My latest book is The One Who Swam With The Fishes.
"A mesmerizing account of the well-known story of Matsyagandha ... and her transformation from fisherman’s daughter to Satyavati, Santanu’s royal consort and the Mother/Progenitor of the Kuru clan." - Hindustan Times
"Themes of fate, morality and power overlay a subtle and essential feminism to make this lyrical book a must-read. If this is Madhavan’s first book in the Girls from the Mahabharata series, there is much to look forward to in the months to come." - Open Magazine
"A gleeful dollop of Blytonian magic ... Reddy Madhavan is also able to tackle some fairly sensitive subjects such as identity, the love of and karmic ties with parents, adoption, the first sexual encounter, loneliness, and my favourite, feminist rage." - Scroll
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28 May 2006
I'm a poster girl with no poster, I am 32 flavours and then some
Or maybe a farmhouse party. The kind with a guest list, so you can only get in if you know someone. Like the host. If you know the host, it makes you feel super popular, as you breeze past the crowds and go up to the guard and tell him confidently, "eM plus six" and he checks and you go in and you know everybody and there's a pool, and people passed out around it and girls in short shorts and boys in too-short-for-comfort shorts making out in and around corners. Do people not throw these parties anymore? Or maybe it's just that we're getting older and we don't know so many people, or even the kind of people who used to throw those parties in the first place. Funny, that, coz you'd think the older you got, the more people you'd know.
It's funny, how when I was still in my teens I thought farmhouse parties would last forever and I'd always be invited. I thought I'd always know the it music and always be clued in about who was dating who. There used to be a website called Delhigossip.com, and the thrill was in being featured on it, because that meant you had made it. You were there. At the pinnacle of popularity.
I guess we're all still popular now, as in we have friends and a social life and all that. But adult popularity is strangely not as satisfying as teenage popularity. I mean, the number of times your phone rings doesn't inversely relate to how cool you are. I get a lot of phone calls--but they're mostly from PR people. Or Small. And when the people calling you are either work-related or your flatmate, well, you're just not all that anymore.
I do like my quiet-ish drinking evenings with friends also. But there's no excitement, no thrill in having that cute boy finally see you out of your school uniform, or going nervously to the beauty parlour to get your first pedicure.
Sigh. Saturday nights are just not what they used to be in the good ol' days.
first comment!! ..heeeheeeReplyDelete
speaking of school uniforms, try getting into these: jap sailor fuku, blue miniskirt and white fluffy knee-length socks included. its the epitome of anarchy.ReplyDelete
or maybe even the catholic girl uniform,a nice burberry print if you will, the 'american cheerleader' is trashy and you'll have to jump around with pompoms, so chuck it, jap fuku then on saturday nights at your local bukkake club. im running for president. did you say excitement?
Who is this Silver Surfer who co-blogs with you? Which posts are his/her's?ReplyDelete
Don't you find, as you grow older, that parties are a complete waste of time if you don't dance? If you want to get drunk, hang with friends, pick up somebody, make out - you'd be much better off elsewhere. Especially the s****y music they used to play in Delhi.
Hey CC...you could have come out with us and talked about Chesterton ...yawn! :-DReplyDelete
Expect an invitation in the mail for our next pool party! :PReplyDelete
..im not sure how u feel while writing it..but everything ends and theres no particular reason for it..saturday night parties or 70 rs dopes or 10 rs alu paratha.. evrything comes to an end..if ur lucky it lasts a lil longer thats it..hope u wrote this on a lighter note..ReplyDelete
though just for record...saturday night parties still paint farm houses red...
umm.. looks nervously around.. am i really really the first one to comment.. oh this is legendary! or maybe there are just a million other comments before mine waiting to be approves.. moderated..ReplyDelete
umm.. i forgot what i wanted to say! it had something to do with growing up, quietness and the heat. something clever.. go figure!
oh, and psst, you've been tagged.
just reading this post made me realise how tame my teenage years were. in fact, my inner "party animal" only surfaced in my third decade.ReplyDelete
Saturday night used to be party time,ReplyDelete
To be decorated with mascara,
And black sandals.
With a trimming of smiling faces,
And excited heart beats.
Oh, the wonder of possibility.
The anticipation of the first dance.
And the magic of the last dance.
But now the wonder is gone.
The Saturday night gleam has lost its shine.
The hope of new meetings is discarded,
The dream of happily ever after endings forgotten.
Saturday nights live on in reality,
Sans the golden shimmer of the night that was.
The memory pressed between the pages of time,
Forgotten like a dried rose preserved long ago.
Maybe one day,
As we turn the pages of time,
The dried rose will be rediscovered,
And then, perhaps, the night will shine again,
With the golden dust of dreams forgotten.
cute boys and all that......... those were the days!!ReplyDelete
I’m new to blogdom (blogosphere?) but I must say you’ve got me hooked! Your blog is certainly the most readable I’ve come across. I like the easy candor… it’s rare to come across someone so honest with their feelings. Keep it coming!ReplyDelete
To destination unknown - That poem was simply amazing. Among the best I've read yet.ReplyDelete
Yeah the good old days!! Strains of floyd floating in the air as you made your way into the psychedelic submarine...aaargghh!!!ReplyDelete
Yet, the mind can always be tuned to another concept of fun, which has nothing to do with fun-aah, which is a pretty bad film..:)
Very true.. those were the days...ReplyDelete
It's all about Forbidden Fruit, I think.ReplyDelete
In retrospect; the hot guest-list, the great alcohol, the groovy lights, the psychadellic music were never the things that gave you the warm fuzzy feeling in the loins. Or made the wiffs of an assortment of perfumes in the cool night air smell sexier than an orgy.
It was the fact that you were NOT supposed to be there, doing that, drinking this, inhaling that, seeing this; that made it better than sex!
This is completely irrelevent to the post but I love that song :)ReplyDelete
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