Yeah I know I'm losing it. When the title's in hindi, the cry goes around, as Psmith would say, that Quietly Amused's finally been found cackling in a strait-jacket in a Padded cell. Again something Wonko would wax eloquently about for hours on end. But yeah somehow the spirit of the festival that permeated this part of the world has stayed off me as have the riot of colours.
It started at one am last night and thankfully there's only so much the average human body can endure before lapsing into a tired sleep. So more than 24 hours hence the campus is finally quiet. And no body's trying to waylay me and paint me in that particularly stubborn gold spray that they seem to have invented this time around. The heavy metal content of the various shades that are used is disturbing to an extent but unfortunately a single exposure once a year is not sufficient to cause any lasting damage. In any case I think the jokers here are so used to pollution that their bodies would take more abuse without batting the proverbial eyelid.
The current obsession though is Superstition by Stevie Wonder who in my mind is finally out of the I just called to say I love you mould. Amazing how the worst songs become the most popular. And the Nokia Nseries theme. Not the Moby one, the one with all the drums. Does anyone know what track that is? Can you mail it to me? I will be eternally grateful.
In other news my hostel allotment is held up due to the unfortunate emptying of the printer cartridge. Which means depending on the speed of a Government Procurement Agency, I'm either going to be in a swanky room with an attached bath and rumored central air conditioning, or have screeching hatchlings courtesy the pigeons.
I'm also officially a whore now. I'm doing a job that I don't quite like, with no apparent future, with the risk of HIV with every client, for a pay that's reasonably good. The accounts department here works the best apparently.
So last night, the period between the first half of this post and a couple of sentences ago was a nightmare. People drunk on alcohol, bhaang, both or assorted psychedelic substances came to the Emergency in droves along with the people that they'd beaten up and run over and it was only the collective state of inebriation that stopped them from continuing whatever fights they had outside, in the hospital. There's something seriously flawed in a society that wants to douse the average passerby in colour and when met with opposition proceeds to douse him anyway and then beat his head in with a brick. It's times like this I wish I could buy a month's supply of water, store it and then drown a few monkeys in the water supply. Or wish that small amounts of exposure to the colours used here had lasting damaging effects. The ward was a sea of trolleys with patients of every hue, thus also making it impossible at times to identify who was who and occasionally what was what. This hopefully is only an annual occurrence but one can never really be sure.
The highlight of the day though was lunch at the AP Bhavan, which is like the Andhra Pradesh Embassy in Delhi. Full meals. With Gongura. Heaven.
I need sleep now and maybe a hot bath in any order so Ta.
It started at one am last night and thankfully there's only so much the average human body can endure before lapsing into a tired sleep. So more than 24 hours hence the campus is finally quiet. And no body's trying to waylay me and paint me in that particularly stubborn gold spray that they seem to have invented this time around. The heavy metal content of the various shades that are used is disturbing to an extent but unfortunately a single exposure once a year is not sufficient to cause any lasting damage. In any case I think the jokers here are so used to pollution that their bodies would take more abuse without batting the proverbial eyelid.
The current obsession though is Superstition by Stevie Wonder who in my mind is finally out of the I just called to say I love you mould. Amazing how the worst songs become the most popular. And the Nokia Nseries theme. Not the Moby one, the one with all the drums. Does anyone know what track that is? Can you mail it to me? I will be eternally grateful.
In other news my hostel allotment is held up due to the unfortunate emptying of the printer cartridge. Which means depending on the speed of a Government Procurement Agency, I'm either going to be in a swanky room with an attached bath and rumored central air conditioning, or have screeching hatchlings courtesy the pigeons.
I'm also officially a whore now. I'm doing a job that I don't quite like, with no apparent future, with the risk of HIV with every client, for a pay that's reasonably good. The accounts department here works the best apparently.
So last night, the period between the first half of this post and a couple of sentences ago was a nightmare. People drunk on alcohol, bhaang, both or assorted psychedelic substances came to the Emergency in droves along with the people that they'd beaten up and run over and it was only the collective state of inebriation that stopped them from continuing whatever fights they had outside, in the hospital. There's something seriously flawed in a society that wants to douse the average passerby in colour and when met with opposition proceeds to douse him anyway and then beat his head in with a brick. It's times like this I wish I could buy a month's supply of water, store it and then drown a few monkeys in the water supply. Or wish that small amounts of exposure to the colours used here had lasting damaging effects. The ward was a sea of trolleys with patients of every hue, thus also making it impossible at times to identify who was who and occasionally what was what. This hopefully is only an annual occurrence but one can never really be sure.
The highlight of the day though was lunch at the AP Bhavan, which is like the Andhra Pradesh Embassy in Delhi. Full meals. With Gongura. Heaven.
I need sleep now and maybe a hot bath in any order so Ta.
