Sunday, September 18, 2011


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….


  1. Ka chhiar zo vek a ngaihnawm khawp mai...hehe

  2. People on Fb seem to be "more and more lunatic"? hihi. Could be the hey, this is boring, let's make it more happening factor.

    Hmmmmm, it just struck me as I was quickly scanning over your write-up wondering what else to refer to because it is pretty stretched out in every which direction, that this would make a very nice contemporary poem. A mention of this, a mention of that, and you're all done. And your readers will be left wondering what exactly you meant :p

  3. J - I was listening to the radio and wrote whatever came to my mind and there were the songs in the background so that kind of explains why the post is a mix of everything. Maybe I thought I was RJ-ing, playing the songs and blabbing about useless stuff in between.

    Well, I didn't mean the entire FB population, there are some very interesting people out there, but when the whole world and their uncles have got FB accounts then you're bound to get the interesting as well as the lunatic, eh?

  4. Sunday afternoon nap. Its the best day of the week!!

  5. Chhiar a nuam thin mange. Playlist erawh ka nei velo hlauh. Youtube ah ka ngaithla mai thin.

  6. daniel - Sunday afternoons leh Friday nights hi ka mu ui tlat zel kei chu!

    HV - Thanks! Playlist piah lama Youtube ah pawh ngaihthlak tur hriat thlawt loh chang hi a awm a, radio han on ila a rawn chhuak chhuak hi lo ngaithla tawp ila a nuam duh phian.