Lapses of lingy…

The other day, some of us garrulous women got into an intense discussion about the kind of personality all the movie channels on television might assume, if they were human.

Sony Pix pans out as a worldly-wise, whiskey-and-cigars man, with a husky baritone, and who, well, tells stories. And what a story-teller, one with lots of character and personality. Looks-wise, he is rugged and earthy, and there’s nothing remotely glam about him. But that’s the way he likes to keep it.

Zee Studio is an adolescent boy – one who has a vague slight inkling of who he is, and where he is headed but is a little confused about how to streamline and get there. Star Movies is a glamourous, yuppy woman, who wants to be seen everywhere. HBO is male, but I forget his character, which doesn’t say much for him, anyways.

And coming back to Sony Pix. I discovered this Sunday that he has had a makeover. But his personality has not been diluted by an overkill of flashy packaging. Mr rugged has stepped out in a classic tuxedo. And he looks good!

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This week I had octopus salad, at a schmoo-zy joint in Bandra. I have been wanted to try it (octopus ie) ever since I watched these brawny, rugged man-at-sea types whip up a mean-looking meal of octopus on Surfing The Menu.

STM is a rather ‘rugged’ cooking show, where the chefs tend to be retrosexual men, the setting is the harsh outdoors and the ingredients, whatever can be caught in the vicinity (shrimp, shark, octopus, et al).

The salad was no great shakes, probably because there was too much vegetable and less octopus. This was washed down with red wine and champagne. The latter was a ‘gift’ by the restaurant management, because our table that was reserved for a 10.30 pm meal, got empty at 11.45 pm.

On a different not, ever since I picked up new speakers, the mood of every song played on it — sadness, joy, triumph, excitement — all of these and more, expand exponentially. Everyone ought to have a pair of great speakers, because great sound is one of the things we live for like good food, adventure and romance.

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The good news: 600 people have been booked for bursting crackers after 10 pm; they have been slapped with a fine of Rs 5,000. At least, it’s a start. 

The big question: Should these explosive-like menaces  be banished, altogether?! Yes, I think. I was watching this super-scary snippet on CNN-IBN, where the anchor, a Dr Sanjay Gupta is standing on a ‘sinking’ island, near New Papua Guinea. Lots of trees that were above sea-level a few years back, are now submerged!

It’s alarming, considering that all the moving and shaking in Mumbai, is happening on an island too. Why don’t people just wake up and smell the pollution?

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I spent most of last night swearing, over the firecracker bombs that kept going off every five seconds. A good friend called up to compare notes; she said her dog was shivering on the couch. And most of us arrived rather groggy-eyed to work, this morning. So, concerts must stop at 10. And I hear that smoking may be banned in pubs pretty soon. But all of us must be subjected to such gross intrusiveness, such assault on one’s ears and the environment. Grrrrr!

Firecracker bombs MUST BE BANNED. What sort of sadistic pleasure do noises that sound like war explosions serve? I don’t understand the psyche of people who set them off. I think they are just SUPER-MINDLESS.

On a different note, my Punjabi friend’s Goan theme Diwali party, was rather inspiring as far as theme parties go. The latter mostly, seem not to exist, because the thought having to conjure up themes and dress up accordingly, seems rather tedious, taking into account our uber-workaholic lifestyle. He had sorpotel and xacuti and Goan music (which reminded one of scary family parties with big-butt contests, since we are a family of big people). 

No fenny though (thank goodness; have you EVER tried venturing near someone with fenny-laced breadth?!). We were all supposed to wear dresses with darts (thank goodness, those ‘dresses-with-hideous-dart’-wearing days are over!).

As for my friend, he is an aspiring Goan, or so he claims. What a concept!

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My social life seems to have entered a high-octane era, so much so that blogging seems to have taken a backseat. Today for a change, I am enjoying a nice quiet evening watching the romantics antics of two mamoths, followed by the dalliances of two highschool sweethearts, who by a suspiciously Hollywood-esque twist of fate get thrown together again,  post marriage, kids (18 between the two of them) and subsequent widowdom. Sigh!   

And I have still not gotten bored of swimming, touch wood. During and post that one hour everyday, I feel free and energetic, respectively. It’s a great feeling to finally take up, enjoy and relish every moment of a sport — a far cry from the school days when only the prize atheletes got to enjoy play and also merit the attention of the gym teacher. 

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Just pinged a friend on chat: “How are you feeling today?”

He replied:” Very, very tired.”

WE ARE A GENERATION OF TIRED PEOPLE.

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