Saturday, June 30, 2007

They stay at number 43

She yawned and she stretched. Staying alone at home was quite boring. She knew she had opted not to go out, but she was seriously re-thinking her decision. She regretted not having learnt to drive ... not that it would have been easy - he was extremely anal when it came to teaching anyone driving. Also, there was little hope of him getting her a present .. even though it was Valentine's day. Trust him not to remember !! She walked around the house a couple of times, but nothing seemed to catch her fancy. Suddenly, she heard his car pull into the drive-way. A few moments later, the door opened and he walked in. She decided to look bored and uninterested about his return. That'd show him !! He ignored her and went straight to the bedroom. Such insolence !! She followed him in, but said nothing. Instead, she sat on the bed and stared at him. He seemed to have dozed off. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked straight at her. She did not blink. Hungry, he asked ? Meow, she replied.

Peace ... at last

He had been thinking about it for a while now. Had it really been that long ? Maybe .. maybe not. He wasn't sure anymore. He had been restless too long already. He looked down. The cliff was deep ... very deep. There wasn't anyone around. No one would even get to know it happened. Would anyone even care ? He made up his mind to go ahead with it. Then, doubt crept in once more. Was this moral ? Was it not considered a crime, a sin ? Could he go through with it ? He moved towards the very edge of the cliff, and shifted his feet. His heart was pounding, his body seemed enveloped in sweat, his pulse was racing. Go on, he told himself, it will all be over in less than a minute. He steeled himself, inched even closer to the edge, took a deep breath, filled his heart with courage, steadied his feet .... and took a pee.

Friday, June 29, 2007

Only you

"Of course I love you! Why do you keep asking me that?", he said. She looked at him, clearly not satisfied with the sincerety in his reply, and started to walk away. He reached out to grab her hand, but she continued to move towards the door. His eyes followed her, admiring the grace with which she always carried herself, when she turned all of a sudden, and asked, "I better get dinner ready. Is any one going to be joining us tonight?". He shrugged, and poured himself a glass of claret.

He kept looking at her all through dinner, thanking his lucky stars that he could be with someone so beautiful. He told himself often that he did not deserve her, was not worthy of the love she showered upon him, even if it was interspersed with those moments of doubt that she had (in fact, he knew she was having one now) about his business trips. He had tried explaining to her that the nature of his job required him to wine and dine young women, but she could not believe that it was wholly professional. He had resigned himself to living with her distrust.

Post dinner, he could feel her thaw. She did not express it in any way, but he knew ... eight years of marriage had helped them develop that bond where words were the last thing they needed to communicate. She was in front of the mirror, getting ready for bed, when he came up behind her, held her by the waist, and kissed the nape of her neck. She did not turn to him, nor did she try to move away. He let his fingers run through her hair, raised his hand, and breathed in that all too familiar smell of her shampoo.

"Does he do that often?", she asked, raising her glasses with her middle finger, her crystal blue eyes staring pointedly at him through the glass window.

"Oh yes", he replied, "almost every day, actually. You see, he still sees her, feels her ... to him, she is still around. So he doesn't realize that all he is breathing in is the smell of his own hands. He seems to have blocked out everything since that night when he caught her cheating on him with his brother, and hacked them both to pieces".

Move over, Hannibal

Things I have eaten in the month of June (matlab not everything ... but thodi weird vaali):

1. Frog's legs
2. Liver
3. Snails
4. Tongue (I don't know what animal it belonged to)
5. Squid
6. Ox tail
7. Chicken feet
8. Beef - done rare

Inner voice asks - tumhara pet hai ya kabristaan?

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

What the ...

This person came into the restroom, washed his hands extensively, peed ... and then walked out without washing his hands !!

Am I missing something ??

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

European memories (memoirs??) III

In plane to Rome - 7:20 pm

Italians are such wonderfully crazy people - my flight to Rome hasn't even taken off yet, and I already like them. They're so ... loud, fun, touchy-feely, talkative ... not at all sophisticated and give-me-my-space like Americans. I'm surrounded by about 13 of them - all easily over 40, and within the first 15 minutes - one auntyji has had a friendly shouting match with another one, some random woman has slapped some random man's thigh about ten times, to which he has shrugged his shoulders and said, in that wonderful italian accent, "veemeeenn"!, these two fully grown men have had a magazine snatching match, they've all fiddled with the air vents, this sweet old italian lady has raised her eyebrows at me and remarked that the "gang" has disrupted (deessraaptiid) everything, and I've been offered by a guy whom I complimented on his shoes (some sort of dark brown leather - slip on types, but not really - totally awesome) to try them on!!!

... and holy hell, a full grown Alsatian just brushed by me !! What the eff is going on on this flight ??

European memories (memoirs??) II

Plane - SD to Atlanta

I'm feeling rather pleased with myself. I am a little (actually quite) apprehensive about landing in a country where I dont speak the language and I wont be meeting T, S or N for atleast a couple of hours after I arrive. Also, I had zero clue as to how I would get from the airport (FCO) to the place we're staying at. Well, after simultaneous research of a few maps, I believe I would need to take the airport express to the Termini station; then either take train line B to the first stop - Castro Pretorio; or take bus number 492 to the CP bus stop - and then walk one block to the hotel.

Let's see how that works out. Note to self - beware of pickpockets!

European memories (memoirs??) I

Plane - SD to Atlanta

I'm sitting in the plane, watching "The Astronaut Farmer", which, incidentally, is quite enjoyable (atleast when youre running on 4 hours of sleep); and there was this nurse in the movie who was evaluating the main guy - Farmer, since he is all set to launch into space on a home made rocket; and she said something which I had heard before (not personally!) - about how every person is an onion, and a psychiatrist has to peel through many many layers and how the process takes time.

But here's a question - what are you left with after you finish peeling that onion - separate pieces, each of which is capable of bringing you to tears; disjoint fragments of something that will never again have the cohesive form that made it what it once was ?

BTW - the movie has gotten quite absurd !!