One remarkably noticeable thing since last some time has been that I have now become a bit of a compulsive reader; hardly can I keep my hands off anything printed these days. Maybe it has to do with the lacuna of an active social life in this morose city which leaves one with nothing much to do or the complete lack of challenge that the organized lifestyle here offers, but each working day after returning home and hitting the gym I am all tucked up in bed with a drink and book for company.
My book list for past some months is not too impressive; I was hardly ever the classic connoisseur but I am game for anything that keeps me enthralled and entertained. Call it the lack of taste or rather taste for cheap stuff, I have been reading all kinds of trash off late. On my recent trip to India I picked up all that could be stuffed into my sky bags and have been reading all the racy stuff ever since; must say the new breed of emerging Chetan Bhagat clones have been doing a decent job doling out Sex and the City inspired tales without break. Infact going by the lifestyle depicted in all these books makes me wonder where we are headed to; during my last visit I found Gurgaon to be more flashy than Paris, Amsterdam or Dubai, I visited all three cities during last six months and found Gurgaon to be indeed most fast-changing, maybe Paris can be excepted here but New India certainly packs a punch
As it is not possible to read without any companion, so since the time young lad has come of age the hot cup of coffee has been substituted by something more sinister. Past some months I have tasted many alcoholic beverages of which I did not know much before and my tongue has got so much accustomed to taste of the hard liquid that I fear I may soon become a habitual drinker. Last evening when I finished another bottle of Scotch I was wondering how much accustomed I have become to regular intake of poison that I at times I feel something amiss if I keep my evenings dry
Talking of dry and juicy stuff this weekend I paid a late night visit to a nearby cabaret, must mention here the amazing dancer who danced so provocatively to Chikni Chameli that all men had their tongues out. Agreed Katrina has a better shape and spreads her legs better and wider during the dance but this youngster was no less raunchy in her small bottle green choli. Also when I was drinking here I could not stop myself from feeling how different the same drink tastes and feels when had in a dance bar with disco lights or if had in bed with a dreary read in hand although both would be at the same late night hour. I guess it is what goes on inside the mind that contributes more to the tinge than any of the added assortments
Meanwhile I have been on a bit of a record movie watching spree, hardly a weekend would have passed when I have not visited the nearby cinema; I was never much of a movie buff back home but in this place every Friday I find myself at the ticket counter. Last weekend I was taken aback when I was the lone audience watching Pappu Can’t Dance Saala (unbelievably the film was played only for me) but then there are times when there is nothing much to do so watching Neha Dhupia is certainly not a bad option
I guess a major reason I am penning down my pursuits here today is that I have been living alone for sometime, my quest for finding a decent flat mate during the past month is yet to bear any fruit. Its actually hard to find a decent metro guy in this city mainly comprising cattle class population but with late night ventures that keep one occupied who is complaining