The Connoisseur

It was a rainy day. The sky was dark and overcast, shadows flitting across a grey morning. The Connoisseur sat at the window, listening to the pearly raindrops making splashes on the sill. Nothing stirred in the house. He sighed, then looked around the room he was in. It was a well furnished drawing room with elegantly dimmed lights, a plush sofa set facing the balcony with glass doors, a comfortable arm chair, large cushions set fashionably on the floor for a relaxed chat, low stools dotted here and there, a soft and expensive Persian rug on the floor, with a glass topped table in the centre. It was also the room where he got more closely acquainted with his latest acquisition.

He looked towards the centre table. Mingling with the soft drip-drop of the rain outside was a soft drip-drop of something else inside the room.... the trickle of something red that made a pool on the table top and was slowly forming a puddle on the rug...

The Connoisseur smiled. She lay on the glass topped table, her mouth slightly open, the source of the trickle. She had lasted much longer than he had expected, and having had her in his grasp after she had eluded him for so long.. the rewards more than justified the price he had paid...

He could still taste her.. the bouquet of flavours that took command of his senses, the aroma of wild flowers, the fragrance of meadows and fruits in full blossom. He visualised her colour - a sparkle that caught all the brilliance of the rays of the setting sun, a soft blush that accentuated his desire to hold her a little longer, like he never wanted her to go. He remembered the warmth that spread through his body wherever she touched him. She had fulfilled all his desires, satisfied his rigorous demands. He was The Connoisseur, after all. It was not easy to please him. He had rejected many an offer before her.. before Rose...

She had been brought to him by a trader who did not quite meet The Connoisseur's eye when he questioned the trader about her. The Connoisseur was sure that with her exotic look and colour, she had been smuggled from somewhere. But when her intoxicating aroma enveloped him, teasing his senses and playing with his consciousness, he knew she was worth the risk. His only regret was that once he was through with her, he could never have her again...

The Connoisseur sighed again, and looked at her body lying on the table. A look, one of tenderness and sorrow, stole across his face, and he approached the table slowly. He held her to his lips one last time, and then placed her with the others that he had similarly sampled.... Rose...

A woman's voice startled him, "Darling, if you're done, could I please watch television in the drawing room?". The Connoisseur sighed yet again. Sometimes he was sure Millie was jealous of the time and money he spent on Rose and others like her, each unique in their own special way. Sadly, he took one last look at Rose. The label on her body, the elegant curve of the champagne bottle, said "Dom Ruinart Rose 1982"

It was only then that he noticed the stain on the carpet. Millie would get hopping mad! This time The Connoisseur was sure blood would be spilt - and it would be all his.

I've been celled- Part 2

http://fisheyes-meanie.blogspot.com/2007/08/ive-been-celled.html

I wrote that post when I bought my new sleek cellphone with the better part of my first month's salary. I've lost that and one other (slightly cheaper) cellphone since then, and am back to a (slightly newer) version of my original "Nokia 1100 - Made in India" model.

This one has a radio that barely catches the waves, a colour display and snazzier games, but like the original, has no camera, no tooth (blue or otherwise), a 5 day running battery and a torchlight too... In your face Disappearing Electricity of Gurgaon!!

And I have come to realise.. New is silver (coincidentally also the colour of the erstwhile jazzy cellphone I owned for too short a time), but Old is, in fact, gold.

Of Orkut and Life...

I left Orkut about a year back. Don't ask me why, I may not have a sensible answer. It was just one of those things one does and then doesn't know why one did (a lot of ones flying around in this sentence). Several of my friends were bewildered ("Huh? But why?"), some were disapppointed ("The testimonial you wrote me is gone! Thanks a lot for nothing!"), while others were resigned to the fact that since I wasn't replying to their scraps anyway it wasn't much of a difference ("Orkut is blocked in my office dude, seriously.. I am not, repeat, NOT avoiding you" got me a "Yeah, whatever!")

Although I have aged considerably since those long-gone, but oft remembered, days of college 2 years ago, getting back on Orkut has brought back a flood of fond memories....

Before I came to IIT-R, I was a simple girl with just an e-mail ID and an account on Yahoo! And then came Orkut. My senior, in keeping with the ritual of inducting a junior into the tribe, sent me an Orkut invite. Wide eyed with fear and trepidation (we were still having "interaction" with our seniors then), I filled up the form and with just a click, I was into Orkut.

I soon discovered that everyone in IIT and their aunt was on Orkut. There are all sorts of weird communities one can join... "Oversleepers Anonymous" lies drooling right next to "Proud to be an Oversleeper" ; every sun sign has a comm proclaiming its virtues and another one pulling it down ; arbitrary communities appropriately named "ArBit" and comms committed to various causes like "Save the Children" populate the annals of Orkut. One can discover long lost friends in their school or college communities n renew old ties (read crushes, as is done by certain friends of mine).

Then there is the life force of Orkut... the members themselves. With a profile format that allows one to write reams about themselves and put forth their likes and dislikes on any and every sphere of life, we often find innovative and interesting profiles and the people behind them. So we have "Rammurthy Selva" insisting he's into "Simple living,High thinking" ; "Hot Chick" who warns "You'll burn your fingers if you mess with me" ; "Count Dracula" who invites you "For a night of fun,frolic and blood sucking" ; "Sathish Sathish" who's "fun-loving and wants to make friends" but has a pic that would make your blood curdle (incidentally, he happens to be on Dracula's friend list..food for thought) ; "Hunk of your Dreams" with a dreamy pic, but a profile that displays his not-too-bright brains ; "Apocalyptic", reading whose profile will take me a year coz its so long ; "Mo' F*cka" who says just that in his profile some 10 times (driving home a point seems to be a big thing with this guy) .. and so on and so forth. While there are some who wax eloquent about philosophy in life, there are others who choose to write poems and songs, some who prefer profanity to anything else, and others who choose to say things like "If you know me, you don't need to read this, and if you don't know me, why the hell are you reading this anyway??"

The friend list and fan list are big ego boosters... or ego-busters. 270 friends and 123 fans sounds and looks good. But then again, how many would you personally know or care to scrap even once a year? Then again, having 2 friends and scrapping them incessantly doesn't help either. How bugging can you get? Everyday, the high point of the day happens to be checking out the new scraps you've received. Heartbreaks are common when there are no new scraps ("Why me?? What have I done to deserve this??") ... so is ecstasy ("He scrapped me today!!!") The number of people visiting your profile daily becomes a prestige issue (" Know what, 12345 people have visited my profile since Feb '06... beat that!!") . Scrapbooks become chatrooms, with scraps flying thick n fast when two buddies meet online. Unwanted solicitations, arbit friend requests, weird scraps are all part of the Orkut experience. Testimonials written for and received from friends further serve to brighten your day.. coz even if it isn't very flattering, at least you know the person took the time to write something for you !!

And if you need further proof as to how far Orkut has entered our lives.. here I am writing a post about it since last night. Guess we'll just keep Orkutting away to glory....

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