Dandelion again!

Gadhesh has settled down at his new place and I hope is enjoying himself and the attention of his three human pets at this moment.. better than a single grumpy one who mostly slept or used to be out. Here's a photo of him on a particularly special day before the move when he was not feeling so camera-shy:

And guess what people! We repeated Dandelion this time with a bigger team and it was GREAT! We ate till we felt like pythons gorged on spotted deers and then went out to investigate their garden when I realized that I don't remember anything of the high school botany. (Actually, I don't recall anything but the supreme debaucheries that were high school for me but that's another story for another day.) So here's a piece of Dandelion for you.

The Prodigal Returns

Three tired souls and a few hours of frantic sorting and trash-bagging later I moved and then survived one tiny computer crash before I started writing this post like a wannabe-responsible blogger. Like everything else, I didn't entirely plan for it to happen today but at least I have made my first move and finally has turned back into a resident at my surrogate parents' house which proves extraordinary forbearance on their part I am sure. The last thing I did today was to sort through twelve courses worth of material and decide what I absolutely need. Couple that with sardonic chuckles and throwing off of seminal papers onto the rubbish pile and the resulting threesome is what you can call the irony of grad school.

In other news, it was fucking mind-blowing to notice how many Indian and especially Bengali nicknames are loaded with sexual connotations and are often just variations of the words for boobs, dicks and balls. That's RIGHT! When grad students that are fuckillion years old get together, they talk apples and nuts. 

Finally, I did something all the while feeling it was gonna be an uber calamity: I (happened to) urban-dick Manicorn. There are five definitions in case you wanna check but for this one time I am too mortified to share beyond the most upvoted one.

Manicorn : a mythical male creature who is successful (read: pursuing his passion and can pay his electric bills/rent), funny, chivalrous, masculine (read: not chauvinistic), adventurous, artistic (read: not suicidal).

Game,  Set and Match - Dudette!.

Resident Poet Issue

(Man, that puns in so many different ways...)


I have found two things to share with the bongs, presuming I don't know enough of either Bengali or English to translate these pages: 


1. Kaurab for those enthusiasts of Bengali little magazines, who think that visiting the Montmartre pavilion in the Kolkata Book Fair is kind of integral to the idea of this entire Bong-connection thingy and nostalgic what-nots. Personally I have been rendered choke-full of the various patrons of little and big magazines in and around the city - poets and artists who want to hit it big, poets and artists who think its against their entire life's principle to try to hit it big, poets who worry about whether its a fair thing to break up with girlfriends with disabilities, stone-broke writers who spend their entire miserable savings to publish the first book, artists who break up with the incumbent girl/boy friends every month and still get back together, poets who cut off the nicest of braids and tonsure their heads to protest against the typical standards of beauty held by the Bengali slash Indian males and so on. You get the idea. One of them wrote me my first ever letter when I was three and asked me if I could get some details about a book "Jalpai Kaath-er Esraaj" (loosely, The Olive-Wood Guitar) from my father when we are not too busy with our respective preoccupations and please let her know. I prized the blue inland-letter and probably still have it somewhere back home. And then there is the thoracic surgeon-turned poet who called me Misibaba, introduced me to my first scotch (on the rocks, baby!) and kindly divulged the secrets of getting the best doped slash Bhang-ed Kulfi in town. So you kind of see that they remain somewhat the necessary evils of my life but nevertheless this post would not see the daylight if I was still living among them. 


2. I knew that the resident poet publishes hugely on Kaurab but this is the only thing I found online: Bondhu (Friend). 


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