Why was I so foolishly certain that we would get tickets for the 1.30pm show of Dev D? Why did I assume that people would be at work, that I didn't need to book tickets in advance? We watched the last four tickets being bought by the person in front of us. Later, I went in to find out if the net booking people had no-showed but they had and we booked tickets for tomorrow instead.
But the screw up is, tomorrow is an unexpected holiday for my son and a 1.30pm show (for which we have tickets) clashes with his holiday as horribly as ice cream does with dosai molagapodi.
And you know why he has a holiday? Because 50 kids from his school (class 8 and up) are going for a Right to Walk event from their school to the Goethe Institut. What is this in aid of? Reclaimng the road, basically. Anyone who walks from where the flyover descends back past the British Council down the GHMC road and AdarshNagar to the GZ knows that there is no footpath and some very chaotic traffic. There are other issues than pedestrian safety involved; there are issues of gender - that the kids are going to be made aware of.
All of which means the younger kids get the day off.
So Dev D tomorrow and some hand-wringing about where to put the kid.
*
In the meanwhile, the one good thing that happened today is I finally got my copy of the South Asian Review (28: 3), which has three of my poems. No link, I'm afraid. I'd almost forgotten which ones.
*
Ranjit mails to point out that 'The Randomiser's Survival Guide' (the poem, not the book), which I didn't find links to in October, is now up on the Green Integer blog along with a few other poems. Go read.
*
Also, the things I haven't linked to are legion but it's too late now: the KGAF and the Caferati Contests; the Almost Island Conference, now in it's third year (the good news is that there'll probably be a juicy issue online soon); and oh - god knows what else. Lot's of interesting stuff.
*
Anyone here a member of this 70mm thingy? They promise to deliver films to your doorstep, claim to have some amazing catalogue but when I asked if they had some film the girl said she'd call me back and never did. Is this what I can expect for 299 bucks a month? Or does someone have a heart-warming tale to share?
Showing posts with label hoskote. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hoskote. Show all posts
Monday, February 16, 2009
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Ranjit's reading
Ranjit was supposed to Meet The Press at half past five. Like the unpunctual idiot that I am, I brushed aside his pathetic pleas for coffee and we were at the GZ by 5. Yes, I know.
The Press - such as they are - didn't show. Two young men from some channel did, but apparently waiting is made easier when it's a film star they have to meet. They left without speaking to RH.
Large crowds poured in, however, and the reading went off swimmingly. I humbled Ranjit* with my introduction (he said so), there were approximately 60 people at the reading and nobody asked any spectacularly stupid questions (this, in my personal opinion, is Not a Good Thing. How will we mark our readings except with the questions that are memorably dumb?)
Some people said I looked stunning, others said I looked elegant, yet others remarked upon my glittery footwear. Those who turned up too late for the reading - but just in time for the dinner afterward - asked if I also read my poetry.** One well-known (at least locally and in certain circles) poet/professor languished and flirted and spoke immense quantities of Parsified Gujarati.***
Three of Ranjit's poems were read out in German translation and though I don't know how accurate they were, they sounded fantastic. Swar, you'd have enjoyed it.
In effect, a good time was had by all.
Update: Some of the poems from The Randomiser's Survival Guide can be found here.
* This business of finding out that the most unexpected people - in this instance, Ranjit - read your blog, is unnerving. Especially if one intends to write about them. How much can one say without becoming either self-conscious or garrulous?
** Of course I didn't. I know that much of the contents of the preceding sentences was about ME, Me, Me, Baby, but even so, I wouldn't hijack someone else's reading (just their display table where the books are laid out.† )
*** I know better than to mention names now. The last time I did that, it turned out that the gentleman had a Google Alert for his name and once he read the post, he knew who I was and called and I just wanted a ready made hole in the ground to sink into. See [*] above.
The Press - such as they are - didn't show. Two young men from some channel did, but apparently waiting is made easier when it's a film star they have to meet. They left without speaking to RH.
Large crowds poured in, however, and the reading went off swimmingly. I humbled Ranjit* with my introduction (he said so), there were approximately 60 people at the reading and nobody asked any spectacularly stupid questions (this, in my personal opinion, is Not a Good Thing. How will we mark our readings except with the questions that are memorably dumb?)
Some people said I looked stunning, others said I looked elegant, yet others remarked upon my glittery footwear. Those who turned up too late for the reading - but just in time for the dinner afterward - asked if I also read my poetry.** One well-known (at least locally and in certain circles) poet/professor languished and flirted and spoke immense quantities of Parsified Gujarati.***
Three of Ranjit's poems were read out in German translation and though I don't know how accurate they were, they sounded fantastic. Swar, you'd have enjoyed it.
In effect, a good time was had by all.
Update: Some of the poems from The Randomiser's Survival Guide can be found here.
* This business of finding out that the most unexpected people - in this instance, Ranjit - read your blog, is unnerving. Especially if one intends to write about them. How much can one say without becoming either self-conscious or garrulous?
** Of course I didn't. I know that much of the contents of the preceding sentences was about ME, Me, Me, Baby, but even so, I wouldn't hijack someone else's reading (just their display table where the books are laid out.† )
*** I know better than to mention names now. The last time I did that, it turned out that the gentleman had a Google Alert for his name and once he read the post, he knew who I was and called and I just wanted a ready made hole in the ground to sink into. See [*] above.
† Which reminds me, Penguin Man - the Penguin books sales rep - gave us a few anxious half-hours by losing his way in the vicinity of the building in which the GZ is. Some birds, clearly, are never meant to go south in the winter.
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