Romantic Comedies :)

I haven't been a movie buff all my life, but I do enjoy an occasional romantic comedy. For the longest time, I didn't think that movies could impart anything other than slapstick comedy or pelvic thrusts to its audiences. Now, however, after being put on a steady diet of films for quite a while, I'm beginning to change my opinion. Movies, unlike books are less subtle when it comes to giving advice. They're upfront and tell it like it is... I watched this movie called 'He's just not that into you' a few days ago, and I'm amazed at how well they've captured what runs through our collective brains (and which trains of thought should be prevented from running) when it comes to dealing with the opposite gender. Especially with certain members of the opposite gender whom we fancy, rather.
Let's take for instance Rom-coms as a genre. Practically all of them have side kicks in them who play the best friends/siblings of the protagonists. They're the ones who dish out great advice and tend to be pillars of support till the happy couple unite. And I think most such movies do a good job in how they portray such folks. Friends and siblings do play important roles in our lives and they do dish out plenty of advice too! They make us feel extremely loved and special. And sometimes, too special to be let down at all.
I know of cases where one's buddies have stuck up for the girl, stubbornly suggesting that the guy(s) in question probably did fancy her but where too shy/timid/silly/foolish/gutless to actually admit it. As tempting as it may be to believe them, the truth is in such situations (for all my naive readers out there, a piece of unsolicited advice) the guys may really not be interested at all... or with some sensitivity, they're just not THAT interested.
I know one of the toughest parts about things like these is having to answer questions like "Why meee?!" or worse, "Why NOT meee?!"... And having to live with the sinking feeling that one's not good enough. It's also of little help to be told over and over that "there's better in store" when one doesn't even want what is in store in the first place. Unfortunately, as pathetic as the situation maybe, one just has to learn to deal with it. Put in another way, one has to Grow Up.
This blog entry is dedicated to all the people out there whose love remains unrequited... Time heals everything. Give time, time and all will be right with the world. Someone special, somewhere is made for each one of us and we'll all be entitled to our very own happy endings. Until then, bring out the DVDs, eat the popcorn and watch these romantic comedies that impart crucial wisdom to love sick, lovelorn people like you and me! :P

Lady Macbeth

I really hope I don't come through like a pompous ass or one of those annoying people who put up boring things on their blog... But I have to, really have to put up my first attempt at a sonnet here. (It was submitted as an assignment in college)
Sonnets are a mildly irritating form of poetry of 14 lines. They follow a certain rhyme scheme (that's a little convoluted, if you must know! :P) and aren't the easiest things to write in the world. In any case, without further ado, here goes...

Lady Macbeth.

She was born to alter history;
A determined wife, powerful and ambitious,
Her character surrounded by enigma and mystery,
She was an honoured noblewoman perceived as virtuous.
She had a fatal flaw that was a chalice of greed,
It consumed her husband and her sanity,
Regicide, which is believed to be the seed
Led to their downfall; murder without sagacity.
Poise and composure she did attempt,
But apparitions and a pricking conscience didn't desist,
Forced to withdraw she became unkempt,
And sleepless nights did persist.
She jumped to her death when she could bear no more,
And it was all for a crown that she never wore.



PS: I did well on the assignment! :)

Bad Karma does bear Fruit!

Karma. What goes around, comes around. We reap as we sow. If we pull the chair from under someone when they're about to sit, the same will happen with us... Or not. Maybe we'd owe the universe a lot more. Perhaps it'd be Murphy's law, or the ways of the world, or just plain rotten luck. To go through what a pal of mine did, is an ordeal. Especially if all of it took place within the span of one week.
I won't be delving into the details of how she earned her bad karma ( Ha, like I'm even an authority on the subject) but lets just say Someone Up There wasn't happy about something she'd done.
Day 1 : We'd boarded a bus from within campus (on a rainy day) to take us to the exit. She was in front of me while climbing down, and had a carton of lassi in one hand and a bag in the other. She was making her way gingerly when she slipped and fell. The next thing we knew, she was sprawled on the mossy footpath with a now empty carton, and a dirty green bag (pun unintended). Hair askew and a thunderous expression, she didn't make the best company on our way back home. But hell, the poor sap had issues. Stained jeans and a skinned knee. Ouch.
Day 3 : We were fighting our way out of a train compartment that was packed like sardines when my friend came face to face with a shrill woman and her bawling child. They got into a heated argument and were on their way to Level II of the fight (that usually involves the use choicest of cuss words from both parties) when the train began moving. We made our hasty retreat and in doing that, had to jump off the running train. Yes, like they do in the movies. But the difference being, it's not as romantic as they make seem. We managed to 'get off' alright, but several feet apart. That's because we 'landed' quite differently as well. I fell on my behind, and bounced off rather like a ball (thus minimizing the impact) but she landed like an airplane that had a inexperienced pilot on board. Off she went careening in one direction...A sprained elbow, injured pride and a rotten mood generally go hand in hand, I learnt that day.
Day 5: She swore she'd walk carefully, talk carefully and climb and get off modes of transport as the epitome of grace. But it seemed like fate wasn't done dealing her bad cards. We were on our way home in a moderately empty train and were lost in thought when all of a sudden, an unripe guava (from outside) went whizzing over my head and hit her squarely in the face.
Picture this. We're travelling at a fast pace through an area that's not best known for it's population. Population that's alive, anyway. (We were crossing a graveyard when it happened)... There weren't any trees in sight and certainly none that had guavas jutting out of them. Yet, from nowhere, there was the fruit that flew into the compartment and bounced off her horrified face. I ducked out of view to 1) Get hold of the offensive object and 2) to stifle my laugh.
Thankfully, she wasn't hurt badly and the next day when she came to college with balm applied around her mouth (that prevented her from talking) I told anyone who'd listen, about the week's past events.
Of course, in doing that I know I've probably earned myself some bad karma. Therefore as precaution, I don't get off buses with cartons of lassi in my hand, I avoid getting into conversations with fellow passengers (lest I get into a brawl with them) and lastly, I say my daily prayers thanking God that melons or any bigger fruits don't grow from high branched trees. The blessing!

I Love Luv Storys ;)

She was pretty, she was young;
she was humble she was fun!
She was naive, she was sweet;
she was bubbly, she was neat (!)

He was nice, he was fair
he was handsome, he still had hair (!)
He was older, he was grounded
his character was oh so rounded.

She liked him and he liked her,
Signing up for trouble? Oh yessir!
But what's to do when one's young and rash,
sermons and lectures belong in the trash!

She told her mom, and she told her friend,
about this boy, who seemed God had sent.
Her mom approved, and her friend grudgingly so
'cause they just wanted her happiness, and nothing more.

The days rolled on, and months went by
The happy couple now weren't so shy.
They tweaked circumstances to be together,
unaware of the foreboding, or any rough weather.

But the girl's father, now makes an entrance
Into the scene, it's like a death sentence.
Announcing that she'll marry only of his choice
at this, everyone seems to have lost their voice!

The girl is miserable and quite morose,
"I told you so!" said the friend who went hoarse;
But the girl's determined to make it work
even if it's facing her father, who's no less than a Turk.

So the story will unfold, by and by
and will tell a tale of great hue and cry
of family, love and matrimony
of drama, fears and hegemony!

The girl is sure, but the boy unsure
if now would be a good time to get his life insured!
If you want to know, what is in store
you'll have to stay, and watch this space for more!

Making my day :)

It's amazing how some of the smallest and sweetest of things can make our day sometimes. A long drive in great weather, playing with one's pet, listening to one's favorite song on the radio, receiving a compliment, or having a phone conversation with a friend after really long... :) The feeling's indescribable. Just a surge of Happiness.
A school pal of mine called today. One of my besties, and we spoke for close to ten minutes. I know that's not very long for a conversation (going by my track record) but considering she's sitting in the US and shelling out a whole lot for it, it made me feel quite special. And the reason for the call, just because :)
This blog entry is perhaps one of my shortest. And anyone reading it should thank me for making their day, for having to read so little of the rubbish that I generally dole out.
As repayment, go make someone else's day too. Go call a friend you haven't spoken to in a while, or help your mom in the kitchen. Let your sibling have the T.V. remote, or let your dad finish reading the newspaper supplements first. Hold out the door for someone or go scratch your dog's ears... Whatever it is, Just do it. Make their day :)

Getting over it...

I got burnt in a fire accident almost 11 yrs ago. It took place in school, after a dance performance on our sports day. We kids were instructed to file into a matador that would circle our sports field after the completion of our dance. Dressed as Santa Clauses, complete with cushions, and raw cotton lining the red suit we were wearing, we were told to wave at the audience with lit sparklers in our hands. We were a disaster waiting to happen.
Over such a long time span, my memory of that fateful day has blurred but the repercussions haven't. I was burnt on both the legs. My calves mainly, and the area right behind the knee. For years I didn't make peace with not being able to run as fast as I used to. The reason being, I'd damaged some nerves in the accident. Worse still was enduring stares from rank strangers who'd grimace at the scars. Things like these don't do much for a eleven year old's confidence.
I almost stopped wearing shorts outside and I soon grew out of the 'skirt and blouse' wearing phase too. I'd only wear jeans and pants and the like. That's because understandably I didn't want to draw attention to the scars at all. A lot of times I'd be tempted to wear something minuscule, but the idea of getting pitying glances and having to plunge into a long story of how it happened, always made me think otherwise.
My friends did their best to bring me out of my shell, but to no avail. (And God knows I drove them up the wall by not listening) It was only when I spoke to a school friend (who'd been in the accident with me) some months ago, that I began changing my perspective...
It's true that often, people see us as we see ourselves. If one's comfortable in one's own skin, people around, are too. It's when we're apologetic about something, that most people don't know how to react. And this inturn leads to alot of awkwardness that's seen as unacceptance. Most times, the people whom we seek approval from are the ones who want to see us being happy and want us to be ourselves. Scars or no scars, irrespective.
Two months before the 11th anniversary of the fateful incident and five days shy of my 22nd birthday, I wore the most daring outfit I have, by far. A little black dress. And that's the first time in all this while I've worn something outside to show off my scars. No leggings to cover the marks and no stockings to make them less visible.
I wore it to go out partying with a bunch of friends and I had the best time ever. No one at the pub even noticed, and my pals didn't give a damn. We just had the most wonderful time and this one experience has helped me get over one of the biggest things I'd had a complex about.
It doesn't take as much strength to hold on as it does to let go... Let go of one's anxieties and insecurities. But once one has, there's no looking back. Now I want to bring on all the shorts and tiny frocks I can (much to my conservative mom's horror!)... But its wonderful when one get's past obstacles and speed bumps in life. Makes one feel confident and happy about finally getting over one's fears and issues. I'm not worried so much about my scars anymore... It's about perspective and all in one's mind at the end of the day. Amen!

Crushes, hots and what not! :D

Yes, believe it or not I've decided to dedicate an entire blog entry to everything edible and 'yumm-azing!' From smoothies and fruit crushes to spicy and hot food! Gothcha with the title didn't I?! The inspiration/credit for this entry goes to a close friend, with whom I spent two hours (during class) passing chits on every edible and tasty thing we could get our rusty minds on!
For those who know me and are my loyal readers, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm finally writing about the greatest love of my life- Food.
I've been a die hard foodie since the time I could count on my fingers ( Wait, I still count on my fingers... I mean since the time I began counting on 'em) But I'd like to give myself more credit. In my knowledge, there are foodies, and foodies and then there is me. I've never restricted myself to a single cuisine or a dish. Am not just fond of desserts or any one particular course during the meal. From soups and starters, to the desserts and paans, I enjoy them all. Immensely. A few of my favorites things to eat include... a lot of things...
From French fries to potato chips with sour cream. From paani poori (with hot channa) to extra spicy pav bhaaji. From cheese fondue with bread sticks to paneer salsa wraps. From chilly garlic mushroom starters to grilled sandwiches. From Schezwan noodles to cheese burst pizzas. From paneer dosas to chole bhature. From fried mozzarella to hot aaloo parathas. From soft hot idlies with extra dollops of ghee to stuffed steamed momos.
From blueberry cheese cakes to vanilla milk shake. From CCD's Devil's own to Cream Stone's Oreo cookie shot. From rasmalai to kaaju barfi. From homemade milk chocolate to Milky bar's white chocolate. From layered chocolate cake to banana sponge cake. From Amul's raspberry Dolly (ice-cream) to custard with jello... And just a few other hundred dishes that I shan't mention cause I'll be inflicting self torture if I do.


My apologies to everyone who's craving their next meal (like me) or whose saliva glands are working overtime (like my dog's). I couldn't help but make the entry 'cause food had been playing on my mind for long (when does it not!) and t'was time I went ahead with it. Thanks for reading and hope you have a hot meal awaiting you. Bon appetit! :)

We grow up everyday...

I was just reading some diary entries I'd made last year and I couldn't help but notice how things have changed since then... Drastically. It's amazing yet amusing to think of all the childish and girlie things one writes in the privacy of one's diary. And it's a good thing it stays private, cause nobody, for the whole world would want to be put through the horror of someone getting hold of a book that consists of one's deepest, (even if not-so-dark) secrets.
I've maintained diaries since I was about 12 and it's entertaining to read some of those entries... But most of the time, all one ends up thinking is- 'Really?? I thought like that? What in the name of Sweet Mary was wrong with me?!'
Another thing about diaries is that they make one want to go and live in the past. When things weren't as complicated, when we didn't know how things would eventually turn out, when things were just right...
But the best part about diaries is this. They make one realise how much one's grown as an individual. One has the opportunity to look back and smile... To think that 'Yeah I was a dork back then... but at least I'm richer for the experience'... and maybe/hopefully/definitely/certainly, I've learnt my lessons and shouldn't do the same all over again....

This blog entry was made in loving memory of every stupid thing that's happened in my life. I'm thankful I shouldn't have to be in the similar predicaments again (That's if I go by my grand theory of learning from my bad experiences)... Therefore presently, my motto: Bring on a fresh new bunch of foolish lessons to learn from. 'Cause after all, life's about growing up everyday :)

The most exasperating situations to be in!!

1) Missing a train by a hair's breath: Its indescribable how frustrating it can be, that even after running like wild buffaloes to get to the right platform, my friend and me have missed innumerable trains. We've almost always arrived (in such situations) just in time to see the train pulling out of the station.

2) Wading through muck in expensive shoes: Oh my. This is certainly the next annoying thing after missing trains, because mostly, the muck is the very reason for us missing them (the trains) in the first place. We practically have to moon walk through it so as not to sink deeper into that distant cousin of quick sand. The one thing that's come off this exercise, is now I know what people mean when they say 'in deep trash'. Literally! I get to be in it everyday!

3) Having to keep awake during a sleepy lecture: You can almost see double. Your eyes are getting heavier. You want to nod off into deep slumber but you're sitting right under the professor's nose. Could hell get any worse?

4) Waiting for an hour and a half in a train compartment ( that's full of crying babies) that's come to a stand still : Just two words- Holy cow.

5) Stuck in crawling traffic with bad music: The problem with the stereo in my car is that it's had the same CD stuck inside it for the last 8 months. None of the cajoling, pleading and banging seems to have done it any good. So for company, I have glowering motorists, irritating fellow drivers and the same music over and over and over again. *Sighs*

6) Last, but certainly not the least. Being late to class: And that's after waking up early, to get ready early, to catch the train early, that arrives late. Isn't that the most exasperating thing??!

What a Dream!

Have you ever had those nightmarish yet silly dreams where nothing makes sense? Dreams that totally defy logic? For instance, you're walking down a flight of stairs one moment and then hurtling toward oblivion in the next? Running toward something and then randomly having a nonsensical conversation with a friend? Well, I've had plenty of such dreams. They make one feel rather foolish on waking up, but seem quite real when we're dreaming them. Although I can't recollect most of my dreams, I remember vividly, the one I'm about to narrate. It happened in the month of May when I'd been preparing for entrance exams feverishly. That might explain why my brains had been adversely affected in dreaming what I dreamt that day (!) It was exceedingly dumb and far fetched, now that I think about it. Anyway, here goes: I was standing by the sink doing the dishes, when the doorbell rang. It was Keshav, the boy I tutor in English. Instead of his usual pant and shirt avatar, the child standing in front of me was dressed in an obnoxious outfit. A pin striped tee shirt teamed with a green Hawaiian skirt (one, that an Anglo-Indian neighbour of mine usually wore). I was shocked on seeing him thus and had every intention of cross examining him to know if he'd become gender confused lately. I was preparing a small speech in my head that involved telling him that it was alright to not want to wear pants or jeans, but floral skirts didn’t quite compliment him either. Maybe he could try pastels. But before I could launch into my lecture, he turned towards me and thrust a handbag (presumably his) in my hands. I didn't know if I was supposed to open and confirm it, so I thought better of it and decided to pay his mother a visit. The boy needed fashion help and so would I if this continued. It was imperative to tell her, and then let her decide if she wanted him to continue wearing skrits and frocks and what not! Car keys in hand and Keshav with his skirt and bag in tow I reached my garage. To my horror, my car had been swapped with an old model of a Fiat. How I knew that the dusty car was mine, Lord alone knows. I nearly got hysterical! We were on our way to his house and I may not have been paying attention, when suddenly, Keshav morphed into something resembling a monkey. An ape, if I wasn't wrong. Imagine driving a car that barely moved while sitting next to an ape dressed in a skirt! I got to his house in the worst mental state and found his mother calmly fermenting milk. I was barely able to tell her about it when I was jerked awake by my dog's barking. What a dream!... But I have one regret about waking up too soon. Not knowing her reaction. Would she have yelled? Sobbed? Throttled me? Or wanted to laugh hard at the image of her son in those clothes? Beats me, but I'd like to have known anyway!

Ode to the Diamond Ring.

It sat pretty on my finger,
and complimented it just fine;
Made my hand look nice and dainty
I was so pleased when it had come to be mine.

It was passed down from generations,
and I remember feeling really blessed;
To be chosen among my siblings
to be gifted with the best.

I'd worn it for long,
and hardly taken it off;
Too scared I had been,
of showing it off.

It was made beautifully,
and it fit just right;
Although over the course of time,
it had gotten a bit tight (!)

But all the better,
I had thought gleefully;
No chance of it getting out,
no chance of it slipping, you see.

But alas my fear,
finally did come true;
When a good turn I was doing
from my finger it flew.

So much for heaving cartons,
and helping people out;
Now I'm left ringless,
and nothing to flout!

I'm not being vain,
and I don't mean to brag;
Its just sad to lose precious things,
Things we were so lucky to have ever had.

Now that it's gone,
I'm morose if you please;
I wish the ring was still there,
And through the generations would never cease.

Rain. What a Pain!

So for all you rain lovers out there, this blog entry is not for you. Having said that, I do wish that you'll take the previous sentence with a pinch of salt because I just said that to give this blog entry a grand beginning. Put up with my feeble attempt at humour. In reality, I don't think I even have such a wide readership in the first place, to be assuming that there'll be a percentage who DON'T like rains. 5 outta 5 friends who read my blog like them. (See what I mean! :P)
Anyway, coming to the point. Rain. Why I Don't like it dates back to the stone age of when I was a kid. Dunno what triggered it, but I've always thought of rain bringing gloom and even boredom, to an extent. Therefore, you can't blame me for not liking it and hating it even more when I get wet, splattered and splashed on. How I manage to look like a scare crow at the end of a rainy day wouldn't surprise you if you knew what I'm put through when in college.
I study in a university that's well known for its huge campus, greenery and plenty of flora and fauna. Somehow, all of these hold very less appeal to me, now that the rains are here.
The paths get so muddy and slushy that one's forced to do a tight rope walk ( yeah, complete with your arms sticking out) in order to not slip and fall, face down. Puddles are like well used palttes. The array of colours you can get from one tiny dirty pool of water is amazing. Light brown, dark brown, grey. You name it! The after effect of stepping into one makes you seem like a likely candidate for a 'Tide' detergent ad. You being the 'before' version of course.
The sudden outburst of fauna in the form of shudder worthy insects and worms (that literally crawl out of the wood work) makes you want to run to the hills. Then again, you've to be sure toward what kind of hills. There are plenty of ant and snake hills all over the place and you don't for the love of your sensibilities want to run into either.
Mosquitoes and flies deserve another blog entry dedicated to them. I cannot begin telling you how difficult it is to try and listen to a sleepy lecture through one ear and have a mosquito hum in the other. It's at times like these you wonder why in the name of everything holy didn't Noah swat those two blasted things on his ark!
But only just a dealing with a rainy day is not the start of my woes. It's making a commute from the university to my house that really tests my patience. I've used every mode of transport save air and water ways in this transit. Well, to be fair, I haven't travelled in a truck yet, but going by the way things are, I'm sure I might get to travel in filmy style of sitting on stacks of hay sometime. I just don't want bugs for company!
So yeah, running (un)like a pretty heroine to catch a train, stepping into slush more often than I would like, having people open umbrellas in my face and accidentally poking people with my own, is just about my routine on a rainy day. Nah, not too much to complain about in contrast to bad days when I encounter leeches and caterpillars, have to wade through water in white or have to dry off in class smelling like a wet blanket and then having to face my professor whose behaves like one!

Just like that!

I'm in an introspective mood,
so be forewarned;
I don't want to be judged,
there is no right or wrong.

It's beyond my comprehension,
like a bolt from the blue;
How I sometimes end up,
thinking just of you.

So maybe you're a friend,
or someone I just met;
Maybe you're an acquaintance
but there is no safe bet.

There are times when I miss it,
there are times when I am glad;
About whatever happened,
about what I had had.

Before I give you readers,
the complete wrong impression;
I'm not talking of my past,
and this is not depression.

It's just one of those times,
when one thinks a lot;
Of everything together,
something one must not.

Of one's friends and foes,
and of one's family;
Of changing times,
and philosophy.

No point to this poem,
if you're looking for one;
I had warned you previously,
a moral there would be none!

Perspective.

Is one's man medicine another man's poison? What are the standards of right and wrong? Who sets them? How bad is too bad? How good is too good? Who defines 'normal'? What is 'normal'? Why am I rambling?
Okay, I'll tell you. I'm a week into pursuing an M.A degree. Being very happy on making it to a fairly well reputed university, I was even more pleased with the idea of going back to the good old student life. But how different it would be from what I had in mind is another thing altogether.
When we were being oriented about it on the first day, I didn't think too much of words such as 'culture shock' and 'being open minded'. And the presumptuous jackass that I am, I obviously didn't think it would apply to me. But oh Sweet Mother of the Lord...!
What I'm about to let you in on, should be read only if you're a broad minded individual and I recommend parental guidance if you're below 50. Okay I'm exaggerating. It's really not all that perturbing, but then again, it boils down to how you see things.
I've made a lot of acquaintances at college, but only a few good friends as of now. The bunch that I have, is very diverse and they're extremely nice people to know. But I won't be going into details about all of them save one.
The one I'm about to write about is an absolute darling. She's real cool to hang out with and is a nice kid to know... but in all honestly, is someone who might've raised my mother's BP levels if she had her as a daughter.
This pal of mine is a punk. An Indianised one perhaps but a rockstar in her own right. She's intelligent, smart, and sweet. She's bisexual. She's talented, good looking and an animal lover. She does weed. She's well read, travelled and informed. She lost her virginity at seventeen.
She's got so much going for her, but I can vouch for most of my readers being stuck at a few statements from the above. Why?
Because you don't think it's right? Because it's scandalizing? Because it's not the 'done' thing?... Because it's your perspective.
Why we think the way we do comes down to how we're brought up, the environment in which we are, what we're taught, if we accept it or not and so on. But the bottom line is always just one thing. Perspective. Like it or not, choose it or not, believe in it or not. It's what you think that truly defines you.

Limes and Sweet Limes :)

Life. We're all living it, dealing with it, surviving it... but how many of us are grateful for it?... I'm not about to make this entry a moral science lesson wherein I tell you how important it is to be thankful and all. I trust you're smart enough to know that already.
Agreed life hands out lemons sometimes, but it hands us so much more to compensate. We just never acknowledge it. Lets face it, we're tuned in our head to think that life's supposed to function only the way we want it to. Stuff has to work only how we've thought it out and nothing else will do. But when things don't happen the way we plan them, our first reaction is generally resentment, bitterness and ungratefulness.
I'll pause here (not for effect, but) to empathise with anyone who's going through a phase they don't want to be experiencing... It's okay to feel low sometimes. I can bet on anything, that all the motivational speakers, counsellors and agony aunts that ever walked the earth had to once be motivated and counselled themselves. Everyone goes through their ups and down's. How they deal with it, is what makes the difference.
I'm of the opinion that people need to let steam off now and then. I think it's pretty important to do that if one wants to lead a normal life. But having said that, there's no point mopping and feeling sorry for oneself beyond a limit. And I'm saying it out of personal experience.
I can relate to some of us who don't want to embrace the good stuff and happiness just because we're scared we'll be let down again. We're scared cause it won't last. Hell it won't! Nothing in the world has stood the test of time. Not even the Himalayas (cause even that's melting now!), So what can one say about one's feelings and the situations one faces?! The bad stuff?! It just HAS to make way for the good!
Things heal over time. And its important to give being Happy a chance... What does one have to lose anyway? Being miserable??! And isn't that what we're trying to get rid of in the first place?!
I probably have no business dishing out such philosophy and I'm certainly not wise enough, but I'm gonna throw in my two cents worth anyway.
Something good always comes out of something nasty and there's always a blessing if we only look for it. Try doing it sometime, it works :)

Oops!!

Faux pas, foot in the mouth problems, embarrassing moments. Yes we're all acquainted with the afore mentioned terms. Some of us have family members who suffer with it. Some of us have friends like that and some of us are the menace themselves, hardly ever realising it. I'm one such case.
In all honesty, I didn't think it was quite bad, but when I thought back of my journey thus far...I had to change my mind. My experience and expertise in causing trauma has been varied.
I've been responsible for a well proportioned aunty "accidently" slipping and landing her derriere on a plate of baingan ka bharta, I've happily gossiped to someone blissfully unaware that she was a sibling of the person in question. I've single handedly been responsible for an old aunt fall comically into a lake. (Because I'd begun rowing the boat away while she still had a leg in two separate ones)
I've complained to the wrong parent about the wrong kid at school thus setting off a chain reaction (while I was a teacher), I've slipped and cascaded down a flight of stairs in the full view 10-15 adults. I've been hit on my behind with a cricket ball and yelled at the wrong guy for ten minutes.
So yes, I've had more than my share of 'boo-boo' moments. I won't deny that they make funny stories after the incidents. But saying something lame to do damage control or have a high strung Sindhi relative thrash around in water shouting cuss words (in the language I didn't understand) wasn't easy to deal with. The former made me cringe and the latter made me want to row farther away. But the worst yet would have to be, facing the glowering aunty with a brinjal still stuck on her... well... Now THAT was difficult. Ever tried making a snort sound like a cough, anyone...?

Basking in the Summer Sun.

Were you ever cajoled into going for summer camps as a kid? Yeah, those absolutely wasteful classes where they taught you how to make useless things. Stuff that really only increased the volume of garbage at home? Well, dunno about you, but I've been to enough such classes to last me a lifetime.
Yeah I know how to make snowmen with paper plates and also know how to tie a bow in 4 different ways. How that'll help in my journey to realising my higher self, God alone knows. Anyhow, when I reached the sensible old age of 13, I figured I needed to narrow down on what I really wanted to do with my summers. (than waste them making coloured paper boats atleast!)
I signed up for tennis classes. I should mention now that I wasn't in the best physical shape to be embarking on such a cool sport in the first place. All I ever played at school were silly games with preposterous names such as 'Help sister help' or 'stuck in the mud'. I wasn't prepared, but being young and foolish has it's advantages. One signs up for anything.
The first few classes were extremely annoying. I figured the entire class (comprising 10-12 kids) was younger than me, and they were all atleast a foot shorter too. Our coach was an over enthusiastic gentleman who loved barking instructions that no one followed. Backhand invariably became forehand and forhand became ducking outta the way. I will also solemnly admit I had a hand in him losing his voice after training us for some 10 odd days.
I was pathetic at delivering service, something that seasoned players do with great ease: In leaning backwards and tossing the ball in the air. Then hitting it at the right moment to send it sailing over the net.
My service always had the dusty green ball hit me smartly on the head while I vigorously sliced the air with the racket. I quit tennis soon after. I think the numerous balls that hit my head knocked some sense into me.
Soon after, I joined oil painting classes, but they were no good either. I confused my colours more often than I would've liked. But you can't blame me if you've to follow instructions such as "Blend the ocher into sunset yellow and then use a few strokes of golden yellow to off set the contrast"... Huh??...I personally thought the lady must've had a learning disorder as a child to want to complicate her life at that age, then. So anyway, I didn't last quite long there either.
Finally, I thought I had my calling in playing a musical instrument. I began to learn how to play the keyboard. The young anglo Indian tried to awaken the musician in me, but nothing happened. I didn't go beyond 'Twinkle twinkle' and a jazzy 'Happy Birthday'... Those classes concluded before I could learn much more and the only constructive thing I really learnt there, was how to wipe the keys clean with a wet cloth.
In anycase, the longest summer of my life ended soon enough and though I can't brag of having mastered tennis, painting or the keyboard very well, I do know a bit about all of 'em:
Whatever goes up, comes down. Looking at a tennis ball come hurtling towards you and then waiting to see what happens, is not the smartest thing to do.
Spray painting with your nose too close to the canvas is a serious no-no and lastly,
I've learnt that 'Colin' is the best cleaning agent that'll keep your keyboard keys gleaming today, tomorrow and here after.

Tiding over :)

Nothing lasts for ever,
nothing ever did;
Nothing's worth losing one's mind over,
it's okay to still feel like a kid.

A lot of stuff doesn't turn out,
the way we would like it to;
But every cloud has a silver lining
there's always something else to do.

Yes it's tough to acknowledge it,
to be quite positive about;
And it's okay to let it out sometimes,
or just want to scream and shout.

It's important to take time out oneself,
for time to heal and deal;
To be with oneself and introspect,
you'll see how good it'll feel.

There will be light at the end of the road,
there will be happiness if you might;
The night will pass for a day come,
when the sun will shine just right.

Yoga Hoga!

One, two, three and four... One, two, three and four... No I'm not revising the number system in my head and yes I can count beyond that, thankfully. What I'm generally doing while saying those numbers in my head, is something else altogether.
I go for Power Yoga classes five days a week (Well, in all honesty I try going all five days but end up...uhh.. not going that often) You can't blame me though. It's difficult waking up in the mornings (leaving the comfort of one's warm bed) to only have one's sleepy dog see one to the door.
Bad enough I have only milkmen, paperboys and hens to keep me company at that hour, but knowing that practially everyone's in deep slumber is annoying. I've had to fight the urge to ring peoples' door bells and run, just so there are more bad tempered people in the morning besides myself.
Anyway, except for that little while in the beginning, staying awake is not so much of an issue later on. It's staying alive that keeps us occupied once we get to 'class'.
Our Yoga instructor is a pleasant young lady in her 30's who in my opinion, is a little misguided of what our bodies are made of. I think she secretly believes we're made of clay or something. The positions we're made to stand/sit/squat in, you'd think she loved playing with plasticine as a child.
It's not to say that she just sets us up with difficult things to do and relaxes herself. No, she performs the same, but with such agility and ease, that she almost has us convinced of her clay theory at times.
I have lost count of the number of times I've been entangled in my own limbs when trying to do the asanas. Of course, getting to the level of being entangled was also a task, cause I had plenty of 'obstacles' and 'barriers' along the way. My paunch obstructed the view of anything below my waist, my tyres acted as barriers, and lard generally occupied my broad shoulders giving people the impression that I wore an armour under my clothes.
But if you think that I've worked off all the extra flab by now, you're wrong. I still have the afore mentioned in the very same places, but what with the moulding classes I've been regularly going for, I've learnt to work my way around the fat and get to my destination.
Someday I know I'll have the body sculpted to perfection. Someday, I know I'll be able to smile through the tangle of limbs, someday I know I won't go blue in the face while exercising... but till then, I'll just keep going for yoga and master the art of 'moulding' myself. One, two, three and four.. One, two, three and four...:)

R**e of the Language!

Keshav. He's 11 years old but is "running on too-val" (read:12)... He enjoys studying Science and Math but thinks of English as a subject that's "some-sometimes difficult". He likes to "see T.V" and loves playing "ice spice" (read: I spy) How do I know so much about this lil kid whose a Science wiz but whose English makes one want to visit a shrink as often as one can?... He comes to me for "too-tion". Okay, maybe I'll owe him an apology after I get done writing, but I really don't mean to be evil in the way I put it. For the last two and a half months, I've been tutoring this sweet chubby little boy. Initially, we both suffered. Me in trying to explain the technicalities of grammar, and him in trying to grasp them. I'll have to admit that English as a language can get a little complex at times, but then which subject doesn't? The thing that sets it apart is that it doesn't work on formulae and sometimes, rules bend. It's in trying to explain things like these to the child that I was beginning to lose hair (not like I've a thick mop to brag of, in the first place!). Anyway, we've come a long way from using sign language and I don't open and close my mouth just taking in gulps of air in trying to make him learn the tenses anymore. We've reached an understanding. When I talk, he listens and when he talks, I don't. But poor Keshav isn't the only one I intend attacking with regard to English. There was this one time my mother and I went to a place of worship and wanted to know where we could wash our hands. "Please go to the backside" we were told. "There is clean water 'av-lay-ble' there"(!!) Then another time, I was taking a look at trinkets in a dingy shop when I caught sight of the list of items they had on display. Here goes: They had 'necklesses', 'bangels' yearrings' and clothes for 'ladis and kides'.... Oh dear, no wonder the shop wasn't doing roaring business. My sister who's English faculty at one of the reputed colleges in the city has a different story to tell even of the 'educated' folk. Here are some snippets from the essays she's received. --> Terrorists keep firing people and they always like to have a blast. --> When Bill Clinton arrived in India, the hospitalization we provided him was wonderful. --> Compared to Pakistan, India is a very love making country. And it doesn't end there. The next one’s a gem. She told us of a brilliant student who was rejected in the final round of his interview. The reason? He was asked the following question by a female interviewee. “ Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?” she asked. In all seriousness, the gold medallist replied “On top of you ma’am.” And all they tell you in school is that you need good grades! *rolls eyes*

People who bug the @#%$^&* outta me!

There are a certain bunch of people who tick me off majorly. Yes I'm going to list them out now and no I'm not in the best of moods. Yes you're gonna be put through it but no you won't if you choose to skip this entry and go to the next one.
I, in any case intend going the whole nine yards to vent my frustration.

1) People who give unsolicited advice: Nothing irritates me more than people who try to impose their views (however well meaning) on me. Beginning from which course I should take up to what to apply on my zits. From what kind of healthy food I should be eating to how tidy I should be keeping my room. Really, is it any of anybody's business save mine?!
I don't care if I become the world's only biggest loser with pimples at the age of 35 and who's a also fat slob! Enough with the solutions. Peace out, humanity!!

2) People who patronize me: Really now. Who's given them the authority to sit on some high horse and pass judgments?! Isn't that the easiest thing to do? Everyone's entitled to an opinion. But keeping it to themselves should be made mandatory!

3) People who go overboard with jokes. I appreciate a good sense of humour. In fact, I really respect folks who can laugh at themselves. It shows character... But what also shows character, in bad light, are the kind of jokes they crack and at someone else's expense. Being the butt of jokes is all very well, but only to an extent... After that, it's mockery and no fun anymore. One needs to learn where to draw the line and if they don't, they're signing up for a lot of trouble.

4) Perfectionists: I'm a Virgo myself but I'm not a perfectionist. I'll admit it's good to be particular about things but when one becomes finicky and nit picky, it annoys the hell outta everyone around. Perfectionists should be kept in a cocoon all to themselves, cause hardly anything or anyone is ever good enough for their beautiful little Utopian world. Spare me!

5) Moody and unreasonable people: One moment they're fine. The next they snap, then they're alright but soon they're cranky... What on earth?! I've also noticed, most moody people tend to believe they're blue blooded somehow, and therefore think nothing of riding a rough shod over everyone.
There are few things more satisfying than putting them in their place.

6) Nosy parkers: "Who? With whom? Where was it? What happened? Why? When was this? How did it happen?".... Unless they're part of the CIA, FBI or any other secret service, I think they ought to do a reality check and get a life. Not everything is everyone's business! Off with these meddlers, pooh!

Anyway, in conclusion to my rant entry, I'll just say this. How people behave is totally upto them. But what reactions they're met with, are not. It's important to remain grounded, humble, not be a prick or a pain in the neck. Otherwise, one risks being on people's hate list, or worse still, hit list...:)

Girls!!

I've studied in a convent all through. That's to say I've been in an all girls environment practically all my life. Of course in saying that, I'm obviously obliterating the minimal interaction that I'd had with the opposite gender while I was in nursery or something, but besides that, except for a few odd acquaintances made here and there, I can't brag of a huge mixed friends circle.
The upside of knowing only girls is that it's given me plenty of insight to every kind/variety of the female gender that ever existed. I know just how convoluted their thinking can get, what makes them so complicated, why they get angry at the seemingly unimportant things, and yet what makes them irresistibly cute to guys.
Having said all of that, no, this blog entry isn't going to unravel the mysteries of girls, cause being one myself and having closely studied them for so long, this topic is as boring and redundant as can be.
What I intend doing here, is classifying them under broad categories so it might be of some help to anyone with zilch or very little experience to go about figuring them out. May good luck and the Goddesses (up there and down here) smile upon you.

Disclaimer: Girls, like ogres are like onions. However detailed their description, each one is unique, special and enigmatic in her own way.

1) The Cotton Candy variety: They're the extremely pretty kind who at first blush seem shallow and full of themselves. Well, to do justice to the image, I'll admit that they can be a little narcissistic but will also have to credit them with a lot more. They may pretend to be thick skinned buffaloes when in comes to lesser mortals with their snide comments, but deep down they're really sensitive. A misconception about these good lookers is that they tend to be dim witted. Trust me, they're not.

2) The Betty Cooper variety: They're sweet, nice and average looking. They can be best described as the girl next door. Not usually the risk takers, but they're a lot of fun to hang around with. Extremely, extremely sensitive yet balanced human beings. You can count on this lot not to be the moody variety without having valid reasons.

3) The Punks: They may give off the wrong impression of being tom boyish and sharp tongued. Hell, they are a bit of both (!) but essentially they're just introverts who hate being called that. Hence the image of 'Stay outta my way before I beat you up'. If one ever manages to scratch the surface with these kind of girls, you'll see that they're normal, sweet chicks who want nothing more than to be accepted and liked just the way they are.

4) The 'Attitude' throwing variety: Initially, you'd think they tend to classify everyone as coarser incidents of life that the providence should've long ago removed form circulation. In actuality they're not so evil minded. Having met a lot of these girls myself, I've learnt one thing about them. They're usually the ones with a chip on the shoulder. Either a superiority or (in most cases) an inferiority complex makes them behave that way. Therefore, they use "attitude" as a defense mechanism. Nice kids beneath all of that!

5) The 'Just a friend' variety: They're probably not the 'lookers' but make excellent buddies. They give brilliant advice, have a good sense of humour, and are great human beings on the whole. In my experience, they've always been non-controversial and the coolest variety among the various categories of girls.

So there you are. Half the planet segregated into 5 simple groups. Of course, going about trying to figure them out individually is another story altogether and I won't for the life of me delve into how to go about doing it. I've put in my two cents worth and don't think you need to be more equipped about "knowing what they're like" after this.
Just one last pearl of wisdom: Deep down, every girl is sensitive, loving and nice. Yes, a wee bit complicated, crazy, mad, sweet, sour, proud, arrogant, funny, irritating and nuts too, at times... but mostly just sensitive, loving and nice... :)

Do Not Try This at Home.

Author's note: The following sequence of events did take place but I'm not proud of what led to it. In my defense, I claim to be have been of unstable mind (foolish, idiotic and stupid to go with it) when I undertook what I did. I highly discourage anyone who'd like to do the same, cause it'll lead you to one thing for sure, whatever else the outcome. Soup.

It was a Saturday evening and I'd received devastating news of not making it to the University I'd been vying for. I had been working towards cracking the entrance for quite a while so was thoroughly let down when I didn't make it. Imagine going to the extent of having to learn Math (a subject I've loathed from the deepest realms of my soul) and even changing my writing style (one that I'd previously been proud of) to suit the criteria of the exam.
It's at times such as these that the brain, or atleast the part that makes sense, completely stops functioning. Not that I can honestly brag of it being well oiled at other times, it's just a valid excuse for doing what I did later that day.
From my earlier blogs, I may have made it evident that I'm thick pals with a few friends. All of them were very supportive and sympathetic of what had happened and one even came home with a pizza to "celebrate" the University's loss of not having me as a student. That night, another bestie invited me for dinner outside, followed by a sleepover.
What should've been an innocent night out with a close friend turned out to be nightmarish, yet funny in parts. I hold only myself responsible for it and before I plunge into the details, I'll give you a brief overview of my pal's background. It's of great importance in the story I'm about to tell.
She hails from a very conservative, large joint family. Partying and staying out late is frowned upon, wearing clothes that might be a wee bit revealing is scowled upon so presently, I'm scared to think what going for a drive in the dead of the night and being followed by a bunch of lecherous men would be!!... I'm saying that because (I'm sure you've guessed by now) that is just what happened.
Call it a brainwave, streak of rebellion or just a bad idea. At around 2 am when my pal suggested we snack on something, I told her of a 'brilliant' game plan that I'd devised: Of driving out of home, picking up another friend along the way, going for a spin in the car and then coming back. Initially, she shot the idea down with "We'd be made minced meat of" and "I'll be skninned" statements. But none of her pleas that her dad would turn a taxidermist, seemed to affect me. I just wanted out and I didn't care what I was risking. (Bad idea #1)
So I got in touch with the fellow nocturnal we'd planned on inviting and she was quite surprised too. But it wasn't so difficult to convince her and soon my bestie and me were preparing for our adventure. Rasmalai for the journey, some good music for the drive, and good footwear in case we had to run from her folks. Car and house keys in hand, we set off.
It gave us an adrenaline rush to be sneaking out of home at 2.30 am doing the cartoon character walk on our toes while keeping our eyes and ears alert for any movement or noise. The coast was clear, we left home.
Driving to our common friend's house and picking her up wasn't eventful and I religiously stuck to the speed limit while we were still in the housing colony. Once out, we raised the window glasses, brought out the dessert, switched on good music and I broke all barriers and drove like lightning on the empty and smooth roads.
Nothing gives one a kick like doing all of the above. Yet, one has to be prepared for a kick on the rear for behaving so irresponsibly too. I've learnt this now, that with mountain peaks come the valleys. Always. We just should've been prepared for it.
After a nice long drive and exhausting our 'sweet' supply, we decided to call it a day and head home. We dropped the common friend at her place and I was about to put the car in reverse gear, when my bestie insisted on another drive.'Best friend' time she said. I didn't need too much convincing and off we went again. (Bad idea #2)
The drive was excellent and we were on our way back when I noticed something amiss. There had been a car I could see in the rear view mirror that had been tailing us for a while. I didn't want to hit the panic button so I tried feinting. I switched on the indicator to take a left turn and they did too. Just as they were about to make the turn, I threw the car in third gear and went forward leaving them in a mid-turn. But looking in the mirror again, my heart sank. They'd backed out from the turn and were following us. My bestie who'd been the silent nervous spectator all this while suddenly took on the role of a self apponited GPS. In between giving me directions she tried in vain reciting the Hanuman chalisa and various other mantras.
Suddenly, that car gained speed and drew level with us on the passenger side. The driver rolled down his window and waved. He then overtook our car and switched on his indicator. So he was finally done coming after us, we thought. My bestie and me heaved a momentary sigh of relief.
He took a right turn but on realising we weren't following him I think, (we weren't up for playing his silly game of tag at 3 in the morning!) he reversed with the speed befitting a James Bond car and was at us again. The horror!
My bestie began hyperventilating at this point and it didn't help that she saw the car had 4-5 menacing guys in it. I was scared too, but maybe cause I hadn't seen them first hand I didn't get hysterical. I kept my eyes fixed on the road while trying to follow her incoherent directions. Since we were within the contours of her housing colony, we snaked our way between the lanes and managed to squeeze our car between some others. We switched off all the lights and sat in stunned silence.
During the chase, their car had lost us in between the gullies. We sat huddled together praying, and cursing 'our' stupidity (although I was solely to blame). Few minutes passed and we hoped that they'd lost interest. After waiting some more time to give them a headway at finding something else to engage their fancy, we decided it was safe to move.
Just then I saw those dreaded headlights appear in the mirror again. To say it was intensely distressing would be putting it mildly. We did the only thing that occurred to us. We ducked out of view.
In retrospect, I think it would've been more sensible on my part to have removed the seat belt before doing it, cause not only was it highly uncomfortable but more because viewing a seat belt hanging in mid air is not common place. They passed our car and reached a dead end. Reversed, and slowly glided back.
We had every saints name (living or dead) on our lips. Just then, my phone beeped to life with a text message and the interior of our car lit up. My bestie nearly fainted with tension.
Luckily for us, the guys must've figured that we didn't like their game (that had gone form Tag to 'Peek a boo' in the last 20 minutes)... They left us alone but not before honking repeatedly and making us jump outta our skin.
In any case, after waiting some more time and ensuring that they'd gone for good, we made our way home quietly. It was only after reaching the safety of her room that the gamut of emotions came loose.


I know it's something we're all taught by our elders. Don't stay out late; Keep someone informed of your whereabouts always; and most importantly, don't do anything on an impulse. I've most certainly learnt my lesson.
I don't care if I'll never know that a flyover looks like a freeway at night, or that you can introspect best on an empty road. At this point, the only way I understand those things is: That they spell TROUBLE.
My advice to anyone who wants to take it. Stay home and stay safe. Better sad than sorry!

Viva Forever :)

This blog entry is dedicated to all of my besties, who patiently go through my entries (even the ones who don't!) and are nice enough to give me their feedback and sweet comments :)... I'm also dedicating it to them because they've taught me a helluva lot and most importantly to not judge a book by its cover. If I hadn't done that with this precious bunch, I'm convinced I'd be in a loony bin counting the hair on my head or something as insane.

Disclaimer: If I haven't mentioned some of my pals in this entry, it's not cause I love them any less, just that I didn't get off on the wrong foot with 'em like I did with the others. Either way, I love the whole lot!


In the order of when I met them:
1) Anisha Lalchandani (aka Anu): We studied in the same school for 14 years and knew of the other's existence for just as long. Strangely, we were barely acquaintances for the first 12. Maybe because we belonged to diametrically opposite "groups" and were too stupid and shallow to make friends, but we never managed to hit it off as kids. I also remember having the most obnoxious impression of her. I thought she was a clumsy, loud mouthed annoying pain in the neck. Turns out, I was wrong. I was the prissy, hoity toity, stuck up git. (Note to pal: I can't thank God enough for what made us friends in class XI and XII Anu. Dunno what I'd have done without you!)

2) Evita Nathan (aka Ewwi Kiwi): Our story is similar to that of Anu's and mine. But it's a little worse off because Evi and me had been neighbours since time immemorial but only became thick pals 6 years ago. We didn't have anything to do with each other all through school and only got around to being courteous while in junior college. Again, I'd had my preconceived notion of her being a bully and rowdy kid; someone I had to steer clear of. Hence we never talked. But I was wrong here too. She'd actually just been a naughty kid all along while I was touted as being haughty! (Note to pal: You can't blame me for avoiding you back then, Kiwi. You once tied the laces of my shoes together to trip me!)

3) Vineetha Rao (aka Inne, Pinne, Chinne, Skinny): I distinctly remember Vinne and me being batchmates (in school) for a long time, but never classmates. I have one very clear memory of her when we were in class III. She'd laughed at one of my jokes and I'd thought she'd be cool company to hang around with, if only we weren't in different classes. What was worse was that she belonged to a different 'house'. (Our school had 4 houses which were perennially at logger heads) This meant it was all the more difficult to be besties then. The taboo!
Later when we met in college, we didn't become bosom buddies pronto. I got around to knowing her gradually but was glad as hell about the interests we shared in common. (Note to pal: I think the conversations we had after my trip to Pondy is what got us started inne :) )

4) Roshini Shahani (aka Lo): She's another St. Ann's product and it strikes me odd for the fourth time, how we were barely on first name terms with each other. She was the cute quiet kid whose cheeks everyone loved pulling. I'd pull 'em too, but only cause I was expected to. Herd mentality at its best!
Lo and me were extremely different back then. (We still are now, but the dissimilarities are less glaring) She was the cherub who didn't know the spelling of 'fight' and I was like a bull waiting to charge in comparison.
When we met in college for the first time after years (she had quit St. Ann's in middle school) and she didn't recognise me. It didn't go down too well with my big fat ego and I swore not to have anything to do with her. Wrong again. One month later, we were benchies and besties like no one would believe. (Note to pal: But I still can't get over the pencil box you owned in class V which said 'Back to school!' Really!!!)

5) Karuna Jainpalli (aka Kroony): I've my conscience clear about not interacting with her any sooner, simply cause we weren't in the same school (!). But other than that I'd like to kick myself for having a mental picture of what she was really like, even before knowing her.
When I saw her in college, I put Kroony down as a simple yet no-nonsense Telugu speaking girl. She always wore crisp salwar kameezes with the dupatta pinned at the shoulders, and had her long hair neatly tied in place. A little too serious for an 18 year old, I thought. But I was wrong, I was wrong, I was WRONG!
I haven't met anybody (our age) who is as well informed, balanced and easy going at the same time. She even has a terrific sense of humour. There are times I can't thank my stars enough for sending her into all our lives! (Note to pal: Bless you for going with us on the trip we took in the IInd year!)

6) Renu Suresh (aka Mummy): I was always Daddy's lil girl as a kid. Mom was the rules and regulations setting matriarch whom I was a little scared of. I never thought I could be best friends with her till I turned 13. I'd shared my first off colour joke with her and she laughed. It broke the ice between us and we haven't looked back since. (Note to mom: I couldn't think of NOT having you on this list ma, you're the best ever!)


So there you go, the moral of the story! Don't jump to conclusions about people too soon. Don't have a 'mental picture' about them and don't for the life of you be closed to who they might really be. Giving people time is the most important thing... If you do, you might get lucky and find yourself a precious bunch of friends. Just like I did. Hallelujah! :D

****************************************

Since the last time I wrote, I have to make two more entries. But as of now, I'll stick to writing just one.

7) Arpan Kumar Das : Short, puny and very harmless looking. But the illusion lasts only till he starts talking. Chotu, as I fondly call him, is a brother, bestie and my adopted kid all at once. I can't think of any guy I've hit it off as well with, as I have with him.
When we first met, I (as is always the case with me) didn't think much of him. Wrote him off as one of those "smart" Bengali boys one doesn't interact much with. But now again, I stand corrected. In a matter of weeks, I figured that although we didn't have a lot in common, we were VERY similar. In retrospect, I have never in my 23 years of existence thought that one could gel so well with someone, and yet not like them in the romantic sense. But that's precisely what happened.
Chotu's certainly in my list of buddies whom I thank God for very religiously. And he's also in a list of people I'm very protective and possessive of. All in all, he's my crazy sweet kid brother who reads me like a book and who I know is always there for me. Just a phone call away :)

The Four letter word.

I cannot fully get over the fact that I'm not a kid anymore. A part of me still believes I'm not a day over 8 (that might explain my IQ, or lack thereof) and a part of me refuses to acknowledge the fact that I can be officially referred to as an 'aunt' by tiny tots. Now I'm not saying I'm an old hag or anything, but it's just being typecast or belonging to the same bracket as the a fore mentioned that gives me the creeps.
In the past when I had been mistakenly called an aunt, I was just short of acting homicidal. I remember a 11 yr old boy calling a 16 yr old me that. He only just got away with his life. The God fearing child must've believed that faith can move mountains in preventing me from lunging at him. Too bad I WAS the mountain then! (owing to my build). In anycase, I didn't send the lad to Our Kingdom come that day, but I might as well've done. One less person who called me the dreaded four letter word.
But the first time I was called one in all seriousness, was very mortifying. Always being referred to as "ma'am" in the pre school where I worked, it was quite shocking when it happened in class. Gosh, did I feel like the evil witch from the story I was reading to the kids (in wanting to lock 'em up in some exit less tower). Barely had I gotten over the shock of being called thus, than I figured it was the parents who gladly referred to me with the same! "Say 'hi' to aunty!", "Say 'bye' to aunty!"...
Breathing fire to that would be an understatement. I could've given the volcanoes in Iceland stiff competition in refusing to tide over after so many days.
Anyhow, I'm only just coming to terms with the fact now, and resigning myself to my fate of being called 'aunty' henceforth. It's not so bad really. So long as it's that alone...
Okay, I'll be honest. What made me luke warm to it was not tolerating the idea of looking or behaving like one (hell no!). It was being faced with the horror of "mistakenly" called 'Mummy' at school that made me rejoice at just being called an aunt. I'm glad there's an upside to everything in life. It proves that there is a God up there who makes us count our blessings, and sometimes even moves a couple of mountains into acceptance, whenever necessary :)

A few Favourite things with a few Favourite Pals :)

1) Grey clouds, strong winds, loud music and riding on smooth roads!

2) Going for dinners and then having sleepovers. Driving around with the gang till late in the night while singing loudly (and shamelessly off tune) to a favourite song.

3) "Sharing" a large pizza yet getting to eat most of it myself! :P

4) Conference calls and talking all night :)

5) Going on long walks.

6) Laughing till our stomach hurts.

7) Having philosophical conversations.

8) Shopping together!

9) Understanding the pauses and expressions perfectly.

10) Sitting in comfortable silence.

On being Truly Indian.

I must've been 5 or 6 years old when it first happened, but I remember it vividly. I was the only one in a class of 40 or so who stood out from the rest. No, not for being brainy, clever, smart or any of those cool things. Just for giving my mother tongue and 'father tongue' separately.
You see, I hail from a mixed background. I'm part Malayali and part Sindhi. Dad's the South Indian while mom's from the North. Yeah, an absolute cocktail if you must. But try explaining that to a kid. You'll see it isn't quite simple to answer questions on which community they belong to, where they're originally from, and so on. Therefore, as a self respecting child, I did the only thing that made sense. I stated the two tongues separately. Of course, little did I know how amusing it was and that I'd been the butt of jokes!
For the longest time, I remember being quite confused about what to call myself. Malayali, Sindhi, or both. I suppose it was only natural to be a a wee bit confused about it. To be called a stingy Sindhi all my life, or a maverick Malayali. Starved for more choice, really! But that however, wasn't so much of a bother. It was fitting in that really mattered. The Sindhis were snobs and the Malayalis were mad. Which was lesser of the two evils?!
And it's not like I was welcomed with open arms either. I'm no star kid. I don't completely look or behave quintessentially like either party. I'm a mixture there too! Blessed with these hybrid genes, one would think I should have the best of both worlds, and be a beautiful intellectual. Perfect combination of the math brain and good artistic skills; with peaches and cream complexion of the Sindhis and the build of those petite Keralites. Perfect lil damsel you'd think.... Hell no!
God must've gotten a little confused there cause he switched 'em...! I've more than just the sun kissed complexion (sun burnt perhaps!) that fishermen from coastal Kerala might, and the build of a wrestler from some akhada in rural Sindh. I can't do math to save my life and the last thing I painted looked like something my dog relieved himself on!
So anyway, with looks such as mine I'd just earn myself weird stares from Sindhis at school. And as for the Mallu (short for Malayali) brethren, my mannerisms and eating habits were too much for them. The poor things didn't know what to make of their aloo paratha gorging and lassi guzzling friend (while they just pecked at their fish curry and rice)
Hanging out with relatives was even worse. On mom's side we had a few big built cousins who conversed in Hindi mostly, and on dad's side we had a whole bunch of reed thin, high strung nasal ones. 'Aunty' was pronounced 'andy' and 'uncle' equaled 'ungel'. Coconut was called 'cock-unud' and like they always believed, 'boys' will remain 'boo-ee-s'.
So as you can see, I come from a family whose origin is everything but suspect. It's well demarcated right down to my qualities. When I'm a miser, it's the Sindhi in me. When I get moppy, it's the Mallu blood kicking into action. See how well we define ourselves?
All in all, it's great being a mixed breed. I really do enjoy the best of both worlds. The food, culture, the people! We're a unique bunch and I wouldn't for the world of me want to swap with someone from a single community after knowing what fun it is to belong from two. But the best part about not being conventional...? I come from two states but belong to one. The biggest, I'm truly Indian :)

Lamest Hindi film dialogues!

1)"Kutte, kaminey! Main tera khoon pee jaounga!"- Eee! Who does he want to punish? Himself?!!

2)"Main tumhare bacche ki maa banne wali hoon"- Like you didn't see this coming!! Tut tut!

3)"Tum mere liye mar chuke ho!"- So who're you talking to?... Or hallucinating, are we?

4)"Dosti main, no sorry no thank you"- Yeeeaahh right!!

5)"Yeh shaadi nahi ho sakti!"- Who does he think he is? Nostradamus? Aakash Vani? Bejan Daruwala?!

6)"Bhagwaan ke liye mujhe chod do!"- You cannot be serious, woman!!

7)"Yeh sunne se pehle main mar kyun nahi gayi!"- But you have, now. Rest in Peace!

8)"Maine tumhe kya samjha aur tum kya nikle!"- Personality disorder! Asylum bhejo re!

9)"Ab hum kisi ko muh dikhane ke laayak nahi rahe!"- The glass is always half full uncleji, now the kid's gotten the experience!

And this one's a master piece.

10)"Teri shaadi usse nahi hogi jisse tu pyar karti hai, balki usse hogi jisse mein pyar karta hun! (Utpal Dutt, Golmaal)"- .................. WHAT!!

Society's Irritants!

The reason behind my dedicating an entire blog entry to people our society could really do without, is my tryst with some of them over the last few days. I'll go in the order of how irritating they are.

1) Band of Annoying aunties. They're a group we're all familiar with. They might be the nosy neighbours in some cases, or the overtly friendly old relatives in others. One variety consists of the aunties who give you the suspicious I-think-I-saw-you-in-the-mall-with-a-boy stare.
And the second variety of old aunties are the ones who want to engage in conversation at the most inconvenient of times. Like when you're running late for work, they'd like to stop and ask you about some old relative's arthritis. More exasperating, when you're taking an afternoon nap, they'd like to barge in and show their grandchildren your big "Daagie" (read: Doggie).

2) Road Romeos. Oh jeez, they're a maddening bunch. Sometimes, the ridiculous songs and how they sing it itself makes you want to turn around and say " Bhaiyaji please mat gaao! Bahut besure ho!"... And some really have the audacity of hitting on you when you're totally out of their league. Like the short ones. It's amusing more than anything else when you see them sing; they've to look up whilst doing it. All you want to say "Find somebody your own size, buddy".

3) Shutter bugs at Weddings. Or rather, only the ones that take pictures of you when you have your plate stuffed, or mouth. Worse still, both. It's highly embarrassing when you've just put an entire rasgulla in your mouth and have the camera flash in your face. Nope, not a memory I had wanted for posterity, but what the hell.

4) Pesky children. Yeah I know they're pretty cute and all but sometimes, they're just... you'll know. This particular anecdote dates back to when the tube was probably in black and white ( It involves my eldest sister when she was a teenager so that's really a long, long time ago :P) She was just learning to roller skate in the corridor of our apartment and along came a troublesome neighbour. The kid wasn't older than 6, but boy did he change my sister's perspective of children or what! Dunno what did, but something must've made him think she could go a lot faster on wheels than just trudging along with the left-right-left technique beginners tend to adopt.
The lil imp snuck up behind her and gave her a mighty shove. Away went my sister screaming a whole lot of cuss words as she went. Poor thing landed several meters away, a glowering heap.

So yes, in conclusion these are the must-avoid candidates in every society. But unfortunately, love 'em or hate 'em they're bound to plague you at some point or the other: Some road romeo trying to get your attention with a B grade filmy song, a kid asking you awkward questions about the zits on your face, some irritating aunty wanting to know where you've been all evening, or some wedding camera guy taking a picture of you with a forkful of noodles that's lost in transaction between your plate and your mouth. Amen.

Tofu :)

Since when I can remember, I'd always wanted a dog. Big, handsome, strong, dependable and most of all, a dog that could scare the wits out of people. It's not to say I have ever taken pride in terrorisng fellow humans, (with my big dog or small) but it's good for a few laughs when you see full grown adults do the weird I-think-the-dog's-gonna-kill-me dance. Also, owning a jumbo sized dog gives you some sort of a status with everyone. They take you a tad more seriously when you threaten to 'set the dog on them' (albeit in jest) as against the smirk you'd get when you try to do the same with a miniature dachshund.
Being brought up on a steady diet of Famous Fives' while growing up, I was in love with the big adorable Timothy (the loyal mongrel). I always fantasized about having one of my own someday.
Every stray pup my sister and me managed to bring home was christened 'Timothy' on arrival, but blame it on the doggies' unfortunate lineage and people's bias only toward pedigree dogs, our little Timmys' would end up being sent away to the animal shelters.
Years of cribbing and crying about wanting a pet resulted in our parents finally relenting. They brought home a dachshund puppy and though a small part of me hoped he'd grow into something that didn't resemble a rodent, I grew to love him the way he was. A cute little piglet.
'Happy' stayed with us for 6 and a half wonderful years and one of the sadest days of my life, was when he died. Months went by and the hurt of losing him stung like nothing else. We tried adopting again, by being surrogate mothers to 2-3 week old puppies, but I guess we must've done a bad job cause they fell ill and the poor dearies had to be sent back to the pet shelters. Then finally, one November evening...Trophy came into our lives.
It was Diwali and the whole family was in a joyous mood. We didn't invite a large gathering that year, so it was just us close family and a few friends . We were having a good time after the Lakshmi pooja, and a friend and me proceeded to the balcony to watch the fireworks. Ten minutes into the artificial star gazing, I happened to glance toward the car park. That's when I saw him...
All of 4 weeks perhaps, pudgy, he resembled a ball of black fur. He sat amidst crackers that went off with alarming noise and light. He just sat huddled and sat still. I almost didn't see him (what with the racket) but he'd chosen the same moment to move a bit, when I was looking in his direction. The movement caught my eye. I saw him from a distance and without so much of a cursory warning to mom or dad, I ran out of the house and bounded down the stairs in filmy style of a heroine meeting her love after years.
I must've looked a sight running like a mad woman, but nothing mattered right then. I got to where the pup was and saw the little fellow shivering in the wintery chill. If my heart had melted on seeing him from afar, it dissolved completely when I looked at his puppy dog face. I picked him up and took him straight home.
Of course, it wasn't easy convincing my parents and worse still, my eldest sister. But Amuee (my second sister) and me won the battle finally. We got to keep Trophy (aka Tofu) and it was the best thing that had happened to me since Happy's untimely departure.
In a lot of ways, Tofu resembles Happy. Mom's of the opinion that he might be the latter himself, incarnate. Tofu's the exact same combo of black and brown too, has the same hazel brown eyes, and gives me the same expression of 'what do you take me for?’ when I try and trick him off his dog treats. He also has the same sleeping place and took to my dad the way Happy had done when he’d first come.
Tofu’s brought our family a lot of luck, happiness and love. And he hasn’t let me down either. He’s big, handsome, strong, dependable and most of all a dog that scares the wits out of people… ;)

Of Love Untold...

What is Love?
Such a clichéd rhetoric,
makes you want to dish out poetry
or something heroic.

What is Love?
If it's something I'm honestly asked,
not a song and dance sequence
such a thing of the past!

What is Love?
It's not about holding their hand,
being mushy or romantic
It's about taking a stand.

What is Love?
It is being brave and happy,
of being strong and sensible
when you'd rather be sappy.

What is Love?
It's about not letting it show,
just how difficult it is
to let them go.

It's a Girl thing...

It all begins when you turn 14 or so. No I'm not saying that you're any less of a girl before that, but things like one's appearance and looks don't bother one till then. It didn't bother me so much at least. Up until I reached my turbulent teens, I was obsessed about other stuff. (Well, I've sort of forgotten what I was obsessed with then, but hell I know it wasn't about my hair or complexion!)
It's a turning point in a girl's life when she's too old to be attending good-for-nothing birthday parties and made to play lame games and yet is too young to be included in girlie gossip. It's the most awkward age to be.
Then comes the phase when you're introduced to everything feminine. From inner wear to make up. It comes at you Tsunami style and hits you in the face about being lady like. It's during ones early teens that one begins hearing of friends frequenting beauty parlours. And no, not just for a hair cut, at that.
The funny thing about how it turned out for me, is that I visited one (beauty parlour) for 'more' than just a hair cut at the ripe old age of 18. It was a torturous experience. Getting my eyebrows plucked and my limbs waxed. I swore never to go back there for as long as I could, and I managed for almost a year.
Of course, it didn't help that my Sindhi-Mallu background of healthy genes made my arms look like the the Sundarbans forest region in no time, but I wasn't going to back down.
Alas I lost my battle with it just before my sister's wedding. The thing about Weddings is that one's forced to spend one's time and money on things we don't want, for things we'll hardly wear, to show off in front of people we don't even like! But I digress!
Visiting the parlour after such a long hiatus gave me the creeps. It even made my hair stand on end. And coming to think of it, it probably made it easier for the lady wielding the hot wax to get rid of the Sundarbans.
With that out of the way, I only had to get my eyebrows plucked and upper lip done. The former's thickness would've put Kaalia's (from Sholay fame) eyebrows to shame and the latter's existence, Gabbar himself.
Getting deforestation done without your whole and soul consent is by far one of the most painful things. And that's saying something cause I've burnt, cut, nicked and poked myself during my entire lifetime.
I barely survived the eyebrow ordeal and I couldn't for the life of me let the evil lady with the thread do the same to the area above my upper lip. I tried in vain telling my sister that the true pride of a person lies in the strength of their mustache (or some rubbish along the same lines) but she was not amused. I had to go ahead with the thing and boy did I manage... halfway.
I'll spare you the torrid details, but I'll tell you this. When I posed for photographs later, at my sister's wedding, I had to do it at an angle.
Here's a tip for those who've not got their upper lip done completely. Tilt your head, chin up and smile. It doesn't matter if you have half your handlebar mustache to hide. You can just cover it up with a tilt, chin up and smile. Practice. Tilt, chin up and smile...

Love Aaj, no kal!

Statutory Warning : Not one of my humorous entries, so if you're looking for laughs, steer clear of this one!

Relationships. Aren't we all in one, at some point or the other? Some big, some small; some tiny, some huge; some with the opposite gender, some with the same (If your door swings both ways), some relationships that we don't even realise we've made, and some we realise only when its too late (Did the last part just rhyme?!)...
No I don't intend for this entry to be a sad, moppy one. Cause really, who wants to read about the dull stuff... I know I don't. Well today, I want to write about something that's been playing on my mind for the last coupe of days.
I read an article a few days ago about this generations' take on relationships. Yeah, 'Love aaj kal' in the literal sense. As cliched as it may sound, I recoiled at the in-your-face opinions that a lot of young people had given. Living-in, Getting bored of each other too soon, having flings, two timing, indulging in one night stands...
I don't mean to be all high and mighty or condescending when I say it... But I think its a whole pile of rot. I do not belong to the very old school of thought of being conservative and regressive, but I don't think its okay to change ones love interest every couple of months. [I also know that if somebody does, it's none of my business but I'll dish out my opinion anyway ;)]
And hang on, even if one manages to get themselves eye candy every now and then, how do they do that? (Not how they landed with pretty face, smarty!) What I mean is, does a switch just go off in their heads? Do they unplug something somewhere? Do they suddenly change modes? Do they get indifferent? Just like that? HOW?!
I've been through my share of crushes and have had them crushed too, so I know from experience it's not that simple. Doesn't work that way. Ever... Well, atleast for the likes of me!
The whole point of my writing this blog entry is to try and tell a small part of humanity out there... That not all 'young people' are in for instant gratification. Some of us are here for commitment. Some of us are here for having it long term. Some of us are here for sticking it out.... Or not having it at all.
It's tough taking a stand like that sometimes... Especially if there are attractive deals out there. But the decision is final. I'd rather have the heart ache of unrequited love, than go on a rebound from one to another to another to another. I rest my case.

It took me 21 years to get this...!

1. Don't play with sauce squeeze bottles.

2. Don't buy footwear that only looks pretty.

3. Don't wear white when you're going out to lunch.

4. Don't be in a rush to fall in love.

5. Have good phone manners.

6. Don't shake anybody awake.

7. Do not try to befriend a dog that's barking.

8. When you say you'll get back to someone, get back.

9. REMEMBER birthdays.

10. Have a healthy self esteem.

11. Fairness creams do not work! Deal with it.

12. Listen.

13. Read the instructions before making popcorn.

14. Be nice.

15. Chew, swallow, then talk.

16. When in doubt, shut up. Read about it and get back later.

17. Love your folks. They're the best people ever.

18. Maintain a personal diary.

19. Stay in touch with your close friends. Always.

20. Don't wear a skirt if you have to ride the two-wheeler.

21. Frame some sentences in your head first. You'll know how stupid they sound when you say them.

Things that I Love! :)

Fast cars and
cool summer breeze,
Cold coffee and Vanilla,
to go with that please!

Clear blue skies,
lazy Saturday afternoons,
'Me time' and bike rides,
or just watching cartoons!

Cute movies and popcorn,
The smell of wet earth,
Reading a good book
in a train's top berth!

Laughter and merriment;
A moonlit night.
Watching a puppy trotting,
an adorable sight!

Humming a favorite song;
Smelling scented candles,
Trying out a new pair
of funky fitting sandals!

Spending time with a friend,
just one to one;
How the best kinda bonding
I believe is done.

The things that I've mentioned
are only just a few;
I'll come out with a sequel,
longer and brand new!

If you've liked my poem,
you've got great taste in art;
Alright I'm kidding (!)
But the poem's from the heart!

The Night the Bed fell...on my Foot!!

Right, so I gave it away in the title. But it doesn't matter, what's truly amusing is how things led to it... I won't be presumptuous in saying I'll do a good job of narrating the incident ( cause I'm still in some pain from the tetanus on my tender behind) but I'll do my best anyway.
So the story begins from when the bed fell the first time round (Yes, there was a first).
You see, I have this bad habit of pacing around the room when I'm on the phone with my friends. And if we happen to be discussing something of utmost importance, (gossip, in most cases) I fling myself on the nearest piece of furniture for dramatic effect. And that day's conversation warranted it, really.
Now I'm not saying I'm a drama queen, but it's true I can get a little carried away sometimes. So obviously, when I heard the wicked rumour that I liked, about someone I didn't, I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to be theatrical at all.
Off I went to fling myself in filmy style on the center of my wobbly bed. Not one of the smartest things to do when you weigh...very much. Anyhow, it's quite embarrassing to cause the bed to cave in, single handedly....It's not like it isn't mortifying to break it with company or anything, (cause I've done that as well) but it's just having to take complete blame that gets annoying.
I was alone in the room when it'd happened, but the sound of the crash brought my mom and dog there pretty quick. The former's scandalized expression and the latter's head tilt did little to help the bruised ego. Worse still, my friend was very much on the line. It's at times like these one wishes the phone companies didn't do their job so well. Taking their silly tag line like 'Kahin bhi, kabhi bhi' a little too seriously, I thought while attempting to get out of the wreckage with as much dignity I had left. Anyway, with a hurried 'I broke the bed. Will call you back later', I hung up and climbed out of the ruins.
Obviously, I didn't hear the end of it from mom after the episode. I'll spare you the details of the monologue followed by the soliloquy my mother delivered about where she went wrong in bringing me up.
So moving on, we called for the welding guy to sort the wrought iron bed. He came and worked on it with great flourish and made a great show of how sturdy he'd made it. But the only one who really paid attention was my dog I think. You'll know why, later... And coming to think of it, I should've paid more attention too. I would've known where to keep my feet then, in case of another such disaster...
Fast forward eight months. The bed bore the combined weight of my sister and me (and sometimes the dog too) and we all lived happily ever after. And then one day, my best friend and me decided to have a sleepover.
Everything worked out great and we were looking forward to a nice tete-a-tete after long... In retrospect, I think I should've said something about the bed to the poor sap. Caught totally unawares, she was in for a shock when what happened, did happen.
Now this is what took place. First she got on the bed and sat to a corner. Then the dog did and in my rush to make him get off, I followed suit but half-way. All this in quick succession was too much for the old welded guy. He gave way. Right on to my foot.
There was a collective yell and a yelp from us and the dog respectively, but I can vouch for being the loudest. That's cause I had their weight on my leg en masse. Nothing can make you wish you fed your dog a little less or that your bestie skipped some meals now then, than when you have your foot under them.
To a cut a long story short, I'll say I can give Himesh Reshammiya a run for his money if I practice my high pitched, long drawn yell often enough...
And want to know the best part of the story? When I was narrating the incident to my brother, here's what he said "I've heard of people falling off their beds, but its a first that the bed 'fell off' on them!" Rubbing salt on my wound you think? But it doesn't end there. He continued, "I've heard of people breaking their leg falling off a cot... but here the bed fell on your leg and the poor bed broke!".... Just shows you what a loving family I come from!

Drops of Faith :)

How wrapped up are we in our lives, today? Do we take time out to stare out of an open window at leisure? Do we actually enjoy a quiet meal with our loved ones? Do we unwind after a long day of work with a good book or with a silent prayer before turning in?....
Of course we do! I'm convinced that all of us have, at some point or the other done one or all of the above mentioned things. But that's not the point. Its not about enjoying the little joys in life once a fortnight or month. Its about doing those small things often enough to make life matter. If I sound too preachy or annoying, forgive me but I'm in a very contemplative mood today. One of those things that happen to a person now and then. Its a 'then' right now, in my case.
Has it also occurred to those reading this, that we get so many chances in our everyday life to be happy and thankful for all that we have? Thankful for being blessed with such wonderful families, caring friends, plenty of constructive things to be occupied with and a happy life in general :)
Yet, we're forever brooding about the stuff that isn't right about life. A pathetic job for instance, an annoying boss, squabbles with one's friends, a failed love life... The list is endless. Noticed how these thoughts tend to have a snowball effect in one's mind? A single thought is all it takes to set us off... And sometimes, its easy being a despondent. But that's not how things should be. That's not how Life's meant to be.
I don't claim to be a shrink or someone who has a lot of expertise in preaching the 'word of the Lord', or anything that dramatic. I just know, that for things to work out in life and for it to be more livable, all one really needs sometimes... are Tiny drops of faith :)
I'll illustrate that with an example. A couple of months ago, on a not so fine day I was having a horrid time. Things at the preschool (where I work) were getting out of hand. The kids were driving me crazy, my boss was being testy, I'd had a blazing row with my mom, so I was truly at the end of my tether by evening. For want of something to do, (to curb the murderous feelings I began having) I decided to go out with a friend for a spin on her bike.
To clear my head a little, get things into perspective, not blow things out of proportion in my tiny brain, were the things I had in mind....
All of a sudden, I felt it (Not the faith silly! :P). When the first one hit me, I thought I'd been imagining it. Then another one came. And another.
Rain drops were coming down hard and fast and there was no where to run for cover. For those of you who don't know, I'm not a person who loves rain. In fact, its just the opposite. I'd rather do without it, if you ask me.
Therefore, those merry drops (that bring delight to a lot of people) only got me further ticked off. 'That's it! Last straw!' I thought. 'Of all days, God chose today to make it rain! And I PRAY to Him!'... Riding in the rain with the stinging drops in my eyes, it wasn't long before I'd started with water works of my own.
And then it happened. Almost as abruptly as it began, it stopped raining. Completely. I looked up from riding, and then I saw it. The clouds parting to make way for a glorious sun and beautiful blue sky. I cannot tell you how much it meant to me. Like God really thought he should make it up to little kiddo....
For my patient readers who came this far and who're about to roll their eyes at this seemingly childish ending... Let me tell you, its not. Life's not about living and getting it over with. Its about much more. Its about enjoying it. Its about being happy with it... And of course, using those tiny drops of faith to get by sometimes... :)

Anything for you, baby! ;)

Whoever said dealing with lil children is an easy task, probably never dealt with them. Take my word for it. If you're under the impression that kids are sugar and spice and everything nice... well, they're not. At least that's not all that they are!
I began work as a pre school teacher 5 months ago, and back then I was under the same impression too. Until I became their hands on care taker (Praise the Lord!). I doubt one learns as much in 3 yrs of college than one does within the first 3 months at work. Honest.
Now would be a good time to tell you what (or rather whom) I have on my hands every morning for 4 hrs a day. In the alphabetic order, here goes.
First there's Amrith. He's 5 yrs and few months old, but doesn't think he's too young to be dating his class teacher. Very bright and intelligent, in his free time is found either running around class driving his make believe taxi (insisting on giving unwilling classmates a ride), or flexing his "muscles" and showing off his latest haircut to a very amused me.
Then there's Ananya. She's a cute lil dumpling who loves playing 'kitchen-kitchen' with anything she can lay her chubby hands on. We've all been treated to her veg corn soup and chicken tikka combo in varying articles such as a pencil box to empty chalk cartons!
Then there's Dhruv. Good God. He takes the cake and the entire pantry with it. If there's anyone out there who wants to learn anger management techniques or want to increase their patience levels, ditch AoL classes or anything else you have in mind and contact me! Dealing with him alone will make you reach nirvana. The repeated usage of God's name will get you there. You can count on it.
Enrique. The stud of our class. With his impish good looks and chic dressing style (credit attributed to his even more fashionable mom) he can make you want to give in to anything he wants. Such is his effect, that if he tells you he's burnt your house down, you'd want to give him some kerosene to burn your garage down too. Anything to please him! :P
Harshita. She's a doe eyed lil princess who loves chewing on her hair. Haven't figured why she likes doing it yet, am working on it.
Mihir. He's one kid who consistently has the same expression on his face. Whether he's jumping the trampoline or wrestling with one of his friends. The serene half smile!
Then there's Nitya. She's an angel. She comes to school, does her work, goes home, does her homework, then comes back to school, does more work, goes home, does more homework.... get my drift?
Pranav. Smart kid whose recently lost two of his front teeth, such that he has to repeat everything he says, twice. "I eat my brother" was meant to be "I hit my brother".... See why I make him repeat?!
Then there's Rahul. A born brain. Exceptionally fast with his worksheets and anything related to acads, I wouldn't be surprised to know if he makes it to one of the premier institutes of our country 12 yrs down the line.
Satakshi. Oh my gosh. This girl'll make it to the front page of a newspaper for one of these reasons. For someone's suicide (she can make me want to kill myself), homicide (make me want to kill whoever hired me), or infanticide (make me... not really!)... While teaching them the spelling of 'Blue', she broke into the title track of the movie with the same name, right down to the dance steps. While singing the National anthem she began doing a self choreographed tribal dance. While trying to explain the sea world food chain to her, I felt like a fish at the bottom of the food chain myself, when opening and closing my mouth helplessly. The exasperation!
Shreya. She's a doll. She can give one the warmest of hugs and sweetest of smiles that make one forget whatever's bothering 'em. Even if its me, when I'm in the midst of tearing apart two feuding Lords of our class.
Shrimanth. When Shakespeare said "You can smile, smile and smile and still be a villain" he must've thought of someone like this kid. All of 16 and a half kilos he can get someone whose 10 times his weight in major soup if he wants to. Careful around that one!
Vaibhav. This kid can actually make you feel like Patrick Swayze from 'Ghost'. He won't look at you while you're talking to him. Won't reply. Won't do what you tell him to, and all this not in a rebellious manner. Just as though you don't exist. Am at my wits end with this one! :P

So the above's just a gist of what I deal with on a day-to-day basis. Yeah I have mad/bad days with my lil students but its all in a days work. Ask me to quit right now for a better paying job with saner people to deal with... and I'll pass. I can't think of not going to school tomorrow to meet my lil cherubs. To know what they did over the weekend, to watch them build tall buildings with blocks, to nurture a bruised knee maybe, and then to kiss the pain goodbye. Nope. I can't leave 'em. Not till they graduate from pre school.