i woke up to a nice, cool, cloudy morning. the only problem - backstreet's back was playing in my mind in an endless loop. realised belatedly it was a result of reading M's mail last thing before going to bed. why do other people get pleasant dreams while i get stuck with a soundtrack from my own nightmare, a song that should be banned across at least thirty countries and three generations?
but i should not complain. i'm part of the generation that made the following people/things famous - aqua, michael learns to rock, backstreet boys, spice girls, so on and so forth ad nauseum. i deserve my little psychological hell. once upon a time, depressingly long long ago, i even tried calling the fm phoneline to get to jimmy tangree and request never mind what.
i excorcised the ghastly tune , to be taken over by ashiq banaya aapne playing in the shuttle, in the auto and in the ringtones of virulent chhipkali who occupies cubicle 3.