... whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. I got the meds on Saturday after innumerable stomach aches and a much-needed visit to the doc. He prodded my belly like some newfoundland, asked me a few questions and then prescribed these with some other tablets.
And i'm supposed to be on a strict diet of home food - fat chance that's going to happen with my social life keeping me as busy as it is right now. Which is a good thing, it keeps my mind off other shit (except when i read Jodi Picoult and then, in a fit of overwhelming emotions i do stupid, self-destrucive things).
Life has been pretty helterskelter, pellmell, hooha, shoosha for the last...umm, four days. I enrolled myself into the Center for Film and Drama - sounds more intellectual than it actually is - where i get to watch international movies from across the world every weekend; played Baddy (Badminton) for an hour on a lovely Friday evening, post which N and I sprawled on the terrace, letting the wind sweep away the heat and sweat from our bodies. We spotted human satellites in the sky, watched the thunder roll in, and i wished upon a shooting star. Saturday night, caught up with H, her fiance and a couple of other people who don't deserve any mention here, over God knows how many shots and BMs and what-nots. Didn't eat a bite of food and still managed to wake up without any hangover from the previous evening. Yesterday, went for a book reading by the author of V.S. Naipaul's biography, Patrick French. Plus, i got an autographed copy of the book!
And in the middle of all this, i found time to groan and moan about my poor stomach. Despite the medicines - which i haven't been taking regularly - my tummy feels like it's made out of lead. Or perhaps it's a machine that makes weird gurgling noises and spews acids all day. I'm wishing i could stand with my hands spread wide, waiting for all these evil things i feel happening inside me to leave like the charm from Fiona's body (damn, i even look like her now - an ogress!). Only, it will be the spirits of junk food making a quick exit after having created a mini-zoo of a variety of bacteria and other micro-organisms.
Yappaaaa. I so badly need a pick-me-up right now. And not in the form of lines.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Once in a while, an imp takes hold of you and...
... makes you buy things you wouldn't dream of buying in a thousand lives. Like this pair of blingy slip-ons i picked up on a sudden whim from a shop in the lane adjacent to Anand Sweets in Commercial Street. If there's anything i hate more than the colour white, it's shiny white. And to think i saw these and flipped for them.
- If not my teeth, at least my chappals are sparkling white.
- I didn't spend a fortune on them. Or a mini fortune. Or a micro-mini fortune. (No, i didn't get them for free either.)
- I'll never get lost on the dance floor because people can spot me through the white glow of my slip-ons. Unless, of course, the slip-ons have slipped off my feet in the process of doing some hunk on the pool table in the corner.
- If this pair follows the same principle as all other painted-on glitter footwear, then the reflective silver surface will rub off with wear and leave behind plain white - which is a great deal more tolerable than shiny white.
- If not my teeth, at least my chappals are sparkling white.
- I didn't spend a fortune on them. Or a mini fortune. Or a micro-mini fortune. (No, i didn't get them for free either.)
- I'll never get lost on the dance floor because people can spot me through the white glow of my slip-ons. Unless, of course, the slip-ons have slipped off my feet in the process of doing some hunk on the pool table in the corner.
- If this pair follows the same principle as all other painted-on glitter footwear, then the reflective silver surface will rub off with wear and leave behind plain white - which is a great deal more tolerable than shiny white.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
God damn it.
I can't believe i still care enough to listen to you and not put up that post full of bitter thoughts. Asshole.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Just a little story.
The city of peaceful people saw the most terrible day in their lives when the Fire Monster came ploughing through the magnificent forest that formed the boundary of the city. Fireballs splattered across tiled roofs and paved roads, scarring people for life. But the worst hit were the trees in the city park - their green, leafy shade had provided shelter for generations of children, lovers, families and frail old people. Where there was the pleasant scent of nature and vitality, there was now the smell of burning wood and charring leaves. The fireball had hit the middle of the canopy and slowly licked its way through the entire length of the trees. Spots of bright red and yellow dotted the branches where the leaves were, while the barks stubbornly resisited the onslaught of fire.
The Fire Monster had nothing against the city. It just loved destroying things because it was a wicked, violent being. Its mother had promised that for every city it destroyed, it would grow stronger and more handsome. Only, every city that fell prey to its evil ways left a deep groove on the Fire Monster's body, making it uglier and more unapproachable with every passing day.
The Fire Monster let out a loud belch and followed it up with a booming evil cackle on seeing his latest handiwork of destruction. His joy was shortlived though, because all the peaceful people got together and prayed with all their faith for some means of rescue from the Fire Monster. The smog-filled sky broke clear in one place and the Rain Man came riding on his Numbus. Raising his hand, he sprayed jets of freezing cold water on the city, dousing every baby flame in the vicinity. The Fire Monster bellowed with rage and let loose a canon of fireballs at the Rain Man. A battle ensued, with the Rain Man fighting the Fire Monster valiantly with icy sprays of water.
As with all stories protraying the battles of good and evil, this one too celebrates the glory of good over evil. Which means, the Rain Man won the battle by dousing the Fire Monster and reducing it to a puddle of blubbering gases. The peaceful people were very happy with the outcome of the events, but their happiness was subdued because their beautiful city had been razed to the ground by the fire.
Just then, a cherub gah-gahed and pointed its hand at the city park where the tall trees had been burning moments ago. The peaceful people stared in awe at the sight - the icy water from the Rain Man had taken the fire dotting the trees by surprise, freezing it in its place. Now the trees were full of red and yellow dots shaped like flowers with uneven petals! The Wise Old Man of the village whispered, "Gul Mohar". The Golden Blossoms. The sun emerged from the dissipating smog, and the flowers seemed to grow in size, full of vivaciousness and glowing good health.
The peaceful people gathered around the trees, hugging them tenderly. The barks were injured and burnt to their insides, but life was running through them. Slowly, the city of peaceful people was rebuilt, and the Gul Mohar trees were given the place of pride. Relying on faith and plenty of water, the peaceful people cut branches of the tree and planted them all over the city.
Soon, word about the wondrous trees spread from village to town to city to state to country. People from all over the world came to see this wonder, and carried saplings back to plant in their hometowns.
And so the legend of the Gul Mohar spread. During summers, every Gul Mohar tree comes alive with thousands of fiery blossoms glistening in the sunlight. It blooms with the fire of the Fire Monster, and the sparkle from the icy sprays of the Rain Man.
The Fire Monster had nothing against the city. It just loved destroying things because it was a wicked, violent being. Its mother had promised that for every city it destroyed, it would grow stronger and more handsome. Only, every city that fell prey to its evil ways left a deep groove on the Fire Monster's body, making it uglier and more unapproachable with every passing day.
The Fire Monster let out a loud belch and followed it up with a booming evil cackle on seeing his latest handiwork of destruction. His joy was shortlived though, because all the peaceful people got together and prayed with all their faith for some means of rescue from the Fire Monster. The smog-filled sky broke clear in one place and the Rain Man came riding on his Numbus. Raising his hand, he sprayed jets of freezing cold water on the city, dousing every baby flame in the vicinity. The Fire Monster bellowed with rage and let loose a canon of fireballs at the Rain Man. A battle ensued, with the Rain Man fighting the Fire Monster valiantly with icy sprays of water.
As with all stories protraying the battles of good and evil, this one too celebrates the glory of good over evil. Which means, the Rain Man won the battle by dousing the Fire Monster and reducing it to a puddle of blubbering gases. The peaceful people were very happy with the outcome of the events, but their happiness was subdued because their beautiful city had been razed to the ground by the fire.
Just then, a cherub gah-gahed and pointed its hand at the city park where the tall trees had been burning moments ago. The peaceful people stared in awe at the sight - the icy water from the Rain Man had taken the fire dotting the trees by surprise, freezing it in its place. Now the trees were full of red and yellow dots shaped like flowers with uneven petals! The Wise Old Man of the village whispered, "Gul Mohar". The Golden Blossoms. The sun emerged from the dissipating smog, and the flowers seemed to grow in size, full of vivaciousness and glowing good health.
The peaceful people gathered around the trees, hugging them tenderly. The barks were injured and burnt to their insides, but life was running through them. Slowly, the city of peaceful people was rebuilt, and the Gul Mohar trees were given the place of pride. Relying on faith and plenty of water, the peaceful people cut branches of the tree and planted them all over the city.
Soon, word about the wondrous trees spread from village to town to city to state to country. People from all over the world came to see this wonder, and carried saplings back to plant in their hometowns.
And so the legend of the Gul Mohar spread. During summers, every Gul Mohar tree comes alive with thousands of fiery blossoms glistening in the sunlight. It blooms with the fire of the Fire Monster, and the sparkle from the icy sprays of the Rain Man.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Movie, Masti, Mary!
For two days, i'd been thinking about Byaatch (referred to from now on as N to preserve the goodness of our relationship) and wanting to talk to her because it had been a while. So i was quite taken aback when i heard from her last evening, asking me if i wanted to go for a movie. Sure, i said, let's go! And that's how ended up in the half-empty Fun Cinemas Screen 4 for U, Me Aur Hum.
The great adventure started at the entrance to Fun. Y also joined us, and it was the first time i was actually spending so much time in his company - previously it had always been "Hi, how're you, what're you upto" and many such inanities when i went to meet N at home. We weren't allowed to take food in, so we ended up gulping down spoonfuls of supercold Chocolate Walnut Brownie Gelato / Strawberry Sorbetto and babbling like month-old babies because of frozen tongues.
I thought we'd got the best seats in the theatre, when i realised that half the theatre was empty anyway so we could sit anywhere we wanted. There was a couple next to us, occupying the corner seats and trying very hard to watch the movie in peace. Unfortunately for them, we started squawking the minute the titles rolled in with millions of mushy quotes on love from Pascal (yeah, mathematician Pascal), Thoreau, MK Gandhi and more floating among clouds - "Oh my god, lemme outta here!" and "You gotta be kidding me man, i sprinted up the stairs for this?" followed by loud laughter from yours truly because the clouds looked positively B-grade. Y decided this was a good time to tell us something about the movie: "I heard it's really bad."
We decided to endure it. Not a difficult task, considering Y and I were cracking bad ones throughout the movie while N tried in vain to shut our voices out of her migraine-heavy head. We didn't need too much help on the PJs either, because Mr. Director had put in plenty of them in the movie, along with a dhobi list of the most colourful desi gaalis.
Divya Dutta proved to the world that she could beat Pam Anderson hands-down where bust size was concerned, while that woman from Kisna who did weird things with trees and ropes was the epitome of bimbettishnes in this movie. The chemistry and easy relationship the friends share was commendable, although i had a hard time imagining doctors being that way. The first half was pretty average - it had N crying out "What has he done to my favourite heroine?" in anguish. The second half was much better (and intense), minus freaky low angle shots that try to show viewers peeps of underwear. There were moments of comic relief though - there's this shot where Ajay Devgan goes down on his knees and says to Kajol "I didn't forget anything, you did! How could i do this to you, forgive me blah blah blah" and appropriately, a phone went off in the theatre with the song from Humraaz as ringtone "Bhool na jaana, bhool na jaana...". Then there was this scene when Ajay Devgan (yeah, the movie is about him, and him and him) is sitting with the rest of the gang and philosophising on life - a pretty intense moment when N was ready to cry. And i leaned in towards her and asked, "Are you sleeping?"
I also missed many melodramatic dialogues because i couldn't hear them above my own chewing of the Palak Papri Chaat.
We finished the movie, satisfied that it was worth at least half the money we paid to watch it. Plonked ourselves on the stairs deciding on POA. Headed to Millers 46, where i had a very yummy BM. All through dinner and 'refreshments', we cracked bad ones on dialogues from the movie, freaked Y out by claiming N and I were 'seeing' each other, asked him to get a girlfriend and were up to general tomfoolery of the sort.
It was an evening well spent. I went back home feeling peaceful and nicely sleepy.
The great adventure started at the entrance to Fun. Y also joined us, and it was the first time i was actually spending so much time in his company - previously it had always been "Hi, how're you, what're you upto" and many such inanities when i went to meet N at home. We weren't allowed to take food in, so we ended up gulping down spoonfuls of supercold Chocolate Walnut Brownie Gelato / Strawberry Sorbetto and babbling like month-old babies because of frozen tongues.
I thought we'd got the best seats in the theatre, when i realised that half the theatre was empty anyway so we could sit anywhere we wanted. There was a couple next to us, occupying the corner seats and trying very hard to watch the movie in peace. Unfortunately for them, we started squawking the minute the titles rolled in with millions of mushy quotes on love from Pascal (yeah, mathematician Pascal), Thoreau, MK Gandhi and more floating among clouds - "Oh my god, lemme outta here!" and "You gotta be kidding me man, i sprinted up the stairs for this?" followed by loud laughter from yours truly because the clouds looked positively B-grade. Y decided this was a good time to tell us something about the movie: "I heard it's really bad."
We decided to endure it. Not a difficult task, considering Y and I were cracking bad ones throughout the movie while N tried in vain to shut our voices out of her migraine-heavy head. We didn't need too much help on the PJs either, because Mr. Director had put in plenty of them in the movie, along with a dhobi list of the most colourful desi gaalis.
Divya Dutta proved to the world that she could beat Pam Anderson hands-down where bust size was concerned, while that woman from Kisna who did weird things with trees and ropes was the epitome of bimbettishnes in this movie. The chemistry and easy relationship the friends share was commendable, although i had a hard time imagining doctors being that way. The first half was pretty average - it had N crying out "What has he done to my favourite heroine?" in anguish. The second half was much better (and intense), minus freaky low angle shots that try to show viewers peeps of underwear. There were moments of comic relief though - there's this shot where Ajay Devgan goes down on his knees and says to Kajol "I didn't forget anything, you did! How could i do this to you, forgive me blah blah blah" and appropriately, a phone went off in the theatre with the song from Humraaz as ringtone "Bhool na jaana, bhool na jaana...". Then there was this scene when Ajay Devgan (yeah, the movie is about him, and him and him) is sitting with the rest of the gang and philosophising on life - a pretty intense moment when N was ready to cry. And i leaned in towards her and asked, "Are you sleeping?"
I also missed many melodramatic dialogues because i couldn't hear them above my own chewing of the Palak Papri Chaat.
We finished the movie, satisfied that it was worth at least half the money we paid to watch it. Plonked ourselves on the stairs deciding on POA. Headed to Millers 46, where i had a very yummy BM. All through dinner and 'refreshments', we cracked bad ones on dialogues from the movie, freaked Y out by claiming N and I were 'seeing' each other, asked him to get a girlfriend and were up to general tomfoolery of the sort.
It was an evening well spent. I went back home feeling peaceful and nicely sleepy.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Hubba Hubba!
If you escaped a flood on St.Mark's Road the morning of Saturday the 12th, you're lucky. I'd drooled all over the place on Friday night after seeing the H2 zoom by menacingly. Yes. The H2. Hummer for the senile, demented or plain stupid.
After a completely pakau day at work, i had a brilliant spark of spontaneity - let's go for a movie! (So i'm excited about seeing the big screen after months of poverty, so what?) So we went for a 10 'o' clock show of...ummm, Krazzy 4. I'm not going to apologise or get defensive about watching the movie because i laughed a little for the first half. We had plenty of time to kill before the movie, so we ordered in plenty of Breezers from downstairs and glugged away. I had mine like i had Bailey's long ago - in one shot. (It isn't that i'm an unofficial member of Alcoholics Anonymous or something, it's just that the flavour was a horrid Blueberry that seemed like Harpic diluted with sweetener and soda.) After which, i did exceptionally well at the Brain Game on Facebook - i even beat my boss' score!
A got jittery, so we left, reached Inox, stuffed our faces, finished the movie and were on our way back home when i saw it. At first i saw a looming shadow with bright headlights for eyes, and then it emerged in all its splendour - a sleek and shiny H2 purring like a wildcat waiting for its prey. Its road presence is unbelievable - all that horsepower waiting to be unleashed on the unsuspecting puny Sumo or Scorpio that dares to cross its way. I can't even begin to imagine what it could do to a good old Maruti 800.
The Hummer stayed with us for a while - i got high ogling at it for a whole kilometre. I think by the end of the journey home, A would have been happy to give me to the aliens because of the number of times i'd said "Oh. My. God." in this incredulous voice, squirming in the car seat to get a good look at it from every angle possible.
Obviously, after it passed, neither A nor I could stop talking about it. I remembered a story of some bigshot in Bangalore who got a Hummer to India, but had to pay shitloads on taxes and stuff to let it run on the roads; by the end of which, i think he just about gave up on ever driving it around. So i ventured to ask A, "How much do you think it would cost, inclusive of taxes and all that jazz?"
"2 crores, souped up and taxes paid", he replied calmly, shrugging the amount off like he would a speck of dirt on his tee.
I don't know how i got back home. I'd fainted by the time the inverted commas on his reply were in place.
Oh, and that night Murphy's Nth Law came into place, all tried and tested: The sexier the car, the uglier the driver.
After a completely pakau day at work, i had a brilliant spark of spontaneity - let's go for a movie! (So i'm excited about seeing the big screen after months of poverty, so what?) So we went for a 10 'o' clock show of...ummm, Krazzy 4. I'm not going to apologise or get defensive about watching the movie because i laughed a little for the first half. We had plenty of time to kill before the movie, so we ordered in plenty of Breezers from downstairs and glugged away. I had mine like i had Bailey's long ago - in one shot. (It isn't that i'm an unofficial member of Alcoholics Anonymous or something, it's just that the flavour was a horrid Blueberry that seemed like Harpic diluted with sweetener and soda.) After which, i did exceptionally well at the Brain Game on Facebook - i even beat my boss' score!
A got jittery, so we left, reached Inox, stuffed our faces, finished the movie and were on our way back home when i saw it. At first i saw a looming shadow with bright headlights for eyes, and then it emerged in all its splendour - a sleek and shiny H2 purring like a wildcat waiting for its prey. Its road presence is unbelievable - all that horsepower waiting to be unleashed on the unsuspecting puny Sumo or Scorpio that dares to cross its way. I can't even begin to imagine what it could do to a good old Maruti 800.
The Hummer stayed with us for a while - i got high ogling at it for a whole kilometre. I think by the end of the journey home, A would have been happy to give me to the aliens because of the number of times i'd said "Oh. My. God." in this incredulous voice, squirming in the car seat to get a good look at it from every angle possible.
Obviously, after it passed, neither A nor I could stop talking about it. I remembered a story of some bigshot in Bangalore who got a Hummer to India, but had to pay shitloads on taxes and stuff to let it run on the roads; by the end of which, i think he just about gave up on ever driving it around. So i ventured to ask A, "How much do you think it would cost, inclusive of taxes and all that jazz?"
"2 crores, souped up and taxes paid", he replied calmly, shrugging the amount off like he would a speck of dirt on his tee.
I don't know how i got back home. I'd fainted by the time the inverted commas on his reply were in place.
Oh, and that night Murphy's Nth Law came into place, all tried and tested: The sexier the car, the uglier the driver.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
How a part of my life came full circle.
I was in Goa the last few days for the Adfest. I was staying at a gorgeous resort in Colva, every aspect of its pristine white structure setting off some distant longing in me now buried.
On the evening we reached there, we went to the beach. As we walked towards it, i realised that i had been to the place before. Four years ago. In white shorts. Where i'd burnt my leg against the red-hot silencer.
It seemed so long ago. Memories came flooding back. Tears, laughter, moments of tension, wind whistling past, one little slap on my cheek and many consequences. Like that was not enough, the next day i discovered that i was going through the same lanes, the same roads i had travelled once upon a time. I could see it all in my mind's eye, and couldn't help wondering how ironic it all was. That i should go back now, when it was all over, to the place where it had all started.
Unconsciously, i had come a full circle.
On the evening we reached there, we went to the beach. As we walked towards it, i realised that i had been to the place before. Four years ago. In white shorts. Where i'd burnt my leg against the red-hot silencer.
It seemed so long ago. Memories came flooding back. Tears, laughter, moments of tension, wind whistling past, one little slap on my cheek and many consequences. Like that was not enough, the next day i discovered that i was going through the same lanes, the same roads i had travelled once upon a time. I could see it all in my mind's eye, and couldn't help wondering how ironic it all was. That i should go back now, when it was all over, to the place where it had all started.
Unconsciously, i had come a full circle.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Bhang de Basanti!
Holi came and went, but my desire to be knocked out by bhang didn't. Truth be told, i've only raved about the thought of bhang and never really done anything about it. Until recently when N managed to procure some from a man who comes to office selling chudwa-chabeena. (Talk about contacts.)
Super thrilled at finally getting my hands on some, i decided i put it to good use the very same day. I read up on bhang (turns out its the cannabis family), and heard freaky stories about people who've gone crackpotty under its influence - A was telling me about a friend who found a little road impossibly tough to cross, and scared me further with "Don't do it alone" and "If you start laughing, you'll keep laughing, or it will be the other extreme". Sigh. Three days later, i still had the packet with me. Unopened.
On Sunday, i thought WTF, let's just do it. Mom was in the room correcting papers and Dad was out. I didn't have the courage to carry the packet to the kitchen - a night shirt isn't a very good place to hide little packets, unless you count the brassiere worn inside it and the stories of hiding-secrets-in-the-bra that have been the stuff of Indian legends (and movies) for so long. I didn't dare do the latter for fear of wasting the bhang, so i quietly crooked my finger and removed a generous amount, hid it in the folds of my night-shirt and ran to the kitchen. I mixed it up, drank it and then waited.
And waited and waited and waited.
Zilch. I could've been having ground parthenium for all it was worth. Nothing happened! P called - i had spoken to him for hours on end because i was contemplating suicide a day before, and in the process had told him about the bhang. So he called and checked up on me.
"So, did you have it?"
"Yaa."
"Did you watch a funny movie like i told you to?"
"Yaa, sort of, but nothing's happening."
"You are a bewdi. That's why. How much did you have?"
"A third of the packet. Why?"
And before he could speak up, i said, "I didn't use too much jal jeera as base also da. Still, nothing happened."
I'm not surprised at his silence since then. I mean, bhang is supposed to be mixed with thandai or buttermilk only. No diary product (other than cheese) has ever seen the dust in my house, leave alone the fridge or the kitchen, and i was way too lazy to go out and buy myself Masti Dahi. So i made do with whatever i had. There was Fanta, lime cordial and jal jeera. I chose the lesser of the three evils.
Jal jeera. Shikes. God save bhang from the likes of me.
Super thrilled at finally getting my hands on some, i decided i put it to good use the very same day. I read up on bhang (turns out its the cannabis family), and heard freaky stories about people who've gone crackpotty under its influence - A was telling me about a friend who found a little road impossibly tough to cross, and scared me further with "Don't do it alone" and "If you start laughing, you'll keep laughing, or it will be the other extreme". Sigh. Three days later, i still had the packet with me. Unopened.
On Sunday, i thought WTF, let's just do it. Mom was in the room correcting papers and Dad was out. I didn't have the courage to carry the packet to the kitchen - a night shirt isn't a very good place to hide little packets, unless you count the brassiere worn inside it and the stories of hiding-secrets-in-the-bra that have been the stuff of Indian legends (and movies) for so long. I didn't dare do the latter for fear of wasting the bhang, so i quietly crooked my finger and removed a generous amount, hid it in the folds of my night-shirt and ran to the kitchen. I mixed it up, drank it and then waited.
And waited and waited and waited.
Zilch. I could've been having ground parthenium for all it was worth. Nothing happened! P called - i had spoken to him for hours on end because i was contemplating suicide a day before, and in the process had told him about the bhang. So he called and checked up on me.
"So, did you have it?"
"Yaa."
"Did you watch a funny movie like i told you to?"
"Yaa, sort of, but nothing's happening."
"You are a bewdi. That's why. How much did you have?"
"A third of the packet. Why?"
And before he could speak up, i said, "I didn't use too much jal jeera as base also da. Still, nothing happened."
I'm not surprised at his silence since then. I mean, bhang is supposed to be mixed with thandai or buttermilk only. No diary product (other than cheese) has ever seen the dust in my house, leave alone the fridge or the kitchen, and i was way too lazy to go out and buy myself Masti Dahi. So i made do with whatever i had. There was Fanta, lime cordial and jal jeera. I chose the lesser of the three evils.
Jal jeera. Shikes. God save bhang from the likes of me.
Friday, March 28, 2008
I love Bangalore.
So there's a traffic jam everywhere in the city, a government that's doing crazy things to our infrastructure and plenty of carbon compounds in the air. This is my attempt to forget the bad stuff and take pleasure in the little things that quietly appear amidst the 'modernisation'. This way, no matter what happens, Bangalore will always remain beautiful to me.
Cotton-candy sky.
When Earth threw her garland around Sky's neck.
Lonely Hearts Club.
Fingers of God. (After he ate Tandoori Chicken, perhaps.)
A mountain of snow in the sky. And a lone skier.
The pinks went away, and left the purples in their wake.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
It's been a month already.
Time sure flies. The feelings are still raw, but not as fresh as they were. Or as painful. Repulsion to all things physical still exists. One doesn't feel a stab of attraction towards anybody.
A year down the line, perhaps there will be a family on the other side of the fence, plenty of happiness, a perfect life, memories of times before the time. A year down the line, perhaps there will still be a spinster on this side of the fence.
A year down the line, perhaps there will be a family on the other side of the fence, plenty of happiness, a perfect life, memories of times before the time. A year down the line, perhaps there will still be a spinster on this side of the fence.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Things my body's trying to tell me. (And that i'm 'aciduously' ignoring.)
1. "Stop abusing me with things i cannot digest!"
2. "Slow down and smell the flowers, not the skunks who came into your life."
3. "I was burning with fever at 1 a.m, remember?"
4. "Hi, i am YOUR body, shouldn't you be keeping me in shape?"
5. "Did you know Mister Tummy has almost choked Monsieur Liver and Miss Pancreas out of existence, to conquer all terrritory 30 inches within his radius? If you don't watch out, he'll go out of hand soon. And out of your body."
6. "Don't show me movies like Hostel. That superpower sitting in your head sends funny signals to your bladder."
7. "I make loud, weird noises because i'm mad at you, not because i'm hungry."
8. "The joints need new bolts. Especially if you're going to leave them to rust for so long."
9. "I know you've got ear drums, but you don't need to be at them constantly."
10. "It's not me, it's you."
2. "Slow down and smell the flowers, not the skunks who came into your life."
3. "I was burning with fever at 1 a.m, remember?"
4. "Hi, i am YOUR body, shouldn't you be keeping me in shape?"
5. "Did you know Mister Tummy has almost choked Monsieur Liver and Miss Pancreas out of existence, to conquer all terrritory 30 inches within his radius? If you don't watch out, he'll go out of hand soon. And out of your body."
6. "Don't show me movies like Hostel. That superpower sitting in your head sends funny signals to your bladder."
7. "I make loud, weird noises because i'm mad at you, not because i'm hungry."
8. "The joints need new bolts. Especially if you're going to leave them to rust for so long."
9. "I know you've got ear drums, but you don't need to be at them constantly."
10. "It's not me, it's you."
Monday, March 24, 2008
Of Nimbekai Pura and the original Punjabi Dhaba.
Friday morning dawned bright and late, minus Take 5 after-effects. It was Saturday that took the cake. Between work and Race, i decided to go for Race. Bad move. Hard Rock Cafe post-Race, good move. Drive post-Hard Rock Cafe, very very very good move.
Took A home, left his car there, picked up mine, went to G's place, picked the twosome up, went to J's place, picked the lonesome up and just headed out to nowhere. The needle on the fuel gauge was high, and so were we. Happy, happy time aimless driving. On the way, we passed a milestone that displayed the funniest village name i've heard in a while: Nimbekai Pura. We also passed plenty of dhabas, none very suitable for gharelu bharatiya naaris to be seen in, so we passed. But then we landed up at one that S claimed was the 'original Punjabi Dhaba' - truck drivers, drunken men, unhygeinic circumstances - the works. The food was good though - and let's not analyse or even wonder why.
Much foo-fooing and leg-pulling (mostly mine) later, we decided to head back. A dropped everybody off, zipped me back home, parked my car and covered it up in record time. He was out of there before Dad had a chance to get out and catch the smell of beer on him.
Maybe this is why impromptu plans work so well - no baggage, no worries, no time to contemplate. Just get in and get out. Away, away from loneliness, a mind that works overtime and love gone sour.
Took A home, left his car there, picked up mine, went to G's place, picked the twosome up, went to J's place, picked the lonesome up and just headed out to nowhere. The needle on the fuel gauge was high, and so were we. Happy, happy time aimless driving. On the way, we passed a milestone that displayed the funniest village name i've heard in a while: Nimbekai Pura. We also passed plenty of dhabas, none very suitable for gharelu bharatiya naaris to be seen in, so we passed. But then we landed up at one that S claimed was the 'original Punjabi Dhaba' - truck drivers, drunken men, unhygeinic circumstances - the works. The food was good though - and let's not analyse or even wonder why.
Much foo-fooing and leg-pulling (mostly mine) later, we decided to head back. A dropped everybody off, zipped me back home, parked my car and covered it up in record time. He was out of there before Dad had a chance to get out and catch the smell of beer on him.
Maybe this is why impromptu plans work so well - no baggage, no worries, no time to contemplate. Just get in and get out. Away, away from loneliness, a mind that works overtime and love gone sour.
Discovery.
This pain won't go away, no siree. It's just below the surface, always looking for a microscopic hole that it can possibly wedge its malignant tentacle through and break out full-force. No matter if i've had a night out, many downs at Hard Rock Cafe or Take 5, lunches and movies and an early-morning drive and a makeover, this won't change. He has though. A lot about him has. He's happier. More carefree. And i grudge him this. I grudge him his happiness because i'm not part of it. I never was.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Red turned half a year old today!
One accident. Two road trips. Plenty of scratches. Happy half-budday buddy! You've lived the six months to the fullest, i see.Wednesday, March 19, 2008
True, true.
"Grief, a type of sadness that most often occurs when you have lost someone you love, is a sneaky thing, because it can disappear for a long time, and then pop back up when you least expect it."
- Lemony Snicket in A Series Of Unfortunate Events, Book the Ninth.
Monday, March 17, 2008
I had a superbly marvellous weekend!
My great weekend started on Friday evening. For the first (and only?) time in my life, i had multiple options for spending the night. And i managed to be everywhere i was supposed to be!
First there was the play - a private screening of 'The Invisible River'. As always, just as i was getting into weekend mode, i got work to do. Managed to reach the venue during the interval - a good one and a half hours into the play. What i did see, i loved. I don't know if all plays are done so well these days since i don't go to too many, but i was definitely impressed by this one. I thought the protagonist sucked, though.
Anyway, after the play, i was supposed to get to M.G.Road so i could meet up with R and head to her place for the night - ye olde gang was catching up after a really long time. I had time to kill while she finished her official party, so decided to head to ye olde haunt and spend some time with myself. G landed after a while (read: I can't handle my own company) and we started on getting high. S and J joined us soon. Post session (3 BMs down), got to R's place and had a full-on huggy-buggy session with everyone. Goooooood feeling happened. Stayed up all night chatting, bitching, gossiping and catching up. Guzzled some more, foo-fooed (yeah, i did - 4 Mores that too!) and had a super-duper time. Left for home at 5:30 in the morning, woke up in the afternoon, headed to grandma's.
The weather on Saturday afternoon was straight out of a fairytale. Decided to go out riding and get some garma garam munchies for cousins and myself. I reached the supermarket, and the Rain Gods poured forth torrents. Rode back blindly in the heavy rain, drenched to the bone and shivering. It was a liberating experience. Chicken burgers followed soon after.
Sunday dawned nice and lazy. Had work to do, did it at my own sweet pace. Watched TV, ate, lazed. Was happy.
And yeah, i smiled a lot to myself. Because the process of relearning to love my life and who i am has finally begun.
First there was the play - a private screening of 'The Invisible River'. As always, just as i was getting into weekend mode, i got work to do. Managed to reach the venue during the interval - a good one and a half hours into the play. What i did see, i loved. I don't know if all plays are done so well these days since i don't go to too many, but i was definitely impressed by this one. I thought the protagonist sucked, though.
Anyway, after the play, i was supposed to get to M.G.Road so i could meet up with R and head to her place for the night - ye olde gang was catching up after a really long time. I had time to kill while she finished her official party, so decided to head to ye olde haunt and spend some time with myself. G landed after a while (read: I can't handle my own company) and we started on getting high. S and J joined us soon. Post session (3 BMs down), got to R's place and had a full-on huggy-buggy session with everyone. Goooooood feeling happened. Stayed up all night chatting, bitching, gossiping and catching up. Guzzled some more, foo-fooed (yeah, i did - 4 Mores that too!) and had a super-duper time. Left for home at 5:30 in the morning, woke up in the afternoon, headed to grandma's.
The weather on Saturday afternoon was straight out of a fairytale. Decided to go out riding and get some garma garam munchies for cousins and myself. I reached the supermarket, and the Rain Gods poured forth torrents. Rode back blindly in the heavy rain, drenched to the bone and shivering. It was a liberating experience. Chicken burgers followed soon after.
Sunday dawned nice and lazy. Had work to do, did it at my own sweet pace. Watched TV, ate, lazed. Was happy.
And yeah, i smiled a lot to myself. Because the process of relearning to love my life and who i am has finally begun.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
**********
The only difference between living life and writing a book is, you can't go back to a chapter and correct the mistakes. You can't even erase them or scratch them out and start afresh.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Bridging the generation gap with Boney M.
A pretty unusual phenomenon occured this Saturday: i woke up at nine that morning. Even more phenomenal was the fact that i was gung-ho about getting a lot of things done - search for documents, meet a driving school instructor about my license, go to the tailor's, watch movies... and suddenly i remembered that there was a concert to attend in the evening! Boney M! I wouldn't miss it for the life of me! Unless, of course, i didn't have good company to go with. Fortunately, i did. N and my dad.
Thoroughly excited i was about his coming along for the concert - his first in a lifetime. Dad's 70 now, so he's grown up on Boney M songs. So has mom, but she refused to come. (When we went back home and gave her an account, she regretted it badly though.)
Marcia Barrett was fabulous. There were people of all ages swinging to the eternal tunes that she and her fellow bandmembers had sung. Young, olg, grandfatherly, surly, teens, us... Definitely a Kodak moment for families who came there together.
Surviving three bouts of cancer and getting on the stage after close to two-three decades is not a joke. And her energy, her stage presence were something else. So was that note of mischief in her voice when she spoke. Loved her laugh, loved watching her perform. So did everybody else.
Some things that popped into my head during the concert:
a. What must it have been like for her to sing all those songs again after so many years, and without the rest of the Boney Ms around too? What memories must that have brought back to her?
b. Will her children and grandchildren carry forward her legacy?
c. Was my dad enjoying the concert?
d. Was my dad uncomfortable in the crowd?
e. Did he hear the 'chutya's and 'fuck's that N and i kept using?
f. Where did Marcia Barrett get her eternal youthfulness from? Life isn't kind to anybody, so how did she manage to keep her spirit alive? Through the songs?
g. Was my dad enjoying it?
h. Damn, should i get off that chair, was i attracting too much attention by standing on it to watch her perform?
i. The fireworks were the perfect way to end an unforgettable concert.
Thoroughly excited i was about his coming along for the concert - his first in a lifetime. Dad's 70 now, so he's grown up on Boney M songs. So has mom, but she refused to come. (When we went back home and gave her an account, she regretted it badly though.)
Marcia Barrett was fabulous. There were people of all ages swinging to the eternal tunes that she and her fellow bandmembers had sung. Young, olg, grandfatherly, surly, teens, us... Definitely a Kodak moment for families who came there together.
Surviving three bouts of cancer and getting on the stage after close to two-three decades is not a joke. And her energy, her stage presence were something else. So was that note of mischief in her voice when she spoke. Loved her laugh, loved watching her perform. So did everybody else.
Some things that popped into my head during the concert:
a. What must it have been like for her to sing all those songs again after so many years, and without the rest of the Boney Ms around too? What memories must that have brought back to her?
b. Will her children and grandchildren carry forward her legacy?
c. Was my dad enjoying the concert?
d. Was my dad uncomfortable in the crowd?
e. Did he hear the 'chutya's and 'fuck's that N and i kept using?
f. Where did Marcia Barrett get her eternal youthfulness from? Life isn't kind to anybody, so how did she manage to keep her spirit alive? Through the songs?
g. Was my dad enjoying it?
h. Damn, should i get off that chair, was i attracting too much attention by standing on it to watch her perform?
i. The fireworks were the perfect way to end an unforgettable concert.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Times Like These.
I just discovered Jack Johnson. Thank you, God. And yes, you too byatch. :)
In times like these
in times like those
what will be will be
and so it goes
and it always goes on and on
and on and on and on and on and on it goes
and there's always been laughing, crying, birth, and dying
boys and girls with hearts that take and give and break
and heal and grow and recreate and raise and nurture
but then hurt from time to times like these
and times like those
what will be will be
and so it goes
and there will always be stop and go and fast and slow
action, reaction, sticks and stones and broken bones
those for peace and those for war
and god bless these ones not those ones
but these ones made times like these
and times like those
what will be will be
and so it goes
and it always goes on and on
and on and on and on and on and on it goes
but somehow i know it won't be the same
somehow i know it'll never be the same
In times like these
in times like those
what will be will be
and so it goes
and it always goes on and on
and on and on and on and on and on it goes
and there's always been laughing, crying, birth, and dying
boys and girls with hearts that take and give and break
and heal and grow and recreate and raise and nurture
but then hurt from time to times like these
and times like those
what will be will be
and so it goes
and there will always be stop and go and fast and slow
action, reaction, sticks and stones and broken bones
those for peace and those for war
and god bless these ones not those ones
but these ones made times like these
and times like those
what will be will be
and so it goes
and it always goes on and on
and on and on and on and on and on it goes
but somehow i know it won't be the same
somehow i know it'll never be the same
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Reality Bites. (WARNING: Content Rating 'A')
My boss had an extraordinary complaint to voice the other day: she was eating peanuts when suddenly she dropped a few of them, and some of these fell right into the tee she was wearing. Her crib was, not a single one of them got stuck in there because she had such small...you know, she was a small size.
Sigh. Much as i try to tell her it isn't great having big *beep*s, she refuses to listen. I've encountered the same problem with most women i know. Trust me size 32s and 34s, it's not comfortable being big. Here's why:
1. Like it isn't enough that women are naturally catty towards other women, they are even more so about women with big *beep*s. They hate you for it. (On hindsight, this might be a good thing if you're straight.)
2. "Hi, I really like that black lace lingerie with that glittery bit woven into it. How much is it for?" Saleswoman looks you up and down... correction, looks you up and says, "I'm sorry Madam, 36B is the last size." Same problem everywhere.
3. Between a 34 and a 36/38/40, men will always go for the former to settle down in life with. It's a theory i'm working on - big *beep*s get so much credit primarily, perhaps only, because of porn. So i'm guessing that at some level, all men think that women with big *beep*s are 'loose' or 'easy'.
4. We are most happy when we go from a, let's say, 38B to a, let's say, 36DD.
5. Women with big *beep*s have a greater chance of dying in their sleep because of asphyxiation - try sleeping on your sides and have all that weight constrict your breathing, and you'll know what i'm talking about.
6. You have to stand in front of the mirror to see how your footwear looks on your feet. If you try bending over, chances are you'll get asphyxiated again.
7. Telephone wires sag when they expand. Ditto.
8. All that weight pulls us down, so we walk looking like we're dejected souls. Unless, of course, we find a man who will be an important part of our lives (briefly or more) and instill confidence in us with the words, "So what if you've got big *beep*s? Be proud of them, and show them off!"
9. Sometimes, we show our cleavage not to have women shoot daggers at us or men just shoot at us, but because hey, we need some air down there. All other times we show our cleavage just to have women shoot daggers at us.
10. Men who are lovers will say, "Hide them, they're mine." Men who are friends will say, "Oh my god, hide them, they're ugly! (And you're my FRIEND, for heaven's sake!)"
Sigh. Much as i try to tell her it isn't great having big *beep*s, she refuses to listen. I've encountered the same problem with most women i know. Trust me size 32s and 34s, it's not comfortable being big. Here's why:
1. Like it isn't enough that women are naturally catty towards other women, they are even more so about women with big *beep*s. They hate you for it. (On hindsight, this might be a good thing if you're straight.)
2. "Hi, I really like that black lace lingerie with that glittery bit woven into it. How much is it for?" Saleswoman looks you up and down... correction, looks you up and says, "I'm sorry Madam, 36B is the last size." Same problem everywhere.
3. Between a 34 and a 36/38/40, men will always go for the former to settle down in life with. It's a theory i'm working on - big *beep*s get so much credit primarily, perhaps only, because of porn. So i'm guessing that at some level, all men think that women with big *beep*s are 'loose' or 'easy'.
4. We are most happy when we go from a, let's say, 38B to a, let's say, 36DD.
5. Women with big *beep*s have a greater chance of dying in their sleep because of asphyxiation - try sleeping on your sides and have all that weight constrict your breathing, and you'll know what i'm talking about.
6. You have to stand in front of the mirror to see how your footwear looks on your feet. If you try bending over, chances are you'll get asphyxiated again.
7. Telephone wires sag when they expand. Ditto.
8. All that weight pulls us down, so we walk looking like we're dejected souls. Unless, of course, we find a man who will be an important part of our lives (briefly or more) and instill confidence in us with the words, "So what if you've got big *beep*s? Be proud of them, and show them off!"
9. Sometimes, we show our cleavage not to have women shoot daggers at us or men just shoot at us, but because hey, we need some air down there. All other times we show our cleavage just to have women shoot daggers at us.
10. Men who are lovers will say, "Hide them, they're mine." Men who are friends will say, "Oh my god, hide them, they're ugly! (And you're my FRIEND, for heaven's sake!)"
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
The psychology of ordeals.
In college, our lecturers shared a theory on stress and resistance with us. Apparently for every episode we have that affects our lives deeply, our levels of tolerance to stress get lower. So you're fine when the first incident occurs - your ability to get over it will most likely surprise you more than anybody else. When the next big incident happens though, your ability to deal with it isn't as 'strong' as the first time. It's like every incident eats away, like termites, at your resistance to stress. The result is that finally, there will be one that will cause a nervous breakdown because you are completely devoid of the ability to fight it.
I was quite disbelieving then, not just because i trusted myself to handle anything that came my way, but also because i didn't think i would ever land myself in a situation that would cause me that much grief.
Hah.
Here i am five years later, thinking how i will recover from the latest mishap. Many things about it leave me stumped, at a loss for words. How did he manage to do it? Did he even realise that some of his actions were contradictory? Is it true, emotions are like a faucet that can be turned on and off for a person? Can two people get physical, and can one see it as 'sex' while the other sees it as 'making love'? Is it natural to feel like you've been a distraction/diversion of sorts for someone that can be let go when life begins to smile again? Is it possible to forget?
More importantly, is it possible to forgive?
Yes, it is. I'm getting there. Sure, there will be moments of bitterness and hurt and hatred, but they'll pass. And they'll leave only love behind. The kind that will never be realised, but will always wait for an opportunity to show itself. I'm waiting for the day i can feel affection for him again. It's there, but it's buried right now. Died an untimely death, you might say. On second thought, it wasn't untimely - ironically, my state of affairs (pun unintended) was triggered by my actions on that fatal evening two weeks ago.
As for the resistance bit, well... Hysteria came and went. The nervous breakdown won't come. I wont't let it.
I was quite disbelieving then, not just because i trusted myself to handle anything that came my way, but also because i didn't think i would ever land myself in a situation that would cause me that much grief.
Hah.
Here i am five years later, thinking how i will recover from the latest mishap. Many things about it leave me stumped, at a loss for words. How did he manage to do it? Did he even realise that some of his actions were contradictory? Is it true, emotions are like a faucet that can be turned on and off for a person? Can two people get physical, and can one see it as 'sex' while the other sees it as 'making love'? Is it natural to feel like you've been a distraction/diversion of sorts for someone that can be let go when life begins to smile again? Is it possible to forget?
More importantly, is it possible to forgive?
Yes, it is. I'm getting there. Sure, there will be moments of bitterness and hurt and hatred, but they'll pass. And they'll leave only love behind. The kind that will never be realised, but will always wait for an opportunity to show itself. I'm waiting for the day i can feel affection for him again. It's there, but it's buried right now. Died an untimely death, you might say. On second thought, it wasn't untimely - ironically, my state of affairs (pun unintended) was triggered by my actions on that fatal evening two weeks ago.
As for the resistance bit, well... Hysteria came and went. The nervous breakdown won't come. I wont't let it.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Shelfari on my blog.
I vaguely remember seeing it somewhere on somebody else's blog. Came across it today while bloghopping, and decided to add it on to my blog.
Let me clear any misconceptions you might have regarding the display: of course i'm showing off the 'expanse' of my reading material right now. And of course i've put it there for just that purpose. Shucks, what else do you expect from a person suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder?
Let me clear any misconceptions you might have regarding the display: of course i'm showing off the 'expanse' of my reading material right now. And of course i've put it there for just that purpose. Shucks, what else do you expect from a person suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
How an accident brings random bits about the world together.
I was dropped off at office earlier than usual today. Shivering because of the cold water i had to subject my body to thanks to the absence of electricity, i trudged to the second floor, switched on my PC and stepped out to the corridor to eat some sun. Thirty seconds later, my cell phone rang. Driver.
He handed the phone over to Dad, who announced that Red had just been in a bad accident half a kilometer away and that i should come immediately. Also asked me to bring A along, who'd been with us through the whole process of choosing and buying Red.
Panicking, i started on foot to the place, calling A who wasn't in office still. Worried that Dad and driver might be seriously injured, i called them again and Dad explained: they were next to a bus at the Joseph's college signal, when an auto came zipping from behind and slammed into the vehicles. The auto brakes had failed.
I reached the place to find Dad splitting blood vessel after blood vessel, and took over. It was a relief that he and the driver were unharmed. Red had suffered a pretty serious dent on the left door, paint scraped off, fuel tank jammed - the works. The traffic police was there, with a crowd comprising passersby and autowallahs. When the autowallahs ganged up and went "Oh, nothing's happened, it's just a dent", i lost my cool and started arguing my head off with all of them. Self-assured pr**ks. There was a moment of reprieve in the middle of the chaos when a smiling old man handed me pamphlets saying, "Jesus saves". I smiled. Jesus sure did.
After an hour of debate and calls to A, we headed to the Ashok Nagar police station. Just as we reached Joseph's Commerce College, the autowallahs stopped for a cup of chai. The cheek! I mean, here we were trying to get this sorted out and these guys had the audacity to drink chai at a kaaka angadi! A finally arrived, took a look at the car and said it would cost at least 7k. Damn.
There was a man travelling with us in the car who i had noticed in the crowd earlier. Dad asked him what he did (yeah, we didn't even bother about him being a stranger before we took him with us!), and he said, "Have you heard of KFD? I'm one of them. I saw you guys, thought there was some trouble, discovered you were one of our 'qa-um', and decided to stick with you for support." Wow.
Things catapulted from then on and we got out of the whole thing after three hours. It was my first visit to a police station. My first accident, but not really mine because i wasn't in the car when it happened. And my first public fight. Hmm.
And in the middle of all this, A took me aside and showed me the side of the auto that smashed into Red. The damage was massive, to say the least. I looked back at Red, glinting in the sunlight, unfazed by the accident. He wasn't in such bad shape. He was strong, which is why there was nothing more than a dent to show for the mishap. Stable, sturdy, reliable. Mine for posterity. And what an amazing feeling that is.
He handed the phone over to Dad, who announced that Red had just been in a bad accident half a kilometer away and that i should come immediately. Also asked me to bring A along, who'd been with us through the whole process of choosing and buying Red.
Panicking, i started on foot to the place, calling A who wasn't in office still. Worried that Dad and driver might be seriously injured, i called them again and Dad explained: they were next to a bus at the Joseph's college signal, when an auto came zipping from behind and slammed into the vehicles. The auto brakes had failed.
I reached the place to find Dad splitting blood vessel after blood vessel, and took over. It was a relief that he and the driver were unharmed. Red had suffered a pretty serious dent on the left door, paint scraped off, fuel tank jammed - the works. The traffic police was there, with a crowd comprising passersby and autowallahs. When the autowallahs ganged up and went "Oh, nothing's happened, it's just a dent", i lost my cool and started arguing my head off with all of them. Self-assured pr**ks. There was a moment of reprieve in the middle of the chaos when a smiling old man handed me pamphlets saying, "Jesus saves". I smiled. Jesus sure did.
After an hour of debate and calls to A, we headed to the Ashok Nagar police station. Just as we reached Joseph's Commerce College, the autowallahs stopped for a cup of chai. The cheek! I mean, here we were trying to get this sorted out and these guys had the audacity to drink chai at a kaaka angadi! A finally arrived, took a look at the car and said it would cost at least 7k. Damn.
There was a man travelling with us in the car who i had noticed in the crowd earlier. Dad asked him what he did (yeah, we didn't even bother about him being a stranger before we took him with us!), and he said, "Have you heard of KFD? I'm one of them. I saw you guys, thought there was some trouble, discovered you were one of our 'qa-um', and decided to stick with you for support." Wow.
Things catapulted from then on and we got out of the whole thing after three hours. It was my first visit to a police station. My first accident, but not really mine because i wasn't in the car when it happened. And my first public fight. Hmm.
And in the middle of all this, A took me aside and showed me the side of the auto that smashed into Red. The damage was massive, to say the least. I looked back at Red, glinting in the sunlight, unfazed by the accident. He wasn't in such bad shape. He was strong, which is why there was nothing more than a dent to show for the mishap. Stable, sturdy, reliable. Mine for posterity. And what an amazing feeling that is.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Aging 'gracefully'.
This morning, like all other mornings, i followed my routine - get out of bed, head straight to the bathroom, get out and brush my teeth, bathe etc. I missed one important part of the ritual though - washing my feet. So i decided to wash my feet at the sink after brushing my teeth. It's a trick i learnt during my growing years from a fairly religious but lazy uncle who before praying, would finish all his ablutions at the wash basin - including washing his feet, which he would raise up into the bowl of the basin.
I guess it wasn't a big deal for him, considering he's over six feet tall. It wasn't a big deal for me either: even when i was four feet two inches, i would manage to raise my feet one at a time to the high basin and wash them. At least, it wasn't a big deal till this morning.
Still supremely confident about my ability to do what i used to do with such ease all those years ago, i hummed to myself and raised my right foot to the basin - it's at least three feet high - like it was the most natural thing in the world. I'm thinking to myself, "Mmm not bad, despite all those lapsed years and my mammoth size, i can still do this" when i felt my thigh muscles knot up. And stay that way.
Oh oh. It hurt, but there was no way i could pull my leg back down because i was almost close to the basin bowl. So, ever so gingerly, i let my foot land in the basin ("TIMBER!") and let the water flow from the tap. Then came the killer part - bringing my foot back down.
Forget it. I'm not describing it - even thinking of it is traumatising and doesn't do an iota of good for my ego. All i will say is, for the first time in my life, the realisation - of what it must be like to move steadily towards a creaking old age - hit me.
I guess it wasn't a big deal for him, considering he's over six feet tall. It wasn't a big deal for me either: even when i was four feet two inches, i would manage to raise my feet one at a time to the high basin and wash them. At least, it wasn't a big deal till this morning.
Still supremely confident about my ability to do what i used to do with such ease all those years ago, i hummed to myself and raised my right foot to the basin - it's at least three feet high - like it was the most natural thing in the world. I'm thinking to myself, "Mmm not bad, despite all those lapsed years and my mammoth size, i can still do this" when i felt my thigh muscles knot up. And stay that way.
Oh oh. It hurt, but there was no way i could pull my leg back down because i was almost close to the basin bowl. So, ever so gingerly, i let my foot land in the basin ("TIMBER!") and let the water flow from the tap. Then came the killer part - bringing my foot back down.
Forget it. I'm not describing it - even thinking of it is traumatising and doesn't do an iota of good for my ego. All i will say is, for the first time in my life, the realisation - of what it must be like to move steadily towards a creaking old age - hit me.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Atonement.
My weekend was pretty balanced - i ventured out of home just as much as i stayed in. Friday night's adventures were followed by a lazy Saturday lounging at G's place watching 'Atonement'.
I was gifted this book of Ian McEwan's by G and S on my birthday, along with Orhan Pamuk's 'My Name is Red'. While i'm not the types to skip pages (except in, perhaps, an M&B), 'My Name is Red' made me do that; and Atonement, even more so. It just went on and on endlessly, so i skipped entire chapters - like one on Robbie's time in the war. But what i loved about the book was the story - an 11-year old Briony, her world of order and certainty disrupted by incidents between her sister and the gardender that catapult her growth, leaving the debris of love in its wake. Yes, it is incredible how Ian McEwan leads us with his words into her mind, helps us comprehend the awkwardness of growing up that lead her to her actions.
With me, he achieved something else too - he made me realise that had i been in her place, i would have done the same. I would have, in my quest to retain my order, childish impudence and innocence, done what she did. Would i be capable of destroying the just-blooming love shared between two people? Perhaps; i don't know for sure. What i am certain of is that i am quite capable of it. Would i seek atonement for my actions? Yes i would, because i couldn't bear to live with the guilt for the rest of my life. Unlike Briony though, i wouldn't seek it through words - something she describes as an act of kindness. I know what she's talking about, and i understand it but find myself unable to endorse it. I wouldn't take the easy way out and document the truth a little before my death for the world to know, because it still doesn't make a difference to the two people who really matter - in this case, Briony's sister and her lover. I would make amends much earlier in my life, gather up enough courage, get it over and done with.
You see, i believe that to experience the liberty that comes with guiltlessness, one has to give full voice to the guilt. And not with paper and pen.
I was gifted this book of Ian McEwan's by G and S on my birthday, along with Orhan Pamuk's 'My Name is Red'. While i'm not the types to skip pages (except in, perhaps, an M&B), 'My Name is Red' made me do that; and Atonement, even more so. It just went on and on endlessly, so i skipped entire chapters - like one on Robbie's time in the war. But what i loved about the book was the story - an 11-year old Briony, her world of order and certainty disrupted by incidents between her sister and the gardender that catapult her growth, leaving the debris of love in its wake. Yes, it is incredible how Ian McEwan leads us with his words into her mind, helps us comprehend the awkwardness of growing up that lead her to her actions.
With me, he achieved something else too - he made me realise that had i been in her place, i would have done the same. I would have, in my quest to retain my order, childish impudence and innocence, done what she did. Would i be capable of destroying the just-blooming love shared between two people? Perhaps; i don't know for sure. What i am certain of is that i am quite capable of it. Would i seek atonement for my actions? Yes i would, because i couldn't bear to live with the guilt for the rest of my life. Unlike Briony though, i wouldn't seek it through words - something she describes as an act of kindness. I know what she's talking about, and i understand it but find myself unable to endorse it. I wouldn't take the easy way out and document the truth a little before my death for the world to know, because it still doesn't make a difference to the two people who really matter - in this case, Briony's sister and her lover. I would make amends much earlier in my life, gather up enough courage, get it over and done with.
You see, i believe that to experience the liberty that comes with guiltlessness, one has to give full voice to the guilt. And not with paper and pen.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
OH, my God!
A mosquito buzzed around this morning, completely out of control, unable to figure out where it was headed. Wham! It hit my dressing table mirror. I smiled. It most definitely bit me last night and ingested some of the liquor running through my bloodstream. It's been pretty much steadily flowing in my system of late.
My first taste of all things alcoholic was three years ago - the initial days of... courtship? Anyway, that was when. I hit 90 ml the first time, and that more or less set the trend (read average capacity) for the future years. What started off as curiosity has now become something to do over bonding sessions with girlfriends and mixed groups; sometimes even to intentionally be senseless and unaware of my surroundings. This said, I haven't had reason to call Alcoholics Anonymous to date, but i've definitely had more than one lapse of psychological facilities after which, seeing a shrink is the only thing i can think of doing.
From the time i've come back from my last visit to Mumbai, not only have instances involving putting been frequent, but also vigorous. Thapak thapak thapak, there vanish three Bloody Marys or four Screwdrivers or two Tequila shots. It's sort of scaring me, this routine, but i'm letting it be because it will pass. At least, i'm hoping it will. But i must say, some great memories are associated with it. And a few not-so-good ones, but these are outnumbered by the good times i've had: My send-off party from ex-agency, Baileys at Hyderabad, R's house for K's send-off, my 25th budday, Toto's, P's wedding, driving around a sleeping city with Blueberry and Jamaican Passion in hand, the innumerable office parties, my first weekend with G when we conned K and A into joining us at Tavern in the middle of their Nike Av shoot. The list is sort of endless. More recently, i've had the new experience of sharing a few with my bosses. Iv'e already been out twice with them.
Tomorrow too, i will be out. A get-together at G's place. I have a feeling we're going to be high-flying women tomorrow, laughing, crying, getting wasted and bitten by the innumerable moquitoes at her place. And it is i who will have the last laugh, because those banal creatures will die the minute they nibble on me. They'll die because of Acquired Alcoholic Immuno Deficiency Syndrome. Hyuck hyuck.
My first taste of all things alcoholic was three years ago - the initial days of... courtship? Anyway, that was when. I hit 90 ml the first time, and that more or less set the trend (read average capacity) for the future years. What started off as curiosity has now become something to do over bonding sessions with girlfriends and mixed groups; sometimes even to intentionally be senseless and unaware of my surroundings. This said, I haven't had reason to call Alcoholics Anonymous to date, but i've definitely had more than one lapse of psychological facilities after which, seeing a shrink is the only thing i can think of doing.
From the time i've come back from my last visit to Mumbai, not only have instances involving putting been frequent, but also vigorous. Thapak thapak thapak, there vanish three Bloody Marys or four Screwdrivers or two Tequila shots. It's sort of scaring me, this routine, but i'm letting it be because it will pass. At least, i'm hoping it will. But i must say, some great memories are associated with it. And a few not-so-good ones, but these are outnumbered by the good times i've had: My send-off party from ex-agency, Baileys at Hyderabad, R's house for K's send-off, my 25th budday, Toto's, P's wedding, driving around a sleeping city with Blueberry and Jamaican Passion in hand, the innumerable office parties, my first weekend with G when we conned K and A into joining us at Tavern in the middle of their Nike Av shoot. The list is sort of endless. More recently, i've had the new experience of sharing a few with my bosses. Iv'e already been out twice with them.
Tomorrow too, i will be out. A get-together at G's place. I have a feeling we're going to be high-flying women tomorrow, laughing, crying, getting wasted and bitten by the innumerable moquitoes at her place. And it is i who will have the last laugh, because those banal creatures will die the minute they nibble on me. They'll die because of Acquired Alcoholic Immuno Deficiency Syndrome. Hyuck hyuck.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Surviving the sea.
And so we float girl, you and I. Anchorless without our loves, anchored by our duty to do what is right. And so we float on a series of planks, waiting to be rescued by the lives we abandoned. The lives we got into with open eyes, and get back to with eyes shut tight in denial.
Our intelligence collides at some point. You are who he was, I know what he might be like. We don’t cry on each other’s shoulder, we laugh. Hysteria has set in, a mix of helplessness at the situation, and wry acceptance of the pointlessness of tears. And so, together, we laugh. We laugh hard and long, seeing the invisible L shining on our foreheads. And so we float. Float to nowhere.
Our intelligence collides at some point. You are who he was, I know what he might be like. We don’t cry on each other’s shoulder, we laugh. Hysteria has set in, a mix of helplessness at the situation, and wry acceptance of the pointlessness of tears. And so, together, we laugh. We laugh hard and long, seeing the invisible L shining on our foreheads. And so we float. Float to nowhere.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Back to square one. Dammit.
If you fall weak, you fall on your face, eat dirt and realise what you thought was not true. You make the decisions thinking you're the stronger-willed one, only to find out that when it comes to sticking to it, you're weak. Bloody weak. And you get kicked in the face because hey, the decision's made and people will stick to it, even if you don't want them to. The decision's made. By their dignity, their self-respect. After all, if you could make that decision, you did it because you wanted to uproot them from your life. And when you uproot someone, how comfortable would they be about being re-planted? Not comfortable at all. Not unless they were a c**** like me.
Bahuth ho gaya, maaki.
Enough. Ugh. I look at all the sop i've typed in the last two days in moments of weakness, and i cringe. Not so much because it lays my life's situation bare, but because it feels... icky. Yeah. I've been ranting and raving and weeping and wallowing like Tulsi's family after her second (or is it third) reincarnation. Enough, bhen ke ******. If i continue this way, i'll be Flubber without the happiness factor. Actually, i'll be like the Amoeba Boys from PowerPuff.
I feel a lot better today. The weekend seems like a slice of my life from a world tucked away quietly in a predominantly-active part of my mind. It's a Pandora's Box that i will open sometime, but not in the near future. So i miss it. So what? Bloody hell, there isn't much i can do about it except wish someone dead, which won't do much good anyway because then i would die of guilt. Wallowing yes, and that can become a very comfortable state of being too, but what the heck, i want to have fun! I want to live life and take this as the 'Those were the best days of my life' and then continue flirting and shopping and bonding and dancing. Dancing, yeah! I can't begin to tell you about the relief i felt when i got a call from K about classes starting yesterday. I had something to do! And what better than dance! My mind would stay occupied now! (Every Monday and Wednesday evening at least.)
Then there's work. Of course there's work. It's stressing me out, there are some choices i need to make on that front too, but they can wait. Meanwhile, i'm cracking up, laughing, having a good time, not thinking about what has happened. P was right, pain gets easier to handle if you don't think too much about it. (That's one of the things i learnt from you P. Huggg.) Maybe the fact that this is not something i'll get over - this is something that will stay eternally fresh in my mind like fragrant bread straight out of the oven - has also made it easier for me to not stop and mope about.
Thanks B, for pointing out on chat fifteen minutes ago that i was going fully melodramatic. WTF, these things happen. I loved this thing happening to me. Maybe this same thing will happen to me again (hopefully with the same person). And that's what i look forward to. Life is good. Yay!
I feel a lot better today. The weekend seems like a slice of my life from a world tucked away quietly in a predominantly-active part of my mind. It's a Pandora's Box that i will open sometime, but not in the near future. So i miss it. So what? Bloody hell, there isn't much i can do about it except wish someone dead, which won't do much good anyway because then i would die of guilt. Wallowing yes, and that can become a very comfortable state of being too, but what the heck, i want to have fun! I want to live life and take this as the 'Those were the best days of my life' and then continue flirting and shopping and bonding and dancing. Dancing, yeah! I can't begin to tell you about the relief i felt when i got a call from K about classes starting yesterday. I had something to do! And what better than dance! My mind would stay occupied now! (Every Monday and Wednesday evening at least.)
Then there's work. Of course there's work. It's stressing me out, there are some choices i need to make on that front too, but they can wait. Meanwhile, i'm cracking up, laughing, having a good time, not thinking about what has happened. P was right, pain gets easier to handle if you don't think too much about it. (That's one of the things i learnt from you P. Huggg.) Maybe the fact that this is not something i'll get over - this is something that will stay eternally fresh in my mind like fragrant bread straight out of the oven - has also made it easier for me to not stop and mope about.
Thanks B, for pointing out on chat fifteen minutes ago that i was going fully melodramatic. WTF, these things happen. I loved this thing happening to me. Maybe this same thing will happen to me again (hopefully with the same person). And that's what i look forward to. Life is good. Yay!
Dear God,
Thank you. For giving me three memorable, adventurous and wild years. For not forsaking me during all the kaandis i had been upto in those years. For always being there. Thank you for him. For all the growing up and glimpses of womanhood i experienced with him. For seeing me through my obsessions and my heartbreak. For watching over me as i weep, because you know it's the first little step to getting better. For memories. Wonderful, wonderful memories. For giving me the strength to heal, and making it easier by bringing several distractions my way. For keying my dance instructor to start off dance classes again. For giving me friends who let me be, and parents who do much more than that. Thank you for giving me truckloads of empathy for everybody else, and merciless criticism for myself. For letting me be a gypsy and then, letting me find my way back home.
Dear God, thank you for everything.
Dear God, thank you for everything.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Soup.
How? How can i be fascinated by a person one minute and completely bored out of my wits with him the next?
How can i find the anonymity of the Web more interesting than the concreteness of meeting one face-to-face?
How can i be completely excited about having my first date - a blind one, that too - in 25 years, and then be so guilty and turned-off after it?
How can i claim that i'm over BE, when i only fall in love all over again with him when i meet him?
How can i crib that i want to find lasting love, a man for whom i'm the one rather than the second-best, and a marriage that will be fun, stimulating, invigorating and good for me, and still freak the hell out when men start taking interest in me, and curse them saying i love staying single?
How can i be so clear about what i want and still so confused about how i should find it?
Damn. I'm totally messed up in my head.
How can i find the anonymity of the Web more interesting than the concreteness of meeting one face-to-face?
How can i be completely excited about having my first date - a blind one, that too - in 25 years, and then be so guilty and turned-off after it?
How can i claim that i'm over BE, when i only fall in love all over again with him when i meet him?
How can i crib that i want to find lasting love, a man for whom i'm the one rather than the second-best, and a marriage that will be fun, stimulating, invigorating and good for me, and still freak the hell out when men start taking interest in me, and curse them saying i love staying single?
How can i be so clear about what i want and still so confused about how i should find it?
Damn. I'm totally messed up in my head.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Creating the perfect 'best friends forever' evening...
You need:
- To visit your best friend in Mumbai
- To shuffle priorities between best friend and a set of very close friends such that neither get pissed
- Best friend's husband to be out for an office party
- Excitement on downing a few with best friend for the first time
- A place like Toto's, for two reasons: it's jam-packed, it has men who are chivalrous (but not necessarily nice) and offer their bar stools to you
- 4 pints of beer, one Margarita, three Bloody Mary's, two Tequila shots, one Chilly Chicken, Tandoori Sausages and all the time in the world
- A cute bartender, whom you can compliment saying, "Aap bahuth chute hain" and get away with it
- Blast-from-the-past music
For the garnish:
- A dab of Kaajal
- A smear of glittery lipstick
- Foo-foos
Preparation time:
Approximately half an hour
Method:
Method? What method? There's no method to madness, is there? Mix the garnish and ingredients together. And voila! You have two very high and happy women letching at good-looking boys, giving each other high-fives, discussing mensexbreak-upscrushes, head-banging, writing stuff on coasters and preserving it for posterity. Hail hail!!
P.S: We still managed to find our way home in an auto at 1:30 in the morning.
- To visit your best friend in Mumbai
- To shuffle priorities between best friend and a set of very close friends such that neither get pissed
- Best friend's husband to be out for an office party
- Excitement on downing a few with best friend for the first time
- A place like Toto's, for two reasons: it's jam-packed, it has men who are chivalrous (but not necessarily nice) and offer their bar stools to you
- 4 pints of beer, one Margarita, three Bloody Mary's, two Tequila shots, one Chilly Chicken, Tandoori Sausages and all the time in the world
- A cute bartender, whom you can compliment saying, "Aap bahuth chute hain" and get away with it
- Blast-from-the-past music
For the garnish:
- A dab of Kaajal
- A smear of glittery lipstick
- Foo-foos
Preparation time:
Approximately half an hour
Method:
Method? What method? There's no method to madness, is there? Mix the garnish and ingredients together. And voila! You have two very high and happy women letching at good-looking boys, giving each other high-fives, discussing mensexbreak-upscrushes, head-banging, writing stuff on coasters and preserving it for posterity. Hail hail!!
P.S: We still managed to find our way home in an auto at 1:30 in the morning.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
My favouritest roads...
100 Feet Road.
When there isn't mad traffic from flyover to finish, i'd love to stroll down it. The trees lining the footpath, the brand retail stores all lighted up and displaying signs of 'Sale', their amazing window displays and innovative entranceways...Sigh. It's so colourful, alive, vibrant. I love it.
The road opposite the entrance to DD Broadcast Center.
Superb for early morning and long, lonely walks. Tree-lined, little houses with slanting tile-roofs, no traffic. Reminiscent of ye olde Bangalore. A slice of heaven.
So far, these are it. There are some others that i can't think of right now. But when i do, i'm definitely going to mention them here.
When there isn't mad traffic from flyover to finish, i'd love to stroll down it. The trees lining the footpath, the brand retail stores all lighted up and displaying signs of 'Sale', their amazing window displays and innovative entranceways...Sigh. It's so colourful, alive, vibrant. I love it.
The road opposite the entrance to DD Broadcast Center.
Superb for early morning and long, lonely walks. Tree-lined, little houses with slanting tile-roofs, no traffic. Reminiscent of ye olde Bangalore. A slice of heaven.
So far, these are it. There are some others that i can't think of right now. But when i do, i'm definitely going to mention them here.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Oh well, whatever.
Regardless of how haphazard, nutcase-ish and volatile the rest of my day is, i always start it the same way. The creased forehead, yes; but apart from that i first flit through a set of blogs i check regularly, almost like clock-work. Then i follow links to other blogs from there, and when names aren't mentioned, i try to guess who they are (that's provided i know the people).
Always, always, there are some blogs that make me want to live the life these bloggers are living. Today, it was a sudden urge to change this blog's template because i saw a really nice one and told myself, "I also want!"
I'm not going to do it, though. Warped as it may sound, right now i'm battling with myself on a lot of things, and giving in to the temptation of changing templates is more than just that - it's letting my weaknesses get the better of me. It's a sign of being petulant, immature, dissatisfied with what i have - some things that i'm trying desperately to get rid of. This time, to make ME happy.
As for wishing for the lives of others, i've stopped that. I'm sometimes envious, sometimes dreamy about who they are, that independence they possess, their relationships with family and lovers and husbands and friends. That's where it stops, with the envy and dreaminess. I no longer wish for their lives to be mine, because then i would have to forfeit a lot of memories i've gathered over the years.
I'd have to give up GP, which i've done already but i still have 'our' memories together. I'd have to give up the in-and-out flight, the crazy rides to Narayana Hridayalaya and Nandi Hills, the days, the nights; i'd have to give up those in-and-out-of-love experiences of the past that have taught me so much; i'd have to forego a sensitive, emotional, crazy, forever-young mother and a practical, oh-i'm-growing-old-and-feeling-lonely father; i'd have to erase all the incidents in my life that have made me, me - strong (some more strength could do), spontaneous, still hoping that i will find lasting love; i'd have to give up advertising, working with wonderful people (and some not so wonderful), the allure of One Shows and Cannes; i'd have to give up my friends who have, at various points in our lives, accepted me back after periods of estrangement, who have always been what friends should be - completely understanding about why i have to do some things and why i don't want to do some others, letting me live my life, being on-call 24X7.
No. These are things that have a stronger hold on me than those momentary pangs of "I wish". These are things that will last. If not in flesh and blood, then in my head till i grow senile. These are things that matter to me. And i won't give them up. For anything. Not even for the exotic lives and 180+ intelligence and the 'attractive' quirks and exclusive circle of people i see portrayed every morning as i check these blogs out.
Always, always, there are some blogs that make me want to live the life these bloggers are living. Today, it was a sudden urge to change this blog's template because i saw a really nice one and told myself, "I also want!"
I'm not going to do it, though. Warped as it may sound, right now i'm battling with myself on a lot of things, and giving in to the temptation of changing templates is more than just that - it's letting my weaknesses get the better of me. It's a sign of being petulant, immature, dissatisfied with what i have - some things that i'm trying desperately to get rid of. This time, to make ME happy.
As for wishing for the lives of others, i've stopped that. I'm sometimes envious, sometimes dreamy about who they are, that independence they possess, their relationships with family and lovers and husbands and friends. That's where it stops, with the envy and dreaminess. I no longer wish for their lives to be mine, because then i would have to forfeit a lot of memories i've gathered over the years.
I'd have to give up GP, which i've done already but i still have 'our' memories together. I'd have to give up the in-and-out flight, the crazy rides to Narayana Hridayalaya and Nandi Hills, the days, the nights; i'd have to give up those in-and-out-of-love experiences of the past that have taught me so much; i'd have to forego a sensitive, emotional, crazy, forever-young mother and a practical, oh-i'm-growing-old-and-feeling-lonely father; i'd have to erase all the incidents in my life that have made me, me - strong (some more strength could do), spontaneous, still hoping that i will find lasting love; i'd have to give up advertising, working with wonderful people (and some not so wonderful), the allure of One Shows and Cannes; i'd have to give up my friends who have, at various points in our lives, accepted me back after periods of estrangement, who have always been what friends should be - completely understanding about why i have to do some things and why i don't want to do some others, letting me live my life, being on-call 24X7.
No. These are things that have a stronger hold on me than those momentary pangs of "I wish". These are things that will last. If not in flesh and blood, then in my head till i grow senile. These are things that matter to me. And i won't give them up. For anything. Not even for the exotic lives and 180+ intelligence and the 'attractive' quirks and exclusive circle of people i see portrayed every morning as i check these blogs out.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Okay, i have it figured.
I know what kind of man i want: The kind who knows anything and everything about Income tax, saving tax, investment options and anything that even remotely falls under the category (excluding discussions on my shopping expenses).
I'm getting screwed over tax right now, not so much because i'm juggling funds but because i'm so clueless about everything to do with it. The only thing i do know is how the words 'Income' and 'Tax' are spelled.
So there you are, bachelor CAs and Admin people of the world... i'm ready for the swayamvara. Just as long as you're okay with being quizzed on your knowledge of taxations and stuff while the 'ladki dekhna' is happening.
I'm getting screwed over tax right now, not so much because i'm juggling funds but because i'm so clueless about everything to do with it. The only thing i do know is how the words 'Income' and 'Tax' are spelled.
So there you are, bachelor CAs and Admin people of the world... i'm ready for the swayamvara. Just as long as you're okay with being quizzed on your knowledge of taxations and stuff while the 'ladki dekhna' is happening.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Question:
Tell me, do all those men who in their younger days hunger for neighbour's nubile daughters, friends' middle-school kids, their own teenage nieces and sundry other young ones, grow up to be men who abuse their own daughters?
(And please, it's just a question. No need to work it backwards and draw conclusions about my own childhood. I haven't been through such a traumatising experience ever.)
(And please, it's just a question. No need to work it backwards and draw conclusions about my own childhood. I haven't been through such a traumatising experience ever.)
Thursday, January 24, 2008
I can do this, i can do this, i can d... *BUMP!*
I drove today! From home to office! For the first time! It was fabulous! I'm super excited and completely charged up!
I miscalculated and skimmed the surface of an auto bumper in front of the KF office though... But that's okay! I survived all through the rest of the journey! And like, manouvered the car from behind a broken-down bus and didn't slide down on the sloping Queens Road! I mean, how fabulous is that??? For a scaredy-cat like me???
Phew. All that excitement's making me tired now. Love you Red. I'm proud of that first little paint-removing scratch from me. I hope you are too.
I miscalculated and skimmed the surface of an auto bumper in front of the KF office though... But that's okay! I survived all through the rest of the journey! And like, manouvered the car from behind a broken-down bus and didn't slide down on the sloping Queens Road! I mean, how fabulous is that??? For a scaredy-cat like me???
Phew. All that excitement's making me tired now. Love you Red. I'm proud of that first little paint-removing scratch from me. I hope you are too.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
25 years none the wiser - a picture post.
L to R:
20.01.08 - "'25 years none the wiser' - A one-woman act (after she gets high). At Kosmo, Cunningham Road, 8 p.m onwards."
The Wait - doing crackpot photography to kill time.
9:00 p.m - "Okay, i'm tired of scribbling. Where the hell are these guys?!?"
Sorry - They come finally, and i'm relieved. People love me, after all.
L to R:
Conspiracy - 12:30 a.m, at G & S's place.
L to R:
Conspiracy - 12:30 a.m, at G & S's place.
Surprise! - And so i cut my 25th budday cake amidst much laughter and sloshedness.
L to R:
21.01.08 - Ayurvedagram, the venue of my first massage in 25 years.
Amphibian boat - This is what peace looks like.
Expectant - Post-warnings from A that i should let the masseurs do whatever they want with my limpid body, i sit waiting for my one hour of bliss.
Unwinding - Spending time with myself was a good idea. I dug into the food, with the rustling coconut trees and a sunny afternoon for company.
L to R:
Happy Budday again! - Got back from Ayurvedagram, slept for a couple of hours and woke up bleary-eyed to cut another cake. This time, with family.
Dead meat - Dinner with parents, and then back home.
Mmmm. Happy Birthday NT.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Revelations.
Role models don't always stay role models. One day, they must forfeit the pedestal because you don't see them as magical any more.
People make excuses for things they don't WANT to do. They agree reluctantly when they're party to compromise.
Marriages are acts. Of convenience.
People who don't deserve good things are the ones who end up getting them.
Just when you think you've seen it all, you're shaken out of your passivity and shown something even more devastating.
Whatever it is, it isn't worth the pain.
When you think nothing can give you hope, there's always faith.
I don't care if God is a man or a woman.
Those who live and die by morals, are those who have never acquired any form of wealth. (P.S: Society was probably built by this species.)
People make excuses for things they don't WANT to do. They agree reluctantly when they're party to compromise.
Marriages are acts. Of convenience.
People who don't deserve good things are the ones who end up getting them.
Just when you think you've seen it all, you're shaken out of your passivity and shown something even more devastating.
Whatever it is, it isn't worth the pain.
When you think nothing can give you hope, there's always faith.
I don't care if God is a man or a woman.
Those who live and die by morals, are those who have never acquired any form of wealth. (P.S: Society was probably built by this species.)
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
My Silver Jubilee Wish List.
I turn 25 in... 5 days. That's plenty years away from being young and five years away from being 30. Somehow, that makes me feel good. 'Grown up', maybe.
My wish list hasn't changed drastically, only the prioritising. So, i wish for:
1. Inner happiness. For now and forever.
2. Stronger will power.
3. A month (or more) away from humanity.
4. Peace of mind.
5. A man who isn't emotionally spineless.
6. Learning to play the drums or a violin.
7. A penthouse. The kinds you live in, not read.
8. Money to do all i wish, and to be able to do things for people i love.
9. The 13-series books of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events.
It's a mix of things i need and things i want. There is, perhaps, a subtle difference between the two words, but it's present nevertheless.
So here's looking forward to D-Day. Or should i say, B-Day?
My wish list hasn't changed drastically, only the prioritising. So, i wish for:
1. Inner happiness. For now and forever.
2. Stronger will power.
3. A month (or more) away from humanity.
4. Peace of mind.
5. A man who isn't emotionally spineless.
6. Learning to play the drums or a violin.
7. A penthouse. The kinds you live in, not read.
8. Money to do all i wish, and to be able to do things for people i love.
9. The 13-series books of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events.
It's a mix of things i need and things i want. There is, perhaps, a subtle difference between the two words, but it's present nevertheless.
So here's looking forward to D-Day. Or should i say, B-Day?
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
*Choke* *Cough Cough* *Sputter*
Can't breathe... too tight... need fresh air...
Decided to wear... a Chanderi cotton saree... this morning... *Puff Puff* *Wheeze*... thought i could... fit into... the...blouse...
Didn't realise i'd put on a few.... extra kilos... *Phew* since then... managed to fit... into it though... *Half-breaths*...
The Victorian Era... *Tug*... must have been hell for the... *Pheeeeew* women trying to fit into those godd... darn it... goddarn corsets, their bust... all crushed into... *Yelp!* a single blob of flesh...
Help... i think i... i need CPR... somebody... anybody... can't b...b...breathe...
(*POPPP!*)
Oh oh.
I think my expanding diaphragm just lost me a blouse button.
Decided to wear... a Chanderi cotton saree... this morning... *Puff Puff* *Wheeze*... thought i could... fit into... the...blouse...
Didn't realise i'd put on a few.... extra kilos... *Phew* since then... managed to fit... into it though... *Half-breaths*...
The Victorian Era... *Tug*... must have been hell for the... *Pheeeeew* women trying to fit into those godd... darn it... goddarn corsets, their bust... all crushed into... *Yelp!* a single blob of flesh...
Help... i think i... i need CPR... somebody... anybody... can't b...b...breathe...
(*POPPP!*)
Oh oh.
I think my expanding diaphragm just lost me a blouse button.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Before-After.
A day before we turned three we died, you and i. It was an unnatural phenomenon, but one that was in the making for a while. Words were your problem, patterns mine.
Can we go back to being friends, you said, the way we were before. We did better than that. We became strangers.
It's been awfully cold this past week. Yesterday, as the soft blankets passed on their body's warmth to mine, i realised the cold wasn't outside.
It was within.
Can we go back to being friends, you said, the way we were before. We did better than that. We became strangers.
It's been awfully cold this past week. Yesterday, as the soft blankets passed on their body's warmth to mine, i realised the cold wasn't outside.
It was within.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)