Alarm

every morning i wake to the horrible din of a wailing child and a screaming grandmother. these contests are seperated by loud bumps (the child being thrown upon a wall or being attacked by heavy blunt objects) followed by the child pushing her volume a notch higher with the grandmother (screaming at the child) following suit. this starts at aproximately eight in the morning, therefore serving as an adequate alarm clock.

as i walk down, i exchange pleasantries with the grandmother (wearing low cut cleavage baring ugh suits) as the housewife hurls hateful glances at me. the man of the house smiles at me from behind a newspaper. the child sits in a corner, suitably mangled and quiet (children should be seen and not heard). These people are short, grimy and have several disorderly sharp teeth. All of them except the child, that is. the child is still human.once when i crept up on them, hoping to record the scene. the mother, for all the sadness in her voice, was relaxing on a chair while uttering her remittances. meanwhile, the grandmother bent with her hands on her haunches, so as to get as close as possible to the child while screaming. the man of the house was holding the child by his feet and thrashing her against the wall. i thought one of them noticed me, so i fled the scene.

once, i asked the grandmother why they beat the child as they do.

'we all went through it', she said, 'how do you think we became the way we are.'

CAricature

HEre is a caricature I made on Monday (26th June). Its a guy called Phillipe. People from Google wanted this work done as his farewell gift. Good fun doing it Rubbadubba

_

Swan Lake?

We found this place in the middle of the crowded Lajpat Nagar marketplace. Pretty trippy, huh?

the keeper

the lion in winter

company

who keeps who?

Blood on the Dance Floor

"Lets go to a shady bar. Slimy sorts" I suggested to my friends. We entered a place that was promisingly bathed in red light. Unfortunately it turned out to be family dining restaurant where people were going through chowmein, kofta-naan and pizzas in gangster red light for some reason.
We hastened to the pub across the road. Ice CUbe in Noida. This one was all blue and UV light. My white men's shirt shone as if I was being beamed up into a UFO. This was more like it. We settled into a Los Angelesy red couch.

The dance floor, right in front of us was on fire. During the rest of the evening, where we slumped worse and worser and worserer on the couch, we witnessed lots of dance floor violence. All happy smiling violence. Not the type where a bouncer kills the fun by chucking a fellow out. This was a gender based drama and one where no feminist could complain. In 3 instances it was plain writ on the guy's face that he just wanted to climb on the girl he was dancing with. And all the girls took the shit with a flick of the hair and a determined smile "No we are not spoilsports! Its ok! Tee hee!"

The girl : A girl with a good face. My friend declared she had potential. She was dressed in corporate wear. Out to party after work. Dancing in spurts. Promising herself she wouldnt do it again. Smiling. The guy: Wore his jeans to his chest. Wondering how the hell to get fresh with the girl until he fell on her and hugged her with roaming hands with the elegance of a grizzly. The girl pretended it hampered her dance moves,which she was very keen on, and pushed him away to continue her cheerful jig. The guy having achieved something after all walked off oblivious to the object of his affections, and sat down to wipe off all that sweat on his brow. You have to give him full points for chivalry as he offered her the handkerchief once his wipe was over.

Then the DJ announced stag entry was not allowed to a pub which was 80% full of men.

You With The Stars (TM)

There's a place near NFC called Jamia where people who want to hang with the stars study. some short and grimy people with sharp teeth came and installed an interesting machine there. a sign lying by its side said it was called 'You With The Stars (TM)'

it worked like this.

there was a picture of Amitabh Bachan holding a scimitar, unknown individual and Dharmendra with gun painted onto a cutout board. the unknown individual had a hole where his face should have been. there was a camera installed at a short distance in front of of it.

you're supposed to go and put your head in the hole between Amitabh Bachan and Dharmendra and smile. one of the aforementioned short people, standing next to the camera presses a button on it and Amitabh Bachan's scimitar swings and takes your head off.

'Fame has its price', the goblin explains.