who can tell?

The oracle sat in the train. She had always known she’d get the side upper berth.

She still had a few hours before she’d have to clamber up. No point asking the young boy opposite her to exchange his lower berth for her upper one.

It was destined that he would refuse. Just as it was destined that he’d pass the exam he was going to give with flying colours. Unfortunately he’d lose his seat to a quota candidate. But he didn’t know any of that just yet. And he was busy on his laptop, not even bothering to glance at the fat Punjabi lady in a loose salwaar kameez in front of him.

The oracle felt a burp rising. She opened her bag and pulled out some churan.

As she sucked on her churan, and felt her stomach slowly secrete the juices needed to digest her evening samosa, she looked around.

The mother with her two sons. The oracle knew this was the summer holiday where the husband would cheat on his wife. The wife fortunately didn’t. And cooed away on the phone, while the boys pulled each other’s hair out.

The oracle's eyes slid over the boys, nothing interesting, nothing spectacular, till they rested on a girl on one end of the berth. A magazine open on her lap, the girl’s head was against the glass as she dozed.

Kleptomaniac. And rabble rouser. From college politics to party politics. This girl would treat her friends and enemies alike – with ruthlessness.

The oracle shivered. Maybe it was the AC. Why did they always keep it so high?

She wished she had bought a Filmfare. Sure, that Kareena Kapoor would finally marry a fat Punjabi industrialist, but at least it would have been time pass to read about her and Saif declaring their undying love for each other.

The oracle belched, and looked around the compartment. Wife beater. Dead at 42. Spinster. Bright future. Lakhpati. Car accident. Guilty. Three marriages.

“ Madam, dinner?”

The oracle, her reverie broken, looked up.

“ Uh...khane mein kya hai?”

“ Rajma.”

The oracle sighed. She knew she was beaten. How could you tell what Rajma would do? Especially after Ghasitaram ke do garm samose.

Gas ya acidity?

The oracle had no answer.

image @ http://waverleykitchens.ning.com/

how to fool millions and make millions

I went to watch twilight last evening.

I’d borrowed the book from a friend’s daughter and finished it in one go. Then someone gave me the other three. Which weren’t as hot as the first one. Dude, she gets married at 18 to a vampire, they keep trying to have sex for more than half the book and then finally voila! She has two kids in two days and then turns vampire herself.

Yesh, someone hold up a barf bag while I throw up.

Anyway, the book is a rage. And like I said, the first one is pretty neat. Some smouldering romance, solid vampire action, potential for great music.

And then comes the movie.

Here’s how they wrote the screenplay. Let’s start with page one, then go to page 20, then straight to page 80 and then page 160 and so on and so forth.

It just keeps jumping like a flea on acid.

The hero, who has way too much foundation on his face, looks so nice when he smiles. Which is precisely twice in the movie. The rest of the time the director insisted he keep peering under his eyebrows so he’d look like a vampire. He just ends up looking like he’s holding back a fart.

The heroine never smiles. And looks more washed out than the vampire.

The production values are so tacky. It screams kanjoosi.

The special effects are the comic relief.

The story is butchered.

And the effing movie raked in 70.6 million dollars.

Where’s the justice in this world?

And, on the topic of let's make love vs. let's fuck, I'll go with what this chick suggests. Let's have sexy time I think wins hands down.

rant in my underpant

Fought with milo.

Burst into tears.

Made up.

A ignores me.

Think he’s worried i’m behaving

Like a ticking time bomb strapped to a see saw

I grumble about the TV being on

And the fridge that’s empty

No energy to fill it

Domestic goddess is long dead

Two people call

They mean money

No energy to call back

Business goddess is feeling blah

Stomach hurts

Shoulders hurt even more

The bath soap that I usually love

Felt like a blob of used paneer today

The class I have at 1 noon

I don’t care, i’m not going

All this

And it’s only 11.30 on a Saturday morning.

Pee fucking em ess.

and why do people say

let's make love

morons

say it like it is

feel too shy to say let's fuck

let's have sex

then say let's make out

just please

let's make love is so pahargunj

it's something richard bach

or yanni would probably say.

lame brain.

picture @ http://www.lipsticktracez.com

tears

half a day

spent with my parents

in a strange city

i watch them get dressed

i say goodbye to them in 20 mins

leaving them alone

to think of me

to miss me

i know

that's all they'll think of

they have no idea i know.

they think i'm working

but i'm thinking

however difficult your relationship with your parents

it is so difficult to say good bye

i will try

not to cry

but it breaks my heart

to say goodbye

i said this before

and i say this again

can't live with them

can't live without them

sigh.

vanishing point

Violence was in her blood

Her father hit her mother every night

Her mother slashed her wrist once every week

The barbed wire around their house sagged with the weight of their yelling

And their screaming.

Then her mother died on the kitchen floor

And her father disappeared in to the night

So when it was her turn

She laid her cards carefully

The red skirt. The white shirt

The demure eyes

The long silky hair

Every man fell for it

The boys, the roving eyes,

The older men, the hungry, the tired, the jaded, the fired

Who could resist her?

She played them

Listened to them

Looked up to them

Fucked them, loved them, cooked for them

Then one day

When they least expected it she put a knife to their heart

And carved it out

They were found

In hotel rooms, in car parks, in lonely apartment blocks

The cops thought the killer was a man

Which girl could pin down a guy twice her size

Which girl could cut through muscle and bone

Which girl could take a bleeding heart and disappear

But she had inherited two things

Violence in her blood

And the knack for disappearing in to the night

So for all you know

She’s the girl

Who sits beside you in the train, in the bus, in the shared taxi

And in the second refrigerator she bought from her diwali bonus

Lie seven hearts

Mottled and cold, in seven zip lock bags.

overheard over the weekend

Saturday. Late lunch at cafe.

The next table has a girl and a guy sitting across each other. She’s leaning towards him, he’s settled back, leaning away, in to his chair.

Girl: Wow. New year? That is such a cool plan.

Guy: I know, it should be a lot of fun.

Girl: It’s fantastic. You guys will have such a great time.

Guy stuffs his face with bread and says hmmmm.

Girl: I wish I could go too. You know I love the beach.

Guy tries to smile politely through a mouthful, nods head and goes hmmmm.

Sunday. At V’s place.

Guy: Are you busy? Got any ads?

Girl: No ya. Not so busy. Ads...One woman called me. For an underwear shoot.

Guy smiles nervously.

Girl: I said okay, what’s the money. She said fifteen thousand. I said no way honey.

Guy: Good ya.

Girl: Exactly. She said it’s only above the waist. So I was like listen that is my best part. You don’t get great boobs for cheap.

Guy laughs. Takes a quick sip of his drink.

fly on the wall @ http://www.spunangel.com

ricky don't lose that number

Last night i spoke to you

On a long distance call

Across telephone wires that don’t exist anymore

And you sounded

Sleepy and stoned

And like you had sung a lot

And i remembered

A morning by the beach

You turning to talk to me

And your brown eyes

For the first time those brown eyes

Without glasses to cover them

Unguarded. Unkept.

Brown eyes that made me feel sleepy and stoned

And like i had sung a lot

My breath stays suspended

And if there is a moment

When you know

That you are falling, free falling, drowning, plunging

Without a safety cord

Without a security blanket

Without a thought

Without a moment of hesitation

Then it was that moment

I fell in love with you

It’s been some time now.

But every time I hear you sound like that

I hold it close to me

Like warm popcorn in a dark movie hall.

I don’t believe in the future

Because i can’t see it

But i believe that your voice

Will always do this to me.

picture credit @ www.designsponge.com

title credit @ steely dan