Bhasad Nama

       This has been transcribed from a notebook I maintained during this trip, which I wrote mostly as a chronicle for myself and my friends and not with any literary value (pshaw!). It was written in the moment, in trains, cars, while walking, drunk, stoned, on rocks on the sea, on windowsills, in bars, on my hands etc. I'm not going to do the usual blog shit of linking and giving little references and notes (I did as much as I could) or try to edit it right now because it's too tedious. There are some pictures, which are not very good. Also, it's quite lengthy and unruly, so beware when getting into it. Some of the shit may not make sense because of the slang or in jokes, feel free to ask and I'll do my best to explain, though most of what we do or say is just for a laugh and often makes very little sense. I'm really glad that this trip came through despite our indecision and whining and hesitation. I loved getting into all sorts of shit with the people I love and bhasad machao-ing with them and drifting carefree for these few days before they all go to work and start wearing trousers and become adults. This is forever, boys. 

 

[21 June]

Dikra - “Sometimes you can really fall in love with Kotia”

Dikra – “Devansh, tujhe 5^th child padhni chahiye, aur geela ho jayega” (5^th child being the horror novel Dicks brought along and geela because DJ had spilt oil all over his pants)

Debu tickling Dikra’s feet seductively Pakeeza style “galti se ho gaya yaar”.

“iPaad”

Sid - “Mohit dhobi hai because he’ll have to wash all our undergarments…muahaha”

Me – “Duniya mein do kisam ke log hote hain, jo apne liye jeete hain aur jo apne bacchon ke liye”

Dikra – “…And then I met the third kind….” (Rang De Basanti style)

Devansh – (suddenly intense) “Who hum hai, hum kisi ke liye nahi jeete hain, kyunki hum Shaitan hain” (smiles)

Bose – “Yeh hain Rondu aur Bhondu”

Deba – “ It’s like those movies jisme log bolte hain mera naam something hai kyunki main kuch karta hoon”

Deba – “Kotia dildo hai”

We are so deliriously happy because we have been given a free pass to smoke by the TT on the train with the door open.

Scenes have been made and now we’re shamelessly standing by the doors and lighting up. Sleazy man with bag is fascinated by girls smoking. He smells the smell and starts singing Dum Maro Dum and saying Jai Bholenath etc. Dikra is sticking his head out of the window and going “WOAH CRAZY” when another train passes by close. DJ offers some older dudes cigs, they are very grateful. We stop at Kota, sleeping people, fighting beggars, hungry dogs. Once more scenes are made. DJ is in our berth where Uncle is sleeping and he’s rolling with a torch in his mouth and taking fuckenages might I say. We smoke more before the man comes to close the doors again and we have to ditch the roach. We’re all insomniacs and we can’t sleep and we’re making noise and talking about the convenience to lesbian lovers on the top berth (obviously my idea) and stabbing people in the lund with a juda pin (I dunno how that came up). Uncle screams “TUMHE SHARAM NAHI ATI!” and we shut up and try to sleep and can’t and start whispering again. Dikra claims nicotine is why we can’t sleep. DJ is randomly yelling/whispering “bhonsadike” (he pronounces it with the n in the middle, it’s too funny) Debu Rani is sleeping. We try to sleep again before uncle yells again.

My nose is blocked completely and I’m freezing and I can’t sleep and feel like I’m in a coffin. 

[22 June]

Now it’s morning and we’re in Andheri and Devansh is making scenes on the top berth again. He’s planting the garden so to speak, so we can smell the flowers later. The boys were having heated economic discussions that we know better to indulge in. DJ is swearing, Debu is saying shit like the US will be insolvent by 2030 and that he’ll dance on the streets.

“Champu baero (bureau) maid, wardboy, ayah etc”, sitting on our luggage in ladies. Girl applying foundation. Aunties waving bye to fellow travelers. “Male massager. For Female, call Sameer”. DJ has decided to make us walk from Churchgate to Colaba with all our luggage. Art Deco buildings. We’ve stopped to drink ganne ka juice near New India. We have all this baggage and nowhere to go.

Smoking outside fancy houses looking every bit like deadbeat charsis (disheveled and dirty but “sophisticated”). Theobroma is like love. Dikra – “HOW did they do this? Make something bad atleast”. Sid’s PG after beautiful face stuffing at Theo’s. The sweet old lady owner gave us blessings for our journey. The boys have gone for baths and we’re sitting outside smoking, sweating, the colours bleeding from our clothes. Iran the cat has made a good relationship with us. Purring and posing away for my camera in front of Hotel Kishan AG Beg. We asked if “ek ghante ke liye karma milega?” Sid – “Nahi main nahi aoonga, sirf in dono ko chahiye… (pointing to Shanno and me)…woh…. Inhe…nahana hai”. Obviously we didn’t get the room, he claimed it was 1000 bucks for an hour which it could be. People are giving us incredulous looks. Some men are playing ‘Pappu Can’t Dance’. The boys have bathed, shaved and doused themselves in deo and left for Marine Drive and were telling US “kya kar rahe ho…shopping kyun kar rahe ho, be real travelers, it’s ok you can be dirty”. We were buying buying shirts to wear because they picked out black trousers and thick kurtas for us to wear (and were very happy with their choices, morons) in the heat. Now we’re back at Theo’s to try and use the loo and change. I bought 1 macaroon.

Boys got leched at by man who returned Shanno’s phone. He categorically ignored us and blew kisses at the boys.

We are now in a sleeper going to Goa. 2/8 of us don’t have tickets. We’re all squashing each other. Post Gokul post running around the city going on minor ‘arty’ excursions (DJ’s idea…to go to NGMA) getting lost, running in circles. I’m wearing Siddh’ midget tie Avril style because I am tie making stud. Kotia is putting his big head on my shoulder. Debu and Bose are taking pictures. Did our typical tourist Bombay shit Marine Drive, Leos etc. Aunty Birthday party @ Mondy’s. Uncles next to us are looking at us indulgently and giving us about about ticketless travel. The drunks are asleep or falling asleep. DJ ultimate bhand is resting his head against the grill. Gokul, Bade Mian, joints, running to catch the train. Siddh bakchodi kar raha hai bhosadika phirse. Shanno “Everyone wake up in 1 hour, we have to drink”.

Siddh and Bose are singing DK Bose. Uncles next to us are saying something like “ek toh bina ticket ke aur phir bheja fry (in ref to their singing skills)”

Shanno and I were drinking rum from a batli and listening to Dev D as usual and wondering why we just believe these films to be about our lives. “Dude, Anurag Kashyap is fucking with our minds maaan” was what we decided. “Chunni, sambhal lena” she says.

Devansh was obviously rolling and hence we waited till uncle was asleep to go an smoke azt the door. It started raining and we could see the drops as they tried to keep up speed with us. Getting our feet and faces wet. The boys slowly got lulled to sleep and we sat at the door for ages, singing ourselves hoarser. One last joint, one last cigarette before we got chased off by the TT who fortunately didn’t ask for our ticket.

Siddh is sleeping on my lap and Dev and I are listening and singing, all the boys are asleep. When we finally decided to sleep there’s the 2 of us on the bottom berth.

[23 June]

I wake up to popping green and mist and mirror fields reflecting the hidden sun. We sit on the paidaan for ages. The boys are obviously still sleeping. They get up one by one and sit with us and go back to sleep ultimately. I wind down my battery taking pictures. The singing boys from last night were hanging around and smoking everyime the train stopped. Our friends are still mostly sleeping. We buy bhelpuri which Siddh is shoveling into his mouth like a janwar. There’s pyaaz stuck to his beard. Bose and Siddh are now listening to Rock you like a hurricane and being all \m/ and making moronic faces. This urges the question “why are we friends with them?” and it’s reply “this is why we’re friends with them”. We reached, sat for an hour at the station, waited for Bose and Debu Rani to get a car/bike. “Rani aur chikne ka apharan ho chukka hai”. Got them finally. After doing kushti with the window we squash in. Driving around was beautiful. Bose driving cautiously, Rani driving studly with his girlfriend Dikra sitting behind feel le rahe hain. Devansh takes over, we go for some distance and get a penchar (still think it’s his fault!) in Partgal, miraculously in front of Roshan Bar. No jack, stepney is also unreliable. We stop some folks who with Roshan bar dude help us out. Ladke macho banne ki koshish kar rahe hain, kuch ho nahi raha tha. Chudiyan pehen leni chahiye inhe, chudiyan! In the turquoise house carnatic music is playing and the owner comes across to Roshan with his little daughter. What a life. Roshan bar’s owner introduces me to his cat Munni “yeh saanp, chuha sab pakad leti hai”. Now he’s saying something about Nana Patekar. Munni is circling our legs. Kotia is chillin’ with Shanno and I and drinking Thums Up. DJ is now rolling in the car after a stepney has somehow been installed.

Bhandu the dog is bhand and unfriendly. We’re all unfriendly right now. We go like 5 kms and the stepney gets fucked and now we’re sitting by the side of the road with a makeshift football pitch where are horny murgas and pigs.

Me – “how do chickens fuck?”

Rani and Dikra have arrived to help us and we’ve sent DJ away to the mechanic. Dikra is being dramatic and claims he’s heard a gunshot. Shraap laga hai humein. Dikra’s chappal broke now. BTs all around.

Bhasad honi zaroori hai. Haven’t slept, bathed, EATEN since last evening and now I’m lying on top of our luggage on the road and writing and the spanner for turning the bolts in the wheel isn’t working properly. Aziz ki MKC. A man gave us his spanner. We’re waiting for out tyre. Bought chips and chocolate. Horny murga is under discussion and being compared to Siddh. I’m lying on the road and eating chocolate and the sun has decided to smile down on us. We’re talking about being Bear Grylls while eating chips. Bose is now called Poop Dogg (due to his annoying habit of saying scheisse instead of shit)

Dikra is rapping. Bose is making noises like his balls are being squeezed. DJ ko sab bahut galiyan de rahein hai.

Siddh is singing the Vidyalaya song. Dikra says FML. It’s so motherfucking hot and we’re all hysterical. Piglets are now fucking and since their orgasm last for 30 minutes this is going to go on for a while. Shanno – “You guys, this is really gross, look at it through the zoom lens” Some voyeur pig is watching them, too. “Yaar someone else fuck so we can take a picture.” They’ve finally fucking arrived after an hour or more. Palolem. Going to the beach, unwashed, hungry, cranky, exhausted and walk into the sea. Diving headfirst into the waves. Going as far in as I can before my friends call me back. Swimming in the sea is the best feeling because it’s exciting and peaceful at the same time. We eat, smoke, drink and swim some more. I stay in as long as I can. Then rooms, baths, more food, lots of booze at the shack. Making Dikra into a transgender mermaid. Trying to bring Siddh down, he bites! Sand everywhere. Lots of Taboo playing. Kartik and his freaking AC room.

[24 June]

Gokarna.

Katty philosophy – “Abbe yaar people should think that they are playing you when you are actually playing them. Muahaha”

Katty – “Siddhant, apne pita se aise baat karte hain? Baap baithe hain apke yahan”

“Kutte ko Mohit ka lund chahiye”. The boys are fighting about chappals, rooms. Tu chutiya main chutiya.

Siddh – (about nothing in particular) “That time was a good time”

Dikra - “Oh yeah! My shizzler is here”

Katty – (being random again) “Bhaiyya yeh dekho kitne spiders hain (in the lamp) sab kha jayenge (talking of mosquitos and other bugs)

Bhand bhaiyya – “Spider? Spider sizzler nahi khayega.”

Dikra – (about Sid) Yeh mera bhai hai

Katty – Aur mera beta

Shanno has scribbled in my notebook (since there weren’t any of my own quotes) “I am a freak, I sit at the back and quote movies”

Me – Yahan par aao yaar, yahan par jotta pee kar jo Vivekananda wali feel ayegi rocks pe, by god.

I am Tom Waits now – the voice, the rum and the cigarette. Dikra is singing all of “Stan” again. Two kids with whips hang around us. The girl is whipping herself, Katty nearly shits himself, then he walks ahead, turns around, a little boy with a whip is standing right behind him smiling harmlessly, Katty screams like a girl. All of Karvar, the buses, the people, the shopkeepers and us burst into laughter. We’re BBMing girls from Siddh’s phone saying “mujhe lund chahiye, please de do”.

Shanno and I walking up to our rooms stoned, me barefoot on the rocks, light goes, pitch black, we can’t even see each others faces and then we see fireflies and get mesmerized. It was too beautiful.

Stalker cat was flirting with both me and Dikra pretending to be our one and only and is now sitting on everyone’s lap. “Dilli mein billi, mar lo, kha lo, par palo nahi”

Katty is rolling on a Kannada newspaper.

Katty – (listening to music) “Aisi Candyshop pe chalenge na hum.... wahan pe humein ek lollipop milegi”

Dikra – “What a one”

During Taboo, Deba says money, Kartik says “money weed pussy”. Devansh’s little girl Taboo questions “Sweet and sour, you tell little girls, they wear these before bras”

Shady characters that look like they’re from a Ram Gopal Verma movie, drinking away.

[25 June]

We’re sitting on the one platform Gokarna station, eating chakklis. 7 people in 1 auto, the driver is drifting, he can smell our smoke and doesn’t like us brash city kids who speak Hindi and make noise. Now there’s a family sharing space with us on our resting place on the platform, Katty is playing Tiesto mixes. Humne sari chai khatam kar dali.

Goks, Om beach after changing 3 buses and 1 auto. Excited kids on the bus, chattering away, looking curiously at us, yelling “uncle paaassss” at the conductor. The pretty lady in the yellow sari. Jumping on the bumps and screaming ‘woooooahhh’. Kartik’s military strategies.

Yesterday when we reached Goks and went down to the beach and climbed on the rocks. Jumped into the sea. It’s rocky here but light and the waves lift and don’t beat us. Going on the rocks, the little shanks and shells and tiny amphibious creatures. The fisherman and his apprentice Deba. Drinking rum from the bottle, trying to light up under the drizzle. Deba is being teased by a prawn who eats all his bait and steals the hook. The fisherman catches a fish and we are all morbidly fascinated and stand in a circle, watching it die. His face is sad but his scales are still golden. At night a kingfisher goes into a room, gets hit by a fan and dies, we see its colours faded. Drew – “Yo, there’s a dead animal in my room. I thought it was a moth but it has a beak”. Shanno and I give it a burial. “We’re in the presence of death today”

Katty – (in reference to Drew) Jab desi aur firangi ka mel hota hai toh kuch alag hi banta hai.

In the train we cross over several bogeys and settle in the unreserved sleeper. Some man is playing ‘yaad teri ayegi, mujhko bada rulayegi’ etc on his phone. The rain slaps us in the face. I made a pendant of some leaves and twigs and put it on my paperclip necklace.

Overhead at Baga “I’m from the industry, you know. I’ve been to Paris, Milan etc”

Baga is rapist central. Fat men in speedos. No food, we find one place Valencios and ordered like muthafuckas. The fashion girl is now dancing to some JLO songs.

Man who was tripping is sitting alone and looking at our footsteps. Siddh has lost his voice too and now looks and sounds like my little prepubescent brother. “Siddh chut ki firaaq mein phirta rehta hai”. Drew secretly donates his beer to me and orders a passionfruit breezer “I can’t tell the boys that though”. We meet Shaunaq who greats us as usual looking scruffy, smiling widely and saying “Hey babe”. Shauny is the only person I’d allow to call me that, because he says babe the same harmless and endearing way he says “dear” and “sweetheart”, adding “I love your jewelry” and  a hint of auntieness. Shaun (trying to signal the waiter but calling out to some girl instead) “Bhai, yeh bhaiyya nahi, babe hai”. Assembly line joint making. Fashion girl is singing “aa janejaan’.

The wild goose chase for Curlies. Other dudes following us in our mad quest. Graffiti – crab holding a pill. Curlies is the biggest bhand place of all. Fucking shirtless junkie bartenders etc. We are running out of maal and need to score so we ask our neighbours and they tell us to ask at the counter. There’s a party full of creepers upstairs. Full creepers and UV lights and I’m wearing a wet white dress. The whole upliftment of the ride here in the rain and through the roads with fields and backwaters on either side was pulled down by the trance dance bullshizz. Apparently I’m making trippy cat faces (so says Shanno). I just don’t like the place but can’t look away from the hostile waiters playing pool, the counterclockwise clock, the woman in miniskirt and cowboy boots whose little daughters are sleeping on the couches. We drink a couple of rounds and leave. The ‘trek’ to Curlies was nice and dark but then two local dude who worked at the bar nearly run over Tanya at the narrow path and we almost have a scuffle but avoid it and go back. Now Drew Barrymore is rolling the last of our joints (we all have 1 emergency joint in our wallets, though). We’re staying at Bose’s uncle’s place in Riviera and the house is this fucking awesome duplex apartment in Arpora and there’s a pool in the complex. BUT…there’s not furniture. It’s just walls. So we go get more booze, drink all night, finish our maal and sleep on the floor with our heads on our bags.

[26 June]

In the morning we wake up early and go for a swim in the pool. Bose is a pool bully because he’s fucking heavy. Dikra is dog paddling because he can’t swim. We’re trying to stand on each others shoulders and play stupid games.

KLPD 1 – Drew fucked his leg trying to ride the scooty. Active mein bhasad.

KLPD 2 - Souza Lobo 1 hour waiting

KLPD 3 – Car tire penchar

KLPD 4 – Mom’s kitchen 1 hour waiting

KLPD 5 – Bike mein petrol khatam.

Wotluck 1 – Moti Mahal ke last order ke time pe pahunch gaye. It’s Sunday and everything else is shut.

Wotluck 2 – Bike petrol pump ke bahar band hui.

We order 12 things at Moti Mahal, eat, half of them go off. Tanya, Kartik and Drew. Shaunaq and DJ. Now left are Sid, Debu Rani, Dikra, Shanno, Me, Kotia, Bose.

Hungry eyes bar and restaurant , inside is playing a song like “mango mango job hi chaho mango”.

Arambol was thap this time of year, everything was closed and dark as opposed to colourful and noisy like last time I saw it. Parking problems in narrow downhill lanes. Have some whiskey and some awesome ass pasta. Debu Rani is in BITS “mera ghar hai, main apne ghar nahi jaoonga?” We meet up and go to Baga because we have nothing else to do.

Angaara bar and restaurant. Bose parking in front of a man holding a beer and pissing. “Think Health not Drugs”. British uncles drinking at Bharat bar and restaurant. There’s always one shirtless local dude. “We’re not 20 anymore” says leathery Brit man. There’s no such thing as the real India, contrary to what people will try and show/tell you, I think.

They’re playing Delhi songs at Valencio. Our friend who we’ve decided is pahari, smiles as he sees us roll. We gave him some of our maal last time and he brought back Dikra’s bag when he had lost it.

Siddh – “bhaiyya, aap hamare hi ho na?”

Bhaiyya – (twinkling) “Haan, main aapka hi hoon”.

Dikra – “I’m ragin’ yo!” 9x60ml shots. We want to get seriously bhand on our last night in Goa. Chicken lollipop.

Dikra – “I’m a gujju, I don’t have capacity. Yo, my ancestors never drank.”

The waiter bros are talking about us and laughing. I want to dance on the streets. We bring our obnoxious Delhiness wherever we go, yo. Dikra “mere saath tingling ho rahi hai”.

Bose – “To always remembering this night”

Chorus (Dev and I) – “To not remembering this night” (I don’t know how we do that, say things in chorus, happened lots of times this trip specially, Dev&Chunni connexion I guess)

Bimbo booze and bimbo music. Dev and I chasing our shots with whiskey and coke. Shanno – “Vodka is poison! It’s evil”

Dikra – “Kotia is going to get drunk and talk about Sonia Gandhi”

Kotia – “I’m going to fuck her and then kill her”

(drunk handwriting begins)

Dikra and Sid know all the lyrics to Love The Way You Lie.

Shanno – “Bieber is a fucking inspiration. He’s young and independent and he’s cool man. I’m a belieber.”

Kotia pyro trying to burn a lemon “bada cool hai yaar nimbu ke andar”

Everyone’s hammered as hell and I’m wondering who will pay the bill.

Dikra – (Trying to sing falsetto) “I’m a total Lata, man”

Dikra – (about Kotia smoking) “Oye! Shizzle ma dizzle! It’s like losing your virginity”

Siddh – “I ride alone and I drive alone. I’m a badboy foreva”

We’re the drunk people in bars you see who sing all the songs.We’re incorrigible . The boys are trying to be macho and play pool. They hurt my foot and I retire hurt and bleeding (drama). 1 round of shots is still left. WHO is going to drive? They’re playing “ainvayi ainvayi” I cannot believe they’re playing Sukbir in Goa. We’re all quite fucked by now. Arguments about getting outtaontrol. I’m already fucking drunk and they keep playing Delhi songs. Something about Shakira rolling around in grease. Rani the engineer is drinking coffee shot.s. Class 8 songs.

Kotia – “V, Shanno, thode bubbe toh hila lo apne”

We’re the talli kids doing coordinated Bollywood dances to Hard Kaur songs. Fuck da haterz. “Jannat ki ma ki, aiyashi ki kasam” and all. “Keep doing this shit coz I’m made for this shit” and such…

I flop into a chair while bill settling is going on. I’ve been running with the dogs on the beach. I never run. But somehow I was fast when I was drunk and the dogs and I chased each other on the beach. I’m unsettled by the running and the sight of the hookers trying hard to turn a trick, the sound of their heels clacking is still ringing in my head.

Kotia – “I LOVE ECONOMICS!”

[27 June]

Highlights of the last day in Goa.

Car overheating. 1 bike and 1 car to deposit in Madhgaon. Aziz bhenkaloda is the biggest fucking chor. Our car is fucked up, the bike is somewhere else and it’s also fucked. Deba pata nahi kahan hai. Dhooan nikal raha hai gadi se. Siddh ka accident, getting lost, fighting like siblings (Shanno and Bose). Aur is sab ke beech hamari kal ki daru abhi tak nahi uteri, we’re all still laughing hysterically at everything. Kotia kuch bhi bolta hai toh hansi ati hai. “V, main tujhe bahar phenk doonga gadi se”

We get to the station somehow and try to explain to Aziz ki woh kitna bada lodu hai. But he’s not listening to anything. He says we didn’t call, didn’t answer, should’ve told him when the vehicles were fucking up. Then they notice Siddh and realize that we had an accident and so everything we say is void. We pay him just to get the fuck out of the situation. Kyunki sabki khopdi hamari gaadi ki tarah garam ho rahi hai and we’re not getting anywhere. Deba later tells us about his own kaand. He left the bike with the keys in it when we had to get Sid, when he returned he got scared shitless because Dikra had gone to get the rental bhaiyya at Kadamba station and there were cops but his bike wasn’t there. Debu turns around and the bike is miraculously there. Evidently, chor steals bike, cops catch chor, bring back bike all before rental bhaiyya could find out.

We are lying on the platform, eating at Banjo restaurant (why is there a tiger hanging from the roof?) Shanno and I smoke outside. Women are to be seen and not heard apparently. Siddh is being carried piggyback to the platform, fucking nautanki. The boys are fighting as usual and saying how they’re off traveling and off Goa. Itni nazuk abla nariyan hai nay eh sab. The entire platform is amused with Siddh riding Bose. Mine and Shanno’s little dance on DK Bose. Inside the train Siddh is being bandaged and asks Bo to take him to the bathroom (Me – “Pakadne ke liye bhi ek admi bhejoon andar kya dalle?”), fishing for sympathy.  Squashed into 2 berths on the general compartment. 100 rupees ticket.  Siddh’s gross injured hobbit feet all over the place.

Our boys are cuddling with each other and sleeping. Neither me nor Shanno can sleep. In Ratnagiri a shitload of students get on and are currently sitting literally on our heads on the overhead baggage area. Aur do uncle bhi chep ho gaye hamare berth pe. The students are bros, though. Noisy professional college types. Their legs form our ceiling at the moment. I can smell smoke and deodorant. There are 9 people on the bottom seats and 7 on top and the tunnels make me claustrophobic, with the electric smell of smoke.

They’re all speaking rapidfire Marathi and accented, swag Hindi and saying “TT, adjust”

I kinda wish I was one of such boys, bhasad macha rahe hain mazze mein.

My boney shoulder is a very bad place to rest your tired head, as Shanno is learning.

The boys are having a very intense discussion about why Bose doesn’t have a “chiller image”. Through my headphones I can hear words like “caring”,“losing control”, “substances” and it sounds disgustingly like an afterschool special. Bose is our puppa because he’s too precious and susheel and stern (“don’t eat the sauce with that fried rice Sharanya, you can’t trust train food.” “wait, don’t use this antiseptic, use betadene, you never know where it’s from”). As I said, he’s annoying but he’s not a chut. Now they’re discussing the pastime of trying to blow oneself. They are MORONS.

Is it just me or are the boys above chanting “lodi lodi”? Now they’re singing the Docomo song. Their constant refrain of “Loading…loading” every 2 fucking seconds is getting annoying. WTF is is about? There are too many people to even move, not to mention creepers (who Siddh makes friends with. He can’t go to the bathroom on his own, but he can go to smoke), so the plan of going to the door for some “fresh air” is abandoned. Last time we were on the door, we were having a discussion about the “advantages” of being women according to Siddhant. One of them was not being molested by hijras on trains. But everyone else, everywhere else… “But you both are not girls, you’re cool girls”. Aw, thanks Sid.

Uncle just yelled at the upstairs boys in Marathi something about wanting to sleep and not being able to do so because of their yelling. They are still for a second and I can hear repressed giggling. Now they’ve started talking again. Its raining but stuffy but I can smell clove smoke and want one badly. Bose tang phaad kar so raha hai phirse aur brose ek aur baar smoke karne jaa rahe hain. I dozed off and the bros were talkingabout Roadies when I woke up. 

[28 June]

We got of CST when we were supposed to get off at Thane. Sid was doing so much natak, made Deba carry him up the stairs. Shanno’s walking with 2 right foot chappals.

We get to her dad’s house. Sukku comes in a while. 2 daughters + 1 ghar jamai (me) = disaster. We sleep off and go to eat vada pao for breakfast, then sleep again after which the siblings decide to go to Indigo Deli for their Dad’s birthday. Ham and asparagus pizza, toofuckinmuch. Padi comes and takes us to Gokul (favourite place in Bombay) where one of her colleagues is having a birthday thing. Weirdly enough a senior from college is among them. Noisy bros at the next table stay with us past the bell for last call yelling “chut, drink na!” and “boss ek aur jaldi se last last” etc.

I realize I’ve lost my ATM card. I think in Gokarna. We find a very nice taxiwallah who chats with me about East Delhi – Noida (“very dangerous”) and we all smoke after stopping twice to buy cigarettes and we get a sulabh opened for us because bladder burst is happening. He was grumbling about lechy boys at Marine Drive who yelled behind our cab “what happened girls? We saw your boobs” and we yelled back “chutiye!” at them, not in Delhi. You just ignore them and hope you don’t get tailed back home. Padi stays at her aunt’s awesome flat in Kandivali Lokhandwalla area and we all chat drunkenly and then fall asleep. In the morning it was a bitch to get an auto back to Thakur Complex though.

[29 June]

Now we’re all lazing, our limbs are still locked and hurting from the past week of overindulgence and travel. Shanno’s dad told us a hundred times about where we should eat simple daal chawal (bay leaf) went off and returned to tell us to buy mangoes and kelas but not apples (too expensive). We watched X men, spotted small time advertisement actors, slept more.

[30 June]

Today I promise not to smoke any cigarettes, ok, not more than 2 cigarettes because being Louis Armstrong + Tom Waits (without being able to sing! I hate it, it’s like a crippling disability. Not that I’m some sort of surili koyal otherwise but still) is tough.

I’m sitting in a several sizes too big dress on the windowsill and listening to Adam and the Fish Eyed Poets, last year I was listening to his first album when I was here (and singing No Way Around in impassioned tones) “sugarcoat my guillotine” and all, this man is too much.  I take off my headphones and realize we’re all in dresses and there’s a car to pick us up and Khoya Khoya Chand is playing and we’re pretending to be rich. Shanno says “can I say something totally mean girls? My knees are really ugly” and I laugh. The siblings are comparing nostrils and I’m being the amused bystander writing it all down as usual. Life motto – “Gucci Gucci, Louis Louis, Fendi Fendi, Prada, basic bitches wear that shit so I don’t even bother”, thank you Kreayshawn.

God is trying to give me a sign, we suddenly see/hear a lot about Tripathis. Padi’s classmate the Oriya starlet Leslie Tripathi (with the porno voice and “pomerian Lisa”), Pinky Tripathi of the tuitions, some scamster Tripathi in the papers and now Prashant Tripathi written on a cab. “Ragini yahan baithi hai” written on an auto. We went to Candies, masquerading as rich well dressed girls (it felt weird, for sure after being unwashed scruffies). We order obscene amounts of food – beef, cheese, chicken, cupcakes. There were a bunch of boys jo dikhawe par ja ke thought we were fancy kids. “Everyone has an SLR nowdays” something about having to sell their guitars. Because we were taking pictures of our food. Then we began an orgy of gorging on our food. I refuse to eat with cutlery and licked, scooped, dropped my food all over. We got really stoned on the food and were laughing breathless. Suks was saying how she likes them big and chunky and we were chasing away crows and philosophizing about food and how Delhi is like mutton and garlic butter naan. The boys are now like “whaddafux?” and any attractiveness we may have projected has drained away. I’m quoting songs and saying “I love you so much it’s killing us both” and “Love will tear us apart” to our food and I’m so much in love with this lemon cheesecake that I’m blushing and can’t keep a straight face. Now Manoj bhaiyya is telling us about the houses of all the seths on Pali Hill and the siblings are looking at clothes at weird boutiques and I’m sitting on a stool in the corner in a food come like a bored boyfriend and writing away. Last year too I was at this exact same spot and situation, except I was playing with the cat. The woman is quoting exorbitant prices and holding up dresses and saying “this is very hot dress”. Sukku is looking like a movie star and maroing Gossip Girl poses. “Sookie got the bootay” The lady is trying to get me to buy shit but I do the “no entry” look and she backs off. Man outside Thai Ban looks like Tom Robbins (“Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in governments and business” – just remembered where that was from), playing with a dog. Man riding pillion on a mini bike with a 5 year old kid driving.

“Life is a bowl of cherries” written under the flyover. The sea link is totally beautiful even in the day. When you put the sea, sky, hills and city together the buildings look like lego blocks put there just to put things into context so that the sea and sky don’t merge into one infiniteforeveronwards.

“DIE SLOW CHOOL KID ON BOA”.

Me – “Ram Sampath milega mujhe toh main uske pair choo loongi. Sir ji, apne zindagi ka nazariya badal diya types”

Shanno – “We have so many sirjis”

Sukku – “Mera sirji Rajesh Pratap Singh hai”

Me – “Who sirji nahi darzi hai. Whaaaaaaaaaat!”

Colaba mein shiny shit dekh kar dimag kharab. Shades, shirts and my marwari kadas (the older one was lost at sea). Sitting at Picadilly now, resting because we have too much time to kill and Siddh is being pricey and we aren’t hungry yet. Went to Jehangir. Outside some sleazy photographer type saw Sukku’s camera and tried to chat up and tell us “places to go”, the siblings made PC and I stood silently and gave death vibes as always., we shook him off. Manoj Bhaiyya refuses to let us get off the car, he has either been given strict instructions by Shanno’s dad or he thinks we’ll get lost or die. He’s used to driving the owner’s young rich wife and kids and doesn’t understand why we want to walk. We tried several places, went to Woodside Inn to pee because it was too expensive for anything else, so now we’re at Leos which is even more expensive, waiting for Siddh. We ordered chilly garlic everything and beer and now I’m writing (Shantaram ki MKC main hoon asli, muahaha). Siddh and Nupur arrive and we all begin screaming and hurling abuses at Siddh. Radio playing Delhi songs all day. Manoj Bhaiyya is very weirded out by loud and abusive kids. They’ve decided to take us to some place called Ghetto and we love it because we recognize it as someplace where one of our imaginary friends has been and it’s pretending to be a shady place with its brick peeping through plaster and UV lights and drunken graffiti and neon portraits of Jim Morrison. Beer+joint+lame music is the best. Us 3 girls bond over Siddh ki kholna (just a figure of speech Sid, don’t say “Yeah you do… I know you wanna”). We go back singing Saddi Galli and return home after a tiring day of being bratty and spending Shanno ke baap ka paisa :D

[1 July]

Last day in Bombay, we go to watch Delhi Belly after vada pao brunch (also favourite thing about Bombay). It’s awesome btw, not quintessential Delhi movie but Lock Stock set in Delhi, perhaps. Go to meet Sid at Colaba (yes, fucking again, what to do) in Goks. Fast to Churchgate, Siddh is sitting with a bunch of people he doesn’t know. We discover connections “oh, you’re my neighbour’s cousin”, “oh you’re a fauji kid too”, “oh you’re from x school, you know y?” Some stud boys at our table tried to pick a fight with a sardarji. Jattan di shaan, brothers, gaand mar dete, I’m sorry to say. “You chill bhenchod, no YOU chill man I’m chilled” Everyone makes nice and settles down for their 4^th/5^th drink. “What do you do?” “I’m in advertising…hence the clothes (pointing to khaki shorts and fab India shirt). MORONS. Chikna boy steals Siddh’s girl.

At some point Pepperoni (who we love for her independence, swag and heel wearing abilities) arrives with boyfriend (who I’ve talked of in past Bombay post – total chut). A joint is rolled (sorry bro but charas ki jagah hamare dil mein ganja kabhi nahi le sakta) and we go out to smoke it. Pandus arrive inquiring what we were smoking, girls are herded back inside, P stands by her man (WHY) and there’s minor drama and cash transactions. Return of boyfriends with “agar ___ nahi hota toh main uski ma chodh deta” yeah yeah…abhi. I just get put off with machismo, bro, can’t help it (which reminds me at some point someone asked my why I say bro, I’m a girl… I don’t remember who and when). At some point I found myself saying “I’m from ___ college, I hated it, don’t judge me”. But in the cab I realized that while explaining the Stepford wife/drawing room political discussion type girls I described, I was bringing my own sistas down. There are a lot of very smart and very cool ladies I met in college (Projekt + Class of 2011 History reprezent!). It boils down to the same apologist “I’m a feminist but I’m not like a braburner/don’t hate men/shave my legs” scene. I’m not making apologies or concessions for nobody, bitch, if I sound like a feminist (so said chut boyfriend) it’s because I am, make what you will of it nahi toh teri ma ka bhosada (irony irony). Dude I miss hearing/saying ma ka bhosada all around. Lots of “jab main picture banaoonga, jab tu picture banayega” talk is happening. I was trying to explain the concept of “bakchodi” and “chaudh” to some bloke while we were having “what is it with you Delhi kids” conversation but he didn’t get it. We have Bade Mian rolls and I give death stares to several men who look at my ladyfriends and we get into the cab and leave. I’ve had a bit of an overdose of Colaba (even though it’s awesome) because the only 2 friends we have in Bombay live here so we’re always here. Plus Gokul, but it’s ok, when we show people around Khan, we always end up in Khan, too.

I miss Ma’s face and her squishy stomach, I miss stalking her around the house. We’re exchanging senti Bollywood Ma type messages. “Mera baccha meri jaan. Love you my child. Counting the days till my baby’s return ” And also her weird Kirron Kher type messages about failing as junior artists “Buy me a katora, we will both sit at Hanuman mandir and make leper faces and earn money. Else you catch some Aamir Khan kinda fellow and make your Dhobi Ghat type films”. Tomorrow I’m back to my blue walls, my bed, my folks, Rinki’s food (“V, kya khaoge, kuch toh bata doh, please!” “Jo man mein aye bana do, Rinks” I sure hope she says I’ve lost weight, Rinki’s word is the last word.) and my 1 book a day diet. It’s weird but I’ve been dreaming of going for lectures and reading a million old beautiful books which reminds me that I have to go back to entrances and results and wondering where my life is going. 20 something problems FTW! But for now I’m on the windowsill singing “Teri tirchi nazar ne dil ko kar diya penchar” which might well be the most romantic lines ever written. Yeates ki MKC. Dilli bina dil nahi lagda, bro.

[2 July]

At the airport now way too early listening to Switty Switty with Singhs next to me, the feeling of going home.Today vada pao man said I looked like Priyanka Gandhi which I would ordinarily cringe at but he was atleast apologetic “sorry haan, bura toh nahi laga beta?” Kya baat karte hain uncle, apke vada paos ne dil ko touch kar liya. I donated my last cigarette to my autowalla and walked in. Oh god I fear there are going to be a lot of toddlers on my flight. There are 2 men in cowboy hats (Ranjore ke Rathore style) at departures. Being in a sea of clouds is the best feeling and I can’t do anything else all I do is stare. But when we’re cruising high above and everything is just pastel colours and nothing else I’m getting suddenly downtown for some reason. The sight of my city changes everything and I’m grinning madly and eager to GTFO of this flight and rush home. I get out, take the shuttle bus to T3 and get on the airport metro which is fucking cool and fancy looking, change to New Delhi station, change to Rajiv, change to blue line. I’m listening to the Kominas again. Blow Shit Up is the song I listen to when I’m getting off at Rajiv Chowk because it is the perfect soundtrack to shoving through a sea of people. Dilli aggression is back, brothas. I’m singing loudly on the rickshaw ride home and I enter and get engulfed in my mother’s arms and a couple of my aunts are chilling and my dad is making his whiskey. I am greeted with chicken and salad (aaah my precious salad, I missed you) and fruits and a chilled bottle of Tuborg. No place like home, man.