Food For Thought.

Don't you just love food? Like, love it more than anything else?

Well, I don't mean all the time. I, for one, have phases with my food cravings. I would like to believe that I have a generous appetite, to say the least. But most of the friends I eat with may beg to differ. Nevertheless, hungry or not, food is spectacular. Magical, even. And healing, of course.

The smell of garlic and chilly as it makes that crackling sound in heated butter is bliss. Add to that a little flour, milk, oregano and chilly flakes and you have the perfect white sauce for a yum pasta. And mushrooms. And cheese. Oh! Cheese. It's milk's leap towards immortality. Is it just me or does it make the world around really happy and musical? Just like in the movies. It's nostalgic too; reminds me of chaotic Sunday mornings of about year 8 of my life when my mum had the time and will to make pizzas for me and my friends with little cubes of Amul cheese. Amul cheese and tomatoes and garlic and chicken chunks and different coloured peppers with some seasoning. I remember feeling fancy because we were the only people I knew who got the fancy peppers in red and yellow, apart from the regular green. Peppers, if eaten right, can be a delight in its own. Crunchy peppers of all colours, crunchier lettuce leaves, onions, smoked chicken and dollops of olive oil along with some white gram and creamy dressing; toss it together, add some white feta cheese with it and some lemon zest and feel good about life. And then they say, salads are boring. I loathe salad of any kind for the simple reason that they're too..errm..healthy. But I humbly make an exception here and there. The sight of bacon and it's glistening body wrapped around cheese is mouth watering. Then there are the charmingly wafer thin ham slices which make the otherwise mundane bread rather colourful for snacks of all kinds. I am a huge fan of sandwiches. Anything between bread somehow rises up in my edibility radar. I think the simple cucumber sandwiches for tea, though are prodigies of the British rule, are highly underrated. The buttered slices of uncooked bread slices with thin-sliced cucumbers between them..ah! Slightly toasted and slightly buttered are my favourite form of bread with hard boiled eggs.

The use of chicken stock is always a delightful addition. Stock brought to a boil with coriander, ginger and garlic topped with appropriated dashes of vinegar and soya sauce makes me want to spend all my cold winter nights consuming it. I have never particularly liked the ever-so-popular momos, though. They're flour balls with a little chicken in them. But the fiesty red dip with it.. now that's the stuff! Talking about 'the stuff', Indian herbs. spices and food habits in general take the heart away. Minus the burps and its cousins, of course. The cube of butter melting over a hot parantha makes me want to cry with joy. That, with pickled carrot and sourish yogurt; that's the breakfast of the hills here. Sigh. The chicken curry with its overdoses of garlic and garam masala is extra terrestrial in it's being as it is spicy and full of heat yet humbling and gentle. The Butter Chicken is elevated taste, to say the least. And the kababs and tikkas; each melt-in-the-mouth bite can make one ponder upon its hours' marination in asafoetida (heeng), curd, cream etc. The delicacies of the tandoor are a personal favourite, especially when they are served with 'salad' (pronounced 'sa-laaaad') that comprises round sliced onions and fresh tomatoes. Tomatoes with basil is a treat, isn't it? Tomatoes and basil steeped in extra virgin oil and lemon zest - a go-to curry. Another go-to for me is definitely mac and cheese. Of course, alfredo fettuccine/penne is the adult's mac and cheese. However, nothing beats pizza. Nothing!
Nothing but potato wedges dipped in mayonnaise. 

Sigh.

I think I'm going to have a food orgasm. And I've only just written all this down.

Rachel- "What would you give up, sex or food?"
Joey- "Food..No, Sex..Food..Sex..Food..Sex..OH GOD, I DONT KNOW, I WANT BOTH, I-I WANT GIRLS ON BREAD!"

- F.R.I.E.N.D.S

^Can totally empathize!

Don't you just love food? Like, love it more than anything else?

The Sex Face.

It's not possible.

No matter how much of a stud you are;

No matter how popular among friends and family and beyond you may be;

No matter how much of the world you may be ruling; it's just not possible:

You can't have a not-hideous sex face.

One would think that only a seemingly heartless woman with no feelings or respect whatsoever can think or say something like this. But it's true.  The Urban Dictionary  defines Sex Face as 'The stupid ass face you make leading to busting a nut'. It's exactly that - A Stupid Ass Face. Once one is over the frills and thrills of making out and sex, in general, does one realize that the sheer expression while at it is hilarious, to say the least. 

That one fine day when one probably booty calls not for the purposes of hormonal satisfaction particularly but because one just wants to experience the feel of one's new pair of denims being pulled off for cheap thrills and hence the focus on the action is not completely enthusiastic. It is then when you're struck by enlightenment about the glaring fact. And you'd think that something that's indicative of the pleasure quotient of the moment is going to be so much more interesting and/or interested looking. I get all the shut eyes and the cursing and the lip bites (?) and the curling toes, but the face on its own could be quite the buzz-kill.

It's a strange look encompassing everything from fear, disgust, repulsion, pain, agony.. basically, everything. Everything but lust. Or love. Or any of their versions.
I, for one, am appalled and probably slightly amused.
One laughs, as much as one thinks is appropriate, at a guy's sex face and then enlightenment strikes again; one then thinks of one's own possible sex face. Sigh.

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I have been told that the blog contains more than necessary sexual content. I have never argued that notion with too much enthusiasm or effort anyway. Nevertheless, too much sex didn't kill anyone, now did it? Ooo. I think it did.
Anyway, I feel the need to mention my favourite IITian and the most condescending person I know of, here. He is a proud owner of an awesome but almost dying blog. Also, he thinks yours truly may be a sex addict- which is absolutely false! He is in Hong Kong at the moment. And sad. And alone. And sans any sex. 
And yet, I am the one who might be missing him a little bit. EWW.


P.S- Just for the record, The Sex Face post has not, in any possible way, been inspired by his beautiful face. True Story.

Some Advertising.

Ooo.. You know what you SHOULD read?

1) THIS

Also, there is this super cool E-magazine that goes by the name of Whackk, where yours truly is a regular contributor.
Hence, you should check out this and this, which were up for the month of June.

Some publicity never hurt anyone, now did it?
Even though I feel leetle cheap for the advertising, I have my reasons.

That'd be all :)

That friend.

We all have that friend. Well, most of us do.

That friend you'd meet when you are way into the prime of your adventurous streak.
That friend whose ass you had to cover each time they screwed up.
That friend who'd get suspended with you back in school for two weeks;
and then some more.
That friend who'd be a proud member of your back bench-er association.
That friend who'd go pick up a fight with the girl who called you names.
That friend who'd run away from home and live with you.
That friend whose mother trusts you to be the one to put some sense into them.
That friend who'd be an excited little blob when you make them bunk school for the first time.
That friend who'd write you love chits for no reason.
That friend who'd always make you want to go out of your way to protect them.
That friend who'd take a million pictures with you, without occasion.
That friend who'd be part of the 'people-you-can-never-speak-to' clan before they became That Friend.
That friend who'd spend all their summer evenings talking to you.
That friend who'd always pretend to be equally concerned when you'd fret over your potential balding.
That friend who'd often seem like an extension of yourself;
an unhygienic extension. But an extension nevertheless.

That friend with whom you just stop having anything in common with after a point.
That friend with whom the lack of commonality seizes to bother after a point.

We all have that friend. Well, most of us do.

That Friend who picked out the Red for you.

Dear Ryan,

Do you remember the time when we'd dress up and pretend to be movie stars, pop stars.. rockstars?

Or the time when we'd draw out little story boards on paper for Our version of the movies we didn't like and those that we did? 

Or the time when we'd use deo bottles as mike and sing songs of love with such passion?

That was the plan, right?

Do you remember the bizarre things I'd tell you?

I'd tell you how I was not going to do the whole long-gown thing for the red carpet. I'd tell you how I was going to show up in leather pants with pointy red heels that would bring out my ass, along with the colour of my eyes. I'd tell you to wear a plum blazer with baggies, for some reason. I'd tell you we'd make a statement. They'd think we are lovers. But we'd never clear the air when Simi would call us for a rendezvous, or even Oprah; because, 'lovers' didn't do it. 

"Just because we're barely 10 doesn't mean we don't feel as much", you'd tell me.

Do you remember the bizarre things you'd tell me?

You'd tell me how we'd walk into a restaurant and people would stop eating to witness our grand entry. You'd tell me how each of our many moves was going to be as precious as timeless art. You'd tell me that we weren't ordinary. You'd tell me that we were different; we were magic! You'd tell me that we'd make our way through the very expensive restaurant, take our seats and lose ourselves in conversations; conversations not about the work that's got us all that we have, but conversations about us. You know? Because we'd still be the humble souls in touch with our roots. 

"You'd still just order cheese pizza and coke, idiot!", I'd tell you.

You'd never disagree.

We thought we'd be rockstars! 

We never saw any reason to believe otherwise.

We were certain of the applause we'd get. We were certain of the autographs we'd sign.

We were certain that we won't tour too much.
Only Paris, maybe.
And New York. And China.

I'd planned to trick you into touring Korea too. You never wanted to go back to your roots, apparently! It was always Delhi for you. And people would think a Korean kid has it hard away from home. 

Such grand plans.

Then came 2004.

You died.

I wonder what you'd think of me now?

Of my right choices or the sheer dearth of them. 

Of each smoke curl that escapes my parted lips.
Of my excessive drinking.

Of each time I say anything. Or think it.

You're probably a rockstar in Heaven now - however fantastically foolish that sounds - and you're probably building up anticipation in our audience about my arrival.

A good thing, that.

Anyway, I write this to tell you that'd someday I might get to see you again.
Someday I might get to touch you again.
Someday I might have your breath in sync with mine again.
Someday, that's not today.
Today, I found a picture of you.
I burnt it.
In my defence, you left me alone.
YOU DIED!

Sincerely,
Me.

The Slow Life.

I have always maintained how I hate travelling. However, that shouldn't be misconstrued to believe that I don't like taking a vacation. Only, my idea of a vacation operates on one sole objective : 

To Be Able To Lead The Slow Life.

I HATE the journey part in general, sometimes. After the talking, singing, leg pulling is done, I take high medications that make me sleep straight through about 10hrs of my life on the bus/train and other fancy modes of transport. I hate having to get up in the morning to go out trekking or sight-seeing or some such. Vacations are meant for chilling; for long baths, breathing, sleeping, lazing around, getting high, eating -- C.H.I.L.L.I.N.G.

I seem to be the only person getting that. Anyway, having gone most of my life being used to getting my way, I find my ways of 'chilling' even when I go out of the city with my tourist-like-travel-crazy friends. Yawn.

So I really have nothing substantial to report or discuss or post for the simple reason that I am still in the flow of The Slow Life from the hills. But of course, it would be a little silly on my part to think that the hangover of the same would last long. What is even more of a buzz kill is the sudden outburst of one million albums of the trip. I think pictures of me are going to take over the damn Facebook and humanity will be restored at last. Now I know how superhero(in)es are born. Even though they made me walk paths I wouldnt even have looked at at because of their sheer height and angles, my little getaway was worth it. Now if only Delhi wasnt so fuckin' hot.

It rained yesterday though :)

Talking of pictures and my lack of substantiality, I leave you with nothing but a subtle toast to the trip that was, my inner peace that's going to run its course soon, the Slow Life and an almost-picture of self from the trip.

Of Funny Pants, Lots of Walking, Intoxication, Lots Of Walking, 'Joint' Accounts, lots of Walking, Yummy Eating, Lots of walking, Pictures, Lots of Walking, Monks (Old Monk and Otherwise), Lots of Walking, Hippie Love, Lots of Walking, Paradise Weather, Lots of Walking, People I Love, Lots of Walking, Butters, Lots of Walking...

Mcleodganj. ♥
Summer '11

Sexual Innuendos.

When you meet someone after really long, there's always this little void that exists between both parties. The void grows stronger with time. 

The void becomes strongest with sexual history...

"Hey... long time... How you doing?"

"Oh! Hi. I've been okay... you? Got yourself a car, I heard. Congratulations!...

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Amidst the awkward conversation among other things, my forsaken tattoo decides to peep out from under my sleeve:

-" You gotta tattoo? You were never a tattoo person back in the day!"

Back in the day was when I was 15 and he was about 20.

-"Yeah... things change, right?"
*awkward laugh*

-"Show mee??"

-"No.. Be satisfied with just this. I'm not giving away the whole thing"
*trying to sound/look smug*

-"Not the whole thing, eh? Still?"
*smirks*

- :|

-"Haha.. I'll see ya around, kid? Been a while! Gotta hit the gym now. Bye"

-"Yeah..."
*smiles*

It's going to be  some summer.