Commuting by public transport in London can be quite a sport. No, no, not the adventorous kind, but the "watching a boxing match on TV" kind of sport!
When commuting an excruciating long journey to and fro work, Londoners can only do the following few things.
A) Pretend to be utterly engrossed in your book/ newspaper
B) Listen to your iPod etc and have a complete blank look on your face
c) Sleep

I on the other hand am the rude commuter who stares at people nearby, making up stories about their lives. Being observant is one of the things that make me a journalist! And hey, it's a good way to pass time.

On my way to work today I saw a BLINGTARD. (definition: Blingtard- someone who goes OTT with BLING BLING!) I was amazed to see this botoxed woman and being me I started bitching about her clothes in my head. She had so much of bling on, I needed sunglasses to sheild my poor eyes! Gold chains, diamond rings on all fingers, bracelets, studded blingy bag, fur coat, and those darn Faith black boots with studs and diamonds and every shite thing possible!

I'm not bitch and I'm totally into each to their own. Everyone has a right to wear what they want. But never in my life had I thought I would ever see a Real Life BLINGTARD. I wish I had a camera, it was indeed a Kodak moment!

I looked at her, then I looked at me. She stared me down. My badly straightened hair, my chipped red nail varnish, my face looking like someone's punched me. Oh god ! I looked like a complete TART !

Sheesh...what's better a TART or a BLINGTARD? To justify myself, I can only say that it was wahaaayyy too early in the morning for me and I just recently recovered from fever! Meh, even with all that I didn't look like a Blingtard....nyah nyah nyaaa

Also, it looked like Blingtard had colour her blonde hair with a very mean shade of pink, the work of a crack addict I must say.

Eh, maybe she just wanted to be a strawberry blonde. ;)

xxxxxxxx

Happiness for sale!

I have made a decision today. The decision, the oh very important decision is to write HAPPY blogs. Why? Well because I have been told the following in regards to my bloggie:

a) I can't read your blogs because they are too depressing
b) Write a happy blog, depressing blogs don't suit you

Now, let me clear this first and foremost. Although through my bloggie I come across as the depressed emo kid who listens to sad sad sad music all alone in her room, away from the world and who likes to cut her wrist for fun, I am far from that!

Yes, I have the occassional bouts of depression and yes, I do love my company A LOT. But I think cutting wrists is where I draw the line! I don't think that would be a good look for me. ;)




I don't really care to dwell on the fact who I am, but these comments made me feel bad about the emo in me. It also made me dwell on the fact that, I do write happy blogs (see Wanted! Girl!, I like semi Naked Spartans, Daniel Craig, and the general oh I'm happy today posts!!!!). Now that it has been established that I'm not an emo, I'm going to write CHEEK STRETCHING SMILEY, JAW ACHINGLY HAPPY BLOG POSTS!

I don't know how I'm going to go about it but I shall do it just for YOU, so that YOU, Mr. Schitt can read my bloggie :)

Oh cmon who am I kidding? I'm never going to document happy moments coz I'd be out celebrating them silly ! But I'll try none the less ;)

xxxxxxxx

*sigh*

I'm terribly depressed today. It's of those days where everything seems like a cold shade of blue and grey!

Nothing can cheer me up. Unless it's a nice tapenyaki meal at Pan Asian, but I don't think that is going to happen.

I know why I'm so sad. I'm going back to London next week and one part of me is breaking into the tiniest and painful pieces. This is not to say that I don't consider London as my home. London is a place where I'm truly me, the fun, wacko, weird, often childish but overtly aware me. But here, in India, is where I am happy.

I've had a gazillion happy memories in London and I love my independence there, yet I feel so empty and clueless without the noisy Indian lifestyle of mine.

I miss the overcrowded streets, I miss the unbearable heat, I miss the language, I miss the comforts, I miss the chattery friends, I miss the gossip, I miss being lazy, I miss food, I miss the pollution, I miss the few greenery, I miss fighting with cab drivers and bargaining in shops. I miss how if you call a policeman or a ticket collector in my home town, "Bhaiya, paise nahin hain, jaane do na" and you smile sweetly they'll let you off the hook. I miss the ungodly breakfast times, I miss hugs, I miss lying on my mom's lap and forgetting all the worlds worries. I miss how someone is always there for you. I miss family the most. I miss watching stupid Hindi TV with family. I miss the goddamned Bollywood songs that the radios won't stop playing. I miss the witty adverts. I miss a made bed every night. I miss being pampered. I miss that even a small bruise can be a matter of much concern. I miss that plans are made at a whim. I miss unneccesary small talks. I miss the heated debates on politics, I miss people's views on India's future. I miss HOME ! a LOT ! and I will probably never accept this when I'm back in London, but I miss everything about my city, my country. The passionate people, the rowdy people, the know-it-all people, the lazy people, the proud people, the traditional people.

Every single thing about me is from my country. I am proud to be who I am today, if nothing else, I am proud to be Indian. Everytime someone mentions my country, I swell with pride. When the sub-editor at Metro kept telling me about Yuraj Singh's sixers in the match against South Africa, I wanted to stop working and watch the match with my friends and family. When Vijay Mallaya decided to name his new F1 team Force India, I was gloating. Heck, when someone even talks about going to an Indian restaurant I am the expertise choosing the right meal. I argue fiercely about Indian women's sexiness. I quote examples of Indians who've made it big.

I love my country, I love my home.

xxxxxx

IF MY LIFE WERE A FILM, THIS WOULD BE THE SOUNDTRACK!

So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend your cool...


Opening Credits:
Rape Me- Nirvana!

Waking Up:
No Woman No Cry - Bob Marley

First Day of School:
We'll live and die in these towns- The Enemy

Falling in Love:
Because I got High- Afroman

Fight Song:
She Hates Me- Puddle of Mud

Break up Song:
Check up on it- Beyonce

Prom:
Baby Boy- Beyonce ft. Sean Paul

Life:
Teddy Picker- Arctic Monkeys

Driving:
Suburban Knights- Hard-Fi

Flashback:
Foundations- Kate Nash

Wedding:
Same Jeans- The View

Birth of a Child:
Hey there Delilah- Plain White Ts

Final Battle:
Fuck it(I don't want you back)- Eamon

Death Scene:
Stars in their Eyes- Just Jack

Funeral Song:
Chasing Pavements- Adele

End Credits:
Chasing Cars- Snow Patrol

So, if my life would be a film, it would the depressing/EMO kind with occassional flashes of happiness.

TAAA-DAAAAAA: Kurt Cobain will do his thing for the opening credit, though I wish the song was either Depressed or Lithium. Anyhow this gives a glimpse of how grungy the film would be !
I get up waking up hating women and believe that school is so dreadful I'll probably die there *what a coincidence but so true!* I will fall in love but of course because I got high and then once I get sober I will break up, because "SHE" hates me...wait a min...am I a lesbian in my film who turns straight later, since I'll be singing Baby BOY! OMG!
I would be as witty as my darling Alex Turner which is all good :) my life does sum that up...bwahaahaha *evil laughter!*
As usual when I am driving I would've extra loud music, trying to fit in the suburban lifestyle.
When I look back at my life I will be singing about the woes of a lover! "and I know I should let go...but I can't"
I love the fact that I will be getting married in the Same Jeans,and my kid will be called Delilah. And when I do decide to throw in the towel I will still be swearing like a mad woman !
I'll probably die on the pavement after chasing cars!


LOL, I love this ! And it is so accurate, I didn't change a thing! SO there now, you know me ;)

xxxxx

WANTED: A GIRL !

Smooth king of the world looking for a nice girl who likes Iron Maiden and can roll a good joint. Must be into the 70s music scene ! And should be able to talk rubbish for hours at end. A good sense of humor is neccesary. Should be able to tolerate Bengalis, "aktu mishti bangla bolte pari." The girl should also be able to jive and be passionate about food and be madly in love with whiskey. A British accent is a must!

If you are into cheesy pop, please look away NOW! Should be able to watch sensible movies, no ROM COM shit!




Shameek Chakraboty (pictured above) is an IIM A grad, which means he is a nerd, but a loveable nerd none the less. Will entertain you for hours and hopefully cook good food for you. Will woo you by his guitar skills! First date would probably be in Toto's.

Smokers and dopers please apply.

With kindest wishes for the soon to be happy couple.

Me <3

BURN BABY..BURN !

I love the Seventies ! Forget the Sixties and definitely screw the Eighties ! People rocked in the seventies. Hell even Saturday Night Fever was a proud product of the Seventies. Except for the fact that Jimi Hendrix died in 1970 I love the decade.

Days and nights I dream of what could have been had I been born then. I know I would've had excellent taste in music. Men would still be pigs, but at the least they'd all be great dancers (think John Travolta...Night fever, night fever!)

My life in the seventies would be directly taken out from Saturday Night Fever. Yes, it is one of my fave films (an easy guess!) I danced like a lil fool that I am when I finally saw the film.

I'm not particularly fond of musicals but dayumm I love the music of that era. As a gawky teen I danced to Abba, singing on top of my lungs!

Everything in the Seventies seemed far more simpler, chilled out. Just the way I like my life. I can't be bothered with social complications, and I love doing the boogey ! If I were a young sexy THANG in the Seventies I would be the independent woman trying to make her mark, but partying her arse out at the Disco. I am still a feminist *with a diffrence* but I'm sure I would totally be into the burn the bra movement !

Mannnn, the discos were something of that time! I'm sure there were still pervy bastards wanting to buy you drinks back then, BUT at least they wouldn't be playing shite Hip Hop!

I mean...really what is with all shit R&B and Hip Hop? I like the occassional Rihanna and Jay Z but cut me some slack and play some good rock PLEASE! Some good ol' Rolling Stones, a bit of Aerosmith (the good ol' shit! Sweeeeeeeeettt Emotion !!! or Walk this Way), a song or two from Queen, something from the Black Sabbath. And a lot of Joy Division please!

I'm a retro girl, when I design my own pad I'm gonna recreate it as the Seventies. I love theme parties and I am still waiting to be called to a Seventies themed do ! That would be so much fun! Oh the dressing up. Did I mention I love the Seventies fashion? I was going through my parents' old pictures and OMG I am so jealous. Thank god good ol' Kate Moss is getting the 70's back for us ! Weeee

Now that I have established I am a crazy girl who lives in the past rather than the present, I'm glad we've got to know each other.

*goes back to her dreams of wearing high waisted flare jeans and attending music festivals...yes I would've been part of the hip crowd of the seventies....*

xxxxxxxxxx