Livinghigh was here at 12:38 PM / (6) Comments

No rebel, no cause

Turns out, I'm the only one in my friend circle who didn't go ga-ga over Rang De Basanti. Can't help that. I agree that the movie was shot in a stupendously sexy way. Very crisp. Great editing. Scintillating soundtrack. (No more alliterations.) But I hate the twist the movie took in the second half. Guess I'm not really a rebel, after all. Guess I'm too much of a conformist. But I can't stand the idea of so many deaths over.... a statement.



I would have been a horrible freedom fighter.

I may be a horibble journalist, as well.

;-)

But I'm not really going to lose sleep over that. I am what I am. The channel launches tomorrow. Maybe I shouldn't be plugging the channel like this on the plug - but then, hardly anybody comes to this space anymore, so I can plug all I want. Strange situation I find myself, vis-avis LIVINGhigh... At one point of time, this was the flagship, and I loved seeing the silly comments, good and bad, dissecting, agreeing, head-shaking, et al. And now, that it's become all quiet... well, I kind of cherish the quiet again.

The anonymous blog has really soared in ratings now. And has lost a lot of its anonymity in the bargain. Now it's the turn for LIVINGhigh to become my main mirror again. Sigh... Blog Politics.

;-)

O, and I HATE that ring-a-ding-ding song from Rang De Basanti that some joker at office has used as his cell ring tone.

Livinghigh was here at 8:04 PM / (5) Comments

Sunshine

Opened my eyes, one at a time, and peeked out at a world. Funny world it is, na? Blue checked curtains and songs of Don Williams singing Fever. So I smile, and tend to think that all of it looks deliciously nutty. So I think of that savage little creature I wished happy birthday last night, and I tend to wish her again.



Yawned and ambled over to the washbasin. The radio has moved onto another number now, which isn't half-bad, really. Cock a snook at my reflection in the mirror, and remember the fun dancing last night with the little savage. Wild one. Not the savage: me, me, all me.

Brushed teeth with zeal. Funny world, this. Funny teeth, though perfect white and rounded. Cliched little pearls I have. Cliched and egoistic like hell. Like you. Like you telling me how you want to pinch my nose.

Stopped brushing and stared at mirror. Mirror edged with blue plastic. Needs to be cleaned really, but who gives a damn. Damn. Did we talk last night? But we couldn't. I was dancing with the savage. Wild one. Me, not her. Seems all deliciously hazy. Mexican shots, politely called teqilas, and brown little shooters, ecstatically called after-eights. And your voice whispering in my ear about tall towers and fancy flowers and lovely lies and terrible truths. I love you, you said. And I snorted.

Not very romantic, of course. But I snort. Possible?

Of course not. I danced last night. With the savage. Wild one. Not her: me.

So I brushed again. Gargled. Rinsed. Hollered to flatmate to get her ass up. Work, work, work. Both of us are lazy bums. We hate going to work. I think we hate working. Summer flies and no ants at all, in us. Lazy flowers and blue checked curtains and Don Williams singing a racy song in a country voice. Perfect day to hop onto the balustrade and get the washed clothes down. The iron-lady will come soon and take them away. She'll listen to Williams croon too.

Now Williams is gone, and it's a Rhinestone Cowboy.But did you call?

Hazy.

So, I throw away the clothes on the floor (the maid will whine when she finds out I did that, but who gives a damn, really) and pick up the phone.Punched through to Call History on the cell phone. A familiar number. Smile. Laugh. It wasn't a dream after all. Hi love. Sleepy here. I love you. I miss you. Snort. Snort.

And the world just got a bit sunnier. Must be the blue checked curtains.

Livinghigh was here at 6:16 PM / (5) Comments

Lapping it up

Been hunting out all day, enquiring about laptop models and prices. No, I'm not suddenly rich.. it's just that I've been dying to get my own laptop model (humans will do, too!) for a looooong time, and I decided I have the finances now to do it - on an installment basis, of course. So, suddenly, I'm spouting words like R 51 and TX2887 and V2334 AP and many other things that sound like I've been reading bar codes. Perhaps, I have...

Lamington Road, though, does not seem half as big as it did, earlier. The last time I went to the place, was with a cameraperson from the office, and we were searching for a teeny camera that we could do spycam operations with. This time around, I didn't poke around in the gallis - and stuck to the main road, peering in at Skygate and PC World and Computer Selections instead. A laptop model that Vijay Sales would sell me for Rs 54,800 is available here for as low at Rs 48,500. Ouch.



Price enquiry done, I sit back with loads of scribbled notes - models, prices, dealer names, shop names et al. Tomorrow, I must visit two separate consumer banks and find out their provisions for home loans, should I need to go in for that route. Yes, I'm a strange person, probably with OCD. Before I go in for a big purchase (and I leave the definition of *big* to myself!) I like to do loads of homework. I like to tell myself that I haven't been taken for a ride.

That was a joke, and you're supposed to laugh now. ;-)

Livinghigh was here at 3:42 PM / (8) Comments

Love, funnily

The funny thing about love songs is that very few of them actually make you feel good about yourself and your life. They're all about love going through the odds, and how much you miss someone, and how much that person has changed everything in your life, yadayadayada, but when push comes to shove, after listening to an entire album of mush, chances are that you'll be slumped in your chair, choking back tears of helplessness.

And then you wonder, what the hell is wrong with me? I'm a frikkin TearJerk. And there's nothing you can do about it.

That used to happen to me a long time back, when I was single, and that still happens when I know someone I can love. That used to happen ages back when my mum was single and being courted by my dad, and that still happens when she's fifty three years old and the mother of two. Somethings never change.

And there are those other funny songs that are not really meant to be funny. The songs that sing about heartache and heartbreak and walking away from a person that really shouldn't be allowed to sound as cheerful as they do. They're all about stupid cupids and bye bye loves and there you are, foot-thumping and finger-snapping when somebody's heart is presumably being broken.

But maybe that's not so bad after all. Maybe it's all in the vibe. So, all together in a catchy little ditty:

Bye bye love,
Bye bye happiness,
Hello to loneliness,
I think I'm gonna cry-y-y!

Livinghigh was here at 5:32 PM / (2) Comments

Sunkissed beach and beach resort

Leaving for the weekend. Welcome to the backpack adventure. Hoping for a nice hotel. It's strange: long to be in a place far, far away from the grind, but quite simply can't do without the hotshot amenities. And even though I don't understand any of it, art on the walls would be fun.

;-)

It's been a great week since I ushered in the new year. Strange sensation. People I've talked to say I'm bubbling over with mirth. The so-called and much-famed joi de vivre. I have no idea whether I spelt that last part correct or not. (Don't really care.) And then, of course, there are those that say a new year is like any other, and welcome to the life of the rat in the rolling glass bowl. Now why do I find that picture immensely funny?

Should I give another funny smile here? Will risk it.

;-)

See you when I get back.

Livinghigh was here at 11:57 PM / (6) Comments

Step by step: Mumbai 2006

One year done. Already. Wow. Broke a heart, got my own broken in, flirted a couple of times but ended up nowhere. Wondering if there's mercy in the world and then I know there is. Isn't that great? Well, of course it is.

Screw hearts. Screw the idea in your head of not knowing what to do. It's a psychologial mark, true. But it's a mark. Something to measure you by. And I've rocked. I've rolled. In the gutter sometimes, but I've soared at times too. Pish tosh. I sound like a tired old hack. Heaven forbid.

Changed a job. When I thought that I was stuck in the old one. Whoosh! So long, farewell, I don't really hate to say goodbye. Working shitty hours now. Coming back and wondering whether I really have a life now. But somehow it's been worth it. Made some new pals in the bargain. And that's always worth it, even though it's meant that I've lost touch with some old friends I thought I was close to. Win some, lose some. Learn some, forget some.

But the idea of a year being one of the best or momentous or whatever sounds like shit. It's unreal, actually. I'm glad I lived one more year. And I hope I live many more. Amen.

And a Happy New Year.