Thursday, August 27, 2009
Fincher vs Dixit
David Fincher: people say there are a million ways to take a shot. I say there only two..and only one of them is right.
Mayank Dixit: which one?
the end.chapter closed.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Cab in the rain
It was raining as it only rains in Bombay.i had called for one of those fancy dial-a-cab thingys and was on my way to the airport to pick up my parents who were coming to Bombay for the first time. I gave the cabbie my usual 'take the route with the least traffic' fundas and settled down, plugged into my ipod. It was after a couple of minutes when i realised that the driver was saying something. I thought it would be rude not to give the customary 'hmms' and ironic 'yes'es so i switched off the music player and tried listening to his tirade against BMC and rainy days. Damn i hate talkative drivers.
His monologue continued as i tried to find the appropriate pauses to respond. I dont know when and how it happened, but i found myself transported back to the day when i had first landed in Bombay. It was the sort of a rainy day when flights get cancelled and umbrellas are no good. The driver who was supposed to pick me never showed up. After an hour of waiting i decided to take things in my own hands (i.e i picked up my luggage) and walked up to this guy who was soliciting cab rides. I didnt give a hoot about being ripped off so i dint even ask how much i was supposed to pay. it was when i was in the cab that i was told i'll be paying rs 500 from santacruz to VT and the reality hit me.
'Ripped off' was a cosmic understatement.
I could've made trip(s) from chandigarh to Delhi in that amount. Anyways, i thought i should at least try to reason with the cabbie and make him feel bad about outrageous overpricing and exploiting people in such weather. Being an absolute talent less negotiator, i was going through my 'you should be ashamed' speech in my mind when the driver said 'sir you've been ripped off..should've taken a cab from outside the airport compound'. Silence. End of my speech.
And i babbled something like 'im a student..dont have a place in Bombay..shouldnt have done that'. He said in a sad tone that he's not responsible for it and 350 from the 500 rs will go to the agent standing in the airport compound. Then he went on the explain how the drivers are given an unfair deal and are severely underpaid. He asked me if i have a place to stay in Bombay. I replied in the negative and asked him the same question. He gave me a wry smile and said that its been 5 years in the city and hes still living in an illegal slum colony.
Its funny how all of us in this metropolis are united in homelessness.
I warmed up to him and he kept telling me about the various landmarks which dotted our rather longish journey.
When it was time to leave, he gave me his phone number and said (in english) "call me when need..i come'. I smiled. He told me he's learning english from his daughter as he's joining this cab company where he will pay only a fixed amount to his employers and the rest of the money would be his. Basic english was also mandatory. I said that i'call him surely and said goodbye.
My reverie was broken when the driver announced that we had reached the airport.I tried recollecting the name of the company he was about to join. Im sure it was this cab company only- Meru cabs. I remember thinking at that point of time that the name had sounded a bit funny.
As i was getting out, i asked the driver if he knew a Rakesh in Meru cabs. He asked me which one. I said 'never mind' and walked away.
Maybe the next time.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
letter for slug
dear slug
I was lying on my bed, thinking about the day that had gone by, which seemed suspiciously like yesterday..and tomorrow seemed no different. It was then that a wave of nostalgia swept me off my moorings and images of chilly wintery evenings, spent in the company of good friends started flashing in my mind. Nostalgia would be a wrong word because this never happened. Picture the following montage:
" getting off work..with the excitement of meeting friends..on a chilly night, around a little bonfire.. reminiscing..talking about the mysteries of the universe..eric cartman..abusing..laughing..getting sad..coke with ice..sometimes coffee too..going cycling on rainy days and foggy nights..and the works"
Is it too much to ask for?? or is it kinda like wishing for the eighth harry potter book?
dont tell me " u can get it"..give me a plan of action. :)
in distress and joy
Frisco
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
An undelivered letter..
I found this lying somewhere..
"You make me want to believe in God. You make me feel that everything is so right when im with you, everything seems wrong when im not. You make me believe that every romantic song was written for me. You make me feel nice about having a stubble. You make me want to stop being a kid and become the person who will shield you from all unhappiness. You make me want to take care of you. You make me want to be 26. And then you tell me that age doesnt matter.
You make me want to listen to Fuzon where I would ve listened to Timbaland. You make me steal glances at you when you’re not looking. You make me wish that your house was far far away when I start walking you home. You make me feel like being a better person. You make me wish that you’re thinking about me when we are walking silently. You make me know that its not always the cold which makes me shiver randomly when I think about you. You make me want to say something funny so that I can watch you laugh. You make me want to take a bath before coming to meet you. You make me feel like doing stuff which I shouldn’t do. Like giving you this letter. You make me feel like a superstar when you hold my hand. You make me want to know seven languages so that I can say all I want without your understanding it.
You are. And you make me be.
And all this without even trying."
Hmm..what to say now!
"You make me want to believe in God. You make me feel that everything is so right when im with you, everything seems wrong when im not. You make me believe that every romantic song was written for me. You make me feel nice about having a stubble. You make me want to stop being a kid and become the person who will shield you from all unhappiness. You make me want to take care of you. You make me want to be 26. And then you tell me that age doesnt matter.
You make me want to listen to Fuzon where I would ve listened to Timbaland. You make me steal glances at you when you’re not looking. You make me wish that your house was far far away when I start walking you home. You make me feel like being a better person. You make me wish that you’re thinking about me when we are walking silently. You make me know that its not always the cold which makes me shiver randomly when I think about you. You make me want to say something funny so that I can watch you laugh. You make me want to take a bath before coming to meet you. You make me feel like doing stuff which I shouldn’t do. Like giving you this letter. You make me feel like a superstar when you hold my hand. You make me want to know seven languages so that I can say all I want without your understanding it.
You are. And you make me be.
And all this without even trying."
Hmm..what to say now!
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