'Naughty and Nice' List of the Bygone Year - Part 1

Its about time I get on with compiling this year's list of the 'Naughty and Nice', shouldn't I? Sit back, relax and get a box of tissue, just in case. Put in the music player, that mix-tape you made for that girl you knew a long time ago. Oh but then you didn't keep it for long, thinking you'd move on.. so let me suggest a song instead.

Its Christmas. So I'll only be adding to that yuletide mood. 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' in the baritone voice of Johnny Cash sounds like a good one to start with? Yes.

I had spent my New Year's Eve on train (celebrating the last day of the year without much celebration has thus become a habit) from Kolkata to Mumbai. The next six month would pass among people I had only just met, and them being amazing, was a welcome surprise. I indulged in the first bit of serious research work (something I'm going to ignore for your sake) there at IIT Bombay, and loved the flexibility in the timings I work to accomplish my objectives. That was possible only because it was Mumbai, the maximum city - where I found myself calling on an old school friend at 9 o'clock at night, meeting him in Andheri, then catching a late night movie in Goregaon, followed by us sneaking into a beach-front that lay doggo near Versova at 2 hours past midnight.

I drank your Milkshake, Officer!

It was a long time ago when Kolkata was called Calcutta and Ballygunge was, well.. the posh neighbourhood as it still is. Being a posh neighbourhood, it used to be ridden with lazy police sergeants in the deserted afternoons, strolling occaisonally in the neighbourhood for the sake of security. This is a story of one such ambitious and veteran police sergeant and his crossing ways with my distantly related grandpa.

There Will Be Blood.

...

On his way to the office, like everyday, he takes his son to the Ballygunge High School. All his son's classes being in the day shift, it is almost noon by the time his classes start and he has his daily cigarette at the makeshift paan shop at the corner of the street. As an old habit, he would then laze around on the promenade till he finishes his smoke.

Few walks down the street, there is an alley where seemingly the entire dirt of the city is dumped and people pee on the very sign that says "Do Not Urinate On The Wall". Grandpa has to cross this alley everytime, as he meanders down the street to the main road and wait for the bus to go home. But as it is with bad luck, his wanton bladdar gives out a promiscuous cry every single time he crosses that alley.