Will Write For Coffee

and food and vacations, too.

Month: February 2013 (page 1 of 2)

Lights, camera, action!

My first movie in a theatre was Hum.  I was very young, I think 4 or 5 years old.  I loved everything about this movie.  Still do.  I remember wanting the Jumma Chumma outfit Kimi Katkar wears in the song (and then the Yeh Mausam Ka Jadoo Hai Mitwa frock and of course, the jacket Sanjay Dutt wears in the Khalnayak song) and sadly, never got one.

Anyway, so today, they were showing this on tv, and managed to see the scene where Tiger meets Jumma after a few years. (the entire movie is on YouTube, if anyone wants to see) and I could not help but smile and cheer during the scene.

Amitabh Bachchan was my first favourite hero.  Of course, then I saw Hum Aapke hai Koun and Salman Khan stole my heart, and he still has it. ♥

But the only constant variable in my life has been movies.  I wanted sister to marry someone who has a younger brother just like Salman Khan in Hum Aapke Hai Koun. (no, jijaji doesn’t have a younger brother) and then always wanted to go to a Karan Johar inspired college. (no, my college was awful, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai never happened)  And I still want to become a spy (Hi, if you’re looking for one, you know who to contact).

And I love movies so much that I don’t think I will ever give up watching them, even though I know my life will never be a romantic comedy. 

So, this post is dedicated to all the hours spent watching movies.  Maybe someday, I’ll write a book that gets adapted as a movie too.

Till then, I will still believe in all the love and romance these movies have taught me.

The Sabarmati Redemption

Kindly read about how Ahmedabad blast accused tried to break out of Sabarmati Central Jail in Ahmedabad before proceeding to read the post.  In case you don’t know about it, here’s the link.

One of my aunt is particularly fond of the bhajiyas prepared by the inmates of the Sabarmati Central Jail (kindly google – and if the aunt is to be believed, the bhajiyas are quite awesome, but I’m wary of eating them – jails are not particularly known for the hygiene standards, you see, what if the inmates don’t even *ahem* wash their hands?) It is a running joke in the family that if any of us gets convicted of any crime and is lodged at central jail, the said aunt will definitely come and pay us a visit.

The Central Jail also holds historical significance because if Gujarat State Education Board history books are to be believed, when Gandhiji was living at Sabarmati Ashram during the Indian Independence movement, he had famously said that the Ashram is strategically located for him.  One side is the Central Jail, other side is the smashaan (crematorium) and that when he leaves the place, he will go to either of the two places.

The Mehtas are particularly eccentric people.  According to my mother, her genes have played the balancing factor in sister and me, and that we should be grateful to her for not letting the Mehta genes take over us completely.  (Father, of course, begs to differ, and says the scariest gene we should be afraid of is the Joshi gene which comes from the Naani).  I digress.  Coming back, the swing is the family’s favourite spot.

This afternoon, the three of us (the parents and self) were having our cup of tea.  As soon as I went to sit next to the father on the swing, he faked his displeasure of seeing me.  Now, if you have never played, ‘not touching, not touching’ while taking your finger as near as possible to the other person, just to irritate the hell out of him/her, then you have not lived your life well.  So I pretended to lean on dad.  I leaned as close to him as I could, while mom tried to control her laughter (almost choking on her tea) and kept saying, ‘I’m feeling so sleeeeeeepy’.  And that is when, for the first time in my life, the father ‘slapped’ me.  [no, before yougaiz clap gleefully, he did not slap me hard, he didnt even hurt me, so chill] 

“I’m totally going to call up the Satellite Police Station. Domestic violence”, I said.

“Humaari jail mein suranngggg”, said the father.  In his mind, he had already been convicted and jailed and was already planning an escape route.

“Yes, then C foi (foi is Gujarati for aunt (dad’s sister, the aforementioned aunt who’s fond of Jail Bhajiyas)) will come and meet you”, I said.

“I will then come out of the gutter at their place and her husband will say, “arre, bhai toh idhar se nikle” and C will immediately sing a poem for me”. (inside joke here, because the said aunt thinks she’s a poet and more often than not writes poems for us, latest being the one for my birthday, which was on the tune of a nursery rhyme, shhh, no one should know about it – ok, you guys should probably meet the family to actually see why this is so funny)

Mom and I laughed and I gently patted the father’s back.  That seemed to have woken him up from his jail break dream, and he tells me, “don’t touch me, your nails hurt me (I cut them today morning) and I’ll get you booked under 302. Culpable homicide.”

To which I again roared with laughter and well, I got called a raakshas. So, dear Amdavadis, at around 5:30 pm IST, if you thought you felt tremors, it was not a meteor, but laughter of 3 people just high on tea. 

But the best thing about people having legal background in the family – we can quote correct sections when we want to give threats to each other.

ps: I insist that neither me nor my father nor my extended family had anything to do with the Sabarmati Jail break. Ok, I cannot say for sure about some of the extended family I don’t like. I find them shady anyway.

वैलेंटाइन्स डे

     “लिखे जो ख़त तुम्हे, तुम्हारी याद में, हज़ारो रंग के, नज़ारे बन गए”, शिवजी ने बड़े प्यार से पारवतीजी के लिए गाना गाया।
“स्वामी, क्या आपने स्पीड पोस्ट से ख़त भेजा था?  आज कल इंडिया पोस्ट का कोई भरोसा नहीं है।” पारवतीजी गुस्से से बोली।
“क्या बात है, आज आप नाराज़ लग रहे है, कुछ गलती हो गयी हमसे, प्रिये?” शिवजी ने बड़े प्यार से पुछा।
माता पारवती मूह मोड़कर कक्ष से चली गयी।
“वैलेंटाइन्स डे आ रहा है”, शिवजी के गले पे सुस्ता रहा सांप फुर्रहाया और उनके कान में धीरे से बोला।
“यह वैलेंटाइन्स डे क्या होता है?” शिवजी आश्चर्यचकित होकर पूछे।
“इस दिन, प्यार करने वाले अपने प्यार का इज़हार करते है।”
“अरे भाई, प्यार का इज़हार करने के लिए भी कोई दिन चाहिए? हम तो रोज़ करते है”, शिवजी विचलित हो उठे।
“स्वामी, प्यार का इज़हार जितना किया जाए कम है, और अगर एक दिन आता है साल में जब आप बेझिझक माते को आई लव यू कह सकते है, तो इसमें हर्ज़ ही क्या है?”
शिवजी गहरी सोच में खो गए, और उन्होंने ठान लिया की इस साल वह पारवती माता को वैलेंटाइन्स डे पर कोई गिफ्ट देंगे।  क्यूंकि कोई कितना भी बड़ा भगवान् क्यूँ न हो, सब जानते है की कोप भवन में बैठी हुई स्त्री सबसे ज्यादा खतरनाक होती है।  और वैसे भी, शिवजी ठैरे भोलेनाथ।
शिवजी ने तुरंत कभी ना मुरझाने वाले 12 गुलाब का आर्डर इन्टरनेट के ज़रिये दे दिया।
अब देखना है की यह गुलाब समयसर पहुँचते है की नहीं।
काश Flipkart.com कैलास परबत पर गुलाब भी डिलीवर करता।

Smell

Me: So have you met her?
Friend: No. But I don’t know why, I think she must be smelling like fish.
[stunned silence followed by roaring laughter]

Funny thing was, now that he mentioned it, even I think she must be smelling like fish. And even I have not met her.

How can you imagine smell? I don’t know, but I do.  It could be what they keep talking about or what they like doing. 

Like this friend of mine, who’s a runner, I think he smells of deo.  Probably one of those adidas sports for men deo. And no, I’ve not met him either.

And some people must be definitely smelling of coconut hair oil.  I cannot take names here, because smelling like coconut hair oil may not really be a compliment.

I think Hogwarts must be smelling of lavender.

And then there are times when I smell sandalwood around me.  The faint smell that I have always associated with my grandmother, who passed away 9 years back.  Maybe it’s just me imagining her presence.

I think Rome smells of moss.

And Italy smells of tomatoes.  And garlic.

South India smells of jasmine.

Doctors smell of hospitals.  Or surgical spirit.

I think this blog smells like coffee. Or chocolate.

Hmm. I think I’ll go have a chocolate now.

ps : I don’t normally understand poetry. But I liked this post by a friend. Have a look.

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