zombie ramblings..

Imagine when a rocket shoots straight into the sky and suddenly runs out of fuel, it suspends mid air waits facing upwards for few seconds, anticipating the next move and baam you are speeding towards concrete jungle leaving a fire trail crashing through empty building, smashing zombies, setting fire to zombie clubs..which had zombies doing zombie moves with zombie music with zombie beats. And then, the rocket door opens with zombie astronauts come out with half burnt bodies gnawing at their suits having no idea that minutes before they were at the peak of their lives.

Hence inferred,  I am in a very dark mood, as opposed to my rainbows and ballet doing zombies with cute pink frocks. Why the rants about zombies? cause i haven't seen the recent walking dead scenes and have been avoiding twd spoilers which are sprayed all over the net. (and also i dont need the excuse for my zombie drooling). For people who really want to know the reason behind my dark mood and also if they could find any analogy between my rocket suspending and zombie dancing you would know that I am talking about the relativity between happiness and time speed ( i know you would have seen it!)

There are times when you feel it's a dream and you wake up to someother world. mostly you feel so when things are going too good or too bad in which case you would just hope you wake up in a less worse place than you are. You did have a walk holding hands and wonder if it's real, Laugh at some stupid joke and wonder if the time would come back again. The constant questioning of reality. The answer to which just seems vague. When you start feeling dizzy with these speculations you just take a sigh and go with the flow. You come out from the speculative sphere and for that moment which was standstill, that moment when you were admiring the world, the people, the feeling, is the moment when the rocket stands stills till you come out of it and crash into the "reality" if you believe so and crash into the rawness and messy lives of zombies. Cause when you are a zombie you don't question you let the disease control you.

We needn't be the bloody, gory, limb missing, bad hair day zombies. The absence of spark is what a zombie truly is. WELOME TO THE ZOMBIE WORLD!

    In celebration of being zombies.. 

notes from seas apart

I am finally here! Can you (random)guys believe it! (pretending i have regular viewers) all the slogging and tantrums and mood swinging to moon and back, the sweat drenching anxiety ridden long wait has finally FINALLY bought me away from home. Just not away, but seven seas, 13,568 km, 10 hours away!! It just doesn't set into me. Every morning i wake up and see it's 11 and wonder how come my door hasn't been broken down yet by my early to rise parents, i just groan at the time and stuff my head back into the pillow. You do realise while reading this basket of jumbled sentences i have finally set my foot out, out from my loving over protective very happening bengali family, from the city of dreams and love to some place strange and wonderful and adventurous.
I am over romanticizing. You are hit by the ruthless and demanding nature of grocery shopping, the attention seeking laundry and the requirements of doing the dishes. You get the picture right?
But alls not that dull and dutiful. There is the amazing weather if you like -20s! And dazzling white-white skins if you are a racist. And a loving (south) indian community who seem to think telugu is the language of prime importance. So yeah, I am in paradise. It's like someone just cleaned your dirty specs. It's like you were living in a room where you could see brownian motion and someone just switched on the vaccum cleaner and the air was clean. (i know horrible joke) 
I am home sick and euphoric at the same moment, most of the times. It's so surreal that i feel its inception. My nightmare being I have picked up their lethal drawl. Next to the aussie's rotten accent I think American drawl tops the list. Cross your fingers that I don't pick up with the top 3 disgusting accents which includes overdone american- indian (NRI wannabes) accent.
I thought i should fill in with tit bits of life. I had the most filmy farewells(truly), the most teary goodbyes (yeah right!) and the un-happening flight (other than when i was expecting breakfast they give you lunch!) 
The only reason why i suddenly got time to write this rambling done is cause i seem to find time when i am always short of time. Amazingly me! I amaze me man! chalo I hope to catch up with you soon my ""imaginary"" "regular" readers. No I don't think i am some psychic kid having imaginary friends, atleast i hope not! :/ 

There is no right or wrong, just consequences...

Kolkata footnotes :the probashi feels:

DISCLAIMER: The following content doesn’t describe the best places to eat or any tourism related content. I might write something about digestery (no such word) adventures.

On my last day of my unplanned extended so called vacation i finally sit to write something down after a heavy push from my high inertial self (surprisingly!). To begin with “Kolkata Footnotes” the term footnotes came into my mind for the want of less clinched and less bollywoody wanna be hollywoody use(hint: Dairies, no end to those!) “footnotes” has a simple explanation. We have been famously known as paye chaka deva (translation: wheels on feet) as far as my memory goes, i have been travelling to a new place almost every year since i was a few months. Each place is a sub chapter and Kolkata is footnote seen every now and then.

My stays in Kolkata have usually been short(very short according to dimu, no one can satiate her in terms of staying back at kol). Every visit is first welcomed with a short illness of some kind followed by irritated dad running around with a topping of fussy mom. A fast recovery of a day or two and then starts the relative visiting ritual. A probaashi bangali (NRB- non returning bong) or not, relative citation is a must. My visits are usually strenuous and tedious on the stomach muscles. Every relative one meets one has to devour a series of mishtis(Sweets) with a side plate of bengali samosas, beguni, neemki, teele bhaja, fish fry, mutton cutlet, kochuri, moglayi (drools). Even though while listing down my mouth waters, but when you have been made to sit through all this with minimum of four sweets, and have to go atleast three more houses and been offered food fit for a regiment and assumed to have an appetite as that of descendants of “kumbhakaran”, even a fist full of gelucil and digen won’t come to your rescue. Apart from the usual relative stuff, of whom she looks like and how small you had been there is nothing more to list down.

Coming to the city, i find Kolkata a small bundled up city, more like an ant colony seen at cross section (might be my Mumbai perspective). The city is dominated by narrow lanes and often will make you feel an outsider for the lack of knowledge of its lanes. The air of past hangs heavily over it. This time the whiff of nostalgia settled on me and i took to rampaging of old photos and dusty junk. Finding black and white photos, age stained photos, photos of high end parties, of gentlemen in suit and horn-rimmed glasses with whiskey and cigars, of ladies with elegant silk sarees and highbuns. I even found records of abba and boneym of old hindi songs and some Bengali too! Oh! How i wished i had a gramophone! The city i have always imagined with horse carts and vintage cars. People with suits and gowns with their little fragile umbrellas, people drinking tea with their little finger sticking out. What contributes more to the heavy air of nostalgia is the still existing trams, and hand rickshaws even cycle rickshaws.

Every street will have a tale of your grandparents or parents telling how they ate at that place or shopped on that corner. For me Kolkata is a city of tales, i relate places of this city with tales of others. When i was small people thought it amusing to ask me which city i like most, Mumbai or Calcutta.. even then i was more diplomatic than my age and i would sweetly answer both. But if you ask me truly i would ask you back, would you question whom you love more your biological mother, or the one that raised you?