Nice leh Nice lo

Nice:

1. Sam posi fuh deuh.
2. Sunshine after weeks of damp.
3. Getting a window seat on the bus and feeling the cold morning air on your face.
4. Chaw ei loh pawha riltam miah loh.
5. Remembering something funny.
6. A long forgotten song playing on the radio [eg East 17's Stay Another Day].
7. Walking past a bakery and the smell of freshly baked bread and other bakery stuff filling the air.

Not Nice:

1. Sam pawh ngil hnu lo to kir leh bup.
2. Bitter chocolate.
3. Pheikhawk sang bun zeilo deuh.
4. Rawngbawl laklawh laia gas zo.
5. The smell of stale cigarette smoke.
6. Children calling you Aunty.
7. The neighbourhood ogler.
8. Thenawmte naute a nu in tuktin a tap tuar tuar khawpa a bual thin.

The list is not finished, not by a long shot. May come up with Part 2, or I may not. Wait and watch.

Chitchat

Sunday afternoon, two weeks after the last blog post. A warm sunny day outside, with the temperature hovering at the early thirties.

A shopping expedition with a girl friend suddenly cancelled finds me with nothing to do. Well, I could read the piles of books I haven’t touched since they left the store, or I could get up and get dressed and go to church. But you know those days when you don’t feel like executing Plan B once Plan A has failed and you just sit around reading the newspaper cover to cover, read a few blogs that you love and wonder why you spent so much time on Facebook when it’s clear nothing great is going to come out of it and the people there seem to be more and more lunatic? Well today is one such day, in fact a perfect example of it.

Did you ever get tired of all the songs in your playlist? Did you ever repeatedly hit the Next button again and again and there is not a single song that you want to lend your ears to? A quiet afternoon making you feel simply drowsy but you want to avoid a nap because it does nothing good for your ever expanding waistline. Switched on an internet radio station, Smooth Radio London, and forgotten songs like No More I Love Yous, The Most Beautiful Girl in the World and Out of Reach filled the afternoon air. Switched to 1.FM and it was Katie Melua singing To Kill You With a Kiss.

Been six weeks since I went to church. I can see the frowns and the hear the admonishments. I plead guilty, Your Collective Honours. Every good girl goes to church and prays regularly, I can hear you thinking. And especially in a society like ours where your character, your moral and religious goodness, your piousness, everything is directly proportional to the frequency with which you cross the threshold of the church. I am not trying to be sarcastic or mocking, I am just stating the simple facts, which to a degree holds true. And I am not justifying my not going to church. I don’t go because I don’t. Simple as that, nothing to analyse or be subjected to study under the microscope or on the shrink’s couch. 

Nelly Furtado up next with Try.

It’s 3:22 in the afternoon, and very soon the samosa guy will come cycling and shout in his flat voice “Samosaaa”, “Samoooosaaa”, and he will linger near my house because I always buy from him on weekends. Small crispy oily samosas at one rupee each, I can easily devour five or six.

Melanie C with Never Be The Same Again. Haven’t heard that song in years. “I thought that we would just be friends, things will never be the same again yada yada yada tukchhit tukchhit….”

I Disappear

One of the most terrifying things in the world, I think, is disappearing. I don’t mean disappearing as being physically out of sight. It’s more about being forgotten, disappearing from people’s memory, not being remembered, being lost among all the wires and electric signals and forgotten things in somebody’s brain. Somewhat like being stuffed in a box with all the other useless things and pushed to a corner and forgotten and one day someone will discover the box and ask the owner “Who is this person?” and the person will rack his brains and try to recall who you are and why you were in the box and he might say “Oh just someone I used to know” or he might be embarrassed and start lying in all directions but it wouldn’t change anything because you had been in the box all that time. 

And so we try to attract attention, in all the ways we know. We dress outrageously, paint our faces, wear flashy watches and shoes and drive noisy vehicles. We talk and laugh loudly and drown everyone with our opinions and play our music right in their faces. 

And we go online and tell the world what we did every waking minute of our lives. And not being content with that, we blog and ask everyone to read it. 

But after all this, nobody thinks about us as much as we hoped or feared because they are all too busy obsessing over themselves! Hahaha! 

Stupid post, I know, now you can go and check out my photoblog at wordpress. :)