When i hadnt learnt how to walk, I would lie on my back and air pedal furiously in the dark, panting, gurgling all the while.
i was given my tobu cycle soon enough, which used to make peculiar sounds all over the floor, a grating, rattling sound (a grattling sound.)
i went on to bigger cycles every alternate year, until i also got myself a gang of nine in the para; and most of us had cycles as well. We would cycle in one straight line, blocking the road and ringing our bells, or we'd shout 'tring tring' continuously, massive attention seekers that we all were. We outgrew each other and disbanded, as most people do, and moved on. not on cycles though.
then the next time i cycled was years later, early in the mornings, until that too, phased out.
and there is no point to this post, except that i want to be on the move again.

this has been a funphase (blogging), but now im done. im satisfied im sure.
tatagootbye.

I was playing and solitaire and tiny took this.

commun(al)ism.

i was sitting in the tiny balcony, atop several piled up chairs, facing the (what i call) absurd blue beach house,and the graceful curve of the grey road to my right. the rains had subsided for the day,though a few reluctant drops kept dripping from distant heights,splashing onto the rickety balcony railing. now and then a gentle breeze would pick up,and then lazily snuggle into the arms of the trees and disappear.the cold tubelight made the slippery, newly tarred road look silvery, all dressed up. like a road out to disco.
i wanted to go out for a bit. a stroll maybe, a bhar of cha maybe.but the commies were out on a victory march. all ablaze with their red flags and chanting, with the dhak rhythm punctuated by the occasional chocolate bomb.apparently not a single person voted the reds in my block.perhaps thats why the jubiliation sounded loud, as if meaning to say, "who needs your vote. we won anyway. no one can oust subhash chakraborty and haath-kata dileep..." they kept rather quiet about the victory margin though..a paltry 1700 odd votes.
but as long as the reds dont turn yellow, or worse, orange, i dont mind at all. but it seems like its already too late.
a muslim family who live in the garage in the block,went to live in a flat nearby but the other flat buyers were not muslim,and these people put their foot down, and refused to let the family shift in.and so they meekly left,and are back in their cramped garage home.from when did salt lake start becoming communal.kinda thought that was the birthright of baroda and her neighbours.
im filled with a strange,quiet dread. ill always be ok. i know that. im a) a bengali b)hindu c) an upper caste hindu d) convent educated, with enough knowledge of my rights e) fair(!) f) with enough money(i suppose). ill be more than ok.
but what'll happen to them, people who are 'none of the above.'

and im filled with a strange,quiet dread, as i sit atop several chairs in a tiny balcony, cocooned away and gazing safely at the real world below me march by.

Sweet strings and a false setto on a seat.
i lean back and listen, with orange juice in hand.
getting used to the heat for once, letting it ooze into pores and suck out the sweat. there is no real air in this room. no breezy gusts blowing my knotty crossy hair. just artificial conditioners of air saving lives. well, almost.
its a new realm of the blah floating about in the room, staring on like women stuck in two dimensional colour.
this is home. this is ditzyland.
gentle ting tings of a recorded piano tease the tastebuds. pink martini. yum.
a jaundiced screen stares at my face in confusion, asking if i really wanna play solitaire.
a waiting book looks delectable,crispycrunchy. to be washed down with the aforementioned orange juice.
and i dream on about pure shores and divine times.

im in a fantastic mood today. really really good.
the morning passed in a daze,as i went in blinding sunlight towards home.stayed online for a longish bit of time,reading rather entertaining catty comments.heheh. the afternoon also passed in a daze.i kept drifting in and out of sleep and wakefulness in a pleasant, darkened roon with a rather old fan for company. it kept rotating and rotating.like one's thoughts. jai hok.
beekel bela was quite a surprise.didnt know dida had called ma and moi in for a meal.i was the appointed bartender of the evening,and i must say, i make a mean screwdriver.ma was all classy and refused to get high. dida sounded a bit shrill.i was semisloshed, as i read two chapters of a rather hilarious book called 'the mating season.' and for some reason, a mr.gussyfink reminded us of mr.godfreygordongustavusgore.(it sounded funny at the time..)
all this amidst tales of war and of waste.watched debate on the moderate muslims in india.and the varanasi bombings.i liked the bit about two assams coming tgether because of a saregama followed by a pa.speaking of pa's, i think my ma should have been my pa.she behaves like one.oh.there was tremendous agitation that was brewing like the kaalboyshaki, and which finally bubbled and frothed to the surface when australia did a whopping 434.however, under the influence of mr wodehouse, ma yelped (and i mean yelped) "LordLovaduck!"
why you ask? well, the ozzies lost by a run.hahaha.she hates them.and greg chappel. jai hok. enough about her.ill now whine about me.i have been coughing for over a month now, with no signs of actual fever.however, i do feel flushed from time to time.this has been my only dampener.damn.maybe im just supposed to cough myself to death one of these days.oh well...
i went for a kailash kher show yesterday.hez this sufi singer,who does bolywood too.hes tiny, but his voice is large.hes lovely.i think i love him.heheh.his album is called kailasa.(which reminds me of the poem we once did by Kabirdas.

"moko kahan dhoonde bande,mein to tere paas mein,
na mein dewal,na mein masjid, na kabe-kailas mein..."

In the paper today, tales of war and of waste
but you turn right over to the tv page.

i want to be Ganesha-
perched on top a high mattress, looking at rats fight over a biggish laddoo.

i dont want to be part of the great rat race.


maybe im laaazy.heh.


take a chance cos you might grow
what you waiting for
you stupid whore.


look at your watch now
your still a superhot female...