Aurus, Juhu Road

This was long overdue!

First year of marriage completes and you want to celebrate every joyous second that passes by. You look out for a perfect place to spend the evening when the sound of your padding heartbeat grows on seeing the glint in each other's eye. The flickering light of the candle from your candle light dinner softly tunes new harmony and you see day following night like flapping of bird’s wing. To celebrate such pleased moments, we chose a place and thank God it was as fit as a fiddle. I had to write about one of the best restaurants I went to celebrate this togetherness.

Aurus is a fine dining restaurant and lounge bar on the beachfront of Juhu. It is difficult to locate Aurus since it is not even marked by any sign. My husband and I drove past the restaurant once since there was no sign/board anywhere. That is about locating the joint, which is actually just before the Reid and Taylor showroom, which can be easily missed.

The inside of Aurus is dimly lit, which is little uninviting compared to the well-lit outdoor area. The decor of the restaurant is gorgeous otherwise. There is a big hype about watching the sun down from Aurus. Almost all the tables get booked months before so there are few lucky tables, which can even gaze onto a quiet stretch of Juhu beach.

The food we ordered was good. The hospitality of our attendant was outstanding. We were timely attended to and were advised when needed. The dishes we tried had a really appealing name but I can’t remember it. My platter of peppered cottage cheese on organic broccoli tasted great with peach and strawberry daiquiri.  Our crusted potatoes and chicken were great starters. We enjoyed our food and indulged in rich chocolate dessert to rejoice the fainter moonlight of the growing night.

Aurus’ alluring open-air vibes make it a great place to wine and dine. 

"You need a chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star"

When I entered my hostel of Delhi, I thought I was on a mission to convince the city that I am also a part of them and I am not here as a representative of concentrated decrepitude made up of the decomposing remnants of my state, as they perceived. I used to think that it was impossible to induce the fact to these people that Bihar has relatively more intelligent, intellectually sound and suave people than they could decipher from the simplicity wrapped around us like the flag swathing at India Gate. A rebel is born when people get lost in the cobwebs of dust-shrouded profusion and an inflated sense of self. That rebel tries to pursue an objective, which they think is lame at the beginning, but accept it unswervingly towards the fading miasmas of their prejudice.

I remember the day I saw my hostel room, its stark white walls and miniature size bed and cupboard. The objects in my room looked like tiny moths retiring in the light of a white oil lamp. My attention wedged on something written in the corner of my bedside, “You need a chaos in your soul to give birth to a rising star”. The whole idea of individualism suddenly rose with the new spark and I knew it is time to leave dark abyss of fear and uncertainty.

********

I saw this quote again when I was watching ‘Dirty Pictures’ and felt the same kind of trepidation and aspiration emanating from the character of ‘Silk’. I was impressed with the dialogues, strength of characters and grunts of anguish pervaded precisely.

The movie is about a girl who comes to tinsel town to prove her worth. She is severely hit by poverty and is not convinced by the filmwallahs that she cannot do big in the industry. She performs raunchy numbers, knitting her brow silences the ugly bigots by her witty remarks and becomes a big shot. However, every star that brightens in a transitory manner also fades; she too succumbs to hideous plight of life.  

Her journey started with climbing the ladder of success, she fell prey to lust in disguise of love, tasted failure giant as titanic, felt the fear mounting on the edge, tried to shun criticism to live free of trammels of precision. However, towards the end feared falling in true love and chose a bridal adieu from worldly affairs.

The movie made me fret by the apathy people show, hypocrisy they shed at every point and that ignominy which silk had to bear. She did not deserve so much pain if we consider survival of the fittest. Ah! The indolent serenity of the phony world, everything is so cruel about you.

Happy First Anniversary!

As time crawled by and my thoughts fountain-ed like pigeons in the sky, I wondered if my life is dreamy. I rolled in the dough of mesmerizing togetherness, fleeting shadow of cloudy days, hem of bliss on crack of dawn and light of my life. I looked at him and silently thanked him for the joyous time I had spent, for the unfathomable pleasure I have received, for multitude of right chords we have strung together and for a new beginning of blissfully wedded life.


With our nibs dipped in the ink of love we sketched our dreams on page one. The love-filled thoughts had accommodated itself on the first page of our life. We had made the thoughts rest on the maiden book of our life for the last year. We were writing a story, a story which involved two people meant to love each other. This story had to be written on a sheet, naturally decorated and dyed with love. We platonically entwined in each other’s soul when a year crawled by because this was the beginning. This was our paper anniversary after all!

19th November, last year we took our vows. We were made one universally. We celebrated that feeling of togetherness and love. Being with someone you love is a beautiful but immeasurable feeling. You feel your life, all of a sudden has been topped by beautiful golden crown. On suddenly noticing new-fangled blossoming all around, you emerge out of your cocoon and turn into a beautiful butterfly.

Life is like that, enjoy togetherness and live life with someone you love. Heaven is right here!

Do you hear music, Rockstar?

I remember watching RK’s first movie, ‘Saawariya’ and I cannot forget how my head was in clouds for I could not understand what was going on in the movie... I had surely brushed RK off thinking he is another Kapoor offspring in the rising and shall fade unnoticed like many. I was so grossly wrong! With his choice of movies and talent he made my judgement about him melt into effervescent fondness. And my point of view strengthened after I watched Rockstar. The movie has witty and earthy dialogues. It is flawed but fabulous.

I think the movie does not have to offer anything great but music. The soul of the movie is its music and RK’s acting. Movie starts with the striking life in Delhi University and a wannabe rock star, Janardan’s yearning to become Jim Morrison. He enters the campus like a mildly frazzled goldfish and learns that without any big pain in life his dreams of becoming a rock star will be reduced to rubble. Enters Heer Kaur who is hot, most desired and famous for breaking heart; Janardan wishes her to break his heart and instil pain so that he becomes rock star. Instead the plot moves on making them quite close to each other and he even rallies round her wedding. Detailed plot has few flaws and since devil lies in details if you ignore story’s imperfection you will enjoy the rest. RK is so skin-deep into the character that his pain, anguish and agony will pique your interest. His vendetta voice makes him look like an irate bear with a sore head. The way he has strum the chords of guitar in frenzy makes him a wannabe. He metamorphoses into an angry, distressed and disgruntled rock star whose pain inflicts on his guitar chords and music... he becomes Jordan.

Sometimes it is difficult to fathom what have you lost despite seeing the presence of perfection in your life. You try hard to get what you like for the fear of forcefully liking what you get. In turn, a lot of us lose the enchanted melodies of life, we neglect the small things which were the reason of our happiness and we forgo people who made us alive. Rock star is not a movie, it is a timeless journey of a wannabe who gets what he wanted in life but at a cost he wasn’t aware of!

"Pata hai..

Yahaan se bahut door
Ghalat aur sahi ke paar
Ek maidan hai
Main wahaan milunga tujhe"

A roller coaster ride!

From face book: A friend wrote on his wall, ‘Getting rickshaw in Mumbai rains - is priceless’. I have no reason not to see eye to eye or concur since I am also one of the pained inhabitant of ‘Maximum City’ who does not drive her car but go for rickshaws instead!

Time is a continuum. I came to Mumbai last December…rickshaws were so readily available then. I came from Pune and   I knew how difficult it is to find it, go for it and genuinely pay for it. It was until I came to Mumbai and learnt that rickshaw-wallahs are very just, they shall take what the meters read…not a dime extra. Well, the just rik-fellow seems to have metamorphosed from the naïve Alabama cotton-picker to barbaric money lenders of Jamindari period. 

It was one of the days in Mumbai when I was on a hunt for a rickshaw which could drop me to my destination. The office errands are way too much to trouble you and then not finding damn rickshaws after standing for hours adds insult to injury. My miserable mood grew sloppy big when it started to rain too.  Ah! Can someone buy me an idyllic life in Mumbai? 

After waiting for something like ages and making valiant efforts, I was mighty relaxed when one agreed to go. That was a rickety rickshaw which had booming stereos. He reminded me of rickshaw rides in Delhi, when we would reject a rickshaw because he didn’t play FM/ or had no stereo. Back then the noise never bothered me. My friends and I would enjoy the thumping… Seems the noise of the city has ripened my soul enough to abandon pulse-throbs. 

I surreptitiously looked at the rickshaw driver in the mirror. If you ask me why, I have no concrete answer except for could be I have to identify him somewhere again, has he taken me before in his vehicle, is he drunk, etc etc…I think every rickshaw-wallah has noticed this and therefore drives more rash, making the rides bumpy and irksome.

This rickshaw-wallah rode hastily in rhapsody like he was asked to gorge on an unlimited buffet which would stand null and void if he didn’t finish it in five minutes. I had clung on to my bag and gingerly kept my phone in the compartment. My things quivered like flying maggots in frying pan. I fathomed it could be his usual style of driving from the scratches on the upholstery. I also hoped the meter was not rigged insanely. The loud song (in some language, I could not unearth) was grotesque. Yet I sailed through the cyclonic ordeal. I tried to concentrate on the people creeping like insects, vehicles honking like starving hyenas and reeking spouts of water from open drain (I see no difference in the natural smell of Mumbai and a stinking canal; everything smells the same in Mumbai). The auto-fellow paid tender curtsy to every pothole on the road making the rides more jarring. I struggled to overlook distress and transfix in everything around till I finished the roller coaster ride.

Insomnia is a lovely drug

Last night I had an uncanny dream. I have met a lot of people who say they do not remember their dreams, some say they alter their dreams; some claim to run it as desired and some can’t help seeing nightmares all the time.  I do not belong to one or maybe typical kind. I see them, I remember them and I discuss them. My dream, habitually are interesting. They are sometimes pretty idiosyncrasies and sometimes peripheral in the mind. They sometimes disturb my draining trudge by stretched sleep patterns; they scrunch in my mind like the empty packs of wafers, they mistreat my mind and sometimes make me talk spiritedly.

The dream washes you like those huge sea waves. The tidal waves sore high, make noise in your mind and intersperse salt. When you rouse from the splash, you taste the saline water and think I am ideal, which is nothing but the euphemistic tag for fools. 

My dream was about a woman whose face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides. She had big earlobes which gently compressed her head like thigh master. She was so lonely in the vale profound like the solitary reaper that she dreaded singing for she could just hear her own voice. So she didn’t sing or reap in the sow-field. She rather sat in melancholy stripping her of tirelessness. She wished someone to come rescue her from the valley of wretchedness. Her thoughts tumbled in her head breaking customary alliances. She heard an unearthly howl from the attic of her heart. Lost in the cobwebs of reflection she pictured a scene with surreal quality because she could see an air balloon rising and falling in the air. Insignia like ice blew in her manifestation and she wished the balloon to come closer!

The balloon flew like skin of loose silk blown against a wall. The hot-air balloon drifted slowly over a bottomless chasm and suddenly came floating towards her. She could not reach out to holding the rope. Despair rose on her when the balloon started deflating. She felt despair murmuring in her ear “not this time, there is any escape”. There is nothing she could do to break this impasse. The anticipated journey to uncharted territories had been nip in the bud. She saw the balloon sinking into the abyss.

Happy Diwali

I looked at my inbox flooded with emails containing diwali wishes. I do not really have a count on how happy I have been celebrating diwalis. But one thing that has always been of joy and profoundness, is diwali holidays.

Ram killed Ravan, came back to Ayodhya. People were overwhelmed and in celebration mood so they lit up the city and decorated it with every possible bell and embellishment!

May the stories of Mythology always enchant one's life with its positive rays and bring happiness like the tinkling of diyas and bright chandeliers. Wish everyone a very happy and prosperous diwali!

If only I had humility!

Now since you know I'm a very liberated & slightly spoiled blogger, I've never liked pretension and have done my best to avoid pretentious people and sometimes I even kill them with my venomous words. They're so repulsive. However, due to events outside my control, I'm often required to play along. Though, people who know me will be more than sure that I annihilate and obliterate them left, right and center.
One of the obligations I most detest is being sober with the big-mouthed, pompous and gibberish talkers women/men.

As a child of the internet & text generation, I'd most prefer to chat with these people online since they give you time to steer clear of them, play at them and you don't get ambushed as easily as you do when on the phone/in-person and someone surprises you before you've had a chance to act.

Another thorny deal is to smile at the big-mouthed person’s gibberish talks. Now I know this isn't kosher to admit, but I'm admitting it anyway. I sleep through whatever they say or speak or bull crap or whatever. If you ask me about the conversation I had with that woman in my organization who often tells me how she had splurged on petty stuffs and how she had accidently poured a lot of Hermes’ at a party or she sported a Calvin Klein shoe at work. Bah… I don’t remember and I told her to keep her gap shut because she was not letting me work…huh

So, I introspected and tried to shed that attitude. I thought I would have lesser notes to screw around and be indifferent—all in vain. Flying cachets to whoever said, “Old habits die hard”.  

Recently I had another test when I ran into an old colleague & he suggested lunch together. He talked to me about his new Merc. He said holidaying at Singapore is such a passé and waste of money. I glared at him, controlled my wrath…. calmed myself for inner peace… Gosh I thought I will lose it again. I gave up, told him I gotta go. He told me to call. Have I called him back? Guesses?

This person obviously doesn't know I have ousted myself from the painful ordeal of his jazz and exempted him from my bitch-hood! Otherwise he would have been mortified.

 

Because I know that a sassy, weird-humored and cavort like me is hard to please. You can try doing that by keeping the ugly gap shut, if you have to flaunt. To sum up, please accept my heartfelt apology for not listening to your NOT amusing, informative and insightful prose and attempting to kill my precious time. I would be very appreciative if you hold me blameless for being a harmless lurker.

You are not free to tiptoe on because I can see your tracks.

Parrots on my window!

I stared outside the window catching the glistening rays falling in a slipshod manner. I wanted to capture the beams refracting from all the objects, sifting through the curtain and making a lackadaisical pattern on the floor. The morning rays cropped the poet from me. It called out for some musings and rhapsody treat. I gave in, took my laptop...looked out again, nibbled few chocolates lying on the bedside, overheard mum and the maid’s conversation, concentrated on the window and then something other than the rays caught my attention!

I live in Mumbai but I am blessed with lot of greeneries. I see pigeons trolling on the window pane, trotting and making annoying noise. I see them ruining my clothes, fluttering around and they even fly in sometimes. But today I didn’t find them annoying. I liked the way the birds chirped, seemed they contemplated on why is the room occupied today? Why is this female not gone anywhere...huh and why is she continuously monitoring our movements. I was mighty delighted when I saw two parrots aside the pigeons. One of the parrots had this beautiful orange-ish red ring encircling its neck. The other parrot tweeted a lot and poked it with its beak. The beak was so beautifully carved on its body; it looked like the work on live canvas of nature. I felt blissful for I could see the beauty; I could captivate the moments for myself and could indulge in the scenic pleasure. Life is indeed beautiful!

Chiplun: Weekend get-away

My weekend getaway


I was at Chiplun for an extended weekend holiday since I wanted to beak monotony and groove with the conduit of togetherness. I didn’t want to sing in the rain in the rain and swan dance beneath the lamp post...but I surely wanted to shun noise, too much noise and way too much noise. I wanted to relax in the lap of nature, I wanted to steal few moments for us and I wanted my body to cosset in the sins of pleasure. Calmness is a luxury which no Mumbaikar can afford! We avail it only after deserting Mumbai. And for someone who loves Mumbai, leaving Mumbai with its vices is surely a pain.

We arrived at the quality resort of Chiplun. I wouldn’t have known the place had a colleague not told me that Maharashtra has a quiet, calm and scenic place blessed with natural panorama and classiness. The place boasts of being formed by lord Parshuram. It has a beautiful lake alongside mountains and hills. The resort itself is going to treat you with the most wanted so you wouldn’t feel like going anywhere. The calm, gentle and hushed wind swathes you with fragrance of flowers and trees. The evenings will always pour and will make the night cold, swampy and romantic.

The place surely has nothing much to offer. It is a small village which is endowed with natural beauty and beautiful resort. It has what Mumbai cannot offer you at ease, a quiet place to rejuvenate. The resort offers you good food, comfortable stay and excellent service.

only photo blogging can explain Chiplun!

My digs at Bodyguard

Though the last movie I saw was MBKD, I have nothing to say about it but have tons to talk about Bodyguard. I have read multiple reviews of the movie and had the chance to watch it since my husband works for Reliance Entertainment. (The understated meaning is: I could not have screwed money for this, though I admit I watched Dabang twice!)

Let us first come to the plot of Bodyguard: Honestly the plot has nothing! There is no story or flow. Even if you missed a scene or two from the movie, the movie would appear the same.

I kept on wondering through the movie:

• Why did Salman patronize raj Babbar, was saving him from an accident reason enough?

• Why were the villains hell bent on killing Kareena and not Babbar
• Why all of a sudden the villains came, fought and died (mind you, Salman didn’t even get a scratch)
• Why did Salman vibrate all the time his phone rang?
•  Was only a fight scene enough to woo Kareena?
•  Salman read a thick diary in gross 5 minutes, which his child took (don’t know how many) days to finish and understand (Makes me wonder, Is he the next Rajnikant?)

The movie of course has done remarkably well and it is raining profit for the film, I have no clue why… Enjoy the movie for its stale poor jokes made by Tsunami (soreness of his jokes were proportional to his size), Kareena’s outfits (nice colors and designs) and the confusing story. The shock element of the movie is actually scripted in such a way that it looks like the script writer had to fritter away few pieces of useless writing in the trash so he took the entire excerpt and drafted it in this new script. The movie is only for Salman’s fans who would pour adulations for his good looks, good looks and good looks!

Man Only!

My stint with men has been quite instructive. I think, categorically this is what I could cull out from my experience with the good, bad and ugly.

This is a general spoof written with no offence meant to any one in particular or any region/state a person resides in.

For fun sake only, read on:

1. Stupid & Pathetic Men: Normally born and raised in Delhi but with a majority ethnic background of Rajasthan, U.P. or Haryana. Usually found sporting large scruffy hair-do or a goatee/soul patch. He will always feel himself to be dude, speaks wrong English (no wait, pathetic English) and thinks he is every damsel’s knight in shining armor…whatever! And bah! Often found wearing cut-sleeves shirts or loud/vibrant colored tees. He will play loud music while driving car, will often look like out of snow-powdered facial lifts, likes Panjabi Music (Hip-hop & Rap are personal favorite) and habitually mistakes noise for music. He is more often than not seen with women of a similar tribe and background if not a groupie. These kinds of men get attracted to smart, independent and beautiful women (not their fault). But always get vehemently rejected by the sensible women. Women often label them as an insult to intelligence.

Catchy trait for them includes: Lecherous, Pervert, Sick, Extravagant, Ostentatious, Dumb-witted, Hardly sensible, Poor at English, Over-confident, Loser, etc

2. Hard-working Men: A home-grown boy, who generally loves shopping at alcove, spends time with family and works hard at his part time stint at various job(s). He speaks English with a thick consonant sound and worships daily. Generally not found to be good looking, but if they are attractive they struggle for the film-industry. These men are not just God fearing but dreads female power. So they hardly turn out to be faltering in a commitment/relationship. These men get frustrated in their mid-life and often resort to alcohol.

3. Nerdy Men: He aspires to become a learned man with high end interest in mandatory one (or more) musical instrument, art/craft or public speaking. He accompanies for un-manly activities like shopping, knitting, sewing and et al. He is usually friendly with people of all states, region, religion etc and speaks correct English. A nerd will always think Eminem and Beatles are the coolest to have ever been born but know nothing about the history and purpose of the genre. Sometimes, he is confined to a life of celibacy and is a perfect candidate for being a corporate slave in the future.

4. Business tycoons: I personally avoid and ignore these men. They are normally self employed or run the family business and have the same circle of friends since high school. Normally lacking in social skills, they make up for this by installing the latest bass tube and 23” alloy wheels on their car, which invariably is a Santro/Alto. Music choices are mostly Punjabi apart from other seemingly popular artists such as Akon, whose lyrics might not mean much but the bass is always nice. They are by and large married by the age of 23-24 thanks to family connections.

5. Work-out-aholics: These men are normally found wearing body fit T-shirts and walking with their arms as tense aping Salman Khan. They drive expensive cars, speak fractured English and are also seen wearing dark glasses no matter what the time of day is.

6. The Rich Brat: And finally the rich brat, who has a bit of everything from the above mentioned categories along with being educated abroad. They are mostly found in prison or in hell after crashing their BMW on a night of heavy partying.

7. Mumma's Boy:  These men have never taken any decision in their life. They look up to their mum for everything even after they have laid countless women. They claim not having seen any one better than their mom and therefore get refused/rejected, avoided and even beaten by their partners! They lack the common sense of not equating the motherly love with amour and et al.

8. Thoughtful & Generous:  These men are mostly from hinterlands of Bengal, Assam etc and have been pensive about freedom and the ideas floating around liberation. They are often attracted by art exhibitions, listen to raw form of music and experiment with almost everything in life.

9. Loner:  These men are one of the most dangerous. They are big time cribber once they find company. people have general tendency of evading the ordeal of their mindless and so-called tear jerker stories. They crave for sympathy and feel left out often. They make the females' life miserable with their grief and sentiments.

10. The smart and intelligent men: These kinds of men have obvious advantages when it comes to meeting important objectives even if their Good looks and Rich columns remain blank. They are preferred by intelligent, sensible and independent women. They are mostly preferred by the upper middle class families in India. They talk sense, are hard to impress and look out for brains than beauty. They are generally smoking hot property in school when they crack thorny entrances like JEE, AIIMS etc and are mostly sought after they get a >6-7 figure salary job.