Puppies!!!

So Puffle had pups. 7 of 'em. We now have, therefore, 10 dogs at home. This is my dream come true! It's like Santa's making up for lost time, for all the years over which I wrote to him, begging for a puppy because I had been "a good girl this year"! Of course, the fact is that I'm not home now, so :(

But still. Isn't this awesome?

Now let's all say it together: Awwwwwwww!

PS: Much as we'd like to keep them all, we will have to find homes for the pups. If you know of anybody in Calcutta who's looking for a Labrador Retriever and who will meet our high standards in fit-to-be-honoured-with-one-of-our-babies-ness, please let me know.

Mind It!

We Calcuttans are very civic-minded.

Doggus

Yes, yes, I'm still alive. Photographs will have to suffice for now. Updates later.

At Long Last, Home

2 things of note.

ONE

New home. Total furniture comprises 2 bookshelves, a mattress, some cushions and rugs, and lots of floor lamps. Love it. LOVE it. :)

TWO

In approximately 8 hours, god and airlines willing, I shall be on my way across the Atlantic, thence on my way across Asia Minor, the Red Sea and wherever else, en route to Bombay. Where I will revel in Nariman Point dosa-wallah's idli, chilli beef at Leo's, that lassi in a bottle, masala alu sandwich, et al. And also meet some old friends. And thereafter, Cal. Sleep starved and brain-dead, there is still a grin, ear-to-ear, on my face tonight.

More from home, the land of phuchka and shingara, New Market and Park Street, and my room with green leaf sunshine and the warm breath of dogs on my face in the mornings. Huzzah.

Looking Back

I keep minimising everything else on my screen to take a look at this image...

Campus. Not being there takes a lot of getting used to.

Oh! Kolkata!

OhKolkata
Originally uploaded by progga.

Cal. You gotta love it!

And btw, proof of being a true bong lies in knowing exactly where this signboard is located!

The Home-Coming Bridge

Ever since I can remember, I've associated going home from a journey with leaning out of the train or peering desparately through the window to get a glimpse - just one magical darshan - of The Bridge. Straddling the river, the often-crowded and usually-filthy connection between west and east, journey and home.

These days, money's cheaper than time, and I don't take a train home often. Flying has none of the magical possibilities with which a journey should abound, but gets me there quicker and lets me spend more time there.

And even if I don't actually see it each time I go home, I know the bridge still rears up at the entrance to the city, greeting home-comers like a rather dignified cat - pleased to see them, yet maintaining the impression of being completely indifferent to their presence.