Mission Early-To-Rise Kicks Off With Visit to Chaturshringi

Having fallen into the rut of office life, my mornings here in Pune have long been progressively delaying their start time. Mostly it’s a late night (and occasionally the it’s-a-weekend-after-all excuse) to be blamed, but the outcome boils down to how I can no longer boast of getting up at five and being done with my toilette before anyone else can rise.

I owe it to my colleague Pankaj for bringing me to analysis point. Like the perfect athlete, he is up by six and done with a good round of exercise before coming to office. Now I am not really big about the exercise issue (a long, brisk walk in the evenings is my current regime) but I have several interesting ideas for pre-office morning time and no, spending more time on choosing an outfit doesn’t top the list. (I would be lie-ing if I said it doesn’t feature) Anyway the point is that I have started with the rectification today onwards and hope to pursue it well. Thank you Pankaj!

So here was how Day 1 went:

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Celebrating Republic Day in Style: An “Aga Khan Palace” Picture Journey

Pinky walked in through Aga Khan Palace’s large, castle-like gate, holding on excitedly to her Mamma’s hand. Dadi couldn’t come because she was away in Delhi but Pinky had called her up that morning.

Aga Khan Entry Gates

“We are going to Aga Khan Palace dadi! A real palace can you believe!”

“Oh my.” Dadi had been excited too. “I am sure it will be great. Remember to thank Aga Khan IV dear for it is he who gifted the palace to Gandhiji.”

“Sure dadi. Wish you could have come too!” she said before disconnecting the call.

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A morning @ Dhobi Ghat and I decided I do my laundry better

Disclaimer: I agree with anyone who feels I may not be a part of the intended ‘target’ audience. (But I was audience all the same) 😀

Munna’s (Prateik Babbar) quite the dhobi: biceps speaking of years spent splashing clothes on the rocks, tees kept away exclusively for a night at the movies (I pity the ones who lost money to Yuvraaj by the way) and celluloid dreams setting sail every night in his home near the railway station. By the by, I don’t get how it is always Munna the dhobi is called. Our dhobi back in Delhi is called the same. It is another story that he is a true-blue inspiration of sorts: the guy’s brilliant at art and is now excelling in the subject at his college in Delhi University. His Dad’s efforts have paid off indeed and I am sure it isn’t long before courtesy him his family can do away with the dhobi job for good. But I digress.

So Munna is having a good time washing clothes during the day and becoming mice killer by night.

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A Tete Tete with the Happy Luncher…

The sky is a deep, dark blue. There isn’t a cloud to be seen. On-the-run lunchers in ICC’s Level 9 cafeteria are trying their best to relish poorly cooked vegetable thalis and pau bhajis. (and some are regretting their decision of trying new-to-the-menu: Maggi Noodles) We are out in the sun, walking toward Art Beat.

“A regular walk in the sun oh my. You must hate the food up there!”

Since I am not paid to be polite, I have no qualms in admitting I d-e-t-e-s-t Level 9! They serve water and call it curd, mix up yesterday’s leftovers and decorate the menu with a hideous aloo-chole-paneer. (ever heard of such a dish by-the-by?)

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Affection Overdose: A flat flat-coming welcome by the lady of the land

I arrived in Pune this weekend after an extended stay at home. With my trolley at one side and purse in hand, I barely managed to crash the gate open. There sat my landlady, swinging on her newly acquired jhoola. What followed was an oh so homely chit chat. With due respect, I appreciate the warm welcome. To all those claimers of apathetic landowners, this should be a look at the brighter side of things:

What took you so long my girl?
It’s been a month I can bet.
(Had you paid not in advance,
I’d have got new tenants to let)

You said your Mom was sick,
How does the dear lady do?
(I wonder if she paid me less,
The last she came to meet you)

Oh so surgery’s done you say,
Now isn’t that nice and neat?
(How much longer need I stand?
Or maybe I should offer a seat)

You sure don’t need a sweater?
Pune’s in quite a cold wave.
(The lesser your clothes dirty,
the more water I stand to save)

I’m glad the flight was on time.
How fatigued you’d be if late!
(I am done walking you know,
and at ten I shut the gate)

Oh pick up your mail some time,
It’s been piling up into a lump.
(It better crowd your office though,
My place ain’t a rubbish dump)

I’ll take your leave then for now,
Better unpack your bags my dear.
(And I finally succeed in escape,
The scene’s been a pain in the rear!)

Thank you, I mumbled as I walked up the stairs. Welcome home.

‘Turning 30’ odd arguments into a long verbal battle…

Naina (Gul Panag) just turned 30 a weekend ago. Her friends threw her this grand surprise party: new red dress, cake, champagne the works. Her ex boyfriend from college (Purab Kohli) dropped by too and you know, our Naina can’t really be blamed for going on the much hyped ‘rebound’. It’s called the break up therapy didn’t I hear: a romp in the bed with an ex flame and your break up reeling gets a punctuation. Chick flick yes, but nothing to write home about. The charm was conspicuous by its absence, the plot thinning out with every passing reel.  I wonder then, what was it about this latest Prakash Jha flick that made a battlefield out of my anticipated lazy Sunday morning? Revising here the crux of the debate, I hope to get some insight:

SPOILER ALERT: (You may not want to read on if you haven’t seen the movie yet but then, didn’t we all know the plot already?)

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The Delhi Fog

She’s an early riser, the Delhi fog –
dousing the sun with a sleeping pill.
Her arms long come crawling to me,
as watching I sit by the window sill.

She paints the lane a canvas grey,
the shivering bush shadowy turns.
Watchmen huddle in misty groups,
warming their hands as a fire burns.

Into the quilt she creeps in untold,
the pillow bathes in dewy smoke.
To the door she lends a playful kick,
the forgotten clothes in velvet soak.

And then it arrives – a random streak,
of the grand sun now up and about.
The drug used up and slumber flown,
he brims with sublime fury and doubt.

She packs her bags – the velvet stuffed,
her wet hair up in a tight, hurried bun.
Flees away she does from human sight,
as the sky glimmers with the winter sun.

Delhi Winter

Picture Courtesy: www.travelindia-guide.com

What’s the mystery behind my Pune flat being Cat-Less?

House Cats

At home in Delhi these days, I can’t help but appreciate the warmth the house cats bring with them. We have around five of these, all belonging to a single extended family. Presently nibbling at Ma’s delicious fish fry are a mother and son and a foster son. The latter’s mother is on exile somewhere (and I can’t be sure she hasn’t eloped with the rather good-looking grey cat I had seen eying her when I was home last) That’s not to pile dirt on our darling kitty family. All the members are playful, kindly and in possession of huge appetites.

Strangely enough, my flat in Pune is devoid of any member of the animal kingdom.

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