A lost chappal, some sandy traces, Old bollywood film clips and posters, bits of music from here and there, uncanny adds, late night beer-guzzling stupidities, bad movies that made you spit out your popcorn and “never again” all-nighters writing pointless essays and/or drinking strange concoctions that make you have strange dreams about evil ponies, snakes with fur and ronald mcdonald babies…Remains of the Desi is shifting headquarters from Chandigarh to Bombay and I’m managing it from a cyber cafe in Lunavla right now…more guest writer posts are lining up but in the mean time I’m posting stuff that relates directly to why this blog was started in the first place. The “remains” part “of the desi” is to do with all those little traces, objects, memories and comments that, when we return to them, become a sort of popcultural history through which some of us remember who we were…why we were that way…and what made us laugh.
Remember this weird Desi McDonald’s add? That child looks evil. Although he might taste good deep fried, inside a maharaja mac covered with ketchup…mmm…I’m loving “It” (looks like the spawn of that evil clown played by Tim Curry in “It”.)
Image from weird
But there are just too many of these remains for me to be able to remember them all…and the same goes for some of the guest writers at ROTD….and especially because a lot of the people writing for ROTD have been living in different cities and countries…it sort of turned into a common room where we can all check in, have a laugh (and perhaps a smoke) and have a quick connect. Some of my closest friends are in different countries and I don’t see many of them for six months or a year at a time. So this sort of becomes a kind of “passing dirty notes in class” in cyberspace as well. Anyway, thinking of friends…this year has been one of the biggest upside down WTF years of our lives as we’ve been following the endless yellow brick road to the emerald city of Bombay…..….but one of the best parts of going through a difficult year is that it really lets you know who your friends are....and those crazy buggers just creep out of the woodwork and surprise you in ways that make you want to buy them their own private islands and life-time supplies of beer. So here’s a little number for you guys by Joe Cocker- “Live at Woodstock 1969” and definitely one of the best “Growing up/getting Fucked up/Figuring shit out/Finding out who your real Friends are” sort of anthems I know of…its a cover of a beatles song but sounds much better and looks much better with shaggy Joe Cocker (looks like someone fed him some Scooby snacks) singing it playing air guitar while Jimmy Page (my fav. guitarist who I once bumped into randomly in a London Coffee shop) plays a killer guitar intro…those were the days when having an epileptic fit on stage looked fascinatingly cool…
With a Little Help from my Friends:
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