iBlog

Ah well.

2011-11-06T20:42:00.006+04:00

I try to tell myself the realities of life but my body just refuses to listen and my heart ignores me completely.

My head seems to agree with me sometimes, but that counts for nothing.

Truth

2011-09-30T19:08:00.000+04:00

It's not too difficult to find Truth. He's a little evasive but not impossible to seek out. All you need is a little patience that never runs out.The hard part comes in when Truth turns up at your doorstep stark naked, slaps you across the face and then asks you for a cup of tea because you'd gone out of your way to meet him the last time he showed up at someone else's doorstep. You know he's there to stay and there's nothing you can do but accept it. Whoever said Ignorance is bliss probably said it only after he saw Truth in the shower with his wife.

Goldilocks And The Three Beers!

2011-08-25T12:37:00.001+04:00

The story of Goldilocks has been told and retold and has suffered various misconceptions along the way. Of course, you’ve heard the version where a blonde girl drank some porridge and hung out with a family of bears. BUT that is not the truth. Goldilocks was a boy and his hair, was black.

Once upon a time, there lived a little boy whose skills far exceeded those of others in his little village. You see, he was well versed in the art of manipulating gold and making locks. His talents earned him the name Goldilocks Smith.

On a particularly hot afternoon on his way back from work, he came upon a little hut with little windows which he peered through to find a little table on which lay three big bottles of beer. Feeling particularly drained, exhausted and tempted, he knocked on the door of the little hut. Since he received no answer, he pushed the door and found it to be open.

The house seemed deserted and the beers seemed inviting, so he helped himself after deciding that he would explain his intrusion into their fine home once the owners returned. In his thirst, he drained the three bottles in quick succession. He staggered around the little hut till he came upon a bed, on which he lowered himself and was soon engulfed in a deep slumber.

He woke up hours later to find himself in the presence of three hairy, uniformed men who he feared had been eyeing him as he slept. “You are under arrest for breaking and entering, Goldilocks” said the hairiest of the men. Despite Goldilocks’ attempts to explain himself and his demands to see his lawyer, his case was promptly filed and he was soon carted off to the village prison.

Here, he was shoved into a cell with big burly men who had tattooed arms and faces. After a few hours of eyeing him, one of the tattooed men asked Goldilocks the question that would change his life forever. “What’s your name, Sunshine?”

Moral: Never give a boy an effeminate name.

Goldilocks remained in prison for three weeks. He was released by the state post the Human Rights protest staged for his cause. He now leads a quiet life in the northern part of his village under the name Powers Boothe.

Feline Humor

2011-08-08T21:44:00.000+04:00

LOL, It's a CAT!

Anger Management

2011-07-07T15:04:00.003+04:00

Sometimes I keep my face as passive as possible and scream inside my head.

Poll

2011-07-03T19:34:00.001+04:00

Does anyone read this blog anymore?

a. Yes
b. No
c. It is against my religious beliefs to answer this question.
d. All of the above

And The Moral Of The Story Is...

2011-05-25T11:32:00.000+04:00

Remember when we were children and we'd read long stories that went on for pages just to get to the moral - Don't talk to strangers, don't shoot your relatives, don't eat your own thumb - which was short, sweet, simple and usually brimming with wisdom?

I have one such moral to share.

Now I know that the traditional way to do this would be by narrating a story with a talking frog and a tortoise in it. But I shall deviate from this method for three reasons:

1. Talking frogs are creepy.

2. I do not wish to patronize you with pages of text since you do not pee in your own bed anymore. (If you still do, you should really see a doctor about that)

3. There is a possibility that I am suffering from an acute case of laziness. There is no known cure for this condition.

Owning to the above reasons, I have decided to resist the urge to narrate the story and just skip to the short, sweet, simple moral that is brimming with wisdom. I hope you understand.

MORAL OF THE STORY: If you know how to bake - You can have the cake and eat it too.

Baking lessons, anyone?

M/AD!

2011-05-21T14:20:00.001+04:00

I have dedicated my summer to an internship in Advertising. It's a mad industry that makes a lot of money, pays very little to its employees and wastes a lot of paper. If you are environmentally conscious, this job is not for you. If you are a tree, stay away from advertising. If you are a paper-eater, you will find an all-you-can-eat buffet here. However, it also churns out some interesting content which deems everything else acceptable.

There are many levels/ departments that an idea travels through before it finally becomes an ad. You need a servicing guy to deal with the client, a creative guy to come up with the idea and an art guy to execute it. You need these guys to come together and believe in an idea for the final ad to be produced. Only, this never happens and you spend days just disagreeing with each other and calling the client by a name that rhymes with 'Pidiyot'

Now if anything goes wrong, a lot of people take part in the blame game before someone finally ends up crying and blowing loudly into an unwashed handkerchief. Someone blames someone for misunderstanding the brief. That someone blames someone else for having a bad idea. That someone blames his grandmother's cat for confusing him. Someone goes and kills the grandmother's cat. Then someone else says that someone wasn't clear. Someone says someone didn't do his job right. Finally, someone gets yelled at. This someone is usually the servicing guy.

I work for servicing. Sigh.

New Mantra

2011-05-06T12:20:00.003+04:00

1 out of every 8 Americans is afraid of flying.
Most of them don't have feathers.

So I've decided that I have a new mantra.

Also, I watched this movie called 'Rio'.
The protagonist of the movie, a loser bird who walked everywhere because he didn't know how to fly, sort of stole my mantra half way through the movie and somehow managed to use it to become the hero, get the girl AND beat up the bad guy.

I couldn't believe my mantra was that cool.
I also couldn't believe that a loser bird stole it and became a not-so-loser bird.

It's okay, I'll forgive him. I'm altruistic like that.

Now that we've established that I'm Mother Teresa reincarnated and everyone has finished applauding (If you haven't, STOP, you're overdoing it now), without further ado, I tell to you my new mantra:

"Stop shying away from the new and potentially scary.

Dive in, believing you can face it even if you ~~know~~ feel you can't.

If it doesn't kill you, you don't kill yourself and you resist the urge to kill someone else, it'll only make you stronger"

Awesome no?

Around the world!

2011-05-01T20:03:00.003+04:00

So I've been travel writing recently. Only, I'm not really travelling but all the writing makes me wish I could really live in all those beautiful, glamorous, breath-taking places that I write about.

If you want to write and lust after the places you write about or if you just need a reason to want better weather, sights and food OR if you just want to make some quick bucks over the summer, try the LINK below when you have about an hour to spare:

http://guide.mygola.com/invite/jsus2xjuzb

Yes, I used my blog to advertise something. Sue me.

Drumroll, Perhaps?

2011-04-20T09:40:00.004+04:00

All the world's a stage and I'm suffering from a dreadful case of Stagefright.

Life. It's Overwhelming.

I can't believe all that I have never known, felt or experienced and the fear of the possibility that I never might is pretty scary as well. Life often seems to be full of pointless exercises that lead to nothing. Dead ends and fears. It all seems so useless sometimes. But I choose to believe that there's a point to it all.
It'll all make sense. Someday.
Just not today.

To do or Not to do!

2011-04-02T00:18:00.000+04:00

Because someone said we download more than we upload. My contribution to the Meme world.

Mommies and Frandships

2011-03-13T20:35:00.003+04:00

I sent my mother a message this morning saying "Hi Frand"

This was a symptom of a special sort of boredom which mostly infects me during exam time. It usually causes me to spam people on farceboob and tag everyone in everything just to be obnoxious, send the same sms repeatedly to people to annoy them and send e-mails without punctuations simply because I can. Nothing new, nothing special.

My mother called me back at night to ask me why I was calling her a FRAUD

:|

The End

2011-01-30T18:20:00.003+04:00

Sometimes you reach the end before you want to, the end when the music stops and there is only a few minutes of silence and clarity before the madness starts all over again.

At the end of these days, I'm thankful for the lack of sense at all times, a reasonably clean bed, a friend to call when I've reached super-panic mode and most importantly, I'm thankful for 8 rupees Sugarcane juice.

Salam, Mumbai!

2011-01-08T00:08:00.002+04:00

A horse carriage trots along the road, with velvet cushions and sparking lights.

Three kids, two girls and boy, trot along behind it. They exchange surreptitious glances and look around, hoping to make sure that no one else sees them.

The tourist horse carriage stops at the signal. The carriage driver, whose attention is focused on the signal ahead, probably hoping that the lights will change to green if he stares hard enough, does not notice the children seize the moment and sneak under the carriage.

The kids sit on the rods connecting the wheels and grab on for their free ride as a sly smile breaks onto all their grimy, unwashed faces. They know that they've dared and they're proud even though they know they don't fairly deserve it; but Life has dealt them a hard hand and they know that they have to do what they can with it. Maybe they've been told that or they've learnt it already, I don't know. At any rate, they seem to know.

The biggest girl of the three, dressed in what is clearly a discarded piece of clothing that once belonged to someone who now owns better clothes, gets off the carriage to make sure the smaller boy is strapped on properly. Either due to the incessant starring on the carriage driver's part or the sufficient passage of time, the signal changes and the carriage begins to move before the girl has a chance to finish her sisterly duties. She decides against jumping on and instead, she holds the little boy in place and runs along side the carriage, laughing.

Mumbai, The City of Dreams!

Two Oh One One!

2011-01-01T23:15:00.000+04:00

Guidelines on how to spend an indoor New Year ( Views are subjective, resultant feelings objective )

Sit around and look at eachother's faces, know that you're with your people. Talk a little, drink a little, leave a movie unfinished to wish a few people. Strum a guitar, play some music, dance without moving. Laugh at your people, laugh at yourself. Talk about boys, talk over booze. Feel your head spin, try not to move. Watch the clock tick, laugh a little more. Watch the sky, bear your heart, look at the darkness turn to light. Feel some love, give a few hugs. Pass out.

Happy Birthday, 2011. First impression has been very impressive.

Do it for Yourself, Not for Myself

2010-12-13T21:31:00.000+04:00

Snips and Snails and Fairy Tales!

2010-12-05T11:39:00.002+04:00

Photography Assignment.

"Narrate a Fairy Tale", he says. "But narrate it in black and white"

Take one annoyed coffee day manager. Two friends who don't mind the camera. Two IITians - one who can pen pwetty lines and another to push you to finish what you started. Some coffee, some laughs, some words of frustration.

Fairy Tale narrated.

Ta-dan!

Racist Mother

2010-11-03T22:16:00.000+04:00

Conversations with my mom can be very amusing. Mostly for her and the general public. For me though, it usually serves as a reason to proceed forth in the quest for a wall that I can bang my head against, repeatedly.

Here is something that transpired between me and my racist mother -

Mom: So that's why she's here?

Me: Haan. She was only--

Mom: What is that sound you keep making with your nose?

Me: Huh? WHAT? What sound?

Mom: You know, the one you just made. [Proceeds to make the sound of a donkey with nasal problems]

Me : Ayyooo! Ma! That wasn't a noise. I said 'Haan', It means 'Yes' in Hindi.

Mom: Oh. It sounded like a Hindi snort. I don't like it.

Hostel Lessons

2010-10-24T21:48:00.011+04:00

Living in a hostel can teach you many important lessons in life. That's something we all know.
However, what I have recently deduced is that living in a hostel can reinforce a lot of the lessons you learnt in school and this time, you will actually remember the lessons.

PHYSICS

Do you remember how you learnt about all those free electrons that travel in the empty spaces in metals? How they gain kinetic energy from the fast atoms and how they give energy to the slower ones? No? Neither do I. Turns out, this is the reasons why metals are such good conductors of heat.

I figured this out when I was heating a glass of water to make tea. My hostel-mate, who was handling some hot noodles, said she needed the vessel I was using because her's was too small. I used a pair of tongs to transfer the water onto a cup, rinse the vessel under tap water and place it on the stove.
My roommate screeched, "Quuuuick. This thing is going to overflow. Put on the damn stove" In my enthusiasm to help, I pulled the vessel aside with my hand, dropped it on my toe, shrieked like a 12 year old and figured, vessels get too hot, too quick. I didn't have to go to school to learn this.

ECONOMICS

I had 100 bucks in my wallet which was supposed to last me for the following four days, till I got home. That might seem like a lot of money but it isn't. I live in a city where a 10 minute bus ride to college costs me 7 rupees. So that's 14 rupees a day gone just on travel and I still had to figure out a way to get my three meals for the day. Resources need to be planned and used judiciously.

Day 1 - It's your friend's birthday, which means...BRUNCH TREAAAT! So that just leaves dinner. The remains of the previous day shall come to your rescue. Ha! 14 rupees shall be incurred for travel.

Day 2 - Get up late and don't go to college, thereby saving up on bus fare and breakfast fare. Eat the maggie for lunch and the top ramen for dinner which have been lying around in your shelf for the past month. Easy and economical, no expenses.

Day 3 - Eat 12 rupees idlis for breakfast from college canteen. Another friend's birthday... LUNCH TREAAAAT! ( How it pays to have friends!) Visit a friend late in the evening and smile politely when her mother asks you to stay for dinner. Air punches can be performed later. Inclued with the 14 rupees spent for travel, the day's expenses shall amount to 26 rupees.

Day 4 - Eat 6 rupees Vada Pav for breakfast. Take a 20 rupees cab ride to the train station, a 8 rupees train ride, followed by a 20 rupees rick ride to the airport where you can catch a flight home and make evil plans to spend your parents' life saving all the way there.

Total expenses amount to 88 rupees, leaving enough money for 2 vada pavs if need be. And that, my friends, is how I learnt to allocate resources.

POLITICS

If your roommate likes to be a bitch and keep the light on till 2 in the morning, thereby making it very difficult for you to sleep and show up for your 8 am lectures the following day, deal with it. If you fight with her, stand up for yourself or do something to MAKE SURE that the light is switched off when you go to bed, she will pee on your bed. Like literally.

She was gone!

2010-10-18T21:15:00.000+04:00

There was something unusually serene about the room that morning. The white curtains swayed in the wind and I could see a glimpse of the green outside as I lay there on our bed, touching the part of her pillow where her head should have been beneath a mass of curling hair. I walked upto the window, pushed the curtains aside and looked at the view outside as the sun hit my eyes.

She always looked lovely standing by the window each morning, sipping a cup of tea that she clasped with both her petite little hands and looking at the lush green outside. But she won’t be able to do that today or tomorrow or… I did not want to think about it, it would be too difficult to think about the days that would follow.

I thought of the day I had ahead of me and all at once, I felt an inexplicable feeling in the pit of my stomach that began to envelope my entire being; I sat down on the bed and let the feeling pass.

Her absence was overwhelming; I got up and went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I had never had to step into the kitchen in all these years that I had been married and now that she was gone, I had a feeling that I was in enemy territory. I slowly found my way around the alien atmosphere and ruffled through the cupboards with that unfathomable feeling twisting me more and more inside.

I hadn’t had a cup of home-made coffee since the day I had been married. She drank tea in the morning and that became our morning drink. It’s one of those things you do when you are married for that long, you like everything the other person likes, you care about everything the other person cares about, you share everything with that significant other… None of that mattered at that moment.

I didn’t have anything to care about or share; and I didn’t have to drink tea because she wasn’t there. The feeling squeezed me more and more from within and I felt myself shouting, shouting to no one in particular for I was alone now.

I walked into the dining room, coffee in hand and saw the remains of the consequence of her absence from the previous night. I stared at the half empty bottle of alcohol that was left on the table and it suddenly hit me stronger than ever; she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the room, she wasn’t in our home, and she wasn’t breathing the same air I was breathing. And again, that inscrutable feeling that seemed to drive my actions consumed me as I reached for the bottle on the table and surrendered myself to the spirit.

The phone rang loud and clear and reverberated all around the house. It was late evening by the time I got up from the couch with an awful headache and looked around the living room.

The phone rang again and this time, it seemed to get louder and louder with each ring. I tripped on the empty bottle of alcohol which was now on the floor by the couch as I staggered to pick up the phone. I heard Hari’s voice, magnified a thousand times in my head say, “Dude! Are you Okay? I’ve been calling the whole day and I was really worried when you didn’t answer. Are you alright by yourself? Do you want me to come over? I was thinking I could – “

I hung up. I did not want him there. I did not want anyone there. Why did no one understand that I just wanted to be alone? I wasn’t a child, I could handle her absence. Her absence, the one single thing that seemed to redefine my reality, took me over with a feeling so intense that I could hardly contain it.

It was all too sudden, no one anticipated it and yet, she was gone, wasn’t she? She was gone and what was left was that feeling inside of me that I was struggling to come to terms with. The thing was, no one could blame me for the way I was feeling. After three years together, after two years of marriage, her absence was a new phenomenon.

I walked back into the bedroom and lay down on our bed. The room looked different as I lay there by myself, taking in the colors of the room that somehow looked brighter, the song of the birds outside the window that seemed louder and the smell…the smell of alcohol on the sheets, on myself.

She would never have allowed me to drink during the day if she was around, but she wasn’t there. She would never have allowed me to wake up at noon or drink coffee or fall asleep on the couch in the middle of the day, but she couldn’t do anything about it now because she wasn’t there.

I got up off the bed and jumped and screamed and punched the air as that enigmatic feeling that was a culmination of happiness, joy, freedom, awe and excitement came over me again.

I sat back down once I had put myself together and reached over to the bedside cabinet to find the note that had brought me such divine bliss. There, written on a yellow piece of scribbling paper in her neat, cursive handwriting were the words that spelled my freedom: “Dev, I have to leave to visit a friend on short notice. I’m just gone for the weekend. Please behave yourself. If I find some skinny blonde in my bedroom when I get back, I swear I’ll divorce you”.

Self Amusement

2010-10-08T22:04:00.002+04:00

My brother is eight years older than I am. He went off to college when I was 9 years old. My neighbors, as I had mentioned in an earlier post, were not all that amusing. So I pretty much had to keep myself entertained all throughout a major part of my adolescence. By the time I was in my final years of school, I had mastered the art of self amusement. This video, which was taken on a random afternoon while I lay bored and squirming on my bed in 2007, holds testimony to the same.

I know. I know. I'm awesome. And amusing. And awesome.

You may applaud now.

My Mother just doesn't Understand Me!

2010-10-07T14:12:00.001+04:00

I sent my mom a text message

“I’m feeling nostalgia and boredom. Do you think I should drink Tea?"

The first part of it was a mere statement of fact and the second was a question. Now this message would make perfect sense to anyone who knows me.

I have exams starting Monday which means that I should be spending majority of my time studying, which is not what I'm doing. Instead, I stare into blank spaces or lie squirming on my bed thinking about studying and hence, I get bored.

I live away from home and any little thing can set me off and make me nostalgic. Since it’s exam time and I usually spend a lot of time pre-exams engaging in futile activities like cleaning out my inbox, sms and looking through old greeting cards, nostalgia comes as a common illness.

I have a weakness for Tea and coffee. If not for Tea and coffee, I’ll probably die or sleep or do both simultaneously. I ask people if I should drink tea/coffee because it makes me feel better about ingesting so much caffeine.

Now my mother, who calls me only if there’s a commercial inbetween the program she’s watching, called as soon as I sent her the sms to tell me I’m an idiot.

Mom: What does nostalgia and tea have anything to do with eachother?

Me: I just want Tea mummu.

Mom: Idiot!

Me: Whaat? Don’t scold when I’m feeling nostalgia.

Mom: Do you know what ‘nostalgia’ means? Go check with a dictionary. It’s called nausea, not nostalgia.

Me: Er! :|

My mother, of all people, expects me to be logical on a hot afternoon before exams.

She just doesn’t understand me. I almost died of emotional trauma but fear not, Tea saved me.

Hazy Conversations

2010-10-01T14:30:00.000+04:00

It's been a weekend of excess. Excess of this, that and some other things as well.

Some lines were crossed, barriers broken, bonds formed and confessions made. Most importantly, after over a year in a new city, strong lines of trust and friendship have been forged.

Memories of this weekend shall always be hazy, colorful, with a tint of guilt and a mixture of happiness, loneliness and conversations interrupted by bouts of laughter.

Bombay might be the city of dreams after all.

O When the Swine Flu!

2010-09-21T15:53:00.001+04:00

It was the summer of 2009. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the flowers were in bloom and there was Swine Flu in the air.

Everyone was paranoid, as was I. The first obvious step was to go marching to the nearest store to get one of those night burglar masks that everyone was talking about. After which it was only human to laugh at those who did not own a mask and go “Ha! Ha! Suckers!” when they weren’t looking. It was also imperative to visit a doctor every time someone in the same room/builing/street/city sneezed. It was the swine flu protocol we were expected to follow.

Amidst all the madness, the inevitable happened. Schools and colleges shut down, which sent me packing off to my little Chennai village.

Little Chennai village did not care about swine flu. Pune was too far away, so what difference does it make if Eight people were dying there every day because of this new disease? Little Chennai Village did not give a shit.

I was still paranoid. So I decided I needed a bottle of sanitizer to fight the flu. I’d never seen too many people use sanitizers in Chennai, except my best friend who has always been a compulsive sanitizer user, but I didn’t think it was a ‘Chennai thing’. I was soon about to find out.

I went to all the local medical stores to check for sanitizers. They were either out of stock or had no idea what a sanitizer was. The following is the translated Tamil conversation that took place in the last medical store I went to (and it was the last one for good reason):

Me: Do you have sanitizers?

Shopgirl: Sanitizers? What’s that?

Me: Err… You know the thing everyone is using because of the swine flu?

Shopgirl: Oh, that!

Shopgirl turns to storeguy

Storeguy: What does she want?

Shopgirl: Sanitizer.

Storeguy: What’s that?

Shopgirl: You know that thing everyone uses when they don’t want to wash their hands?

Storeguy: Oh, that!

kala Khatta

2010-09-12T20:28:00.003+04:00

Today, I had my first gola.

Gola is an ice candy made of crushed ice and flavored syrup, not very different from an American Snow cone. Kala Khatta is the name of the tangy syrup that was poured on the gola I had today.
I thought it tasted like a weird but satisfying mixture of uncarbonated coke and chat masala.

Golas are a Mumbai thing. Every Mumbaikar, who was ever informed that I had never tried a gola, launched into a sermon about how that was an absolute shame. It was part of the Mumbai culture. If you are a true Mumbaikar, you should have the guts to eat something off a roadside stall and live to tell the tale. If you die, you were never meant to be a Mumbaikar.

I had never tried a gola before, primarily due to the fear of diarrhea, death and similar things. But today, I faced my fears.

I'd gone to Girgaum Chowpatty to shoot for a short film project for class. One of the scenes involved my classmate buying a gola and that incidentally turned out to be our last shot for the day.

We got the shot and while everyone returned their caps and cameras to their bags, I was left holding the gola. Now I had seen how the gola was made, all the while twisting my face into many comical shapes and making various "eww" noises, but when I held it in my hand and felt the gola stare at my eyes obsessively, I was a goner.

It truly was the taste of Mumbai and standing there and eating it the Mumbai way, knowing that I might not survive to tell this tale made me oddly excited. The gola was ultimately yanked out of my hand and I was left giggling like an idiot, a little high on crushed ice.

If you come to Mumbai, try a gola. If you don't die, promote the product and publicize it. Only Rs. 5.

20 Franks worth of Irony

2010-09-10T23:45:00.001+04:00

Kaushik felt he was being an ethical bastard. He had met a guy who was collecting money for an aid organization on his way back from work. Now, Kaushik is the sort of big hearted person who'd let me write about him. He is also the sort of big hearted person who'd donate to charity, so he pledged 20 franks for this chap's cause.

Unfortunately, he realized that he didn't have enough cash to spare. So he asked the guy if he'd be around the next day. This guy said he'd be at the same place at 6.45 the following day, so Kaushik promised to come back and give him the money he pledged.

The problem was, Kaushik had an internet rendezvous planned with his parents the following day at around the same time he told the charity chap that he'd come back. He knew this at the back of his mind, but it didn't strike him when he made his promise.

Kaushik felt disturbed when he realized this and it kept pricking his conscience. Like I said, he felt he was being an ethical bastard. Being the good hearted Kaushik that he was and suffering from the chronic illness of love for mankind and similar things, he could not just shrug off the feeling and let it be.

So he decided to call off the weekly rendezvous with his parents. He figured he'd rather have his parents mad at him than have a bad conscience. The boy decided to stay back after work, so that he could meet the chap and give him the money that he had promised.

After a lot of guilt and obsession over his conscience, Kaushik had a plan and he implemented it. He went to the same place he met the Charity Chap the following day and he waited. He waited and he waited and he waited.

Guess who stood him up!

The New Age Hero!

2010-09-09T18:16:00.003+04:00

You know Tamil movies where there’s a hero who’s trying to do some good/bring justice/save the world?

You know how this hero always has to face corrupt government officials? You know how at first he has to run round and round the government building looking for the right officer to address his problem, refuse to budge even though he’s been told that he’ll have to come back four days later, get frustrated because of the lack of accountability of the government employees, contemplate what will happen to the country when a government office is so unorganized, stand outside a conference room waiting for the officer to come out so that he can have his cause heard?

I did all that today.

Only, I did it all in my pseudo-hindi style!

“ Nikki, I’ll talk to him in English if he understands.”

“ Noooo, Raveena! Hindi first and then I’ll start slowly slowly using English words and we’ll see if he recognizes them. Then we’ll switch languages.”

Life Under an Umbrella

2010-09-08T23:30:00.005+04:00

NikiD and I set out from college by 2 pm with an umbrella over our heads. Tup tup. Drip Drip. Tup Tup over our heads.The cabs drivers were being picky about their customers, leaving us standing like orphaned children on the road. Finally, after half an hour of abusing cabbies, we found one with a charitable heart to take us to the train station.

We got on the train headed to Dadar, at first being a part of the noise and later just sitting silent amidst it. I should mention here that we weren't just taking a joy ride, we were on a mission. A mission, as NikiD says, "To save the world. One coast at a time."

We pushed ourselves out of the train at Dadar station and watched some women fight to make their way into the madness.

" Which side is the beach, Niki?"
" Isn't it always on the west?"
" Yea? Why?"
" Because, Raveena, it's the west coast!"
" Oooooh. You're so full of wisdom" ( This was said with genuine appreciation. No sarcasm. Really, I'm just that spaced out! )

Turns out, the place where Uma Thurman trains her child
warriors is in Dadar!

We made our way through the cramped, cacophonous station saturated with the smell of rotting vegetables. The cabwallas were still keeping up their hormonal behavior, so we walked on hoping to find a cab on the way, only we never did.

With sore feet, we got to Dadar Chowpatty, which overlooked the Bandra-Worli Sealink and looked absolutely stunning. We walked towards the parapet, knowing that we'd find what we had come looking for. And sure as hell, there it was stretched across the beautiful landscape - Garbage!

"Omg Niki! How can we clean this up?! "

" We can't say we aren't going to clean it up because it's too filthy."

" Counterproductive, that!"

Niki was as excited as ever to have found the garbage we had come looking for and I was left feeling appalled by the sheer amount of the garbage we had found. I was also bogged down about the idea of inviting people for a coastal clean up after having a first hand look at what it involved.

Niki and the garbage she's going to
clean up! =D

We walked on, looking at everything else the beach had to offer and finding amusement in all that we saw. That included a stranded pumpkin, some onions, a comb, a matka to cook food in, plastic cutlery, stranded coconuts and lovelorn couples under umbrellas. It was insane, all the things that could be found on a little beach.

Turns out, Dadar chowpatty is not meant for people who are crow-o-phobic or have the tendency to annoy crows. They seem to form the majority of the population, followed by the couples under umbrellas.

We walked on, seeming much like NGO employees with our Kurtas, Jhola bags and our college ID cards hanging around our necks, looking at the beautiful water that was oblivious to the garbage it hosted.

We left when we saw a large cloud edging its way over our heads. It started with a small tup tup, drip drip, tup tup on the umbrella over our heads till it grew so loud that it drowned out everything else.

By the time we got to the stench of rotting vegetables at Dadar station, we were drenched front and back. NikiD made her way to the platform where the north-bound trains arrived, while I went on to find the train that would take me back to college. College meant hot Chai and that's all I was thinking about all the way there.

It was one hell of a day - seeking garbage, finding it, wanting to clean it and planning it.

If you are from Mumbai and you would like to be a part of a small change, you should come for the clean up, because someone needs to care and you have the choice to be that someone.

Ross Geller: Well, like that, only instead of a chair, it's a pile of garbage. And instead of a jacket, it's a pile of garbage. And instead of the end of the day, it's the end of time, and garbage is all that has survived!

Golmal, God, Gravity

2010-09-07T21:40:00.000+04:00

It was nearing the end of the school year and the class was worse than it was when the year started off. The girls were okay, because they could be bullied into submission but the boys were beyond control. They made fun of the old man who could be seen brushing his teeth in his underwear through the classroom window. He ultimately threatened to sue the school, which caused the principal much distress.They occasionally infuriated a police officer. They threw chairs and benches down from the third floor just to see what happened and just generally engaged in obnoxious behavior just for the fun of it.

I really liked my class boys. I would never have admitted it back then, but they were my main source of entertainment. Ofcourse there were teachers who were rather amusing, like the History guy who referred to all of us as 'Hotty Fellows', each time he got annoyed with us. Or the French guy who could never tell the guys apart from the girls. But the boys always had the best ratings, that is, until Mr. Joseph came into our lives.

Joseph came into our lives because of the boys and their unbelievable acts of shame that brought me much amusement. Our maths teacher who I thought had given up all hope on us, proved me wrong by bringing Joseph to class. It was her final attempt, albeit in vain, to inspire our class boys to behave in a civilized manner. Her intentions, I'm sure, were good but her choice of character to evoke said inspiration was rather bad. Horrible, actually.

Joseph was the head of the Mathematics department and he talked like he had a rubber ball stuck in his mouth, which meant that one needed at least 5 seconds buffer time to process and understand each of his sentences. And my teacher thought this man could change the boys with his moving speech? Go figure!

True to his name, Joseph was a staunch Christian and made that very clear from the start. He droned on for an hour about insignificant things which were hastily forgotten. As his parting gift to us, he decided to prove to us that God exists. To do this, he rather impolitely snatched a pencil from a first bencher who looked like he was on the verge of shooting himself out of boredom and threw it up in the air. As we had expected, the pencil fell back down. Catching the pencil with much skill, Joseph told us in a very matter-of-fact tone, "I drew dee penchil ub in dee air. By deed id comb bag down? Begoz ob God !"

I dove under the desk unable to stop laughing and the atheist friend asked her shoes, " Gravity! Fukin' Gravity! Hasn't he ever heard of Gravity! "

It was the best maths class, EVER!

Compulsive Blog Link Changer

2010-09-06T22:59:00.000+04:00

Dear Reader,

As you may have noticed, I have changed the link to my blog again. I figured I might as well be true to my blog once NikiD suggested the name, so if you want to blame anyone, it should be Niki.

Yes, I am grinning shamelessly at this moment but I urge you to not judge my fickle little mind.

This is the last time I change my link. I swear. Really. Pinky Promise.

This shall be the space where I put up my work, write about life, scribble abstractly, etc.
Please do come often and sit and chill with some Chai. Bring me candy when you come, because I like getting free things to chew on. Leave some comments, because I like to read what you have to say.

Love,

Raveena

The Flashback of an Inconvenient Truth

2010-09-05T16:08:00.001+04:00

It was the second semester of college and I was determined that unlike the first semester, I would get up every morning and attend all my classes and not be on the verge of getting kicked out of college because of attendance shortage. That didn't work out the way I had planned. Infact, it still doesn't work that way.

So I got up late one Saturday, looked at my watch, said "Oh! [insert swear word here] " and ran to college. Actually, I ran till the bus stop, I don't think running inside the bus would have helped my cause. Anyway, I had already missed the first two lectures and the much celebrated break that followed and by the time I conquered three flights of stairs, I was late for my third lecture.

Thankfully the door was open and we were having a documentary screening, so my prof only gave me a look when she saw me walk in late. I didn't care enough to decipher or react to the look because I was only there for attendance which, she hadn't marked yet.

For some absurd reason which I shall never understand, I wanted to sit at the far end of the class. I walked past the screen and the teacher's table, noticing that the documentary being shown was 'The Inconvenient Truth'. Now I don't know how it happened but it sure as hell happened - the audio cord got caught around my foot and it snapped.

Once I realized this, I just stood there facing the class and apologizing in as many ways as I possibly could. My class looked at me, not understanding why I was performing a little dance there with weird hand gestures and singing apologies. So then I pointed to the laptop and started singing 'wire wire'. Realization dawned on their bored faces as two boys came up front to investigate what had actually happened. ( My class is not usually sexist but when it comes to technical things, we usually let the boys do all the dirty work)

They figured that the cord had completely snapped and that there was no way of playing the video, not even with the mike. I stood next to them, poking their arms, begging them to somehow fix it because my professor was finally beginning to understand what had happened and I was worried that she wouldn't give me attendance.

I stood there, making sad faces, reciting 'Don't be mean, you're so mean, don't be mean', grinning widely out of embarrassment, poking people's arms and just being awkward. So what does Yohan do at this time? He takes the mike and says into it, "Thank Ravinay Hosephine for ruining the movie. And this, friends, (gesturing at me) is the 'inconvenient truth'!"

The class burst into laughter and I experimented with various awkward facial expressions and hand gestures while my prof looked really annoyed because she finally had to get up from her chair and do something. Lots of teasing ensued with me standing there and grinning like a damn idiot for the lack of a better reaction.

Silver Lining : I got attendance !

Mornin' Musings

2010-09-04T22:50:00.000+04:00

This morning, an interesting question came to my mind when I was doing sip, sip, sip with my perfectly concocted chai.

Considering that the Universe has everything planned for you (Very How I met Your Motherish, I know) and it all leads to "Something", I can see two distinct paths my life could possibly take. We all know what the ultimate end is ( Yes, I memento I mori! ) but I believe there's a point, somewhere before that, where everything falls into place. A point where you'll come to believe that you've arrived somewhere that explains or justifies your struggle against the crap life threw at you just for the heck of it, a point where you feel like it's all okay, a point where you stop fighting and just bask in divine realization.

So, When two roads diverge in a yellow wood -

And I choose the one that leads to Mumbai:

Does Life give me what I Want ?

Or, Does life give me what I Deserve?

Thalivar Rajinikanth!

2010-09-03T21:26:00.002+04:00

Although I didn't know it back then, Rajinikanth (Thalaivar Valgha!) was an internal part of my tamizh upbringing. Even the average North Indian who thinks everyone from the south is a malayalee or a madrasi, seems to know who Rajinikanth(Thalaivar Valgha!) is. They also know the Tamizh ghana song, Apidi Podu, but that is not relevant to the point I'm trying to make. Even though they think we are barbarians who have never heard of Metallica, They know that Thalaivar is so awesome that physics is far too scared to come in his way.

However, it has recently come to my attention that some do not know the extent of Thalaivar's awesomeness. In my attempt to educate the ignorant masses, I have complied a sacred list of facts about Thalaivar. This list is true. This list is based on facts. This list is awesome. People have died mysteriously for questioning the veracity of the list. Questioning this list is equal to questioning the sheer awesomeness of Rajinikanth (Thalaivar Valgha!).

If you do now know who Thalaivar is (Shame on you!) or if you are a non-believer, read on but only after you prepare yourself to be blown away.

When Rajinikanth does push-ups, he isn't pushing himself up, he's pushing the earth down.

Rajinikanth once kicked a horse in the chin. His descendants are referred to as 'Giraffes' by the common man.

Rajinikanth never wet his bed as a child. The bed wet itself in fear.

Rajinikanth doesn't breathe. Air hides in his lungs for protection.

When Rajinikanth looks in the mirror, the mirror shatters. Not even glass is stupid enough to come between Rajinikanth and Rajinikanth.

Rajinikanth's calender goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd. No one can fool Rajinikanth

Rajinikanth once had a heart attack. His heart lost.

Outer space exists because it's afraid to be on the same planet as Rajnikant

Rajnikant's house has no doors, only walls that he walks through

Rajnikant doesn't wear a watch, HE decides what time it is.

Rajnikant grinds his coffee with his teeth and boils the water with his own rage.

There are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq; Rajnikant lives in Chennai.

Rajnikant once ate an entire bottle of sleeping pills. It made him blink.

Rajnikant's every step creates a mini whirlwind. Hurricane Katrina was the result of a morning jog.

When Rajanikanth enters a room, he doesn’t turn the lights on, he turns the dark off.

Rajanikanth can kill two stones with one bird.

There is no such thing as global warming. Rajanikanth was cold, so he turned the sun up

Rajanikanth was once on Celebrity Wheel of Fortune and was the first to spin. The next 29 minutes of the show consisted of everyone standing around awkwardly, waiting for the wheel to stop.

Leading hand sanitizers claim they can kill 99.9 percent of germs. Rajanikanth can kill 100 percent of whatever he wants.

Rajanikanth once shot down a German fighter plane with his finger, by yelling, “Bang!”

In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Rajanikanth could use to kill you, including the room itself.

The square root of Rajanikanth is pain. Do not try to square Rajanikanth, the result is death.

When you say “no one’s perfect”, Rajanikanth takes this as a personal insult.

The Bermuda Triangle used to be the Bermuda Square, until Rajinikanth kicked off one of the corners.

Rajinikanth has already been to Mars, that's why there are no signs of life there

Rajinikant proves Newton wrong all the time. Every time he performs an action, he simply eliminates anything and everything that can provide the reaction.

Rajinikanth doesn't move at the speed of light. Light moves at the speed of Rajinikanth

Rajinikanth knows Victoria's secret

Rajinikant doesn’t bowl strikes, he just knocks down one pin and the other nine faint out of fear.

The last time Rajinikanth killed someone, he slapped himself to do it. The other guy just disintegrated. Resonance.

When Rajanikanth gives you the finger, he’s telling you how many seconds you have left to live.

Mind it!

Sigh !

2010-09-03T15:39:00.001+04:00

I've taken a course in creative writing this semester. I'm not sure how much creativity goes into it but there has been a lot of writing. Surprisingly, I seem to enjoy all the forceful writing I'm subjecting myself to. So now, not only am I lusting after good writers, I'm also jealous of them. Sigh.

Mujerista

2010-06-27T14:54:00.002+04:00

I remember her staring at me with her big black eyes; eyes that I’d like to drown and spend eternity in. Her jet black hair was strewn across the white sheets of my pillow. A lone hair flitted over her face; her lips curled up as I reached over and tucked it behind her ears. Her Kohl had smudged under her eyes and her chapped lips had no lipstick on, but it did not matter. She looked like she was created to define beauty.

I watched her as she got up and looked for her clothes; God! She was exquisite! She stood there struggling with her strap; I went over and hooked it on for her. It was purple. She smiled at me mischievously. Wasn’t it red when I took it off the previous night?

I was at the airport, waiting for Jessica, when I first saw her. She walked up to me just as I set my eyes on her. “Hye”, she said, “My bags are too heavy and I am dreadfully late. Can you please help me with them; I just can’t find a trolley”. She talked rapidly and had an almost indecipherable accent. I wanted to ask her a million things. What was her name? Where was she from? Where was she going? Why was she so beautiful? But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to take in anything but that image of her biting her lips and tucking her hair behind her ears as she tugged at her luggage. Jessica walked towards me as I loaded the luggage onto a trolley. I watched her hurrying along to catch her flight just as I hugged Jessica and wished that the girl walking away from me wasn’t so beautiful.

The next time I saw her was at Jack’s party. Jack’s been my best friend since college, so I had to be at all his parties albeit their boring nature. I stood in a corner with a bottle of beer like I always did, when Jack walked up to me with a girl by his side. “Hey, I’m glad you came, I thought you wouldn’t make it. I’m real sorry about Jessica! You guys were great together, you know”. I wish he hadn’t said that when she was staring up at me with those bewitching black eyes and that slight curl on her lips. “This is Allie, by the way, she needs to get on the 10 o clock flight; I was hoping you could drop her off at the airport on your way back home.” I touched her chocolate brown skin and felt her firm grip as I shook her cold hands.

She put everything to shame. Just her face; her perfectly chiseled lips, her Greek sculpture like nose and her big black eyes; made the Mona Lisa, Cleopatra, Elizabethan Taylor pale in comparison. She laughed like a child, she laughed at everything I said, she laughed even when I didn’t say anything, she laughed and it made me ache all over. God! She was magnificent!

“I think I’m going to miss my flight” she said as we got into my car. She fidgeted with her petite fingers and looked out the window anxiously as we drove to the airport. Did she know I was looking at her? Did she know I was burning and dying sitting by her side right then? Did she know that she was too good even for the Gods?

‘Flight cancelled’ it read. She looked at me helplessly. I knew I shouldn’t, I knew that it would be a big mistake, I knew what would inevitably happen, but I had no other option now, did I? We got back in the car and headed towards my apartment.

My apartment was a mess with my jacket sprawled across the couch and my books spread across the floor. “Nice apartment” she said “It seems real cozy. Do you live her alone?” I don’t know how it happened after that but there was no longer any space between our lips to exchange words. I took off her yellow shirt, pulled off her black skirt and unhooked her red strap and I burned and shivered and felt myself turn to dust.

It was 7am when I woke up the following morning and she was gone like I knew she would be. It’s been a long time since it happened, so I don’t miss her so much anymore. I think of her though, every time I’m with a woman. I remember how she smelled of freshly brewed coffee beans, how her eyes lit up when she laughed her infectious laughter. I remember it all, I remember it well, everything that happened on this very bed.

I need to find my clothes now. Sara’s in the shower and might come out any minute. Where are my clothes? Where did I put them? I think Sara threw them on the couch as she took them off me last night. I see them lying on the desk, sprawled together. I reach out for a piece of cloth. It’s red. As I try to put it on, I feel Sara’s hand hooking the strap. “You look pretty in red, Judy” Sara says and winks. So did Allie, the night I took them off her.

The Conch

2010-03-26T17:01:00.001+04:00

When I was about 5 years old, I used to play with the kids from the houses opposite my own. ( Not so much play as sit around with them and pretend I had friends!)
It's 13 years later and lots of people have shifted and moved away and I don't know most of my neighbors anymore. However, two of the kids I used to play with still live in my neighborhood.

One used to be a pathological liar who got me into a lot of trouble and made me lose every game I ever played with him because he used to cheat till he won. Now he's doing some fancy course in some fancy college and we happily greet each other whenever we run into each other every six months.

I had a more complicated relationship with the other one. I think I genuinely believed that she was my friend at some point of time because I remember spending a lot of time in her house. She didn't believe in physical sports all that much so we played the "Teacher" game and "Doctor" game with a lot of imaginary students and patients. She got beaten up by her mother a lot, so she was constantly making evil plans on how to get her mother in trouble with her father. I don't remember if I ever had fun with her, but I remember spending a lot of time talking to her about many inconsequential things.

We used to fight a lot. And when I say fight, I mean it quite literally. I remember this one time when we got into a heated argument which led to us trying to pull each other's hairs out. And when someone finally broke us apart and we got away from each other, we started pelting each other with stones. One of the stones she threw missed me and broke a window in my house. I think it's safe to say that my parents were not too happy with the proceedings of that day.

And still, we were "friends". We'd easily forget incidents which caused destruction to public and personal property and would continue to play our banal games because it gave us something to do in the evenings. She was at all my birthday parties (the last I had was when I turned 10) and we spent most holidays like Diwali and Christmas playing at each other's house.

As we grew older, We stopped playing games that involved imaginary people and hence, I saw very little of her. We'd probably visit each other's families over Christmas and Diwali because our mothers would force us to. I'd ask her what she was doing every Diwali when I'd see her, even though I didn't care and knew I would forget within a few days. I think she did the same when she asked me about my life too.

We were never friends and finally, we had stopped pretending otherwise.

Today, her father died.
The news doesn't really bother me much.
It doesn't disturb my day or anything in my life.
But I can hear the sound of the conch that's been reverberating through my house the whole day.

Politics.

2009-12-03T16:46:00.003+04:00

Third standard.
The class was under the dictatorship of Amreena. She was fair and pretty and always had a gang of girls walking behind her.

She decided what games to play during the lunch break.
If you were her friend, you were part of the "cool" crowd.
People would share their snacks with you if Amreena said they should.
When the teacher asked you to mind the class, you were not allowed to report Amreena or her friends. Common laws never applied to her.

If you did anything Amreena said you shouldn't, you were treated like an outcast and not allowed to play with the rest of the class.
It was a very bad idea to get on her bad side because Amreena was merciless. If she didn't like you, she wouldn't let you play with the rest of the class during lunch break.

I once called Amreena an Idiot.
I always sat alone during the lunch break.

___________________________________________________________

The girls in my class were divided into two gangs when I was in the fourth standard. One was the gang of good looking girls and other was the gang of err... good girls.

The good looking girls never let me play with them because...err, I guess they never thought I was good looking enough? I don't really know. But they never let me play "Running Catching" with them.
I didn't greatly enjoy hanging out with the good girls because they were a little boring and spent a lot of time plotting against the good looking ones.

So I hung out with the boys after school because they didn't mind that I wanted to play with them. Not only did they not discriminate against me, they taught me a lot of "boy" games which I would have otherwise never learned. I was a pro at hand cricket, I knew all the characters in Dragon Ball Z and I was good at leg cricket.
I was taught how to make my tongue bleed.
I didn't have to slap a guy just because I was a girl; A good punch on the face was always appreciated.
Noone cared if I jumped over a fence.
I was never yelled at for fighting with a bunch of rowdy boys from another class because they stole all the chart paper from our class.
I was treated like an equal.
I miss that.

____________________________________________________________

Fourth standard. Social Sciences class.
Elizabeth mam was my favourite teacher because she was pretty, she was nice, she was so smart and she always liked me.

We were discussing religion in class and how people discriminate against others on the basis of religion. I told her that I agreed with her. I told her about how two girls in my class said they didn't like me because I'm a Christian. Their argument was that the British were Christians and that all Christians in our country were, therefore, British supporters.
They told me that I should be ashamed of myself.
They said they didn't want to be friends with a traitor like me.

I got cornered by the two girls after class. They threatened to make sure I never had any friends left if I ever spoke up in class about such things again.
To make sure I got the point, they made my best friend stop talking to me.
My best friend was a christian.

A Letter of No Consequence

2009-12-02T22:27:00.004+04:00

To,
Whoever reads this at Dow Chemicals

Sir/Madam,

I am writing to you in the hope that my voice will make a difference. I am aware that I am a nameless, faceless entity to you and you don't really care about what I have to say. But I'll say it anyway because I care and I believe in the greater good.

I spent the last couple of days consumed in anger because of the events that unfolded on this very night, 25 years ago. I wanted to blame you and question you for the millions of lives which are affected today. I do not feel the same way anymore for I know that I would be unfair to you if I did.

Someone was careless, someone was negligent, someone was selfish and because of that innocent lives were lost and many more affected. Now I know that you are not that 'someone' and that this is not your battle to fight. But I also know that you will be able to make a difference if you looked past your own needs and comforts and cared about that little boy who eats bones and feces today because of a mental disability cause by the toxins.

You have probably mourned for the death of someone you loved/knew. I have and I know what sort of a feeling that leaves you with. It's not something I look forward to ever going through again. So it would be simpler for me to not care about the people who lost their lives, to be indifferent and take the easy way out. But I choose not to and I beg of you to do the same. This disaster could have happened anywhere, to anyone and that is precisely what scares me the most. If I don't care for the millions who are affected today, who will care for me tomorrow?

I write this letter to you with faith, hoping that you'll realise that it's never too late to do the right thing, to contribute in whatever little way you can, to help the faceless millions who suffer today because of what happened on this very night, 25 years ago.

I do not think you should be held responsible for what happened, but I do believe that you should take responsibility.

Sincerely,
Jean.

Life

2009-04-14T23:29:00.002+04:00

" One thing I've managed to do without any assistance is screw up my Life. And once my board results come out, everyone will know the exact extent to which I have managed to screw up my Life so far "

You know, There is no such thing as screwing up your life.

There is birth and then, There is death.
Everything that comes in between is called Life.

There is no such thing as doing something productive or doing something unproductive.
Because you see, Even when you are doing nothing, you are still killing time.

And whatever you do between birth and death is done only to kill time.

All you do in life is sit around and wait for death.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dude : Sir, I don't know what to do with my life

Prof : Everyone comes to a place in their life where they feel that way.

Dude : Sir, What will happen to me?

Prof : You will get a graduate degree.
You will get married.
You will buy a house.
You will buy a car.
You will have kids.
You will die.

Dude : * blank stare *

Prof : This, we know, will happen to everyone.

Dude : But...But sir, I want to be Rich.

Prof : But that is not in your hands.

Dude : Sir, I want to be popular

Prof : Alas! That isn't in your hands either.

Dude : But Sir, I want to be happy!

Prof : Now THAT, is in your hands.
Happiness is a choice.
And you can choose to be happy.

* Silence *

Dude : This guy doesn't know shit!

Done!

2009-03-21T13:44:00.000+04:00

Studying ends in 'dying' and often leads up to it.

Atleast I got out alive!

Goodbye, School.

Good Riddance!

Move damnit!

2009-02-01T20:04:00.004+04:00

Peem.

Peem.

Peeem.

I am honking at you.

Which means you have to move.

Move to the left please or I might kill you.

I am doing drunken driving and hence, I am allowed to kill you.
It's part of the job description.

Allow me to introduce myself.
I am a professional drunken driver. I drive on pavements only and I honk at you when I'm bored and I ask you to move to the left. If you don't, I honk some more.

Peem. Peem. Peem.

The truth is, I'm not really drunk. I am only pretending to be drunk to get a job as a drunken driver.

Did I convince you?

You see, I am going to fail the boards and have no future and no money.

So I'm thinking of becoming a drunken driver.
The last time I checked, no qualifications are necessary.

I just need to be drunk.

I don't even need to know how to drive! ( Which works very well for me since I can't even balance a cycle)

Now suddenly, My life seems filled with possibilities.

:)

This Sucks

2009-01-21T20:33:00.003+04:00

You know what I really want to do?

I want to cry.

But you know what I'm actually doing?

I'm laughing.

I'm laughing because I'm thinking about you and how you always make me laugh.

But I need to cry now and I can't.

This sucks.

Impulses

2009-01-11T11:55:00.005+04:00

Is it okay to do the wrong thing when it feels so right?

Is it okay to let go and fall without worrying about who's there to catch you?

I want to.

I just want to live and love and dance.

I just want to let go now.

The Village Life

2008-12-28T14:35:00.006+04:00

I spent the last three days in the land where women smell of coconut oil, men have excessive facial hair and everyone speaks Tamil with a mallu accent. Yes, I spent the last three days in Nagarcoil.

Day 1:

- My cousin and I got yelled at by 3 middle aged ugly men who were under the impression that we were prying on them while they were bathing. Egoistic bastards!

- I was chased by a goat. Not so much chased as stared at, actually. But I ran for my life anyway.

Day 2:

- I heard the worst music group in the world perform. Yes, Backstreet Boys and Boyzone included. They perform at the local church choir. I finally know what wrong pitch, non sync and scary voices mean.

- We played family cricket. My 9 year old cousin and my 25 year old brother were the captains. The other players included 5 clueless girls. It was soon established, without a doubt, that I sucked most out of the 5. Our cricket involved a lot of dangerous swinging of the bat and some aimless throwing of the ball which more often than not, ended up in the neighbor's yard. After an hour of excessive sweating, tons of family jokes and a lot of rolling around in the mud ( on my part), we decided that the game was a draw.

Day 3:

- It has been established that kids hate me. It is finally official. My little cousin started crying because I touched her. Crying, yes. With tears and everything.

- I got on a train to come home.

Now:

There is a lot of noise around me, there is never enough time to do everything I want to do, There are no more kids running around wanting to play with me, I get to worry about my life and where it is heading, meal times only last around 10 times and everything is just a little more rushed and complicated now. In short, Life is back to normal.

Offended

2008-12-08T23:22:00.002+04:00

Do you ever feel offended when your friends make fun of you or something about you?

Do you feel offended even when you know they aren't trying to make you feel bad?

Do you ever feel offended when your friends judge you for doing something which they used to do?

I feel offended.

I also feel angry and upset.

The other side of the coin isn't so much fun.

Hello World!

2008-11-28T17:22:00.004+04:00

It's Raining.

I'm happy.

It's Raining.

I'm cold.

It's Raining.

I'm singing.

It's Raining.

I'm bored.

Bye Bye!

Just, you know, something.

2008-10-08T11:12:00.004+04:00

I've reached the PEAK of Laziness. Or so my Dad says. And my mom seems to agree.
I beg to differ though, knowing the people I know.
But they do have a point; I sleep too much, eat too much and refuse to move too much. There are times when I often get up and wonder who the girl in the mirror is. How did I let myself turn into the person I am now?

I feel guilty thinking about the hours I spend in front of the TV because I just don’t want to think, the number of books which I’ve left unread because I just don’t feel like it, the countless number of unbelievably bad movies that I’ve watched just to waste some time, the number of opportunities I’ve thrown away. I feel most guilty thinking about all the empty spaces in my Life.

Maybe if I worked. Maybe if I worked my rear end off. Maybe then I’d get what I want and I’d be happy. But there’s just one problem in that: I don’t know what the hell I want.
I mean, seriously people, give me a break.
Do I have to have my entire life figured out all the time?
Because I don’t have a frickin’ clue where my life is going.
Everything is spiraling out of control and I can’t seem to do a thing about it.
Yea, 12^th can be hard. I know. I’ve heard.
But bloody hell, it shouldn’t.
Because it makes a person very very frustrated and makes them want to kill someone and that’s not a very good thing.

Yes, I’m just ranting. I need a break.

Coffee, Anyone?

Same differences.

2008-07-17T16:46:00.004+04:00

Have you ever hated someone for all the qualities that you possess?
The qualities which make you who you are? And yet destroy everything you have?

We share the same kind of sorrows.
We find happiness in the same sort of things.
Little things make a difference to us.
We are empathetic towards each other.
We hardly talk, but we understand.
We are so different and yet, so similar.

And still, I despise him.
I despise him because he is everything I am and don't want to be.
I wish he would change. I keep telling him that he should in the hope that I wouldn't have to be reminded of my faults so often.
But he says he's content being who he is.
He's smug. So am I.
I say I'm happy being who I am too.

But I am happy.
Maybe he is too.
I will never know.
I hate him too much to ask.

The only constant thing is Change

2008-02-26T13:55:00.009+04:00

Everything seems so different, so strange.
Beanie is no longer here in India.
I miss the conversations we used to have about books, music, theater and people.
It didn't hit me so hard when she left and I can still live with the fact that she is no longer in the next class arranging her books in ascending order for the millionth time; But I still miss her.
Smilie can't afford to hang out with us anymore. She has too many problems at home.
She's left a vacant spot that no one can occupy.
In a different country with his own problems, fighting to make his dream come true, The Nightcrawler is miles away from me.
It's upsetting that he's no longer a phone call away. No one can listen to my cribs as long as he can. We talk once in a while. He laughs at me. And it makes me happy to hear him laugh like a child. So I decide not to crib.
I haven't seen much of Lulu since she shifted schools.
We live a few streets away from each other, but I never seem to have the time to go and visit her. Does that make me a bad friend?
Maami's class is on the other end of the corridor. I'm too lazy to walk all the way there. Besides, I hate her class boys who scream every time I enter their class.
So I sit in class and wait for her to visit me.
She walks in, in her usual duck like fashion, waves her arms all around, smiles at everyone and starts laughing when she looks at me.
She's the same.
But everything else has changed. I have changed.
I spend my time in school sitting in a class where I don't fit in.
I fall asleep in class; I get up with my muscles aching, my head pounding and my classmates laughing at me. I do it again the next day because I can't control it.
Astro comes to see me. She tells me about the atrocious behavior of the boys in her class. We laugh a lot and she soon leaves.
I sit and read a book. I just can't get myself to finish it. It irritates me that I don't care about what I'm reading. I don't seem to care about anything. I soon fall asleep again.
I wake up in time for economics, random thoughts go through my head as three teachers walk in and out of class.
It's finally time to leave. I listen to Doodler's jokes as we fight our way through a group of 8th graders who can't wait to get home.
My mom says Doodler has grown up to be a very beautiful girl. I agree. She has always been beautiful to me, on the inside.
Sahara says something funny in tam. I'm unable to stop laughing.
I think about it and I decide I like listening to her talk in tam, it makes me happy.
I get home. Everyone's too busy in their own world.
I'm lonely, hungry and tired.
A bowl of hot soup would really help.
I wish my life was different but I know I would never trade my life for something better.
I think about my brother. I wonder if he ever felt like this when he was growing up. I wonder if he was anything at all like me. I decide that's highly improbable.
I suddenly miss him. He likes me even though I laugh too much and pretend to be a walrus. I love him for that.
I put on music and wonder what I want to do.
I listen to a guy singing about everlasting love.
I scoff and change the song.
I wonder why I don't have girlie crushes anymore.
Cupid probably hates me. So do all the boys.
I decide that I'm never gonna know what it's like to be in love.
I listen to more music. Most of it feels like noise.
I think about Boo. How can I feel he's a part of my life after such a short while? It somehow makes no sense.
I'm unable to figure out if he makes my life simpler or just complicates it too much.
I wonder why my life is so much about me?!
I get bored of these random thoughts.
I get bored of everything.
At the end of the day, I realize that all is need is a hug.
But no one's around to give me one.

To Kill a Mocking Bird

2008-02-24T19:25:00.004+04:00

A Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Harper Lee.
It made me laugh. It made me cry.
It warmed my heart the whole way through.

"When he gave us our air-rifles Atticus wouldn't teach us to shoot. Uncle Jack instructed us in the rudiments thereof; he said Atticus wasn't interested in guns. Atticus said to Jem, "I'd rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but I know you'll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird." That was the only time I ever hear Atticus say it was a sin to do something, and I asked Miss Maudie about it. "You're father's right," she said. "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mocking bird."

Quotes

2008-02-24T17:33:00.006+04:00

"HAHAHA.Joke.*claps*" -Suk

Sahara:I can trigger mucus to come outta ma mouth
Everyone:EWWW!!!
Sahara:Whaaat?!! Its a personal talent........like burping!*grins*

Me: Hey! What's up?
Sahara (very proudly) : You know, my sister gave me a dare to lick my toes and I did it!"

Astro: You look different today.
Me: Why?
Astro: Because your eyes are open
Me: My eyes are always open.
Astro: But you look different with your eyes open today.

"You are excreting our frandship. But I have my imaginary frand Billy the Pornstar. He's a loyal and faithful frand. He will destroy you." - Sahara

Me: Aaaaargh!! I just wanna kill myself.
Sahara: Okay! I can suggest SEVEN fun ways for you to do it.

"I said you get out, You do that or get out" - ML

Random guy (on chat) : Who are you?
Species Girl: I am spike.
RG (Irritated) : Spike, My ass!
SG: oh! Won't it hurt?

"The birds will get a heart attack and die" - Astro

Me: My BS sir said, "Are you able to clear?"
Sahara: That's what they ask people after a urine test.

"I will throw your books in the dustbin or in the outside" - ML

Me (very irritated) : G'lost! Go screw urself!
Sahara: Ummm....Thatz technically impossible

:|

My Favourite Poem

2007-06-03T19:25:00.000+04:00

Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness.
~ Kahlil Gibran

Trees are indeed beautiful; And nothing can bring out their beauty in the way that a poem does!

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

~ Joyce Kilmer