*Tails* from Carter Road...
Promenading on Carter Road in Bandra has taken a whole new meaning now that I'm single. Suddenly, I'm seeing guys everywhere. (Well, to be expected I suppose ... seeing as 60% of Bombay is male!) I mean cute guys just in case some of you think I'm all about the pot-bellied unclejis bitching about their wives on their daily strolls...
My daily constitutional (I hate/love this word) is about 7pm every evening and consists of walking from work to Carters (If you're a born Bandra boy, it's always Carters..never Carter Road...or heavens..Kartar Road! That is the Khar Sindhi aunty way!!). Getting onto the promenade and walking up to Danda and back a couple of times and finally settling down at the Coffee Day there for a well-deserved cappucino ("Yes! I said regular, NO FLAVOR please!!").
Out comes the book (that's my version of the dark sunglasses). My theory is: If someone comes up to me and talks to me, he'd probably be literate (Yes. I'm now down to accepting literate as a qualifier for a date. Lo! How the mighty have fallen!). He can probably talk about books intelligently and probably likes a guy who reads. Well, someone who reads between passionate bouts of almost continuous love making that is. OK, so he doesn't know about that. Yet.
Then again, if I don't like someone, I can always pretend I'm reading (most times, I actually am reading though..lest you think this is just my way of eliminating prospective mates). I met M. like this in Boston more than a year ago. So I think my method works. And the fact that I haven't met anyone in what seems like forever, just means hot men in Bandra/Khar don't read. We (For the purposes of this blog, I count myself as a hot man. Well, it IS my blog!), have the combined literacy level of a Bihari village that has lost it's last black slate to a rampaging mob of upper caste landlords. Sigh. Methinks it's time to move to where people read. Back to Boston?
Anyway, I ran into V last night at Carters.(The other V. Not me. Just someone who's confidence and ability to speak fluent French I admire. Compared to him, I'm a stuttering, blushing ninny with the French abilities of Jordy..Yup. Dur dur d'etre bebe!). We sat on a bench and watched/judged/critiqued...OK cruised!
We also discovered we like different kinds of men (Thank God. The competition in Bombay is fierce enough as it is. At least I can strike one of the list!). He likes them flat arsed, mustached and uncleji-like in prosperity level. I like them athletic, lithe (oooh. That's a sexy word!) and unable to remember the early 1970's.
We did see Nikhil Chinappa (PJ alert: Is his body double Nikhil Chindowna?) running past in his short, short shorts though. Looks so hot. Though word on the street (Well, on Carters anyway) is that though nature hasn't blesed him with technique, it's gifted him with an awesome tongue. How do I know? Well, I have my (female) sources. Sorry boys.
And then I trudge(d) my lonely way back. Stopped by Birdy's for a slice of chocolate gateau though. Hang on! Isn't gateau a French word? Nice. Looks like I'm improving already!
Current music:
Le premier jour - Etienne Daho
(To go with the whole French theme...all that's missing is some French bread, French wine and a French kiss)
My daily constitutional (I hate/love this word) is about 7pm every evening and consists of walking from work to Carters (If you're a born Bandra boy, it's always Carters..never Carter Road...or heavens..Kartar Road! That is the Khar Sindhi aunty way!!). Getting onto the promenade and walking up to Danda and back a couple of times and finally settling down at the Coffee Day there for a well-deserved cappucino ("Yes! I said regular, NO FLAVOR please!!").
Out comes the book (that's my version of the dark sunglasses). My theory is: If someone comes up to me and talks to me, he'd probably be literate (Yes. I'm now down to accepting literate as a qualifier for a date. Lo! How the mighty have fallen!). He can probably talk about books intelligently and probably likes a guy who reads. Well, someone who reads between passionate bouts of almost continuous love making that is. OK, so he doesn't know about that. Yet.
Then again, if I don't like someone, I can always pretend I'm reading (most times, I actually am reading though..lest you think this is just my way of eliminating prospective mates). I met M. like this in Boston more than a year ago. So I think my method works. And the fact that I haven't met anyone in what seems like forever, just means hot men in Bandra/Khar don't read. We (For the purposes of this blog, I count myself as a hot man. Well, it IS my blog!), have the combined literacy level of a Bihari village that has lost it's last black slate to a rampaging mob of upper caste landlords. Sigh. Methinks it's time to move to where people read. Back to Boston?
Anyway, I ran into V last night at Carters.(The other V. Not me. Just someone who's confidence and ability to speak fluent French I admire. Compared to him, I'm a stuttering, blushing ninny with the French abilities of Jordy..Yup. Dur dur d'etre bebe!). We sat on a bench and watched/judged/critiqued...OK cruised!
We also discovered we like different kinds of men (Thank God. The competition in Bombay is fierce enough as it is. At least I can strike one of the list!). He likes them flat arsed, mustached and uncleji-like in prosperity level. I like them athletic, lithe (oooh. That's a sexy word!) and unable to remember the early 1970's.
We did see Nikhil Chinappa (PJ alert: Is his body double Nikhil Chindowna?) running past in his short, short shorts though. Looks so hot. Though word on the street (Well, on Carters anyway) is that though nature hasn't blesed him with technique, it's gifted him with an awesome tongue. How do I know? Well, I have my (female) sources. Sorry boys.
And then I trudge(d) my lonely way back. Stopped by Birdy's for a slice of chocolate gateau though. Hang on! Isn't gateau a French word? Nice. Looks like I'm improving already!
Current music:
Le premier jour - Etienne Daho
(To go with the whole French theme...all that's missing is some French bread, French wine and a French kiss)
posted by Vikster @ 4:47 AM
11 Comments:
At 7:39 AM,
Anonymous said…
Ah,
August was the month i fell in love too. And with a str8 man. Ah, trying to forget. But nothing improves
At 8:43 AM,
Anonymous said…
have you ever seen Looking for Mr. Goodbar? Diane Keaton actually takes a copy of War and Peace into a sleazy bar, buys a drink, pops open the book and starts to drink, read, and cruise...i think she ends up picking up a bunch of real freaks.
i think the book thing is a bad idea, it's hard for another guy to interupt unless of course you make it obvious that you're having trouble reading --like maybe breaking out a huge magnifying glass and reading one word at a time real loud like on the ELECTRIC COMPANY--then maybe a really cute guy'd feel bad and want to help.
if you want to cruise may i suggest the pool at the Princess Hotel on JUHU. There are some real sexy MF's using that patch of blue. I mean real jaw dropping hot.
---also the bakery at the JW MARRIOT on JUHU beach. OOOOH shit. I've seen some real hotties there. Even some movie folk ---esp that homo director KARAN MOHAIR, or whatever. Here's how it went:
I was reaching for a bagel with locks and an orange snapple feeling all imperial and special hoping all the staff and ex-pat's would notice how far i'd come as a consumer when KARAN grabbed his Orangina and then locked eyes with me. He looked like he'd flashed back through about seven life times while he waited for me to say something or throw my bagel at him and demand a refund for KHKB. then we both snapped out of it paid our bills and went on with our lives. He got as far away from me as possible, i mean there I was, this crazy guy frozen in place, dressed like a vacationing NEW YORKER with a pair of sagging jeans and hoodies.
from my table of wannabe's and ex-pat's i sneaked a peak at Mr. Mohair wondering if he was still thinking about me as i was thinking about him in between really chewy peices of salmon grizzle posing as locks. Mohair seemed lost in thought as he took huge bites of something that looked like cheesecake. DID I DRIVE HIM TO THAT? He's been so good on his diet up to now. What's he doing eating cheesecake at 10 am in the morning? he must be depressed --i mean with the weight of the entire indian cinema on his not so square shoulders.
i felt so bad for him --even though he was dining with a bunch of uberfamous grade z actors like sanjay kapoor. everyone was dressed in that gay leisure suit stuff with the iron on's that's been passed off as fashionable.
At that moment i actually asked God to send Karan a really good idea, one with a lot of girls at summercamp maybe, something that would take him back to the summer of 1998 when he had so much promise.
At 1:36 PM,
Anonymous said…
Bhery Bhery bad, Vikky Baba ! Nikhil Chinappa ka body double hoyenga Nikhil ChinAmma.
Aye men tum ye bhi nahin jaanta ? Bhery bad !
At 4:05 PM,
Anonymous said…
Oh, to fall for a straight guy...and that too not voluntarily, so that it hits you in places that you thought youd covered.
Theres nothing better than that to get over your ex...and nothing worse to get out of.
I respond to note No. 1....sorry, this is all out of context, but as it is VERY central to my life right now, couldnt help but vent.
( Well this IS a blog, and you DID leave an option for comments...:-))
At 10:33 PM,
Vikster said…
Anonymous,
You need to email me. We think alike!!
(PS Diane Keaton was awesome in tht movie!!)
(PS It's bagel with lox. Not locks. I know cause I'm a HUGE fan. Not of the JW Crappiot variety. Of the actual brunch at Henrietta's table in Boston variety)
At 11:34 PM,
Toni Farley said…
You've mentioned Boston twice, in the post and the comments. Just an observation...
At 10:19 AM,
Anonymous said…
I can't believe you called me out on the Lox. I'm not officially Jewish, I'm not even unofficially Jewish, but I know Lox!!! You and my 7th grade english teacher Mrs. Miracle are one in the same. Once, Mrs. Miracle actually stopped class right in the middle of a boring lecture on the French Revelution, came to my desk and asked me out loud so the whole class can hear, " Sanjay, are you a Masochist?"
Of course I said yes, but that's what I get for wearing the leather to junior high.
In defense of the spelling, I am a recovering "over-achiever" and now i just don't care.
Back to the fish:
I lived on salmon for the years 1998-2001. My life revolved around the fish until my friend LaQuisha organized a intervention and cut back my trips to the sushi buffet.
If it wasn't for her I'd have turned into a giant grizzly bear.
Sadly, LaQuisha and I aren't talking right now.
If you're reading this LaQuisha, I'm sorry I made fun of you for starting that relationship with that ax-murderer you met on writeaninmate.com. I agree with you girl that the men out in the real world are all dogs and if you can find one that makes you happy, its all good.
Anyway, now I just cruise salmon farms, and fish markets.
I have to admit, I've wanted to be Jewish ever since i saw Yentl. Barbra's tortured performance as a half man half woman spoke to me more than any of her other performances not even COLOR ME BARBRA, or a HAPPENING in CENTRAL PARK moved me so much, ---that and MANDY PATINKIN'S ass, man was he hot, --esp when he flashes his hairy behind in a skinny dipping scene.
MANDY makes zionism make sense, more than Golda Meir if you ask me. I like the idea of Mandy and his ass having a safe resting place.
At 9:56 PM,
Vikster said…
This is only the third time i've ever said it this way but..
Marry me Anonymous.
Anyone who likes Mandy Patinkin and lox is kosher in my book.
At 1:05 AM,
Anonymous said…
Seriously Anonymous! Reveal thyself. You are pretty damn hilarious with a sense of humor that only can match our dear Vikster's vit and charm. Onjvi, he knows his quips!
The Not So Anonymous Meenakshi
At 3:16 PM,
Anonymous said…
Vikster,
you have to sing the following song as if you were Ms.Strisand in the 1968 broadway production...
let me set the stage: Fanny has won over her handsome lover Nicky with her Hassidic self depricating sense of humor and her onion bagels. But when when the jokes are over, Nicky realizes he's just married Second Hand Rose! Fanny then sings this sad song...
"Funny, the guy said honey, you're a funny girl, that's me I just keep them in stitches, doubled in half and though I may be all wrong for the guy, I'm good for a laugh, I guess it's not funny, life is far from sunny, when the joke is over, but the laugh's on you, a girl aught to have a sense of humor, that's one thing she really needs for sure when you're a funny girl, the fellow said a funny girl, funny how it ain't so funny, funny girl."
Fanny grew up and realized it takes more than a few jokes and an Oy! to keep a man.
I don't know what's more frightening --the fact that I know all the words to so much of FUNNY GIRL or that I, like Fanny Brice hooked a man by just making him laugh. Who knew?
Now I'm very flattered at being man number three proposed to sight unseen. That speaks volumes about what a good joke can do.
But, you can't get married to words on a page --ooh what the hell, no one's going to officially marry us in any country anyway--except maybe Canada and Spain, I guess we can be married in that Transcendental Buddist's-on-Walden-where-we're-all blades-of-grass-on-God's-lawn sense. Hell if you buy that, then we're all married to each other anyway.
On Walden Pond, there won't be a mountain of a paperwork and none of the baggage that comes from telling one's parents that one loves a man not in that wholesome brotherly way, you know, like the way you love your fellow shepards in a Chrsitmas Play, but in that Christian Bjorn-hot prison-sex-pass-me-the-Honcho Overload way. Kind of like how I felt about Robby Benson when I first saw Ice Castles. OHH, if Robby would just make me one of The Chosen.
Anyway, if marriage is just a word, then breaking up is as easy as moving the lawn.
Now the song changes:
the scene: Fanny, freshly wed, and becoming a total slob, is laying about the house waiting for her man to come home.
"A husband, a house and a beautiful reflection, of my love's affection --Sadie, Sadie, married lady, that's me."
so, somewhere on Walden, just past Golden Pond, I may be married!
At 11:05 PM,
Vikster said…
I used to skinny dip in Walden Pond when I lived in Boston.
Can I marry you after that confession? I feel like I've ruined our reception site.
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