The Gate

I know; my blog posts have become few and far between. Instead of the words and ideas flowing out smoothly, like slick jellied eels, they emerge grudgingly reluctant onto the espace like an alligator from its mud pit. And from those rotten analogies, you know it must be true.

The reason for this is a pervasive ennui which seems to envelop me and everything I do nowadays. The only thing which I do nowdays is read tech blogs and salivate at the new and shiny bits of metal and plastic that they so love to talk about. Gizmodo is my favourite right now, with Crave, Engadget and Slashdot following close behind. I occasionally tune into Scott Adam's blog, though his output is nowhere as good as before. And when I want to get in touch with my feminine side I head on over to Dooce.

Not that I need to get further in touch with my feminine size. I'm just one Avril Lavigne song away from putting on a dress. Coloured pink. Okay, so I apologise; apparently girls don't just like pink. They like red and white stripes/prints too. Which is not the same as pink. Definitely. Not.

Ever since I've returned to India, I've been doing my very best to visit as many pubs/lounges as possible, and get as comprehensively drunk in them as possible. And no, I will absolutely not let the shame of ordering strawberry daquiris while the girls with me down whiskeys with soda and then adjust their crotch and spit stop me.

Hey, I did tell you about my feminine side, didn't I? According to these girls (they pretend to be my friends), I give off this gay vibe, which is why they take me with them to restaurants and force me to ask the maître d' for a table. Apparently they are quick to comply either from desire or terror.

This weekend involved a drunken semi orgy at home with triple distilled vodka, white rum and Drambuie and Burnout matches on the PS2. We were supposed to catch a play at the Indian Habitat Centre on Sunday evening, but on arriving there learnt that it was sold out. Apparently more people were interested in imbibing culture than we thought. So after hanging around and ineffectually trying to bribe the guards into letting us in, we decided to make our way to Khan Market for dinner.

After strolling around a bit, we decided to have dinner at Big Chillz, which, as usual, made us wait for a half hour for a table, while we stood outside the window and pulled hungry orphan faces. I have to say, patience and girls go together just like apples and Godzilla. First, Miz Kuruvilla accosted the maître d' for letting this couple get in ahead of us. The waited replied politely, 'We would seat you first, Madam, we really would, but we would lose our jobs. The couple we just seated were the owners.'


Big Chillz is a pretty good restaurant serving continental and Italian, but what you should really go there for are the delicious and indulgent desserts with mud pies and cheesecakes crowding the menu.


This time however, we decided to go to India Gate for ice cream. Quite surprisingly, there was a huge crowd at India gate. People were lounging on the grass with picnic baskets and vendors weaved their way through the crowd selling everything from bhel-puri to bubble guns. It sorta reminded me of another famous place - people on the lawns before the Eiffel Tower. Such different places, yet so similar.


The girls of course wanted a bubble gun and a fluorescent helicopter, which miz Dutt promptly proceeded to launch in a wild and erratic manner, causing everyone to take seven steps away for safety.


Of course, the battery of my D60 chose that very moment to quit on me so you'll have to be satisfies with (inferior?) shots from Shazzer's D40.

[Update - I've managed to get just two photos outta Shazzer. Rest will follow shortly]