Shady R humor. the ancient Dodo style...

humor saves!

...funny comes in all shades, sizes and flavors. i plan in setting up a walk across 'Baskin-Robbins' types shop when it comes to wanting a good laugh (considering that i see no reason why i can't make some money out of it) and i take more than equal pride in my little bunch of dodos displaying similar characteristics. it is never too early to have a funny bone...

Shady R - Before

the first of the new generation of Dodos, Shady R is the nonchalant types; an eclectic force matured over the course of the past 2 years, she has finally begun to display the traits that i have been dying to see in my niece...

a sweet as sugar, made with butter and baked in chocolate darling who walks and talks funny!

...come time she shall be a force to reckon with.

***

a typical example of Shady R humor during family TV moments (only for those initiated in Indian movies)

the SHOLAY setting: the rocky outcrop of the Chambals. the deathly silence shattered by scrapping sound of a belt lined with bullets dragging across the rock and the evil laugh of a bunch of dacoits. Thakur tied up to a beam and Gabbar holding a naked sword in his hands and smirking.

Thakur - Before

Gabbar: yeh haath mujhe de de Thakur!

Thakur: nahi!

Gabbar: YEH HAATH MUJHE DE DE THAKUR!

Shady R: (walking to the TV screen with out-streached hands) "le loh haath!"

***

**update : and now this is what they both look like...

Thakur - After


Shady R - After

***

when the going gets tough & your survival is at risk, the ancient Dodo hath said, say "Squak!"

the storyteller's indulgence and prize...

...i have a bug infecting me.

i am a storyteller. and every good storyteller is always on the look out for another storyteller. and the best place to find them stories is in books.

for as long as i remember, i have had the habit of scavenging and foraging through the dusty and musty piles of papers stacked in old decrepit book shops and "pasti walla's". i love the damp smell of an old book, the pages half eaten by Lepisma saccharina (a.k.a silverfish) despite the terrible vengeance wrecked upon me by my sinuses. for only five minutes spent in such a shop with such books i have to put up with constant sneezing for the next hour or so. still, it is worth the spit and the tickle. cause sometimes you come across such gems...







picked up this old old copy of the Arabian Nights today. i wonder why in the world people get rid off such classics. i love the book and the super fabulous illustrations by A.E. Jackson. this is one prized addition to my collection.

...i am happy! la di la di laaaaa... :)

fellow thief!...

some dreams are like...

a lifetime spent walking in the shoes of someone else.
uncomfortable, unlike the ones you left behind
at some doorstep a long long time ago,
for someone else to find & walk in.

a small gift, maybe perhaps it is
from one thief to another.

to be stolen discreetly
& never returned.
fellow thief
shssh!

...who stole mine? and whose dreams have i stolen?

***

***

some random pictures from my walks around the MSU







i sure am going to miss walking around the MSU campus. after all, life has been kind here.

the lost land of never-more...

for more pictures visit the photoblog

there is a thing about being in an induced transcendental frame of mind. see the colors play riot as the music fuses the nerve endings of the brain cells, numbing some, hyper activating others; as the cornea dilates to the point that the misty opiates are no longer of any particular shade; the intoxication of the mind is completed amidst the chaos that erupts within.

...seems like ages since I've been to the land of the colors. to the timeless expanses of nothingness. the flow of the vital liquid in the body merging with the flow of the violent passions that stir the waters to create ripples that spasm the soul. the rush to go nowhere. be there. for the moment. forever. the vague poesy haunting till it becomes a cheering light. the liberation. the revolution. not for one short hour. neither for a fleeting minute. never to be the elusive second. supposedly the non-existent moment but for the inescapable reality of it's throes...

color me. engulf me. imprison me. illuminate me. shelter me. embrace me.

tonight i set my dreams on fire.

i am but for thee.

*

*

yes, i too romanticize life...

**

***

किसीके कदमों की आहट से

जाने छायी यह क्या मेह्कशि,

हम चल दिए इस माशूक दिल के एक इशारे पर।

धुप से गुज़रते हुए, सन्नाटों के आँचल में लिपटे

शाम ढलते आ पहुंचे आपके मयखाने पर।

***

enthralled by the faint sound of someone's footsteps

wonder what sort of intoxication takes it's hold on me,

i walk onwards, led by the mere indication of this smitten heart,

through the harsh sun, wrapped in the veil of a heavy silence.

come evening i find myself at the doorsteps of your मयखाना (pub/place of intoxication).

the tryst of the nomad...

for more photos visit the photoblog

all night long conversations with old friends...unwrapping the promises of the past 3 years and gift wrapping promises for the coming many. an early morning breakfast at the favorite breakfast joint. one more memory tucked away neatly. from the small fifteen minutes of the boisterous evening at the chai walla to the long hour at the hitherto unknown temple. sitting. staring. playing with those beautiful eyes. listening to the birds. walking back in time.

wandering the by lanes of nostalgia and watching the sights of old, hold on to the last vestiges of the chasm of my memory, fighting for one last remembrance.

a small victory. a faint smile. an old story remembered and retold. of swings and blossoms in the spring to the noisy quailing of the children in the summer heat. the mirth of old laughter arousing new laughter. and then the quaint touch of those delicate hands that reminds that it is time to go. back to the crowd. back to the books. back to the present. back to wherever it is along with her...for the moment.

"the tryst of a nomad
is not with time or distance nor companion.
cause just walking in small steps in any direction
all will lead to someplace new."

virtue never worked for me either...

...but i tried! i really did. and my failure to be virtuous even gave me guilt pangs.

...so instead i choose to forget the basics. :)

"Guilty!" your honor...

PS: Beware! Read and Forget post! (a.k.a situational rant)

***

my dearest friend A said...

"well, i know i was the one who always shared and told you everything. you never shared anything about yourself"

...one of the accusations most often levied on my unabashedly laconic soul is the one above. i have been charged, tried and proven guilty and punished also many-a-times for this crime. but i am unrepentant.

its like reading a book. you flip through the pages, read the words. look up the meaning of the ones you do not know in the dictionary. you carry on and eventually you finish the book. you understand what was written in the pages. sometimes you take the help of others, scholars, who explain to you what the words mean. cause sometimes words can have two meanings, or even more. you can Google it up as well. but the one thing that you can't do is to read the thoughts of the writer. you can't feel the exact same emotion that the writer undergoes while penning down the words. what the writer is thinking...no, that is the sacred domain of the writer. similarly, my innermost thoughts are my own.

...i am an extrovert. i am a traveler. i am a talker. i am a listener. i am a storyteller. i am a friend. i am a best friend. i am a brother. i am a son. i am the cat's daddy. i am a teacher. i am a student. i am a stranger. i am an acquaintance. i am a beer-buddy. i am a partner-in-crime. i am the one you love. i am the one you hate. i am a lot of things. and i never deny any of them. i always leave behind a trail of words for you to read. juicy tidbits if you may...

but what are my innermost thoughts about myself are only for me to figure out and know. you should know that your not knowing who i am is not going to change my relation or my response to you. it is my choice to remain aloof. you are free to try and decipher me, figure me out, understand me or simply judge me if you must. i most definitely won't talk about myself and indulge you, there are enough people in this world to do that for you. accusing me of not sharing my thoughts and 'opening up' is not going to get anyone anywhere. all you shall ever get is a smile. and then one more story of what happened one day...


...so anyone want to hear a fun story? it's a good one i tell ya!

:)

***

PPS: all right! rant over. now if you want the honest truth; its simply that to me you are more interesting & hence I'd rather talk about you. so go figure!

so when am i going to post again???...

for more pics go to the photoblog

...any answers to this question folks? cause i seem to be doing a terrible job when it comes to looking for 'the' answer...

:|