A mushy mushy tag

Invited by Pallavi Baruah.
I have removed the rules and the last question. Whoever wants to do, can do it.

1. If your lover betrayed you what would your reaction be?
Before I got married, whenever there was a breakup, this way or that, I’d cry myself to sleep but surprisingly, I’d wake up the next day with a feeling of ‘oh! What a wonderful world. Who’s next?’ attitude.
I got married believing this won’t happen. So, the answer is, I don’t know.

2. What’s it that you see in an ideal partner?
Shall I write something in the lines of ‘my man superman’ like most women in the early stages of marriage do? Ha ha!
Well, it is someone who can take my bullshit, someone who can tell me it is bullshit at the right time, yet love me.

3. What, according to you, is the perfect date?
3-jan, every year. :-) That is the day I receive birthday gifts.

4. Would you like to have children soon enough? Or would you wait till your mid-thirties for the first child?
Are you interested in the child or my age? There is tremendous parental pressure from both sides. Husband has gone deaf and slowly, I am also becoming deaf.
I always wanted a lot of kids and wanted it as soon as possible, but the few associations with under-priviledged children have changed my thinking on this. I make hoo haa about the small contributions and time that I make for these kids while S has gone ahead quietly and sponsored the education of a boy. Though I’d love to have a child of my own, I may end up finding happiness in supporting S.

5. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
Now, the husband is the best friend.
Talking of the past, yes, I did not even spare my best friend. Boo hoo! He was the cutest boy in class and the teachers’ pet too. It took a decade for our friendship to mature. He started in an MNC while I started in a small firm with a paltry sum for a salary. He encouraged and supported me throughout to dream big. I was pampered with a lot of gifts and free lunch (free lunch really matters when you are in a hostel) Then we fell for each other. I could not stand by him as I was not sure about what I wanted then. I lost a friend, his trust, the gifts and also the free food. :-)But he made me realise that I deserve to be happy and not take shit from others anymore.
Looking back, I cherish those ‘our moments’ that we had. It was nice to see him in a new light, all caring and eager to make his girl happy. Now, he has found a wonderful woman and I am very happy for him.

6. Which is more blessed: loving someone or being loved by someone?
Both can be really pleasant and at the same time a real pain. Imagine loving someone who doesn’t love you back or having someone whom you don’t love, professing love to you. Some guys almost threatened me for not loving them back.

7. How long do you intend to wait for someone you love?
6 months is a good enough time to judge if he is worth it.

8. If the person you secretly like is attached, what will you do?
Wish they’d break up and he’d fall fall for me, while plotting schemes to make him fall for me along with my own back-up strategy if things don’t happen the way I hope.

9. What do you think are the foundation stones of a good relationship?
You should be comfortable in your own skin, laugh a lot together. The commitment follows automatically.

10. What according to you is the most beautiful thing about relationships or marriage?
Being together, sharing and caring. The feeling of ‘forever’ that marriage gives is something worth cherishing.

11. Where do you see yourself 10 years from now?
I‘d be raising a child, adopted, stolen or by having gone through the process of balooning myself. I’d still be working and not changed many companies. I’d still be troubling the hubby on small things and acting oversmart on smaller things. Would still love to blog. Gosh, I’d be almost 40!

12. What’s your fear?
Losing my brains, which I feel is happening slowly.

13. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
Oh, I have never met her though I have been following her for more than 4 years now and she seems to be a very positive, fun and practical person.

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
What about married , rich, successful and extremely happy?

15. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously who will you pick?
God, it was really tough. I picked the one whom I loved more just to realise he didn’t love me enough and then it went in circles until I was left with neither. :-)

16. Would you give all in a relationship?
As long as it doesn’t compromise my principles, identity and independence. So, it is a ‘yes’ and a ‘no’ as well.

17. Would you forgive and forget someone no matter how horrible a thing he has done?
Forgive perhaps, forget perhaps not. I am not ready to make it nice always.

18. Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?
With all the hearbreaks and ups and downs, I love being in a relationship. I love belonging to someone, I love to care for someone, I love being loved.

nothing about the mother-in-law

It was possible to stay away from the net for 15 days. I never even once wanted to sit anywhere close to the computer. Coming back, I wondered if I’d remember the system password but my fingers typed it out automatically. So, sometimes the brains are at the finger tips. When you make wrong decisions, trust your brains not to be where it is supposed to be but elsewhere, maybe the toes.

Dad has also come along to stay with us for a while. Mom is retiring soon and she didn’t want to take any extra leave during her last working days. S is all prim and proper with my dad, saying the right things at the right time.

Post retirement, dad has had very few opportunities to wear formal clothes. Most social occasions demand the traditional kurta –pajama or dhoti leaving no room for pant-shirt and suits. I heard he goes to collect his pension and then some transactions in the post office or the bank every month dressed very formally with the car, all sparkling. He came with me wearing a nice suit and a tie. I seldom saw him wearing a tie while he was in service. It was kind of cute.

He was offered the role of a technical consultant in his own department right after retirement, but he shied away as terorrists of the state would not allow him to work in peace. He is too old to adjust to a new environment outside the state and work. There is no concept of community service in my state, in India for that matter, and he says he wants to relax now and not do anything (which worries me).

I can empathise and understand him completely but I am quite helpless. For someone who has worked in just one organization (though in different places) in a society and time tossed in babudom, government cars, quarters, peons at your disposal, tea and snacks at the ring of a calling bell and then suddenly for all this to end.

He is a doting grandpa to the kids but not someone who can stand them for long. I am worried he will become the evergreen big brother of the locality who provides free booze.

I reported back to work from yesterday and dad prepared breakfast for me. When I got up, the milk was boiled and breakfast laid out. He said he has finished his morning walk and even dropped me to the pick-up point. As always, I told him I have to run and he came running to the pick-up point along with me.

While waiting for the cab, he noticed a heat boil on my face and said, it is because I am not washing my face properly. He suggested I apply ‘No Marks’ cream and told me that he also uses it sometimes as one of his friends had advised. At 65+, my dad still believes he can have clear skin. Hope springs eternal!

Update before the holidays

Remember those days in childhood, when you had to learn poetry and recite it? You would have actually learnt a few lines. After those few lines, you’d look up to the ceiling, roll your eyeballs and act as if you are trying to recall. Sometimes, it worked and the teacher would make you sit and go to the next student.

I wish I could be that child who would atleast be allowed to take that chance. Been very busy and this is where the thought came from. As an employee, we cannot afford to roll eyeballs and look up in status-update meetings. We have been having hazaar calls, and web conferences. Sometimes, all we do is come together from different time zones and glorify a coma or a fullstop. It is part of the protocol and we do it. Sometimes, I join unwillingly, sometimes; I add my point strongly,” the full stop should be visible enough for people to know that it is a full stop” period.

I am in a mood to talk school and childhood friends today. When we were in school, if there was a holiday on a weekday, Rita (a notorious friend presently in Delhi) would start passing chits to the gang saying, “let us meet up.” We would take our bicycles and meet up; mostly at my place (cos my house was at the centre and sis would make good food for us, pakoras, chowmien, khitchri). If somebody was late, we would go cycling and pick her up again. It was so much fun as we were not allowed to take bicycles to school otherwise. This was my gang.

In the 9th standard, our class had acquired the reputation of being the naughtiest and hence, was placed next to the staff room. Even a part-time teacher could come and scold us for making noise. One day we did not make noise at all but suddenly, the teachers’ sensitive olfactory sensed a strong scent from our class. They came to check and found that someone had got Velocity, the hair perming liquid and all of us were busy passing it around and perming hair. Another day, all of us started cat-walking in the class one by one, while others clapped and cheered. The wannabe Cindy Crawfords had to halt their infant steps in the modeling world when the headmistress arrived in the form of the designer, the designer of punishments in all forms and types! Someone brought in some sticky wild fruits that get stuck in the hair and everybody in the class and school started throwing it at each other. We danced at the golden chance and targeted our seniors. This dance of fortune lasted for 3 days and it was banned in the school after that. I am still proud of my class. We were tough to handle because we were very united unlike other classes, where there was a lot of groupism. We got the highest no. of state ranks too when we passed out.
This was high school.

After the 12 board exams, somebody in the gang had a crush on a boy. We met up again in one of the houses, this time in Kinetic Hondas and Scootys and went to the guy’s house. We did not enter but took a turn in front of his gate and came back. We felt cool and were quite thrilled flocking in front of a guy’s house.

R’s wedding is coming up. R, Ju and I planned to get married at the same time but it didn’t work out (so much for planning through roof-hitting phone bills.) Infact, we planned it so well that Ju’s and mine were fixed a few days apart and couldn’t attend each other’s wedding. I gave her some flexi dates as I was engaged earlier. When the time to really discuss came, her phone went kaput and she vanished. On top of that, her reception was in Delhi as she was marrying a Delhite. Poor R had to fly up and down to please both her school mates. R couldn’t marry but she got engaged during that break.

I am going home to get my face whitewashed for the wedding and wear our bling- bling traditional dress. The wedding is in December and winter would be at its peak, but that is not going to stop us from wearing low-cut blouses and transparent chaddars (shawls). Mrs Ju is also back from Amreeka for a long vacation. Leen would also be back for sometime. 4 of us from the gang would be together.

To conclude this long and directionless post, I had mentioned earlier about Ju and Leen that they are doctors. We wished at least one of them would be a gynaec, but both ended up being pathologists. Both claims that it is not very hectic and there is lot of money.

Between all this fun and plans of catching up with my schoolmates, mom suddenly asked me, “Will you be allowed to come and stay with us?” and the thought suddenly struck me that since I am married, I have to seek permission to stay with my parents or catch up with friends.

You can expect some mother-in-law posts after my holidays.

money money money must be funny

“Money, money, money must be funny in the rich man's world” –Abba

Some of you may say, ‘perhaps not!’ as the rich would try to remain rich or be richer. My argument is that they are rich period.

I see flats everywhere, on the way to the office, on big hoardings, in the newspaper, magazines, internet, everywhere. I look at them and look at them again as though by looking at them one of them would become mine. Made some enquiries and I nearly fainted hearing the prices. I had to watch 4 movies back to back to overcome the feeling. Recession is happening and prices should fall is the talk but I don’t see it happening, atleast to any of the flats that we wanted to own and enquired. Yes, I am talking about Bangalore which is considered not so expensive. The middle class dream and the never ending EMIs I must say!

Remember Sridevi in Judaai, where she said,”Ye middle class ki baatein mat karo.” I wish I could be like her, blink non-existent lashes and say,”It’s only a flat haan? 2Bhk, 3BHk? Here have it. Ye lo, ye lo, aur ye bhi lo” Anyway, let me stop dreaming and concentrate on my house hunt. Friends tell me that sometimes it takes close to 2 years from the thinking, searching to the buying. The Prestige Shantiniketan also came crashing down. I work in that side of the city and went agape watching it. I am not going to buy in that area at all, forget the builders. I could never afford a Purvankara, Prestige or their ilk but if this is happening to the big players, what can be said about the small builders?

I am also starting to think what I should do if I lose my job. I know searching for a house and thinking of losing job doesn’t go together but in the back of my mind, it is there. What is plan B or plan C if this happens?

Diwali was celebrated without crackers. I told S that I am bursting environment friendly crackers and made sounds of crackers with my mouth, Tuuuuunnnnngggg!

I have been having Diwali curtain raisers and making sweets and distributing to neighbours before the actual day (which was yesterday for us.) that I did not offer any sweets to God but offered a variety of fruits. The worshippers would not want to see any more sweets after the puja was the reason. As for the lights and decorations, I had rose petals, floating candles, diyas and what not. (Photos were taken while praying and lighting diyas to impress the mother-in-law)

S started laughing seeing my Gods. There was Jesus Christ’s picture (it is the biggest) and a small christmas tree too along with the Ganapathi, Balaji, Krishna-Radha, Saraswati and Lakshmi and the various other Gods. ‘Your Jesus is also celebrating Diwali and my God, there is also a Christmas tree" he said. My room-mate left the picture behind when she left. We used to keep all the Gods together. I did not have the heart to do away with it so carried it when I shifted with S and now, I worship all the Gods.

Got the URL of Shobhaa De’s blog from Saltwater Blues and I left a comment in her blog,”oh, I never knew you blogged”. buhaha

Dhak Dhak Hota Hain Father India Ka Dil

Somebody thought that his name has a dose of Rama (Ramadoss) and wanted to save people. Why is he doing it? i think that is because DDHHFIKD. Read on to know more about DDHHFIKD.

Colleague and i walked around the campus spotting the survelience cameras fixed at various locations. The guy inside the security room must be wondering what these two ladies are doing, passing by the cameras one after the other and giggling at it. Women can find anything and everything funny. We were literally laughing looking at the cameras saying, “Here is one more. Gosh, what must the security guys be thinking?”

Ram Gopal has proved with Contract and Phoonk that he can also make comedies. A dangerous underworld in Contract was called, Goonga. Oh my God, isn’t it so scary? In Phoonk, he has used all the superstitious beliefs of India. The camera mainly focussed on the eyes of two ladies whose eyes were kohl laden. Zoom in zoom out and hold for a minute on the eyes.

i was running to catch my cab in the morning. Took a turn near a joint where people were having breakfast. Suddenly, some dogs started chasing me and then running along with me. Guess among them, there were some bitches that were so hell bent on proving that i am one of them. i did not let them win. i stopped and stood still until they went.

i don’t care if Pappu or his father can dance or not but i can. Salsa, Merengue, Jive, Cha Cha Cha, Manipuri Classical, Hip Hop, a little bit of Bharatnatyam and not to forget the Bollywood Jhatak Mataks. Mom used to call me co-curricular activity as i was always on stage doing something or the other. This encouraged me a lot and i had decided that i wanted to become a bollywood extra. i would have loved to be an extra in DDHHFIKD (Dhak Dhak Hota Hain Father India Ka Dil. This is the title Om Puri aspired to give a movie in King Of Bollywood) My hopes were dashed by the movie Hindustani, where they paraded sexy, tall, model-looking babes as extras in the Jhatka Lagadiya Tumne song. Every other movie started sporting extras with good bodies and looks. Nowadays, apart from the body, you even need to be a blonde to be an extra. So, i became a blogger.

It's been a while

It’s been a while that i am in touch with J. She called me up to say she has reached the U.S. i don’t even know which month that was. i told her to mail me and update on everything though i knew she wouldn’t. We met a couple of times after her marriage. S likes her tea. They like each other, my husband and J and they were so prim and proper, but it was not like how it used to be. Like when i introduced my friend Meg. They got along like a house on fire. The moment she opened the door and found us standing there, she started with her naughty hi! and showed her new shoes to him see my new Addi as if they have always known each other. We walked together for a few steps and she would start on her shoes again. Meg played along and we had great fun.

i have been missing her a lot lately esp. because of the dance. My colleague R and i had icecream one Sunday after the dance practice and suddenly i remembered how J and i used to skip lunch and go dancing and then hog ice-creams at Corner House. The world was ours to conquer. We had no deadlines, no husband to go back to, no parents behind our backs, and no serious responsibilities. We followed someone who looked like a sex worker just to see how she got a client. (Of course, we failed). We sat on a bench on M.G road and had lunch packed in a tiffin box, some khitchdi cooked by myself in a hurry and bhendi fry between dance practices and watched the world go by. We talked about the whole world and everything silly in it and talked about the same things again and again like an unquenched thirst. We shopped the whole day and ordered food by looking at the menu from right to left to choose the cheapest as both were broke. The restaurant did not accept cards and, we were too tired to scout for another. We would fight over the same novel as if there are no other books to be read. Her brother was forced to take us both behind his bike and ride up and down the lane just because it was a new bike and we wanted to ride pillion. Then Kevin, J and i rode triples in the middle of the night and sang the Anda song loudly to kill the chill nip in the air. Now, i almost feel that was me in another life. How i hate people speeding away at night in front of my house and having fun!

She’d ask me from the window, “what’s cooking?” and i’d reply,”Balls, vegetable balls!” and we’d laugh ourselves silly all over again. We sat on the steps of a church one evening; looking at the sky change its copious colours and talked about our future. The memories are still so fresh and the images, all so vivid. A few crackers could be heard at a distance but we were unmindful of all that. The bench on M.G road and the trees in its vicinity are long gone because of the Metro rails happening. i looked at that place with a twinge in my heart the last time i saw it.

The seasons are changing and winter will soon proclaim itself with full vigor. It is at times like this, the in-between time; when festivals start to line themselves up that i feel quite melancholic.

The last time we met, i remember her uttering those were the loveliest days of her life. i think so too. Perhaps, we have agreed without saying much, to keep those memories tucked in some corner and not dilute it by the day-to-day updates of our mundane happy married lives.

Dance Dance

We were declared the runners-up. Considering the way we struggled, I am quite happy. We did not get the 3rd girl and so one of the guys had to back out. Only 4 of us danced finally. One of my colleagues had fever. He popped pills and practised with us. On top of that, every other friend of his were coming and asking him to do a step this way and that. I knew he was giving his best even if the steps were not perfect, so I asked him to do what he is comfortable with. I told that there are less than 10 groups, so we are already in the top 10 and needn't worry. Synchronization was still a problem till our last practice session but we managed to pull it off on the final day.

We called ourselves 'The 2 Left Feet Dancers". It is a different feeling all together to perform on stage- the lights, the stage, the sound system, the costumes, the crowd, the buterflies in the stomach, the works...

The winning group( 6 of them) danced to a medley of songs. They deserved it.

We won a trophy and Shoppers' Stop vouchers. I am buying something for S as he has been cooking continuosly while I came late drousy and ready to doze off any moment.

All about the I

i associate memories with dresses, songs, situations and even ring tones.

i have dreamt about the blogger Pallavi twice. Her face as i see in her pictures is not the same as what I saw in my first dream. She was riding a bike in my first dream. In the second, i dreamt there was a bomb blast close to her house. It happened a few days before the Bangalore bomb blasts. i grew up in a place where there are frequent bomb blasts and hence, the bomb blast dream (is my thinking).

i would like to have a pet dog someday when the living space allows me. i had two pet dogs. One passed away in the year 1999 and the other passed away this year right after i got married. She was 15 years old. She did not recognise any of us and was almost blind but it looked as though she held on until the marriage.

i donate clothes quite often, but i still have too many clothes. (Trying to cut down sincerely.) The former BU where i worked was close to a huge retail outlet, which we nicknamed ‘temple’. We’d say, ‘let’s go to the temple’ and go shopping. Now, i feel i am working in a desert.

i don’t think it is possible to be friends with your ex (es). You can just be cordial.

i can conclude my past relationships as thus: one man i loved, one man i let love, one man i wronged.

i married the man who looked me in the eye and made me see my mistakes but loved me nevertheless.

i have become more religious and spiritual after marriage.

i have another job offer right now, which i have decided not to take up. i have stayed the longest in my current organization and i think i’ll be staying longer.

i thought it would be nice to get drunk and lose control in front of your lover but i don’t think like that any more. In fact, i never drink more than 1 small peg and i drink only when S is around. i count his pegs though.

i have 2 nephews and 2 nieces from my 3 siblings. Ankita is the eldest and I love her to bits.

i can never give up eating fish or eggs. i can give up chicken though i have no immediate plans.

i have not been able to finish Kunal Basu’s ‘The Japanese Wife’. Have been reading it since a long time.

you've got to do what you've got to do

S has plugged his guitar to the amplifier. There is some function in the neighbourhood and they are playing songs since yesterday with mics put up in the four directions. I am trying to blog but also give company to S and sing along with him. He is playing Metallica and I don't have an ear for their music. I can't even pretend.

He is playing Bob Dylan now. I am singing out loud the lines that I know. I can pretend here.

We have a dance competition coming up in the office. I have choreographed for our group. I thought there'd be not many groups participating but came to know there are at least 9 groups. We are at an unsavoury dilemma too. It is in a few days time and we are still looking out for a girl to participate.

All of us had nominated ourselves online and we decided to come together without knowing how the other danced. Two of the guys are just not doing the steps right. There is no synchonization, no rhythm. Looks like they are scratching something in the air or throwing some katchra while shaking the wrong body part. One of them said he has even asked his friend to take the video. I felt like dying. But they are really interested, which is endearing. So I have told them, 'let us all smile and have a good time.'

You've got to do what you've got to do. I started it. So, I have to see through it somehow. The good point is the other girl is damn good looking. She is nicknamed 'bomb' by some male colleagues. We may get some points by virtue of her being an eye candy.

Been coming home late because of the practice. S asked me, 'are you late because of work or the dance?' I say, 'the dance.' I am not sure if he is a little frumpy or just quiet but as I shower and come out, he'd have started cooking as it is too late and I am too tired. With a pang of guilt, I decide to spend good time with him after dinner and catch up with a movie together. Ten minutes into the movie and I am asleep like a log.

Award Giward

Finally, somebody got the point and gave me an award. It is the Brillante Blog award. This is what he said about me:

“From award related strife
To wonderful slices of life
Everything is of consequence
On Arunima’s Silent Eloquence”

Thank you very much.

This tag is an attempt to discover and connect to more blogs, and as part of this, i have to write a post and display this award, and finally tag 7 blogs which appeal to me in content or design.

On second thoughts, this award must have been started by an award- starved person like me to infest the blog world with awards.

On third thoughts, why should I pass it on to others? If i can award myself, i can very well break the rules. All of you play award award while i show it off. Somebody has to play spoil sport. Ting tong!

Ye award tujhe dedoon thakur?

phir dekhiye

"Aankhon Mein Jis Ke Koi To Khwab Hai
Khush Hain Wahin Jo Thoda Betaab Hai
Zindagi Mein Koi Arzoo Kijiye
Phir Dekhiye ……

Hoton Pe Jis Ke Koi To Geet Hai
Woh Haare Bhi To Us Ki Hi Jeet Hai
Dil Mein Jo Geet Hai Gun Guna Lijiye
Phir Dekhiye…….

Yaadon Mein Jis Ke Kisi Ka Naam Hai
Sapno Ke Jaise Us Ki Har Sham Hai
Koi To Ho Jisse Apna Dil Dijiye
Phir Dekhiye….." ~Caralisa Monteiro for Rock On


Just love this song from the movie, Rock On. The vocal, the guitar and the piano are just amazing and it has struck a chord with me. Think I must learn how to put up songs the way Blues does on his page. S has learnt the guitar for this song just so that I could sing. Thank you hubby!

Was part of a fund raising event and witnessed the autistic children of Asha foundation perform on stage. I was so touched. They really made me cry. It seems the prevelance of autism is increasing by the day and moving towards an autistic child for every 150 in this world.
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After getting married, the dream of a house has gone big and bigger. In the papers, I seem to see only the ads of apartments. We would be enslaved to EMIs for the next 15 to 20 years, but that hasn't stopped me from dreaming. The house is not going to happen this year. Maybe, next year or the year after that...

I have been getting offers from some really good companies. S is mighty pissed because I negotiate and renegotiate, make them offer what I want and finally reject the offer. Next day, I am back to the telephonic interviews all over again. He complained to his friend A saying he doesn't understand why I am doing this? A replied, "I don't understand it either, but I do the same thing." he he he.

hostel life and the bra story

There was a girl in the hostel. She was a Dubai returned and wore a lot of gold, which screamed Dubai Dubai. She earned the nick name baby elephant because of her size. Those days, mobile phones were not yet popular. This girl used to kiss her parents on the phone while others waited for their respective calls and smirked at her. She was the only child of her parents and was not comfortable with the idea of sharing anything with her room-mate. Now, this is not allowed in a hostel especially when it comes to food because once you enter a student’s hostel, you start to act as if you have never seen food (other than those served in the hostel) So, this goldie baby elephant as she was known, hid her cookies and ate it under the quilt away from the gaze of her room-mate, but her roomate saw it and spread the news in the hostel. After a week, she started sharing and after a month or so, we came to know her name too.
****
Suddenly people started losing bras. Initially we laughed at it but it became serious. People actually started losing them, from the strings, from the corridors, especially from the corridors- the strapped ones, the strapless ones, the plain ones, the lacy ones, the padded ones, the reds, black, blue,white,skin and pinks, raising the eyebrows to the collective hairline. Complaining to the warden did not help as the warden scolded those who lost it saying, ‘Please don’t talk nonsense.This is ridiculous’.

But those who lost it were angry and they decided to act. They started recollecting events and zeroed on someone. The suspect changed her room and suddenly, the bras of the new section met with the same fate. One day, someone screamed at the corridor while the suspect was inside her room. ‘Who stole my bra? It was hanging here a while ago. People from that block lost their bras and now people from this block are losing theirs.’ Those who heard giggled in their rooms without saying anything. We went for our dinner to the ground floor and when we came back, lo! the bra was hanging where it was.’ Perhaps the dialog about the two affected blocks worked.

The funniest part was that all of us flocked to see the lost-and-found bra hanging right there as if it was some archeological find of great importance. The owner spoke to her bra,’my naughty bra, where did you go?’ to the laughter of all. After that nobody lost their bras.

ankita and her grandpa

Ankita comes home from school and quickly does her homework. Hears someone open the gate. Runs to the balcony to check if it is my dad, her grandpa. It is her grandpa indeed. Screams at the top of her voice.

Ankita: Grandpa, where are you going? You have to take me to the swimming pool.
Dad: yes, I am just coming back in two minutes.
Ankita: I am going to finish my homework. Come back soon.
Dad: ok, now go inside.
Ankita: You must get Kurkure and Appy for me then.
Dad: You never forget that. The worms have eaten your teeth away and you still want to eat all the junk.

After some time, dad comes home. Ankita has finished her homework and insists that she wear her swim suit. She doesn’t want to waste time changing it in the pool is her logic, though we believe that what she wanted to do is show off to her friends in the neighborhood as dad drives her off. Her mom has packed her normal wear in a bag. Ankita searches for dad and finds him in the rest room.

Ankita: Grandpa, what are you doing in the rest room? (At the top of her voice)
Dad: (Doesn’t reply)
Ankita: Tell me, are you sh!tt!ng? (The exact translation in my language at the top of her voice)
Dad: Doesn’t reply.
Ankita: Grandpa, why are you sh!tt!ng for so long?
Dad: (Comes out and screams at her.) Yes, I was. You don’t even let me do it in peace.
Ankita: Does anybody do that for so long? Come now and take me to the swimming pool.

Both of them fight and dad takes her to the pool.
Ankita: (On the way out) Did you get what I asked you to get?

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C, S and i met up over the weekend. Ok, a little history about us. We were team mates. C has joined another organization. i have moved to another team and S is still in the same team. So, we had fodder for gossip about my new team, C's new team and our old team.
i updated about this to our ex-Manager who has also joined another organization. She said,"may i know why V (another team mate) is not invited?" Very honestly i replied,"whom should we gossip about then?"

moods

"Well, fuck you, too. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky, whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, cheering the Bronx bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.
No. No, fuckyou, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!”

~ Montgomery Brogan in 25th Hour. (did not read the book but watched the movie)

The Award

Well, I am sure you must have never seen any award of this kind in another blog. Yours truly filched it from Google and added the text 'Award' and now, I own the design. Now, you may like to know why? I see a lot of bloggers showing off their awards on their pages. One blogger giving it away to another blogger for being the sensible blogger, the thinking blogger, the good mommy blogger, the funny blogger, the I-have-an-opinion-about-everything blogger et al. Reality shows are just not ending with the television. It is omnipresent and has entered the blog world too with a lot of quizzes and quiz like things and talent shows being floated around.

They don’t understand how much it is hurting the sentiments of creative minds like mine. Vying for that oh-so-nice trophy displayed, I try to answer some of the questions. I think inside the box, out of the box, out of the room and compound and finally come up with an answer. The correct answer is ‘cyclone’ I say just to find out that they have been asking about a wet dog shaking itself. So you see, the wavelengths never match and I never win an award.

They also ask, who is Pappu and why can’t he dance? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to know!
I read the answers given by a lot of people and laugh hee haw hee haw in the privacy of my cubicle realising that the trophy has gone out of my reach.

I have been blogging for more than 4 yrs. That means I have been reading some of you for a long time even through your PMS- induced (males can read as hormone. Women who do not want to read PMS can also read hormone) whims and fancies as you hopped, skipped and jumped from rediff to blogger and wordpress and back to wherever you started with or a domain of your own. It is nice to see you guys thanking me as a reader once in a while as you also thank your lift man on some f**** Monday mornings but no, you never gave me an award.

Now, what I am coming up to? Nothing, basically. People do thank their readers naturally. What I want to do today is give myself an award and show off in my page. Well, the award is not for anything. It is called just that- AWARD.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have won an award and the award is called Award.

Their last date

She knew this was the last time they were meeting and wanted to be nice, and honest.

They sat in the same place they often used to sit, bang in the middle of a crowded café overlooking the concourse. In the midst of the crowd, they had always managed to find their solitude, their voices, and their stories as if they were protected by the eiderdown. She wanted the last time to be like the first meeting and the many in-betweens.

“So, I am getting married” she started, suddenly remembering this is not how she wanted to start nor could she explain why she felt the sudden throbbing pain inside. He just looked at her, held her eyes for sometime and looked away. Then he stirred his coffee very slowly, as if his life depended on that steady action and replied,”If that is what you want.” She wanted to scream, pounce on him and strangle him and die with him that moment but continued the balderdash about how nice the man she was about to marry was, and how much in love they were. He listened quietly, observing how her cheeks turned crimson red and how her eyes were so wonderful tonight, all animated with a tear threatening to fall, something that made him feel like crushing her is his arms. He began to smoke leaving the coffee un-sipped.

Having nothing else to say or hear, she stood up saying, he needn’t see her off.

Walking through the boulevard, she suddenly remembered a time when they had walked leisurely after leaving the coffee house, sharing peanuts from a cone and singing a duet. She had laughed saying, ‘If people were to hear only our voices, they’d certainly think two guys are singing.’ To which, he had replied,’oh, let me check then if I am walking with a guy or a girl’. She kicked him and ran; with him running right behind her, laughing.

Collecting herself, she hastened her steps and coughed away her tears. He stood at a distance, perhaps thinking the same thoughts, smoking.

P.S: I started writing only with the woman’s angle, but I realized I am often unfair to the other sex so, I have added the guy's part too.

My colleague has started blogging, please read her.

The Dark Knight watcher

Movies like, ‘The Dark Knight’ make some grown-ups behave like a kid. S had been waiting for its release fervently. He read some reviews and how well it opened in the U.S and fed his own anxiety. Dinners in the last week consisted of updates about the movie and its reviews, how Christian Bale is a very good actor and how Heath has played the role of the joker with elan(imagine the special symbol and pronounce correctly. I am not able to do it. :-) ). I said,”yes, Christian Bale is finally getting his due. I liked him in ‘Equilibrium’ and ‘Machinist’ specially, but I haven’t watched ‘Batman Begins’. He looked at me as if I just confessed murder.

Making up his mind that I have a shitty choice for movies, he continued raving about Heath Ledger. I said,” I don’t watch gay movies no matter how good they are. Tell me something else.” (I just couldn’t recall his face.) “Oh yes, ‘A knight’s tale’ and the rock music and how I had commented on his looks. (I watched it with him. Hence, another proof of his good choice and my Shittyness in the subject).

Over the dining table, we mourned his death as if my husband has lost a bum chum buddy, the proverbial ‘langotiya yaar.’

S booked the movie in advance and we watched it finally. He hates loafing around in malls and window shopping but for a change, he asked me to get dressed early and said, ‘let us collect the ticket and while away some time.’

We were among the first few people to enter the theater. I guess he needed that time to do some breathing exercise to control anxiety lest he faint the moment the movie starts.

He absorbed each and every scene and came back.

On the way back, he started testing my IQ test on the super heroes and asked if I didn’t read their comics, as if he had suddenly remembered what was it that he wanted to know about me while courting, but not being able to put a finger on, had somehow decided to get married. I confessed I did not read Superman, Batman or Daredevil but read a lot of Phantoms hoping we are still married.

He continued explaining why Batman is not like other super heroes forgetting I have just watched the movie sitting right next to him and that we have our personal collection of the Superman series. He mumbled something like, “It was too good na, how the joker said, ‘I will not kill you because you are too much fun and you will not kill me because you are too self righteous’” and added, “I feel like buying the comic and reading it again.”

So, if you see a man at the tender age of 31 with a Batman comic, he could very well be my husband.

Indian Blog Titles- This is funny

Fly You Fools - An Indian Webcomic about Life.

Sad Story 2008

It takes no time for sad happy to become happy sad and any such nonsense, which only the kid of 'Cheeni Kum' could understand. It took no time for LoveStory 2050 to become the SadStory 2008, a 50 crore disaster. I feel sad for them that they wasted so much of money making this. The film starts at 2008. The ladies watch a cycling race. They sit in one place but they seem to be cheering the guys when they ride over rocks and boulders. How could they see it all?

Mr. Baweja or Karan chases Sana urf Piggy Chops Urf Priyanka who is seated in a train by jumping through buildings, roads, traffic, cars and what not? They do the entire dance and song sequence, the bollywood jig and play the wooing game. She is in the railway station; he is supposed to go to the airport, but decided to go to the railway station instead. Oh by the way, they are in Australia. The year is 2008, but he doesn’t have a mobile phone and he simply runs again to stop her and she waits patiently in the station. Silly, how can there be a mobile phone? This is a sci-fi movie and you cannot ask for an obsolete stuff called mobile phone. Wait and watch where you are transported to!

Piggy dies in the first half in a fatal accident. The impact looked like she’d be torn into pieces but all you can see is blood oozing out of her head and she is conscious enough to say ‘I love you’. He doesn’t think of taking her to a hospital but holds her and reaffirms his undying love to the dying lady. I am a person who can even cry over a Govinda movie. Hell, this was a love story and the lady love was dying, but I did not even feel like sneezing.

Boman Irani, the scientist Uncle of the hero creates a time machine and Karan goes to search and get back his lady love from Mumbai 2050. You are transported to a world of video games. You have robots and virtual maids and a lot of Phirangs in the streets of Mumbai. Piggy Chops is a rock star with red hair and teddy bear and I decided to sleep, literally.

I won the Gallantry award for having the courage to watch it and stay awake till wherever I watched.

Where compliments are due, I must say Harman dances well but his talking, body language and style was similar to Hrithik Roshan to uncomfortable limits. Sometimes, I felt he tried to copy SRK's exuberance of DDLJ too. All in all, this was a movie to sell Harman even when the romance or the story took desultory prominence. I personally didn’t like him but he may get noticed because of his dancing skills.

I have already got the gallantry award, so don't even be motivated to take your chance.

When the rains came

The weather has been amazing in namma Bangaluru. People often say the monsoon gives respite from the sweltering heat but the heat was shortlived this year and we actually did not get much opportunity to chide the summer. It is very pleasant to walk down the promanade to the pick-up point every morning that you will always notice a spring in my steps, a cavort(ing) gait and eyes wandering to take in everything that the morning has to offer.

It rained yesterday and it took me to the days of yonder when I used to look through the window on some rainy days and sing my heart out. The window was behind the sofa. I used to kneel on it backwards and hold the window grill and peer through it. Ah childhood!

I admired the mangoes, promising life and how the water droplets would slide through the skin and fall from the tip. The yellow orchids clung to a branch of the mango and bloomed to glory. Beside the mango tree were the hydrengias, the roses, the lilies, the nine-o-clock flowers, the bottle brush and many more. Cousin and I would run in the rain and play in the mud skating bare foot, skidding, falling, getting up, skidding, falling, getting up until grandma would scold us and say that she wants our mothers to stop working and control us. We would jump and pluck a bottle brush flower, run inside, tap the flower on our palms and lick the nectar. What must have been our aspirations or struggles in those days? Maybe, just do homework and get promoted to the next class.

It rained yesterday and I wanted to sing out loud and be that child once more. Presence of the brother-in-law stopped me.

I see myself being moulded to the role of a provider from being the provided. Took the brother-in-law shopping and made him buy whatever he wanted for passing out of the Academy. I enjoyed the experience of caring for someone younger than me, of being responsible for him. Led the mom-in-law to places she wanted to go in Bangalore. Her child-like enthusiasm reflected on her face as she explored the unventured places. On the other hand, sis told me that mom was complaining that I hadn’t called her last week.

I caught up with Lin and Ju, my childhood friends over the chat. We used to read Archies tucked inside text books, Photo Romance tucked inside the Atlas map book, talk boys, share lunch, play together and compare marks as to who got how much and who topped the class. The comforts of childhood and endearments still very much intact, we chatted about our married lives, plans of having a child, responsibilities and mother-in-laws and wondered, when did we all grow up so much?

The saga of interviews

I went for an interview at 10 am. The HR did not acknowledge and I started to form an opinion that they are unprofessional and doesn’t respect other’s time. She called me up from her desk and told me that it was scheduled for 4 pm. Came back and checked the mail to see that it was me who had requested her to change the timings from 10 to 4. How could I not remember?

Went to the Manager’s cabin on Tuesday for a one-on-one scheduled on Wednesday. I did not check the calendar and relied on my brains.

I think I am stressed out, stressed out from attending interviews.

Been attending interviews at a lot of companies and this is the first time in my life that I am facing a lot of rejections too. Ideally, when I apply in 3 companies, I get offered in 2 of them. I take one offer and stop the job hunt until the seat itches again. This time, I have been rejected in 5 companies already. One good company that I applied did not even shortlist me.

Are they getting wiser?

If you have to fail, failing in the first round is ok but it pains when you fail in the HR round or the 4th and the 5th rounds. By that time, I have forgotten what I am supposed to say and I am sure they have forgotten what to ask and therefore, whatever I answer is not right. Think about the time, money and energy wasted. I work in one end of the city and another company in the other end called me. I somehow managed to make the ends meet and attended the interview. They called me to a hotel that week-end. I went there. They called me again to the other end of the city. By this time, I don’t know which end to take care of. Atleast my rear end in the office was on fire due to the prolonged absences. Then they called me again, I went and finally, I am not offered. Bah!

I applied again to a company where I had failed two years back. I met the same manager. He had offered me icecream the last time. I gobbled up the ice-cream nicely but failed the technical round. This time, I wanted to say,’No’ to any ice-cream. (The ice-cream could be laden with something that would make your brain stop functioning at the wrong time. I mean I know it doesn’t function sometimes, but I expect it to function during interviews.) It did not happen. So, I asked for water. This time he cleared me and I met another person and I am still waiting after completing 4 rounds in that company.

My Senior Manager and Manager have joined another company and they wanted to pull me too. I applied as it would be fun to work with the same people again. I cleared some rounds and had to be interviewed by some head from Australia. I failed.
I told them that their company’s cab passes by my house and I am going to puncture the tyres.

Today, I have the 3rd round in another place. Sometimes, all I do is present myself in a nice formal attire as I have no idea what to prepare on or what else to prepare on. I come back and update Romila about my experiences. The other day when I said, “I went there and failed.” She said,”every dog(bitch) has her day. The bone is not far away. Don’t worry.”

Bone Bone Bone Bone
I want you in my life
Let's spend in work together
From now until forever ~ Inspired by Vengaboys

Korean movies, north-east youth and some thoughts

We have been watching a lot of Korean movies of late that S and I joke that we may start talking to each other in Korean. When I went home, I could see the youths trying to ape them rather than the Indian movie stars. Hindi movies and channels are banned by the militants and a famous Korean channel is watched in most households and loved. One thing could be because of our looks that the youths can identify with them more than the Hindi movie stars. Even after being with India for this long, we continue to search our identity. I feel they are right in some ways in trying to ape some other country. We are often not accepted. I hate it when colleagues ask me where my state is and what is its capital. Furthermore, some of them think we eat all kinds of living things.

Sometimes I ask them, “Were you fishing when your teacher taught Geography? Atleast know that I am from the north-east even if you don’t know which state, having said that I am an Indian.” I am more Indian in many ways than them morons. I am not saying this is all bad though. You are different; therefore you can be interesting too. I feel I have managed to remove many prejudices from the minds of those people who know me well.

Coming back to the Korean movies, I realise it is not just S and I who have been watching these movies but bollywood too. Welcome is copied from a movie called Marrying the Mafia. The revenge of Sanjay Dutt, Zinda was also copied from another Korean movie. There is another Korean movie on teenage pregnancy called Jenny and Juno and though the story is different, the subject is the same as Juno. So, I thought maybe, Hollywood was also inspired by this. Juno was a much better movie than the Korean, Jenny and Juno. I have a nagging feeling that You, Me aur Hum is also copied from A moment to Remember, but there are lot of other Hollywood movies on Alzheimers. I have watched the Notebook based on Nicholas Sparks’ novel and then there is Away from her for which Julie Christie was nominated for the Oscars. I wish to watch A memoir of Irish Murdoch. Read all the actors (Jim Broadbent, Judi Dench and Kate Winslet) got nominated for the Academy and Golden Globe.

A Moment to Remember has Son Ye-jin as the lead. The Classic was the first Korean movie that I watched starring this lady some years back. After that, I watched My Sassy Girl and now, I have lost count. Till now, I find A Moment to Remember to be the best movie on Alzheimers, Holly Bolly Tolly Golly, all the Woods considered. Some of the Korean movies are quite good. They have their own American Pies and American Gangsters. I remember one funny dialogue from one such movie. It is a movie on Gangsters. One of the brothers is always found with women instead of gang wars. So, the elder brother scolded him. The sub-title read,” You are always clinging to breasts. Are you a calf? “

challo challe mittwa

Going to Pune to witness a batch of Indian soldiers pass out of the National Defence Academy. One of them is my borther-in-law. It will be such an honour. I think it will be a life time opportunity to go inside the campus. We are given dress codes for all the 4 days that we would be at the NDA and what better excuse than this to go shopping! S told me it is not a fashion parade and I don't have to be so excited about dressing up. How can a man know about women and dresses? I don't mind. I don't mind.

I have bought a light coloured saree as Pune is really hot these days. Ma-in-law wanted me to wear our traditional dress too. I am not only a Bharatya Naari but a Manipuri Naari who have taken upon her thin shoulders the responsibility of showcasing her rich culture and heritage. Don't you see it is always the women? And S tells me not to take it as a fashion parade. How is that possible? :-)

Our tradional dress consists of a wrap around (which is thick), a blouse and a half saree which can be worn as a saree or as a shawl. I have given the blouse for stitching and I paid three times the amount that I paid one and a half years back. Talk of inflation! I mean I did not go to some Manish Malhotra but our own galli ka darzi and the price rise is too much. Now I know why actresses these days are not wearing blouses and are making do with strings. Even they are affected by inflation. Oh dear poor sisters! See now I understand why Tanisha was going bra bra dekho in Neel and Nikki. She doesn't get many movies and she is also a victim of inflation. Bad me, bad me for mocking her in a public forum!

Coming back to blouses, I hate being measured by a male tailor. I am sure most women feel the same.

Anyway, I am planning to catch up with two of my childhood friends. There is R, the lady warden. She has left that job long time back but I keep referring to her as the lady warden. She will be relocating to Mumbai very soon. She got a job in a very good college under Mumbai University. Hope Mr. Raj Thackeray will not have any problems to this. She is a gold medalist from Pune University and Mumbai only stand to lose. Leen had finished her M.B.B.S long time back but suddenly decided to go for the P.G and I am glad she has chosen Pune to do it. These are friends with whom I went to school in my small hometown in the far corner of the country. I am still thankful to that school we attended. Amidst the strikes, bandhs, bomblasts, extortion and a lot more disturbances to a normal student life, that school kept our dreams alive. Even to a student like me, who is not the topper but slightly above average, it gave me the confidence that someday I would be able to find something worthwhile to do beyond MBBS and Engineering. Something that I love, something that I am good at.

So, it would be sort of a re-union. We would miss the rest of the gang, Ri, Ju and Li. Ju and Li are at NYC and Virginia, and kicking ass. They hang out together and share their snaps. We are planning to do the same. Hee hee hee. S wanted to meet his friends too. Thinking out loud (and hoping he is reading this), maybe he could drop me and get introduced to my buddies and I could pick him up later and get introduced to his buddies since we don't have that much time in hand.

Yashodhara

Pema: Yashodhara. Do you know that name? Prince Sidhartha, Gautama, Sakyamani, Buddha, everybody knows those names… but..Yasodhara! Yashodhara was married to Sidhartha. She loved him dearly. One night Sidhartha left her and her son, Rahul.. while they were sleeping... to seek enlightenment... to become Buddha. He did not even say a word to her when he left. Yashodhara had shown compassion for the sick and ailing long before Sidhartha even did.. long before Sidhartha was even aware of suffering! Who can say if he owes his enlightenment to her?

Tashi: Pema!

Pema: Perhaps, Yashodhara wanted to leave Siddhartha and Rahul. How can we ever know if Yashodhara fell victim to anger ..to loneliness or bitterness..after Sidhartha left her? Who ever thought about her?

What must she have said when Rahul, her son asked that eternal question: "Where is my father?" What must she have told him? How could a mother leave her own child in the middle of the night? It is only possible for a man to do. Tashi, only for a man. After that Yashodhara had no choice. She had to live a life of renunciation. She cut off her hair and lived like an ascetic. Oh Tashi, if your thoughts of Dharma were of the same intensity as the love and passion you have shown me, you would become Buddha in this very body, in this very life.

Finally, I have got my own copy of the movie, Samsara. The above is my favourite part.
Tashi, a budhist monk after meditation for three years, returns to the monastery and is being revered for his discipleship. Suddenly, he experiences a profound attraction for a woman called Pema and leaves the monastry for the secular world. He finds that life in Samsara(world) is even more complex and the above happens when he decides to go back to the monastry leaving his wife and son. The question goes:"What is more important:satisfying one thousand desires or conquering just one?"

while I am sleepy

I am feeling damn sleepy and what better way than to blog about a face wash? Let us talk products. No, I have not been paid to endorse any of them in my blog but I can be kind sometimes. I like the Garnier’s Skin Naturals Face Wash (because I wash my face with it. Darn! wake up and concentrate) but I don’t like Esha Deol who is the brand ambassador. I thought she has maintained herself with kick boxing, dance, diet and exercises but came to know that she went through Liposuction and then started maintaining. Now, another actress I heard (read) who is going through this procedure is Ayesha Takia as her baby fat just doesn’t seem to go. I liked her in the much forgotten movie, err! what is the name, that movie with the Oberoi boy? Gyan guru? Yup, Home delivery. I liked her demeanor and her voice. She seemed to be the only person in touch with tranquility in the chaos that was the movie. I didn’t see her in many movies after that but I did see her in TOI a couple of times. About 3 or 4 times, TOI covered that Ayesha is not going to kiss on screen. Who is asking her to kiss yaar?
Talking about Ayesha, I can’t help thinking about Kad’s sister, Tanisha. Ayesha and Tanisha rhymes so, the thought naturally! I feel very sorry for her. She has been dancing and singing “bra bra dekho, hazaar bra dekho” from Neal and Nikki to the recently released One Two Three incessantly but success just seems to elude her. If it continues like this, she has declared that she would become a bra-burning actress.
TOI serves as a good fodder for my blog. I am glad.

I woke up to a brand new road a few days ago. Yes, the road was tarred at night while we were asleep. It was just a few days before the elections. If the powers that be really want it, they can make Bangalore develop the way it should. Whichever party tarred the road that day, I hope that party loses for doing it only now.

"Marriage is when two people decide to become one, the problem starts when they try to decide which one."

Now that I am married, some people have said that they are going to miss the tom, dick, harry posts from me. Yes, I must agree. They were the center of my universe those days. They were just not somebody but TOM, dick (I will not capitalise for reasons best known to all) and HARRY and how could they be not written about? How much I cried when that heart break happened? :-) Well, I can still be the tom-dick-harry consultant. so worry not people.
I have infact earned this reputation among friends. One of my friends broke up and she was talking about it to another friend. The other friend advised her to get in touch with me and take matters forward. We discussed, we made plans, the man-hunt happened and now, she is engaged and will be married on the 3rd of Dec.

I thought I am quite a narcissist but I was so glad to see another female blogger reducing my narcissism to the size of an ant. She has put up her own pictures in all shapes, sizes and angles possible- with boobs, without boobs, with cleavage, without cleavage etc. I saw a lot of people flocking there too. 128 comments! i wondered then I realised almost eighty to ninety of them were hers.

I am in the attend-interview mode again. One of my friends referred me to her organization. I cleared all the technical rounds but failed in the HR Manager round. Someday, I shall blog about which company serves the best coffee.

The elders, both his and mine expect us to start breeding as soon as possible. The reason is that 30 is knocking at the door, it is in the air and it is better before 30 and they are getting old etc. S knows I love kids and he is shit scared that I'd rape him to fatherhood.

The tale of a person who wanted to be an Indian soldier

One of my cousins is in the army and a Major. Another cousin wanted to join the defence and this is his story. Statistics say that youths nowadays are opting for other streams and are not willing to join active service but ask those who have not been selected and you'll know how hard it is to join the army or anything in the defence.

My cousin grew up dreaming that he would be a soldier someday. Aunty used to tell me that she would often find him standing in front of the mirror checking if his knees are joined together, if his foot is properly shaped etc. because he had heard that the knees should be like this and the feet should be like that to pass the physicals.

Right after his secondary boards, he gave the written test for the National Defence Academy. He got through it and our happiness knew no bounds. Everybody said that he had the right physique to be in the army etc. Come personal rounds and he was not selected.

He went for an Engineering degree in EEE from Tamil Nadu and completed it with very good marks. His friends were talking about campus recruitments and a job in the IT industry, but he wrote the Combined Defence Services exam. This time too he got through the written test but failed in the rounds after that. Then we heard that he was going for some interview here and some interview there and all turned out to be something related to Active Service. The SSB and what not? In all the cases, he always got through the written test and the first couple of rounds, but would be rejected in the later rounds.

At home we have a laminated picture of my cousin and some other 24 boys standing, their names and numbers written on their chest. I heard this was for something in the navy. He was among the last 5 prospectives who had to stay behind but unfortunately, not the one who got selected. (I heard just one of them made it). This is a snap that reminds us how close my little brother was to his dreams.

He has finished his MTech and is teaching in an Engineering college in Tamil Nadu while doing his Phd.

This is the story of my cousin but he did share the story of another boy he met in one such interviews. The boy said, "My dad, brother, brother-in-law are all in the army and I haven't made it for the third time. You guys have no expectations and pressure. At home, I feel as if I am not a man. I don't know what else to do in life and I don't know how I am going back."

My Niece again

“There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.” ~ Elizabeth Lawrence

My niece was on the phone to update me on many things. Her grandpa is planning to make her join swimming classes. He took her to some pools. She couldn’t contain her excitement and asked him to call me up. She started, grandpa bought me track pants to exercise before I swim. He also bought me a panty. Giggling I thought eh! What is this? Then I heard dad tell her it is called swimming costume.

My sis-in-law is the disciplinarian and she would insist that Ankita finish her homeworks (yes, at K.G. Children are expected to learn and know everything under the sun including Laplace’s Theorem) first before she could play. Every book had a page marked ‘Homework’. I was at home for a few days and naturally, she knew I am not going to scold her for anything. She said, “Mama, Miss asked me to do my homeworks with my Aunty”. Ha ha ha.

She just finished her exams before the summer breaks. She came back and said, “I helped someone with some answers.” Sis-in-law asked,”why so?” She replied,” How would she help me if I don’t help her first?” And this is happening at K.G.

She came to the airport to see me off. One of her friends from the neighbourhood tagged along. Among the two, she has been the one who has got more exposure and the other girl clung to her for her expert advice. Her friend asked her, “So, this is what they call India Aeroplane?” She replied, “Yes, India Manipur Aeroplane”. Don’t know what the hell they were talking about. She was the more experienced you see, and she managed to have the last word and convince her friend.

Juno, zara suno, one mised call has come race hogi kaha Jodhaa ke sath. Ab ye Jodhaa kaun? well, it is the Lives of others

The lives of others: What I hate about the movie is its ad quoting SRK’s intention to make a movie like this.
I initially did not understand the setting, but S explained to me that it is the time when East German governmant controlled its people through surveillance. (I am weak in History as I was more interested in Science. My favorite science is Moral Science. ) An officer tries to collect evidence against a playwright and his girlfriend. He would listen to everyting that was happening in their house and type them out. Sometimes they even read, “They made love” (I was ready to see how? but he did not type more than that). He started off his work diligently but ended up getting submerged and involved in the lives of the two people. The movie is about how this affects his life and actions. It is an intense drama.

One missed call: I know it is a remake of a Japanese movie and I haven’t watched the original. I was building up expectation and was actually getting scared but until the end, the movie failed to convey why? One by one people get missed calls and a voice message telling the exact time when he or she would die. They often hear themselves screaming to their death over the phone. One by one people kept on dying. Some investigation happened over a hospital accident, somebody got burned. A child was trying to kill her own sister. A ghost appears. All the victims threw up a marble (or is it a toffee?). The guy and the gal were attacked. Almost died. The credits rolled.
Did you understand anything? Not me either.

If this was a movie good enough to have inspired a remake, then I guess this has missed the whole point of the original.

Race-The Twister: In one line, everybody is everybody’s girlfriend.
I didn’t like the picturisation of the song, ‘pehli nazar me’. I liked Sameera Reddy in the song ‘Aur Ahista’ by Pankaj Udas and I honestly feel she should have done what she was doing before she joined movies.

Juno: It is about an acerbic teenager trying to come to terms with an unplanned pregnancy. She is queer and outspoken but at the same time she is cute, funny and the story is surprisingly grounded. She is like every other teenager trying to look chic, wears big glasses, puts a smoking pipe (without actually smoking) and has a hamburger shaped phone. The songs are amazing and the dialogues quite witty. I particularly like the part when she got angry and told her friend that it is Morgan Freeman on being asked over the phone who she was? She acts cool and tried to handle an abortion, but age and experience fails her and she decides to do what is best for the child. When she had a one-on-one with her parents, they stood by her though the worst they had expected was news about her being expelled from school or some drug abuse but not pregnancy at that age. The gist of the story is this, but it explores the finer nuances of human relationships for instance, her relationship with her step-mom as the pregnancy progresses, her chat with her dad and his reassurance on true love, her friendship with her best friend (the boy who got her pregnant), the anticipation of an adoptive parent etc. Jennifer Garner plays a woman eagerly wishing to adopt. She tells her husband who is in a state of utopia about his music all the time,”I’ll never becoma a mother if I wait for you to become Curt Cobain.” :-) A must watch.

Jodhaa Akbar: I have heard about Akbar and Birbal. Now, who is this Jodhaa? I think everybody was struck by this question and people protested. Some say Jodhaa is Akbar’s daughter-in-law, some say Jodhaa is his wife. I feel Jodhaa was Birbal’s other name. The movie was worth a dekko.

Love actually

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons evrywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really dont know clouds at all

Moons and junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way
But now its just another show
You leave em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away

This song by Joni Mitchelle is one of the OSTs of Love Actually. Karen (Emma Thompson) comes to know her husband is perhaps, having an affair and confronts him.
Karen: Imagine your husband bought a gold necklace and come Christmas gave it to somebody else...Would you wait around to find out if it's just a necklace, or if it's sex and a necklace, or if worst of all it's a necklace and love? Would you stay, knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?
Harry: Oh, God. I am so in the wrong. The classic fool.
Karen: [voice breaking] Yes, but you've also made a fool out of me, and you've made the life I lead foolish too.

I’ve looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It’s loves illusions I recall
I really don’t know love at all
Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say I love you right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way
(edited the post. Some of you read it and mailed me. I cried posting it but felt miserable after putting it up. I thought if I should die today, this is not what I want to leave behind. I know many of you would have read through the readers but that is ok. I just didn't want it to be here anymore. :-) )

there is something about mother-in-law

How can an update about a marriage be complete without talking about the mother in-law? So here I go…My hard rock-loving-guitar-playing-meat-eating-at-the-drop-of-a-hat-alcohol-sipping-and-not-so-religious husband has got a Hari-Om-Hari-Om-Chanting mother. So between the two extremes, I went eiyeiya karung mein kya suku suku.

First lesson, she told me not to take the husband’s name. Not taking the name is ok but in Manipur, women often address their husbands as brother. I came to know that Malayalis and some other communities also practise this. A lovelorn gentleman would be writing to his ladylove like this,

” Dear Sister,
Ever since I saw you, my heart has been going ping pong...
I hope my dearest sister would understand my feelings. I shall wait for you in the Love Nest restaurant.

Your loving brother “
So, until we have a kid in which case, S would be Chintoo ke papa or Meenu ke papa, we would be bhai ben. S intervened and said, ‘nothing doing!’ and I was saved from calling him 'brother'. However, I did not take his name in front of her. So the conversations went,”Please come here. Food is ready. Please bring that”. I used to do this to my sister when we fought. “Mom said food is ready” with a straight face and not address her directly.

The next thing was about religion. The world and everything else came from Hari and therefore, I must entrust my life to him. Then she also added that once you are married, your husband is your God. I don’t know if S was getting promoted to Hari or Hari was getting demoted to S. So, mission ‘please the mom-in-law’ was like conquering Saichen. For the few days that I was with her, I entrusted my life to Hari and hoped that he would do something to please her. There were rituals to be followed everyday starting from having to change clothes many times and worshipping God (many, including Hari) a number of times.

One day, she asked me to cook and just sat in the kitchen. My! I cook fairly well but this was judgement day. I was very conscious even about the way I was holding the knife and cutting vegetables. Suddenly, my mom’s advice from the past years came to mind. “Some families, cook like this, some people like being served like this. See that the utensils do not make much noise when you cook or serve. Never say that you do it like this but always ask your mom-in-law how it has to be done.” I think every mother trains her daughter from day one to be a daughter-in-law. I used to hate it and say, "I’ll do it when I have to and I‘ll manage even if I don’t know", but finally her words became handy because my mom-in-law gave me tips on how she does things.

I am back to my shorts, T shirts, boiled eggs and Maggie, cook only one meal a day, that too with S helping me most of the time and pray ( a short one) before I leave for work and not at dawn. I know I could never live up to my mom-in-law’s expectations. She said she cooked for 17 people from the day she got married. The max I cooked was for 11 people and that gave me a severe back ache later as I am not conditioned. Those were her values and the only yardstick for measuring someone and I don’t really mind. Infact, she told me, “I know you are not going to follow many of the things that I do here but I just wanted you to know them”.

S knows I have failed and failed miserably, but he is mighty pleased because I tried. I also sing Usha Uthup’s song, ‘Hari Om Hari’ when I think of my mom-in-law.

And in your life...

“…and in your life my infinite dreams live. “ ~ Pablo Neruda

The wedding happened and I got upgraded from Miss to Mrs. Our traditional dress, I must say costume for the wedding, is very heavy and I had a tough time wearing it. On top of that, there was a lot of jewelery and many shiny things on the head. I could exactly feel how it must be in the olden days, having to look slim by wearing tight gowns and corsets and two maids helping them tighten the waist. In my case however, it was not to look slim but to ensure that it stays where it is supposed to stay. The lower part of the wedding dress is too heavy and has a tendency of slipping down if not tied properly. So, the waist was pulled so tight until I felt I cannot breathe anymore. Sis was worried and gave me glucose syrup and some energy drinks to hold on. I did enjoy the experience of dressing up as a bride in spite of all these.

People kept coming, photo sessions kept on happening, and the priest started his religious Mumbo Jumbo in Sanskrit, which made no sense to me. Finally, he spoke in Manipuri and said,” this is for your good luck as you step into holy matrimony. Think of a calf drinking milk, a calm sea, think of pure ghee, milk, honey, feel their aromas, think of sweet smelling bunch of flowers, a white horse, a white pigeon etc. and see on which side of your nose you can breathe easier and step with that foot first. “

Stepping with my right foot first, I was let out to the mantap (wedding hall). I had to bow and show respect to all elders, dad and seek their blessings before I sat next to the groom. Our hands were tied, and over a wooden stand, a clay plate consisting of fruits, grains, dhoti was placed. It seems it signifies that we are going to bear everything in life together. That moment when our hands were tied together, and the priest started the prayers along with my dad, things actually started making sense. I knew this was it, this would mean something that would last forever and that he would mean more to me as the days go by. I did not have the guts to look at him but just looked at our hands tied together and said a prayer, “Bind us together Lord, with cords that cannot be broken, bind us together in love. “


Then I had to go around him 7 times and after each circle, shower flowers and bow to him. How much he must have enjoyed it! I sneaked a glance and it was so funny to see him sitting straight and acting very serious, and unaffected by all the flowers being showered. After this, garlands were exchanged. The garlands are made of jasmine flowers only and it has to be made by the bride herself in the morning. The bride garlands both the to the groom. The groom removes one, and garlands it to her.

We bowed to one and all once more and went inside to exchange beetle leaves and nuts, and a traditional Manipuri sweet with each other and with many relatives and sought blessings. The vidai (send off) happened all in a rush and I did not get time to even feel that I am leaving home forever. Whatever tear that was threatening to fall was also stopped. I was advised that the make-up would be ruined as I have to go to the guy’s house.

I was received at the guys place by his mother and two more ladies. People from the bride's side were served refreshments. While leaving, dad touched my forehead and blessed me. Suddenly, the tears came. My uncles, aunties and brothers followed my dad. Eyes cast low, and head bowed, I recognised each person from their voices and cried. Sis did not say anything but just sat next to me and cried quitely. When we were younger, she has always been the one to whom I went whenever there was a problem. Somehow, in that silence and the tears, I felt she understood me still like she always did.

My friends and relatives left and then, it was the turn of the girls from the groom's side. A bevy of girls just flocked in. One told me to eat something, one told me to look up, one fired a volley of questions. I had never met any of them. I had seen his sister in the photos but the engagement happened between elders in Imphal and we exchanged rings here. I never got the chance to know any of them and so, everything was in a daze. After sometime, I saw him enter the room to take something and then I felt, there is a familiar face, there is someone I know. The dard-de-disco in my heart stopped and I calmed down.

P.S: I have put up my snaps because I have been whitewashed with layers of makeup and even my Manager will not know that it is me :-)

chicken thing

My braces have been removed.

I don't know what it has done to my looks, but I am pretty sure that the lives of some chicken are in danger.

The heart is a lonely hunter...

“The heart is a lonely hunter with only one desire to find some lastin' comfort in the arms of a lover's fire” – A song for Bobby Long

I have loved, I have lost and I have loved again and I am glad I took those chances. The Karans that I coffeed with, while I was looking out for that perfect love and perfect relationship made my existence meaningful though I couldn't really give an appellation beyond the the very passe, 'friendship'. There will be stories to tell and moments to re-live through my grandchildren. (Could be grandchild. Government might adopt the one-child policy.)

I know I have not been fair to someone. Another time, another place, I’d have loved to love him, the way love is meant to be. When everything is so perfect, you tend to seek imperfection and pain. Maybe, I just did that.

Looking back, I am thankful to the guy who claimed that he is very selfish and an asshole and told me not to trust him. I am thankful to him for proving his own words. I wouldn’t have known so much happiness if it was not for him. Somehow, he never met my emotional requirements and if he was mean, I was meaner. For each new girl he befriended, I befriended 2 guys. He was stronger than me ultimately and I ended up hurting myself. But as always, there was a new beginning… in the form of another guy and I met my fiancé. (laughs!)
Well, I wanted to write about the fiancé (henceforth, S) and I don’t know where I have headed. It is one of those online relationships that worked. (Are you reading this Stone? You have got company.) He mailed me through my blog (now he doesn’t care and I am sure he doesn’t even remember the URL). I didn’t have to tell him about my past, present or the future. He is very level headed and sometimes challenges my beliefs and has managed to knock some sense to me.

I always wanted a Rhett Butler kind of a guy but he is good only in a novel.

Now, I don’t really think I have been mean. I don’t really remember that I have ever been hurt.

Bling Bling

The fiance is supposed to have a meeting with his manager and some board members of his organization and he has been visited the by great Loose Motion.

The stomach has its own reasons which reason knows nothing of.

The wedding is on the 4th of March. We bought the invitation cards. I was excited and felt for the first time that I am getting married for myself and not for my mom. She has been the one more excited about it than me. Perhaps, she cannot take any more of my break ups. :-)

I am used to the new routine of getting up early and coming back early. Now I know ten ways of reaching the pick up point on time. It’s only that I end up sporting different hair styles depending on the speed that I reach the pick up point. So if some colleague (no, let me add jobless) err! If some jobless colleague looks at me or my hair, I make a face as if I am calculating Pi to the 27th decimal like Vernon God Little and step into the cab. Taken stock of the situation and started reading voraciously on the journey to work and back. The eyes need some more training to get adjusted to the motion.

Family Matters

Between the mad rush to work and home, I have had time to really sit back and think or to read. I have seen the landscape of the city change and change very aggressively, the past few years. I see the constructions happening everywhere, of apartments and departments. The city is very much my own, yet how much of a stranger I am!

“No matter where you go in the world, there is only one story: of youth, and loss, and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Just the details are different.” And I say to myself, “how true!” These lines from Family Matters by Rohinton Mistry, gives the pulse of the novel. Based in Mumbai, it is about Nariman, the Parsi who couldn’t marry a non-parsi and his fights with the ghosts from the past, his step-daughter who couldn’t forgive him, his son-in-law who struggles to support his family, his daughter Roxana and her children and the reaction of each member of the family when Parkinson’s come calling and leaves him bedridden. It is sweet and poignant, as expected from the author, with detailed characterization. It is not as good as A fine Balance but much better than many of the well selling and may I add, award-winning books on NRIs suddenly getting nostalgic about dal tadka, cow dung, crows and pickles.

I'd rather...

There are 2 offices of my company within 4 kms from my residence but I have opted for the one which is around 15 kms away from home. Yes, the grass is greener on that part of the city and it is so beautiful and I can see dinosaurs. Naturally, I have been dreaming on the way.

When I was working nearer, I used to crib that I cannot see the sunset but now, I am forced to see both the sunset and the sunrise and everything else in between. Life has become only about the never ending journey to work and back home.

This is the first week and I may get adjusted to this routine but as of now, it is about sprinting, running, somersaulting, doing whatever works, to reach that pick up point on time. The first day I went in formals, neat and ironed with well coordinated accessories. The auto ride was like a picnic and I took in the landscape of Bangalore that I had never seen before.

I wouldn’t go into any ‘gun jumping’ that what happened from the second day will go on forever, but the train of thoughts in the morning has been like this,” Well, jeans and T-shirts are the most comfortable clothes to work. But this is the same pair that I wore yesterday. If you wear another pair also it will be blue only. One blue doesn’t differ much from the other blue. Besides, nobody cares and while you are trying to take the other blue jeans out, the clock will tick way and you might just not make it to the pick-up point on time. So, grab another T-shirt. Yes, it is ok to wear the same pair of socks also for another day. Wait! Pray first before you wear your shoes. Now, run.”

I have another thought cropping up right now and that is, I’d rather wear fur than go naked to work. I have other choices though and Britney Spears should support PETA. She will hit two birds with the same stone.