For Buria........deja vu

This afternoon I was at Loreto for quite a while, and when I came out I realised that it was going to pour. Indeed, it just took a short 3 minutes, and the heavens opened up. As usual, no umbrella,instead there were these precious library books which could not afford to get wet. So, I took shelter in the awning of a shop along with another 10 equally unprepared and therefore very wet people. By then the water had started accumulating on Middleton Row. A chokra boy with a huge brightly striped golf umbrella came by, and I took this shared-shelter and waded to Camac Street. From the relative protection of the huge blue umbrella to a passing car (a Maruti Swift) who would drop me to a cab. Well, it didn't happen that way, because the Maruti Swift got stuck in a traffic jam on waterlogged Camac Street........right in front of Westside / Pantaloons. I hopped off the car, and into Westside. By this time I was quite, quite wet. Nevertheless, an hour spent at Westside dried me somewhat. By that time, the rain had stopped.....a cab...and then home.



This post has no relevance to anybody except Buria. Buria, it was deja vu. The nearest you can get to that phrase. Same timings, same street, same shops.......uncanny.



I never got to thank you for that wind-swept, rain drenched afternoon two (may be three) years back. Thank you. I had enjoyed it immensely that afternoon, and missed you very much this afternoon.

paani chori

There is this young lady I know. Lives in Gurgaon, Haryana. She is young, she is a professional.....or so she thinks. And what is most important is that she keeps a 17 hour work-day schedule. She lives alone in a rented flat, and given her working hours, she hardly ever is in. Moreover, if you know Gurgaon, certain basic facilities are lacking in this mega place.....power for one....water for another. As a result when this young lady comes back from work at the most ungodly hours.....a. there is no power....b. there is no water.
However, being the yuppie that she is, scruples do not count. Hence the favourite midnight occupation is paani chori.
Creep up to the terrace.......crawl along the guard-rail........jump over to the terrace next door.......of course always carry the tools-of-the-trade, buckets and a longish hose pipe. In a matter of seconds, the next door tanki has been opened.......hose pipe inserted......reverse the procedure and retreat back to your own terrace. Some amount of suction at the other end of the hose-pipe ensures a flow of water. Fill buckets, bottles and what-have-you. Yank back the hose-pipe. Paani chori complete. Midnight activity done. No one any the wiser......yet there is water for a midnight bath. Not bad at all.

In all my life, I have known choris of many kinds.....but this kind of paani chori seemed to me very novel . There has been international disputes over paani chori (Egypt, Bangladesh and others). I hope this remains a secret, if for no other reason, to celebrate the innovative method.

Cheers !!!!

इम्तेल्लेक्टुँल Marijuana

I do not do drugs. Never did. Have scant respect for people who do drugs. Incidentally, to me, marijuana (or pot or weed, or call-it-what-you-will) comes under the broad category of drugs.

However, there is something called intellectual marijuana. It gives an all time high. I wonder how many experience this. Totally non-addictive (not that marijuana is....) and hugely satisfying.

Actually, this blog comes as a direct response to my email, "random thoughts" . The mail brought in a lot of flack and a lot of kudos too. Why, the flack, I don't know, because surely I am entitled to an opinion, just as much others are. Besides, there was that disclaimer in the word "most". Today's youth apart from being bland, insipid and docile (for all the wrong reasons) do not read fine print.

Intellectual marijuana can be a good and satisfying read/book, music, an adda session over a cup of chai, a sheer blank-thought hour lying on the couch.....anything. Even a skype chat over the net rejuvenates the mind. A holiday in the hills, or a trip to Paris is even better. Does not require marijuana.

What one does require, however, are
a) a huge mental expanse.
b) strength of character.
c) a wild and fertile imagination.
d) some (read few) friends, who are actually friends.
e) an intellect (or mind) which you own, and is nobody elses property.
f) a non-insular, non parochial environment.
A cup of tea helps, so does a rainy afternoon. Sometimes a feeling of ennui.

Whatever be your vice.....partake of it. Drugs are a stupid second.