Skip to main content

8-2=6

Ever since Mantu left for New Delhi, I've become a TV addict. There are two factors that have primarily contributed to it: No computer (so no Internet) at home & I can tune in to the channels that cater to my tastes.

Mantu's tastes are very different from mine. So while the channel selector (2 of which were busted) was formerly set for the likes of Aaj Tak and Zee Cinema, I've painstakingly reset it to channels like Star World, Zee Cafe, BBC, The History Channel, Star Movies, etc. Even ETV Bangla has found its way into my list.

While ETV Bangla can be a real pain back home, I rather enjoyed watching it in spite of most of its programs being no brainers or dedicated to the epitome of all sedatives the world has ever known, Rabindra Sangeet. So omnipotently placating is it that it could effectively put a bull in heat to sleep. Why do all exponents of Rabindra Sangeet sound exactly the same? I'll never know.

The weekend was spent in eating, sleeping and watching the idiot box. What a perfect waste of time.

Comments

saurabh said…
waste of time? you call that waste of time??? Dude, watching TV is like having sex. It can never be a waste of time...

Popular posts from this blog

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still ...

The sting operation

There was a guy in school named Subroto Giri, who, we all agreed, was the world's most accident prone person. All the world's ill luck would strike him first before affecting others. We sympathized with him, though we couldn't help occasionally taking a dig at the poor guy. I guess Murphy's law of averages has finally caught up with me. It's now my turn to be the butt of the jokes of my acquaintances. I went to HDFC Bank to sort 2 issues. One was sorted, the other had to wait. It was during my trudge back to my office that I made the mistake of putting my left hand into a hip pocket. Unknown to me, a bee had conveniently lodged itself there. No sooner had I made the intrusion than the bee stung me! My thumb, to be more precise. It felt like my thumb had been amputated. I did the obvious and withdrew my hand with a jerk, not knowing what had hit me. Getting a semblance of what had just happened, I realized to my consternation that the sucker could still be 'in...