I’d best start with a disclaimer because I understand that’s all the rage currently. And if there’s one thing I totally get peeps, it’s rage.
You may have noticed my penchant for a bit of random conflagration, ya? Although, I must apologise for the cheap lighters I’ve had to use. Between that wannabe Inspectress Clouseau (who can give him a run for his money in the deadpan staring stakes, btw) and that perma cheerful, I will state the blindingly obvious because it is blindingly obvious, Tanatan one, my Dunhill ones have got misplaced. Well, either that or they’re somewhere beneath all the stuff haphazardly, but perfectly logically and artistically if I may say so, dotting my room near the pile of dried up noodles. Pot noodles are the thing where I grew up guys!
Coming back to the point at hand, I just want to clarify that these are my thoughts, and mine alone, and I felt I ought to share them with you because, you know, umm… uh… well… I just did, okay. I felt, so I did. Sorry? What was that? All those asides to the camera you ask? Of course they don’t count! All that generic stuff is for the general TRP contributors. You guys are special. So, special pyaar ka paigam toh banta hai.
Having got that out of the way, a bit of social niceties are always good, no? So,
I’ll just wait a bit, Shall I, while you’ll pick yourselves off the floor? 😉
Never fails to baffle me, this fondness you guys have for my voice. But, as it’s helping me here I’m not gonna complain. A soft, husky whisper in the vicinity of an ear, and voila. Goosebumps galore.
While we’re on the subject of getting affected, what’s with the constant blushing and hyperventilating every time I drink something?! Breathe people! Waise, you’ll are giving me more ideas here. I should use my secret stash to go after more people. Depending on my mood, whisky, tequila, vodka, and, of course, the more innocuous stuff for the under age ones. Nimbu pani anyone?
Shall we first address the elephant in the room and get it out of the way? The barrage of mutterings and rumblings that constantly hit me everytime I stand silhouetted in a doorway, is distressing. Let me ask you a question my darlings. Have you’ll seen the pantomime reject shop I’m having to infiltrate? Now could I dress any other way if I want to not stick out like a sore thumb? Now do you see why? I’m actually just the simple guy you’ll saw weeks back, who traipses across parched lands, carrying urns, blazing his own path in life, armed merely with a guitar strung across his back and a pair of killer glares, one of which being the literal sort. Oh, let’s not forget the vintage washed jeans, ya? Sigh, the good old days.
I am truly grateful for those glares though. The sheer amount of bling unrelentingly accosting my eyes in Allahabad is staggering. There’s odd and then there’s odd. That’s all I can say. I remain awed at people’s ability to even move with all the bits and bobs hanging off them.
And, I include Mausaji here. It’s not just the female of the species. You know, the one married to the Engish wali mausiji. The same mausiji who’s swallowed the Hindi to English dictionary wala shabd kosh. And can’t stop vomiting its contents. The one who needs to stop ogling me. It’s getting more than a little weird. Let’s hope her red wala laal lipashictek doesn’t come anywhere near me. Another reason why I’m okay with covering myself with lots and lots of fabric. Shudder.
The other Mausiji has illusions of being the descendent of The Riddler himself. Beats me how deluded people can be. Classic example here of a triumph of SKD over AD, don’t you think? Now, if ever there was a candidate for the personification of enigma, it would have to be Sasuma (not being presumptuous or anything, but I’m willing to bet 16… crores of course, PP baba ain’t gonna be the one calling her that) The aura of ruthlessness melded with gravitas that she exudes fascinates me utterly. The air fairly crackles around her. I must confess to a certain frisson with her around. Imperious and impervious describes her well I think. Saam daan dand bhed should be inscribed on her coat of arms! I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Chanakya Neeti is compulsory bedtime reading for her.
Coming to her three betis… what is this strange predilection for having all the women in sets of three? The senior jijjjis, the junior jijjjis, even the blondes who’d dropped in apropos of nothing during the aarti came in a set of three. And I’m the one called Ajeeb here!
The shat pratishat Vashisht warbling trio have some very peculiar set pieces I have to say. I was tempted to ask the ogling mausiji today, that if there can’t be fire without smoke, then how can her nieces create those little tufts of smoke without fire? Having said that, they are ever so easy to manipulate. Despite what old Wills had said, “though she be but little, she is fierce! It’s been such fun peeps. Getting Chandani all riled up and huffing and puffing has been a trifle too easy so far. Candy from a baby really (Just a heads up peeps. Candy stripes coming up soon. Be prepared – Yup you guessed it, I was in the Scouts back in Blighty).
Throwing the Bhole ke Sainik’s (as I had said earlier, just peculiar!) own words back at her feels so delish though. Much as she’d like to believe it to be so, my head is not the one jisme jamta hai dahi… My dimaag is the one jisme jalti hai badle ki aag…
The one she provided the sparks for. The one she fanned. The one that burnt to ash my innocence. The one that killed my parents. The one that snatched my brother from me. The one that burns like an eternal flame in my eyes.
After all, jo sach hai woh sach hai.
Advay Singh Raizada came in the form of Barun Sobti. How could I do anything but watch?! All I can say is that, “Yeh ishq nahin asaan!”
Gif Credit: ..Bonanza.. (IF)