Not Hillary of the Boys don't Cry but I can make 'em by knocking their teeth out in the second round 'cos I'm worth a Million Dollars Baby, fame. Just the root of the word 'swanky'. It's 2 pm and I'm reeling from the effects of a reasonably bad night at work and way too much caffeine but this is the one chance I have to get at the laptop, so here I am.
Why the one chance? The owner's not back yet but others more needy than I need the keys to surf the waves of information albeit in bits and pieces. But I'm ranting. The flight of ideas is primarily due to the fact that I'm incapable at the moment of sticking to an idea for longer than 30 seconds. That apart I'm ok.
The powers that be took pity on me and some thirty others and offered us rooms at the new Trauma Centre, about a mile away from AIIMS. The mile is a small issue when compared to the flashy, swanky as of now pleasantly cool rooms that exist there. It's a nice large single room with an attached bath and a little balcony. Furnished with a computer table, a revolving chair (to make my attempts at pursuing academic excellence a little roundabout, so to speak), a book shelf, a bed (with a mattress, this is a new one) and Godrej look alike. Just what do you call those things? Steel cupboards? Almairahs? So I'm finally bereft of the pigeon brood, which incidentally is now a brood and not just potential omelets. And in good time too for as of now the little things are quiet but they are rumored to have the highest decibel to size ratio at the age of ten days. I'm also potentially looking at a death-trap in summer due to a rather poor ventilation and little provision for installing electricity consuming, ozone depleting rented air conditioners. But that might be offset by some eco-friendly architecture.
So this is the time for all good men to come to the aid of getting through to something substantial in the coming months and not getting comfortable in the luxury of a room, butter chicken and a substantial paycheck.
Next up if nonsense doesn't come my way, Kareem's in Old Delhi and a meat extravaganza like no other.
Why the one chance? The owner's not back yet but others more needy than I need the keys to surf the waves of information albeit in bits and pieces. But I'm ranting. The flight of ideas is primarily due to the fact that I'm incapable at the moment of sticking to an idea for longer than 30 seconds. That apart I'm ok.
The powers that be took pity on me and some thirty others and offered us rooms at the new Trauma Centre, about a mile away from AIIMS. The mile is a small issue when compared to the flashy, swanky as of now pleasantly cool rooms that exist there. It's a nice large single room with an attached bath and a little balcony. Furnished with a computer table, a revolving chair (to make my attempts at pursuing academic excellence a little roundabout, so to speak), a book shelf, a bed (with a mattress, this is a new one) and Godrej look alike. Just what do you call those things? Steel cupboards? Almairahs? So I'm finally bereft of the pigeon brood, which incidentally is now a brood and not just potential omelets. And in good time too for as of now the little things are quiet but they are rumored to have the highest decibel to size ratio at the age of ten days. I'm also potentially looking at a death-trap in summer due to a rather poor ventilation and little provision for installing electricity consuming, ozone depleting rented air conditioners. But that might be offset by some eco-friendly architecture.
So this is the time for all good men to come to the aid of getting through to something substantial in the coming months and not getting comfortable in the luxury of a room, butter chicken and a substantial paycheck.
Next up if nonsense doesn't come my way, Kareem's in Old Delhi and a meat extravaganza like no other.
