The Sanctum

Welcome, traveller. This be the realm of Jay Niner, where everything be possible, and nothing ever happens. If, perchance, thou wisheth to tarry, then find thou a page from the Grimoire and read. For we are here in eternity, and we are in medias res.


Ya Ali

Ya Ali Madad!

I begin today's rant with a plea for help.
And I'm not asking you, dearest reader, for the same; no, thank you. The problem is that I have been raving off my head too much these days. As an old friend (passed away, no less, which is why he's both old and late.) would say- 'you're an idiot.'
He wouldn't need to say much more to get me back on track.. but if memory serves me right, there was a 'mother****ing' and a 'bastard' in there somewhere.
So, back to my plea for help.
I'm epicurean by nature, which means that I need something to do, something to ward off this spirit of boredom that seems to have taken up residence in my immediate surroundings. And there is nothing to do, truly, apart from listening to Nakkadwale Disco every few minutes.
But I have to hand it to my six-year-old laptop. More than my mom with her red-hot chimta (a red-hot pair of tongs that she'd threaten me with when I misbehaved), this piece of junk has taught me patience.
To survive anywhere, one must be patient, or extraordinarily talented. You have to work for years to perfect that sudden movement that can strike precisely at the base of your opponent's neck and find its way into your own groin.
Ouch.. yeah, that's happened.. but that I blame on whatever I was inebriated on at the time.

And none of you will teach me patience and the resilience I need to survive those drearily dank evenings when one tends to ask oneself after the tea sessions, much like the vultures in Disney's The Jungle Book- 'so, what do we do now?'
I went off to some IT park called.. Asendas? Ascendas? Dunno, but it was mighty close and had Subway in it, which to my chagrin and almighty despair did not serve more than 3 sauces on your Sub. Then why even ask us which bread we want, betichod? Just make the damn thing instead of wasting time.
That was one helluva dry sub, and on the way back I had the idea of visiting the TASMAC bar nearby.. but it kinda slipped out of my mind. Maybe something to do with the first half-decent filter coffee I've had in ages. That's the only thing I can say about the South in general and Chennai in particular- the coffee is amazing. Original filter coffee, or so they like to say, but it's not the formaldehyde they serve at most places. Maharashtra in general did not know how to make coffee- the north and west concentrate mostly on tea- but the south is all coffee, man.
You can feel it in the air, when you cross over past AP into my beloved Kerala- Ah, my beauty, past compare, your rains like a downfall of despair- when the vendors start yelling Kaapi! Chooda Kaapi! (Coffee, hot coffee instead of Chai! Garam Chai! (Tea, hot tea).
A friend informs me of the varied cuisine here.. Greek and Thai and Italian, from what she asserted. Well, I've got nine months before I must deliver, and I have yet to conceive yet.
You dirty minds.. you thought I was going to.. I can't believe you thought that. I'm shocked.
I suppose this is where I beat a hasty retreat. I suppose Ali in his infinite wisdom needs must decline on my request, but that's okay. I do not expect the powers-that-be to really give a half-decent answer.. which is why I'm an atheist in the first place, like the half the generation.
Interesting idea for another blog.
Watch this space.

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