?

Log in

No account? Create an account
Savio
oivas
. .:.:: :::: ..:::.::.
Back Viewing 10 - 20 Forward

'If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. If life gives you melons, wear a bra.'

'The first lie every kid hears: Honesty is the best policy'

'Ladders are for climbing, not for falling off'

I always said lowbrow.com was a good place to learn stuff.

Current Mood: dorkydorky
Current Music: A Perfect Circle

Behind her eyes there's curtains...
and they've been closed to hide the flames, remains...
she knows their future's burning, but she can smile just the same, same...
and though her mood is fine today
there's a fear they'll soon be parting ways

Standing, like a statue
a chin of stone, a heart of clay, hey...
and though he's too big a man to say
there's a fear they'll soon be parting ways

Drifiting away, drifting away, drifting away...
drifiting away, drifting away, drifting away...

(Pearl Jam, from the album Binaural)

Current Mood: indescribableindescribable
Current Music: pearl jam

Unsolicited call 1

:::tring tring:::

Me: "Hullo"
Voice At The Other End: "Hullo Sir, I’m calling from ABN Amro"
Me: "And you are?"
VATOE: "Eh? I’m Shraddha... and this is with regards to a personal loan"
Me: "OK, so how much do you want, Shraddha?"
VATOE: "Eh? Want?"
Me: "Yes, what is the amount you want?"
VATOE: "I don’t want anything, I want to give..."
Me: "Why Shraddha? Why do you want to give me a personal loan? Do you even know me?"
VATOE: "No, but..."
Me: "Then why, Shraddha? Did I ask you for one?"
VATOE: "No, but..."
Me: "But you know? If you ever want a loan, you could always call me..."
VATOE: Eh? Thank you, sir"

:::disconnects:::

Unsolicited call 2

Me: "Hullo?"
VATOE: "Hullo, I’m calling from ICICI Bank"
Me: "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"
VATOE: "There’s been a tie-up between ICICI and your office and we're therefore giving all of you free credit cards..."
Me: "How nice! And yes, congratulations to you on the tie-up"
VATOE: "Congratulations to you too, sir..."
Me: "It’s so nice that you guys have tied up with us. This makes me so happy. Aren’t you happy too?"
VATOE: "Eh? Yes sir, I am. So..."
Me: "Well, we both are happy so lets just sign off on this happy note"
VATOE: "But sir..."

:::click:::

Current Mood: crazycrazy
Current Music: Tamara Laporte

More than a year ago, I wrote a little story... And today, I find this piece on Yahoo News!

Now what really bugs me is that, from now on, almost everyone will think that my story was frigging inspired by the said piece of news.

Current Mood: crankycranky
Current Music: Ugly Kid Joe

Current Mood: boredbored
Current Music: Scorpions

On the front page of the Times of India, just besides its masthead, and under sports: Kallis’ girlfriend goes on a shopping spree in Kolkata

Duh? WTF?

Ok, so Kallis, who happens to be a South African cricketer, has a good-looking (but nonentity) girlfriend who decided to shop in Kolkata... I got that!

But really, how does that come under sports? And what makes the newspaper think that people in Bombay give a rat’s ass if someone, whom we couldn’t care less about, decided to go on a shopping spree in Kolkata? And if she really shopped as much as they'd like us to believe, shouldn't this news bit come in the finance and economics section of the paper under something like Kallis' Girlfriend improves the economy of West Bengal?

What say you?

Current Mood: groggygroggy
Current Music: Ozzy Osbourne

A few days ago--I don't remember when exactly--a friend--I don’t remember which--directed me to the following piece on the Internet--I don’t even remember the site URL. But I do remember copying this text into Word in case I forgot--like I have, and always do. But forget that!
Well anyway--and without much ado--and/or digression--I present to you--and not with little envy--something written by someone else--a something, I wish I had written instead. Here goes...

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way.

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads or tails of. I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated -- as if this were something I was great shakes at -- and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation became more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.


(Supposedly published in the July 25, 1994 New Yorker magazine by Jack Winter)

Addendum
(OK, we have confirmation. The piece is titled 'How I met my wife' and it is by Jack Winter, published in the New Yorker, July 25, 1994 )

Current Mood: bouncybouncy
Current Music: Blackmore's Night

"What's in the bag?"
"A gift for one of my clients, yaar... It’s been a long time since I've got an order from him... This thing cost me 20 grand... probably I'll get a huge order after I give it to him"
"20 grand! What the hell is it?"
"Its an iPod..."
"I pawd?"
"Arey... you dunno or what? iPod is the new Macintosh Walkman... you don't even need audio casettes."


iPod is the 'Macintosh' Walkman???

Current Mood: calmcalm
Current Music: A Perfect Circle

I’m waiting for an Auto--one of those Share-an-Auto thingees. Eventually, after a wait of around 5 minutes, one comes chugging along... I’m about to take my rightful seat when a rather squat, north-easternly-looking man, bearing a suitcase et al, pushes ahead of me and jumps in. Well anyway, I take the other free seat and off we go...

Through the whole journey, if you can call it that, our man displays body movements that you’d expect from a monkey who’s just landed onto a hot tin roof.

Cut to our destination...

I get off the Auto, pay the driver and begin walking towards home. The air is filled with the 'bhajans' and 'shlokes' being chanted by people participating in a nearby Ganesh Puja

Suddenly, catching up with me...

Squat North-Easternly-Looking Man: (with a slight jerk of his neck, as if gesturing to the area we’ve just left behind) "Armchoo paiyyum?"

Me: (not understanding a word of what he just said) "Pardon?"

SN-E-LM: "Armchoo paiyyum?"

Me: "I'm sorry, come again..."

SN-E-LM: (now, losing his patience) "ArrmCHOOO PaiYYUMM?"

Me: (thinking he’s asking me about the Ganesh Puja) "Umm... that’s a Ganesh Aarti going on..." (You know? They probably don’t celebrate Ganesh Chaturti from where he comes)

SN-E-LM: (apparently, not very happy with the concept of a Ganesh Arti--or so, I think) "Owmchoo Paiyyum?!!"

Me: "Eh?"

::By this time, it seems, he’s already categorized me as a complete idiot::

SN-E-LM: "Owmchoo Paiyyum?... Riksha man?"

Me: (finally getting it) "Ah! How much did I pay the Auto guy?"

SN-E-LM: "Ya... Dat wot I’m Seng.."

Me: (smiling) "Three Bucks"

SN-E-LM: (walking away from me) "Gud... it’s 5 rupees after 10"

The whole evening after that I walked around the house greeting everyone with an "Armchoo paiyyum?"

My mom thinks work's getting to me.

Current Mood: amusedamused
Current Music: A Perfect Circle

Ganesh, the cutest of Hindu gods, is also known as Vign Harta, which means The Remover of Obstacles. Isn’t it rather ironic therefore, that the festival of Ganesh Chaturti that celebrates this Hindu god is the reason for the worst of traffic jams in the city?

Ganesh and the mice

Illustration by Shyam Shriram, a friend and colleague. If you're interested, you can find more of his work here.

Current Mood: awakeawake
Current Music: Mediaeval Baebes
Back Viewing 10 - 20 Forward