Small Town Girl

EVERYONE and their grandmothers have heard 'Sheila ki jawani' by now. In fact, the grandmothers have heard the song more carefully, since they are the only ones who have that name these days (a big shout out to Sheila Dixit!). Which begs the question, WHY is 'Sheila ki jawani' shot on Katrina Kaif? More importantly, how could your name be 'Sheila, Sheila ki jawani?!' What kind of a surname is 'Ki Jawani'? (No offense to my Sindhi friends if i'm being ignorant here!) How could anyone have a surname like that?!


Katrina Kaif in Sheila Ki Jawani is like a mannequin dancing. She has the perfect mannequin body... but then again, she also has the mannequin face! When you hear the song and see Katrina’s bod, you go, 'Woah, Jawani!’ (yes, YOU go… i’ve heard you! Don’t lie now!). But then you see Katrina’s face and you go, 'Wait, THIS is Sheila?’ I think Katrina’s too pretty to carry off her own body. Yes, I say intelligent things like that sometimes.

So keeping all the constraints in mind, here are the grandmothers whose jawanis need to be sung about:
1. Baa ki jawani: Remember Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Baa-hua karti thi? Remember Baa? The superwoman, whose age at the end of 10 generation leaps, would have been some 250 years, but who STILL didn’t have grey hair? That’s the kind of jawani i'm talking about! And can’t you totally imagine Baa shaking it at one of the various family functions/Diwali special/New Year special/extra marital affair special/funeral special/generation leap special?

2. Pratibha ki jawani: Pratibha Patil may look 200 years old, yes, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be a badass! Apart from being the first woman President of India, she also holds the record for being the oldest woman. No wait, that doesn’t sound right. … Oh yeah, she holds the record for being the oldest woman… TO fly in a combat jet at a speed close to supersonic speed. Can YOUR grandma do that? CAN SHE?

3. Rekha ki jawani: Call it botox, or call it yoga. Okay lemme call it yoga… to avoid lawsuits. No one may know the REAL secret of Rekha ki jawani (it’s yoga), but whatever it is (it’s yoga), it sure has helped Rekha maintain her skin, face, skin, body, skin, and everything else on her face, body and skin (it’s yoga). It’s got to be yoga, right? (It’s yoga)

What do you guys think? Katrina’s jawani? Or Baa’s? Or are there any other grandmas that you dream of that i’ve forgotten? (That’s very disturbing on your part, by the way) :P :)

What was left when that fire was gone?
I thought it felt right, but that right was wrong...

All caught up in the eye of the storm,
And trying to figure out what it's like moving on...

And i don't even know what kind of things I've said,
My mouth kept moving and my mind went dead ...

So, picking up the pieces, now where to begin?
The hardest part of ending Is starting again!

A water bearer had two large pots, each hung on one end of the pole he carried across the back of his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream, the cracked pot arrived only half full. This went on every day for two years, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots of water to his master's house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishment and saw itself as perfectly suited for the purpose for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfection and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived as bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. I am ashamed of myself and I want to apologize to you.

Why? asked the bearer, What are you ashamed of?

For the past two years, I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws you have to work without getting the full value of your efforts, the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and out of compassion he said, As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path. Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the wildflowers on the side of the path. The pot felt cheered.

But at the end of the trail, the pot still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and again it apologized for its failure. The bearer said to the pot, Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side? That is because I knew about your flaw and took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you have watered them for me. For two years, I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. If you were not just the way you are, he would not have such beauty to grace his house.

What is the moral of the story ?

Each of us has our unique flaws. We all are cracked pots. But a compassionate and expert person can engage us in some good service, and then we can be useful, despite our defects.

How can we apply this in our own life ?

01) Whenever we notice some flaw in others, instead of criticising them for their own flaws, we need to have compassion and love for them.

02) And we need to continuously and vigorously strive on, to explore the ways and means as to how we can utilize even that flaw in others in our beloved Lord's service, just as the water-bearer did after he noticed the crack in the pot.

For the want of enthusiasm / inspiration to write something original, here's something i read, and love :)

Being a twenty-something...........

It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at what ur studyin or ur job... and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the BOTTOM and that scares you.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure.

You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone! but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you're doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision.

You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself... and while winning the race would be great, right now you are scared just to be a contender!
What you may not realize is that every one reading this relates to it.We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out. For all the twenty-something people reading this, maybe it will help you feel like you aren't alone in ur state of confusion...

Its called "Quarter-life Crisis." nothing is constant......except change. whats life without a few risks? keep playing the game ! Just take care and be good .. & be Honest to yourself.

If u want happiness for an hour, take a NAP.

If you want happiness for a day, go for a PICNIC.

If you want happiness for a week, go on a VACATION.

If you want happiness for a month, get MARRIED.

If you want happiness for a year, inherit WEALTH.

If you want happiness for a lifetime, learn to LOVE WHAT YOU DO.

\m/ :))

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term exam. The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well...
Here is the "Bonus Question" on the exam: "Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?"
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different Religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added. This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it? If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa (a girlfriend of mine during my Freshman year) that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.
The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A."

The colors are achanging
the earth is aglow,

Everything was a luscious green,
not such a long time ago.

Now it’s yellow, scarlet, burgundy, ochre,
We aren’t very far from the white of snow.

The surface air has cooled off,
The heat of the earth seems to blow,

Through the tree trunks and into the leaves,
I can almost see it flow.

No more walking bare foot on grass
and no more skin show,

It’s time to cuddle up in blankets,
The winter is here saying hello.

There's a crying child
behind this smiling girl
who is in tears for very long

Masking her feelings
from this blind world
for nobody cares actually (except a few.. i hope)

Life is a profit-loss statement
hanging between good and bad
here you're liable for your assets

Expectations are such a bitchy thing
they leave you nowhere but to regret
yet we keep on expecting

In this vicious circle of pain and sorrow
we find temporary happiness
and then go on with our miseries

Is there a solution to life?
Death perhaps?
I guess.. not!
Then?
Who knows?

sometimes i wish,
to go back and mend some things
sometimes i wish,
to just go back and relive
sometimes i wish,
to fast forward the present
sometimes i wish,
to just pause the present
sometimes i wish,
people around me to change
sometimes i wish,
myself to change
sometimes i wish,
to run as fast as i can
sometimes i wish,
to just sit back and relax
sometimes i wish,
that all my wishes come true
sometimes i marvel,
why do i have so many wishes?
sometimes i wish this
sometimes that
i know i shouldn't
but i do!

with my arms stretched
& full of confidence

with my breaths deep
& full of noise

with my eyes closed
& a vision beyond infinity

with my feet still
& a few inches above the world

i used to fly.
fly, what i did.

now.

with my arms stretched
& an emptiness in my heart

with my breaths deep
& full of a deafening silence

with my eyes closed
& an infinite darkness

with my feet still
& nowhere in this world

i cry.
cry, is what i do.

After a dedicated 1.25 years service to one of the oldest firms in Kochi – KGSA, I’m shifting to a new firm - INSPIRATION from coming Monday. YAY, lil excited. But “The million dollar question” – still remains unanswered!!

It literally is about a million dollars. When I started job hunt last year, the personal questions that interviewers would ask were not many. They were all the usual ones with typical answers. Positive points, negative points, strengths and weaknesses. Typical HR speak. Now that I have worked for more than a year I have *finally* managed to push myself in the ‘assessment of my market value’ whirlpool, the questions are again typical. But somehow I have still not been able to conclude what the best answer should be. One should always be prepared not to be caught unaware. I thought, with practice, I’ll be able to conclude the answer to that million dollar question – why do you want to leave your current job? But time and again, the reactions of the interviewers perplex me.

You should not appear as a flyer – changing jobs as quick as maybe clothes... Well ok, maybe not, maybe as quick as toothbrushes. So at least no flimsy reasons. The first approach I decided was to be honest. ‘More money’, I would state blatantly along with the usual, by now rattled-off-my-tongue kinda practiced sentences. After all, we all know that, that *is* the main reason. I soon realised. One of the best architecture firms in Kochi, had an interview with me. They asked me the reason why I wanted to shift and I stated the above, though of course coupled with a lot of other stuff about challenges at the workplace, growth, work culture et al. They never got back to me. In discussion with one of the consultants, who happened to know the philosophy behind the elimination process of this particular firm, I was made aware of the fact that ‘money should not be the main reason’. In fact you should not sound ‘greedy’. ‘But that’s a major reason why we all seek change, isn’t it?’ I asked. Still. That’s what he told me. Well, don’t know why I shouldn’t demand what I think I am worth. If its too high, may be we can negotiate, but at least I should be made aware.

I started concentrating on other issues. Like growth for example. Role enhancement for another. If I say I am not getting these at the current workplace, the next question automatically is whether I ever raised this issue with my bosses and what was done about it. If I say that I did and nothing was done about it, that perhaps gives a wrong idea again. May be about my performance. May be about my relationships with my seniors. May be about my competency or my persistence. Whatever. To say that I never talked to my bosses regarding my problems would be foolishness. I give different answers based on how I perceive the interviewer to react.

Another point is work culture. If I say that there were some things that I didn’t like, the interviewer tries to probe into what kind of things. Ultimately it boils down to the same things happening in all offices. Does that imply that I’ll never be able to adjust to the work culture of any job? If I give a slightly positive picture of the work culture then we come back to square one. Why on earth would I state work culture as a reason for my shifting if it’s quite commendable?!

There’s a fixed trend according to which people’s priorities change. When one’s a fresher, one is very enthusiastic and is ever willing to take on all the menial tasks and even do it for free if asked! But as you grow, things start getting to you. People realise that the company shouldn’t get to have its cake and eat it too, all the time. Priorities change.

But the million dollar question still remains unanswered. If I ask for a hefty (ok, not so hefty) salary, is it ‘bad’? Negotiation or feasibility are other things. But mentioning that I am in this thing for money, is it really the wrong move? I don’t think so. Not all people survive on the usual idealistic criteria for a dream job. Good work and good work culture are all passé, out of date. What matters today is the big bucks and the time that you get for yourself. Good work and hence work cultures are also very important, but I have seen people reach a compromise with them, as long as the other two criteria are getting satisfied. Is that approach wrong? 0_o

I silently aged another year yesterday. Yes it was my b’day but didn’t feel like it at all. Surprisingly, I had a tendency this time to almost forget abt it. I had to consciously remind myself that my b’day was approaching. I have always been good with dates (that would probably be an understatement according to some of my college friends) and I remember and wish people on time. I used to make a lot of efforts to make the birthday baby’s day special, if it was someone close but not anymore. Ahh I miss the good old days so so much. :(

Many of those who are in my age group, would agree that ageing another year, or rather your birthday is no great day, nothing to look forward to as you try to battle with that sinking feeling that you are getting *old*. There was a time, when birthdays were a big deal. As a child one keeps waiting to quickly grow up and get out of school. Once there, you yearn to grow up fast and be independent. No rules and cash that is your own seem like nirvana. “Been there, done that”, leads you to this stage, where I am in no hurry to grow any older than what I already am.

It only translates into one word – PRESSURE. Pressure to grow more be more responsible, pressure to earn more than that glamorous girl in your office, pressure from parents to get married and once that would happen pressure to produce some kids coz all this while your biological clock is ticking away. It’s just not in sync with you, you who keeps trying to make yourself believe that you are still young at heart.

Slowly but surely, it has changed from a time to think of what all you want to do ahead in life, to counting and feeling miserable about what all you *still* could not get done. I spent half of my previous year feeling aghast that I was going to turn another year older in a couple of months. No more of that. Someone said life begins at 40 or was it 30 or maybe it was 23. Who cares?

I spent last Friday with my lil cousin bro making placards that were to be taken in a rally from school to spread awareness about protecting trees. World environment day just went by and the irony of all times, I chanced upon some public service ads in the newspapers about a year back which mentioned that the public can get saplings of trees, free of cost from the forest department nurseries (this is to encourage plantation of trees). What they did not mention was the location, phone numbers of those nurseries or even how to go about the whole thing. The most intuitive way to find out was to Google it. After some searches I did land up on the phone numbers and locations of the nurseries (with most of them being wrong numbers) but it wasn’t very useful.

I also learnt from the forest department webpage that I had landed on, that felling any tree, anywhere, is illegal and one needs to obtain permission for it, according to “Tree Preservation Act” I certainly think that hardly anyone is aware of this rule since tree felling is as common as pest control! Even for lopping off some branches, one needs to fill up some forms and seek permission. Come winters and everyone is lopping off branches of the bare minimum trees in India (of course without permission)! Only in the case of emergencies when a tree is hindering life, traffic or property, can the tree be felled first and then reported.

What’s more, there’s even a tree help-line. One can even complain against the illegal felling of a tree. Now that’s some more gyaan.

Talking of tree help-lines and world environment day, is anyone aware of any bird help-lines? There’s a family of house sparrows living in the verandah at my granny’s house. Every day one or two chicks drop down from the nest and die (probably because of the heavy rains). Some of them break their legs and face a slow, painful death. Apart from trying to give them some grains, water, milk and a makeshift cardboard house, I couldn’t do much. If anyone is aware of some such thing like bird shelters (on the lines of dog/cow shelters), please let me know. Let’s contribute back to our environment before we are left getting nostalgic about how things were “back in old days”!

okay this topic becomes a part of my blog on this day because of the latest bollywood song from the movie Rajneeti that has the exact same tune of "vande mataram", the lyrics go like..

"boodha aasmaan,
dharti dekhe re..
dhan hai dharti re,
dhan dhan dharti re..."

And the irony - I heard the "Vande Mataram" just few minutes back on the radio, heard it after ages on AIR. Not the AR Rahman pop version but the old world, slow and gentle version that we used to sing in the school assembly. In fact Rahman’s version is not really the Vande mataram that I am talking about. It’s interesting to note how the same lyrics, set in a different backdrop of melody evoke different feelings. The Rahman version is pop patriotism, more josh than the older one, asserts our patriotism with gusto. The old one is sober, and puts me at ease, calms me down. It’s more about cherishing what you have instead of asserting it. May be because I associate it with that security that childhood provides. It also reminds me of waking up to the strains of the sarod in the early hours of morning, coming from the radio, which my grandma would be listening to as my mom would simultaneously go around rushing to get me ready for school. There’s a third version too, which belongs to some black and white movie. This one also has josh but of a different kind. More to do with anger, revolution and “get out of our country” feelings. This one’s not often heard.

I remember thinking when I was a kid, that the wordings (if not the exact ones then some derivatives) of Vande Mataram provide a good means of traditional, unique sounding names to eager parents waiting to name their babies. Shubhra, Jyotsana, Pulkit, Yamini, Phull Kusumit, Drumudul, Shobhini, Suhasini, Sumadhur bhashini..Shasya Shyamalam..

So many ancient names! Heh.

Lizzies have always been around, haven’t they? But somehow in the past 1 or 2 years, I have come to know them at a ‘closer’ level, which I suspect is closer than most people are privileged enough. They are always there, hanging by the ceiling or camping on the wall, staring at that dinner (aka mosquito) on your head or you – you never know and may never want to either. The moment you flicker on a light, and there’s a movement in the room, trust loyal Lizzie to be there. Three days back I managed to step onto a baby Liz after not having switched on a light. I was so repulsed by it all, that I kept hopping for 2 days after that (till yesterday, I hope I don’t toray), as if it was still somehow in contact with my footwear. I soaked my footwear clean and got rid of the no-lights-please-i-am-expert-at-playing-dark-room habit pronto. My orthodox relatives gave me a bigger shock by their reaction to the incident. Sympathy can be expected. Disgust even. But if one shares such misfortune with someone and gets a question back at that, asking something as ridiculous as “Which foot was it?”, one can’t be blamed for looking as stunned as lizzies themselves. I was told by my relatives that depending on which foot I crunched the Lizzie under; it could be auspicious and hold different meanings. I just wish they got as lucky as me.

When I was in my granny’s house here in Cochin long back I thought I would have no neighbors because of low occupancy in their colony. But I was wrong. I had Lizzies for company. One even landed on my lap once as I tried relaxing in the verandah on a hot summer night. To say that I had springs attached to my behind would be a mild way to express the swiftness with which I got up. As expected I developed a habit of not sitting under the ledge anymore and I look carefully whenever I am near the porch. I tried being optimistic by thinking that at least they would help in some pest control by eating up the free hotel business setup by the mosquitoes. But no, they only ended up befriending the mosquitoes, the spiders and the rest of the gang. I can see them having their frequent picnics up there till I drive them out using a broom! Now they have started playing hide and seek and turn up when I least expect them. The only thing missing is the ‘boo’ or something.

Then there was this ‘bright’ one (Do they have any brains?) which made me think and rethink my opinion about them. There was this Lizzie who for some reason developed an affinity to not only my invertor but a particular spot on that. Day in and day out I saw her perched right there, always holding fort. I could not understand the reason for it. Neither was the invertor too hot nor too cold. In fact it was the same temperature as anything else. I made my maid agitate her outside the house using a broom. As soon as that happened I immediately locked my fortress and left for my work place. No prizes for guessing what happens next. Brilliant Lizzie was inside when I got back home. From where she penetrated the fortress I call home, I wouldn’t know. And of course as always she was right on the hot seat – that particular spot on the invertor. Do they have brains or what?! Not only did the lizard know the what and the where with such clear granularity, she also knew the how! No matter what I tried, she seemed to be stuck (not just with those vacuum pads they have for feet) to the same spot on the invertor. If I knew some variant of Parsletongue, I would have surely questioned her. Some days later she left as silently as she had appeared with a very “Woh kaun thi” type of aura left behind her.

If you dear reader, haven’t already been creeped out, I will take the risk of describing yet another profound encounter. One fine day, while driving with dad, suddenly something loomed up large on our windscreen. Thankfully I didn’t swerve, considering that I was almost about to have the kind of reaction one has while watching 3D films. A big fat lizzy was right there on our windscreen right in front of me. Not only did it stare at me right ahead, it also did the disgraceful act of ‘flashing’ (not to forget the free lift it got)! As if the vision of something of this species appearing out of nowhere, that too while driving isn’t enough, there was the extra revulsion due to the feeling that it was about to land right on me somehow. The thought of switching on the wipers sickened me even more thinking about the bloody consequences. With all that difficulty, I somehow kept my eyes on the road and hands upon the wheel. After reaching where I had to, I got some much needed respite.

Be they creepy or be they brainy, I just hope their motto in life is not Kabhi alvida Na Kehna. :D

Night here. And it's raining. When the weather is wild outside and I am at rest in the dark, that is when I sleep the best. Listening to the earth's rhythmic lullaby. So I'm off to perform a good night's sleep and some deep, quiet dreaming. Nite nite.

Amul chocolates – a gift for someone you love, Thums up – happy days are here again, Goldspot – the zing thing, sipso – soya milk, Uncle Chips, Gems, Maggi, Chauraha, Hum Log, Tamas, Trishna, Ek do teen chaar, chitrahaar, rangoli, antakshri, Discovery of India, Mile Sur mera Tumhara, He-man (I have the power of the universe), Spiderman, Mickey mouse, Donald duck, Uncle Scrooge, Pluto, Goofy, Chip and dale, Tom & Jerry, Superman, Captain Planet (the power is yours), Swat cats, Pokemon (gotta catch ‘em all), Dexter & Dee Dee, Heidi, Card captors, Small Wonder, Kahani ghar ghar ki, Kasauti zindagi kii, Sanjeevani, Kyunki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi, Star Trek, Rishi Kapoor, Dharmendra, Amitabh Bachhan, Parveen babi, Neetu Singh, Jayaprada, Sridevi, QSQT, George Michael, Michael Jackson, Boy George, Sam Fox, Wham, Boney M, Beatles, Carpenters, “Those were the days”, “Summer wine”, “Que sera sera”, piano, needlework, clay modelling, Cochin, Aurangabad, Chennai, Mumbai, BSA, Lady bird, Kho-Kho, Dog and the bone, Dodge ball, Stop and party, Marco Polo, Treasure hunt, Barbie, Monopoly, Uno, char sau bees, ghulam chor, napoleon, Tetris, Mario, duck hunt, contra, tank wars. akkad bakkad bambay bo, hide n seek, pakdan pakdayee, lock and key, chidiya ud, inky pinky ponkey, “one two three you go free”, “Tumhee ho maata, pita tumhee ho”, “Hum honge Kaamyab”, “Vande Mataram”, “Kadam Kadam Badaye Jaa”, “Jana gana mana”, Class monitor, Gandhi house, Nehru house, Tilak house, Tinkle, Champak, chacha chaudhary, Amar Chitra Katha, Tintin, Reader’s Digest, Archie, Richie Rich, Enid Blyton, Sydney Sheldon, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, typhoid, fracture, jaundice, VHS, VCR, Digjam, Vicco Vajradanti, Tata ka OK, Godrej hair dye, Bombay Dyeing, Onida, Texla, Binatone, Binaca geet mala.

That was a snapshot of my childhood. How was yours? :D

Oh it was a good one last night. A heavily pregnant Asian girl runs fast through a stone city. She has bright red hair and is wearing a Gothic black dress. She is strong, the kind of woman who says what she thinks. And she's on her way to the palace, completely unconcerned that her waters might break with this exertion. Her lover - an Indian prince - is at the palace with his father (who looks like Omar Sharif). In his mind, she is a confirmed party girl, the last person he would ever think of becoming a mother. But she is coming to ask for his help because he is the father. Everyone is being readied for an epic journey, and all is hustle and bustle. I enter a vaulted room where we have gathered to hear the King. He points at a mildly disabled man amongst the crowd, dressed in blue and lying in a roughly hewn, wooden canoe. "You. You must go on this trip." He stares down the rest of his entourage, who think he is entrusting something of great importance to an imbecile. "His heart - his heart is right. He has a good heart." I look into the eyes of the man in the canoe and smile warmly, because I know the King has seen correctly. Then the King points at me, and one other person. "And YOU. You must go too." I am surprised. And I realise that I am little, like a child. I look out across the water to unknown lands. This is where I am headed...

Some of the things that most of us would remember would be something of an extreme emotion.. something which made us really happy, or something which sent us hurtling to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum. Such a thing is waking up. If all our wishes were granted, one would wish to be woken up to a breakfast-in-bed service. Of course after having slept off the early morning hours. Preferably next to a hunk or a goddess. In a bed made of fluff or something.. basically in surroundings which tantamount to heaven. But this is not about such pleasures in life. This is about rude awakenings. Some of the most rude awakenings that I have etched in my mind.

One such stirring up to life happened when I was traveling back from Pune to Cochin in the Poorna express a good 2 years back. I had been there to do a case study for my thesis.. Most of the people traveling didn’t have reservations owing to the sudden cancellation of a couple of trains. So all we could do was, take a second class ticket and hop onto the train. I truly was prepared for the worst and having faced such situs earlier, was equipped with a proper sleeping bag and stuff to basically stretch oneself on the bogie floor for one night. One of my friends had a reserved berth and I was tagging along with her... so as to rightfully claim the floor in her coupe as my own. In spite of trying to avoid sleeping altogether (given the conditions), there came a point in the night, when we could just not utter another word and would have rather collapsed. I decided it was high time I caught up on my sleep. While going to Pune also I had stayed up instead of sleeping although the sleeping bag had at least given us the freedom to sit on the bogie floor without squirming. This time I decided to sleep with the entire luggage, shoes, stench, snores and all. There was a family in 2 of the other berths. A family because they had a small kid with them who would screech at all inappropriate times and generally behaves irritatingly. Thankfully the kid was also sound asleep. The night quickly rattled by and the morning came. Sounds were embedded in my subconscious as I could make out a lot of activity around me. But I decided to stretch on for a little while more. After all where would I have sat anyway? My consciousness drifted along with the train and I dreamt of a lady screaming at a child... me in the dream. The screams just kept getting louder and louder and shriller in intensity. I could just not react. Sometimes in your dreams you are totally incapacitated to do what you would really do in real life.

And suddenly that female slapped me HARD right across my face. I was totally stunned. Suddenly I woke up because the pain was too much. Something had actually hit me hard right on my nose bone. Having zapped back to reality in a second, I realised what it was. It was my own Milton water bottle which was hanging right over my head and had fallen with precision on the bridge of my nose. The lady (now in reality) was apologising profusely and tried to massage my nose hurriedly. I managed to push her away just in time otherwise she would have ended up hurting me more. It seems the pesky kid had mistaken himself for Tarzan and was going on jumping from one top berth to another. In his frenzy he probably forgot that my water bottle was not jungle foliage or something to glide across on. Till date I shudder at the thought of that rude awakening.

The other one happened more recently... well not even a month back. I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor in my room because we planned to renovate it n sold out the old furniture. The house happens to be on ground floor and it was the summer-monsoon season. Yes you heard it right. It was raining every evening since almost a month. That’s the beauty of living in Kerala – god’s own country. The previous night I had thrown out a frog from the house assuming it would never be able to get across the small gap under the doors. Again, I could not sleep much because of sudden new rainy surroundings (happens with me) most of the night. Also the fact that there could be a frog lurking nearby was there in the back of my mind. I could only sleep in the pre-dawn hours. But lady luck had run out on me again. I woke up with a start to something that had jumped on my face. Even in my deep slumber I didn’t have to think about what it could be. Even before my eyes opened, I knew it. Yes, no points for guessing that a frog had jumped on my face. Yeah, may be it was hoping to transform into a prince. But I can only thank lady luck for whatever little courtesy she had shown me. At least the froggie didn’t land right on my lips... blech... I got up immediately. Had I been superstitious I would have probably made a full-fledged hulla because of the first thing I saw after waking up – a frog scared out of its wits probably more than I was. At least I had this in the back of my mind all night, but that creature would have just not understood how this rock it jumped on simply animated into life. After having kicked it out of the house, (it was only too grateful to be let out), I slammed my way into the bathroom and washed and scrubbed my face till I was sure that more scrubbing would only end up scrubbing off my epidermis.

So much for the start of a bright new morning. Another awakening. Hmph.

“What happened?”, I asked, having received an unexpected call.
“I called just like that”, she said, making me feel an instant twinge of guilt. But then I couldn’t be blamed for being startled.
“Where are you?”, I asked, hearing the unusual noises in the background.
“I am out in the park, taking a walk”.
Pause.
“A walk? In the park? You?”, I asked incredulously.
“Yes”, she said almost sheepishly. “I even went for a walk in the morning.”
“That’s something!”, I added
“And I even had milk both times in the day”, she added in a school girlish voice. It was rare when I had heard her talk like this. My next impulse was to tell her that she could tell her mom – she would be so pleased to hear that!
Thankfully I curbed that impulse just in time before blurting it out impulsively. For I realised with a pinch yet again, that my nani, her mom, was not around anymore. She had passed away two years back. In the absence of a maternal figure, the school girlish glee of my mom had got directed to her daughter. Me. It unsettled me a bit.
I had been maternal with her on other accounts when I had lightly chided her for not taking her health seriously, for not pampering herself, for not going to the parlour regularly like all others in her “age group”. But I had barely been faced with situations like this where school girlishly reported activities are meant to be applauded.
Some years back, one fine day, it had suddenly struck me that my mom had already been married and had me at the age that I was then. Suddenly things fell into a very different perspective altogether. A life full of tribulations whizzed past, clear as if crystal. How it must have been to adjust into a family that was huge, joint and difficult, how it was to be married to a short tempered man who would mostly get angry for no reason (I don’t blame him, it was his thyroid), and all this in days when the world wasn’t even a mesh of the densely connected dots that it is today. All this at the age I was then. Suddenly I felt as if under her skin. I could relate to her much more, understand her more clearly without having to communicate anything. But I guess that’s natural. For I am her reflection, my mother’s daughter.

It is supposed to be summer. And its raining since a week. Pure Bliss.
I've come up with a lame poem jus one minute back.
Excuse the philosophical bent of mind as I composed this one.

I look out the glass window,
The sky so azure and blue,
A fluff of peppered clouds wafts by,
Oh! How I wish I could float too…

On the wings of nostalgia I fly,
and remember times gone by,
The scent of fresh air, the crystal clear panorama,
all remind me of an evening with you.

The way we were caught in a spell of rain,
huddled like sparrows were us twain,
In dearth of umbrellas, a tree was our shelter,
To prevent ourselves from soaking, we only huddled closer.

Times have gone,
The rains did too.
The rains have come again,
and I still miss you.

Don’t ask what I have been up to, coz I don’t have a clue myself, about where my time goes. The last week (Easter break) was well occupied by the huge 4 day inter samaj event “IDEA ’10” for which KDO was termed as the 2nd best samaj of the year. YAY.

Plus, I have been quite busy at office. As if managing ones’ own work wasn’t enough of a task, supervising a number of people (read duds), considering that you would rather do the job yourself than delegate to them, is worse. The draughts men these days I tell u, they don’t event know how to use commands like align and stretch.. Wonder who gives them software proficiency certificates for AutoCAD. I see some serious flaws in my firm’s recruitment process too. Oh btw… Soon, I would complete one whole year in the same firm, which is *quite* a long time, though we have a whole lot of “10-years-in-the-company-and-still-going-strong” people. Whether it’s an achievement or plain lethargy – Don’t ask.

Last evening I decided to set out on another ‘lone adventure’. This time the venue was Convent Junction. What an evening it was. Supposedly a shopping turned into a weakening experience... Sigh... Even though the sun had set, it was tough wading my way through those innumerable sweaty bodies, slithering at a slow speed, whereas I wanted to zip through the crowd. My eyes caught some bright colored and sequined garment being sold for a discount. On questioning the shopkeeper about what he thought was worth the amount he had quoted, he told me that the same thing is worth 20K INR! I thought I hadn’t heard correctly and expressed so... he instantly assured me that 20K was indeed what he had meant... Foreigners had paid 20K INR for that measly thing.

Which bewildered me more??... The exorbitant price or the fact that he had actually used a foreigners’ ignorance to his own advantage. Don’t ask.

It’s quite interesting to note, that the world I have known has changed so much. And all this in a span of such a short time. Now it seems as if I talk of the Stone Age when I talk of yesteryears. Which was not very long ago... just about 5 years back? I was still at college then. There were no cell phones. Ok I’ll rephrase that as no one used to sport a cell phone on their person except maybe if they were the Tatas, Birlas, Ambanis, and Hindujas. You get the drift. My parents used to call me as often as they could (which would be twice a week). At times, they used to book the call in our hostel. This entailed *waiting* for your call, till the operator would tell you that the call had been connected. It could take the entire day for your turn depending on the call traffic on either end. The girls’ hostel having just two external lines, which also had the intercom connected to it, made it an impossible task to get through to anyone. At times I got the call during my sleep. The ‘akka’ (hostel maid) used to call us from the mike. The person would go bolting like a bunny to the phone and attend the STD call. The STD rates were exorbitant. Just 5 minutes of a conversation meant parting with one ‘Gandhi’. This also when the rates would be 1/4th, which used to happen at 11pm in the night. We would especially request our warden to let us call home late nights.

Picture the scene now. My mamu (mom's brother) picks up the cell phone and dials my sister’s cell phone number. (She happens to be studying in a metro too as I did). They talk every *single* day. Not only this, they keep calling her to ensure her safety, the entire duration of the train journey that she makes to that place. It was one of my “duties” to reach back and let my parents know of my safe arrival as soon as possible.

The advancement in technology has changed this world so much. There was a time when I used to write looooong letters to my friends and post them all over the country. (Ahem… They used to wait for letters from appu). Buying greeting cards was a major pastime with me. I would lounge around in card shops spending hours and come out with a huge stack keeping in mind miscellaneous occasions and several people. I would keep my supply of inland letters and stamps stocked. It all slowly came to a full stop with email. Most of my friends had an official mail id if not a personal one. Greeting cards got replaced by e-cards. Archies? What’s that... ok, a comic character by that name comes to my mind now.

To withdraw cash from the bank there was a “procedure”. Firstly one could not just get up and go, visit the bank whenever one felt like. There were certain days assigned for cash withdrawal and certain timings. One had to fill in a withdrawal slip and sign it. The passbook (with a not so complimentary picture of you) had to be taken along with it. Once at the bank, one had to go through a huge rush at the withdrawal counter. After waiting for your turn, you would get to a person who would stare at you and then at the picture in your photograph, and ascertain that the person is indeed you. Once this interesting detail got confirmed, they would go through some drawers, finally landing at something you scrawled, but now called specimen signature, indexed somewhere according to your account number, match it with the one you made on the withdrawal slip and *then* sign the withdrawal slip and pass it on to the cash counter. Phew... Again, await your turn, produce your passbook, get it updated, collect the cash and be able to leave.

The scene now – go to the ATM, punch some buttons, withdraw cash and come back in less than a minute.

I am sure at the pace that the world is changing, some day I would just need to utter the word “cash” and it would come flying into my pocket. I don’t care where it comes from, as long as it lands in the right pocket. The left one is also ok. *wink*

…and those things that go bump in the night. One of the things that go bump in the night is my sis. No, well she’s not my own sis.. my cousin, as blind as a bat or anything, lemme explain. (I’ll be damned if she catches all these things sprawled on the web )

My sis has had the habit of talking in her sleep right since childhood. Seldom has she ever uttered anything intelligible. It all sounds like some weird Martian language to me. In addition to this, as a child, she also used to be adept at playing football in the bed (read kicking), of course not knowing that I am not the football or my mouth, not the goal post. What more, she would find herself in exactly 180 degrees of the position that she went to sleep in. Imagine trying to sleep and suddenly being thrust with something on your face.. and lo! behold it used to be the not so pretty foot of my cousin sister! (It could have given a chiropodist some great business). At times she also used to be found dangling somehow in the reams of the mosquito net that wasn’t being supported by the bed! Well, over the years these habits started declining in frequency and also weirdness. The only thing pending was the jumble mumble game at times.

One fine night she had just retired to bed (and slept off), whilst I was handling some night care regime. Suddenly she asked me in a very polished tone,” What *ARE* you doing?”. Note the stress on the verb. This sentence struck me as REALLY odd. For one, we don’t talk in plain proper English at home. We use what everyone is familiar with – hinglish. So a complete sentence with not a single word in Hindi, threw me completely off balance. Add to it the fact that she was using this sophisticated tone as if she’d just stepped out of an English convent where Hindi speaking was fined (Believe me, I have studied in one). Last but not the least, I wasn’t doing anything so outta ordinary that she actually had to wake up and ask me that! Somehow I smattered that I was doing... Whatever... and also appended a question about what the problem was. Suddenly, she was dumbfounded and she uttered yet another sentence which threw me more off balance than the first. She said, “Oh! I thought you were my English teacher!” (This was in hinglish BTW). Well, whatever in the name of... Err... Blistering barnacles or the like was that?? And of course in the morning, she didn’t remember anything of whatever happened and we just kept giggling at the atrociously weird nature of it all.

This isn’t all. A few days down the line (now this is the incident where she went bump in the night) so lights, camera, action... oh... no lights...pitch dark and some howling by dogs, yes! Again, this time we were sleeping peacefully. Or rather everybody was sleeping peacefully while sleep chose to evade me. Suddenly (and this is horrifying), my sister woke up with a start and got up in a rush. I found it weird but gave her the benefit of doubt coz she does that a lot in a rush to relieve herself. But this time it wasn’t to be so. Instead of heading for the toilet, she went in some absurd direction, to another door, which opened in another room! And all this while, she was in that haphazard hurry. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she bumped real BAD against the door, as if she didn’t see that it was partially closed! This was enough to wake up my parents who appeared faster than a genie would have on the scene. (Yeh parents log aise hee hote hain). They asked her what was wrong and led her back to the bed. But my sister, she crosses all heights of being eerie and with a stiff silence, came back and slept as if nothing had happened. Of course, not to forget, she didn’t remember any of this the next morning. All these night adventures of hers had the tendency to put us in splits when in a family gathering. But this was getting serious. What if some night she just decided that she was going to turn into a somnambulist? Anyhow, things became ok after a while and there was no trace of any such activity for a long time.

Last night’s journey back from office was unexpectedly calm and peaceful. I had given my bike for servicing and so sir suggested I be dropped by his driver. Set out at 7pm by the office cab bracing myself for the 1/2 hour ordeal. Surprisingly the traffic laden (no this isn’t Osama’s relative), bumpy and potholed stretch of road was pretty empty. Of course it was still as bumpy and potholed as ever but at least there was a scope to bypass those unintentional ’speed breakers’. Just because of the so called hartal there wasn’t a single living thing on the road and I could get the vibes of the time being midnight.

The pleasant breeze (sans the dirt and pollution) lightly caressed my face, delighting me. Strains of good music playing in the background made the effect even more ethereal. The breeze started toying naughtily, with my hair…throwing wisps of silken hair on my face. As a result the cool wind managed to cool my poor brain which was overwrought with mental tension. I felt like throwing open my hair and feeling the wind streaming down the strands right from the follicle to the tip. (One of the thrills of lengthy hair). It reminded me of the bike rides that we used to have back in Chennai, when we (literally) threw caution to the winds at 90kmph on Chennai roads. Seeped in nostalgia and complacently holding on to the moment, I snapped back into focus, realizing what I had been staring at for so long wasn’t just anything.. it was our very own moon, looking as full and brimming with moonlight as ever. It was SO big and close, it seemed like a scene straight out of ‘Bruce Almighty’, except Bruce wasn’t there..but the Almighty was definitely showing off his breathtaking stunts to me. We crossed the Venduruthy Bridge. another peaceful stretch with thankfully no high rise buildings blocking my view. I kept playing hide and seek with the moon…saw it next to the beautiful Naval Base, making it look like some Arabian structure with lots of mystery and magic. Suddenly I noticed a low flying plane going over the moon. From that distance, it looked as if it was literally going over the moon’. The beauty of a man made miracle next to a God made one, made that scene eligible for the best portrait award or something.

Soon we reached the gammon bridge, one of the best roads (plus bridges) here. The wind is absolutely the best here. You can smell the fresh ocean air to your hearts *and* your lungs content, hear the waters around you and pass by unnoticed and unheard. No lighting adds to the sea effect. The moon still kept its date with me as it followed me everywhere I went. The moment I would cast a glance at it, there it would be imploring me to somehow get photographic memory and lock this moment forever. Soon, I reached home, all fresh and calm and slept like a baby.

My classmate – preetha’s wedding happened last week and this post - I wrote the week before that. Somehow lost the word doc n found it today. So am posting it now. : )

Scene buildup: I am totally kadka (broke). I have to head for my classmates’ wedding next week and prior to that buy jewellery and shoes to go with my saree and get a hair cut done and I know that it’s gonna burn a hole of at least 2K in my pocket. I am driving and there’s no petrol in the bike. My wallet also has barely 200-300 bucks... out of which I decide to sacrifice 100 bucks at the petrol pump. I also need some cash to do more shopping next month. This requirement’s the result of going to Mumbai in May for a holiday. In other words... my monetary status would put paupers to shame.

I drive down to the petrol pump and instruct the attendant. Suddenly some chappie comes up and says a little apprehensively, ‘Excuse me Ma’m’.

Me says: Yes?

Chappie drawls: Ma’m … Could you do me a favor…

Me thinks: not another sales man... I don’t want any credit card, insurance or any of those darn things.

Me says: what?

Chappie drawls: Ma’m…. actually I left my wallet at home in a hurry. And now I don’t have any money. Could you lend me some?

Me thinks: Don’t tell me!! Haven’t I heard this story already... (Smirking internally)... How can ppl even *think* that this is gonna fetch them cash?

Me says: look, I hardly have any cash in my own wallet… am getting petrol filled for only 100 bucks!!

Chappie drawls: Please ma’m .. trust me.. I am a well educated guy from a good family. I am telling you the truth. Please help me ma’m. I am like your younger brother.

Me thinks: oh Yes... that’s why god spared me any brothers... esp the tight t-shirt wearing, ear pierced kinds...

Me says: look, why don’t you ask these petrol pump attendants? after all they have a lot of cash.

Chappie drawls: Ma’m their employer is not here.

Me argues: see, there’s some chap, he seems to be their boss, go ask him.

Chappie drawls: No ma’m I have already asked him. He’s not the employer. Please ma’m, you can keep my goggles, please give me your mobile number and address and I’ll return the money wherever you want.

Me thinks: beware of anyone who wants your details.. waise what could this guy’s thugging strategy be? Is he going to plant a heat seeking missile somehow? Is he going to misuse my cell number? I am not wearing any gold chain which he could snatch .. or does he have a camera somewhere and he’s from some stupid bakra copy show on some obscure channel..like alpha Punjabi.. whatever..

Chappie drawls: Please ma’m.. I need just 50 bucks.

Me thinks: just 50.. hmmm.. maybe he really needs it.. maybe he *is* being honest.

(Hark back to an incident a couple of years back)

M and I are going some place in an auto. M is a simble zouthindeeyan (no not a mallu though) and is gullibility personified. The auto stops at a crossing and suddenly some beggar women comes and starts wailing and screeching for money. They look quite healthy contradictory to their financial status. The story they tell us is that some female (in labour) is out on the road just about to give birth and they need some money urgently to get her to a hospital. I don’t buy that gibberish but M is totally taken by it. I warn him, but he brushes it off as one would an irritating fly. The strategy used by them, to bombard the unsuspecting citizen with the urgency of the situation and also the fact that the red (traffic) light is about to turn green, combined with the cacophony of ‘tumharee jodee banee rahe’ sentiments, probably flusters and numbs the mind of the most intelligent people and they give in, unable to handle so much. M starts pulling out a 20 Rupee note (something of great value to auto commuters). I again express that they are most likely fibbing and he needn’t be that philanthropic. But magnanimous as he is, he parts with it with glee.
The beggar women scurry away the moment they get their hands on the money. The light has already turned green and the auto driver continues. But the comment he made next is still clear and vivid in M’s memory. He said, ‘You shouldn’t have saab, this is their daily business. They loot so many passengers like this everyday’. Needless to say, I admonished that chap for not having said so a moment earlier. But at least after that M has had more reservations in these kinda situations.

(Hark back to reality)

I don’t want the same thing happening.

Me says: (to the petrol pump attendant, while the chappie has gone to borrow a pen) Does he come here everyday by chance, to ask for money?

Attendant: No, this is the first time I am seeing him, if you know him, give him the money else let it be.

Chappie drawls: Thank you very much ma’m. Yes ma’m. What is your number? I’ll return the money wherever you want it returned.

Me says: The number is 98XXXXXXXX.

Chappie: Your name.

Me says: Don’t bother with that. You have the number. I’ll just treat this as my good deed for the day in case you don’t do what you are saying.

Chappie : (sensing my inhibition) You stay somewhere nearby?

Me says: Yes, somewhere nearby.

Chappie drawls: Thank you very much ma’m.

3 days pass and I keep oscillating between feeling foolish and feeling magnanimous ‘coz according to me, he seemed to be in need of money at that time. Eventually I forgot about it. Finally I got a call from an unknown number which turned out to be the chappie drawling again asking me where to return the sum. Whoa! So I was right! Trust is still alive!

Ever tried online dating? I haven’t, but I created a profile on MSN for myself for the fun of it…out of curiosity to see what happens and then who knows, maybe I *could* go in for it. My profile was rather short and sweet, intentionally so to see if it attracts anyone at all. Till date I have communicated with perhaps 2-3 ppl through it, but never met any of them. Somehow I am just not the types to talk to *absolute* strangers on the net. I could never understand how ppl can waste hours chatting with some doubtful characters lurking in the anonymity that the net lends. Anyhow, with this mode I had an option to choose whether to correspond or to just ignore the responses. For statistical purposes, there are a lot of them out there who are very openly looking for no strings attached sex and make no bones about it. This includes a lot of foreigners settled in India as well. The oldest guy who has mailed me was 48 years or something (at least that’s what he claimed). The youngest has been 21. There are a lot of lonely hearts out there too, who probably don’t know what to do with their lives or their spare time. Many of them could do with some further education as far as their English is concerned.

Here are a couple of ‘funny’ responses.. which I have copied exactly as they were from their mails. Makes one realise, that it takes all types to make this a weird world. Enjoy the snippets with my comments inline in italics.

>>>>
Hi,

How are you doing? The world has been really pin down with this Internet, we come across ppl whom we rather won’t be able to meet or communicate.
Aboutme I am 28 yrs old guy from Delhi, hmm married for last 4 year. If comes to my relationship with my wife, it really open and understanding. Given each other the space to add spark in the life and go ahead with it.

About me as such I am into Business, which really makes me travel, but I really enjoy it, love driving, can pick up my car and end up to an unknown destination, but that only fun in life. Enjoy life as it comes. Other than traveling reading, writing and interacting with ppl.

What hold us back to indulge ina relationship? Hmm our marriage. What is Marriage? It is not a ritual or an end. Its is a long intricate intimate dance together and nothing matter more than you own sense of balance and your choice of partner.Now who we think is out PARTNER? . ..

Partner is the person who is someone special, who seem to know the art of bringing so much happiness and warmth in your hearth, someone you can tell your secret, dreams n feeling to, someone u can really trust to help n see u through, when you find there.

Anyway is pretty long mail I have written, you must be yawing. He I would love to hear back fro you , if u want you can email me at $$$$$ (at the rate)yahoo( dot) com or if yr instinct allow u can call me at ##########. You take care of yr self and be safe
Adios
Pawan
>>>>

Some understanding spouses! Shows that swinging is quite prevalent and open now. For all I know next they would be advertising for an orgy or something! Thanks Pawan for explaining the institution of marriage to me.. ‘Be Safe’, he says! Wonder whether he meant safe as in sex..

>>>>
Hi,

This is Avi Here. I searched you through the MSN Match, thinking a friendship with you can be a rewarding experience.
Some expectations!

For last 3 years I was an NRI, and have come back to explore the possibilities of settling back to india. No other reason, I think I love India and Kochi and would like to do something in my life, in my own country, not in some foreign land in some foreigh country.

You can go through my profile in MSN a link to which must be somewhere in this mail. If that appeals you, why not give freindship a try. You can email me on “$$$$$$$$$@hotmail.com”.

Regards,

Avi
>>>>>
Aa-ha! So here’s a patriotic, garam khoon , deshbhakt!.. Why doesn’t he admit he got laid off!

>>>>>
Congrats dear lady,

Its u lucky day 2 day!!!!

And mine 2!!!!

Coz we’ve found each other!!!

Rohan
>>>>>
Oh My My! Lucky me.. doesn’t he sound like Reggie from Archies! ‘We’ have found each other indeed! Hope he goes and finds some sense for his head.

>>>>>
hi ,
well it dosent get better then this i guess…….a
guy and a gal meeting up through the net…..well i
saw ur profile and believe me it was quite magnetic
and i didnt have second thoughts abt sending u this
mail…….as for me iam someone who is born brought
up and spoilt in panjab kinds ……working here in
a mnc……iam clean shaven and i stand 6 ft
tall dark and for u to decide if iam handsome or not
else its like every donkey praises his own
tail……dont take me as a donkey either…..as far
as the person in me is conerned iam more of a outdoor
kinda guy who is into golf ,trekking and adventure
sports andlove driving my car………and i like doing
my own thing…….i guess thats it from my side and
in case u feel that some chemistry is there between
us drop in a line…..

living…..loving……waiting

ranvir
>>>>>
Uh? Chemistry through mail? never heard of such a thing, if it existed!

>>>>>
Hi,This is Anil the cool guy, but my friends use 2 call me Anny Wld u like 2 call me Anny.I love traveling,listening Music.Bassically I am a party animal.
I am six feet tall handsome,smart guy. I have casual styleing. I am lookins 4 a gal who is smart sexy and senceual (generally gals r not Kidding). Should have good sence of homour.Should be putting up in Ernakulam or around
>>>>>
Yeah sure, Anny nanny.. would sure help if you improve your english some! Gosh!

Maha shivratri just went by. It’s my nani’s bday. Well not technically but yea.
This post is in fond memory of her. I miss you nani maa. 

There’s a poem I’ve heard…
Wo Naani Kee Baaton Mein Pariyon Ka Dera
Wo Chehre Ke Jhuriyon Mein Sadiyon Ka Phera
Bhulaaye Nahin Bhool Saqta Hai Koi
Wo Choti See Raaten Wo Lambi Kahaani

Although my nani never narrated stories to me, (not that I remember), she definitely did amuse us with real life incidents. She was a brave woman who along with her children made it to this point in life. My maternal grandfather died at an early age. But my nani also carried with her memories of happy times, when the money and jewellery would be just lying about, cupboards full of it. There were personal godowns of dry fruits and grains. These were part of palatial houses with infinite rooms, marble flooring and plush interiors. Those “facts” were so difficult to digest they seemed like made up stories for they were being told to children who heard of such things only in their Amar Chitra Kathas and Tinkles.

“Nani na ghare jaayis to jaaddi thayi ne aavis” is what my nani and mom always used to say. It was true also. It was almost as if the visit’s sole purpose was indeed to fatten up the children. We had delicious food with loads of butter – the home made white butter that I so love (this can also be attributed to the huge dairy which my mama(s) owned – oh and p.s – its named after me i.e Apeksha Dairy). We also had an angeethi – the actual thing made of clay and it used to take ages to get heated up and then to cool down, but the result was fabulous tandoori rotis. Their cutlery and tableware included a lot of brass. I distinctly remember that I used to fight with my cousins over who would get to drink in the heavy brass glass. It used to take enormous effort to just hold it.

Being the only child of my mom (who is also the only daughter of my nani); I was always treated somewhat specially. As a kid I used to hate the regular stuff that all kids hate – veggies like Karela, bhindi, dudhi etc. but when my nani made it (using shudh desi ghee) the end results were so delectable that one could live on those forever. My maternal grandparents used to stay in Chalisgaon – the actual village which existed much before the glitzy Aurangabad came into picture, much before there was life on the other side of the highway, much before there was any inhabitation on either side of it. In those days all the neighbors had goats + buffaloes and tabelas! Almost all the houses were made of mud instead of cement (like my nani’s) decorated with the dung cakes that were so characteristic of a village then. Thankfully my nani’s house wasn’t a buffalo barn, but we sure got amused every time we would go from Kochi to Chalisgaon (the distances were so much more in spite of being the same physically).

I met her about 3 years back after she had recovered from her surgery (she had uterus cancer). She seemed to have recovered just fine and was attentive, alert, taking meals and medicines properly. That was the last time I saw her. Just when I was beginning to think that maybe my mother’s mother and I do look a lot more similar from a particular angle (seeing the B&W pic that hung on their wall), her death took her away from us. And the irony is that we were going to meet her but the day I started from Kochi in train was her last day. God couldn’t wait for jus ONE more day. :’(

She had been through much more serious medical situations before and had always made it. We had not even thought that cancer would result in catastrophic consequences. Yes, we tried all the ways to cure her but…  Such situations are so pathetic. When the doctors tell you that there’s nothing else you can do except wait for the person’s death, it is the worst feeling in this world.

My mom took it bravely and so did the whole family. After the cremation we all tried to concentrate on remembering the good times instead of weeping inconsolably. We even laughed. That was something I could not even imagine doing, given the situation. It is very disheartening to see how someone who was alive and well could turn into a “body” and then soon into a “picture”. I can never forget the way my mom used to look at her mom when she was old. It forced me to think in a particular direction myself and I knew that even though I don’t want to think about it, it’s a grim reality of life. When I look around I realise, we do have our hearts full. But full of the memories and of the love that she gave.

We miss u nani maa. 

We all have our notions of the birds and the bees. Here’s one.

“Stop! Cross the road carefully”, said appu.
“Don’t you know you might have an accident if you are not careful”, wise appu admonished her best bud from school – ansuiya verma...
“And then you’ll be taken to the hospital and you’ll have kids”. More wise words uttered by appu – age 6.5, to ansu - age 7.

Flash-forward “sola saal baad (16 years later)”.

Appu – age 22.5, ansu age – 23.

Giggle giggle... Chuckle... Gasp. Chuckle... Giggle... Giggle...

“And did I tell you I used to think that matches for marriage are made if the bride and groom physically resemble each other?”

That’s some more gyaan! lmao…

Ahh childhood... 

Was watching the news last night. It had the most outrageous and mind blowing scoop ever!! It talked about some female who supposedly remembers 2 of her previous births. She’s a doctor in this birth and it seems, she could remember all details of her previous births right from childhood. Her “current” parents took her to her 1st house. (GOD this sure is getting complicated) and she recognised everything and everyone. Eventually she even managed to convince all the members of the “old” family that she indeed had been Bindiya, by disclosing details only she would have known.

In her next birth, (2nd one), she happened to have been born in a remote village which is currently in Bangladesh. No one could take her there now for obvious reasons. In this particular birth she had been born to a Bengali Brahmin family. She remembers Assamese folklore from that era! In *this* birth she died as a 9 year old girl in a car accident. The only thing done was that police records were verified and it was confirmed that there indeed had been such an incident on so n so date.

Now comes the even more complicated bit, her “current” birth relationships and how ppl handle this supernatural streak. (Gives *me* the jitters!) Her current husband was told of her “sixth sense” before marriage and also informed that she still frequents her “previous” maika and sasural! The husband in true Indian tradition was only overjoyed to get such a rare life partner

So now the doctor has umpteen no. of relationships to maintain. Imagine having to handle all the complications and pressures of your previous lives as well as of this life! Our creator must have had a reason for us to not remember our past lives. The human brain is a pretty complex thing. The news report showed just a 1 minute comment from a doctor on the scientific aspect of the whole reincarnation thing. The doc acknowledged that only 1/3rd of the brain is used in us mortals (shame!) and the other “subconscious” part probably stores/records events and memories. But what she definitely missed was that the human brain, a physical entity gets destroyed after someone’s death. How is it ever possible to retain all that info?! Lot of complex things happening behind the scene…

- reincarnated appu O_o
*winks*

Recently one of my friends sent me a 30 second video by CEO of Coca Cola – Mr. Bryan Dyson, which is like a story – “Imagine life as a game in which you are judging some five balls in the air. You name them – Work, Family, Health, Friends & Spirit and you’re keeping all of these balls in the air. You will soon understand that Work is a rubber ball and if you drop, it will bounce back! But the other four balls – Family, Health, Friends & Spirit are made of glass! If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for it.”

Very good thought, indeed! Moral or crux of the story is – give time to other four balls, apart from Work! I had earlier also received a speech by Narayanmurthy on the same line. I even remember Dhirubhai Ambani having said that ‘anybody who works after six is a duffer’…

My only reservation is that, it would have been simply great if Bryan had said it when he started his career, may be as an apprentice or Narayanmurthy had said it, when he started Infosys with a few friends or Dhirubhai, when he was a gas station attendant in Aden!

Make no mistake – it is not a sarcastic statement but the stark reality of life according to me, and that is why I believe in the idiom – “There are no gains without pains”… Because, somebody will have to pay for somebody’s lunch!

Now, if I rename the five balls as mentioned by Bryan to five human senses and add one more ball called Money, then I remember a very famous quote by Somerset Maugham – “Money is like a sixth sense – and you can’t make use of the other five, without it!”

So, moral of the story is – “Be nice to people till you make a million and thereafter, people will be nice to you” (and your statements will also be used as Quotes!). Till such time, don’t get frustrated and work hard (not hardly) with the same concentration and vigil, singing the song – “arre bhaiya - aal izz well...” lol

God said, “Let there be light”. And then man said “Let there never be darkness”. Thus came the inverters, generators and the 100% power backups that we have in today’s world. Some days back I made a trip down memory lane when there was a power outage. On a side note, I must mention that the power outages in Kochi were so frequent few years back that I would love permanently living in the present & future instead of making frequent trips down memory lane. Thankfully power cuts did not bother much since I also happened to have that contraption called the inverter. But on this particular night I made the trip down memory lane since suddenly there came a power cut and I had to resort to the “not-so-universal-anymore-stuff” – candles. I don’t even have candles at home. Luckily, with dad’s birthday just gone past, and with age beginning to fast forward as they show in movies – pages of a calendar flipping past before you can say D for December – I had lots of teeny weeny candles to spare. I lit those up and then it was time to go back to … childhood.

Power outages were very frequent in childhood. And when they happened, they were a delight. It usually meant good quality time for the whole family. Things like the summer heat or the buzzing mosquitoes would be a nuisance but then who cares when one can have so much fun. Some of the things that we did during such times include
- playing with the candle flame by passing a finger through it.
- playing with the wax that trickles down and making shapes out of it.
- making the wax trickle down with ones bare fingers. It’s great fun because one could make finger imprints.
- playing shadow games with ones hands.
- making eerie noises and scaring others.
- playing guessing games.
- relating ghost stories.
- remembering old anecdotes as the whole family bursts with laughter.
- antakshri.
- general chit chat with family, amounting to quality time spent.
- inventing new games to be played for the next power outage.

As part of growing up, the frequency of power outages decreased and certain areas of interest (during such times) changed. For eg. With time I also became interested in studying the structure of a flame (O_o). The games kept getting more innovative. Watching the stars and the night sky when the power is not there, is something everyone should do because the street lights don’t hamper the view and on a clear night one can see proper constellations.

During hostel life in Chennai, the areas of interest changed yet again. We did have power cuts there too (thanks to Mr. JPR). Singing, guitar sessions, Antakshri across floors (with girls being locked inside respective rooms), shadow dances by holding a candle against a bed sheet, calling spirits on the Ouija board; entered the “interesting things to do list”. (Not to forget the lights game played between the girls and boys hostels.. oh yes Sathyabama was a jail but we sure had lot of fun.. In fact hostel is one of the things that I miss the most about SIST)

Now the situation is different. Seamless integration of devices like the inverter, doesn’t even let one know when the power is out. My mother’s favourite quote is “It’s better to light a candle than to curse the darkness”. It certainly needs to be changed with today’s times because there isn’t any darkness anymore. I need to concentrate really hard to recollect the last time the power was out and I had a great time the way I have had some years back. One of my senior architects was relating an incident at his house where his inverter wasn’t working and a power outage happened. Both his daughters aged 5 and 2 screamed like anything and got absolutely terrified. He in turn got quite shaken up and got the inverter rectified the first thing next morning. It certainly makes me realise that there are already some people in this country who have never seen absolute darkness. How they will be able to deal with the fear of the dark is another thing altogether, but what they are really missing out on is something that can never be compensated. Tsk.

Yes i have been busy lately with all the GATE exam preparations and office and times have been rough. But this weekend has broken all the records. Now i know i never wanted to post my rant on my blog but i am so darn frustrated with things happening around that this is my last resort of venting my agitations. *sighs* Okay first up.. I want to mention that i am traveling to Chennai tomorrow to meet a very important person in my life and that's the only thing motivating me. Due to the holiday week on i.e mahashivratri, second Saturday and Sunday, there is a heavy rush for the train tickets and all my attempts of getting one have gone in vain (this includes the tatkal ticket too). And this is making me quite frustrated which included not being able to concentrate on tomorrows exam. Suddenly i feel like not writing anymore. Other stories are due. Will update here soon. :/

1. Wrote on paper with a pen, instead of typing on a keyboard, cell phone et al. Especially in hindi. I was quite stumped (for words or rather characters literally) when I recently tried writing in hindi! (Quite a disturbing reality)

2. Rode a bicycle. An actual one. Not an Exercycle. I really want to ride one again... but Kochi doesn’t allow me the same for various reasons. I haven’t done this since first year of college.

3. Went for a picnic. A proper lunch basket picnic. I think it was last in my teenage (I was in class X) that I had one like that!

4. Roughed up a guy. It’s been a year. The first time and the last time (so far). I still can’t get over the fact that I actually did it! He was one of those road side eve teasers who got a shock that someone actually retaliated. And he was alone; I guess that’s what gave me the guts.

5. Touched my keyboard (I mean my Casio – the piano). Am slowly but surely taking out time for this activity.

6. Did some calligraphy. Last time was in school.

7. Sang while taking a shower. Or even took the transistor in for listening to some music while bathing.. It’s a great combo. One should try it. ‘Bathroom bliss’ makes for a nice post.

8. Got my hair chopped ultra short. Last time I did that was in class 12th. Before that I did it in class 7th. Both times, the salon female asked me at least 5-6 times if I was sure. The time I was in 7th, my mom kept the tresses with her, thinking they could be used for an artificial plait or bun. The hair colour didn’t match

9. Wore a Sari. The last time I wore it was on some family wedding. Am not very comfy with saris yet. For some reason, ppl expect a female who gets married to suddenly transform herself and start wearing saris instead of western or even Indian suits. Mera number tab aayega.

10. Visited my school and the classes. I want to and I don’t want to. I want to because I miss it and I know it’s a nostalgic trip down memory lane. I don’t want to because I know it would have changed altogether. It would actually disillusion me and all the nice memories that I have abt the place would go in the trash bin.

11. Got into a swimming pool. It’s been *really* long. River, sea, Ocean yes. But swimming pool, no. I was in class 6th, when I last made my attempt at swimming. Could never learn it. In spite of the fact that I went speed boating last year to overcome my fear of water.

12. Got a leech latch on to me. (That was a tongue twister). It’s been almost 14 yrs now. I was in Rapargadh (Kutch, Gujarat). That place is infested with leeches, snakes, frogs and all kind of creepy things you would rather stay away from. Add stepped on elephant shit to this.

13. Played Housie / tambola! Used to get to play it often in my childhood and surprisingly I used to be lucky too.

14. Went to a ball. Last was in Katari Bagh (at the naval base here in Cochin) – The Navy ball and that too with a friend’s family.

15. Close-danced on a slow number. For that matter I can’t seem to remember when I did that last.. Did I even do it.. Maybe with my soft pillow.

16. Did Origami. Gosh! I have forgotten all the small little things I used to make. Even a boat that every school kid knows how to make when the rains come. I used to make real good paper frogs that actually used to hop when you press their rear.

17. Witnessed a thief getting caught red handed. A pretty shaking-you-through-and-through situation when one starts imagining the consequences. Happened in Chennai when we (me and chinnu) were staying in a small room in the karpagam gardens at bessy. It was the middle of the night and we were obv sleeping. That guy was an amateur, and somehow chins realised that there was someone in the room. Suddenly when he was about to pick up some stuff, she caught him red handed n we screamed n called the landlord. Phew.. One scary experience and I don’t want it repeating again. or rather theft repeating again.

18. Made two plaits. I stopped making them after I chopped my hair in class 12th. But I guess I’ll do that someday for the school girlish fun.

19. Visited a mosque. Well I Went to a mosque with seniors & classmates once when I was in college. Went to Haji Ali at Mumbai during NASA 06 (to be precise).

20. Have been jotting down this stuff. Better get back to other things. :P :D

This happened on Friday the 22nd of Jan 2010. It was well past my usual lunchtime. I was slightly apprehensive about having a solitary lunch. I’ve had a lone lunch several times at home, but an occasion when I especially go out somewhere (alone) to have lunch, has never happened. Out of habit, whenever I see a loner having a meal alone or watching a movie alone, I find myself sympathising with that chap and thinking what a sad life it must be. And I didn’t want anyone doing that with me! But I had no choice, so off I went to Dominos. I had been contemplating trying the choco lava cake thingy, for which they have shown several ‘moan groan’ ads on the TV. I took my order and went ahead for the lone lunch, and settled myself at a small three seater table. In due course of time, a kiddie made his way to a nearby table, apparently waiting for his parents to get the grub. With nothing better to do, he started looking around and I suppose I made a perfect specimen for a child’s inquisitive scrutiny. Maybe his gaze had focused on me because of the ‘Patrakaar’ way in which I had dressed up… a collared Khaki (long) kurta with blue jeans and brown sandals. The only thing adorning my face was earrings. Well, at least I didn’t have specs on or a cloth ‘jhola’ to make the perfect journalist. Maybe he thought I would just take a pen and notepad and start asking for his views on Dominos. I would never know. Soon enough a heavily-built-but-trying-to-be-hep-in-western-clothes female came and thudded on to a table (ok, the chair) right across me. Wonder how she managed to fit into those chairs. Like standard pizzas, Dominos has a standard size for chairs too I guess. She had an array of plastic bags, all from the same shop, with a big SALE slogan written on them. She arranged all the bags as a barricade around her mini fortress – her table. I felt like asking her which shop had such a throwaway sale, that she managed to buy at least 12-13 articles from it…but left the idea in my mind as I noticed her grunting under her breath. She was soon joined by another friend of hers and they both took turns at stealing glances at me. Now I know that I am attractive and all that (ahem) but I definitely mind it if I get too much attention (even if it is guys giving me that attention). So I quickly swiped off whatever was left of the pizza and cake thing (Let me mention that it is not at all worthy of that ‘moan groan’ quality that they show on TV) and left the place.

Please say a little prayer for XXX..may he rest in peace.! :(

p.s - i prefer not putting up the name.

Ahoy! All ye amateur/professional astronomers and photographers! Unless you live under a rock you might know that today we witnessed a total solar eclipse. This eclipse was one of its kinds since a total solar eclipse is a rare occurance and the next one in India happens in the next millenium..!! O_o (too bad). I just had soo much fun making the glasses with my kid bro (cousin) last night, n then finally viewing the annular exlipse a.k.a ring of fire from my office. It was pure awesomeness..!! Loved every bit!

-------On friday, the longest Annual Solar Eclipse of the 3rd millennium will be visible from Kochi where the maximum duration of annularity reaches 11 min 8 s. The annularity (a.k.a ring of fire) would be visible clearly. The eclipse will start at 10:15:20 peaking at 12:25:43 and ending at 13:23:14.------- THIS WAS MY STATUS MESG ON FACEBOOK ON WEDNESDAY..

AND TODAY... i saw the ring of fire... YAYY.. :D *super happy*----------

TOO BAD i could not catch a pic of the ring properly.. but i have put up some pics..! life is good. :)

My Nokia cell phone has a mind of its own. Its charger has decided that it won’t charge my cell from any socket except a particular one at home! I have tried it in all sockets at home and numerous ones at office, but to no avail. All this, when I had bought an original cell with guarantee and all! So here I was, in Penta Menaka, on the hot sweltering afternoon (and I thought it was winter!), haplessly looking for an ‘original’ Nokia charger. I soon realised that there’s ‘nothing original about it’. An original charger costs just 50-100 bucks more than a locally made one and it doesn’t have any guarantee! The standard reply which any vendor would give you there, is, ‘No guarantee for any original stuff as it doesn’t need any’!! what?!!

Anyway, I bought a suspicious looking charger, with no ‘Made in XXX’ stamp. After haggling for a while with the vendor about its authenticity, I gave up and satisified myself with a scrap of paper on which that guy had given me a 2 month ‘guarantee’. It had been duly signed by him.

Lets see what the future has in hand for this charger.. and indirectly - ME.

FM has become pretty much a rage nowadays, what with *so* many new channels being doled out on the average auditory senses of a typical Kochite. By “average auditory senses” I mean that the average Kochite does not have an appreciable sense of music or the fondness for it either. So to make FM popular lots of gimmicks have been resorted to, by the various competitors. They have included a lot of “gup shup”, a plethora of ads, information about various events happening in Kochi n ernakulam, the best shopping deals and of course contests to lure audiences into listening to their channels. Yeah, they also throw in some songs at some regular intervals.

The print media viz the newspapers and the hoardings on the streets have not been spared either. On one side of the road would be hoarding boards – all bright red and on the other side, they would all be having a red mirchi drawn on them! The competitors in the newspaper industry are going out of their way promoting their own channel and even launching weird schemes, where one can buy newspapers for the unheard of weird monthly bill of 98.3! Every news daily publishes a photograph of their RJ’s frequently, tangled in a mass of wires and telephones, trying to cope up with the immense traffic that their contests are generating and taking pride in the fact that phone lines and networks are being clogged by this senseless, tremendous rush!

Talking of contests, firstly all channels started out with giving free fuel to vehicles sporting the sticker for the particular channel. Now they have graduated to asking torpid questions which really amount to lured Kochi listeners, numbing their fingers in a bid to get through the phone numbers, being flashed out by the RJ’s. Of course, no one can question the basis on which the prizes are given (the “best” slogans are never read out) or for that matter the authenticity of the names of the prize winners. I wouldn’t be surprised if all names turn out to be bogus and the “so much in demand” phone lines are always off the hook to give that illusion of the “most sought after channel” to the listener.

All said and done, I would stick to good old AIR FM. For one, they aren’t demeaning themselves by going all out on getting one up on their competitors, but then a government owned entity might as well not try to do that. And the more important reason, at least they play *music* instead of doling out the same old hindi chartbusters day after day. For once I don’t have to think 91 times or see 93.5 shades of red or control my body temperature from going beyond a stable 98.3 before I decide that am gonna listen to 102.6!!

I did it again. Am confessing innocently. I played that ‘I got engaged’ joke on yet another poor unsuspecting soul. But I didn’t trouble him much. I have been rather busy the past few weeks (studying for GATE 2010 plus office which takes up 14/7 of my schedule) and had not communicated with him since quite some time. The poor thing asked me where I have been all this time… and I could *just* not resist the temptation to give the ‘ I got engaged’ funda to him. Pssst.. girlies, this is a sure shot way of knowing whether or not a guy is interested in you and if he *is*, then you can have a whale of a time on his expense. Sadistic, I am sure you all think, but it all depends on what the guy feels for you and how you play it up. In case he gets all senti then well and good.. he deserves that for not taking the initiative for that long. In case he doesn’t, you will be able to make out that it’s not really making a difference to him and you might as well never let him on the fact that your engagement never happened.

With the victim here, it was a long distance thing, I told him on mail and then chatted with him for around 10 minutes. He sounded shocked, wish I could have seen his face. Since I had to rush home soon, I anyway told him that I was playing a joke on him. Couldn’t have let him sleep over that. He sounded a little relieved.

I still remember the time I did the same with psycho. I knew he was flirting and he knew I was, but both of us behaved as if nothing was happening. In between, he had to go home for a couple of days. When he got back, we met for catching up. Just a day before we met, I had attended the engagement function of a friend of mine. Dunno what came over me, but just on an impulse I decided I’ll play that joke on him and built the whole thing up with things like, “I have to give you some news” etc. I gave him the “news” with a lot of difficulty. No, I wasn’t feeling guilty or anything like that, I was having a *REALLY* tough time controlling my laughter. LOL, the difficulty with which i controlled my giggles is only known to me. I didn’t have to prepare on any “correct information”. I just rattled out all the particulars of the fiance of my friend. Thank God, I had attended that function, otherwise am sure, I would have looked like a tongue tied, red faced baboon, on not being able to answer things like “Does he have a moustache?”, “Does he wear spectacles?”, “Where is he working?”, “How tall is he?” etc.

I still remember that despair on psycho’s face. In fact it alarmed me to an extent coz I never imagined an otherwise rather unexpressive guy, to possess that ‘I-better-go-and-jump-in-the-pond’ look on his face. That catalysed the bursting of the oversized bubble I had blown. Anyway I was unable to bear the pain in my cheek bones that comes with trying to keep a straight face when your brain is ordering your cheeks to draw and upward curve. I suddenly exploded (I must say, I must have given a heart attack to psycho, the way I did) into laughter and confessed that it was all a joke… The poor thing was absolutely zapped and stood rooted to the spot with a glazed look. “I must say you act rather well”, was all he could muster up. I felt sorry for him. I said so too. But I guess the relief was more than the initial shock and soon we were laughing together wholeheartedly, with him throwing affectionate jibes at me like “You naughty girl, you caught me there”. This episode helped in erasing all uncomfortable boundaries for us. It only confirmed what we both had known all along.