July, "Our occasional critic."

This is much inspired by Mr. Behram Contractor's 36 years of writing. All apologies for plagarism. Sue me, you Afternoon Despatch & Courier or Mid-Day people.

Somebody once had recounted how there was this pastoral charm about Monday mornings. They begin on a sullen note, everyone taking time, haggard faces looking tired, trying to get accustomed to the thought of a whole week that may lie ahead of themselves. This is still about Bombay. People, confused and lethargic, a not so sturdy resemblance of their weekend self.

Doing an occupation, which contains weeks of toil, which most would have thought they would quit when they first took to but were left submitting months and years of thankless effort to. Most of them with jobs that, if they were not done, would not matter. They take the some morning local with the same pretentious looks, knowing nobody gives a fuck as to who they are or what they do. Solidarity. The harsh cruelty of our over employed country.


Coming back to reality, the harsh type. I have been wondering why a moment can't become that is 'truely' grandiose? A moment that may engulf all forms of emotion and enrich my life a bit more. These tiny crevices of time are slowly giving way to this rambling that I could easily continue well past midnight but there is certain joys that I would rather make use of than waste time piling myself with more stuff that hardly makes sense. The cities have moved in the shape of a fertiliser plant with all its ancillaries. Where there were paddy fields, there are concrete stacks. But the roads have improved and the driving is smoother and everything is approached that much faster. I still firmly disregard the theory of "everything happens for good". But then again, when has it? I could have typically assumed a couple of tips from all accidents in life but the (in) human psyche is such that whatever is not persistent shall soon be forgotten. These pulsating ribs and increasing weight, the dilemna called 'thought'. Slightly poetic. As I learn to accept the chances of congenital diseases and stock market spreads.


Today, was no better than yesterday. Yesterday was bad enough but there was Die Hard to be seen at Sterling and it actually did transpire into today morning, being an eleven post meridian show. And the movie was actually fun. The same old "America is the only nation left in the world...no wait...it is THE only country left...and there is BUT one person who shall save us again.." And then Mr. Willis enters and tries to understand the digital world, making so many mistakes. Think how easily the kid could have actually dismantled the computer system and retrieved information had Bruce uncle not decided to be rude on the phone to the important villains. And they forcefully made the female playing the negative role unzip her top to a proper extent. Its amazing how these fashion designers manage that. The top cuts just fit perfectly, never too low, never too high, revealing just about enough for anyone to be curious to concentrate more. The accurate acute (obtuse in special cases) angle and the formatted buttons that shall never open however wide she may stretch her arms, or jump from floor to floor, etc. Why was Bruce Willis even fighting her? Die HARD.

And today was warm. I actually wish the rains were unkind to the population and hit big time tomorrow, again.

The people out here seem to be of two types. Those who say they enjoy the monsoon and those who say they abhor it. Those who return to the hostel or their rooms as fresh and dry as they were when they left in the morning. And those who return home in the night, looking like drowned rats. If you are enjoying the weather this week, you belong to the first type. If not, you belong to the second.


Tuesday's going to be gone, with the rain.