Friday, March 24, 2006

The birds and the bees

It's the old mid-semester phase again, replete with the regular medley of seemingly random events that escape undiscerning eyes, forming labyrinthine webs that are dictated, if a little injudiciously, by the overbearing hands of karma and kismet.

All sure to make sense in the end, no doubt. The scriptwriter upstairs, with his penchant for the neat ending, sees to that.

In other news, women students have now been accorded permission to enter the men's hostel, and vice versa. Whether this means that the powers-that-be are unconsciously echoing the much vaunted sexual revolution touted to be sweeping the country, or are merely demonstrating their (often questioned) sound mental health, is, of course , debatable.

The one certainty of this turn of events, I suppose, is that the chances of me stumbling upon couples coochie-cooing in ostensible privacy have taken a nosedive. Make no mistake about it, my campus is a voyeur's dream, and I have never been shy of cashing in, shameless pervert that I am.

1)The library
How about the air-conditioned reading hall? Always empty, of course. You like it hot and grimy? Please proceed into the magazine section. You want a great view too? Yes, I know just the place. You'd prefer the little cubicles, perfect for two? The ones with the green chairs ? No? You find pink sexier ? This way please.

Oh, you do know that nobody uses the toilets on the fifth floor, don't you? And did i forget to mention the elevator? Passe, you think ? Yes, I agree. Bad music, too.

2)The temple
"Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."

Ah well, you can't blame Einstein for never sitting with a pretty girl in a temple. Places of worship, if nothing else, freeze time. You can, quite simply, go on and on and on. And where better to consummate a relationship than right before the watching eyes of providence ?

What nobody cares about, of course, is what the venerable goddess Durga thinks of it all. Divine interference can meddle with the theory of relativity, but is powerless in the face of animal passion.

Albert, eat your heart out.

3) The stadium
Football pitch sized, floodlit with lights off. Proximity to the girls hostel. Deer grazing by the side. Starry, starry nights. Need I say more?

This list, incidentally, is much longer.
Yes, I know. I am a sick, sick boy.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

diamonds and rust

My gift is my song and this one's for you.


Let me sing you a waltz, out of nowhere, out of my thoughts. A long long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. Summer of 69. Anarchy in the UK. Sitting on the dock of the bay, wastin' time. Pretty woman walking down the street. Something in the way she moves. Judy blue eyes. You sexy thing.

"Ooh my little pretty one, pretty one.
When you gonna give me some time, Sharona? "

"Dream on."

"Layla, you've got me on my knees.
Layla, I'm begging, darling please. "

"Save tonight , fight the break of dawn.
Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone."

"You can call me Al."


Dancing in the dark. Singin' in the rain. Nights in white satin, never reaching the end. I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and you. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.


And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid.
Like I love you.

Under pressure. Every rose has its thorn, every night has its dawn.

"I want to break free
I want to break free
I want to break free from your lies
You’re so self satisfied I don’t need you"

"Why do you build me up, buttercup bab-y,
just to let me down, and mess me around ? "

"I hate everything about you ."

" What else should I be, all apologies . "


Was I outta my head, was I outta my mind ? How could I've ever been so blind ? No woman, no cry. NO woman, NO cry. Show me the way to the next whiskey bar. Red, red wine. Go to my head. Make me forget that i still need her so.

But it hurts me so just to see you go around with someone new, doin' that thing you do. Oh, bab-y bab-y, it's a wild world and I'll always remember you like a child, girl.


1979. Motorway to Roswell. Sitting on a park bench, eyeing lil girls with bad intent.

"Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name ?"

The circle of life. Que sera sera , whatever will be, will be.


With permission, of course, from (in this order) Elton John, Julie Delpy, Don McLean, Bryan Adams, The Sex Pistols, Otis Redding, Roy Orbison, George Harrison, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Hot Chocolate, The Knack, Aerosmith , Eric Clapton, Eagle Eye Cherry, Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen, Gene Kelly, Louis Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, David Bowie, Poison, Queen , The Foundations, Ugly Kid Joe, Nirvana, Fastball, Bob Marley, The Doors, UB40, The Wonders, Cat Stevens, The Smashing Pumpkins, The Pixies, Jethro Tull, The Doors, Elton John, Doris Day. Phew .

For a few hours, a couple of days back, I had shut down this blog. Here I am again, for better or worse. Here to stay , hopefully.

Monday, March 06, 2006

joie de vivre

I'm tired of living my life like a wallflower. Dance, anyone?

Oh, and this site intrigues me. Do me a favour, will you.

About Me

a recluse waiting for salvation