Kritikality

Walk of Life

2011-06-02T15:54:00.004+05:30

This is a story of how I learnt to walk; of how I decided to pick up that chubby little foot and strut forward like a boss as just an 8 month old baby; of one of the most important days in a child's life that would predict if the child would be a Johnnie (couldn't stop myself) or not. My being the first born made it all the more special for my parents too. But, they refrain from narrating this story too often. In fact, I have heard it just once from their mouths. Since then, they have denied its truth for safety reasons. They are pretty sure there is a law against parents treating their children like their canine brethren.

It was a delightful morning in Belgaum. My mum had a slice of bread in her hand. She was moving away from me. I decided to stand up and chase the damn slice, period.

Xylophone

2011-03-03T00:38:00.002+05:30

This was a conversation between my younger sister and yours truly over cellphones. The signal strength in my room tends to vary a lot.

Pramati Kalwad (P): Wait wait! I can't understand what you're saying! You sound like a Xylophone! Xylophone, Xylophone, Xylophone!

(Me: Can you hear me now?
P: Xylophone.) X 7

Me: Now?
P: Yes.
Me: You know, I think I had a Xylophone when I was a kid; before you were born. Or wait. Maybe that was a dream. I'm not quite sure.
P: Hey yaaaaaaaa! I think even I remember that!
Me: No?
P: Or wait. No, that was in Tom & Jerry.

A letter

2011-01-31T20:59:00.003+05:30

Dear every HR Personnel at my workplace,

I do not need the email every Monday morning which reads – “Have a happy week ahead….!!!!!” in colours that were seen only on Nandu (sab ka Bandhu)’s underwear in Raja Babu. I will have a much better one with my eyesight not threatened with your blue-background-red-font, thank you.

Keep your employee motivation lessons on the back burner, please? In fact, you know what? Even those “Days” that you guys organize? Red/Blue/Green/Yellow Day, Dress-as-your-favorite-Freedom-Fighter Day (For yes, they would be smiling down upon you so proudly that you are laughing at a Gandhi’s bald wig), Childrens’ Day (which btw, made many a female colleague dress in school-girl uniforms that I can only assume they hired from Budhwar Peth) or any other waste-time-and-encourage-mind-numbing-stupidity Day must have a priority of a 4 digit number considering you ARE the most responsible employee of the lot. Leader among employees, of employees, by default. I am sure they told you that in your BS(chool) sessions.

I also do not need your help in bringing about unity in my team by getting sloshed at a resort. Especially not your inebriated contribution. No, thank you.

I do not want gory, tasteless images and quotes on the notice board about Tailgating or Going Green from you. Because I believe having so many “………..” and “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” in a row itself is the biggest sin that, I can assure you, a man is capable of doing in his lifetime that He shall not think twice before punishing.

A few quick asides here to tell you that, a room with water closets is a restroom. A room with bunker beds where one might want to “take rest” is not. Would it kill you to open a dictionary before you make the sign boards?

When you write “Exit Only. Please Enter Canteen from Gymnasium side” on the wall IN FRONT OF THE CANTEEN EXIT DOOR, I hope you do realize that it makes no sense, serves no purpose and only displays material worthy to be put in chain emails containing hilarious sign-boards from China. Which are again, and I’m only guessing here, started by you guys.

When you make announcements over the mic about a certain Dr.X being available in the doctors room, please make sure you tell us whether it’s a General Physician, Gynecologist, Employee Counseller, vet or a PhD. I do not want anyone else telling me that my menstrual cramps are because of a deeply hidden complex with my imaginary dog.

Coming back to my main point, what I do think that you should concentrate on, is that little thing we all get paid for, probably a minuscule amount as compared to you; more deserving employees, that little piece called work. Sure, we while away time sometimes by playing a tad longer game of Table Tennis in the parking lot or by watching Pixar Shorts on a colleague’s high end phone with a screen as big as the TV in most homes, etc. But, that is only because we are either done with the deliverables for the day or are waiting for an extremely complex set of queries to get executed and eventually execute the database server up in flames. But, tell me, when will you allocate the resources loitering around dry-humping the coffee vending machines while I can hear about 1,347 Project Leaders crying for but just one of them? Employees, I mean. When will you stop lying to us about your whereabouts so you can discuss cosmetics and emulsifying paint (for all I know!) in the canteen and resolve my salary issues?

I cannot think of any other work that you people do. At least, at this point. I would never have complained if I had only not heard every other employee of this organization crib about workflow pending with you.

It’s simple, really. Prioritize.

Yours truly,

A disturbed employee of your organization whose joining letter (post training) you have not yet processed or even collected for that matter.

DISCLAIMER: Do you see any names taken? No? Then? That's all, I say.

Pune-28

2011-01-29T01:42:00.005+05:30

Now, promise me son, not to do the things I've done.

Walk away from trouble if you can.

It won't mean you're weak if you turn the other cheek.

I hope you're old enough to understand.

Son, you don't have to fight to be a man.

I typed it only because that Kenny Rogers song 'Coward of the County' has been playing in my head the whole day. I finally downloaded it. It's something my dad had put in my head as usual when I was a kid.

It has been a really long time since I blogged (instant reviews have no value, just like instant coffee has no taste) And I attribute this purely to my staying away from home. Yes. You see, because, when some even remotely bloggable incident occurs these days like absent-mindedly carrying a full length wet towel to office (No! It wasn't May 25th!) after forgetting to hang it on the clothline before leaving from home and such, I am the first one to pick up the phone and rant about it meticulously to my near and dear ones like nobody's business. But still, today, I have decided to write something. Anything.

It's been a year since I started working and 9 months since I have been living in the severely efficient-mass-transport-school-of-thought-challenged city of Pune. Well, I live in a pristine, wallpaper material township that does not count as Pune, one may argue. But it's still just 10 mins from Camp and Koregaon Park and 20 mins from Swargate (all durations by local autorickshaw standards), yeah? So, there. But, it's a fact that I cannot possibly think of staying anywhere else in this city. God forbid that I am put on a project that is primarily worked on in some other branch of my office in other Godforsaken areas of this city and I have to move out of here. Flexibility, My Rearness! I stay 1000 Kms away from family, friends and any non-Hinglish speaking, Arrested Development understanding, Dabangg hating, good-food-that-does-not-involve-Pav appreciating human beings as it is, thank you.

Alright, that was a little too dramatic, even for me. Pune has been fine to me. I have somwhow ended up spending weekends only by either sleeping through them at home or in a movie hall or shopping till I drop. Not kidding. This one time, I came back home from a shopathon and fell thump on the bed only to wake up with a severe fatigue related fever. Despite being surrounded by innumerable forts that can to be trekked to, I have managed just one so far. Sinhgadh. The difficulty level of the trek was 'super-easy'. For a 4 year old. It was a beautiful place, nevertheless. And hogging on steaming hot piTla-bhakri, bhareet and Thecha atop the fort-hill as we were covered by a thick blanket of clouds and gorging on vada-pavs and sipping piping hot tea after hours of drenchment maximus in Khadakwasla waters was divine.

Apart from these and a few other trips to the other end of the city to visit relatives, attending one Bharatnatyam concert, missing the superlative Sawai Gandharva Festival, many more mundane happenings sum up to mean that I have officially under-utilized Pune, to say the least. 1500PNAMYS/1345MYSPNA Airavata (KSRTC Volvo; three headed carrier elephant of Lord Indra) on NH4 has turned into my second home. I now know all the 3 sets of drivers/conductors, which bus has the plug point right below seat no. 12 and on which day of the week it will turn up, that that plug point (there's no such thing as even a drawing of a switch near it) will shock the living daylights out of you even when the bus isn't keyed in, exactly which loo at Ananda Bhavan (Hanchanal) has all the 3 essential amenities of running water tap, light and a door latch that are fully functioning, etc. I have ended up donating copiuos amounts in cash to VRL (for many a delightful Hubli visit) and more importantly KSRTC of course. So much that they should name a bus after me. Oh wait.

Living on your own teaches you many things. Firstly, that you do not soak clothes in detergent water unless you are absolutely sure that the maid is going to turn up. Secondly, the way I have been brought up is the best possible way. It is only unfortunate when everyone thinks the same about their upbringing. I have dusted the old cookery books in my head, put on the apron of healthy food, donned the anti-Maggi hat (very recent development, this) and I am sincerely trying to put my best culinary skills to use atleast to survive complete starvation that would otherwise loom over my hungry soul. It's either cook your own food and eat or order artery linings whilst your wallet loses weight faster than you can read this sentence.

I have successfully bought the following in less than an hour due to extreme time constraints that I cannot explain at the moment. A standard issue but slightly uselessly radical six-legged cot, an ergonomic nightmare of a mattress as soft as cotton candy (a.k.a Bombay MiThai back home for some reason), 6' 6" cupboard (with a full length mirror) of 0.00037 picometre gauge steel that I will have to sell off at, what I realized late, very late, less than quarter of their original prices. Hopefully my sales spiel will improve along with other mind-numbing corporate vocabulary that I am exposed to. Oh but my simple yet elegant comforter that protected me from the merciless Pune winters is my best buy till date. Better and surprisingly more satisfying than the iPod Touch I bought for my sister.

As always, I have now entered a state of sleepiness beyond imagination. More on the wonderful Ratnagiri mangoes that I am yet again looking forward to, the endangered species of PMPML buses with all their 1 inch thick muck and fish market fragrance and all and of course my gruelling direct and indirect trysts with the people whom I can safely vouch for as the 'sole reason why the world is so bloody f!@#$d up' a.k.a Human Resources Personnel later.

As for the weekend, I intend to shop again for a cousin's engagement ceremony due next week (yet again to be held in Mysore!) and possibly go gliding at here which is literally just a stone's throw away from my house. For a seasoned stone thrower, of course.

Development Arrested

2010-11-17T02:52:00.003+05:30

Arrested Development is a show that is brilliant on so many levels that I can't explain. My natural figure of speech tends to be the hyperbole. But, the truth about AD is that it is indeed one of the most clever, satirical, crazy and thence phenomenal shows that I've watched. With its radical approach towards a sitcom with a narrator at the backdrop to the insanity of the totally unrelatable characters, AD would've been completely fresh in 2003 and how! The characters,nevertheless, are etched perfectly by both consistent writing and simply delightful actors. Despite the perpetual, bizarre, unfolding of the story revealing new nuances of each character, at no point does it seem like the writers are trying too hard.

Right. Now, I'm just lost again recollecting people and scenes and laughing.
*You can completely ignore the following paragraph*

There's the magician G.O.B who will make you hum 'Final Countdown' at times you never thought you would. The completely hilarious and pitiful whackjob called Tobias. There's also the adorable maniac Buster. Maeby, the rebellious and awfully dumb teenager. Lindsay, the spoilt shopaholic spiteful woman. George Sr., Lucille, Bob Loblaw (Sheer brilliance), George Michael... aah! The list of amazing people is endless.
The only sane and slightly real guy in the show is Michael Bluth which is played by the ever-charming Jason Bateman. He is SO cute that I don't mind coming across as a high school girl with no vocabulary in this very sentence.

The slapstick, the PJs, the spoonerisms and other play of words and even the subtle, ironic and esoteric humour at times, together are all part of a genre of comedy that it creates for itself which is strikingly unique although comprising of the common ingredients with a dash of ingenious. The pace of the underlying story is gripping and the changes that take place, most of the times in less than 30 seconds, are almost always unpredictable and therefore, fun.

It's a pity and a shame that a show like this one had to be canceled after mere 3 seasons of awesomeness due to lack of funds. Watch the show and you may just sob at the irony. But, the supposed cult following and the IMDB rating of 9.7 is what brings peace to my heart in this world where people 'Like' "How I met YOU'RE Mother" and "Scrubzzzz...."

The girl overheard

2010-10-11T00:05:00.003+05:30

The accordion pleats of the dance attire.
The contrived rear view mirror in the rickshaw.
The engraved foot in the flip-flops.
The indecisive raindrop on the grill.
The unwary curtains on duty.
The confused wire of the earphones.
The conforming flame on the stove.
The tolerant pillar in everyone's way.
The reckless thread at the end of the fabric.
The obedient door knob.
The furious ingredients in the hot vessel.
The relieved cloud of deodorant.
The breathless oar.
The exhausted jaw of the smiley.
The karmic rants of the drums.
The free sand in the confined hourglass.
The struggle of the meek hairclip.
The oblivious yet attentive pair of scissors.
The tranquil surrender of the oil in the lamp.
The solitary dot on the forehead.
The urgency of the Christmas lights.
The restless keys on the phone.
The unconvinced photo of the deity.
The rigid grid on the floor.
The sentimental footpedal on the bicycle.
The undisclosed secrets of the eyeliner.
The attention seeking signboard.
The unity of rods of steel.
The ostentatious mirror.
The cunning paper clip.
The thirsty towel.
The little girl heard them all.
And painted their message to the world.

Incepted? Not quite.

2010-07-17T19:27:00.004+05:30

*Prejudice alert*

I knew this day was to come soon. I knew it the day I saw the trailer in the theatre which heralded “From the director of The Dark Knight” and the gang of guys and girls next to me exclaimed-“Yaar! Yeh ekdum sahi hogi movie!” Mind you, the same gang was discussing about how “awesome” The Italian Job a.k.a ‘Thy name is predictable’ was and I had cringed and chosen to move a little away from them. So, that’s what happened. Everyone went to watch Inception. Everyone. As did I after being intrigued by the concept shown in the trailer and of course, previously being blown away by Memento, The Prestige and The Dark Knight helped. And the day I’m talking about is that day when every Tom, Dick and Harry is going on and on about the most awesome movie ever made.

Now, was I incepted with the idea that this is the most awesome movie ever made or it was The thinking man’s treat? Well, not quite. I’ve seen better. Infact, better coming from the same director! His USP is to engage us in his narration and visual artwork of his understanding of the human mind’s complexity and simplicity at the same time. It was the same with Inception too, yet, not quite. It missed an element really and I can’t quite place my finger on it.

Sure, until I learnt to ignore them, the subtitles killed the scenes. (Yeah, I watched it in Fame Fun ‘N Shop, Fatimanagar, Pune…tell me if it was the same elsewhere and someone else also had to go through that apart from Anuj and myself)

And then I began to realize how Hans Zimmer replaced some very normal silence in the background at certain places. In the rest of the movie, his music was very different from his usual and was a pleasant surprise.

The sound effects on the other hand were brilliant throughout the movie.

The visual effects were spectacular wherever Joseph Gordon-Levitt was involved. Yet it did seem a tad primitive at places, particularly when Ariadne’s mind starts to get unstable and the fruit stalls explode. But I’m not gonna complain, even if it is that one scene, cause it was someone else’s technologically challenged subconscious. Maybe Nolan wanted it to be imperfect, who knows! Nolan is smart.

Speaking of Ariadne or scene killer number 4, I wish Ellen Page stuck to what she is amazing at, i.e., playing Juno. Actually, no. I take that back. She did a good job in this movie as well, no doubt, but the movie would’ve felt better without her benevolently taking up the charge of being the audience’s voice saying things like - "okay, just whose subconscious are we in right now?" (Juno style) But then, the concept is so tricky that it makes you try and remember if people in your dreams ask questions that are unnecessary. Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. Nolan is smart.

But, in general, I kept expecting more. More play with the reality and lucid dream state or even more nuances of dreams since he has chosen a topic like that. But I guess he has an excuse of a chemical being used for creating and sharing these dreams et al which just results in extremely vivid dreams. Who knows! Nolan is smart.

I was personally not swept off my feet by the movie. I thought it was OK. The last scene was just a fancy confirmation of my guess.

Nolan is smart, in that, gathering the masses to like him too and thence making more money. But this was a lucky escape from his real lovers and critics since dreams can have as many flaws as they want.

You see, Nolan is smart.

Coimbatore Cuisines

2010-05-20T21:44:00.000+05:30

I wanted to write an elaborate post on life in Coimbatore. But, I hath changed my mind. The only thing I want to write about is food; something I'm immensely passionate about. I have realized over a period of time and by observing fellow beings that yes, indeed, I Am a foodie minus a sweet tooth, in that an Indian sweet tooth.

So, when I was posted to Coimbatore, first time out of home and everything, the initial calls from relatives consisted of - “What about food eh? You need your mom to make chapatis 365 days a year. What will you do there?” It's sad that very few of the people that I'm related to, understand my foodieness. They think I have an aversion towards rice just because I prefer chapatis and because I have the any-one-kinda-carb per meal (either chapati/rice) policy. News flash. I like rice. I like food. I love trying out different cuisines. Especially Indian, albeit vegetarian. I love analyzing why those spices are used in those parts of the country. So, at the end, I absolutely loved the food in Coimbatore, particularly in a few restaurants that I visited on a regular basis. And for more than just the taste. I did not understand the mindset of people who, ate rice everyday back in their homes too, blindly had a problem of “adjusting to food.”

In Tamil Nadu, or atleast in Coimbatore, every restaurant has the concept of “meals” for lunch which comprises of unlimited quantities of everything that is served on your leaf that day. The general menu is:-

· poriyal (some vegetable/sabji)

· kooT (some curry, invariably with a coconut based gravy)

· pachchaDi (raita)

· saadam (rice)

· sambaar (some restaurants also serve parappu which is daal)

· puLi kozhambu or mor kozhambu (sour sambaar or buttermilk based preparation respectively)

· rasam

The restaurants I went to for lunch, were:-

· Geeta Canteen – closest to the training insitute. Decent food. Terribly crowded.

· Srichakra Restaurant – second closest. Brilliant construction. Was naturally as cool as an air conditioned building in the scorching heat of Coimbatore outside. Amazing food.

· Vani Mess – proximity doesn't matter. Treat to the taste buds. Delight to be served with so much warmth. Made me fall in love with food and in general just love, all over again.

Everywhere in fact, that warmth strikes you. The waiters look at your banana leaves and serve what you require, even before you ask for it. Considering my obsession with vegetables and their perennial supply, the place was perfect for me. And the speciality of Vani mess is the crew that runs it. They're all senior citizens who do this for a living. I almost cried when I refused the taiir(curds) and the mAmA said in Tamizh - “It's so hot outside, child. You must eat curds to keep your body cool.”

Hot Pongal(the spicy one) for breakfast once in a while was the emfoodiment of heaven.

The hotel that I was put up in, man, that needs another post. But anyway, it was right next to and opposite to the two buildings of Kannan Departmental Stores. One of them had a fruit stall and juice centre. Undiluted, thick and fabulous fruit juices for reasonable prices. Another new thing I discovered there was the concept of “fruit mix” which is primarily a semi solid fruit salad of sorts. It is the best thing one can buy for 10 INR in today's world. (for 4 INR, by the way, it's a bundle of spring onion shoots.)

All in all, food in Coimbatore made me put on a few more pounds (I'm guessing) and I continue to stick to the exponential curve that is my weight v/s time. I picked up rudimentary Tamizh. Or if I may call it 'restaurant Tamizh'. I graduated from grunting “mm”, “mm hmm” and pointing at places where the respective dish that I needed was served, to “innu konju veNum”, “podu” and “poriyal veNum”, etc. I can read and write more Tamizh than talk. But I did pick up decent Bengali from aamaar roommate.

Now, it's a new life yet again in Pune. I am trying to brush up my Marathi. And what better place to do that but Pune! I am thoroughly loving the Ratnagiri Alphonso mangoes. And that is it.

2010-03-13T16:26:00.000+05:30

She had had a great day. After all, it had rained in that unfamiliar city and had made her feel at home. The streets had finally seemed to accept her. Or was it that the blanket of rain had shielded her from all those stares. Gazes at her long nose which heralded that she belonged to some place else. She couldn’t tell. She heard the entire city’s sigh, every child’s excitement and every lover’s blush amidst the loud gush of the shower. She stood under the meaningless bus shelter for a while. The rain was the roof. It formed the walls around, anyway. She reminisced older showers while watching people tip-toe with their otherwise fallen garments risen up till the seams hugged their calves tight.

She snapped out of the reverie when she was blinded by the headlights of a bus that arrived with indomitable pride. As she moved towards it, she felt chilly and wished for the feel of dry and warm cotton on her skin. She got into the bus which brimmed with people going back home after a long day. She stood right next to the door holding the steel bar above her head after trying to take a peek past the same old stares for a more comfortable place. She could smell it again; the aroma of something bad to befall. She was too used to this superstition-induced race of her heart by now to be bothered. Almost nothing ever satiated it anyway except being home with her family, knowing he was home too. It seemed pointless for her to pay heed to that uneasiness and just continued keeping an eye on the road as the driver shouted on top of his lungs to convey something to the conductor who was immersed deep somewhere in the sea of passengers.

She turned around again only when she heard some hullabaloo at the back. It was yet another inebriated jerk. There was nothing more to explain. She was very annoyed thinking about what women have to put up with and at the same time, thought about his family and so many other alcoholics’ families that were in dire straits at that very moment which left her feeling helpless. Company was important to her. She always needed someone to vent these thoughts out to. Her train of thought would invariably drain a lot of her energy otherwise. She looked outside and realized that she would reach home in the next five minutes. A guy’s voice from the back of the bus started travelling towards her. The intensity gave her a chill and a cue; to make way for the drunken one to get off. She moved her feet by an inch away from the door and bent her upper body behind like the quintessential mass transport gymnast. The driver applied brakes and everyone tugged and swayed synchronously. He was jolted and catapulted to right behind where she was. He reeked of alcohol and had the stereotypical intoxicated wave of his body. He still spoke incessantly in the universal language of the drunkards; boisterous and scary. She was amazed by how despite their loud thinking, one could never predict what they would do next. This train of thought was brought to a halt by a train named ‘nothingness’ all of a sudden. He had begun to graze his hand; evidently and boldly; on her hip. She moved herself violently just as he had a grip of her love-handle and with a whip of her hand she did it. He started to lose balance as she stood horrified like the rest of them in the bus. It was a matter of a few fractions of seconds. By the time she or the other man next to her tried to grab him, he was gone. His head first hit the frame of the door and he tumbled onto the road. Brakes screeched; as did she. She got down and ran behind towards his body. Her legs felt heavier by the step as she ultimately collapsed to the rain soaked earth midway.

22

2010-03-12T22:22:00.000+05:30

It’s that time of the year again. Yes, I am going to shamelessly indulge in the trite process of thinking and writing-The year that was. The line itself reminds me of the age old show on Star Movies-‘This week that year’ which my Dad would meticulously watch. What truly amazed me was this. About 2-3 years ago, almost 13 years since the show, as I watched the animated Ramayan movie on Cartoon Network (which by the way has some really nice songs, a very pretty Sita and a HAWT Kaikayei!) and Lord Ram spoke, I could instantly recognize Nikhil Chopra’s voice. The human brain never ceases to amaze me when I never lose at the game-‘Name the song from the prelude/interlude’ (I specialize in 90s Bollywood music) or ‘Sing it in the original pitch’ and yet my custom-made Ed-Board T-shirt reads ‘Remind Me’ at the back for many a obvious reason.

Wow! That’s some digressing! Hell, I’m high on Lindt Dark Chocolate right now. Dark. 70% Cocoa. One of the gifts received on berthhaday. The other one’s a very cool looking watch.

So yes! The year! It was definitely my most trying year so far. I wouldn’t want to be cynical and wonder if it’s because of the time spent on earth since birth and all that. But anyway, even thinking about it makes me a little touchy and makes me want to thank all the people who tolerated the worse side of me. Love you all.

The series of events were as follows:

Most of 8^th semester wooshed past in the project and the college magazine. The project; the one I had mentioned in my previous birthday post, was a fantastic success. Eta-An energy efficient hydraulic power pack, reduced power consumption by 79.2%. Yours truly shall soon have a patent along with Anuj, Harish, Bharath and Bosch Rexroth for the same.

The magazine turned out to be brilliant, on time and overwhelming with very few or zilch glitches.

The rest of the 8^th semester involved a long wait for the core companies that never came. Although, being one of the only five people to have cleared the entrance test of a certain company that manufactures certain oh-my-god buses that most of us use to bus it from Mysore to Bangalore was a highlight. I did not ultimately make it. But it was still a huge booster considering results.vtu.ac.in did not fail to show me pathetic marks till the end. And the fact that I was not even allowed to take up the test initially and then to come through to the other end, was just the thing I needed.

I graduated from college and it did not even strike me like I had thought it would. Of course, I miss SJCE and the priceless times spent there. But surprisingly, I seem to have accepted graduation with grace and have taken it rather well contrary to my fear back in 2^nd year itself.

I interned at a company which has the words “Build cool stuff. Deliver great products. Make money. Have fun. Change the world.” as its motto. Lots of learning, epiphanies, goal-settings in life, and pool made it an awesome six month experience. Meanwhile, I also experienced ‘referred pain’ of multiple meanings. I had a weird ass gum infection out of nowhere which had me go through flap surgery; the most horrifying of dental surgeries. Or is it, periodontal.*shiver *Ne..zzzvvverrrrr maa..zzziiinnnddd *shiver* The other one was that of seeing a total airhead get the job that I totally believed was mine, for he had a referral.

As the New Year dawned upon the world, the ‘truck company’ that I was placed in at the end of my 6^th semester finally decided to invite us to join them. And join I did along with the two people I’ve spent my last 3 years of engineering life with. I am currently undergoing a training programme at Coimbatore. First time out of home and everything. It’s been fun so far. Including a trip with college friends to Kodaikanal and jazz. And a Bong roommate! But it sometimes pinches my heart when I crack jokes like:

class Kalwad implements IProcrastinate{}

class Kriti extends Kalwad{}

But the good news is that I’ve been lucky enough to be redirected to Engineering and Industrial Services. God is great.

More on the experience in Harish’s land. Of food and culture. Of adventurous journeys to Mysore through the windings of Satyamangalam Ghats. Of movies and more. In my upcoming posts.

Maiden Review. 3 Idiots.

2009-12-28T21:41:00.006+05:30

This is my first ever movie review to be published and not just verbally.
I chose "3 Idiots" since it is easier to butcher than to garnish. Wow, I just came up with that!
*spoiler alert*
"3 Idiots is highly idiotic...except for a few genuinely LOL moments, a bromance that falls short of just adequate." - Shruti Sardeshpande
I couldn't agree more.
Isn't it ironic when the lead characters of the movie, despite PMSing vehemently and crying as and when they breathe, act like their virtues of sensibility and sensitivity have gone for a toss in the next scene? Well, I couldn't help but notice this phenomenon when they turned paralysis and the inability to afford vegetables into a joke. Actually, I can deal with that. You know? Humour; dark, medium, decaf, whatever. But it did not end there now, did it? Rancho and Farhan had to come out of Raju's house laughing hysterically and furthermore make fun of Raju's misery. I understand friendship, alright. I also understand that each friendship has its own foundation and boundary. But, hell I only understand friendship between humans with emotions and the ability to respond to stimuli...Appropriately!
That was just one of the innumerable things that pissed me off in the movie. I went to watch it with my brains at home in order to have fun et al. But I still think that when you pay to watch it on the big screen, you would expect some method in the madness (FYI, I'm all for Priyadarsan's confusion mania or Akshay Kumar's just plain crazy dialogues kinda movies if you thought I wasn't) and most importantly respect, now wouldn't you? All the SMS and email junk jokes that we received back in the 15th Century were being played out in front of me. That too in the typical Rajkumar Hirani-vidhu Vinod Chopra way. Which by the way, is nothing less than very atrocious. I have always believed that this duo has some really brilliant ideas (Munna Bhai and its sequel). But, they truly, honestly, suck at executing them. They don't have the balls to make it smarter as they fear that that won't pull as much crowd. Try it guys. Try Not bringing in extra ridiculous characters who can't spell a-c-t-i-n-g and pay to "act" in your movies. Try not stalling a witty scene by turning the camera towards a character just so he can make a stupid face and deliver a redundant dialogue. It can still be funny to the crowd you Want to target!
I laughed out loud at many places. I found the power nap thing to be cleverly used as well. I loved Madhavan's extremely natural giggles. I liked the very different and refreshing take on the book too. I cannot, even if I try to, criticize the director's vision of the movie that he wished to make on reading 5 Point Someone. Like I said before, his ideas are always neat. But I couldn't handle the drenched inverter. I couldn't understand the pachydermatous approach towards severe medical conditions and poverty. I got irritated by Aamir Khan trying to prove that he is a good cry-er on screen. (Do you remember that he cried when Raju says that he wants to clear the final exam with honesty?) And of course, I couldn't stand something that was defined in a hilarious way initially but then ruined later by many, many nonsensical references, the magnanimous overkill called "aal iz well".

Coming Soon...

2009-10-30T16:57:00.002+05:30

So kids, back in 2007… Oh I love HIMYM, for it has very few characters portrayed to be unrealistically dumb unlike F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Scrubs, Seinfeld, The Big Bang Theory or any other sitcom that I have followed over the years. The conversations are mature yet immature. They’re real. I’m strictly talking about the ones excluding Barney Stinson, of course. Anyway I also love Bob Saget’s voice over only because it reminds me of my Full House watching days. I’m very sure I won’t like the show as much as I used to, a few years ago. I still want to watch it, nevertheless.

As I was watching HIMYM, I realized that I’ve practically done the same thing as Ted Mosby with respect to my Indotrip series…or should I say, How I Met Ramdev Mishra. Hence, I decided that, today, I would finally get to the real point of the guy’s raw cerebral absurdity causing more than enough chaos in our lives on that wonderful trip to the North of India.

It is still getting typed.

I am certain this will turn out to be like the story of The Goat. Just as pointless.

If you are indeed going ahead and reading the Indotrip Series, forgive the language.

P.S: I can't get the title song of Valerie/The Hogan Family out of my head!

A Woman's Cry

2009-10-23T14:44:00.002+05:30

The following poem is written by my cousin Shruti. Why she hasn't put this up on her own blog for so long, is beyond me. Anyway, I think it has few of the most simple yet enormously powerful lines ever written in the history of Indian feminist writings. The message is so strong that I'm enraged and yet have tears rolling down my eyes every single time I read it. Then again, I tend to react that way when I'm PMSing. That just ends up making me more mad. Vicious circle. True story.

For eons, I’ve been crying,

Trying, to break out free,

I’ve gone unnoticed too long,

It’s time you finally heard me…

Brand me a witch,

Burn me at stake,

Push me into my husband’s pyre,

Call my beauty fake.

Politicize my issues,

Just as you suppress my opinion,

I’ll be in the kitchen, working away,

Bubble wrapped, to forever be your pillion.

Rape me, molest me,

Give me the excuse that I asked for it,

Judge my appearance, who cares about my intelligence?

Mark me in rules you see fit.

Beat me up; give me a black eye,

After all, who am I to put on airs?

If that isn’t enough, the belt is on the shelf,

If someone asks, I’ll say I fell down the stairs.

Trouble me with ‘proposals’,

Stalk me and give me a scare,

Throw some acid on my face,

If I refuse to acknowledge your dirty stare…

Hide my face, behind the society’s veil,

Of culture and morality,

Let me not make my own choices,

The wedding bells will be my finality…

Trample me under your assumed dominance

Break my spirit, shatter my faith,

But do not forget to wish me,

A happy women’s day,

Every March eighth…

P.S: A certain dumbass for an editor had a problem with this poem being published in a college magazine because it contained "obscene language." Supposedly he found the words "rape" and "molest" to be not fit. He also seemed to have a problem with the word "witch" for some reason. Me thinks he has illegitimate Bengali roots that he isn't aware of.

I think...

2009-09-15T14:25:00.007+05:30

I think that the best way to listen to a person singing off-key and not get rankled is by moving relative to him/her. Think Physics.

I think Kunal Khemu resembles Heath Ledger uncannily just the way Upasana Shukla resembles Shruti Hassan. Of course, one of them is Fugly; the other isn't.

I think that there should be a license for parenthood.

I think that parents who don’t have faith in their children’s sensibility are the ones who don’t have faith in their own method of bringing up those children.

I think Imtiaz Ali has lost it big time.

I think Love Aaj Kal is by far the worst movie ever made; far worse than even Love Actually. Just imagine!

I think Kaminey is a decent movie. Although I don’t think it’s anywhere close to being “fast”, “clever” or “difficult to understand”.

I think that Prahaar is one of the finest movies that I’ve watched with respect to brilliant and optimal usage of background music.

I think that Campco FunTan which costs INR 10.00 comes 90% close to the best Belgian Dark Chocolate that I’ve had as opposed to Cadbury Bourneville which costs INR 80.00 and can barely manage a miserly 20% proximity.

I think that if my dad was the prime minister of any country, that country would have government offices that would also provide a photocopy along with every document that they issue to its citizens.

I think that I’m the only person in my family to have learnt the lesson of always wearing a helmet from my accident.

I think that Barney Stinson is the only person who can pull off “That/It is Awesome!” without sounding like a stoned high school drop out with a miserable vocabulary.

I think I have subconsciously started substituting words like ‘awesome’ and ‘cool’ with ‘brilliant’ and ‘fantastic’ when in public. I even get highly embarrassed if the company I’m in uses the former set of words in public.

I think that you are fit as a fiddle until you climb up the stairs till the (n-1)^th floor if your workplace is on the n^th floor and it’s only the last flight of stairs that gets you tired enough for your colleagues to think that you’re an unhealthy wimp.

I think Scott Adams rocks on levels that he himself wouldn’t know. Here’s why:-

My friend Punit had asked me to check out Porcupine Tree almost about a year ago. I looked for it in his dynamite DVD collection of movies and music and did not seem to get it. Then, laze took over and I eventually forgot about the band. One fine day, last week, I attended a quiz where there was a question asked on ‘Last chance to evacuate planet earth before it is recycled’ and my memory was refreshed again. So the next morning, I’m wiki-ing it and trying to look at guitar tabs which approximately give me a picture of the song i.e. whether it is trash or psychedelic, etc. That evening, as I was talking to my cousin Shruti and opened a tab of Google Reader, I happened to read this post on Porcupine Tree performing in India at Mood Indigo. When I started glorifying Scott Adams saying - “What are the odds! He’s sheer genius.” et al, she tells me – “Wait. That’s not all. Do you know what Mood Indigo is? It’s a blues song by Louis Armstrong that I’m hooked to since last Friday!”

Scott Adams ki multidimensional Jai. Oh and for the uninitiated, please get your hands on ‘God’s Debris’. It’s by far the most interesting theory and compilation I’ve read in a long time. Stephen Hawking not included. D’uh. Oh and I Love Porcupine Tree!

An ode to a reverie

2009-06-07T11:50:00.000+05:30

Life has smiled upon me in its purest form,

It’s now all a flawless rendition of happiness.

It’s all the good notes and their harmonies,

Amidst the rainbow skies of your thoughts.

There’s passionate hopscotch and innocent Tango,

A Russian roulette of sweet whispers.

Enchanted by dreams of scintillating tomorrows

Yet, the little girl in me never fades.

A never-before known completeness is what I feel

Since the moment you became mine…

Lovers' Dreamscape

2009-05-29T19:00:00.002+05:30

Stories she softly told of memories not so pleasant

His reassuring arms around her, his understanding eyelids

The early evening sun and rain making the lake shimmer

Enchanting the birds furthermore; on Mother Nature’s shoulder

Face to face, they stood at the end of that day

Smiling incessantly, keeping all other thoughts at bay

He looked into her eyes with the pain of bidding adieu

She couldn’t think of love that could be as true

The subtlety of the moment in his tranquil smile

A poetic tear in the corner of her eye

The symphony of their netted fingers and its magic

The whisper, the touch, the fervour of romance

All reverberated of love in the lovers’ dreamscape…

Buddy Banter(or untitled)

2009-04-05T22:10:00.002+05:30

“There’re people standing in a queue in a desert with parched lips for just one drop of water and there’s a ‘Water drinking competition’ being cheered on simultaneously somewhere else.”

She took another sip of her addiction. That cup of tea in the absence of which she’d suffer from a headache. She was sitting on one end of her bay window as it rained heavily outside cleaning every dusty leaf, pole, road, car and her own window pane. Kriselle’s dream of a heavy rain had finally come true on that mid-march evening and she could finally get rid of that headache with a hot cup of tea and not feel uneasy because of the heat. She continued to speak…

“I saw an ad of ‘Save petrol’ during the commercial break of an F1 race.”

Paula was sitting across her, deleting the messages from her inbox with a subconscious effort. She paused that action and gave a half smile.

“I once wrote about a judge being sentenced to death. But seriously, the world is quite sad through a pessimist’s eye!” she said.

They both smiled since they knew that they both were far from being one!

“It’s so strange that no matter how optimistic you might be and how little you let things pull you down, one has to be a pessimist in order to understand the irony that exists around us. It’s as if the concept wouldn’t even exist if not for those people who had this constant urge to compare and not be satisfied with the moment.” said Krissy.

“Well, it isn’t really about optimism or pessimism in all cases of irony. It’s just about a comprehensive perspective. It’s about a time where being an optimist would only mean being in the state of denial or something! Irony is almost always tragic and one that is not, is just amusing by its virtue”

Paula continued clearing her inbox. She suddenly stopped and sat up straight. She couldn’t stop staring at her phone. She was in sheer disbelief at what she had just done.

“What happened?” asked Krissy.

“I deleted that message by mistake.”

It was a two year old message from him that she had carefully treasured. She would always keep her inbox clean by deleting messages one by one saving that message. It read—“You’re truly the most amazing person I’ve met in my life so far. Love you babe.”

“There you have it. Closure”

“What?”

“This was long over due sweets. And you know it.”

“It’s not that easy Kris and you know that too.”

“Do you really want me to go on again about how totally wrong you guys were for each other?”

“I know we would have been a disaster.”

She swallowed her sip quickly and said “Then?”

Paula stood up and said “You know what? I’m actually feeling great! I can’t believe I had been kidding myself for this long. I believed that the day this would happen, I would yet again want to imagine myself in a dingy bar getting drunk while smoking my lungs out. The Dev D way”

Krissy laughed “We watch way too many movies dude.”

“And I write way too much. I kid you not. I think of a new way to express every emotion I feel, every thing I see and experience. Like for now, it’s amazing how quickly I even let what just happened slip my mind and I’m talking about my poetic disillusionment and other related issues in less than fifteen seconds from then.”

“Now wait a minute…this is just your ADD acting up.” Krissy said with a wide smile.

Paula laughed and said “But honestly, I might have actually gotten over things long before I realize that fact…”

Krissy interrupted “I know it’s tough to be a genius of an artist like you.”

“Thanks for being there like my scribble pad babe.” said Paula smiling calmly.

“Pleasure’s all mine. You have had it with immature guys! I just want you to believe that there is sensibility, sensitivity, rationality, integrity, maturity and all those other amazing qualities that most of the dreamy protagonists have, out there in one stop!”

“I know babe. It had been so long since he’d even crossed my mind. Not deleting his message had become just a mundane force of habit. For far too long. I know.”

Krissy was then solving the Rubik’s cube and Paula was browsing through the movies that were on her hard disk.

“Hey what happened to that cocky guy in your office?” asked Paula as she clicked away.

“I feel sad for him. I realized that underestimating others is like an evil twin of confidence. It’s what makes you cross that thin line between self-confidence and over-confidence. He was fired yesterday. I forgot to text you.” Krissy said while fixing the bottom layer corners.

“I knew that day was coming soon. Do we finally watch Babel?” asked Paula with her biggest smile.

“Not today dude”

"Coolio"

Half way through to 42.

2009-03-11T16:18:00.001+05:30

I turned 21! Already! Things that happened in the last one year…

Bad stuff:-

More dismal reactions on the opening of the site-results.vtu.ac.in
Haven’t lost a single milligram of weight. Instead have put on a kilo or two.
Played one basketball tournament and effectively five hours of tennis.
The number of books I’ve read can be counted on my fingertips.(Yet-to-read list still exceeds the Have-read list)
Lost the wallet that Chitra Ma’am (my math mentor) had given me.

Good stuff:-

Took good interest in one particular subject and even doing the 8^th sem project in that field.
Watched and developed a penchant for good movies. (Yet-to-watch list no longer exceeds the have-watched list)
Considered myself lucky for having watched Tennis’s most historic matches Live.
Vented out all my anger on an auto rickshaw driver in Hubli who was unnecessarily asking my cousin and me for compensation money when he was just as wrong as we were. His expectation from “girls” like us was that we’d be Bambi-eyed, say-“Sorry uncle” and leave. I so totally loved shattering that male chauvinist’s dreams. Watching him shut the Frick up after I claimed to know a lot more about automobiles and traffic rules(that he had broken) than he could ever envisage, walk back quietly to his auto totally humiliated in front of a crowd of 30 people was most definitely one of the proudest moments of my life. My cousin was speechless only during that argument. Now, you can ask her for details. ;)
Drove to a place called Shirle Falls 90 kms from Hubli which included a stretch of about 2 kms of super scary terrain off the Ghat-section highway. Width was just enough for a small sized car to pass and had an inclination of almost 50°…of course, it was a curvy and bendy mud road. Wow!
Also learnt how to jumpstart a car. ;)
Became Ms. Strangethought.

Don’t know/can’t say stuff:-

Got placed in a ‘truck company’…how I wish that wasn’t a euphemism for a mass-recruiting company and was indeed a truck designing and manufacturing company…sigh…anyway this event falls under this category because some job is better than no job in a way.

This year’s Birthday kicks last year’s birthday’s ass!

Following is the list of gifts I received:-

A wallet (because I lost mine, remember?)
Black and purple coloured bangles. (Tommy thinks I need to start accessorizing)
Adidas perfume (tropical passion being the fragrance)
A huge bottle of Jergens body lotion(cherry and almond scented) that will last for atleast five years!
The coffee mug with my friend’s messages on it. (I was supposed to get it last year itself!)
And finally…something that I hadn’t imagined I’d get as a gift in a million years…An Acoustic Frickin’ GUITAR!!!

Tommy, Anuj, Harish, Priya, Janya, Daksh, Vasu, Theob, Junkie, Punit…you guys are unbelievable.

I love my life, period.

Indotrip-III

2009-01-04T17:27:00.004+05:30

So, yeah. I know.

It was that chilly January morning of 2007 that I met this man for the first time. The man who made me reminisce the sweetest of my memories and also made me realize the deepest of my fears. It was because of him that I started looking at life with a whole new perspective. He left very little time and thought flow to kindle the fantasizing part of my brain which explains why he’s neither my Prince Charming nor The Almighty himself. He was our chauffeur for the next 4 days to take us around Chandigarh, Kullu-Manali and Shimla and back to Delhi. Ramdev Mishra. Someone I’ll never forget and most positively never forgive.
We set out for Chandigarh on a road as wide and as flat as the reflection of a clear blue sky in a photograph-like, still lake in Kashmir. A road on which, a vehicle of any make would blend with the air and create symphonies at a speed of 100kmph. But our man wouldn’t…he just wouldn’t step on the accelerator pedal even slightly more on reaching 40 kmph. Yep. 0 in the unit’s place and 4 in the ten’s. My dad and I could tolerate this for about a minute or two thinking-Ok, he’s gonna…he’s gonna…ok now…now…NOW? That was it. I ask dad to ask him why he won’t go any faster and quoted Kimmy Gibbler-“My grandmother goes faster than this. Without a car!!!” When asked, he said something about the economic range of the vehicle and best mileage and blah. Dad convinced me to accept this by saying-It’s anyway a safe speed. I swallowed all the instincts that were asking me to do James Bond-like stunts and get on the roof, pull him out by his collar, and get behind the wheel myself through the same window and kept quiet.
Then once the ice was broken, he started talking. He broke so much ice that day that the Winter Olympics had to be postponed. (Ouch!) He came across as a very strong believer because the only parts I heard comprised of mandir, darsan, bhagwan, et al. My dad cannot possibly be rude to such a person. It’s a dharma thing. All I could think of was my karma. But believe me! That was way too early to think of it.
Soon enough, mom started telling the guy about how the Rock Garden and Sukhna lake have fixed timings and that we needed to get there sooner than next year. (Nah, sarcasm isn’t her thing. Mine seems to be stooping to new levels of banality too.) Not only did he not go even 0.0000001 kmph faster than 40 kmph, but also took a wrong turn somewhere in Punjab and went about 20 kms extra. Trust me, it gets worse. We somehow reach Chandigarh at 5:30 pm which was about 2 hrs later than what our itinerary read. Our first stop was the Rock Garden which closes at 6:00 pm. My mom’s stare…boy! I could so clearly picture rays of ultra-cool-super-powerful-B.R.Chopra’s-Mahabharat-kinda light coming out of her eyes.
She cooled down once we entered the place. It’was neat. Broken pieces of ceramic cups, saucers, floor tiles, plastic switches, glass bangles and what not used for making something that looks funky. But then, it got boring. We didn’t let that affect us, nevertheless. Our next stop was Sukhna lake. It was freakishly dark by the time we reached and hence only became a spot for us to hog or as a Kannada channel newsreader would say-Og and of course, ogle. Chandigarh has the maximum proportion of good-looking men than any other city that I’ve been to. Some of them were just plain Wow! Anyway, I had to behave and I did. All the websites and brochures and other info-giving things had mentioned one thing about this lake that we just should not miss-Get sketches done of yourself in no time! My sister and I were as excited as the next tourist. But then, it turned out to be a kiosk. Yeah. A kiosk that clicks a picture of you, photoshops it to look like a sketch and prints it. I kid you not. There was no ingenious artist like the one I’d dreamed about. We chumma got them anyway as souvenirs.
We then went to the rose garden in pitch darkness. Believe it or not, the freezing weather, the air and the feeling of being the only four people in a HUGE garden with absolutely nothing but the moonlight gave me a cool high. We had some time to kill. We then set out to look for a hotel to stay in. I can’t remember why we hadn’t booked in advance.
I discovered Chandigarh. The strange and bizarre city that it is. Apart from the fact that it is a uniquely built city with neat borders, sectors and roads that cut at perpendiculars like in Harappa-Mohenjo Daro, albeit, with funny boards with the names of the sectors on the opposite side of the road (they supposedly had these arrow mark kinda shapes pointing at the correct sectors but whoever said that looking for the right directions should be so not simple!) it has a very strange atmosphere. It’ was 8:00ish and we couldn’t find a single woman on the road. Then we started noticing these shops that existed in enormous numbers in every shopping complex area of every sector-Liquor and Wine Shop. Printed in large font in red on white. I have never seen such density of liquor shops anywhere else. We would stop once in a while to ask people for directions and they all reeked of alcohol and had bloodshot eyes. It wasn’t even New Year’s or for that matter a weekend! Every single soul was Talli! That is definitely not something that I’m used to and as I figured out that day on reaching our hotel, whose manager and bellboys were ‘tight’ too, that I’m not comfortable with it in any sense of the word either. We were talking a little less amongst each other after that.
We freshened up and set out again to meet one of my uncle’s best friends who stays there. He’s a 35 year old doctor who is super super-specializing his super-specialization. We were very close to his house but were still a little lost. So when we saw these 3 girls taking a 5 metre, up and down, what looked like postprandial walk during which they catch up on their daily gossip, we pulled over next to them to ask where the lane that we were looking for, was. And they ran. They ran for their lives. Into their houses. They didn’t even look back. That pretty much explained it all. On reaching this doc’s place and hearing stories of his wife being followed by a bunch of drunken rowdies every now and then even when she has her kid in her hand, made me sad. Very sad indeed. We caught up on things about our quaint old Hubli et al and then headed back to our hotel. We didn’t stop anywhere. Not even for a millisecond at the lobby of inebriated hotel staff. We went straight to bed. I can’t remember how I slept or even if I did at all!
The next morning, we went to that rose garden again. It has some pretty unique and beautiful varieties of roses. It also is a very serene place to take a walk in too. We spent about half an hour there and headed towards our next destination-Kullu. We had absolutely no idea of Ramdev Mishra-the Satan himself had in store for us. Wait till the next issue to find out!

Dear pal,

2008-11-29T20:08:00.002+05:30

Dear pal,

I want to confess a few things today. Do you remember that one summer evening that we spent looking for your lost green marble with the blue streak inside? Your favourite one? We looked until it got so dark that we were scared to walk back home alone? I want to confess that we looked everywhere…but the right pocket of my shorts. I can’t believe I wanted the marble so badly. But by not having confessed to the theft right then, I realize that I wanted you more than the marble on some level.

Do you remember that one day at school when you were punished for not having brought your History notebook for class? And later the next day you miraculously found it in your bag? And we both blamed Vishnu for being the stealthy and shrewd bugger who always saw you as competition and took it too far? I want to confess that yet again, I was too scared to lose you my friend. I resorted to this sordid lie to hide something as trivial as my forgetfulness. I hate myself for not having the faith in how much you know me, how much you understand me and how much you love me.

Do you remember that day when I did not call you back after you left me a message about your new job? I want to confess that I hadn’t missed the message. I had read it right away. I was jealous of you and I’m sickened every time by the levels I fall to. Although I did realize soon enough that I was being a horrible friend and called you and congratulated you with all my heart, I can never forgive myself for having gone through that phase of envy, however short lived it might have been.

All these moments are very well etched in my 83 year old mind. But they were shoved to a corner that I visited very rarely. I have to confess that from the time we’ve been together again now since our hair turned grey and we started narrating stories to our grandchildren…reading and discussing extensively, taking those delightful walks, laughing wholeheartedly with you and sympathizing with each others’ little problems, I had been feeling an unexplainable sense of redemption. I knew that I was blessed more than I probably should be and that I’d be the most foolish person to let a gem like you go.

All the dishonesty and the eventual mistakes of mine did one amazing thing and that was to teach me how great you were. That’s why, as I write this letter only with a very surreal hope that you will someday get to read it, I have no regrets about my deceit. And I know you’ll forgive me too.

But I have one more confession to make nevertheless. The hardest lie I’ve ever had to tell with the biggest knot in my throat…in the situation that I never wished with all my heart and soul would ever come in the first place…was the one in the hospital when I said – “You’ll be alright le.”

Forgive me.

Yours always,

Me.

Fear and Loathing in M.H.

2008-11-07T17:26:00.001+05:30

Before you draw any conclusions, M.H stands for My Head. I actually came up with the title now...that is, when I was about to publish the post and thus wished this article was about the idiotic happenings in Maharashtra. It isn't. Anyway what it is about is the things I loathe in general. I’ve been having an amazing time all this while and it’s funny how I end up writing these ‘I hate…’ articles in such a phase.
Starting off with the classic ‘playing music on the loudspeakers of jujbi mobile phones with atrocious outputs’. I walk from point A to B in college and invariably I come across a minimum of three people sounding like a song. Ok now, that sentence wasn’t supposed to sound so nice. I’m talking about that annoying boisterous noise trying its best to come out of the dust filled speaker mesh of the legendary mp3 phone. The kind of output that makes every even Norah Jones sound like a traffic jam. The first person to have embraced this ‘play-songs-on-the-phone-while-keeping-it-in-your-pocket’ religion was my gardener. He would trim the hedge and mow the lawn at his own pace that way. For the amount of work he did and how pretty he made my garden look, I had a sympathetic stance towards him. And also, because he wasn’t really doing it in a public place where there were chances of him disturbing someone else. But I don’t get the funda behind engineering students in a college acting that way. Nowadays, one can even easily recognize a person if he/she is around from their favorite song being heard as loud as their proximity. That’s the new ‘cool’ identification method these days. Why these people don’t know or maybe can’t appreciate one of man’s best inventions called ‘earphones’, I’ll never know. Moreover, there’s a reason why there was a movie called ‘Scent of a Woman’ and not ‘Horrendous Noise Coming from the Right Thigh of a Mind-numbingly Stupid Man’ And trust me it’s not because multimedia phones weren’t cheaply available when Chris ‘O Donnell was still waiting to grow a moustache.
I hate the slightest smell of a cigarette, let alone inhaling the smoke from it. I really have nothing more of a say on the people who smoke even after knowing that it could may as well be the most harmful and thus the most stupid thing to do to themselves provided they aren’t jeopardizing others’ lives in the process as well. I’m all for the ban. But even if one does smoke in private, it is just as important an etiquette as to not eat with your mouth open to not smell like fag. It is indeed a pretty darn annoying smell and not just to me. It’s considered unpleasant universally. I have a lecturer who enters class smelling like a chimney with cartons and cartons of cigarette smoking out of it. It’s unbearable.
I went to KRS recently with my family and a few relatives. I came back with the feeling of having been inside a rattle toy of a very hyper 2 year old. There exists NO road to the place anymore! It was by far one of the most tiring experiences of my life. Our beautiful Honda City with a not so beautiful ground clearance had the worst drive of its life too. I actually felt like caressing and giving it a kiss and apologizing to it after parking it in the garage. The poor poor car. The ‘road’ is one of The most shameful things of Karnataka and I can bet on it. Either the government repairs the only way to get to a tourist attraction like Brindavan Gardens that draws lakhs of people every year or NASA starts manufacturing KRS-Road-Rovers.
I hate the crap happening in Maharashtra.
I hate internals too. :P

The Benches

2008-10-21T18:43:00.000+05:30

I have lost count of the number of times that I’ve sat here. Right here. On these benches by the fountain. My oldest memory of being in this college has been that of sitting here with Priya and Janya when we didn’t have some particular class…yep. We wouldn’t bunk much back then because we would have just as much fun even inside the classroom. I remember sitting here and looking into the lush green lawn spread into a long distance in front of me and also thinking how much more beautiful the tall and green Christmas tree would look if decorated in December. The college campus is just as fine-looking at any time of the year. I’ve sat here on early mornings listening to the sound of women raking leaves on the roads. I’ve sat here chatting, giggling, laughing and a lot of singing too. There have been times when I have been silenced by the sudden and very surprising turning on of the fountain. I’ve sat here to write lab records. It’s a meeting point. It’s a place where I have waited. I have sat here and just listened to songs on my player. Most of my extremely important conversations with friends have taken place here. I have smiled, silently wept and pondered right here. I’ve written most of my articles here. Just like this one.

A himsa

2008-10-13T15:48:00.002+05:30

As contradictory as it may sound to people who think that I have a temper shorter than Harish, I’m still a very non-violent person. In fact, violence in movies, where it is absolutely necessary and which are exceptionally made is the only time I’m ok with it. I guess because the fact that it isn’t real is an overpowering one to me at any given point of time. But, getting hurt or seeing someone getting hurt in real life has always been, is, in all probability will be one of the few things that make me seem like a helpless kid waking up in the middle of nowhere crying its lungs out for its loved ones. It brings tears to my eyes automatically and scares me enough to completely numb my mouth. I want to illustrate this phenomenon with examples of the real life fights that I have come across, but it is giving me jitters as I type this. Oh but, honestly, there have been just two times, as far as I can remember.

Anyway this post is actually about how one emotion can over power everything else in one’s mind. Anger. This happened last week during Dasara. There was a santoor recital by Pt.Shivkumar Sharma with the gorgeously lit palace as the backdrop and my grandparents, mom, sister and I reached the venue about half an hour before his programme was to start since Sangita Katti was opening for him and my grandparents like her. I had expected a lot of rush on account of the festival itself but I never thought that there would be a queue snaking and intestining to accommodate about a thousand people just in that space in front of the main gate. There was a tight security check at the only entrance made accessible that day and that was leading to the neverending queue whose tail we then stood at. Of course, the tail grew longer and longer until I finally couldn’t see where it was. So, it was twenty minutes into standing there and chitchatting with my sis until mom took grandparents to a place near the entrance where they could sit until we reached there. We were talking about the smell of popcorn, corn and roasted peanuts clubbed with the flute seller playing that title music of the Hindi flick “Hero” or some latest kannaDa hit song and the noise the balloon seller makes by rubbing the finger on the balloon is as typical of the palace premises as the palace itself! We were also reminded our kid cousin Aru fearing a bomb exploding somewhere the last time we had taken her there when she looked at how beautiful the place is and the crowd gathered there and kept silent for a few seconds thinking of the plight of the world we live in. And then, as we were about to be the 60^th people in the queue, out of nowhere, a whole new line of people of about 30-40 people is formed parallelly and is intercepting at a point six people ahead of us. Geometrically screwed up statement, I know. But you get the picture, don’t you? It was at this very moment…that for the First time ever in my life…I thought I could probably end up physically hurting someone seriously. I could totally picture myself going up to that !@$!% of a guy trying to get into our queue and grabbing his collar and giving him a punch so hard on his face that he would be tasting his own blood in a matter of milliseconds. I was shocked, scared and amazed but only after the policemen loitering around took the matter in their hands and made them join the only queue that was valid at the back. I couldn’t believe and imagine myself even thinking of something that violent ever in my life. I still have no idea why I had such a volatile state of mind at that time and I’m praying it was just that one time. After all, I’m the same person who loved the movie Fight Club, but was scared out of my wits for two days on hearing about a bunch of people running a real club on similar lines with less intensity (whatever that means). I’m still that same self hopefully. I don’t want therapy and all.

Renaissance

2008-08-23T22:53:00.000+05:30

A whole new world has been unleashed
Inside this cooped up soul.
There is now sanguine belief in happiness
Heretical freedom; yet under control.

This swerve has perplexed many a bigots
And I see no motive to renege on it.
For it is taking me to this land ephemeral
Where there is unprecedented joy, so pristine.

I see myself with a fresh veneration,
I gauge others with a conscientious yardstick.
For now I know that emotional and intellectual resonance
Creates the magical crescendo and decorates my life.

The preponderance of the journey to the destination is finally known.
The way to my true belief is now completely shown.
Here’s to the unconditional love that I shall not abnegate.
Why fear starting something just because it is to end?

'Puppy' love

2008-07-17T11:24:00.006+05:30

Nobody treated her the way he did. Nobody ever spoke of her the way he did. Nobody observed those implicit nuances and tiny little traits of hers, but him. Nobody respected her so much for who she is. She was compared to the character of Julie Delpy in 'Before Sunrise' and 'Before Sunset' which was incidentally her favorite character as well. She was overwhelmed. She only knew that she had to ignore the people who thought that this whole deal was strange and just trust her own judgment. The judgment of him being this absolutely honest and non-manipulative man. She knew nothing was worth sacrificing this downright beautiful relationship she had with him. They connected magically. Right from the very first time that they met, they have had phenomenally ‘smooth’ conversations. They understood each other like they understood themselves. And they both know that it helps. A lot. In every step of the way. She had a million times more reasons to be fond of him than the reasons she had to be indifferent to him. She can't help but feel so lucky. :')

Laments of a hopeless romantic

2008-06-11T08:39:00.002+05:30

WARNING: This had been a draft for a long time. It was so long ago I wrote it that I don't even remember why I had saved it and not posted it. Anyway I'm in the mood for publishing now. So, here you go. Also, a good reason for mentioning these sentences other than boring you to death with what seems like information of absolutely no use to you is the fact that this article contains many, a WHOLE LOT many repeated sentences and ideas of my own. Don't call me a bad writer and all after reading this. I certainly won't care :P

Note: This is a highly subjective and a super-judgmental article. Any resemblance to living characters is purely intentional because it is based on observations of a certain soul over the years. If anyone is offended, he/she should read carefully enough to realize that the author does not care a pair of dingo’s kidneys.

The dictionary defines ‘love’ as ‘extreme affection for an object or a person.’ I will be specific in this article and sticking only to the kind of relationships that are considered in all the ‘love stories’ we know of.

Very few books portray ‘love’ as something way beyond just physical attraction and even fewer movies do so. I, like any other straight girl, drool over good-looking men too. What amazes me is the fact that a large percentage of the crowd around, considers it not to be ‘infatuation’ but ‘love’! I may be a textbook hopeless romantic, but honestly, I cannot imagine ‘love’ without any sort of connection but to be based purely on superficial attraction. It scares me to even think of spending an hour with a guy who is handsome and all that jazz but is a major airhead or a jackass in my opinion. What a waste of a good fraction of time in my super-fast biological clock! If you’re mature enough, you’d probably have realized that I ain’t drawing a corollary that all good-looking people are dumbasses. But, definitely there exists no theorem that all good-looking people are not dumbasses either. To cut a long story short, I don’t judge a book by its cover. Period.

Anyhoo, a large percentage that I spoke about earlier, is deceived majorly by these very shallow ideas shown in movies and written in books and end up doing ‘trial and error’ on an emotional level. This results in the ‘couples’ that we see around us. The most common type being the ‘master-slave’ one. The guy thinks that because he plays cricket and knows a lot more about it out of his own interest and the girl doesn’t know any other kind of a ‘slip’, he is greater. The girl then starts googling away. Technically, there now exists one-sided fear and absolutely no sign of respect for each other. If you call this love, I have nothing to say.

Another very common type is the ‘giving it a shot’ a.k.a ‘seeing someone’ a.k.a ‘dating’ type. The two of them find each other terribly attractive but have no emotional/intellectual connection, have awkward silences when left alone, can’t bear each other, etc. If you call this love, I have nothing to say.

I sincerely hope that people and eventually movies and books evolve to the kind of love that I truly believe exists. (I indeed know a handful of couples actually in love.) They are attracted by who they are and not completely by how they look. They had known each other for months and even years before they realized they were in love. Hence, they love spending time with each other to an extent that they miss each other a lot. They have not once been bored around each other. They have immense respect for each other and their opinions. They cherish knowing each other’s idiosyncrasies. Most importantly, they connect on many levels.

Insecure

2008-06-06T21:12:00.001+05:30

She did not expect a day like this to come in her life. She thought nothing could ever bother her to this extent. She never could imagine not even knowing what exactly was bothering her so much. She felt like it was just seconds ago that she was immensely content with everything. It’s funny how things turn out to be. All of a sudden, her mood plummeted into this deep abyss that was more unpleasant to her than to the people around her. Well, isn’t that always the case?

She realized many things at once. It made everything worse. Her mood, her day and her life itself as she began to think. She needed a break. That’s the only thing she felt. That was the only sentence in her head. She really couldn’t figure out from what. Was it the deadlines she had been forced upon, or the lack of actually accomplishing anything she had been setting out to do? Was it the people whom she believed could never hurt her and now seem to be taking too many things for granted and behaving in a way that wasn’t what she expected from them in the first place? Was it the conscience that kept telling her to sort things out with her best friend? Or was it all about just missing that feeling…the one of being someone’s, just anyone’s ‘my girl’?

She snapped out of it. She was back to the world from the evanescent reverie. She smiled and carried on flipping through TV channels.

Zzzz...

2008-06-05T14:40:00.002+05:30

My sister calls me 'Sleeper Coach.' That's the punniest name I've got so far regarding my sleeping disorder which by the way concerns excess of sleep. There're days when I feel like I'm actually wasting about 40% of my life this way! But, of course, the feeling is ephemeral. Anyway when I heard of Blogthings from my cousin, I laughed my head off at the different quizzes they have. But, this one turned out to be quite true except for a small little thing regarding 'extreme situations' in more ways than I can think of right now. Anyway here's my result. Check yours out, JFK.

Just For Kicks, I mean.

What Your Sleeping Position Says

You have a passion for everything - including sleeping.

Outgoing and brash, you tend to still shock those who know you well.

You tend to be selfish. You are the most likely type to take over the whole bed.

You gravitate toward comfort and don't like extreme situations.

If you don't get enough sleep, you are: In a very bad mood

It's hard to sleep next to you because: You hog the covers.

What Does Your Sleeping Position Say About You?

La la la la

2008-05-28T20:00:00.001+05:30

I’m ambidextrous. Honestly. Being a right handed person, I believe even my left handwriting is ten times better than most right handed people’s right handwriting.
There are certain people with whom you just click right from the very first conversation. You feel like you have known each other for years. I love the whole phenomenon.
I’ve always enjoyed watching quizzes. Be it on TV (BQC, BBC Mastermind, ESPN School quiz, Nat Geo genius, KBC, et al) or in college. But, I’ve always believed that I sucked at quizzing. Strongly. Because I wiki a googol things but the information is never retained in my brain for longer than 47 pico seconds. It’s proven. But off late in college, I’ve managed to get atleast the ‘connects’ and the ‘workoutable questions’ and not any of the trivia questions for the obvious reasons. The EC fest quiz was made exclusively for jce students and apparently really easy to attract participation by one kind man called Punit who also forced me to take part in it. Boy! Am I glad I took part! I fetched 45 points out of the 55 that my team got. My teammate being Harish, a really good quizzer out of form. This particular quiz made me realize that I can indeed get better. It isn’t too late either.
Someday, I want to teach high school math (8^th Std through 12^th). Most people who know me would find the idea of me teaching someone with the one quality that stands out as the most essential one in that profession-patience, more hilarious than required. But, I honestly wish I can teach high school math to kids in a way that they would appreciate the beauty of it all. If not anyone else, my sis whom I’ve been teaching for the last few years definitely agrees with me!
I love Mysore for more than many reasons. But I realized recently that even today, when I think of Mysore, the picture I get in my mind is the very first one. The one of Adichunchungiri road on a crisp May morning in1994. Both sides of the road had Gulmohar (Mayflower) trees in full bloom. I had come from a place like Dombivili and hence felt like Mysore was closer to a place like paradise. I don’t get the picture of my house or the street I live in today or anything! It’s always been that road. But the next picture is that of college-near the fountain.
I hate the fact that people who eat a whole lot more than me, unhealthy food even, who have a more sedentary lifestyle than me (!) aren’t as plump as me and in a few cases are even just skin and bones. What I hate more is the look my relatives (and these days even my pseudo-friends) give me which means they think that it’s my fault that I put on weight exponentially. I know I should be fit and all that. Heck! I used to be goddamn fit! But how am I supposed to help my frikkin slow metabolism? The day these people stop asking me to lose weight, I think I’ll wake up early in the morning, put on those jogging shoes and run happily. “It isn’t work until someone makes you do it” quipped Calvin and I couldn’t agree more. Reverse psychology seems to be the only one effective on me these days.
I’d give the world to go back in time and attend one full day of school. P.T period included.
I suck at acting in dumb charades. It just isn’t my cup of tea. I’m animated, yes. But I just don’t have enough ideas to convey the name. I realized this too at the EC fest where we were a team of three guessers. None of us could act.
There was a basketball match that we played for Jayciana. A phenomenal one. It was SJCE vs SDM (Yeah the same college that had thrashed us previously with a near three digit to single digit score) Anyway, this time, at the end of the third quarter, the score read 28-8 in our favour. We lost the match 30-33.
I am yet to go get my driver’s license issued.

Smile :)

2008-05-10T12:20:00.002+05:30

Note: The following write up may seem like a chapter out of ‘How to stay happy in life’. But, it is essentially just an article of my recent thoughts and I’m posting it here ‘cause it’s My blog!

A lot of new and different things have been happening lately. They have had this amazing impact on me. I can turn my mood around in a jiffy, thanks to the totally smitten state I’m in. Anyway, one of the things that happened was, me building up great expectations and hopes again (D’uh!) and realizing pretty soon that I was yet again, too little too late for something that I, and only I believe would’ve been a great thing. In an absolutely normal reaction to this, I would have gone through hell. I did sulk, cry secretively, pretend to hum songs (like I always do) even though the song in my head was not quite one, just so no one in the family figures out that there’s something wrong and all that. I said okpa. But, only for a very minuscule while. In one moment and one small afterthought, something brilliant happened. I smiled. And I thought to myself “What was I thinking?” The kind of effect this had on me is unbelievable. My heart felt so much lighter and my head was unclogged of a plethora of thoughts in no time. It was just a realization, true. But, that isn’t what helped me. It was that smile. I never saw it. But, hell! I was the one who smiled and I know what that is! That’s when it hit me, the power of it all. It can make anyone’s day a much better one. Just a smile. :)

I then started thinking of all the smiles that I remember making me feel good. About everything.

A heated argument and someone’s slip of tongue to blurt out something very silly-A smile on everyone’s face. :)

A secret is known to you and someone who is oblivious to it, talks something about it-A default smile on your face raising questions and making you smile more. :)

A prank working brilliantly. While waiting for its fruition, you smile. :)

A mushy line in a Bryan Adams’ song-You go “Awwwww…” and smile away, lost in thoughts. :)

A defining moment of a brilliant song. An accidental chord is played or a violin completes the line-You smile. :)

A moment in a movie. It’s just got the power to make you smile like you’re in it! :)

A line in a book or a blogpost ;). A mail from a friend. An old photograph. An unexpectedly flattering SMS. They make one smile ear-to-ear because that’s the only thing one can do at those points. :)

There are so many so such times when one smiles to themselves. My other favorites are the ones of complete strangers. The basic connection you feel with them of being just plain human is a very pleasant feeling.

I stand at the vegetable shop and ask for tomatoes. The vendor asks me “what kind?” and I have a confused look on my face while erring and umming away. He has myriad frustrated customers to attend to. Yet, he takes just a split second off to express. He smiles. Making me smile like a dork too. :)

I’m riding and I reach a point where either I let the person coming from a cross go first or I do. I signal him to go. But, he stops in a fit of just stopping. There’s a misunderstanding. I go ahead anyway. A lady standing at the corner who witnessed the whole thing, smiles at me. Nothing extraordianary took place, per se. But, a person like me, who would have otherwise murmured “dumbass”, was reminded of the fact that things happen and it’s cool. :)

My friends and I, on a bus in Manali, when on a school organized trek, felt very liberated in a state like Himachal Pradesh, far from our homes. So, we went high. (relax. I believe in Lendl’s “Grass is for Cows” in this context :P). We were basically in a highly bonkers mood and thus, we were putting our heads out of the window and screaming and shouting arbit junk because we were inside the bus on the way to some place where we weren’t gonna stay for long and hence, had absolutely no worries. We were even waving out to total strangers that seemed even considerably good-looking. One of the decent looking guys, who was formally dressed, smiled in a way that he understood what kind of a mood we were in. I saw him smile at me through his visor-less helmet. I can never forget that moment. :)

Another kind that I’m extremely fond of lately is the smile of these certain people who always seem to have a very serious expression on their faces. Their smile is so rare, that even if it is an ordinary one, it seems so wonderfully nice. Like the first time when Shaahid Kapoor smiles in that scene at the reception of ‘Hotel Decent’ in ‘Jab We Met.’ What a moment! :)

There are just too many more moments to mention here. My only point is that there’s no such thing as smiling too much. Smile, if you wanna make yourself or some idiots like me feel better. Also, once Tommy said this and I couldn’t agree with her more that, the one thing you will always remember about any person is their smile. Just honestly think of any random person you have known and the immediate picture that comes to your mind is that of that person smiling. :)

On a more personal note, I’m known to be smiling all the time and couldn’t be happier about it at any other point than while typing this post out :P. Technically, I’m known more for my incessant and excessive laughter. A smile is but, just a frame of my 3-hour-long-movie-like laugh riot. :)

The Big Fat Arranged Marriage

2008-05-08T18:37:00.000+05:30

She’s 70. She’s sweet. Yet, her phone calls to totally arbit people scare the buh-Jesus out of me. She’s my grandma and she’s the official, default, non-consultation-fee-charging matchmaker of my huge family. Her network at this age is unbelievable. How she manages such a huge database without the use of any technology other than a telephone is positively B-school study material. Anyway, the reason why I said that her phone calls freak me out is that all of her conversations sound like those that happen between two sales managers of companies that manufacture two mating parts. (I kill myself with such lame, over-the-top-hackneyed, mech pseudo-jokes.)

Oh! The girl is a jewel. She’s 22, just the right age. She’s so pretty! She’s really fair and has a very slender nose. She may seem a little short because she’s 5.2”, but I heard the guy is short too. Oh! They’re gonna make such a lovely couple!

Analogous to:

Sir, the component is made of SAE 1030 steel. It has mirror finish. The ID (inner dia) is 22mm. So, that’ll be an interference fit with your component of the same OD (outer dia). That’s precisely what is required for the link, if I’m not mistaken.

It is approximately by this time that you will probably find a 20 yr old, otherwise very hyper and jovial mech engg student of a granddaughter standing in the corner of the room, face completely deprived of blood flow, hair standing up, shivering like there’s no tomorrow.

My grandma has ‘successfully’ made, I can safely say, 30 matches so far. For people in our family and outside (neighbours, morning walk buddies, maid servants et al) She has used various methods to build her database. Attending every single wedding that she is invited to, keeping her peepers on the job. Having a surveillance camera of sorts when at temples. Her latest method was actually following a girl from the temple to her place and asking her parents if they were interested in a groom that my grandma knew personally.

It’s always the same. There exist just two criteria. Looks and job. Nothing else matters. Everything else will be taken care of. By whom and why? I’ll never know.

What amazes me is that, not even for a single moment do they stand back and think about how the person actually is. “Is he a nice guy?” is apparently not even a valid question. “This is the only way matches are being made since ages and there’s nothing wrong with it. If it is meant to be, this is the only way it is gonna happen. Once they have children, all problems will be sorted out.” This is something I once heard an ‘elderly person’ say. When I asked if the two people shouldn’t know each other atleast to an extent before they decide to spend their life together just based on photographs or maybe one meeting, that person along with my grandma said –“Who will give a bad impression of themselves when they wanna get married?” I said-“That’s precisely my point! How the hell will you ever know if the stranger of a guy is a sane one then?” She said-“It’ll all be superficial knowledge. So, one might as well just blindly get married without wasting time.” Brrr…

So, if he’s handsome and is an IITian, he’s a Great guy! It doesn’t matter if you figure out that he is a chauvinistic, short tempered, brutish beastly bastard with absolutely no sense of humour after you’re married. You just have to accept it, have kids with him and eventually die trying to live.

It is incredible how these elders have seen so many unhappy marriages around them, complain about their tiny little traits and major principles and all that jazz and yet, don’t seem to realize the basic problem! I’m not generalizing here. I have certainly seen quite a few arranged couples who have been right for each other. But, they are just a lucky few! Why not be a tad bit open minded and let things happen the way they might? Religion is a huge hurdle, I agree. But I honestly wish they would understand the priorities in a person’s married life before all else. Happiness, satisfaction, comfort, peace of mind. What is the point in living without these basic aspects? Who will think about performing some ‘important ritual’ on some ‘auspicious day’ if he/she just has been pissed off big time in a grave sense by his/her spouse?

As for me, I have no plans of marriage and all that in the near future. It’s definitely not gonna be anytime before I turn 26. My parents are a little more supportive and definitely a whole lot more educated and understanding than my grandma. But they still do believe in the concept, nevertheless. I sincerely hope for a normal, happy life.

P.S: Dad, if you’re reading this, you have my number. Call me. I’m on international roaming. In Mexico. And no, I haven’t found anyone.

Surreal Love

2008-04-30T08:58:00.002+05:30

He watches her as she moves a strand of her hair off her face with the back of her hand. The paintbrush between her fingers makes her look complete. A palette of colours lies on the table. She stares at the canvas like a mother observing her newborn child's features. He walks to the kitchen counter in synchronization with the rain falling outside and the Norah Jones playing softly in the background. He places his cup of coffee by his laptop on the table in the living room-their first joint possession. He places her cup on the table coloured with oil paints. He bends down to kiss her on the forehead as both of them close their eyes in satisfaction, happiness, gratitude and above all, comfort at once. In that pristine moment, their entire life flashes by in their minds.

They had met each other through a common friend on an evening after it had rained in the afternoon. It was their favourite kind of weather. The chill on their skin, the smell of rain drenched earth and the colour of sun shining not in his brightest yet his most beautiful shade of a dusky yellow. They have loved every single moment they have spent together ever since. They remember how they had baffled many minds by never technically 'asking each other out'. He was known for his impassive, Don Corleone-like expression on his face all the time while she was almost never seen without a huge smile on her face. They were from two different worlds, which intrigued them more into each other. Everyone thought that they would make a disastrous couple but they seemed to have struck an unknown, yet, a very pleasant chord and connected in an almost surreal way. They have seen immense respect grow mutually over the years and cherished knowing each other's idiosyncrasies. They have attained new highs everyday. They love waking up next to each other and drowning in each others arms on the couch while watching T.V. They love to dance to a silent tune.

He now takes her outside the French windows, on to the lawn. He sways with her left, right and left again. He knows that she's there with him, for him, always. He knows that nothing wrong could ever have happened. All the clichés seemed like they were written based on his thoughts. He sways left, right, a twirl, left, right and left again. Their bodies move like one, to the rhythm of the falling rain, synchronous and comforting. Yet, the world outside sees him as a mad man who always makes an extra cup of coffee and loves to dance when it rains.

A capella

2008-04-28T17:09:00.001+05:30

It indeed was a seriously hectic yet super fun week. I am now a member of Mysore’s first and only acapella group-The Dark Horses (temp name since no one knows about us.) I have always totally been in awe of acapella ever since I had heard Jesse and the Rippers sing Hodja(originally sung by Todd Rundgren) in Full House. Then it was Penn Masala, Rockapella, etc. It was on my list of things to do before I die even! Can’t believe it was actually fulfilled! Anyway this group or ‘band’ if you may call :) was formed by five of my seniors in college. They had performed at the inaugurals this year which I had missed and also took part in an acapella competition at BMS and lost the prize by half a mark even though the organizers airheadedly combined acapella and acoustics! Come on! It’s like matter and anti-matter! Divya is one of the band members and I know her well since she’s the ed-in-chief of the editorial board of our college. (I’m an editor in it too.) The moment she told me that she needed more people, I said that I’d audition. (technically that never took place :P) And that was it! We practiced all through this past week for we had to perform at Jayciana’08. Two songs-Footloose and Shambala by Rockapella were taught to us oh-so-patiently by the guitar God Ranjit Menon. He did the bass sounds for all songs too. Anuj had a little starting trouble but soon picked up his part. The lead singer is Pramod who has an amazing voice and range and is one of the best singers I’ve known in a long time. Kartik who is an integral part of the group had to give the performance a miss because of reasons. Divya is this petite lady who is a package of talent and sweetness. She has an amazing range and sings beautifully and is goddamn versatile. Additional information being facts that she is a brilliant dancer, athlete, badminton and TT player and has actually induced love for animals in me. I was honestly never fond of dogs until I saw her play with hers. It’s true. And then there is the beat box-Sharath whose percussion sounds has everyone in awe because that is what brings out the essence of acapella to junta. We were brilliant during the practice sessions and I had never been more excited about anything like this since that 8^th std Carmel Catholic Association’s Carol singing competition where we were actually a choir with 4 groups-Melody, Alto (me was in there!), Tenor and Bass. Heck! But this was totally a whole lot more whack than that!

What happened at the performance was a whole different story. We were given a key that was 4 notes higher than the usual for footloose. It was so out of my range that even falsetto wouldn’t help and singing my part in the lower octave would sound awful. I ended up singing only my part in the chorus and few other places here and there because I could manage those. The lead singer struggled too. To top it all, the sound system was so bad that apparently people only heard the beat box clearly and the vocals were just like a vague sound probably coming from some other concert :P. We got a lot of cheers unlike what we had expected since we were one of a kind amongst all the ‘jinke mari’ dances and ‘Aaj ki raat’ group songs. (Who the hell can’t sing that song?) But we were shooed off the stage by organizers who promised us a slot for two songs. We were totally disappointed because we had heard ourselves in the practice sessions. We didn’t do any justice to it. But, anyway it was a major fun thing to do in the end. I got compliments for my jig shirt as well :P Three cheers to us!

What’s sad is that all 5 of the seniors will be passing out of college in a month’s time and there might not be another dark horses performance. There is a streak of hope in me that says things might happen. Let’s see. I can’t believe this didn’t happen three years ago when I just joined college! Sigh…

The other things that happened were arbit pictionary and stuff. Not to forget, a F.R.I.E.N.D.S quiz conducted by yours truly. I couldn’t devote much of my time to it. Although, I heard people say that the preliminary questions were good. I wish I had made the finals, 2 rounds longer. It has been a great week and a greater weekend with incidents and people I’ll never forget in all my life for sure! Hoping Harish recovers soon.

Result of joblessness.

2008-04-17T15:32:00.002+05:30

I got this from Veena.

I AM: high.
I WANT: to play tennis continuously and learn how to play the santoor or any string instrument.
I HAVE: blubber all over me.
I WISH: that I become a tennis commentator as brilliant as Vijay Amritraj.
I HATE: people who don’t eat fruits and vegetables/people who are picky about food.
I FEAR: the death of loved ones.
I SEARCH: using Google :P
I WONDER: if that just made total sense.
I REGRET: not having continued Kathak and Hindustani classical singing.
I LOVE: NY even though I haven’t even remotely been there.
I ALWAYS: oversleep.
I AM NOT: affected by deadlines.
I DANCE: well enough although not often enough.
I SING: a hell lot.
I CRY: when I see someone else cry.
I WRITE: energy conversion lab and fluid machinery lab journals.
I WON: 500 bucks in an event called ‘wrench heads’ at a mech fest in college last week. (Missed winning 1k by a whisker :( )
I AM CONFUSED: when people in college say “he proposed to her and she said yes” when technically he would just have confessed to her that he likes her. What in the name of God did he ‘propose’ now anta?
I NEED: dark chocolate therapy.
I SHOULD: start writing better.
THE LAST THOUGHT I GO TO SLEEP WITH IS: Hmmm *smile*… Zzzzzzz…

The five people you meet in hell.

2008-04-13T15:03:00.003+05:30

I’ve been wanting to make this list since quite some time now. It is funny how I thought I’d be doing this in my get-pissed-off-at-the-drop-of-a-hat phase and I’m ending up doing it in my I’m-so-high-I-can-hear-heaven phase! Probably for the best of everyone.

I generally make more friends than enemies but I’m sure as hell judgmental! Aw come on! Now, Who in the name of ‘Are ya there God? It’s me Margaret’ isn’t?(Note to self: Watch less Scrubs) The key to my happiness remains looking at the better side of these people and living in peace. Here I’d like to get certain criteria that if not irritate me, at least make me want to shoot the person involved, out of my system.

People who play music on the loudspeakers of their mobile phones in public: If it’s a song that everyone likes, kindly don’t ruin it by playing it with such a pathetic output for Pete’s sakes! And if it’s a song that I particularly dislike, then it’s time ya get into to the casket I ordered for ya!
People who ride with their headlights ‘on’ in broad daylight: What kind of an idiot doesn’t know the basics of owning a bike! I don’t get the fact that their hand doesn’t automatically switch off the light before switching the engine off while parking at night. It should be as natural as accelerating when wanting to go faster!
People (cheap asses) who keep the headlight ‘on’ in broad daylight to grab the attention of girls: I kid you not! There are more desperate souls in this world than you can ever imagine! These freaks wave back with an idiotic and letching grin in case a female signals ‘headlight on’.
People with a fake laughter: I never even thought the phenomenon of ‘fake laughter’ could possibly exist. It so does. I always believed everyone has a specific laughter of their own. Turns out, there are indeed people who seriously never actually laugh. I mean genuinely. ‘Laughing’ is something they’ve learnt over the years by observing others and mimicking badly enough to have this ‘fake laughter’. Strange but true. I know one of this kind so far.
People who drink beer even after hating it in the first trial: “I dint like it when I drank it for the first time. But one just starts liking it! I mean so many people around the world like it, don’t they?” Gimme a break! Whose taste buds dya have on your bloody wanna-be tongue man?
People who haven’t heard of the concept of a ‘queue’: Be it at a temple, the railway station or even the admin office at college. If you think ‘queue’ is a cooked up word to rhyme with ‘sew’ then I hate you for not just your ignorance, but also for your awful knowledge in English.

More losers to feature in the list once I’m out of this phase!

Summer holidays

2008-04-11T23:10:00.001+05:30

Both my parents were brought up in Hubli and hence have their parents' homes there. A city(Yes Harish!) with no roads, filled with red coloured dust which makes it glorious when it rains and a Ganesh Chaturthi brings out the best in it. Yet, a city which had Baskin&Robbins, Café Coffee Day, Pizza Hut and an airport way before Mysore did! It’s called ‘choTa Mumbai’ for reasons I figure are something to do with finance. (Bah! It’s high time I wiki-d this and learnt something!) My dad has changed quite a few jobs from the time I was brought into this world. Belgaum, Dombivili, Mysore, Panvel and back to Mysore for good. But there hasn’t been a single vacation of mine that hasn’t been spent there. Even today I go there atleast for a fortnight during sem breaks. We’d even celebrate every single festival there until we built this present house in Mysore. My grandpa has 6 children totally and we are 14 cousins. We’d all get together in the summer holidays. Do practically nothing but play arbit games including ‘Stop’ which is better known as ‘eye spies’ to the rest of Karnataka (Until 8^th Std I, like most of my cousins believed was spelt as ‘Ice spice’!), build forts using bedspreads, play in the sand, enact my dominating eldest cousins’ plays, (2 of my cousins were generally given the roles of the two women standing next to the king blowing the fan), wait for the 3 o’clock ‘Femila’ ice cream vendor, eat mango/orange candy ice cream sitting in the backyard, make a million paper boats and float them in the pond formed by rain in the then big and empty Mayuri estate across the road, Eat ‘kaitutt’(one spoon at a time rationed by one of my aunts or my mom as we all kids sit in a circle) sambhar rice and curd rice for dinner, Eat mangoes! As and when one finds one! Fight for who sleeps where at night… as kids. We graduated from that to, drooling over Hrithik Roshan(strictly only the girls) when Kaho Naa Pyar Hai was released, talking more sense and nonsense at the same time, dividing everyone into different age groups, etc. Now, I have seven cousins in my group :P. Two of whom have been working for a while now, two others have recently started working, one local Mysorian cousin whose holidays never match with the rest of us thanks to her univ and one cousin also studying engg. It’s come down to watching movies or other downloaded stuff on someone’s comp, loafing around in Hubli, eating brilliant chaat, Visiting the beautiful beTTa or a quiet temple or shop till I drop! What remain unchanged other than the errands run by us, thanks to our grandparents, are the feelings I have had during the journeys to Hubli. It’s excitement all the way! The bus(back then)/train(present) seems to take really long to reach Hubli. The expectations I have on the auto ride from the bus stand/railway station of expressions of different people when we get there. The Mysore Sandal Soap Fragrance in the bathroom. Ambakkajji’s(my great grandma passed away there!) room. BaNanti(vernacular for a new mother) room. The gazillion cats that I’m allergic to. The terrace. And also the feeling I have on the auto ride to the bus stand/ railway station to get back after the vacations. The huge knot in my throat.

I was in Hubli from the 6^th of April to the 11^th '08. I had that knot again. All this was just to convey that. I am indeed the digressing queen alla?

Adagio in C minor

2008-03-24T17:52:00.003+05:30

Now I know this doesn't take any talent but I love doing it nevertheless. I mean cooking up a story using names of songs of a particular artist. Those who haven't read this, kindly do read atleast because I'm begging you with Bambi eyes(virtual).

To Yanni. Someone whose music has been on my playlist in the head for years(Thanks to Dad). Whose music I discover has a new element everytime I listen to it. Whose concert I wanna be at once before I die.

If I could tell you. Once upon a time, on sacred ground, a highland it was. I took a walk in the rain in November sky humming a midnight hymn. In sadness of the heart at the end of august, I was chasing shadows and forbidden dreams. I stopped at a wishing well and asked for the face in the photograph back, along with an orchid to take to hold. It was almost a whisper. I was standing in motion as I was swept away by nostalgia until the last moment. Then a quiet man took me on a flight of fantasy and showed my reflections of passion in the mirror to me in the first touch. “It’s never too late. Nice to meet you.” he said and left. I found my keys to imagination and I am now playing by heart. My aria. My life. A love for life is an enchantment.To the one who knows, before I go, I’d like to say - So long my friend.

Arbit. Period.

2008-03-14T19:22:00.005+05:30

This post is gonna be quite oh-my-god arbit(D'uh!). Well, the reason for this post being here is the fact that quite a few things have been happening and I have had many, a whole lot many ‘I should blog about this’ moments. None converted. Just like the shots in our highly embarassing match against SDM on home court.

Anyhoo, I’d like to write about something that happened nearly a month ago. A trip to beTTa that was really funny. We generally just bunk about 3 classes in a row, hop onto our bikes and reach the spot on beTTa within no time. This time around, we were 13 of us. Everything was fine until our man Anuj put the idea of rock climbing in our heads. I’m usually very game for such things but this time it was one of those few countable days of the year when I’m dressed in a completely feminine attire of a salwar kameez and not to forget feminine sandals. I did it anyway. Coming back down to where our bikes were parked was getting way too difficult with those sandals and hence the airhead in me and Harish suggested I throw them down first and get down barefeet. They fell well away from my target (I blamed the wind and my friends blamed my inebriated-like state.) I found one of them and it took six people and about half an hour to find the other one. Now the best part about the whole thing was the stories that were coming to our minds to tell at my house when I go with just one sandal because a bike trip to beTTa by bunking classes is not exactly what my dear folks back home are expecting me to be doing under any circumstances. One chappal got stolen when left outside lab. Flew off my feet while riding. Lecturer asked for it because I was laughing in class. Someone eve-teased and I gave him a piece of me et al.

The other thing that happened was the coining of the term ‘Hope and Haath’ by Harish. There’s a lecturer of ours named ANH who is one among the only two people in the teaching community I’ve found, who believe that I actually do have some decent grey cells. The other one being Chitra Ma’am -my math mentor. Well, he tells me about how our college is selected for a 2 day programme in Chennai by Bosch where they’re going to be demonstrating their safety devices for racing cars On the track. In an actual race car. He and another lecturer (who I thought also likes me ok-ly) were discussing about who to send from our class since only 8 is the limit and that they thought that I ought to be one of them. He actually told me that! Gave Hope. Then later he succumbed to the other lecturer’s demands of sending only the toppers. Gave Haath. I heard from the ‘toppers’ (one of whom didn’t understand when I said “if you remove 0.5mm thickness of material off a cylinder, the dia(meter) is reduced by 1mm” and actually drew two concentric circles to get it.) their experiences, saw their oh-dear-god-that-is-so-frikkin-awesome “Team Bosch” in the front and “On Track” at the back jerkins and caps and cried like a baby inside.

Happier things happened like my birthday bash! Friends came home with my giftS! ‘The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’, a 2 gb pen drive (one that works unlike my previous one) and the most delicious, the most chocolaty cake-liqour flavoured! I have the greatest friends ever! :) We played bluff, passing the message and dumb charades in my room. Super fun it was to do that after ages, to remind one that “You can be young only once but you can stay immature forever!”

I’ve been watching too much ‘Scrubs’ ever since I started making total use of my pen drive and not only am I in love with the man-Dr.Cox and his super-duper-hyper-mega-ultra sarcastic rants but also in love with the guy who created the character.( Just like my previous love for the person in whose head Phoebe and Chandler were born.) I’m also loving every single thing about H2G2. Douglas Adams is hilarious. A true genius. Last, but not the least, Mysore has the best weather and I also figured how every kind of weather has a colour to it.

Score!

2008-03-09T12:53:00.001+05:30

I turn 20 and Shashi Tharoor 52. He writes a very depressing article in ‘Shashi on Sunday’ and I write the anti of it with the hope that I never will reach a mental state like his by the time I’m 52. The fact that I’m thinking about myself at 52 even momentarily is because of the constant “Happy Birthday Aunty” wishes I’ve been getting since midnight even though I’m technically younger than all my batchmates :-/ Crap. I’m supposed to be happy that it’s my happy birthday! :p. Anyway it was amazing last night when I wanted to take a very clichéd ‘look back on life’. I could only recall the smiles and the mad laughter. Felt really good. No one has a perfect life but happiness being my only choice was overwhelming. I haven’t achieved anything extraordinary per se. It’s highly subjective after all. But, I have been blessed to have the most wonderful family and even greater friends throughout giving me so many moments to cherish and look forward to.

I was recently called a ‘hopeless romantic’ and I’m exactly what the urban dictionary defines as one. Being in love with the idea of love. Believing in the concept of ‘soul mates.’ Seeing life with rose-colored glasses. I’d attribute that to ground reality rather than the songs I listen to or the books I read or the movies I watch (I couldn’t bear ‘Love Actually’ for longer than five minutes) I have seen a nearly perfect couple. They define love. I have met people who deserve that kinda love. I have known people who in this world of charlatans and major wanna-be’s stand out because of principles. It makes me believe that there are more of the same species who don’t get the idea of trial and error on an emotional level a.k.a dating. For now, I am thoroughly enjoying my current status. I have so many things to do before I can get into a relationship (not that there’s any scope for one with a family this orthodox :p ). Not that it’s a headache of any sort, but just feels so right to be surrounded by people I love spending time with. (Such realizations occur when I lie down on the college lawn, ‘staring straight into the shining sun’ through the weaves of the tree leaves, ever so nonchalantly with the same people I mentioned earlier.)

That apart, I now have serious career related decisions to make. I’ve made the best one so far but it doesn’t just seem to stop there. There’s a much larger picture with more minuscule yet important details to paint. The hope that I live with tells me that I’ll turn out to be just fine.

Wondering what I really wanted to convey in this post when I started writing it and what I have now ended up conveying I wish myself and Shashi Tharoor a very happy birthday again!

Indotrip - II

2008-01-29T17:16:00.001+05:30

28^th Jan ’07: We started for Agra from Delhi. Breakfast consisted of paranthas at a Dhaba(Yum). I captured a decent pic there. (For the one person who might have seen this on my flickr page as ‘a foggy usual day in Haryana’ as well as is reading this post- I thought Haryana sounded cooler :P ) Mathura which lies midway was on the agenda too. Everything was neat. The taxi, the polite but ignorant chauffer, his highly catchy and addictive ringtone (Yep. First of its kind which I’ve been trying to compose with my dilettante skills at the Nokia composer…yet to reach perfection..i.e. need more elements than just one ‘queee’ sound) We reached a place where the green reflective board of the government read that Mathura was 8 kms straight ahead. I remember reading a nice article in Mind over Matter called ‘God is within you’. A few hundred meters since that point, there was a small board signaling us to take a left turn to go to ‘Mathura-Brindavan.’ Nothing about it seemed right (pun intended) except for the fact that all the cars in front of us with a red piece of cloth with golden shredded endings hanging out of the windows took that deviation. Dad got excited and took the impulsive decision of checking this place out. The moron on the wheel had no idea and said “Sir saayad yuh-i mathura hoga sir..main puh-le kabhi gaya nahi hoo na.” in the thickest possible Bihari accent known. We were greeted here by a group of people asking us to pay INR 50 as entry fee for no ticket or receipt whatsoever. Had we been parsimonious enough, we’d have avoided all that took place from then on. When dad lowered his window to pay, about five pairs of hands got in along with screams that sounded like – “Sir hum aapko saare mandiron ke darsan karaa denge sir” “Sirf do sau rupaye lagenge sir.” The bonkers mood freaked the crap out of me. Anyway, we followed all the cars that were going that way, ignoring the banging on all sides of the car by the desperate ‘guides’. Almost 2 kms later, dad succumbed and let one 11 year old boy guide us through the so called ‘Mathura Brindavan’. When we reached the place, it did not even look close to a land with such magnanimous history behind it. It was a village filled with souvenir stores alone. The kid took us to Brindavan which was essentially a 50’ X 80’ site converted into a ‘Tulsi’ garden. He, like all guides across the globe, started ‘oL-ing’ about how all the gopikas were converted into these shrubs. There was a room at the center of this site which had a cot in it. Radha slept on this what seemed like a piece of furniture straight out of some Italian furniture store I believe. Yeah macha. Ok. It did not take an H.G. Wells to figure out that we were wasting precious time. Then we were taken to “Mathura’s main temple”. A house modified into a dark room for looting hyper gullible dumbasses. We kept telling dad that the faster we yanked from this set that gives some bloody stiff competition to Universal Studios, the safer we were. But if he started listening to us in the matters of temples and donating at the hundi, pigs would pretty much be flying and a frog would be making out with a princess. We were let inside the “sanctum sanctorum” family by family. Super strategy. Each family was let inside and the door was tightly latched. Yeah. The fatsore of a ‘purohit’ starts chanting pseudo-shlokas and later starts talking all the bull that he could possibly come up with- “do hajaar rupaye kuch bhi nahi hai. Yuh seva karaane se aapke parivaar waalon ko jeevan bhar ke liye sukh shanti…horse shit…cow dung…pig poop...Holy Mother of Crap.” They later unveiled the ‘main and one and only idol of Lord Krishna in the whole of Mathura’. It was a lot worse than seeing Kal Penn playing the character of the supposed to be drop dead handsome Gogol in The Namesake or finding out that the best newcomer(Female)-Ranbir Kapoor could be cast as Ryan Oberoi in Five Point Someone or the airhead of a nincompoop Amitabh Bachchan playing the role of…*swallow knot*..Khaderbhai in Shantaram!! Luckily enough, dad did not carry that much liquid cash with him and the debit card did not work for them. I still can’t stop thanking all the stars, planets and galaxies for that. We fled from there and reached the highway back in record time. Exactly 7 kms ahead of the point where we had taken the deviation, there was an actual board for the real Mathura. My sister, mom and I threw tantrums and convinced dad to go ahead to Agra and visiting Mathura on the way back.

As we were on the road leading to the Taj Mahal, we started wondering where all the money that Yanni had donated had vanished. Even Hubli had better roads for crying out loud! By now, my super nice friends from Karnataka, had started sending me 1-0, 1-1, 2-1, 2-2s of the much hyped Federer-Gonzalez Aus Open final. There’s absolutely no bloody point in knowing the score without watching the match. The very-much-against- score-alerts person that I was had finally resorted to it. We passed some time until the gates reopened after the lunch hour by buying some ingenious handmade toys and looking at weird banana fiber sarees.

As we were about to enter the Taj Mahal from a brilliant side secret entrance saving the agony of standing in a queue, we had to leave our cellphones in a locker. On getting the first glimpse of the monument of infinite beauty, I forgot I had a phone alerting me about a Grand slam final, that Fed was struggling enough to get himself into a first set tie break, heck! I even forgot tennis existed! “Breathtaking” would be an understatement by all means. At the entrance, I captured one of my best pics of the trip. All the way, I was quiet. I had absolutely nothing to say. The monument was overwhelming enough to even make the story behind it seem frivolous. I have no idea of how long we were in there. It was pure magic. Just couldn’t keep my eyes off it. Later, when we were outside the premises, it took quite something for me to come back to normalcy, to switch on the phone, to read the messages, to register the fact that FedEx had won in 7-6(2), 6-4, 6-4.

We visited the real Mathura which really had the wall separating a temple and a beautiful mosque on the way back.

Next up: Chandigarh – The well planned yet bizarre land of India’s most attractive men (non-surds. I Am biased).

God-like

2008-01-25T23:17:00.000+05:30

“What the mother of crap?”

“You drive me up the wall!”

“Legendary.”

“Oh sweet Moses!”

“Jesus tap dancing Christ!”

“Chottay.”

“Varry.”

These are the phrases (recent ones) that I’ve picked up from Phoebe, Tommy’s cousin, Barney, Chandler, Cartman(or Kyle), Amrita(I think) and my cousin Shruti respectively. My brain has this amazing quality of picking up stuff like this and reproducing aptly and redundantly.

It’s a rarity when I come up with my own phrases. The most recent one being the pseudo-adjective of “God-like”, “like God” and even “is God” when speaking metaphorically.

Kohlschreiber’s backhand is God. Tsonga’s volley is God-like. Shruti’s top fits me like God. The smell of the gravy is God-like. Dark chocolate is God. The weather is like God, et al. I use them abundantly enough to get onto people’s nerves like that *snap of finger*

Now, being the hardcore agnostic soul that I am, I have always questioned the portrayal of God as either uncannily human or manimals. Why can’t God be something that can’t be conceived by our five (abbabba andre six) senses? It’s a lot more interesting that way. Read this for an example. An idol according to dad is just an element of space to concentrate on. To come to think of it, by using ‘my phrase’, I’m acknowledging the fact of God’s omnipresence and being more of a believer than anyone else! Technically, I shouldn’t be called an apostate and all alla? Sigh…

Note to self: Stop proving random shallow stuff to no one and get a life!

Superstitions Galore

2008-01-24T14:13:00.000+05:30

“A cat ran across my path in front of me.” A statement like this makes me want to have millions of cats like that lady who once featured on Oprah, my ridiculous allergy notwithstanding, just so that I have the privilege of experiencing the mega cheap thrill by making all of them cross the road at every single goddamn zebra crossing in the city and beyond between 8 and 10 am on weekdays.

“Oh! God! You sneezed just once?” Yeah grandma. Want me to shove cat hair up my nose just so I can sneeze again? For you, a thousand times over.

The look I get when I ask someone “Where are you going?” before they’re about to leave makes me feel sad for them. Not because I ‘ruined’ whatever it was that they were setting out to do, but just because they lack the much needed basic conviction to do it.

People did not cut nails, shave or get a haircut after dark earlier because Edison was still working on the bulb!

It’s funny how anecdotes have lead to these superstitions. Non sequitur. All the way.

I cannot sleep in the night if the darker of the two sides of my comforter (read: chaadar made in solapur) is not seen from the outside.

Whenever I’ve had a calcium/vitamin deficiency (my B.Q(biology quotient) is as good as that of furniture) and is seen as a thin white line on any of my nails, I have invariably ended up getting new clothes- bought or received as gifts.

These are the only two total weirdass superstitions that I’ve believed in all my life. Loopholes being the fact that everyone knows how I don’t give a damn about anything when it comes to sleeping and that I don’t coax anyone into buying me clothes just because I have the white line. It has always..I mean always been a coincidence. What really makes me keep believing in them is that I’m seriously not hurting anyone, physically or mentally in the process.

Once, grandparents and I were sitting in the living room reading arbit stuff. It was 6:15 pm. The lady who irons our clothes knocked the door with the latest consignment in her hand. “24 rupees.” she said as I was hunting for money. Unfortunately, mom had gone for a walk with her wallet and as usual my wallet was empty. The lady was in a hurry too and said that it was alright and that she would collect the money next morning. As I was closing the door after her, my grandma said something that shocked me out of my wits. “Kriti, from the next time onwards, make it clear to her that you won’t be paying her in the evening after six pm. It’s the time when Goddess Lakshmi comes home. We shouldn’t be giving away money in such an hour.” I recovered quickly enough to reply-“Ajji, it’s the time when Goddess Lakshmi goes to that poor lady’s house as well.”

Another story that hurts me to no ends is that of this extremely ‘well-educated’ man on a Grail quest. His wife had given birth to their elder daughter and was pregnant with the second child. She had been taken care of by her mother since her second trimester had started until the baby was about 6 months old in the case of the first daughter. Her second trimester had now begun and as she was packing to stay at her mother’s place just like before, the highly reputed man-her husband asks her to go to his mother’s place instead because they believe that another ‘girl child’ will be born if she doesn’t do so. The pregnant woman is hurt. As is her mother. It’s so strange when people think they earn positive karma points, moksha etc by behaving so goddamn anti-altruistic.

In the process of adhering to millions of superstitions, all and sundry, humanity is being forgotten. It’s sad how people have to experience the so called ‘life after death’ to start believing in being good humans before anything else for all the moksha that they are avaricious about.

Indotrip - I

2008-01-05T14:00:00.000+05:30

A year ago, during my 3^rd sem exams, dad started planning a trip to go to in the break after that. Started off with Europe! Then came closer to ACon and said-“Singapore, Malaysia” et al. He checked out hotels and planned out a near perfect itinerary (in our humble budget) sitting in front of the computer located in My room! Exams ki Jai! :P And then came the best part - “Sir, ishT bega passport-visa aagalvalla!” the BIT guy blurts. Okpa. My dad’s extra devotion came over him and announced a south

India

tour a.k.a a lotta barefeet, sweaty, crowded temple visits with One beach just to claim we were on vacation. Since this was the anti-holiday that my dear sis and I had in mind, we staged a dharna sayin it’ll happen if and only if all of our dad’s five sisters plus mom’s two brothers And their families come along. AshTe ashTe(another term that deserves a post!) We have previously booked tickets for a north India (delhi,agra and manali) trip Twice and cancelled them. Once because dad was overloaded with sudd sudden work at the factory and the second time because the terrorist attacks happened on the parliament. Yeah. You read it right. Grandparents were too worried to let their son go. So mom goes all senti and just sighed a highly disappointed sigh after repeating what I just mentioned in the previous two sentences. And that’s how it happened. The best trip of my life so far.

I was supposed to write about this trip soon after we got back. But my funda was nobody’ll ever know what it meant to us. It hits me only now that it isn’t really for others to read and get bored but this post when read years later by me will bring back the chills we experienced, the taste of the food we ate to my mouth, the fun we had.

26^th Jan ’07: I was psyched. We leave home sweet home with the luggage that my packing crazy mom packed for all of us :P. Reach Delhi at 11:30 pm. We were to be driven to our hotel by this guy from ‘Trans-rent-a-car’. (They specialize in corporate pick ups and drops. But my dad thinks those guys are being underrated and decides to book their cars for all our journeys in and around Delhi and even beyond! What happens when you do such a thing, you’ll know as you read on further in this post.) We were honestly feeling like those people they show in movies that come from a village to a ‘big city’. Sure we’ve stayed in Bombay for quite a long time and go to Bangalore often, but Delhi’s charm was something totally different. The roads, on which our chauffer cruised at 100+ kmph in a baleno, seemed to have 16 or more lanes! The feeling was exactly like NFS-UG’s drag race especially when he changed the lanes oh-so-wow-ly! My parents have this totally weird Hindi-speaking-when-outside-the-house habit. It started years ago when they came to Mysore from Bombay and they realized the shopkeepers etc they’d deal with wouldn’t understand their conversation if they did it in Hindi. So my dad in the front seat, two seconds before getting down at our hotel, tells my mom “Yeh achcha aadmi hai yaar..isko thoDa tip dein kya?” My sister and I had our hands patting on our foreheads (read: ‘nanna haNebaara Ganesh chauti’) and the ‘achcha aadmi’ in consideration, almost laughed his ass off! Freezing and foggy as it was, he said it’ll only get thicker by morning. And boy did that happen and how!

We set out on our first day of sight-seeing in Delhi. It was 9:30 am (the digital display at the traffic signal read 13°C and 0 parking slots available at places we were meant to go to) and we had missed the complimentary breakfast by about an hour. So we asked our chauffer for the day (another pick up and drop from jw marriot/hyatt to airport guy who dint know any of the tourist spots of delhi) to take us to the nearest decent restaurant where we could have paranthas for breakfast. Our man says those are too far and takes us to the nearest McDonald’s. Yup. McDonald’s for breakfast! Delhi is weird that way…there’re no green leaf, Indra’s types over there…it’s either southern star or McDonald’s types. We chose the cheaper one of course. We were their first customers for the day and the “Aaja Ve” by Sona that they played on large LCD TVs which seemed all the louder because of the emptiness of it all suddenly sounded nice. The self-proclaimed McDonald’s hater to the core that my dad was turned into something quite the opposite of that after he found out they don’t even use onions and garlic in McAloo Tikki, let alone all the beef fat solids he’d read about! At the table, my sister and I reminded the rules we had talked to our parents about the previous night. We’d be saying ‘MB’, which stands for MaatrBhaasha, everytime we’d get a slight hunch that either of our parents are gonna be sayin something in hindi in the next splitsecond. We always know when that is.

First spot was Jantar Mantar, then the red fort. Seeing the national flag that was hoisted just the previous morning there was something totally different. Infact just being in the national capital felt something very special.

We went around Rajghat, India gate and Rashtrapati bhavan(which technically we couldn’t see until we were at its gate because of all the fog past noon!).

Rajpath looked amazing with all the decorations from 26^th Jan yet to be taken out. The littering done by the people who had been there to watch the parade just helped us a little more to think of all that might have taken place right in the place we were standing. For the freakishly late lunch we needed to have, our man takes us to one Hotel Gulati. 750 INR was the bill for the paranthas with curds that we had.

We had to go to Qutub Minar next. I’d been there before and therefore found the place beautiful at twilight although mom was complaining about how dark it was. We shopped at Sarojininagar in the evening and ended up buying only sweaters and stoles unable to resist the fact that we got really nice ones at goddamn cheap prices! It was time to hunt for a restaurant again for ‘baaimusari’(meaning eating just for the heck of it in order to avoid midnight hunger crisis and the like) We walked in and out and around and about 3 kms only to be between Crowne Plaza and a lane which had McDonald’s and pizza joints. Dad obviously chose McDonald’s admitting he really liked the burgers.

Coming soon in the next few posts..

Trips to the Taj Mahal, Chandigarh, Kullu-Manali and Shimla in the days that followed this one..

Just one mistake

2007-12-10T11:27:00.000+05:30

The happiest day of her life was when she heard her baby cry for the first time, kicking and screaming in a tone that silenced every other sound in that labour room including that of the thumping of her heart. Later, as she held him in her arms for the first time, she said the first of her millions to come prayers for him. At that very point she chose to completely leave her past behind that would only hurt her time and again. The past where, she was foolish enough to fall in love with the most pseudo quixotic man on earth. She had eloped and married him in the silliest state of mind which left her parents thinking that they never had had a child. The cheat that that wife-beater was, kicked her out of his shackle in the literal sense after giving her a cigarette burn on her right forearm when she told him about her being pregnant with his child. She was lucky enough to have found a home and a job as a clerk in a small private school almost immediately for she now had a reason to live. She had decided to block all those memories out as she knew that the entire world was going to be centered on her son.

She worked days and nights without complaining because in a slightly dull moment, all she had to do was think of the smile on her son’s face at the end of the day. The cute little boy whose eyes had the twinkle that promised a lifetime of innocence and happiness and the words that promised pure love was then growing up.

She noticed the change in him, gradual or otherwise that had turned his childish tantrums into ruthless ranting. She discarded his nefarious behaviour, vitriolic statements and the quirkiness as a usual ‘teenage phase’ until one day when he yelled so loudly and had the uncannily similar enraged face as his father. Instead of taking matters into her hand and talking him out to behave normally, she decided to shower him with more love, pamper him to greater extents and gave him ‘more space’ - a common mistake that most mothers across the globe continue to commit. He would now, not come home on most nights, slam the door when asked any sort of a question and hardly even smell the food that she’d spend hours on cooking. His tremendous weight loss and the dark circles that emerged out of nowhere worried her beyond imagination. She realized one day that it had been more than a year since the two of them had even shared the air in the same room, let alone having a conversation. She had started going to the church everyday and would more often than not be chanting a prayer to cease all the problems. Guess some things are just meant to happen the way they do.

On one inauspicious day, the classmate of her son whom she had been begging for details about his whereabouts came to her house with tears in his eyes up till the brim - a look that terrified beyond her faith. He then told her stories that were gorier than her worst nightmare and these, involved her son.

Two days later was when she got to see him, stooping in front of the judge in the courtroom, yet, completely oblivious of all that was happening around him. Then what she heard, the accusations of drugs – usage and peddling, being caught red-handed while pricking random people with infected needles and the murder of two young boys who refused to sell the poison….gave her a heartache like one she had never experienced before. Now, as the police dragged him along the corridor, she looked at the cigarette burn on her hand and it is at this point that it became the worst day of her life when she heard her baby cry for the last time, kicking and screaming in a tone that silenced every other sound including that of the thumping of her heart…forever.

My Faith - Okpa

2007-11-03T10:17:00.000+05:30

There are few things/incidents/phenomena that occur during a person's life that change the entire course around. Reinvent one’s thought process. Basically teach one to live their life, the way it’s meant to be lived.

For me, it was the knowledge of a four letter word that is far more powerful than it seems to be, called – ‘okpa’.

I’m not sure of the etymology, but I do know that my subconscious brain is constantly worshipping that dude/dudette who came up with it. There are just so many facets to this word and so many ways to be used in, that, I’m surprised it doesn’t exist in the Sanskrit dictionary.

There exists an okpa state of mind. The earlier I go into it, the happier I am. Trust me, I’m NOT compromising on anything by being satisfied earlier and thence being happy..blah! It is highly contextual and you really need to be an example-hungry brain to get what I’m saying. Now, you think this is a bad write up? It isn’t self-explanatory? Okpa. Two things can happen. I could either be this snobbish sad ass and not explain to the person who hasn’t got it so far…or…. I could be this really patient, reader-hungry person and try and attract all strata of readers by explaining in a simpler way.

Note: Okpa just behaved as a signboard at a fork. It gives one time to analyse the situation on levels that probably didn’t even exist before!

One of the most commendable usages of okpa is when it is used to put an end to a fairly pointless argument. It doesn’t mean that I agree with the person opposing my statement. More importantly, it does NOT mean that I gave up! It just means that I don’t care…anymore…beyond that point. It gives me happiness to not care about things that don’t directly affect my life or the lives of the people that I care about in any sort of way. But the immense sense of pleasure that I get by showing evidently that I don’t care..is addictive.

Another interesting interpretation of the usage of okpa in an argument is when you accept that your opponent is a hard ass and that he/she will do/say everything possible to stick by his/her point of view. To you, this becomes the universal truth at this point.(“The sun rises in the east” sort of a thing) Which is fine! Hence, to save all the energy and time, you say – okpa!

This can also be greatly extended to using it against judgementalists. Being born as a girl to a north Karnataka Madhwa Brahmin family, I certainly do know the millions of levels of judgementalism that exist! Things seem to be wrong when they aren’t right in one’s head. Accepting this fact will only plummet one into the ultimate state of okpa. (I seriously don’t see the need of alcohol or weed :-P) Eg:- Somebody sitting somewhere thinks I met with an accident because I was speeding and that it was all my fault, and that gravitation, conservation of momentum or even friction had no role to play in it? Okpa.

There's a part of me that doesn't wanna believe in the concept of fate but, there's this other part that sooo does. Okpa has gotten me through tough times(..err..sorry for bringin the senti angle) by telling me that ultimately all i seek is happiness. "Oh..it was probably just meant to be" and down right optimism is what okpa is capable of meaning.

Eg: Okpa would have ended the agony, the frustration and all that the girl in my previous post "Why?" went through..

Hence I’d like to try and define THE state as follows..

Okpa state is the state of complete realization and awareness of oneself and having an advanced perspective along with a clear and detailed analysis of the consequences of any given moment in one’s mind which ultimately leads to happiness.

p.s: It’s true…I never lived like this earlier! For 19 years..

Kritikality

2007-09-27T20:02:00.000+05:30

This should have been the first post. It wasn’t because I never thought people would want to know what ‘kritikality’ meant. Turns out – they do! This post should suffice as the answer.

Definition - The quality, state, or degree of being of the highest importance…to Kriti Kalwad.

But essentially the word KritiKality depicts a phenomenon. That includes – Sleeping, Laughing uncontrollably, Humming arbit songs, Being agnostic, Eating vegetarian food, Consuming a minimum of four citrus fruits(oranges & mousambi) per day and also other fruits available during the season, Dying for chocolate, Planning on losing weight, Starting and discontinuing tennis like a flip flop, Thinking about how fit one was when two hours of swimming was compulsory in school, Staring out of the window, Focussing at infinity, Day dreaming, Worshipping Floyd, Splitting/Rearranging letters in a word or words in a sentence in any language to change the meaning, Craving for chilly paneer from Nilgiri’s, Tea at YaMPa, Messaging in class, Believing that a two-wheeler is a part of one’s own body, Living on the bean bag, Reading recommended books, Talking incessantly until one gets on the nerves of people around about how good each book was, Wanting to pee when in a Volvo between Bangalore and Mysore, Bunking classes for absofrigginlutely no reason, Sitting joblessly at Nescafe or YaMPa , Playin tennis/tt with friends, Walking to Nilgiri’s to satisfy cravings, Planning to study seriously every semester, Cleaning the room and throwing sister’s things that are present in one’s room on the floor when one actually sits down to study, Following tennis tournaments like religion, Going to Corner House, Visiting temples when asked to(mainly to have lunch), Having no perception when it comes to politics at any level, Keeping invalid credit cards in one's wallet, Crying for movies & weddings & proposal descriptions, Cracking lame jokes, Noticing license plate numbers before anything/one else in a vehicle, Connecting numbers-just about in any way, Writing down philosophical thoughts and discussing them with select people, Calling up cousins and friends and laughing until eyes water, Smiling like a freakshow when riding to someplace thinking about some tiny incident that would have occurred during that day or any other day, Swearing one's heart out at dumbasses on the road, Checking out guys, Dressing up once in a while to remind oneself of the feminine side, Getting out of the good books of lecturers because of their own little preconceived notions, Going anywhere and everywhere to eat cake, Insulting male chauvinists, Singing loudly at home, Debating agnosticism v/s Hindu philosophy with dad, Having rude body language(whatever that means!), Refreshing or rather trying to refresh memories, Regretting not having continued learning Bharatnatyam, Kathak and Hindustani style of singing, Writing!, Clicking photographs, Spending time on the terrace, Skygazing, Going to Hubli, Watching sitcoms & natgeo & discovery, Reading Malayalam(Vanita :P), Following news on Etv Bangla & all other languages including the ones i know(English, Kannada, Hindi & Marathi), Abusing Fashion world verbally, Living in a parallel universe called F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Enjoying advertisements, Walking up and down after every meal without even realizing it, Arguing with grandpa, Getting frustrated for a short while over some new comment passed by him, Being shouted at by mom for coming home after the sun has set, Going crazy with sister, Sleeping like nothing in the world matters to oneself, Feeling lucky for having friends like Tommy, Priya and Ruju, Putting up with Anuj, Daksh and Harish everyday, Thinking about some people and how things should have turned out but dint, Falling in love - with life and finally believing in the religion called ‘okpa’.

Why?

2007-09-27T16:01:00.000+05:30

It took quite sometime for her to register the fact that the guy who, she thought was her soulmate had already believed he had found his in someone else. She did not take it all that well initially and spent many nights tossing and turning in her bed with millions of questions hovering around like - "Why did I have to meet him, get to know him and eventually fall in love with him in the first place? I'd lead a happier life otherwise!" "Why didn't the two of us meet before the two of them did?"

These questions started seeming fairly pointless when she pondered over more meaningful thoughts like- "What exactly was I expecting to happen? Him falling in love with me in turn? Because I'm my best person around him? Spend the rest of our lives together? WHY?" "Why can't I just accept that I was just supposed to meet him during this part of my life for reasons unknown..like it is in every case!?" "Why does this weird paranoia exist in me that makes me think that he was the one perfectly made for me? Heck! since when did I become so Conventional?!!"

Soon this phase passed. She had gotten over him despite a few hitches involving crying incessantly on reading quotes like - "It's hard to wait around for something that you know might never happen. But, it's even harder to give up when it's everything that you've ever wanted." But she got back to normalcy at her own pace. She did. She didn't feel any of those emotions that she would previously, on seeing him. It was perfect.

A little more time passed and she happened to meet him this time after a decently long gap of time. They casually met. Had a simple and nice conversation. Laughed at each other's jokes and cherished knowing each other's idiosyncrasies. They did everything that any two people who knew each other well would do. But then, it happened. The minute they parted their ways, a tear trickled down her cheek. All she could think of, was running after him, hugging him ever so tightly, crying with her face sunken in his warm chest and just not letting go of him.

A Rushback. Maybe she was just an ordinary Conventional girl after all.

Priya

2007-08-27T23:15:00.000+05:30

I honestly don’t remember when it was that we started talking to each other about every possible thing under the sun. We haven’t stopped. Trust me! I was almost kicked out in 8^th grade for the same reason. The amount I’ve laughed with her (I still do..Every single day!) is the sole reason for my healthy living. I can only recall that it was the 3 pm-2.5 km walks to Vrishali Aunty’s tuitions that brought us closer. I’m actually already short of words…sounds so so so cliché…but it’s truly straight from the heart! All I know is that she’s definitely one of the most concerned and caring people I could’ve possibly come across in a neat lifetime. The concern she shows..has literally grown on me now.

And of course..She’s my navigator in almost every possible sense of the word.

Tommy

2007-08-27T23:14:00.000+05:30

I was asked to borrow her notebooks to complete mine. Little did I know that she wasn’t even a millionth as bad as her handwriting! :P It took one incident for me to know that she was one of the most frank, straightforward, trustworthy, highly spirited and freakishly forgiving people alive!

Back in 7^th grade I happened to be marks-hungry like everyone else in class. The answer written by both of us to a question in the hindi exam(she used to lose top ranks because of this subject…yeah it mattered :P) were the same. Ditto. It was wrong nevertheless. But our sweet, yet very careless teacher awards her the marks and not me. I avoid taking her paper with me and yet somehow it happened. She lost marks drastically. Now, the point is that I never expected a crying rank scorer of a 7^th grader of a new classmate to listen to my side of the story and more importantly – understand. She actually called me up that same evening and asked me if I could go along with her to help her choose a deodorant! Right then, as I kept the receiver down after a positive reply, I knew she was a rare species. We’ve been the thickest of friends ever since. We’ve been through a whole lot together through high school and hell (that’s a school where we studied 11^th n 12^th ..I dont wanna mention the name of the institution in my blog as it’s highly embarrassing) She’s always been there.

Sneha redefines friendship.

Ruju

2007-08-27T20:27:00.000+05:30

This is the first of my series of just plain thoughts about how these few people became a part of my life. They have made me. 'Friends' cannot describe a millionth of what they have been to me.

Here goes..

This damsel exchanged a "Oh god!not her!" look with Tommy when our 7th grade teacher asked me to go take the seat next to her in class. We’d initiate humming some arbit song to each other. Both of us weren’t the breaking-the-ice typa people. But during one of the free classes she said –“Do you know how to play Hollywood-bollywood?” That was it.

I have NEVER been bored when she was around. We’d come back home after school at 3 40 pm and call up each other at 4 pm. MTV Select and Channel V Hotline. Just the perfect substitute for picture in picture (PIP) on our TV sets. Period. We honestly never ran out of topics to talk about or songs to sing together. A good fraction of our lives has also been spent on The swing at Vrishali Aunty’s tuitions. She’s the one person I’ve come across in life with whom I’ve practically Never had a disagreement! Forget fights or arguments! We were so Goddamn similar in things and views! I vividly remember the crisp March morning she left for Mumbai from now what we call - ‘Ruju’s house’. It took us more than just a while to register, to digest the fact that she won’t be around on weekends at Tommy’s place..with us..just lazing around..ever-planning to watch some movie but too lazy to go rent it. That she won’t say “Hullo” in the laziest tone or even talk to mosquitoes on the other end when we dial 516953..

To Dad

2007-08-25T09:04:00.000+05:30

It's been ages since I've done anything to make you proud.
Your disappointment in me has gathered up to be tears-a huge cloud.

But I promise not to cry, not to waste more time in regret.
I've finally found what i was looking for-to my soul, an inlet.

I can only be honest and tell you that I've now learnt.
Learnt from my mistakes, what it feels like when burnt.

I'll overcome any hurdle, any obstacle till I finally achieve.
I won't make you feel sad anymore, you won't grieve.

I'll make you think that I'm capable of being a bliss,
When I make my way out of this self created abyss.

I'll regain the lost faith, the one you had in me.
After all you're my mentor, my enlightening tree.

Nothing about you brings us to any kind of a war.
You've been better than the best Dad i could ask for.

I believe strongly in justice in the world and to you.
You deserve pure love and happiness from me too.

A Floydian's Saga

2007-06-12T14:25:00.000+05:30

Once there was A GREAT GIG IN THE SKY ...somethin beyond an ECLIPSE..it was brilliant and there were colours..ANY COLOUR YOU LIKE.

I had HIGH HOPES that you would come..I kept sayin-"WISH YOU WERE HERE".

Suddenly then,I had no TIME to BREATHE n had to RUN LIK HELL.i dint get a chance to scream at the other guy-"HEY YOU!you're just another PIG I know".I did ask you- "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" but I failed to explain that of all things MONEY ultimately leaves you SORROW.

Then again I felt like I should stop runnin..I started becomin COMFORTABLY NUMB and realized tht it was all just a case of BRAIN DAMAGE and I was only COMING BACK TO LIFE....

Melting Thoughts

2007-06-12T14:09:00.000+05:30

'Melting thoughts'.This was a creative writing contest in a literary fest in my college.A topic was given and the story I wrote, eventually fetched me the first place!(750 INR :P).I came up with it in about 45 minutes and it's definitely one of the closest of my "kriti"s to my heart as I got into the college editorial board based on that ;). It's here cz Tommy wanted it to be here! :P.

The topic:-
One night your fairy God-Camel woke you up and gifted you a magic carpet. You decide to take it for a spin but the steering breaks and you end up flying aimlessly through the clouds until you meet a wise but very eccentric old crow. He tells you....

Mein Kampf:-

The crow and the smart ass.

After a tiring day in the deserts of Egypt, wandering, looking for the damn pyramids without a tour guide, I needed something beyond sleep. So there I was, warm and cozy, tucked into my comforter in my hotel room, fast asleep. Suddenly, I was woken up by a huge storm like gush of wind on my face, which generally doesn’t happen to a deep sleeper like me. I opened my eyes only to get my vision blurred by the still strong wind and an enormous drop of camel drool on my face!!! This camel then started speaking a language I couldn’t make head or tail of. On seeing my totally puzzled face, she said-

“I’m sorry, I thought you were Spanish.”

People always told me that. But, I thought I would make the world’s ugliest Spaniard, if it were true. Anyway, by now I realized she was different, the camel. Obviously because of the gigantic wings she seemed to be having. By then, she spoke again.

“I’m your fairy-God-camel and I’ve been sent here by the tour guide u refused to hire in the morning. Remember? He has asked me to give you this…”

It was a carpet. The exact same carpet that I’d seen that morning through the window of the store where my Dad refused to take us.

“It’s a magic carpet, just like the Aladdin one, except there’s no Aladdin to go with you.”

I thought that was a lottery I’d just won. A magic carpet without that doofus on it!!! Even before I could realize, I was on the carpet, about a hundred fifty feet above the ground holding a wand like thing in my hand which apparently was the steering because when I waved the hand with the wand, there was a kind of horrendous turbulence. The worst I’d experienced. I was ascending at an enormous rate, yet didn’t feel a thing. No nausea. No nose bleeding. It was a dream come true or so I assumed. I saw a guy in a hot air balloon with a girl who looked so content with life and the world that I felt like waving out to them. Grievous mistake. Too late by the time I realized that. As usual. The wand fell off. So now, I was a few thousand feet above the ground, on a magic carpet, without a steering wand, in my pajamas, lost. Never did I miss the heroic Aladdin so badly who would have done something and saved me. I was still flying though not ascending. In a flutter, there was a crow right on my shoulder. Whoever said that crows are a bad omen? Things had already reached the pinnacle of bad luck according to me. As a matter of fact, this old crow was more angelic than the drooling fairy-God-camel. But hey! Camels are camels.

“Hey!’Sup?” spoke the crow in the wackiest and a slightly annoying voice.

I was speechless and the crow was talking. Awesome.

“I’m a wise old crow pal. Was getting bored, as I’m nocturnal unlike my brethren. I know we both need company.”

I had a gazillion number of questions to ask him and as usual I chose the worst question for the given situation.

“Can you please tell me the exact mechanism, the aerodynamics involved in your style of flight? I know, about the streamlined body, the hollow bones and of course, the wings part of it. But I always wonder if there’s something extra required for that fantastic, quick landing and take off of all you guys…”

The crow stared for a while which almost immediately made me realize how plainly stupid I was and that I’m only in the second year of studying mechanical engineering, a little too geeky to act like a professional yet.

“Dude! I said I’m a “wise” old crow and NOT an “intelligent” one. Get it??”

I loved him. I have special liking for people of my genre. Just eccentric. People always asked me if I was out of “my” mind and always, pat would come the reply- “out of WHOSE mind? Mine or Yours?”

Then the crow said- “Let me show you around the world.”

I said- “I might as well see around the world on GoogleEarth!” considering the height I was sailing at.
“Just find me some way to get down there, in one piece, without turbulence. Will ya?”

“OK!! So you’re seriously dumb I see!!! Why would you in the right mind think I would know how to do that?” said the crow.

The bird had a point. But I still felt that a nocturnal, self proclaimed wise, talking crow would know the reason behind everything. But then we suddenly started descending rapidly, only to come to a terrifying halt just about a hundred feet above the ground. Somehow or anyhow, there was daylight by then. I could see people including ones who looked like my family, the city, and life again and now was restless, trying to find ways to convey to them that I was up here. I could see a big huddle of people on the road right in front of the store with the magic carpet, around a person fallen on the floor. Just then the crow spoke again.

“I haven’t told this to anyone and I have no idea why I choose you to tell this. Probably because I feel that you are just like me in another form of life. Well, truth is a bully we all pretend to like. I’m not too sure if you’ll like this one. I SEE DEAD PEOPLE.”

The agony of a bride

2007-05-26T20:40:00.000+05:30

She's sitting in front of a mirror alone.
Looking as pretty as she can be.
The gorgeous Saree draped, to the ground has flown.
She moves a strand of hair falling on her eyes carefully.

In just a moment her entire childhood passes by.
She can feel every emotion-all at once.
She can't believe so soon time has to fly.
She's already old enough to accept life's strange puns.

She'll miss coming home to her Mom's food.
She'll miss the time she spent talking to her Dad.
She wants more pillow fights with her sister, if only she could
Stay this way forever and not lose everything she ever had.

She asks herself-"Can i visit them whenever I like?"
Now her voice is heavy and has misty eyes.
Her family and friends stood by her like a dyke.
She can't believe she's going away and just cries and cries..

She's now staring into the mirror with eyes filled with tears.
Enthusiastic hustle outside; flowers and fruits people carry.
There's just one other thing that can make true her wildest fears,
What if he's not her soulmate-the one she's going to marry?

The Pursuit of Happiness

2007-05-25T10:26:00.000+05:30

I started my perilious journey on foot to a place,

Where I'd find the ultimate happiness and no disgrace.

I walked thro' streets with florists and jewellers,
With stray dogs,pigs and homeless dwellers.

My heart wanted to stay at each instance,
Yet i kept walking in search of that distance.

I walked on a beach under the moonlight,
"Without your soulmate, this place is no delight."

I walked thro' thick forests of luscious green.
"There's a better place ahead;all the more serene."

I walked to the edge of a cliff facing the sea.
"This isn't where you're meant to be."

But I loved the breeze gushing thro' my hair.
Splashing against the rocks, the sea didn't seem to care.

Suddenly all the voices inside me became dormant,
And I wanted to be just there at that very moment.

I went back to the forests and looked around,
Happiness all along is what I had found.

The moonlit beach is where I wanted to stay.
Everything about it took my breath away.

I bought flowers and jewellery for the people I'd known
Who lived a poor life, yet, were happy on their own.

And then I finally realized after all that I'd tried,
That happiness is where satisfaction is; It's just a choice inside.

P.S:This poem is all thanks to a certain individual who gave me a question like-"What is the difference between happiness and satisfaction?"
This ain't exactly the answer nevertheless. :)

The next level of a 'best friend'

2007-05-09T11:57:00.000+05:30

We've known each other, almost forever,
we've had our share of fights.
We've been together, be it any endeavour,
Together-is how we know to fly kites.

We've walked together through school and college,
We've played them all, every single prank.
We've laughed until we snorted without our knowledge,
To cry on-your shoulders made the bank.

I was there, when you won the awards.
You were there, when I broke my bones.
The time we spent together is one of life's greatest rewards,
Even while licking ice cream,off each others' cones!

Now we stand at this unavoidable fork,
To lead lives pretty much on our own.
I was the playful one and you were the dork.
Now I've to know the facets of this world alone.

But I know for a fact that all through my life,
While rejoicing or struggling through mist and too much noise,
I'll still be able to hear you every moment during the strife,
For now, You've become-my inner voice.

The Doorman

2007-04-24T17:32:00.000+05:30

He did his job with sheer brilliance.
The wrinkles on his face told his experience.
Always standing stiff and neat at the door.
He was being paid as if it were just a chore.

Only he knew of what it takes,
To be smiling and polite even when your heart aches.
At an age when most men rest in an arm chair,
He was standing all day with nothing but despair.

He'd often see people walking in, to buy things.
Mainly Tuxedos for their grandchildrens' weddings.
He'd just welcome them at the door and smile,
Wearing his doorman outfit for more than just a while.

Before I knew it, I was talking to him,
He told me he lived in the room by the gym.
I asked-"Since when have you been working here?"
He replied-"Today's my last working day.Dont worry dear!"

"I'm shifting to a new city tomorrow.
I'll be staying with my son.There's no more sorrow.
This job was a curse in disguise
For it brought tears in my childrens' eyes."

Great Expectations.

2007-04-14T23:01:00.000+05:30

She was happy. She was sensitive. She had problems just like anybody else does, but, she could handle those in ways that in the end left her happy. She liked understanding people and their cultures, mindsets and various other aspects but wasn't 'judgemental' (in many parts of the world and in all cultures, a certain definition of this term is considered to be a bad quality in a person). She was attached to people. Sometimes, a little more than what was required for her.
One day, things changed. Her 'expectations', due to the little knowledge she thought she had, took a back seat. She never spent a single moment on thinking about what can happen if she was misinterpreted. Misunderstood. Thats exactly what had happened. This time, it was someone whom, she thought she'd known atleast a little about, who'd misread her. She was 'accused' of having 'given the vibes' that she never did. Her life was topsy-turvied when she found out. But, yet again, she calmed down only to realize that it was She who'd misinterpreted that person(his mindset) and it was She who'd misunderstood the equation..leading to the great expectations...

My Dream Guy(not a matrimonial ad though!)

2007-03-30T22:50:00.001+05:30

An extremely
-hilarious
-witty
-tall
-hunky
-skinny(cz i'm the other kind :P)
-tennis player(which obviously means Athletic; like a Greek sculpture; who doesn't spit on the court :P)
-audiophile
-a romantic musical instrument maestro
-zero manipulative yet sensitive
-philosophically inclined
-writer
-who doesn't believe in the concept of 'dating'
-can speak a minimum of four languages
-has a voice as deep as the deepest ocean ;)
-virgin(!)
-loves kids
-cooks like a magician
-non smoker
-non drinker(especially social drinking just doesn't seem to make any sense!)
-loving
and a lovable guy with an adorable smile and great hair
who feels like a dream at any given point of time would do..i guess...

P.S:i'm sure i'll keep updating this almost every week!:)

Realization or just learning?

2007-03-28T23:33:00.000+05:30

Its probably too early for me to write something like this. I haven’t seen the whole world and haven’t experienced everything. But heck!no one does that in a life time! I’m pretty sure that everything is just a start. I’m no world famous psychologist or a well-learned preacher. This is no Aunt Agony’s advice column. It is my “tryst with destiny” and “my experiments with truth.” Luckily, its all been very simple.

When one enters a professional college, fresh out of the pre-university punkish environment, it is not wrong when they say that its like a river meeting the sea. Even though it seems like life is more “exciting” now unlike in the case of the river which actually joins a calmer and an almost non-turbulent sea, as a person I have indeed mellowed down. On some level and by some people its called – maturity. By having “mellowed down”, I mean that I have less hyped reactions to incidents. Mainly because we meet people, SO MANY at that! People who are funny. People who are perennially grim. People who can go to any extents for things. People who don’t care. People who laugh. People who just pretend to. People who hear. People who listen. People who are sensitive. People who are manipulative. People one can confide in. People who are tolerant. People who are egoistic. People who don’t know what that means. People who find happiness in small things. People who are ever-hungry for power, attention, “love” or whatever their priorities are. People with principles. People who need to be introduced to that word. There are a million ways to categorize, if need be. But depending on the kind that you are, you either learn something or you don’t.

Presence

2007-03-22T20:20:00.000+05:30

It's in the moment where it all had just begun,

It's in the shining dew drop and the sun.

It's in the paintings on the wall,

It's in the leaves on the ground, during fall.

It's in the horse ride by the brook,

It's in the pages of my book.

It's in the peace on a sea-facing cliff,

It's in the thought of hope-"what if.."

It's in the festive mood,flowers and fancy lights,

It's in the million sleepless nights.

It's in the sight, of the player on the field,

It's in the noise of the cracking windshield.

It's in the half-empty bottle of cologne,

It's everywhere in this world where you've left me alone.

It's the one thing I'll hold on to, no matter what,

Memory of moments with you is now all that I've got.

A lot like love.

2007-03-20T23:25:00.000+05:30

its a really crappy movie..but made an apt title for my poem nevertheless :P

Do you remember the day we first met?

The picturesque sea and the gorgeous sunset?

The long conversation that felt like just a minute or two?

I didn’t sleep that night, I know you didn’t too.

Then we met again at a whole different place.

Funny, how all I can remember are your words and your face

I recall each one of your phrases every single day

I’m glad I found you. You’re one of those for whom I pray.

The one thing I crave for, is talking to you,

During which I feel like there’s nothing else I ever want to do.

People say-“its love”, I know they just have different frames,

And I only keep telling them-“All relationships don’t have names.”

Growing up Kriti!

2007-03-20T23:23:00.000+05:30

Why doesn’t the backyard seem as big as it used to be?

Why doesn’t the balloon-seller look as tall he was?

Why can’t I put my fingers through the handle of my favorite cup?

Why did I ever grow up?

Why doesn’t my heart jump,like it did when the school bell rang?

Why can’t I spot any of those butterflies I chased?

Why does the heap of sand look ‘dirty’ all of a sudden?

Why did I ever grow up?

Why am I not scared of mom and excited while eating cookies?

Why don’t I have enough questions to ask dad?

Why don’t we all gaze at the starry night together anymore?

Why did I ever grow up?

Why do I hesitate to climb the familiar trees?

Why don’t love and innocence prevail?

Why am I even able to read this clock which reminds me of time is flying?

When did I ever grow up?

Just like that!

2007-03-20T23:12:00.000+05:30

I'm waiting, for the day is coming too soon.
To comprehend the world's greatest mime.
I'll be six feet under in the morn or noon,
Its just a matter of time.

Poetry:)

2007-02-21T12:20:00.000+05:30

This post is COMPLETELY dedicated to Priya and Soujanya.
Wouldn't mind if they were the only ones who read it!!:)
It all started with an absolutely silly venture during a non-productive class in 1st sem when, along with them i went nuts!!i felt like writing a poem!!it was a totally bizzare idea then n i can still hear the three of us laughing uncontrollably.basically it was one of those days when anything and everything sounds funny n u jus CANNOT stop laughin..donno if it happens to all but certainly does happen 2 me n de ppl i associate with:).

so my first ever poem went something lik this..it was written within a span of a few minutes..(idea took jus a few seconds but writin it took time as i was laughin my heart out n my eyes were watering)

I wanna..

I wanna drive a tractor,
Cz i think i have the X-factor!
I wanna fly a plane,
Oh!everything else is so mundane!
I wanna steer a ship,
Which has a hi-fi microchip!
I wanna go to the loo,
Cz Priya n Soujanya were born in the zoo!!

After this, they encouraged me to write a poem on a lecturer which, in due course of time, i did.n this one..was an instant Hit!!its called 'My Hero' n i wont like to post it here as its a li'l difficult to comprehend :P
Then in the holidays after that semester, i decided to write on a more serious note. 'something one shouldnt be able to make fun of' was on my mind.n so..i wrote this..

I had no hard feelings,no regrets,
Twas just me n the stars above.
Everyday was spring,everything was beautiful,
Until I fell in love.
Then it was just a phase of mixed feelings
N the regret for not havin met him before,
It was in his thoughts that I saw
The real beauty of spring,the stars and more..
Once i felt like expressin this to him
Cz I realized someday i'd like to hear the wedding bells,
Just then had to stop myself
Cz he felt exactly the same way.....for somebody else.
I made it back to my previous self
Without spilling a tear from my eye,
Cz after all i did find 'the one'
Who made my life far from dry.
I still do think he's the guy
With whom I want to grow old,
How i wish,if only life wasnt this unfair,
This bitter,this cold...
But my faith forces me to think,
He was just an angel sent for me,
To help me look at the world
And also think about it differently.
And that the two of us together...
Just werent meant to be...

And i actually dint show it to them for a long time since i dint know how they would handle the growth i had shown:)

Anyway after readin this they came up with the idea that this was based on my hypothetically real life experience!!That i'd fallen in and out of love!!But soon they got the concept of poetry in their head right...it lets u become whoever.Lets u be wherever.Lets u feel Whatever!!

more pics..

2007-02-05T11:44:00.000+05:30

here..

my fav pic

2007-02-05T00:59:00.000+05:30

this small door somewhere in the campus of the red fort in delhi caught my attention.thought it made a great frame.simultaneously two proffesional photographers from Nikon thought the same!!!now that was a real booster!!:)

Kickoff!!

2007-01-24T18:50:00.000+05:30

Finally made it here!basically i'm gonna post the tiny li'l "couplets" i feel like writin every now and then....jus for kicks:) , photographs and yeah..i babble on and on about all kindsa things..yep..thats gonna b here too:P

So to "kick off" :)...

I've been through a lot in a life this small,
And i know there isn't only sugar in the plum.
Yet i ain't frustrated at all,
Is it only because i accept things the way they come?

Sometimes i think if its totally right,
Should i not surrender and give it a fight?
But then, i tend to think about bigger questions,
What is casting the dark shadow?Who is The Light?