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.