Chandni Chowk

Helloji, and namaste from NRV Travels [Pvt.] Ltd [Committed to service of traveler always] We are the best travel-bhraman guide service in Delhi, sirji. For non Hindi speaking traveler, we have non Hindi speaking guide [Nik], for culture-crazy traveler, we have singing-dancing-stripping guide [Rad], and for intelligent, sane and normal traveler, we have intelligent, sane and normal guide [Miss V]

Today, sirji, we are in Chandni Chowk, showing rich, diverse traditions of India. First, we are getting off from Chandni Chowk Metro Station. Look left. See the beautiful, golden piece heralding our architectural great? The lovely-feeling inducing arcs? Ah, yes. McDonald's. And now just behind that, you will see the Red Fort, also called Lal Qila. If you get up on time and Doordarshan is your preferred mode of entertainment, then this is the place from where the PM gives his speech on Independence Day every year.

Its great to know that such an awe inspiring monument is part of our cultural heritage. Like you're the co-owner, even if you own only a 1/1,000,000,000th of the place. Gives you this confident stride, and makes you saunter proudly though the security check.

"Arre, madam! Ticket kaha hai?"

Uh oh?

So..uh..uh... yeah! You see, its not a good idea to go without tickets. We only tried so we could report accurately, ji. Hamein toh pata tha.

Once andar, Miss V says to skip the memorabilia shops [in manner of hoity toity serious explorer on frugal budget who cares not for material pleasures] Radhika says, "Achha saamaan hai, par Janpath par yahi sab aadhe daam main milta hai." Nik says she doesn't understand what Radhika said.

Don't take any of those fake tout guides, who'll ask for 200 rupees to tell you a broken history of the place in broken Inglis. Just call us, ji. We are committed to service of traveler. We will show you the Diwan-e-Aam, Lahore Gate, Mussaman Burj and the shallow waterways in the midst of all the imperial apartments, that used to have Yamuna water flowing through them, presumably to soak in your feet after a hard day's work of meeting the aam junta. We also show you the best place to take a Khwaja Mere Khwaja photo too. We are best, no?

Now if your pet [stomach, not dog] says gud-gud, let us go to Parathewali Gali. We take you to no running mill place, we will take you to Pt. Gaya Prasad Shiv Charan Parathewala. All celebrities like Jawaharlal Nehru, Indira Gandhi, Akshay Kumar and the three of us have eaten here. It also won the best parathewale place award at HT's Eating Out Awards 2007. Here, you have to have the Hari Mirch paratha, if only to see if you would survive in Fear Factor. Come with big appetite though. Nik and I had one paratha each. The guy serving us looked shocked and asked if had not liked the food. Ah well. I would have loved to have more parathas, but ji, I have delicate stomach, so..

After this, we take you shopping. Rad will show chamki shops in Kinari Bazaar, where you can get sequins, stones, jewelled patches, and feather boas. Or you can buy pretty chamki sarees for Minakshi ke bhatije ki behen ki shaadi. Saste main kaam bhi ho jayega.

But what if you're an uncle and don't like wearing sarees? Not to worry sirji, we will take you to Dariba Kalan. While bhabhiji buys silver jewelery, why don't you get an IIFA award made for yourself? Sabki seva karte hai hum. We are committed to service of traveler.

Aww, Pappu toh reh gaya. No problem Pappu beta, engineer banana hai na? We'll take you to Nayi Sarak, where you can get all Pradeep, Modern, Primitive, sab. But Pappu is all rounder, no? Books bhi, looks bhi. And if you study all day, ainak toh lagegi hi. Ballimaran chalo! The best goggles and glasses in town, even Pappu's girlfriend [shh!] will approve!

Ab poora parivaar is sukhi parivaar, so let's make Bhagwaan happy too. Sisganj Gurudwara is our last stop for th day. As you eat kada prashad and feel blessed, we will make sure your shoes are kept safe. And when you are chaatoing the last daanas from your palms, we will not even laugh. We will only smile, and drop you at the Metro Station, and as the doors of the Metro close, we will say ta-ta. For we, Sirji, are committed to service of traveler.

Argent

[Old draft : 21/04/08 : Do not take time references seriously.]

As a kid, I used to have this great fascination for charm bracelets. It would be the only part of the then-tomboy me that really pleased my mum. She's always been this stickler for looking glamorous/pretty [and in recent times - ravishing :P] and seeing me look wistfully at those thin silver chains made her way happier than seeing me muck around in the mud playing football with the guys.

You can't blame me : I was in love with the concept and still am - getting a plaid little bracelet and putting one charm on it every birthday to commemorate the year gone by. Like collecting time in a vial, and offloading a year's worth of memories into an intricate piece of argent. And having it around your wrist to gift a sudden unconscious smile at an inadvertent glance.

Yesterday, I went to Karol Bagh, probably after two years. Strange how fleetingly perspective stays, as does childish excitement. As I walk through the dingy lanes, I see huge, 20 feet+ banners put up by jewelers, clothes shops, car mechanics, and er..pakodawallas. I know this place vaguely. I recognize names. Bu the facades evade me. My mum's talking to me, unaware I'm lost. I catch an exasperated sigh, and she steers me to a dilapidated staircase with a survivingly familiar stench. And suddenly, I'm the exuberant 9 year old again, the one who wanted an anchor on her charm bracelet, because her favorite restaurant had a sea voyage theme. I look at mum incredulously, and she says, " I thought you'd like a new one, in lieu of the old that broke." I gape, and then I grin, in a broken sort of way.
An hour later, I'm catching the sun in the story woven around my wrist. There's a miniature convertible, hanging for the Britain trip where my dad drove us around, trying his darnest to unlearn standard Delhi honking routines. There's a tiny hairbrush - "Since I nag you enough about your hair." A sole stilleto - " A reminder that beauty with brains includes beauty, and that is NOT chortling around with mud streaks on your face," and a traveling hat [for the vacation to Singa, Malaysia and Thailand, where my sister and I fooled around wearing touristy hats and orange paper umbrellas] glint gleefully. So does a little beer bottle crown - "Papa, Vasu!" she says, not realizing that my dad hates beer. ["Plus, it'll be you soon enough."]

We're walking back, and the streets are lit up, barely recognizable. Bright and agog, this could be anywhere. Unfamiliar faces, unchartered paths; and storehouses of memories might be locked inside the cupboards of those shops, tightly bolted- away from my sight. I'm beginning to wonder if this is the place I once knew, when I see another mirror. The corner park, and the tree I used to climb, fighting for sole rights to the top most branch. The by lanes are still filled with shady characters and swirls of smoke. And at the back of my cupboard, lies a charm bracelet with an anchor dangling from it lopsidedly. Broken, but yet quite whole.

Voices

"Can I have one earphone?"
"Yeah, sure."
"OYE! What is this?!"
"Afterglow. INXS."
"It is so slow... I thought you were a rap person. You look like a rap person. Orrr.. Hip Hop!"
"Um, no. Not rap. Not hip hop either."
"So you listen to Jagjit Singh then?"

"What do you keep on studying, ego and all? How to prove you're the best?"
"Vaidu, its called ECO."

"Yeah, so there was a question in my set that said - Where should a consumer go if dissatisfied with the District Consumer Forum? So I was gonna write National Forum, but I thought,'Vasu gets State Level certificates before National Level ones, and I wrote State Consumer Forum. Guess what, it was right!"

"Kabbadiwaaleyaaaaah, paper, paper. Raddi, puraane darwaaze, kursiyaan de. Purane bartan, pankhen de. Purane fridge, computer, laptop de.."

[watching a 6 year old and a 9 year old tumbling over each other, fighting.]
"I wish I was a kid again."
"Why? So that you could physically assault someone and get away without charges?"

"Oh, shut up. I watch Roadies as a case study in interpersonal sociological dynamics."

Introducing Bo

Meet Bo, the omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent pseudo God, half Satan.

Bhow, bhow,
Oh my God, its Bo!
You only reap what you sow
You have hairy palms, no?
We shall go - play with Play Doh
Hona hai jo, hone do.
Listen to the crow crow
The Indian Space Research Organisation is called ISRO
You rise when its dark
The heavens break apart
And quote to thee,
Lucifer's child, the ant clark
[Six, six six! The number of the Beast!]
Prepared is thy zoic feast
Thy arrows :
Will through bone marrow
And call to blithe mortals in a low baritone
'Minions, Armageddon nears
Look to the heavens, fear oh fear'
Bo, neo Zeus
Aam, seb, ganna juice
Das rupay, paanch rupay, teen rupay glass
Aao piyo, bahut hai khaas
A glass of sang-froid stands prepared
Vlad [the Impaler] hath not better fared
Slitting the throats of a thousand kind
Slaying more monsters than you can find
Woe betide thee oh Earth and Sea
O Bo, please set us free.

[Yes, I'm back.
Will reply to comments tomorrow though, I'm awfully sorry and awfully tired too. ]

[And the *cough* exquisite poetry is courtesy the us :


l-r, that's Nik, me and Rad. In case you're planning to sue for mental harassment, just er.. forget this. You're hallucinating. Really. :|]

Help, the Orkut desperadoes are invading reality!

Shh. They're creeping up towards you, silently. Swiftly. Those shadows, they just wavered. There are pin pricks on your neck. They're gaining fast, on tip toes, stealthily. And in one fluid motion they're gonna land right below you ear and whisper softly,"Hiiiiii! Can I do fraandsips with you?"

Yes, m'fraands er, friends, the Orkut desperadoes taketh over. Previously thought to be confined to the shady interiors of your friendly neighborhood cyber cafes, they're coming fast. And how.

13th February, 2008
School reception

The teachers are having a Lohri party of sorts in the staff room, and I'm filling in for the receptionist. The things you have to do just because you're the only bakra on offer, since the Science section has practicals and the rest have prep leave. I sit, resigned. There's a sheaf of blank paper sheets in front of me and I'm waiting for inspiration to strike. But honestly, inspiration can do naught but yawn, looking at me grappling with a distraught mother on the phone who's daughter left her report card in school. So I well, yawn too.

Then, this wiry looking guy walks in, looks around, and rubs his tongue over his wiry looking lips. Let's call him RODT.

RODT : Oh hi. I'm from Oxford Univ Press. Can I meet your Princi?
Me: Princi? Um, right. She's um, occupied at the mo' [rather helpful thumping noise from the staff room], so why don't you have a seat?
RODT : Thank you SO much. Are you in this school?
Me: Uh huh.
RODT : Do you study in this school?
Me: Not really. I mean, yes. Yeah. [starts nodding head real fast]
RODT : I'm doing my MBA.
Me: Oh, um, alright. Glad to know that.
RODT : What class are you in?
Me: 11th.
RODT : I'm Rahul.
Me: Oh. Okay.
RODT : What is your name?
Me: [thinking this is going to be a long day] Vasudha.
RODT : Vaasdha?
Me: No. [pointed stare] Vuh-su-dha.
RODT : Okay! Hi, Vasudha!
Me: Um.
RODT : I like your uniform. Its not skirt-shirt, no? Is it some order or something?
Me: I don't think I would know.
RODT : You are in Science stream?
Me: Nah, Commerce. [Yay, stereotype one. Reason number one to bust this guy]
RODT : Commerce? Oh, even I was from Commerce!
Me: Yeah? Great. [Thanks a God, if any, that the guy didn't say same pinch]
RODT : So so. How much did you get in the tenth?
Me: Um. 93%.
RODT : What? 93% in Commerce?
Me: [Must not hit...must not hit...must not hit...] Yes. 92.8% Whatever.
RODT : Oye hoye! [?!] I got 76% in twelfth. And in my final year graduation, I got 66%. My dad says,"Log toh upar jaate hai, you toh only down jaate ho." I don't know, he is always so dissatisfied with me. Kya yaar.
Me: [O.o Starts beaming out frantic SOS signals] Hey, that's okay. Still a first division. *big cheery grin* [fake]
RODT : Yeah. So what are you planning to do after this?
Me: Huh!? After this?
RODT : After 12th yaar!
Me: Oh. That. Um, I don't know. Something in advertising, I guess.
RODT : Oh ho, so you are a creative person then!
Me: Um, maybe?
RODT : Even I am a creative person yaar. I am going to do advertising after my MBA too.
Me: Good Lord, no..
RODT : What, what?
Me: Me? Nothing, really. *big cheery grin again* [fake]
RODT : Very nice. You know, I like creative peoples very much. So, take one more card of mine, okay? This is a special card for creative peoples like me. So keep in touch, okay? *big cheery grin* [not fake]
Me: [Yeah, I'll keep in touch if it involves kicking wiry asses] Um, right.

I take the special card from his outstretched hand. At the back of it, unlike on the card he gave to be given to my Principal, in big bold letters, is a ten digit phone number.

*

Half an hour later, I rub my hands after a job well done. Every kid from the Science section who had their Chemistry practical that day is in possession of a number they can now call in case they need to creatively tackle their boredom with tales of missing socks, or fires in the bathroom. After all, if the Random Orkut Desperado Types start taking over the world, can the evil She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Sorts be far behind? :D

----*****----

Update : 30/03/08

Go play. *grins*

New year, same old

Well begun is half done, innit? *
So how is a first day at tuition supposed to be? Do you go wearing a collared shirt with a tie and a pleated skirt and horn rimmed glasses? I wouldn't know, I never had tuitions before the XIth. Except for this Math tutor my mum once called, who lasted precisely twenty minutes. Ah well.
I have that effect on people.

Anyway, this year [yes, I know its '08, I meant academic year, genius] I finally succumbed to the money minting bag of commercialized shit called coaching centers. The first day, I reached my center early [ group tuitions, har de har!] since I had to ask about the fees and stuff. The teacher in charge of the XIth was busy, so I was shuttled away to the classroom for my batch, where I waited, listening to my iPod, blowing chewing gum bubbles, being my nonchalant best. Alright, just the iPod, but you get the picture. Just then, this guy entered, and stared at me like I was a Vogon. It might have been the clothes [Black tee, striped arm band, tie, ripped jeans, Converse high tops - okay, so at least I got the tie right. I'll learn. Pleated skirt next year. Promise :P] I goggled back, and he went and sat behind me. Next up, a girl came, gaped, rolled her eyes and scampered off to the seat farthest away from where I was. I checked the address I was given nervously, sighed and went back to J-Timberlake telling me what went around came around. Since this didn't do much to raise my [pretty low] spirits, I slumped resignedly in my chair and waited for everyone else to come. The girls smirked, or gave me the eyes, while the guys stood agape.
Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath.

By this time, I was through with it. I looked back, hoping to see someone, anyone I recognized, and what I saw made my jaw drop.

Neatly divided into two blocks, and each acting oblivious to the other's presence, sat everyone. The girls all on one side, and the guys on the other.......the side right behind me. I coloured. Making a social faux pas on Day 1 hadn't been that high on my priority list. One involving 60 pairs of eyes on me less so.

Its been six months since I joined, but even then the sexist demarcation never ceases to amaze me, even though I'm the only person at tuition from a non coed school. Especially since I'm the only person at tuition from a non coed school.

But its the new year, and I guess the psychological desire to initiate a change at the crack of a new anything [Monday diets, anyone? :P] has finally seeped in at my coaching institute too.

Because now, fellow humans, and ye gods of humanity, the time is ripe for change.

And therefore, [emphasize therefore] the boys and girls have..............
.............swapped sides.
Touche.


*Also, alls well that ends well.

Mwaaaah and hellooo dahlings!

Okay, whirlwind week is over and I am back with a vengeance!

Last week was spent taking part in a blogumentary making competition for NDTV, and boy, did I have fun! :D Made friends with the Jantar Mantar security guard, a Bhelpuri vala, and a flower seller at the Hanuman Mandir flower market [which incidentally, is Asia's largest flower market.Betcha didn't know that.Neither did I.] Also played taash with three guys in a park and hit a six while paying gulli cricket. [Yay! I rule!] Of course, it was the on the seventh attempt, but you're not supposed to know that, are you?

Oh, and I found this.......um..man, who eats grass for a Guinness record, in Central Park! Freaky.He just came up when we were shooting, said he'd been on Aaj Tak, and Zee News, so he should be on NDTV too.Then this other guy came up, shouting, "Main khilaoonga, main khilaoonga!" so we roped them both in for a 10 second scene.And just when we'd finished setting up everything, this crowd had gathered that wanted to be on TV too, so we took THEM also, and by the end of it, we had a nice li'l chaotic scene : Sanya [did I mention? Our team was me and her] saying, "Presenting, GRASS MAAAAN!Ta-daaaa!", a guy stuffing grass into GrassMan's mouth, he eating like a cannibal and the crowd applauding.Oh, and people almost came and asked for autographs! :P

Today was the final, all-important results shoot.[Twas a competition, didn't I say? :o] And well, I'm not saying who won.Just that I was very surprised by the results.And very happy.
There.Didn't say anything, did I? :P

Anyway, so I shall be on national television, and so shall be my flick.1st of December, NDTV MetroNation, 10:30 AM, repeat at 3:00 PM.[I don't even get the channel on my TV!] I look like an arse, I'm wearing pink [@ Prerna], and signed posters go on eBay on 2nd.
Till then, ciao munchkins! :P