Niggles Notepad

2010-05-14T18:13:00.006+03:00

Am prone to manic depression. Wonder of wonders. Who knew? I didn't, and it's still not easy for me to admit that I cannot be one of those eternally happy, sunshiny people who inspire you to not be so serious, look at the brighter side of things, smile through bad phases and always be cheerful like a stoned clown.

However, thankfully - I also know what sort of gets me through during those spells of manic depression.

Cooking.

Wonder of wonders. Who knew? I didn't.

Mom would be so proud. Especially since she'd never notice the depression - only the cooking. In her world, people don't get depressed. People just get married and get on with life, for what else is there to do. She doesn't know a thing about depression. Not mine, not her own.

Anyway. So why do I enjoy cooking so much? I think it's because it puts me back in control of the outcome one hundred percent. I don't reduce that flame and forget to/ refuse to stir - and there go the mushrooms. Burnt to a cinder. I fold the cake batter just right - lightly, lovingly and slowly with my hand, and bake it at 200 degrees for 40 minutes - and out comes the softest, spongiest sponge cake in the world. Delectable as hell, but also bloody predictable.

The garlic pods, the carrots, the chicken - all at my mercy.

The flavors - as I desire.

The textures, the aroma, the look - as I arrange.

Everything as I manipulate.

Sometimes I deliberately let a batch of cookies burn a bit. Sometimes I overcook the pasta. Other times, I decide that the family must have a feast.

Every so often these days - I cook.

2009-02-20T10:16:00.005+03:00

It is friends, and not so much your adversaries, who will remind you every now and then that your happiness is your own responsibility, not anyone else's and least of all theirs.

:-(

2009-02-17T09:12:00.001+03:00

Words: I chase, they elude!

Impassioned ranting of a deeply upset mind

2008-11-27T15:15:00.002+03:00

For the last 18 hrs, i have watched on TV in horror the nightmare in Bombay - not half a mile from my home - unfold, and like a million others like me, i'm so angry, so desperate, and so helpless. I don't want to sit here and watch. I really want to do something, but what?

I have never been so affected by any news before. In a way, it's totally wrong that i should feel it now just because it's close to my home, and not some far off place that does not involve me in any way. It's no different from 9/11 in the US. The whole Russian school hostage drama was in fact so much horrific and sordid. Every single time any place - India or elsewhere - has been struck, i ought to have felt the way am feeling now, but i did not.

But that's not correct, you see. This attack is unlike any other preceeding it. Just as sordid yes, but essentially different. This attack is totally unacceptable, totally infuriating and totally hateful, because i don't see the motivation behind it. There are no demands being made, no agenda being thrown at the media to air to the millions who are glued to their TV sets. It is terrorism for terrorism sake. It is bad enough when they hold hostages and entire cities at ransom, making some ridiculous and unjustified demands like the release of their fellow terrorists or some such, but it's so much worse when they don't even do that; when they just go on a rampage for the sake of spreading terror, brandishing their AK-47s, blowing up heritage strutures, killing innocent people, burning our cities and our homes.

And when the news channels go on and on about the meticulously planning and the perfect execution of the dastardly attack, comparing it with the lack of nimbleness of our police and the army, it makes me so mad. A bunch of sick bastards with totally twisted bloody notions about right and wrong, make it their life's mission to be relentless vandals and militants. They with their network and contacts and no dearth of money and means to get their dirty hands on the deadliest weapons and armament - make it their full time vocation and occupation to fill up their own and other people's heads with the poison of their hatred. Their life's mission is to kill, kill, kill. Naturally, they plan it well. Naturally, they make no mistakes. Why would they? That is all they do for days and days - plan for perfection. Why the hell would they falter?

And all of this - the killings, the attacks, the innovativeness of the attacks, the sheer madness, it makes me wonder - how is it possible for anyone to be so inhumane, so frigging brain-washed so as to believe that all the world's in a conspiracy against them and their few million muslim brothers? How the hell can religious fanatism reach such crazy heights? Why can't they see the foolishness, the uselessness of it all? Why can't they find something better to do their their lives?

I don't believe in heaven and hell and judgement day. I believe in this life - one life, and karma, and redemption, and getting what you give - here, in this life. But what about these people - these ruthless, remorseless killers? Where's the justice? Who brings them to book? Even if some of them are cought and executed, it so does not feel enough. It is just not enough for them to die a simple death by hanging or being shot at or by being executed on the chair; not enough at all! Not enough, because they are not afraid of dying anyway. It would only feel like vindication if they could be made very very afraid, and ashamed... and sorry - truly, really sorry for their actions, and then killed. They don't deserve lengthy trials, or plush jails. Nor consideration or indecisiveness or mercy. What they deserve is public execution - maybe like in the Saudi - by stoning.

But sadly, with each passing day, i am beginning to realize that happy endings only exist in fairy tales and disney movies, that the simple life as we knew as children is probably a thing of the past, that this is probably how the world will be more and more. That like it or not, good things will not always happen to good people, and worse, bad things will seldom happen to bad people.

2008-11-06T23:18:00.005+03:00

Once again, it's in the dead of the night that i'm struck with the desire to, no... need to write something. Which makes me feel like the old me. That is - the younger me; the way i was some time ago. It wasn't really a long time ago, but it just feels like a lifetime, which is really strange.

Memories from long ago are crystal clear in my head, like that pungent (but inexplicably comforting) smell of spices in a south indian flour-mill many years ago in a town with an unpronouncable name, or that little pool of water - a gutter really, below the tiny bridge that the school bus went over everyday, and seeing a water-lily in that for the first time ever. Or even the weight and texture of the hands that never should have trespassed and touched the flesh that wasn't willing, ready or old enough to understand. It's all fresh in the mind like it happened yesterday. Only it didn't.

On the other hand, more recent years - at least a couple of them - are completely unclear and hazy - like bits of a dream that you try in vain to remember the next day, like a foggy winter morning in an unfamiliar new place. So much so that sometimes something flashes before my eyes, like a waking dream; something vaguely familiar, and i'm left astounded, for i don't know if it really happened, and if the person i saw was really me. And i know that if i delved on it, closed my eyes just long enough, it would all come back bit by bit. All of it. But i don't. I understand that it is my mind trying to self-heal, by blocking away memories that have no place in my life anymore. And i'm ok with that. I know by now that my mind is a more reliable friend and guide than my heart.

And besides, why would i want to go back to that dank, dark place? It's nice to have the noises in the head silenced finally, to have the cloud lifted. It's great to see the bright side of life, and to be simple and uncomplicated again.

So here i am, in the dead of the night, realizing that i will be good, and clear as water, with no exciting new secrets. There will be no more being an enigma - and the adrenaline and other heady stuff that goes with it, and i'm not complaining. That was my kick then, this is my nirvana now.

So now, maybe i should get back to the much neglected, half-done presentation. Only, that is something that the older (the younger) me would do. So instead, i'm going to call it a night and get my 7 hrs of sleep. Till the next time, then!

2008-10-01T20:44:00.004+03:00

It's your birthday, but you aren't here anymore. Well, are you watching us from heaven? What do you see? Are you shocked? Afraid? Dismayed? Saddened? Do you feel angry? Angry that your life seems to have been a waste? That we so efficiently undid all that you spent your life building?

What can i say? I'm sorry for all of us. We have never needed you as much as we do now, but if you were here, we'd have killed you faster than we did the last time you were around. Only this time, you'd die not of a bullet, but of heartbreak. Like i said, I'm sorry.

Happy Birthday.

Ps - Photo taken in Vizag: A street artiste posing as human statue. Whadya know... we have em in India too!

You may say i'm a dreamer, but am not the only one...

2008-09-13T20:59:00.005+03:00

It is all so depressingly, so sickeningly familiar now. You're in the middle of something - a random, mundane activity, perhaps looking forward to the evening cuppa cha, and then a breathless phone call, text message or a friend in person arrives to tell you ahead of anyone else that there have been multiple blasts in city X, Y or Z.
Your eyes widen in shock and concern, and you gravitate towards the nearest television set, also frenziedly scanning your memory for names of friends and other loved ones living in that city. One after another you text or call them all, and more often than not, get through none. On TV, newschannels scream 'Breaking news', and correspondents at the site of the tragedy air in high-pitched and well-intended but a little useless and definitely insensitive reports from the location. Wailing relatives, bloodied sidewalks, shredded body parts, overfilled ambulances and stretchers, harrowed police and gallant samaritans - the images repeat over and over until you're so sick of it you change the channel. Only to find the next one relaying the same content.

You feel terrible - saddened and angry and helpless, thinking about how unacceptable it is that we should be so vulnerable to being attacked by a few crazed fanatics who probably have a twisted notion of fairness and justice and the way to get it. If you’re like me, and you hear that some Muslim group had something to do with it, it makes you go raging mad all over again, and despite your secular upbringing, despite your education, despite songs of bhaichara, despite the commonsense, despite reproachful reactions from more politically correct friends, you feel murderously venomous about all of "them". You want to kill, to slap them hard, poke needles in their nails and eyes and teach them a bloody lesson. But of course none of that is possible, because you know that even if it were true that all terrorists are muslims, it wouldn't be true that all muslims are terrorists. Also, you’re just an ordinary person – an aam aadmi. And ordinary people do not – cannot – indulge their fantasies of exterminating all the world’s terrorists.
And besides, there are things to do and places to go. Office reports to prepare, birthday gifts to buy, and relationships of all kinds – some to nurture, some to snap. There isn't time to brood about the serial blasts in a city at least ten thousand miles away or to do something drastic a la Naseeruddin Shah in ‘A Wednesday’.
And so you go back to working on the presentation due the next day or buying the veggies or reading the book or making dinner or going to the gym or whatever it is that you do. And like one news channel commented, slowly you become numb, you start ‘adjusting’ and getting comfortable with the sinister new neighbour - Fear. Slowly, you feel as much (or as little) as you feel when you hear about a road accident. Very sad... terrible...tsk tsk... the poor family... so young...etc etc. And then it’s back to the newspaper or the computer screen.
So i do the opposite of what i really want to do. I pray. That someday we will have common sense prevail. That we will live without fear. That the killing in the name of religion will stop. That there will be a day when i'm no longer convinced that there isn't one place in my own country where i'd feel safe and content enough to have and bring up my kids.

That's what i can do, I pray.

la grande seduction

2008-08-29T12:47:00.005+03:00

The big showdown

He (shell-shocked): "What?? You what?! How could you do this to me?"
She (panic-stricken, afraid): "I'm sorry honey...am so so sorry, please forgive me... i love you!"
He (furiously, yelling): "Don't honey me... you betrayed me... you let me down! Why did you even bother to tell me?"
She (whimpering): "Please understand honey – It was Sandy, he gave me something to drink and i don’t know what happened then. I was high, i couldn't help it... it was a mistake. Look, at least am honest and am telling you... i could keep quiet about and you’d never know"
He (very hurt): "Oh yeah? So what am i supposed to do? Give you an award for your honesty? I could never trust you again. Go away! I don't wanna see your face..GO!!"
She (desperately, in tears): "Honey, i'm saying sorry, i truly am. None of this would've happened if you'd come to the pub with me... i swear. It's because of the alcohol. It wasn’t my fault... i wasn’t strong enough. I love you...I'll do anything to make it up to you..."
He (steely determination): "There is nothing you can do to make it better. It's ruined. It'll never be the same again. My will, my spirit.. it’s broken. I can't do this anymore. I'm going out" (rushes out the door)
She (runs behind him): "NO! No honey, please... you don't go, please. I made a mistake... you don't do the same. Don't get even with me like this. Please."
He (looks back over his shoulder): "No darling. I have to do this. All this time, you were my strength, my reason for being good. Now you went to that pub and had a smoke, so good for you. I'm gonna have one too. I've been dying for one for the last one week! You can’t stop me. Let me gooooo!!!!" (And runs down the stairs three at a time, with a crazed look on face and hands twitching)

And so he went back to smoking after 10 days of refraining. Maybe when he quits the next time – the eighth time - he’ll succeed in staying off it for good.

2008-08-21T11:16:00.003+03:00

"There are two types of people: those that talk the talk and those that walk the walk. People who walk the walk sometimes talk the talk but most times they don't talk at all, 'cause they walkin'. Now, people who talk the talk, when it comes time for them to walk the walk, you know what they do? They talk people like me into walkin' for them"

Every now and then, things and people remind of these lines from Hustle and Flow, which, it seems to me, have got imprinted on my mind pretty good.

Moody blues

2008-08-12T09:59:00.007+03:00

Everyday things delight me - different things, in different ways. And yet i notice happily, i don't get smarter, am never quite prepared for them.

Happiness has a different shade everyday.

Everyday things annoy me - the same things, in the same ways. And yet i notice sadly, i don't get smarter, am never quite prepared for them.

Darkness has the same shade everyday.

I'm not dead

2008-04-02T21:47:00.001+03:00

I'm alive. And kicking. And laughing. And doing all that i ever wanted to, but didn't. I'm having fun. I'm living my life the way i wanted to.

And i will get back to blogging. That's the only thing i'm not doing.

I'm happy

:-)

2007-12-01T13:41:00.000+03:00

All those articles and gyanful write-ups, award-winning papers from leading professors in leading universities of the world, all those precious gems that i gathered through the years, with the intent to read and digest them and become a better professional, heck, the best one ever... see i never got the time to read them. I was so busy being the efficient professional.

So now when i have all the time in the world, i'm going through them peacefully and i'm saying... DAMN!!!

Too crowded...

2007-10-07T08:36:00.000+03:00

Sometimes I feel bad for mom, for the way I make her feel. Like today. It’s a sunny, sleepy Sunday the kind when no one has any work, no plans for the day and no desire to do anything constructive either. And she is (as she often is) in a chatty mood and wants me to hang around with her, hang around in the kitchen, sit on the counter and talk to her about this, that and the other. And I am (as I often am), not the mood.

It is a fact that as I have lamented often, in spite of having a very large house and a fairly non-intrusive set of parents I feel very claustrophobic at times. I mean, its fantastic to have parents and siblings and a dog – it gives such a feeling of being cared for, of being part of a close-knit family (never mind the generation gap and the temper tantrums and disagreements) and keeps you grounded and sane…but like anything else an excess of this togetherness gets to you. Or it gets to me at least.

Today is one of those days when all I wanna do is blare music (which I am doing), not see or talk to anyone which I don’t have the luxury of - what with everyone plus the maid being at home and it being as much a family-Sunday as a family-Sunday can be. I wanna be by myself and clean the room – rearrange the books and CDs, clean out my cupboard and throw away the several clothes that I’m not going to wear anymore. And I don’t want breakfast and mom cannot understand that. I also don’t want lunch – as in not the kind of lunch that mom makes. I wanna just have corn flakes or something and I don’t want her to make a fuss about it. Firstly I’m not skipping a meal and secondly even if I did its not like I will faint or something. I have never – not once in my life fainted. And I have missed many a meal.

So earlier this morning mom couldn’t understand why I didn’t wanna touch the macaroni she’s made. Coz she makes it well and we always keep pestering her to make it in the morning so we can keep eating it all day. So she got all offended.

So I forced myself to eat some – though she knows I did so very half heartedly.

Then she came to my room, tried to make some conversation about the wedding (it’s as if time and the whole world has shrunk into the three days of the impending wedding - there is nothing else we seem to have to talk about), then changing the topic (thank God for that) asking me if there were any clothes that needed mending/ hemming/ ironing/ anything (see I am annoyed with her but not denying that she's a total sweetheart), all the while looking around for the remote to reduce the volume and make GnR belt out Estranged a little less noisily. And I – like a spoilt, ill-tempered kid refused to talk except in monosyllables, refused to reduce the volume in spite of seeing her discomfort and in spite of knowing where the remote was (tucked in my PJs, covered by my tee-shirt) and kept opening and shutting cd covers and pretending to be sorting them like my life depended on the chore.

The point is – I don’t appreciate having to feel bad. All I want is to be by myself and that’s not too much or too bad a thing methinks. Everyone needs it from time to time. Some need it more than others. In my case there is no polite way of asking everyone at home to go away somewhere for sometime. They’re anyway in their own rooms and no one's really getting in my way, but I want more than that, and that I cannot expect them to understand.

The dawg understands more I think. Like on most Sundays when we’re all at home she’s very happy and energetic. But I think she’s sensed that her slobbering all over me is annoying me today… so she’s curled up under my table and close to my feet and is pretending to or trying to sleep. From time to time she lifts her head and looks at my face for a long moment and then goes back to sleeping. My baby.

Now mom’s got me tea and wants to know if I want biscuits – because I hardly ate breakfast so I must be hungry. Aaaaaarrrrggghhh. See I DON’T want the fuss and the attention and the constant worrying. ARGHH again.

Guess I’ll go for a drive and see if that works.

Of finales and all that...

2007-10-05T21:01:00.000+03:00

In exactly 2 weeks I stop being a working woman, and in exactly 2 months an unmarried woman.

Big stuff isn’t it? Maybe not for you reading this – maybe because you’re too young to understand or too old to remember what it feels like to be winding up one monumentous chapter of your life and speeding towards another. Or maybe because you’re not a woman and can’t relate with it, or maybe because you aren’t working or you’re married or both or you just don’t have the imagination to…imagine it.

But for me this is it. It’s as big as it gets. Nothing's ever gonna be the same again, and that's not necessarily a bad thing but it's just so difficult to get used to. It's more change than i have ever had to handle.

A good time to take stock of how i'm feeling.

I feel like crying

Like not talking

Like drowning in work

Like holding time still

Like clinging on to the old and turning away from the new

Like being in the here and now – however messy it be

Like dying – at least in part

Like handcuffs

Like tentacles

Like sunset in a desert

I'm just so scared

C'est la vie

2007-09-13T21:29:00.000+03:00

He finds her too pragmatic, she thinks he’s a dreamer

He seeks solitude, she craves social ties

He shuns alcohol, she cherishes her drink

He is the master of words and the king of tact. She could adopt tactless for a middle name

He exudes calm. She’s forever hyper

He commands his temper. She’s a slave to her anger

He loves sun, she loves shade

He prefers indoors, she thrives on the outdoors

He stares you down when angry, she bites off your head

He wants to be tied down, she wishes to soar in the wide open skies

He writes for himself, she writes to share with the world

He meditates his troubles away, she broods till her head hurts

He desires her secretly, she fawns over him openly

Two lives, one love

In their different ways they pay for their choices

In their different styles they fight their different demons

Twilight

2007-09-10T21:38:00.000+03:00

She was really tired. She couldn't believe the month was over and that they had left and that everything had gone off well. They had liked the food for the most part, and the weather too. The stay was comfortable, with fresh towels in the bathrooms every second day, enough health food stocked in the fridge for an army of beauty contestants, fresh flowers in the vases, neatly-made beds, clean windows, the ACs and geysers in tiptop working condition everyday...the works. Everything done the way they approved of. Living in America all these years after all, they were obviously used to all of this. And that too her only son and his American born Indian wife... her bahu. She had to this this much and more...

She shuddered involuntarily at the memory of her last visit to America the last year. How long those 3 months had been. Had it not been for the baby arriving and taking up all her time, she would've gone mad. Nice girl her bahu, but you know how these Americans are... very particular about having things done their way. And those born and brought up there are after all, as American as any of them, aren't they? So she understood her bahu being different, but which is not to say that she understood well enough for things to be hunky-dory between them.

But then what in her life had ever been hunky-dory? Yes there were those very distant memories of her life growing up without a care, and the long summers spent idling and day-dreaming about life ahead. But for every year of blissful childhood, there had been all those others that more than made up...

She snapped herself out of her dreary thoughts and sat down to enjoy her cup of adrak chai.

As she sank into her favorite chair in the living room, her reflection in the brass-framed mirror on the wall caught her attention. Leaning on one arm of the chair, she came closer to the mirror and looked at her face closely, examining the lines. She was a grandmom yes, but not too old... at 52 there were Hollywood actresses auditioning for and getting the roles of femme fatales, and here she was - full of lines already. She smiled ruefully at her imagination, absent-mindedly running her graceful but not so youthful finger on the crow's feet next to her left eye.

She was glad. Relieved, really. This worked just fine for her... laugh-lines, crows' feet... these were perfect, they were just what she needed. She sighed and leaned away from the mirror and sank back into the soft depths of her rocking-chair, drifting into a labyrinth of memories and broken images of unfulfilled dreams.

She was old after all and really weary of the mask. Now the lines had come, and she could perhaps drop the mask. Perhaps.

They made her look like she'd been happy a long time. Like she'd really laughed a lot in her youth, and indeed she had. The lines had formed despite the lack of genuineness of the laughter.

She was a sad old woman, who felt older than her years. But she looked like she'd always been happy; perhaps at having aged gracefully, and at having a good home and family. Or maybe at something else, some private joke that she'd played on life.

And to her, that was enough. That was what mattered after all, didn't it? What it looked like on the outside...rather than what really was. In time you could convince anyone, even your own self.

Harmony

2007-09-08T20:48:00.000+03:00

Like a figure skater and her perfect partner. In sync. Coordinated, graceful, beautiful. Like poetry in motion.

Like tennis doubles players. Powerful, intense, trusting, no words, only eyes. One goal, one strategy. Shared glory. No envy.

Like a couple of crooks. Complimenting each others' skills, watching out for one-another. In it together. All the way

Admirable. Enviable. Transient. Elusive

You know you need a life when...

2007-08-11T19:03:00.000+03:00

...you're sick on a saturday and you're sore as hell for it. Not because it's coming in the way of all the fun that you were supposed to have, but because it's coming in the way of all the work that you were supposed to do.

Tag 1

2007-08-10T15:34:00.000+03:00

SS tagged me some days ago, and my first thought was 'hey this one is easy'. I soon realized however that it was anything but.

Not making it any simpler was the fact that her own post on this topic - seemed so sensible, balanced and... a tough act to follow. :(

So i dallied for as long as could, knowing perfectly well that ultimately i had to put down my own list sooner or later. Now that it's been a while, and her own post is nicely buried under her more recent ones, here i reveal mine.

I judge harshly...

Men who wear their MCP-ness proudly on their sleeve
Women who bitch about their husbands on the slightest provocation
People who give alms to beggars, but haggle with an honest vendor for a 10-rupee item
Women (anyone, but somehow it is almost always women...) who pretent to not know/ understand Hindi (or anything other than English), after having lived in India all their lives
Men who don't buy presents for their wives/ girlfriends or don't take them out
Women who let their bum-crack show, deliberately
Parents who don't change with the times, don't treat their kids as adults (when they are pretty adult), and force their own views/ disciplines on them
Pest guests
People with such poor fitness levels that getting wet in the rain gets them down with a cold, walking 4 miles makes their legs hurt for 3 days and who can't imagine eating ice-gola from a vendor at Juhu beach without following it up with half a bottle of Gelusil. Unless they have a medical problem of some kind that makes them weak
Women who keep going back to cheating or abusive partners
People who discourage you from your dreams, try to instill fear of the unknown, remind you of the dangers, and ridicule your enthusiasm, hate your guts
Myself. More than anyone or anything else in the world

Gosh this was hard. I know i judge people all the time and put them in envelopes, but i guess i've never really given a serious thought to what ticks me off.

Anyway, this list of course assumes that there are some people that are universally abhored ,and judges harshly by everyone else.

Like liars, people who spread false rumors about people, hypocrites, unreliable or unhelpful/ selfish people, ass-lickers, manipulting/ political corporate types, spineless people and so on.

And somehow writing all this down and then reading it, makes me feel so juvenile. Child-woman and all that is cool, but sounding so immature is so not!

But hey, don't judge me on this... :)

Undoubtedly unflattering

2007-08-01T20:42:00.000+03:00

Intentionally diplomatic, unintentionally undiplomatic
(some wiseguy's desription for Moody)

Justice?

2007-07-27T11:00:00.000+03:00

Heart-warming, glow-causing, lightness-inducing happiness seldom happens without a substantial reason.
The deepest gloom, dark and thick decends on your heart without a cause, warning or apology in the middle of a working day, just like that

Worrying...

2007-07-17T22:34:00.000+03:00

All the weight i'd painstakingly lost, is coming back... and it is worrying the hell out of me!!! Should've never stopped the diet...should've never stopped playing squash...should've never started having dinner. Of course, should have never gone to work also... coz that is the primary culprit.

Whatever you may say S, it IS the work, and the workplace that takes over your life; makes you forget about yourself, forget you're a woman, forget what it's like to have time for yourself, for friends, books, music, prayers; makes you forget what it's like to spend a sunday sitting around with a green face pack on and cucumber slices on the eyes' makes you forget birthdays, bill due-dates, promises; makes you grow jaded, tired, frumpy, crabbity and more... in more ways than one. Oh, and fat.

No matter what you say, it IS the workplace.

Why stick then, you ask? I wish i knew... laziness i guess :-/. And maybe for the love of a few good men like you.

But that's not the point. The point is... i'm getting married in 5 months and i need a beach-body before that. What am i gonna do??? Can someone please tell me how long it takes to get there (to the beach body, i mean). Considering i'm average built with a slightly well endowed posterior. Like so many other Indian women :(

What am i gonna do!!!???

Frustrating

2007-07-17T18:14:00.001+03:00

Moments seem so much sweeter when they have turned into memories.
The sweetness of memories is such a bitter pill to swallow.

Sad

2007-07-17T11:20:00.000+03:00

That love went didn't hurt my days
But that it went in little ways...

The saddest words I ever read

Sigh!

2007-07-01T19:12:00.000+03:00

Tried so hard, wasted so many hours trying to get a cool new look for the blog. Loved a skin, screwed up someplace and lost all posts, everything. Good thing, was sensible enough to save the original template. After hours of trial and error (and more error), gave up.

Beautiful Darkness remains unchanged for now. But only till Moody figures the way to get that damn skin.

Test 2

2007-07-01T17:49:00.001+03:00

Now the background is here but all else is gone... where oh where can all my posts be???

Test post

2007-07-01T17:42:00.001+03:00

Tried some non-sense with the template. Now everything is gone, and i'm wondering what to do! Bloody hell!

Panic...

2007-06-30T18:24:00.000+03:00

Of course i want to go away, but only long enough to heal. Only to come back. I don't wanna go away forever. Everytime people go away things change. People change. They change. I don't want change. Don't want everything new, don't want to give up the old, don't want to open my eyes, don't want to go to sleep.

2007-06-21T21:35:00.000+03:00

Life is so strange.
When we’re in good shape, we attribute it so much to the food we eat, and when we’re grossly overweight, the food or the diet is hardly ever blamed.
We snap at family members, scold our loving kids, and refuse to talk for days with people we call our better halves, and we sugar coat our words with customers, and are Mr./ Ms. Manners with bosses, subordinates, janitors, waiters, cab-drivers or their wives.
We see little of people we cherish the most, and spend endless hours with those we care naught for.
We preach and don’t practice our own lessons.
We hurt the people we know we ought not to
We remember insignificant birthdays and forget the most important ones
Worse, we don’t apologize
We live like fools, and we act like angels

Two worlds

2007-06-08T05:49:00.000+03:00

Slept late, woke up late. Gonna reach office late. Bitch of a presentation waiting to be finished... and another 10000 things that need 'to be looked into', "asap". Attn: Imp. Urgent. Reminder.

Screw you all. Rotten mood, urge to snap at someone. Maybe even slap someone. That's important too since its on the 30-things-before-30 list. Maybe i'll do it today.

But then i've killed the urge so many times before so maybe i will again. Ain't i so sweet!

There's a carnival on. There're jokers trying to make me laugh, sweet-sellers trying to tempt me with goodies that spell disaster, street-magicians doing unbelievable tricks, painted dancers casting an enchanting spell, and a lot of noise of songs i like, drum beats, trumpets and laughter. This is a happy place - bright, cheerful and warm. It makes me smile in the middle of many things serious and boring. What keeps me sane. My li'll trick on the world.

I don't like her. Downright despise her. Don't trust her a bit, think she's a scumbag and capable of the stooping to the lowest degree. One of the few people in the world that makes my flesh crawl. I don't wanna see her face, don't wanna hear her voice. The walls and the headphones are my cocoonshells... helping me block her out. Angry, hateful, vengeful, rebellious. Mirthful. Irresponsible. Prankster. She brings out the worst in me.

Promises, secret messages, songs e-mailed, CDs sent. Compliments, mock insults, questions, answers. Teasing texts. Crossword clues. Trivia. An exit route, a new direction, a new life, a key to the shackles. Anticipation. Eagerness. Happiness.

My two world co-exist every minute. Not harmoniously, not peacefully. They're at loggerheads, each powerful and strong. As they wage their war in my head, i alternate between the highs and lows that could put the best rollercoaster ride to shame. Can't stand it for long, it's gotta stop. These are perhaps the best days of my life.

2007-05-03T22:08:00.000+03:00

At first you were not even around and my days were unselfconscious and free of your curious, sometimes flattering, sometimes offending (but always piercing) gaze. And then you came in, demanding a share of the air that I claimed as mine, leaving me breathless and flushed. But at least you kept a distance. I stayed still and you took your place so you could see but not touch, sense but not smother.

Time passed and the distance reduced. The proximity was scary, thrilling and so comforting. I didn’t have to see you; indeed I could not. But I knew you were there, like an invisible warm blanket. Was it just chance, a sign from the skies, a careful plan of yours? Who could say? Not me in any case. Though I did notice that this time it was you that had stayed still and I that had got drawn.

Like some pretty singer sang sadly once… should’ve seen just what was there, and not some holy light. It got cold, and I guess the stars sensed it too. Fate intervened once again, and up sprang the walls. The closeness was gone, the proximity became a thing of the past. I could call if I wanted, but my voice wouldn’t carry. You anyway would never need to call; your need for me was finished.

You've averted your gaze, but yet I know sometimes (even often perhaps) you sneak up to the boundaries of my world and peep in. Perhaps you want to see how I’m coping, if I’m still missing you and feeling miserable. Am I wallowing in sadness, wishing us back in your window at night, looking at the paper star making a dancing spray of little lights on your pale wall? Am I still weak for you? I don’t know what you find… I barely even know you’re there. As far as I’m concerned, you never came in at all.

I've averted my gaze, but you know sometimes (often in fact) I sneak up to the boundaries of your world and peep in. Perhaps I want to see how I’m coping, if I’m still missing you and feeling miserable. Am I wallowing in sadness, wishing us back in your window at night, looking at the paper star making a dancing spray of little lights on your pale wall? Am I strong enough for you yet? You probably know what I find… You always know when I’m there. As far as you’re concerned, I never went away at all.

2007-05-01T10:35:00.000+03:00

It
Consumes me
Cages me
Frees me
Breaks me
Defines me
Calms me
Stresses me
Punishes me
Rewards me
Shrinks me
Expands me
Tires me
Uplifts me
Confuses me
Leads me
Delights me
Saddens me
Hurts me
Soothes me
Excites me
Bores me
Abandons me...
...and comes back

Keeps me grounded
Takes me high
Makes me soar
Clips my wings
Gives me strength
Makes me weak
Makes me laugh
Makes me cry
Makes me proud
Lets me down
Expands my world
Imprisons my life
Makes me brighter
My moods darker
My days longer
And nights shorter
Brings me respect
Lowers my patience

I love it
I hate it
I need it
I challenge it
I surrender to it
I crave it
I dread it
I forgive it
I begrudge it
I ignore it
I nurture it
I'm addicted
I'm hopeless
It comes back,
And I take it back

1. Work
2. Love

(Work is love made visible : Kahlil Gibran)

Fuck u, world.

2007-04-24T20:50:00.001+03:00

Pressure brings out the best in you.

You get your way only when you aggressively go after it. Not when you pray to the angels.

Breaking everything in your ex-boyfriend's house when he dumps you, gives you the highest high. Makes you happy, gives you reason to love yourself more, move on and get a life. It makes you realise how you deserve so much better.

Your best decisions are those that you take not in moments of blissful inactivity and rest, but those taken impulsively, foolishly, in anger, in rebellion, in protest, in seeking vengence.

You let go only after you've been burnt.

Your best writing happens when you're under the cloud. The best pictures when you're most lonely.

You get smarter after you get really pissed or taken for a ride.

Optimism comes back to bite you in the ass, and make a joker of you to the worst audience -yourself.

You love being angry, admit it.

You hate the people you love, becuase you love them like you do. You love the people you hate because you need them.

Positivity is overrated.

Faith heals?

2007-04-08T22:06:00.000+03:00

Are there signs I´m not reading? What am i trying to hold on to? Should i let go?

PS - The above pic has been taken at the Vatican museum. By me. I like the pics i take. See more at my Flickr site at the link given on the right.

Going away...

2007-03-23T17:57:00.000+03:00

I ought to be happy and i am. But everything around me seems so grey. The last one flew so fast it's just a blur in my memory... though i know so much has happened since last Friday.

Everytime people go away, things change.

This time around, I'm going away and I know it in my bones that I'm going to return to a different reality. Change is good (i suppose), except when it's unknown, unpredictable and ugly.

I'm a lover of beauty, symmetry and patterns.

Like i said, I ought to be happy and i am. If only the winds of change would blow away the cloud and bring in the sunshine

2007-03-15T19:55:00.001+03:00

The candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light!

This pretty much sums up the scene at work. 60 hrs weeks - for 3 months in a row, don't make me feel like a star, they make me feel like a loser.

Redemption shall be mine soon, though

Like I say always - den richtigen augenblick abwarten

C R A V I N G

2007-01-29T21:18:00.000+03:00

Realizing that I will have to struggle with my weight all my life... depresses me

:-(

Mi amor sin fin

2006-12-19T22:20:00.000+03:00

Your love had me prisoner for so long. It chained my soul to what i thought was yours. It brought me to my knees and made me swallow my pride. It lifted me in its arms and made me soar. And then it clipped my wings mid-air and let me come crashing down. It stood on the side with its arms folded across its chest and impassively watched me writhe in pain lying bloodied on the dusty ground. And if that wasn't enough it came over and trampled all over me till I thought i would die.

And just when I thought i could not go on longer, just when i thought i would die, you released me. Shattered the desire that was my prison-guard. One that had held fast at my legs everytime i tried to run away from you. All that it took, was rage. Your rage. That is what set me free. It cut the ties. Stabbed my heart in the right places so all hope leaked right out of it. It could not, will not - ever succeed in removing your deep fingerprints from the poor battered heart, but at least it took away the little dream that i nursed like a dead baby that has no hope of ever opening its eyes and seeing the happy sunday morning sun and the butterflies.

I'm happy you made me so sad.

Thank you for your rage, and every unkind word you had to say. I deserved no lesser

Goodbye

My heart aches...

2006-12-08T22:04:00.000+03:00

And no one quite seems to know how much...
Becuase i deceive
Becuase i don't tell
Becuase i don't want to
Because i cannot
Becuase i think i'm strong
Becuase i'm mightier than the plan
Because i am vain. And proud
Becuase i want to be happy
Because maybe i am happy
Because i believe this too will pass
Because i am still hoping
Because i don't want to lose faith
Because i am a fool

Procrastination

2006-11-04T13:10:00.001+03:00

My one and only journal entry, dated Sept 26, 2006 :

I want to write. About this trip to Malaysia and my experiences here...and about life in general. About things that make me happy. About my understanding of people. About my fears. What makes me tick. What gets my goat...

But it seems like such a difficult thing to do. I'm no good with words and definitely not a skilled storyteller/ narrator. The effort it takes me to write anything just takes away the fun of doing it. And having fun at what you do is the idea isn't it?

So maybe I'll take a leaf out of S's book and take a shot at writing abstract instead... lets see if that works.

Starting later.

:-)

Honest introspection

2006-10-26T16:58:00.000+03:00

...is the toughest test ever

The eternal gypsy

2006-10-14T22:02:00.000+03:00

She's the small girl with the big appetite for the sights and sounds of nature. As much in love with the little snail on a thorn as with the pink water lillies in the shallow pools along the roads of Puri. She remembers the fragrance of pine-cones in the cool hills as freshly after a decade as she did on the first day. And she doesn't think it has anything to do with good memory. It had to do with imprints on the hungry mind.

Hungry, greedy, she craves and cannot get enough...

The hills call out to her and so does the desert. The ocean is what she believe will someday claim her for it is her true love.

She cannot look away from the languid bend of the rivers she passes along her journey through the hinterlands. As the car drives her away, she looks back as if parting from a lover. Picture after picture of water under the bridges she passes over. Confused looks from those who say they know her. What does she see in them? She has no answers ready for none are at the surface.

She never wanted to visit Ayodhya but did. And loved it. And now, for some strange inexplicable reason, she's craving to visit Benaras. Also Lumbini.

She has the heart of a nomad and someday hope to say the same for her shoes.

She belongs everywhere and yet nowhere in particular

She envies the birds for their wings

Her name means sand

That which is never away from the sea, river or desert. That which you cannot hold on to. That which always slips away...

The real test

2006-10-05T21:03:00.000+03:00

Patience - From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
_____________________________________________

Patience is the ability to endure waiting, delay, or provocation without becoming annoyed or upset, or to persevere calmly when faced with difficulties.

Impatience is an opposite of patience.

Patience is described as a virtue in religion or spiritual practices. It is highlighted in the Bable and Qur'an in the story of Job. However, it is not one of the traditional Biblical three theological virtues nor one of the four cardinal virtues.

In Mahayana Buddhism, patience is one of the six (or ten) paramitas that a bodhisattva trains in and practices to realize perfect Bodhi (enlightenment).

Patience in Islam is one of the best and most valuable virtues of life. Through patience, a Muslim believes that an individual can get closer to God and thus attain true peace. It is also stressed in

Islam, that God is with those who are patient, more specifically during suffering.

Hinduism considers patience vital in gaining control of the five senses as part of achieving Moksha - the liberation from the cycle of life, death and re-birth.

What lies beneath

2006-09-15T18:06:00.002+03:00

It was a while ago that Lemontree tagged me... And the only reason i never responded was that i didn't know what that meant. Well now I do (and thanks for that, Lemon)

So here goes...

i am thinking about...
buying a few large photo-albums and filling them with the scores of loose photos I have... from different times and places, with different people.

i said…
to someone the other day that the surest way to fill your home with happiness was to adopt a puppy. I meant it.

i want to...
travel across the world with a close companion, a camera, some cash and comfy shoes.

i wish...
for the courage to follow my heart

i hear...
scary sounds at night if I spook myself out by watching a horror movie.

i wonder…
where ants march to all day long. Do they sleep? Do they feel? Fall in love? Worry about family?
Ants – fascinate me.

i regret...
not learning music.

i am...
deliberately goofy. It keeps my friends smiling, and me from taking me too seriously.

i dance...
when I’m happy. Only when I’m happy.

i sing...
all the time. Songs I learnt many many years ago. In different languages. In a medium pitch. When I’m thinking, bored, scared, sad or happy. Better than many.

i cry...
sometimes without reason. More easily than most people would believe.

i am not always...
tactful

i make with my hands...
a rangoli outside the front door, every year on Diwali. It takes me an hour, never comes out perfect, and clearly shows the amateur effort that goes into it.

i write...

because I know the memory dulls after a while and pictures get hazy

i confuse...
between the left and the right. Everytime except when I’m driving. I call it Direction Dyslexia and I know it’s a common problem.

i need…
an anchor

2006-09-13T22:31:00.000+03:00

"My coat and I live comfortably togther. It has assumed all my wrinkles, does not hurt me anywhere, has moulded itself on my deformities, and is complacent to all my movements, and I only feel its presence because it keeps me warm. Old coats and old friends are the same thing."-

Victor Hugo

Sensory overload

2006-09-06T18:55:00.000+03:00

I wish for deep, clear water to go under for a while. A long while. As long as it takes to relieve my senses of the assaults they face all day.

Countless Ganpati processions clanging and beating innumerable drums. The TV playing in the other room. Wind chimes. The steam from the pressure cooker. Dog barking at the processions. The phone ringing. Voices - boss, client, my own. The periodic thud of the ball that G's bouncing on the wall. The clicking of the keyboard as i type this. My head ready to explode. Thank God i'm miles away from Thelma at least. The next time i meet her, i'll surely find a way to talk about voice modulation.

The incense from Dad's room. G's sweaty socks somewhere...gotta find them and throw them into the bloody garbage can. Milk boiling. Did you know that boiling milk has an aroma? It does. The snooty neighbour cooking fish. The aroma distracting, making mouth water, mind go back many months to that cloudy afternoon at Lobos, making me acutely aware of how long its been...

The sweets that Rekha's been making since Ganpati started. It began with steamed modaks (i'm sick of them now but still...yummmm!!!) and ended this evening with my favvvvooooorite coconut-milk-and-jaggery payasam. This, after creamy cake in office. Papaya in the morning. More fruits in the evening. Chocolate - even though only a tiny bit in the cab on the way home.

The fan that i can't live with or without. Too hot, too cold. Either this extreme or that. The only thing i know in the world that gives it to you black or white. No in between shades of grey. The kaajal that's smudged. The cuticles that beg to be pushed back. The scratches on my arms thanks to Dog. The oily T zone.

And my eyes...reading. Always, always reading - books, newspaper, magazine, blogs, calorie chart on jam jar, washing instructiong on new delicate top, e-mails - bouquets, brickbats, jokes, sms's, faces. Helping me tease, accuse, plead, disapprove, ask, tell, smile. Helping me see, helping me hide.

And yet, when S asked me what i read, i'd no answer. I didn't know. What DO i read?

Wish it were possible to switch off. I know some people can. I know i cannot. I think i should just go to sleep. That's pretty much like being underwater, isn't it? And you can breathe.

Learning to fly

2006-08-16T21:30:00.000+03:00

What do you do when you feel cornered and angry? When you know you're fighting a losing battle and getting very, very tired? Do you just bear the pain and bide your time? What if your body gave up before that time?

What would you do if faced with the most difficult questions and choices that could (and would) change your life forever? Would you turn to friends, family, God, shrinks, spiritual gurus, self-help books, Internet, teachers, societies/ communities, or strangers (co-passengers in flight, at the dentist's etc). Or would you shut your eyes tight and try to listen to that inner voice? What if the inner voice were too weak and drowned out by the other loud noises in your head?

Or what if the inner voice simply didn't know too.

Can extreme emotions co-exist, directed at the same subject? Love and hatred, compassion and apathy, hope and despair? And doesn't the co-existence of extreme emotions exhaust you and make you feel old before your time?

What if you discovered new barriers everytime you broke some.

What if no matter how hard you looked for inspiration you couldn't find a role model

If you realized that at the end of the day, it really is every man for himself, even when the ship's not drowning. That you really are on your own, you really are all alone.

Little victories

2006-07-25T20:15:00.000+03:00

The euphoria of losing weight must be perhaps one of the most fantastic feeling a human being (esp if female) could experience. Like a constant high...a full-time orgasm! Few joys compare with the joy of looking at yourself in the mirror and saying 'woo hoo now look at meee'!!! :)

Ask me... I've lost probably like half an INCH... a teeny weeny bit waist down.. and so minor that perhaps no one except me (and my ever truthful clothes) can notice. But no sweat... it's enough for me to feel like the king of the universe!!!

I'm feeling great and to my mind, looking good too! :)

And my jeans fit without having to jump up and down for 3 minutes trying to zip up! The "ambition pair" that i stopped wearing a year-and-half ago, is still a dream.. but it's looking possible.

Ohhhhh I swear, the day i manage to zip it up and still breathe... drinks on me that evening :)

But the road is long and i know i must toil happily still...

So nighty night all... i must sleep early now so i could wake up early to go for a game or two. In any case, with no dinner in the tum, it makes sense to go off to sleep before the serious hunger pangs begin :)

Random "Happy" Thoughts :-)

2006-07-10T22:03:00.000+03:00

Sis left for college a week ago when i was in Delhi, and mom n dad 've gone out for 2 weeks. It's been a little over 2 days that i've been alone (except for bro and the dog and the maid) at home, and look what i've been upto

i. The one bottle of white wine we had, is empty
ii. The one bottle of red wine we had, is empty
iii. The 1988 JW Black Label we had, has been opened and some consumed

The result of course is that i'm a little high right this moment even as I wait for R to call me. Anyway the point is that all the empty/ opened bottles of alco do not prove that i'm a hopeless drunk. They only prove that a 26 yr old loves and needs her drink once in a while. And that imposing curfews and restrictions on her will only lead to trouble for the imposers .

Hmmm.. i don't think i handle solitude too well

:)

Banana love...

2006-06-27T19:00:00.000+03:00

I ate a banana today.
Missed Tasha very much.
Am not surprised she likes it too.
Its a great fruit.
Too bad its fattening.
Like all things in the world I love...

Bye bye D...

2006-06-16T22:11:00.001+03:00

Hello D,

This may get a tad too mushy for you, but I think you know that we're not particularly thrilled that you've left Bombay for Delhi.

Bombay is sure to be a little more boring without you here. And Bandra a little emptier. And office lunch breaks a lot more quieter. Overall - less fun.

Will miss your silly banter with R or with Boss, the vague theories about the strangest things in the world, the famous "eye", and of course the overflowing, awe-inspiring affection for Poo.

Hope you start liking Delhi soon (i'm very sure you will in no time). If for nothing else, for all the candy you could get there :)

Well, wishing you the best for the new inning in the new city and new work place. Stay away from trouble (if possible)...

Keep the funnies pouring in through mail...

R and I will see you in Delhi soon (more a prayer than a hope if you know what i mean)

Till then,

Ciao :)

Premonition...

2006-06-04T20:53:00.000+03:00

Here are a few pics of the sight a week ago, when we were not really expecting the rains. The look of those clouds told us, before the Met Dept did, that the monsoon this year was arriving ahead of schedule :)

As R would say...Lecture baby strikes again!!

2006-05-29T18:19:00.000+03:00

My first boss back in Delhi was this really cool chick who I knew very briefly before she left the country to work in the Middle East. I remember little of her, except that she taught me a very valuable lesson.
The small guys are the big guys. More important than treating seniors with respect, is to treat juniors with respect.
And, always be in the good books of the sys admin, the security and the pantry guys.

Assinine lesson learnt

2006-05-25T21:49:00.000+03:00

My heroes are those who can keep their insanity intact in a world full of sane people

The typical sunday

2006-05-21T20:55:00.000+03:00

Time : A Sunday in May 2006 (it's peak summer and very humid)

Place : Home... an apt on a mid-level floor in a high-rise very close to the Arabian sea

People : Parents, bro, sis, cousin Pin, dog and me

8 am :
Everyone's up and about (me just about)... bro and the dog bounding up and down the house chasing each other - him yelling and screaming unintelligibly and the dog barking excitedly like a maniac; dad having a loud and animated phone conversation with some long-lost uncle who's called long distance (dad still has the 80s hangover when long distance calls were 'trunk calls' and necessitated high-decibel bellowing into the mouth-piece); mom loudly arguing with the maid about the quality of her floor-cleaning techniques; sis reading the newspaper and calling out to Pin to come and look at pictures of Ash at the Cannes over the years... Pin trying to get the Dog's attention by making baby sounds and holding out half a banana as bait (yup, the Dog loooooooooooves banana. Also papaya, melon, mango and tomatoes)
And I, groggy eyed, looking furtively in the kitchen trying to see if there's any tea left for me. Finding none, trying to get mom to quit arguing and make me some.

9.30 am :
Sis, Pin, I - reading the papers, occasionally finding some article of common interest and therefore huddling over it together in order to not be the last to know about it
Mom - Making dog's food, having already fed the other hungry pigs with some yum yum upma
Dad - The only one who's not had breakfast, meditating
Bro - At the comp, playing some shit PC game
Dog - running round and round around mom's feet in anticipation of the meal

2-3 pm :
Sis, Pin, I - Sitting in front of the TV with our plates of lunch on the center table, fighting for the remote with bro. We want to watch the Apprentice and he wants to watch some silly Harry Potter nonsense. We're getting very annoyed, and he's acting like a total jerk
Mom & dad - exhausted from trying to make peace between the warring parties, quietly eating their lunch
Dog - jumping up and down near the dining table making puppy dog (?) faces, begging dad for a little treat

4.30 pm :
The house is so quiet you could hear a pin drop... each room has the fans running, curtains drawn, and people prostrated in deep slumber

5 pm :
My fav time of the day. Making chai for all the sleepyheads, in the kitchen which is hyper-clean thanks to mom, quiet and peaceful with the only sound that of a koel cooing somewhere down, and super-bright with sunlight pouring in from the balcony door.

5.30 pm :
Everyone's up again and fresh
Me - on the phone with R :)
Sis - on the phone with some chick friend exchanging notes about this guy she has a crush on
Pin - on the phone with some friend, telling him/ her excitedly about the previous day's shopping spree
Mom - on the phone (dad's cell... so must be a long distance call. Probably some sister of hers)
Bro - on the phone (probably that chick he 'kinda' likes)

8 pm :
Pin, Sis, I - out shopping (window shopping actually)
Bro - walking the dog
Mom, Dad - out visiting someone

11.30 pm :
Pin's left since the evening
Sis and i - in the room, ignoring bro who's been a total jerk not allowing us to watch Desperate Housewives since he relented in the afternoon
Sis - preparing to go to sleep
I - thinking of what to write on my blog. In the back of the head a tiny voice urging some forethought to the monday that's fast approaching. Things to do, people to call, clothes to wear, and smart answers to the catty remarks that are sure to pour in for the disaster hair-cut!! Successfully ignoring the little voice, proceeding to blog a boring sunday diary...

Mom and Dad - in their room busy talking (probably about my disaster hair cut and how it would ruin my chances in the marriage market)

Dog - sleeping (some watchdog that!) in her favorite spot - outside the bathroom, below the wash basin

And slowly as the minutes tick away and Firehouse croons Love of a Lifetime in my ears, the day draws to an end and we move into Monday that promises to be hectic and trying.

And suddenly the Sunday that was so far in my mind the most boring, uneventful day ever ceases to be so, and becomes a super fun day that's unfortunately, over! :(

den richtigen augenblick abawarten

2006-05-15T21:20:00.000+03:00

Sis can be sweet when she wants to (like when she writes nice stuff about me on her blog, or when she buys me a cheap t-shirt from westside), but she can be a real bitch too. Like when she refuses to do what i ask her to, or to get me food and drink when i come home tired, or to iron my clothes.

But most of all, she's the supreme pain when she tells me to shut up when i'm singing along while listening to my music on headphones.

Now, I don't (ahem!!) sing badly at all, and neither do i blare music so loud that i don't know how loudly i'm singing. So there's every reason for her to enjoy the free entertainment I provide. But does she? Oh no, of course not. What she does is, tells me to shut up.

Not a thought for my feelings or the fact that considering I'm hardly ever home anyway she should just indulge me in my little pleasures.

Like a few minutes ago, i was listening to Wish you were here from Pink Floyd, and i'm sure u'd agree that it is just not possible to not hum that song along. And so here i was, singing along.

Alright, so there were all these guitar sounds that you could say i could have avoided.. and I would buy it. So she could ask me only to stop making those twing-twang-a-twang sounds and concentrate only on the lyrics, and I would've gladly done so. But I told you, she's to be a bitch.

She just callously told me shut up...

Then the unplugged version of Heaven (BA) started. Now, you could say my taste is so popish and i'm such a silly romantic to like such weepy songs, but the fact reamins that I just love bryan adams (i think many more people than will admit, do). This song inparticular sounds damn good unplugged, and i just couldn't help singing along (rather well too).

Guess who was lying on the bed behind me reading a book. Yup, the demon woman herself. And trust me, I could FEEEEEEEL her stare peircing into my back, daring me to sing one more line. Unable to contain myself out of fear for my life, i turned around to see her whether it was my imagination or if she was really reacting like that... and sure enough, there she was with a book in her hands and eyes looking up at me, giving me the death stare.

I mean, I don't get it u know. I'd be happy to hear someone sing me a sweet lullaby. Not like her... bloody wierdo.

Grrr... very cheesed off!! >:-(

Anyway, the point is, that JUST for this ONE reason, i'll be happy when she goes away to her college in July. I'll miss her for somethings, but this one thing i'll be happy to have her away :)

Hahaha...the comp (and the headphones) will be ALL mine. No one could stop me then...

I can, and i will wait (rubbing hands, eyes narrowing and gleaming in wicked delight)...

I will bide my time!

Escapism

2006-05-11T20:49:00.000+03:00

Bro's rendition of my state of being at different times, depending on work

What a jerk!!
Btw, right now i'm lookin like the picture on top. Presentation in the morning, and i'm only 50% finished. And instead of working, the escapist in me is making me write blog entries...

Seasons in the sun

2006-05-08T17:01:00.000+03:00

"I don't remember the last time I saw flowers on the road..."

Said D last evening while I drove through a quite and shaded road that leads to the seaside golf club near my home.

Laburnum trees lining either side of the road were in full bloom and a slow gentle drizzle of petals had collected into a carpet of yellow on the ground...

The afternoon was really, really hot and humid, and nothing stirred. Every living thing seemed to have retired into their cool nests to enjoy a blissful Sunday siesta.

There's never any traffic on that road anyway, and yesterday it was even more deserted than it is usually. R sat next to me with his seatbelt secured (he doesn't trust my driving a bit!!) as he looked out of the window and said nothing.

Perhaps it was the heat, perhaps it was D's comment that made us silentlly reflect on the truth if it... but whatever it was, it made the three of us unusually quiet.

I don't know what went on in their minds, but I felt saddened that such simple joys should be vanishing from our lives without us even realizing it.

If you read some of my earlier posts you'd know that R & D live in the queen of the suburbs, Bandra. It's the hippest junction in town where all the action and the hottest parties are...

And yet, it's not a pretty place...

Like most of this city, it's a place not many would find sight for sore eyes...

Bandra, just like the rest of Bombay, has no parks for the kids to play in, nor benches for moms and dads to sit on...

It's a place, where not even a handful have known the experience of watering a lawn or pruning rose bushes...

A place where the streets and beaches are safe but dirty...

A place with no place for lovers to go to for a few moments of privacy...

A place with a golden heart, but degenrating body

And so, much as I love Bombay, its vibrant energy, its never-say-die and devil may care attitude, its mish-mash street lingo and raste-ka-khana, its bars full (in fact, too full) of familiar faces, noisy convesations, loud laughter, good music and chilled beer, and it's eccentric foreigners at Colaba Causeway buying worthless dholkis for a small fortune, it pains me to realize everyday that this is not where I want to spend my life...

D's comment, just made me re-realize all of it in the flash of a moment...

This is not where i want to belong...

Yes sadly, but very surely... not here. This place where I spent so many years, where I grew up and went to college, where i went away from and returned to, where i fell in (and later out of) love...is not the place for me...

The afternoon was beautiful, and for some reason that bend in the road with D's comment in the background got imprinted on my mind, perhaps forever.

But the picture is a melancholy one, and will always remind me that sometimes all it takes to carve out a life you want, is to cut off the ties that bind you to your past...

And so I know i must leave this place...

...this place where flowers on the road are a rare sight...

Horcrux

2006-05-03T16:48:00.001+03:00

JD has a theory. He says he knows what's gonna happen in the next Harry Potter book.

He is confident that Harry is a horcrux. When Voldy was killing Harry's folks, his spell backfired and he ended up becoming a near-non-existent entity. But in the process something happened and part of his soul went into Harry.

Now, JD feels this is IT....becuase

- This explains the similarities between Harry and Voldy. Remember, the sorting hat saying Harry could be the ideal Slytherin, him understanding parsalmouth, the wand having the same Phoenix's feather, Harry's dreams abour Voldy's movements, his scar hurting each time Voldy's nearby... so on and so forth.

- This also adds that extra dash of punch to the next story. Harry (perhaps with his flunkies) will be looking for all horcruxes and will find all but one. Until he finds out that its none other than the scarboy himself. Can you imagine what a mother of all fuck-ups that'll be.

- It'll explain the prophecy that said that only one of the two can survive... either Harry or Voldy. If Voldy lives, he will extract his part soul from Harry and then kill him. If Harry lives, he will have to kill Voldy and the other horcruxes to ensure that Voldy doesn't keep going at his neck till the end of eternity, and the evil truly dies.

- However, in true Omen style, the true evil will never truly die. Becuase Harry being our hero-boy, will not die despite all odds. He'll come within inches of dying, will perhaps even be comatose for months, but will not die. And as long he lives, so will a teeny part of Voldy, in him.
That'll be the parting shot before the series winds up.

:)

I think u gotta give it to JD...he seems to have something there.
Whaddya think?

Of dragon-flies and scraped knees...

2006-04-24T21:00:00.000+03:00

It's a warm Sunday afternoon, and Sis and I are chilling out at home...
I'm reading a Perry Mason, and she's chatting online with some friends while humming (very out of tune) something she's listening to on her headphones.

Her phone rings... Sis can't hear it, but because the screen flickers she knows it's ringing. She picks it up...

Sis (chirpy) : Heyyyyy... wasssup?

.......... (caller says something)

Sis (mock anger) : Oh shut up!!

.......... (caller says something)

Sis (mock anger) : What rubbish

.......... (caller says something)

Sis (giggle) : Sho shweeet... (giggle giggle)

.......... (caller says something)

Sis : Ok, let's do that then. You call up the others, and let's meet at 8?

.......... (caller says something)

Sis : Cool, ciiaaaaaoooo (sing-song)!!!!

Hangs up.

Turns to me...still smiling thinking of some flirty bit of the conversation she's just had...

Sis (to me with an incredility-filled voice) : Di... when you were in college, how did you guys EVER make any plans with your friends? None of you guys had cell phones!!! Omigosh!

Me (looking up from the book) : Well... we managed. It wasn't that bad... coz it's like we knew what we were missing, u know...

Sis (not giving up) : Ya-ha... but, you could never do anything impromptu i'm sure.. like you'd have to wait for everyone once a plan was made... right?

Me : Actually... i think we did more spontaneous stuff than u guys.. But yes, once a plan was made, you couldn't suddenly just change it. Not until everyone'd met. It used to be fun too. At times, there used to be major chaos...

I think it kept us fitter...

PG and i used to hang out together... but in the final year when we took up different subjects, we'd to look for each other after our lectures were over. And in doing that I'd go looking for her.. the canteen foyer, the 1st quadrangle, the micro lab, the lending library, and ultimately find her in the reference library. In that time, i'd have climbed at least 6 floors of stairs, and ran around for at least an hour.
And this was an everyday thing...

When the gang went out, a flat tyre meant 3 people in the car getting very late, and 3 other people waiting for them somewhere else with no clue about what happened. If the 3 waiters got tired of waiting and went ahead (say for a movie), the stage was set for a massive scene. The 3 flat-tyre people would reach after the others had left, but would not know that. So then they would wait... and after a very long time, figure they've been left behind and must not wait anymore.
The reunion of the two parties was seldom a pretty sight. You might be able to imagine it. It's like...imagine if your phone dies out and you can't contact the rest of your group.
(Sis - wide eyed, hands on cheeks, gasps. Look of complete horror as she imagines the import of my last statement. I ignore and continue)

Messengers and message-keepers and passers-on therefore were very, very important people. Many a confusion was averted or compounded depending on the competence and reliability of the message-keeper.

Yes, life was tougher, but only in retrospect. Back then it was all cool. We thought we owned the world (we still do)... and were very proud of the infrastructure that was available to us.

I was about 7-8 yrs old when we got a phone connection at home. Oh you have no idea HOW exciting that was... to be able to dial dad's office and speak with him in the day...was like magic! :)

Sis : And now that we all have cell-phones we hardly call-up dad in the daytime...or speak with him much in the evening either...

Me : Ya..

Sis (checking time suddenly and getting up with a start) : Oh Gosh I'm late!! Ok, gotta go. Tada..!!

She leaves, and I try unsuccessfully to get back to the book I was reading. It doesn't work, coz she's left me thinking, and remembering my days of childhood, of growing up in the 80s.. with noisy and rugged games with many, many kids in the evenings, of having perpetually scraped knees, and riding cycles that were too big for my short legs, of galavanting in the sun the entire day during summer vacations, and catching dragon-flies for fun, of playing in the garden sand-pit with my real and imaginary friends, and still finding time to read books about Russian kids and Greek mythology... Of waiting to watch TV at night, and falling asleep dead tired everyday by 9.30pm after watching the half hour of whatever played on National TV.

Forget iPods, cell-phones or the Internet... It was the time before cable TV. And yet, it was a time of great fun and joy... something which only those in or before 1980 can relate with and understand :)

Two decades are a long time i suppose :)

Latest pics

2006-04-20T13:08:00.000+03:00

Some of the most awesome pics possible from a phone camera, cilcked of course by the expert amateur that's me :)

Dot : The starting point

2006-04-12T20:47:00.000+03:00

Guess wot i got
A li'll dog name Dot
She (so) cute and so tiny - just a month old
She'd gonna be huge soon though, i'm told

She's a sweet, sweeeet gentle Lab,
Who's changed everything; my life's no longer drab
She's my little bundle of joy
My child, my darling, my love, my toy

She's made being at home almost fun
Where I wanna stay, no longer wanna run
Mom and Dad now to me seem quite normal
More sorted and sane, not insanely formal

Thanks to her i watch no telly
Coz i take her for a walk (also good for my belly)
The PC no longer hot now, neither are books
Only Dot's hot.. we're so enamored by her looks

She's a dream - angel eyes and loving gaze,

Gosh I could go on...and on and on for days!

She's just perfect, no doubt about that

My lovable, huggable, kissable li'll brat

Come over sometime and meet li'll Dot

But remember, a present must surely be got

Values of materialiasm to her are being taught,

And come empty handed - you must not, not, not.

:)

Pretty random angst

2006-03-09T20:29:00.000+03:00

I cannot think of anything to write about. Which is strange coz my head is ready to explode with all that there is in it.
With all the things happening in my life i often think i could write a book. No one maybe interested in reading it now, but maybe later in life when i'm dead or something it might become one of those fancy autobiographical books that get translated into 27 languages and sell millions of copies.

I really am writing real non-sense, but then my sense of responsibility towards sis's and Delhi boy's requests won't allow me to not write in any more.
Both asked me several times to write more about the escapades of R & D.

R & D are crazy as ever but today i don't feel like talking about them right now.

It's 11 in the night and i think i must sleep. Gotta wake up early (7 am) tomorrow. It's a damn pain to wake up in the morning.

It rained a little today and the whole of this city made such a big freakin deal of it. They shoulda met my sis who was standing under a tree to shelter herself from the rain and didn't realize that the water drops that fell on her were blackened with dirt and dust on the leaves. Hahaha.. so much for trying to stay dry and clean.

The entire city is dug up from Colaba to Borivli and there's no telling how long it'll be before all the damn work (what work...is another debate altogher) finishes.

I'm hungry but mom n dad have pretty much put me off by going on and on about the whole marriage thing. I'm too pissed to want to eat. To get me married has become their ambition.

My office is another classic place. Too many fuckin women. Bloody hellhole. And for any guy who gets excited reading about the all womens' dept I only have pitiful contempt. Bloody fools.

Bloody work for hours and hours and hours and still don't earn enough to save enough money for that damn Europe vacation I've been salivating for all my life. Fuckin hell... no money.
Maybe someday when i'm old and dying i'll go to Prague and Amsterdam and Rome and then die there content. Or maybe even that won't happen.
What i need is a damn rich bloke who'll marry me and pop it while i'm still young and leave me a big fortune.

Ok i think my angst today is just taking off unbridled to such an extent that i could get in trouble and regret writing all this later.

So i call it quits for tonight.

But i swear I will shoot that bitch one day

A lesson learnt...

2006-01-31T22:28:00.000+03:00

I have learnt that...

...few people know about or appreciate the wisdom of Joseph Heller. And therefore when one posts an excerpt from his most celebrated book, with the intent of drawing parallels with it, one finds no takers and defnitely no comments.
On the other hand, when one writes about two loony but lovable young dudes trying to make it big for themselves in this big bad city of dreams, it appeals to all and sundry, and all kinds of feedback pours in.

Feedback when its good, feels good and one feels encouraged to continue. Since most of the feedback about R&D has been positive, I feel encouraged too to write more about them.

Therefore, I've decided to write more about them. But its 1.40 in the night right now and i really am very sleepy, so won't do that now.

Only one precious bit that i just have to mention.
You may find it wierd, but it's about their dental health. (Don't ask me why in the middle of the night must i write about this... it's just one of those things you have to do)..

So.. I was saying...
R has rotten and hollow molars, and is in serious and dire need of some major root canal treatment.
However he just refuses to visit a dentist for the following three reasons:
1. Doctors in Mumbai don't (apparently) administer local anesthesia, and since R is terrified of the sight of blood, he can't get himself to go ahead.
2. He truly cannot bear the pain - even if there is no blood
3. He feels he has no time. He maintains that he'll get it done in Goa (that's where he hails from)
sometime..but then when he's there he's too busy not doing anything to actually do something as tedious as visiting a dentist.

So basically he's in bad shape. And quite honestly i have little sympathy for him (just for his reason #1).

As for D...well I don't think he has such major dental issues, but I've noticed he's got an incorrigible sweet tooth and he's a total sucker for candy. In the morning, after lunch, at tea time, post dinner...that's all he can think about. It's a wonder he's not diabetic by now. Seriously, he's pretty nuts about candy for a grown up man of 25 yrs... :)
Though to be honest I have not seen him with any real candy lately... apparently he's being denied the sweet stuff. But anyone who knows him knows that its not gonna last too long. He just can't keep away from it :) Its not for nothing that we call him candyman :)

Anyway... more about their strange habits tomorrow.

Keep the feedback pouring in.

Sweet smiles always

Joseph Heller, you got it so right...

2006-01-30T17:37:00.000+03:00

From Catch 22 :

Yossarian came to him one mission later and pleaded again, without any real expectation of success, to be grounded. Doc Daneeka snickered once and was soon immersed in problems of his own, which included Chief White Halfoat, who had been challenging him all that morning to Indian wrestle, and Yossarian, who decided right then and there to go crazy.
‘You're wasting your time,’ Doc Daneeka was forced to tell him.
‘Can't you ground someone who's crazy?’
‘Oh, sure. I have to. There's a rule saying I have to ground anyone who's crazy.’
‘Then why don't you ground me? I'm crazy. Ask Clevinger.’
‘Clevinger? Where is Clevinger? You find Clevinger and I'll ask him.’
‘Then ask any of the others. They'll tell you how crazy I am.’
‘They're crazy.’
‘Then why don't you ground them?’
‘Why don't they ask me to ground them?’
‘Because they're crazy, that's why.’
‘Of course they're crazy,’ Doc Daneeka replied. ‘I just told you they're crazy, didn't I? And you can't let crazy people decide whether you're crazy or not, can you?’
Yossarian looked at him soberly and tried another approach. ‘Is Orr crazy?’ ‘He sure is,’ Doc Daneeka said.
‘Can you ground him?’
‘I sure can. But first he has to ask me to. That's part of the rule.’ ‘Then why doesn't he ask you to?’
‘Because he's crazy,’ Doc Daneeka said. ‘He has to be crazy to keep flying combat missions after all the close calls he's had. Sure, I can ground Orr. But first he has to ask me to.’
‘That's all he has to do to be grounded?’
‘That's all. Let him ask me.’
‘And then you can ground him?’ Yossarian asked.
‘No. Then I can't ground him.’
‘You mean there's a catch?’
‘Sure there's a catch,’ Doc Daneeka replied. ‘Catch-22. Anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy.’
There was only one catch and that was Catch-22 which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.
‘That's some catch, that Catch-22,’ he observed.
‘It's the best there is,’ Doc Daneeka agreed.

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

And that... is how I feel towards my job!!

The Rogue & the Devil

2006-01-21T21:23:00.001+03:00

R & D are two awesome men I know. Between them they're responsible for my daily dose of madness...

On the outside they're total opposites...but deeper down they have some soul connection that makes them incomplete without each other.

R is tall and lanky (likely to remain so all his life) while D is umm..a little short and sports a belly (likely to increase if I understand his genetic make-up right).
R has a headfull of long curly locks and D wears his straight hair short and military-like.
R is a rockstar at heart while D really wanted to be in Air Force..
R is the quiet kinds who you'd think would never hit on a girl (but he does)
D is the kind you just know is always trying to get lucky (but he doesn't. Try...that is). In reality he's the devoted monogamous type who even gets very worried and panicky with R's occasional PDA ways :)
R knows every rock number ever penned and sung and (claims) cannot stand hindi music, while D wants his Kajrare to get grooving...

But like i said...something just makes them click. They're like Joey and Chandler, except that neither is as funny as Chandler and nor has either had half as many women as has Joey.

They both live alone in Bandra (Bombay) and on most days after hours you could find them at a particular Barista in Bandra downing their Cappuccinos/ Americanos and being at peace with themselves.

R checks out the women (tactfully) while D connects with his intellectual self by pouring into some book and puffing at his cigarette simultaneously. That is, until R vigorously shakes him out of his concentration to point at some really hot chick.
Then they both get very excited and quickly transform into a couple of conniving boys with overactive entrepreneurial juices.

Within seconds they have a plan... They're the most dreaded mafia men in the world... with fat gold rings on their fingers and chains around their necks... they're the Gods of underworld with every imaginable shady deal to their credit. Most wanted by the Interpol they have a reward of millions for anyone who squeals on them. But not one person in 6 billion dares to.
They're rolling in money...and have not one unfulfilled desire. Dark Oakleys...diamond champaign...little guns.. and big booby girls on thier laps (with that hot chick as the prima donna) complete the picture of their deliriously luxurious life...

An hour passes and they're exhausted of their fast (fantasy) life already. They've done too many drug deals by then, had many... many sexy women, bought every single hotel, aircraft and island there ever was to buy, dodged many dangers, fooled the Interpol innumerbale times, and are ready to go down the road of spirituality and retreat to Malibu forever with a lifetime stock of cocaine.

A rumbling startles them and they're, quick as lightening, ready to pounce at the danger... Only to realize it's R's tummy making noises, reminding them rather unceremoniously of their humble and hungry reality.

They pick their bags, go in to pay. There's no need for talk to know who's turn it is to pay. They just know. They exit the cafe and take a minute to figure where to go for food. They take stock of finances and grimace a bit... 'Bad trip dude' - R says. D frowns. Well there's nothing to do about it... so they wordlessly march off towards their regular joint.

R : F***... where does the salary go dude!!
D : Maybe you get salary f***er... I get peanuts which I finish by the 3rd day....
R : Bad trip, dude...
D Puffs away and frowns

They take their regular seats at the regular place and the regular waiter approaches them.
Waiter : Regular, saab?
One of the saabs just glares in approval

They don't believe in overkill so they don't talk about their big Mafia plan anymore. Also because you don't talk about all that stuff at such places you know...

So they instead talk of the fast-approaching reality of work the next day. That's fantasy harakiri and very soon they're very pissed off. They smoke and pay the guy in silence. No tip for him today..the liver tasted burnt.

R (summarizing it all) : Bad trip dude...
D grimaces, scowls, puffs away, looks away.

And so the day comes to an end... and they head homeward. The night is still young and they both get back to their respective abodes full of light and noisy room-mates. After the mandatory socializing and phone-calls to girl-friends they call it a day.

R probably rocks himself to sleep (he has that RLM disorder thingie)... and D probably dozes off with the TV on (not sure coz i have not witnessed his bedtime ritual).

The next day dawns bright and sunshiny... and R&D are ready to take on the world. Err.. if only they could get a cab quickly since they're running about 45 minutes late...
Oh finally a cab. They furiously gesticulate for the cabbie, and jump into the cab the moment its in jumpshot..

D : F***er...we had to take the bus today... you overslept.
R : Bad trip ya dude...
D lights up, takes a puff, scowls, looks away...

A strange love for animals

2006-01-20T20:09:00.000+03:00

I have learnt that there are two things that I need to have around me, for me to love a place and feel like home there. 1 - the sea, and 2 - animal life forms. The former - has to be close enough to visit often, and ideally, needs to be visible from my home. I have fortunately always lived in such houses. The two years that I lived away from home in a land-locked city I realize in retrospect were the strangest and wierdest. I blame that on being away from the sea. Thankfully I made a decision to return to Bombay before any permanent mental damage could happen.
Anyway, the latter (animal life forms) includes stray dogs and cats and birds. I love them and get very suspicious of and uncomfortable at places where there seem to be none of these. My only crib with Dubai.
Other than that, I don't mind a rare glimpse of some harmless insects like grasshoppers and ants too - as long as they're in minuscule numbers and not really invading my home.
During monsoons I like the sight of rainy-creepy crawlies like earthworms and leaches, and that of the hoppy frogs.
Sighting an elephant is considered lucky and anyway since I like those gentle giants, a glimpse of one once in a while is good.
Camels I don't much care for... they belong in the desert and that's where they should remain. Cows and buffalos belong to the villages and that's where they should remain too.
There are others that are strictly forbidden from my home and surrounding - mosquitoes, cockroaches, lizards, any any other insect variety.
But in all the point remains that I like animals.

A regal eagle on its perch... In Dubai. I was STARVED for the sight of life-forms there.

Tried to make friends with Mr. Eagle, but I think he wasn't too impressed. Probably likes the look of the Lebanese girls better :(

In Dubai again - this cat was the 1st animal i saw after having spent a week there. I was so happy i took pictures. This is the best i could get...

So what if the eagle wasn't interested in me... I know one can always rely on our canine friends to be affectionate and totally delightful

Isn't this an 'aaaaawww' pic!! Found these little idiots yesterday at this place we'd gone to for a picnic. The mum was around and didn't look too welcoming of us city people... so I held back the urge to pick up one of these.

Anyway, I'm sure R&D are gonna wonder what's WITH me that i go on and on about these 'nature' and animal thingies!! :) Jokes will probably be made about this stuff, and I'm sure I'm in for some shit feedback...

But now that I understand them a bit, I know what the real problem is. Guys, I'm gonna write about u very soon, and you shall be so proud of me. Promise. Watch this space... :))

The green eyed monster

2006-01-13T19:06:00.000+03:00

PS is an ok-hot chick at work. I used to think she was one nasty li'll cat..till i realized she's ok.

But today this was our li'll exchange :

RS (Walks into office cheerful and humming to herself, feeling good about her clothes and overall)

PS (Taking one head-to-toe look at RS) : You know RS, if you lose weight you'll actually start looking HOT..

RS (deflated ego) : Oh...ok.. wow! Thanks!

Nasty li'll cat!

Inspired

2006-01-10T18:35:00.000+03:00

Pink it´s my new obsession

Pink it´s not even a question

Pink on the lips of your lover,

´cause Pink is the love you discover

Pink as the bing on your cherry

Pink ´cause you are so very

Pink it´s the color of passion

`Cause today it just goes with the fashion

Pink it was love at first sight,

yea Pink when I turn out the light,

and Pink gets me high as a kite

And I think everything is going to be all right

No matter what we do tonight

Reflections

2006-01-08T10:44:00.000+03:00

Cought I in a reflective moment in Goa, looking out of the window, making a pretty picture for a cool silhouette photographer

My favorite landscape pictures

2006-01-08T07:43:00.000+03:00

This picture I took in Dubai last year...
There's something magical about the desert. You never can imagine how lovely it looks until you see it for yourself. And it can really make you very melancholy.

Sunsets... universally loved and pictured. This one is of a glorious one that i saw from my balcony at home. Wherever I go I long to return to this home for the peace I find in the balcony..

Another sunset.. This one was at Bagha beach at Goa last Christmas. Goa's a place after my own heart and with Ad & Teffoo I had the most awesome time here. :) Oh the nostalgia!!

Foggy morning in Delhi.

That city is strange...so pretty and so hostile. So unlike Bombay. Someone told me once that no-one owns Bombay and yet it belongs to all, whereas in Delhi, its the opposite... Everyone owns Delhi, and yet it belongs to no-one!

Not so much of a landscape... but pretty nevertheless. Dubai is a city that amazes me with its contrast. The sea and the desert, the mosques and the night-clubs, the melee and the order..
This is a picture from my office in Diera overlooking the creek

Unusual professions that fascinate me

2006-01-07T11:58:00.000+03:00

I am a Qualitative Market Researcher by profession. Don't be fooled by the sound of it - what it basically means is that I get paid to go around asking people about their opinion about different things. Things like marriage, retirement, college-life, shampoos, shoes, diamonds, condoms, cars, books etc etc etc..
My friends think its very cool that I travel all over the country and stay in the best hotels in some of the coolest places... but trust me it all seriously just about ok.

If money wasn't the thing...and if I knew how to, these are some of the things I'd really wanna do..
1) Be a crooner
Have you ever imagined what much of the music we love would sound like without these awesome people who do the back-up vocals. Oh how i'd love to be a crooner!!! I'm sure you done the singing-in-front-of-the-mirror-with-a-hairbrush-for-a-mike... No? Well I do it all the time.. Only, i'm not trying to be Madonna... I'm trying to perfect the oooooooooooooooohs and the hey-heyyyyyyyys :))
Oh how i'd love to be a crooner!!

2) Own a shop of imitiation jewellery
I know this is perhaps quite achievable... but then i'm not writing about what's unachieveable . I'm writing about stuff that I will perhaps not get around doing in my life and which i would love to. And I would love to own a shop with imitation and silver jewellery. Ohh to think of all that gorgeous...gorgeous stuff at my disposal.
On second thoughts..i think i'll make a very bad store owner, considering i'd probably kep all the cool stuff for myself and refuse to sell any!

3) Host a travel show on TV
Do i even need to elaborate on this one -- I think just about everyone in their right mind would love this job. Gosh is it even a job? You travel to the most exotic places in the world, stay in the best places, do the coolest things AND get paid big bucks!!!! Woah!And please no one who does this for a living write to me about how it screws up your social life and how tiring it is. Buzz off... if you hate it, swap places with me and let me do it instead!!

4) Be a dolphin trainer
Again - anyone who does this please DO NOT tell me about the difficulties of the job. Im' sure its tough. I'm sure it doesn't pay millions.... but while i'm fantasizing, please don't burst my happy bubble. I'm thinking of myself as the master trainer who's got plenty of money to not worry about it. I'm thinking of these sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet dolly-phins in looooooooooooooooooooove with me.
Sighhh! How i resent my job. I never get to see dolphins!

5) Be a body peircing artist
This is the sadist in me longing to inflict some pain on humanity. I think i would be a damn good pain-inflictor. In fact I would be so good that I would be painless. I'd be master at peircing eye-brows, nipples, bellybutton and what nots... Wow!!

:)

Ok enough daydreaming I suppose. Time for me to get back to my mundane work and to my presentation about why women love perfumes; and put away all the expensive samples of designer perfumes that're lying scattered at my desk!
:(

Keep smiling always - u never know who's noticing it

Why random angst?

2006-01-07T06:44:00.000+03:00

I was not born angstful. I believe I was a very peaceful baby and a quiet child for many years. But in those quiet years I learnt to silently observe things that others didn't, and make my own judgment about issues. As a result my mind got pretty full of shit ideas about just about everything under the sun. Except things that I know nothing about. Like football. I don't follow football unlike RF who's mad about it.
Anyway, coming back to the point -- being a quiet sort of a kid i never did (and still don't) discuss these much with anyone... but a blog is a good idea to just let it all out..makes place in the mind for new shit ideas...

Sis says i'm mad I take so much stress about things.. She says that because she can't understand why I need to tell all the cabbies to not honk...or why I had to lecture the florist the other day about how old fashioned his arrangements were...or why while reading the newspaper I must get so verbally worked up and abuse just about everything and everyone.

She doesn't understand - it's not stress... its just angst. I've tried explaining but i don't think she got it. Now, all she needs to do is read on. Here, on this blogsite she is going to find all her answers - about why cabbies honking, florists doing a bad job and current day newspapers gimme angst...

:-) Stay all smiles always...