ENTROPY - Design of Decadence: December 2003

Sunday, December 07, 2003

Hole-hearted.

“Bhenchod aayiii-zhavadeya where the fuck are you man?”. Driving. “Then fuckin’ drive like you’d drive in college and get here in the next three minutes … and get some vodka … we’re running out, and some Coke, and some chakna, and get something for yourself also.” He hasn’t changed, I think to myself.

I was wrong. He still cracks the most terrible of PJs that make you wince, and every third word is still a vulgarity. But the man, who in college days could be classified as completely insane, has sobered up and how.

I give him a hug. He cribs about the fact that everyone, even me, has seen Kal Ho Na Ho, and he has no company left. He adores Preity Zinta; convinces me to go again for the film, and he’ll even buy my ticket. “It’s been awhile, how’s everything?” I ask him. “Sab set hai.” “Fucker, we’re the only single ones left from college man … all the others are married!”, I joke. That touches a chord. “Arrey bhenchod, you didn’t get cigarettes? I just have one I’m not giving it to you! Chal leke aate hain.”

He told me all when we stepped out to buy smokes. They met at a common friend’s wedding, and from the beginning, were poles apart. No one thought they would get together. But they did. For the first time in his life, he felt that he was going out with ‘the one’. Everything was going great. She’d come home and cook, he’d drink with her father. His family loved her and hers loved him. And, get this, SHE proposed.

He told her about his business problems. “I didn’t want to hide anything from her, yaar. It was only fair that she be told what she was getting into.” And he told her what was going on. Told her that things might get better, might not. But, it was her right to know and decision to take.

She never called him back.

“I fucked up man. Even my mum says I fucked up. Yeh sab business mein toh hota hi rehta hai. She didn’t have to know. I shouldn’t have told her. If I hadn’t told her, we’d still be together.” But did he try to convince her? “Sure I did. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. It’s been a year and she’s seeing someone else. Main Un-Lucky Ali ban gaya bhenchod hahahahahahaha” he laughs. He gets emotional. “I’ve tried going out with other girls. But it’s not the same. And you know, all those madarchod psychoanalysts who tell you that ‘the best way to forget someone is to jump into bed with someone else’ should all go fuck themselves. Coz everytime I’m with a girl, I see HER. And I just can’t go on.”

He takes out his wallet … stops. Looks at me and says “Fucker, no one … absolutely no one … knows that I still have her picture in my wallet. If you tell ANYONE that I carry it around and I showed it to you, I’ll kill you.” And here I am putting this on the internet. “She's cute, na?” he says. “Bhenchod, aise ghoor mat … teri hone waali bhabhi … thi.” And I realize why he adores Preity Zinta.

His ex has the cutest dimple.

"Oh well. I guess i'll have to settle for Preity." he says with a smile.

posted by n.g. at 12:45 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Friday, December 05, 2003

Q & A.

Responses to inane questions.

1. Checkout attendant at Fairprice supermarket in Singapore.
Q. Member?
A. I ain’t showing it to you.

2. Vada pau vaala below my apartment block, if he’s unsure whether you want to eat there or get it packed to take away.
Q. Khaane ka hai kya?
A. Nahin ghar le jaa ke showcase mein rakhunga.

3. Common question when I call someone.
Q. Nishant!! Kahan se bol raha hai?
A. Mu se bol raha hoon!

4. My father, when I get back home.
Q. Nishant!! Tu aa gaya??!!
A. Nahin main uska judwaa bhai hoon jo bees saal pehle kumbh ke mele mein bichhad gaya tha.

5. Bump into an acquaintance at the movies.
Q. Nishant!!! What are you doing here?
A. Swimming lessons.

6. The rare occasion I order Pizza.
Q. Good afternoon Sir thank you for calling Domino’s pizza Prabhadevi this is Vijayprakash here would you like to try out this week’s special cheese blah blah whatchamacallit?
A. Come again?

7. A friend's father, having dropped in to the paanwaala's for his fix of gutkha, sees me smoking.
Q. So you’re a smoker eh?
A. Not at all uncle! I empty out all the tobacco and fill the cigarette with ganja.

8. One pesky fuck and me get talking about marriage.
Q. And what’s wrong with arranged marriages ???
A. Ask your wife.

9. Another pesky fuck I meet in the elevator.
Q. Why don’t you want to get married?
A. Because your daughter is more than happy with the pre-marital sex.

10. The same pesky fuck. (He's REAL pesky)
Q. But one day you will HAVE to get married, no?
A. Well, come to think of it, your daughter-in-law DOES say that extra marital sex is fun.

posted by n.g. at 00:37 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

Tomorrow never comes.

In a matter of months, weeks, even days, a complete stranger could change your life forever. He could show you things about you that you never knew existed. He could change your rigid mindsets, make you laugh, make you cry, and after making an indelible mark on your life, suddenly go away. Leaving behind just a strange bittersweet memory.

Karan Johar probably gave this brief to Nikhil Advani. And boy, Nikhil sure did justice to it.

I’ve never been a great fan of Shah Rukh’s acting. I’ve always believed (and to a certain extent, still do) that he’s a run-of-the-mill actor helped by smart publicity. But this time around, he shows signs of brilliance. When, in a beautifully ironic scene, he makes up non-existent writings from Saif’s secret diary to convince Preity how much Saif loves her, when really, he and Preity both know it’s his own love talking. When he gets a call from Saif after the latter has proposed to Preity, telling him that she said ‘yes’, and as everyone in the room rejoice, hug him and cry tears of joy, he looks at his mother helplessly – only the two of them know what his tears really mean. And finally, when he falls silent on the hospital bed and an aghast Saif prods him, he opens his eyes and says “Not yet, Idiot.”

There is unnecessary cheese too, with several truly poignant moments to compensate for it. When Saif proposes to Preity, knowingly fully well that she doesn’t love him. Something to the effect of “I know you don’t love me … you probably never will. But trust me, I believe that my love for you is enough between the two of us to get us by.” When Preity, heartbroken, breaks down in front of her mother. “Why do I love him, ma?” When Shah Rukh on his deathbed asks little 6 yr old Gia the same question again, “Will you marry me?” and she tearfully shakes her head as always. “Please?” he pleads playfully … and she finally nods. But just one scene has ensured that I will buy the DVD when its out – when Saif asks Shah Rukh “What would you do if you were in my place?” And all Shah Rukh can say is, “I wish I was in your place”. Brilliant scriptwriting, this.

Sure, there’s lapses. To me the whole ‘Hide-from-the-audience-who Sonali-Bendre-REALLY-is’ doesn’t work at all. The gujju jokes and gay gags have been done for the B-centers. Nikhil Advani tries to make the film look ‘stylish’ but doesn’t quite succeed save for the opening titles and the ‘Pretty Woman’ track. And the climax turns into overpickled onions after a few minutes. But what he lacks in all this, he makes up for in slick and new (to Bollywood) editing. And the way he develops relationships between the characters. Because, an art director, a cinematographer, a production designer … any and all of the above can make a film look stylish. But only the director can really bring out the best in his characters.

And the characters – Shah Rukh hams throughout the film except for the few winners mentioned above. Preity, when she’s not crying, is incredibly cute. (Her lone dimple … sigh.) Saif is the scene-stealer, really. He’s so comfortable with his effortlessly-funny comedy and letting SRK ‘steal the thunder’, it just shows how accomplished an actor he is. Jaya Bachchan needs no critique. In her role as the traumatized daughter-in-law and worried mother, she portrays the same delicateness she once did years ago in ‘Guddi’.

Kal Ho Na Ho might not be a great film. But it’s got moments of great cinema. As Pradeepda would say, ‘Nikhil ne faad di, boss.’

You win, Yashu. I was wrong.

posted by n.g. at 22:05 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Friday, November 28, 2003

Yeh hai Bombay meri jaan.

Some folks from my ex-job in Singapore were down on business. While the others went back after spending two fun-filled days in the conference room at the Marriot, Jessica stayed on for another two days to take a dekko at the city I’ve always raved about to her when I was in Singapore.

So she moved to the Ambassador on Marine Drive to be closer to the city hub. Walked about, reaching Flora Fountain, and then her destination, The Bombay Store. Bought stuff which, when put together, probably weighs as much as she does. (I should know, I carried her bag back to the airport.) She even haggled at Fashion Street and pulled off a coup of sorts when she got the shop owner to knock off a whole 100 bucks! (I wouldn’t be able to do that. No way.) Met up with her that evening, and gave her a guided tour of Colaba Causeway. “Even so late, on a Wednesday night, this place is buzzing. You walk down Orchard Road (prime shopping district in Singers) on a Wednesday night and it’s DEAD.” “Whoaa … you have fantastic judgment”, she complemented when I took a U-turn in the middle of the street. I reminded her that she’s coming from SINGAPORE, where there’s lane discipline, a car’s length distance between cars, traffic rules and motorists who actually follow them. We topped the evening off with a pizza at Pizzeria coz by that time, although she loves the stuff, she’d had more than enough of Indian. “Tandoori Paneer … on a pizza!! Excellent!” She mused, and I quote, “This place is right on the main road, amidst traffic, dust and noise. It’s got everything going against it BUT the food and service. Fantastic!”

Took her for Kulfi at Punjabi Kulfi House at Chowpatty, and while she dug into her Malai Kulfi, I was half eating my Strawberry Kulfi and half watching out for a pandu to come and fine me for parking in a no-parking zone. He didn’t eventually, choosing to pick on some guy who turned into the street and almost ran over him, coz he was casually walking in the middle of the road like his father left it to him as legacy.

The next day, she went off to the Cottage Industries store and the Elephanta caves. Took the ferry to and fro, and went for a guided tour of the caves. “There’s lots of hyperactive monkeys there. They remind me of the street kids in the city”. And as luck would have it, her return flight was on the evening of Baasi Id, and Haji Ali was so packed I began to wonder (at 8 o’clock) if we’d make it on time for her flight (at 12:45.) But I took the JJ flyover back instead. As I drove, she looked around and quipped. “Bombay is so … lively. Even when you’re just walking down the street it feels like something’s about to happen”.

Eventually we even had time for a nice Thaali dinner at Sheetal Arch in Bandra. Of course, just 1/4th the way into her thaali, she gave up. “I’m stuffed. No more waiting for food on the plane”, she said with a grin. Reached the airport with an hour and a half to spare, perfect timing for her. The seasoned traveler that she is, she loaded all her bags on herself in precise equilibrium and took off to check in. And later, with us on either sides of the glass door near the baggage-screener, she pointed to her eyes, then to me, then to the immigration. “See you … at Immigration?” I wondered. We waved goodbye.

At about 12:30, she sent me an SMS.

“See you in Singapore.”

posted by n.g. at 22:40 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

Lose Yourself.

I went to the record store.

I resisted. I really did. All these days, I refrained from going into one of them bankruptcy zones. But I was at The Times of India building to meet my ex-editor after YEARS, and she was so happy to see me properly dressed that she insisted on buying me a snack. At Barista AT bloody Planet M. It's not really my fault.

Then, I revelled. I could be a spoilsport and hold them to ransom for not having Nitin Sawhney's 'Displacing the priest' and 'Migration', and Pearl Jam's 'Lost Dogs', their collection of B-sides. (I will name my ... third born after anyone in the US or the UK who can send me these titles. Coz the bhenchod Indian customs have seized and slapped crazy import duties on Amazon packages before, so thats a risk i'm not willing to take JUST YET). BUT, getting back to the point, Planet M have quite a collection. Right from Hindi oldies to Fusion (an entire ROOM, tucked away in a quiet corner, only for classical and fusion) to some amazing old school rock titles (Iron Maiden!! KISSSSSSSSSS!!). Though what really pissed me off was crap like Cannibal Corpse rubbing shoulders with Judas Priest and Creed on the same rack. Thats like, sacrilege.

So I browsed. I almost bought Fuzon, Junoon's 'Parvaaz', Taufiq's 'Perc Jam' and Waisa Bhi Hota Hai Part 2. (Allah Ke Bande gets my vote for song of the year.) But with the pain of a heavy heart and the fear of a light wallet, I kept all of them back. Just bought two. Raghav's 'For the first time'. Brilliant brilliant arrangements. His version of 'Raat Baaki' is ... I mean ... whoa. The kid's got a future. And Jagjit's 'Close to my heart'. Can there be a dry eye in the house when JAGJIT renders 'Kahin duur jab din dhal jaye?'

And finally, while I was paying for my CDs, the DJ spun a bhangra version of Eminem's 'Lose Yourself'. TRIPPING, I tell you. I went upto him just in time to catch his supe giving him a dirty look. I asked him what CD that was so I could buy it. You can't, he says with a sly smile. 'Download it off so-and-so website and rip it. It's an underground mix'.

Balle balle teh vahu vahu.

posted by n.g. at 23:31 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Saturday, November 22, 2003

Mundane post of the year.

Right.

Just met Kunal, college friend, lives in the same building. His girl dumped him, now he seeks refuge in alcohol. No regrets. Enjoys life. She used to come home every Sunday. His family loved her to bits. They were gonna get married. He was very happy. Now, he's disillusioned by womankind. 'Dude, for once I wanna dump a girl. Then at least i'll have the satisfaction of being in the wrong in a relationship.' Bursts out into hackneyed laughter, lights a cigarette for me and one for himself.

We talk about his friend, some broke bigshot's son who keeps cribbing about how business is bad, but is spending a crore and a half on his wedding. Invited 5000 people to the turf club. Jesus, what a crowd. Like the fucking kumbh mela., I think to myself. Do I even know 5000 people? But then, I'M not getting married. 'He doesn't even know 5000 people' says K. But because the family's so prolific, so-and-so will come, so one has to 'show'. Show what? That they're broke, but they're not REALLY broke? *nudge nudge snicker snicker* We talk about some biggie who controlled a 400 crore business empire, then had a heart attack and died. Now his sons are struggling to recover money, coz all the fuckers who owe them have disappeared, renamed their companies, don't take their calls, the usual. 'Life's a bitch' I say. 'No man. A bitch at least blows you and lets you fuck her. Here, we're getting fucked! At best, its Apna haath jagannath! More hackneyed laughter.

He's a nice guy he really is.

We talk about call center jobs in India. College Kids bunking lectures to work at call centers. 'Its better than bunking lectures to loaf around innit?'

Met Suhel. I had a crush on his sister in school. She was my benchmate in the 5th grade, and we had drawn lines defining our areas of the bench. If her stuff rolled into my area, it was mine. If my stuff rolled into her's, I'd wrestle it out of her hands and leave her cursing. He's a good kid. 'Do you know so-and-so? He knows your ex-boss.' Haven't heard of him. Work is good, life is good. Going for beers. They try to drag me along, I'm in no mood for alcohol. Gotta get back to work. Tomorrow afternoon, says Kunal. Tomorrow night, says Suhel. I leave them to decide.

Borivli murders. Telgi Scam. Elections. Call center jobs. Kale bribe scandal. The Indian team's imminent walloping down under. 6 Billion people and one confused soul, sitting in his Nike shorts, scratching the growing jungle on his chin, thinking hard.

I would like to thank the academy.

posted by n.g. at 22:01 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Monday, November 17, 2003

Hold my hand.

After a long hard day of work (very satisfying and all, but thats not the point), I was feeling pretty darn pleased with myself. 'Good ... very good. Will become GREAT with a little more effort, but this is GOOD', I remember telling myself. Deserves a cuppa adrak+elaichi chai. So I make my chai, dip the Parle G in it, drink up and think of getting back to work for finishing touches. Then, I remember the mail that was supposed to come. And I log on.

BIG MISTAKE.

I meet a friend online who was my 'movie friend' in Singapore. Everytime we'd meet, we'd end up at the movies (at the SAME multiplex), and then do dinner at the SAME place. She says she misses going to the movies with me. I go all misty eyed and miss her. And just then, I read on Bob's blog about her wild 21st birthday party, and I miss her some more than I usually do. To add to it, her bludy tag board isn't working as usual, so I go on to moppet's page and leave a 'I Should've been there' note there. And there goes my day. The drive just plunged. The willingness to turn 'Good' into 'Great' ... momentarily gone. I walk around the apartment, thinking of ALL the stuff I did in Singapore with ALL my wickedddd friends. And missing ALL of them.

SPIRIT at an all time low.

Then, I log on again. Natasha offers to make me chai should I make the effort to go over. So I wrap up some stuff and I do. The chai never happened, but she played me some amazing music on her pre-historic speakers (that sounded great, incidentally) and I watch her play with the two strays-on-speed she's adopted, aptly named 'Cheenu' and 'Meenu' BY HER MOTHER. HAPPY?. I suggest they be renamed 'Bablu' and 'Jamnadas', but she isn't too kicked. So chai gets substituted with two cigarettes a piece as she regales me with stories of her wierd friends and I tell her some about mine. 'You really miss your friends there, don't you?' she asks.

And then, Arti calls from Delhi. Hyperactive as usual. 'We're stuck in a traffic jam, but I want to tell you how EXCITED I am that this is happening!' Did you JUST get the SMS, I ask? 'Don't interrupt! PLEASE keep me posted on a daily basis. And i'm going to tag along all over the place with you, and you don't have a choice, and ... ' I tell you, if and when I make something of myself, that girl'll be happier than me. And will tell me, in her permanent hyperactive demeanour, 'I told you so'. And yes, she always does tell me so.

I love my friends. Old friends, new friends, friends far away, friend who lives next door ... all you guys. You make my day with an email / phone call / message left on my tagboard, and you break my heart by making me miss you. By just being YOU.

Like, totally. Dude. Like, whaddya say, Natasha? Wanna dyanse?

posted by n.g. at 22:22 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Monday, November 10, 2003

Singapore Sling.

For those who came in late, I recently got back to Bombay after spending two interesting years in Singapore. And the following, in no particular order, are a few things I sorely miss about the place.

1. Teh Ping : Literally translated, Ice-tea. But actually, this is Ice-Milk-Tea. Some places make it with ordinary milk, some make it with condensed milk. My favourite Teh Ping can be obtained at a coffee shop at Serangoon Gardens for S$ 1.20. (Like Herman would say … ‘Teh to the mutha-fuckin’ Ping ya’all)

2. Fried Carrot Cake : Which I suspect is radish fried with egg, spring onions and spices in a pan. Comes in two varieties, Original and one with sweet sauce. I’d eat the original Carrot cake ($3) at a hawker center at Ang Mo Kio central twice-thrice a week.

3. Murtabak : This is essentially a Malay dish. Almost like a stuffed paratha; me being a vegetarian, the stuffing would be veggies. The Veg Murtabak ($4) at the hawker centre at Bishan Junction 8 is stuffed with capsicum, baby corn, spring onions and carrots. Deeeeeelightful. And on Saturday Nights, one can get an after party Murtabak at River Valley road (forget the name of the place) with a beer to go.

4. Roti John : Another Malay dish. Two slices of submarine bread, toasted on a flat pan with eggs and cheese (if you please) and served with chilli sauce. The Roti John at the Serangoon Gardens Coffee shop opposite the Post Office is TO DIE FOR, and costs just $3.

5. Hotel Mitre : At best, a has-been budget hotel, which, after Bombay’s ‘Bade Miyan’, is the most unique after-party place I’ve ever been to. One has to walk up a pitch-black driveway to get to a porch, and thru the shutters, ask the old hag to give you some beer. That’s all there is. If you’re lucky you’ll get Tiger, on most days you get Singha for $3 a can. You’ll run into interesting characters here. During one such after-party session, while I was sitting quietly in one corner with my cigarette for company, trying to get the alcohol level in my brain down, a friend in his drunken stupor started chatting to a complete stranger and informed me, in a pretty audible voice, that he wanted to take her to bed. I shrugged, she smiled, and he puked.

6. Phuture / Zouk : Undoubtedly, Singapore’s best nightclubs. Hip-hop on Friday nights at Phuture. And Saturday nights at Zouk. Made me appreciate James Lavelle and Sasha. I hope Bob and Moppet think of me EVERYTIME they go there :)

7. Gramaphone @ Somerset Road : A record store that has an excellent second’s section. I’ve found a number of out of print CDs here, not to mention a special edition pressing of Radiohead’s ‘Amnesiac’ for $3.

8. Cash Converters : More Out of Print CDs. Found ‘Temple of the Dog’ here for $2.

9. East Coast Beach : Near the hotels and Starbucks etc, its like any other beach. But way up ahead, there’s just sands and trees and water. In fact my only regret about Singapore is not having lived on the East Coast.

10. Concerts at Fort Canning : An old fort which now hosts concerts. Saw Suede, Badmarsh & Shri, Fatboy Slim and Nitin Sawhney here. Though the acoustics are not really great, the atmosphere is amazing. Good music and Heinekin.

11. Bar None : The Club at The Marriot on Orchard Road. Great Live band, plays mostly cover versions. Of course, like every other club in Singapore, one has to watch out for SPGs here too.

12. Carnegies : Supposed to be Singapore’s most outrageous pick-up joint. Great place for bar-top dancing; way before it became legal in Singapore. I once took off my shirt here while I was dancing on the bar-top and someone flashed a $50 note at me. Was lucky I didn’t get arrested.

13. Centro at One Fullerton : Or rather the waterfront behind it. Great place for conversation.

14. Johnny Two Thumb Tattoo pub at Far East Plaza : This place ROCKS. Cheap liquor (Jim Beam by the Pitcher - $18) and EXCELLENT rock music; everything from Grateful Dead and The Clash to Blink 182 and Limp Bizkit. No women trying to hook guys, no guys trying to get laid, no kids trying to look cool. Just rock music and whiskey.

It was fun while it lasted.

posted by n.g. at 22:56 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Name: n. g.

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