Batman

He's good-looking and super-smart and very-very-very rich. He's the only super-hero whose chaddis, even if worn on the outside, aren't glaring at you all the time aflatoon style. He doesn't have any supernaturally provided superpowers. But he's as strong as superheroes come. Plus, he's got this sexy batmobile that turns into a bike in his latest movie. Did I mention that he's bagged the starring role in a bunch of movies about him beating the bad guys to pulp? In fact, he's so good at his villain bashing that the chap playing the bad guy in the recentest Batman movie actually died a mysterious death in real life. And here is a picture of Batman himself:


Did I mention that he's dating my best friend?

I love

Mamata Banerjee.

Yes. I'm a big fan. Have always been and probably always will be. I may never vote for her, may never want her to be my country's Prime Minister. Hell! Not even my state's Chief Minister, but I can't help looking up to (figuratively, not literally -- she's much shorter than me) this diminutive rabble-rouser who's Dominatrix come down to Dharmatala.

Dharmatala.

That's where her rally was held, and each trip to the office loo (for me, not her) brought the strains of her argumentative voice into my not-so-sensitive ears. She's constantly fighting losing battles, but you think that gets her down? Oh no, it sure doesn't. Every time she gets lost on the way to winning a cause, she does the next best thing -- she simply finds another one. What get up and go. What optimism.

Optimism personified.

I'd wanted that to be the title of one of the books that I will write someday. That's also two words that fit me perfectly. And I think, they fit Mamata Di just as well as her drab white sarees. Honestly though, I wouldn't want to see her turned out in a flaming red. She's too fiery on her own, even in those kaalo paar shaada shaarees that she is always seen in. It would make a prize-winning painting though. I can see it now...

'Didi in red'. By M.F. Hussain. If he ever manages to get back into the country -- barefoot or otherwise.

Why do I love her so?

She can stop traffic. One whiff of the word bandh from her lips and revved up cars stall automatically, workaholics sleep an extra two hours, and Kolkata decides to take a day off. Sadly, this has been happening less and less of late. The word bandh seems to have lost its edge. Footballs now stay home on bandh days and cars gingerly venture out of their garages and no-parking parking spaces, but the woman still can stop traffic. And she's no great shakes in the looks department either.

I think I'd like to be a politician just like her someday. Did I mention I'm a fan?
***

PS: Moo is not happy with earlier blog. So do take a trip down to the comment section of this post and see what he is all grumbly and upset about.

Happy feet

2 animation movies in one day -- Kung Fu Panda and Happy Feet -- one in theatre and one in drawing room -- one with Coffee and popcorn and one with Grandma and cat.

Momos for lunch, popcorn for dessert, coffee for tea-time, tea pre-dinner, egg curry for dinner.

I like writing about what I eat. It keeps me going.

And I went marketing today. Thankoo to Coffee who decided to be Ramu for a day and carried the basket at Big Bazaar and many of the bags at Dhaangar Bazaar. I managed to pick up all the stuff on my list, including bird seed :D

And I took a long walk as well. The feet feel happy.

Tomorrow is probably meat-buying day.

In response to comments on last post, I am 'man' of the house. I don't see the point in getting technical about gender here. I'm not feminist [mostly] and it hardly matters in this context. Man, woman -- who cares?. 'Man' of the house has a better ring to it. Kinda like saying 'actor' instead of 'actress'. Mere technicalities. Just a word. No big shit/deal (take your pick).

I think I will make a good mom to a gay child. And I wouldn't want to tag my elder child Hasmukh Bhai Patel with gay-ism given that he has a rather (yes, I'll admit it) sissy name. Instead, I will have a second son who will be gay, and whom I will name Debanuj (much to the consternation of his namesake).

I think Debanuj is a nice name for a cute gay boy. And since Debanuj Patel lacks the punch, I'll let my baby keep my maiden name 'Chakrabarty'.

Do note, however, that my son Debanuj Chakrabarty will be different from the much-loved blogger Debanuj Chakraborti (and even more much-loved :D).

Putting out the 'Welcome' mat

So I'm the man of the house now... pretty much. And I made my first purchases as man of the house:

• 6 eggs & 1 pound bread
• 100 gm butter
• 3 Metro Dairy chocolate ice-creams

Interestingly, I bought each of those items from three different shops 'cause I was scared the shop closer to home (Kaku-r dokaan) would be shut by then (It wasn't).

It isn't that I haven't bought stuff from the store before. It just felt different this time. 'Cause I knew that this time, I couldn't pass the job on to anyone else or fall back on an excuse (however much valid) like "the store was shut".

Yeah, it feels different. Just two days into the new state of being. I'm liking it so far.

I chased a story today about Yasir Arafat (not the dead Palestinian leader) being signed up by the Kolkata Knight Riders. This involved a total of 8 calls. 3 of which involved finding the Knight Riders' Kolkata office (Got lucky on the third try -- the number I called for info was the KKR office :D). Calls 4, 5, 6, and 7 involved finding someone (anyone!!) who could give me some info. Call No. 8 saw me being passed from person to person to person till I finally got a dude who didn't know about the news really... but sounded like he knew something (unlike the first guy I called and asked if the report regarding Yasir Arafat's joining KKR was true. The dude exclaimed, "Really?"... Boss, if I knew the answer, why would I be asking you?) It was lotsa fun though.

I like. I like.

Today's the first day that I feel not-so-reluctant to be a journo. :)

Fortune cookie 1

I may or may not be updating daily from now on... It's not as much fun any more when you know you have to. Only interesting tidbits will go up from now on.

• I did my first news story today (which required me to interview a beauty pageant contestant).
• My orkut fortune says: "Today you will see a fortune cookie that you have never seen before". I haven't seen any cookies today, not even biscuits, let alone biscuits that double up as fortune tellers.

Day 70

Three-fifths of immediate family off to Chicago right now. Here is a picture of one of the three that got away.


I be missing her much already, especially when I turn on Disney Channel and the ad for 'Magical Do Re Mi' appears.

Day 69

Changes all over the place. Good, not-so-good, lovely -- sometimes you wish the world would just go away.

Ma, sis, and sis are off to the US tomorrow. For good. I am whoa!-man of the house now and being made to shift upstairs to keep the cats company.

Lunch today at Tamarind was lovely. Very very nice.

Busy day tomorrow. Airport trip in the pipeline. 6+ big bags and a Tata Sumo are part of the picture.

A lil preoccupied.

Day 68

I've been nasty all evening. I can crib but I won't. Now I feel happier. Bubblier. But in no mood to post. Yes. I have become lazy. Apologies. I will be back tomorrow with a better post.

Some food thoughts:

The Electric Nimbu Kurkure Extreme is super strong, sour and intense. But too much of it will have your teeth grating. Happened to me last night.

This place near office serves amazing biriyani. That's what I had for lunch today. Shreya ordered a phirni that she didn't like coz it didn't taste like phirni. I liked the phirni for the same reason -- it tasted like mishti doi.

At the above place (Aaleya), I rattled off the order like I'd been doing it all my life -- no breaths in between, not a pause, and not a single fumble. I was impressed, as were my colleagues. An alternative career beckons this reluctant journo. Being a waiter in a good-food restaurant should fit my stomach well.

Mocambo was next on the list of eat-out places. And I not happy with it. Too little food for too much price.

Day 67

This should serve as inspiration for engineers who frequent this blog and harbour dreams of giving up corporate whore-ism.

Work has been long and hard. Almost an 11 hour day. But Ma has bought me four 10-buck packets of Kurkure -- which should last me four wonderful days. :)

And I'm happy.

I do wish that one of my two dogs would double up as a footrest, but well, you can't exactly have everything. Can you now?

Shreya is running away to get married today. Groom unknown. But at least she won't have to waste money on unnecessary relatives.

Onn wants a different post perhaps. Apologies again :P What can I say? I'm a chomu.

Day 66

A blogworthy day after ages of dullery (not a word). A good thing too since I promised to return with a virtual bang today. I find that Kunal Nayyar guy on Big Bang Theory rather cute.

Escaped early from office to rescue Madz from boredom and fall into the shopping trap. If you read my blog frequently, you probably know that shopping isn't exactly my favourite pastime. Ma, Father, Madz and Me hit Dakkhinapan during a medium-paced drizzle. Ma and Madz shopped so much that they ate into the electricity flowing through the wires. The result? Loadshedding. Power cuts getting too much in our wonderful city of joy? Blame the crazy shoppers.

Post-Dakkhinapan it was off to South City to buy sneakers for Mummy. The first one that she liked for her Thumbelina-sized feet looked like an environment-friendly car with a biggish price tag hanging from the shoelace. We walked out and in to another store where it was love at first shoebite.

Shopping is a tiring exercise. Though I did pick up an electric blue jhola from Dakkhinapan and carried it proudly even though I suspect it quite clearly did not go with my red kurta and muddy floaters. But who cares! When you have colour in your life and raindrops falling on your head, little else matters.

The cabbie that brought us back from South City was the highlight of the day. He had one of those old non-digital meters that start from 5 bucks instead of the usual 10. I asked him how old the cab was... He said, "Haan ji. The taxi is old. The meter is old. Arre.. even the driver is old." The old meter on his cab shone like a new penny, despite the famed Kolkata pollution that has turned the Victoria Memorial and now, even the Birla Mandir, more than a little grey. "It's a Japanese meter and 50 years old," volunteered the cabbie even though strands of grey were missing and the wrinkles seemed botoxed away.

"Since when did you get so chatty," asked Ma as we walked out and away from the cab and into our building gate. "Since Mumbai," was the answer that I was too tired to give voice to, "Since Mumbai where you commute all the time and end up having long conversations with auto drivers, cabbies and bus conductors. And transport talk is usually more interesting than the 'Hi, How are you?' that bored colleagues usually turn to."