Thursday, August 03, 2006

Tag! Or 'Meme', if that's what YOU call it!

Well, since no-one *ever* tags me (and yes, I'm enough of a blogging newbie to sulk about it) I shall go ahead and tag myself! So there!

Also, I'm suffering from the worst attack of blog-clog *ever* (no wisecracks. I FORBID you to make wisecracks!) and I have read from reliable sources, that a tag is the best way! Cures it right away, it does*. So, here goes.

I'm thinking:
About these lines from the title song in Iqbal -

Guzre aise har raat raat,

Ho khwaaishon se baat baat...

- and I'm trying to remember the last time, if ever, I was this excited, this hopeful about anything (and no, romantic stuff doesn't count). You know the lying awake at night, thrilling with anticipation for the next day? Yes, that feeling. And I'm wondering, will I ever have it again?

And the answer is scaring me.

I said:
"Oh, what the hell!" and went ahead and did it anyway.

I want to:
Be in The Yellow Submarine song. You know how when you're listening to a song, you can see it happening in your head? The yellow submarine, the bells, the marching band, the happy stoned-ness of the whole picture? You can just see them all drinking beer and having a jolly good time, and in the picture? I would totally be the happy high guy echoing Ringo Starr as he sang,"everyone of uuuus (everyone of us!) has all we neeeed (has all we need!)! Sky of bluuuue (sky of blue!), and sea of greeeeen (and sea of green!), in our ye-he-llow submareeenn!".

Don't you?

I wish:
I was oh about ten kilos lighter...and about eight inches taller...and had a sharper nose. Who needs world peace when you're pretty, I ask you!

I miss:
Not caring about consequences. Or hell, not even considering that there might be any. "Consequences Shmonsequences!" is what I would have said, if you'd mentioned them a year ago.

I hear:
Everything wrong. And the few occasions I hear right, I misinterpret completely! I either have a hearing problem, or a perception problem.

I wonder:
At the fact that S and I are friends. It just seems so...unlikely. She's the kind of girl who lights an agarbatti every day in front of her potted tulsi plant. She also believes that if she touches the darn thing during her periods, it (the plant) will shrivel up and die. She's been fasting every goddamn friday for the last ten years and believes, really believes that 'God will take care of her'. Despite all the evidence to the contrary.

She has a room full of (ugh) stuffed toys, loves Madhuri Dixit and (Oh horror!) Hum Aapke Hain Kaun which she's watched FOURTEEN TIMES. Hold me up somebody, I'm fa-ll-ing.

Still, we're friends.

I regret:
Very little. Except the 'Oh what the hell' decisions.

I dance:
Well enough, but not better than n. That woman can *move*!

I sing:
Waaayy better than I dance.

I am:
in a funny sort of place right now. Y'know...in my head. AS IN, my head is IN a funny sort of place right now (and again, let's just skip the wisecracks, shall we?), NOT that my head is funny place to be in. How would you get in anyway?

I cry:
And then I get really mad at myself for being such a wuss.

I'm not always:
Soft-spoken. And those days, I am not a nice person to know.

I make with my hands:
A delicious mushroom and potato subji...and fish in *hot* mustard curry. Oh and music on my guitar...and dog-ears to mark my pages in books.

I write:
Much better in my head. No, honest. My head is filled with thrilling prose, but somehow, it doesn't get past my fingers. Damned fingers. *aside to fingers* I ought to chop you off for being so darned un-co-operative.

I confuse:
People...or so I've been told. Why that should be is beyond me. Far as I know, I'm an open book.

I need:
...do you really want me to get into this again? A NEW JOB!


***


I've been reading a collection of Carl Sandburg's poems, gifted to me by the Crazy White Girl (whom, sadly enough, I did not have the planned angry dance-off with, because the dance-off-erred did not show. Hmpfh.) and while I know that he's talking about Chicago, I can't help thinking that all of his poems seem to fit Bombay just as well.


Sample this:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas lamps
luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it
is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to
kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the
faces of women and children I have seen the marks
of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who
sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer
and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing
so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.

Doesn't it sound like it was written expressly for Bombay? Sorry Carl Sandburg, and thank you Beth! :)


*And see? It works! Not only did the tag make me post, it made me do a Long Rambling Post!

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Is totally written for Bombay!

Lakshmi,
Yet another Mumbaikar/Bombayite in total love with the city

Gera said...

Be in The Yellow Submarine song. You know how when you're listening to a song, you can see it happening in your head? The yellow submarine, the bells, the marching band, the happy stoned-ness of the whole picture?

You do know that "Yellow Submarine" refers to the yellow capsules used to package LSD at that time, right? And "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" shortens to LSD as well :-)

So do you really want to be there? Oh well - shouldn't have asked :-P

it (the plant)
*rolls over and dies laughing*

Akshay said...

"dance-off-erred" apologizes once again for his absense.

Oh yes as Gera mentioned I love the LSD reference - to be honest I need one of those yellow capsules.

Anshul said...

I wish:
I was oh about ten kilos lighter...and about eight inches taller...and had a sharper nose. Who needs world peace when you're pretty, I ask you!

That was hilarious!

Beth said...

This is tricky - sometimes CS is completely full of crap, like when she implies she is not pretty, because she is perfectly lovely, but sometimes she is right on, like when she wants to be in a Beatles song, where I will happily join her.

Glad you like the poems!

surya said...

hey me an intruder from bangalore.. jus wanted to get the taste of Mumbai:)

Chronicus Skepticus said...

Lakshmi: Welcome to the club...and the blog! :)

Gera:
> You do know that "Yellow Submarine" refers to the yellow capsules used to package LSD at that time, right?

I didn't, and thank you for utterly destroying another happy childhood memory! :P

> And "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" shortens to LSD as well.

Yeah, this I knew.

> So do you really want to be there?

Gera, anywhere but here, is good for me right now.

> it (the plant) *rolls over and dies laughing*

That's what you get for making an effort to clarify. Hmmpfh!

Akshay:
>"dance-off-erred" apologizes once again for his absense.

Oh alright, we forgive you! You can stop with the bambi eyes now.

>To be honest I need one of those yellow capsules.

Ahem! How about we not turn my blog into drug-peddlars hang-out, huh? Just a thought y'know. :P

Anshul:
>That was hilarious!

Glad you're amused! :D

Beth:
> Sometimes CS is completely full of crap.

Heh! I can't *believe* you used the word 'crap'! Now I feel all *warm* inside. :D

> When she wants to be in a Beatles song, I will happily join her.

All aboard now!

> Glad you like the poems!

Oh I *do*. And the CD too!

Surya:
Hello err...intruder! :)

>Just wanted to get the taste of Mumbai:)

We-e-ll a better idea would be to drop in and pay the city a visit. As much as I'd like to, I don't think do justice to it on my blog.

buzz the whiskey lord... said...

http://upsilambba.blogspot.com/

dibs...me here...finally...

Dipanjan said...

it was hilarious...i mean in a good sense....

Anonymous said...

oi. sorry about having to resort to this - got your IMs this morning - sent you mail, but got failure-delivery notice, so...

SC

witnwisdumb said...

Nobody ever tags you, eh? Well consider yourself tagged. Read this post and try come up with answers to at least 25 of those questions - any 25 of ‘em.

Pass this tag on to any three people of your choice. More if you like, but at least three.