There’s only us. There’s only this.

There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Cliched? Yes. True? Yes.

A Show Of Hands…

This thought just struck me.

And I need all of you to help me make it work.

I’m starting a story with one paragraph here. Thereafter, I am listing you, in the order that I would like you to respond.

Here’s what you have to do: Write a paragraph, not more than four sentences long. E-mail it to me. I will publish it. That will be an indication for the next on the list to prepare and send his/her set. We work our way to the end of the list. I will neither edit nor moderate your contributions since the aim of the activity is to see how well we communicate quite apart from the use of words…

Let’s see how well we make it happen.

She sat down at the table and ordered a cappucino. The warm April sun had finally brought the town to life. The piazza was abuzz with folk, all seemingly occupied in the great pursuit of Life. Watching people, as those very few who knew her would confirm, was her quiet manner of saying “I’ve had enough” while she…

{Raunak}

was wondering “Why? Why did this happen to me? Till now I’ve been good. So why do I have to go through this?”  Then suddenly ashamed of her self pity she decided to take hold of her life and move on. It struck her like a brick wall- If she did not stop wallowing in self pity then life would be worse than what she had been through.

” Hey there! Can I sit on this chair? ” he asked, breaking her chain of thought. “Sure! Anyway I was about to leave” she replied. “What a beautiful woman!” he thought suddenly having naughty thoughts in mind. “Wait!” he started behind her, when..

{Natasha}

.. it suddenly hit him. He’d known her before, in another lifetime, another world.. it seemed like it was aeons ago but ofcourse it hadn’t been that long, had it? Sometimes five years can feel like a lifetime, sometimes it feels like yesterday! She turned around, gave the intruder a questioning look and then looked at him with total disbelief. It couldn’t be him, or could it? His hair was shorter and he didn’t wear glasses anymore but he still had that air about him, that self-assured demeanour she had found endearing the first time they had met. Not knowing how to react she…

{Sunny}

backed off, violent images of the past flashing before her eyes.

Umaparvati turned around in an instant and started walking as fast as she could.  Far, far away from the man she had once loved.  Gaurishankar Pandey was his name.  Tall, dark, and handsome, he had appeared to be the man of her dreams when she first met him.  Not only was he goodlooking and charming, but was also an immensely succesful auto-rickshaw driver from Bulandshahar.  Sophistication and class oozed from his silky red kerchief around his neck, the bundle of 555 pataka biri that he used to smoke, and the shiny packet of Manikchand gutkha in his shirt pocket.  As her legs picked up pace, she recalled that her father was about to marry her off to some investment banker living in NYC when she had happily announced that she was pregnant with Gaurishankar’s child.  As she kept walking, she now saw him standing right in front of her !  In her haste to get away, she had walked all around to piazza only to come face-to-face with him once again.  What was he doing here ? That too in Italy, for heavens sake ?

And then she saw it, that horrible black-and-yellow autorickshaw. But what was an autorickshaw doing in Italy ?  Was it …

{Chaitali}

…actually there? was she imagining? was she seeing it there because she wanted it there? She turned around with a spin to interrogate the situation. He was not there. She looked at the autorickshaw and there he was in it…slowly approaching her.
The autorickshaw was galloping! There was a cool breeze blowing her hair. Her skirt flowed and matched the rhythm of his silky red kerchief making ripples in the cozy April breeze.

Her dream had started off to show her the lover – the choice of whom she had left to life and destiny. She had expected to see a handsome prince on a white horse. The horse was however replaced by that horrible black-and-yellow autorickshaw. And her prince – the tall, dark, handsome autoricksahw driver? Oh yes!! She had still wanted him so much – her swollen womb reminded her!

She did not want this dream to end…

{Vivek}

…and nor would it, had it only been a dream. The Ghost Receptacle had generated a reality far more stretched out than any imagination and far more intense than any emotion. She could have realised that it was a bad idea but she wasn’t conscious enough, and nor was this a trial trip. Gaurishankar had paid for this criminal service discreetly and now the trip woudln’t stop until the programmed period didn’t end. He knew he had to have his revenge. What better revenge than making her fall for the most atrocious parts of his personality. What better revenge than making her love him for all that which she hated the most.
Her love for him oozed from every pore of her body and she felt her head go dizzy with love for the rickshaw and the driver. Every inch of her existence craved for Gaurishankar’s greasy hands to caress her falwless skin. Images of the backseat of the rickshaw filled her head, and her eyes closed to intensify the memory of every touch, every feeling and every little sensation.
Amidst all this, a small feeble voice in her head tried to cry out loud. The small gasping voice tried to reach out to and awaken her conciousness. The small voice was actually a 5 point multi hertz vocal jolt on her ear drum that Dr Sameer Stylist used on his own wife, to save her from what seemed like a certain death. The voice said, “I love you Batty, come back.”
She saw a crack in the window of the horrible-black-and-yellow…

{Hitesha}

“Ugh” she wrinkled her pretty button nose in pure disgust. She stared at the black and white dribbled monitor for fifteen seconds, then folded her elbows on the table and leaned on them with a sigh. This really was not helping. Who in their right mind, writes about rickshaw driver ghosts and ghastly love stories?

She looked around her. Blue black magpies split the white fluffed skies with their elegant flights. The winds rustled through the sweet smelling pine trees and carried their flirting scents right up to her. The sun kissed her thoughtful expression, as if encouraging her to not give up just yet. She shook her head once again and did a mental check of what she already had with her:

Gaurishankar, Umaparvati, a picturesque setting in italy, a haunting love story and a writer’s block…

{Abhinav}

.. disgusted with her choice of reading this pathetic blog.. she shuts down her laptop. As she gets the screen down.. she is delighted at the sight of the one hour old cappucino. Rightly justifying the fame of the shop.. the coffee was still fresh with its seductive aroma. Sipping it drop by drop, she was unknowingly staring out of the window. As a result of the weird article she read, she drifted down in her old memory lanes…
The confident and beautiful Suzane of today, was just an year back a helpless Sultana. After the death of her mother, she had to work as a maid to feed her alcoholic father at a tender age of 13. She had her own dreams.. but she never knew when they were thwarted as she grew up in the actual reality of the now famed Slumdog Millionaire- Slums of Mumbai. The beautiful Sultana at the age of 16 is forced to marry Aslam, in return her father is promised free liquor till the time he lives. Aslam a druggist was a devil.. but life continued.Physical and mental abuse were a routine..Father died after an year, as such his existence had ceased to matter for her long time back. The pain and anger of all these years was expressed when at the fateful night she accidentaly killed her husband while ressisting the daily beatings. Sultana runs away to Kolkata.
She has had enough and now she should free herself and respect her life. She had to make quick money. Being illiterate she knew she had to take a bold decision. She acts on her strength and enters the proffession that is looked down (but at the same time fully utilised) by the so called society. And Suzane is born..
Not only is she rich.. she has many influential clients. Soon her dream was going to come true. She flies down to Italy as the wife of one of her clent Albert Decousta (the smuggler). Now Suzane is at a place where she can comfortably forget her dreaded past and start afresh.
But Albert is no better than Aslam, and she had to find a way out ……. 

{Malaveeka}

{Amey}

{Aks}

{Gurleen}

{SO@24}

{Kunal}

{D}

Some things never change…

A while ago, when I first started to write, a lot of my writing came out in the form of lists – lists of memories, music, ideas… Of course, as any well-read author will testify, the first mistake to avoid while writing is to bore the audience with endless reminiscences which mean nothing more than words to anyone outside of the author! However, the other “first” rule of writing also says write about what one knows best. Being the shallow, self-centered and completely uninteresting person that I am, I’d say that subject was me. So here’s another bit of me which is possibly just as unintriguing as the rest of me!

A while ago I discovered the “memory card” function on my HTC. Now since I am possibly the most technologically challenged person in my circle of accquaintances, it’s a major achievement to even get the darn thing working, let alone figure out its gadgetry and all that jazz! But I digress… So we have a memory card. What does it do? Well, it can store music, for starters. Now if you know me even remotely, you’ll know that there are few things I detest more than a pair of wee things stuck in my ears, making noise. I’m NOT a fan of earphones/earplugs and the accompanying idea of music-all-the-time. So what am I to do with this new discovery of mine, since I pretty much refuse to be plugged-in, in a manner that resembles cyborgs? I start collecting music.

Of course, by now, the HTC is completely out of the picture. I’ve rediscovered music. In the last few months, in a pathetic bid to cleanse my life, on one of my rampages, I’d deleted my carefully-collected music archive. Oh yes – the Billy Joel, Buddy Holly, Frank Sinatra, Julio Iglesias (Sr.), Pavarotti – all gone. In one major laptop-reformat. Great. And then, to rediscover them… Like meeting your favourite grandparent after a whole year away!

Anyways.

Some things never change. Music – thankfully – is one of them.

Uptown Girl – Billy Joel

Unchained Melody – Righteous Brothers

Strangers in the Night – Frank Sinatra

Something Stupid – Frank and Nancy Sinatra

Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head – B.J. Thomas

American Pie – Don McLean

Mrs. Robinson – Simon and Garfunkel

Cecilia – Simon and Garfunkle

La Bamba – Los Lobos

Party Time – Gloria Estefan

Walk Like an Egyptian – The Bangles

Y.M.C.A. – VillagePeople

We Didn’t Start the Fire – Billy Joel

We Are the Champions – Queen

We Will Rock You – Queen

The Baby Elephant Walk – O.S.T. Hatari

Lara’s Theme – O.S.T. Dr. Zhivago

O.S.T. Chariots of Fire

I Will Survive – Gloria Gaynor

Sweet Home Alabama – Lynnrd Skynnrd

Sweet Home Alabama All Summer Long – Kid Rock

All of ABBA. There is no way I can list it all. Call me what you like, I still like them.

Hotel California – The Eagles

Man! I Feel Like a Woman – Shania Twain

Summer of ‘69 – Bryan Adams

Captain Crash and the Beauty Queen from Mars – Jon Bon Jovi

Jack and Diane – John Mellencamp

Alice – EVERY DAMN VERSION

Like a Rolling Stone – Bob Dylan

Seasons of Love – R.E.N.T.

 I have to stop here since I feel a Part – II to this list coming on…

A Thing of Beauty…

Oddly enough, this morning I chanced upon – not one – but two entities of exceptional beauty.

The First

It stopped raining (finally!!) last night and so this morning has been cold, but fresh none the less. I was in the tram, waiting to get to class. Now morning times are not the best of times to people-watch. First of all, the subjects of the the watching exercise are not yet in their peak of sociability. Second of all, early morning make-up is NOT a pretty sight. So what I have learnt – from observation – is that people watching is an activity best left to a later time in the day. Having said that, there I was, sitting in my usual seat, waiting for the tram to leave, when I see this lady walk across the road to the bus-stop.

Now I am not yet driving on the other side of the road, so to speak, but being of a somewhat open and liberal pre-disposition of the mind, one can’t but help appreciate a Thing Of Beauty when one happens to chance upon it! Let me see, I believe they stopped making beautiful women after Audrey Hepburn so for me to actually notice and then go on to admit that one is passably good-looking  is rather rare indeed.

The lady in question was nothing exceptional. About 5′ 5″, 30-ish. Denims, green pullover. Not skinny but not chubby either. In fact, she didn’t even have great skin. But what she did have was a very clean look. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to imply that people on the whole are not clean. If you do remember, I have mentioned that most people here, in Torino, appear to have stepped out of the Vogue – dressed up and made up – at 7 a.m. But this lady wasn’t like that. She had clean, washed skin. That’s it. I don’t think she even had gloss on! And the best part is that she didn’t look haggard or stripped of war paint with out the make up! That is why she stuck out as exceptional against the general rule. The hair was not coloured – and trust me, you get some pretty in-your-face coloured hair here. Pink. Red. Orange. Yellow. Name it, you got it. So plain, brown, straight hair, well-combed was such a treat to see!

So all-in-all, watching that lady was a nice way to start the day.

The Second

You know how some days just get better as they go along?

So I continued the people-watching bit while the tram wound it’s way through Torino. Had to de-tram to switch over to the No. 45 bus that goes past College. Just as I was rounding the corner to get to the No. 45 bus-stop, guess what I came up against, parked in the middle of the pavement?

An HD.

A Road King HD.

A restored, 1979 Road King HD.

With the HD flames.

*sigh*

I was late for class. That is all that I can say.

Tid bits

Let’s see what’s on the menu today. A random collection of tidbits!

Pissed off with Italian bus-ticket inspectors. Got challaned 25 E today for having validated my bus pass one time too many! Get this – everything in this country is in Italian. No french, no german and most definitely no english. So when I land here, the first thing I do is get myself to a Tousim Info Point which then proceeds to inform me – in fluent italian – that since I am still 25 years old, I can avail of a bus pass. Right. So I get myself one and on the first bus ride, have it validated in the machine.

So far so good. The next day, I get on and repeat the process. Since there is absolutely no information posted anywhere about the use of bus passes, this continues for three days. Whereupon a really nice lady in one bus points out that I don’t need to validate the pass more than once a month. Fine. But by now my pass has a few stamps on it already. Never mind, I say and learn my lesson for the next month.

Today of all days, after class, I board a bus packed with people. Out pop two ticket inspectors. Fine. No problem. I whip out my pass when they promptly proceed to stop the bus at the next stop and in again fluent italian inform in in no uncertian terms that either I dish out 25 E or head to the nearest police station with them.

Hang on. Wait a minute. I’m a lawyer.

So out we go and stand on the kerb and argue – they in italian and me in english – saying positively the same thing over and over again till I’m fed up with the lot of them and hand them 25 E. There. Went. My. Grocery. Shopping. For. The. Week. B*******.

That’s that.

Had lectures for the past two days on China’s (lack of) justice system. Yawn.

One thing I find extremely odd about the cold climates – the habit of fussing with one’s clothes all the time.

Let me explain. Back home, we wear what we do and then we forget about it. But here, it’s a striptease on-and-off every time! Since most places are air conditioned, once indoors, one can walk around in Ts and denims. But being outdoors requires a whole new wardrobe to be emptied onto the self. So on comes a jacket, boots, gloves, a muffler and a cap. Now get to a bar, ristorante, cinema hall, class, office – anywhere – and there. You need to strip off the extra clothing. This, of course, is not done gracefully at all. Ok, well, atleast not by me. You need to be born here to be graceful with stripping off a pullover. I always resemble a bedraggled child whenever I have to pull off jerseys. Anyways! So yes, the point being, it’s unnerving. The whole put-on-take-off routine. And annoying. Can’t wait for better weather!

Hmmm… let’s see. What else! Read my first Danielle Steele. That, my dear, is the extent of my boredom in life. Help. Please.

Am in deperate need of a back massage. We have these really odd chairs and tables in class, made for spineless midgets. Sitting on them for close to 9 hours a day is literally back breaking. In fact, it’s been so bad that sitting there at the front of the class today (yes, I was that unlucky! Got in late. All the the good back seats were taken! ) kept myself entertained with thoughts of a good back massage. Sadly they are to stay unattained since I am morbidly afraid of getting one at a spa for obvious health safety reasons.

Rambled on enough. Have a look-see at the previous post. Nats has done a good job! Thank you lady!

Introductions.

There are two entities that I introduce you to today. A friend. And me.

Actually, it goes like this. A friend wanted to put up a 100th on her blog and asked for audience participation in the form of questions. I – like the wonderful nutcase that I am – asked her things about us. Of course that turned out to be not-so-bright an idea since the rest of the world doesn’t exactly know me and my history with her!

But by then, the idea seemed really good! So instead, I sent across fresh non-topical questions for the 100th anniversary post AND a bunch of questions for her to answer to do as a guest post here! So now what you have coming up, is an introduction to the authoress and her take on me!

Natasha

She’s born half a day ahead of me – literally. She’s witty and quippy. She’s glamorous and so together. She’s elegant, poised and a very successful acreer-woman. She’s a child when it comes to enjoying the simple pleasures of food, family and friends. She’s taught me, laughed with me, partied with me and seen me grow up. I – in turn – have watched her come out of a relatively cocooned life to watch the world with honest eyes and accept with grace the fact that life deals different cards to different people. She is one of the treasures I cherish and is a mirror to my life – as clean as they come. Here’s her take on me.

Q.     Why do you think you and I have lasted over so many years?

A. You mean apart from the fact that we have diametrically opposite tastes in men? LOL. Come to think of it, we have always been fiercely individualistic and still managed to be great friends. I guess one half of the trick is being honest about our opinions, likes and dislikes. And as ‘beauty-pageant-final-answer-type’ as it may sound, the other half is the inherent respect we have for each other. Of course being born on the exact same day must mean that somewhere deep down we’re not that different.

Q. What’s the favourite memory you have of any time we have spent together and why?

A. Hands down the silly NDA Ball we went for back in the day. Hell I still remember how excited we were about it and how minutely we planned the whole thing, down to the bloody makeup. Don’t think I will ever forget how my date freaked me out and yours won the title of Mr. NDA. The Cinderella treatment was a whole other issue! Remember that crazy girl we befriended in the bus, the one that later absconded with a rather cute cadet? God that was an awesome (and crazy) night!  

Q. What’s the one mistake you think I have made that has had the biggest effect in my life?

A. Law school… duh!

Ok seriously, I think most of your decisions are made with other people’s best interests in mind instead of your own. As a result you’re always trying to do stuff that makes other people happy. Wish there was one instance in particular but there have been too many to pin down (you know that!). Which brings me to your next question…

Q. What’s the one achievement of mine you are really proud of?

 A. I cannot even begin to tell you just how proud it makes me to see you rediscover yourself, the girl I knew back in college with a head full of dreams to make it big in life, with a passion to achieve great things.

The last few years have been difficult, having to deal with the responsibilities that circumstances forced on you and a few wrong choices you might have made. Every time you spoke of wanting to settle for second best, it made me cringe because I knew that was not like you at all.

Today I see you getting out of your comfort zone to transform your dreams into reality and it makes me so proud! You’ve wanted this for so long and no one deserves it more than you do.

Q. What’s the one thing you really want for me or to happen to me?

A. A few years back I might have said I want you to meet someone wonderful who gets you, the essence of who you are. However as they say, one gets wiser with age. Neither of us needs someone to make us feel complete, we’re a little too good for that!

So to answer your question – I really want you to become the person you have always dreamed of being… The kickass professional who works for the betterment of society while fulfilling her inherent need to make a difference to the world at large instead of some sellout attorney like most batch mates we know have landed up being J

Q. What’s the one thing you think I can change about myself and should?

 

A. Can I mention two things please?

One – I think you let people into your heart and life too easily. It doesn’t take much for you to trust someone and that is not really the best trait to possess, especially if it has serious repercussions on your life later on.

Two – You need to experiment with the joys of colours and fashion. There are too many pretty clothes and styles out there for you to be stuck with the staid and boring!

Q. What’s the one thing you think I should not change about myself ever?

 

A. Your unique brand of craziness. I have never met someone so intelligent and so crazy at the same time.

Q. What’s the one thing you’re happy to have found/achieved/learned through me – presuming there is one?

 

A. Women can ride motorcycles.

Sharing a chocolate dessert and catching up on life with a friend is more fun than dolling up and going out on a date (sometimes

It takes a lot of balls to say ‘Get the F*$^ out of my life’ and mean it.

Living alone in a foreign land isn’t as romantic or fun as one might believe.

You can’t go wrong with a short black dress.

 

Q. What is the one thing you want for me and you in the next 12 months?

 

A. A dream vacation exploring the splendours of Europe together, replete with holiday romances, bouts of alcoholism and a visit to the Louvre.

The World This Week.

Or Random Stuff You Couldn’t Care Less About Either Ways.

Special Judge Rama Jain pronounced a sentence of death for Pandher and Kohli in the Nithari murder case. Not that it is of much use since the Supreme Court still stands by it’s reasoning of death in the rarest of rare case. Effectively this means that justice will be measured by the judge’s foot, as the saying goes. But a round of applause, none the less, for her judgment.

Pakistan registered a case against Ajmal Kasab at the Dockyard Police Station in Karachi under the Anti-Terrorism Act. Given the fact that Kasab is currently in India, committed henious acts of terrorism on Indian soil, against Indian citizens, one wonders what is being achieved by this particular move. Really, anyone, any practically appealing answers?

Jade Goody decided to have her last days captured on film for public viewing. Honestly, why?

An intact American satellite collided in space with a Russian satellite, spewing debris somewhere over northeren Siberia. As if one planet was not enough, we’ve started to make a mess in space too. We really are extremely short-sighted and self-centered creatures, aren’t we?

Hell discriminates between men and women: Vatican 

Sex discrimination is destined to continue in the scorching fires of Hell, according to a study approved by the Vatican which suggests that men are most likely to commit lustful sins whereas women are beholden to pride. The men, it seems, are the ones whose souls end up being pelted with fire and brimstone, while the women’s souls are more likely to be broken on a wheel. Monsignor Wojciech Giertych, personal theologian to Pope Benedict XVI and the papal household, said there was “no sexual equality” when it came to sin. “Men and women sin in different ways,” he wrote in L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper. Pride ranks only at No 5 for men, who are likely to have indulged in so much lust and gluttony that they are too slothful to feel angry, proud, envious or avaricious. Women are not averse to lust, but are primarily occupied with pride, envy and anger. Sloth does not set in until after gluttony and avarice. Seriously, what does anyone say to this?!

Doogie Hauser, M.D. – Indian-ishtyle

This space isn’t very popular. A few of you follow it regularly – which flatters me immensely, if I may so add! – but on the whole, since I don’t write for an audience, I am not popular.  So when a friend of mine asks me to blog about him so that he is famous, I have my doubts as to the amount of fame he may achieve through this. But since he is a dear friend, he is more than welcome to this space.

Hence this post.

This is someone who is 22. A doctor. Other than that and the fact that he attended school with someone I love, I know positively nothing about him.

But this is about what I do know about him.

1. He’s a help, if ever there was one, when one needs it.

2. He is superbly dedicated to his vocation/profession, which is impressive.

3. He is slow to judge yet once he does, he stays by his decision.

Having said that, I can only be honoured to know him and have him as a friend, in my life. It takes a large heart to accept people - flaws and all – and he seems to have achieved that in my case.

Thank you Brownie.

Here’s hoping you achieve everything you’ve set out to!

Amongst other things…

In case anyone’s wondering about the exact nature of my work, I study the legality of the use of the technology mentioned above.

Russia and America share a Neapolitan Lunch

When a Russian musician and an American engineer share a Neapolitan lunch, in the presence of an Indian and a Colombian, you know the Global Village has truly arrived.

On sunday, my landlord hosted a farewell lunch for the American engineer – who happens to be my latest friend in Pastaland – since she flew out back home to Seattle early this morning. Hence, there was clam pasta as primo followed by baked potatoes with sausages in basil and olive oil as secondo. Of course all of it was washed down by with generous supplies of Muscato white (strawberry) flavour. Then came blood organges, custard tart and the final cafe – black as hell and sweet as love – to round off the meal. Lunch commenced at 2 and we were still at the table at 4. That, my dears, is normal for a sunday lunch. Don’t even think about how much they manage to put away!

But yes, coming back to the people present.

I can only feel about as big as an ant in that august company. Here’s a brief description of the people there.

My landlord. Aged 35 years (approximately). Masters in Optical Engineering. Ph.D. in something similar. Preparing final submission for second Masters in Psychology. Owns an engineering business. Teaches at a Polytechnic institute.

The American kid. Aged 23 years. Finishing her Graduation in Naval Engineering.

The Russian lady. Aged 27 years (approximately). Is a musician. Writes romance novels in Italian. Studies industrial engineering.

The Colombian kid. Aged 19 years. Is studying industrial design here.

Right.

You know what’s really astonishinig? That in the three weeks that I have been here, I have come across so many, many intelligent, intriguing people that it’s humbling to know the extent of the human mind! At the house party last sunday, for example, one kid was studying Math (her focus is Ramanujan’s theory!) and another is studying common law and international trade and foreign exchange! I mean, when I was their age, all I worried about was being late for dinner!

Anyways, on a personal note, am learning to build bridges. And here’s what real ice looks like…