Monday, November 06, 2006

WHEN WE WERE YOUNG



c'mon...why must the parsees have exclusive residential societies...

fuckface...I give a shit to what the world thinks

but its hip-hop guys.....don't torture me again...what the fuck...I'm gonna bomb them all....eastside and westside

This is all that remains, pieces of conversations with friends who were once complete strangers and are now inseparable limbs of my body. Stepping out of the college gates none of us realised that we will never walk through them again, never again will the Delhi winter bring back the intoxicating flavour of cardamom tea and the hardest decision of our life will no longer involve approving cheap bargains at M-block market.
Life was a fantasy spent getting sucked in a whirlpool of new-found ideals, freedom, vapours of smoke, piercings and lazy bodies stretched out under the warm sun.

you never give up on a friendship...neverrrrrr

I don't see what's wrong with polygamy....I will throw you out of the car....

oops.....shit.....I am in love with him

We swore that we will return in ten years, buy the same goddamn piece of property and resurrect Red Bricks cafe . The legend of our favourite coffee joint will not be defeated by the corporates and it will be our gift to the future generations of LSR.

....but I have to go home guyzzzzzz....NOOOOOOO....PP don't you dare ...south-ex or GK???

yup yup yup ....Anki....you can still catch Madagascar....#$%**&^#)(*&#@@!

I don't care Shelly....its wednesday....and we are clubbin'... 11... SHARP... DOWNSTAIRS

We believed that we will rid humanity of Miss Indias, never ever do a fuckin MBA, prevent a civil war in Africa, romance blue-eyed Europeans, become journalists in Sri Lanka, watch Jaane bhi do yaroon together and of course....change the world.

Oooooooooo you are from Rwanda....err....pardon....Oh you dumbfuck....he's asking your name

really...how can you not want a husband....your own home and babies....but...

yea right....so says the girl who kissed her bestfriend's boyfriend

We cribbed about the lameass Delhi crowd, yet partied religiously, floating aimlessly in a pool of sweat,vodka and broken vows of not going out with boys we met in nightclubs. We no longer needed further proof of our hypocrisy and raging hormones.

take the fuckin' rose tinted glasses off.... yes missy....life really is dark

but there should be something I can do about them.....I will remain unhappy if I don't....but....

uh...huh...you don't have a problem with the reservation policy...you pseudo....

We endured fractures, rush hour traffic, pepper sprays, failed job hunting expeditions, socialism-capitalism-fuck-the-systemism, sex, Harry Potter spells, thongs, cellphones with in-built voices of French women instructing you to buy weed, gigolos and broken vodka bottles at your mom's feet.

Ritikaaaa....drink the froth....slurrrrrrp slurrrrppp.....not the coffeeeeeee... bitch

abbe...ok fineeee....I am embarrassed but I accept it....I fuckin love Ne-yo...

so I stole 5 empty Pepsi bottles .... I made 25 smooth bucks....gawwwwd you are cheap


If we had discovered how ignorant we were, how happy we were and how eternity will never promise us those golden moments ever again, I would have never discovered myself.

Shellllllllllyyyyyyyy...I have nothing to wear...you have to have to have to give me...

sooooo...how can Pakistan have hudood and parallel civil laws ... for the same crime ... umm ... well...

comooo cawaaaa comooo cawaaa...oh fuck off PP... you can't speak French for shit ... mercy mercy....

I hate the feeling of nostalgia, but November evenings always bring back my most cherished memories and so I must hate November but it manages to make me love every moment spent in the city I hate to love.

Al-vida
mera saath jo diya
mere dost
shukriyaa

To PP, Shelly, Ritz and Anki....when we were young.