fetch me a bone....

there are things known :) ... there are things unknown :( for everything else there is blogspot :D

the future is uncertain and the end is always near...

the future is uncertain and the end is always near...
ull never know ... when d last drink will get over.. nor when d last stick will extinguish ... (enjoy it before it does ).. dont miss the starting gun ( a fav line from pink floyds - "TIME" from the dark side of the moon)

Sunday, November 2, 2008

a crazY littel things called LOVEDA...

LOVEDA...loveda lag gaya zindagy kaa...deep down south...aisa lagata tha ek din ek hafte ke barabar hia...dimaag mein itni chutiyagiri ho rahi thee kee...aise lag raha tha butterNan playing football with my heart in my head was much more fun...sala her ek din...woich tensionor sales target...EOD dimmaga ka bhosada ho jaata tha...pata tha jab yeh sab khatam ho jaayega ...sala poorani kabar khodke poorani baante and yaadon ko sochke bada majja ayega....jhendu ke phool ki tarah dil khil jaayega...

out of the many things..yeah many things....i know i wont miss many of them...

i mean if a man had nothing gr8 happening in his life... i am sure he will start appreciating all the chutiyagiri happening around him...he will surely enjoy it...

if i went shouting loveda loveda loveda...i would get slapped in mumbai...this fear once came true when the off duty cop who had the balls of frustrated trapped anger to slap me on a muthafukin DIWALI day...yeah that was like a big cracker bursting right on my face....chutiya burhaan wanted to buy chaddi....and to buy chaddi he comes all the way to vashi from kharghar....its not like ppl in kharghar mein log undies nahi pehan te....the reason is there is a famous chaddi-baniyan shop in the lane next to golden punjab and navratna....right next to jhama in sector 17 vashi..

we chediots (chediots are nothing but chutiyaas who are also idiots).... ho ho ho...it was our fav adda.... sitting on bikes parked in from on navratana...adda for getting together....chill out...drool on the hot girls and aunty's who came shopping in the sec 17 market...buy chhota baatlees of wodkaa and then flip open the bottle of sprite...gulp 3/4th of the sprite the bitter way..and then mix the two miscible liquids.... the chhota baatlee in the remaining 1/4th sprite...then the ritual used to be ..waiter will try to show that he is a true lost maharashtrian indian...dance with the sprite baatlee having wodka like a bartender...sprinkle 4 drops of daru for the ppl who are not with us...and then drink the sweet concentrate to glory...me..mikhail..lez...waiter...claude.. and others.....

chutiyagiri to hona hi tha...burhaan was with romstone...and usual we have a healthy exercise of words of wisdom.... parade of galis begin... bencho...bhosdaaa...maa ki aaag...it was like we are full of them..... i tell burhaan, jab woh patlee gali se kamati ho raha tha.... LOVEDAy...( in proper bumbaiyaa style)... apni size ki chaddi kharidnaa..and then burhaan with his loud mouth goes...blah blah blah....loveda bada hai to meri kya galti...and i say...jaa be loveday...jaa...undie kharid...

and then i dont remember what happpen...there is that gap ...i dont remember anything.... next think i remember a khaki...is in front of me, me surprised...trying to take my case....woh maamoo ka gussa pata nahi kahan se aaya...apne chhote nanhe ke saamne hi raises his had ...ONE TIGHT SLAP...silence...then pandu thoda much much kiya...and in few more seconds we left the scene....

LOVEDA bola....jhapad khaya :|

i still couldnt figure out ....whats with this crazy little thing..word loveda....the best thing in chennai, or coimbatore, or in madurai...or TN for that matter....there would not be any police who would slap me if i went on a parade shouting out loud loveda loveda loveda...why ?... its simple.... love is nothing but love...and "da" is a fix they use....like in mumbai we use "re" or "be"...

coming back to missing things...the list may be long...but few are like...

i miss that dude who looked ditto like forest whitaker, who didnt understand a phaaaking word of hindi, he made excellent cofee...the MR bakery on Gokhale road off cross cut road in ramnagar in coimbatore and the small coffee shop behind murugan temple in vadapalani in chennai...who made coffee even better but always insisted on mee eating cookies and bananas...

miss that ultra fucked up amman mess ...what a mess that mess was in...where the parotta with kurma was a killer...and half boil....ha ha ha...half boil is actually a half fry egg...frankly i stopped giving a damn...coz the taste was as good as ghar ka khana....

miss aachi mess in tatabad was homefood....and so was the mess close to aachi...which was special for its non-veg...

miss Sathyam Cinemas which could have easily become a living room with awesome surround dolby sound, full time working AC, and a source of innocent ego-free pop-corns...if i was to stay in chennai for longer than a year....

marina was a playground...Thiruvanmayur beach was the best open house bar...miss them

i miss walking randomly on the streets of T-nagar....it was a hopeful place...where i always dreamed of bumping into the awesomo butterNan ....but only dreams of true color come true....mOnOchromatic dreams are hard to come true...

the dude who used to give me and mangesh a happy smile everytime we went to buy coke and chakhnaa..those plastic glasses are being missed....those green TASMAC boards...
and that dudes elder bro...whos tamilish ( a mix of tamil and english) persuaded me to buy a tata sky connection....(fuck...there was no way i would miss euro cup)

that lady who took gr8 deal of interest in making mootai-lapa or mootai-podimas and who would enquire about where we had dinner last night every time we skipped dinner at her shop....and showed that she cares...and she did.

miss hanging out with keshavmoorthy and velayutham swamy ...who took much interest in teaching me tamil, withouth them i would be gangraped in coimbatore and chennai... abdul bhai, who was a complete timepass character.....it was fun teaching him few hindi words....

i miss curd rice, oorga...pappad

miss those 2 bloody mechanics who conned me into buying a fucked up bike and feeling happy about it...mayeer is what i called them in my mind ....the only slang i learnt...down south... sometimes, the things that interest you the most are never tought....you gotta learn them on your own...in this case, I chose not to learn how or wha they say ....those slangs in tamil....slangs are common in mumbai and north...madarchode, behahchode...i still dont know how they say it in tamil....i knew i would never need to use them in a land of so many GODS...

all i know is...I was an interesting character before living in tamil nadu.....Now i am an even more frigging special interesting character....

above all....i miss the way i used to miss my life in tamil nadu...i miss the way i used to miss mumbai/bombay....i miss the way i missed my friends... the way mumbaikars struggle it out...the way they fight to keep their miserable lives above the bare minimum happiness level...the way they slap all the stress and bounce back like a ping pong ball everyday in the morning (few of the mumbaikars ounce at night)....the way we use madarchode benchode and not actually mean it...the way we laugh it out when we miss the local train despite doing everything on time....the way we eat a vadapav as a treat from a chindhy rich friend....the way auto-rickshaw-wallahs charge you by the meter...and nothing more...the way the food kooked in slums, packed nicely by young kids in unclean plastic is consumed with satisfaction buy the middleclass...the leafy vegetables grown from the gutter/sewage ka pani on the sides of railway track, are treated as a healthy organic food....i missed it all....

sometimes it is necessary to separate yourself from the city you love ....only to fall in love with it all over again...



PS :"love da....benchode" & "maa-chudi"....are my most frequently used fav galis.


raKH05041982

i am six feet from the edge..and i am not thinking ...

i am six feet from the edge..and i am not thinking ...
... in the fiction of the space between... Sometimes a lie is the best thing

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