If you are a bindicoot, I do think you should watch for this. It sounds totally dangerous.
What I found as funny as the name of the product is that “Chasy Cat” has this lovely tear-off dispenser but the grocer has stocked it with the ‘Laxman Rekha’ cockroach repellent.
Which reminds me of the BEST ever sign for “krezy rat maar” painted on the Mahim causeway wall. The tagline, in Hindi, read “choohon ka encounter kar de“.
I was in Pune recently, hanging out on a friend’s balcony when I spotted this motley family coming up the road with a bunch of random things in hands, on shoulders, in arms. Slowly they unpacked their stuff and the long stick thing turned into a tightrope. But though they called out and beat a drum, there were no takers for the show. I was too far up and definitely not a worthwhile audience, so they re-packed and started to move off – except this time I was finally able to see what the dad was carrying Shravan Kumar style in his baskets – his youngest two kids!
We used to know a pair of lhasa apsos called Samosa and Moongphali 
Anyway, this is not about them. This is about where your samosas come from 
Behind the halwai, in a dingy, cavernous room is where the raw samosas – still tender in their doughy skins – await their flash in the pan. So, I’m romanticizing Sue me. But the contrast was too stark to not post. Enjoy your next samosa… Oh and the post’s title? I knew a kid who couldn’t say “samosa” 
I’m such a gavaar, I did not know that the Triveni Kala Sangam (~ arts center) in our capital city has a lovely garden cafe. I was quite pleased that someone in community radio suggested meeting here one spring afternoon. Ironically, we were seated right beside this sign and it totally tickled me. Apparently art and work are mutually exclusive. And maybe meetings, they think, kill – just like cigarettes do. It’s a distinct possibility, no? ;D
(In case it’s not clear enough to read, the sign says: “Right of entry reserved. SMOKING or MEETINGS Not Permitted”)
I am back in a neck brace. And I didn’t fall down the stairs this time. Let’s say it’s a combination of bad computer posture, too much computer time and a PT-teacher-turned -drill-sargeant- turned-yoga-instructor who pressed a stressed shoulder a bit too hard. Anyway, this is what I feel like. (Yes, yes, I’m in full drama queen mode. Also known as iWithdrawal.)
In the picture is Rajinderji, Man Friday at Breakthrough, who tracked down the funny smell in the second room –> pigeon fledglings amidst feathers and droppings inside the AC! And bravely caught them and relocated them. Outside. Sigh.
(Oh and for those of you feeling bad for me: continue to do so, please. Though I’ve read more books in 5 days than I have in as many months and seen more movies than I can keep track of, I’m in PAIN! and work is piling up. And I’m too OCD to deal with this much longer!!!)
This was taken in Delhi. I’ve seen images of gods adorning walls in public places all over India – a brilliant idea to stop our desi brethren from peeing just anywhere … though it’s now against the law.
However, this set of Hindu deities inside the elevator of an office block puzzled me. It was kinda cool to see the two doors whiz shut and the pictures appear Ok, yes, I’m still a kid
Oh, and the song is the one in which Mr. Sami is beseeching god for a ‘lift’ (up, not a car ride): “Thodi si to lift kara de/ Dollar de ya pound de de/Cash de de, check bana de/Dirham-o-dinaar de de…”
When my brother and I were little, my mother decided we were using too much ‘bad language’ — we were calling each other ‘stupid’ and ‘moron’ – and to curb our tongues, she instituted a fine. We were to drop 25 paise into a gulak for adjectives like that, 50 paise for using sh!#. These colorful gulaks in Mazjid Moth, Dilli, reminded me of that failed behavioural modification experiment
Were this gulak thing instituted in our house again, all of us would be contributing quite a bit — parents included! Hmm, maybe we could use the spoils to get some good PG-13 DVD’s …
This is a Delhi photo – of course! I was nearly home when I looked to my left and to my right and found myself eye-to-eye with not one, but two Barbies. Most rickshaws have posters up of Bollywood stars. This was a first for me. In Mumbai though, last Thursday I was in a cab that the driver (also the owner) had furnished with a plush red and black, umm, carpet. It was on the seats, the ceiling, the flooring, and the dashboard. Then I noticed it was even on the inside panels of the doors. On further inspection and inquiry, I found out it really was the same furry fabric, only he’d had it laminated! How ingenious, no?
This is the “NICE beauty hair style” joint for “gents and kids” near Lady Shri Ram College for Women in Delhi. I passed this for a year and on my penultimate day in the city, I finally managed to get a decent shot of the signboard. My line of sight in the past has always gotten obscured by traffic … I can’t tell you how many blurred/blocked shots I’ve deleted. Anyway, this is still not the best photo, so I’ll help you read what the NICE beauty hair style place offers. If you’re a gents or a kids, you can get “FACIAL, BLEACH, MASSAZ & BODY MASSAZ” … lucky you! Nothing for the ladies, sadly. Sigh…. no massaz of any kind 
Timings: 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. And you can get a paan when you’re done
Juicing is hard work. Last month, I went to Janakpuri for a work visit and exiting the I just loved these two little boys who were selling sugarcane juice (replacing the shakharkandhi chaat of the winter) from this rotary machine which took all their strength. There were plenty of takers on that hot day — one of the first sweaty ones in Delhi’s so-called spring…
Their ice blocks are covered with jute sacks and the sugarcane stems
are then passed between the two grinding wheels. The result — a flattened stick of fibre, and sweet, sweet, sticky liquid sugar
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