Funkalicious Food___ What A Day

Today, dear reader, this freaky blogger will attempt to describe a day in the life of a foodie, with all its attendant pleasures. This blog will now proceed to show, step by step, how the nirvana of foodalicious bliss may be achieved.

Step 1

Wake up not earlier than nine and proceed to have a leisurely shower, leaving yourself enough time to get adequately dressed and cast a contemplative glance at your firmly closed textbooks. On no account must you open them. That is a surefire recipe for guilt-laced disaster for the rest of the day.

Step 2

Saunter at a peaceful pace out of the house, and make your way to the (specific) person's house, where you are supposed to make what promises to be a difficult, time-consuming project. Stop off on the way to do a little mild shopping for aforesaid project.

Step 3

Walk with delighted surprise into an old-style house that is so reminiscent of my grandparents' home that I actually expect to see my granma pop around the corner with a plate of sweetmeats at any moment.

Step 4

Work at a collage in perfect unison, harmony, and to the tune of funky radio beats and a slight breath of scandal, along with Ankana and Ashutosh, two very talented and intelligent juniors from my school, Bhavan's, for our upcoming school trip to Delhi.

Step 5

Sit down to a lavish lunch of at least four courses and several finger-licking side-dishes, courtesy your friend's (Ankana)mother. Refuse third helpings and wear a silly smile of satisfaction on your face for the rest of the day.

Step 6

Finish part of the project, have the world's most yummy strawberry shake, and take yourself off for a wonderful walk along the banks of the nearby lake. Enjoy the wonderful breeze, the beautiful trees, and ignore the brimming jealousy inside you for not living in this neighbourhood and no other.

Step 7

Walk back to the main road, explore a bookshop, then return to the house to have drinks, chips and FINALLY decide to tear yourself away from this wonderful, beautiful woman, who makes THE best home-made lunches in the cities with exquisite skill, care and presentation. [THANK YOU AUNTY!!!!!]

Step 8

Say goodbye to Ankana, after having borrowed a book (Sidney Sheldon) and leave.

Step 9

Reach home. Realize with resigned resignation that you must get chores and homework and studies out of the way before you can sit down to blog about this. Do your chores and go out to meet a couple of friends and pick up a few things. Return home, and instantly decide to start blogging anyway.

Step 10

Come to terms with the fact that despite approaching adulthood you still have not acquired any sense of responsibility or any propensity for mature reflection. Shut down the PC and think dark thoughts about Life while struggling with homework.


Trisha

Easy Wings

Was it easy when you said you didn't love me
Did you have to want to throw me away
Did you never think that you might need me
Is it a lie that you once cared

Is there any way I can take it all back now
Can I make it up to you somehow
You're my heart, my life, my world
But your words fill me with doubt

How can you say you don't love me
Look at you, you can't even sleep
How can you say you don't need me
Look at me, I'm the one you need

Fly away, fly away, fly away now
Is there any way to stop the pain
Why did you make me stop loving you
Why is my tomorrow your yesterday


Trisha

Land of Lollipop Looniness

Land of Lollipop Looniness



This is something that happened today, in a parallel reality far, far removed from this grim land of Mundania.
Shoili di and I finished karate class. We walked out of school together, at the exact same time that a hazy cloud of madness swooped down upon the lamppost just outside the school gates. Consequent events bear out my (working) assumption that either some strange germ of mindfreak got rooted in our dual consciousness of happy sarcasm, or else that fatigue and a certain amount of euphoria (don't ask) got to us instead.

Anyway, we wanted to walk down a back street so we could listen to some music with the sound up and loud. So we turned left, then we turned back and turned right to get chewing gum, 'cause I can't live without. Standing in front of a tiny vendor's shop whose owner knows us from yore and is firmly convinced that we are the mad children of Satan's Cloud, I asked for a coupla bucks' worth of gum. At this point, Shoili di suddenly develops a fierce craving for lollipops and jelly and can't decide which to have. In order to compromise, I buy both. We walk a solid ten feet away from the shop before giving vent to near-hysterical sniggers of glee and hunger induced by carb-cravings.

Next thing we know, we're halfway down that lonely, badly-lit back street, and I'm propping my bags up on a car that Shoili di hit (not too hard) to make sure it doesn't have a security bleeper, fumbling for the most delicious little fingerful of litchi jelly I have ever tasted. This is after we struggled valiantly to get the wrapping off the top of the tiny cup (eventually we wound up using a pen that I extracted with great nimbleness from my pencil-box, fatally injuring the zipper of my bag in the process).

Later we also struggled to get the wrapping off the lollipop, and realized with burning shame that packaging designed and made easy to handle (I assume) for tiny children was eluding us with fiendish cunning. I think we also stopped at some point to take a picture of me giving the finger to the lollipop(!!!!!!!) in Shoili di's hand. Eventually we boarded an auto, where, for only the second time ever, we were outdone in our outrageous banter by three badly-dressed men arguing about money, who even made US go quiet for as much as five consecutive seconds. Until we realized that it took us 35 minutes to walk down a road that normally takes 5. Apparently fooling around tacks on an extra half-an-hour and some seriously memorable tastebud experiences on to that, by now legendary, walk.

Much later, on the bus home, I bought more sweets (the black, sticky, DELICIOUS kind), ate a mango candy and started on chewing gum, both of which just happened to be lying around in my bag, and mused on how having so much concentrated, fattening sugar in my body just made me feel like a better, happier, more peaceful person.

This totally makes up for the disappointment we had a couple of weeks ago, when we made up a cheeky April's Fool song and tried to gatecrash Sriparna Ma'am's elegant domicile, only to be ejected by a senile dog's wheezy "intruder" barking (I thought it would die from the vocal strain) and an alarming lady in white who told us kindly but firmly that Sriparna Ma'am' was not, in fact, at home.

In your face, Rufus Sr, your royal woofiness!!!!!!!!!


Shoili di's version:- coming soon on ________________

http://shoiliunleashinmyspirit.blogspot.com.

If this sounds crazy to you, and you would like to express your disbelief/contempt/fear/morbid curiosity/mediocrity through a comment, please refrain, you stupid !!!!@#$%^&* of a @#$%^&* whose !@#$%^&U* is nothing more than a ()*&^%$#%^&*@!#$^%&^*^, you little *(&%^$%%)^%$#Q$#..................!@#$%^&*()*&^&)_*(&$#&*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


trisha

everybody else can leave comments, email, etc, etc.....so that's like what, three, maybe four people?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CANDY SHOP !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Poila Baishakh

Send Multiple Scraps to your friends



and i will now proceed to hog out on rosogolla

............ (below)

Snow

This is the book I'm reading right now.


Really amazing, insightful, sensitive, creative, goddamn PEACEFUL writer. Honestly, when the scene is a snowed-in town reeling under a bloody coup, it's like he manages to make the reader feel that that same town is the quietest, most contemplative beautiful place in the world.

I'm reading it like I sip a cool drink, slowly and happily in the summertime, savouring it fully, enjoying the gentle introspection like bubbles at the surface, drinking the emotions like the delicious top layers.

I'm yet to reach the dregs. I'm in no hurry. Eventually I know I will have this very calmimg yet invigorating book sloshing around in the hollow corners of my mind, filling up the blank spaces between Umberto Eco and Frederick Forsyth in the library catalogue of my subconscious mind. Until then ...... tesekkur ederim, Orhan Pamuk!

Trisha

Rain

the elements of nature are supposed to inspire creativity in aspiring poets. you might think that this is a gloomy poem, but it is one of the most joyful things i've ever written. as always, i would appreciate comments.




RAIN

i've cried a thousand times
i lost my mind in the pain
i wrote my songs and my rhymes
i broke my heart in the rain

it is morning and there is no light
cold winds don't stop blowing because i broke my heart
and the moon rises brighter than the sun
i don't stop living because i tore myself apart

i freeze and i burn, and i hate myself
my world stops turning, and i don't die
the wind starts blowing and i'm burnt and broken
but i'm still not going to die


this feels like ripples in a silver stream
like dawning sunrise behind the mountains
like good luck floating inside a moonbeam
like tiny rainbows inside a marble fountain

it tastes like raindrops in the middle of the night
like ice-cold honey at the break of dawn
like a lake of mountain-water filled with ice and light
like the heart of a rose within the thorn

it sounds like angels singing beside the ocean
like birds taking flight at the sight of sunrise
like desolation at the thought of separation
like sparkling tears of regret in dark black eyes

from dust to ashes,from laughter to hate
from the clouds in the sky to water underground
like the difference between choices and fate
like escaping to dreams to hear raindrops, that sweet sound


trisha