14/05/2011 (didn't publish because it's meaningless and badly written)

Thanks to Chunni I have become obsessed with this song that she posted on her blog a couple of days back in a way I didn't imagine I could. The Kominas are so fucking fearless you can't help but fall violently in love with them. Beautiful men singing so much sense in Punjabi is only pure perfection. I almost fail every exam because of finding a new band to stalk and dreaming about situations that involve me meeting them.

After abstaining from the alcohol for about two weeks and being rather proud about it  I went out to get drunk for about twelve hours post the first because of which I am now a little sick and in no mood to study Milton and Shakespeare and the irony of the position of women in the Elizabethan age I DO NOT GIVE A FLYING FUCK ANYMORE.

Delhi has turned into the burning hell that we all know and for some reason love. I have vowed to turn off my computer till the end of time because I get no work done like this.

But before that, check out Michelle Williams she's so cute. 

Today

It's the first time in two days I have had a moment alone and my head is swimming with the lack of noise in the background. On the 16th morning TWELVE people descended into miniscule home to live and thrive for a week. My family is awesome but loud and crazy so all I can remember from the past two days is blurs of cousins running around with my dog in tow. There's quiet girl cousin who is exceptionally sane and only talks on her phone or sleeps or makes chai for everyone. There's twelve year old geeky cousin who loves dragons, watches Jack White videos all day and observes 'reading hour' with me in which we lock ourselves up in a room distancing ourselves from our unintelligent kinspeople. There's oldest bad-boy cousin always scouring for skins in my drawer and playing trance music, coming into my room with a fully rolled joint when I'm trying to read boring shit and then twenty minutes later grinning madly and chanting 'I'm so smashed dude don't tell anyone'. There's a six year old who has just discovered Led Zeppelin and knows where babies come from. There is sixteen year old non-cousin but family friend adopted as cousin who wants to 'abbe yaar drive pe chalte hai' and shows me photos of girls on his Blackberry saying 'yeh achhi ya woh vaali' and dances to Punjabi music all day.

And there is my sister who I cannot live without so I am more than glad she is back from her holiday in the south so we can play 'Monty Jonty best bhais in the world' and look at pictures at shoes online and make lists and plans to rob my father.

My father has just discovered Eminem and my mother has decided she's what is according to her, 'hep'-hop. Her new rap song goes like this - 'Kya kar raha hai/chill kar raha hoon/kya karien?/Chill karte hai'. The inspiration for the song apparently comes from conversations I have with my friends and her hephop is clean as she is most disapproving of the genre's nonchalant,extensive use of 'motherfucker'. 'Paavam ava amma laan' (Their poor mothers).

(I just watched the GG finale and am losin' it. Wants brunch with the girlfriends so we can hyperventilate about CAN YOU BELIEVE CHUCK and torture Queerfish who is only too happy to be chilling with us and telling us to stop being such chicks.)

Bhenchot batti gayi phirse. MAAR HI DAALO!! 

I wish my exams would end so we can be rollin down the street smokin indo sippin on gin on juice, yo.

I should really go study for my exam because time wasted is always a source of future regret. 

'You ask me brothers why I flinch, 

Well I will tell you, inch by inch, 

Is it not proper cause for fright

That what is day will soon be night?

Evenings I flinch the selfsame way, 

For what is night will soon be day.

At five o clock it chills my gore, 

Simply to know it isn't four.'

Ogden Nash is always on to something.
I really need to get out of this lit fit cause I have started saying 'wondrous cool'. 
Time to get stoned with trance cousin fuckeverythingelse.

After many hours of staring at my dog  chase balloons and my fish pick up gravel and move it around (true story), I have finished studying the various debates in Christian theology. Not as boring as it sounds. But a little, yes. And this is not even technically part of my course. It's just to understand why some complex individuals from the 1700's wrote what they did.

The absolute irony of religion is that God did not create man, but man created God. But then of course, that only holds as true if you look at it from THIS point of view, the one that I'm looking at it from.
I actually pointedly capitalized my G's.

While I'm freaking about exams whose importance in my opinion is probably deluded, but as is (most definitely not probably) my opinion, SnoopDogg on twitter is 'eyes low, I'm blown, high like a mothafucka' on puffpasstuesdays.

Want to dance on sand dunes wearing yellow like Manisha Koirala and Bobby Deol in Gupt. If only life was all 90's Bollywood. Where love was boundless and yellow clothing acceptable. 

I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway 

Based on my bleak glimpses of a future, my desire for bizarre locations and coordinated dancing might actually be a possibility. In one of those Hindi films that has fake sets and Tushar Kapoor and pretends like it's completely normal.
I shall take thy leave now cause I need to send over some Aata to humsabkifavourite...saamne vaali Jain aunty!! 'Woh kya hai na beta, uncle ko subah-subah garam-garam rotiyan pasand hai', she tells me with a generous smile like I was the one being fed. 'Garam-garam rotiyan' is spoken with special emphasis and vigor like it always is. Anyone who's been blest with the offer of them shall know what I mean.

At six fifteen every morning, I sneak up near ma's room every morning so I can jump at her as she stumbles sleepily out of her room and shouts 'Pishaash Kutti!!!' at me (meaning 'ghost child' in Tamil), my mother's chosen language at vulnerable situations. Mine of course is Hindi. In times of extreme happiness and sadness I cannot articulate in any other. I do feel like a pishaash kutti though. It's going to be eight in the morning and I'm in a familiar situation. In bed trying to sleep but imagining myself on the Conan O'Brien show instead saying meaningful things and thanking my friends and then leaving to drink beer with The Strokes like in this song. 

Maybe this is a prophecy to an impending future of glory or....not.  

I like Conan way more than Jay Leno though. 
Fabrizio moretti is so yummy dude.

I have spent the last some hours jumping around to an Incubus concert in my room while trying to read Shakespeare.
Also, the 'usne bola kemchhe kemchhe kemchhe' song has been playing in my head ALL FREAKIN WEEK. "Neend nahin aati hai raaton mein!". There's problems even Govinda can't solve. 


I need to get some damn sleep because my life is not written by Chuck Palahniuk.

And if these pigeons don't stop doing it in my AC I will shoot them through their non- existent brains.

Inane insomnia

The amount of things you can do on the internet when not logged into Facebook is just amazing. I deactivated my account (probably temporarily), even after I was given the heartbreaking news that a few people will 'miss me', and after sending in another abusive message on the reasons section which will only be ignored by Zuckerberg and his entourage of devils. I have finally got at least two hours of studying today after days of dirty lounging in my round chair watching gossip girl-unable to get over Chuck's insanity and Nate's stupidity. 

Thank god for Yale's free online lectures so lesser mortals like me can be provided with a little Ivy league hospitality. 

Paradise Lost is the only part of my course I have studied yet mostly because I love it and it is so beautiful and frustrating at the same time. 
Studying the arts gives you the impression that you have learnt something mind altering,  that most people cannot comprehend or understand, even if you try and explain it to them. We go on with this incentive and vague idea of supremacy. What is also absurd and inviting about theory is that there is no definitiveness, no measurement, no right or wrong, no solidity, nothing that is wholly, real. 

Idle youth 

Enslaved to everything, 
By being too sensitive 
I have wasted my life. 
-Arthur Rimbaud

I want to go to Paris. I want to read in the winter sun. I want to study in a fancy school one day with ancient buildings and hot professors, the kind that know a million languages and tell you things in a lecture that make you go 'Oh man why didn't I think of that!!'. I want to dance at a shaadi. I want to go to the Metallica concert in Delhi in October with my friends and be all "Make room for St Anger MOTHERFUCKAAAAS" just to be thirteen years old again. I want new clothes and shoes. And maybe a bag. And a hat. I want to drink neat whiskey really slowly. I also want to cycle in the mountains and drink beer in the sea. I want to sing old hindi songs loudly in a car. Unfortunately, I also want to do well in my exams so I guess I must get back to reading or googling 'related' things. 

I feel like I use way too many commas. 

Charles Bukowski is hopelessly cool.

This song and it's akward dancing is making me grin like an idiot. Also because skinny, bespectacled Erlend Øye reminds me too much of Queerfish whom I now miss terribly. Get well soon bhai. Tera dard mera dard.

Kings of Convenience are nice.  

If Katy Perry posts one more tweet like "Fuck yeah America always here to save the dayyy!!" she's going to have a plane flying right into her teenage dream sending it up in flames. A little more tact please, US of A. We still don't like you. 

It is six fucking fifty one the morning and I still can't sleep. Fifty three now. Fifty five as I'm thinking if there's something else to say but there isn't. 

I can't get this bloody song out of my head and by now I'm dancing to it around the room with my hands up in the air.

And why is everyone in this band an INFANT?!

I must now go and finish reading Paradise Lost and witness the triumph of evil that has continued ever since. 
Flipkart is a freaking fix. 
.....Mmmbop bubadopdopba whaaaaaa!!???????

The Indian middle class society is the most interesting and least generic section of the population. We struggle between aspirations and reality, impulse and opinion. The intelligent middle class is constantly having to answer to the conservative, because according to the latter, liberties of being tasteful or indulgent only belong to the rich. By contemporary middle class adults, the wealthy are treated like a different species. When I told my mother that everyone my age drinks at bars, and goes to 'discos', and it's really not a problem, she insists that it's different for 'people like them'. But people like us, we had a higher power to answer to. The supreme authority of gossiping aunties and disapproving uncles. We had to face the criticism of the saamne vaali Jain aunty who looks at me everyday with big eyes like I had just entrapped and violated her entire family. Only to knock at my door in the evening and ask for 'thodi si cheeni beta, bas woh uncle ke liye halwa banana tha.' 

Mishap number 1 on 17.04.2011

C and I were returning from Paharganj after meeting two friends and on our way to anyplace but home. A hobby of mine, which also comes naturally to me, is to get lost on roads while driving. While expressing some very important opinions on things, I jumped over a divider. Before I knew it, I had jumped over another divider. My car landed pretty hard on the ground and another stopped about a foot away from the front of my bonnet. All I could think of was to look at my passenger best friend and see if she was alright. There was a sudden crowd and hysteria that follows all accidents on Indian roads. It is everybody's business. Because I was a girl, people were sympathetic and decided I was a victim, not a predator. I was a little shaken by the entire thing but with the help of my amazing out of the world friends we managed to get out of everything, even enjoying it a little.

I drive without a license and the confidence of  head cheerleader at prom without realizing that I wasn't ALLOWED to be on the roads. I have driven drunk (even though I wasn't this time), stoned, without hands, and every single trick you name in the badass book. 

And the funny thing is, even at this time, when I had managed to break down my car in the middle of Parliamentary street almost crashing into another, there were no cops. The inefficiency of the traffic police only complimented my stupidity. A little dramatic, yes, but anything could have happened yesterday. I was the luckiest imbecile on the planet.  

I was going to write an intense, my life flashed before my eyes death-encounter post about this but all I feel right now is extremely ridiculous. I have cost my father money and caused myself shame and sheepish embarrassment. 

I am not touching the wheel again until I have been officiated by the useless powers that rest in the state. According to V, 'yeh toh Dev aur Chunni vaala scene ho gaya yaar!'. Our choice of mentor speaks our case perfectly. 

Mishap no. 2 yesterday, whatever date it was 
My friend Mohit and I decided to drink post drinking. When we got very drunk, we decided it was the worst idea in the world to stop drinking and leave. A bright thought struck us. 
Another beer? Another beer! ('Carpe Diem! Seize the night!')
I raised my hands up in the air proclaiming with confidence that money, wasn't a problem. 'Are you mad? I'll pay for everything!!'
When I looked in my wallet for proof of my wealth a spotted a crumbly hundred rupee note and no ATM card. Our waiter, though, decided that we were honest despite our explicit inadequacy and trusting in our regularity at this particular bar, decided to forgo at least thirty percent of the bill and rewarded us with a free bottle of beer(!!). So instead of feeling horrible about my carelessness, I felt blessed by this undeserved gift of free booze. Mohit decided that 'this is why we need to start a business man! To have the world at our feet!'. 


The number of belongings I have lost to the world is greater than that of Solomon's wives.
My mother says that no one will marry me(one of her many reasons) because I shall lose all their possessions, and mine, and no man will be able to trust me with their property. Her only way of scaring me into good behavior is threatening me with the fact that I will die bereft of a husband. 
Hangovers are weird. They make you feel like everything that happened between you and the alcohol was a mistake. An error of judgement. Which is why I arrive at an important conclusion every time I'm hung over.
Must not drink ever again, must only smoke pot.
Oh yes, yesterday we also decided that the only way to be a great wo/man is to commit errors. And to 'drink and talk'. 


Now I must go to college for the one purpose of my existence- to get attendance so I can actually give the exams this year. It is an education that is never going to leave us. 


I know this shouldn't essentially be a life crisis, and I am the only one who can do something about it yadayadayada but I'm just really BORED. 
I want to be....moved. Exhilarated. Like when you see or hear or eat or read or feel something really beautiful and something inside of you changes. Like how Beethoven's audience must have felt when they heard him play. Like the moment when you smell something you really like-a flower, a perfume, a food. Like the brief instance when you and a random stranger know that you're sharing the same feeling. Like the first time you were touched by someone you loved. 

I have installed some Vuze toolbar on my browser by mistake and it's annoying the living(slowly dying) daylights out of me. (Vuze is fun to say though. Voo Zay )
I haven't written in a while but that is because nothing has changed. It's exam month though, so it's supposed to be slow and mundane. It is also offically summers in Delhi which means we are all officially now residents of a furnace.


All I've done for the past week is go to college, come back sleepeatcomplain, plan to study but do nothing, scour random shit on the www,stare at my new phone and send people texts only because they appear as 'conversations', stare at my dog and attempt to wake him up in the middle of the night to talk(He listens with solemn sincerity), play loud music in my sister's ear while she's asleep because that's what good siblings do to each other, and eat endless amounts of ice-cream. Mother Dairy, BTW! has this new collection of freakinoutoftheworld fancy flavors like rum and raisin and shit and you can eat out of the box like people on TV YAYYY!
Life is bleak.
The happiest I've been today is when a Justin Bieber marathon played in my gym.
Speaking of which, today I chose to exercise over beer. BEER. Scared, precious, beautiful,amazing, loyal, restorative, divine- beer. And I ditched it. For what? For good health, better utilization of my stupid gym membership!? I deserve to be punched in the face. Or like my mother likes to say to me while I follow her around the house begging for food- "Just shut up ma or I'll kick your face". 
No one tells you how bad making good decisions is going to make you feel. I should've stuck to what I knew best. After many constant ranting smses of 'you GUYS i shall lose my mind if I don't drink tomorrow', my friends have had to hesitantly consort. It's been a week, dude. Or more. I don't even want to think about it it's catastrophic.


People in the nation are STILL watching cricket.


Chunni told me about a film called The Dreamers (A Bernardo Bertolucci fim) to watch, and I did. It's magnificent. Paris is so terribly painfully beautiful. I have never been out of the country, but might make my first trip to the first world this year and it is my only reason for living. Travel, is therapy. I can't wait for these damn exams to end and take a bus and go to the hills for maybe EVER.
Sometimes after saturdaydrinking at Khan Market , Defence colony and the likes, Chunni and I while drifting off to sleep have a vision.
'Yaar, kitna cool hoga jab hum sab beach pe beer peeyenge aur stoned honge, aur sid ko maarenge. It'll be just Perfect'. I contribute to the vision fried fish and party drugs, and C sings her 'nekkkedd girlssss' song with a satisfied expression on her face.
Yeah so, I watched the Dreamers and it's magnificent. Then I also watched Le chansons d'amour, which means Love Songs in French. It is a musical and is one of those films that doesn't have a definite beginning, ending, plot, or moral. I love both things. (I don't like saying what films are about because I never feel I can do justice to them and my descriptions usually make me uncomfortable.)
Also, this man makes me go a little crazayyy.

Louis Garrel

You keep me rockin' baby, you keep me stolen

I was g-talking with my uncle and while we were talking he'd say something like 'So who's that guy who wrote The Stranger?, let me think, one second'. 

And I'd have googled it in a millisecond, confident and ready with the answers. 'Albert Camus, Shyam!'. I knew who'd written The Stranger. All I had to do was think for about two seconds and it would have come to me. But why must I take seconds to think, when I can have the answer in less? It's incorrigible. We may be fast as fuck, but we aren't learning a thing. I hate it when I have to write assignments off the internet. It's not intelligent, it's efficient. And it's not knowledge that's power anymore (we're all staging a Francis Bacon ki MKC), it's speed. 

Answers are meant to be sought, to be chased, and then arrived at. Not presented to you on a golden platter by google chrome. Old people are right, we have it too easy. My uncle was utterly disgusted and not impressed with my rapid retorts and ask me to 'grow down'. 

'Get off your computer and live a little and stop being such moron.', is what he actually said.

Smartphones, are also a farce. They may be really goddamn smart, but they only make you stupider. Which is why I don't see a point to 'Dude, with Airtel 3G you can stream live tv and ALWAYS be online!'. WHY on earth would you want to STREAM TV on your phone. (Unless India is kicking Pakistan's ass and you have to be on the road in search of booze. Thank god for Chunni's phone during those days of hardship and patience.)

It makes me sick, how we live our lives on and from the internet, but I cannot seem to stop or find a way out. 

As Crosby Stills Nash and Young say in one of my father's favourite songs, 'I may be faster, but I'm still way behind' 

He also told me to stop reading so much existentialism and switch to Buddhism. 

How can you carve out the Buddha from a rock? 

You take out everything that is not the Buddha 

My exams are in a month, and this usual foreplay of wasting time that lasts till about five days before is actually necessary and significant. 


You know who I hate? Those kids who seem to have their whole freakin life planned out since they're FOURTEEN. StStephens to Yale to rich to married to rich. I don't understand it. And I actually still possess some sort of inverse snobbery to people with direction. Man, they must feel REALLY sorry for wastrels like me(us). If you're one of these thriving individuals, you can tell yourself that I'm jealous, which is probably true. 


I apologize for this worthless display of absolute nothing.
I can't believe you're still reading. My uncle would have something to say to you about this.