Getting married, getting smarter.

So the tradition of tying the knot hasn't changed, but i'm glad to see that as more and more people get married, they're getting more intelligent about the gifts they want. Cutlery and Gods will always be a classic, yes. What's fuddy duddy now are:
- Clocks (i remember counting 20 wall clocks for my aunt's wedding a decade or more ago, and then a dozen for my cousin's wedding a handful of years back, and now none at my friends' weddings!)
- Murals / wall hangings, the kind that show two people kissing, animals grazing on fields, horses, Krishna with his entourage of women, kids playing and etc.

What couples these days are opting for:
- Money: this one's always been there too, but always restricted only to people who don't know you so well. (That should explain why most envelopes only had 101 rupees in them.) These days, couples prefer money from everyone so they can do whatever they want with it. At H's wedding, he asked everyone to give him and bride O, money. They made quite a killing in the end and went on their honeymoon with it.

- Need-specific gifts: Latest case in point: S. Unofficially married four months back, she's going to fly out to Canada after her public wedding this Friday. She wanted us to buy her winterwear as her wedding gift. Then there's F - she's stalled most of her friends from buying gifts because she wants to settle down in Pune first, find a home and then get people to buy her stuff.

- Appliances: Best worked through pooling in, ideal as a group gift. Microwaves, laptops, refrigerators, ACs - you get the drift. (Pun unintended.)

- Indulgences: Self-awareness = treating oneself to spas, weekend getaways and therapy sessions to bust stress. So packages of the sort are always welcome by the getting married types. Even better if the validity period's for over two years - they have a ticket to bring dead romance back in their lives.

Then of course, are the Keeda gifts. Presented to tease, taunt, aid sex life, or plain just mess around with the bride and groom:
- When S got married, she got a book of erotic stories, pink underwear, a handy KS manual and more. (The guy i was seeing then suggested garden scissors as well because she was a feminist, but never mind that.)

- A friend's friend got a year's supply of condoms. All brands, all flavours, all sizes.

- Older couples - because they are getting old - present baby stuff! (Picture this: bride and groom standing on stage fresh out of wedding vows, unceremoniously dumped with a baby bag full of diapers, clothes, mits and blah blah. Even worse if it's an arranged marriage.)

So there we have it. Changing marital times calling for changing gifting patterns. It's a good thing the times are changing though. Somehow forms an extra incentive to be married. Love and all apart, that is.

It's been a good year.

Yep, it has. I know most people would disagree but i really enjoyed this year. Even when things got very heated up at work and i had the hardest time coping with a lot of things.

I met and bonded with quite a few new people, had a boyfriend (lost him too, but we've all heard that one before), took a vacation with parents after 10 (or is it more?) years, got a TVC out, attended a fair share of weddings, got drowned in credit card debts (no, this isn't one of the good things but we're listing out stuff here so weelax already!), attended the Oktoberfest, partied a lot, put a lot, sent a little, made a conscious decision to leave advertising for a while, had lots of pyjama parties, got my duplicate Voters ID and marks cards done, my DL's on its way, i learned to float on water, tried out Sushi,... the list is pretty exhaustive. I'm very happy. What i am happiest about, though, is that i travelled a lot this year. Work and pleasure trips. Tried to put together a list, and here's what it sounds like:
4 trips to Mumbai
7 or more trips to Chennai
1 trip to Mahabalipuram
1 trip to Kodaikanal
1 trip to Dandeli
1 trip to Pune
2 trips to Goa
1 trip to Hyderabad
1 trip to Pondicherry...
...and the year hasn't even come to an end! I'll have added 3 brand new places - ones that i have never been to in all my years on earth - to my list by the end of this month. And by God, am i looking forward to it!

Wowee. 3000 odd. Really?

Sitemeter shows i have had over 3000 visitors to my blog. Can't believe people could be that interested in the stuff i write.

Or maybe they just have nothing better to do.

Why she is my best friend.

On a guy who kinda broke my heart, but not really.

Me: hey
She: what?
Me: let me send you link to *beep beep beep*'s pics. (Name aliased for privacy reasons
She: ok
Me: (sending link)
She (immediately): pathetic
dude that can't be *beep beep beep*
is it?
the guy with the *beep* (describing a facial feature)
dude?!!!!!!!!!
Me: yeah
it is him
She: eeeeeeeuuuuuuuu
Me: :)
oh please
he's not so bad
She: he is so uncle type da
Me: he's quite good-looking
She: how the *beep* did you find this guy hot?!!!!!
what's wrong with you dude!?
Me: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
i find your reaction very funny
:))
She: horrible horrible...
i would've died if you were seeing him
Me: he's not bad
She: shut up
yeah actually you're right
he isn't bad
he is pathetic
OMG
i will kill you if you find someone like that for yourself
you get it?
Me: ha ha ha ha ha ha
alright alright calm down
She: stop laughing
i'm super serious
i don't believe this man
Me: CALM DOWN woman! I was not dating him!
She: ok
thank god for small mercies.
(Disclaimer: More controversial bits of the conversation have been deleted for fear of a lawsuit from the aforementioned guy or his better half.)

A post, slambook style.

Your weekend was: Fabulous. I went for the Freenigo wedding.
Your best memory of the wedding: Ini carrying Free in his arms as they got away from the crowd and skulked away behind the stage.
Your latest crush: L. Kind of.
Your most memorable achievement: I learned to float on water on Friday! Now, i only need practice.
Your favourite food: Seafood fried in oodles of butter and fine-sliced garlic. Long live Moon Rakers.
Your favourite tourist activity: Spending time on the beach.
You love: Taking candid pictures, and i took lots of those this weekend!
You hate: A vacation coming to an end.

Seen...

...on the back of an Omni last night:

"Jesus loves you

& India"

Call me Social Butterfly.

Last night, a bunch of friends went to Cirrus half hour before closing time. I think the place has turned into what Tavern once was for the advertising fraternity. It's where Bangalore's cooler, less lad-de-dah and more down-to-earth party people come to hang.

Somehow managing to get in despite there being no place for anymore people, i first bump into Baklava - a regular at Cirrus and a colleague from work. Hug hug, chat and move on to the outer section.

Next, it's the Higher Iyer and wifey. Hug hug, peck peck, chat and move on.

Bump! Resh calls me bitch on sight, accuses me of not going out partying with them everytime they call. H joins in and delivers the same dialogues. Big hug, huge grins all round, introductions to new people.

Move on, and i reach ze core group - the ones i had come to party with. Say my hellos, head to the bar for their refills and my starter bottle. On the way back, stop to flit between the rest of the people i had met.

Then i meet Kay Dee Cunting. Hug hug, catch up and move on again.

It was awesome. I haven't felt so important in a while. *Grin*.

And then of course the cops had to come and break it all up, hit some women and throw a tantrum. But well, this part of the story's for another time, another day.

Things i discovered about myself lately.

- I can handle relationships much better than i used to be able to a year/two years ago.
- I'm not an anal girlfriend. Or a nagging one, for that matter. It's the men i date who make me that. (Note to self: Change taste of preferred traits in the male species.)
- I'm a sucker for men in Checked prints.
- If i had been a full-time gamer, i would have been rolling in so much cash, i could have bought the world three times over.
- I enjoy House and Trance immensely.
- Those people i used to think didn't know of any other way to spend time than putting and sending? I've become one of them.
- I stil enjoy my food, but have cut down intake by at least half. It depresses me.
- I ignore most of my ailments thinking they'll go away on their own.
- The best way to increase my knowledge about things is to play games about them.
- I want nothing out of life.
- For all the strength of character i boast, i think i'll be devastated with any more deaths in the family.
- I'm most definitely going to hell.
- I have a heart partially carved out of stone.
- I'm actually scared of globe-trotting.

- I'm selfish.

- I'm not petrified of spiders any more.

I love Bangalore.

Perspectives, places, clouds and rain.

FROM THE TOP: View of LIC Building outside Hard Rock Cafe; Soaking in the Sun, Jagdish Nagar; Choco Chip Muffin at CCD; Rains near Chinnaswamy Stadium; Dawn at Cantonment Railway Station on the morning of F's departure; Leafy Reflections, Cubbon Road; Auto Dew, St. Mark's Road; Dog on Shutter, Shivajinagar; Lonely Hearts Club, Office Terrace, Richmond Town.

Ain't no sunshine when he's gone...

... but there is a glorious rainbow!

Mellllllllt...

Yes! Thank you, God, thank you!

Dance classes are happening. And i'm going to be restarting in November. Bellydancing Intermediate and (trumpet) Kickboxing! Woo hoo! Bloody hell, i can feel the rush of adrenaline already!

I need this in my life right now. Oh God, i need it so badly!

Conversations of the Married.

She, drunk and coming home really late in the night: I hate being married.

He, sober and not sure if he heard right: What?

She: I hate being married.

He: Okay...

She, growing petulant: I hate being married because i hate being called wife.

He, soothing: Okay... So, what do you want to do about it?

She: I don't want to be married.

He: Okay. Sleep over it.

She: Okay.

Last night, i thought i was going to die.

Yeah, it's a little silly, i know. There is a background to it though.

Taking cabs back home when i get late meeting up with friends has become a habit with me. So last night, when G and i got late leaving Highnote, we decided to call for a cab. Within 15 minutes of calling for one, i get a call from the driver. I direct him to the place, and he finally ends up going a little further away than the pickup point.

G and i walk to the cab, and we don't see the cabbie's face at all. What i do see upon getting in, is a brown suede jacket trimmed with fur, neatly cut hair at the back and black, thick frames. Very stylish, and i must confess my bias, very unlike a cab driver. Immediately, my senses are on the alert. Because hell, in India cab drivers don't dress so well. I try my best to get a look at the driver's face - rear-view mirror, side mirror, sitting forward and trying to peep. No luck at all.

There was no trace of an ID card on the dashboard, absolutely nothing. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and that gave way to apprehension. So G and i sit in the backseat, and we're sending messages to each other because obviously, we can't talk about it.
Me: "Machcha, he doesn't effing look like a driver da!"
G: Lol
Me:Little bit weird no? Do you think my karma's catching up with me and i'll be molested or something?
G: Che thoo you better call (referring to calling after i get home)
Me: Ha ha ha! I know the perfect person to be on line with! P Diddy!
G: Imagine my karma. Lol.

And so she leaves, and i ask the cabbie to turn on the radio because the silence in the cab is oppressive. What song should come but "Roop tera mastana". I wish that the earth would swallow me whole - like it wasn't bad enough, my thoughts stray like a street dog and i end up thinking the song will only add fuel to his fire, if he has any.

By and by, the fear subsided and i relaxed in the seat, loving the music playing and humming along. I reached home in one piece. And i messaged G to reassure her as well. But by God, next time on i will really have to watch out for travelling late by cabs. Got to take this as a warning sign.

Oktoberfesht.

We'd only ever heard of Oktoberfest as the legendary beer festival of Germany. When KF brought it to India, it was a novelty - a taboo one, at that. Fascinated though i was, i never managed to go for one until yesterday.

B cooked Thai Yellow Curry and Herb Rice that we belted as we waited for K and V to return from their visit to Coimbatore. Rumours of our going to the Oktoberfest were in the air, but B and i didn't pay much attention to it. I for one had just finished spending an entire day at office and was in no mood, or presentable state, to head to a beer drinking festival.

9:30 p.m, just as we've downed a couple of diet cokes (B) and Teacher's (me) and are on our way downstairs to buy some nico sticks, who do we see but K and V. Half-dead from the bus journey, but alive enough to ask us: "WTF are you guys doing? Why aren't you ready?" B and i exchange looks and then shoot raised eyebrows in K's direction. "Oktoberfest, dude. We're going. Bloody get ready. Don't mess with me, i've had a really bad bus ride and i really, really need to get pasted." Uh, okay. Unarguing, we quietly climb the stairs to the house, and run helter skelter - K because she's in two minds on whether she should hit the potty or not, B because she has nothing to wear and me because not only do i have nothing to wear, but the clothes they have will not FIT ME! I panic - i'm wearing dark green Harem pants and a sleeveless Fab India top, my hair's unwashed, greasy, strandy and held back by a hairband.

Plus there's a bigger issue - Oktoberfest is for beer. What will B and i drink?

Wine, vodka, cocktails, soda, soft drinks also available. Phew. Hallelujah.

While we scramble to get dressed, V sits biting his nails and getting frustrated about letting precious minutes of beer consumption slip away because of some women who want to be dressed 'appropriately'. "It's a beer fest, for heaven's sake. People come there to drink beer. Who's going to bother about clothes?"

Bondas. Most of them were well-dressed. And oh my Gosh, what masks! K bought herself one. No, two.

We got ourselves our little disposable cups and (drum rolls) started on breaking world guzzling records.

B and I kept alternating between the shtage show and the enclozhed shpace called, uh uh uh, Ultra Cafe. Der wazh great mushik - Jalebi Cartel wazh plain. We guzzled and guzzled till we were all pretty hi.

We danshes sho much. It wash gooo fun. Met Shalt n Peppa, Hash Cookiesh Man, and shum creepy shtrangesh. The place wash so fullo lie. It was greaat fun and we got back home and drank shum mo and went our fo a drive and got to shleep at 5 this morni. JSsdfjsdnasjfbh sadjhsjdh sadbshbfhsdmkmksdkf gunait.

Deewali!

Diwalis for me were always about burning colourful matchsticks as a kid because we couldn't afford crackers. According to my dad, we didn't need to because it wasn't really 'our festival'. Then, as i grew into my degree days, Diwali was about going over to PK's place, belting yummy Diwali food, bursting a few crackers and then most probably staying over.

This year though, Diwali was super different. And super fun. Of course, boy being gone away, i wanted to sit at home, gather my thoughts, figure out the whats, what-ifs and what-nots. K and B had other ideas - they wanted me to go with them to Chennai to celebrate Diwali at K's place. It sounded like a pretty good idea, but i just wasn't sure. And i thought i wasn't ready.

Then i discovered that Friday was a holiday for us. And i called up K in the n-1th minute and told her that, Hey, I'm going to be able to make it! By then B had gotten into trouble at her workplace so she couldn't travel with us Thursday night.

Friday morning, three of us reached Chennai - K, I and A (an addition i only knew of in the last minute, but not a bad one as i discovered in the days that followed). B would join us on Saturday morning.

We got to K's place, settled in and that's when the roller coaster ride began. Home-cooked meal after home-cooked meal all day, right through Sunday. Upma, Puri Choley, Aloo Paratha, Baigan Bharta, Aloo Capsicum Sabzi, Rice, Dal, Gongura Chutney, Dal Paratha, Gobi Manchurian, Methi Roti, Malai Paneer - i've lost count of all the mind-blowing food we ate. I think i must have grown a second stomach that weekend, because i just kept stuffing my face endlessly. And K's mother can really, really feed people.

A day full of eating on Friday was followed by a night of semi-debauchery - K's extended family came over and the house was rich with laughter, merriment, PJs, alcohol and yes, more food. (Women were not allowed alcohol, by the way.) Then followed the Diwali tradition of Teen Patti. I played, and for the first time in my life, I WON! Like, a lot. It's a different thing that the plastic chips didn't cash into real money but what the heck, it was great fun to be the winner!

Saturday morning, K and I went to pick up B from the airport at an insanely early hour. As a consequence, we slept in the car at the airport parking lot and were jolted awake when B called to tell us she had landed. Drove back home, belted more food, slept. Went for the office Puja in the evening, burst loads of crackers - including my first rocket! K's dad, V, A and K tried stunts with a rocket held in the bottle held in the hand. A almost lost her head because the rocket she lit backfired and came right at her.

By then, withdrawal symptoms had set in, so we decided to head out late in the night to put and send some. Didn't have much but it was a relief to be able to get back to doing our things and being the hooligans we are.

Highlight of the day for me was the 'Good Housekeeping' photographs we took - K acted like a psycho Chinese tourist photographer who gives more poses than the people he is shooting, while i... well, i just goofed around playing the model homemaker. Touching curtains and appreciating the fabric, playing good host to guests by serving them dry fruits, wearing the dupatta on my head and ringing the mandir ki ghanti, smiling coyly, lighting up the diyas at the doorstep - K and I ran through the whole routine. By the end of it, her mother wanted to go hide under some pillows and forget the whole traumatic experience while we clutched our stomachs and laughed our hearts out.

Sunday dawned pretty late, and we drove down to Mahabalipuram for lunch at Moon Rakers. The table was full of food (again). Lots and lots of calamarie, prawns, fish, chicken, crab, paneer (yes, there was a vegetarian traitor among us). Mellow through the meal because i remembered things about the place i ddin't want to, my mood lifted when we hit the surrounding shops for things to buy. Picked up wrap-around trousers, psychadelic genie pants, cool gunjees and a couple of pairs of slippers. Left me very, very happy. And very, very broke. I didn't mind though, i loved everything i bought.

Sunday night, we boarded the train and added one last item of entertainment to our list of madnesses through the trip - scandalising our unsuspecting, youngish, cutish co-traveller. I'm sure we amused him aplenty because he couldn't hide the grin on his face everytime one of us opened our mouths to say something.

They say that Diwali is the festival of lights, the dawn of a new year. I don't know about the latter, but i do know that this Diwali sure lit up my heart as much as it lit up the sultry Chennai night sky. And yes, i ended up feeling light too. Much, much lighter.

How do you get over it?

Some people talk about it endlessly.
Some cry. Like i used to.
Some go on a rebound.
Others have one-night stands.
Some drink. Or mope.
Some turn into addicts.
The more talented ones write songs, get famous.
Me? Me just play songs that remind me of the superfantasticawesome time we had together. So, on my playlist right now:
1. You Know I Wancha - Pitbull
2. Fire Burning (Somebody call 911) - Sean Kingston
3. P.D.A (We just don't care) - John Legend
4. Doori - Atif Aslam
5. Woh Lamhe - Atif Aslam
6. Hum Kis Gali - Atif Aslam
7. Aadat - Jal
Somehow makes it seem like there's lesser distance between us. Sigh. Ah, well.

So, we're still in the process of talking about it...

...but the outcome is more or less clear. It's bye bye love.

Ah well.

P.S: Anybody have any arguments in favour of long distance relationships? Cause i most definitely seemed to have failed to convince him.

I'm not the anal girlfriend types but...

...it's been a month and 10 days since we've been dating (dayem, i used the 'd' word!). And of course it's more than just that now. I'm happy, comfortable, excited but also anxious and perhaps, a little worried at the same time. Boy's gone away visiting sister for two weeks, and i'm here trying to be all everything's-alright kind of normal. Like hell it is! Why is it that i don't feel like staying away from him for too long? Isn't it demented behaviour? And why is it that despite all the happy feelings, there's still this fear gnawing at my core telling me things i don't want to hear? Things like, "This is too good to last" or in worse moments, "This is more than you deserve". Umm, excuse me but, exactly what have i done to not deserve this?

We'll have less than a week after he comes back from London to, well, talk about things. Although i don't quite know what we're going to discuss. Left unsaid, it's all so much nicer.

Irony: Emotional Atyachaar on my speakers.

If i could freeze time...

...I would crystallise the last couple of weeks and preserve them for eternity. I'm so alright with the way things are going, it's scary. This kind of peace is almost asking for trouble to happen. (Yes, i'm being fatalistic.)

I had the most awesomest weekend. And i want it to be mine, just mine. Well okay, mine and his. :)

Goaaaaaaa.

A seafacing room with the beach a stone's throw away.
Lots and lots of Breezers, KFs and rolling.
Plenty of sleep.
The reluctance to get out of bed when there was an option to stay in and laze.
Yummy cheese tomato sandwiches. (By the way BJM, if you ever happen to read this, you realise we hardly had any Goan food? Pathetic, we were.)
An all night party with a 5 a.m hello to the beach at Baga.
Conversations, some pointless and some sensible. A little too sensible even.
A sleeper bus journey with the curtains constantly flying.
Dancing.
The coolness of the sea against warm skin.
Changing colours of the sky, and rain soaked greenery.
Three days just weren't enough.

Note to self.

I really must stop stuffing my face with murukku, samosas and banana chips first thing in the morning.

Let the party begin!

Friday night. I go out with ze boy for dinner, stuff my face, he drops me off at G's. I meet R and, too tired to stay awake, quickly go crash. 3 in the morning, my phone rings. R's calling. But why would he call me from the living room unless it was an emergency?

It was - he wanted me to jump out of bed and go join him at the dining table for some cuppas. And when i didn't do his bidding, he came into the room and dragged me out of bed. Some friends, i tell you.

Saturday dawned way too early thanks to a recording. Finished that and went for a relaxed breakfast at Zoe's. Then went home, packed clothes for the party and the next day, then rushed to G's place. Helped S with a couple of things and before heading out to shop with G.

Conned her into staying out till 7:45 and then had to take her back home for the party. By God, she was surprised. Completely. And the party was awesome, not just because everything fell into place so perfectly but also because i've never been complimented so much on the way i look! Black dress with a drop neck, black stilletoes, black chain and pearl earrings. Basically, i sizzled. Looking forward to having the same effect in Goa.

Sunday was very peaceful. Family day gave way to lots of sleepiness which gave way to conversation with ze boy for two and a half hours in the middle of the night when he was drunk and stoned out of his skull in the misty Coorg morning.

Went back to sleep with the sound of rain in my heart and a smile on my lips. Definitely helped me wake up all cheerful and happy this Monday morning.

Sigh. Life is good.

(P.S: Yeah, the writing doesn't do any justice to the weekend, but bear with me. These days i don't much feel like doing my job.)

Thoughts this morning.

How the hell am i managing to stay up with just 2 hours of sleep?
I'd never fogged up car windows before yesterday.
T-bone steaks are dead meat. I happen to be alive and kicking.
Oh.My.God.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven...
Thank God for long hair.
Mysore Road is a nice drive from the city.
I really need to get some work done today.
I can't wait for the day to end.
The Hangover is funnier when you watch it a second time in the theatre.

Been living a dream lately.

It started last Thursday evening, the meeting after 18 years, at Hard Rock Cafe. Spilled over to Friday with a looooong lunch at Cafe Oakwood, UB City. Weekend was a break, but still managed to stay in touch. Monday was maaaaaad, what with meeting for coffee and then deciding to meet again late night for dinner and OH, crazy throwing up of T-shots on an empty stomach in the company of girlfriends, half-an-hour long road mapping for the directionally-challenged half-australian half-bangalorean, a relaxed early morning breakfast (2 a.m is not the best time for French Toast) at Memories Of China with many golden chains-clad Member of the Underground at the next table promising to do something about someone's girlfriend in Toronto, a very charged cab ride back and weirdass messages thereafter.

Somebody needs to remind me not to drink coffee in the evenings. In fact, not to drink coffee at all. My body functions go all wonky and i end up being restless, supercharged and sleepless for close to half the night. The atmosphere in the cab only aggravated the condition.

I feel good chemistry. It's a rare, heady feeling and i intend to enjoy it to the fullest.

I R Old.

So, i was browsing through a blog today when i read of the Golden Quill Award for something like 'excellence in writing'. I went to the site to check it out, and oh my god for heaven's sake what the fish do i see but a copy of Kkrishnaa's Konfessions in the list of must-read books! I R appalled! What the freak has writing books come down to if some average nitwit gets away with crap writing and getting to the top of a must-read list, even if the list belongs to a maybe-not-so-popular awards page? No offense meant to the author with regard to the story - she has something unique there - but her writing SUCKS. Big time.

A writer, in case the world has forgotten and needs reminding, is not somebody who can string a sentence together and make a story out of several such sentences. NO. A writer is someone who can string several sentences together artfully, craft each sentence to evoke a reaction from the readers (okay, maybe not each sentence, especially if you're a Gabriel Garcia or Tolstoy kind of writer because then it'll be an overkill), and uses his/her skill of language to weave a wonderful, fascinating story.

Then i figured, most writing these days doesn't really follow that pattern. That style belongs to the veterans - the Amitav Ghoshes, Naipauls and R.K. Narayans of the world. So then are we really devalueing their skill and mastery by letting pieces of trash get away with publishing? Freedom of Speech and Opinion apart, why would anybody want to be an author known for his/her average writing? Even Chetan Bhagat - maybe he's improved in the last two books - what i remember from my reading of Five Point Someone, his writing was... average. Same thing - nice story, bad writing.

Maybe it's the new way of doing things. Maybe this is how new-age writing is going to be. But why? Why does it have to be bad even if it has to be simple and conversational? Why can't it be like, let's say...a Meg Cabot? She's simple and conversational. Or a Jodi Picuolt. Why does it have to be a terror for the reader?

And that's when i thought, maybe i'm old school you know. I'm fussy about my books and how i like the writing that i read, to be. That's just it i guess - I R Old. And ageing rapidly. But at least i can say that i grew up on books with character and good writing.

What's on my legs right now.

Flea bite marks.
A scar from a healed scratch caused by a midnight walk among the bramble-full jungles of Dandeli.
Another from a motorbike exhaust burn.
A blood clot that refuses to go away.
Veins. Deep blue and mysterious.
A jet black mole.
Stretch marks from lack of dancing/exercising.
Genie pants that cover them all up.

Le Chef.

The Writer (W) in conversation with The Basboobah (B) on her highly combustible weekend. (Because she cooked on Gas.)

W: So, Restricted Entry heard about your cooking frenzy this weekend B.
B: Yes, well. Sometimes the domesticated me rears her head and wants to do extremely domestic things. Since cooking is the least effortless of the lot - when compared to folding the hordes of clothes tucked into every orifice of the house i live in, or dusting everything - this seems easy peasy. Besides, i was cooking at a friend's place, which meant that i wouldn't have to clean up after my cooking. (Snickers.)

W: What did you cook, and how long did it take you?
B: (Thinking) Let's see now... i made Dal, Ghee Rice and Stuffed Capsicum on Friday night, my trademark Maggi on Saturday morning, and Chicken Curry on Sunday afternoon. Yes, that's about it.

W: Trademark Maggi! That's interesting. Any chances you'll be seen on the Maggi pack soon?
B: (Tinkling laughter): Oh no no no. I'm above all that. Although i might strike a deal with them and get a trademark masala made... perhaps earn some royalty and stuff you know...

W: Why, you don't plan to get married? You deprive a very lucky man of a lot of happiness if you don't.
B: (Laughing out loud) Trust me, i'm giving some man a lot of happiness if i don't get married to him. Although my friend's husband, when he tasted the food i had made on Friday night, immediately began to think of all the eligible men he knew that he could set me up with. His logic was slightly similar to yours: why deprive a man of good food? (Laughing loudly) Men, i tell you. Such chauvinists.

W: So you're pretty good at cooking, huh?
B: Well, i'll pass. I guess i could safely say that there are some things that i'm pretty good at, and some that i'm a novice of sorts at.

W: So what are you good at?
B: The basics - eggs, rice, daal, vegetables, curries. I'm still coming to terms with Biryanis and Pastas.

W: That pretty much covers everything, doesn't it?
B: Not unless you're talking about my clothes! (Laughs out boisterously.)

W: Err, umm, he he. Well, it was a pleasure chatting with you B.
B: The pleasure's all mine, hon. (Winking.)

You know what's funny, F?

That you called me a close friend, and then vanished when you knew about the crush. It was a crush for heaven's sake, not love! And i haven't even been crushy about you for a bloody long time now. Dayem, mister, you got some serious misconceptions nursing themselves in your head! Oh, and if you're still holding the grudge of me calling you a cradle snatcher, then it was meant to be as serious as you calling me a Paedophile a long time back. So that sort of makes us even now.

But that's not the point. The point is, you vanished. And that makes me feel like shit, you know. Like i was never really as close a friend as you made me out to be and all that. Ignore. That's what you've done.

And i'm cool with that - it was a choice you made, not me. Makes me respect you a little less, but what the hell. It's not like it makes any difference to my life or yours.

Bad Directions Day.

Yesterday was terrible. I screwed up miserably on directions not once, but thrice in less than five hours. For the first time ever.

It began with my going to K's place for the evening (after sleeping the whole day because i worked like a dog over the weekend till 11 on Monday morning), and got the autowallah to turn at the wrong left. Where i was really close to her place, the wrong turn took me really far away from it.

Much later when it was time to head home, we called for a cab. (By the way, what is it with all these guys? They're fine the first couple of years and then just deteriorate.) So call comes from Cab No. 1, asking for directions. Half an hour. That's how long we kept directing him to the place. He got thoroughly lost on his own, then got to a place and asked us to walk it there. K lost it then. She yelled and yelled at the guy, and we cancelled the cab. B called another cab, and that one too, we kept giving directions to for at least 20 minutes. He managed to make it to K's home, though.

I think i must have been affected by lack of sleep for the directions to have been so bad. And it must've been a serious lack of it, because it's never happened before. Ever.

By the way, have i confessed how much i like Jezebel by Sade?

That's not quite what i meant.

Last Friday night.

G: So, what's happening on the love front?
Me (getting into the mood with a dialogue i was long waiting to try on her): See, it's like this. I'm like this fertile field and...
G (before i could finish): ...and nobody's sowing? (And there follow raucous laughter.)
Me (disgusted): Eeeyuuuuuu. That wasn't what i was going to say at all.

The damage was done, though. I have removed the dialogue from my Encyclopaedia of Witty One Liners altogther.

A movie marathon weekend.

It started late Friday night with The Reader and went right on through Sunday. Kate Winslet and Ralph Fiennes were followed by Remy Girard and his troupe of mistresses n' friends in Les Invasions Barbares (Invasion of the Barbarians). Sleep knocked at the doorstep of our eyes only at 6 in the morning. Day dawned at 12 in the afternoon, and was soon washed down with finger-licking Ajwain parathas and Egg curry. A crazy game of table hand ball came after, and then i went over to grandma's. Watched Things We Lost In The Fire on Star Movies that night, followed by another movie, the name of which i don't recall.

Kept Dad company on Sunday as he watched Namastey London. And then channel surfed into Nigella Lawson's kitchen, Samantha Brown's hotel rooms as she took a trip across London, peeped in on Benicio Del Toro to see what he was up to. Started reading Love In The Times Of Cholera, not sure if i can keep up reading prose like this any more. Seems like my days of Classics are drawing to an end. Worked a little, slept a little. Put my culinary skills to use by churning out colourful pasta and some cheesy, herby white sauce. Picked up clothes from Peter England for an uncle, paid my credit card bills, made a couple of long-pending phone calls... and felt good about myself.

Gosh, i love being domestic.

Alright then.

Dear God,

So, you've had your joke. Now can i please have my old self back?

Yours sincerely,
Me.

On what i could safely call a relaxed weekend.

After having worked all these years, i figure that Saturday and Sunday have been redefined for me - any weekend that does not involve work is a relaxed weekend. Even if it means that i end up doing long-pending personal chores. Which i didn't this weekend; rather, i ended up doing some good reading and movie-watching.

Let's call the book reading a Neil Gaiman Dash. Late Friday night, i finished American Gods and then got on to Anansi Boys. Somewhere in the middle of the latter, i figured that i knew who Anansi was because i had a storybook on the spider in my childhood days. Surprising for one so petrified of the Arachnids, but there you go. And i also distinctly remember being besotted with reading the story again and again. So that memory somehow brought the book closer to me. Good reads, both. Anansi Boys more so, because it does have its dose of humour and (Forgive me Mister Gaiman) chick-flickness. The problem though, is that if you've just finished reading a book of his like American Gods, it gets a little hard to shift gear (see, i'm finally driving) and see him in the sort of light that Anansi Boys is cast in. (In short, it's a little difficult to not take Anansi Boys as another piece of sci-fi mind boggler, even if it is more to do with mythology and stuff.)

Then, when i was done with the two, i flipped over to something flippant like a floosy Mills & Boons about a filthy rich female forlorn in a ferocious forest full of furry grizzlies, and how she finds someone frikking hottie in the middle of nowhere to take her under his roof. That done, i got bored and switched over to television.

I managed to catch the last bits of Sweet Home Alabama and caught sight of the extremely good-looking Josh Lucas. Ooooh, he's hot. Then i watched Juno. Nice movie, although i don't see why everybody was raving about it so much. I mean, yeah, it would have been melodramatic if they had shown Juno's parents hitting her and cursing her and asking God to take her away - or her walking in the rain and trying to kill herself and all that - typical Bollywood style, but then underplaying all of that so much just killed the reality of it for me.

Oh, and then on Saturday night N and I braved the mall crowds to go watch a movie in a theatre (because i haven't been to one in the longest time), only to find that we had:
a) Missed a show by half an hour
b) No movie screening for the next one and a half hours or
c) No movie screening for the next one and a half hours that we wanted to watch.
So quietly, we went to Allianz and had some terrible Ginger Tea, saw a very average Photography Exhibition and then headed home to pick up DVDs so we could watch anything we wanted.

We watched Choke. And we almost choked ourselves to death. I also sort of arrived at certain conclusions about Chuck Palahniuk and his writing: he's like Whiskey - you need to develop a taste for it before you can enjoy it, and i certainly haven't reached the enjoyment stage with either. As for his writing, well, i found it easier to watch the book-turned-movie first and then read his movie-turned-book. It increases comprehension levels about what he's saying, greatly. (Or maybe i'm the only loser that thinks this way.) Which doesn't go to say that i read Choke - no Siree, i didn't. Like reading an M&B, i let my eyes rove over the juicy parts and skim through the rest. And what i roved over, i didn't like. So obviously i missed the whole story (unlike an M&B).

So yeah, this weekend like i said was pretty chilled out. No stress. No commotion. A little heartburn, but that i can live with. Four more days of this sort of chilledness and i would have started-finished Shantaram. A book that i have been preciously saving up for the last two years so it can be perfect beachbum fodder when i take that extended vacation to an under-populated beach with gently swaying palm trees and clear blue waters that are not too deep.

Ah... i can taste the sea on my tongue already.

Now who might this good-looking woman be?

And at the insistence of dear F, who is THIS not-so-bad-looking babe?

(P.S: I put up the first picture cause that is what i was wearing to office today - cool-looking Genie pants and a short Black kurti. Paired up with chunky midnight blue earrings that are hardly visible, like my face.)

Kodai ke naal holiday sholiday.

Kodaikanal does not disappoint. No matter how much you expect of the place, it invariably proves to be even more beautiful. And this i say after holidaying there just once.

Four days of idyllic chilling, reading, rains, sunshine and skies that change colour every other hour. Lush pine forests, mushrooms, chirping birds, cicadas, waterfalls, soothing breezes, piping hot idlis served at 7 in the misty morning, wooden benches overlooking a deep valley playing hide and seek in the sun, amblings down Coaker's Walk, a lake festooned with water lillies, colourful flowers, the warmth of a fireplace fragrant with burning pine cones - this is what my days were filled with.


Many thanks to my personal vacation planner for organising the trip, and to my workmates who made it possible for me to take this holiday with my parents. Now i have the consolation that i spent some quality time with them, even if there were moments of psychological fatigue involved.

Pictures will be up soon. Almost all 450 of them.

Here i go again...not on my own, though.

It's time for a long overdue trip. A teensy weensy holiday with my parents, the first in over 10 years.

The destination: Kodaikanal. Ever-organised mom has all her bags as well as dad's packed. I need to go back and finish mine. The camera: Nikon D40 DigiSLR.

Four days away from the office. With a beautiful place full of scenic settings, and a Nikon camera to boot. What bliss.

27 Dresses and Once.

Last weekend, i watched three wonderful movies. Feast of Love starring Morgan Freeman, Greg Kinnear and Etcetras; 27 Dresses starring James Marsden, Bridesmaid Heroine and Etcetras; and Once, starring singers/composers/musicians/actors Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. The latter two are what i want to talk about. Rather, touch briefly upon.

27 Dresses, a story about a woman who's been a bridesmaid 27 times, but never a bride. Till she meets (ta dah!) Mister Hot Commitments-Column Writer. Fairly chick-flicky, but so well-made, so witty and so... everyday. I like the way they've kept it real - except for the happy ending, but even that is nicely done. The lead actress - i forget her name - has done a pretty good job. James Marsden, sigh. They don't make specimens like him this side of the globe, i'm sorry to say.

Once, on the other hand, was what would typically be classified as an Art Film. But that again was so real, so everyday and so normal. I like movies of this kind, i figured. This one, Breaking & Entering, Chungking Express... i like the way they use stories of random people meeting out of the blue, experiencing some explosive chemistry and then falling back into patterns of normal life, the encounters vivid only in their memories. And again, i understood why it is that some people make the choice of giving up new-found love over an established one.

And by the way, i'm looking quite desperately for the soundtrack of Once. There's something so melancholy yet beautiful about those soundtracks. I'd really like to have them, to listen to anytime i want.

Is it okay to be ashamed of your friends? Because i am. Of some of them.

I never thought i'd have the kind of friends everybody thought to be evil. I always thought i was on the other side of the line. I was wrong.

Weapons of Destruction. Episode 1: Restless.

This is going to be the ride where things will change between me and Roy, thought Anjali smugly. Vivacious and overbearing, she thought she had her boyfriend right where she wanted him. Today, she was going to tempt him, tantalise him a little: much like those other women riding with their boyfriends on bikes and strategically placing their hands just above boiling point. Yep, she was going to teach those women a thing or two about how to play these games.

Unfortunately, Fate had other plans for her.

Anjali was travelling with her boyfriend on his bike, long straight hair flying in the wind, arms around his waist - maybe even a little lower - when it came and struck her like a whiplash. "Yow!", screamed Anjali, as her insensitive boyfriend kept riding on, mistaking her howl of dismay and pain as pleasure. (But then, isn't that what men usually think anyway?) Vroom vroom! the bike went, and Anjali flailed her hands to and fro, losing her grip on the nether regions of her boyfriend in an attempt to save herself.

Fuck, muttered Anjali under her breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck. For, had she known that her own long strands of Sunsilked hair were going to turn against her so brutally in the wind, she would have come prepared to battle them. With a scrunchie. As luck would have it, though, there was nothing to curtail their free sway.

Who could blame her hair though? Poor things, when they got out of home, they were calm and cocooned on Anjali's scar-free back. They were alright till her stupid boyfriend started riding into the wind. Gusts started teasing the hair - and really, they're quite peaceful beings, these hair; what can they do though if somebody needles them endlessly? - and so they retaliated by spreading their tentacles and slicing the wind into atoms of non-existence. The more stupid ones flew aimlessly around and just got tangled up with each other. One strand, though, went flying like the bullets in The Matrix, straight at the wispy wind lurking at the corner of Anjali's eye, missed by a hair's breadth and poked her where it hurt most - her retina.

Anjali's eye started watering immediately, and she tried to push back the strand of hair. But oh no, this was no ordinary strand. This one had been awarded 'The Long and Strong' title by the Royal Heirs of the Keratin Kingdom, and was bestowed with exceptional powers of resilience in the face of adversity. So it stood its ground (or rather, flew it) and dealt merciless blows to the wisp of wind that sniggered at it from the other corner of Anjali's eye.

Anjali kept screaming, but she couldn't very well pull her hair out of her scalp - that would hurt even more. Even her attempts to restrain the sliky-smooth buggers were in vain - they were not short enough to scrunch up and hold on to, or long enough to tie into a resplendent bun. So she just kept screaming as her boyfriend just kept zipping, grinning from ear to ear.

Her eye throbbed, but she held on. It turned blood red and teared up while she silently hoped that the idiot at the handles would slow down. This was so not going the way she had intended it to.

Unable to bear the injury any longer - an injury now suffered more by her pride than at having her hair flung at her eyes - Anjali dug her nails so deep into her boyfriend's back that he howled in dismay and braked the bike so hard, that she flew above him and landed at the front wheel. Of course, in the process her heel caught at her boyfriend's eye, and he toppled off the bike as well, yelping in pain. All in all, it wouldn't have been a serious accident if it wasn't for the speed with which this entire sequence took place.

People thronged all around them, a press van materialised out of nowhere, and the accident made it to the 3 o clock (as well as the rest of the day's) Breaking News on TV9. Anjali's parents - avid Jai Karnataka supporters and 24/7 watchers of the TV9 news - found out what she was up to, put her under house arrest and got her married to a strange looking man with lots of money within the next three months. Anjali was not too happy with the outcome, but the money more than made up for everything else. Besides, what was her Gym Instructor for, if not to indulge in extra-curricular activities with?

As for her hair, she shaved it all off out of spite, and wore a bouffant wig thereafter. Her hair were not too sad - they did what they had to, in the line of duty. If it meant that they had wreaked havoc in Anjali's life, so be it. After all, with great victory comes great loss.

Nothing makes you regret being single like the rain does.

It's pouring here in Bangalore. Almost like the clouds have been holding a full bladder for a decade and finally decided to let go.

And i'm single.

I mean, really. This is pure long-drive-out-of-town, get-wet-in-the-rain-with-someone, get-cosy-and-lovey dovey kind of weather. And i'm single. Great.

So i went. And i downed my sorrows. At a place called, get this, Couch.

Nope, this is not a good day for single me. Not at all.

Coming up: A new post series...

... called Weapons of Destruction.

Much as i would have liked to post my first in the series right now, i have way too much work to let this distract me. Will be here in the next couple of days, for sure. Here's something to keep you looking forward to it, though:

Anjali was travelling with her boyfriend on his bike, long straight hair flying in the wind, arms around his waist - maybe even a little lower, when it came and struck her like a whiplash. "Yow!", screamed Anjali, as her insensitive boyfriend kept riding on, mistaking her howl of dismay and pain as pleasure. (But then, isn't that what men usually think anyway?)

To be continued...

Free Radical.

It entered within, i know not how.
It wiggles here and there, then and now.
Bites into my flesh, sets my cells on fire.
Unleashes its dissatisfaction, makes it my need, my desire.
Possessed become I, infested by an unquenchable pain.
Here I am, restless for something rebellious again.

"Kill Me" for the day.

Q:
What do military men grow on their farms?
A:
Grain aids.

UNO? Oh, i didn't know!

Facebook has this new application right. I mean, it might be new to me because i've seen it just like, a week ago. It's online UNO, and it's darn fascinating because the invisible powers that be randomly choose three people from random places on the map who happen to be on FB and put them together to play UNO with you. There's a chat window on the side for the players to communicate with each other if they like. So one minute you're in your chair and the next, you're globetrotting, exchanging hellos with perfect strangers from obscure (and not so obscure) places. I find the whole thing extremely cool.

So the first time i played, i had an Egyptian (a very good looking one at that) as one of the players. I don't know, maybe he thought it was a good forum to get chummy with a stranger and ask them their age as icebreaker. My instinctive response was to chat back saying "Shove it". Then good sense prevailed and i gave him a smart one: "Old enough to play UNO." That got a few laughs from the others.

Then i met another guy from Jordan. And this conversation, i have to, have to paste here. (The names have been changed, just in case. Everything else is just the way it happened.)
Mister Jordan: hi everybody
Miss Vietnam: hey
Lousy Mary, i have no idea from where: hi gl :)
Mister Jordan: nice to meet u both
Mister Jordan: ;)
Me: hello
Mister Jordan: and u too OK
Mister Jordan: where u all live
Miss Vietnam: vietnam. and u?
Me: i'm an indian
Mister Jordan: JORDON
Mister Jordan: nabila so u are hindu
Me: nope
Mister Jordan: muslim
Me: yep
Mister Jordan: i live in jordon but it doesnt matter whetter i am a muslim
Mister Jordan: nabila
Me: yeah, so why the assumption that i was a hindu? just because i'm from india?
Me: :)
Mister Jordan: yes
Mister Jordan: ;)
Me: ah.
Mister Jordan: u live in bombay or in calctta
Me: no
Me: there are other places apart from that
Me: like bangalore
Mister Jordan: nabila
Me: or chennai
Miss Vietnam: or trivandrum
Me: absolutely! thank you!
Me: :)
Mister Jordan: so where do u live
Me: bangalore
Mister Jordan: oh

And that was that, he didn't chat after the "Oh". It was amusing, but irritating at the same time. I mean, what rationale did he use to come up with my religious identity? How does it even matter when you're playing a game of UNO? Dork.

Some day i'm going to make all of you stand in a line...

... under enormous spotlights, and ask you the questions you would have dreaded all your life:
Why did you do it to me? Why was it so easy for you? Why did it have to be me that you got selfish with and decided to forsake? Was i not worth any effort at all?

And then i'm going to cry. Like a banshee. Just to show you how terribly you broke my heart, and carried parts of it when you all went away, leaving me incomplete.

Gibberish.

Blah blah urk ick eeyugh mwah sssss meow wooff woof aaaarrrrrr ah ah ah khaak ptuii urp ugh hic hic hic hic hic hic hic hic eenhaaw eenhaaw.

Bleagh burrr bvak feeeeeeee blink blink blink blink flip flop hmm mmm mmm hmmm mmmm la la la la la la.

Sip sip slurp slurp gluglugluglugluglugluggggg! Aaaaah! Shake shake ha ha ha ha, mmmf pffffft prrrrrrr!

Ummm....drrrr drrrrr zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...