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This, Ladies and gentlemen, is me...
Courtesy - a wonderful site!!!

Colors

When I found myself moving to sit behind the nice aunty in a starched pale pink sari, I wasn’t surprised.

Pale colours. Starched cotton saris. I love both. They remind me of my grandmother and her church saris. She always wears baby pink or baby blue or cream or pale yellow or white or that light shade of green that isn’t yucky at all. The smell that goes with her freshly starched sari is old, musty and all moth-bally. (Don’t ask me how a freshly starched sari can smell old and musty. It just does.) It’s a comfortable smell. One that brings to my mind images of Kerala, stretches of land that is all green and wet, of nice manga pickle and Ammachi’s karimeen, of the old antique diwan where me and my cousins played cards for hours on end and the long hallway where the whole family gathered to say 6 ‘o’ clock prayers. Of pineapples and pulli, of my first swallowed pebble and my first tryst with jealousy…
“Ticket, ma? Yenga ponnon?” (Where do you have to go?)

Funny. Where all a familiar favourite smell can take you, I thought, as I handed over my five-rupee coin and asked for my ticket. He gave me a new one-rupee coin and a nice, crisp, white ticket, which I looked at in surprise. The number 4 was written on it, all right. But I always got thin, crinkly, pink tickets. When did the colour change? I watched the pink-sari aunty give two rupees in return for her greenish blue ticket. Who decided the colours of bus tickets anyway? And what were those weird marks the conductor made with his nail in the ticket?

My thoughts began to wander and I was lost in another daydream when something vibrated in my pocket. My phone. I sighed and looked at it. I was tired of sms-ing. This new phone had a keypad, which hurt my fingers if I messaged too much. My dad was happy. I was not glued to my phone, anymore. And I was tired of the people who sms-ed me. Irritating, tiresome characters who expected me to give my whole attention to them and no one else. Sigh.
“Hmmph…” A blue salwar-ed woman plopped into the seat next to me. I hope she’s not one of the talkative kinds, I thought as I hugged my bag and pulled myself tighter into my space. She didn’t look the type, but you never know. Today, I wanted to be lost in my own thoughts. I was in a reflective mood. Pensive. Thoughtful.

I stared at the crowd of people waiting at the bus stop. Scanning for a familiar face, finding none, I turned to see my neighbour passing the tickets. In every bus there are these three or four kindly souls who pass the tickets. If it were not for them, half the tickets wouldn’t be bought and everyone would be travelling ticket less and the conductor would probably lose his job. But not many conductors are nice and grateful to them. They are mostly a rude, surly lot, clad in tired looking kakhi jackets. Faces screwed up in anticipation, sick of the crowded buses and yet trying their hardest to do their jobs and enjoy it at the same time. Honest souls at work. Most of the time.

I glanced at the pink sari aunty’s neighbour. She was a flower seller. A pookari in a dirt brown sari with a red blouse-frayed and tattered. Chewing pan, I predicted as she turned to say something to the conductor. Her mouth foamed red at the edges. They probably saw each other everyday.
‘Today the bus is really crowded, no?’ ‘Ya ya. Just as usual. Nothing different’

My blue salwar-ed neighbour got up and was replaced by an office-going aunty with a huge office-going bag. She crumpled her yellow three-rupee ticket and stuffed it beneath her watch. Really! The places people keep their tickets. I had a friend who kept her ticket neatly rolled under her ring.
My college was nearing. If I didn’t get up now, and make a move towards the door, I wouldn’t be able to get down till three stops after mine. I slipped my phone into my pocket, felt inside my bag for my wallet and got up; satisfied everything was still there and with me. A girl wearing a white top and grossly mismatched yellow pants couldn’t wait to let me pass before she sat down. “Excuse me” “Please move.” “Are you getting down here? No? Then please let me go.” “Please… Thank you.”
I stood near the steps catching my breath. The bus stopped finally. I got down.

As I took out my phone and slipped the one rupee coin in its place I glanced at the white 4-rupee ticket still in my hand. As I crumpled it and threw it down, I looked up.
The pink sari aunty with her green two-rupee ticket was still sitting at the window in front of my seat. She looked at me and smiled with her gold earrings dangling in the wind as the bus sped on.

50 Q's

Time of starting? 11.50 a.m.

1. Were you named after anyone? Yes. My dad’s grandmother...

2. Do you wish on stars? Yes, I do.

3. When did you last cry? Last night…

4. Do you like your handwriting? Yes. Although its not very neat. And apparently it reveals a great deal about me. Or that’s what the handwriting analyst at my college carnival thingy said…

5. What is your favourite meat? CHICKEN!!!

6. What is your most embarrassing CD on your shelf? Uhmm… Adventures of the Barbie Princesses? Lol..

7. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with you? Ya. Most probably.

8. Are you a daredevil? Oh Yes!!!

9. How do you release anger? Loads of ways… Pregnancy breathing… counting from 1 to 100 backwards... Crumpling up and tearing paper… Writing vengeful diary entries…

10. Where is your second home? Hostel? Lol…

11. Do you trust others easily? Nope…

12. What was your favourite toy as a child? Well... that I don’t really remember… But I was crazy about my chair…it was a bar stool kind of thing that my dad got for me so that I cud reach the table… I loved it!!!

13. What class in school/college do you think is totally useless? EVS. The rest are partly useless.

14. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes. I do. A lot.

15. Have you ever been in a mosh pit? I'm not too sure I know what that means.

16. What do you look for in a guy/girl? So many things. A whole post’s worth.

17. Would you bungee jump? DEFINITELY!!!

18. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Sometimes…

19. What's your favourite ice cream? Chocolate… yum..yum..yum…

20. What are your favourite colours? Purple… blue… and Black, of course…

21. What are your least favourite things? Power cuts, rain-sloshed streets, hung computers, incomplete half bound books, hypocrites, self centered retards, plastic friendships, annoying people who expect you to sms them all the time and lockable fridges.

22. How many people do you have a crush on right now? Quite a few. The most prominent among them being hottie John Abraham. And new fav – Naveen Andrews… from “Lost”... refer pic..

23. Who do you miss most right now? AMMA!!! I want you here…

24. What are you listening to right now? Ace of Base – Life is a flower

25. If you were a crayon, what colour would you be? Black, definitely.

26. What is the weather like right now? Hot sun. Hot humid air.

27. Last person you talked to on the phone? A friend of mine from college.

28. The "first" thing you notice about the opposite sex? His body, voice, language and level of thinking... and not particularly in that order.. And yes… I am a bit shallow…

29. Do you like the person who sent you this? She’s sweet… Good friends… One of the persons I simply click with… And she is after all the Saint. How can one not like her?

30. How are you today? Not particularly great… But jobless for sure…

31. Favourite non-alcoholic drink? Coffee!!!

32. Favourite alcoholic drink? Uhm.. Rum?

33. Natural hair colour? Brownish black…

34. Eye colour? Deep brown. (Yes. Not dark. Deep.)

35. Wear contacts? Yup. Prescription.

36. Siblings? *sigh ... Two sisters...

37. Favourite month? January… Always a time for starting over… which is what I seem to be always wanting to do…

38. Favourite food? Chicken tikka. Tandoori chicken. Chicken. Chicken. Chicken. … Oh! Did I mention chicken ?

39. Favourite day of the year? December 25^th. Loads of presents and nice food and cake… and the season to be jolly… lol…

40. Have you ever been too shy to ask someone out? Well… uhm... well… Yes… Less said about that the better…

41. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings! What sort of a dumb question is that? But scary movies are also nice… what about scary movies with happy endings ?

42. Summer or winter? Winter, of course. Preferably with lots of ice and snow. And a cold frosty wind in the air… but if it has to be summer… the beach under the nightsky… with a salty wind blowing… (and yes.. I am a huge fan of the wind).

43. Do you want your friends to write back? Well… I am going to be tagging them.. so they have to answer to the same Q’s on their blogs… So…

44. Who is most likely to respond? They all better…

45. What book/magazine are you reading? Have an Archies with me. Just finished The Doomsday Conspiracy by Sheldon. Am going to re-read Angels and Demons for the nth time…

46. What's on your mouse pad? A soft blue resting pad for the wrist…

47. What did you watch on TV last night? Didn’t watch much TV last night.

48. Favourite Smell? That special smell of the first drops of rain on the dry, hard, baked earth… love it….

49. Have you ever regretted breaking up with someone? I’d rather not answer that question. Due to mixed feelings…

50. Most tiresome thing you’ve ever experienced/done? Bringing out one issue of my college newspaper, The English journal and the business journal… Or… I’ll just make it… Studying in MOP… lol…

Time of finishing? 12:50 p.m. Did a lot of other stuff as well… other than just answer these measly Q’s.

And I tag:

Nina

Sush
Lakshmi

Divya

Megha

Freaky Chakra

Arnold
Preetika
Vincent

And anyone else who wants to be tagged…

A Poll

White skin. Blond hair. Blue eyes.
Brown skin. Black hair. Brown eyes.

Which would you choose?

India Rnisig...

WOW !!! I am flabbergasted!!!
I am proud of my country! That is not a feeling that comes to me easily...
It is a result of this video that i saw... three times... (found it on Bakwaas's blog)
Incredible...
Now, you might wonder why a small 8 minute feature on an American news channel about India should influence my opinion...
Well... I just looked at India through new eyes...
Its not a flattering video about the IT boom and Bangalor-ing. (and yes, that is a word. synonymous with outsourcing.) It shows a lot of negative things about India. But I still am surprised that I never looked at my country in this different way...
I, somehow, feel better.
I am not going to be a hypocrite and say "Oh! India is my country and so i won't go anywhere else - to work or live or anything"

But.. lets just say the scales fell from my eyes...
I am impressed.
To quote a guest on the video about India - "What you see outside is not what is inside. "
And I only just realised it.

On a totally unrelated topic-
The human mind is much more capable than we think..
(in ref to nina's comment on megha's blog)
consider:-
Raenidg is psoslibe eevn wehn the lretts of the wrods are mxied up as lnog as the fsirt and lsat lterts of the wdors are crorect...
lol..
Taht took a lnog tmie to tpye...
Hpoe you udnestorod waht i hvae tierd to cvoney...

Not a care...

Swinging in the breeze,
All around are trees,
Swaying, whispering, praying;
I can feel it in the air,
Its no longer there.
That feeling, that keening.
Its gone,
I no longer care...
Feeling good,
Feeling bare…

What do i do? Why do i care?

Eve TEASING ?????

My class. All girls. Studying journalism with current affairs-social issues-human rights-etc…It was quite inevitable that at some point of time, we would start talking about sexual harassment aka 'eve teasing'. We did. In the first week of our first semester.

Say No to sexual harassment. Voice your experiences of sexual harassment - as a victim, perpetrator or bystander - at work, at home or in the public sphere. Participate in the Blank Noise Blog-a-thon, on March 7th.

Loads of examples. All of which sicken you to the core. Leave you feeling disgusted, dirty and defiled. All about how horrible, sexually frustrated, revolting, men take advantage of women in crowded buses, lonely compartments and desolate roads.
Latest personal experience:
Feb 28^th – on the way back home. Bus no. - 29c. 6.30p.m. Attire - Jeans and kurta.
Involves horrible man, with sick ‘thopa’ trying to thrust himself in my back. The jerk of the moving bus working to his advantage. In spite of moving away, he followed me, in spite of telling him to move away, he kept standing there. Thrusting. Till I turned and stood sideways with my college bag in between me and him. And then he moved on to the girl next to me. Another victim. Another chance.
I went home and had a bath.
The first time I experienced this normal part of life in Chennai- I didn’t even know such things happened. It was a huge shock to me. I refused to ever go out of the house again. When I told Mummy, she said – ‘Ya. So what? Such things happen. You have to get used to it’. I eventually did.
And people ask me why I prefer autos and don’t like buses.
What about one's own family?People who are supposed to protect the girl from this?
It is the most despicable act. To violate a women or a girl. It is even more despicable to do that to a small child who has no knowledge of what is happening. And when you are someone she's supposed to trust and love. She’ll probably think it’s a game.
Uncles, Cousins, grand-uncles, brothers and even fathers. And then there is the hazy ‘distant relative’.
A long time ago, I read an “agony aunt” query from a 19 yr old boy who by mistake saw his 21yr old sister change her clothes when he was hiding in her room. He was enthralled by the sight of her breasts. He couldn’t take his eyes of her. He used to hide in her room after that everyday, to see her change… to catch a glimpse. He was addicted, he said. He didn’t know what to do.
Calls himself a brother. F***ing Pervert. Should probably hang himself.

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

Once upon a time, there were four girls. Close friends – two pairs of best friends. They were always together. A and B went home together. In the train. C and D went home together. In the bus. Then, B began complaining that there was a man bothering her in the train. He got on at the station A got off. He used to come everyday and sit next to her and try to feel her up. Every single day.The four of them came up with a plan. They would go all the way to B’s station but A,C and D would act like they didn’t know her and sit in some corner so that they could observe her. Then the next day, they would come with a police officer.It was a fine plan. They went all the way to B’s station, all the while, watching the ugly scene in front of them. They were helpless and scared. But they told her not to worry. Tomorrow, the police officer would deal with the awful man, they said.But the next day, she was missing. She didn’t come to college. Not B. A. A was missing. She was the leader in their group. The driving force. The mastermind of the plan. Where was she? She didn’t come the whole week. When they finally decided to go to her house, they found her mother wailing. Her daughter had committed suicide. What??? They couldn’t believe it. Why would A commit suicide? She was so happy! The scared, confused, upset girls turned to go offer their condolences to A’s father. And everything fell into place. A’s sudden silence on the train the day they went with B. The sudden shadow on her face when the other two were consoling B. Her suicide.
A’s father. The man on the train.
Fact or fiction?
Who knows…
Coming back to my class... we talk about it a lot...
and every time, we come up at the same point - the punishment... for rape, eve teasing, sexual harassment....and every time, we come up at the same apt, but unreasonable punishment... Castration... its impractical and impossible... but it is what these men deserve...
Eve-teasing. A word that makes light of the whole situation. Is all of this teasing???

How many women can honestly say that they have never been 'eve-teased'?
Very very few...

Ps- i have been bloghopping like crazy... and i came across an interesting article.. a lot of blogs are discussing this topic. but what hit me the most is that a lot of the men are feeling guilty even when they haven't done anything. as a result i decided to remove the last line of this post. which also asked the question 'how many men can say they have never eve teased?' because i dont feel there is any point in people who are not part of the crime, feeling bad abt it. i dont intend to create any guilt complex in any man who reads this post. However. i strongly am against every person(man/women) who says that eve teasing is natural and should be expected. even among animals, females dont put up with 'teasing'. and sex is solely the decision of the female. then, as humans who rape, and assault and eve-tease, are we worse than animals?
and talking abt rape- 8-10% of all rape takes place against men. just for your info.
and abt animals, i'm not implying they are worse than human. just asking are we worse than them.
and phew! thats a long post script...

Lonely lost love...

‘Ain’t life full of tempting mirages? You sense an opportunity; make some sacrifices for grabbing it and finally when you come near to it, you realize that it is a mirage after all. There has been no opportunity at all. It is just the possibility of an opportunity. Most people confuse an opportunity with the possibility of one. Both are not the same.’

One-sided love should be banned… made illegal… or shouldn’t be allowed to happen.

It is such a traumatic process. The lov-er tells the lov-ee*. The lov-ee politely/rudely hesitatingly/unhesitatingly refuses/slams the door in the face of the lov-er.

What a hopeless world…
So many people I know have, of late, been on the lov-ee side of one sided feeling…
Its so tragic…

She: I need to tell you something… but…
He: Oh… come on… tell me…
She hesitates
He: it is just me after all… go ahead… tell me…
She: well… its like this… *suddenly stops* but whatever I say won’t spoil our friendship, no? it shouldn’t…
He: no, no… don’t worry… Now, tell me... What is it?
She: well... I think I am in love…
He: Wow!!! Fantastic… Who’s the lucky guy? Why didn’t you tell me, earlier, huh?
She: because *with a sad yet hopeful smile* …
He: because…? c’mon... Do I have to pull the words out of your mouth? Who is this guy, I need to congratulate?
She: Its… its someone you know…
He: What??? Soemone, I know? Reeeeeeaaaalllly!!! Who?
She: its… Its.. YOU!!!
*with a silly smile*
He: !!!! *shocked speechless*
She: *suddenly worried* What?? Come on… give me a reaction, da…
He: Oh! I don’t know what to say…
She: Oh. Ok. I understand…
He: No... No… see… Its not like that… I’m just not ready for a relationship right now… I.. uhm… besides… don’t you think we should be friends for some more time? Get to know each other…
She: ya… Ya… definitely… I knew you’d say this… *manages to pull off false laugh in spite of choked throat*
He: It’s... just that I don’t feel anything… there’s no spark… yet… but there might be in the future… please understand…
She: ok ok… hey… I need to go now… *leaves to cry her heart out*

Or something similar… reverse the sexes… make the lov-ee ruder… make the lov-er more clingy… add a secret crush… whatever you do... you arrive at the same thing…

A tragedy.
For the lov-ee – he/she loses a good friend… they just can’t be the same anymore… he/she feels uncomfortable abt the lov-er

For the lov-er – his/her hopes dashed… prob will get drunk and try to come to terms with not only the loss of hope but also a good friend…

For the lov-er’s friends – faced with the daunting task of helping the lov-er out of the depressing state of mind he/she must be in… of accompanying the lov-er to all possible pubs and taking care of the lov-er when totally drunk… being woken up in the middle of the night to listen to the cribs and sobs of the lov-er…

However you look at it… it’s a no-win situation… why should it be allowed to happen???
I know its not possible to ban it or make one sided love impossible… I know it’s a part of life and love… but still… I wonder… what good does it do?

*lov-ee refers to the loved one.. and i used 'lov-er' because i don't like 'lover'...
Ps- I am not a ‘lov-ee’ or a ‘lov-er’… just found myself thinking abt this… so wrote abt it…

The child in me

Been blog hopping like crazy.. commenting like crazy too..

So here’s an interesting blog (post, rather)… I will link it, but for those of you too lazy to check it out, I’ll tell you what its about…
Totally insane idea the blogger has… but funnily, I have always thought about it. Ever since I was a kid, I have always thought about how the world would be if humans and animals exchanged places…
I remember even having nightmares about it. Totally droll. Cows and hens coming to eat me, and horses driving chariots driven by men… that’ll be like a cycle rikshaw almost…

But what weird ideas one has as kids…

I also never thought about babies except later on… but I used to think that if only girls could get pregnant, then could a girl baby be pregnant inside the womb and if she also had a girl, then she could be pregnant and if she also was a girl, then … ?

And so on till infinity…

I am now in a mood to write about silly things I did as a kid…

I was insanely afraid of and fascinated by horror movies. In the brief period of time that I stayed with my cousins in Bangalore, I used to insist on watching horror movies, in spite of my cousin warning me that I was too young… and then used to hold her hand to walk down the stairs and continue to hold it in bed so as to fall asleep… my cousin bro used to sleep on one side and my cousin sis on the other… so I was safe between them… wonder how they put up with me and my foolishness.. lol…

I used to not look this way or that while climbing down the stairs because I was afraid that the beast or monster or Chucky would jump out at me from the sides… one movie, I remember being terrified after, was Species… but I really don know what the hell I was so scared about….

I've already talked about my phobia/mania about breaking stuff ...
Oh ! and the first time I came across the word ‘sex’ used in its usual context was in a reader’s digest magazine. That was so funny, I must have been 10 or 9.. I kept thinking why they found gender so interesting!!!

I’ve not posted pictures in a long time…
So here are a few from that blog…

And I just thought of another freaky inversion… oysters fishing for humans to check for pearls in their mouths… hilarious…

Doubts in faith...

I was reading a few blogs- blog hopping actually… I don’t even know where I started…

But anyway came across this blog. Cool posts she has. And I started checking out the archives as I usually do when I like the style of writing and the content interests me.

But then I came across this post.

It has upset me beyond measure. Not just the post. But also the comments of which there are 70. I gave up reading halfway thru. It was just getting me too hot under the collar.

I don’t know what to feel. I mean. I am Christian. Not just Christian but Indian Christian. In a country with a majority population of Hindus, I’ve never found it hard to survive. Christians are a minority. Yet, I have always found it quite satisfying to have Hindu friends… thinking about it, most of my good friends are Hindus. It has never bothered me. I go to temples. I attend their festivals. More than I go to church which is never. I am big fan of the epics and I think I know the stories better than a lot of my Hindu friends.

There have been so many instances when my friends have criticised Christians and Christianity. I have tried to stand up for my religion but most of the time I find myself agreeing with them. The coercion, the conversion- it all strikes me as wrong and leaves a bad taste… why should someone be forced to change their beliefs? Why should someone even try to change someone else’s beliefs?

Am I untrue and disloyal to my religion when I make these statements? I know it’s not right what Christian missionaries do. But the point is, they are not following what the religion really preaches. Christ was not an aggressor. He believed in passivity and making people understand – which explains His words went unheeded by most at that time.

Recently someone told me that the reason why Hindus find the Christian way of worship weird was because we wear chappals into the place of worship and cover our heads and just sit there listening to the preacher. Even taking into account that this someone doesn’t have much brains (she gave her thaali to her friend who lost it) and spouts nonsense most of the time, I began thinking if there was something fundamentally wrong with the religion. But I quickly decided if there was, it must be something very small, or 75% of the world’s population wouldn’t be Christians.

And on one of the blogs I read related to this topic, the blogger talks about how ridiculous he found the whole Sunday worship thing. Shit. That hurt. I am not an avid fan of Sunday church going routine, but that really cut me to the quick.

In a tumultuous frame of mind,
I am signing off.

PS- Chet and Channu chech, if you read this… now would be a good time to start commenting… please…

blogs and blogs and blogs...

blogs blogs blogs....
i've been a crazy blog reader and a crazily long post writer...
i wonder if i am addicted...
i must be...

anyway, the very first blog i ever read was this...
i have no comments to make about it, except... he should be shot in a very very tender place!!!

i recently stumbled on a gang of kids (must be in XII)...
some of their blogs were nice...

i died laughing at one of their comments page... trust me... you may not find it as funny as i did...
the post is good too...

two posts on an exam day !!! what am i thinking ?

From MUGging to Bus friends...

Its in the middle of exams.... i know i must be crazy to post now...
but my mind is in a muddle.... and it needs some airing...

about my blog -
almost everyone i know comments the same way... its dark. its sad. its depressing.

ayyo !!
i never meant for it to be like that. i will make a conscious effort to change the content.
the style - i think is good enough. besides changing that would just take too much of effort.

hmm....a light veined topic...
like what?
i wonder if a recounting of today is enough. unfortunately for me and you, that is the only thing coming to my mind now. so its got to be that.
i had a french exam, today, for which i did not prepare. at all. went to coll, prepared to flunk. but thanks to a very helpful friend (thanks, S... i really would have handed over a blank sheet if not for you) i managed to MUG up all the answers. considering, it was a language paper, it's very very very sad. to MUG, i mean...
its something i never do, and it did go against the grain, this time, but at least i did not 'bit-adichify' or copy off the desk. which i am sorry to say, many of my friends and classmates did. to you all- i look down my nose at you... i did not cheat !!! (asking for help during the exam is something altogether different... :-) he he)
though i did mug... which is worse, i must say... :-(
i have never been able to mug. at least not properly... but i have been surrounded by muggers or mug-pots...
from fourth standard when we had to do poem recitation to ninth standard when we had to mug algebra formulas, to twelfth standard when a lot of my friends found it easier to mug up chemical equations rather than work them out - never ever been able to mug the right things in the right order...

so what does 'mug' mean ? in the dictionary ?
lets see...

mug ¹

n.

1. A heavy cylindrical drinking cup usually having a handle.

2. The amount that such a cup can hold.

mug ²

n.

1. Informal

a. The human face.

b. The area of the human mouth, chin, and jaw.

c. A grimace.

d. A mug shot.

2. A thug; a hoodlum.

3. Chiefly British Slang A victim or dupe.

v. mugged, mug·ging, mugs

v.tr.

1. Informal To photograph (a person's face) for police files.

2. To threaten or assault (a person) with the intent to rob

nowhere does it say what it means to mug !!! at least in my sense of the word...
hang on...
aha !!!

Verb

1.

mug up - study intensively, as before an exam; "I had to bone up on my Latin verbs before the final exam"

bone, bone up, grind away, swot, swot up, cram, drum, get up

cram - prepare (students) hastily for an impending exam

hit the books, study - learn by reading books; "He is studying geology in his room"; "I have an exam next week; I must hit the books now

hmmm.... there you go...
and as another comment about my blog has been that my posts are toooo loooong...
i will stop here...
with a hasty recollection of the rest of my day... in one breath...
from coll, i take a friend's notes with promises to take xerox, (because of lack of notes for tomorrow's exam) and return them by 5.. go get the xerox, ( for which we seemed to have to walk and walk and walk and walk and walk...) go to the friend's house, drop the notes off, grab a bite (a huge, tasty bite) to eat (i know, sus, it was hardly a bite- so much more- thanx a bunch, babe...) and then leave.
considering, i'm broke, i decide to take the bus... and i end up taking the right bus on the wrong side... (you know... if something ever went right with me, i wouldn't be able to breathe for the shock) well, i got down at the last stop which was the bus depot, and got into another bus which was heading the right way, when i realised that my destination, was the last stop again... ( i had to travel the whole bus route, comprenez?) does my fate turn there ?
no ! the bus into which i had gotten into was found to have a faulty axle, so out we (there was a whole bus load of us) went. and into the next waiting bus. which was cancelled because of some registration problem. so out i went with my bus pals again.
i was beginning to get quite friendly with them... the paati with the bright red bindi, the aunty in the dark green sari, the thatha walking precariously but on his own two feet, and the uncle yawning away on his cell phone. this time we opted to wait and see which bus would move and then catch it. that was when, i saw the aunty running, she had caught one surprisingly empty and clean bus slinking away, i think the conductor and the driver were hoping noone would see them making their clean get away, but the aunty's eyes were too sharp. thanks to her i caught the bus, not so lucky were the precariously perched thatha and the paati, the uncle however managed to hop on in the last minute... and off we went... the reat of the journey was uneventful and doesnot need to be chronicled.
it was an entertaining and adventuruous evening. although i do wish i didn't have to walk so much... and i hope the thatha and the paati reached home safe and early...

that was not a hasty recollection... sorry, y'all...
will try to condense my next post even more...

oh and do check out the word games i've put on my sidebar... aren't they nice? :-)

smiling, for a change, i'm signing out...
goodnight, world...

The beginning of this year's Valentine's Day !!!

John Abraham and his unreachable Hutch number.
Absence of petrol bunks in Besant Nagar.
Why is the sea salty?
Ads and their sometimes funny (soul to sole) sometimes stupid (Its all about money, honey !!!) but always rhyming (?) slogans.
A near death call in a crazy auto ride.

searching for meaning in my life....
i truly do not know why these thoughts popped into my head.
what i do very fully well know, is that today is Valentine's Day and i am, well, you guessed it.... SINGLE !!!!
boohoo.... sob .... sob....

hopefully... i will elaborate on these thoughts to make enough sense of them later...
meanwhile... i am broke. and its not even 15th yet.

waiting for cupid...

good morning, world.

Reality

I hate divorce, hunger, hypocrites, second marriage, insolence, step mothers, cowardice, lockable fridges and reality.

Mallayallees, Mallayallam and NRK's...

Identityless.
That is how I feel. Being a Mallu, born and brought up here except for a short, ok, a medium-sized period in Kerala, I feel I must have lost something essential. I don’t usually feel like this, and actually, I think I’m more in touch with my roots than most non-resident Keralites (Is that even right ? like non-resident Indians)
I mean, I know how to speak Malayalam quite fluently and I am proud of being able to read as well. I detest NRK’s who act like they don’t even know what the word ‘Malayalam’ means, and are proud of not knowing. I detest those mallu persons who act like Kerala is where losers come from and anybody they know with a mallu accent is the bane of their existence. Come on. Hardly anybody speaks English in Kerala and it’s definitely difficult for the poor things to change their accent, I know because there are lots of girls in my hostel who have this prob. Besides they are not as bad as the ones who speak English with a put-on accent (hi hi :-) hi hi) or Malayalam with a put-on anglisized accent.
Now I know that most non-mallus think that mallus are some sort of infestation, ‘they are there everywhere!’ but I won’t go into that. I’ll only say – witness our capabilities to migrate, adjust and multiply!!!
Anyway I know proper non-anglicized Malayalam, thank to my Amma and Appa. They spoke to me mostly in Malayalam for some three or four years from LKG onwards. They figured that I would learn good English in school and good Malayalam at home. Even now, I use Malayalam a lot at home. But the funny thing is, when I get mad or angry or upset or stressed out, I switch to English.

Now, the reason why I feel identyless is because I feel I don’t belong anywhere. I mean, yes, I LOVE Chennai and I LOVE being here. But when someone asks me where I am from, I am in a fix.
Do I say – Chennai? But I am not from here. Am I?
Kerala, then? But where in Kerala am I from? This is an especially sticky question when it comes from a mallu. Then, I have to say ‘Illa, njaan Chennai-yil thaneya ippo. Naattill Appa Kochin innum, Amma Parur innum aanu.’ Which roughly translates – ‘No, I am in Chennai only, now. In Kerala, my dad is from Kochin and my mom from Parur.’

So where exactly am I from?
Where do I belong?
Where are my roots?

Puzzling answerless questions – these.
They’ve been running thru my head since morning. All through working for my college newspaper, on the way back home, while finally finishing God of small things (which only served to add more fuel to the fire – who do I belong to? Estha and Rahel had each other. Wish I was a twin, same egg or not. Really doesn’t matter).

I feel good when I talk Malayalam. It makes me feel good. More mallu-ish. Like as if I actually am an original Kerala-cultured Mallayallee. The double L’s are intended. That’s the way it’s pronounced in Mallayallam. With stress on the L’s.
As a ‘brought up outside’ Malayalee, its understandable, I suppose, that I don’t know how to react when faced by unknown mallu-speaking strangers in a public place. And considering that there are loads of mallus in Chennai and most of them use Malayalam as a means of private communication in public places, that happens a lot. Do I just pretend I don’t understand them? Or do I just smile and wait for an opportunity to let them know even I am a malayalee? My dad for one, would either not be bothered, or would go upto the family or whoever, if they need help with something, most of the times, its directions, and give them help. Which would lead to them saying ‘Oh! Malayalee a?’ and voila! A friendship is born.
And if they are Syrian Christian – phone numbers are exchanged, church names are asked (- which terribly embarrasses my father, because we don’t really go to church, we just have a membership somewhere which must be invalid by now). Need I say more?
Mallus are terribly clannish and stick by each other and to each other like undiluted strong Fevicol. Syrian Christians even more.

About Kerala- my feelings for ende naadu, my native place, is kind of mixed. I love the place. God’s own country and all. The peaceful greenery that welcomes you back in the train window, the rustic towns that are cute in a … rustic? kind of way, the large tharavadu’s – the best place to play hide n seek and lots of old attics to explore (I loved my mom’s house in Parur. Spent all my time discovering old treasures among dusty, cob-webbed extra pieces of furniture, in the dark, mysterious rooms scattered about the place), and the oh! sooo heavenly, lovely loooovely food – that brings water to my mouth just thinking about the smell…
But as a not-very-liked and don’t-want-to-remember NRK guy told me once. There is nothing to do. There isn’t. Anything to do. So much of time and space and no place to go and no one to talk to.
And the people are a bit… a bit… weird? Is that the word I am searching for? Not hostile, very hospitable, actually, but just a bit eccentric and narrow-minded I suppose.
But in spite of spending four years of study there, only two people know how much I missed civilized Chennai and non-rustic (thank god!) city life. Me and God... :-) lol...

I love being Malayalee, love being a Chennaiite.
My two backgrounds confuse me, pull me from one side to the other.
Do I feel bad that Kerala’s unemployment rate is the highest in the country or do I look at it as just another useless fact? – After all Tamil Nadu’s employment rate is quite high.

I am in a very question – ing mood today.
I don’t usually go through inner conflicts related to my roots and heritage. And it’s very surprising to me that I managed to write such a long post about it.

I think I’ll stop here.
In a strange mood, today.

To all my non-mallu readers – Sorry, if you feel this post is irrelevant to you. You can comment on how you feel about your community.
And for the loooooong post. - thats to everyone
Ciao.

Re: The Christmas Tree !!!

okay...
first of all, this is an explanation...
i think i owe it all my oh-so-faithful visitors to explain what the hell kind of a post the last one was.

begin: I was on the phone, with MSWord open at a blank document. i just had to do something while i was talking and only with one hand. so i made a christmas tree. and then thought of my craziness and posted it on this blog. :end
phew!!!

why do i have to explain all this ? i don't really know.
my keyboard'sfuckedup. andi am ina crankymood.
so i better stophere and go to sleep.
goodnight world !!!

A CHRISTMAS TREE ???

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You can see HOW jobless I was...
...Ciao...

Bounty of the careless years

I am guilty of so many crimes of carelessness, that I have lost count of them. Most of the time, I tend to be careless with delicate stuff. I don’t know. I used to think they just hated me. Then I realised that they didn’t hate me, they just became more fragile and more break-able around me.

If you still don’t get what I am talking about, I suppose I’ll have to explain it in layman’s terms. I have broken and lost a lot of stuff.

The first time I can consciously remember destroying something, unknowingly, is a glass bowl. I am sure you are thinking, that it’s just a glass bowl – who hasn’t broken one?

Maybe, it’s quite a common thing. But have you ever broken your special, impressive, hostess’ most precious, most envied, wine glass? If you have, then you know how I felt when I broke the delicate crystal glass. Considering that I was only 9 years old and was notorious for being a bull in a china shop (literally. Or a hyper active calf at the very least), I think both the hostess and my mother were stupid to give me water init, of all things, and trust me to hold the thing I was most likely to drop.

Ok. So even if, you think, its ok, it happens, sometimes... here’s list of things that I can consciously remember destroying, breaking, tearing, mutilating or losing in no particular order over the past 18 years.

Innumerable pencils, pens, scales, erasers, and other stationery. (Lost and some broken)
Hair clips, hair bands, etc… (Lost and broken)
At least 15 watches (lost and broken)
7 pairs of earphones (2 lost, 5 broken)
2 walkmans (Lost)
1 cd-man (Broken)
1 camera (Lost)
1 PDA (Broken)
Uncountable coffee mugs (Broken)
Tons of breakable crockery (Broken)
Silver jewellery by the gram (Lost)
Tons of parts of gold earrings (Lost)
9-10 pairs of spectacles (Broken)
2 pairs of contact lenses (Lost)
25-ish keys (Lost)
2 bolsters (Broken)
2 door knobs (Broken)
At least 10 TV remote controls (Broken)
3 bus passes (Lost)
4 photo albums (Lost)
4 barbie sets (2 Lost, 2 Broken)
Paintbrushes, paint boxes, and sketch pen & pencils (Lost)

Breaking things used to be the bane of my existence. I used to have nightmares of breaking something in someone else’s house or in some twisted way being responsible for smashing up of my dad’s car. You can quite guess what my parents’ reaction was, they used to scold me for a while. But after the first fifty things, I think they realized that it was a part of me, like a disease or something. They used to take utmost precautions to make sure nothing did happen or if it did it was not to anyone else’s property.
(And trust me, it gets extremely irritating when you are not allowed to use the microwave just because you broke a PDA when you were 10.)

But the reason why I suddenly thought of all of this is that I haven’t lost or broken any significant thing in the past two years- ever since I started college (except for the contact lenses). Thats why, a couple of days back when I dropped my phone in a bucket of water, I thought that my old ghosts were coming to haunt me. That the ‘disease’ was back. And I would have to give a very shaky explanation to my dad of what I was doing with the phone in the bathroom in the first place. (My earlier post should give you some clue.)

But… thank God and the powers that be,
Nothing happened to my phone, I dissected it, and let it dry out, and now it’s as fully functional as before.

I LOVE NOKIA !!!