This city must be a cartographer’s delight. Istanbul is unlike any other city I’ve been to. Though it appears to have snatched tiny bits of other cities’ souls.
In Istanbul, I’ve become the tourist that I usually love to make a mockery of. My mouth is constantly open, my jaw perpetually falling, my desire to buy souvenirs and junk never ending. I am also wedded to my tourist guide book.
It’s a vast city, and the shopkeepers constantly call out to you. They try to make you halt by first asking if you’re Indian. And then rattling Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan and Aamir Khan. (Sometimes even Indira Gandhi and Hema Malini).
There’s more to this city than these ancient parts. But for now, I am dazzled by them.
(in a different post I may talk about the dazzlement caused by the amazing visit to a Turkish bath).
If this ever happens in London, I want to be there. Leading the charge of the flash mob! In gold hammer pants.
I am happy. I haven’t heard this song in ages. And the general composition of the group. That man in a suit and a headband, the girl in the pink top – everything just makes me want to break out and dance myself.
Posted on June 12th, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Funny | 9 Comments »
I find myself on these cross country journeys often. In various trains. From small stations. So small their names barely fit into the station. Ghostless and with trains stopping rarely.
Yet again on a train. Won’t be in London till perhaps well past midnight. To go back to the utter mediocrity of my life. And yet. I am soothed.
By sleepiness and by the gentle strumming of a man with a guitar. A woman sits next to him and they’re singing together. In harmony. With the sort of combination of shamelessness and talent that a lot of us aspire to.
On trains I frequently find myself. In people and places that I don’t even know the names of.
Posted on June 4th, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Self | 8 Comments »
Unfortunately the mind must make connections, and I suddenly remember watching this awful film called Dhoodh Ka Karz. (Debt of Milk?). Suffice to say a woman gives a snake her breastmilk and the snake is forever grateful. Please to watch this brief scene where it happens. It’s so weird that I am almost tempted to tag it as NSFW.
If ever there was a reason for snakes to turn vegan, here’s one.
Out of the blue, a schoolmate from ten years ago – GT announces that he’s landing in London, and with the stars aligning just right SJ announces that she’s free for the evening as well.
So we meet, after ten years. He belonged to the geek squad, she belonged to the charmed circle, and I belonged to the general nerd cloud. We met, and over two hours discussed various things of importance. Who had a crush on that absurdly hot English teacher. Who did who in which corner of the school. Which rumours flew fast and which ones died an early death.
All my life I’ve been proud of being the odd one out. But I wasn’t really. We were all odd ones out. We were all weird. All trying to fit in desperately. Normalcy was a mirage. It never really was true.
So we sat there by London Bridge. Awash by wastefulness and by nostalgia, years hitting our conscience one by one. Three people who had never hung out together, suddenly in a group hug, giggling.
It’s in that moment that you realize that your teenage angst is already over, that you feel calm and almost sleepy. Almost peaceful.We barely understood each other, we barely understood ourselves.
Posted on May 15th, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Self | 15 Comments »
