Raking up old dirt, eh?

Snippets from an interview on NDTV, regarding his turning hostile as an eyewitness in the Jessica Lall murder case:

"Whatever had to happen seven years ago was meant to happen"
"People are just raking up old dirt and trying to sensationalise the issue"

Aargh - this is the life of a human being you're talking about , Munshi-boy, not an illicit relationship. I wonder how amusing Shayan Munshi would find it if someone shot his new bride in broad daylight, in front of ninety-odd people , and key eyewitnesses said that they couldn't recognize the person responsible, and didn't want to be part of the attempts of the media to sensationalise the issue.

Even less amusing is his retraction of his signed statement, with the excuse that he couldn't understand Hindi properly, when the statement has a line indicating that he fully understands what he is signing, because it has been translated to him.

Amusing unrelated bit of trivia: Shayan Munshi was then a student at IIPM.

Dawg to the slaughter.

Morbid, wot?

Oh, and here are the pics from V-day.

I look like a deer caught in the headlights, but Monika looks very much at ease by Ayaan's side. :)

And the flowers!

New kids on the block...

Looks like everyone at TIFR has begun to feel the need to express their opinions on a blog these days...within the last few months, there have been many new players in the game.

A flashing new entry on the blogging scene, someone who claims to be a frustrated second year student has created quite the stir (not), especially after he very discreetly left links to his blog here and on Samu's space.

While it is very enlightening to know how the other half thinks, there are some things I don't get.
For starters, why would he draw Samu's attention to his blog, to return her good-humoured comments with spiteful ones? I'm actually amazed at how she managed to reply in a well-intentioned fashion in the first place.

Going by their natural flair for language, it's amazing how there was absolutely NO contribution coming from these people when there was talk of starting a student newsletter.

Happiness is...

....An unassuming hottie.

a.k.a. Ayaan Ali Khan.
Dunno who he is?
Maybe this will refresh your memory: He's the one on the left.

Plus, he's about forty times better looking in real life.

:D

He was at TIFR to entertain a bunch of mostly firang delegates attending an international conference- popularly known as CHEPO-2006.

Monika escorted him on his journey from the hotel, and after his scintillating performance, I asked if I could accompany (read as pile on with) Monika on the car ride back to the Taj.

He virtually begged us to take his 'token of appreciation' bunch of roses, and said that we could divide it between us and tell people it was from him. I was most willing, of course. We even took snaps, which I do intend to upload on flickr, eventually. Quite the smooth operator, as a friend put it.

Although I most certainly came across as a gushing fangirl, he was rather proactive in making conversation himself, even apologizing for ruining our evening. I promptly reassured him that we could execute 'our plans' after dropping him off, and he needn't worry.

What I did not mention was that my grand plan was to have roasted almonds icecream at Natural's with TIFR junta.

*sigh*

The rest of the week hasn't been as pleasant though. I lost my glasses a couple of days ago- they seem to have vanished off the face of this earth. Who would take cracked glasses!?

The very next day, with my Nokia 6610 in my pocket, I crashed into a worktable corner and cracked the display.

I was more than confident of a well- deserved slap from the parents, but they were real dolls about it - no yells, no 'how could you' (the most annoying and pointless question ever).

All they said was that you should get new glasses and change the display.

:)

Nothing like the occasional understanding response from teh parents to cheer you up.

Tull-i hokar gir gaye..Part II

My response to Rang De Basanti was supposed to feature in this space, but I think Roswitha's take is a far better read.

Do visit.

What Your Drink Says About You..

A very insightful post at Waiter Rant informs me that I'm not really good at waiting..

Vodka on the Rocks – You want to get drunk as fast as possible.

I love what he has to say about Vik..
Sour Apple Martini – You have a sense of fun but overindulgence might cause dancing on tables and bad karaoke singing. (Beth?)

So true, so true!


Tidu, weren't you saying something about margaritas on the beach? *raises eyebrows*
Margarita – You’re fun, good in bed, and naughty with a sense of style. If you don’t have it with salt you’re a wimp.


Something you want to tell us about, Arch?
Rum and Coke – You’ve been arrested for assault once or twice.

Swinny's choice makes her very popular with the waiter.. :)
Beer – Blue collar, simple, and an old standby. (I think a girl wearing a t-shirt and jeans while drinking a good ‘ol Bud is very sexy.)

My favourite is what he has to say about Champagne:
Champagne – You’re reserved, classy, or a stripper.

:)

Tull-i hokar gir gaye..Part I

It has been a fairly interesting week. Went for the Jethro Tull show on Wednesday, and saw Rang de Basanti on Friday night. Two events on my social calendar in one week is definitely out of the norm. Sad but true.

The Kala Ghoda Arts festival started yesterday- Yay!

I don't expect to attend half as many events as I did last year.
Was supposed to watch a Bombay Black gig at Azad Maidan yesterday...Rather liked them last year, especially the easy-on-the-eyes guitarist and lead singer.... Was feeling kinda off colour and ended up going home to watch Secret Window instead.

As for Jethro Tull, a kind uncle was willing to sponsor me when he found out that the only reason I wasn't going for it was monetary. Eventually he discovered that the company he works for was one of the sponsors of the show at Shanmughananda Hall, and we got complimentary passes instead.

Alms for Shanti opened the show, and were refreshingly good. I even recognised a couple of their songs!

Expectedly, there were more people my uncle's age than mine, though that was to be no indication of the behaviour of the crowd...

The show started around an hour late, not before some irate audience member yelled
" Hey manager, start the bloody show, I have to drop my daughter off at school tomorrow morning" , which encouraged another wannabe angsty teenager to yell, "B.C., M.C, Start the fucking music!"

Gits. It wasn't Independence rock, for heaven's sake.

You would think the gigantic portraits of a couple of swamis, hanging next to the stage, would've discouraged such language.

But young men insist on being indelicate!


Ian Anderson is flawless as a flautist, but the poor old sod really shouldn't attempt vocals anymore. No tone, no tune, mutilating both the high and low pitch bits. He was murdering his own numbers so badly towards the end I was hoping Locomotive Breath wasn't on the set for the night.

The show closed with Aqualung, and just as we got up to leave, the band pranced back on to stage and broke into my favourite number.

I enjoyed it nevertheless. :) He may be approaching senility, but he's a damn good entertainer.

" I was nineteen when I first heard of Eric Clapton. I soon decided that it would be a good idea to play any instrument but the guitar.

Somebody had told me that Eric Clapton couldn't play the flute - neither could Jimi Hendrix, Jeff Beck or Jimmy Page. .......or Bryan Adams."

At which point he burst into giggles.

There were some not-so-pleasant incidents to remember the evening by too..

For the most part of the show, I was leaning forward in my seat in the last but one row of the auditorium, but occasionally, I would lean back and switch off for a bit.

On one such occasion, I started fidgeting in my seat, as I realized that I was sharing the seat with an old man's foot - some bloke sitting behind me decided to lose his shoes and feel up my sides with his toes. Wonder how long he was at this before I noticed.

When I did eventually notice and look back to see WTF was going on, I was kinda surprised. He was sitting there, nonchalant, buttons undone, all paunchy, slinking his foot back into his shoe.

My uncle, sitting right next to me, saw me turning back and asked me what was up, and uncomfortable as I was explaining the situation, I mumbled " creepo feeling me up" under my breath.

We both turned back to get a better look at him, and he calmly got up and left the auditorium. We just kept staring.

I've always told myself that if anyone tries to get fresh, they're going to regret it. But I guess I was really caught unawares here.

The tickets to the concert cost between one and three grand. What sort of a lecherous fool would pay that much just to get a feel?

Also, he was O-L-D. I suppose it's really hard for me to accept that there really are dirty old men out there. I wasn't even there by myself - what was he thinking!?

The second he walked out I regretted not having whacked him with my purse. But If I had done so, there wouldn't be any Aqualung or Locomotive Breath. I can't decide if I should've reacted.

Oh well. I couldn't help smiling to myself when the opening lines of Aqualung came back to me:

Sitting on a park bench,

Eyeing little girls with bad intent.

Romaaanz in the air?

As one of the two (thousand) avid readers of Roswitha's blog, I suppose I've been tagged to do the Romaaanz meme.

SO here goes: Eight qualities of the perfect lover..

1. Must not take everything I say seriously. It's very frustrating when he is unable to discern the difference between a serious statement and one made in jest.

2. If he looks like a demi-god, he must not proceed to ruin the happy illusion by opening his mouth and attempting to make conversation.

3. Must not have his life revolve around sports. His life should revolve around me instead. Ok, I take that back. Clingy is irritating. Also, must have a unique and independent taste in music, movies, books. Cannot be tone deaf.

4. Must have a keen understanding of how time-keeping devices work. 'nuff said.

5. Must not think that being hygienic is bathing once in three days, or that wearing the same 'outfit' for four days at a stretch is acceptable, or that grubbiness is a valid style statement. Grubbiness was cool, if you were in Seattle in the early nineties and had a voice like Kurt Cobain's. Must recognize the need for the presence of volatile aromatic compounds in his life.

6. Must not be a bigot of any sort. *The* biggest turnoff ever.

7. Must dazzle me with his wit and charm and keep me laughing. Must not think he is God's gift to womankind and have an ego the size of Karan Johar's head....Which, as Vik will readily tell you, is very large indeed.

8. Must magically be able to comprehend when I mean 'I really don't want to talk about this' and, on what other instances I'm trying to say 'the only reason I brought this up is because I want to talk about it'.


I tag.....Oook, Archana, Mitli Miss, Golu, Ro, KN, Kaushu and Vik.

Rules of the tag:

1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. You need to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.