Every breath you take

Ever bought air? Hollywood hottie and Welsh beauty Catherine Zeta Jones does.
Read about it here.
How about some bottles of early morning air collected from a Himalayan village, laced with dung smoke and the smell of dew-soaked ground?

Comments

Tridib said…

I don't know about fresh air, but Zeta-Jones would have made a killing if she had bottled her pheromones and marketed them!

11:42 AM

thorswheels said…

Tridib: Only if Zeta could hear your thoughts... I can smell riots in perfume sections of lifestyle stores.

11:47 AM

Anonymous said…

thanks for the info

8:29 AM

Anonymous said…

thanks for the infomation

3:53 PM

Chele dhora

It all started one day when Rituparno Ghosh asked Mrs Moon Moon Sen, the mother of all bong boudies, in that coy tone of his: “Moon Moon Di, toke shobai naeka keno bole re?” The goddess of voluptuous said: "Achha, Ritu, tui naeka’r definition ta bol to…" A snapshot from the Antarmahal floor: Act I Sc I: Love-making scene between Jackie Shroff and Soha Ali Khan Rituparno Ghosh (RG): Ei Jaaggu, shon! Tui na, laav-making’er scene ta ektu Rangeela’r moto kore dichis. Amra janish, oto overt hobo na! Eita art house cinema, toder Bollywood bioscope na. JS (Jackie Shroff): R se Ritu Da. Ch se cho**n dekhalei shudhu hobe? Ektu..Ch se chulkuni na hole ke hobe? (Aside: Na se Naeka ch**a, saala. Bombay te role pachhina bole ei Pa se panpenani sojhho korte hoche) RG: Ki shob je bolish. (blushes ruddy). Chhhi. (Bites his fingers) Jaai hok. RG: [Picks up the megaphone and simpers into it] Soha, tui shuye por. Jaaggu, tui or opor chor. Soha: Ritu Da, maa je bole pathiye chilo dummy diye kora

Cosmophilia

I have been wondering about the Cosmopolitan magazine lately. They say it’s a girlie thing, but show me a man who doesn’t like sneaking into its lascivious world. We read the magazine covertly, and devour the girls over and over again, but never admit we like reading it. And nobody knows this better than the Cosmopolitan management. Here’s a sampler from the April issue of the UK edition (sadly the Indian one loses it totally). These are the screaming blurbs on the cover: 1) Real Couple: Sex swap (Four couples, one week, more positions that you can imagine) 2) Read his love signals 3) The sexual-health parasites who prey on your health 4) How normal are your breasts (The subtext reads: find out how yours measure up in Cosmo’s great boob comparathon) And they say the magazine’s only for “fun fearless females”. Beats me. The last article in question is really “grabalicious”. (Another post for words coined by the magazine sometime later, but you are free to contribute). The feature has 1

Bombay troubadours

Let me please introduce myself I’m a man of wealth and taste And I laid traps for troubadours Who get killed before they reached Bombay These lines are from the legendary Rolling Stones song Sympathy for the Devil . Strange are the ways of rock lyricists. Sometimes utterly pedantic lines become cult, like Deep Purple's "Smoke on the water, fire in the sky". At times it is a tad more philosophical – “teenage wasteland” (from The Who’s song Baba o’ Reilly ) became a headbanging catchphrase some time in the seventies. Coming back to The Rolling Stones, the song Sympathy for the Devil seemed strong in its logic till it came to this line – the killing of troubadours before they reached Bombay. I can hardly recall any troubadour coming to India through the Gateway of India. Unless if it is on a metaphysical level. Troubadours are travelling musicians. Some defend the line saying troubadours refer to The Beatles. They became mystical in their song writing after coming to India,

Fool on the hill

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