Entry 5 - A little more or less

And exactly how much more is less, or how less is more?
Somewhere it struck me over a random dinner conversation with a couple friends. Sometimes it so happens,that we miss out on or maybe never get to know little details of closest of people in our lives.
Just thinking of a string of fictional incidents
The drunken calls after spicy soup
The fish on the footwear
Or the retaining the symmetry behind upside down

Feels weird to start with but true, we do take things for granted and not know favourite colors or films or whatever. Takes me back to college when the quantity of sugar for that cup of coffee still remains intact in memory but not the persons existence, or the Lebanese non veg platter with Kalhua shots at Pebble Street, or brunch menu at 32 milestone or chicken cartilage at 26 AG or Keema Ghotala at Mocha has people associated with it. I know the kind of coffee that’s Sedas alarm or the yummy eggs and sausages roger cooks on a wasted day or the cold coffee at manis jus when u are ready to storm out for conquer another long day or the crabs that light up Irenes eyes.

What does it mean? Knowing these details definitely means you care, but is the perfect judge for setting the chart-topper. Don’t know,but ya, with some people it makes all the difference,like the little princess knows everything I like or don’t like and vice-versa. Thank god for some people like that….knowing that you are sharing them with other people but what you share with them is copyrights reserved, and is an extremely limited edition.

2nd Sept 2011

Entry 4 - Chor Baazari

One of those monsoon mornings where u sulk to have woken up at 5 in the morning but still have the butterfly in the stomach to go explore, first of its kind in this stint of Bombay and the agenda was to experience it. Google came handy in trying to discover the feel of it, and then it happened…the Friday clothes bazaar,midst small galis and hundreds of people in motion. They all looked focused about their destination though it was the human sea that kept them moving through spaces.

The architecture was tactile, old mossy houses…dented walls and broken window panes. And one could also get a peek into some houses, rusty grills and old, greasy ceiling fans…blue or dead yellow walls adorned with tacky wall hangings and bright frames. And some of them like almost all Bombay houses, did have a string of clothes desperately trying to dry themselves. But one frame that remains in my head after all these days, is that freshly painted Mughal archetype building on both sides if the little lane and they are joining hands with the help of the tin sheet roof and tattered tarpaulin, its so old that that there are fully grown plants on it. It feels like a living time travel static on your face.

Since it was a Friday the other artifact shops remains closed but what one could see through the glass openings and making efforts to catch a glimpse was old lamp shades and wooden chairs and it did smell of antique stuff one could afford  I am very hopeful about the chest. There was this shop called Bollywood bazaar, can’t wait to lay my hands on it.

However the paya was disappointing to the extent I wanted to throw up, and knowing that I can eat anything, please imagine how bad!! And there was the chai stop, in the butcher hall, and the kid with the tattered t-shirt smeared with meat blood. Something stung me, its not always by choice…..often by compulsion. Not so nice,but true. Did we ever know there was second hand, fourth hand spare parts of Bentleys and Mercs . This country in the most familiar spaces doesn’t fail to surprise me.
Oh before I sign off, was there for a friends quest to find miniature insects, but we came back empty handed but hearts hankering for more, just that someone zoomed into work at 8 am in the morning while the other bindass, didn’t get to work till 2 in the afternoon.

30th August 2011