As I Write This Poem...

As I write this poem,
A woman somewhere is giving birth to her first child,
An old man is dying, with peace in his mind.

A little girl is excited about going to school,
A young girl is taking her life, jumping into a pool.

An employee is desperate for a break,
A homemaker is day dreaming about a job and work.

A husband is feeling guilty about his infidelity,
A prostitute is silently wishing back her virginity.

A student is loving a movie,
A director is regretting making the same movie.

A wife in a mall is spending thousand rupees on a dress,
A eunuch standing outside a mall, is dreaming of social acceptance.

A man driving a BMW is vexed,
A poor kid is touching the car and feeling blessed.

Finally, as I write this poem,
I realize how sleepy I am,
thinking about the unfortunate insomniac.

As Good As It Gets

My computer had crashed last week. My exams got over a week before that. So, for almost seven days, I had no access to the net, or 'good' movies, that I had downloaded with the intention of watching them, while I was at home.The only thing that kept me sane, was reading. I read all night, woke up almost in the afternoons, and read again. At one point, I felt so trapped in my own room, that I realized, I was drenched in ennui.

So, one regular night, that followed a more regular day, with a routine afternoon in between, my brother decided that he had to go to the cybercafe to get some print outs for his school project. I went along with him, on my Scooty. He finished his work early, and I wanted to stay longer to check my mails. I asked him to take the Scooty along, and leave. After twenty more minutes of mail checking, and orkut scrapping, I paid for that hour, and left. My house was almost a kilometer away, which made me want to take a walk.

It was a very still night, no breeze, but cool. There were hardly any stars I could see, but there was a reluctant moon hung up in the sky. It was 9.30 in the night, so traffic was not obvious. A few shops were open, which was the only source of light on that huge road(street lights never liked to perform their duty). I walked slowly, and ignorantly, lost in thoughts. There were so many things running in my central nervous system, that it took me sometime to realize what I was actually feeling at that point. There are a few areas near my house, that always spooked me out, because of the shadows of long trees and its vacant look. But just then, when I walked along that street, nothing seemed scary. In fact, I found the trees beautiful, and the desertedness seemed like a silver lining. Vagabonds, ogled at me, but I felt invincible. Nothing at that moment, could worry me, or make me feel something which I didn't want to.

I walked, taking brisk steps, looking at the moon, that had taken up a weird shape by then. A guy passed by, on a good looking bike singing the new Atif Aslam song, "Teraaaa...hone lagaaa hoooon..." on top of his lungs. I laughed. I liked the state of oblivion, he was driving in. He didn't care who was around, or if someone was around. He just sang, badly, his heart out. As I walked further I saw a kid, maybe 12 years old, with a heavy school bag on his shoulders (read, time: 9.30 pm), talking to a middle aged man about Science, Social Studies and Maths, and how well he did each paper. I didn't know if I wanted to pity him, or feel happy for him. But what was evident, was, despite all odds that he might be facing, the kid seemed proud of himself.

Almost after twenty minutes, I reached the gate of my house, smiling. I wanted to walk past my house, and have one more, thought filled walk, but I decided to ignore that idea. It might have been a short walk, but short is good. Had I continued to make it a long walk, it wouldn't have turned out to be one of the most interesting walks I ever had. It would definitely have got boring and prototypical. As I climbed the stairs of my house, I was grinning. I do not know the actual reason behind what all I felt, or the thoughts that ran in my head that day. But I know one thing for sure. I felt free.

10 unbelievable things most couples do.

I can name 167. But these are the 10 most unbelievable things they do. THE couples. Lovers. Love birds. Nightingales. Parrots. Pigeons. Sparrows. Kingfishers. Okay, yeah, I should shut up. They are unbelievable, ubiquitous, incomprehensible, and audaciously dumb. This is what most guys and girls (sorry 'gals') do when they are 'seeing' each other:

1. Blush at the very mention of their partner's name. The girl will say "oh shut up!" when she is being teased by her friends, but inside, she loves every bit of the provoking (are we redefining hypocrisy here?). The guy, if really committed will say, "She is the one, I can't think of any other girl"(yeah right).

2. They will text each other, all day. And those texts have nothing important, that the world will have to depend upon. They will only say "Hey darl, wat doing?", or "whr r u honey?", "wat r u wearing now?". They will also address each other with homosexually stimulating names like jaan, sweety pie, cutie, baby, baba, chocolate, chickelet (yes, people use that word too), chingu, mingu, tingu, chotu, chweetu, motu, jaanu, monu, SHONA (why can't some one ban that song?). They will also have mushy baby talks, because they think that's what couples do.

3. They will meet at least twice a week, that is, if they don't work or study together. If family knows about them, they will tell at home, and meet. It has to be either Mc Donalds, or Coffee Day (I keep forgetting how many branches these eateries have). And if the family doesn't know about them, they will lie, and meet, and then discuss each others families (I pity them so much, that I want to cry. They don't know what real conversations are).

4. They will have their 'firsts'. First kiss, first fight, first move, first time he smiled at her lovingly, first time she sat next to him in public, first time they said the same word together, first time they didn't text each other, first time they texted each other, first time the held hands, first time they accidentally touched each other, first time they said 'I love you', first time he told her that he pissed on the road, first time she told him she was taking her bath and then she went shopping with her mommy (no seriously, why am I still living?). And ironically, the girl remembers all this.

5. They will start calling each other on their cell phones. When I say calling, I literally mean it. They are always on phone. The conversations generally consist of "Where are you?", "did you eat?", "did you pee?", "did you study?", "When are we going to meet?" "Mc donalds or Coffee Day?", "Nahin baba, that's too late, let's go for lunch?", "which movie? Shall we watch Rab Ne Banadi Jodi, or should we watch Jab We Met on your lappy?" (where is the world coming to?)

6. They will do things for each other. "Do this for me jaan, please." "Wear this dress for me baby, please:)" (yeah nothing more interesting than this). The girls will dress up like it's their wedding every time they meet their guys.

7. They will have anniversaries! They will celebrate it like they won some extremely precious award like say , the Nobel maybe?

8. They will comment on each others photos on orkut and facebook. They will write each other highly unintelligent testimonials, which will only display their so called mushy love for the other. The testimonials will also consist of phrases like 'thanks for making my life so beautiful, love you'. They will also put their pics on these sites, where they are hugging and kissing.

9. Generally, parents will not agree. They will marry nevertheless, and will also upload a 1000 pics on orkut and facebook. Friends will even comment, saying that they are such a 'cute' couple.

10. They will go on a honeymoon to Kerela, or Mahabaleshwar. Oh I forgot, Ooty if possible. Maximum, Simla, Manali, or maybe Rajasthan. They will later have kids, and live happily ever after.

Conclusion: Being single is AWESOME.

The Good, Bad and Destiny

My grandfather died at the age of ninety one. He died of a cardiac arrest, and had a painless death, just the way he had wanted it to be. He had always told me, "Everybody dies one day, my dear. But how you die is important. The more painless your death is, the more closer you are to God. God looks after every deed of ours and passes his judgement. It is all written." At that time, I never thought much about what he said, though I would always love listening to him. He always had a way of explaining things. The best was his ability to describe his favorite food, in such an interesting way, that would even make a food hater salivate. He would tell us cousins every detail of the food particle that he swallowed, and how they felt on his taste buds. One of my personal favorites was his adventures at a temple in Chennai, and the Idly that he loved there. He told me how soft the Idly was, the amount of coconut and milk he presumed, the chef added in the chutney, and the few green chillies that made it irresistable. He told me about the full spoon of hardened butter or ghee that they added on top of each, hot, Idly, and how he watched the butter melt to the heat. As a matter of fact, I have always hated Idlies. But my grandfather made the boring Idly sound so interesting, that I had almost started liking them.

I have never till date met a bigger foodie than my grandfather. Even at his old age, he loved pepsi, and thums up and would always have them with some spicy snack, once in a week. He would enjoy it so much, that I could actually see the childish excitement in his eyes. He had always told me, "Never compromise on food. Food is like an incentive that gives you confidence to enjoy your life to the fullest."

My cousins and I always had some reason to tease him and pull his leg. We made fun of his short stature and extraordinarily huge ears. The most amazing part was, he would sit and laugh with us about it. The kind of twinkle he had in his eyes when he laughed at us teasing him, had a sense of naughtiness and innocence in them. He would tease us back, defending himself saying, "Short people are born intelligent." We would just laugh. As I said, he had a way with words. He was partially deaf, in his old age, and we would often make fun of that too, and laugh with him. He just loved our attention. When we asked him, why he heard so less, in spite of having such huge ears, he would tease us saying, "You people are stupid. You don't know that I just pretend to be partially deaf. I can hear everything." Once, my cousin actually tested his hearing capabilities. He stood far away from my grandfather, and mumbled a few words, and asked him to guess what he had said. My grandfather guessed it right. My cousin kept trying, and my grandfather got all of them correct. Even today, it is a mystery, of how he sensed all of that.

Every night, I would chat with him for hours. He would tell me about his adventures in Southern India, and how he had survived alone, without much money. He had told me those stories almost everyday, and I always knew what was coming next, but I loved listening to them again and again. In those days, he had these annoying black patches all over his back, that would itch all the time. He always called for one of us cousins, to comb his hair and scratch his back for him. I was his favorite grandchild. He would specially send for me, to get a comb for him. He had always told me, that my hands had magic in them, and that one day I will use my hands to heal wounds. I used to laugh it off back then, and there were times, when I would ignore him for no reason. Today, I am pursuing my Bachelor Of Physiotherapy, a stream that indubitably deals with healing the physically and mentally handicapped.

At ninety one, he knew Backstreet Boys, Sachin Tendulkar, Saurav Ganguly, Shahrukh Khan and could perfectly explain the derivation of 'a+b whole square'. He even discussed politics with me, and would always tell me that children should be given their share of freedom. I remember this one day, when I was in my 8th standard. I had newly purchased an autograph book, which I frantically carried with me where ever I went. Cool autographs were a craze in my school those days. I had asked all my cousins to write something nice and witty in it for me, and sign. I had asked my grandfather to do the same. He had a fractured left hand then. His fingers of both hands seemed almost broken with age, and the skin was so wrinkled that it looked like he had no flesh. He asked for his favorite and the best pen he had, and with a stubborn enthusiasm, opened the book, and wrote "Be Happy", with shivering hands. The writing was matured yet seemed so out of practice. He signed under it, with such pride, that brought a huge smile on to my face. That was the first and last time I saw my grandfather write. He died exactly three years later. As the years passed by, I stopped missing him much, and got used to the fact that he was no more. But whenever I am sad, I always remember the two words that he wrote for me, and immediately cheer up, for him. Such is the effect of just two small words.

Before I got Drunk...

Before I got drunk, I was excited.
Before I got drunk, I wanted to feel inebriated.
Before I got drunk, I didn't want to dance,
Since booze, will make me do it any way,
so I didn't want to miss the chance.

Before I got drunk, I danced anyway,
Before I got drunk I ate my hunger away.
Before I got drunk, I tasted the liquid for the first time,
It was disgustingly bitter and I hated it.
I drank a little more, it felt no better,
It only tasted like water in the gutter.

But still I wanted to get drunk,
So, before I got drunk, I gulped more of the liquid,
Nothing happened to me, I was disappointed.
My friends started getting a high,
I wanted to go and cry,
Before I got drunk, I was not getting drunk at all.

I tried having more,
No change, I was fine,
I danced to the core and called the bottle a whore.
Before I got drunk, I grooved to the music,
Before I got drunk, I waited to get the high kick.
Before I got drunk, I did Kathak.
Before I got drunk, I complained,
Before I got drunk, I did not feel strained.
Time passed, and I remained the same,
Thought the whole idea was lame.


Before I got drunk, I was in my own world,
Before I got drunk, I was cold.
That’s when I woke up the next morning,
and remembered all the partying and all the fun,
That’s when I laughed. Damn! I was drunk!

The Stupidest Conversations...

"Hello mam. I am calling from LIC Life Insurance Policy mam. We have a new policy this month mam. Are you interested mam?" asks the call center executive. I have a straight face at first. Then I say, "NO! thank you. I am not interested." She asks the dumbest question now, "why mam, can you tell me mam, why are you not interested mam?". I want to bang my phone to the wall now. "I am not interested because I am still a student and I don't care about life insurance policies yet." My best friend bursts out laughing like a mad woman. Then the caller says, "oh, okay mam. You are still a student mam?" I just told her I was, why the fuck does she have to bug me with that question again?! I say, "yes." "Okay mam, do you know mam if anyone in your family is interested mam?" Now, I want to kill myself and her. I say a stern "NO" and hang up. My best friend laughs even more now, and I am staring at her with a straight face. And then I start laughing too.

I don't understand these calls sometimes. I bet most of the people they call say "No" to everything, but they still call. I get annoying calls from idea and vodafone people sometimes. I once got a call from idea customer care at 11 in the night. I was already pissed that day, and when I pick up the phone, they started playing some cheap telugu song so loud that for a moment I thought I would go deaf. And they play these songs to advertise dialer tones! I don't understand, if people really get attracted to offers like that on phone. Especially if they play songs like "jeja ammaaaa!!!" And these people from the company are clever! They call from different numbers so that we don't know its them calling. Sometimes when I take the call, an annoying kiddish voice says "basha! basha!". And vodafone people call up telling me about "special" offers. They talk as if they know the best english in the world. They even try and put up an accent sometimes. Aren't call centers supposed to teach spoken english? Or why can't they just talk in a language they are comfortable in? The other day, a person calls me up saying "hala maaam. We hau ye new aafer maam. You are intereshted maam?". I controlled my urge to laugh so badly! I said, "no I am naat intereshted."

Sometimes I save the idea and vodafone numbers that I often get calls from and if I am lucky enough they use the same number to call me again. And its obvious that I don't receive them. I see people shout at the callers at times, for asking ridiculous questions. And thats when I cant help but feel sorry for them.

"Cut the Rug"- To Ragging

Last week, I was asked to write an article on ragging in my college. I didn't want to. Some how I thought the idea was boring. But I did anyway, and for that I had to ask different people about their experiences. I didn't want to do that, again, but contrary to my expectations and chagrin, I got to know some really interesting stories. I remember the first day of college and how excited and anxious I was. I wanted to get ragged because I thought it would be fun. And I got ragged the most out of the girls in my class and in a way it was fun because they made me do funny things. They asked me to sing, propose to a really short guy, enact baby rhymes, etc. It was stupid, but I laughed a lot while doing it and had taken it sportively. The guy seniors were pretty lenient. Girl seniors were bitches. They humiliated me, they screamed at me, told me what a big snob I was and how I had to respect seniors and crap. People say that you become great friends with your seniors after the ragging process. Strangely enough, I am not friends with any of my seniors. We never shared a great rapport. After around 3 months of joining my college, I realized how dumb it is to rag people and get ragged. Funnily, all the seniors always chanted about how ragging was only a sort of interaction. Interaction my ass. I did not interact normally with any senior. I was only laughing like an idiot. And most of them, scared that we juniors might go and complain to the management, tell us, "We are not ragging you. This is just an interaction." And we like ideal jack asses, nodded to everything they said. As a junior, you tend to be stupid, because the seniors generally intimidate you. You listen to everything they say, and not retort. Many juniors complain about how they hate this sort of torture every day, but hypocritically, they rag their juniors too. People are weird. I think most juniors develop a kind of ego when they become seniors. And they acquire this " I was ragged, now I will rag too. They are dumb juniors after all" attitude.

One of my friends shared his ragging experiences with me. He told me how much he was degraded and how medical students are ragged till they start weeping and beg the seniors to stop the torment. Apparently he was called to the hostel one day, and was forced to drink and then go absolutely nude. They were given mango leaves, which they had to tie around their waists, and dance all night around a fire which the seniors had lit, on the hostel terrace. One guy was even asked to urinate into the fire. My friend told me that he was mentally, very severely affected by this, and even had viral fever for a few days. He would bunk college because of the fear of ragging. All this happened around six years ago, and now he tells me how much he laughs looking back. Though he felt mentally tortured back then , he ragged his juniors badly. He asked them to go naked and rub the black board with their butts. I was shocked. It was gross. And my friend was laughing about it! Hypocrisy and sheer grossness. I was disgusted. I do not understand what guys get when they see other guys naked while ragging. Is that not gay? One more friend tells me how one of my seniors was asked to expose one of her breasts, which she did, and one of the guys shot a video and circulated it all over the campus. The most appalling thing was, the girl's atrocity.

Seniors in most medical colleges scold, scream, dominate, and also beat most guys up. I was scolded and screamed at many times for not wishing the seniors, not getting them chocolates. They even scolded me for not ragging my juniors properly. WTF?! One of the girls told me "you think you are miss universe don't you?". I so wanted to say, "yes mam, I at least think something about myself, I pity brainless beings like you." But I didn't. :| I did give them a look, but thats it. One of my parallel batch mates, tells me, "People should be ragged! I got ragged, and I learned a lot from my seniors. I ragged my juniors, because it is from their seniors that they learn professionalism." He clearly does not know what ragging is and neither does he know what "professionalism" is. One more ridiculous thing is, we are asked to address our seniors as "mam" and "sir". It is absurd. What are they? Nobel laureates? The worst thing is they force us to address them like that. I think its because they know how useless they are for this world, and this is the only chance they get where they can at least pretend to be great people. Sad lives they lead I say.

Just the other day, I was watching We The People on NDTV 24*7 where there was a debate on ragging going on. Even Aman Khachroo's(the guy who was beaten to death by his seniors) father participated. One of the students, had made a point in the debate that, as most of the intense ragging takes place in hostels, a separate hostel must be made only for freshers, located far away from the seniors' hostels. I think she had a point, and it will make a difference. I don't know why interaction has to be in the form of ragging. You can even "interact" by talking to them casually, at maybe college fests, functions, etc. Why is not ragging some one a big deal? I fail to understand the purpose behind ragging and why it is so necessary to make fun of the juniors and pull their legs, when you don't know anything about them. And as matter of fact, I did not rag any of my juniors.

That's The Way The Cookie Crumbles..

No, not my cookie. The other day, I had gone to meet an old friend of mine. We decided to meet at Mc Donalds. By the time I had reached there my friend still hadn't arrived. So I was waiting for him, when this little kid, who seemed to look not more than six years old, came to me begging for some money. He seemed pretty clean looking for a beggar. He had put on a multicolored full sleeved shirt and trousers that looked very old, but neat. His hair was messy, which I think he did it himself, for the "effect" and his face had sum black marks on it, again which I think he did it himself. He was walking normally and coolly until he came to me. Looking at me, he suddenly made a sad expression, bent down a little as if to show off that he doesn't have a right posture and held out his hand. I held back a laugh.

"Didi, please give me 50 paise, I didn't eat anything from the morning." he said. "What will you buy with 50 paise?" I asked. "Anything!" he said. "Who sent you here, to beg?" I asked, to which he stared at me for sometime and then replied, "nobody." "Oh, so where are your parents?" I asked. "They are not there. They have gone up." he said, meaning that his parents had died. "Oh, so you must have some friends, to beg along with you" I asked. "No, I wander on the roads alone, now please give me the money" he said. "Wander alone eh? You don't go to school?" I asked. "No I don't. Now please give me the money!" he pleaded. "what is your name?" I asked. "Tara, now please give me the money, please." he said. "I will not give you 50 paise, I will give you three rupees, will you tell me who sent you to beg?" I said, handing him the money. "Nobody sent me here." He said, now standing straight and making a happy and healthy face, looking at the money in his hand. "Oh, so you don't have a home, and nobody sent you here. So where do you sleep?" I asked. "At my elder sister's place." I was a little confused, "Oh, and where is your sister's house?" I asked. "Saroor Nagar" he said. "That is very far! How will you go there with no money" I argued. "Didn't you just give me money? I'll take the bus." he said, with a naughty and mischievous grin on his face. " Okay, then what will you eat if you spend money on traveling?" I asked. "I'll eat at my sister's place!". He laughed a very kiddish laugh filled with impishness and walked away and started begging other people.

I was surprised at his smartness! He nicely took away three rupees of mine, on the pretext of having a conversation with me! Wow! I felt like such a fool. But I couldn't help laughing at myself. That little creep made such a jackass out of me.
He nicely earned his travel expenses from me, and will give that money to his so called sister, who will feed him a feast at night for begging and making idiots out of people like me. That's the way his cookie crumbles. Beg for money, cleverly, for the bus ride, go home and hog on his sister's cooking!

Strange Connections

I already wrote a blog on how I went on a holiday to Bangalore. So there, I stayed at a cousin's place along with my family. He lives in a comfortable house with his wife and two and half year old son. The moment we entered his house, the little kid was ready to greet us with his mom. I had never really met him before. He was blushing all over. He's a kid after all. We all got comfortable in the house, unpacking things, sipping coffee and all that. All the while the little kid stood behind his mom, silently blushing, peeping and smiling at me. I went and pulled his cheeks, smiled at him, tried to tickle him, and poke him so that he at least would start talking.

Every body was trying to play with the kid. His parents asked him to sing songs, introduce himself and ask every body for their introduction. He didn't pretty much do everything he was asked to. He came up to me and smiled. I gave him a peck and smiled back. He touched my cheek and ran away. After that he started following me wherever I went. He once even followed me to the bathroom. I was finding it very funny and cute. He had trouble pronouncing my name, so he called me "A-ne-keeya". Every now and then he would come to me, and hold my hand and take me to his room, show me his toys, and recite nursery rhymes and sing songs. His parents were shocked and so were the others, since he was not responding to anyone except me. He wanted me to feed him breakfast, play with him, talk to him and listen to him, which I did patiently. He wanted to do everything on my lap or while sitting next to me.

He ran behind me all day, and at some point it did start getting a little annoying. You cant keep the kid happy all the time, and at the same time, you cant make him sad too. So I was as patient as possible with him. That evening we went out shopping along with the kid's parents without telling him about it, leaving him with his grandmother. I was told that the kid always wanted his mother around,and would cry if he didn't see her. That night when we returned, my aunt told me he cried because he didn't see me. They made him eat telling him that I would come back if he did. He was all shy and coy when he saw me back home, and then again started being silly and cute, and was dancing around me chanting "A-ne-kee-yaah" every time. Later that night, he was sitting by my side, with his mom, when he called me "mumma". I didn't know how to respond to that. I just smiled at him and said, pointing at his mother " No, mumma is here, right next to you." He said "No, you are mumma", and then gave me a kiss on the cheek. His mom had turned pale. She tried diverting his attention, talking to him about the songs and rhymes he learned lately.

I was lost that night, in thoughts. My whole family was surprised by how much he fancied me more than anyone else. They were talking about, how we might have been related in our previous lives. I didn't know what to conclude. Maybe the kid was lonely, and was happy that I was talking to him, or maybe his mother was not as friendly as I was. It was strange. Very strange. It is indeed very difficult to analyze a little kid's psychology.

How It Is To Feel Like Ice...

First of all, A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BLOG! It turned one on 5th! I wanted to blog on that day celebrating it's first b'day, but couldn't since I finally went on a holiday. No, not with friends, but with family. It was some experience that I had. My dad had casually planned to take us on a trip to Bangalore to visit my aunt and cousins, since I had been everlastingly pestering him about how badly I wanted a break. Considering that, he decided to take us to Mysore and Ooty too. We reached Bangalore on 2nd May, and stayed at my aunt's place. I shopped my heart out that evening in commercial street. Next morning we left for Mysore in a tourist bus that we had booked for ourselves. We reached there by mid-noon, and boy was Mysore hot! I was sweating like a pig. Nevertheless, it was a real green place to see. You can hardly see any empty, barren grounds there. Every place is literally a garden. In the evening we checked out the Mysore Maharaja Palace. It was one of the most sexiest palaces I had ever laid my eyeballs on. It was shimmering in the evening sky, decorated with golden lights everywhere. It was like a magical piece of art that stood in the thin air. But tragically, we were not allowed to go inside, due to security problems.

We left for Ooty the next morning. The vehicle we were traveling in had to drive through forests of Nadamalli in Karnataka and another forest whose name I don't remember, in Tamil Nadu. We were told that we might come across wild animals like elephants and tigers. My eyes were wide open rummaging around the place, but in vain. I couldn't spot a single wild animal. I saw a deer though, which isn't what I would call wild. Then the vehicle drove through mountains, climbing and turning around sharp hairpin bends. It was like sitting on a roller coaster that moves in slow motion. We could sense Ooty from a distance as it had started to get chilly. Nobody had carried woollen clothing along except me. But it didn't look that bad anyway.

Ooty was beautiful. Everything about it was so green and pleasant and cold. I had some of the yummiest chocolates there. We went boating, and horse riding after which our bus parked at a location from where we had to walk to the famous botanical gardens. My parents, brother and I started to walk. Thats when it started to rain. At first it seemed like a temporary drizzle since it was common on top of a hill, but later it started to rain heavily and then it started to hail! There were only medium sized pieces of ice every where. People were running for shelter, and so were we. We found a place to protect ourselves from getting anymore drenched at a vendor's shop who sold items that he imported from Tibet. We were frozen. To add spice to the situation, we were in our cotton clothes, and had nothing to cover ourselves with. I was shivering, and laughing and expirating fog out of my mouth. I just couldn't help it. It was fun! I was giggling like an idiot despite of my dad's chagrin who hates any form of rain. My skin felt prickly all the while. A few pieces of ice even fell on my hands and feet which made me shiver even more. We waited there for a while and then decided to walk to the bus. It was so cold that I could not sense anything on my skin anymore.

We had to cross a street full of rain water and mud. It was like walking in ice water. Or maybe ice water would have been warmer. The moment I stepped on it, my foot became numb. After walking a few steps, I felt like frozen, hard ice. My fingers turned blue and my toes were aching because of the cold. I still had to walk many more steps to cross the lane. After every step I told myself, " a few more, and then you will be warm." After what seemed like ages, we reached a shop where my dad asked for some towels that could help us dry ourselves up for the time being. We had to adjust with handkerchiefs anyway, since they had no towels for sale. We started our way to the bus again, but this time, my brother and I ran. Just for the heck of it. Cold air hit me like a blow, with hail from above and our feet were so torpid that they were almost dormant. But we ran. I felt frozen and fragile, as if I would break open any moment. It was like the whole place was like a refrigerator with the chilled room leaking from the above. I never remember feeling so cold in my life. I have never felt snow or never been to many hill stations that have snow peaked mountains. But I doubt I'll feel this cold again.

There..I finally casted my vote!

I voted today, and I feel elated! Me and my best friend were so excited that we woke up early and went for a morning walk before casting our votes. We stood in lines, waited till our legs almost dropped down, and finally got the black mark on our fingers. My friend and I have started calling them "The Fingers". We even considered not taking our bath for a few days! But you can't do that if you have your mom around. On the whole, it was a crazy, tiring and most importantly the day we voted for the first time! :D. To the people who haven't voted because of the problem with registration and voter cards, I feel sorry for you, the system sucks. For those who didn't even bother to get registered, I feel sorry for you too, you so need to get a life.

Rrraaaandom!

Today, I was going through some of the old posts I hadn't published, when I came across this one. I had written this on 23rd October 2008. I couldn't stop chuckling at the stupidity of it, and was amused by how much things have changed in the past few months! I don't know why I didn't post it back then, maybe because I knew it was stupid!

It's been exactly three days that I finished writing my final exams..and you dont want to know how bored and lazy I already feel!"Alekhya!wake up!"..that's how my day starts these days.."wake up!its 11.30am!" and goes on.. my mother's screaming.I dont blame her though..I have become a lummox!

I have only been readin from the past few days..I finished reading The Kite Runner finally!This has been my second attempt to readin it,first having failed on an account of depression that the book led me to.There have been books which touched me,at the most,just moistened my eyes,but this book made me weep!At one point,I actually shut the book and started weeping.I was so moved by it,that I have started downloading the movie now.I hate u-torrent sometimes,or maybe my computer doesn't like me!It refuses to download successfully everytime I am dying to watch a movie.I tried limewire,but my luck was so damn good that after downloading 83% of the movie,it said error..and went down to 9%!(sigh).So the point is,Iam still downloading it,and have decided to stick to torrent,and will definitely smash my PC if it doesn't download the movie properly this time!(how I wish I could do that!).I have started reading A Thousand splendid Suns now.

These days I miss my school days a little too much.I did my schooling from Our Own English High School,Sharjah,U.A.E.I came to India after my 9th grade,and started studying here.I so hated it,but I managed to pull it through.Sometimes I wonder how my life would have been had I studied the rest of my grades in Dubai.It would have been like a cliched "zameen aur aasman ka farak" kind of a difference,but yeah,I wouldn't have been what I am now.So the point is I am bored,and out of ennui,I am being nostalgic!

You know sometimes people can get so damn annoying!I hate my college!Its probably one of the most "un-exciting" and "un-happening" colleges in the world.And people there are such that even if you sneezed,the entire college will get to know where you sneezed,at what pitch you sneezed,if you covered your face while sneezing,or where your hands were while sneezing,and when you sneezed within a day minimum.(I hope you got my exaggeration).In short everybody gossips about the dumbest thing around, which is so not me.So I feel outcasted in a wonderful college like that. Having only one friend who atleast to an extent is like minded,can get frustrating. But in a way I have got used to it since I had no other option!

 

I so want to go out of town! But everybody around me seems to be busy.But I am still waiting for college to re-open so that there will be some academically challenging things to take up with a whole new set of subjects waiting to play with my brain! I hope they dont bore me too.Kathak classes are fun though. Sir makes us dance for a whole one hour or more sometimes,that makes me feel fresh and I love kathak. I am waiting to perform on stage,but that might take a while.Besides all this, I catch up on my favourite comedy movies or serials,because laughing is like my stress buster and also makes me feel on the top of this world.I love to laugh.When me and my best friend get together,we laugh so hard that people at my place get scared hearing us sometimes!My brother tells me he has nightmares about our laughing.Yeah right.He is another bluffing buffallo.I love annoying him,and he annoys me more!

Anyways,I'll sign off before I write any more crap.I'll get back to reading and will go do kathak for an hour in the evening.

Mind's a Mystery,So Sell it Clever!

Mahatma Gandhi once said “You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind." The quote moved me.The mind indeed is one of the most treasured tools of an individual.Polish it and use it regularly well,or leave it to rust.It is ubiquitous,nebulous and traditionally genetic.It is a possession that cannot be comprehended fully by anyone,sometimes by one's own self too.

Mind is clever,imaginative,nervous,intuitive and many more things which is beyond exegenesis.The mind is the reason behind every deed an individual performs.It can memorize a small multiplication table to be responsible to a terror attack.A small cabbage sized organ like the brain,can create a larger than life big bang theory and can destruct people's lives through terror attacks.Its a mystery to me that a small mind could be responsible for everything that we do.

Different people have different opinions and ideas.Some people decide to use them,some people don't. They prefer to stay in their safe little box and maintain a low profile. I believe everybody in this world has extraordinary ideas.Ideas that can change the world's outlook. But somehow people refuse to use them,discuss them. Maybe due to inhibitions,lack of confidence or ego.Again here,the mind plays a trick.Its multitasking amazes me!It can produce,inhibit and reproduce at the same time.It is even capable of storing trash! For instance,I remember my father's old friend's brother's second daughter's birthday(whom I haven't met or seen till now).Yeah you can call me mad,but honestly,I can't erase it fron my head. Okay I am deviating from the topic I was talking on now.See what my mind does sometimes;). So ideas can be clever,dumb,useful,useless and so on. But how will anyone know what your mind is like unless you share your thoughts? Generating ideas and thoughts and not putting them to use is equal to being dead.

In the current scenario that we live in,the mind can get constructuve or destructive. Its all about how you set you neurons to work. Let your mind,filled with clever ideas help the world be a better place to live in,or let it get involved in world destruction,or maybe let it do nothing. What ever you let your mind do, directly or indirectly effects every one around you.

And I can go on and on about this. Even books written by Mario Puzo haven't been enough to be able to prove what the mind is actually all about. So its an ocean,and my blog has by far been too hypothetical to keep you interested anymore,so I'll stop here.

"Great minds discuss ideas,Average minds discuss events,Small minds discuss people."-Eleanor Roosevelt. (I don't know how much I agree with this,but yeah cleverly worded.)

Stupidity,Priceless Humour and Unselling ear-buds..

I travel to college boarding the college bus everyday.Our college is situated almost 70 kilometers away from where I live,so the transport the college provides is most convenient compared to the long never ending journey in the city buses.The bus stop is around 4 kms away from where I live so I keep travelling all day...home to bus stop,bus stop to college,college to bus stop,bus stop to back home.Every evening when we get down the bus,there is a throng of vendors selling almost anything.There is this particular vendor,around 60 years old,who piqued my and my friends' interests because of the peculiar and rhythmic way he sold ear-buds."Maaaaay-dum!maaaaay-dum!(Madam!Madam!) Onlllly phai rupiss!".Neither did anyone pay attention to him,nor did they buy his ear-buds.I would always wonder if he never got bored standing there and selling things which hardly got sold.I felt sorry for him.But the first time we heard him,we couldn't help but laugh.He sounds acutely funny.He noticed this,and thought he had amused us.So he started saying "Maaaaay-dum" even more loudly from the next day on.After a few days,our gang had stopped laughing realizing that it would be rude and started ignoring his presence(though his maaaaay-dum would make us titter a little).Little did we know how much he was enjoying our attention.The funniest part was,he had started to fancy my friend Nupur!

We actually realized that when one day,we normally got down,and completely ignored him,he gave a nice bold flying kiss to Nupur.This time everybody laughed except me(you see,I didn't want to provoke his interest and fascination for my friend further),but looking at them,a little later even I burst out laughing.Nupur also laughed,since she didn't know what else to do.

A few days passed and the man had started to get annoying.This time he had come up with new witty one-liners to amuse us.He once looked at Nupur and actually said"arre,yeh to meri Radha hai!!'(she is my Radha!),for which all of us had a "wtf?!" expression on our faces.We found it very hilarious,but we made sure not to laugh in front of him.He tried this a few times.Then,he started using other cheeky words.He didn't seem to give up on Nupur at all.He started calling her "jaanam"(beloved).Every time she passed by him,he would call out to her,"jaaanammm!".

Everybody in our bus got to know about Nupur and her oldest fan,and she had become the butt of all our jokes.These days,our bus stops way ahead of our bus stop because of certain traffic and security problems,so the old man hardly gets to see Nupur,as she goes home taking another road.We saw him every day though,and his search for his Radha is endless.I told others in our gang to make sure not to laugh in front of him.Laughing will only make him act more smart.It would be like a hint for him to continue his stupidity.

Its difficult to comprehend a street vendor's life.Maybe this old man is bored with his life,and is just having some fun.But one thing I appreciate about him is that he never gave up on his ear-buds.I don't know how much money he makes everyday,but he still comes there on the same spot and tries selling them all.He atleast has some dedication,even if it was we who stabled it a little more for a while;).We haven't seen him for a long time,but still hear his loud"Maaaaay-dum!" every evening.

"Kathak Kronikles"

A song playing vociferously,no one else at home other than me,I could be a sight.Irrespective of the genre of the song playing,I'll losen my hair and start dancing like I got possessed or something.I make sure the volume is adjusted to the maximum,and sometimes the song is so loud it could probably even wake the dead.There's no pattern to the steps I dance.I just waltz,and I can keep on dancing,until my ribcage starts hurting.

My relation with dance has been entertaining forever.I remember the first time I danced on stage,I was in my 3rd grade.I felt on top of the world.On stage,I feel impregnable.I acquire this"no-one-can-stop-me,I-have-the-whole-stage-to-dance-on" kind of attitude.

I can hustle and whirl with the tune being played,but I have always wanted to learn a classical form of dance.I did my schooling in the U.A.E so finding suitable teachers to teach me was a little bothersome for us.But I did end up joining kathak classes when I was 6,though it went on only for a year.I did not have time to get back to kathak again until  December 9th,2007.That was when I joined Kathak classes in Hyderabad along with my best friend.Since then there has been no looking back.

Kathak is a beautiful form of classical dance.The grace and sensuality it has is second to none.It is characterized by fast foot work,and spins which is most captivating.I remember our first lesson and how my friend and I were awed,and scared at the same time wondering how we were going to learn such a difficult cavort.But guess what?Ten days ago,we gave our first stage performance!:D:DAnd woah!what fun we had!we did screw up a little here and there while dancing,and we looked like two women possessed by Hindu godessess,but who cares!We gave our first performance,thats what matters the most.And know what?we are performing again next month!And know what?we'll keep performing until our muscles fatigue one day.No,I think we'll dance even then.Anyways,why am I even thinking about what I can or will do fifty years later?For now,all we are going to do is,dance like we will never dance again!