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And she's called Ayesha Jazmine Salazar-Ansari. A Virgo, Sep 19, 2005.
I'm an aunt.

Dumbu!

The Rum Tum Tugger

The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat -
And there isn't any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He's always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he's at home, then he'd like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can't get out.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat -
And there isn't any call for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn't any fish then he won't eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;
So you'll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.
The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn't care for a cuddle;
But he'll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there's nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat -
And there isn't any call for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!

Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats
-T S Eliot

Bombay, Bombay!

I used to hop over to Bombay every 2-3 months for a four-day weekend. I'd stay with the sister - in her hostel, in MSLTA and finally in her apartment. I'd land up early in the morning, a bleary eyed sister would open the door, say hello hello and fall back asleep. I'd follow and sleep till the morning was over, wake up to a leisurely breakfast of Kellogs and orange juice and on that first day would rush off to Metsons Library, cutting across Dhanastra for old times' sake. Would stack up on all those books I'd been deprived of in Hyd and quickly come back home. I'd meet the sister for lunch, sometimes in the office canteen, sometimes at Fountain and most often at whichever veggie thali place had taken her fancy.
We'd chat, bitch, make plans for the evening. I'd return home, stuffed and read a book till the sun had set before finally making my way to the Tea Centre for heavenly muffins and tea. Tea Centre, Lings Pavilion, Fountain, Churchill, Bachelors, Jazz by the Bay, Gaylords... we'd land up at them regularly. Then there were other regulars - Cotton World, Kemps Corner, Planet M and later Crossroads; Sterling, Eros, Regal.
I'd sleep in till noon, read books till sunset and only sleep at two (the earliest) in the morning.
Now I live on my own, sleep at midnight, wake at nine and watch movies once a month, if I'm lucky - obviously working doesn't agree with me.
I need to live off the sister again.

Wassup, then?

Well, little stuff mostly
The Delhi Book Exhibition is on at Pragati Maidan and I have to go for it. But there's also Daryaganj, where books will be much cheaper - these are difficult decisions.

The plug that runs our water motor (which annoyingly hasn't worked in two days) blew a fuse last night. When we moved it to another plug, that blew a fuse, this time loudly with a flash of light and a puff of smoke. I was standing next to it, but found myself effortlessly jumping halfway across the room at the time of the incident - the flea for life.

Fathers should not read daughters' blogs - this to the elder sister - because they feel that husbands of bloggers may not like what is written about them and this will become a sensitive issue. Daughters in turn should not tell parents that they have blogs... if not for themselves then to spare their siblings from having to listen to these comments.

Watched a French Opera, The Pearl Fishers yesterday. Understood one word in 10. Have realised that I like Baritones.

Bought a skipping rope, but haven't found time to skip. Well, actually I skipped one day and this fancy plastic thing really hurts when it hits you. Have made a mental note to be very careful about missing a step.

There is a mountain of fruit at home, thanks to V, and I am determinedly munching my way through apples and bananas. I am also making Mosambi juice in the mornings (an arduous process since we have no juicer or that little juice contraption meant for oranges and sweet limes).

I have had a very productive four days in terms of work, I have plodded away at work on a daily basis - it's a whole new sensation, I must say, very not me. I still prefer working like mad right at the end - this basically seems like too much work.

In his heyday Bappi Lahiri's done some very good work. Am currently taken with Muskurata Hua from Lahu Ke Do Rang.

I haven't finished a single book in a week, though I've made substantial progress on both City of Djinns and Service with a Smile. And have read another page of Night Train to Memphis (Elizabeth Peters) and begun Still Life with a Woodpecker (Tom Robbins). I've never read more than one book at a time, and never have I taken so long over them. What's happening?