Right, so I am on antibiotics now, and after just a day's worth of medicines, I feel much better. Almost okay, that it. Come back to the world and all that. My hair is all matted and curly from not having been washed for days and only now do I remember that mashi had asked me to take a sponge bath today.
There'e still the occasional tummy ache and I still don't feel like eating anything at all, but it's nothing at all like the past few days. I was wondering why I was so intent on starving myself then. When u're sick, you long for some special care at home. Yet, far as I am concerned, illness is a double price you have to pay. So, out of the pure desire to save your own skin, in my house, one had better not fall sick. Cuz you'll have to look out for yourself. And if you aren't in a position to do that, you're gonna get sicker and sicker like I was getting till dadu and mashi intervened.
One of those days, I woke up and there was this massive cold sweating session. I was completely drenched in sweat and had an awful, uncomfortable belly ache that just kept on coming in spasms and all you could do was just pray God please put an end to this. Which He did, pretty soon.
I think it was also in a way, a fallout of all the aniyom I had been doing over the last month with Express. Somewhere you have to pay. But I so hate the absolutely tasteless food at home. Coupled with all things else, there was Michael K. I would be having those cold sweats and wonder whether I was becoming like K too, cursing myself for having read that book.
And then, I am still in two minds regarding my metier. It's true you can do well in anything, and you had better since it's a question of survival. But I would dream about a quiet life somewhere far away, within some distant community, away from here. May be it'll happen some day. May be I'll have my quiet life some day.

My back aches like anything. I really feel like a poor girl today. The thing is, ya know, I have fever. Probably the result of translsting too much French commercial jargon. Did you know that 'vignette'is explained as 'tax disc' in Larousse? I don't know what it means, in French or English, and have used it, like, twenty times.
I am reading Coetzee's 'Life and Times of Michael K' and like it very much indeed. Trouble is, I have not had much in the day and that's not a good idea if u have a cold (mild), fever(fairly hot forehead), sore back, sore throat (okay, that;s just very little). But the back, the bloody back. I am just 23, why should one have back aches at 23? I was remembering baba a lot today, y'know, that it all began with a tickle down the spine. I don't think dying is a good idea now, even if it might cause me to be united with my father again. I thought about it. Death, even with promise of baba, is not nice. And I can't really believe, even when I try, that I'll meet him again.
You kind of, like, go on, you know, shut out things and live. And at some point, you won't have to shut them out either. You can remember even the most frightening things and be serene. Michael K is a lot about all this. And it soothes so much, Coetzee's simplicity, and the love with which he writes.
That's enough for the day, I'd think.

Friend came up with the following er, request:

"do, do make me a paper hare.
but should that be too difficult, a goose will do."

The quirks of the human species. Sigh

Iam a poor girl. I no longer go to JU.
Presently it is making me feel really teary. I try to think that I am forging a life for myself just like I always wanted, that I am reading books (atleast that isn't being taken away), and I am going to be in the world of letters if not directly associated with University.
Things people feel when JU gets truncated out of their lives. A took up an online poetry membership while at IMI,Delhi to be close to literature. I am coming up with these platitudes.
And I am already forgetting stuff I learnt, the wways of looking at texts which 'so loved. I am just gonna be a dumb 'galper boi portey bhalo lagey' type from now on.
'Course it is also a case of the grass is always greener on the other side. Yet ...

ghochat

friend posted at www.arcche.blogspot.com:

"adventures in quadruplicate. and the triplicate certainly knows.
u see, it is not only that things get done, but that they really do get done, and i have very lovely people around me. leaves me feeling rather good."

In the worst possible way of putting it,
'licking the chops of memory' we are.

Couldn't resist showing off my profound lnowledge of Robert Louis Stevenson.

Have to write article now. Hell waiting to break loose on many fronts.
Serves right for reading 4 Mills and Boon trash

All you need is love...

I have read four Mills and Boon thingies and feel positively yucky. Good side: hints at probability of a time when won't be able to stand the sight of them. In fact, pretty close.
I will never be able to make a coherent story-like post, so here's the fact in a nutshell:

Us 4 had great fun at A's place on the fourteenth. We ate (seems like the best part to me), chatted and watched Friends. I think the possibility of a job brings out the wackiest aspects of me most uninhibitedly.
(I do realise that what i term wacky has a chance of being interpreted as pure pain-in-the-ass by the threesome. But I really liked me that way myself, so whooya cares..
15th August too was so beautiful, man.
I don't mean that all my latent patriotism burst through yesterday. Rather that it was a beautiful day, a lovely day for a holiday (that's what it is), and it THEREFORE seemed a perfect day to remember that c'etait le jour de la liberte.
See, it's the way you shape a day in your mind. I remember, say, Janmashtami, and it creates no impressions in my mind.
15th August's another matter.
I guess it's just that I have nice memories.

Till the end of the fourth standard, I used to live at Rohini. If u've noticed the tall building just as you come off the incline of V.I.P. Road at the beginning of Ultadanga, that's a part of Rohini Complex, where we lived for 3 years till we came to stay at our own flat. It was the only place where I had a kind of normal-ish childhood. Ran around with a pile of friends, played the usual assortment of 'lukochuri' and 'kumirdanga', had wild fun during Holi, sat through lovely summer evenings during vacations with nary a care. It was a very communal thing at Rohini, and Independance Day meant flag hoisting (we had a pedestal kind of thing rounded in by interconnected chains where u could sit if you were less than four feet tall, and swing if you were shorter). Kids all turned out in white and there were sports activities. And the thing I remember especially that one year was this race where you had to run/walk with a spoon in your mouth which had a marble placed on it. Yours truly was as usual too shy/scared/ feeling the outsider, to participate. Anyway, that year, this girl who always used to be kinda the outcast among the gang of grown ups won and I remember she held the stem of the spoon inside her mouth almost to the end of it, and I thought it was so clever. It had been a balmy day just like yesterday morning. And I didn't realise until now that that day had become a happy memory in my mind.
Yesterday at A's place was also so lovely.
Her window faces the phallic building at Southern Avenue. There was this lilting breeze blowing and a sari strung outside one of the balconies of phallic build. was dancing away in this absolutely gay, liberating abandon in the breeze. Just now, it reminds me of American Beauty, where the kid (Wes Bentley, I mean) plays out a video of a plastic bag flying endlessly in the breeze with the autumn leaves swirling around in its wake.
Kailsh Kher's 'deewani' has the same lilting rhythm to it, you know --that things are happening and there's this incredible beauty and you are swept along in its wake and there's nothing to be done about it really save fitting yourself to the rhythm of events. Life is so beautiful.

And somewhere, Baba perhaps is watching me.

I am bored online. No, it's not a joke, just a filler post or something. I have an extremely productive life waiting for me to go and enjoy. Yet I have been online for about half an hour and I am bored.
My new template bores me, the idea of tommorow bores me, and somewhere I am afraid of something and I can't even remember what it is.
I think I am afraid of not having visitors here. I hate writing into vacuum. I am a sucker for attention. I am an attentionomaniac. And I am also really quite young, not so sober that it does not matter to me whether the world looks at me or not. Ideally, I would like to engineer situations such that they censure me very very much indeed, only so I can say "As if I care".
I am really really bored. Um UM unm um umumumumum....................


I think I shall not come here in a really long time.
I also think I severely lack imagination.
I am not blindingly funny.
I do not make for really severe tragedy.
I don't think I pass off very well as an unconventional person.
I think I am thoroughgoingly normal.
And I am mad in a not-so-good way. The kind that makes people really worry about you.

tumdidum
LA-LA-DI-DA....

Oooh, I do love my new template. The blog's, I mean. Feel astounded by own ingenuousness in choosing it. Feel like drooling over it all the time I am online. Ooooh!

You think you could tell...

I meant to crow with relief : je travaille, je travaille and all that. But a friend called. He's this good guy, but he's going through a phase right now. Things haven't yet fallen in place with him as yet. He spoke to the teachers about things in general, but, well, what I am trying to say is, ... God please make things fall in place with him. He's a good guy, and those are rare as it is. He IS rather not so well off. I wish he brings himself back into the groove. No one else can, ever. How can I put it through that it's only he who can do that, not a third person who'll come along and put it right, and also that while one does have time, it's not an eternity. That work, indeed mindless labour can be an antidote to feeling bad about things. If you didn't have the time to think, you wouldn't be feeling bad about yourself.
ei ar ki. Also about the trekking front. Is it possible to engineer a fifteen day holiday less than a month into work. That would indeed be a personal coup. I read a nice blog later in the afternoon today. The guy had gone trekking. It takes you to the other more vital way of looking at things. My friend would say, it's the only way. But I so often forget, what I want, how I want it to be. I look at these people and get this bolt out of the blue everytime: how could I have forgotten. Can one really believe: I forget I know how to get a high?
I think I've named my blog really well..

And to this friend of mine, I wish for you to be good to yourself. Cuz I don't believe you are ill in any way at all. As the friend says, you choose to be not ill.

heggg..

My blog looks absolutely absurd. I feel like I've abandoned a baby and adopted one. I feel absolutely perverse. Indulging my perversion for a protracted period. May be I'll change it back. May be I won't ever get time to look at it again, sso I am having fun while I can. I have read about three utterly depressing blogs, and feel utterly depressed. I am gong to go check out some blogs I like. I think Jadavpur always makes more sense than the rest of the world. In most respects.
There was one blog where the guy is crazy about English August and keeps conning lined off some book whose name I can't remember. This chappie cogs stray pieces off known people. Have you read Adrian Mole?--his compositions? This sounds exactly like that. I feel really pissed. And I was in such a good mood too. Having read Utz and J. D. Salinger and all.
And now I am writing for something I don't even recognise as my own...

I am sulking majorly. Only 71 people have visited my blog so far. and i've been blogging since June. And on dial up. And I post regularly. And I have measly memory. And can't post links. People have been told about this repeatedly and all they have done is tell me about certain mythic chains which refuse to make an appearance on my comp. Have you ever heard of blogging from a cyber cafe? I refuse to stoop to such low-brow addiction.

Its very sad je anarosh khelei jibhe allergy hoy. Especially since I like it so much

I want to have a fish fry and milk.
My mum has left a glass of the latter. Kintu fish fry kothay pai?

Grrrrr

If anybody can help me on this, I will be eternally grateful. (Atleast for a while)

I can't post links to my blog.
I have Windows 98 and measly amounts of memory.
I am also working on Dial Up

JUST SOMEONE BLOODY TELL ME HOW TO POST A LINK.
and i have tried the Help thingy on Blogspot. Doesen't work.
Reason i am especially irritated: there's this great post on Bangalis at http://insearchofthrills.blogspot.com/2005/12/bong-mind-at-work-no-excuses-for-not.html (atleast i hope this will serve as a rudimentary navigator)but i can't link it.

I am mighty pissed.

I also think I am very bad at writing the English language. I am feeling very sorry about that too. (I think there are two errors in the last two lines, one an instance of bad usage if not wrong grammar)

I slept from about 6 in the eve. to about 10:30 today. Would have gone on sleeping if the friend hadn't called up. I am utterly disgusted with myself. And all cause I was too lazy to ask ma if she'd make me some tea, please. Should mention in this regard that she came back from walk really pissed that ami filter e jal bhorini. So was kinda scared to ask. Then out of laziness, kept on sleeping, till it got to be that doomed hour when you can't call up anymore cuz it's way past the decent limits. Sometimes i wonder when my friends get homes of their own, what reason they'll proffer for asking me to keep to mythical hours when calling. Will they act as their own guardians then?

I am almost at the end of A Clockwork Orange. It's always the same, innit? Somewhere with all of your vitality, you still get screwed.
Remembering Rumblefish, Sleepers, Huckleberry Finn....

khnyak khnyak khnyak

Friend of mine scrapped another:

ami bhabchhie kono bhuri wala bangali chap k beeye korey baby make korbo...then one day when i am a little sick of all that i will run away to mayapur and become iskcon.

hmm

war movies

I have watched and enjoyed Catch 22 greatly. I think the guy who plays Yossarian does it very well, Dodds's good, so's Milo, the girl Yossarian falls for, chaplain great too, and Y's roomie just as good as imagined him to be, even better if that's possible. Of course you're making it from a book, so u do pick and choose, but all that's done so well. I think I like Mike Nicholls.Glad of the friend too to've passed it on.

Just think of another adaptation from a book, they make different kinds of hash out of every instalment of Harry Potter. Though admit that's a different game altogether. But the way this movie catches the flavour of the book is really good. And possibly there's also something to do with the fact of having lived through a war yourself. Not necessarily talking of participating in it. Think Oliver Stone's Platoon, for instance. Then again you'll wonder what possessed the director and the cast in the Guns of Navarone. How can a man strut like THAT throughout a film? You'd think Gregory Peck's arse would ache..And to climb a rock face like THAT- and then to suddenly let go of your hold out of the blue and to pretend that your hand slipped..Seriously, you'd wonder if they'd thought their audience to be retarded. Aar boi pore ki keu jante parto Andreas je sharakkhon without reason danth khichoy. I'd thought he was this beautiful man who called Mallory 'my Keith'. There's something about male camaraderie that is so unattaningly beautiful..
Then their's The Rainbow and The Rose by Nevil Shute(?) Haven't met anyone who's read it. When I was in 1st or may be 2nd year, there was this selection of Shute at Landmark saying that he was being reprinted after so-many years (splendidly vague that). I read it in school. Loved it very much indeed, the magic dream-like quality, of Johnny Pascoe, Robert something, of Tasmania, memories of the war, and of love..
Books...

But God how smug I sound passing judgement on people.
And by the way, Martin Sheen (in Catch 22) looked every bit as delicious when he was young as Charlie Sheen did. That's the son, by the way. Who, for ignoramuses comme mon amie, was also there in Platoon. Martin Sheen was also there in Apocalypse Now Redux, which, sadly, I haven't watched. He has a more important role there, I believe.

don't know where i'm going dont know where i'll be

I love the smell of cigarette smoke wafting up to my room from the house below, music in my head and the night a-glimmer outside, and me here writing (on dial up, if I may say)
sidling your fingers across the keyboard, riot of thoughts racing through head.
At peace with self if not with the world.
the happiness of having expressed a thought perfectly in words. The exquisiteness of perfect crafting, ah.

my baby,Themoon, this..

...play on

I am listening to an odd assortment of songs my student gave me. He got it from a friend who seemingly went berserk with the songs he had in hand. So I have a collection that has one track of Bob Marley (Buffalo Soldier: je l'aime), Hotel California, 1 Aerosmith, Ozzy Osbourne, Avril Lavigne, Limp Bizkit and Metallica, Evanescence, something called l'il Kim (i think) etc etc. I think one gets the general picture.

And oh, I am so glad. I just found out that Blogspot wasn't just swallowing up my posts- something I was attributing to the ban thing. It was only being carefully archived, I am happy to say.

akhon More Than Words play korchhe

where to...

pirates of the caribbean, johnny depp
peter pan
huckleberry finn
tom sawyer. why not

lovely day

Having to access through another domain again. Seriously, you'd wish people would grow up.
What hap. in life since last post?
Pirates of the Caribbean, all four of us
brother's (cousin's, to be technically correct) marriage
reading Peter Pan
buying Orhan Pamuk for brother (salivating over books at Landmark, thinking longingly about potential employment)

office er pa maraini for two days.

That's what.

Ain't life JUST great?

Wondering, whether should go ahead and write explicitly about each.

A sentence, I think.

Johnny Depp is unspeakably sexy.
today was the day of brother's marriage when the wife comes to her new home for the first time. Having been the only one among the cousins to've known her when he hadn't spoken about her to the family, I felt rather privileged for a while. She's as nice as she had seemed that day. And again, I was kinda surprised when I saw how nice they were with each other. Not cynical, not jaded. And how kind my brother was with people. Y'know, kind, just humane. I thought he'd changed over the last few years. I still think he has. Yet he was so nice today. And I LOVED it in the end.
He's the first of the next lot to get married. Thakuma saw her grandson getting married. Quite something.
We do bicker in quite disgusting ways that I don't care for, us relatives, I mean. But sometimes it all turns out right. This time, I think it was for the obvious happiness of the people concerned.
Though I wouldn't care for all of that myself. The rituals, I mean. But then, as the friend says, you never quite khow what may happen. I don't mean that like a bolt from the blue I'll develop this unfathomable love for the traditional way of getting married, but that I might come around it in ways I never thought I would.

I am quite elated with the day.