Saw "When Harry met Sally" recently and this song refuses to leave my head, since. As most songs do, it sounds better when heard than when read, but here it is anyways.
P.S: Would be thrilled if someone has the soundtrack and can forward it to me, especially this song.
Let's Call the Whole Thing Off...
You say "either" and I say "ayether"
You say "neither" I say "nayether"
"Either" "ayether", "neither" "nayether"
Let's call the whole thing off.
You say "potato," I say "patatto"
You say "tomato", I say "tamatto"
Oh, let's call the whole thing off.
Oh, if we call the whole thing off, then we must part
and oh if we ever part, that would break my heart,
So, I say "ursta" you say "oyster"
I'm not gonna stop eatin' urstas just cause you say oyster,
Oh, let's call the whole thing off oh,
I say "pyjamas", you say "pajamas"
Sugar, what's the problem?
Oh, for we know, we need each other,
so we'd better call the calling off, off.
So let's call it off, oh let's call it off,
Oh, let's call it off, baby let's call it off,
Sugar why don't we call it off,
I'm talking baby, let's call it off, call it off,
Let's call the whole thing off!
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Of Celebrations Galore...
1. The annual trip back home to Mumbai this year, was more special than all the others have been. Raga, my best friend of 28 years, married Ashok Roy, in three remarkable weddings, countless celebratory dinners, two different ceremonies, two suave outdoor receptions, spread across two different cities. Weddings are always beautiful and joyous, but this was one that will always be very close to my heart. From the jewellery to the saris, the make-up, the countless hours spent pampering ourselves in beauty parlours, the last minute shopping trips and the fastidious details sought in matching the last stone in the necklace with the first thread of the sari's fabric; this marathon of weddings is most memorable for the boisterous laughter and mirth we spread everywhere we went. To top it all, the bride was as uncoy as she usually is, which only made her more human and natural, the groom as always, was at his dashing best, TDH (Tall, Dark and Handsome) as one of the 'aunties' referred to him (I have to be nice to him, now that he is family).
2. Nicky (a.k.a Namrata) married long time boyfriend Parthiv Pandya in December. A wedding that sadly none of us could attend, but everyone wanted to be a part of. A joyous occasion all the same, one that will certainly be celebrated, when we meet again.
3. I welcomed to my inner circle, a little bundle of joy; Snehi and Atit's 2 month old daughter Ira. Pretty as a petal, I hope she draws her sanities from her father and her insanities from her Mom. She happens to be the second 'Baby Nut'; the first one being Boskey (a.k.a Mayank) who is Trupti and Atul's son. A brief definition here about 'The Nuts' is essential; a group of five crazy girls, that was created 14 years ago. We all had, (still do, actually) a 'Nut' name and in all these years, inspite of living in different countries, still manage to stay the best of friends.
4. Came in, in the18th place, in the Mumbai Half-Marathon; a thrill that I cannot help but brag about endlessly. Running in Mumbai was clearly a very different experience than running in the US, as I saw. Not only were things disarray at the organisational level, but the pollution and lack of crowd support did'nt help much either. Not that any of these are to blame for my poor performance, possibly my slowest running average ever (I came in at 2:04:59; a 9.54 mile/ minute average versus my NYC Half record of 2:01:27). But as is the case in all my previous races, the thrill of running through a city, home-ground in this case, was the real high. Bollywood and T.V celebrities made their appearances in their inimitable flashy style. The horror of the event though, was when more time was spent waiting in line for chip-removal and the certificate, than the time I took to finish the race in. All in all, a unique experience, but one that assured, that I will not be running a race in India, atleast in the next few years.
5. Smaller but no less meaningful joys of living in Mumbai re-lived; such as leisure walks in the moon-light; street fare- be it food or books bought at the traffic light; auto-rickshaw rides; car drives along old familiar routes; smoke-filled lounges (the smoke-filled part isnt really a pleasure, but was manageable for a few hours); Stores, where as a customer you really felt like a king; ladies-compartment shopping; ridiculous number of vanity trips to the local beauty salon; meeting people-some old, some new, all happy to see you; the occasional glimpse of Bollywood glitterati; the telepathic 'hello' when being driven by the Bachchan house; the annual rendezvous with Ganesha at Siddhivinayak; the variety of entertainment provided exclusively only by Indian Television; the 'Welcome Home' sign at home, that Mom tortures a new drawing teacher to assist with, each year; the loud, rowdy laughter that a joke from Dad invokes in me, at 1 am at night; the deja-vu of being a teenager, who knows Dad will be awake and that tiptoe-ing in at 2 am wont matter, but will still try; the embarrasing but best feeling in the world, of sitting on Mom's lap, all of 28 years of age and last, but not the least, the unequivocal elation of being back in the building at the same time as the two other childhood buddies, when none of you live there anymore, as if none of you ever left.
Mumbai-Celebrated!
2. Nicky (a.k.a Namrata) married long time boyfriend Parthiv Pandya in December. A wedding that sadly none of us could attend, but everyone wanted to be a part of. A joyous occasion all the same, one that will certainly be celebrated, when we meet again.
3. I welcomed to my inner circle, a little bundle of joy; Snehi and Atit's 2 month old daughter Ira. Pretty as a petal, I hope she draws her sanities from her father and her insanities from her Mom. She happens to be the second 'Baby Nut'; the first one being Boskey (a.k.a Mayank) who is Trupti and Atul's son. A brief definition here about 'The Nuts' is essential; a group of five crazy girls, that was created 14 years ago. We all had, (still do, actually) a 'Nut' name and in all these years, inspite of living in different countries, still manage to stay the best of friends.
4. Came in, in the18th place, in the Mumbai Half-Marathon; a thrill that I cannot help but brag about endlessly. Running in Mumbai was clearly a very different experience than running in the US, as I saw. Not only were things disarray at the organisational level, but the pollution and lack of crowd support did'nt help much either. Not that any of these are to blame for my poor performance, possibly my slowest running average ever (I came in at 2:04:59; a 9.54 mile/ minute average versus my NYC Half record of 2:01:27). But as is the case in all my previous races, the thrill of running through a city, home-ground in this case, was the real high. Bollywood and T.V celebrities made their appearances in their inimitable flashy style. The horror of the event though, was when more time was spent waiting in line for chip-removal and the certificate, than the time I took to finish the race in. All in all, a unique experience, but one that assured, that I will not be running a race in India, atleast in the next few years.
5. Smaller but no less meaningful joys of living in Mumbai re-lived; such as leisure walks in the moon-light; street fare- be it food or books bought at the traffic light; auto-rickshaw rides; car drives along old familiar routes; smoke-filled lounges (the smoke-filled part isnt really a pleasure, but was manageable for a few hours); Stores, where as a customer you really felt like a king; ladies-compartment shopping; ridiculous number of vanity trips to the local beauty salon; meeting people-some old, some new, all happy to see you; the occasional glimpse of Bollywood glitterati; the telepathic 'hello' when being driven by the Bachchan house; the annual rendezvous with Ganesha at Siddhivinayak; the variety of entertainment provided exclusively only by Indian Television; the 'Welcome Home' sign at home, that Mom tortures a new drawing teacher to assist with, each year; the loud, rowdy laughter that a joke from Dad invokes in me, at 1 am at night; the deja-vu of being a teenager, who knows Dad will be awake and that tiptoe-ing in at 2 am wont matter, but will still try; the embarrasing but best feeling in the world, of sitting on Mom's lap, all of 28 years of age and last, but not the least, the unequivocal elation of being back in the building at the same time as the two other childhood buddies, when none of you live there anymore, as if none of you ever left.
Mumbai-Celebrated!
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