Skeeter scribbles

Ah!
So!
Skeeter's skates skid...
And here's her first bid...

Dil Dilli mein hum chod ke chale jayenge
Khud ko is kadar door le jayenge
Dilli pukarti rahegi humein
Aur hum kahenge....
Hum ayenge
Hum ayenge
Hum laut ke kabhi na kabhi zaroor ayenge!!!

Oye Oye budday boy! Oye Hoye!!!

Happy Birthday Blazing Boy!
Raising three glassis for you!
Ek glassi... do glassi... teen!

Last year, this day, I was still to give you a 'certificate' and now see :D You got it :) Life's like that.
Bereft of words, I am. Still, I want to thank you for being there, for the endless hours that you drive to lug me from Gurgaon to Delhi and back that make me feel so so so very special, for the lovely company at the lunches and dinners and the in-betweens (they form the backbone of Delhi Foodies' Zone and keep me beeming as well), and then I cannot thank you enough for being there for her, for she forms such an important part of our universe. And o' course for everything else.
*Hugs*
God Bless!!!

Mirza Ghalib, brought to you by Skeets

Ye to kaha ki unke aur humare zayke kaafi mel khate hain, par ye na kaha ki hum unki haveli ki kuch jhalakon ko qaid kar le aaye.

On one of my 'off' days, officially and mentally, I walked down Gali Qasim Jaan at Ballimaran, Chandni Chowk, to have a dekko at Ghalib's Haveli. Nah, I am no fan of his, just general curiosity and search of solitude took me there. I reached Chandni Chowk by car, got off, hired a rickshaw (just for the fun of it), and reached Gali Qasim Jaan. The rickshaw-puller kept pedalling his (read our) way forward, and I remained mum, awestruck (as always) by the old world charm. Mouth open, eyeballs out like that of a frog's, whiskers up, Skeets must've made quite a picture. Haha. Heee. Gawddd. I have noticed this before, that when I go to places of particular interest, I tend to forget that I have a tongue, and that I can speak. If there are people with me, they think I am unfriendly, or perhaps plainly uninterested.

His last photograph

That day, thankfully I was alone. And as I rode past the narrow lanes of Ballimaran, a gong rung somewhere in my head and it struck me that I would have to ask for the directions. Lost in the rustic charm of that part of Dilli, I had reached way ahead of my destination. People were friendly enough to guide me and my rickshaw-puller to the Haveli. The Haveli, as I gathered from my 1-hour stay there, was where Mirza Ghalib stayed during the last phase of his life. What is interesting is that he stayed there as a 'tenant'. Only a part of the Haveli remains now, as it has undergone quite a bit of alteration and demolition since Mirza Ghalib's death. Thanks to the efforts of the Delhi Government, some portions of the Haveli have been turned into a Memorial in remembrance of the great Poet.

Err Mmm Ufffff

It is gross. I am embarrassed every time it happens. And I do not know what to do about it.
This woman, yes a 'woman', call her a girl if you please (as if I care), has been haunting me for the past 10 months now.
Maybe more.
She is some sort of a freak. So much so, that as soon as she appears anywhere near, I almost wish I knew apparition and disapparition. Till that time the loo, the stairs, the baag, the bagiche, the road, the terrace, they all do it for me. They provide me a place to escape her sight.
Now, she comes and stands near me and says... Aaahh! Your hair smell lovely! *Run to hide*
Then, she comes to me and says, WOW! You are wearing an amazing perfume. *Sigh*
When I eat, she comes and says, your mom makes lovely aloo paranthas. Tell her that I will come home and eat at your place. *Buzz Off!*
Another time she enters the place and says, You make me jealous, you got such a nice hair cut. (She says this at a time when I am cursing myself for having got my long hair chopped off. Hmph!)
Pretty shoes, will you take me to the shop you pick them up from? She asks.
Skeeter tells her the name of the shop, but she insists that she would go with Skeeter and only that. *What sins have I committed?*
Conclusion: I have to re-think if I have a right to smell good, dress well, eat well, speak well, write well and what not. I swear I will strangle her some day. She is killing my patience brutally.