Friday, December 22, 2006

Self doesn't want to talk about things. Self is slightly upset with the way establishment works. But self still, despite having the strongest urge, wouldn't burn it all down. Its very simple to burn things, almost all things must be burnt to ashes.
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The Ed's gone to Kenya for a week of holiday. I guess I'm missing her already. Not only everything runs on a simple beat of order but all the other factors also humble down and there's this uncanny unspoken system which takes surface and for most circumstances takes a very good practice of making things settle in peace or so it seems -- when she's here.
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Life seems to have unsettled now. There are more sources of distractions now than what I have faced before. Situations constantly take new shapes, its different now. Its also a paradise that has been corrupted and the story seems to replicate every century, of course in a worse form. Different portals emerging on the bright blue sky. Its peaceful to stare at it; although you know that beneath the thin sheet of darkness lies a tension that is inexplicable in its nature to fathom and yet you strain your eyes to further an understanding of what you will never perceive but for a serene sense. What dichotomy? It never seems to end and despite all your attempts it grows mysterious and lures you to its new wavelengths.
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Both my parents -- and their parents as well have been member of the Delhi Gymkhana Club. I've also read somewhere that the Ed's one too. Those who have a little idea would not know that the eliteness and social standard associated to this club travels back to the British Raj. The few Indian members of then were the, of course, privileged ones -- today the membership is expensive and remains exclusive to a certain section of the society, there's little opportunity for the old members to afford it had they have to seek it again.
I have no snobbery of my aristocratic lineage. We are from an old family of royalty that barely exists; and if you see that it does in others, then its in a superficial fashion. The old true royal family and the royalty behind it is forgotten and cannot even sustain itself in this century.
(It really doesn't matter now, does it? Between you and me and this world that we allow nudging its way in every personal matters of ours, it really doesn't.)
The cousin was at the club last evening ‘entertaining’ his guests. His guests were none other than his work-lot. Self entered the bar wearing clothes that were not fashionable. But yes if you have a twisted sense of that word, then they were. Of course they were naturally far away from the formalwear. It didn't matter to me.
Its embarrassing now to think about it, but there was a time; a very short while, that I was a 'page 3 reporter'. So now I assumed that I was accustomed to be the oddly dressed at a necktie crowd. But this was different. And despite the imagery that you would have grasped similar from an Oscar Wilde dinner party, this seemed even more grotesque. What was paradoxical was that the outdoor segment to the club's bar had a dance floor where Himesh boomed, and the 'young lot' were 'hangin out' there while their parents threw fly kisses at each other inside and creating scandals no one cares about. I managed to sift between the two sides for the short while I was there, sipping a beer.While walking out, I saw an extremely elegantly dressed woman who could have forged her age easily. She could have been 24 or 35 and with an arrogance that could be luring but also a stubborn one of no interest. But she was smoking her Marlboro, and I needed a light. I casually asked her for one, she didn't have any, so she offered me her cigarette. While I lit my unfashionable cigarette, she locked her face to the right. Even while I mumbled a thank you, she seemed to be distant than in actual. She wasn't beautiful if it hadn't been for the cosmetics. Her figure seemed fashioned to one of class -- whatever that means. It bothered me for a while as I thought of her as I walked further away. Something was wrong. I felt it from her. Was it just the fact that there was an existing social barrier between us; no but then why had she offered me her light or was it some tension in her own mind. It didn't matter -- left me a bit wondering.

4 Comments:

Blogger Devilled said...

Do you feel that most people on blogspot are journalists or in the publishing industry or something? So far, the few blogs I've been exposed to are all by hack-types. *confesses* I am also.

10:59 PM, December 23, 2006  
Blogger Devilled said...

So I like this post a lot.

10:59 PM, December 23, 2006  
Blogger hedonistic hobo said...

dear angst ridden bebe

merry christmas and a happy new year!

HAPPINESSSSSSSSSSSSSS :)

@devilled: i am not but there is a profusion of you folks in the blogosphere

5:48 PM, December 24, 2006  
Blogger albert said...

Jerry beta ita gussa tikh nahi hai. Chal doh ghoonth marry(whisky) kie la teh merry ho ja. Merry christams dude!!

11:12 PM, December 24, 2006  

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