What's Delhi up to today?
They're going to Hauz Khas Village, obviously. You see them crowding in the one lane in and out in their swishy tops and skinny jeans, the men all with the vaguely Edwardian haircut that's so in vogue, singing 'Char botal vodka, kaam mera roz ka', unsteady on their feet after pregaming in their cars parked in the middle of the road, near the Mandir, at Aurobindo market - anywhere they can find an inch.
And where are you? You're in the auto, bathed in the red of tail lights, swearing and ranting with the autowala. 'Bhenchod sabko yahin ana hota hai? Bhaiya main kaam karti hoon yahan.' We remember the day last year that was this bad, when the car caught on fire. I smoke, he stands and looks out on to the sea of cars and douchebags with triangular bodies and skin tight jeans (no teenage dreams or kicks). I ask him to take me to Pragati Maidan instead and he flies. My eyes stinging in the wind after 14 hour shifts, days of 12 hours shifts, writing mixed up concepts for clients we hate already. Last night Shazzy returned so we could avail the benefits of his bear cuddles. Drinking double black and,smoking ganga-jamunas of some 'mango weed' and charas I've had for ages. I feel asleep during our game of Catan, though I technically I was winning. Woke up to CCBDP (cold coffee, for non smegs) and semi-positive morning vibes, trying to listen to something that might make you feel better about going to work so fucking early on Saturday. Harbouring delusions of finishing around lunchtime and maybe getting a haircut and going home before 5. Hahahaha.
He, bless him, takes me past cops, drug deals near shauchalays, hookers near Lajpat, dumbfucks in white CRVs. I run up the stairs with my 4kilo bag looking like one of the characters we wrote of trite corporate placement videos. Inspired by runners and Trainspotting. The metro guard asks me where I want to go and says I'm just in time.
I've had too much coffee and too many cigarettes and the couple of pegs of whiskey I was bribed with (for staying to finish when everyone else fucked off) did fuck all and I'm thinking about how I used to be one of those obnoxious douchebags who used to crawl into the village, looking to get loud and drunk. The kinds I now glare at resentfully and shove past with my headphones on like 'movebitchgetouttheway', good times.
I complain too much.
They're going to Hauz Khas Village, obviously. You see them crowding in the one lane in and out in their swishy tops and skinny jeans, the men all with the vaguely Edwardian haircut that's so in vogue, singing 'Char botal vodka, kaam mera roz ka', unsteady on their feet after pregaming in their cars parked in the middle of the road, near the Mandir, at Aurobindo market - anywhere they can find an inch.
And where are you? You're in the auto, bathed in the red of tail lights, swearing and ranting with the autowala. 'Bhenchod sabko yahin ana hota hai? Bhaiya main kaam karti hoon yahan.' We remember the day last year that was this bad, when the car caught on fire. I smoke, he stands and looks out on to the sea of cars and douchebags with triangular bodies and skin tight jeans (no teenage dreams or kicks). I ask him to take me to Pragati Maidan instead and he flies. My eyes stinging in the wind after 14 hour shifts, days of 12 hours shifts, writing mixed up concepts for clients we hate already. Last night Shazzy returned so we could avail the benefits of his bear cuddles. Drinking double black and,smoking ganga-jamunas of some 'mango weed' and charas I've had for ages. I feel asleep during our game of Catan, though I technically I was winning. Woke up to CCBDP (cold coffee, for non smegs) and semi-positive morning vibes, trying to listen to something that might make you feel better about going to work so fucking early on Saturday. Harbouring delusions of finishing around lunchtime and maybe getting a haircut and going home before 5. Hahahaha.
He, bless him, takes me past cops, drug deals near shauchalays, hookers near Lajpat, dumbfucks in white CRVs. I run up the stairs with my 4kilo bag looking like one of the characters we wrote of trite corporate placement videos. Inspired by runners and Trainspotting. The metro guard asks me where I want to go and says I'm just in time.
I've had too much coffee and too many cigarettes and the couple of pegs of whiskey I was bribed with (for staying to finish when everyone else fucked off) did fuck all and I'm thinking about how I used to be one of those obnoxious douchebags who used to crawl into the village, looking to get loud and drunk. The kinds I now glare at resentfully and shove past with my headphones on like 'movebitchgetouttheway', good times.
I complain too much.
3 comments:
hahaha... been going through your blog, you're funny!
Hey man, good to see you. How're you doing? And thanks. :)
I'm good, I'm good. How have you been? What are you doing? And we haven't met in a while, when is sharanya coming down next? :)
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