It is human nature to use. Not something I have a problem with. Not that I like being used, but I guess it is something you have to get used to it. The funny thing, for me anyway, is the ease with which I find myself in the same situation over and over again. Complete opposite of learning from experience. The most-recent usee was a pretty woman with glaring eyes and a perky bum. Alright so it was a completely professional use-n-throw but still. Pisses me off!
Went to another place recommended by the EoID people, more specifically Kakke de hatti. Superb and they are not exagerrating about the size of the naans. Whenever I am feeling particularly lost, I go to Old Delhi. Wander along the streets and get lost for a while. There is something about that place which gives me peace. On a Sunday, it is quite empty though. Kids playing cricket in the parks and men playing cards in their shops. The great thing about this city is that there are ancient things all over the place. Luv it.
Also went out for a “shake the booty” night after ages. Suitably sloshed and then doing the stupid dance movies in a nice little place in Green Park. Kinda expensive and the dance “floor” is not really that big but who cares na? Bumped into a slightly sozzled Jat gentleman who insisted on telling me how cool life is and what are the pressures faced by the youth of this nation. Nice chap though the DJ did not think so. On the drive back home, stopped near “medikaal” for a late night chai. Watched the cars whizz by on the big, empty roads.
There is this add for HIV control in the metro. No issues with the intention but they have used a parrot as a mascot. I kid you not. A fukin parrot. Warning you to use condoms or whatever. A green, frikkin parrot!
Speaking of which, post the heavenly lunch and desert (gajar ka halwa driPPIng in ghee) took a bus back home. You know how all these airlines compete with each other regarding which one of them has the best “in flight experience”? Well none of them come close to a DTC bus. Especially the new, green ones with the pneumatic doors.
For the entire thirty minute ride, the following would happen with distinct regularity:
1. People would jump in and the conductor would yell “Andar andar”. Like space would magically be created!
2. The doors would close, someone’s shirt/pant/thumb/hand would get stuck. Conductor would then yell “Oye peeche kholo. Oye”. And then the door would open, the victim would pull back offending article/limb and people would laugh;
3. Some aunty would try and footboard and then a few seconds later start screaming “Bhaiya, aage chalo. Chalooooooo!” This would then be supported by conductor screaming “Oye madam ko aagey jaaney do. Chalo chalo”. And in the background you can hear the by-now desperate wails of the aunty.
Bloody hilarious, I swear. And I got front row seats to the entire show. Of course when it was time for me to de-bus, there were more than a few crushed toes, lost chappals et all but it was fun nonetheless. When you have to struggle, push and shove your way out of a crowded bus, the joy of actually getting out is priceless.
Hmmm, they should make a Visa advert on that:
Bus ticket to Naalson Mandela Marg: Rs. 15
Stomping over infants to get out: Priceless.
I worry about the disinterest in satire. Some times.
There is something so beautifully perfect about the word “clop”. You know “..the clopping of the horses awoke him from his afternoon slumber.” or whatever. I mean it is so compact and so precise and so wonderfully accurate. Clop. Captures the essence of it all.
Photo shared by the Cubanese cabana. Kinda freaked me out a little.