Am I the Woman you want me to be?

 

Am I the Woman you want me to be,

As I am emotional, irrational, illogical

As I am dramatic, nagging, controlling,

As I can’t make decisions with reason,

As I am impractical and indecisive,

As I am all talk and no action,

As I am impractical and irrational,

As I am as dramatic as theatre,

As I am impractical and emotional,

As I cannot be argued with,

As I am impractical and irrational,

As I remain illogical and everything above,

I wonder, can I ever be the woman I want to be?

Just a little bit, just a little more

I had written a post on my grandfather over eight years ago describing his 91 years of life. Little did I know I would re-open my blog site to write something about my father a few years later today, attempting to describe his 57 years of life. Yes,it is as depressing as it seems. So young, so handsome, so vibrant and full of life. He was like a superhero whose superpowers were, well..
1. To talk. Mostly about himself. And also about how others were idiots and he was not. Imagine growing up listening to so much talking. Result- your ears hurt but you CANNOT tell him that. My dad took offense easily. 

2. His 'larger than life' confidence. I don't know anyone with so much confidence. Period. He should have been a politician.

 3. His ridiculously impressive bravery. He got his Brahmin daughter married to a North Indian Muslim and showed it off like it was no one's business. We just didn't get covered in the news. That's all.

 4. His cheekiness. He would tell a person he met five minutes ago, what he did not like about him/her and wouldn't care less about repercussions. I don't know many people who took that well.

 5. His humor. I once laughed so much that I peed a little in my pants. Such a raw sense of humor he had!

 6. Lighting up any gathering. He really, really did. He joked, talked, laughed. No one wanted anything more. He was the hero of every party.

 7. His good looks. Not exaggerating, but some of my friends have had crushes on him. I think my husband did, too. He just won't tell me.

 8. His judgement on everyone he met- everyone was beneath him. Blank.

 9. His confidence in me. Again, ridiculously incredible levels of confidence in me, of which I have none.

 10. His sense of solidarity. All of us had to be together for everything, even though it was annoying for some. We had to be together and that's it. No arguments.

He was fun, controlling, interfering, annoying, unconditionally loving, a dad, a friend, a husband. I wish he could annoy me, control me, interfere with my life a little longer to help me experience pure happiness, pure bliss, pure laughter and peace, all over again.

Thanks for having existed in our lives, Naanna. There's truly no one like you.

Delirium

He smelled dried leaves, like always. The old man could smell them from his room, from the terrace of the rehabilitation center, and also from the kitchen. His sense of smell had a strong affinity for them. Sometimes he wanted dogs to learn from him. He loved trees for dying and being born again. But he didn't want to be born again, after dying. He just waited, without knowing why.

The old man put on his favorite slippers, that were too huge for him. He looked at them, with utmost concentration, and thought nothing in the whole wide world could be as comfortable. They reminded him of planet Earth, the warmth of the sun, the moon, and stars. They also reminded him of rabbits, and hamsters. Giving them an appreciative nod, he set out for his evening walk. Cool breeze forced in through his thick hair. Again he smelled the leaves. He made his disturbed, lonely self, take shorter and faster steps. Something made him want to walk that way.

He saw the young man sitting on the same bench again. This time he was sure he would talk to him. When the young man stood up to leave, the old man shouted "Oi! You should sit!". The young man, sat down and stared at his hands. Scratched his curly, messy hair, and kept glancing at the old man, worriedly, with an enduring frown on his face. The old man squinted, and sat down next to him.

"So, you come here often eh, young man?" probed the old man.
"Yes, yes I do. Yes, y-y-yes I d-do. Yes." He kept nodding continuously.
"What do you do, young man?"
"Yes, I d-do special things."
"Ah! Just like me. We have too much in common eh? We should become buds eh?"
The young man stared at him unbelievably, and then let out a childish laugh. "Yes, yes, we can. We can, we can." This time the old man stared at him. "You laugh just like a bat eh? Where did you learn that?"
The young man scratched his head, and spat on the ground. Rubbed his nose, and blinked a few times. He slapped himself. "Can you do this? Yes, th-this. Can you?"

The old man was amused. He wanted to be able to slap just like the young man did. He lifted his left hand, and slapped himself on the right cheek. "There! I did it eh?"
"No, no, no, no, no. I c-can do it b-better."
The old man grunted.
"We should dance now" said the young man.
"But where's the music, young man? We cannot dance without music or at least the drums?"

"We can, we can. Yes. Play music under your hairs. Yeah, h-hairs. It will play loudly. Now d-dance like this." He said, standing up, and shaking his legs, and jumping. The old man was shocked. He could not believe his eyes. The young man,took the old man's hand and pulled him up. "C-come, d-dance like this. Just jump, jump, you will hear music, under your hairs!" The old man, jumped a little. And just as the young man had said, music started playing in his mind, under his hairs. He was fascinated. He jumped higher, moved his hands, wobbled his head, and moved around the place. And then, he laughed.

He had never enjoyed something so much. He laughed loudly. So loudly that everyone in the garden looked at him, surprised. He laughed again. The laughter filled his eyes with tears. The other people, who were also in their own world, started laughing, for no reason. The young man also giggled at first, and later laughed. Everyone roared with laughter. The old man, laughed so much, that he fell to the ground. He had never laughed. But just then, he did. He laughed like, he was going to die. Water kept flowing from his eyes, his ribs ached. Maybe this was how it had to end. But he didn't care. He kept laughing.

Mist

I heard laughter. Roars of laughter. Laughter so pure, so cruel, and so enchanting. It vibrated the world within me. Intimidated me. Amused me. And I fell.

I felt the wind hit my face. Felt my stomach getting attracted to the physical force of gravity. Felt my entire body wanting to part away from me. I felt fear.

The sudden blow, and fear made me realize how much I wanted this to happen. Then I felt blankness. A blankness so silent, that it hurt my senses. My head felt shallow. I felt a deep respect for myself. Now I was sad. I felt sorrow flood within me. I wanted to scream and cry.

Then the memories poured in. Too many of them. They brought to my mind an immense joy. Joy of having been there, once upon a time. Happiness. I almost laughed. I felt love. I felt bliss. I felt peace. Calmness.

This lead me to remain at a constant state of longing. A longing for this maze of emotions to end. The concoction confused me. I experienced a deep sinking feeling. Then it hit me. And then it ended. And then there was blankness, yet again.

Out of My Shoes

THE POSSESSION

I stepped in. I had to droop and shrink myself a little, but I did, finally step into his mind. I felt a pinch of nausea. As I felt him relax his muscles, I started feeling light headed. Gradually I was adjusting to his fragile build. Now, I was him. Maybe not forever, but at that moment, I owned his mind. I was his soul. The soul of a ten year old boy, whose face had then acquired a troubled look, by default. I had possessed him. It was an attempt that I had made, to read his mind.

THE BOY

He felt dizzy. His head seemed like someone was inside it, drumming on his skull and brain. His ears throbbed. His left hand hurt again. 'No, I can't feel weak now. I have to catch the train', he thought. 'Why did I have to ride my cycle so fast? Why didn't I see the stone? Why did I have to break my hand? I don't like myself. My parents are annoyed with me. The whole village thinks I'm an irresponsible son. Father has to work double the time to earn money for my treatment', thought one side of his mind.
'It has been a year since I broke my hand. When will I get to study again? I love school. I love science. Father needs me. Grandma needs my help at home. Father has to send Mother, money. Someday I will become a doctor and make sure nobody breaks their bones. I don't want anyone to suffer like me', thought his other side.

He got into the train, after waiting thirty minutes for it, in the hot sun. He hadn't eaten anything the day before. He was serving his grandma. It took him more time, because he could use only his right hand. His father was always busy at work. Sometimes he felt proud, for being able to help his father. It made him feel less guilty.

Taking short and fast steps, he made his way to the clinic. A doctor had suggested he get treatment from a Physiotherapist. He hated them. They moved his broken hand, pulled it and stretched it in different angles. It hurt a lot. So much, that he thought chopping his hand off would be less painful.
He walked into the clinic. The Physiotherapist greeted him. He didn't return the greeting. He was scared. He wondered how much pain he would have to feel today. Silently, he went and lied down on the treatment bed.

A lady entered his cabin. She was going to pull his hand today. It was her turn now. She smiled at him. He feared any sort of eye contact. She then held his left hand, and started the treatment. He winced. It hurt too much, but it was lesser than the day before. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He told himself, 'It's going to be okay. Some more time, and the pain will be gone. I can go back to school then. Father will be proud of me.' After tolerating thirty minutes of extreme pain, he was free to go. Surprisingly, he was able to move his hand better.
He will come again tomorrow, traveling for an hour in the train, and let the Physiotherapist hurt him. He will take the pain. 'Someday, I will be able to move my left hand properly', he told himself.

ME

I forced myself out of his mind. I couldn't stay there any longer. Not because I felt sad for him, but because I was ashamed of myself. I felt inferior. I wished I was as brave as that ten year old boy. I wished I had the sense of responsibility like he did. I wished I had his impregnable optimism. I wished I could have the strength to feel the pain that he experienced everyday, and the desire and hope, to live a life, that mattered.

A Conversation

Venue: Sabari Express
Time: 11.00 pm
Among the snores of the smiling Malayalees and the lazy Telugus, three girls lay awake, drenched in lunacy and haphazard excitement. The two 12 year olds lay awake on the topmost berth. The 20 year old lay on the middle berth, listening to the 12 year olds' conversation, and enthusiastically trying to participate in it.

First 12 year old: I wish there was more light in this train. Why can't someone leave the tube lights on? I can't even see my hands properly!

Second 12 year old: Yeah I know! I wish we at least had happydent with us. We could have lit the train with our smiles. What do you say Didi?

20 year old (giggling with amusement): Oh yeah! Why didn't we buy any Happydent? It would have been so useful! I could have even read the book I got along with me.

First 12 year old: Oh yeah! I don't even want to sleep. I'm bored now. Didi, let's talk about how we look right now.

20 year old (surprised): How we look as in?

First 12 year old: I'll tell you how and what your face looks like right now, in the dark. And you tell me the same.

20 year old (hesitatingly): Okay..

First 12 year old: Okay, so, right now, your eyes look huge. Your eyebrows look thin, and your face looks pale. Didi, smile for me once, showing your teeth.

The 20 year old, does as she is told.

First 12 year old: Okay, thanks. So now, the whites in your eyes are whiter than your white teeth. Now your turn.

The 20 year old couldn't help laughing.

20 year old (trying to be very observant): Hmmm, your face looks like one of those dwarfs in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

The first 12 year old giggles and nods. The second 12 year old, who was silent all this while, laughs.

Second 12 year old (suddenly): I can melt icebergs with Happydent!

Both the 20 year old and the other 12 year old burst out laughing.

20 year old (trying to be smart): But then, the world will end that way! It will be sad then. Happydent should be banned.

The two 12 year olds scream in agreement, "YES! Happydent should be banned!"

20 year old: Yeah! Imagine, all the glaciers will melt, Antarctica will become water, all the plants and people will drown, and the earth will become plain blue.

Second year old: That actually sounds interesting. I have always wanted the world to end that way. Everyone dying at once, will be amazing. I will not let Happydent be banned. I will continue chewing it, and contribute to the end of the world.

First 12 year old: Oh my god! You will kill all of us, and yourself. And then, in the next world, when new human species will evolve, after millions of years, they will find out the reason behind the previous world's end. And they will discover that the culprits were you and your Happydent.

20 year old (pointing out to the second 12 year old): Oh yeah. And then, a troubled new human species will participate in the new world's 'Raaz..Pichle Janam Ka'.

The three start laughing in agreement.

First 12 year old: Okay, now let's imagine we are in the show. Didi, you are Ravi Kissen, and I'm the hypnotist. Let's question the troubled girl.

20 year old (excited): Okay!
Namashkar! Main hoon Ravi Kissen, aur aap dekh rahein hain, Raaz..Pichle Janam Ka. Aaj Humaare saath hain, ek ladki, jo apne kayeen kasht ke uttar dhoond rahi hain. Shuru karte hain. Hypnotist ji, shuru keejiye.

First 12 year old (after some introduction, and starting the hypnosis): Toh ab aap kahaan hain? Kya dikh raha hain aapke pairon ke neeche?

Second 12 year old: Mein Antarctica mein hun.

First 12 year old: Kaisa mehsoos ho raha hai?

Second 12 year old: Bahut accha.

First 12 year old: Kya aap Happydent chaba rahein hain?

Second 12 year old: Haan.

First 12 year old: Ab kya ho raha hai?

Second 12 year old: Sab kuch pighal raha hai. Sab log marne waale hain.

20 year old: Aur kya aap muskura rahi hai, Happydent ke saath?

Second 12 year old: Ji haan.

First 12 year old: Kaise mehsoos ho raha hai?

Second 12 year old (with an evil smile): Bahut accha.

And the conversation went on for another one hour fifteen minutes. God bless us all.

Avat(AWW)rr!

There are movies that have made me cry, and there are movies that have made me laugh. There are movies I haven't watched though people asked me to, for obvious reasons. But one movie, left me expressionless. It was a mystery to me, and still is. AVATAWWRR.

It directly begins with a paraplegic man, Jake Sully, on a trip to a planet called Pandora (Yeah, for sometime I was wondering if IMAX chopped off the initial scenes.) So, this guy cannot walk, and is on a wheel chair all the while and replaces his dead brother on a mission to the unbelievably amazing planet. There, some Colonel, whose name I don't want to remember, tells our guy Jake, about some mineral or material (again, I don't care about it's name) which is all over the planet. (Yes, they HAD to go to another planet, just for a fuckingly and awesomely rare mineral!) Their mission is to collect as much mineral as possible, by transferring themselves to into very dirty blue color bodies, that are horrendously tall, to look like the local aliens. Btw, the local aliens are called Na'vis (I don't know why I found that name funny).

This guy Jake, uses an Avatawwrr identity of sorts, and tries becoming friendly with the Na'vis (I just laughed typing that word). He very suddenly and abruptly gets attacked my dinosaur lookalikes, and a female Na'vi (the HEROINE) saves him. (For some reason, I thought Gracy Singh's entry in Deshdrohi was better. I must be mad!) Her name is Neytiri, and she screams for no reason. She is also almost completely naked. And Jake the Avatawwrr falls in love with her! Can you believe that?! It's SO unpredictable!

And there's magic after that. Yes, magic. Jake the Awatawwrr learns the Na'vi local language instantly. He learns to jump, to fly on vibrantly colorful looking creatures, and also to kiss while in the Awatawwrr body, standing next to a tree that can make you hear your ancestors' voices! There are trees that are purple and leaves that are blue and pink. They also glitter at night, and shine like lights when you walk. Isn't that amazing? He also sleeps along with those Na'vis on rope-beds hanging from trees. He very unpredictably sleeps next to Neytiri, who blushes and turns to the other side so as not to face him while sleeping. (Yeah, she totally didn't realise that she is completely and absolutely naked all the time).

And again, very suddenly, the Colonel whose name I don't want to remember, starts attacking the Na'vis to get his precious mineral. He gets into a robotic machine and starts shooting bombs, throws down sacred trees, and also kills many Na'vis. There are jet planes, and mini rockets, and exotic machines (that fly around aimlessly most of the times) designed just to destroy Pandora. After a long war, amidst Neytiri's screams and love betrayal fights, the Na'vis destroy the humans, with the help of Jake the Avatawwrr. The original Jake later goes naked for reasons known only to him and permanently remains an Avatawwrr.

People who haven't watched the movie yet, go watch it! It's just three hours long. If you watch it on a 3D screen, you won't even have an interval in most of the theaters. And yeah, people have loved it so much that it has 4 Golden Globe nominations already! James Cameron took 10 long and painful years to come up with THIS. God bless him, and Pandora.

Acquiescence

You can either fly kites or not fly kites on a festival like Sankranti. I, as usual, chose not to. Somehow, only watching people fly kites fascinated me. My clumsy self never wanted to learn to fly one. I was woken up early that day, thanks to my mother's unending complaints about my chronic laziness and abnormally long sleeping hours. "Today's a festival for God's sake!" yelled my mother. Not that I cared, but I woke up nevertheless, since my body was contaminated with extreme hunger, for food.

Sometimes everything in a day can go intriguingly and irresistibly annoying. My mother had cooked something I had detested since the time my taste buds had started recognizing all the different types of food. I couldn't blame her though. She had to cook too much for the festival lunch anyway. Miffed, I told her I was getting breakfast from outside, and banged the door of my house, shut, behind me.

All I could see were colorful kites lying on the ground, and sailing in the breeze. As I reached the tiffin center, a thick smell of delicious Sambhar filled the air. My stomach groaned. I went in, ordered a Masala Dosa, and waited with my token at the parcel counter.

The quickness in the kitchen seemed interesting. I couldn't help but notice the look in the eyes of the man at the counter. It was the look of terminal confusion, and sadness. It was a look of longing to be somewhere and not being able to. He was packing the food, calling out orders, talking to the customers, but he looked sad. At one point, he looked at us, like we were difficult tasks, testing his patience.

He shouted at one of the workers inside the kitchen, to work faster. He constantly avoided looking directly into anyone's face. I don't know why, but I began to pity him. Maybe he had a family somewhere, waiting for him to come back, and fly kites with them. Or maybe he could not celebrate with them, because of his job. One side of him wanted to take a day off, go home, relax and eat good food, than clean the kitchen and pack the food like he regularly did. The other side of him realized that he has to work, get his pay, and not annoy his superiors. His eyes drooped with the burden of responsibility and face flushed with restlessness.

He continued screaming out orders and packing food. I was handed out my parcel after what seemed like hours. I gave a weak smile and thanked the man. He didn't care. Not that I expected him to. He continued working, and I left.

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.