Karow!

This post is going to be a good attempt at making myself feel good Some of my favourite Calvin and Hobbes sounds.

1. Wogga Muk Gubba Pum Wup! Boo! Gop! (Miss Wormwood, in her monstrous form utters this to Spaceman Spiff)
2. Bok Bok Bok Bok (Calvin tosses the ping pong ball on his bat)
3. Phup Phupp Phup. Phbbttb (Calvin and hobbes scratch their respective bodies)
   
4. Beeeoooooop (Calvin switches the tv off)
5. Mfgpbthbbpt (Calvin dreams). Gg*Mmf*Yow Gzzz. Mkn Gbzz…Yow.. (Hobbes dreams)
6. Pit Pat Pit Pat Pit Pat…Pittida Dittida Pittida Dittida…Chooga Chooga Chooga Choo.. Eeeee….Nyeeowww (Calvin and Hobbes run, expecting a sonic boom to occur)
7. Bang, wang, clang. Zang, plang, bang. (Calvin irritates his mom)
8. Aawweeeawweeaaw! (Calvin swings like Tarzan)
9. Kbthchh! (Calvin sneezes)
10. Fwoom (Calvin’s homework paper blows up)
11. Snekk. Blog. U-lar Mekhh! Gahghh! Rk! (Blor-Utar from Zimtok-5 exhibits his terrifying weaponry)
12. Yakka Fob Mog. Grug Pubbawub Zink Wattoom Gazork. Chumble Spuzz. (Newton’s first law of motion, in Calvin’s words)
13. Whap! Smash. Tingle Ding Swatter Clink (Calvin swings his baseball bat)
14. Pow! Jab! Kick! Pow! Pow! Rattatattattatta Rattatattatta Eeeeeeeee Boom! (Calvin tries to cajole Hobbes into sharing Hobbes’ halloween candies with him)
15. Gloomp. Ackthp! Pbthbbppth!! Hack Hack (Calvin reacts to cough syrup)
16. Awk Awk Braau-auukkk! (Calvin does the mating dance)
17. Glik glik glik (Calvin drinks water)
18. Flip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip! (Calvin turns the pages of a book)
19. Oooooeee Eebooee Booeeboo Wahhhooooooo (Calvin’s siren)
20. Thwping! (Calvin uses his catapult)
    

Apart from these twenty sounds, I also like Eep, Ack, Ick,  Scritch-Scratch, Sploosh-Splash, Oomff,  Splutchh, Oyez! Oyez!, Scrunch, Waaughh (or Waarrgh or Aaugh), Wwhipppp, Fwoooshh!, Zap!, Gaackk!, Bonk!, R-R-Ripp!, Ploop!, Clink-Clink, Bink-bonk-Bang-Boing,  Wham-wham-wham, Blip-bloop-blorp, Gloonk!, Galosh-galosh-galosh, Wump! and Ahwooooo

I might have missed out many other sounds that appear in Calvin and Hobbes strips. Sometimes, all I need are these sounds to make me feel euphoric

So, what are your favourite C and H sounds ?

P.S : Is some University offering a PhD in some subject that is related to Calvin and Hobbes?

Fragment

A well orchestrated symphony, conjured,

By the early evening homeward bound birds.

Ceaseless refrains, interwoven

With the ripe and mellow strains,

Of the pirouetting leaves of the Vilva trees -

The hypnotic prelude, for the evening.

—————————————————–

The pungent aroma of sandalwood, wafting -Through the ethereal space,

Kaajal laden eyes of the presiding deity,

The glistening cardinal gopuram,

Smoldering mud-lamps, brimming with treacly oil,

Thirsty flames dispensed by the hovering brass lamps,

Sanctified water in small brass pitchers,

Pink oleanders, jasmine, Tulsi leaves -

The repetitive interlude, in the musical.

Dhoti-clad pristine priests,

Conch, Chenda and cymbals – The accompaniments

- A fragment of something that I wrote tonight.

Boomerang reassurance

Me : I feel like puking…emotionally puking, you know ?

Her : Yes I do. I know what you mean by that

 

Me : It’s a form of reassurance, boomerang reassurance, yes.

Her : Boomerang reassurance eh ? Nice.

 

There can only be one person who can make sense out of all the trash that I spew out, at 2:00 AM, over phone and that’s her.

I am looking forward to

~ Ogling at the India Gate, once again, at night

~ Watching the third season of Scrubs tonight

~ A week without the man who is addicted to tea

~ Getting my hands mehendi-ed again

~ Travelling by Delhi metro sometime this week

~ Hot Daliya on Thursday morning

~ Meeting up with those 4 people who bring my hometown closer to me

~ Talking in Tamizh with the mobile shop anna, near the library

~ A book-buying spree in Daryaganj/Connaught Place

~ The 12th of July – 4:00 pm

~ Keerai mashiyal and Vethakozhambu/Thayir saadham and molagai veththal on the very same day

~ 8-9 hours of uninterrupted sleep SOMEWHERE

~ A night devoid of power cuts

~ Putting my hands on the fragile shoulders of the man, who volunteers to tell me  “Once upon a time, in a dense forest..” stories over phone, when I am bored, sick and missing people

~ Juvenile squabbles with Amma

~ Thathi’s Jeera Kashayam

~ Whining with somebody (IN person)

~ Whining to somebody (IN person)

~ Playing Scotland Yard with those two

~ A sleepover at her place. Singing till 3 AM with her

~ Chats on the tank top

~ My farewell goodbyes

~ The 12th of July – 4:00 pm

Science, History, Chocolate deprivation, Yellow, Crimson Red and Upma

While I sit here in front of this giant monitor and think about how unwell Orion is, at present and how much I yearn for him, there are pint-sized molecules inside a dish on the table beside mine, reacting with a million others to only produce a trillion of their progeny, invisible to the naked eye, very much like themselves, only to divert my attention to mull over something that has been going on in my head, for over 3 years – Can one really trust this subject we call science ? (I am very possessive about this question of mine and I do not expect answers from anyone. Sorry if that sounded rude :\) Passion for science can make a person cold and numb, almost zombie-like. Research is the butcher’s-knife that lackadaisically slaughters the simplicity in things, that needs to be appreciated.

When I look at a yellow flower, I wouldn’t want to analyze its calyx or corolla or the pigmentation mechanisms that coloured its petals yellow, I would want to simply appreciate that shade and smile, when I see rain droplets slide down those creamy yellow petals. I would want to see a rat curl up cosily in a corner and not think about how food deprivation has resulted in lethargy and analyse its behaviour, thereafter. I want to be happy,wondering about how different people can be and how many diverse feelings and interests they can shelter. I wouldn’t want to think about plasticity and reticular formation when I see a person and realize his interests are in no way similar to mine.

When people ask me questions like  what do you think hostel life is all about, I answer “hostel life is all about missing the worst possible Godhumai Ravai Upma“. It takes one month of Roti-Aloo sabzi to make one appreciate Karuveppalai thogayal served in Saravana Bhavan (or any other Karuveppalai thogayal, for that matter)

I felt Humayun’s tomb (and Isa Khan’s tomb) was much more enchanting and amorous, when compared to “the” Taj Mahal. Its lush green Char Bagh, the dark and steep staircases, that curve voluptuously to the terrace, the Arab Sarai gate, embellished with overgrown bushes, the domes that exhale the ancient regal air, the balconies, porches, lobbies,terraces and the windows that project the sun and its rays in versatile ways filled me with a weird sense of calm, something that I would like to safely preserve in those imaginary vaults of mine.

I tend to delve into my  mind to fork out the movement of the slender/stubby fingers of someone, when he/she talks, the spiralling of the arches of one’s brow, when he/she emotes, the contortion of the lips, when one is not being noticed, when I think about all those people close to my heart/when I read letters written by them.

Does one month of chocolate deprivation (I volunteered to stay away from chocolates) make one appreciate chocolate even better ? The answer is no. i received 8 bars of chotta 5-star from my grandparents today and I couldn’t appreciate a bar, the way I used to, previously. (Note to self – Try Gems. Isn’t that your favourite chocolate ?)

Nothing like statements like these – “I am pretty sure you’d still write to me and probably even surprise me on my birthday by showing up at my doorstep wherever I may be. You are capable of that, yes you are” and stick diagrams portraying ‘what happens to Nithya when she pats a Nilgai ‘to make your day week month. Love you both.

I am glad I managed to churn out a blog post.

44 degree celsius

Courtyard. Planes flying above my head.Red-brick walls. Black ant colonies. That black dog behind the courtyard gate, that barks at me while I scribble this post down. Secured wifi connections and their passwords.
The organ we call ‘Brain’. Anatomy. Sleep. Neurons. Tiny little chemical molecules. Kandal’s ‘Principles of Neural Science’. Tea Club. Rats in buckets filled with water. SLS. Lab no 319 and 327. Independence. Self-reliance. Delhi summer. JNU.

Green apple breeze – The sequel

Firstly thank you for having peeped in to see if this page is still breathing.

Apparently she is.

This is the “real” green apple breeze post, which says “Try Baloo Green apple squeezee !! It is brilliant and it is green! It is bound to make you feel happy “

P.S : The previous post was written by ummm.. (the fact has already been divulged to a couple of people, I suppose)the one who ll be a little glad to see the sequel on this page

Green apple breeze

After a long break virtual hibernation, yours truly is back!  

Internals have begun, and today we had our Economics paper. The only good thing about this exam was listening to dad ramble about SEBI and commercial banking. To listen to him and his stories all day. Ah!  

We’d gone slipper hunting AGAIN yesterday. It is really irritating how a pair never manages to last for more than three months. The last one I bought, a flat soled one, gave way after three months too. Moreover, shopping was never my thing, and it will never be. Impatience kicks in after 15 minutes. I ended up buying two pairs one of which was called beach barby. I want a shoe maker and not a shoe. A shoe maker who would design a decent shoe as I ask him to, without heels. Why can’t buying a pair of slippers be as easy as buying a bubble bottle?

Random rant. Moments of sanity in the midst of voluntary retardedness. An ink drop falling into the  water. The green apple breeze. Bliss.

P.s : Kannadaasan Karaikudi is an awful AWFUL song. You two have the worshtu tastes sometimes.

Mausam and Escape

The gentle strumming of the guitar and the serene riffs – Mausam – The naissance of a beautiful morning filled with grey clouds, that promise rain.
The sudden musical upsurge at 00:39, the taunting sounds of the sitar, the fury of the drums; progression of notes, redolent of a struggle; hysterical vibrations of the sitar, alternating with the transcendental sounds from the synthesizer and the drums; the gradual waning of the sitar – Escape.

How, how do people come up with the appropriate titles for songs ? Mausam and Escape (Slumdog Millionaire) is simply ‘Mausam and Escape’.

Cough syrup, Nendram pazham and my checkered rug !

As I walked down the dingy path in the Coimbatore railway station, this afternoon, pulling my noisy strolley with me, I realized that I lived the 5 best days of my life, in IIT-M, with a bunch of people, who nourished me with goodness. Thank you.

Shrey, Sharan and Swati, what would I do without you people ?

P.S : I am intending on writing a long post on these 5 days. I hope I do justice to them.

P.P.S : I have lost my voice !

P.P.P.S : Cough syrups suck.