I went there half expecting to find a bunch of ruffians. Instead what I found were the most affectionate bunch of kids I've seen in a long time. How their parents could abandon them on railway platforms and on deserted street corners is something I don't understand.

A thought that came to me when I was watching them go about their fun and games -- Can these kids ever make it out of here? I mean can they ever come up to par with kids who have everything? So much of the effort that goes into helping abandoned children focuses on making things better for them where they are. What about helping them cross over to where we are?

That is why it's one thing taking chocolates for them and giving them nice clothes to wear and organizing games for them on weekends ... it's quite another putting in a long term effort to ensure that they can one day apply for the same jobs kids from normal backgrounds can. That is what I believe needs to be done.

And that is what I hope we can do. The plan is to teach them English and other things they don't learn in school (they all study in the local government Marathi school) so that they know what's out there and can go for it if they want to. It's going to demand a lot from me and there will be times I wish I had never bothered. But I know it will give me greater satisfaction than all the money I earn during my lifetime. I just pray I am able to go through with it.

***

Damn, I wish I had my camera-phone today. Those happy faces were simply a joy to see. Especially that of Nicola - around 1 year old, found by the railway police in a gutter beside a locomotive shed with bit marks all over her body. Human bite marks.

Then there was Mohini. 11 years old. The child of an unwed mother. So pretty and with such poise you'd think she was studying in a good convent school. And what a excellent dancer. I was simply amazed by the Kajrare performance she put on for us. Shudder to think what might have become of her were she left where she was.

The stories go on. I hope they all have a happy ending.

***

This other bigger boy just finished his board exams likes music a lot. So he brings out his junk guitar and plays a few chords for me. Where did you learn, I asked him. On my own, he says. I ended up giving him a half-hour guitar lesson. And he kept looking at me like I was Steve Vai. I bet he's still practicing.

Y'know, this all is not something I had planned to share with everyone here. Because there will be those who say, 'Blues wants to show the ladies what a nice guy he is'. Reason I've done this post is because I'd like some inputs/suggestions/advice from those of you who have been involved in similar endeavours. My friend RD and I now have to sit down and plan how we're going to go about this. Neither of us know much about kids. I for one never quite liked them.

There was something very romantic about Bombay 400001 in the 70's and early 80's. I was little but I remember it still. The polyester shirts, the sideburns, the bell-bottoms, the music, the dancing, the fun. People back then didn't need cable TV and Internet and iPods to keep themselves entertained. They had each other.

Goa Street, Karvar Street, Kumta Street, St. John the Evangelist Church ... it was all happening. My mum used to drag me across the road to the GPO almost everyday to post them letters to my dad who was in the Gulf. I still remember how she used to start every letter with 'My dearest darling ...'

Even back then I used to wonder: what the hell does she have to write about so often? ... So much love.

The Goan girls were all either secretaries or working with the Times or Free Press. And on weekends they'd have these rocking parties. The music would be Boney M and ABBA and Bacara and Lulu. Surprisingly stuff like Pink Floyd and Queen weren't too popular back then in India.

My mum used to hang out at Leopold's, can you believe? LOL They lived in a 12x10 room on P. D'Mello Road but they never found it small. Let any number of people come over, there was always place. For the hearts were big.

I feel like going back there next weekend. Just to get back some of that romance. But something tells me I will come away disappointed.

Not too many here born in the 70's I know. This is for all you who were ... and in a special way for a girl called Tanuja.

My man Zypsy has broken my heart. Broken my heart, he has. For it is now confirmed -- Aerosmith is not performing in BOM. The music loving public of the city of Mumbai will never forget this act of betrayal Mr. Steve "Madman" Tyler.

And who the hell's gonna listen to him in Bungalooroo anyway - Narayan Murthy??

But we shall have our revenge. For news has it that WE - are getting the Red Hot Chilly Peppers ... Muahahaha :)

***

Thanks very much for all the blogversary wishes. You guys are awesome! Big party at Saltwater Grill when the Blues turns five okay.

Very surprised to learn recently that this humble blog has caught the eye of one of one of India's biggest advertising agencies. Yeah, they are offering me the big bucks (finally some money!) to promote a product of a major FMCG company. There's just one problem - they want me to rename this to Clinic All Clear Blues Over Troubled Waters.

You think I should go for it? The money involved is substantial.

***

I was browsing through RBC yesterday when I stumbled upon this one. God, it brought back so many great memories! One of the first songs we played in the band way back when we were in school. I used to be so jealous of my brother on that big Gibson EB2 bass guitar ... he was so small but he kicked ass on the bass, he really did. And we totally loved this song.

Huge huge hit from 1989, this is Chris Rea - The Road to Hell. For my brother. You rock kid ... always did!

RD's back from the US. He's been with Microsoft for nearly 10 years. And now he doesn't want to make any more money. He wants to help street children live a better life, become productive citizens. I've offered to help him.

***

I went to watch a movie yesterday. Alone. Some girls from the office happened to be there. I noticed a couple of weird looks ... yeah I have no one to take to a movie. I could have asked the Butterfly but I just wanted to see this one alone. Guy and girl sitting next to me were starting to get cozy but something about me seemed to put them off. Perhaps it shows on my face - that I have become so hard ... so cold. Maybe those street kids will help me change.

***

The movie - Metro. I liked those three guys who show up between scenes, singing and playing their guitars (borrowed that from There's something about Mary, haven't they?). For what would our lives be without music. I know I would be dead.

Konkona put in a really good performance. I mustn't forget to tell her. We've got a mutual admiration thing going here - she reads my blog, I watch her movies. The movie itself - well, considering the director had to take the lives of so many people and weave them into a two hour film, I'd say he's done a pretty good job.

***

I just remembered that May 11th completed four years that this blog has been in existence. Four years in which so much has changed ... and yet so much remains the same.

Some Dire Straits today. For all the lives who have touched me in some way or the other these past four years - it's been a wonderful journey. For PB, Madcap, michelle, Zen, Sandhya, Bunny, Liselle, Aakanksha, OrangeCloud and all those who were my very first blog buddies. And how can I forget my man Manu - he's been around almost as long as I have. I know he likes this song ... Telegraph Road.



~ Ain't no dark till something shines! ~

Watching that news bit on Aaj Tak yesterday where they went on like a broken record about how Mandira Bedi had insulted the Indian flag because the tricolour on her saree happened to be below the knees, I couldn't help thinking what a petty-minded nation we've become. Apparently according to the constitution, wearing the triclour waist down is considered a dishonour to the flag. I say thank God it wasn't covering her crotch or they'd have accused her of crossing the Line of Control.

And why were they after poor Mandira in the first place, when the real blame lies with that idiot (not to mention atrociously bad) designer Satya Paul. But the media in our country cannot resist a soft target, can they?

A sad irony that the men who wear the tricolour on the sleeves couldn't give a rats ass about the nation they're playing for.

***

I've just been listening to some tracks by this dude (and fellow Goan) named Warren Mendonca. Good stuff ... nothing too complicated. Calls himself BlackStratBlues (I like it!). You can download the whole album here. It's called Nights in Shining Karma ... I notice a very distinctive Gary Moore influence.

This one for Bunny ... not sure if you're still reading, but you should know I think of you often. Gary Moore ... Still got the Blues!

Signed up to Monster.com cuz a friend told me they send you the best offers. Two days on what am I getting? Loads of emails - all I.T. shit ... Java, Lava, This ++, That ++! One that had me laughing my ass off was where they said they were looking for specialists in backend design!

***

Anyway, I gave Ash and Abhi six months. Now I'm giving them three. Overheard at La Mer last night by ever vigilant neigbours--

Ash (screaming at the top of her voice): Woh aadmi hai kya jaanwar ... is he a man or a f*****g animal??

Abhi: He is part of the Bachchan family now baby, you know that. There is nothing we can do. If it wasn't for him, we'd be-

Ash: I don't care, get it ... I just don't f*****g care! No normal human being can eat so many laddoos!

Abhi: It's just that Amar Singhji has a big appetite darling ... I don't see what the problem is.

Ash: The problem is he doesn't know when to stop. As long as it's your fathers laddoos he's eating, that's fine, but the minute he starts eyeing my laddoos....

Abhi (shaking head): I don't understand why you're getting hyper like this

Ash: Stop shaking your head! ... ever since you did those stupid ads all you do is shake your f*****g head!!

***

The heat here is really getting to me. Damn, I could drink a whole case of beer. Speaking of drinking, a question I've often asked my non-drinker friends when we go out to a pub or a restaurant: How can you buggers not drink?? Because I tell you, it is the most boring thing in the bludy world going out with people who don't drink. Cuz you're having a beer and they're like having a fruit juice or a soft drink ... and while a person can down 4 to 5 beers in the span of an evening, they can drink one, maybe two fruit juices/soft drinks max. So after they're done, they're left staring at you and your glass of golden manna! And then they want to eat, the bludy rotters! And I'm like: Hey hang on Jack, I don't want to eat so damn soon ... I'm still on my third beer!

Nobody's saying drink rum or whisky or vodka ... have a beer man, it won't kill you. But no, they look at it like it's the poison that killed Bob Woolmer!

***

So who do you think's gonna take the Cup ... damned Kangaroos of course. Though I'm secretly hoping them Lankans give them a good whopping!

Sheryl Crow - Sweet child of mine .... news is Axl Rose and Slash the Ripper be making a trip to Mumbai soon ... yeah, you heard it here first. Rock on brothers!

there are no answers
... only clues

There's a reason why many of the worlds greatest thinkers were loners ... recluses. Because they could never make up their minds. They didn't want to have to make the decisions and face the choices that people who live in society had to. And so they withdrew to somewhere where those choices and decisions were not needed.

***

There was once a girl who came to know of a loner living far away and wanted to get to know him better. He on his part had no such interest. But little conversations soon turned into larger ones and she reminded him of what life was once like before he went into his shell. How nice it felt to be loved, wanted, cherished. And he found himself opening up more and more to her, forgetting the hurt of the past. And then one day he told her he loved her. Though he wasn't quite sure what it was about her that he loved.

He happened to be walking through the woods near his house one afternoon when he spotted a little yellow butterfly nestling its delicate body on the petals of a flower. He remembered how when he was a boy he and his brother would quietly sneak up behind them, grab them by the wings and stuff them into empty matchboxes with tiny little air-holes on the top so that they could breathe. But they always died. It didn't seem cruel at the time, but it did now. So very cruel. A thought ran through his mind -- Why did they put those butterflies into those matchboxes and make air-holes in them when they knew fully well that every butterfly they had done that to earlier had died?

It was the hope that one of them would live ... for how long was not important. It was then that he realised what he was doing to the girl. He loved her but he did not want her to be a butterfly in a matchbox. She should be free - free to fly, and free to come back to him whenever she wanted. And he wanted the same for himself.

And so he told her there was someone else. A butterfly. But she did not understand.

I haven't had a blog addiction in quite a while. Which is why I must declare I am totally in love with this girls' writing ... and she's pretty too! Says she's in advertising ... I'm just praying she ain't with JWT, what after all the fun I made of their Pepsi/Shahrukh ads.

Y'know, I think I'd have made a great adwalla. Oh yeah, I'd have kicked ass!

***

There's enough been said in Blogsville about Indian girl Minal Panchal killed by that psycho Korean bugger in the most recent US college shootout. And thanks to Orkut we can now convey our condolences directly to her. I wonder if the guys at Orkut will now think of introducing a new status that says Deceased.

But please you guys, if you come to know that I've been run over by a truck tomorrow, please don't leave me no 'may your soul rest in peace' messages. Cuz my soul ain't gonna be resting ... it's gonna be bludy rockin!

***

Here's something from T (aforementioned pretty blogger) that had me laughing so damn loud, guys at work thought I'd gone loco!

o huzooooooooooooooor

if we cut off himesh's nose,
will he start singing?

Nope ... I'd say he'd probably try to get a tune out of his bum! Himeshbhai has turned actor now, did you know? Yeah, read it in the papers the other day. And it seems he's wearing a different coloured cap in every scene! They should have got some dame to do an item number where she sings Topi ke neeche kya hai?

This one for T ... Sweet home Alabama!

Blogging wisdom ... from the old to the new/not so old.

If you try to make (too much) money from your blog by inserting (too many) ugly advertisements all over the place, you start to look like one of our Men in Blue who focus more on endorsements than the bludy cricket.

If you get the feeling that what you're about to post is utter crap, in all likelihood it is. And even if you feel that way after posting, please delete ... never mind that two days have passed. But if you don't mind posting utter crap once in a while (like me!) go right ahead.

If you have to sit down and think for more than 10 minutes about what you're going to say, log out and go have a beer.

Don't try to be politically correct and make an idiot of yourself. Shit stinks, even if you garnish it with strawberries and cream.

If you find yourself checking your blog stats/counters more than once a day, you need professional help. And if you keep refreshing you page every 15 minutes to see if there are any new comments, you need to be institutionalized.

... Talking of stats, you know the ones that show you the visitors from a particular country with the little flags and all - well, I have news for you: nobody, I repeat - NOBODY - is interested in knowing how many tribals in bludy Equatorial Guinea are reading your blog.

RSS Feeds -- Just cuz you have 235 readers does not mean there are 235 reading! So don't flatter yourself.

For the boys -- Don't get too lovey-dovey with the ladies. Because if there's one thing they're damn good at spotting, it's a creepy-crawlie.

And finally ... and most importantly -- Don't try too hard. Not everyone can be the Blues. Anybody can be an Amit Korma or Great Dong ... but it takes something very special to be the Blues! :)) ROFLMAO!!!!

***

That said, THREE CHEERS for Sarah-Jane! We love you gurl ... Mwahh, Mwahh! I gotta admit though, I didn't think she had a chance in hell! In fact, I felt Nicole was a lot better. Nicole sweetheart, we love you too!

Peace, love, and dark horses

PS: All in a lighter vein. No offence intended to anybody who might be (even remotely) offended.