Jī Bhar Jīyo
This is a week of celebration: Beltane (for the Druids and Witches of the Southern Hemisphere) or Samhaim (for the Northern Hemisphere) yesterday, likewise All Hallow's Eve (or Hallowe'en); today, Diwali; and Thursday, Id ul Fitr (or Hari Raya Puasa).
We celebrated Diwali last night with tons of take-away from Mughlai's (the magic of 'phir milenge' - I got to go back there and snap a picture of Ishaq Baksh, the proprietor; his brother, unfortunately, was off somewhere in Kilbernie). We had lamb biryani, chicken biryani, garlic naan, keema naan, potato kulcha, chicken tikka, and fish curry; and to end the meal, gulab jamun.
It'd nice if we got to watch some Diwali releases as we had our meal, but we watched Desperate Housewives (which, as one of the handful of people living in the many countries that are bombarded by American television, I've never watched before, and cannot figure out its popularity) instead.
After dinner, we put on a song-and-dance DVD, and that was where the fun began. We did some sing-a-long (Michelle sang in simultaneous English translation which was hilarious), and bitched about the so-called "queens" of Bollywood ("Aishwarya looks like a goldfish ..."; "I think Preity got a boob-job for Salaam Namaste ..."; "Kareena is flat!"; "Kareena looks ugly in Indian dress ..."; "Aishwarya cannot act or dance!") and critiqued the choreography of Bollywood dances and actors' dancing ("Hey, it's the chicken dance again!"; "My god, Bobby looks like an idiot ..."; "Hrithik looks like a horse with frog legs ..."; "Where do they find such dance-moves?!").
This is, like, one of our favorite group past-times, as we'd discovered since we squashed ourselves on Jaya's bed three years ago and repeated 'Dhin Tara' in Kahin Pyaar Na Ho Jaaye on her DVD player seventeen times - because there is seriously nothing more hilarious than Jackie Shroff's attempts at dancing (in pink pants, no less!). We nearly asphyxiated ourselves laughing.
We ended the night early this morning with repeats of 'Maahi Ve', and Kal Ho Naa Ho itself.
It's strange how we always end up watching Kal Ho Naa Ho when we gather since none of us really like that film (it's a Karan Johar after all, and Karan Johar sucks ... um, no double entendre intended).
Maybe it's our subliminal and collective choice because of its title (okay, and also His Royal Babeness); or maybe, it's the titular song that echoes what we recognize, either consciously or subconsciously: "Har pal yahan, jī bhar jiyo / Jo hai samā, kal ho nā ho."
Who knows if there would be a tomorrow?
Shubh Diwali!
We celebrated Diwali last night with tons of take-away from Mughlai's (the magic of 'phir milenge' - I got to go back there and snap a picture of Ishaq Baksh, the proprietor; his brother, unfortunately, was off somewhere in Kilbernie). We had lamb biryani, chicken biryani, garlic naan, keema naan, potato kulcha, chicken tikka, and fish curry; and to end the meal, gulab jamun.
It'd nice if we got to watch some Diwali releases as we had our meal, but we watched Desperate Housewives (which, as one of the handful of people living in the many countries that are bombarded by American television, I've never watched before, and cannot figure out its popularity) instead.
After dinner, we put on a song-and-dance DVD, and that was where the fun began. We did some sing-a-long (Michelle sang in simultaneous English translation which was hilarious), and bitched about the so-called "queens" of Bollywood ("Aishwarya looks like a goldfish ..."; "I think Preity got a boob-job for Salaam Namaste ..."; "Kareena is flat!"; "Kareena looks ugly in Indian dress ..."; "Aishwarya cannot act or dance!") and critiqued the choreography of Bollywood dances and actors' dancing ("Hey, it's the chicken dance again!"; "My god, Bobby looks like an idiot ..."; "Hrithik looks like a horse with frog legs ..."; "Where do they find such dance-moves?!").
This is, like, one of our favorite group past-times, as we'd discovered since we squashed ourselves on Jaya's bed three years ago and repeated 'Dhin Tara' in Kahin Pyaar Na Ho Jaaye on her DVD player seventeen times - because there is seriously nothing more hilarious than Jackie Shroff's attempts at dancing (in pink pants, no less!). We nearly asphyxiated ourselves laughing.
We ended the night early this morning with repeats of 'Maahi Ve', and Kal Ho Naa Ho itself.
It's strange how we always end up watching Kal Ho Naa Ho when we gather since none of us really like that film (it's a Karan Johar after all, and Karan Johar sucks ... um, no double entendre intended).
Maybe it's our subliminal and collective choice because of its title (okay, and also His Royal Babeness); or maybe, it's the titular song that echoes what we recognize, either consciously or subconsciously: "Har pal yahan, jī bhar jiyo / Jo hai samā, kal ho nā ho."
Who knows if there would be a tomorrow?
posted by s at 11:45
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