My Knight in Shining Armour

The title is self-explanatory enough. Don’t waste my time and read ahead.

1. First and foremost, if you’re Aamir Khan or Mel Gibson, you don’t need to read the rest of the list. Just come on over with a platinum wedding ring.
2. But then, if you’re not Aamir Khan or Mel Gibson, I don’t think there’s any point for you to read this list at all.
3. Still, if you’re so hell bent on having me as your soul-mate (sigh!), I’ll have to say that the least you can do is be lean and tall. I nurse this childhood myth that short men are very unromantic and grow fat easily.
4. Speaking of fat, don’t be it. I have enough fat reserve to last us both a lifetime, so we can do without your share.
5. I will allow no pets in my house (the latter has to be a two-storeyed thing, while we’re on the subject).
6. You must have a bike. If not, don’t bother to read further until you make arrangements for one.
7. You absolutely must have hair on your face. Somewhere. I will not allow Govinda wannabes anywhere near me.
8. Flashy underwear is strictly prohibited.
9. You will get up before me every day, and keep breakfast ready before I get up. Then, you can eat it with me. And you need to be a good cook, since it’s not acceptable that both of us have no culinary skills.
10. Please finish washing all the clothes regularly and don't keep work pending, especially since I’m nice enough to help you fold them up.
11. You’re not going to smoke or drink in my house. If you choose to, you might as well get a new wife, or a new house. Not both.
12. When I tell you to sleep on the couch, don’t ask any questions and just get lost.
13. Get this straight in your head – Shopping is absolutely a necessity for me. Don’t dare crib about a shopping spree. Ever.
14. Prepare to die if you ever forget a birthday or an anniversary. If you do, you will have a divorce notice waiting for you the next morning.
15. Don’t hover around me all the time. I may sometimes choose to go have a good time with people that don’t necessarily like you.
16. If you’re ever suspicious about me having an affair with somebody (especially if that person is my friend), then I’ll keep feeding your suspicions and ruin your life.
17. Don’t mess with me when I’m angry. Chances are that you are responsible for my wrath.
18. I need someone to hug when I’m sleeping. Although I don’t want you to be fat, please don’t be skin and bones, too.
19. I’m always going to cheat on you for Aamir Khan and/or Mel Gibson. Just be mature enough to accept it.
20. Oh yeah, no watching T.V. in my house. Or better still, let’s just not own a TV set.
21. Did I mention I don’t like people with yellow and crooked teeth? No? Well, there you go.
22. Do everybody a favour and don’t be ‘secular’. I have no patience with the likes of you.
23. The clauses in this list are subject to change without notice.

Now go away. Shoo…

Things that Frighten Me

I don’t know why I’m even writing this post. I am pretty sure I’m inviting trouble and ridicule for myself, but let’s just say I’m in a daredevil mood. So here goes.

1. Escalators.
2. The thought of escalators.
3. The thought of falling off escalators.
4. The thought of falling off an escalator when I’m wearing a skirt.
5. Water.
6. A ride in a speed boat.
7. Creepy, crawly, slimy insects.
8. Completely bald men.
9. The rain.
10. Thoughts about falling off trains, or dying under one.
11. Crossing roads
12. The dark.
13. My mum, when I’ve annoyed her.
14. Meeting friends I’ve avoided speaking to.
15. Exams, when I know even the bluffing had better be good.
16. Unfinished homework.
17. Dogs.
18. Pups.
19. Cats.
20. Animals (to cut a long story short).
21. Footsteps.
22. Thoughts about dead bodies (Why do I even have such thoughts, again?)
23. Ghosts.
24. Speed.
25. Rash drivers.
26. Eating with forks, knives, spoons and other apparatus.
27. Sons and Lovers.
28. Falling asleep in the midst of dumb lists.

Good night, if you aren’t asleep already.

....You'll Never Understand

You’ll never know about the things I’ve had to let go,
Just so you’d feel secure about me.
I know you’ve done a lot for me all along,
But does that mean I’ve done nothing?
Just because I don’t speak about it, or make a big deal,
Does my pain count for naught?
You’ve helped me grow as a person,
But haven’t I done the same?
You’ve helped me group my faculties,
But have I only made you insane?
I’ve given up on loved ones and worlds,
Just so I could be closer to you…
But things are changing around here,
I need a new point of view.
I need your help, your support, not your wrath,
I want to grow and mature with you, not apart.
Maybe I want to break away, let nothing you say affect my being,
But sadly you haven’t realized, you are my being.

Tryst With Reliance

As a rule, I have always avoided having any stint with Reliance whatsoever. There have been so many instances where friends and relatives have tried to tempt me into getting a Reliance cell phone because they have attractive schemes. Inspite of all the pressure, I have steadfastly avoided any contact with Reliance. Until a month ago. The laptop provided by my company came with a Reliance Wireless Internet card. And since begins my tale of woe.

I have come to terms with the fact that the Reliance internet is extremely slow. So slow, that you can click on a link, go for a quick pee, wash your hands, drink some water on your way back, eat a biscuit and return to find that the computer is still trying its best to open the link. Sigh! Well, so what has happened is, I was stupid enough not to courier my bill to my office on time. Thus, they [the office] took their own sweet time dispatching the cheque and resultantly, my internet services have been discontinued. Sniff.

This morning, I put forward a call to my accounts department and demanded an update on the payment to Reliance. They told me they'd forwarded the cheque and furnished me with its details too. Ahaan! There was nothing that could stop me from getting my services reconnected again. Armed with all the details, I called up Customer Care.

*Lady with pretentious voice*

"Welcome to Reliance Customer Care. For information in Zulu, please 778.58. Your call is importantttt to us. Pleeeease, hold the line!"

*2nd Lady with a squeaky voice*

"Refer Reliance Net to your frands, and win exciting prizes like webcams, knickerbockers, stapler pins, safety pins. For more information, please speak to our executive."

Both these women alternatively kept repeating the SAME lines over and over, for a full 20 minutes till I reached the point where hopping on one leg and beating my hand over my chest seemed the sanest and most logical thing to do.

FINALLY, after what seemed like a decade or two, a morose sounding person named 'Saaathishh' picked up. After that, the conversation went as follows:

Saaathishh: Gudd maarning, this is Saaathishh how may I asshist you?

Me: 'Morning. I wanted some information regarding my Wireless internet payment.

Saaathishh: Surtanly Maadam. Plizz help me with your number.

Me: Number? What number?

Saaathishh: Your number, maadam.

Me: Yes, which one?

Saaathishh: The one you are hauuwing.

Me (confused and sensing a throbbing in the temples): I don't have any number. Could you please specify?

Saaathishh: The Reeeliance mobile number you are hauuving with your caaard.

Me: Oh that. You should have mentioned it earlier.

*Saaathishh jots down number*

Saaathishh: Okay maadam, what eez thee praablem?

Me: I have paid my Reliance bill via cheque on blah-blah date. The cheque no. is so-and-so and it is drawn on favour of ICICI bank.

Saaathishh: Huh?

Me: Excuse me?

Saaathishh: What?

Me: What?

Saaathishh: Nothing.

Me: Eh?

Saaathishh: What?

Me: Nothing.

Saaathishh: I shall hauve to put you on hold. Let me check thee inphormation.

Me (furious): How much are you going to keep me on hold? Firstly you guys never receive calls on time. Secondly, you have such incredibly whiny music that makes me want to cry. And thirdly, WEIRD WOMEN WITH EQUALLY WIERD VOICES KEEP REPEATING SAME LINES OVER AND OVER AND OVER...

Saaathishh (like nothing happened): I will have to keep you on hold.

Me: But...

*next second, repetitive woman with the weird voice catches me unawares*

"Refer Reliance Net to your frands, and win exciting prizes like webcams, knickerbockers, stapler pins, safety pins. For more information, please speak to our executive."

*Followed by*

Welcome to Reliance Customer Care. Your call is importantttt to us. Pleeeease, hold the line!"

Just as I felt tears of self-pity well up in my eyes, Saaathishh returns. Seriously. I don't know which was worse.

Saaathishh: Sorry Maadam. We hauve no resivd any inphormation regarding thee payment. When did your hoppis [office] made the payment?

Me: 22nd.

Saaathishh: April?

Me: Huh? How can it be April? March, obviously.

Saaathishh: Okay. Sorry Maadam. You will hauve to go and check in the nearesht Reliance WebWorld. We hauve not resivd records for any such payment. Anything else I can help you with?

Me: No thanks.

Saaathishh: Thank you for calling Reliance WebWor-

*blank*

That was me hanging up. After wasting 20 minutes on the phone with a man named Saaathishh (who I bet was smelly, too) and enduring the murder of the English language (what the hell is hoppis, anyway?) all he said was to go to the nearest Reliance gallery. Yeah. I will. And when I go there I will tell them to employ you, dear Saaathishh, to assist people in the language you speak at home. Or maybe you just need to go home and gorge on an overdose of sleeping pills.

Ruddy fuckahs!

Moral of the story: Reliance harms. And not only does it mess up your pocket, but also your mental well-being. *sigh*

My Agenda for the Vacations

It's high time I decided what I exactly plan to achieve in these vacations. Generally I have monumental plans before the holidays actually begin, which I then keep procrastinating, and I finally achieve, umm...well...nothing. But things have to change around here, now. I am a new and improved person, wiser than last year by twelve whole months and a person of substance.

My agenda for the vacation is as follows:

1. Since I am not a teenager any more, I will not indulge in frivolous activities like computer games. From now on, there will be lesser of Zapak.com and MSN Uno, and more of reading and writing. I'm, after all, a person of substance.
2. Try and keep myself in shape. And by that I don't mean, round-shape. I will not let myself be spread out like a banyan tree.
3. Visit my libraries at least twice in 3 weeks, and not keep renewing my books in manner of a busy person with no time to read.
4. Reply to all e-mails and messages. This will keep all friends happy.
5. SPEND LESS TIME ON BLOODY ORKUT. Realise that it is a useless site with absolutely no intellectual value and the biggest reason for having no time to do anything constructive. Check orkut only once a day and that too not more than 15 minutes.
6. Try and be regular with sleeping. Also refrain from sleeping too much and at all irregular times.
7. Go out for more walks and meet up with friends.
8. Stop writing like I'm imitating Bridget Jones (seriously...why am I sounding like her?).
9. Reduce the number of times I eat out and eat wholesome, healthy, home-cooked food.
10. Spend a lot of quality time with mommy.
11. Learn how to drive.
12. Buy lots of books. Oh, and read them too.
13. Spend less time on the phone chatting aimlessly. Also try and reduce cell phone bills as they burn a collosal hole in my minuscule pocket.
14. Not shop compulsively and buy clothes I will not even look at when I come home. Realise that money takes a whole month to appear in bank account, and does not materialise as and when I want it.
15. Keep my room cleaner, and clear mum's doubts of a hurricane hitting it. Was very insulted when ants crawled out from under a pillow when an aunt was visiting.
16. Try and finish reading the prescribed books for next year, so I am abreast of all that will happen in class. Then I can piss my classmates off by answering all of the professor's questions and appear like a wiseass.
17. Write more constructive blogs.
18. Refer to this post everytime I drift away from this plan of action.

Wish me luck and a fruitful vacation, folks!! And if you're lucky, you'll have more blog posts hurled your way! :P

Such is Life?

A friend and I were going to her place to study for the next day’s exam. Now everyone knows that when you’re in school, the final exams generally clash with the festival of Holi. Do I need to specially elaborate on why this is annoying for girls?

But I digress. So getting back to what I was telling you about, we had just entered the friend’s building. Suddenly a water balloon out of nowhere came flying at her and hit her squarely on the back. Furious, she went over to a group of boys who were standing together and giggling. I followed her meekly, hoping we could get away without a big argument.

“Who the f*** threw that water balloon?”, she asked (read yelled).

“I did,” said a smug boy.

I don’t have anything against people’s faces, mind you. But the face that that boy sported was the most annoying, infuriating face you ever saw. You know, the kind who may not have done anything to incur your wrath, but you still feel like slapping anyway.

Except that is precisely what my friend did. She slapped him neatly on his left cheek, and hard enough for him to scream aloud.

“WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU, BITCH?” a shocked ex-smug boy asked her.

“Well, you like hitting people with balloons,” she replied. “I like hitting them with my bare hands.”

It didn’t take a genius to note that he was boiling with fury and embarrassment, but was too astonished to do anything.

“Now I hope this teaches you to stay away from me, you fat and ugly pimp. Because if it didn’t I can always teach you again,” my friend continued.

Everyone knew that she’d won. But as a saving grace, he tried a last attempt. “My dad’s in the police force. How dare you slap me? Now you just wait.”

“That’s touching. But since my mum’s a lawyer, I dunno if your dear daddy can do much to me. Meanwhile, why don’t you tell him to teach you some manners? Or better still lock you up in a spare jail or something? The inmates there could give you something to think about!” she mocked him.

Having the last word, she took me by the hand and whisked me away to her house. I couldn’t help but admire her spirit. I don’t think there’s anything worse for a guy than to get slapped by a girl. That too, in front of his friends. Boy, that’d give them something to talk about till he’s 95 years old!

Another thought occurred to me, though. May sound far-fetched, but I think such is life. Gone are the days when you could just go to the police station or a lawyer to solve your feuds for you. Nowadays, if you’ve wronged somebody, you just need to know the right people who can get you out of the trouble. And if you’re the one who’s been wronged, it’d be nice if you could know some influential people as well. Or you need to stack up some money to make the right people help you seek redressal. But if you’ve neither the contacts nor the money, forget it. Maybe you deserve to be wronged.

*Sigh!*

Some Distressing Home-truths

There are good days and then there are bad days. And then there are days when whatever you do takes an about turn and screws you up your ass. I don’t know what to make of such situations, apart from the fact that they make you feel like you’re nothing but the inconsequential louse that you’ve forgotten you are.

Of all the attributes that belong to man, I think the ego is the most intriguing. Its funny how delicately the ego must be handled. Hurting someone’s ego, especially mine, must be made a criminal offence. So at this rate, I think all bosses must be hanged to death.

There’s another home truth that my philosophical self has realized. At the workplace, it doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right. What matters is, you’re crap and your boss is God. And when you’ve got that equation right, you’ll slip into a blissful state of indifference. Indifference where nothing affects you; whether a cactus is shoved up your backside or a really long, thorny bamboo. Fuck it, yaar becomes THE anthem.

So why all this banter, you must be wondering. Well, there’s a lot of things that I myself am confused about. But to begin with, let’s just say that the management is deciding to shift our department somewhere else. The office we sit in right now is this really pretty, well-lit place with cozy interiors and some very cool people. And the place the plan to shift us to, is this place with buildings somewhere between slums and chawls, with slaughterhouses that chop chicken, mutton and beef, a prevailing stink of rotting animal carcasses and overflowing gutters, huge BMC trash cans and not to mention the smelliest of stray animals. The ‘office’ we are going to inhabit is reportedly a mezzanine thing to be reached with a 90 degree narrow steel ladder. There’s no loo to go to, no AC to cool ourselves (and our disgust) with, and if you even remotely turn towards the window you might spot a hair in the dal the neighbour is cooking. It is THAT bloody congested and bile-rising.

Would you in your right frame of mind want to spend eight hours of day smelling dead animals, stinking toilets and gutters? Which is precisely why we decided to take the matter up to the CEO and tell him we would eat ourselves up before surrendering to such a place.

The CEO kindly fired two of my senior most colleagues (one of them being my best buddy). What’s more, he (the CEO, not my buddy) had the audacity to claim that the juniour employees didn’t matter to him, and the whole department could leave that minute if they ever dared to question his decisions again. All that at 7568 decibels.

Ooooh I’m scared.

I don’t care a fuck. Take your bloody job and put it where the monkey puts its nuts. Now repeat with me. I-Don’t-Care. I feel no remorse quitting your ‘esteemed’ organization, because I have accepted the one truth of the universe. I am crap and my boss is God. See? It doesn’t make a difference to me. There are other jobs out there. Someone will hire me. I don’t need this job. After I’ve left, they’ll realize how good I was and might even call me back. If they don’t value all the effort I’ve put into the company, I don’t care two hoots about them.

Hell, who am I kidding? I do care about where I might land up next. All of a sudden, everything before my eyes is blurred, and I don’t know how to bring it back into focus. Right now, I just want to shut my eyes and pretend it didn’t happen.

God, if you’re around, please take my advice. When things are going fine, don’t mess with them. Change is something that we can really do without, sometimes. The world would really find it easier if you didn’t decide to screw things up, thank you very much.

* Takes overdose of sleeping pills and dies*

Busy as sin...

Don't expect anything more now. The title is the whole blog. Now buzz off and let me work.

Bored? Be Creative...

I’m sitting here, having nothing to do. Its funny how you can’t wait to be free at the beginning of exams. And when that time really comes after all the rigorous labour and sweating, you have nothing to do to spend that time (apart from picking your nose, a highly satisfying exercise). But picking one’s nose is really passé now. Here are a few things you could do to spend time creatively.

1. Stand on your head in a corner, and try noticing how different your feet look against the ceiling as background. This will also help see the world in a different light. For obvious reasons, refrain from peeing. That won’t make the whole stunt smell any prettier, among other things.

2. Try writing a long sentence backwards. And by backwards, I don’t mean in reverse. Whatever you’ve written should look like Hebrew or some really obscure language, by the time you’re finished.

3. Call up a random friend, and when they pick up the phone loudly scream out rude names and hang up. Then change your cell number and your residence, because they aren’t going to let you get away with this, obviously.

4. If you happen to be awake when the whole house is sleeping, quietly go up to people and tickle their feet. Or wake them up and ask them whether they were really sleeping or pretending to sleep, or what it was they were dreaming about.

5. While watch a horror flick in a theatre, loudly drop a glass Pepsi bottle during a really scary scene. Make sure the theatre is quiet at this time. And at least eight people should die of cardiac arrest.

6. While having dinner with guests, suddenly reach out to grab a piece of chicken from an aunt or uncle’s plate. However, for this to reach its successful level of annoyance, make sure that the aunt or uncle are people who you are not very close to, and there is no level of mutual affection from both parties.

7. While in a lift with strange people, gently let out a smelly and noisy fart. Then immediately give a conspicuous and disgusted look to the person adjacent to you, and try moving far away from him.

8. Pick your nose in a train. Then inspect your finger for the stuff that came out from your nose and neatly flick it away. For more effect, perform this exercise accompanied with juicy burps. This will ensure you a seat in a crowded train.

9. Blow your nose in loud spurts during a meeting. Then show the handkerchief with the freshly squeezed snort around emphasizing that you’ve had that nasty cold for the past month. That highly coveted promotion is sure to be in your bag then.

10. At a funeral, laugh loudly with some backslapping and loud noise. If people give you weird stares, loudly narrate the joke to them. This is great for people who always try and cheer others up.

The above creative activities to pass the time should be enough for starters. If you’ve tried them all and are still alive to tell the tale, do let me know. I will think up some new ones for you. For now, start spreading the disgust!

Hold Thy Judgement!

I’m a bad, bad person. But in my defense, I want to say that I had to do what I did. There was simply no other way out. Now once you have heard me out on this one, I will proceed forward to narrate the exact incident (which I am really NOT proud off). Till then, DON’T judge me.

The crux of the issue is, that I had to pinch a kid in the train. And by pinch I obviously don’t mean I stole it. Okay here’s the thing. I was sitting in the train on a homeward journey from college one afternoon, minding my own business and fantasizing my afternoon siesta to the point of drooling. I pulled out my paper and began solving the crossword, when this woman got in at one of the stations. Her son was with her, around one year of age. I ignored them, until the woman made the boy squeeze on the opposite fourth seat. She handed him a packet of Zalani Jaljeera Powder (???) to…er…lick off from his hand. Moreover, the boy split that stuff on the seat, which he actually stood up and licked RIGHT OFF THE SEAT!! Most women around me wanted to throw up around a week’s meals to commemorate the event, but I suppose we were too shocked to do even that. One woman shut her pack of Good Day biscuits, and I bet she silently vowed never to eat anything in her life again. So well, what was the mother doing when her kid was ‘cleaning’ the seat? She gave him a benevolent smile and said Aisa nahi karneka!

I know the confusion that’s crawling about in your minds. If the kid licked the seats clean, why did I pinch him? No, no. To know that, you need to hang on a bit. Anyway, the next thing the mother did was to bully her way to our seats, made the boy sit right next to me, and promptly plopped down where the boy formerly sat. Immediately she handed him a vada pav this time. And I prayed there would be no more casualties in the second course. If there would be, I swear I would have thrown up all over him. And I was right! There were casualties. Apart from the fact that the vada pav eating induced machaak machaak sounds (really loud ones), the kid’s nose was to snot, what Niagara Falls is to water. This whole exercise was punctuated by continuous staring at me, like I was a really phenomenal zoo exhibit. I even chose to ignore that, till the kicking started. He was supposedly swinging its feet, making neat shoe prints on my new jeans. I swerved my foot rather harder than I intended, and he stopped doing that annoying thing after he got the point. Five minutes of peace, and that is when he laid his head on my shoulder like we were in love or something. I had had enough just about then. The last thing I need is coots from a two feet tall monster. I jerked my shoulder sharply, and this time the freak started crying. His even freakier mother wasn’t bothered even then. What happened next, you will NOT believe. This child took the vada pav it was eating, actually WIPED a portion of the train wall with it, and promptly ate it. And the cherry on the cake was, he wiped his grubby paws on my bag! After the initial shock of watching him eat dirt of the walls, the hand-wiping struck me, and that is when I had to give him the smallest pinch I could. I’m sorry, but then, I’m really not. The crying spree induced by the pinch made his mother take him onto her lap, which is when peace reigned the compartment.

Do you still wanna talk about judging me, matey?

....I Know You're Falling In Love With Me

(Sorry dear readers, for subjecting you to another lame attempt at poetry. I think this one sucks the most, since I was extremely upset and angry; and the moods sort of conflicted.)


The roses, the chocolates, the warm greetings,
Your sweet nothings, our much-awaited meetings.
If what I think is really what I see,
I know you’re falling in love with me.

Your special care and loving compassion,
All the fawning and undivided attention.
From you, time for me is a free commodity,
I know you’re falling in love with me.

What have I done to gain your affection?
Such warm embraces, your trust and fascination?
You try really hard, but you can’t let me be,
I know you’re falling in love with me.

This, I guess was all that it could be,
I hope you won’t be too hung up on me.
But may I say these words so true?
I know I’m falling in love with you.

...And That's The Way It Is?

I have been at home AND doing nothing for so long now, that I am certain I have sprouted a beard and have branches poking out of my nose. And for those of you who sniggered at the beard part, take this...*middle finger*. Seriously people, I cannot go on this way for long. Branches out of my nose wouldn't be the most sophisticated thing to happen to a poise queen like me.

The other day, I walked to the shop downstairs to pick up some stuff, and I overheard two schoolgirls conversing, each holding a candy. The following are the excerpts from their conversation : -

Schoolgirl #1: Aaj aayegi khelneko?
Schoolgirl #2: Nahi yaar, mujhe mummy maregi. Geography ka homework karne ka hai, hindi-marathi tuitions ke baad maths classes jaana hai.

Believe me, I have never felt like more of a loser in my life. These kids were barely in the 7th Grade, and had a whole list of what they had to do that evening, plus with no time left over. All of my friends (except Avani, who is my one faithful companion!) have hardly any time for anything, leave alone talk to me. How long is this gonna continue?

I need a job, quick!

College Woes

College is agony, college is a pain,
And this dreary life is driving me insane.
Getting up each morning is like going through hell,
And so is reaching in time, just before the bell.
Listening mindlessly to the professors droning,
Inwardly yawning, dozing and groaning.
And then there’s the jotting down of notes, a charade,
Can college really be fun? Or is it a mirage?

The break is comparatively better than the rest,
But it involves no fun, no zeal or zest.
Why aren’t there any good eateries around?
Other colleges seem to have those, abound.
Have all the cute guys of the place, drowned?
There certainly are none around.
Instead what we find are retarded freaks,
Just moneyed, idiotic, half-baked pricks.

About studies, don’t even get me started,
The stuff we study about is plain retarded
But then again, things could get worse,
I must quit believing my college is a curse.
Now I must go and do something I loathe,
I must pack my bag, set my alarm and snore.
Wake up to a sound that I hate the most,
And get dressed for college, like a half-slept ghost!

(special thankoo to donnie, for helping me out with the rhymes!):

Just Catching Up....

Mumbai had seven bomb blasts in the space of half an hour on Tuesday. So I bet everybody heard. And by everybody, I mean even the blind cat who resides on my neighbour’s bicycle each night. Whatever happened was horrifying, and I hope more than anybody else that the whole of Pakistan, the LeT and SIMI be bombed (when are we going to use those nuclear weapons anyway?). But seriously people, enough ranting and raving and move on! Go out there, try and donate blood, give monetary help, do whatever little you can do, but for Pete’s sake, try and stop making it a charade. What’s with the roses on people’s messenger IDs? And ‘three cheers for Mumbai’ messages on radio? And boo hoooo sob sob stories all over the Times of India? Honestly, how bloody sappy can one get? Around 200 people (and still counting) perished in the blasts. So are you going to tell me how it happened to each person individually? And the experiences of the others who managed to survive? I am sorry, but this does nothing to encourage my positive outlook and sense of security, other than bring me down. What I need right now, is in-depth coverage on what the government is doing (or rather not doing) to capture the persons responsible for this massacre, why they didn’t respond to the intelligence reports they had, what are they doing about prevention of such acts in future. Give me that, and I’ll be prepared to know how someone’s head came right off from the rest of his body. Please, we don’t need gory stories like that.

In other news, there is a careful look by all commuters about the train when the people get in. One woman almost uprooted all the seats. And stray bags on the luggage rack make everyone shifty, hoping the owner would simply get off. Wonder how long this ritual is gonna last. And as usual, the woman next to me, irrespective of who she is, wants to make sick snort sounds. Uncouth bitches. And DP’s gave me a complimentary hair in my sambar too. It was small and curly, so I don’t want to imagine where it came from. Ahem…!

Anyways, nothing much happening in class these days. The usual fools making bigger fools of themselves. ‘Chesty’ making unusually dumb faces today, her drooping mouth almost drooping to her knees. Dear darling ‘Nandi’ looked even more of a bull today, and one of these days, I’m going to bring some fodder for her to chew on in class, to keep her from interrupting a perfectly interesting lecture with stupid doubts. In her defense, I’d say she is quieter these days. But maybe that’s because of, like Avani says, her secret fantasies about all the greenery around college, and how she could be gorging on it. Who else? Poopbag keeps playing idiotic rock songs on her second hand Ngage phone, and singing along in an even more idiotic voice. And will someone please tell her that her new hairdo makes her hair look like a lion’s mane? That is not good hair, that is DAMAGED hair! Get a life please. Agarbatti steadfastly avoids Avani’s gaze and we burst into silent giggles. The loser guy with six inch heel shoes still wears them. Height of hi-utility all-weather shoes.

But then, what would have we done without these idiots to keep us amused? But then, too much amusement from the same people can’t crack us up repeatedly. Someone volunteering to be a fool, please? PLEASE?

What Am I Doing???

A friend visited me, and set me thinking. Am I doing the right thing? Is it the right time? Am I willing to go all the way? He doesn't know it, but the laughter hurt. Deep down inside. I wouldn't mind if it was me. But what he laughed at, is special. Very. I know he didn't mean it. But still......

I hate this feeling. Its familiar. And it brings nothing but sorrow.

I need salvation. But this time, I'm serious.

The Man Of My Dreams

The Man of My Dreams

I walked into the coffee shop, expecting to spot him right away. But then, real life isn’t movies, and the partly crowded café did not betray his identity. I looked around for a man, about thirty-five, average height, perhaps reading a book or solving a crossword. After months of online chatting and phone conversations, I was finally about to meet the man who had unknowingly swept me off my feet. All those months, I was waiting for the moment when he would invite me to meet him, and I would graciously accept the invitation. But it seemed that he wasn’t too interested to meet me. Just when I was about to lose hope, he had invited me over to this nice café, and I had accepted it without sounding too eager.

I had had friends who were married to people they’d met over the net. But it sounded just too fantastic to happen to me. Me, a small town girl who had come to Mumbai to earn her livelihood. I was lonely, even amidst the company of the friends I’d made. No one knew the true me, and I didn’t know anyone. I incidentally toyed with the idea to make net friends; people who you don’t know, but who you can share your thoughts without feeling too guilty about anything. No strings attached, that’s how I like it. After a few weeks into the chatting game, I suddenly saw this person enter the chat room I was in. Karan Mukherjee. Nice name. A conversation with him brought to light that that he was a businessman, an artiste, and held a few exhibitions to his name around once a year. I don’t know why, but every time I saw him come online, I would feel a certain adrenaline gush within me. Soon, chatting with him everyday became a kind of drug for me, something that gave me a high. Phone chats soon followed, and before I realized, I fell in love with him. Why, I don’t know. It was really weird on my part, to fall for a person who I hadn’t ever seen in my life, but only spoken to. But Karan was just so kind, understanding, gentle, polished, charismatic and so…masculine. Who wouldn’t fall for a person like that?
Back to the then present situation, I gave him a missed call on his cell, and I saw this man turning around to look at the entrance of the café. Without further ado, I walked over to him, and before I could say anything, he stood up and said, “You must be Riya. Karan here. Wonderful to be meeting you tonight.”

Hmm…the voice was certainly the same, but his personality was not quite like the one I had in mind. He wasn’t particularly handsome, not even good-looking for that matter, but there was certainly something about him. He had a fine physique, which betrayed his regular gym workouts. Enigmatic eyes; eyes that hid a well-kept secret. Well, he couldn’t be called drop-dead gorgeous; neither could he be called ugly. He was just striking.

But oh my! Talking to him face-to-face was a wonderful experience. Every moment I spent with him, I realized I loved him. He was intelligent, humorous, witty and so many other things. But mainly, he liked me too. He was the first person I had met, who didn’t flinch when I told him that I wasn’t a party animal. He was okay with the fact that I didn’t drink, smoke, go to disco theques and was a loner by choice. He thoroughly understood me and liked me for who I was. I was crazy about him. Meetings, candlelit dinners became characteristic of our relationship. Whenever he had to go on tours regarding business or other reasons, I felt lost. And I knew he did too. Why else would he call me umpteen times a day, even when he was abroad? He knew I missed him, and he missed me too.

One fine day, Karan came up to me and told me he had a surprise for me. He didn’t tell me what it was, but drove me to it. Like a child about to tell someone a big secret, he closed my eyes and gently led me into something which felt like an elevator, but he refused to tell me what the hype was about. My excitement mounted with every passing moment, and then, finally, when he moved his hand from over my eyes, I found myself standing outside a door bearing the nameplate, Riya Saigal. He eagerly opened the door and handed me the keys. “This is our new flat, darling. Let me show you around.” I was too surprised to even react to him. This was Karan, my Karan. Simple and straight-forward. Didn’t even think it was necessary to ask me whether I wanted to move in with him or not. Just took it for granted that I did, because he knew I did want to. He never needs to ask me what I thought about something, he somehow always knew before hand. That is what I loved about him the most. “Well, you’re going to live with me now, so you can stop living as a paying guest,” he firmly said. So then, that was that, I moved in with Karan. And life was never same for me again. The days he couldn't stay with me were nothing short of agony, but at least I was living in the same house as him. Looking at his very clothes or even his keys made me feel good. He had that kind of effect on me.
I love living with him. Karan is my friend, my confidante, my boyfriend, my lover, my support system, my guide and the best roommate ever! He is also a lot of fun. Today I can proudly say that no other woman must be as lucky as I am, to have found her true love over the internet.

Sigh. Even as I’m writing this, I deeply feel his absence, and I desperately await his return. At the moment, Karan is out of town. I miss him so much! This time he isn’t out for business purposes, though. But I’m okay with that. After all, he has to spend some time with his wife and children too!

My Daughter Lives

When I saw my child for the first time minutes after she was born, I couldn’t believe my eyes. How can someone as ugly as me produce something so beautiful? This really couldn’t be my child. My exhausted body demanded rest, and reminded me of all the pains it had taken to bring my baby daughter into this world. But stubborn as I still am, I refused to let her go. Rishi was standing next to me, a proud father. The newly arrived little person had totally enraptured him.

Despite a failing struggle to let her remain with me, the nurse took her from my arms, and asked me to rest. And in spite of myself, I slept a dreamless sleep.
This was fourteen years ago. Since then, life has never been the same for me. Being a mother can be very demanding. But need I say that its also the best thing in the world? A span of fourteen years passing by unnoticed. How could I forget those moments? My infant baby daughter saying her first word “Mama”, and my triumphant smile at Rishi. She standing up for the first time, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and promptly landing down on her backside again. The way she was always scared of crossing the road, like I was at her age. Her cries whenever I got dressed up to go for work. Her joyous laughter at her first toy, a stuffed dog. She falling down an umpteen number of times, but never crying until she I held her in my arms and comforted her. Her excitement at going to playgroup, but her fear at seeing so many other children of her own age. The way she held my hand when she was scared. Her first school uniform and her ecstasy at her pigtails. Her very first holiday in Goa, where we learnt that she was a natural at swimming. When she shyly came and told me about her first crush, at the age of 13. The three of us have shared so many beautiful and tender moments together. How can I forget them?

But then, how can I forget the moments when my baby girl first started vomiting blood? The first time we were told that my Mahika was victim to blood cancer? The first time we were told that she had just six months to live? The first time we told her of the situation and she cried her heart out to us? The time when she stopped going to school because she was entering the last stage of her short life? The pitying looks and phone calls she received from her friends and relatives? The way she struggled to keep happy and cheerful, so that we wouldn’t lose our strength? The way she bravely faced her sessions of chemo-therapy? The times when she used to cry by herself, when she lost her lovely hair? The way she began to wilt before our very eyes and lost the entire colour in her life? The way she bid us goodbye– “Mum, Dad, I love you a lot. Thanks for being so caring. You’re the best.”

But like I knew all along, Mahika didn’t die; I knew she wouldn’t. I never had much faith in the doctor anyway, although Rishi believed him from the start. There I can see my daughter coming home from school. She is so beautiful! No wonder so many guys fall for her. I’d better hurry and get lunch ready; she must be hungry. Although I wish the people in this place, would leave me alone. Do they think I’m mad, that they have kept me locked up in this place? Is cooking for my daughter, washing her clothes a crime? Why do they tie me to the bed this way? Let me go, Mahi is back from school, she needs lunch. Please, someone let me go. My Mahika needs me. Not that stupid injection again, please. Not now, oh please not now! My Mahi must be looking for me. My daughter must be hungry…….

Aimless Post

Today was supremely spent in scratching them itchy arms (for those of you who dunno about this, I've got this allergy thing to the sun, and NOT fleas). So let's sum up this whole thing. I'm fat, I have very minor leukoderma, I have an allergy to the sun AND I bruise easily. In short, you can call me a defective piece. I suppose my parents picked me up from this sale somewhere where export quality babies with a slight defect were being sold cheaper.

Hmm...Interesting theory, but not on me.

I will scoot now, since I have a whole room to clean, and some place to make on the bed for Yashwin and Avani who are coming tomorrow. I do like them a lot and all, but but but...not enough to clean a room overnight without any grudges.

Hmph.

Walk Like An Egyptian....?!?!

Well, erm...I really don't know about walking like an Egyptian or anything. For now, it would be of REAL help if I walked like anything close to a homo sapien (oh, stop giggling at the homo you buncha dunderheads!). Anyway, I shall cease to confuse you about the origins of this post, and reveal how it came by.

Today, on the 14th of June, circa 2006, yours truly gave all the bloody passengers on Dadar station a chance to giggle. Will place the facts in a 'Mid-day'ish manner as follows.

What : Passengers on Dadar Railway Station suddenly burst into guffaws.

When : Approximately at 7:15 a.m.

Why : A clumsy ass girl who is too fat to support her own weight decided to trip over a perfectly normally constructed bridge.

How Long : Around three seconds, but enough for everyone to notice.

Yeah, people. I bruised my pride, my knee (real bad, although i know you're nowhere close to believing me), and gave the guy behind me a chance to bump into my butt. He looked adequately shocked; understandable, since nobody expects a fully (over)grown person to land on all fours in front of you. But the bloody cheek of it all was the fact was that some woman actually had the cunt to complain about the waste of time i was causing. Lady, please... my knee is throbbing, so what would you take to sew your sodding mouth up? and, needless to say, people laughed. *sob!*

I got up, tucking the atom-sized pieces of my leftover dignity into a plastic bag and hurling it away. Without looking left nor right, I started walking straight ahead
like nothing happened in the last thirty seconds. My knee hurt like it was being torn away from me, but my pride hurt even more. I sailed out of station like a poise queen, and even now, I think I only remember the incident because of the HUGE bruise on the knee that ain't letting me forget the bruise in my heart.

And just for that, I solemnly swear to NEVER laugh at a person when he falls, even if I find him sliding on his head collecting all the mud around the place. Morever, I also promise that i shan't fail to dislocate the teeth from the jaw of the individuals who laugh at me, or anybody else, when they lose their balance and jerk to their knees unexpectedly or any other body parts.

I bet from now on, those blasted giggles are gonna run around in my head for quite sometime now.

Now waittaminnit, can you hear a giggle this very minute? *confused*

Nothing, Really.

Its crazy how people have so much to do. I know IITians, people my age coming up with online music magazines (which you can check here, people doing photography, friends with an ambition. Friends who know what they want.

And here i am, no talent, no luck, no hard-work; just an inconsequential lump on the planet finishing the earth's resources needed for other purposes.

Man, i need to get a life!

...And an ambition.

...And some talent.

...and some luck for good measure.

Goodbye cruel world.

I am off.

To admire my new haircut.

PS: Where would I get some readymade success?