Livinghigh: March 2006
It doesn't take hydrogen gas. Or riding a shuttle.
Or snorting on the whitest, finest powder this side of La-la-land.
(It might take an extra spoonful of sugar, but maybe that's just me.)
Say hello, shutterbug
Fiction, I write
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Once Upon A Time
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Things seem to be going poles apart. While somethings seem to be heading well, there are other facets of my life which leave me feeling... surprised? stunned? angry? silly? There are so many reactions there. Not sure what to do with work now. On one hand, there's more exposure, and on the other - utter loneliness. Feels weird that all my closest friends have left, feels weird to be the 'last man standing'. And for how long? GRE plans ahead, and that's why I'm still around. I'm not making much of a secret about that one. And then there are the other pangs - what if I get the recognition and the scope to perform, would it be silly to throw it all away and go back to study? But no, those are momentary doubts which fade away. This is what I want. To be with the one I want.
To be happy.
No mean task.
It's funny, how alike a best friend and a lover are. I never thought I'd lose a best friend. Or, rather, neverthought I'd lose them because of distance. I lost my best friend in Calcutta because both of us moved away - and even though she's here in the same city now, I can't go back to that 'best friend' mode again with her, because there's been so much of my life I haven't shared with her, so many of the important things that shaped me. And I lost my best friend in Delhi because I moved away. Distant now, we haven't spoken on the phone even in ages. I haven't seen him in close to a year. I'm probably just an "o, he's a great friend" thing to him, and it feels sad, because he and I shared so much, bad and good times, together. He was the best thing that came out of a shortlived relationship with his then best friend... and now, I suppose the tables are reversed, my shortlived ex is back in the good books, and I'm in the faraway books. ;-)
But no, I never thought I would lose my best friend like this - drifting away in the same city. I always thought, it wouldn't matter if we couldn't stay regularly in touch over the phone or meet up, it wouldn't matter... we could still talk. And it seemed to work for awhile. But I guess it doesn't work anymore. Strange that we could drift away so easily. Almost too soon for me to notice. But I guess I should have. I felt it, and I tried to rectify it, but perhaps it was a case of being too late. I don't want to force myself on someone, that's silly, and my friend is as stubborn as stubborn can get. As fickle as fickle can get, too. Perhaps that's my last hope.
No. My last hope is my Love. That still remains, thank God. That still remains. God, when did I turn so maudlin? ;-) Maybe that's what happens after you return to blogging after (in my book) ages. Maudlin mush.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
This week has been expensive. How strange a thing to say, especially after my last post was a plaintive plea for getting a life. I got drunk so many times this week. First Monday, when the venue was this chhottu place by the sea in Juhu, a verandah full of beer and talk about career plans and life dreams and drunk laughter. Or it may not really be Monday. I'm bad with dates and days, anyhow.
No, o no, Monday was the little nip bar down the road from the office. Glasses of diluted wine that the waiter may have spat into, and then we ordered beer. Man-drinks. *grin* Secrets exchanged, that night.
There was a house party in the middle of all that, and a lovely terrace. Climbing up on top to see the city in a bright blue hazy wave of moonlight, and things would have been excellent had I not been so completely zonked. On beer and wine, of all things. Gripped the balcony of the terrace and kept on telling myself, I will not puke, I will not puke, I will not puke. I didn't puke. Thank god. I don't remember the last time I did, really. I would find it grossly embarassing to ever puke at a party like that, in a drunken heap. I'm much more comfortable being the guy who pats your back and puts you to bed after you puke. Don't ask me to clean the puke please, though.
Cafe Mondegar another night. More beer. Flirting some with eyes with someone at a neighbouring table. Flirting with smiles, and then I turn back to the people I'm out drinking with. I think I may be turning into a perpetual bitch. I snigger and laugh and giggle and gossip and trade unsavoury tidbits. I shouldn't like myself much when I'm like this, but I think I like myself the most when I'm like this.
Coffee after that, Rs 19.50 Coffee House Spl, and some more grin-flirting across a sea of tables. Can I handle much more of a life, realy?
The answer, surprisingly, would be yes.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
I need to get a life.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Raining today in Bombay. On a March morning, and that is so surprising. At least it is to me. Maybe that's the thing that still differentiates me from the pucca born-and-bred Bombayites. Everyone else here thinks its so perfectly natural and cool, ahile I remain a bit flummoxed. ;-)
Rainy days are no time to be stuck at work. I feel that so keenly myself. Am dying to finish whatever 'extra-curricular' work I have here at hand and go careening back home. Friend wants to go drinking to Mondy's, but all I want to do is curl up in bed and think of love. Mushy simpering fool that I am.
Rainy days are for dreaming.
There was a party the other night, and I felt strange. Felt like I was the one who needed taking care of, even though I was the one playing nursemaid. That's good, I guess. But then, I think I needed someone to hold my hand. Needed to be told, like a child, that some things are not good for you, beta. But no one did that. And I may have faltered.
But the party was fun. Strange and thoughtful, but nice. It's funny to realise how much I've changed since January 31.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Mmmm... Budget Day came and went. This time last year, I was.... o, wait, I missed out on Budget last year at Moneycontrol. Think I was at home or something, in Calcutta. The time before that, was spent typing in reactions and prices at Delhi CNBC.
This time around, I was the so-called Link Master. Which essentially means, being a glorified Guest Coordinator. So, I arrive at the Link Office early and brief the guard on which Guests (capital letters!) are slated to arrive, so there won't be any identification hassles. Then I check things with the cameraperson and the engineer, and with PCR back in the office. Enter Guest 1. Speak Guest 1. Wait Guest 1. Wait Some More Guest 1. Yet Some More, Guest 1. Grin and Speak again, Guest 1. And that's where the sheer genius of being a Link Master comes in. The dual charm of a guest coordinator and rapport of a reporter with the Guest, and that's how you have to smile and apologize for the delay - "because it's all live and unplanned things sometime happen, sir!" *dazzling smile* - and make sure that they still come back for your channel next time around.
Sheer genius, I tell you.
Now, I'm going to post about Warfornews. I've actually been visiting the blog on again, off again, because some of the stuff there amuses me. Unfortunately, they've blocked the site at the office, and I find that silly, because criticisms will always keep on coming and you just have to deal with them. Lately of course, even WfN has been holding up some of our aspects to praise, and that's the way things are going to happen. We're a Work in Progress, and I think both we and WfN should realise that. Whatever.
I, for one, was quite thrilled at our Budget coverage. Thought it was quite good, for a new channel, quite comparable with CNBC and all.
Just finished reading Samit Basu's The Manticore's Secret. That's the second part of the author's Gameworld trilogy, a take on Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Basu writes, combining Tolkien and the Ramayana and myths from the Mahabharata, and Hindu ideas of the cosmos, and the best part is, he does it all in such a great fun and irreverent way. ;-) I've read part 1 of the trilogy and I loved it, and that prompted me to pick up part 2. O and look! I just found his blog here.
Curently reading: Siddharth Dhanvant Shangvi's Last Song of Dusk. Poetic, yes. Lyrical, yes. At times, grand and sweeping, yes. But, umm.... overdone a tad? Yes!