The Loleshis: Why they will always be my family
I met Hepa Loleshi on a Saturday afternoon in the library and got talking about religion. She is a nice lady with family values and a family that she loves – was my first impression about her. She was wondering what kind of a person I’m and finally thought that I was okay I assume. Thus, she invited me to there church.
The church was beautiful and I met her family for the first time. Grandma Sesa of the Australian Bush hunter fame tried to hunt me with language skills and the kids – Abish being more matured, friendly and prim, Sesa pretty, spontaneous and warm, little book worm who was smart and thought I was cool. Mr. Frudo the good looking young dude and Mr. Cool from Hollywood the awkward rebel teenager. There were six. But I did not meet the oldest boy from Hamilton. He was very caring and family oriented. I met Ronnie Hepa’s kind Samoan husband at their church. It was a big family church that defied description. My first Mormon church that was a great feeling.
And after that I never felt alone. I was invited to family nights where we sang and Sesa told me how I was their brother from another mother. Ronnie had a slight complication and we went to the hospital. Singing, playing word games, watching basket ball matches, pizza parties after a basket ball game of under 10 boys, where Frudo’s team lost 78 to 1. I moved into Manurewa during my practicum at Papatoetoe High School. I was baptized in their beautiful church and the Loleshis were there. They were there when I heard about my mom health. They prayed with me, for me and my mom. I was touched by Hepa and Sesa and Abish at the Auckjland airport. They are the family I have in NZ. I’m not alone. Thank you.
Dahanu is a sleepy small town, that looks like a Pacific island with endless palms and coconut plantations, on the western side just above Mumbai on a map. The fresh Neera or coconut toddy, a sweet morning juice that can ferment into an intoxicating drink in the afternoon, is pure nectar.
I climb out of the brown train on a winter morning in February for what promises to be a fun trip with my cousin, her husband at the in-laws of the in-laws. It’s slightly complicated so let’s call them the others. The others have a huge apartment in Dahanu.
The first three days were untainted heaven that included long walks, night under rural starry beaches, good food as in a variety of vegetarian curries, lentils and pickles. My cousin’s husband, technically my brother-in-law is a hilarious comedian. We were staying at his sister’s house, the in-laws of the in-laws.
But on that fateful day, we were warned in instalments by others. “They are coming”, said the stupid one. “We need the bhuwa (exorcist) as lots of bad things are happening in the house.”, said the mother. This was following a shouting match between father and the stupid one.
We went for dinner that evening having forgotten the small snippets of talk that day. When we came back everyone was drinking and the lights were full blast inside the house. “They are from London, they don’t believe all this”, said the father to the exorcist almost as a challenge to prove himself. I shuddered. My cousin was thrilled at being called a London-returned. Actually, none of us have been to London. I live in Auckland and my cousin has travelled to Dubai and Nairobi.
I quietly went to our green room with an AC, that looks ancient and works like a breeze. I must have nodded off and suddenly we heard loud noises. My cousin said, “Looks like they are dancing”. I laughed a wee bit but curiosity made me jump from my bedding near the AC to the door some seven feet away. I was excited, even hopeful. Not that I was watching ghosts or possessions, to be more precise, for the first time. But I never believed in the Indian voodoo or any voodoo. I placed myself behind the door and kneeling I opened it slightly. It was not my house so I could not jump out and say “Hey! Let me watch!” Protocol had to be followed. That was part of being born in a country of arrange marriages, extended families and the caste system. India.
Having said that, the class system did not affect the metros, in a big way. But coming back to the action through a gap between the door and the wall, my cousin joined in and her husband followed. My cousin being a staunch Jain did not believe in ‘hocus pocus’. I, on the other hand, believed in almost anything and everything: more excitement that way. I was on all fours; My cousin was bending over me; Her husband was standing upright. Thus, economising wisely the half inch gap between the door and wall.
My cousin continued “Are they singing?”.
Suddenly we saw someone come towards us. We immediately jumped to our nonchalant positions on bed, playing scrabble, reading etc.
The lady of the house walked in and insisted that if we wanted we could join them. I looked at my cousin sister, waiting for her approval
“No. We are fine but Suneal, if you want to go it’s alright”.
I stood on ceremony for exactly ten seconds before I ran out. They eventually followed.
They were singing bhajans or hymns to evoke the goddess mother deity Durga, Kali, Ambe and/or Chamunda. I quietly went and sat there as most Indians do on the thick cotton-jute carpet.
And I saw one of the daughter-in-laws swinging her head at a radius of three feet in a circular 3D motion that allowed her leverage of three feet in height. Something like Earth’s rotation and revolution. I had never sat so close to a possession.
There was red sindoor, not a small dot that dot-busters hate but a big blood red liquid going from between the eyebrows all the way into the hair. And, the woman was moving frantically and when prompted by the exorcist
“Show your true self… WHO ARE YOU!”
She stuck her Maori-haka tongue out and we could see that she looked like a replica of Mother Chamunda. She did - with her eyes wide open. And she rotated and revolved at full burst for a good half an hour. Everybody was summoned to touch her feet in sheer respect for the goddess. Most did - some didn’t. I just bowed to keep the peace since I knew that this whole thing was aggravated because I’m a hot-shot, non-believing foreign returned, who had to either bow to submission or hexed. Add to that my cousin’s attitude of being someone that she was not, could add to my woes. The wannabe tough, educated feminist from hell and the greatest gift to any one who comes into her life.
The noise in the meantime was increasing as people were summoned and asking questions and getting accurate answers. Then the whole part, in fact, a few chosen ones decided to go to crematorium, the Hindu version of a graveyard. I was not invited but I knew that they were going to bury the lemon that had captured all the bad spirits, bad luck and possible misfortunes that the family of others could have faced.
After an hour, the lady that was nice to us was called and she insisted that she didn’t want to get into it since she was religious and believed in Shiva. The father-in-law said it was nothing and we all found ourselves in the yellow lamplit hall with pictures of goddesses and a skull again. She was asked to drink some wine and she insisted that’s enough but suddenly out of no will of hers, she began rotating even while insisting that she did not want to go through this. The roller coaster of hell.
She was fine and educated and graceful and suddenly she began convulsing. I definitely believed, while my cousin decided to be cool. I felt the sooner I believe, the faster the lady will be out of her ordeal. She went for gold. Her voice changed and she was answering question that onlookers had. I touched her feet. I wanted her spell to be broken as soon as possible.
It was finally over and left a huge impression on me. I’m sure there was something there. The exorcist had been in a lineage of exorcists and insisted he did not accept money but I’m sure a lot of money changed hands. The parent- in-law were happy and proud of their daughters-in-laws.
I was relieved when the lady insisted that she was fresher than ever and did not remember a thing. I believe. Actually for a few hours, I had forgotten why I had come to Dahanu. As I reported to my email group…
So What am I doing in Dahanu? I don't know. But Dahanu is a quiet seaside town in sleepy northern end of Maharashtra. It's an escape from the polluted suburbs of Mumbai. The summer has begun, bringing nostalgia and heat and dust and a sense of picnicking.
Dahanu has two storied buildings and massive chikoo plantations. We walked at dusk for around 3 kms to the nearest beach. That's the first thing we did since we came in the morning, ate a lot and slept through India's mediocre batting. In the evening we were enjoying a 5 km walk through the beach line and a few stars. Nothing spectacular in the sky. The walk was nice and full of oxygen. So was the late night dinner at a lonely spot in the beach. It's called a restaurant but actually is a nice place, well lit and since it was a week night we were the only people around. One of my friends got drunk. He also happened to be the driver of a van that got curvy and dangerous for dogs at midnight.
I had decided to hold the incident close to my heart till an opportune moment, when I actually can digest my brush with the after life. There was definitely something there.
One night in Bangkok makes the hard man humble; no difference between pain and ecstasy. Murray Head brought Bangkok to the world, somewhere in the 80’s. I landed in Bangkok in the Indian summer of a warm April in 1989. I got a free ticket. We had to go and pick up jeans and Italian shoes from Bangkok. It was a ‘white collar smuggling‘ operation. I liked the sense of adventure over nothing; we were just picking up clothes for a boutique and saving on customs by spending on tickets, in an Indian way. As we left Grandpa‘s flat (apartment in US English), my cousin and me were ready and excited about our first flight.. Our relatives were not as warm as the time when Grandpa went on a world trip.
The night sky gave way to a beautiful morning through an Air France window. The airhostesses didn’t seem to like Indians too much as one of them was arguing with an old Muslim passenger and insisting that he had asked for vegetarian meal so here it was.
Dawn trips are fun once you are awake completely. Arun and I decided to live are wannabe-photographers-who-visit-ancient-ruins-and-forts. It was still dark when we reached the fort and clicked some amazing pictures that are lost thanks to Arun. Anyway these are some of them.
Its a ghastly beautiful experience as I balance my lifestyle and the cheque book and the poetry club i go to. Sophie is there and my cousin is safe in Australia. the days are warm and beautiful in the mornings and chilled to death does its part, in the night. my comp is great and I have more liberty with a bus pass. albert park is greener and library is richer. life is good as sun enters leo. mom is fine of course and the poetry on the escalators was a great experience and i look too chubby in pictures so my 40 km walks last week was great. i left a part time job for poetry but am fine. i'm having fun.
There was a mad hat that Michelle brought and the library was all silence before we decided to break it. I half did not go there but the spirit of adventure was too strong. And there was Amy, Christian, Michelle, Lisa Samuels and many others. Poetry was txted and displayed on the screen. I sang a few lines from Tennyson and Humpty Dumpty as the passion caught fire and we were going up and down the escalators in a frenzy. It was beautiful. Michelle confirmed that "Poetry will be made by all not one".
It has been recorded how for an hour the 343 course recited poetry at top treble
The graduation ceremony for my post graduate teacher's qualification is in September. The mist has given way to bright sunshine and it was great to see Sophie again. I walked 12 kms yesterday. I had to make a Police complaint to get a free replacement of my lost I Card from University. Life is good and the Poetry paper has started at Auckland University. So I am having a great time. There is a Poetry day at the Auckland City Library and we will read our poems on the accelerator. I chose PASSION as the word that defined me and immediately became friends with the SEX girl Julie. She gave me the yellow card with the word on it. Planning to get a DVD on Once were warriors or the Piano. Met Melanie, Ex girlfriend's ex-sister. Like her. Have gotten over the bomb blasts. Auckland is becoming warmer and mistier. Did two good deeds so far. Feeling great.
Hi I have left your room last Thursday and had a sterling and stunning time between the pink sheets. Your duvet was warm and the sheepskin under me negated my need for a heater. Here's a poem, I wrote for you. Your room is as I found it with few bits of paper for character.
Iselta's Binocular'sOn the wall Iselta smiles
to make up for Shelly
at various junctures Meli's
around to balance Jess' Yes
and No.
The train looks like a Noddy toy
and the Mobil blue light keeps me warm
Shelly's cough next door
keeps me cosy as I cling to cream
Piggy whose pinks are not rosy
but brown matching the unsaid smile
and the untold frown
The water is warm and the blasting
curry is hot as I look through the lens in
the middle of the night as I hear the Talkback
show and add my two pence for colour
Iselta smiles but the grey TV room
has lost it. I love it here as I pack to leave
smiling at the little room that kept me warm
and the creaking floor that kept company
I leave the piggie for Shelly
I dont know why, may be because
her silence was company and anger
a reaction. I leave nothing for Meli
but my friendship and the hot chillies
in the curry. I leave a ruppee for Jess
as it shines like she does
I miss Iselta's smile and Jess
and Shelly Meli
As everything is an event for me
I have moved to the new house since Shelly and I had a disagreement. As it is it was a temperory place. I have finished my teaching qualification and moved to a
beautiful place on top of Mount Roskill as you can see all the teeny weeny houses below. There was a tremendous mist this morning and I could not see a thing in lynfield downstairs. The view is stunning from all the windows and the wardrobe is huge. Most people I know are safe so i thought I'll go and
celebrate. Daniel had come to help me move house inspite of a heavy schedule with doctors and a quick lunch.
Luckily Justin txted and I let danny boy be since I could see how tired his family was. Daniel never tires of helping me out. That's Danny.
I'm using Justin Mckelvie's comp these days and took a trip to tauranga through the Canadian looking pines and the the wooden board bridges over stagnant waters
and Pairoa and Thames and the rugged countryside that was filled with cows and horses grazing. Tauranga was cold. Mt. Maunganui is a rich, white hill touching the
green waters where Justin 'sermoned' on being cool and that raving a storm since my strong personalty does conflict with people.
I have missed Hepa's birthday but she has been busy since I came back twice and I am awkward. i did think of the Loleshis when I took the bus to Takinini at the
outer end of Auckland. Just besides Manurewa and I thought of the loleshis and really missed them.
The tauranga trip on the way back was dark in parts and mysterious like going through an indian village during power cuts. i stuffed in a Chinese takeaway while Justin stuck to Subway Sandwich which is too bland for me. Tauranga was cold but it has been a good two days after the initial shock of the blast. Went to Mt. Eden and One tree hill and saw Auckland from various perspectives. Saw the planetriam One Dome show on
stars and realised that the star to us besides the sun, we see it as it was four and a half years ago as light takes four and a half years to travel the
distance. Thus Light Years.
Show Super man returns, another love story but lois is soooooooo cute.
Most people I know in my country are fine but then often that's what we are concerned about only. But Mumbai is coming out rising from its ashes showing the world how its done.
Changing the numerological significance of the city by changing its name has been dangerous. I hope you are allright. This blasts have been detrimental to innocent people who work hard and go to labor everyday. I hope there are no communal repurcussions, since it is always the innocent who die.
There's a course in Arts that I have just started attending for four days and it will give me a credit of 15 points. Its cool and we have been cutting, crumpling, folding paper to make an underwater scene through a porthole. My mom knows how clumsy i'm with paint and glue and i haven't changed since then.
The soccer world cup final looked like Anand vs Krishna Apts.
Today I went to check two flats at Mt. Wellington and Papatoetoe. I liked both the flats and the bus ride was great. It's not such a cold night tonight and I enjoyed my walk to the bus stop and am back at the college library. The Papatoetoe place is next to all amenities and a great house that touches Papatoetoe High School and i can meet the loleshis on Sunday and Justin is near by. i love the nights in South Auckland as they are semi-rural and beautiful. The place is flat and I like it. Mt. Wellington is not bad either, close to shops, Sylvia park, the biggest mall in the Southern hemishphere and all amenities. Tanya lives there with her three cats and it is a cool house with a bigger bed. They are cultured musicians.
Soon I'll start relief teaching and life will become busy with 4 papers at massey and umpteen papers at Waikato University. Let's see.
Manakau City Centre is still a beautiful place with neons and the odd black girl from California. I had my eyes open for Sesa, who used to work in Burger King. It would have been nice if i had met her. But Thursday late night Manakau city Centre looks beautiful.
When Justin Joe dresses up in a suit, there are chances that a lot of people will mistake him for a Hong kong Mafia don, whose hat is made of steel and chops off heads a la GoldFinger. I on the other hand may look like a technician and a bit of a womaniser, of course.
Well we went to an Indian wedding of a Fijian Indian friend, held in a beautiful garage and the food was exotic. This place is South auckland, a place close to my heart because of Loleshis and Sesa, of course. Oh the ceremony was nice as a 'minister' of marriage performed ring exchanges and vow blasting with a small sermon on Christianity, of course. I felt welcome in a room full of Indians in colourful sarees and sombre looks as it involved bidaai and other boo hoos. I loved the food and had a great time and my Chinese friend Justin, a connosier and a super foodie thought the food was great too.
We then went to the city where we devoured more Japanese food, where I met Penny and later had great ice cream, (from Justin's share of sundae). He's still sore about it.
Had a quick word with Tarun Patwa, the ex birthday boy and my aunt from USA. Yesterday i watched 'Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels'. Daniel is out of town so the car has not arrived yet.
Went to see Cars, the movie and you know I don't fancy cars but was great fun. It's a love story and a great movie like Irfan and rocky about humanity and love. This Americans know their movies and can inspire tears. Ordered a new credit card after my $2000 one got lost. And the animation by Pixar is mind-blowing. Got a cool, blue t-shirt and a piggy toy for Simu, who for the time being will keep me warm. I'm still thinking Samoan Islands, where Robert Louis Stevenson wrote Treasure Island. Justin and I were planning a day trip but that will have to wait. It’s still cold and smoke comes out of your mouth as you talk or drink green tea on the terrace as you look at Eden Park and the train station.
My flatmate Shelley is still sick and coughs all the time and I’m reading a Pacific Island travel book and thinking of Natalie for no rhyme nor R.
Am at the lab using computers and hoping to catch up on my other courses.
That teaching graduation had been a pain in the backside and I will free as a bird and ready to roll again. The Mobil petrol station with its blue backlights and the distan train that looks like a toy from noddy books and the eden park and the house in the distance from the binoculars (Iselta's) look beautiful. I am planning to move to South Auckland and change students' lives there. I love the relative flatness of South Auckland. Mom is fine and it is pouring in Mumbai but this time the government jokers have got their sanitation and drainage right.
Crime is rising in Auckland. There was an incident of some 15 yr old throwing a concrete from the bridge on the Motorway and killing a guy. Twin kiddies got murdered. Policemen have been hit. Teachers attacked. It's drug and/or alcohol. Prison guards make as much money as teachers and ultimately if you look at it: both jobs are exactly the same.
This entitles me to teach anywhere on the planet. its a cloudy morning and having just created a Killer Pau Bhaji. Its been a cursed course with the Emma Break up and three returns to India for a total of 27 months since mom was alone, sick and depressed at three different times. I was reading a cool travelogue on Pacific islands and that is my next destination. it has been cold in auckland and the night lamp has been used to read. Life is beautiful.
No matter how cold it is out there in the week with the clouds and the condensation and the whole crap but come Saturday and the world opens up. Spoke to Jihan, Peggy's daughter. Always nice to get an aloha from Canada. I might be going visiting in September. life is changing everyday. Once I get the car I will be stable and stuck in one place. Daniel's lost the keys (and his wallet, poor soul). My Advance Fiction notes have come from Massey University. And after sleeping for a day or two I dont like sleeping much. Also I feel rice does not suit me. Planning to make my own Rotis soon. Armed my self with breakfast: Honey and Cruchy Peanut butter and all. Superman has hit the Cinemas but i feel Christofer Peeve is irreplaceable.
I have slept realllyyy well. Oh I love sleeping and tell myself in the twilight zone betweeen wakefulness and sleep, on days of exams since childhood, 'Sleep while you can'. Anyway i finished handing in two exercises. The ones you upload on to University websites. I'm pretty pleased and reading another Suneal's (a kid from Canada) blog.
There are three people in the lab and I'm suddenly lightened by finishing my last assignment this winter. Its cold outside. Inside of course, i have kept the temperature static at 25 degrees.
I have walked 20 kms in the last three days. Thus, today i just made a mean Pau Bhaji and slept like a log. It was cool. Just Mc might be giving me his comp and I'm planning to join I-Hug soon. Its around 8.20 in evening and the pretty warm in the lab. I'm planning to catch up on my other paper: Written Communication. I'll be learning flash soon. Sleep makes the whole world a brighter place. Something's happening at Eden Park stadium next door. The lights were full blast. I may be going to Napier but Gaurav has a small engagement party and thus, I can only leave after 6th. Need lots of driving practice and training. The red racing jacket looks good. I must shave everyday.
Suddenly the cold has come from nowhere and as we all moved out of the center at 8:46 at night for the vacuum party. The cold hit me. I thought it was me but even the Kiwis and Polynesians are freezing. The cold has come and winter is upon us now.
Sorted the room. Cousin Gaurav treated me to an Indian meal. Went to Blockhouse Bay, Henderson. Met Sensei Pat who was pleased to see me. Picked up my luggage must be 40 kgs in Henderson and 28 in Blockhouse bay. Left all the video cassettes on the doorstep of Red Cross Army Shop. Cluttered Isela's room with my stuff. Gaurav helped. the place is really cute. Just got back at the library for another day of deliberating on the assignment.
Got the cutest house in the Universe. I had half moodily walked from auckland College od education early morning through the small curvy lanes of Mount Eden to Eden Park and I did not think much of the exterior but inside is seriously sexy house with cream curtains and red duvet. Iselta the landlady (temperory) is nice too. The deal is done. Its at kingsland railway station and has a freat lounge and a cut kitchen and fantastic balconey. Its great. I pay $100 a week. My new telephone number post Wednesday is going to be (00649) 845 4422. I'm cool. There are three other girls who live in the flat. One is a violonist and other is something else and Isrelta is going to London for a wedding. She's nice sort..
NZ becomes the best place on the planet when the sun comes. Its been a great day and all I have achieved is an idea of how to do things. A heavy $5 lunch with fried stuff and a clear idea where I'm going is keeping me alive. I made a new id footloose.fancyfree@yahoo.com I have this penchant for creating ids.
Footloose and fancyfree is dedicated to endless hours I spent on the 6th floor of Anand with iyer brothers. It was my favourite Rod Stewart album. You keep me hanging on and I was only joking played well when we were in love with the Seemas, Dinas, Santhas and Dimples-Mumtas. Crazy time of life that. Mithibai College and break dance and free papaddams. Cool.
The day has gone well but no productivity yet.
It's been a long time since I have had time for myself. A long, long time. I last had such peace at Manurewa, when I was renting a whole outhouse for a mere $90 and living alone in that outhouse that was nice and warm and I loved the hot shower it used to give. At Uncle's house there were many people that kept me from being alone but i prefered Manurewa with occasional visits from the Loleshis. Then, mom fell ill and I was in transit and no peace. I stayed there for one and a half years and had a good time when it was not hot. Then I came here stayed at Justin, no peace because of his obsessive, mad girl friend Jenny. Justin was great mind you but I could not stand his girl. I moved to hostel but the city life wasn't peaceful. Interesting but not peaceful. Paul's place was nice but then Chris came with his problems. The graveyard pictures and Paul Kite flying lifestyle was good but Bond and Bond job bored me to death. Went back to India. between July 2004 and June 2006, I was in NZ only for 3 months. Mom was sick and I cherish being alone in computer rooms and libraries and am planning full concentration on my final assignment. Winters I love here. The heater is better here than any place I have lived in. I once gave up non veg for a guju girl I loved. Today, I had raw fish Polynesian salad. It was mindblowing. I have rested well and warm and vaguely started my final procastination for my last assignment. Life is sensational. It rained a wee bit and the Auckland college is peaceful, perfect. I wonder how Sesa is?
There are two girls in the computer room: The blond and the Maori. The blond is discussing how her boyfriend tried to commit suicide. I’m really amused and in a great mood. I don’t know why. I am confronted with too many living options. Two places in Palmerston North, two in Wellington, one in Hamilton. So I have an adventure trip where I know I have to sit on my back and finish my essay. Twenty books need to be read than maybe I’ll go to Melbourne for a visit.
My essay needs a definite start and a conclusion. And a pregnant middle full of other people’s ‘quotes’. Part of the bloody deal. The references have to be APA or ‘American Psychological Association’ style. I need some water so be back in a few minutes.
My main goal this winter is to crack the last paper that will give me an international teaching qualification. Went to paul's house. He has moved out and lives with Sherryl. Oh! I'm happy for them. Got my knapsack, returned my uniform, bought a cellphone 0064 (0)211459976 and went to the big cvomputer center in the city. Not a single place so I slept on the couch. Had to meet someone at Sandringham but dozed off from around 3-9. Am at Epsom, this is the free time and space I really require because the final assignment is a book review and is a bit of a killer and I'm reminded of I used to come from Uncle's house everyday and stay the night. I feel great. I'm always on the computer, eventually I will start WORK. I got a lot of my asssignments back. Good feedback bad grade. I seem to have a problem following orders. It's near 10 in the night.
It's two in the morning. The weather is pretty cold and I'm in the computer redesigning my site. i have lived in Auckland city for a total of 20 months and have lived in lots of suburbs. Jignesh's Papatoetoe, Joe's Mount Roskill, Tapan and Anu's Mount Roskill, Wakena's Manurewa, Emma's Waterview, Robin's Richardson road, Sid's Onehunga, Hyderabadi Mount Eden, Uncle's Mount Roskill, Raman's Manurewa, Justin's flat in the city, AUT hostel in the city, Daniel's house in Howick, Mashood's New Windsor and Paul's Henderson. Now I'm absolutely sick of Auckland. Have seen it so before I return to India or Canada or wherever, I want to live in at least five cities. Whangerai, Wellington, Dunedin, Christchurch and Nelson.
It has rained and temperature was 8 degrees C when I arrived. Its cold but the heater can be turned up and the computers are fantastic in this room. i'm trying to get inspiration to finish my huge assignment. Its a twenty page master-blaster killer of an assignment on whether counselling is required in schools.
For some reason, may be its the cold, I'm very relaxed. I miss Raman's outhouse, my favourite house in New Zealand. I have lived in India 25 months in the last 45 months. Months from 10 Aug 2002.
The education college is fully lit up with tubelights for safety and I'm wondering if i should take the bus, train or flight to Wellington.
Let’s start with mom. Mom has finally relaxed and the anti-stress pills are doing wonders to her life. As for me, travelling to and fro has psychologically damaged me. Money-wise things are great. I have two thousand dollars in my account. That is 60,000 rupees. That is justification. I miss Emma. I’m in touch with Geeta and Nitu has decided to ignore me. I feel great but seeing Auckland airport time and again is pissing me.
I always hated my job. They wanted me to start tomorrow. Luckily they asked me if i still want the job. There was too much politics in that tiny place. Learning heaps and heaps just to get $10 an hour is not worth the bloody thing. I would rather work labour and have a healthy lifestyle.
Tonight, I’m purposely homeless. I need space and time that I have not got since a long time. It is cold so I’m the computer centre. Aslam is dead and Sandeep in jail. Life is damaging a few souls around me. I hate India. Once I sleep I’ll see Auckland in a different light. It has rained. I’m feeling positive about my course at Auckland.
Every now and then I try to live on shoestring just for the fun and adventure. I’m wondering if I should try the homeless option. Shower in the gym, night in the computer centre and life is great. There are two Maori girls in the room and the Australian and I exchanged email ids. oops this one is not a Maori. She's a european and we discussed Europe, cycling, academic writing. i can turn the temperature on and off. wellington is cooler and friendlier. Hamilton is a hole. Whangerai might be nice and warmer. i plan to see a whole lot NZ since half the times I dont know if i'm coming or going. But i must get out of Auckland.
The airport is a piece of work with a huge roof and trains going from one terminal to another. Add to that millions of people that dont have to stand in queues. The tatuatory KFC and Mc Donalds and the steel and glass that surround a rainforest, actually a huge hedge of greenery.
The mosque is shining in the distance in all its glory and Baghdadi look and the sun is slowly going down as I kiss Malaysia godbye. Job offers from India have started pouring in.Have heard some awesome things about Melbourne which is a cool place. the five floors have everything even a train at level 1 thatt goes into KL for 25 ringhits. Its an awesome place but I have a strange feeling that next time I will travel West. Let's see what happens.
I have mixed feelings, getting attached to people and places and having to go. Must find a home soon.
Ran to the Australian woman and gave her my email ID and lost hers and ran back to see a cheerful Kiwi officer waiting at KL to check immigrants in. Added bit of security.
A nice 2 hour nap and a few quite moments at the pool with the waterfalls. It has rained and is pleasant now. The hills from 11th floor are looking beautiful as are the church, mosque and the temple. colors of early Madras and Calcutta, when they were cleaner cities.
I saw Pink Panther and it is a brilliant piece of comedy. The inflight service was excellent as I was watching the movie sleeping on four seats. Got no sleep but enjoyed the first ray of golden sunshine.
I immediately went to a window seat and saw vertical clouds in all shades of white like cotton on different layers, high like mountains and filled with pink and blue. It was the best set of clouds I have seen in 24 flights. They looked like barrier reef and a night lamb made of shells with a rough texture with beautiful bulbs inside. The lower clouds were moving at a different pace. The plam trees from top looked like miniature toys with toy houses near by. A Corel with light within.
It was amazing. I had breakfast at Royal Adelphi with Kathy, a Australian tourist and went for a woke at a green lake that faced old Indian Subramanium temple and Chinese cone-shaped roofs that look like inverted ships. The green lake had a giant lizard swimming in it.
Had a swim side lunch with lots of leafy veggies. I'm a bit sleepy so may be rest before catching the 8.30 evening flight. I think of mom. I spoke to dadaji and had some hot pau bhaji at Andheri before I took a rickshaw and sailed through immigration, baggage and departure. I feel good but miss mom.
The departure went clockwork and there was no queue at the airport. I was the first at Immigration and Baggage. Jagruti's car droped to Mama's (uncle) house and the ac and Shahrukh Khan songs stoped me from crying. Mom is fine too and India will draw another boring cricket match. Have reached the beautiful Malaysian Airport.
Its a hot afternoon as I spend my last day in Mumbai. It has been a mixed bag: this visit. I'm off to Auckland and looking for a place to live in since paul has already rented out his rooms. I'm happy for him though.
Jagruti has warned me how Indian skies have too much traffic and can be risky. I'll be happy when I leave the Bay of Bengal where it is turbulant and the plane does a bit of Rock N Roll.
At Malaysia I'll be staying at Royal Adelphi, one of the best hotels I have been in and the foods gonna be just great.
Meeting the specialist has done the trick. Ravi is fine; listening to music and screaming at full volume for small things. My work is done. My bags are packed. I'm sooooo out of here. Taking a memory, old poems, four papers and twenty odd kgs of baggage. The sun has come out and I'm trying to avoid the tension of playing another cricket match since I have to curb my pace since Kanti not Jigu is the wicket keeper. I can't bowl pace with Kanti.
There are elephants on the highway and the Sunday is choked with beautiful women dressed in colourful costumes.
On the night of the 6th, the Malaysian Airlines will take off from Mumbai alongwith a nondescript passenger to Kuala Lampur and from then on to New Zealand, Auckland Airport at 1 in the afternoon of 8th June. Joey, I hope you can make it by 4.
There's light at the end of the cold grey cloud
It is filtering inspite of the lightning and thunder
No one can stop us now as the earth is
covered in rains and mud and waves of eternal
torment. it's going, going gone
There's an old man sitting contain
a man we know from the grave we
visit and flowers we put on the gray stone
covered with a silky sheet and colour too.
The Mumbai Muncipalty sleeps on their ass as the first rains have clogged the city. Previously, rains washing the city was a pretty picture. Now I'm filled with extreme hatred at the way this country treats the only city that pays taxes so that the other impotent bastards in the country can survive.
My early website wildblueskies.com is gone but the design is still here. http://wildblueskies.blogspot.com I had drawn the picture in paint.
My new website is http://www.blueskyfox.com since it was started when I used to walk with Shaju in the aarey jungles and there were foxes in the track. We were just looking for fresh oxygen and blue sky but what we got were foxes. Luckily they stayed away.
Maoris have a big heart. Some of my best friends and a family I consider my own whanau are Maori. Thus, in the summer of 2002, sometime in November just before I moved in with my Pakeha girlfriend Emma Turner’s, I stayed at Wakena’s house. Wakena was just returning me an old favor, when I had gifted his family $200 grocery since they were short on cash. But we were not always friends and if Waky (as I called him) weren’t a Christian, he would have killed me.
We were working at the warehouse of Warehouse at Wiri and that place was filled with islanders and Maoris. Some of how they liked me. I had broken the Indian stereotype and was constantly abusing them in their languages. When I learn a new language, I generally learn the abusive part first.
As I took the bottles out of the dispatch trail, I saw a big Maori fellow leaning over me. His face was tattooed as he looked at with ‘kind’ eyes and said, “He is coming.” I knew this was an abstract statement and didn’t bother to look around for ‘who’ is ‘he’. I just smiled at him and he said, “Isu is coming”. I knew Isu was Indian for Jesus and I said, “Oh that’s nice”.
His initial overtures to convert me yielded no results so he tried making fun of me, which if said precisely means imitated me scratching my balls. I took up the challenge and amongst 20 laughing Samoans in that dark warehouse imitated Waky. Put out my paunch, ambled around, scratched my head and looked into boxes like he did. The uproar was humongous. My initiation was complete. I had come out trumps. What followed was a friendship between a Maori and an Indian.
The Clendon ward would definitely look awesome after sunset and we definitely lived in the poorest area, which was a rather cute place with kids littered on the sidewalk and young gangs trying to outstare you. The first morning I woke up and Waky informed me that it was raining as I was chomping the Maori break (fried flour) that his wife had made. Wakena has four daughters and a hundred relatives in houses clamped together. I was grateful for the warm duvet given to me and was generally in a happy mood despite the rain.
Wakena borrowed my cell to call his mom, who owned a small, green car. Sorry I’m not a car freak so ‘small’ will have to do. She looked like an ancient women, who smiled with her eyes and was smoking all the way to the warehouse with lips that twirled up to say I don’t care. When Waky gave her $4, I was amazed. Why would you have to give your own mother money to drive you to work? In hindsight, I feel this a Pakeha-induced custom. Pay for what you use.
What happened at Midnight!
That day I decided to retire early since it was a Friday night and I did not want to scratch myself in full view of Waky and Catherine and all the neighbors who had gathered to see me and called me bood-bood. I had made Pau Bhaji for the family and Waky was the only guy that could eat the spice I dished out.
It had been a tiresome week and I was still intrigued by how close the houses were. Let’s see from my window I could see the ‘women living in sodomy’ house. They were the butt of every joke in the clammed neighborhood. I was thinking of the compliment Wakena had paid me as he was walking besides his cycle, “ A lot of people are surprise to see a Maori walk with an Indian but you are in many ways like me…not easily intimidated.” I was ‘wow’ as I looked at the tattoo-faced seriousness. I just nodded in a cool-sort-of-a-cowboy-knows-his-way-across-the-sunset way. I was thinking of other imaginary glories like taking a hat trick, making love to Emma’s sister etc. as I dozed off.
Around midnight I heard voices and screams. “There is the bastard”. “He’s hiding here.” “Catch him.” I gasped, did not dare to turn the lights of the ghetto house, since I slept in the nude. “Fuck... why did I ever come to stay here. They were after me!” I was scared shitless. I heard other set of footsteps in the house, running everywhere on the wooden house…through the green toilet that had floating toys in the bath tub around my room and towards Waky’s room. My room did not have a latch as I tried to search for my wranglers in the dark. I found it. Luckily no one opened my door. After about fifteen minute of abject commotion, where all the four houses that stared into my sneak window that opened only half an inch for oxygen, all lights in the neighborhood were ablaze. I decided to venture out into the lounge. My manhood was at stake. Remember, I was the guy who could not get intimidated.
I looked at Waky as he was trying to start someone’s car. I said, “Hey! What happened?”
Waky shrugged off “Oh a fight in the neighborhood.”
I smiled at Kathy “That happens?”
“Oh! All the time.”
Now my curiosity took precedence over my fear that I hid rather well. Ok so what’s happening? I ventured nearer to the door and saw lots of cars and Police lights and Waky trying to start someone’s car. I did not completely risk going out. What if someone says, “What’s this bloody Indian doing here?” And, suddenly everyone realizes his point and starts smashing me. But hey! I had proved that I was brave inside. So there! It was time to sleep.
I later put all the fragmented pieces together and realized that there was a party happening in the cream house besides the Lesbian Villa and someone got drunk and mistook someone else’s wife for his. Actually he just molested her. And hell broke loose. The culprit ran through the backyard into our house and ran through the door. Whew! That was a close shave. These New Zealanders didn’t they ever bolt their doors? I had generalized till I saw how meticulously Emma turned the alarm and bolted every little window in the house.
My stay at Wakena’s house was fairly comfortable but I was awakened by Mormon readings of the Bible in tongues from the other room. I did enjoy chips dipped in white sauce. Waky loved my curry. However, one morning when I heard Waky and Kathy fighting over ‘how he’s not interested in touching her’. I decided it was time to pack. I did not mind them occasionally turning my God’s picture frame face-side-down because they were sure it was the Devil. But, when husband and wife started fighting, it was time to leave. Of course, I came back in a week but that’s another story.
I am at a crossroad in my life. On one side there is mom and on another there is my teaching qualification. My mom insists that I go back to NZ and I feel that we should not put all our eggs in one basket. Last monsoon we had water logged in the house. If I'm outside, I can always try and get my family in NZ or atleast send them enough money. If all of us are in the same hole, we could get into a mess. Because Ravi and I have always lived abroad we have not bought a second house yet. Mom insists i go. I feel that is the logical decision too. We do not have the luxury to be emotional especially since Mom is sick and we may need big money anytime.
I'm planning to bool my tickets for 1st June.
Saw the new Hypercity at Goregaon. it looks like Foodtown amd most Mumbaikars were happy to be there. I took a look at Crossword and had a haircut at a local place where got a oil head massage. Am sleepy and the methol in the oil cooled my head. Have delayed proceedings towards NZ for another ten days. My education paper looks better and generally having a ball.
have slept on terraces in Ahmedabad in Navranpura and my maasi's wedding. Its a beautiful experience with the shy stars making an appearance too. I'm Pune at Raison's house and after a long talk about everything I went up to the terrace. For summer, it was cold at night and i needed a blanket. I forgot the pillow and curled the cotton mattress and the duvet to balance my head.
The jerk living opposite had not shut his bulb and thus a lot of night beauty was lost and also the moon was in its larger period so stars could not get the limelight.
The dew wetdreamed my bed and the singing Mynas woke me up in the morning. There is a huge tsunami threat in NZ and I wonder how my loved ones are coping!
The morning oxygen is pure and devoid of moisture. The rustling paper in the windy night made me wink-wake searching for ghosts.
The Simghad fort is at the distance where Tanaji lost his life and Shivaji sais "The fort is captured but the lion is dead".
Whenever I have gone to New Zealand, for some unknown reason I have visited Poona. The soul of Pune always tugs at me. Its almost a ritual now. So today, I took an ST bus to Bhiwandi from Borivali through scorching heat that makes red soil Maharashtra a romance. I had downed a glass of sugarcane juice and the the concrete road went through greens and hay coloured landscape as I got down at Bhiwandi bypass and took a 12-seater tempo to Kalyan and then went to Khapoli in the train, only to get down at Karjat and take a local to Pune as I got down at Chinchwad bought a ticket and boarded the train again. I had sat up on the luggage shelf as i read through Bruce Chatwin's mesmerising book Songlines about Aborigines in Australia. How the 'Land and Songs are one'. I reached Pune and had spicy Pau bhajia as I caught up with Sam Rice. Am in a Cyber Cafe that costs 10 bucks an hour. Pune is as beatiful as ever.
Arun's bike was still short on shock absorbers when we zoomed through Thana Bhiwandi Highway. Breakfast was great with eggs and jam sandwiches at a road side Dhaba. It was around seven and we reached Shahpur at ninish. We broke from the highway into the rural green going further into a territory that was untouched in lifestyle for centuries. We told the local farmer to make his patent feast on our return and shot off through thje ancient temple that looked like Inca land into mosquito country. It was sensational as we struggled on brown patches at the edge of the hill but mosquitoes were buzzing around me like cars jammed on a busy signal in Mumbai.
We reached the hot stone land, where suddenly we were exposed to the sun and sandwiched between the sun and the black rock that was presently getting hot on our backs as we slept on it.
We actually prayed and it actually rained in the middle of summer. We took those long leaves and made a waterway that ended in our mouths. It was really satisfying. And, there is a God.
We eventually reached the ladder that looked as old as time. And Shivaji tiny fort shrouded in mists. Arun went into a ancient pool that was chilly and I stayed in the mists and explored the territory feeling slightly haunted.
Came down and had rice with onion bhaaji and bhaakri in the farmers straw hut. It was sensational.
Its been a gruelling to months of meeting Shamen and seeing Mom depressed and bowling on a placid pitch. We still won. But this trip has been a bit of a disaster. Mom is fine and I should be off soon. Had no time to meet my loved ones. Had some special time with Mom and Shirdi, Mumbai trip and thread ceremony. Must meet Iyer. Summer does have a holiday flavour and have made some friends. Some enemies. Thats life. Went to Mumbai University to sort my MA part 2 admissions. The Librarian is a pain that screams. It's been awesome two months.
There's a Poo but mums the word
Gold like Natalie
There was a Russian bird flying in Bangkok
A mass of five, sixth is pretty
A diamond, a dimple, a pair of
beautiful eyes. Feline
A goddess and a half human half mare
a black jelly and a Peg of samantha
Golden for three years
The Indus is dark and dirty
The Argentenian's Chinese ways
The English kiwi is sweet in taste
A religious book
I first heard Elvis at Murali's house after his trip from Singapore. He had a wild collection of rod Stewart and Elvis. I loved the Jailhouse Rock and sang it in school and became the most famous person after years of being the worst kid on campus. Murali, my Godbrother was a great help usually except when I fell in love with his 'sister' Natalie. He had punched me then. we called him 'Big Moose' and the punch hurt but after that we became good friends and i betrayed him every now and again. He got me my CVO job and saved me endless times. God bless Murali.
Mount Eden shines like a Christmas tree
glorious with near perfect shops:
Small, colourful, redefining perfection
The sun's floats over red, cream, green
Mount Eden village, queen of Auckland
Close to ACE where teachers die
I refresh my mailbox million times
stuffing with Tarakihi footloose, fancyfree
The sun's bright banana cream
I feel like a born again King
Sun is the Warlord
as someone somewhere is baptised
free food for all, fried chicken
Maori Bread and the good Mormon sheep
that change into wolves and rabbits and
goats just like Chinese astrology
Birth after birth. i'm free. Far
from human commotion. happy.
One of my hobbies is making email accounts. My latest account is
wordwarrior@airpost.net and I love it. The library looks scary with lots of books and I do not know where to start. I have to create a swipe card for anytime access. That will give me access to the gym and the shower. I love the Pacific section that has chatai (weaved straw to sit on) and huge colorful pillows. I can't seen to start my assignment on book review.
How do you compare two cities? Especially, two cities that belong to two different genres, in fact worlds: One that lies at the edge of the planet and the another one that is right in the thick of things. I’m talking about Auckland and Mumbai (formally Bombay).
There are some unobvious similarities that the eye can miss at first glance. Both are harbours that harbour scores of immigrants. Both are the economic capitals Both have a public transport that is put to the ultimate test. The difference obviously is in degrees.
Let's look at the physical features. Mumbai is hot and can make you sweat like no other city can. (Tran open) On the positive side, sweating rids the body of toxins. On the negative side it makes you smell. Mumbai has four distinct seasons: hot, muggy, very hot and very wet. Auckland on the other hand, is cooler but the climate is fickle. If you don't like the weather in Auckland, wait for ten minutes. The sun may be less warm in Auckland but is slightly more direct than the hot sun of Mumbai. In Auckland one is unprepared if the knapsack does not carries a semi-rain-wind-proof jacket.
Auckland has slopes and can test your breathing. Mumbai has potholes that can test your driving, back and the honesty of any policemen.
Culturally, Mumbai has been crazy about cricket, curry and films, especially since it is the headquarters of Bollywood the Indian version of Hollywood, which churns out more films than any other country. (Appo) Quality is, the elusive factor, a different ballgame. Conversely, Auckland loves rugby, takeaways (especially fish and chips) and clubbing. I love the ‘better’ crowd in Auckland. I prefer Kiwi-wannabe-Americans to their Indian counterparts. I love the extensive quality of books available at Borders and the Auckland City Library. All in all, Auckland looks and smells more beautiful. But then, Mumbai is more photographable. Though people seem to be coming at you all the time, there is a diversity, economic, racial and cultural, that can test the word: diversity. Just like the rest of India, the city is photographable at any time. There are mosques, temples, churches and people everywhere, doing everything all at once. Any moment is a Kodak moment and any picture is an award winner. Auckland on the other hand, is an obviously more developed, cleaner and more beautiful but is definitely not as ‘happening' as Mumbai, which sucks you into its web, whether you like it or not. You want a roller coaster: Drive! You want a movie: Keep your eyes open! It is ridiculous and interesting and a city like no other. But it is certainly more polluted, the crime rate is higher, the dirt rate is preposterous, poverty and civic sense is appalling and life can be an ordeal. Auckland has respect for the law, not fear.
On the cultural front, Mumbai boasts of family values and attachment, (Tran Mid) but in reality is a materialistic, cold and selfish place. Auckland, on the other hand, may look like a dog-eat-dog place that is cold, but I have found true love here.
The food in Mumbai is cheaper, only if you convert rupees into NZ dollars. In fact, Mumbai has a cheaper lifestyle. This can be attributed to the sheer population of Mumbai, which may be three times the population of New Zealand: Around Fifteen million. It is difficult to give the exact million figure in India because as a country, we have failed to count ourselves on various occasions. Anyway, that brings the cost of living down. Technically, Mumbai is only six times poorer and not thirty as the conversion rate shows. This could be the obvious corruption-related problem that most things are in India.
On the positive side, Mumbai has a great workforce that constantly fights traffic jams, bomb blasts and weather related problems on an hourly basis. Mumbai-ites are preferred around the world since they are considered good workers.
Thus, both cities have a distinct flavour. But no comparision can be objective since our personal experiences definitely colour (or blur) the vision. And my preference of Auckland over Mumbai is my view. I still feel that there is no way you can compare two places since both are different for different people and colored by our own experiences.
Auckland and Mumbai
On my first visit to India a friend asked me, “So, which country do you like more”. I said since both are different countries, it is difficult to compare them since both have their pros and cons. However, I would do more justice if I compared the two cities I have lived in, rather than generalize about countries.
Let’s look at the weather. Mumbai is hot and can make you sweat like no other city can. Strange as that may sound I find that sweating is actually good for you. First of all, you don’t have to run in search of toilets. Then, it rids the body of toxins. Mumbai has four distinct seasons: hot, muggy, very hot and very wet. But it is dependable. Auckland is cooler – at least, for me – but the climate is fickle bringing to mind the famous saying: If you don’t like the weather in Auckland, wait for ten minutes. The sun in Auckland is slightly more direct than the hot sun of Mumbai. However, since it is relatively cooler, I prefer Auckland but my knapsack always carries a semi-rain-proof jacket.
Mumbai has its own culture and is crazy about cricket, curry and films, especially since it is the headquarters of Bollywood the Indian version of Hollywood, which churns out more films than any other country. Auckland on the other hand, is much more beautiful and loves rugby, takeaways (especially fish and chips) and clubbing. I generally love, the comparatively better, crowd in Auckland but that can be highly subjective. I love the books available at Borders and Auckland City Library. The population is comparatively manageable whereas in Mumbai it seems that people are coming at you, all the time. There are a lot of cultural areas in India and as a city it is photographable at any time. There are mosques, temples, churches and people everywhere, doing everything all at once. Any moment is a Kodak moment and any picture is award winning. Auckland on the other hand, is an obviously more developed, cleaner and more beautiful but is definitely not as ‘happening’ as Mumbai, which sucks you into its web whether you like it or not. You want a roller coaster, drive! You want a movie; keep your eyes open! It is ridiculous and interesting. And someone said ‘It’s a city like no other”. That is not enough for me to prefer it to Auckland. Mumbai is more polluted, the crime rate is higher, the dirt rate is preposterous, poverty and civic sense is appaling and life can be an ordeal. Auckland has respect for the law, not fear and you will not see a policeman being bribed, openly or otherwise.
On the emotional side, Mumbai has mom and Auckland has Emma. My mom had a life threatening sickness and the last three years have seen me rush to Mumbai. My mom is my only emotional magnet in the city, in fact, the country. While Mumbai boasts of family values and attachment, it is very materialistic in its outlook and rather selfish just like any big city. While Auckland looks like a dog-eat-dog place that is cold, I found true love there and lost it too. Emma. My only connection to Mumbai is emotional since it has my old school and some left over friends and my dying mother. Auckland has Emma with whom I have parted ways and thus Auckland can be painful. But as I said before pain is subjective just like love, honor and life.
Thus, both cities are distinct and I can only color the difference with my personal experience but definitely not do justice to any city. There is no way you can compare two places since both are different for different people and colored by our own experiences.
Wow this work is really indicative of the area of New Zealand that you live in and the diversity that is the essence of what New Zealand has become or is becoming. It is also interesting for me because I am from the South Island and we do not have many hibiscus or maybe such an varied mix of people that the North Island has (well not where I am from anyway). Sesa is half Maori half Samoan? And Adam is the biblical Adam? The poem is indicating that you or the protagonist is struggling with a decision to choose love or family/tradition? I didn't understand the reference to 'she is young and I am part of the whanau", are you saying that she is related to the author/protagonist? That the relationship is incest? Or the reference is really because she is too young? I really liked the thought and reference to the biblical sense on what our society is based on, but I thought you could of made it a little clearer or perhaps make the poem longer in length to illustrate the struggle or the choice that the protagonist/author has to make. The line "I can never betray" contradicts itself or confuses the reader (me anyway) with the line "I find a new church and find a family." Did the protagonist choose love? Is that why a new church must be found? Or did they simply choose to move away from the rigid family circle? What is the dark desire of purity?I really enjoyed the images of Manurawa and the half Samoan/half Maori girl but i think that the poem itself could be so much more if the struggle was included with in the main dialogue.
Subjecting Objects to SubjectivityNi’ihau: Paradise LostIt is indeed in a rather negative frame of mind that Theroux leaves home as he bids goodbye to the love of his life and is plagued by fear of possible melanoma. This itself makes the reader feel, “Hey! This is probably going to a bit sorry”. What I definitely appreciate is the possible honesty (to a great extent, of course) with which Theroux relates his initial tale of woe. The paradox in Theroux’s search for the most untouched island Ni’ihau is his own nosiness.
No travel writing can be objective. Usually the subject (traveler) acts upon the object (place) and changes it to suit his purposes or pre-established biases. The object in this section of The Happy Isles of Oceania is the forbidden island of Ni’ihau.
Theroux, in search for the inviolate island Ni’ihau led by his own curiosity is disturbed to find the paradox of what is preserved and what is lost in Ni’ihau. For one the Robinson family has distributed Hawaiian Bibles with a generous vengeance. Then there is the idea of private property and ownership that is not keeping with the original culture of the place and an almost Islamic (what the western media popularly believes as Islamic) flavor to the Christianity that Theroux believes as ‘missionary paternalism’. Theroux disapproves of the island backward movement that banned hula and condemned the ‘original sin’ way of life. And while it is the men who work and the women who are homemakers, welfare checks, soda pop and canned fish is slowly changing the original lifestyle of a breed that prides its purity, which is falsified by the Japanese blood in them. Theroux is saddened by the loss of culture; a feeling that may have been accentuated by his own negative emotions combined with his passion to find the most perfect, untouched island. The Robinson family seems hell-bent on colonizing the place with its own ideas and is not willing to contaminate it with any foreign influence. Despite the ownership Theroux finds that the spirit of the people cannot be owned and the laws are stretched and the video machines and the radio are slowly breaking the shackles of a family that is eating the island’s spirit like a rat that destroys a mansion one bite at a time.
Theroux also remedies the situation by his own suggestions. He is slightly better than the Robinson family as he merely suggests remedies. However, we must not forget that at this juncture he is merely a nosy traveler and not one of the lord of the lands, who may started their decree as mere suggesters and may have used religious and other forms of blackmail to destroy Utopia.
Theroux’s sense of admiration is still intact as Ni’ihau is a curiosity minefield and is in keeping with Theroux’s philosophy: A tourist does not know where he is been and a traveler knows not where he is going. This line serves as a true inspiration to travelers and Theroux does give us a voyeuristic peep into an island that not many have seen at a time when it is changing. Theroux’s semi–historian status fuels our own enthusiasm and makes this part a fast, page–turner lest we lose the crucial metamorphosis of the island. We feel as if we are at a crucial juncture of history and anything can give. As a male my senses are also titillated by the Japanese bloodline that has seeped into the islanders. This is intriguing and also erotic. However, the fact that Happy Isles was not written in happier times in the traveler’s life and this section is the fag end of his travels makes me wonder if he is already homesick and a bit tired and thus some amount of negativity is natural. However, all in all the section serves as a wonderful subjective, historical experience, which just not be repeated. The time has passed and we are different people wanting different things and welcoming different subjective experience. All we can say here is, “Oh! So, this is how Paul felt in 1992.”
This also answers an age-old question that nagged me. Can we exhaust places by traveling? I think not. Because, every experience is unique and every feeling is original and the world is still where it always was, waiting to be explored. There are people to be met and experiences to be had.
It was a proud moment for all and sundry when Murali's sons got their
threads and were initiated into the world of sanskrit and religion. This
is 5000 year old Aryan tradition. And hey! Mohan assured me that the
Tamil people were the chosen ones of lord Shiva as he whispered the Tamil
language to Narad I think so the Tamils can know of his glory.
The food was mind blowing. Avial and Paisam and some awesome
unrecognisable vegetables that included Lady-Finger (Veggie) and Cabbage in
SriRam hall that is fortified on one side with grey stone walls like a
medieval castle. It was rainy (not raining just rainy) and dark and the
greenery around felt like 3 May 1990. That was when Murali married
Parvati or Shanti. Same person.
I met Dhruv who is smarter than his dad and taught me a thing or two
about Ramayan, the hindu epic especially the names of the smaller
characters. I also met Mohan on a previous afternoon over fruit juice called
Immuno booster and a book place in infiniti mall and talked about
everything. He made me a list of places i must visit and told me Natalie is
married. So I must give up on her I suppose.
Meeting the Iyer parents was a pious experience as it was nice
meeting the Fish Eating Bengali aunty and Rajamani the king of small and
large talk. Great to be amongst the Iyer brotherhood.
Take a car. Get Chetan and Subhash. Drive at 80 k/h and through the concrete road into rural maharshtra. Have tea in a nondescript dhaba with Janta wafers and some cream biscuits. Look at the moonlit night and a train exhibiting white tubelights and curious passengers. It's not a toy train.
Have Gujurati/Rajastani Rajdhani food and choose between mango juice or Bengali soft, tender, juicy Rosogullas. Look at the stars. The tiny ones you can't see in city light. Sleep in a wannabe lodge with the fan on full throttle and Bolar's snore that sound like the 9-11 twin towers coming down. Pay just 500 bucks and pray to Sai baba early on a queue-less morning. Have Manglorean Nasta. Go through sugarcane field full of goats and sheep and dogs and women in colorful attire. Have sugarcane juice and look at the canals of water and eat Mutton after the religious rites are over. Buy a bagful of marble white onions for sixty bucks and some much needed grapes and through the mountainous sunset and dark twinkle of bright stars have tea on roadside dhabbas and rush home.
That's the way to do it.
Last night we gently spoke
as the wind blew and mosquitoes
buzzed near my Pepsi gulp
we gently felt confusion and delight
love and respite
we gently thought what if
or why or why not
There was the city in twinkling
yellow lights as gentle wind blew
as only we knew what we slightly felt
in Shahrukh songs and Jovi rhymes
in back streets of lokhandwala
and playgrounds of Vishnu
The Earth is a giant ball
Kicked around by whims
And fancies of the Sun
And greedy people
Bouncing around hopelessly
Heading for another blast
Lost in the bush
And American politics
The Earth is an inswinging
Yorker that spins and bounces
On a turbanator’s wish
Burns aimlessly in
A gray city with a twin purpose
That towers over humanity
While we are caught up
In selfish greed: Having a ball.
Yellow,
orange, lovely
day.
Bright,
sunny, smiley
face.
Red window.
Blue grill.
Eternal love.
I’m black
Full leather
with a zip
in the center.
I’m a gift
from a Chinese friend
to his Indian brother
A reminder of Lord’s love
I lie safely
at the edge
of a dusty yellow window
overlooking single
mothers pass by
I was not taken to India
Missed. Forgotten on purpose.
I’m a Bible, the Lord’s word
Safe, secure and lonely.
All right. Its dawn and the cuckoo is making its presence felt. I'm at a Chinese internet cafe where the kiddies have been at 'War Net' all night. The Sea food Restoran is closing and its aluminium covers look nice but it is dark still like an Ahmedabadi night. I'm more or less rested and the AC has to be turned off since it didn't match my birthday suit.
20th floor made KL look awesome. My physique looks better as I walk around without a care. all the standing at Bond and bond has yielded fruits. And of course Pat's Karate class which I attended thrice and participated twice.
The holy Quran in Arabic is in the room's desk. just in case, someone can read it. Twentieth floor makes the highway look immaculate.
The traffic condition is similar to Bombay where people cut lanes and go in the wrong direction all the time. The cops are having a field day with mobikers. The Asian humidity in came through last night and the hoardes of Chinese kiddies eating on the road at 10.30 was quite a sight. In the open air outside open restaurant which has sensational 'Loti Palathas' as Daniel calls them. He was the guy who sheltered me and gave me a haircut and insisted I finish the course. The man with a golden heart just like Justin, Justin and Mashood.
Last Night Notes The food smells good.and the sausages look goos but I dont have a thing for the Peking Duck or sausages. Its reassuring to hear dogs bark. The egg on the shezwaan looks great. I'm getting closer to India. the gutters are uncovered and a big rat is hobbling around but still this is better than some parts of Mumbai. The tube lights in this open air aluminium 'restorans' are coloured with cellofin papers. green red blue on the same tube.
As I landed in Kl the evening sun bouncing of a mosque did look beatiful and ominous.I shaved in the night since i looked like Mohammad halal the butcher with my french.
I do miss the western stars outside my window but the bed and the pillows in 'third world' countries are much harder. The Indian guy who served me food last night has a knitted Muslim cap and a lungi and the dood was sensational. The news says bush is nice to India. Yeah its the IT boom. I need to check papers if they need a technical writer.
I have had a sensational breakdast involving french toast, chicken on rice and veggies and grapefood juice and coffee and wedges and noodles. It was dree. Malaysia is less commercial than thailand. Ringits are better than Bahts but than I converted NZ dollars.
Went tt and saw the 41st floor of Sean Connery and Zeta Jones. TRavelled by bus had some more parathas. But Daniel is right if I need to chose I can choose Singapore. I stayed nearer to the city and made the most of the situation. There's a cute Chinese waiting behind me so i'll have to let her use the computer. I'm at the airport.
The back street reminds me of how untouched Bangkok was when Utkarshbhai and i touched it. I miss the camera that I did not buy for 1599 or 50,000/- Rs.
The moon was full and white and now a sexy red. The highways make a great desin with lights and the mountain is dark and friendly. i woke up a few times in the night. So that I dont miss anything. Passport is locked safe with my birthday as the code and my shoes have the insole of two cotton slippers
I'm ready for the city amidst the loud noise the chinese boy is playing on his computer. Coming back to insoles, the best way to see a city is on foot. I said that about Udaipur and i say that about KL.
The NZ Sun does not like me much. I love the stars and the moon outside my Western window and I love the road that goes to my work (I hate work though). I like people who visit me and single mothers that hug me when I find their children that are lost in the mall. The foodtown has great chilli samosa and Hare Krsna is beautiful. Pakistani Mashood and Chinese Justin and white Justin and Singaporean Goh family are my favourite people. I lost the Lolesi family this visit and thus mom is sad and depressed and I must go home.
I caught the flight against all odds that included not telling office or Paul since the telephone bill is on my name and may be misused. Lost the passport for half an hour, gave away loads of clothes to Salvation Army, took the bus, rolled bhajiya in a Cheese and Garlic Naan. Picked the ticket, took a cab and reached an hour before departure. Had to take my books in my hands and metal detector buzzed for keys, tablet strip, belt buckle, everything. Caught the flight. Changed the seat. Watched Zorro and talked to a Zimbabwe white guy who was reading Punjabi and going to Punjab for the tenth time.
Deja Vu. Malaysia... green...super fast train between terminal and am at Oakland road in the middle of KL. Looks like Mumbai. Went to a tamil dhaba and had mutton, egg and those mind blowing parathas. Looks like Kerala and bit like Bandra Kurla Complex. Isn't perfect.. That gives it more character and less uniformity. Its 10 in the night. People are helpful and went through a market of Sea Food and everybody eating. Looks like bangkok, I visited it in 1989. First Love, first trip abroad. The room is great. the carpet is so so. The neon signs everywhere and cute chinese girls. Nice feeling.
Ten Dollars gave 23.20 Ringets. Spellings are different. Restoran etc. Lots of Indians here. Gotta sleep.
So I'm going back in just 111 days. Mom is sad and depressed and its killing her. Wouldn't mind working in Malaysia. Am doing four courses in the Uni.
Tanu my cousin has been to Barcelona to report some shady Pakistani and Spanish people. I'm lucky to find two great Pakis: Mashood and Mobin, my brothers from across the border.
Last night when I took a receipt for my ticket, I had tears since NZ is my lover and friend but suddenly I'm fine an mom does come first for me.
May be someday I'll return to NZ. But not soon. Too much travel.
Malaysia looks like a cleaner version of Mumbai but not as classy as Dubai at this end. The dhaba is on all night. Food is cheap. The Asian warmth in the sultry night has opened my sweat pores.
Tanoo you are doing well sweetie.
Oh Home i miss you
and the racism on the streets
and the pakeha legs and
Samoan boobs
and little children and lamb samosa
and Fiji Indian girls with painted hair
And Jennifer and her eternal smile
and Greg's enthusiam in cricket
Anthony's overt racism and Jamnelle's
not so subtle only insecure and inferior
Its a blue shop. A small place'
that fills Greg with pride
Greg's a good soul
Anthony an asshole
Jenny is soo beautiful
The Old Bible
is a new bible
leather and zip
and shine and Christ
and sin and Noah
and Job and Mark
and Moses
Daniel goes to a church
in Kelston that has friendly
Singaporean faces and nice coffee
and great cookies and nice
chicken at Massey
Jim is the Massey lunchbox
Where fried chicken and
Chinese tea come to life
and Mary and May talk
about soldiers in Asia
and laws in Singapore
The sunlight bounces
like a tiger on the garden
fountain and Jimmy designs
on the web
The bible is an extension
of Daniel's prayers
when I fly in and out
and free lunches that
he gave at teachers
college ande times
when he was there
for me.
That's Daniel
The bible is a gift
a guardian,
I kept it safe and
not carried it to India.
Its precious and speaks of the love
we share as friends and God and
love and friendship. I can't give it
away my friend.
“Happy you found the old bible.
We’ll be away to Dargaville Lake
Kaiiwi crystal clear
waters so will not be able
to see you in Kelston Community
Church. "
Queen Streets crowded
burning souls
yearning humanity
No one home
Buses go Henderson
Pakuranga, Manurewa
Sesa in the South
Justin is near
Other Justin in CBD
Daniel is East
Pat is West
Mashood central
Chris Australia
Emma somewhere
if here
I'm here there
everywhere
all at once
Sometimes
The low long turning upsy down roads
of longburn burn
Maori and Pakeha
Single mothers abondoned
by whisky
Neon lights Lynn Mall
Hugs by strangers
Betrayed by budds
Bond by flights
gone by light
Lamb Meat ObsessionThat should conveniently kill me
I am falling in love with you
But I’m abusing love. Obviously the
word is lust. Paramount. Omnipresent.
More powerful. Less fickle. Strong
Like the devil. Quick like a cobra.
I hate you because I want you
So much that it paralyses me
Albert Park Burns Dylan's Chicken
First of all you wear that mad maniac blue graphic mini
That swings geometric lines - you move. Crazy, crazee,
crazie, too hot to touch to explosive To handle.
Your body is a red iron rod hot from The bakery.
Soft as shed wool. Lovely like Dylan’s Chicken coloured
sun on a blazing afternoon from hell. Your smile feels
the sky city’s lonely blue sky your Eyes can starve an
ocean out of green or gray as blue when mood strikes you
And when you fancy to warm the daylights out of our species
Heaven help: hell howlers: birds sweat: climb a school boy tree
Burn innocent passer-bys. See your coffee spring Rangatito
goes off. Change NZs map. I’m self deprecating male soul.
Lost in your crazy forbidden world. You - 'nice' - I 'appropriate'
Manurewa was sweet on meManurewa. Green. Yellow. Maori, Chinese, Indian.
Mad beauty. Churches and suited Island Padres.
Hibiscus is the land of the long white cloud. Tattoos
Are friendly brown and menacing chocolate. Come in
All flavours and sizes. Sesa’s wide eye and a sweet welcome
Lost between her half Samoan lips. Half Maori eyes. She’s
Young and I am a part of the whanau, I can never betray.
Its not heat or passion. Its eternal love that Adam saved and
Betrayed paradise but Mormons my people I cannot face
The mother. My best friend. Her father. My mate. Discipline.
Self control. Discretion. I find a new church and will
find a family. Will love her and hide
that dark desire of purity.
Lusty GoatThere's a hint of lust
in the air, in the rains
in the sun, in park and sea
and volcanic hills and
hibiscus. It's everywhere
Lots of passion. Some care
bliss I proxy false hope
that true love will
take me there.
We look. We know. Say no words
How long? Will sorry story stay
and not say. Yes. No. Thanks.
Unspoken trust. a little honesty
to make my love true.
Samoan Brother. I'll Kill for You.My brown brother. You smile even try to laugh
sometimes succeed. you make people feel joy and
mean well. But the bastards who hate your sexuality
Fafafine - your choice to be. Must be knived by me.
The way they batterand char you. Insecurity is them not you.
Black KnickersYou are a monkey jumping that albert tree
hiding the most perfect purity in black
boils mercury. heats the city. makes me
thirst for nectar and purr fumed honey
Tusiata blooms in purplePurple, pink, yellow, red
Aries with massive boobs
Eyes read everything
we are her characters
Manipulated to play. She
smiles hidden knowledge
acknowledges, plays character games
Loves us, adores her favourite class
Mean Black dressI just want to hold you
and rest on your boobs
I dont want to disrobe you
There's plenty time. I want
to hold you and crush you
softly sleep on your boobs
so I feel safe, So I can hide
I want to kiss your naked navel
Start a slow lasting forest fire
which takes all night to consume
Black CapricornLets Kiss. And touch, And meet and
taste and lick all over and
juice ourselves and cuddle and talk
and fight and call and strip. Explore
forever. before
we get down to the mundane
possibility of satisfaction
and tiresomely boring technicality
The Art of Killing a MosquitoA mosquito is like a nosey Indian
likeme or worse. like the ones
I love to hate when I see my
qualities. Squat! The wings
are shattered. And blood flies
my own. And a superior satisfaction
A meditative spiritual peaceful
experience prevails.
GenrePoetry
is a sweet
release like
a explosion
from within
me.
Satiates. Tires.
Wants more.
Ebbs. Tides.
But does not
stop tonight.
Never felt I
so much free
A passport to be
what I need.
Me.
You. Someone
else. Its all
fate's decree.
As poetry
sets me
gently
free.
SophieAn antacid will put me to sleep
quell the rising fire of spice and
tender chicken crisp burger and
distract me from you.
A guy's gotta sleep.
Breaking free from a 300-poem habitIs it the tree Possum, my first
nocturnal sleep parasite in NZ
Or Coffee that Sheryll poisoned
with pure chocolate and sugar
The girl on the Ancient tree
of poetry never-ending, flowing
like mermaid on Mission Sands
Or glory of kissing a new genre
The Savage and the Princess: 1991 Neha PoemHigh above ivory mountains surrounded by pine trees.
Up on blue crystal towers swept by wild breeze.
Wanton geese soared on cliffs that kissed calm grey
eternal seas at summer palace of King Philip's.
Young princess Irene, fresh as a whisper in the winds.
Soft as a dew on the greens came. Her songs haunted
the winds. She was artistic, slim, trifle bold. Pout lips.
Steady eye: Iron willed. Enchanting body. Beautiful Soul.
She’d lip-read with eyes that in the dark gleamed
Her heart no noble won. She confessed she could
never feel. "Heartless she is ". The truth obscured
by appearances, haunted by Ghosts. Clouded by lies.
Irene abolished hunting in the land "Never kill a beast
for pleasure or feast". One day she riding went into
forbidden woods, forbidden land. Eastern Dark was
beyond the Irene empires, No soul ever dared wander.
Eastern Dark was ruled by Sparks. And, Sparks killed
on slander. They called him a savage. A hybrid
of a noble woman, a cruel man. Sparks lived on plunder.
Callus and sinner in more ways than one. Savage lived
in the blinds. Hated the Sun. Ruled over the Gypsy tribe,
which settled 1200 AD. He lived the dark. Hunting
gave him satisfaction – cynical. An evil heart. Sharp
at vocabulary. Learned. Blood of the noble woman. Evil
The heart of a cruel man. Women and never wine
were his weaknesses prime. Killing in his land
was not considered a crime. He killed to avenge
the death of a gypsy waif under the Red Sand
Mountain. Sparks rode hell had no fury's name.
Out aside with sword and shame. Pulled out
his silver lancet sharp. Hunting gave his glory fame
And down the woods the Lion came. Sharp the
eyes mammoth the frame. And quick before sound
through harp. Savage down from his horses came
Eyes across eyes did meet a single burning flame
One strike left the lion lame. One must the other eat.
The pride and arrogance insane. A smile: Savage eye
Arm bleeding like it rains. Lancet one and a half metres
long. Swished like a song Deep, deeper the bloody cuts.
The golden mane came close. The scarlet blood flows
Swish, went the Savage eyes. The lancet moved faster.
Hard and high. Sabre cut the lion's throat. A gloat.
Night after night, day after day. It was the same,
the savage and his bloody games. Hoofs thundered.
Earth shuddered. When Savage came and savage came.
Lost her way that night. Irene. The horse stumbled
as she fell in the waterfalls. Luna night awashed
the silver light 'Fountains of youth', Tribal belief.
Her skin glistened caught savage eye. He smiled.
A wild flower touched his savage heart. Picked her,
kissed her. She was cold, warm. Intrigued by his charm.
”Friends" her eyes shone. She wasn't an ingrate,
Friendship was not his wish. Helped her out of the eastern reach
As they rode back on his black steed, sped through
the jungle's silver light. Came close. One hand stroked.
Fingers through her hair. Kissed her Cleopatra lips
with a savage force. And then gentle as a rose. Fondling,
Caressing, Touching, Holding. He looked heavenwards.
"Lord I deserve her" Lord said "No my son I love you
and can't curse. But you sinned in thy life. You deserve
not true love. You deserve worse" "Father in heaven holy
be thy name. May you - we always hail! Lord for her
I shall die. I shall fight tooth and nail"
"So be it my son. Consider this a battle you never won"
Arrogance laughed and fears cried. All but lost
was savage mind. He gave up killing that very night.
Promised till the day she was within his hearts reach
A contract he wouldn’t breach. A promise he would keep
He did not sleep that night. Next morning early, he
came out of the leafy blinds to see light. As the sun
from nowhere bright. Golden defined green that was black.
His mother’d worship the sun. He bowed . Without even
a single rumble. The crust of the savage heart crumbled
They met time and again. Sharing happiness anger grief
and pain. Golden sunsets. Silver morns. Hot afternoons.
Chilly rains. Jungle banquets he went without meat
"Do you love me" he looked in her eyes
"No" that’s all she said. Sad not betrayed
Her answer may be a fall. But she spake the
truth after all. He looked up at his father in
heaven "God you have done this to me. No tears.
I feel betrayed You just couldn’t let me be. But
it is thy will, not mine. A mere pawn I am
Will do it to mortals you love. Fire and blood rains.
The earth torn from centre. Your loved souls run
helter-skelter with fire I will set. I am Satan’s son.
I disown you. The virtuous shall weep. As I do.
May your dawns be black. Dusk be bloody.
Widows shall cry and orphans shall weep.
A promise A promise A promise I shall keep"
"Threaten not me my son. The day of judgement
await. Then resign to your fate. You a mere mortal
spoilt by whims and fancies, silly victories: rotten
and arrogant. What I will, will be done"
The fear shut Sparks up. Silence and silence alone.
Uninterrupted Undisputed. He descended.
The sun set, the red disappearing to give way the night blues
"Am leaving tomorrow for the sands, of the Hebrews, desert, Arabs, Nile,
My princess all things end. Better in smiles than deceit"
As her feelings like a volcano burst. She cried
Her face red and lips warm. "I think I do love you"
Kissed. Their feet cold in river waters. The tiger and
the deer. He thanked his father in heaven "I care not if
I lose her now, if this be the greatest mistake a committed
fall. Better to love and lose then to never at all"
The king was dismayed. "His soul is Lucifer’s.
Go the orient and learn the art of creating silk.
"I am going Far East, but to your heart. I shall be near "
Promise me Sparks see me once before I die”
"So be it my fair princess. I promise”
She left in her father's ship "Irena". Leaving him
behind in the dark. She sailed to China. The jungle
felt like a desert to the savage heart. And Gypsy
dances brought no pleasure to Sparks. He waited
for six rains. One day he took his steed and just left.
A journey of 67 days and 66 nights
Froth with danger, struggle and eternal strife.
Horse back and saddle free
Through thundering typhoons in rafted seas.
Bleeding feet and bleeding knees
Out of France through Spain, Cordoba.
The large dark churches with crosses
over them. The White Seagulls,
the dark fishermen. The Spanish guitar
Evergreens and rocky terrain
into the wild African land.
Morroco, Khairwaan
Cannibals and Witch heads.
Thick Jungles, Zulu and Masai. Tribes men
Crocodiles and Pythons. Lost.
Unexplored land. Marshes, black-mudded and red
Quick sands. African herds of big-eared
elephants. Flies and sickness
Rains and disease. Pygmies the tiny
black men. Poisoned arrows but
Helpful hands. Unknown tongues
and Faithful friends, Sahara, Egypt and Arabia
Nile and Cairo.
Camels and Caravans.
The land of Pharaohs.
Through desert storms
and furnace hot sands.
Hunger, thirst killing him.
But he could not die.
Jerusalem, the land of Christ.
Palestine and Damascus.
Baghdad and Persia
Herat and Ghazni.
The Khyber Pass, Afghanistan.
The mystery that was India
Punjab and Sindh, Indus.
Bleeding shoes wounded knees.
Sweating salts and aching feet
Pathways wild, Asia.
Lion traps and snake pits.
Tiger country and leopard land
The savage had to hunt.
He had to live not be killed.
To see her on sheer will
Himalayas, crossover and Finally Tibet.
Buddhist Monasteries Meditation,
self-control and resistance.
Peaceful clan. Snowy terrain, biting winds
Jagged mountains with dizzy heights.
Slipping feet and icy nights
Held on to dear life. And his tired
eyes searched for his Irene
Dusted. He reached the Chinese land.
His skin colour a darker tan
Rusted. He’d promised her.
Far from the Ivory mountains and the pine trees
Far from the horizons his eyes
once reached. Far in the Far East
The Mongol mountains. The rice fields,
the con hats. Wells where he quenched
His thirst. And as night engulfed he found
himself in the bright Chinese market
Dusting away the brown dust. Greeted
by fireworks and lights red. He splendoured
Yuan dynasty at it's best. King Chui
Hung's 36th birthday
As beautiful exotic China lit up.
He searched. Eyes stopped. Saw Irene
In one of the palace balconies.
A smile reached his tired eyes. Queen.
He stood numb. Their eyes met.
The queen could lip read
"I will climb the gates tonight"
He whispered through wind that separated them
The traveller had reached his destination
"Oh Allah be praised, Jesus flourish
And Buddha I surrender, All mighty
ye granted me. My only wish". They finally met
They met, made love. Wild and soothing Chinese night
"Nights and days. I've dreamt of thee. Return to me. With yellow men
a week. They played hide and seek.
He carried her on the steed and rode
away to the semi-golden horizon.
The Chinese hunted till Mid Arabia
And left the heated land. Just two miles
further from the laid tent
They were last seen
arm in arm by Abu Sheikh Khan.
The camel boy who rented them
the tents for two sovereigns. Who
grew old to tell the tale
To his sixteen grand children.
The tale of the savage and his passion
The tale of the princess and her true love.
Of all King Philip's horses
And all Chui Hung's men.
Who left defeated. None know
where they went. But the gypsy folklore
goes as such. The princess
married the savage
One rainy African afternoon.
Deep within the wild land.
Amongst pygmy friends
The hybrid of a noble woman.
And a cruel man.
Away from eastern dark
And ivory mountains.
Where they loved and lost.
Years later to be found in the east
To be lost forever.
Time found them.
Marriage bound them.
The Girl at The WindowThe hostel’s brown and lift’s old
Reception is sleepy and kitchen squeaky
Toilets have do’s and dont’s. Phones missing
Found, missing. Carpet old tan Arabic Tunisia
Dark window faces Symonds street
Tube lights in AUT hostel gray’s green
Bang opposite is Crest on Mount
Waiting is a woman. Smoking at 2
I move. She stay and move to catch my eye.
A baitI hook and look and shut lights.
She goes in. Heart beats. Fast. Furious.
Excitement. Patience. 10 minutes. Nothing.
I see her. Back in black. Skin. A small
brassiere and panty that must smell exotic.
She looks in my dark direction. I breathe
Malaysian, Indonesian, Chinese, Singaporean.
I know not. She goes to pink mirror bathroom.
Light and nudity; jigsaw pieces. She walks bold
living room at 3. Takes me just 10 minutes
Hostel's black. Lift's dead. I live.
Floats she amongst flying doves There's a blue window
on the right that reflects
wonderous sights, smiles, frowns
many moods
catch I thy reflection
You hold my eye
Million shy lights
in pink and white
in blue and green
crazeee faded, jeans
birds fly home
caught in dilemma
your hair creates
million hearts beat
words are a buzz
Nothings normal anymore
Oh Red is such a pretty colourRed on every shore
waves that float
around our worlds
passion defies
our spirit flies
A love song
gone missing
a feeling overpowering
freedom
Red every mind
love colourful
not blind. Wonderful
GeetaRiding free wild blue skies
Just memory shy, twinkle eyes
Window face, Gentle winds, Hot
Cricket, Distant horizons where
Hearts don’t lie
Librarian GirlPrincess surrounded by Tintin, Ludlum, King.
Helping, smiling, sweet, Red Riding Hood.
Smile destroyed me. Don’t want to touch, kiss, lust
Just love. Cuddle forever hold. Found no strength
Then found strength to talk. “Can you get the
Internet going?” Something stirred. Divine blur.
Coldish warm August Auckland, morning. numbers
exchanged. Point Chev visited. Kisses ignite. Feelings
go to Warkworth, One Tree Hill, Waterview. Pak n Save
Sea Gulls, sparrows and Farmers. Green forests,
Volcanic mountains. Distant West City Ring movie.
Love. Warm with doubts of mother’s sexuality
Dreaded pill was amiss and confused tears end
Both strong to move on. Both lied. Calls turned
into fights into foes. Refused to see me.
Talk. Hear. Think. Met her just in dreams.
Green grass, wind-carved mountains
Love was gone and remained just blame.
ValentineValentine.Tomorrow
Waterview's Bright
Red and Rosy, all heart.
Parted three years
you cried I knew,
hope you'd return
You didn't.
Making Auckland, NZ
and Universe slightly empty.
Its a muggy day meaning I don't know whether its cold or warm. I had to run all over Henderson trying to find a loo, when I got down from the train. It was a good journey but the relief came when I reached the butcher place and peed. The Hare Krsna canadian guy was a Vegan and made me feel like going vege again.
The creative writing course is over and the Bond and Bond job is about to began. There's a barbeque happening and Pat our senior Karate trainer - hunter flatmate is having some deer, pork and goat he's hunted. It was his birthday last week.
There's music and some are having beer. I have stuck to my water and am quite enjoying the hunting stories. Pat is 1/16 Maori.
The job will start next week and I'll take the train for now. Creative writing was a full of course fun to write autobiography, poetry, 3 stories and one travel writing.
The sun has come out again. I have to fill my IT returns and job offers keep coming from India. I'm doing a Multi Media paper and a teaching paper and four English papers. Now how I'm going to manage that in a 45 hour working week is anybody's guess.
Mom was planning to go for an endoscopy. If she does I may want to go to India again. The party has a lot of good people. And Paul's son Adam is up to his Devil Deeds again. See you.
Now Paul exhibits some classical signs of being mad. He's 32 but feels like 12 year old boy when it comes to enjoying life. We went to the graveyard one night and took pictures of what looked like absolute ghosts. The other day it was windy and we flew a kite at elevenish in the night. Its a bright yellow strong plastic kite. That was my first time, though I first saw a kite in Bhuleshwar with my cousin Utkarsh when my uncle, his dad was flying kites. Pink was the preferred color of strings.
Anyway we were at Avondale School after a afternoon of driving crazily at Waitakere concrete snakes and buying plum and apple juice from a local farmer. Kite technology is much simpler and the wind was roaring. It was great. The kite could not be seen and the string was a fishing line that just went at a crazee speed. Paul was jumping. I being more matured was only singing.
Sunny. Rainy. Cloudy. Beach.
Bikinis colour pink blue green
Guitar plays in the stony beach
Children play on the sandy streak
There’s a black side to the stone torn
Penny’s flying. Bees hum a peaceful
Song to Sea gulls that fly in Ultra Violation. Sunscreen 30+ something
Samaons in their square blue tent. Women half covered in their tees shorts and children roaming free giving people company. Happy. Free. As a
wasp buries its head in me. A gasp.
Is all I give. Water. Salt water. Vinegar.
Sting of Scorpio’s little niece. Sleeping half naked, half inviting. Half teasing
Ask her number. Asked not her number. I am growing old. Lazy. May be it’s a job I need not a woman and woman just fulfil a vacant need..
It's a beautiful night. Queen Street is a beautiful place in the night. Stunning and lanterns are everywhere. The Chinese New Year is about to happen and the world is happy. Most Chinese except the mad woman in our house. We went down to get some pictures of the festival.
THE SAVAGE STORMS
The blood red evening skies
The gloom of the faded twilight
The echoes of the blowing wind
The onset of a lonely night
A storm is heading our way
the storm is here to stay
The wind echoes memories my way
Memories
of enchanting eyes
that once betrayed
Time-
(backward) flies
to those fateful days
My heart beats in my head
My feelings are misled
Dream and reality meet
The wind stronger blows
The emotion wilder shows
Agony of my sole defeat
Realisation of which grows
The dream
that was once true
The reality
that was once you
The sudden gush
of memories
cloud my mind
Heart beats
pound in my head
Alone left behind
Before you ran
before you fled!
The pangs
of our past sorrow
will follow all the way
till tomorrow
The storm?
The storm part of my past
The dream that didn?t last
The storm blowing outside
The mind blasting inside.
The love
gone and dead
The heart
tears it bled
The leaves
in the air blew
The storm
inside me grew
Bringing to my mind
the day I first
stared at you
Where did it come from?
The Storm
The memory
that crossed my mind
The memory
that you left behind
My eye
caught your eye
Your blush
and your sigh
First glance was
indifferent
Next few were
surprisingly frequent
My senses warned me inside
It just seem right
My love at first sight
destroyed my pride
Your courage faded away
your confidence in me betrayed.
The blood red evening skies
still brings memories to my mind
brings voices to my ears
To my eyes it brings tears
And when
your hand I held
Then
my love you felt
How did it start?
The storm!
Storm stopped outside
The fire grew inside
Closer and closer
still I came
Who would take the blame?
Your hair
blew on my face
as I held you
one hand on
your waist
another on your
face
I held you tight
with all your grace
You lied !
You lied ?
You lied.
You said you loved me
And I was a fool to believe
You lied.
As I stroked your hair
In the dream that wasn?t there
I know you don't
but I care
I care.
I care.
The thunder in the skies
The fear in your eyes
Closer still I came
My passion set aflame
We couldn?t stop !
The Storm
You melted in my arms
Your beauty and my charms
Our lips softly touched
Your cheeks slightly blushed
Our lips fully met
And the wild fire it set
Our senses
on a ignite
On a wild, thoughtless
stormy night
The shock
from the vibrant touch
The breathless heart beat
made you insecure
and nervous
As you turned to retreat
I caught you in your flight
And held you tight
in the still of the night
Your eyes sparkled
and lips trembled
Where did it come from ?
The Storm.
I whispered in your ears
before you disappeared
Leaving behind doubts
distrust and fears
The storm
went on and on
The love
was dead and gone
My life torn apart
Crash!
Down went my heart
The storm passed
The love didn?t last
And all that
it left behind
fallen leaves
broken glass
and painful
memories
My world was broken apart
The storm crashed on my heart
Your memory remains a soft dream
which I couldn?t redeem
Our love was a savage storm
Me-I couldn?t reform
The storming emotional passion
Was it just another day
The rains lasted a life time
Our love was washed away.
Went to the Demolition Derby yesterday, where after they race all the cars; they crash into each other and the last one moving wins. I have moved to West Auckland and the air is better and nights cleaner. I have food in the big wooden balcony that faces bamboos.
Also visited a graveyard that is 200 years old. Will post pictures soon. There are old graveyards.
Well. A row with Bangera. A guilt. Next time I write a murder book I'll wonder if I'm a suspect.
Now, then. I moved to West Auckland, away from the city into the greens yesterday. I could see stars on a dark night out of my window and it was beautiful. The bed's bigger and I love it here. Had lots of eggs and the protein need is satified. I love it. The bed is harder and bigger and I feel like a million dollars.
Thanks for taking the story so maturedly. Because in my creative writing school we were asked to get out of our comfort zone and write things we are scared to write about. Thus I wrote the absolutely graphic tale.
There are three pieces we had to write. A Short Story. A Poetry and the Autobiography. I am happy with a lot of people who wrote to me privately. There were some who went on a public platform and thus I had to answer them publicly. The final drafts are at:
http://singingcactus.blogspot.com/2006/01/creative-writing.html and it is a bit graphic and only meant for adult audiences. Sorry. The short story is completely a fiction except the character is made of 3 people I know.
There are certain days when I’m just happy to be alive. Today, I got rid of her. Slept till 11.30. Thanked Justin for the sensational ride yesterday. And decided that it was a cloudy day and I was a free bird so let me walk around Auckland City. I started at Queen St and the ice coffee at Mc pumped me with caffeine and sugar. I am not a regular so it kick-started my metabolism. I ran down Queen St, went through Custom St, Checked an apartment – good but costly, went up ANZAC Ave, sat in a church. On Sundays I sit in a church. I went on through Symonds St, through K Rd, checked Paper bag Princess. No good the clothes. Went on to Ponsonby through the cafés, ate at a food court, checked a dicey shop. Didn’t know what it had, so don’t blame me. Went down Franklin St to Victoria Market. Victoria Market is like those Dubai Shouks, a small market inside a an old stone structure that looks like Bombay’s mills. Checked a leather hat, a black jersey, a girl in a shoe shop, Omega 3 tablets and honey (Daniel’s favourite advice), a Ferarari Jacket (spell that for me please). Saw some art pieces and some artists at work.
Went and sat in the Victoria Park, besides a Japanese fellow. Discussed Japanese women. Went back to Queen St, got into a free bus. Got down at Auckland University Library. It is bigger than Auckland City Library. The sixth level is like those typical Nariman Point/Fort government office but not dusty. Something out of a Amol Palekar movie. Got an Australian Travel book. Went to IT desk and started my Auckland University Internet A/c. I get 7 dollars and the library is open till 12.00 in the night and 10.00 on weekdays. That’s where I’m. Happy. Now this place also has Flash and Dream Weaver. So I feel great.
Khalnayak: The Short StoryHe sledged and swore on hot Indian cricket fields after he send the batman’s stumps reeling on the concrete. He once fell in love with his friend’s mother and felt no remorse at all; only love. He once had an affair with a married woman who was a shippie’s wife. His white ex-girl friend felt he had no ethics. He thought she was frigid and part lesbian and still loved her and missed her smell and her kisses. Justin called him a player. Chris called him a Casanova. Umesh thought he had no morals. He didn’t care.
Khalnayak was the name given to him. A villain; A man without a soul; the devil. She called him ‘Mukheriego’, a womaniser.
He met her in the lift. He asked her if she was from Saudi Arabia. She informed him that she was from Argentina. He smiled. She asked him where the laundry room was. He took her to the basement. She thanked him. He said no worries and left.
She was B. He was A.
B, thought he had evil eyes, unlike her Argentinean half American Indian boyfriend’s divine eyes.
He enjoyed his vile image just like ‘Jamie’ Bond, as the Russian women had called him in the hotel room in Bangkok. Venomous Devil, as his aunts and cousins called him. Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights. Ed Harris of The Rock. They were all Khalnayaks.
He was five, when his father left home for the other woman.
He knew it when despite all love that his mother felt for him; she kept on battering him so that he would not grow up to be his father. He felt she loved his younger brother more.
His father came and went from their lives and one day he died. A did not cremate him. The Hindu philosophy needs the older son to do the final rites so that the father may go to heaven. He did not want to give his father a fair chance.
He met her again in the lift next day. This time the lift was going up. She was trying to speak in English and he was trying to help her complete sentences.
She thanked him. He said it was alright.
Next day, they met at the lounge downstairs. He said niceties, had her coffee, thanked her and left.
Next day, they met in the lift. He was going up. She was going down. He was wearing black. She was wearing red.
She said she needed him. He asked her if it was sex. She did not understand but persisted. She wanted ‘methodology’ to learn English.
He was still thinking of the Samoan girl and her big, beautiful eyes and her kissable, innocent lips. He loved her. But did not want to hurt her ‘Aiga’. He was a part of the Patola family.
B was still talking, trying to make sentences. She ‘needed’ him to study English. He thought, why not!
He went to her room. Looked at the red curtains and clean floor and nice incense smell and the banana. He ate the banana and then ate the grape fruit.
They pretended to study. He really tried to help.
She asked him if he would like to sleep in her room and laughed and said she was joking. She was coy, he thought.
He put on a serious face and said yes.
She said noooooo, her boyfriend loved her. Oh, ok he said. She called him Mukheriago: Antonio Banderas.
He said Muchas Gracias and left.
She invited him to the beach next day. They went to Mission Bay. It was hot. But the sea was cold and green. His penis shrunk in the water.
They ate some strawberries and as their skins were burning in the sun. He covered himself with a towel. Her towel. The talk reverberated to sex.
He sucked her fingers and told her, this is what I want to do to your breast. And he wanted to see her naked. She said her breasts are very small. He wondered how that was possible. She was big.
They both lay in the sun. The white sand was reflecting violently. She asked him if he had SIDA. He informed her that he had no AIDS or Syphilis or ‘Ganorrhea’ .
She asked him about a condom. He felt a reaction in his body. He said he could buy one.
They bought Fish and Chips from the FISH STOP and took the bus back to the hostel.
He ran down to the Korean shop for a packet of condoms. They overcharged him. He ran back and went to her room. She was still in her pink swimming costume. She said she wanted to ‘wash’ first.
He wanted her. It had been a long time. They went to his room. She started screeching and screaming in excitement. She took off her swimming costume to reveal a scar running from one side to another. He wondered what it was. Another scar on her belly button was brown thing on a white tanned tummy. Was this liposuction, he thought.
She was excited ‘exceeet’. And he was too but suddenly he lost his hard on. She played with herself and he thought of India.
He had gone back to Bombay (he didn’t bother with Mumbai) since his mother had TB. She consumed 28 sleeping pills as he sat by her bedside. Helpless, like a fish caught in a hook. Waiting. For her to live or die. Breathless. Hopeless.
He had cried like a baby knowing that all mothers die. Despite knowing that his life had always send him out alone to fight the war of living. Survive – he could: Live – he could not.
But ‘mom’ had improved and he was back. Back to a country, he called home, through the airport that had a bomb scare commotion. 28 custom officers like dogs, along with their canines jumped on the passengers that were travelling alone.
He travelled alone, the cowboy that rode into the sunset.
B had just climaxed on her fingers. She was crying and wailing, guilty that she betrayed her boyfriend. She should have never come to this room.
He told her that technically speaking they had not had it. She cried.
He held her and played with her boobs and she climaxed again. She laughed.
She asked him if he had a problem. He told her this was his first disaster and he had done it nine times in a night. She did not understand. He said Muchas Gracias. She left.
Next day, he went to Palmerston North with his friends. He thought of Alofa, the Samoan girl. He liked Lake Taupo and found ‘Palmy’ empty. He discussed women with his drunk friends; Laughed at his own inadequacy.
He came back late next night. She was waiting for him. He slept in her bed and wondered if she was a guy as she kissed him all over and pierced her tongue inside like someone was fumbling with her keys. He got a tremendous hard on. He was relieved. The cloud had shifted. This time her pussy was too small.
And she rubbed her clitoris that was far from her vagina and climaxed three times. He did not. But felt like a stud. He always thought he was one. This continued for three more days. Nine climaxes later, she started blaming him.
She said he thought she was ugly and old and fat and unattractive. He said No. She asked him if he was gay. He said No. She asked him if he at least Bi. He said No.
He wondered if she was a man. He didn’t ask her.
She rode him for some more nights and took him out to dinner, cleaned his room, did Reiki for her mother, advised him on how to dress. Told her about her Rebel Society in Argentina and how she shuddered to go back. He asked her to seek political asylum.
He was glad he was moving to Henderson. They fought when he told her about his intentions.
She said her life had been a mess and he didn’t love her and he didn’t want her and he thought she was a prostitute. She wanted to be with him all the time.
He needed fresh air and would escape in Justin’s car to midnight Tamaki Drives. He marvelled at the moon on a clear night as it bounced as light on frivolous, fickle, unfaithful waters and the whole blue grey black effect was exotic.
He wondered if a photograph could do justice to that clear sky blue waters big moon night scene. Justin told him that he would require a night film for that and look, look, those cars look like fireflies on the other side.
Rangitoto looked evil and ominous as a bright grey cloud sat on its head. Justin said it was a sign. The cloud did look as if it was smoke bellowing out.
He loved the oxygen. He would escape to Borders Book Store and read books on type faces. He loved fonts and would ogle at them for hours. Caledonia, Freak, Avant Garde, Bayer Type, Alphabet, Benhaus Bayer, Baskerville, Industria Bold, Lucida, Technihold, Optima and Bill. He thought “If I wanted, I could write a book everyday but that be such a boring way to eek out an existence besides I’m too lazy”. He smiled to himself.
He tried to find her a job and an apartment but she wanted to live with him. She cried and said he was trying to wash his ‘culpa’. But he felt no guilt, he thought.
Suddenly, after seven days he climaxed in her mouth. She thought it was a victory and next day he climaxed in her hands and she felt good but was ‘angry’ she had not climaxed. She blamed him again. He gave a warning look. She stopped.
She learned to kiss him not too wet because he told her he did not like it. At least, not from her. He didn’t tell her that.
He found himself singing Woman in love: I can do anything to get you into my world and hold you in it… He felt strangled.
Sympathy is a killer, he thought. It was abnormal to have sex with someone you don’t love, he thought. I hate her, he thought.
She massaged him. She made him food. She cleaned his room and washed his clothes. She wanted to sleep with him but he remembered how he’d not slept those three days and relented in the afternoons.
She hugged him. He felt good, sometimes. She had visions of how his ex-lover had put a curse on him and he felt she may have a point there. Since Sangeeta was a Bengali and not beyond soothsayers and black magicians.
He asked her if she would put a curse on him. She said Noooooooooo.
She had visions of him going to a better life in Australia. He had asked her pendulum if his mother would be all right. The Pendulum was indecisive.
He spent another sleepless night to wake up at 2.00 in the afternoon. She had made some Fried Chicken. He liked it with the Chilli paste.
She made an emotional scene at the airport, next Monday. Her grand daughter was unwell. He said good byes and sat there. Relieved.
Then suddenly, he cried. He’d miss her. The caring and company and cooking and fussing and fighting and warmth besides him. He started missing how she loved him when he just liked her. He forgot about Alofa Patola for those 45 minutes and cried. Now, he was alone in Auckland again. He promised himself, he’d learn from his mistakes, next time. He felt sorry for her and him and all the lonely people in Auckland. As he saw someone at the far end that looked like her. Same disgusting pink blouse and black trouser. It was ‘her’. She did not go? She must have cancelled her reservation the previous evening. He thought.
He swore. “Oh fuck nooooo”.
He missed Alofa, now. How will he ever get Alofa, with this woman haunting and stalking him. He laughed, hugged her and sighed for Alofa Patola.
Now, he’d have to sleep with her again, on that horrible single bed, pretend to like her food, go with her to the Internet Café on Queen Street, run after her in the middle of the night on K Road, pretend not be interested in her friends or any one in the hostel, pretend not to hear her as she tried to put other females off him, change his shirt according to her taste, lie back like a prostitute and pretend to enjoy sex with her, be ready for blame and criticism and nagging and act impotent all over again. At this rate, he would be totally impotent, one day. He would welcome that with open arms.
He had already started planning how to move to another street, suburb, town, country, planet without feeling sorry for her, as they were making their way out of the airport. For now, he was moving to Henderson.
She held his hand and gave him an envelope. It was a letter for him. She told him the flight was delayed due to a crank call and bomb experts will soon clear Air New Zealand.
His heart jumped. Oh so she was going. He wondered if she will get in trouble with her rebel banana republic guys that he’d read about in Tintin’s Broken Ear.
She left.
They called him the Khalnayak. Life gave him no choice. And he seized it with both his hands.
He gave a working title to the story. ‘A Nice Guy’. He typed it in Wicked font in 12 points with double spacing.
She wrote a Spanish story and called it ‘The Villain’.
None of the stories had anything in common.
The envelope, he had thrown in the dustbin, without reading her letter, contained $2000.
It once belonged to the Argentinean government.
The Librarian: The PoetrySurrounded by books like a princess of old around the comic bookshelf
She stood helping people, in red. She was smiling and love itself.
He saw her. Felt she was his. He could have screamed and cried for help.
He didn’t. It hit him. It touched him. Her smile destroyed him.
He loved her. He knew. Forever he would. If only he could.
If only a whim.
He didn’t want to touch her nor kiss her or make love to her.
He wanted her to like him, love him, hold him for ever after.
Tell him it was fine.
He found no strength but still found strength to talk to her.
‘If she knew how to get the Internet going’ and then… Something stirred.
It was divine.
Within him and her and the world around caused to blur.
On that coldish warm August morning in Auckland. It was her.
Everywhere. Near. Far. Within Without. Despite. Because of.
He loved her.
He had no choice. She had no choice. Telephones numbers exchanged.
Fate’s device.
Point Chev was visited. Kisses ignited. Feelings betrayed.
It was rather nice.
To Workworth and One Tree Hill and Waterview and Pak n Save
As Sea Gulls circled their love and sparrows and squirrels raved
In green forests, on blue volcanic mountains and distant sky and hills
It was love. She was warm but doubts of her past. Her mother’s sexuality
And the dreaded pill.
Something was amiss and distrust she felt still. Tears of confusion.
As the pill killed their passion and brought insecurity. She’d perfected the skill.
He made mistakes of his own. He fell for her sisters renowned
Charm. That did all the harm. Though to her seduction he did not bend
There was no need to pretend. This was the beginning of the end.
The end came when it came and both cried. It was insane.
And both felt strong to move on. Both lied.
And calls turned into fights and fights into foes.
Why this happened no one really knows
But the love was there hidden within hate
And their bodies separated but their hearts were mates
She refused to see him. Talk. Hear of him or think of him
He met her not in reality and resorted to those anticipated dreams.
There tale was written on every tree, every street, every fest
Every hill. He loved her still. And he knew he always will.
Somewhere on the green grass and wind carved mountains was their name
But love was gone and hate was gone and all that remained was their blame.
For the love of all women and good of no man!: The Autobiographical PieceNow, what kind of a person has an email address that reads hopelessromantic@sexmagnet.com or popcornpoet@netscape.net or intensewords@yahoo.com? I do. No, no, no… I really do! My CV records my interests as beautiful women, poetry, cartooning, writing other stuff, cooking, walking on the beach on a low-lit moon, trekking, photography, creating all kinds of email IDs (my favourite pastime activity) and learning.
We will be tackling only women and poetry in this piece. There is no room for anything else. According to me a poet has a few qualities. I would list them as passion, romance, love for nature and a certain amount of irresponsibility towards practicality. And then there’s the big one. You don’t find poetry. Poetry finds you.
It must have been one of those warm, winter mornings of my early adolescent days in school; under the tree with yellow flowers, besides the yellow, hayish, cricket-football fields. That is where poetry came to me. Nothing dramatic happened; no flashes or angels or even a spark of a match stick. Poetry fell on me through one of the yellow flower petals that gently came to kiss the earth, lost their address and landed on my head like a feather in my cap. I wrote my first nature poem and it is lost in the sands of time. It was nothing spectacular and the emotion has been reported in my latter pieces. So I’m not upset.
Everyday we learn something new, a thought that was later made into a proverb-like greeting by me: Life goes on and we learn to live. I have always believed in true love, nature’s superiority over human beings and the fact that you should not add too much salt to your soup. I have always believed that poetry exists and there is a possibility that people may write poems. That helped.
My second poem was a limerickish extravaganza on our science teacher and how
“When angered;
he was a tiger wounded,
for example, when a fly on him landed,
just when he was on the boil,
the fly made his mood go further spoil.
And this Mr. Raghunathan, who wouldn’t hurt a fly,
hit it so ha-a-a-rd that it had to die” etc.
The poem was lost in the sands of time but like in Maori history, it was repeated so often to so many students and other people as my first poem (officially speaking of course) that I remember it.
Love poems started with Dimple not Natalie. Natalie was my first crush and her brother Murali did not like me Bill-boarding the fact. But, wait! Now that I think of it, I did write poems for my Natalie. But: Lost in Sands of Time! All the early Dimple poems are gone except The Storm. It was about our fist kiss.
The blood red evening skies
still brings memories to my mind
brings voices to my ears
To my eyes it brings tears
And when
your hand I held
Then
my love you felt
How did it start?
The storm!
The Storm stopped outside
The fire grew inside
Closer and closer
still I came
Who would take the blame?
Your hair
blew on my face
as I held you
one hand on
your waist
another on your
face
I held you tight
with all your grace
You lied!
You lied?
You lied.
You said you loved me
And I was a fool to believe
You lied.
As I stroked your hair
In the dream that wasn’t there
I know you don't
but I care
I care.
I care.
The thunder in the skies
The fear in your eyes
Closer still I came
My passion set aflame
We couldn’t stop!
The Storm
You melted in my arms
Your beauty and my charms
Our lips softly touched
Your cheeks slightly blushed
Our lips fully met
And the wild fire it set
Our senses
on a ignite
On a wild, thoughtless
stormy night
The shock
from the vibrant touch
The breathless heart beat
made you insecure
and nervous
As you turned to retreat
I caught you in your flight
And held you tight
in the still of the night
Your eyes sparkled
and lips trembled
Where did it come from?
The Storm.
I whispered in your ears
before you disappeared
Leaving behind doubts
distrust and fears
The storm
went on and on
The love
was dead and gone
My life torn apart
Crash!
Down went my heart
However, when I met her again after six years on a rebound from a steamy, passionate, emotional affair with an Aries married woman, I wrote poems like:
One Afternoon
The crazy
March afternoon
heat.
The fan's not
fast enough
The soft breeze
is blowing-
the leaves,
The earth's
scorched.
A mosquito
bites me on
my leg
and I'm
devastated
I stand
in the balcony
gazing at the
empty road
which leads us
nowhere
I'm thinking
of you (imagining)
you
seated in
that fashion designer
class of yours,
talking to Reema
Sheetal,
Drawing among
the girlie - chatter
awaiting your teacher
thinking of me.
May be.
Reading Cheiro
and then your own palm.
getting out of
the college
awaiting a 84 ltd
Alas its 25 mins late
That’s fate
As Reema
invites you to her house
No you are not in the mood.
You want to go to
a quiet place
and think of me.
Call Dina and talk
about me.
Hope for me.
Pray for me.
Write to me
(You can't)
You don't have
the address.
Oh! my God
what a mess.
At last you're home
and the phone
refuses to ring
You are too tired
to eat the food
that Pinky brings
The evening brings
a soft breeze
as you stand
against the well.
Still hoping
for the telephone bell.
imagining me in
my long strided
walk.
entering your life
your heart
wants to sing.
An illusion.
Bored you return
home to your
empty bed
to spend another
sleepless night
I wish I was there
to hold you tight.
And kiss you gently
In the night
I am missing you.
But I was not writing these poems. Someone else was. I was just feeling the emotions. I was being used; As, I’m being used right now.
I needed time to get over my loves, crushes and infatuations. Often three to four years but that did not dampen my enthusiasm. Neha was the love that struck with greatest force, with the ferocity that a Sagittarius feels for a Leo; like a kick in the groin. I wanted to cry but I wrote poems, hopelessly. Tiger poems and the legendary Savage and the Princess, that was more of a premonition (something I suffer from) than anything else. The first poem was called the
The wound that healed not
The tiger was wounded
his heart was hit
& torn apart
The pain extreme
It felt so real
Though roar he did not
his heart bled
he should have fled
he should've at least
fought
A thousand arrows
poisoned
hit him straight through
the heart
She lived in the wild
west
He ranged from eastern
dark
The tiger loved a lioness
a breed apart
a class apart
Travel, nature and women were my first loves as I indiscriminately and promiscuously mixed and matched. Poetry relented especially, on nights. I sat struck by sudden gush of words that filled pages in matter of minutes, even seconds.
The Savage and the Princess was written in the rhythm of Lord Tennyson’s ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’
Sparks rode as hell had no fury's name
Out aside with sword and shame
Pulled out his silver lancet sharp
Hunting gave his glory fame
And down the woods the Lion came
Sharp the eyes mammoth the frame
And quick before the sound through harp
Savage down from his horses came
And eyes across eyes did meet
And two animals none could tame
As though the silence could much speak
Their grey eyes a single burning flame
Sparks - Savage was not just in name
One strike left the lion lame
One must the other eat
Both animals were on their feet!
A roar the wounded lion gave
Amidst the rising passion – a scratch
The blood: Sparks could not save
And silence then became discreet
The pride and arrogance left insane
A smile reached the wounded Savage eye
His arm bleeding like it rains
His lancet one and a half metres long
Swished across the air like a song
The lion was faster than most
The lion played the jungle host
His claws penetrated Savage guts
And deep, deeper the bloody cuts
While seeing blood - his own
Made Sparks smile
A battle A battle A battle
A mile
Sparks adored the lion’s style
And speed he had to catch up in a while
The golden mane he came close
And as the scarlet blood flows
Swish, went the Savage eyes
The lancet moved faster
Hard and high
The sabre cut the lion's throat
A smile
The hunter gave a gloat
And Savage killed with poetic rhythm
Killing on slander; the Savage anthem
Night after night, day after day
It was the same, the savage and his bloody games
As evil Sparks gained Savage name
And hoofs thundered
And earth shuddered
As Savage came
And Savage came
And thus my journey of romance and poetry continues; sometimes stuttered, sometimes ignored. Not as passionate as the married Aries women, not as heart-felt as Emma, my Taurean, Pakeha girl, not as eternal as the Leo affair: But small and pleasant. Sometimes in the form of a small note left behind for a Malaysian girl in the library or a Korean girl in the Sushi shop. Sometimes in my mind: a poem that may never be written. Sometimes to a girl in the window in India; a girl who loves me but cannot say it.
The beauty of rural NZ can get rather stunning on sunny days and make you aesthetically impotent on wet days and thats life. Paul, Chris, Adam and me headed to Palmerston North after haggling out the time table with fate on a bright sunny morning. Lake Taupo is huge. Looks like an ocean and has pretty tourists if you ever choose to break fast on one of those picnic benches along the blue transparent water that probably run for 30 kilometers and the sun peps up your day if you dunk your corn chips in spicy garlic hummus.
We meet good people at palmy and the town goes around in blocks and squares and Chinese Take Away is a semi boon but nothing else is happening in the dead Palmy town. the students are gone and the locals sleep at 9. The camp site we slept has got good stars and nice TV room to chat till two about women and their cruelties.
The cars on the way back look suspect but make it back to Auckland in time for strange dinner that Pauls cooked. Buts food and I like it.
I went with Emilia, my Spanish student to Mission Bay. She asked me to join her in the sea. She is a old lady so don't expect any spiced up episode but the water was cold and my circulation feels damn good. It was a great day out in the sun. I enjoyed myself. Had some chips and fish but had become soggy by the time we reached my place.
Met Justin Mckelvie at Borders and went off towards Mission Bay armed with fruits from a Korean Shop. The sea is green and the path is beautiful and I loved it. Had some chicken at Oportos and some nice sun at the beach and a spray of cool water near the kiddie fountain. Had lunch with a Samoan family that invited me. Justin left halfway but the climb to a small green hill before Mission Bay was good. Had to start walking again so I walked back. Totally around 15 kilometers return. Tired but glad i started.
Justin thinks I do not need a creative writing course. JNL, like her mom Peggy, thinks I can write a book . Arun thinks I should write a movie. And Emma was sick of the stuff I dished out.
Anyways. I started my Creative Writing Course today and realised that I felt pretty much like those writers who wrote about writing. It was fun in the old English department that has classical architecture like the clock tower building. And the walk through Albert Park felt like first love except this was not the girl at the window in India. This was my writing course. And it liberated my senses. I created a new id too: pencilfuel but don't use it.
One chap wrote about writing as "returning to a wild country" and how its mostly about intuition and passion and you are more a spectator of your own writing. Our tutor is cute. The lectures and tutorials are three times a week. And the humour is refreshing. My design lectures end tomorrow.
The English department is coool and no research just your own thoughts get you marks. It should be great.
I felt sensational and the world is a brighter place with fountains on Albert park like the ones on Mission Bay beach playing hide and seek with you.
Justin ‘Big Boy’ Joe is built like an Ox. And it’s been some time since I saw him. In fact, it’s been sometime since I saw Daniel too. I missed him on Sunday because I reached late. But, anyway.
I met Justin at Borders, after I collected mail from the other Justin’s house and he was in a mood to give his car a good bit of tweak and we headed for the North Shore. Through the winding roads and the winking moons and sleepy mysterious towns and beaches and wind carved mountains. We stopped at Winderholm National Park. Reminded me of another day! Another person! Another life! But Winderholm looked awesome in the grey fading light. And the sea and distant mountains looked exotic. We went on for another 143 kms all the way to Waipu. But rural areas have their little secrets and mysteries that sometimes haunt you and scare you at the same time. Suddenly the sky caught fire and the fading evening light made beautiful tracks across the skies. The road were snaky and often we made 90 degree turns on them. The tiny street lights beneath us looked cute and old worldly. But the roads were a good exercise and the music system was great. So we just reached as I had some onion rings (bhajji without lasoon chutney) and some chips and raspberry flavoured coke. I’m ready for sleep after a long day at Visual Communication and the Creative Writing Course around the corner.
Its been a lomg time since I went to a New Year party may be with Mohan in Essel World after Neha left. Or Francis' bash. Last New Year was in a bach on Workworth in Auckland with Emma's family. I defeated the Goras at Scrabble but
last two years I was in India pretending to be drunk and pulling Policeman's whiskers.
My black friend Antonio told me life was too short and I should join him to the Queen St crackers. I thought no I'll sleep. But hey! he turned up with his Indian girl and we went to Queen St.
It is crazee out there. Absolutely bonkers. There is a huge herd of
people,happy, jumping and dancing. The Hare Krsna gang is doing dandia no just
Garba. And people of all colours. Its crazee. Mad
The firecrackers went of from Sky Tower like canons and it was blasting from all sides and even the huge Santa seemed happy. It is full of people and whoever said New Zealand has no population must think again. Its crazee.
It was like the poem "Charge of the light brigade" Cannons to the left of them, Cannons to the right of them, Cannons in front of them. Vollyed and thundered.
Happy New Year.
Today went to Devonport with my friend Mandy and had some spicy Oporto burgers and Korean Food. Kum Sum Nidha.
Castrol, honey, early mornings, water warm and cold, triphala (with 2 day break), water, mini meals, avil 25, raisins, grapling, situps, rantac, fibre, onions, lemon, meswak, ...Cabbage & Carrot...fan on you in NZ Negative Cal Vegetables
asparagus beets broccoli cabbage (green) carrots cauliflower celery chicory chili peppers cucumbers endive garlic lettuce onions papayas spinach turnip
zucchini Fruits apples cranberries grapefruit lemons mangos oranges pineapple raspberries strawberries tangerines
No. I did not pick strawberries on the beach. But Daniel called early morning that’s 10.00 and for some reason I was all ready (a day after the scenic Hamilton drive with Paul and some important bits of conversation with my cousin in the Waikato Campus). I saw the graves on the hills with candles on them at midnight.
The topic drifted to life after death and Paul and I agreed on it. I slept at West Auckland and there's a cat loosing fur there which pisses me off. But Paul's a nice guy. Anyway, Daniel called and asked me if I wanted to go to Shakespeare Beach of Whangaparoa in
the North Shore near Silver dale. I jumped at the chance.
I was picked near the K Road graveyard and park and reserve (all in one). And it was great. The beach was full of people and a few colourful bikinis and of course other friends like Jim and Meg and Florence and family. It was great.
We munched on a few goodies and walked up the hill on the other side and the scene encompassing the windswept hills and the green waters and the sails and the seagulls and the green grassed hills made the climb worth it.
The climb involved jumping electric fences and trodding
up in slippers and slipping and falling at least, 5 times and trying the thorny barefoot option and hurting. But it was all good.
Then we went to Riverhead which is more to the West than North and it
was good fun too. Great, in fact. We picked up strawberries as in two in the mouth one in the basket and they were tasty. I loved it. I was dropped off historical K Road and slept like a log. Its all good, as Sam would put it.
Daniel had made a good curry and I was picked at Panmure train station after an incident at Glen Innes, where a mad guy was abusive to an Asian women. I wanted to get up and slap him but I did the right thing by pointing to the conductor and luckily that fellow got down at Glen Innes, the Bronx of Auckland. A place where murders are a common place event. Now, I did not want to do anything and aggravate the situation. So I didn't with an obvious hint of regret.
The dinner was good and we went through a walk through in a church that was once a factory. It was like Ganpathy that Murali and I saw in santa Cruz. Gunny bag entrance and Christmas through time. 2025, 2005, 1800 and 0 ad which actually is 70 AD according to me. I could be wrong but daniel will correct me if i'm. So I'm not worried. My black friend Antonio, the Indian movie freak with an Indian GF is with me as i rush to Hamilton to drop some stuff that my Aunt has send for my cousin. Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year.
These are designs I have submitted for my assignment that was due today. Give me your frank comments. Two of them are posters for a conference and are limited by two colours and the third one is a new radio station called convot fm.
Today is raining and the money has come through in the bank so I'm relieved. There is still no response from the Education Department. Its pissing me off.
Its been a lazy start. Last two days have been heavy wind and slight rain. So
don't know. Daniel has called me for dinner on the eve that would be great.
He's a good cook.
My Visual Communication paper has three days left in lectures of course.
Thanks Jini
It is a touching gesture on your part to keep me updated and I feel a bit special and sentimental. But Bevda Babu (I believe you are talking about that Mehul Vapiwala Chutiya Lamboo). Our team collapses and Deepak is a shame. I think his wife can bat better than him and his son has more spirit. deepak is the only man who takes Deep seriously. Khud Gabbar. Howz your family?
Pintoo is a lalchoo bhikhari for matches, he will give a donkey a blowjob if he can get a match out of the donkey. My bathroom is bigger than bhagya nagar boundary. It is only for chooas like Paras to feel good. But still you might have hit it the distance brother. Somla chutiya is still alive. Christmas will be empty without you and ypur aunty Meena Bazaar will be sad with only Kirti Raja to see her mujra. Oh fuck the baa tragedy is still on...but the cheating will be the same, no matter which ever pitch we play.
Thanks for keeping me uptodate. Hope to see you soon. Howz my mom? Howz your mom and everybody?
Its really windy in Auckland and I just paid to move to that groovy place in Henderson. Not that mess in Kelston but the beautiful place on 29 Longburn Road off Lincoln Road. The West is greener and friendlier but I will move only on the 9th. No response from interviews as the onslought of holidays about to begin. Everything is gone on a vacation. Daniel has called me for a Christmas dinner on 24th, which is the best night of Christmas and I still remember Loy Chacko and gang singing 'Silent Night'. Though its summer in Auckland but the weather changes here every 10 minutes. Summer holidays were fun in Andheri and Bulsar, where we could climb trees in the days and eat wadas in the night.
Bulsar is green and warm in summers and the Tithal beach was great to dip ourselves in three hours in cold water but the black sand invariably gave me an itch. The Sai Baba Temple is nice to but that whole line in the South Gujarat is awesome. Bordi, Dhanu and Umergaon, not to mention Sanjan and Paldi on the hills where we packed a lot of Pau Bhaji to eat and utkarsh and me loved the food.
Coming back to Auckland, I have stayed home and relaxed myself. I am reading a book called ex-factor by Angeli some-one-or-the-other and it is absolutely funny. Its crazeee funny. So i laughed loudly and devoured bread tuna peanut butter and honey. Not all at once of course. I may be going down to Hamilton on Sunday with my new friend and Land Lord Paul.
Its been nice and lazy but since I need action all the time, I just feel a bit left out. justin resting too and the other Justin is taking his sister-in-law (nine year old sister of his girlfriend) out to town. I have sponsored an ice cream for the good cause. I wonder how Jignesh is and what really happened? And the second question that
concerns us all: Where in the world is my Pakistani friend Mashood ul Haq?
I have changed my sleeping position. away from the window . Justin knows. And now I sleep much, much better. I haven;t met my white friend with accented slokas from vedas - Balgopal. Two interviews went very good. I think the secret of good sleep is a rainy day with lots of fatique. Had lots of takeaway last night but the broom hockey and balloon football must have burnt that.
I used to laugh at my brother Ravi whenever he had a sandwich in Borivali. I was the rough mean, macho eater eating Wada Pau and stuff. But Subway Sandwiches are mindblowing. I had the Veg Pattice option. My job searching spree has gained a new momentum with a CV and look. So I am happy. Talked to a few friends and went to Borders Book Store to see some old Superman Art Form and National geographic Pictures. Met Balagopal of the Hare Krsna fame and travelled in a cycle rickshaw (that's a new tourist attraction in Auckland: free of cost) where you can travel in a cycle rickshaw a la Mehmood of "Kunwara Baap". Bought Bread and Salmon. Tomorrow I travel all the way to the West, South, Ellerslie and two interviews.
Back to Subway: I'm about to get my 8th stamp so that my ninth sandwich is free. i get free cookies and drinks thanks to my summer school status. Life is good.
Pau Bhaji I love. Daniel called early this morning but I had a few errands to run and few homes to see. So I could bot go to Kelston Church today. The money hasn't come through. So, I could not go to Manurewa either. Miss the Loleshis. But luckily Chaggas called and I went to the celebration at Mount Roskill church. They enacted Jusus' birth and some Iranian converts and Chinese sang Christian songs. It was amazing. Silent Night always brings tears to my eyes since my school days in Don Bosco. Met some Maoris from Manurewa and asked them to chek some boarding options.
It was a glorious day, Even the house I saw in Eden has a community center outside. Thus, I met good people.
I went to Uncles' house when Chagas picked me and life was fun as I ate lots of Pau Bhaji. I love it and when I met Uncle who did not know that I have been through the food invited me again to eat and i consumed even more Bhaji. Chaga just dropped me off at the hostel and life is fine. My Sundays are always blessed.
The day at the nursery was a fine start. But I had hardly slept a feww hours so it was a wee bit irritating when the director told me that I will be paid per pot I created. Horticulture is alive and well and resorted to Pizza the white bread option, which is not such a fantastic idea.
Had lunch with Muffy. The guy who first booked Wild Blue Skies. Today there is a dull cloud as I start my new job. Must stop staying up at nights.
The reason I dont tell people of my crisis is because I dont want help. But I blew away $1000 in 15 days and even on the eve on possible bankrupty. I bought 3 Jeans and a cap. And had some mindblowing curry. I'll have $2400 in my bank on Monday. So I'm fine.
Also have three job offers. Shell. $11 an hour. Four days a week.
Shamiana: Free food and twenty hours in a week.
My friends nursery:
So I'm fine. Just in case any ones worried.
I believe in giving. But today I reached the last four dollars in my bank. My visa card also is - $750 making my spending a $1000 since I came thats roughly 31 grands. But I still bought 3 jeans and a black shirt. I have to pay visa 669 dollars on 5th Jan. I was at Manurewa and the train journey is $4.5 which i cashed out from my efpos card. of course, ATMs can give you coins.
I was angry at all my charities when i have given away all the money. I have never taken a single penny from the goverment and I never will. Its against my priciples.
Anyway at the train there were two school kids who literally forced the conductor to take 5o cents on my behalf. I refused (I would have walked those extra 5 kilometers) but they were adamant and christians. I told them all my life I have paid for school kiddy tickets and money was poison to me but to no avail.
So my anger at my self diminished. I also got a refund on $710 from the income tax that pays my credit card dues. I'm also getting another 1300 that a friend owed me. No names.
Plus I got a job offer that will pay around 400 a week. So within an hour of spending my last money and after celebrating my bankruptsy with a rice and vege in a currie place I got $2400. God reminding me that dont stop giving I'm there. My only regret to date is Utkarsh did not take the money i wanted to give him.
Had a great day with Daniel and friends in the west on Saturday and Sunday. Had lots of Chinese tea, which gave my system the boost it needed. Initially it was a bloody soft tennis bowl that hit me on my groin. I bowled pace and lot of them stayed to watch but my first over was disastrous. It swung wild and fast and wide. I got better. And we had Indians vs Kiwis. I hit a 6 and 4 off the last over to win. My bowling improved but not drastically. I was sensational in the last matches and we won 3-2. It was a hard fought battle. I sang we are the world and Elvis and the going was fantastic. Missed E. And they loved my singing and they think I'm hot with girls but I'm not. Right Now.
Justin Big-Boy-Chinese-Nice Joe and me met at downtown after cricket match. He had his 3rd meal in 3 days and i stuck to some lemon soda and then we drove around auckland.
Mission Bay, Dark and Dangerous Glen Innes, Panmure, Ellerslie, Onehunga, Royal Oak, Epsom, Green lane, Mt. Roskill, Albert, Waterview (visited my old house and got called a stalker by Justin). No pain. Just memories. The infamous K Road. Ponsonby. Downtown. Great ride. Planning to go for a day trip and a week in Jan.
Ajit called. Hes free for 6 weeks without wife and kids. I asked him if I could come to Melbourne or may be he can come to Auckland. Late Birthday wishes from Jini.
It’s Saturday and the sun is bright. A bit too bright and I have a BBQ planned with Daniel and friends. So that should be good. I bought some out of date stock from a Chinese shop: must return it. I’m reading a book: a fiction on relationships. The hostel life is slowly picking up since I’m mostly away days at AUT doing my Visual Communication. I should finish my flyer and the poster due on the 19th by 14th. I prefer living in houses than apartments. That’s what I have learned about myself. I haven’t started cooking yet. Am living on canned Tuna and peanut butter-honey sandwiches besides Taco dips and Corn Chips. Generally have lunch at the Indian Curry place. Have decided to go vegetarian for a month. My body needed a lot of iron and magnese. Thus the meat bout.
I met a Hare Krsna person and we were discussing the fact (according to him) that Krsna not Vishnu was main boss.
My website is no longer wildblueskies.com. My website is BlueSkyFox.com based on all the foxes and leopard territory I and Shaju walked through without knowing of animals perched on trees. On my last night in Bombay I didn't want to tempt fate.
Lazeee BirthdayIt was always going to be a lazy start. I am still sleepy and yawny as I type this. Yawn... Moms message was the first to come and then Shobha Masee came through. I had not informed my friends in Auckland about my birthday. Went to the Samaon house at Auckland University. It's a depiction of meeting places and is made up huge logs with Island jigjag designs on them.
It is similiar to the Maori Maerie. Anyway Auckland College has merged with Auckland University and thus I may need to redo the paper before I get the qualification.
The Visual Communication Paper is coming along fine and I may get a quick Photography paper which is a week long paper. But before that I may be going a week or two in driven tour of NZ interiors.
Birthdays niether thrill me nor sadden me. Because I have left the centre stage for my niece whos born on the same day as me.
Korean filmI saw a Korean film. Its a black comedy about a bank employee becoming a wrestler. It was extremely funny. The AUT has some award winning films on the show in their auditorioms. The colors captured in the film were mindblowing. The VIZ COM paper is going well giving me a feel about Adobe Photoshop CS. My mind is cluttered with a million distractions and the options are driving me bonkers.
Visual Communication The Visual Communication course is rocking and i'm rolling. Am learning Photoshop essentially and Paul Brakfield is a good professor. So everything is fine. Moved out of Justins and planning to go camping with the other Justin after a week or so. So life is not really bad. Mom is fine and the window is missing. Love
SaturdayI'm planning to go the beach with Justin. If he calls. Its pretty hot here and I spend a lot of time in a new book store looking at photography books and reading superman comics. I'm yet to meet chagas and muffy. I have no idea where Mo, Sid and my pakistani brother Mashood ul haq is. Everything else is fine. I still miss the window. Mom seems very fine.
Summers BeautifulI have had a short haircut. First time in my life. The summer is hot and the sun is too direct and indiscreet. Have been catching up with friends and about to start my Visual Communication paper at Auckland University of Technology. am in touch with mom. Have had roaming passes and moving back to Papatoetoe which is a beautiful suburb of Auckland. My favourite one as I first landed in Papatoetoe. Justins house got a much needed fan last night and its his birthday on 4th. Have lots of lunch and dinner invitations on Sunday.
Sunny DaysThe last two days have been busy as hell and very sunny. The summer is here and the Santa Claus' are hanging from all major stores in Auckland. Life is fun.
LOLESHIS at ManurewaMom had said that I must keep in touch with the Loleshi family and I feel more of that myself. My life is getting fuller and fuller everyday. Yesterday when I spoke to Mom I was relieved that she is fine. Thus today I had a full nights sleep and headed for the Loleshi residence. Trains have become much better in Auckland and i took a full days pass. It was great.
Had a quick veg currie with rice - alu mutter and works. Took the pass and went to Loleshis after having coffee with a Samoan granny who was telling me about Samoa. Manurewa is still beautiful as are the tenants. It was a sensational walk from Homai as I stood in front of the L residence and knocked.
Wow. The book worm was as pleased to see me as I was. The hollywood muscleman was next as we exchanges hugs. Sesa was still smiling from last time and Bronson didn't know me yet. But it was great. Sensational.
I met Ronnie the dad and he is still the great gentleman as usual in his coke van. It was so fulfilling to see the family I had come back for.
Met Raman my last landlord and his wife. They were great to me as had a grab to bite. She's a great cook. They were very nice to me as I told everyone Mom was fine.
Went to west Auckland on train as I encountered a mad lady at the platform. But the west is awesome green. Just came back had some lamb currie and am mighty satisfied.
Thanks Sweety Arun and Sandeep for calling Mom.
Life is goodA lot of services in this country are absolutely free and the Polynesian sound of town Otara, which looks dangerous to a lot of people is friendly. I relax around books so I’m at the library planning to meet a lot of people through a bus pass today have to catch up with the 2 Justins. Visit College. Apply for a library job. Its all happening. The social scene is still very friendly and life is as it always was cool and slow and full of million simple pleasures staring at your face waiting for you to call out their names.
Went to Manaku Institute of technology for a communications course
Good days Bad DaysMyers Park is a dangerous park at night and Justin's girlfreind walked through it at night and they had a fight. The next day was cloudy and disastouros and I stayed home since it was a Saturday. Went to church on Sunday with Daniel and met my Singaporean well-wishers. Had lunch there . It was a great clear day. And came home where J and Girl Friend were supposed to do photography but actually painting themselves. I did not want another brown on me so went to Borders book store and read Everything Changes. An amazing book about life. I was still down because I had not got through to Mom last night but suddenly got through and talked for 42 minutes and am very happy. I'm allright and pretty cool and looking good too today. Love
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Auckland VS BombayIt took me just 4 hours to be happy. Once I came out of the Airport. Thanks to my three superman friends Daniel, Justin & Justin. Daniel picked me up from theAirport. His wife was so hospitable and super nice. Dan gave me a haircut and dropped to Downtown at Justins apartment which is small but very classy. I could not sleep on the couch inspite of being a couch potato. I was worried about mom and still feel I haven't done enough. Before retiring I and Justin went for a walk in the dark parks of auckland where there is some crime. It is as exciting as Aarey Milk Colony's Panthers and Foxes. I told him about a bit of my life. The other Justin met at the Borders book store and we had sushi and iced tea and walked the harbour where a low sun was showing off dark clouds. My bank account is till $0 balance and free service.
I'm doing communication papers at Otago in summer. Went dancing to Margeritas after a long time. No. I dont pick women from call centre or pubs. Besides I still miss the window girl. But life is great again and libraries and million other priveledges are still free for me. I can still dance like a devil. The sea gulls are still as beautiful and the falafals and sussy and iced tea and bana milk shake is still great. Mission bay is an exotic beach in the night. I'm really happy. If you can call and tell mom that.
The first four hoursThe first hours at Auckland were horrible. The airport has changed not just the look but the way they relate to visitors. The obvious reason for this is the bomb scare in Australia. All people traveling alone: blacks, whites, browns and oriental people were asked the purpose of their visit. The lady was very sweet to me and gave me a Maori hug after 10 seconds which is all it took me to prove that I wasn’t a suspect.
All my life I have asked people not to drop me or pick me from or to airports because I look at myself as a tough cowboy riding into the sunset. But I felt a little lonely now that I have broken off with Emma. And all my friends were at work and my account had little money left because a lot of service charges around $180 have been chopped. But honestly I have a credit card and enough to survive for 3 weeks.
I was probably tired and had not slept enough. Got through to Daniel, my Singaporean friend and he picked me up at 5 pm. I went through a lot of questions because of my mom’s tears whether I had done the ight thing deserting her.
But once Daniel came everything was perfect. I relaxed. I spoke to him. I had some chicken and fish. Called Mom. And called Justin Mc Kelvie. I have a few good friends in NZ: Allwyn, Rathods, Muffy, Mo, Chagas, Justin GI Joe, Hepa, Mashood and a lot others like Murali and Rao. Allwyn was on his way to pick me too. Because suddenly I got through to a few friends. I was meaning to call GI but it was 11.30 pm before I knew it. Justin offered me free accommodation like the other Justin and Jignesh had 2 years ago.
The news is I’m happy and fine. Mom had shaken me up inside but don’t tell her any of these. I’m at a library looking at the huge trees and the green grass and white flowers through the glass walls. I’m back to my ‘cocky’ self having rested a bit. At the library for $2 internet services to non government sites. It’s nice to back to an easy going country that is cooler in summer than Bombay is in winter. There is beauty around and my friends are there for me.
Malaysian ExitThe airport is buzzing with excitement as I'm getting used to flying coffins whose tails wag. Always take the middle row in the middle of the plane. Tails wag. I'm feeling great. Havent slept much and eaten loads. Its beautiful. The KL airport is buzziung with people. I'm loving it.
I am caught between two worlds. Mom is on my mind and sos the girl at the window but have met new perople th`ats the magic of travelliong it broadens your mind and if u r not careful your tummy two. The roadswere immaculaute but winding like snakes and it had rained. Malaysia has a simple soul.but there must be more than meets the eye.
Its fun to be travelling but the computer I'm using to write this, is stuttering like an indian train.
Reached AucklandWell the four hours at the Auckland airport were dampening and boring bcoz my riends were at work and I could not cab it yet bcoz I had no accomodation. After that life picked up at 5 since Daniel my friend came to pick me and I'm at his house tonight and then 2 weeks free at Justin McKelvie who told me I can stay as long as I like. I'm more relaxed now. Ready to sleep.
BullShit philosophyThere's a hassle with going all out on fun. I somehow feel guilty that I have more than others. Though not too much more I assure you. But there is a world out there and thus when I reach five stars or the high life i go simple. its an inert defence mechanism or a vague karma theory or just having a simple but fun childhood.
Last night i broke a lot of rules by crossing tracks and not buying luggage ticket as it was a mad rush to the airport and the train is the surest way of reaching. Though we did cut thru the panther land and called mom thrice as she reassured me that she was fine.
No but malaysia is really beautiful with old buildings that are ramnants of my Bangkok memories as i was inspired by the Iyers who were the first to go Singapore-Bangkok-Australia.
I sang some Rod Stewart, some Beatles in the bath tub and now i must sleep as the breakfast is getting the better of me and covering my senses.
There are few channels that i may surf or a few girlie mags (sucker for cosmos) I may read. if anyone can call my mom on 9322839758 and tell her I'm enjoying myself with limited precision in my James Bond blazer and a flirtatious attitude that fires my passion for living and lust for learning and travel. tell her I'm fine. In a limited sort of a way. She's sure to misunderstand
Last Whiff of IndiaThus we come to an end of one and a half years on writing and nothings. the only thing I have to show for my life in this country is that my mother is still alive. she would have been dead as I waited at her bedside when she had taken her sleeping pills, waiting for her to die or live. Those were the worst 5 hours of my life as I felt like a fish without water or oxygen.
My cousin did not take the 50 grand I saved for him for his operation post-kidney transplant. Showing how much he cared for me and making me feel petty. He's fine. I have yet to do somethng for him.
My writing assignments went too well and paid me enoug in 6 mths to sustain 1 and a half years.
The walks in Aarey took a dramatic turn as we learned that the path we too around hundred times had packs of foxes and wolves and leopards that had attacked people many times coinciding the time we had our walks.
Lucky to be alive.
Well this is it.
all the cricket matches and swearing is over. all the small jaunts across the country are over. The little talks and walks are over too.
I must head home to a country well almost all but one love me. a country i call home. the greens, the mountans and moari songs. I'll be home for christmas. as early as november
Malaysia Truly AsiaMalaysia is green, green, green, green, green, green, like an everlasting stream of dreams woven together by snakee roads and million memories that remind me of Malaysia. There is the Kerala-mountain-meets-spring meets-greens-meets-palms-meets-plantation look. A million row houses like a remote island stretched miles from each other in sets of colonies. A little bit of Dubai and mosques of million colors and temples from the Indus valley civilization.
I’m Loving IT after a multi-splendored breakfast at Hilton (now called Adelphi). Dan and may have come to my rescue and I have a place to hang my boots for a night and then of course accommodation is no problem
Mom was all tears as I balanced my carton and my knap sack and traveled luggage compartment to Goregaon and through Aarey of Panther and Foxes fame. Everything was a piece of cake. Thanks to maa’s blessings. No queues anywhere. Cute airhostesses and smooth flight except Bay of Bengal that is turbulent as hell. I had a fruit ball and three Parathas with statutory Tomato juice and Tabasco (called Virgin Mary: God Bless).
We landed in Malaysia and found that Malays are the friendliest people on Earth. I set by the poolside after a humongous breakfast. The hot bathtub has stirred my senses and I’m more relaxed than ever before. The vagabond hits the road again. As I still remember the face at the window and everything else is wiped of.
Life is beautiful but am still guilty of enjoying it all out. I want to save some fun for tomorrow. The Malaysian airport is grand and who knows I may do a stint here on technical writing.
It was sweet of my best friends to come to the airport and I’m safe in the knowledge that my brother is doing a better job than I would. Mom is safe. And the wanderer breaks loose
The Visual Communication course is rocking and i'm rolling. Am learning Photoshop essentially and Paul Brakfield is a good professor. So everything is fine. Moved out of Justins and planning to go camping with the other Justin after a week or so. So life is not really bad. Mom is fine and the window is missing. Love
What makes Nikki cute is the pictures she takes. She is a lovely person as her pictures might suggest.
Hare Krsna was awesome on Sunday as a big Jugannath temple was pulled by the Krishna devotees on the queen street. Take a look at the pictures.
what followed of course was free vegetarian meal that brought a lot of pleasure to my senses. I skipped the sweets and stuck to the currie and rice.
Religion is created to reshuffle people who are arranged according to their race, nationality and preferences. Religion shakes all that. Indians becoming christians. Christians becoming buddhists and buddhists becoming muslims. Its all happening. On Sunday, I went to the church where I had prayed for my moms welfare and thanked people profusely.
I started living in a swanky house in Papatoetoe but my Woodlands got robbed because the owner Mr. KrishnaMurthy has a pain wife who keeps shoes outside the house. She's a control freak and a bit of a psycho'. I stayed there for two nights the room was great but now have moved to the city living my umpteenth teenage dream of living in a hostel.
The course is great and auckland weather changing every ten minutes. It was great fun to be at Justin but moving in my own place means more freedom and no Jenny. Justins girlfriend.
I bought a damn good shoe and am happy lost my old pair though it was worth $120. I spend sometime at borders reading Everything Changes. Its a good book.
Just in case, you wanna see the slide show of hare Krsna movement. It is here.
The Slide Show
I smashed a guy and his father held me from killing him. that affected my knee.
Well on a whim (and you have heard that phrase before)I went to Pune. Now Pune is a city I like. i love. Zycus was fun but I workec there continuously, even on weekends. Notice I said continuously not hard. I dont work hard.
Anyway the bus started of from dadar at 8.15 and I had a non entity with me. He lives in my building. It was a nice ride with a emotional nothingness movie called Mohabbatein playing with my pet hate SRK playing the lead.
Anyway at around 12.30 am (actually midnight) I reached Pune university and started walking on a rain beaten track. It was nice, cool and unpolluted with not a soul in site. I got a lift to Good Luck Chouk and found no PCO to call my friend up. I was helped by a bunch of Omani students who thought Sameer my friend was a muslim name. They were intrigued by my arabic and also compulsively helpful people. So somene lend
me a mobile and someone gave me a ride. i reached Sameer's house at 1. Normally he would always pick me from the junction and we would ride free into the external forests of Pune and talk about life. But he had had an accident and not informed any of his bombay mates. I have been to the Gupte resident at least thrice before. Always arriving late nights and leaving next day. Now the Gupte's are a warm family and have
always enjoyed my stays here. What's more... I and Sameer caught up on nothings for three hours. He was choosing his options into Malaysia and Italy having
made a mindboggling invention. But I can't say more than that.
Now. Happiness is meaningful conversations with likeminded intelligence. i woke up at twelve and was treated to a multigrained roti that is traditionally maharashtrian. By the way haka is an Indian word too like a lot of Maori words. Haka is what men on foot did when hunting for tigers in the last century. Make a din and a pandemonium to scare the tigers.
Met Rio and walked and talked 7 kilometers on a cloudy day. I like Pune. Lets see how long I stay. Rhymes
It was fun. I met great people while at Zycus. Some taught me a few things even. The work was fun just like the tea breaks with the salty biscuits. Learned a few tricks. Was helped by the SW dept. Great fun.
When PCs can't LAN can. When LAN can't WAN can. When WAN can't, Internet can. Based on this premise, it was decided by the mawsies that Internet is the sabse bada khiladi and Dagdichawl.com was set up.
Women's Liberation is a void constructor, which means nothing like most computer terminology.
All computers work on an operating system. The Operating System is the Shantibai of the computer. It does phatka, zaadu, pocha etc. inside the computer.
Times were changing and computers entered Dagdi Chawl and thus the women wore khadi jeans to give their Liberation the necessary momentum, though the bras remained un-burnt. The cablewallah Raju attached the cable Internet and everyone was happy and free from that sada-hua MTNL. Laddoos and pedas were given after agarbatti-ing the computers. Now their oldest feminine hobby "gossip" was going absolutely high-tech and just nuances away from being world famous. Orthodox gossip was losing its charm anyway. And tea and biscuits were becoming costly - ho bai! Sister-sites hit the momentum immediately.
Jhol-jhaal.com was Mrs. Khan's idea she wanted to know which goods were smuggled via Dubai, what is the matka rate and how could you fix the Indo-Pak matches. She also gave free email addresses to local bhais/bookies just to be in their good books.
Shanpatti.com was Sakutai's idea to keep abreast with who had given whom rag. Any midnight calls, any siti bajaoing etc. was kept note off.
Game-bajana.com was set up by Darshanaben to insure that if the ragpatti took serious proportions and if there were gang fights, she would be able to sell her goti sodas (which rival gangs could throw at each other). Banners of these were put on her site.
Kai-mhantos.com was Mrs. Iyer's portal though the name was her kamwallibai's suggestion. She was naturally more important than Mr. Iyer. Indian women can do without husbands but not maidservants. Kai-mhantos.com was a free portal where anybody could post news, such as:
1. Whether Mr. Sinha was having an affair with Mrs D (name withheld)?
2. How Mrs. Ramni's habit of eating wafers in bed gave Mr. Ramni a rash on their honeymoon?
3. What was Ganpatrao's bank balance? He was the local eligible bachelor, before he ran off with John, the parish priest.
Teri-maa-ki-aankh.com was the local fish pond where you could tease each other and discuss their personal habits in public like
1. How Mishraji never threw water in the toilet and passed gas publicly?
2. How Miss Firdaus cleaned her nose in public by putting fingers into it?
3. How Ramu the dhobi was called ghachkaran because of his scratching habits?
4. How Sunita failed in the 12th as a hat-trick because she was infatuated by Shah Rukh, Akshay and Hrithik respectively? Now she was after Dravid.
The server was kept in Santokh Singh Randhawa's garage, which brought a glow of pride on Mrs. Randhawa's face. But that lasted for a very limited time, since Munna (the panwala's nephew from satara) posted the fishpond saying he feels that Singh Sahab fevicols his beard. Singh Sahab ran after munna with a naked sword after swearing "Teri Pen Di". Muna immediately took the midnight ST from Dadar and went back to his sugarcane farming in Satara. Mrs. Singh downed the server and went to Ludhiana.
The flowing gossips started stammering and the aunties of Dagdi Chawl collectively after scratching a lot of dandruff, came up with the Sneaker Shoe Network.
Sanjoo, the 12 year old paperboy, was given half a dozen floppies, so that he could transfer data from computer to computer making it locally accessible. They had bought him a good pair of sneakers (not Reebok or Nike, it was roadchhap from Churchgate).
Nobody bothered with Mrs. Randhawa who got fed up of the Ludhiana heat, the excess weight her husband had put on and her mother-in-law's bickering. She was back, rather sheepishly within a fortnight. And thus Dagdi chawl was a happy place again. The Singhs were given a warm welcome with Koliwada prawns, tangdi kabab and some bottles narangi tadi-madi from Khar danda.
Which brings us to the issue at hand: How long will Dagdi Chawl's dotcoms last? Well, like all other booming portals in India and the world, it depends on the lasting of the VC's money, the coming of at least one person on the site and the rise and fall of NASDAQ, of course!
Its official. What I have been barking till I go blue in the face is out. This is precisely why I love Hindustan Times. Like The Times of India, it is not a government handout and not a bargirl dazzler like DNA.
Long ago, a friend Umesh said to one of my ex-crushes, who was a typical Scorpio femme fatal and curiously asked him "What do you see in Suneal?" after I had left. I had told her the same day that I was so bad that she was just a school girl compared to the things I had done.
Umesh told her "He makes me think. You can either love him or hate him. There's nothing in between"
Once as a summer job I worked in a warehouse in NZ. It was a tough experience working with Maoris and Samaons and other islanders. Most of them loved me me because I verbally took on guys thrice my size and abused them in their mother tongues.
I made a Maori friend then Wakena or Waky of the tatoo face fame. His favourite past time was scaring people. We eventually became friends and I made a monkey out of him by imitating him and helped him out when he was down. Before I moved in with Emma I stayed at a BRONX kind of area on the deadlier side of Manurewa. Most Maoris stared at me and I stared back. (Something you should avoid if you like the idea of living). He told me that I reminded him of himself since I was not easily intimidated just like him. Coming from a maori that was a biggie.
The other day when I gave some copy to my designer friend rafi he said I had ink in my blood.
Call me sentimental but its a mixed feeling leaving Lycos (not the real name). Mixed as usual. Shared some good moments here and some bad ones. That's life. You never know. My work is done. I'm happy. the money transaction is perfect. Its all good. Just I feel a bit lost when I leave institutions. My schools, places of jobs. Its always the same.
There's a digital film festival as Inorbit in Goregaon. Met whathisname actor from tumBin and Julie and sincerely told him that he's a good actor. He was humble and confronted my sincerity with a genuine thank you.
Film festivals (I have only been to a couple) are mindblowing stuff. Watching films are better than Nat-Geo or Discovery. Its a sneek window to worlds other than ours. I love this South American and Middle Eastern films. I saw Masoomiyat(Innocence) in Mumbai film festival 4-5 years ago. A movie on a Brazilian flute player who comes to a die in a small Brazilian village. Life is Beautiful, a portuguese movie with deem lighting effects to haunt you, a swedish movie called Cow. that was then but I still remember those movies. They have a haunting effect on me.
Yesterday I saw Booba, a short Lebanese film. It was Amazing. I also saw a documentary called the corporation and a chilian movie on friendship and college life.
I ate 9 samosas so far. That's too much.
The fonts they use in the movies for title are exotic too. There we go again. the other day I had a big dialogue with harpreet about fonts and how design is so dependant on fonts. But before I go on and on about fonts and films. i must confess I'm arty-farty kinds. I first heard the term through Sunil Fernandes.
Also YES I'm going back to NZ. God knows I miss that place but there's nothing wrong in being Geographically Right (my term) and doing as Justin suggested: wind up all your work so that I dont' have to bounce back and forth like a froggy idea. Howz that for a name of my new web page.
the manuals are over for now as I sit down to write a whole new section called clusters and quality assurance on a peaceful sunday morning. Early morning are definitley good for your tummy. I once thought that as long as you caught your sleep it doesn't matter but getting up early has realy helped me a loooooooooooot.
Oh Boy has Michael Learbed to Rock or What? One thing I must say in favour of MLTR is that its a clean band. No scandals. No drugs. No nonsense. And a genuine desire to ne nice and pleasant that was clear as daylight on a fading twilight.
The sky was clear and the evening was about to melt into the night. Yesterday was a hectic, hectic, hectic day. Crazy to the core. I was trying to finish the manuals. had to catch lunch with a friend. The music was exotic at Pope Tate's How deep is your love, Rasputin and other mind blowing numbers I can't seem to remember. MLTR started late but played my favourite songs like someday, I wont forget, I am not an actor et al.
Caught dinner at China Garden. The fish was fascinating and so was my Virgin Pinacolada.The manuals are in process.
Life Goes On and We Learn to Live!
Its early hours yet. Have to meet Sweety of the ICICI OneSource fame. Must go to the Michael Learns to Rock concert. Must finish an installation guide and an API manual. Must Start for heaven's sake. The tea has a good flavor at Zycus. Have just designed a [age for the download section.
Here.It was slightly cold and there were riots last night on the railway station. All these has become a part of Bombay life. Its worse than New York. May be, its better.
The dogs were barking in the Dolby surround mode. But the night air was still fresh and it gave Goregaon :The Water Buffalo Capital of the World" an unearthly look. A rustic, village morning look. Reminds me of the pictures we clicked at Vasai fort.
CaptureText allows you to capture text from a picture. You can try it for free. http://www.sharewareorder.com/Capture-Text-download-36945.htm
You search a site in
Google by specifying "AutoClass Site: Zycus.com" will only check Zycus.com for AutoClass.
Snag it is a great software that allows you to capture text or graphics.
The following is more inspiration to make my website essentially B & W.
Excerpt from National Geographic.
"As photography rose in importance, so did the need to pack a camera to record the trip, as O.D. von Engeln advised on the Society's 1909 expedition to Alaska. 'Develop in the field,' he urged fellow explorers, 'and as soon as possible after
exposure.' " —From the special issue "National Geographic's Best of America," September 2002
The Crab with the Golden Claws was a master piece set in the Middle East as TinTin exposes the racket of Opium smugglers. The drunken Captain Haddok is seen for the first time in this book as he wails, abuses and does his drink thing. The drawings as usual are suave.
First of all as kids we lusted for cartoons and comic books. Now TinTin was a huge book full of exotic pictures from all over the world. The size of the drawings and text was ample. My first book was The Shooting Star. It took me forever to read. Forever.
Reading TinTins happened in three installments. First round was just admiring the pictures. Second time we would read but not follow. Third time we followed somethings.
My favourite TinTin will always reamin the Arabic mysteries namely, The Land of Black Gold, The Crab with the Golden Claws and the Red Sea Sharks, the first book I owned. Also, Black Island was the first book I saw, when our School Principal, Father Samuel was reading it on Don Bosco grounds.
Only the strong Survive. The weak are already DEADThe quick user guide is close to my heart. I have written it but because I have been in the organisation for a mere 28 working days, the finer things about the program have not struck me yet. Talking of honor, there was a prg on National Geographic on honour killings in a certain part of the world which was knee-jelloing.
Anyway what I am talking about is plain dignity that evolves out of
I Will printed in Garamond 72 Bold on my dashboard. Thus I slept at 2.30 and got up 4.30 to reach office and work on an idea. If some problem hits my self respect I react with violent enthusiasm. That's what fast bowlers do.
Early this morning I thought of how Neha had to choose between me and a dying mother and forgave her. I know how painful dying mothers can be. It can take away the joy of living. I know.
Last night I went to book store. Book store and libraries are where I find true love. I lose it in the kitchen or the living room at most times.
I missed NZ once again when i saw that iron couch with cotton mattress.
Also came across a new thought. What was it? I forgot.
The APIs are killing meI somehow survived the User Manual and the Quick User Guide, the Maintenance Guide, the Online Help and the Installation Guide but the API is honestly killing me.I do not understand the code just know the basic idea behind APIs. That's great.
A set of routines, protocols, and tools for building software applications. A good API makes it easier to develop a program by providing all the building blocks. A programmer puts the blocks together.
Also downloaded fineprint. from www.fineprint.com it helps you optimise your printing options. I got the idea from Rajesh's printout.
Ever font is personal. A writer is only as good as the font he chooses. This design is purely fonts and a bit of MicroSoft Photo Editor.
No. I have not taken this picture. and for what its worth I'm too lazy anyways. But I'm planning a picture holiday soon. A picture holiday where I'll take pictures. The API manual is killing me. I dont know whether I'm coming or going. That is API for you.
I somehow survived the User Manual and the Quick User Guide, the Maintenance Guide, the Online Help and the Installation Guide but the API is honestly killing me. I do not understand the code. I just know the basic idea behind API and its great but the other 'dirty' work is back breaking. It will be exhilirating when I finish it.
That's why the picture. Its a dirty job but someone's gotta do it.
Wild Blue Skies is dedicated to the living. The ones that want to live.
Humans have purposely actually purposelessly made our own lives more complex.
This site will constantanly give you ideas.
Reading PG wodehouse and Woody Allen,
Downloading Tin Tin wallpapers,
travelling,
movie reviews,
clean jokes,
cooking ideas.
Once some one asked me to get a life. I realized we are not living. In real life OI have made a lot of people happy and unhappy.
Dedicated to life peace and happiness.
Wild Blue Skies is my website that is down at the moment. This is how it looked. The drawing (I'm proud of it) was done by me using Paint. There is a small poem on top
Riding free into the wild blue skies;
With the soft memory of your shy, true eyes,
And your face in the window,
as gentle winds softly blow,
To a distant horizon where hearts don't lie
Click on the picture for a bigger view
My all time favourite bis Wuthering heights. The tragic aggression and subtle meloacholy that blends into an English countryside like a forgotten song from neverland. This image haunts me and the character of the villainous hero is sooooooooooo me that its almost as if memories come knocking back.
The picture also looks like One Tree Hill Reserve in Auckland. Emma's favourite place. We went to the very top but it was freezing cold for me as the wind bit me. We had her favorite Avacado Sandwich as we met the guy from Nelson: the land of sunshine. He invited us. Onetree hill where we discussed children, marriage, bird names.
But yeah! this picture does haunt me.
Wild Crayon that's where the original Wild Blue Skies page is.
ClickFavorite Fonts: Batang, garamond, palatino, arsis, georgia
There's a window
on the right
that reflects thy
wonderous sights
your smiles
and frowns
and many
a moods
that have
been left alone
I catch thy reflection
as you catch my eye
a million lights
that are too shy
You look nice
in pink and white
in blue and green
and in that
crazeee
faded, jeans
the birds fly home
but we are stll here
caught in dilemma
to fly with the birds
or too stay near
Your hair makes
a million hearts beat
your words are a buzz
Can you kindly repeat?
There's red on every shore
like waves that float
around our worlds evermore
And passion defies
our spirit like never before
There's a love song
gone missing
a feeling that's
overpowering
freedom that's gone
There's red on every mind
love can be colourful
when it's not been blind
Oh the wonderful
feeling
That love is
Saturday, May 21, 2005
ACCORDING TO A
REPORTTwo new studies suggest that vegetables such as broccoli and spices like red chili pepper, may provide a cancer-fighting benefit by slowing or preventing the growth of cancerous tumor cells. The findings, being presented at the annual meeting of the American Association for Cancer Research held April 16 to 20 at the Anaheim Convention Center in Anaheim, Calif., looked at the effect of these dietary agents on cancers that have extremely poor prognoses despite advances in surgery and other therapies.
Went home this morning at 1:15. Waited for the rains to abate. On the bike at 2 am on the slippery, deadly roads of Bombay. The oxygen was exhilarating. The night air cool and dry. Mom was worried. Had some rotis and karela and pickle. Pretended to sleep after trying 3 combinations for a new website. A good bad dream woke me and I had ideas about simplifying the Quick Guide. Mom's asleep. Walked the fresh streets at 4.30. Reached the station avoiding the early morning Bombay stink. Am back at 5.15. Four hours later. Sometimes a good hour's sleep is better than a bad night. Strange is Inspiration and here I'm after 2 lemonades and a stale wada. Good Morning. Am thinking wildwinds wildwords or wordwarrior for my new website. The old name Wild Blue Skies is still great. Any suggestions. Let's See!!!
There are days and there are days. Today was a heavy-duty day based on my need to export help files from hell and make a friendlier version of a manual. That done, I await comments that always help. i'm tempted to start work on another section (open a new pandora's box) but hey! that depends on my ride home. Just downloaded Google Earth. Its a crazee software showing how NASA monitors everyone on earth.
This reminds me of when i was writing for Vijay Mukhi using Wordstar 7. Nights at Tardeo Pau Bhaji stalls. This is where I applied my leave-a-few-mistakes in the final draft funda. So that the editor finds something and does not take your material for granted and it gives him/her joy and you relief that every error is covered.
I still leave errors on purpose. It helps me survive better, longer faster.
Arun loves Nikola. He has loved her 14 years. Sensational, isn't it? Imagine. 14 years! Arun directs films. I write for him. We are best of friends. Thus, inspite of being my lazy self, I went for his marriage. What was delightful to see immediately was not Chicken Tikka but the fact that Arun and Nikola were moving around, greeting guests and dancing. The enthusiasm was contagious. The food was fine and I have never seen Arun so happy. He's brother pointed this out to me, asking me "Have you seen him so happy?" He was right. i hadn't. i thought marriages were a back-breaking dampners. this one was good. Met up with old friend who drink. I don't. But gave me a chance of sharing my latest theory. Why Earth is God?
He's at Kashmir doing research on our film which i'll be writing from NZ.
If you need to login to yahoo from a restricted server just copy the yahoo box and place it in a html file on your desktop (mail it to you) or site from a cyber cafe. Because my site wildblueskies is off I have placed my login option
hereThere's another way but i'm keeping that for me. In case the systems guys block this route.
Arsis: the Queen of fonts
If you like no font used in Suneal Mail. You are with me.
There's no font like Arsis. I love it. Click
here to download it.
In the 8th standard when Vikas (we called him weak ass) Sheth the monitor of our class screamed "Varma, can't you keep quiet" I said: "Of course I can. i don't
want
to! So much for can do attitude. I feel I was destined to be a copywriter. a one liner champion. Vikas was a nice guy but did not have patience and was afraid of being taken for a ride. He had a great heart. Hope still does.
Don Bosco was a great place to study. Except i never studied there. I sang, played cricket, imitated teachers and shocked them with good grades.
Two hours can drown Bombay. I will use the term Bombay because the other name has been a numerological disaster. Mumbai totals to an 18 compare to Bombay which is a complex seventeen. Anyways!
Yesterday it came down heavy again serving as a grim reminder when everything either floated or drowned on the 26 of 7. I was at the office in Goregaon, the water buffalo capital of the world. We were served hot food. I naturally rushed home when Mom called since there was my niece, sister-in-law and mom to take care of.
The fear was everywhere as we rushed homewards through crowded and flooded roads.
The shock came next morning as the water were filled to the mark stopping short of half a centimeter before they receded. One drop here and there would have entered my house. The well-meaning and vigilant people of our building and the next went and cleared a clogged drainage thanks to a money-hungry builder and a corrupt politician.
Well you will never hear the end of this.
Today it is bright and sunny and hot as hell as if nothing's happened at all. I feel like the man in the picture courtesy
National Geographic Picture of the day.
Rajasthan, which literally means the land of kings, has a colourful history of warriors and princes, artisans and farmers, forts and palaces, of honour and love, of betrayal and conquest. No matter how many travel books you have seen with pictures of delicate miniature paintings of elephants, tigers, rajas, maharajas, queens, hunting parties, wedding receptions, colourful women dressed in a mad array of rainbows painted in the form of the most extravagant geometrical poetry; nothing quite prepares you for Rajasthan.
In the first instant, I felt a loss of what to absorb and what to ignore. If you take in the sprawling mountains and the cool winter morning misty breeze, you might miss the villagers carrying their water from miles of barren land. If you take in the houses with their curious shapes and mountains on one side, you might miss the forts and palaces on the hillocks. You could miss the marble quarry. You could miss the poetry of the dialect or the spice of their simple food. (I hate simple food). You could miss their smiles, which have remained intact through centuries of invasion, endless years of drought, extreme climate and hard times. Let us try to get a little more specific and go one place at a time.
Let us talk about Nathdwara, which means the door to the Lord. Nathdwara is in South Rajasthan. You could get there by train, bus, or a plane to the nearest city Udaipur. I took the train journey, landed at Falna, and took a jeep to Nathdwara after banging in a few cups of Tea and Coffee with some fried stuff that dietician's would give you a life sentence for. Early morning jeep rides are slightly chilly, especially in the northwestern part of the country. Nathdwara is famous for the temple of Srinathji, which was founded there in 1671. Srinathji is yet another form of Krishna and enjoys more than a fair following amongst the Vaishnavas. I personally am a believer. The first day at Nathdwara could pass in seven visits to the temple and seeing the various forms of the Lord. You could take a discount by taking the first prayer at 5.00 am and setting off to Udaipur, which takes an hour in the bus. Discounts are my speciality.
Udaipur is probably the only green place in Rajasthan. It has its shares of zoos, gardens and palaces. However, since I had just a few hours, I walked to the City Palace, which has a museum. The museum is full of heavy artillery, rooms for the princesses, colourful rooms, balconies that face the city, brief history of the brave Rana Pratap, who took on the mighty Akbar, old chariots, mind blowing pictures of hunting parties on tree tops on hills shooting at a dozen or so tigers/panthers in a single painting. Udaipur has always brimmed with artisans who painted for the royal family. There are seven lakes in all in the city, which makes it 'the city of lakes'. Beautiful women have their afternoon bath in these lakes. The best way to see a city is on foot. I did exactly that, passing through shops and hawkers, drinking lemonades and keeping my curious eyes on cows and dogs, bicycles and video parlour showing 'Octopussy', which incidentally was made partly in Udaipur. Roger Moore is a nice guy and girls must have found him charming and all, but hey, he is no Sean Connery. Udaipur is beautiful, slightly full these days. A proper city resembles Delhi.
As the bus moved from the external walls of Aarey Milk Colony, the green foliage was breaking through what I foundly call the only green place in Mumbai. Its been a few weeks since I have walked aarey with Shaju but the time is come. aarey - it must be seething with snakes and hidden panthers. It will be interesting at the very least.
The Ganpati festival has taken off in grand style and frankly, din. The sounds have started. After the rather sad 8 days of silence, penance, non-violence, praying and fasting where all Jains give up on onions, garlic and other bulbs & roots for 8 days at least. Non veg is out of the question for jains but even veg is highly selective for an entire life. But make-shift Jains like me give up temporary stuff like I gave up Eggs and other form of animal food, which is actually prepostarous to have anyawys.
Ganpati is a highly charged, noisy and intoxicating festival, where the Elephant God is brought home for a few days and various hymns are sung in his glory. He's a helpful god and you may ask and you will be given (faith withstanding).
Pic courtesy: Praveen Bangera
Robo help is obviously a great program that allows you to maintain your files but it creates output files within the main working folder thereby drastically increasing the size of Help files. i somehow figured that out while i was lazing around and looking at alternative image compressors like Microsoft Photoshop, PaintPro, Picasso and Imager. I got lucky as fortune favors the brave on most cricket grounds. That has been sorted. The Online help is ready and roaring to go. 70% as usual. The manuals and online help's are always 70-80-90 percent ready but never 100%. That I reserve for the last few minutes. I did say I was an adrenaline junkie... didn't I now?
Reminds me of my own ransacked city...
Life can be tough. And Earth can be a bad taskmaster. Earth is the only place in universe that has life and we have abused it. Unfortunately we have to bear the brunt. My heart goes out to the victims of flood and flash crimes.
The blog looks sensational with the Berlin Jpeg and the wild blue skies image in the background. Reminds me of my site wildblueskies dot com. But I'm looking for a new snazzy name. Any suggestions.
It been a good weekend where hogging and sleeping was the hallmark of cool rainy day. Dreamt of Emma. Nice dream but obselete for both of us. Got a glimpse of G. No cricket and no sledging. I wonder if sania Mirza won.
Whilst in auckland i had made a rough list of things to do. Here;s what it looks like: Make yours while you are still alive.
1. Travel in a Tram in Wellington
2. Go White River rafting in Christ church
3. Do a web design course - Adobe Photoshop, Adobe PageMaker, Microsoft Publisher, Macromedia Fireworks.
4. Start an all Egg omelet store serving flavours like Mughlai, SA, Palak, Mexican, Tomato, Onion, Indian Spice
1. Get into Writers bureau
2. Do that Auckland Univ. education course
3. Wellington as we speak there is a course in English for trimester and special education
4. Massey has this amazing course in English and Media for trimester
5. Go out for coffee with Emma
6. Get the club physical job
7. Get out of Les Mills
8. Swimming must be done
9. Mom and Money
10. Get the License
11. Get NZQA recognition
And funny enough I have done a lot of those things already.
RoboHelp is what Candle IT wanted me to know for that $56000 job in Wellington. It was a crazy offer in the week I met Emma. She was a great human being. is and will always be. nice to the core and fragile and sensitive.
Justin is one of my friends in NZ. We went trekking in the wild west in Auckland. It's called bushes. He's a great guy and nice to have around. I just received a mail from him saying "And New Zealand needs Suneal Varma back!" That left me feeling nice and wanted. Its nice to hear words such as these.
The manual is almost coming to an end. Things are looking better. Went to a mall and had hot stuff. Made my groggy feeling go. There was some free sopu and noodles and i went the full accelater on chili sauce. It was crazeeeeeee. The walk at the end of a day fighting with MicroSoft Word was good. Word stopped at several occasions giving me the jitters. Changed some of the Bold and Italics.
Sleepy as hell. The manual is 90% complet... Waiting for my boss to come in. Started life at 6.15. The lights are irritating me. There is a sign that says
quiet hour. I want to change it to
quiet year
My Mom and me are intuitive to the extend that this morning i woke up just before the alarm. i usually beat the alarm. My mom is a fair judge of people. I have inherited that trait except i have nothing to show for it in my love life department.
Early mornings do freshen me up and help purge the toxins. Just a few days ago I did not know what the fuss was all about. Now I know. Necessity is the mother of invention.
Morning grey blue clouds look classy and one canj clearly see the silver lining.
Our building durning the rains. Pics send by
Jignesh
Life is great. My brother is off to delhi. Thinking of getting a look in. Delhi food can be exotic. and women too. Got the rainy pictures from Jignesh, who took the trouble of sending it accross. The manual is flourishing. So am I. Sweety Sethi called up early morning. Good day. Consumed Chinese dosa.
Today is a new day and the manual is bothering me a wee bit. Most of it is done. The About section is being written even as I speak. I’m relaxed and a bit worried. My friend Anne always teased me "Suneal is a worrier, Suneal is a worrier" in that "We are gonna get you" tone of EVIL DEAD. I think she is right. I’m a worrier. One hell of a worrier
It says " Please tip toe! Sleep in progress"
'Sleep is a weapon' Bourne Identity: Robert Ludlum
Long time ago Anand Society was our haunt. A B and c wing. This is where we set endlessly on terraces and did planchet, talked women, played hide and seek, stole pickles and had night parties on New Years Eve. The uncles got drunk and provided humour. We got to dance with our crushes. Ramesh Sheth the wanna-be MLA complained about the noise to the poilce. We discussed poetry, philosophy, Rod stewart and Beatles. I got to sing elvis and Umesh stuck to Beatles. Personality contests and me compere-ing. We wore suits. Me and the Iyer brothers. I took Mr. Iyer's Brylcreem in good measure to his ire. We were wanna-be ad people thanks to reading Ogilvy's book and i was wanna be Elvis.
We stood in iyer flat and poured water on girls during holi and Mohan and me got to discuss our respective girlfriends D & D. We heard songs and went for hikes and to beaches early morning and to beaches late evenings.
Freeman climber up trees and invented weapons of small destruction like a straw that served as a pea-shooter. Murali punched me on hearing about my crush on his 'raakhee' sister. Umesh took my side. Uchchu was the big casanova and we were side-kicks.
Francis could punch us with his mohammad ali gloves and bowl very, very fast like Malcolm Marshall.
Umesh could bat. I could bowl. Mohan was the allrounder and Freeman the big hitter as he hit Atul to the terrace of a nine storeyed Krishna apartment.
We grew up and Jelly and Dimple took our times. They lived in different building and loved our attention.
Often we broke down the front wall if the gate was denied to us. At holi we had bhang and got totally silly. The food was good for once a year.
Randall and me stole eachothers comic books and grew up to continue the tradition in the girlfriend department.
last whiff of India
Having hated the system in this country for over 30 years, you obviously need a more neutral observer. The systems (100 year old gutters and 5000 years of corrupt culture) showede its true colors as animals and children and other spineless individuals suffered as shiva opened his third eye and it came lashing.
I being the least affected with just an AC, fridge and a tv gone along with the bed and beddings. But people have died here. I'm luckier than most.
Living on the ground floor (or ground zero) has some obvious advantages in case of emergencies like earthquakes, storms, fires, fights with wives or mothers etc. This advantage is suitably obliterated in flood situations as was the case on 26th July turmoil caused not by rains but due to lack of civic sense.
We live in the world of self-serving propaganda that we spread and are stupid enough to believe. India Rising! India Shining! Fastest growing economy! Greatest democracy! The obvious derailment of basic human needs is compounded by senseless lust for building and obvious lack of brains. We need better propaganda. Shit Rising! Death Shining! Fastest growing population helped by illegal inflow! Black Democracy!
The British had once said that we were not ready for self determination. They were right. We are still not ready. We just have 5000 years of experience in corrupt practices, Kama Shutra and religious malpractices. Harappa and Mohenjo Daro were more urban than Bombay (it is Mumbai now, Numerological disaster and initiater of riots, bomb blasts, earth quakes and floods).
Every possible thing has happened in this city in the last 5 days. Deaths. Destruction. Land Slides. Water Shortage. Fires. Black Outs. Riots. Hunger. Injuries. Lack of Transport. All these, while the government sits and roasts their backside.
The spirit called BombayIt was people who helped people. Nobody else. Organisations like the Patel Samaj and the Jain Mandal are serving hot food round the clock to the city’s poor. Once again it is the Annie Besants and Mother Therasas who have come to the rescue.
The common man is back at work facing death and damnation daily. But something has to change. And something will.
Walk in the office without shoes. Cool and comfy. fell asleep for two minutes. Wait my feel smell. Must put on my shoes again. maybe later. The Kerala pictures are here. Click here for my
Kerala trips
... can be beautiful, especially if you get a bright idea at 4 am and decide to follow it up in an organisation that is 24/7. Early morning give you an early start and add Meswak to brush the teeth, cool, pure air and nobody on the streets and life becomes fantastic. The crows on the trees do not wake the sleeping security but add zest to my life.
There is a new phobia making rounds in the city news. The classification as far as psychology is concerned is a bit out dated but the maening is clear. Hydrophobia. Fear of water. A lot of people in Maharashtra have never seen so much water in their lives. Niether me. And I understand how scary water is after we were caught in what the birthday boy Justin calls Flash floods.
The tide is high for vocabulary. Mithi river which turned into gutter has not been mentioned by anyone for the last 5000 years. Notice how I love that number when i indulge in India bashing. 5000 years this! 5000 years that!
At office things are quitening down and suddenly my manual has come in review by a product manager and IT manager and anyone else who has an opinion but quite frankly, that helps a technical writer who's shaken and not stirred. This is Just a trial project for a struggling technical writer who's flying to an evasive deadline.
I'm aptly helped by Mr. H and Mr. S and Mr. R and good old Len. Life goes on.
My friend offered me money to work for an insurance agency. It was funny and nice. Who knows I might even take that money and use it.
There is an epidemic doing rounds in the city of Mumbai. The ministers are simply farting around doing nothing and people are dying even as we speak.
The second day is even better than the first. i have started writing the manual. The job is much simpler than it looks. The success in Writing user manuals these days is directly proportionate to how quickly you can jump within the document, how fast you can find and replace using templates and advance option.
Too much of tomato soup has gone into my system making me feel sour. New shortcuts have been found within computing and beyond the office; namely the quickest and the most economical way to the office.
Love life still stagnant between G and Emma, I'm enjoying this particular stint in india. Must keep awake in the afternoons through explanations of how software works.
There's a possible job in Oman. Creative. The air may do me well. Let's see.
Technical writing is my strength, having written manuals, content and ads all my life. Have joined Zycus that pays me a take home of 30.8 K a month. The people are nice and the atmostphere is friendly. I like it.
The people are extremely nice and the HRD goes out of their way to make you feel wanted. Have a nice boss.
The rains made a huge splash in Mumbai but compared to the rest of the country; that was flooded, this was nothing. I got drenched at least 8 times. The garlic season has started and I have got into a movie watching spree. The War of the world is worth a see, at least. Miss Auckland and can't wait to get back. Am waiting for my brother to come and take over the reins.
Met a friend who is not just a consolation but also a justification for a selfless relationship. The rains have disabled most of northern India. I heard there was a flood in Tauranga. I hope people are fine. With blasts, earthquakes and floods rocking the boats. This planet is getting difficult for life.
Am fine. Just a bit bored and restless and like I said can't wait to get back.
Bhaiyas shit on the road and ahmedabadis bargain for 1 ruppee, our own betray us and criceters, crooks and politicians sell the country every minute. Not enough drinking water, no seperate line for sewage and water pipes. Gundagiri remix songs and policeman who think they are gods. Jibs given to ODKHAN not talent. People sipping tea nad gossiping during job hours. Father in laws raping daughter in laws every hour in kutch and everywhere, fathers raping daughters.
Which world are you in brother. Wake up and smell the sewage. We are hypocrites atleast the phirangs have the balls to speak the truth.
I hate Indians and what they have done to every country they live in. But there are a few sandeeps that make me return to thios narakh. God
Bless.
I hope you are fine and you find what you are looking for. I will pray
for you tonight. An eternity has passed and life will go through a
million crevices of nothingness. My moms fine and alive (thank god for
that). I hope you all are fine. Each and every one who extented their
courtesy one Christmas and New Year to a stranger who had no family.
We were family for a few moments. Lovers for fleeting seconds. That
history cannot erase. Thank you. I felt wanted.
I never got a chance to thank you for being mine. Making me feel
wanted and loved. I will really pray for you and I do hope you get
eternal bliss, if there's any such thing. I have lostr my chance.
chagas_f: yo
intensewords: Yeppy
intensewords: Yoooo
chagas_f: yo man,,,,shatrughan sinha..how r u
chagas_f: ;)
intensewords: Khamosh
intensewords: Bajarbattu
chagas_f: a dont act funnie
intensewords: dont twist your lips
intensewords: bus aya re
chagas_f: ice creem to meri kamzoori hai
intensewords: zebba ka sub ras le liya re pinjre wali miniya
chagas_f: we will get to see ghost no
intensewords: if the ghost is HALAAL
chagas_f: lol
chagas_f: and exclusively from mohammed hallal
intensewords: where does mallu live
chagas_f: some where near countdown lynfld
intensewords: bastard
chagas_f: your twin brother
chagas_f: hahhaha
intensewords: Why my twin
intensewords: Does he look like me
chagas_f: u look like him
chagas_f: yaaaa
intensewords: Really
chagas_f: no be
chagas_f: joking
intensewords: My father has been fucking aroun
intensewords: Howz uncle?
chagas_f: hmm :-?
chagas_f: uncle is fine
chagas_f: u speak wit them ?
intensewords: Not Yet
intensewords: Left a message
intensewords: Tommorw
chagas_f: they have holiday tomm
intensewords: Where the chor hakal fabtoor
chagas_f: cme n see thm if u can
intensewords: yes i must
chagas_f: he is gone away
intensewords: good if someone bullets his ass
chagas_f: he said he will b back for anothr battery
chagas_f: :D
intensewords: Yeh dil maanghe more
chagas_f: choor
intensewords: :))
intensewords: Y D M Chor
chagas_f: :))
chagas_f: ymca chor
intensewords: ratnagiri hapoos chor in chiplun jail eating zhinga
chagas_f: kaanda and batata bhaji ani aamti bhaat
intensewords: with mallus chai
chagas_f: and papadam for oonam
intensewords: Ice cream halal
chagas_f: aunty's tooth paste
intensewords: hows sanjay
intensewords: :)
chagas_f: sanjay was asking bout u tday
intensewords: so i am asking abt him
chagas_f: i showd him ur txt about mallu
chagas_f: he was laughing
intensewords: Show him our coversation today
chagas_f: yes yes
intensewords: save it
chagas_f: y
intensewords: He'll die rolling on the currie flavoured carpet
chagas_f: we both saw a brucelee movie tday
chagas_f: also tried a few moves
intensewords: :))
chagas_f: :))
chagas_f: hiyaaaaa hawwwwwwww
intensewords: coool
intensewords: Is uncle very upset or has aunty convinced him that this things happen
chagas_f: he was upset at start..was crying..ya but aunty convinced him
intensewords: Thats Aunty
chagas_f: ya
intensewords: doesnt let anyone ellse get importance even if they are dead
chagas_f: ya
chagas_f: aunty is here..u wanna chat with her ?
intensewords: Oh
chagas_f: hi suneel
intensewords: Hi
chagas_f: what are u doing at thsi time
intensewords: Just ewriting assignment
intensewords: Hows Uncle
chagas_f: abeee chappal.....got deceived ?? :)):)):))
intensewords: scared
chagas_f: hahahhhhaa
intensewords: really scared
chagas_f: ahahhha lol
intensewords: I still feel like a 3rd std student
chagas_f: hhaa
intensewords: caught copying in marathi paper
chagas_f: ya
chagas_f: saala
intensewords: scared
chagas_f: ya
intensewords: dar gaya re
chagas_f: this is aunty frm chiploon
intensewords: arent u at wrk
chagas_f: rdos
intensewords: police inspector
chagas_f: will start work on tue
intensewords: great
intensewords: wheres sanjay
chagas_f: ya right....she will see u while u sleep
chagas_f: snjy is asleep
intensewords: there is a movie on 2
intensewords: :))
chagas_f: hhahahhahha
chagas_f: see my room partner
intensewords: Check if u straight line
chagas_f: dead ass sleeping
intensewords: not bad
chagas_f: ya
intensewords: Arey watch channel 2
chagas_f: dont have tv
intensewords: Deadly gory psycho movie
intensewords: ohh ok
intensewords: uncles tv
chagas_f: its in his room now
chagas_f: no more tv....
intensewords: Really
chagas_f: ya..for now
intensewords: 135$ and no tv
intensewords: bahut na insafi hai
chagas_f: ya..no more DD Marathi :((
intensewords: :)
intensewords: Pratibha ani pratima
intensewords: kilbil
chagas_f: gootya
intensewords: apan yana pahil;at ka
chagas_f: aapan
chagas_f: yea
intensewords: :))
chagas_f: :))
intensewords: The Puna factor is still strong
chagas_f: it is indeed
intensewords: I really got scared when u said aunty is here
chagas_f: hhahaa
chagas_f: did u shit in ur pants
intensewords: Even I dont knoww why she has such control over me
intensewords: no just farted
intensewords: like a ghost movie
chagas_f: i know....must hav had that lasoon and kaanda with ur missal
intensewords: pau bhaji ani jhatka kheema pau
chagas_f: bheja fry with Pudina
chagas_f: frm bandra west
intensewords: mahim ka lucky biryani
chagas_f: haha
intensewords: and sarpottal from chakal
chagas_f: marol ka sheek kabab
chagas_f: goregaon ka maalwani
intensewords: chembur ka liver fry
chagas_f: thana ka fish fry
intensewords: good aye
chagas_f: aaayyyye
intensewords: mallu fish fry
intensewords: from thana
chagas_f: ya
intensewords: with yellow curry and coconut
chagas_f: borivali ka dance bar
chagas_f: bhumro bhumro
intensewords: gujju dandiay nights in gorefoan east
chagas_f: falguni phatak live at Juhu tara road
intensewords: yes and priti pinky at korakendra with moosa
chagas_f: and lata mangeshkar at vileparle hall
chagas_f: in white contessa
intensewords: Mangeshkar Dinaroa
chagas_f: lol
chagas_f: remo fernandes @ calangute beach
intensewords: Meri Munni the song
chagas_f: hhahah and Jalwa
chagas_f: remember
intensewords: deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko deko
intensewords: ye hai jhalwa
chagas_f: someone once forgot a porn magazine on the toilet tank ???
chagas_f: hahahhaa
intensewords: :))
chagas_f: :))
chagas_f: and once some one farteed loudly while i was in my room
intensewords: That was not me
chagas_f: and it was u
intensewords: Believe me :))
intensewords: Hell no
chagas_f: nooo..it was u cos that day u ate extra green chillies
intensewords: But I do fart loudly lets the air out
chagas_f: :))
intensewords: gets the steam out
intensewords: Destresses me
chagas_f: but u left the porn magazine on the toilet tank..and everyone thought it was prashant
chagas_f: :->
intensewords: No man never
chagas_f: could have been uncle then
intensewords: I did not fart or leave porno
intensewords: SURE
intensewords: He did have a thing with shyamle
chagas_f: ya
chagas_f: u also had an affair with her
intensewords: Yes I DID
chagas_f: and she ate that chicken bone
intensewords: HOW DID U KNOW
intensewords: Licked that ice cream
chagas_f: hhhahah
intensewords: sudhir sudhir dekh
chagas_f: lol
intensewords: fucik that was horrendous
chagas_f: a sudheeeerrrr
chagas_f: ya
intensewords: and they made a flimi story where uncle (amitabh bachan) would catch criminals and shyamlee (rekha the lawyer would sret them free
chagas_f: perplexinf
intensewords: what bullshit story
chagas_f: hhah
chagas_f: and sapna would laugh
intensewords: sapma was a curious suspicious character in the suspense drama
chagas_f: indeed
intensewords: anyway i must sleep that was a good laugh
intensewords: matey
chagas_f: yea mate
chagas_f: will see u tommorow
intensewords: see u bro
chagas_f: cheers]
intensewords: kakite
intensewords: ta
chagas_f: aloha
The client aka Onetel has got a little greedy knowing that India is a poorer economy and slightly desperate too. We did 3 six-day weeks at a stretch, add to that a few jokers from the FMG who think they are school teachers and I knew it was time to move on. Utkarsh's operation is in a day or so and I'm still in the process of doing my bit for him.
Summer's going. It's been an Indian Summer that brings to the mind the great days we had at Anand climbing Mango trees, watching movies, sitting on the terrace and stealing pickles that are being dried. Getting infatuated by Natalie, Dimple and the others. Having those small ice packed Pepciii's, playing cricket, hiking in national park jungles, buying canvas shoes, singing on terraces, reading Archie, Hardy Boys, Tin Tin; Listening to Grease and watching other meaningful Movies at Murli-Umesh-Mohan's house. Discussing women, reading Linda Goodman's love signs, eating dosas. It was a crazee time to be growing.
Woke up fresh this morning and free from the web of long hours and noth enough oxygen even though ACs were at full blast, plus the cafeteria food and you may get jaundice if you are in the mood.
Have to do stuff from cyber cafes but life goes on and we learn to live.
Tonight when i went to the bunk room, it was free of the super snorer earth shatterer and I had a few peaceful moments. My friend sandeep is not enjoying Canada. While he finds certain evils like drugs and molestation in the new world; he's enjoying the weather, systems, public library, YMCA, park, fruit juices, etc.
P.S. Peanuts are extremely costly...
If you work in ICICI you may be blessed through meeting the most weird people on the planet.Everyone needs to sleep for sanity and I headed for the bunker room (no pun intended). There's nothing wrong with that. Some people like to throw ash in a spider's web for pleasure like nad_119, while others spend time on the commode, some stick to the telephone as the queue hots up like monica, some smoke and smoke like sweets, some spend time on the net - I'm guilty there, while some watch movies, as others write poetry for their trainers, some borrow money in the name of christ, and yet others snore.
It was early morning and boy, did I need the thousand winks, while this huge snorer from hell attacked the bed on the otherside and snored like no man had snored before. Hell broke loose and life became an excuse for death.
Now i need my sleep. god knows how many girl friends I have broken up with because of their obsession to talk about life at 2.00 in the morning.
Navratri is a cultural (if civilised) carnival. There are prayers and dance where Indians enjoy a nine night fiesta of a 2000 year old festivities. The goverment has tightened the reins and dancing and music may not continue after 10 or one holinights beyond 12. It was nice as I await my passport that has gone for an RRV.
I may need to talk to authorities at ACE about inconsistencies in the organisation. I will just keep going higher up until I get to the bottom of a bad mark that has cost me my diploma.
After a touch of cool, the nights have become hot and humid. The firecracker season will be here soon. It's called Diwali. But I may be back in Auckland before that.
Diwali was rocking not in the musical sense but the decibals broke all decimals of human behaviour. The lights and the lamps were cultural and really pleasant. The sweets - diabolical (I hate sweets). The fights in the building continue their present form. The Indian cricket team their present form of losing to every team on earth. Id is here too and the markets are full of kababs and sweets. Festivities are in the air and the worst part is crackers besides making you deaf, and (a girl in my building almost blind) are also consuming oxygen making life impossible.
On a religious whim and on insistence of friends, we set out for Shirdi which is in the rural section of the state. Last minute decision gives an edge to impulse, which is necessity for life at large. The bus ride to Shirdi was nice and became little freezing towards the end thanks to a broken window in the early hours of dawn. The prayers went well with the spicy food of rural Maharashtra and Sai Baba is a patent saint of all religions in the country.
On the way back the journey got broken down into ST bus rides,Sumo jeeps, Raiways and more St bus rides. While we snacked at railway stations, buses, restaurants and small roadside dhabas.
We also visited Sani Signapur and went through the necessary ordeal under the sun.
Pune is 200 odd kilometers from Bombay and on a fancy I took the bus to see the climes (as Umesh calls them) of Pune. And thus began a quiet adventure. The bus moved on the crazy motorway that has shortened the distance between Bombay and Pune. There was some sadish, humorous, pathetic, solemn movie happening in the bus which looked like a plane and jerked (no pun here) like a plane.
I kept calling my mom (mommas boy that I'm) and keeping a track of the blood-thirsty competitive cricket match happening in my building back in Bombay. Stopped for a quick wada pav. Now wada pav is spicy fried potato packed in a cutlet and bread. Looks like a burger but I like it hot and was liberal with garlic and chillies chutney.
I reached Pune in over 3 hours enjoying every fern and golmohar tree on the way. The outskirts of Pune bear a crazee resemblence to Bombay Hills in Auckland with misty cool weather and the big Mc Donalds link.
I found my friend guzzling beer (not my scene) ready to meet creatures of the night (Never My Scene). I walked around town near temples and old forts and threewheelers snacking on meat and stuff. Finally, I left Rio to fetch his true love in the seedy corner of Budhwar Peth and left to meet Sameer. Grabbed some tea and watched TV, small talked with the very pleasant, hospitable famile and biked into a junglee corner of cantonment area where we spoke at breadth about life, women and mariages. Saw the whole city through a bike. The temperature was a pleasant 22 degrees. We came home late-ish and slept through Sameer's loud snores.
This morning was nice and the family was as nice. The greenery is everywhere and so are students. This is a student city. Rio has finished his long chat and will meet me at this cafe. I plan to see Spiderman 2 and the city on foot. Did I tell you the best way to see a city is on foot. Till then...
www.wildblueskies.com has a new look. Please look!!!
Hey that was half enthusiastic all right. Yes I'm coming home to people who love me. To movies and popcorn. To green hills and waters that are cold. To Mission Bay and Mt. Albert, to Roskill and Eden and Waterview where Napolean lost his heart to Emma Turner. To ACE and a paper that's half compromised. To Maori women and Chinese who are native English speakers. To Falafel and Margerrita. To Justin Joe and Daniel and May and the other Justin from the wild west. I'm coming $ 7 Indian curries and corn chips with tomato dips. To Fiji Indians and the real thing. To North shore and a rugby game and a university called Massey. To the library where I first met Emma and to the museaum where I saw Independance day or was it ANZAC. To that splendoured dream...somewhere at the edge of oz. To a small church that prayed for my Mom.
Nadeem our in house DJ has started playing some music. The atmostphere is cool with the AC at full blast and people are discussing share prices. Women from the other batch are coming to distract us. Do miss preprocess training where the wild gang was at its zenith of kidagiri.
There has been a rather sharp learning curve in my vocabulary ever since I joined ICICI One Source. Godfrey has taught me 'Killer-Most' that roughly translates to good, very good. Bad if you are a Michael Jackson fan; Fuckin A if you are a Bonny Jetli friend, All good if Sam is around.
This morning it almost rained. Rain being a teaser that is. I got my forty winks when Pirates of the Careabean (how'd u spell dat?) was playing last night. Some cricket in the evenings and G does peek through her window to keep things interesting.
It almost rained evening. The wind blew at top pace after a long time and monstrous heat. It was a nice evening. The night shift is what i call the zero balance week. We get pick ups and drops and a cool trainer. We are ahead of what we need to learn and the 1 to 9 night shift is roaring on all cylinders. We are about to watch The Pirates of the Caribbean. We get free snacks all night. The free week scheme has begun.
The going is both good and bad. The training is going well but there is a major personality clash between the trainer and me.
The clash is sorted out. When the mist lifts itself we see each other as friends.
Ayakkad is a small village in the rural out-backs of Trichur in Kerala. Three decades ago, the place was filled to the mark by Brahmins. But then suddenly the need to go to cities for a livelihood took precedence and there was a mass exodus. The nearest town is Palakkad. The area is surrounded by green mountains with a strange flavour of the yellow sand you see in the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu. Ayakkad was a part of Tamil Nadu and the four Brahmin families that are left behind still speak the Tamil dialect of Malyalee script.
Ayakkad has three ponds. One is a huge pond infested with water snakes and surrounded by coconut trees, where the respective genders take respective ends of the pond which has recently acquired a stone walled exterior. The snakes look cute but if you are bitten by the water snake than the local remedy is to fast for a day.
Of course, the speckled band which we saw outside the village temple has no remedy only death, in 2 minutes. The speckled band was first mentioned in Sherlock Holmes’ book by the same name. There are other huge snakes that are non poisonous.
Oh these snakes are so much like women. You never know which one is lethal.
The second pond is deep and has dried out. The oldies say that there was a huge python in there just around twenty years ago. This is exactly behind the temple. It is a fertile piece of land which has banana trees and coconut trees that look menacing on moon lit nights. This is Mowgly country.
The third pond had a crocodile that ate the cattle every now and then. That was thirty years ago. This is opposite the temple and today is filled with lotus leaves and millions of snakes.
The temple is beautiful and makes wishes come true. Lord Ganpathy has granted this people all their wishes. And the faithfuls still come back every year for the annual function.
But I forgot the fourth pond which was actually used for bathing just about fifteen years ago. My friend in his school days bounced inside this very pool like a monkey. This pond is in the middle of the fields, which are again filled with snake holes and there’s a river on the other side.
ICICI OneSource is one of the bigger BPOs in the country. I need the money for a sick relative who's getting operated. That's why I'm here.
The training has begun with jerks and starts at regular interval to break the monotony. Sweety's the trainer.
Shaju does choose moments to discuss tigers and snakes especially on our wild walks in Aarey. Life is strange. You look down and look up and the world has changed. Holi was full of colours and flirtatious with water balloons finding women targets with mind blowing regularity.
So What am I doing in Dahanu? I don't know. But Dahanu is a quiet seaside town in sleepy northern end of Maharashtra. It's am escape from the polluted suburbs of Mumbai. The summer has begun bringing nostalgia and heat and dust and a sense of picnicking.
Dahanu has two storied builidings and massive chikoo plantations. We walked at dusk for around 3 kms to the nearest beach. That's the first thing we did since we came in the morning, ate a lot and slept through India's mediocre batting. In the evening we were enjoying a 5 km walk through the beachline and a few stars. Nothing spectacular in the sky. The walk was nice and full of oxygen. So was the late night dinner at a lonely spot in the beach. It's called a restaurant but a nice place, well lit and since it was a week night we were the only people around. One of my friends got drunk. He also happened to be the driver of a van that got dangerous for dogs at midnight.
No one cares for Indo-Pak matches anymore. I think it's probably too much fixing or is it obvious victory or is it because I play and thus action is preferred to couch potatoing. But hey Indo-Pak matches have become a yawn.
My Kerala visit to the Ayakkad temple features at the
click.
The walks in Aarey have diverse topics. shaju decided to discuss how
snakes are avenging angels when you kill their mates. In fact, this is a
popular belief all over India. It seems that snakes do seek revenge if
you kill their mates.
--
Suneal Varma
livingontheedge@fastmail.fm
I have nothing against Bill Gates but suddenly the
Virus makers are after his rear. My Word was
performing illegal functions and Internet Explorer had
become a hub for viruses. And I have broken free from
the Microsoft empire. I use the free beta version of
StarOffice 8 available at www.sun.com
Yesterday I scanned the net for best options.
Openoffice is great but Sun is giving free beta
version of staroffice 8 and it looks mind blowing. Who
knows I may be shifting to linux next.
Please try Firefox browser from Mozilla
StarOffice from Sun
And if you need a slick wordpad try C-Edit.
is me. The other morning I had coffee that my mom made
me and zzzzzzzzzzz. Is it because I'm a teetotaller or
a total screw up. I will never know.
Let's talk bill gates. Most virus cater to destruction
of MS empire. I have found a better option to internet
explorer. Called Firefox. Downloads in a ziff. And is
fast and much better looking with that fox logo.
I'm using Macromedia's Dreamweaver and it will soon
show on my website. Frontpage was hideaus at times.
What you see is what you get is absolutely bollocks in
case of Front page.
Coming to Word. I had two love affairs. Wordstar 4
(and seven with the 4 front end) in which I wrote all
my poetry.
Word came post 95 and I loved the font Times but was
afraid until I had to teach it. Anyway my Word is
corrupt. Pun. And i'm using Jarta. Cool.
Why use a truck when you need a cycle. and
experimentation is good. I killed a mosquito. Got to go.
Having lived in NZ for two years and planning to live
there for twenty more, I would naturally be averse to
summer or so I thought. But summer has raised its ugly
head again and I am neither shivering nor shuddering
at that thought. I'm surprised to say the least. I
guess all the sweat that I have worked up after
walking in Aarey jungles, partly out of fear I must
admit has opened my pores, which is important because
it helps remove the toxins. I'm back on my garlic from
hell and chilies from volcano land diet. The Kerala
trip also has done me a lot of good. That reminds me I
have to fill the Kerala papers. This time I wanted to
do it slow and savor every element of the trip, which
is incidentally blogged at ohkerala.blogspot.com
I'm passionate about stuff. But when I'm bowling, a new kind of I'm-gonna-kill-you aggression comes into me. Mix that competitive instinct with a bit of natural need to show off, add a bit of pace and a girl I love at the window and hell breaks loose. Yesterday, my bunny batsmen miss-hit me over the building, which would have been out in normal ground. Piece of cake catch. We lost the first game.
Next game I was on fire. I took wickets and sledged, the way no nice guy would. That's another thing; I'm not one.
The news is that I'm wrestling with mosquitoes. I am busy designing my site, which keeps me awake and bloodless by the morning. Also small mice are dancing in the kitchen. I think I'm getting better at killing mosquitoes or today is a lucky night. Designing is an addiction and fonts maketh a writer. I'm playing with fonts and color at will. I have killed three today and just missed the fourth. I know I should spell visualiser with a z. At least that's what that red-nosed spell checker thinks. But he he, I will defy that nosy little twerp. One more dead. mosquito. They love blue I was told, on discovery the other night. I love trebuchet the font but my first love will always remain Arsis. It was my mom's idea to have black tiles on the floor. Everyone wants to use the word random instead of creative and mad. it's 2 in the morning. The last mosquito is dead. It's 3.49 am.
There's no news like good news. And the good news is that my mom is absolutely fine. That's the greatest news. Her near death experience robbed me of the joy of living. Am posted in India since July 4 2004.
Have been working 4 hours a day lately. Walking in the jungles of
Goregaon. I'm really grateful to my shoes. They are called Power
Joggers. Cheap at just 600 rupees. They have been better than my Reeboks and all the other ones I experimented with. But not as good as the Lotto that Umesh had lent me in 1991. They were the best I wore. Am planning to go to Pune with my aunts and grandpa. What happens to news after they become old? They die and go to heaven in the blog section. Miss NZ this Valentine's. If countries had a gender NZ would be a beautiful woman!
Welcome to the wild blue skies.
I just love climbing mountains.
It must be the scene from/at the top. The cool air. The feeling of freedom. Or all the above.
However, when you begin there is a lethargy that hits you with the cool breeze and you wonder what the heck you are doing here? Will you ever reach there, that spot in the cloud that's laughing at you?
Once you start and the wind fills your lungs and heat enters your body - you breathe, sweat, sit. You just follow your instincts and go with the flow stepping on flatter stones, avoiding the moss, stretching at rocks and holding twigs.
Suddenly you are there on top. Where Earth meets the sky, bird meets the eye and passion meets your life. You can sit on top, stare at the horizon or the white birds that seem like a speck or the shadow of a cloud on the distant meadow. Check that faraway waterfall, walk in the clouds, dip in that still icy pond, or just watch as the brook trickles past and time flies, crawls and gently dies.
Life is exactly the same. You never know where you start, you never know where you will end so keep going! Get moving! Live life without courting death. Love life. Live life 100%. I love climbing mountains.
It's a crazy night. The summer heat is slowly creeping up from behind us. This days I am busy revamping my site. Do check www.wildblueskies.com. The whole design's mine. I have a long way to go but I have made the start.
The other news is the late evening Aarey Colony (read thick jungle) walks. There is never a moon these days as Shaju and I have been bitten by the walk in the snake, leopard, dacoit infested junglee park. It looks very nice in the day but the nights take on a menacing look. The motorists are driving as if there is no tomorrow as they zip, zap zoom around us. Today we took the lonely track. It was eerie and scary especially for Shaju. It was dark trek up the mountain into Cobra country and the moon was barely visible and camera shy. It was pitch dark at blind spots and it was great fun. One hour of absolute danger. Except for the New Zealand hostel (in India) there was no respite. The trees had taken a darker shade and the foliage was thick enough to be Amazon. Amazing.
It all ended with lassi (a drink made of sweetened yogurt) for me. Shaju had flavoured milk. But danger is good. Makes you feel alive plus the pure oxygen. It's on my list of seven tracks in Mumbai.
If irresponsibilty ever had to be personified, I would be a top contender. Today morning started for me at 1.30 in the afternoon when I called my boss to tell him I will be late for my 4-hour technical writing job. I ran out of the house and saw my bus just-leave. A biker rided me to the bus. i found that I had no money and the bus conductor game me a free ride 4 stops before my office because I had to get down to pee. I do this 4-glass water therapy that makes me want to pee in the mornings. Today I was late because last night a mosquito decided to reek vengeance for all the murders I had committed.
Oh How the years have rolled on. Went to see my teacher after work. I had promised him that I would be there yesterday but got the day mixed up. Went today instead. Into that crooked lane which used to be a routine in 84. Suddenly the head is full of memories hitiing me at the speed of light. Names, faces, Maths equations, cricket players, friends. All at once. It's crazy the buildings look much smaller. Now that I have grown. Also a fleeting memory of a babysitter when I was just five in the next building. small grocery store where we used to buy the salties. I was never for sweets.
Went to an old friend's house. Kiran Nayak. I used to buy comics from him at one-tenth the price. I had a passion for TinTins though he didn't have any. I bought historic comics. Amar Chitra Katha. The shortcut had gone and I had not been in this lane for 15 years now.
Strange. The way that place hit me with all its adrenaline. Being a teetotaller, I rely on other kicks which are much stronger than smoking or drinking. But then, how would I know?
MKet my friends family mother; sister and her kids school and husband. They were happy that I still remembered their birthdays and all the other people alongwith whom we had given our tenth standard, matric secondary school public exams.
Exchanged information. Ate some wadas. Discussed marriage plans(?). I have no plan. But it was a purifying feeling and an intoxication of going back to who I was. I still am. Life is beautiful.
Work is fun. But the designer, I have, has no brains. My screen does not show red. I'm in the process of revamping
www.wildblueskies.com. Please watch that space.
Still miss NZ and all my loved ones.
Well always wanted to blog on this site. In fact, always wanted to blog. Period. Last few days have been full of dispute, anger and hurt. Sometimes showing concern to people is misconstrued as being nosy. It's not a fine line. It's mood dependant.
But losing Mikky, one of my faithful friends is delightfully a feel good factor. When friendships turn sour, it's time to let go! Time to go.
Also think of E on a regular basis. But hey time to let go.
G is presently the future prospect. She looks and that's all she does.
Copywriters come with all kinds of abilities, ideas, IQs, hobbies, dress-sense and preferences! So, how does one know a Copywriter from a cook, a cobbler, a king, a creative god, a clown or a cabaret dancer?
What if a Copywriter is great on one brand and pathetic on another? For example a condom Copywriter may not cope as well with Eunuchs and the Human Rights? How does a blackhead-remover specialist manage unisex loos in some hole in Auckland?
He may have been writing for 10 years - but what if he has lost it? It happens to people all the time. They have it: It droops, suffocates and is gone in 60 and half seconds. Zip! Zap! Zoom! Like a cyclist on the motorway after being hit, of course!
After banging my uncle’s Italian fiat to a bus at 17, I joined a boutique that specialised in female attire. 8 months later I sold Midas spray cans. Taught in JD Institute of Fashion Technology. Taught Computers full time for 6 years, part-time 4 years. Wrote books for Vijay Mukhi. Was an editor of an in-house computer magazine. Was a technical writer for Birla Technologies for a year. Wrote around 150 poems. Sang Elvis Presley songs. Won inter-college debates. Fell in love once. Had a few flings. Bitten nails during Indo-Pak matches. Wrote for G. Sold airtime for Bhaskar TV and CVO. Conducted aptitude tests. Hiked mountains. Taught Computers to mentally challenged children. Did study on the goodness of ginger, garlic and turmeric. Photographed Vasai fort at dawn. Spiced up gravies and burned mouths. And generally lived and learned, learned and learned.
Computer Skills
Drawing with a the run-away mouse, Surfing the net, Office 97, Visual Basic and those dead-and-gone software like DOS, WordStar, Lotus, Dbase, taking innocent decimals numbers and converting them into binary: multiplying, adding, squaring and dividing them and reconverting them into decimals to feel superior.
Interests
Beautiful women, cartooning, writing (of course, that’s what this is all about), cooking, trekking, photography, creating all kinds of email IDs for fun and time-pass
I met Hepa Loleshi on a Saturday afternoon in the library and got talking about religion. She is a nice lady with family values and a family that she loves – was my first impression about her. She was wondering what kind of a person I’m and finally thought that I was okay I assume. Thus, she invited me to there church.
The church was beautiful and I met her family for the first time. Grandma Sesa of the Australian Bush hunter fame tried to hunt me with language skills and the kids – Abish being more matured, friendly and prim, Sesa pretty, spontaneous and warm, little book worm who was smart and thought I was cool. Mr. Frudo the good looking young dude and Mr. Cool from Hollywood the awkward rebel teenager. There were six. But I did not meet the oldest boy from Hamilton. He was very caring and family oriented. I met Ronnie Hepa’s kind Samoan husband at their church. It was a big family church that defied description. My first Mormon church that was a great feeling.
And after that I never felt alone. I was invited to family nights where we sang and Sesa told me how I was their brother from another mother. Ronnie had a slight health complication and we went to the hospital. Singing, playing word games, watching basket ball matches, pizza parties after a basket ball game of under 10 boys, where Frudo’s team lost 78 to 1. I moved into Manurewa during my practicum at Papatoetoe High School. I was baptized in their beautiful church and the Loleshis were there. They were there when I heard about my mom health. They prayed with me, for me and my mom. I was touched when Hepa and Sesa and Abish came to see me off at the Auckland airport. They are the family I have in NZ. I’m not alone. Thank you.
They checked her for Cancer and since thje plural liquid was clear, it was conclusive that it is TB.
Boy today was the day of happenings. Lots of things happened. It was a crazee day with my super boss calling me early in the morning and notifying me that I had been seriously misbehaving.
Gawd! I thought that the toilet had caught fire at the very least. i mean, at least. I was excited. Hey something was happening. He took me into a room and informed that I had been singing. I was disappointed. So this was what the ruckus was all about. What blew my brains is a mention of a short and shit ugly hairy little half blind duckling who wanted to grab some attention by saying that she aws uncomfortable with me.
I don't even fart in her direction and I felt that "hey what is about this desperate ugly women trying to get attention at any cost".
That pissed me off and when the big b used the word warning, something which said last warning i called it quits. What followed was confusion and eventual make up where he confessed he liked me as a person. I was like "what the hell"
Went of for lunch with Chet. Put me off mutton for a while. Huge arabic lamb piece called Raan. Huge. Mammoth. Mother F.
Came back to a conscious and am presently doing a night, a graveyard shift. Manual is happening and the boss is a friend now. What else is new?
Learned an arabic secret of digesting huge chunks of meat. having black mint-lemon tea and no water for 2 hours. Cool. Cleans the bloody system.
Auckland and Mumbai
On my first visit to India a friend asked me, “So, which country do you like more”. I said since both are different countries, it is difficult to compare them since both have their pros and cons. However, I would do more justice if I compared the two cities I have lived in, rather than generalize about countries.
Let's look at the weather. Mumbai is hot and can make you sweat like no other city can. Strange as that may sound I find that sweating is actually good for you. First of all, you don't have to run in search of toilets. Then, it rids the body of toxins. Mumbai has four distinct seasons: hot, muggy, very hot and very wet. But it is dependable. Auckland is cooler - at least, for me - but the climate is fickle bringing to mind the famous saying: If you don't like the weather in Auckland, wait for ten minutes. The sun in Auckland is slightly more direct than the hot sun of Mumbai. However, since it is relatively cooler, I prefer Auckland but my knapsack always carries a semi-rain-proof jacket.
Mumbai has its own culture and is crazy about cricket, curry and films, especially since it is the headquarters of Bollywood the Indian version of Hollywood, which churns out more films than any other country. Auckland on the other hand, is much more beautiful and loves rugby, takeaways (especially fish and chips) and clubbing. I generally love, the comparatively better, crowd in Auckland but that can be highly subjective. I love the books available at Borders and Auckland City Library. The population is comparatively manageable whereas in Mumbai it seems that people are coming at you, all the time. There are a lot of cultural areas in India and as a city it is photographable at any time. There are mosques, temples, churches and people everywhere, doing everything all at once. Any moment is a Kodak moment and any picture is award winning. Auckland on the other hand, is an obviously more developed, cleaner and more beautiful but is definitely not as ‘happening' as Mumbai, which sucks you into its web whether you like it or not. You want a roller coaster, drive! You want a movie; keep your eyes open! It is ridiculous and interesting. And someone said ‘It's a city like no other”. That is not enough for me to prefer it to Auckland. Mumbai is more polluted, the crime rate is higher, the dirt rate is preposterous, poverty and civic sense is appaling and life can be an ordeal. Auckland has respect for the law, not fear and you will not see a policeman being bribed, openly or otherwise.
On the emotional side, Mumbai has mom and Auckland has Emma. My mom had a life threatening sickness and the last three years have seen me rush to Mumbai. My mom is my only emotional magnet in the city, in fact, the country. While Mumbai boasts of family values and attachment, it is very materialistic in its outlook and rather selfish just like any big city. While Auckland looks like a dog-eat-dog place that is cold, I found true love there and lost it too. Emma. My only connection to Mumbai is emotional since it has my old school and some left over friends and my dying mother. Auckland has Emma with whom I have parted ways and thus Auckland can be painful. But as I said before pain is subjective just like love, honor and life.
Thus, both cities are distinct and I can only color the difference with my personal experience but definitely not do justice to any city. There is no way you can compare two places since both are different for different people and colored by our own experiences.
Suneal, as I love to travel, I enjoyed reading your impressions of these two vastly different cultures and cities. Lively voice in this essay with some lovely lines. I particularly like, “You want a roller coaster, drive! You want a movie; keep your eyes open!”. Lots of good ideas and detail here. Transitions are smooth.
Both the introduction and the conclusion of this essay are weak; they both seem to be tacked onto the end of this detailed essay and don’t seem to match. Your introduction does convey a sense of your thesis, but more care is needed to create context, to draw the reader in, to construct a solid thesis. See this? Same with the conclusion: more care is needed. You’ve got the bare bones in the closing paragraph, but work, in future essays, to pull the essay together in terms of voice and content.
In terms of organization, paragraph 3 disrupts the flow. There is a lot going on in this paragraph, and I wonder if it could be divided in two. It jumps back and forth between the two cities whereas ideas should be clearly sorted according to city. See this? While the writing is detailed, it could go further at points: what makes the crowd in auckland better? What about the library in Mumbai? Detail crazy driving? Images that make kodak moments? Images that show auckland as more developed? See what I mean? Take care and time with your writing; slow down and focus.
Grade: C
(Without a peer review on another student’s work, your final essay mark drops one letter. However, given the circumstances about which you emailed me, I will waive the peer review requirement for this essay)
Suneal Varma 02332086
Written Communication
Tutorial Group 8-Suzanne
Peer Review: Second assignment
Hi☺
I enjoyed your essay as travel and far away places always seem adventurous.
Sorry to say your first paragraph didn't really suck me in to the story; as I am sure you could have opened with something more gripping than just I have, I said, I would; This I theme carried all through your essay as well!
Your paragraphs seemed good, with clean opening objectives; well compared throughout.
Lastly your conclusion seemed a little wishy washy and did not sum up what you were writing about it just gave your personal thoughts not the essays main ideas.
As you were comparing two great cities on the planet I believe you could have said more about them rather than your personal life. ☺
Appalling seems to have two L's in my dictionary and some of your punctuation needs to be corrected (believe me I am the last to talk on spelling and punctuation.)
Good luck with the course; have a nice life! Regards Reynold. ☺
Suneal Varma 02332086
Written Communication
Tutorial Group 8-Suzanne
Final: Second assignment
The Tale of Two Cities
How do you compare two cities? Especially, two cities that belong to two different genres, in fact worlds: One that lies at the edge of the planet and the another one that is right in the thick of things. I’m talking about Auckland and Mumbai (formally Bombay).
There are some unobvious similarities that the eye can miss at first glance. Both are harbours that harbour scores of immigrants. Both are the economic capitals Both have a public transport that is put to the ultimate test. The difference obviously is in degrees.
Let's look at the physical features. Mumbai is hot and can make you sweat like no other city can. (Tran open) On the positive side, sweating rids the body of toxins. On the negative side it makes you smell. Mumbai has four distinct seasons: hot, muggy, very hot and very wet. Auckland on the other hand, is cooler but the climate is fickle. If you don't like the weather in Auckland, wait for ten minutes. The sun may be less warm in Auckland but is slightly more direct than the hot sun of Mumbai. In Auckland one is unprepared if the knapsack does not carries a semi-rain-wind-proof jacket.
Auckland has slopes and can test your breathing. Mumbai has potholes that can test your driving, back and the honesty of any policemen.
Culturally, Mumbai has been crazy about cricket, curry and films, especially since it is the headquarters of Bollywood the Indian version of Hollywood, which churns out more films than any other country. (Appo) Quality is, the elusive factor, a different ballgame. Conversely, Auckland loves rugby, takeaways (especially fish and chips) and clubbing. I love the ‘better’ crowd in Auckland. I prefer Kiwi-wannabe-Americans to their Indian counterparts. I love the extensive quality of books available at Borders and the Auckland City Library. All in all, Auckland looks and smells more beautiful. But then, Mumbai is more photographable. Though people seem to be coming at you all the time, there is a diversity, economic, racial and cultural, that can test the word: diversity. Just like the rest of India, the city is photographable at any time. There are mosques, temples, churches and people everywhere, doing everything all at once. Any moment is a Kodak moment and any picture is an award winner. Auckland on the other hand, is an obviously more developed, cleaner and more beautiful but is definitely not as ‘happening' as Mumbai, which sucks you into its web, whether you like it or not. You want a roller coaster: Drive! You want a movie: Keep your eyes open! It is ridiculous and interesting and a city like no other. But it is certainly more polluted, the crime rate is higher, the dirt rate is preposterous, poverty and civic sense is appalling and life can be an ordeal. Auckland has respect for the law, not fear.
On the cultural front, Mumbai boasts of family values and attachment, (Tran Mid) but in reality is a materialistic, cold and selfish place. Auckland, on the other hand, may look like a dog-eat-dog place that is cold, but I have found true love here.
The food in Mumbai is cheaper, only if you convert rupees into NZ dollars. In fact, Mumbai has a cheaper lifestyle. This can be attributed to the sheer population of Mumbai, which may be three times the population of New Zealand: Around Fifteen million. It is difficult to give the exact million figure in India because as a country, we have failed to count ourselves on various occasions. Anyway, that brings the cost of living down. Technically, Mumbai is only six times poorer and not thirty as the conversion rate shows. This could be the obvious corruption-related problem that most things are in India.
On the positive side, Mumbai has a great workforce that constantly fights traffic jams, bomb blasts and weather related problems on an hourly basis. Mumbai-ites are preferred around the world since they are considered good workers.
Thus, both cities have a distinct flavour. But no comparision can be objective since our personal experiences definitely colour (or blur) the vision. And my preference of Auckland over Mumbai is my view. I still feel that there is no way you can compare two places since both are different for different people and colored by our own experiences.
Suneal, I apologize for overlooking your final draft the first time around. This draft has a more structured sense of introduction and conclusion, and you’ve done well to imply a clear thesis as well. I find it interesting that you’ve cut the paragraph on loved ones and replaced it with a paragraph on economics, although this does tend to tighten the focus, which may have been your goal.
While this draft is improved, your introduction and conclusion could be fuller and tighter yet—you seem to rush the reader into and out of the essay, and these short curt paragraphs don’t seem to fit with the body paragraphs which are much fuller. I stand by my suggestions regarding paragraphing and detail. In addition, the sentence or two long paragraphs that follow the longer ones throughout confuse the organization and flow. Could these be integrated with the larger paragraphs? The paragraph to food, too, is rough in transition. See this?
Although my comments are a bit revised, in terms of grade, the C still stands.
Travel in a Tram in Wellington
Go White River rafting in Christ church
Do a web design course - Adobe Photoshop, Adobe PageMaker, Microsoft Publisher, Macromedia Fireworks.
Start an all Egg omelet store
Mughlai
SA
Palak
Mexican, French and Italian
Tabasco
Chinese
Ginger Garlic
Cheese
Green Chillies
Tomato
Onion
Indian Spice
Get into Writers bureau
Do that Auckland Univ. education course
Wellington as we speak there is a course in English for trimester and special education
Massey has this amazing course in English and Media for trimester
Go out for coffee with Emma
Get the club physical job
Get out of Les Mills
Swimming must be done
Mom and Money
Get the License
Get NZQA recognition
Editor's Note
It's early hour as the silver light floats through and I lean behind on my chair catching the glimpse of dawn from my office window. The rain is steadily streaming, drizzling down one drop at a time. Even my black coffee tastes better now that the dotcom special has been wrapped up. The rain continues it's soft advent, falling like dewdrops with feathers. Internet is so much like the rains. It just pours and pours and pours.
From a humble origin in an American base to protect information from being 'bombed' it graduated to sharing university research across the US. Today it has taken on the world. A staggering 220 million people log on to the net.
Internet entered India as late as 1995, where it was marvelled as an email-churning machine. At the same time one could go to a few sites.
That was 5 years ago, during which hotmail was sold for a whooping $400 million, the great Satyam Info ways' boomed and rediff.com was listed on the NASDAQ. Indians licked their lips and jumped. Everyone wanted to join the bandwagon to find his or her gold mine. Everybody wanted the piece of the pie. What followed next was chaos, which is typical of Indians. Nothing less than 24000 sites joined the fray from India. India just went totally net-crazy that is one step further than a net-addict would go. The immense interest could be gauged from the long queue at Nehru centre last month. Naturally, Indians don't want to be left out in this mad race on the net.
On the e-com side, people are buying railway passes, pizzas, books; winning contests, paying bills, chatting: not to forget trying to launch their own portals and some are even getting married to people they meet on the net.
It is our humble attempt to cover as much as possible about the net including a glossary and the how, why, where, what etc. of cyber space. Because of its enormity no one can cover everything about the Internet. Not even the Internet!
We hope that you will enjoy reading this issue as much we do bringing it to you.
Happy reading!
How to save time on the net
Time is money. The net will be free someday for sure, even VSNL who once held a monopoly and started at super rates is constantly slashing prices, cutting the halves into one-fourths and one-fourths into one-eighths. However Internet access costs money and keeps your telephone lines busy. Here are some tips to save your Internet time
Writing and reading emails offline. If you are using Outlook, the email can sit in your outbox till you are online when Outlook automatically prompts that there are messages in the outbox and would you get online next. If you are using pop3 addresses like hotmail, usa.net etc. you can type your email in a Word document (or better still Notepad) till you go online. Then simply cut and paste your letter into your email.
Similarly you can copy/paste the mails you receive and read them offline
While on sites you can open multiple windows as sites get downloaded
You can save pages for reading later by going into File and Save As option in your explorer
You can save pictures for later viewing
You can make sites available offline
Boss save your money, the boom will burst like a balloon. And, a penny saved is a penny earned.
My favourite email account
If you don't get your ID with your first name on the first shot, don't despair!
The email is the biggest marvel of the century. No stamps, no postman, no waiting. It's quick, effective and easy. You want to get in touch with anyone, anywhere all you have to do is spend a few moments and within seconds your message reaches its destination.
Don't have an email address? you should be ashamed. Today in India, email is an absolute must-must. Email addresses are status symbols, placed somewhere between mobiles and BMW. So if you do not have an address or have an email ID that looks like a computer code gone bad such as: ravi_anand_varma_28_12_67@hotmail.com, do not despair. According to Yahoo there are 13967413 matches for emails. How many? That's right! I could have officially looked down upon you, called you un-cool, made you an outcast - but I won't.
One of the biggest problems faced by the Vijays, Anils, Sunils and Sanjays (as in Johns, Roberts, Richards) are that their names are common nouns and thus every time they try to sign up for anil@somethingortheother.com , some other Anil has already beaten them to it. But that need not have you break into panic or heartbreak into blood pressure. There are sites that can give you multiple domain names that's where it is @ for you.
For example at http://www.mail.com there are a variety of domain names to be chosen from: for example - ravi@cheerful.com or anil@consultant.com or john@2for4.com or arun@artlover.com (and there are a hundreds to choose from).
Even after going through the above rigmarole, you do not get your first name (vijay@any-of-above.com) then try mypad.com it will give you 50 more domain options. Try http://www.hollywood.com, http://www.homepage.com, http://www.email.com, http://www.freemail.com, http://www.clickchick.com, http://www.icleo.com, http://www.iname.com, http://www.juno.com, http://www.mailcity.com, or http://www.prontomail.com,
If you are a die-hard Indian craving for a khadi email try http://www.rediffmail.com, http://www.indya.com, http://www.mantraonline.com, http://www.satyamonline.com (now http://www.sify.com) etc. If you are die-hard feminist try http://www.icleo.com, http://www.ivillage.com or http://www.chickmail.com.
Ever since hotmail fetched 400 million dollars, all Indian sites give free email pop3. The problem with Indians is we are too bored with ourselves to do anything original. If one site starts giving free email addresses, everyone jumps, pushes and joins the fray.
In fact a while ago, http://www.mailmetoday.com had for a while, started giving away prizes (Radio Recorder from Thomson, Cricket Word Cup, CDROM, Titan Desk Clock, RayBan Aviator Sunglasses, Braun Silk epil duo etc.)
