lakes. Baba yaga can come in triplicate - sisters that test the hero and provide him magic thingamagiggos. But Baba yaga also has the water of death.

Pssk : north Russian rusalki have breasts of iron which they use to beat their male victims. What fun!

old flame

also, i saw something at the zoo that tipped off my secret garden memories from many years back when i ran into that big tree that had hundreds of pots hanging from it
it had the most intimate smell, the most intricate flowers and the strangest feelings about it
i brought home a flower one evening
ma said it was an insect eater

i'd cycle past it, run past it, look at it through an eye slit,
ggaaah! to think of a flower gobbling down insects

then one day i gathered all the nerve i could and touched the innards of one of them then suddenly i remembered their carnivorous nature… so i scrambled onto my cycle, peddled, fell into the gutter.
then i opened my eyes to check if my fingers were there or if she ate them up
ok so they were still there
so in the zoo under the colonies of bats grew memories of my secret garden
i came back and picked one off the ground. it was still taut and curled in, still the same intimate smell when i opened it.
















so this is a wilted one. but make do. pretend its all saturated pinkred and the inside is orange yellow and that its all curled in and taut ...ready to chomp on the next bug okay?

my visit to the zoo

since i went to zoo before i went to matheran and there was much i wanted to write about it...



the psycho emu




the depressed baboon ...

i shall try not to write about what ails me and concentrate on what is long overdue
my matheran trip snaps
they wil be here soon
i washed my hair today
and i forgot to put in the shampoo
what a waste
my post i can see is going to be a long garble
i have been looking for umberto eco's books
oh my matheran trip
i have no memory of it anymore
except for the kulfi, talgoda, power failure and star theatre feeling, the smoke and monkeys jumping on the tin shed.
so thats all.
some spooky snaps i shall post soon. yes
soon.
okay
now i think i am catching a chill...
the siren is wailing at 11 30 today
everyones lazy i suppose....
i should go now...

hello hello... this is yo yo fever management speaking
so after stagnating for 4 days at 104 degrees... my doc decided to whip out of his potli ... this real cool magic pill... current temperature 95 degrees!! cold cold cold
weeeeeeeeeeee
it sooooooooooooo good
ok now time up. i am sick again

Amazing grace ...

itna lamdang a min ngai e

kei bang kihhui hon hut

kei ka mangkhin tu’n a hon mu

mitdel, tu’n ka mu thei ...

tummy hurts
head hurts
back hurts
jaw hurts
scalp hurts
eyes hurt
heels hurt

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Its been so long since I saw cotton sail out of trees. I suppose oberoi builders have hacked them down. When chandrani was small, she would gather cotton in her frock. Then, she’d pick the stony seeds and carry the cloud home. ma would refuse to have any flyby cotton at home and throw her out. She never learnt. every day when cottons would soar in the heat, she’d scurry about in the white haze…snatch the white off the air, hold tight in her fist and open them to ma. Raw cotton grow out of her palms and leap out into the room. ma mad. C collects what she can and throws out urgently. Runs to her bedwindow to watch them fade into the evening.
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As the air turned moist, cotton would begin clotting on the grass. When they could cast shadows would be the end of their flight. Cotton season over. So that evening she brought home the clots - in her shoes,kneepits, in her ears, creeping out of her nose, hiding under her hair.... Ma came in screaming that she’d die if she inhaled any of that stuff. c morbid. Choking on some in her throat, she dug it into mud under the roses and potatoes. When ma left, she tore open her blanket and stuffed it all in- seeds, clouds mud and all...

.

"If the facts are on your side,
pound the facts.
If the law is on your side,
pound the law.
If neither is,
pound the table."


- The art of pathos in rhetoric

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An extract from the book me’s still reading .... here..

Part III Promise her anything but give her K-23

..... Logic limits love, which may be why Descartes never married. Descartes, architect of the Age of Reason, fled Paris, the City of Romance, in 1628 to “escape its distractions”. He settled in Holland, studied and wrote about Mathematics and logic. Late in the year of 1649, he was invited to visit Stockholm to instruct Queen Christina in philosophy. Descartes accepted at once. Perhaps the pay was good. There would have been a reason.

Queen Christina took her lessons lying down. Frequently she was nude. That is hardly the worst of it. The court of Sweden, like everyplace else in seventeenth-century Europe, was infested with fleas. Christina had had her craftsmen fashion for her a tiny cannon of silver and gold. As she lay about on her cushions, she fired the little canon at the fleas on her body. That was why she was nude. It is said she was a fair to good shot.

The daily sight of Her Majesty thus amusing herself while he, Descartes, in dark Dutch birches, undertook to explain the underlying perfection of an indubitable sphere of Being, was more than his rational bias could bear. He grew rapidly nervous and pale. On February 11, 1650, only a few months after his arrival in Stockholm, Descartes, fifty-four, fell dead. Christina lived thirty-nine years longer and knocked off a good many more fleas.

In 1666- little harm love could do to him then- Descartes’s body was taken to Paris for reburial. At the funeral, a disagreeable odor filled the churchyard. “It was as if a goatherd had driven his flock through our midst,” said one of Descartes’s followers. No logical explanation was offered.

(the author is grateful to Jessica Maxwell, whose ancestor once owned a perfume shop in New Orleans, and who traded him that shop for a flying conch shell)