Monday, April 21, 2008

Week 08 (do you believe in fate)

(21st April)

State Bus

I'm happiest in the sate bus
And you ask me why
Cause they're sleeping in the West
And there's a fort in Mumbai

I'm happiest in the sate bus
And I'll tell you why
Cause Arima is in Pondy
And there's a painting in Chennai

I'm happiest in the state bus
And they don't ask why
And they'll never kiss in the movies
They'll tell you many lies.

(23rd April)

Just another bindaas on the vine

Atypical day here (24th April)

Bear with me: I got up and worked in the drawings of the Cunchelim church for VM untill two in the afternoon. After, I took the kinetic and had lunch at the Vihar followed by the usual drop at Fundacao for the free net commodity. Next, I would say a quick shower back home and was off to Porvorim, to hear PVG talk about Old Goa and Old Gold. The point being made, a genial one, that within the genesis of Goan Nobility and its fundational narrative is the deliberate abandonment of Old Goa due to its connotations with overall decadence, white religious activity, a reactionary past, etc, etc...

At the end of the presentation, I was so happy to meet friends whom I hadn't seen yet. Next, was a ride home...too late to pick up my clothes at the laundry. Oh well, I'll make it to Bombay with this on only. A dinner of pao (pao not pao) with chicken sausages and a brief goodbye to the poster bed made way into the first hours of early morning.

One more train (25th April)

At around one in the morning, I left Pangim in the company of LV. The Karmali station was almost deserted and I had to negotiate my way in diplomatically through a bunch of defiant stray dogs. I honestly don't recall the name of the train that dropped by at four a.m. and that brought me to Kurla, in Mumbai. But can you imagine smoking a cigarette at the door, enjoying a thunderstorm along the Konkan coast, and feeling a pre-monsoon shower on your hands and face?

Kurla station is teaming with eager taxi drivers and one of them picked me up in the middle of the caos. He insisted always how everything was crystal clear with the meter running, even though it was a hell of a long ride up to Borivili. Leaving the caos of the station, it was scary to see how the Maharashtran drivers, who hadn't picked up customers, launched piercing stares and a few abuse on my U.P. driver.

All that talk about being straigt and honest could only mean one thing. When we finally arrived, the driver said "38,20" and pointed to the equivalent in the chart: "830". I said "Really?". I got out of the cab and checked the meter. It read "28,20" and that meant "582" in the chart and that was what he got. And I do hope some Shiva Sena people slap him around a bit. The point is, if you're going to be dishonest, just please don't brag about how honest you are.

Arriving in Sai Baba Nagar Road is always like coming to the most cozy place in Bombay. Swastika started teaching me Hindi right away, and I messaged up my friends. No one is in Mumbai but I don't care. I'm here for the city to take me in once again.

Anyways, Sanjeev informed that I had still been conned by the driver, the maths not matching up and he probably used a "personalized" chart.

(25th April)

Monsoon Express

They call it the Monsoon Express
And there'll be thunder everywhere it goes
It stops only to pick up the lost souls
Everyone inside pretends to be sleeping
But they're not
And they're all in the wrong berths
The t.c. alone snores
And I heard a stray dog is at the engine
Now just bear with me through this
And I'll bring you home safe
Wherever home may be
Even if it is a Mango tree
You will see me
Smoking at the door
Crying
A cancelled ticket in my heart.

3 comments:

AC said...

"ergue-te ó sol de verão
somos nós teus cantores
da matinal canção
ouvem-se já os rumores..."

Anonymous said...

Viva, AC. Nostalgico com o 25 de Abril? ou apenas com vontade de regressar aos latifundios do alentejo? ;)

AC said...

Sou do minifundiário Minho, como sabes.
Nostálgico com alguma utopia que lave uma sociedade inequivocamente formatada.
Viva.