Random...

Complete randomness and madness is all I can think of and that will be reflected in my blog too. But then, random thoughts are quite something and consequently better than the absolute nothingness that my blog has been subjected to of late. Blame the unexpected vacation that came with the madness that swine flu unleashed. Life has been twice as hectic as before. Though I love the documentary film making workshop I am doing, it keeps me on my wits end. I have felt triumphant after shooting each one of my home assignment videos. The very next day, she has sat in class, watching my videos on the big screen and tearing them apart. It feels like someone stripping your soul bare in front of everyone and you can do nothing but look her in her eyes like a harmless puppy and admit that you have done a bad job.All those camera positions and angles! But then thanks to the strict instructor, I am learning so much rapidly. The other day she asked us to shoot an interview and this hilarious thing happened. One of my friends caught hold of a foreigner on the road and said-“ Can I take you to a corner and shoot you?” And he agreed!

Well…Malhar is on sans all the madness. Too bad but swine flu did this awful thing to Malhar, St. Xavier’s annual cultural fest. Not that my heart goes out to them (my heart is strictly Sophia’s), it was a disappointing sight to see an uncrowded campus with a larger workforce than people attending the festival. It was equally disgusting to see girls in shorts shorter than their tees. Someone tell them it doesn’t make them look attractive in any way, that too in a vacant campus.

Dominos has come out with pasta in two flavours. I gave it a try a fortnight before. Eeeew! It’s seriously not worth the 100 bucks that you end up paying for a modest amount of pasta in an oversized box. Sorry for making it look oh-so-tempting in the picture above.

My house has become a mini bar of sorts with all kinds of liquor available here. Right here behind my laptop that I’m writing on are lined up bottles of scotch and beer. Holy mother! I didn’t know a bottle of scotch could be priced so exorbitantly. Thanks to my landlady’s eighty five years young brother who has flown down from Portugal and cannot breathe without alcohol. He might survive longer without air than beer. He is a tall and good looking old man who loves to pour out his heart as well as liqour and has been inviting me to have a drink with him since morning. But I have been escaping the state of bitterness in my mouth and dizziness in my head. I wouldn’t be writing this post even today otherwise.

First Information...

My cell phone was flicked in the bus last week. Thanks to my habit of checking my pockets every ten minutes, I realized it soon enough to let everyone in the bus know about it. Some noise followed by a bout of sadness when I missed the tiny gizmo which was followed by a lingering sadness that I would stop missing it too soon. Those who foster a strong detachment from such worldly possessions will understand the last sentence well. Anyway, the responsible citizen in me yanked me to the police station the following day.

Lodging an FIR is no child’s play as many of you might know. You are reduced to a hopeless wretch if you are not taken seriously and if they do, it’s still a hopeless case spending four good hours of your life in a police station. Fortunately or otherwise, I fell in the latter category. I looked around for some signs of familiarity owing to my knowledge of Bollywood movies. Alas! There was none to be found in the spic and span police station with sincere faced officials who were all ears to my complaint. But trust me, I had no clue that writing an FIR was something akin to writing fiction. The drab part was when the officer started taking down my family background. I never thought I could write a page long essay on my family. What followed gave me a sense of sitting in a Creative Writing class. The inspector crafted a story about how I lost my phone. After listening to my version, he added his own bits to it apparently to make the case simple and more convincing. After writing a few sentences in his impeccable handwriting, he would read them out to me and look at me in the same way as I look at my proff after dishing out a piece of ‘creative writing’: seeking a go-ahead that gives one’s artistic morale a boost. How imaginative these police officers are! Why don’t they do workshops for us?

This exercise stretched for hours as someone or the other would disturb the flow of his story or he would have the urge to go to the other side of the room and shove some tobacco into his mouth. I was visibly yawning by the end of an hour when he offered me the special police station tea. Cutting chai with masala and an aroma that fills one’s senses! It gave me the drive to carry on for the next 3 hours. When I finally looked at my watch to leave, the kind hearted cop offered me his dabba sensing that I would collapse any minute. I smilingly said a Thank you and left, before barging into the bakery nearby. Too bad I can’t give u a glimpse of my first FIR as along with my phone, my camera too has gone for a toss 