Thursday, February 24, 2011

Antilla



We were visiting a friend's house the other day, because he was ill. He didn't look the part, and not finding much to sympathise about, we began joking around, checking Facebook (yes, it is the end of the world if you check Facebook when all your friends are right beside you), and also, staring out of the window. One of our stares registered Antilla, Mukesh Ambani's residence, the one he built for his wife. The building reminded me of a particular paragraph from a particular book:

"The residence of Mr. Peter Pett, the well-known financier, on Riverside Drive, New York, is one of the leading eyesores of that breezy and expensive boulevard. As you pass by in your limousine, or while enjoying ten cents' worth of fresh air on top of a green omnibus, it jumps out and bites at you. Architects confronted with it reel and throw up their hands defensively, and even the lay observer has a sense of shock. [...] It is a house that is impossible to overlook; and it was precisely for this reason that Mrs. Pett insisted on her husband's buying it, for she was a woman who liked to be noticed."

Doesn't this excite you? Don't you notice the similarities?
  1. Mumbai is a lot like New York. Or isn't it? It must be.
  2. Antilla is one of the leading eyesores of south Mumbai.
  3. Architects confronted with it do reel.
  4. It does bring on a sense of shock.
  5. It is impossible to overlook.
  6. Mr. Ambani bought it (built it, same difference) for his wife.
Also take note of the discrepancies:
  1. Mr. Ambani is more than just a well-known financier.
  2. You don't pass by in your limousine in Mumbai. You halt every two minutes on account of the traffic.
  3. The buses are red, not green; and you'd be hard-pressed for fresh air. No offence to BEST, though. It is a perfectly efficient and well-managed bus service.
  4. There is no writer to equal Wodehouse in Mumbai or anywhere else in the world.


P.S. For those wondering where Wodehouse enters the equation, it's because the afore-quoted paragraph has been written by him. The book is called Piccadilly Jim.


Saturday, February 12, 2011

It's Okay

"it's okay
it's going to be fine
look at the bigger picture
look at the future i am colouring
for you, so you would do this for me
just this once
and i won't tell you about my eraser
i won't admit i have it
i will accuse you of having one
and who can blame me?
what you don't know can't hurt you
if it does
i won't be there to see you cry
and crying's good for you, isn't it?
i will pretend i care
i won't tell you i am a great actor
let's just run to the finish line, baby
there's nothing else to do
you don't want to? fine. now you do?
it's okay, it's okay
it's going to be fine"

you say all this to me
i listen to you
and i tell myself
it's okay
it's going to be fine

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Contentedness

It is all falling back into place
There is nothing to fear
And nothing to disbelieve in
And no reason to cry
Also, more importantly,
There is no reason to be pessimistic
To notice what is not present
Because there is so much to think of
And so much to remember
Fondly.

Contentedness, unlike happiness, wears off after a while. But it is worth enjoying while it is there, and unrealistic to fear a future without it. This is what I have learnt; and I am glad I have learnt it. These are happy tears, a little late in the day.

Sunday, January 02, 2011

My world
Falling
Colliding
Vapourising: invisible
Ten million stars
And trying to catch them all.

Friday, November 19, 2010

India Today


1.) Babus cannot impersonate war widows for too long.
2.) It's a colourfully vibrant and awe-inspiring spectrum. The two G's could mean gaffe (the whole episode) and gallows (for it remains to be seen whom). And we're all poised for 3G. We're so gullible.
3.) The news about America saying, "LOL, we were just kidding" about the UNSC permanent membership promise has been given the cold shoulder. We trust Obama even if he's taking his policy of change a bit too seriously.

Friday, October 08, 2010

Stupid



Sometimes I wonder
If my life is a dream
And everything I value
I am making up
Hallucinating.

Sometimes I fear
that I will wake up
Realise there was nothing
Or worse, that the dream will continue
Ceaselessly.

I know I'm tiresome when I get all wondery. I know all this sentimental nonsense is making you want to bury your computer in an unmarked grave and forget the location. But I can't help it. Bear with me.
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