Where I am. All alone in a pink chaddi,umbrella in me hand and wondering where the fuck my clothes are

Sometimes, just some times, I make up titles like the one above just to see what it looks like as an html page.

In one of the most depressing moments of my life, I paid the landlady me rent. Never before have I experienced such reluctance to part with the moneys.

And I am a frikkin marwadi goddamit!

I often think about the times that were

before and after they met.

Memories a silent murmur

which are so hard to forget.

Court gossip, like any other form of gossip, is littered with insider jokes, names of famous people and seemingly innocuous comments. And indulged in with a relish that brings back memories of school.

Some lawyers talk of a certain “high” that one experiences after pleadings in a court. An inexplicable sense of pleasure mixed with adrenalin. A thrill of examining and elucidating the finer points of a law or a theory or a certain path of logic. There is a rush in appearing before the Court, a rush which nothing else can bring.

Every time I appear before a judge (passover or no frikkin passover) I nearly shit my pants.

A situation which must be remedied soon with an urgency aided in no small way by the fact that I will have to wash the said pants myself.

Thanks to rghvr, came across this article which made me wonder what I would have to write about Calcutta. Or Bangalore or Bombay or even Delhi.

Delhi seems to have tons of stuff happening all the time. There are always these concerts, food festivals, movie screenings, plays all over the place.

That and the gang rapes.

The bus to court takes me past this compound wall which has “Let us all live in peaces” written on it. Cracks me up every single day!

Historic moment right NOW: discovery of a song titled “Shut up and Sleep with me” on my hard drive. Little snat was hidden in the Belle and Sebastian folder. Quite a catchy little number.

Whoever said that thing about reality and fiction was so frikkin spot on its not funny. You decide.

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