| Friday, June 27, 2008 |
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| "the stock market is a device for transferring money from the impatient to the patient." - warren buffet |
posted by n.g. at 08:55
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| Monday, June 09, 2008 |
| august and everything before |
when i was in school, i loved ripping the old brown covering paper off my books and covering them nicely with new paper. new labels, et al.
when it would be pouring and the authorities would allow parents to drive all the way inside the school gates to drop the kids, so we wouldn't get wet.
when mrs bhargava would let us go five minutes before the lunch bell rang, so we could get a headstart on the line for pao bhaji on thursdays.
during 7th and 8th standard, i'd get to skip the mortal assembly line because i sang as a tenor in the school choir. of course, then came the 9th standard and my voice cracked and i was promptly put in my place. in the line.
i played cricket and was the opening batsman for my class. i would score 4 off 40 balls while the other guy went ballistic. my wicket was always celebrated because i was the only one who wasn't trying too hard to hit big sixes to impress the girls, who weren't looking anyway. i was annoyingly reticent, like dravid.
but once i was sent as a pinch hitter when we needed 15 off 3 balls. i hit two balls for sixes and got out going for the third. all the girls applauded and smiled at me shyly.
i watched meenali chitnis representing the red house debate team, and fell in love with her. she was cute, konkanastha brahmin, she had a lock of hair curled around her ear, she had a small nose, big eyes, and a deep manly voice.
for two whole months, i spent the lunch break sitting at the entrance of my class, because i would get to see Meenali Chitnis twice - once when she would go off to have lunch, and once when she would come back. then one day she sat in my class next to me during lunch break and held my hand, and then a week later stood me up on our first and only date, which doesn't really count as a date coz she never showed up.
she wrote in my yearbook, and dated it 'forever'. i have no idea where that book is.
my best friend in school was this guy called roneet de. he was quite well built, but we would make fun of him when he wore his PT shirt, coz his nipples would stick out. years later i realised that however nasty we were to him, not once did he make fun of our man-breasts.
there was another guy called purab desai. when we had to say 'sixty-six', we would say 'purab-ty roneet'. roneet didn't deserve it, but purab sure did.
pranay kochar had a giant crush on sanyukta vaidya. but never told her. but she knew.
vineet varma had a giant crush on niranjana mani. but never told her. but she knew.
purab desai had a giant crush on toral mistry. he never told her. but she knew. and boy did it embarass her.
i had a giant crush on meenali chitnis. i told her, and see what happened.
jayant madhavan didn't have a crush on anyone. but we teased him with manoshi das. she was more interested in his notes than in him.
i'm in that kind of mood today. several cups of tea, an ongoing sore back, rain drenched windows of my car (which seems unusual from the back seat), and a little dream that i refuse to let self-destruct - are currently being made into a cohesive ball of reality by david gray.
turning back for home
you know I'm feeling so alone
i can't believe
climbing on the stair
i turn around to see you smiling there
in front of me |
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posted by n.g. at 18:31
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| Saturday, June 07, 2008 |
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| i wonder what's more important. to learn from experience or to experience learning. |
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posted by n.g. at 14:47
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| Thursday, June 05, 2008 |
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for all the promises that were made
for all the thorns that were laid
for all the wrongs that were served
for all the accolades undeserved
for all the fake smiles cheek to cheek
for all the shifty eyes so meek
for all the stabbing in the heart
for all the fears right from the start
for all the money and the cars
for all the ass licking of the stars
for all the sly and scheming shit
for all the letdowns bit by bit
for all the poseur talk they do
for all the cronies stuck like glue
for all the damn insecurity
for all the lack of surety
for all the heartbreak and the pain
for all the selfish personal gain
for all the sense of loss I’ve earned
for all the times my soul’s been burnt
for all the outer pomp and show
for all the truth filled with woe
for all the fire they tried to wet
for all the friends who chose to forget
for all the nights I couldn’t sleep
for all the wounds they dug in deep
for all the lives that were shaped
for all the lies that were draped
for all the fits and starts and stops
for all the pits and falls and drops
for all the times the past resurrects
for all the times the guilt upsets
for all the drinks they down to drown
for all their nervous hidden frowns
they couldn’t make me what I am. |
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posted by n.g. at 20:03
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Name: n. g.
Home: Bombay, India
About Me:
this fire is burning and its outta control its not a problem you can stop its rock and roll.
See my complete profile
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| They Rock! |
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| Recently Brewed |
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| Aged Liquor |
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