smells like teen spirit...

I ran one of the best jogs of my life today... talk about memory lane. Try and follow me - I'm a bottle of port down

I started on 47th street (thats where I live) and jogged down to 23rd on 2nd Ave. I passed 30th Street and glanced at the Pizza Parlor where I was so used to fetching Sukhi's pizza on the way to Arun's place. Bastard never shared. Of course, never occurred to me to pick some up for myself. I looked at Arun's window and some dude was standing - looking out into the rain. Thats right I was running in the rain - and someone had moved into Arun's apartment. Ten minutes of pizza, tequila w/ice, jams, broken speakers (hah!), pianos, guitars, smoke (of sorts), autumn, winter, summer... flew by. I had already turned on 23rd and was crossing FDR when I snapped out of it. New horizons of old building were in view.

UNIS. My high-school. My first memories of New York painfully stick to that building and as I ran by it, a familar whiff drew the white out of my bones and displayed its sickness on my face. I almost hurled. I ran up the ramp to Waterside and ran by the old Deli where Nandan and I would buy these dirty yellow popcorn bags on the way home from school... they'd always make my hands yellow and sticky. I descended the steps down to what look like the boondocks and finally broke out toward the water. Ahhh!... my favorite few of New York. T'was short-lived as I approached the awkward boathouse where seemingly rich folk dined. A short sprint and I was on the boardwalk along the river running towards the Helicopter pad... my old building was in plain sight now. 401 E. 34th Street. Rivergate Apartments.

I stopped and kneeled down toward the sidewalk (pavement) - and searched for almost 15 minutes for an engraving I made almost 10 years ago when the concrete was still a mushy cement mix. Hahahaha! Its still there - immortality. Hammad was sour about that for a long time.

By the time I got home I was hungover from memories from the last 10 years. A shower, dinner and bottle of port later - Delhi was back in the forefront. Srijan had called from the plane - on his way to the motherland. He had stuck the phone to his iPod, which was playing "Yeh Jo Desh Hai Tera" from 'Swadesh' - its only fitting. As always we're only living - a day we'll soon forget. Thats not true.

What it all boils down to - is friends and family. A "place" itself is meaningless -without the people it makes you think of. You always land in Delhi's remarkable thick green smog, highlighted by the yellow lanterns along the way from IG Airport and into the city. Vasant Vihar. Memories fade to truths - nothing new here. Truths that I still hold on to, that still drive me while I'm here - in New York. Its not explainable.

How do you explain that I have 4 homes in Vasant Vihar itself? Joy's, Arjun's, Adi's and Srijan's. I don't need to call before. I barely need to knock. I just walk in.

I've just had a long conversation about Sex with Malay Uncle. He's on his fourth pack of cigarettes by the end of the conversation. Fidel. The back door to Joy's room and up to his roof where we're spending the night in a 'fort' we built -throwing nails at the road. We have harmonicas for some reason. We suck. We're in Bangalore... Aunty Meera has passed out after telling tales of Joy's friends... and how loyal they are... and I'm dropping Siddharth and his sparkling new wife to the car to send them off. Joy is (ahem) busy. Pattu is asleep on the dining room chair. He's tired after having ripped his vocal chords to "Alive". INSANIYAT!

We're driving in Delhi. We're always driving. I never drive. More truths - always having a seat in Joy, Arjun's, Adi and Srij's car. A silent code - Aman has shotgun and he'll fight you for it.

The sheeshah is on and music is blaring at Srijan's place. We're all there and stories are being re-told for the 400th time and still being laughed over. 'Didi' has brought my nimboo-pani. Can't beat her nimboo-pani. And of course, uncle is always calling - "Srijaaaan...." "yes babaaaaaa". They sound like bleating goats - but it's mustic to my ears. Aunty is worried about Srijan - so whats new Vineeta Aunty? You're little Sadhoo is doing just fine.

The bamboo sticks on Surdy's new Iron gate - built when he got Rambo. Late-night visits to his guesthouse became a rarity while that f-in beast prowled at night. Mickey is taking Vandon's case - as always. That kid is brilliant. We're making prank calls to Kabadi - poor kabadi. We're watching Football on Surdy's Aiwa TV and drinking Kingfisher straight out of the bottle. We're playing football in the park in front of his house. We're... ok ok... I'M... throwing stones at the neighbors Fiat and breaking its windshield. FUCK! RUN! We're running through the neighborhood ringing disgruntled Japanese residents' bells from the gate. We're coming home to our Mums who've already gotten the phone calls. We're in it now.

Anahat has transparent shorts on. (sigh). Lodi gardens and Child's play - enough said.

We're in London, UK - Patts, Joy, Surdy and I. We're crying... well pattu was too shell-shocked to cry. Thats right - we all cried. Don't say it. Shut the f*ck up.

We're in Goa. We just beat up a transvestite, fought pretend cops and watched a 35-yr. old woman breast-feed her baby at a rave. We just slept through New Years eve. wow.

We're in 4th class (we're like 9 yrs old). We've just fortified D-base with traps so no one can come in. I can't remember if I was Michaelangelo or Donatello. I drop a wooden log bigger than us on Joytan's head (he still thinks it was a mistake).

We're just driven to Sariska- Adi almost smashed the car into a tractor - but we're here now. Beautiful place. Shaggy's at my window screaming at Joy, Arjun and I - "YOU CAN'T FEED THE MONKEYS!!! THEY'LL DIEEEEEE!!!!" Arjun and I are about to slap her.

We're in a car driving at night in Delhi... we're drunk. Karan has just told a midget driver who we're getting into a fight with - "bhaisaab pleaaaseee!... NO!"... later on - his explanation was "dude... vo doh the" (There were two them).... The four of us just look at each other - no words.

I've met this girl online. 10 years later - she's still my rock.

I've just met this arrogant bastard going down a stairwell. He's recognized that I'm singing "Just Friends" - Musiq Soul Child. I love him. I meet 3 other people through him - and we just signed "chautha sikka" on a guitar. Fuzon has rocked it.

I'm in my room writing a blog about my fondest memories at 1:00 am.

I will die with these people in my heart. Hearts and thoughts they fade... fade away. I don't think so.

It never stops...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/5194172.stm

In a fantastic turn of events, the Indian Government without providing ANY reason has banned certain blog sites (from this very blog provider) - Blogspot.com

Awesome. You can't even be angry anymore. Censorship has a mind of its own in India (or a lack thereof... 'mind' that is). So much for my argument about a Democratic nation where its the f-in people that decide what they want. I was with you on this. I was with you. Now you've lost me.

Protests and "wants" are immaterial. Similar to the ways a Tyranny operates, the Indian government without any public debate or consensus has ORDAINED this. Thats it. There's nothing you can do about it either.

Here, I'll drop my pants for you and bend over. Maybe if I offer the lube, you'll make it easier on me. What is it? Fear of propaganda? Fear of conversation? Discussion? What? WHAT!? ARGH!

I can't even think about it... its driving me insane... that this is what our government spends its time on.

No No... we don't have any other pressing issues. (AIDs, illiteracy, Terrorism, Kareena Kapoor's latest makeover...)

Thats what we all want Indian Tax Rs. to be spent on - "cyber nannies". Mother F-kers can't uphold simple laws in the country but cyber laws! YEAH!

Government of India, as represented by its Actions:

Don't worry about us... we will continue to allow the individuals who run us (i.e. politicians) to rape, steal and kill in their successful efforts to build their personal wealth. We will continue to allow them to get away with murder - literally.

Oh yeah yeah... don't worry about the 100 crores found under Politician X's mattress or his villa in Italy... (illiterate mother f-kers - do you even know what a "villa" is? ... H-a-v-e-l-i... yeah stick to that).

OH! Yea yeah... if you're 25 yrs old and the son of a rich, powerful man - you are automatically entitled to run over sleeping policemen in the middle of the night with your BMW (which is easily identifiable since there are only like 30 beamers in Delhi)... yea yea.. we PUT the policemen there for you... so you can enjoy the crunchy noise when you run over them in the middle of the night... yea yea... go home yaar... have another beer... what? - oh... you've already had 20 before you got behind the wheel of a car you probably know nothing about - thats cool... have another... no problem yaar... everyone will know you did it... but no one will arrest you yaar... but if we have to... we'll get you out in a matter of seconds - no problemmmm yaaarrrrr....

achha... we've also got a semi-famous heroine serving drinks in a bar in Bombay... feel free to shoot her infront of everyone... yeah yeah - its not a big deal yaar... we'll have a fake trial and let you go... after all your daddy is an illiterate politician who does nothing for his country - why won't we take care of you...?

wait wait... wait... what did you say? an obscure friend of yours who works his ass off to earn a few Rupees and generally acts within the boundaries of both State established and Morally recommended laws on a regular basis - who your daddy and his rich friends take advantage of - has a Blog site where he freely expresses his opinions?

BHEN KA LODA... BAN HIS B*TCH ASS!

Olives and Wine Anyone?

Some olives and wine.
I'm struggling to sleep, I need my dreams.
Ferocious, I claw my way forward to
more wine and olives.
Outside a graying man nudged
a red swing cautiously while
inside there were more olives and wine.
Blurry-eyed I envisioned with fear
an apparition with fiery eyes.
it stole from me. Everything.
I heard her scream
and the rotting corpses of spiders
in dark corners of my closet shook
in their curled up indifference.
Nobody came. Nobody saw.
But there was more wine and a few olives.
I slept on moist sheets soon after
and awoke later, somewhat soaked within.

playlist...

After much trial and error, I was able to create a playlist of songs to which I love falling asleep. I used to do this in college - fall asleep while listening to music that is - but had to use headphones so my room-mate wouldn't be grumpy. For those of you that have tried that - I'm sure you agree that sleeping with bloody headphones on your face is not the most comfortable experience.

Anyway, so I haven't had the roommate problem for a while - but only recently began doing this music-before-i-sleep business again. Haven't slept this well in a long time. Here's the current playlist in no particular order -

Indifference - Pearl Jam
No. 41 - Dave Matthews Band
White Ladder - David Gray
Cannonball - Damien Rice
Do you Remember? - Jack Johnson
Just Friends - Musiq Soul Child
Nothing Even Matters - Lauryn Hill ft. D'Angelo
Walk Away - Ben Harper
You've Got Me - The Roots ft. Erykah Badu
Present Tense - Pearl Jam
Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band
Older Chests - Damien Rice
Me and Those Dreamin' Eyes of Mine - D'Angelo
The World I Know - Collective Soul
Seasons - Chris Cornell
Use Me - Bill Withers

All of these are brilliant songs - so if you don't have em'... get em'.

g'nite...

The People

In an interesting discussion I had recently with an Uncle of mine, we spoke of the supposed atrocities of M.F. Hussein. As it turns out, Hindu gods and godesses have never been portrayed or expressed artistically in sexually comprising situations. As a theme, the illustrious act of human perpetuation has been displayed artistically for centuries in India -in art inspired and created by humans of Hindu and Muslim descent, but these have always been of Humans and never the gods. Interesting.

I mulled over this for a while. Perhaps my former post was prematurely ejac... (no wait... - lets not test the limits of intentional puns here.) Let me re-phrase. Perhaps, I jumped the gun with my former post (better?). The moral outrage here is the apparent de-sanctification of a religion. Most importantly, committed by a muslim against the Hindu religion. "How dare he?" cried the good Hindu boy and maybe rightly so. Weren't the Muslims equally upset over the portrayal of Mohammad by a Danish cartoonist - of course they were.

My argument in this discussion rested solely on the concept of "freedom of expression". In a secular, democratic state, it *should* be irrelevant that the artist is a muslim, and the art is about Hindu gods depicted in this fashion. You don't like the art? - don't buy it - I said. No one is forcing you to hang it in your foyer. You don't have to appreciate it. Ignore it. Accept it. Do whatever you want - but don't ban it. Logical thinking would prevail in this argument and I would've won. But this uncle made some very good points and I gracefully conceded and stopped arguing.

Herein lies the dilemma. India is a democratic, secular state. Correct. There is no such thing as a perfect democracy (defined by many as a State in which every lobby group is equally powerful and influential). Correct. A democratic rule is theoretically one inwhich the people are empowered. Correct. THUS, it is their wisdom or folly that rules. As a result, if there is a large enough contingency, then their voices MUST be heard AND heeded. I see. And I'm dumbfounded. There is no plausible solution to this. Many would argue that there is no problem here to find a solution to - and thats the point of a democracy. It all falls back on a lack of cohesiveness and understanding. It falls back on a subject matter I have already addressed in a past post - http://bahel.blogspot.com/2006/06/bod-contd.html

...no luck so far with a solution.