Ire...

2012-01-23T16:50:00.001+05:30

Looks like my cabbie tales get interesting each day. I met an interesting Taxi walah uncle the other day. After much persuasion of how I would have to walk at least half a kilometer in the hot sun and more jazz, he agreed to drop me home.

pic courtesy: Google Images

Well this cab-walah uncle was full of tales to tell. He not only complained about how the traffic had increased, abused the traffic policemen and sneered at every other 'badi' or 'big' car on the road, every 30 seconds he took a quick peak in the mirror to style his 'Veerappan-style' moustache. Vanity, my friends, makes one do a lot of strange things.

After a while, bored out of my wits and baking in the non-ac cab, I pretended to doze off while he continued yapping. Suddenly, he turned around and exclaimed, "Lo bhai, deklo, ajab duniya hai! Itni laambi gaadi aur baithne wale sirf do! Kaisa zamana aa gaya hai!"

Dumbstruck, my first reaction was to think of us, him and me, sitting in this tiny Maruti 800 cab! But before I could pass a snide remark like, 'haan haan kyun nahi, Maruti 800 toh bahut hee lambi hai...," he pointed out to a sexy silver BMW 2 seater.

Sheesh, I was really the dumb one here. While we continued to crawl in Dharavi, the 2 seater zipped passed us in a jiffy. :|

Auto-Cabbie Woes...

2012-01-08T19:28:00.000+05:30

Imagine a bright, windy (read 'chilly' to me) Sunday morning when hubby and I decide to walk along the Shivaji park area. We hop onto a bus, reach Plaza and walk it down to the beach. After some not-so-brisk walking, pointing and laughing at some people (even you'd do it, so chill) and mentally promising my self that next time I be here, I'd have a dog, we get into a cab to go eat.

After a non consequential drive to the eatery, Mysore Cafe ( we ate tonnes of things here), and a few lazy sighs that indicated the ride back home was to be a cab, we hopped back into one. The enthusiastic cabby opened the door for us even before we could tell him where we wanted to go. So we get in and say 'Everad nagar'. He pauses and looks at us through his mirror and says, "Arre Sahab! U- turn maar kar jana hoga..." We then confirmed if he wanted to take us, to this he nodded in consent and sped us away.

Well, here is where the actual thing begins. While the cabby did drop us off at our destination, he expected we pay six bucks extra for the ride. Why? Only because he would have to take a U-turn. Is that my problem? No. Was I cheating the chap? No. But was I getting sort of mugged/blackmailed (I prefer the former)? Yes, of course.

Obviously we paid him only what his meter displayed. However, this extra buck thingy is becoming a norm. The other day I took an auto to work. Regular fare comes up to 35 bucks but the chappy told me the meter reading read 96 bucks! I almost flipped my lid. The funny thing is 96 is way to far away from 35 so the bloody liar gave himself away the very instant. While I handed him 40 bucks (coincidence na?), he refused to give back the remaining chillar. When asked why, he was like, "Madam, I am here to make some money. You obviously cannot expect me to pay you back, do you?" Bewildered, I yelled back, "Of course I do. I am not here to lose money!" Saying so I got off.

So my point is, why is the public transport system, the one we, Mumbaikars swore by, suddenly trying to fleece us at every nook and corner? Either it is the tampered meter or blackmail to get us to pay more. All these 'Meter down' protests/campaigns seem to be in vain. And of course, our Hazare jee has far more important things to look into.

Is Mumbai losing its edge or am I just getting tired of this city? Bah. Irritated and confused.

What's in a name?

2011-11-13T02:40:00.001+05:30

Wonder whythat nosy neighbour from Wisteria Lane was killed? Simple. She was too nosey Bah. However, real life does not allow you to kill or rather quickly shoot nosey people. How I wish I could shoot some? Having moved to Mumbai recently,my hubby and I are desperately trying to set up our new home. As if this was not tough enough, random old womenin the society want to get an insight (and how!) into our lives. Because we arenew and cheap rent (that is a myth) is tough to come by, one is asked to bepolite so I try to answer. Nevertheless, answering these questions not onlymade me look like a fool but I felt like one too!

So when wewere just moving in, a grouchy looking aunty next-door peeps in from the frontdoor. My ever-so-polite father introduces himself and the husband. The woman questions my father, husband watcheson. Suddenly hubby realises that although he is present and the woman is askingall about him, she refuses to acknowledge his presence! She continues to talkto my dad. Finally, she gives him a stern look and asks him his name.

‘Himanshu’he replies.

‘Not yourname, what is your ‘surname’?

‘Bhagat’

‘Okay. Soyou are a Hindu?’

‘Yes.’

And thedoor was shut with a bang! K

Recently asI entered the society, an old woman smiled at me, so I smiled back. She took itas a ‘thumbs up’ to throw questions at me.

‘You arethe new here, na?’

‘Yes’

“Have youbought the flat? Or on rent’

‘Rent’

‘What isyour Surname?’

‘Bhagat’

‘Okay. Doyou cook or you have a maid?’

‘I cook.’

‘Husband isa doctor?’

‘No!’

‘Oh too bad...’

First, youneed to be a Hindu and now husband should be a doctor. Wow! I have no idea whypeople are so obsessed with surnames. Do we look alien-like because hubby isnot from Mumbai or anyone with geeky (good) looks, wearing spectacles is forsure a doctor? It just gets weirder and weirder.

Thesequestions bring back my very first memory of shifting to Sion. We had recentlymoved and finally when all our belongings were in, we put up the nameplate thatread ‘Banerjees’ on the door. Soon enough we had an aunty ringing the bell onour door.

So thisaunty rudely asks my father who was he and why was he here? My surprised fatheranswered that he was the new owner of the flat and that we had just moved in. Nevertheless,the irritating woman continued, “But you are a ‘Banerjee” and not a ‘GujaratiJain’ how can you live here? Who let you buy a flat here? We are allvegetarians?”

By then dadwanted to bang the door on her face but luckily, mom intervened. She spoke tothe lady in fluent Gujarati and assured her that we were pure vegetarians andthat she had a love marriage so now she is part Gujarati and part Bengali. Thematter was drawn to a close with the lady leaving us in peace. However, peoplewere reluctant to fraternize with us for the first six months.

All of this just makes me realize how full of fluff we are...complete rubbish and waste of time!

A House for Mrs. and Mr. Bhagat

2011-10-09T03:02:00.001+05:30

Standing in the midst of dead cockroaches, washing a dirty dishcloth, I wondered, was this something I signed up for or not. Definitely not the dead cockroaches bit! But then setting up a new home has some pros and cons to it, doesn't it?

First of all, I'd say I am very lucky that my hubby and I were fortunate enough to have landed this apartment which is little more than a 'room and a half' by Gurgaon standards and that too, on a shoestring budget! But then you can't get everything, can you? Hence, the cockroaches. Sigh, at least the house hunting paid off.

In a city like Mumbai, a home is a luxury and making a home out of a rented apartment can be tricky too. I must have looked at least 20 apartments before we settled for this one. Every house/apartment is perfect in its own way but just not the right one for you. For instance, I saw this house right behind the place I work. It was perfect; large windows, two bedrooms, a hall and a kitchen. Very neat. However, the rent bit was atrocious, so much that I hate talking about it.

I took fancy to another apartment. Very well furnished, nice decor and all that jazz. But I guess the owner really didn't like me. So that's that! Some were pathetic and made me want to cry. I had had a long day at work and then walking down a narrow winding lane, climbing up three-long floors, entering the flat made me cringe. So much work for nothing! Arrrghhhh...

Many a times I came back thinking I'd never make a life here on my own (with my hubby). Coming from a protected family (on both sides), my idea of a rented apartment was hazy. I had a tall order but my budget said something else. I felt as if I hardly knew the city I grew up in! Bah. But then this house came along...

Now when I look back, cleaning up the dead bodies is not that bad after all!

An Equal Music - A review

2011-08-09T04:59:00.003+05:30

(Image for representation purposes only. Copyrights lie with the true artist)

An Equal Music by Vikram Seth (Highly recommended reading)

The world of music has eluded me for a very long time. I hardly have any idea of sur, taal or rhythm for that matter. I do enjoy music but am ignorant when it comes to forms of music. Therefore, when I took up reading this book, I was sort of apprehensive. Apprehensive because I might not understand the essence, i.e. the passion for music, that drives the book forward or because it would get too complicated for me to go along further and so I would quit.

However, nothing of that sort happened. I was pulled into the narrative as soon as I hit page 2 and soon, I could read notes, mentally of course (i.e. again my knowledge is stunted) in my head. I had visions of Vienna - how Michael and Julia made music together, how they roamed the streets, hand-in-hand, enjoyed their food at the Mnozil and how they slept in each other’s arms every night.

The words are beautifully etched, in a manner in which, it makes you feel every emotion, the frenzy, the despair, the tears, the joy and of course, the music. A brilliant yet simple narrative takes you through the world of Chopin, Bach, Schubert, Handel etc. One is compelled to feel the desperation in Michael’s search for his lost love of nine years; Julia. He wants to reconnect, to feel the old love again. He knows his music is connected to her.

Yet, his chance spotting of her in a bustling double-decker in London, while is he is so sure that it was her, he has missed her again. While Michael has remained true to both his loves; Music and Julia, Julia has moved on. Nine years later, she is married with a seven year old son who happens to hate music classes. However, there is more to her. She is going deaf slowly yet definitely just like Beethoven did. The challenge in playing with others when she can hardly make out what is being played is deeply felt. Miserable, distressed, happy, difficult, guilty etc. all of these are felt when one is reading about Julia.

When fate brings these two lovers together (not ex, mind you as they still love each other), they can hardly contain their love and passion for one and another. Back in Vienna with Michael’s quartet, Maggiore, they feel the same. Fate leads them to Venice where they live each day walking, talking, waking and sleeping together. Their love is like never before. However, reality comes knocking their doors soon. Julia leaves Michael. She must come to a balance in her life what with her increasing deafness and her family. Therefore, she has to let go of Michael.

Michael is a mixed bag. At times you find him endearing, sometimes annoying, you may think of him as a wimp, selfish, strong or weak or everything at the same time. While Julia is someone many of us can relate to easily, her falling into Michael’s arms so easily earned her much flak. One can say that as the book progresses, following the music gets tougher. However, it is the single most important factor that binds all the characters in the book seamlessly.

Tragedy follows. Michael leaves the Maggiore. Word goes round that Julia will only play solo. All is lost to Michael. Mrs. Fromby, Michael’s oldest friend and benefactor (she left him her Tontoni), dies. Threats from old Fromby’s nephew to acquire the family heirloom (Tontoni) follow. He cannot meet Julia. He is listless, restless and his world is closing in on him. However, Julia’s recital where she is playing the Art of Fugue (piano) sums it all up for him. Michael does not wait for the entire recital as he has learnt, heard and felt what he had to. Such beautiful music, an equal music! A beautiful ending full of hope…

"For music is equal for all – to the deaf and to the hearing. All one needs to do is, to play from the heart…" - NB.

Anger

2011-07-30T09:34:00.000+05:30

(Picture from the web is only for representation purposes only. Copyright lies with the artist.)

Wrought, with fear,

Taut lines, drawn near,

Cramped, feelings sear,

I feel caged.

Gossamer wings clipped,

Walls of Sanctum, chipped,

My dignity, stripped,

I feel maligned.

Now I lie in wake,

For reaper's sake,

Dressed in morose gear,

I await death.

A memoir of memories...

2011-06-20T17:58:00.001+05:30

Deep within the hard shell of bones, amidst the million cells, hiding in some imaginary compartment, some memories sleep cozily. Years and years of grey cells may have accumulated onto them, forming cobwebs of memories all over again and yet, these lie intact.

Today I read a friend’s post on childhood nostalgia. Memories, some so precious that simple things easily remind us of them, leaving behind a warm fuzzy feeling in the tummy. Childhood brings back memories of aloo bhaja-dal-bhath, afternoon story sessions, cheede bhaja and so much more. All those animated conversation, the aekanodos, the lies that were caught instantly etc. Yes, a myriad of memories.

When I think of these, I am quickly taken into a flashback much like an Eastman colored film, a montage of shots, seemingly unconnected yet making complete sense. One of my most fond memories is that of crying over spectacles. In my time, kids rarely got specs or maybe I did not know many who did. My older brother had one and so did my aunts. My grand dad’s specs were thick, black rimmed and heavy. Soon as no one was looking, I would put on the specs and try to walk around.

Once I even walked out of the house wearing dadu’s specs. Perched on my nose, those heavy glasses were huge for my face. The thick lens blurred my vision and soon I was caught by my grandma, who by the way dragged me home, grumbling and cursing my antiques. According to her, I could have walked into an open ditch or worse, crashed into a speeding car or a scooter. Bah. In the meantime, dadu, missing his specs, came out of his room at the ruckus and managed…to laugh out loud. This irked my grandma as usual.

But specs continued to enchant me for a very long time. To me wearing specs meant a sign of intelligence. I used to watch my grandpa read and write the whole day long. Lost in thought, he always had a pencil in hand, scribbling something in some diary. His room was out of bounds for us. Smelling of old books, paper and dust, his room was another world.

A world I discovered much later after he was gone - a world of stories, tales, and folklore; a world of books. His first love was his books. Then, I did not know he was writing a draft of his novels, anticipating a rejection letter from the many publishing houses he had sent his manuscript to. It took years for the final draft of the novel to come through and many years later, when a big publishing house accepted his book, his life was slowly fading.

As a child I had no clue of these things and his serious demeanor kept me away from him all the time. Yet, there were Kismi toffee bars, evening walks and rare story sessions that we shared. From time to time I peeped into his room, watching him in amusement as he talked to himself, probably a conversation he was going to write for his characters. His specs lay still on the old writing desk, near the typewriter. No one else seemed to be interested in his book apart from my eldest aunt to whom, editing the book seemed like a forced chore.

Only Sudhakar, the typist was allowed to sit next to him while he dictated and typed. They discussed, laughed, and shared jokes etc. for hours when the young typist was around. Yet, I was never to know what it was all about.

Years later when I showed an interest in books, he offered me some from his own collection. But because I did not feel very close to him, partly because I was frightened of him, I barely read the books. He still wore the same specs with thick glasses. They did not interest me anymore as I had given up trying to acquire specs of my own.

He died 12 years ago. His book was published but only a handful of copies were printed because then we did not have the money nor did anyone have the time to follow up. I own two copies today and have read the book quite a few times. He had four other manuscripts which I was told were disposed of by my oldest aunt as no one had shown any interest to them in the last ten years.

To the many family members, it was only a loss of life but to me, a legacy is lost. His specs lie guarded in my sister’s cupboard today.

Lost in transition

2011-06-01T01:23:00.000+05:30

(Pic courtesy: http://aidthoughts.org/?p=1381)

Did I just say lost? Yep, thats what sums up my life for now. Between cooking, writing, haggling with writers (for money, keywords, language and much more), I am a nervous wreck. How did mothers manage all of this all the while? Phew...no idea and right now I don't want to know.

I have this nagging fear that my blog is dying a silent death. I have five posts lying in my drafts which may not see the light of the day. Yes, some are about weddings and life after weddings. Fiction, poetry or anything relevant has left me. I am irrational about most things now and very emotional. Read - I cry at the drop of any hat (mine or anyone I know or don't). Crap.

Marriage life is getting normal by the day and it irks me. No more violins heard in the background, instead just the whistle from the blessed cooker, is all I hear. Gah. Back to burning the midnight oil - writing the night away.

Dum Maro Dum - required a lil more dum, I say!

2011-04-30T22:29:00.003+05:30

Looks like being crass is the trend these days that films follow and everyone seems to be taking to it rather nicely. Just watched Dum Maro Dum and the first 30 minutes of the film is really crass (for my ears at least). I'd say the name of the film is very apt, sticks to the plot all the time.

Last time round when Bluff master released, I was a huge Abhishek Bacchan fan and this time round, while he does act well, he does not stir any emotions. Though, I'd say intense eyes. Plus he is really good in cop roles.

So this ain't really a review but me talking about what I liked and what I did not. So first, what I liked:

1. Prateik Babbar. Ubber cute! Yes, he is good and will get better with age!

2. Rana Daggubatti. He is good looking, needs to work on his expressions though.

3. Deepika Padukone. Super dancing, hot white dress and just gets hotter in each film!

4. Camera work. Superb shots - Goa never looked so amazing on film and Rohan Sippy has managed to capture the real essence that drives the film.

5. Love the revamped Dum Maro Dum.

And here's what I did not like:

1. Bipasha Basu. Complete waste. The emaciated look doesn't work either.

2. Too many songs. Bah. These are the lowest points in the film. A film like this doesn't need so many songs. The title track is good enough to be run through the entire film.

3. Very stretchy. Sigh...once the cops crashed the rave party, I thought it was over for good. They should have ended it there.

4. I wish Michael Barbossa was a real man or at least the name had a face to it in the end.

5. Aditya Pancholi. Okay the man can act but lacks the punch to be a ruthless villain.

6. AB Jr.'s dead wife appearing out of nowhere in the forest. Most annoying moment that!

On the whole Dum Maro Dum is a good watch minus the silly glitches. Time Pass hai.

No…never bye bai!

2011-04-19T10:04:00.002+05:30

Today a friend’s status message on FB read: Just fired my bai and feels terrible. Replying in a few seconds to this, she said: Yes, and now I am the bai till I find one. That is a married woman’s reality. Doing the house chores without a bai at hand, is like living in a country whose economy just blew up to pieces.

Bai. Mai. Maid. We can’t do with them and cannot do without them. Yeah, go ahead and call this post an exaggeration but for most women (married or not) this is a home truth which dawns on us very soon. Whatever one wishes to say, they have some hypnotic power over us. We are always around them or pouring over their work at home. We are never happy and they don’t give a damn. Yet we are afraid to utter the ‘F’ word (in this case – FIRED). Wish we could have that kind of attitude towards our employers. Unlike bais, we are always worried of our job security, however much we slog our asses.

We could still be fired but we cannot fire our bais for their tardiness.

With a regular maid, life is cool. She washes, mops, swabs, cleans and you supervise. You crib about her tardiness and she continues to give you that: “Itna paise mein itna hee milega look!” Yet, she is integral part of your domestic life. Without her, the dishes lay waiting in the sink till you find time or are forcibly compelled to roll your sleeves up and do the washing. Arrrgghhhh...what a chore! But when she is around you don’t mind rolling out the entire bunch of spoons into the sink! You hate her one day, reprimand her, yet you sweet talk to her every time she threatens to leave you.

She knows more about you and your house than the male members at home might ever know. She is your source of neighborhood gossip too. Sigh…it’s a vicious circle (that is moving anti clockwise!). First she comes to you for work. You hire her. She works and bears all your natak. Then she threatens to leave. You sweet talk to her. Try other methods to cajole her. Finally pay her more so that she stays.

In an instant, she, who was the maid turns into the one who can pull all the strings. And all this while I thought I make the rules…okay I do but then she makes some too.

Women spend hours over the phone, complaining, comparing and crying their hearts out to other women about how their bais are torturing them.

In the very recent past, our old maid, who was on a long holiday, turned up on a rainy afternoon. I must tell you, her appearing out of the blue was nothing short of a jubilant moment. Gone for a month, she was badly missed. Three maids had come and gone. Each one was compared to the old one. Mummyjee cribbed, sighed; unsatisfied, she continued to let the new ones complete the chores. But now that the old one was here, her problems were sorted.

Little Outcast

2011-04-15T16:03:00.000+05:30

Recently, while browsing at the Chroma Store at M2K, I chanced upon this weird looking creature. A beige pup, sitting by his little owner's leg, leash in hand. Sweet thing, my first thought. Yet it looked odd to me. I could not recognize the breed. At first glance it seemed like a Pomeranian. But its beige colored body baffled me.

Now I was super confused so I decided to walk up to the kid and his dog. By the time I got there, few others were already petting the little thing. The friendly pet licked my feet while I ruffled his ears.

"Iska naam kya hai?" I asked

"Chunmun," said the boy

"Chunmun? Is kutte ka?" I asked (eyebrow raised)

"Haan...Chunmun," said the boy

That was a cute name but for a dog? Well not mine so I can't say much.

"Kaun sa breed hai?"

"Didi yeh mix breed hai...Pomeranian aur Labrador ka mix hai!" equipped the boy.

A Pomeranian and a Lab. Yuck! I mean I love both the dogs but a mix breed? What kind of a love match is that? Don't get me wrong but poms are poms and labs are labs. I never thought that they could fall in love. But I guess...I was wrong. No wonder the pup looked out of place with a face like a Pom and a body of Lab. Little outcast.

The table is on fire...

2011-03-23T14:37:00.000+05:30

Marriage. Bliss. Blunder. And blah. But super-duper fun. I guess that's good enough to summarize how my life has been so far. Very sweet to begin with, a little bitter here and there (tiny tiffs with hubby) and so much more. In fact I don't feel like I am married at all. Folks at the new place know what I am like and so, currently life is a breeze.

Of course, I am happily domesticated! So much so that I am dreading taking up a job. Bah. Learnt to make parathas too. Chapatis have gone from square to round. Yay. Okay now enough about the domestic life.

Now romantic life can be a bit chaotic what with me being jobless and him having a hectic professional (not) life! Lol. To skip to the better part, earlier today, my mum-in-law very fleetingly mentioned the 'first night'. Seriously, it was no big deal but her mentioning it and how, was super funny. However, the mention went as far as him gifting me the cool phone on that very night.

But a lot more than gifting the phone happened. [If you are thinking you are getting any of the juicy details then, sorry!]

Someone had stated, long back, "You attract weird things, Nikki!" And that is so true. So the 'most' awaited night had to have some weird stuff too.

So we landed at the New Delhi airport at 4 pm on 27th Jan. To my rude shock, it was freezing cold (17 degrees and very windy!) right in the afternoon! [My sister and brother had tagged along in chappals. We Mumbaikars, can never estimate how cold or not it is going to be! So 17 degrees is very cold for us.]

But that very night was supposed to be our first night and so decoration planning was handed over to my sis and bro. While we enjoyed the garma-garam aloo tikkis in the market, these two went searching for red roses! [I absolutely hate red roses now!]

After dinner, while we gathered my bags [five large suitcases], the two disappeared to decorate the room. After much banging at the doors, pleading and finally, a force entry, we were inside the room. Hilarious. That was my first reaction. Soon Him and I were left alone as we took in what was in store for us. Silken bed spread. Cushions, a large teddy sitting right in the middle of the bed and of course, the red roses, some plastered on the wall and many on the bed. And a bunch of gel candles. Okay that was a lot of hard work they had put in. Sweet.

But here is the sob story. We just wanted to crash...super tired after a three-day long wedding function. I got pricked by the thorns on the bedspread. The roses, freshly sprinkled with water, caused our bed to turn ice cold. Brrrrrrrr.....after throwing all the fancy stuff, we slept like logs. However, the hubby woke me up soon.

Sitting upright, with my eyes shut, I asked him what had happened. He, for the most part of it, remained dumbfounded and kept pointing at the table. Now I could not see that, could I? So I asked again and he exclaimed, "The table has caught fire!!!" WTF moment.

How does the table catch fire? Silly me, the candles. The gel candles had melted and gelled together as one big candle. Plus they had not removed the cover so the entire thing, along with the plastic cover, caught fire. Sleepy as he was, he could not understand what to do!

"Douse it with water!" is all I said. Bah. That was it. The candles were off and the table burnt. And I of course went back to sleeping.

2011-01-17T03:51:00.000+05:30

Amidst umpteen cups of coffee, cackles of laughter, poor jokes cracked, told and untold stories, my trousseau packing continues...

So far no one has noticed that its 3:00 am!

Just nine more days to go! On the outside, I seem to put on this brave front, no tears, no nostalgia nor fear. But on the inside, there is a storm waiting to break loose. It is going to be tough...very tough. The three days of mehendi, sagai-sangeet and then the wedding. The bidaai is going to be the most difficult one. I am not sure how I am going to handle it all. Mom crying, dad shedding silent tears, sister looking on frantically...its going to be weird.

And before the dam breaks loose, there is so much to look forward to! The crazy sangeet-dance sessions have begun. Food, clothes, jewelery, decoration being discussed. What pranks lie in wait...well only time will tell!

[This is my last post before I tie the knot...more will come in the form of words and images!]

And the Titanic sank!

2011-01-05T01:56:00.004+05:30

[Pic taken only for editorial purposes. I am not the copyright holder of the pic!]

Recently I was browsing through my hard disk and I came across this long forgotten folder. I clicked to see what it held. ‘Titanic’. It was the film ‘Titanic’. I am not much of a movie person but this film was a good one. It had Leonardo Di Caprio who as Jack Dawson was very endearing. Kate Winslet was gorgeous in the film.

But this post is not about the film! It is about my cousins, the six of us including me. Now I was in the seventh grade when this very film had released. With summer vacations on, six of us had created a lot of ruckus, running out of ideas of what to do or play. So we were sent to watch this film. Now when I look back, I just wonder, how in the world did our folks allow us to go for TITANIC? Of course they found out about the nude scenes and the elaborate love scenes much later. And no, we did not tell them.

So it was a random day when my aunt packed us into her Maruti 800 and dropped us at the theatre entrance. Chints, Sid, Manu, Chandu, Ush [the youngest at 6 or 7!] and me, headed to our seats with a dabba of homemade popcorn. You see we could be pushed around while standing in the queue so we had to settle for homemade popcorn. Chints being the eldest amongst us [just 8 months ahead of me] declared that he would be looking after us and if Ush needed to go pee, he would take her. We all nodded in approval.

The film began. We dug at our popcorn. All was well until the first kissing scene. Look I belonged to the 90s and no kid I know or knew would have been comfortable watching people kissing so explicitly onscreen. Lol. Blushing, I turned to look at my cousin, Chints, who looked at me, stupefied, we looked down and giggled. Bah.

The film proceeded. And now came the bigger shock! It was the nude scene! As soon as the robe fell at Kate’s feet, we heard a lot of shifting and giggling. So I turned again only to see [in horror] that Manu and Sid had decided to turnaround, as if they were hiding from something. But the poor dears could not control their giggling. I forgot about the film and asked them, in hushed tones of course; to sit straight [shut their eyes if they wanted]! By now the uncle sitting behind was really upset. Kids are nuisance after all! He started yelling, “If you don’t want to see, at least sit properly so that I can see!”

Finally they both sat properly.

The ending scene, the last few ones where Jack Dawson, is professing his love to Rose, was the one I was eagerly waiting to watch [thanks to Caprio fans back at school, I knew about this one at least!]. But I could not see it. Why? Because Ush chose that very moment to go pee! And Chints, engrossed in the film, refused to acknowledge me or Ush’s plea!

What choice did I have then? I left watching Jack and Rose, hanging on to the piece of wood, while I took the kid to the loo.

And many years down the line now, when we look back and think of this film, we always roar with laughter.

M? Sacrilege!

2010-12-19T05:11:00.002+05:30

Recently, while at the mall, scenes from the film Confessions of a Shopoholic flashed in my mind but not in the way in which Isla Fischer would feel about the clothes! Now that was a film most women could agree with; it is not clothes, however, that I am talking about here but the ‘size’ of the clothes.

Size. That is huge, a huge topic for discussion! God, the almighty, sitting somewhere amidst the soft, cotton-like clouds, up above, created a simple world. However, since Adam chose to bite into that apple, life on Earth got more and more complex with each passing minute. And the question of size, is definitely complicated. Now coming straight to the point, I must say, I was surprised. Why? Because I happened to like to this particular cotton top, reasonably priced, but not available in my size. This of course, is not surprising if the top in my size, which is 'M' would have been sold out. But no, the brand simply chose not to make them in M, L or XL. Wow, that's new!

So I move on and choose another one but I am given the same reply. Interesting. This happened for a total of five tops I liked. And the store assistant wouldn't even guide. She just chose to stay quiet while I picked and then chose to nod her head in a 'no' when I turned around for help. I think she enjoyed making me feel bad...sadistic bum, I say!

I am an average sized person, somewhere between slim [how I wish!] and plump [more me]. I generally enjoy my shopping and the stuff looks good on me too. But scouting for stuff one likes and then being told that no, they don't make things in your size, is sad! I was actually taken aback. It feels like you are being scolded. Bah.

Women are conscious of their weight, looks and so much more all time. Not everyone looks great at size Zero or say at size L or M. But well, some people like me are comfortable where they are and how they are. I know my previous post spoke about my Gym rant but then I ain't becoming the next skinny model in a month's time! So what's with the fixation for sizes XS and S, only? Does this mean that women/girls who are slim/thin/wafer thin, have the right to wear the best and the ones who are a step forward at M, should stick to loose, flowy clothes? Bloody hell.

This wasn't all. At the mall, I came across another store that had some really pretty dresses. But one look at the mannequin told me to stay away. They were clearly meant for women who were contesting to be the next Miss India.

So is this the new trend? Like Size Zero was? Or being an M or an L would mean no shopping at stores for clothes? Trend or no trend, it ruined my evening for sure.

Two left feet...

2010-12-16T22:06:00.002+05:30

[Pic courtesy: http://allwomenstalk.com/8-tips-on-letting-loose-and-finding-new-love/]

Sigh, one realises the value of what one has lost only when its finally gone. So true and one does pay heavily for it. Recently at the gym [a huge mistake!] while doing some stretching exercises, I was reprimanded by the gym instructor.

I could barely do the exercises at all. Why? Because I had given up dancing. I had, in the past always taken pride in the fact that I was a good dancer; agile and flexible. But its been a good four years since I attempted anything to do with dance. I was a part of the SDIPA as well.

Now as the wedding day is closing in, I am planning to perform for him on our Sangeet but no clue how far I am going to succeed.

My wedding website!

2010-12-08T14:38:00.002+05:30

Dear All,

Given the free time on hand I have these days, I channeled my otherwise wasted energies towards creating this wedding website. So do have a look and let me know what you think!

Himanshu and Nikki

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - my take

2010-12-04T04:37:00.002+05:30

So I was not the biggest Harry Potter fan around but this way before I saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Yet still, I wasn’t crazy about the Potter mania like many I know are. However, watching Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows has compelled me to say otherwise. I am a fan and how!

Whenever one [me to be precise] hears about a great series as such, to be realised on the big screen, I am left with a twinge of disappointment. Harry Potter, on the other hand, is a series that is very rightly realised on celluloid as compared to the many literary masterpieces which have tasted dust.

So here is what I loved about the film:

From the very beginning the plot seems to creep up onto you. "These are dark times, there's no denying," said the Minister of Magic, Bill Nighy. Yes, this very sentence sums up the last book.

To start with, the colour of the film, I mean the treatment, living up to the theme, is all gray, cold unlike the magnificent magical dining room at Hogwarts. Hermione casts the 'obliviate' spell on her parents, sure enough, her very essence from their life begins to disappear. And the Dudleys, they move too as they know its not safe enough for them either.

If the muggle world is that paranoid, one can only imagine what the world of wizards and witches must be feeling!

As avid readers (of books) and viewers (of the film series), will have already seen/ read the 1st offering of the last book, I am now only putting forth the things I really loved about the film.

Again as I mentioned above, the colour treatment of the film sets the tone and the mood. There is no warmth and things get really dark pretty soon.

Poly juice potion sure is very handy when it comes to creating 7 Harry Potters' to trick the Dark Lord! There is a light moment when Fleur Delacour transforms in Harry and is afraid that Bill (Weasley), her fiancé, might be disgusted looking at her as Harry.

I love Hagrid's beautiful vespa! Would love to fly in it!

For the first time, one is enthralled with gorgeous locations outside Hogwarts. This is when one realises that Harry, Ron and Hermione, the film itself, has come of age. There is no Dumbledore or the familiar haunts within Hogwarts. The film is shot in forests covered in sheets of snow, gorgeous beaches and cliff tops.

Ron is even more adorable (I think) as himself yet his character evolves greatly as the film proceeds. For Ron, the book/film, is a turning point. A lot of things are coming into the forefront for him, especially his feelings for Hermione. He experiences fear, jealousy, hatred, and most importantly realises how important their friendship (the three of them) is.

Finally love in the form of Ginny Weasley presents itself to Harry and their impromptu kiss is indeed romantic!

Dumbledore, if not present in flesh, leaves the three with invaluable gifts; For Harry it is the Golden snitch he captured in his first Quiditch match, for Hermoine it is his own copy of Beadle the Bard, and for Ron, he left him with the Deluminator.

The film also lays the ground for the fact that one of the Weasley twins is going to die at the end of the battle. One is seriously injured in the few minutes into Part 1 already. Very disappointing!

Mad Eye Moody and Hedwig die as well. And Doby, the cute elf, is killed by Bellatrix Lestrange.

The film ends with a lot of promise that there is a lot one has to look forward to and the main battle is yet to begin.

If you haven't watch it yet, shame on you.

Aunty...who me?

2010-12-01T18:36:00.003+05:30

[So that last post [wedding rant] got me blasted. My folks who never read my blog, happened to read that one post. Mom was mighty pissed so I took it off.]

I have this gripe! I am totally disgusted. I want to know what is the legal age of being called an 'aunty'? I really, really want to know. Bloody hell, yesterday at the station, standing in the queue for a ticket, I was minding my own business. As I reached the counter, a man who seemed to be in his 30s came up to me and asked, "Aunty, aunty can you please buy me a ticket?" He said this as he tried pushing a 50 buck note into my hand. For the first few seconds I was too shocked to react.

Why shocked? Simple...this grown man called me an Aunty! WTF! How very annoying! And of course, I did not let him buy his ticket and tersely told to him to go stand in the queue. But the loser persisted, "Aunty I am really late!" Bigger WTF!

Me: "Can't you see there is a queue? Stop arguing and go stand in the line."

Of course this retort never stopped him. He asked the man behind me. I marched off, irritated.

I guess if a small kid of ten called me an aunty, I would have smiled and helped him, not this bugger! Bah.

Is it so difficult for stupid people like these to understand that using the term aunty for someone [visibly so!] younger than them is a crime? If not, then it should be declared as a rule.

When I came home and narrated this incident, manu just laughed. Later she told me she would have slapped the man after hurling some obscenities. On my part, I don't have the nerve to hit random people. :|

[A long time ago, manu and her friends [while still in high school] were browsing through a market when a young balloon seller [say he was 20] happened to call one of them aunty. This made the nine girls stop dead in their tracks. The one who was called aunty went up to the balloonwala, grabbed him by his collar and shook him up! Luckily they left him unharmed after much yelling.]

A similar incident occurred with Him but it was a kid who called him an uncle.

However much we all want to grow up fast, we do not want to be called uncles' and aunties' that quick. This is a true fact. In fact when someone addresses one like that for the first time, it pinches. It is irritating too. Why does it have to be an aunty or an uncle? Can't people just say excuse me? No. They get a sadistic pleasure by watching people cringe.

How do I love thee?

2010-11-13T07:20:00.002+05:30

Sometimes love can be so overwhelming that one runs out of words. Something similar happened to me. So on this bright Saturday morning I chanced upon this love poem, tucked away in the pages, weathered by time and age, in a book I cherish! Very apt, I say!

How do I love thee? By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Shub Diwali!

2010-11-05T16:39:00.001+05:30

May this gorgeous festival of lights bring much joy, love, happiness and prosperity in your life! Have a wonderful Diwali...

Oodi baba… Part I

2010-11-02T14:57:00.000+05:30

I had to share this…

“Baba, tumi-O?” asked my bewildered Kaka to an equally bewildered father who, standing up against the wall, could only stare back in complete shock. The embarrassment of the whole thing would register later. The so-called night was turning into dawn and my uncle was mighty pissed. The poor chap had been the butt of numerous pranks planned by cousins and that too, the night being his first with his wife.

Weddings…are always great fun. Fun, of course at the cost of the bride and the groom! And my uncle had eluding marriage for a very long time. Every girl he had met in the past was either never good enough and if she were really good, he came up with a silly excuse nonetheless. When he finally met the woman of his dreams, it was love at first sight for him…literally. She is and was everything he wanted in his life partner. Lucky he…and now back to the night of phool sojja aka. Suhaag raat aka his first night!

Bengalis marry late or so people like to believe. My uncle was finally getting married and so the entire bong clan from the west [of Bengal] was invited and yes, they all came. The wedding was fun and finally it was time for the suhaag raat. Now to add to the fun and frolic, all the cousins started plotting and planning various harassment techniques.

To begin with, the newly painted bedroom was decorated with flowers [very filmy/Bollywood]. No flower remained unused! You see a basket full of flowers makes for a great hiding place! And so three cell phones, set with different alarm times, were placed beneath the flowers…

An old fashioned 2-in-1 cassette player was strategically placed in a way that it would go unnoticed and was left on the recording mode.

The bedroom window that overlooked a garden was left ajar. One of the cousin brother’s decided to hide in the bedroom so he hid under the bed. However, this was foiled. My then new aunt entered the room and shut the door. Poor thing wanted to change after a long day.

The chap underneath, as soon as he realised this, panicked! So much so that he popped his head out suddenly and this resulted in highly shrill shrieks of horror. A very shocked bride was weeping. My uncle rushed in, fists curled and screaming blue murder [I just love drama!]. The gang outside had panicked as their first prank had already failed. Somehow they managed to cool my uncle and sent the newly weds packing.

But this was just the beginning of the horrors they were going to face!

Fleeced...

2010-10-27T12:31:00.000+05:30

Have you ever been duped?

Know the feeling of being duped? Ask me, I know. Happened to me many moons ago yet it makes me miserable even today. Realizing it was because of me that my dad got fleeced off hundreds of rupees, makes me feel like an even bigger fool. There is no excuse, it was all my doing!

Here is what happened -- While exploring the valleys of Panchgani, more specifically the table mountain, we came across many interesting people. Now all of these people claimed to be gifted, yet-to-be-discovered face readers and therefore, were offering their services for mere 10-20 bucks. Such a talent always catches one's attention and it surely caught mine! So mom and I, between catching up on sightseeing, saving our food from the monekys [too many of them there! One of them wouldn't let go of the Bisleri bottle my sister had. Finally we had to relent and that chap coolly broke open the seal and drank water like it had paid for it!], we met this mahan baba type man.

Modestly dressed in a kurta and dhoti with rudraksh beads hanging around his neck, he looked his part, i.e. a good baba who could predict one's future by just reading their faces. Or so we thought!

Now this god-man started talking about me. He was right about my relationship and my impending marriage. He said many more nice things which made my mom, dad and aunt beam. So the game continued. He spoke about my sister next, said accurate things about her as well. My cousin was next in line, my mom, my aunt and even my dad.

He was right about everyone, making us happy which meant that he was successful in gaining our confidence. In the recent past my sister had suffered a prolonged illness and my parents were deeply troubled about it. So that was the weak point this man had managed to touch. He started talking about the various possibilities through which the curse/evil eye could be lifted off my sister and she would regain health.

Parents, however smart, are gullible to such things. So playing his cards correctly, the man subtly asked my father to talk to him privately. He finished reading everyone's face and then took my father aside. They spoke for some fifteen minutes after which my dad was really quiet.

Next my aunt wanted some private predictions as well. So she insisted that baba help her out too. More than happy to get another silly fool, he took her aside and began pfaffing something. But this time round my cousin decided to go along. Now here is where my brother realized that this chap was just pulling wool over our eyes. Sure he had some talent but more than that he was just trying to get a lot of money out of us.

People like my aunt are most gullible. These crooks start talking about people close to them and then start spinning their web. So tightly knit this web is that one doesn't realize when one is asked to part with large sums of money. Fortunately my brother stopped my aunt from giving out two thousand rupees and they set the baba off with Rs 200 instead.

But my dad was not spared. Dad continued to stay quiet while we went about our horse riding and posing for pictures. Soon we left for Mahabaleshwar where we were staying for the rest of the trip. We shopped in the evening, discussed the predictions and seemed happy on the whole.

Back at the resort, my aunt and mom started discussing money. What had been bought, where from and for how much. Calculations and fussing over things began. Soon they found a hitch in the numbers. They couldn't place a few hundreds so they asked dad. My poor father had gaged by now that he had been fleeced so he confessed that he had paid the baba an additional Rs 1500 for something.

The room went quiet for a few seconds. My brother was the first one to start talking, "The bloody bastard...he asked mom also for a large some!" And then a barrage of expletives followed...

Manu: "What the...[stopped in time to swallow the 'F' word else would have to bear my mother's wrath!]"

Aunt: "Badmaish! Saala..." [interesting stuff in Bengali]

Mom was flabbergasted. I say this because 'aghast' would be over dramatic here. And as you may have noticed, all this while I wasn't in the scene. That is because I was busy talking to my man on the phone outside [serious network issues in the hills!].

A few seconds later I entered a quiet room [the usual banter was missing but I just mistook that for a long day instead] with my sister looking funnily at me. No one was telling me why I was getting the weird looks. I did not question much and went towards my room. By now my aunt had had enough and could not contain herself anymore.

Aunt: "Nikki...we have been robbed!"

Me: Giving the clueless expression "Huh?"

What followed next was a garble of many sentences in Hindi and Bengali but nothing was said by me. I was too embarrassed to give an opinion. Bah.

So the mahan/dhongi baba got away with 1700 bucks in all...

Ready for a talk-a-thon?

2010-10-19T01:12:00.002+05:30

[Note for Himanshu: This image is just for editorial representation purpose and nurturing such thoughts can cause you a lot of trouble!]

Do you know how much I love to talk? Lol...you have no idea! To put it in a simple sentence, I'll say that I am one of the most talkative people from my khandaan. In fact I always have a tale to tell, a joke to crack or initiate a conversation.

And talk, I do! If I happen to wake up early and join my folks for tea, mom, instead of wishing me a good morning, warns me. 'Haave chup re je!' Keep quiet and let me read my newspaper in peace. If she doesn't say this, she just looks my way in a semi-stern way and gives me that 'finger-on-your-lips' indication. But I cannot stay quiet for a long time. I get dad to start talking to me. And I know how annoying I can be. Lol. My sister seconds my mother here. I am always trying to start a conversation with her and she only nods as if not interested. I practically recite the routine of my day to my folks which of course my dad looks forward too.

My mom has this theory about me and this whole talking business. She says that from the time I learnt to talk I haven’t stopped. No exaggeration here i.e. I am not the one exaggerating but my mom could be!

And this habit of mine has landed me trouble many a times because I get talking to random people! Recently while flying to Delhi, a really huge lady of foreign origin [vertically and horizontally] happened to sit with Manu and me. I was stuck in the middle seat with manu at the window and her occupying the aisle. It was one of those situations when one wants to smack their head for being nice and letting the younger sister take the window seat. bah. Like I mentioned earlier manu doesn't like talking much, at least to me with my random gibberish so I pretended to read a book. Now it was getting really uncomfortable. This woman was huge, so much that her fat arms were onto my seat. She hardly fit into the seat! And she smelt bad...sour-like. Yuck. Worst of all, she farted a few times too. So she kept shifting uncomfortably. A while later, just when I thought she had dozed off, I caught her staring at my blingy ring. [I am scared stiff of carrying jewelery with me! So I wore the engagement ring.] So I gave her a weird look. Caught in the act, she asked me whether we were flying over Delhi already and I said no.

Every fifteen minutes she asked me that. By now I safely transferred my ring to the right hand so she couldn't stare. I had to explain to her every announcement that was made. She even tried peering into my book. Bah. Finally we landed and said our good byes. Manu had been grinning throughout my misery.

As we took our bags off the belt at the airport, this woman stopped us again. "Hello, what a coincidence! We were partners on the flight and now we will leave the airport together!" said she. Happy Realization. I just smiled back and changed our direction towards a different exit. But had to turn back and now she asked me whether she could use my phone. I had totally freaked out by now. Don't ask me why! Manu clever quipped, "its not working." Smiled and pulled me along. Phew.

Manu [in between her fit of laughter]: "Talk more na, talk more to random people! Good for you! Idiot..."

Happy Ganesh Chaturthi

2010-09-12T19:17:00.000+05:30

Happy Ganesh Chaturthi to all my Blog pals!

Here and there...

2010-09-11T13:56:00.000+05:30

Time is running out fast or maybe I am too slow. Or I am in between somewhere. The past one week has been a blur. I have written posts and deleted them. All rubbish. Too many Facebook status updates, too much bubble popping game and not much sleep.

People tell me sleep at least 12 hours a day now! But I am grateful that I manage about 3-4 hours on good days. I haven't been much talking to people either. Especially at home I have been quiet much to my parents' chagrin. I always have something to say but not these days. Its like history repeating itself - flashback to 2003 when I had gone into complete hibernation. Practically starved myself of everything - food, company and conversation. No clue why. Lost a lot of weight though...

This time round I only seem to be piling on a lot of weight. Lol. Wasn't speaking to my sister too, for reasons best known to me.

It is Ganesh Chaturthi today. I am sort of excited, more agitated. Work is real slow because I cannot concentrate. Have been talking a lot to my mom in law and those are the only highlights in my day. Thats it for now. Another meaningless post. Chao.

Pre-wedding blues....

2010-09-04T04:10:00.002+05:30

I am starting to get the heebie-jeebies now! The wedding is just four months away and then...my whole life is going to change and how! Bah. Okay I am just being a drama queen here but hey I am getting married and thats my excuse. Lol.

'So how does it feel?' This is the new question thrown at me these days. To this I say, "I am okay." I guess that pisses them off! An 'okay' is not something they would expect from a blushing bride to be. And hey I am not even blushing yet.

They further probe and ask c'on you can tell us? Pre-wedding jitters? Excitement? Something? I just shrug it off. Because I really don't have anything to say. What I actually want to say is 'yes, I am excited but why should I tell you?' So I just smile at their disappointed faces and move on.

Sorry. I don't have the pre-wedding blues as yet. I am still figuring out the clothes and all that jazz, so where is the room for panic? Okay maybe I am just putting up the brave front but frankly I have no tears yet. I know my mum's gonna cry truckloads and dad is going to be heartbroken but I am not... not yet at least! Its all whimsical still...the wedding, honeymoon [I have no clue where we are going yet!] and life after that.

But recently I was discussing our room-to-be [the decoration aspect] with my fiancé. He and I discussed various colors I want [lol] and what the whole outcome would be. And then I happened to ask him whether he was ready?

"Ready for what?" he asked. "To share your room with me. You know it is going to have my things as well in a short period of time. It will become more girly too," I said. To this he said, "Of course I know that bit and I am ready."

"Did it ever occur to you, even for a second, that you will have to now share everything that belongs to you with me?"

"Yeah. I know that. But frankly nothing of that sort has occurred to me yet and it won't!"

I guess I am a lucky girl because if I had to share my room here I would be apprehensive for a while. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love him, but I can be possessive about my stuff.

For his homeopathy treatment he visits a certain Dr. K and she has been treating him for a few years now. So she knows about me and the up coming wedding. She happened to ask him the same question and yeah, he said the same as above. Dr. K was happy for him and went on to say that many people do panic before they can tie the knot.

Her own brother in law, who is set to get married in November this year, called her up in office one day. He sounded restless and frantic. He asked her to come home right away else he would drop by the clinic. She of course panicked and headed home. The otherwise peaceful household was abuzz with activity. Nobody could understand what had happened to the groom-to-be. And he insisted he would only talk to Dr. K.

So after much coaxing he accepted that he had panicked big time. Suddenly he thought he was losing it all. How could he share his room that had been 'his' for so long with an unknown girl? It is an arranged marriage for them. Sweating profusely he explained that he could not come to terms with sharing the bed with her or even letting her share his cupboard.

While many of us would have laughed this off, at that very precise moment this was a dangerous situation. Panic can lead to drastic decisions and he could have called off the wedding with no fault of the girl at all. But they managed to calm him down. It did take a while - a week or so. But he is okay now. And is very embarrassed with the whole drama that he put up!

Another close friend of his had called him up late one night. She was getting married to her boyfriend of four years the very next day. The phone call was a lot about crying - the girl on the other side and a bewildered Him on the other side. She had panicked so much that she did not want the wedding. Suddenly it had dawned on her that a day later she would call her husband's home her home and his parents would be her mom and dad. Damn! It was just too much for her and hence, she let loose the dam. Poor kid!

I say, so much nautanki! What will I do? God only knows...I only pray and hope that its just a fleeting thing and passes by quickly. You see I don't want puffy eyes on the morn of my D-day! :D

Of loyalty Tests and undercover agents!

2010-08-26T05:34:00.001+05:30

[no offence to cats please!]

Arrggghhh...my first reaction, followed by a grin [the one that comes on when one is really amused]. I am amazed at how my sister finds UTV's Emotional Atyachaar worth a watch. On a regular basis my sister can watch television non-stop. Its a hobby she maintains and that too, very patiently. When I say patiently, I mean to say that I have got to give it to that girl for her immense patience to sit through realty TV shows and sitcoms that make you wonder...did John Baird make a mistake?

Now I happen to walk in on my sister watching yet another 'interesting' episode of Emotional Atyachaar. The reality show has now shifted base to the country's capital after pretending to have wrecked homes and scores of relationships in Mumbai. So here is this woman [won't call her a girl because she ain't one!] sitting with the compere/VJ [yeah, they all have aspirations] describing how much she loves her man. Apparently, they have 'done it all' [we are still in denial, remember?] and have even decided on their baby-to-be's name, who of course happens to be a boy called Vansh. So little Vansh is already this woman's apple of the eye and she thinks her man feels the same.

The man in question happens to be a choreographer or so I gathered. Now the lady knows that her family is against this relationship and will never agree to accept the boy. However, she continues to regale us with her tales of how she sneaks out of her house to cook him dinner or take him some food, how she satisfies him and so on. She, at a point, even declares "Woh mera bhagwan hai"... dialog writers listening?

Yet, for reasons best known to her, she wants a loyalty test conducted. Why? No clue. The very term 'loyalty test' rings a bell or rather a bell for knell in my head. I am thrown into flash back when Miss Kashmir was subjected to utmost cruelty and was beaten up because someone mistook her for a look-alike in a porn clip. And that is when I first got to hear of the forensic - Virginity Test. Really could there be one? A virginity test and a loyalty test? Interesting.

Back to the serial - She is done with her tales. The television screen now shows the chap [I won't keep him as a chaprasi] and an under-cover agent who calls him. Now the undercover agents are interesting pawns in the reality show as well. They have no identity or so the channel thinks. Girls and guys alike are supposed to pretend and then lure the victim into their trap. And while luring them they can go to any heights. This is perfectly alright with the channel who strives hard to maintain their agents' integrity and izzat. Whenever they seem to get into a sticky situation, they call up and ask them to come way, which by the way the agents manage amazingly. Sigh...is life so pathetically scripted? So obviously these people have no life of their own or people back home or a girl/boy friend to be answerable to.

The so-called pretty agent begins to spin her web and the man is of course caught. He ends up spending a lot of time with her while his would-be wife sheds tears, drinks glass after glass of water. The reality show compare keeps rubbing it in your face that hawww...that man spent the entire night with the girl! Reality check...din't they want this to happen? Else how do the TRPs come?

Climax: The man is caught red-handed and the fat-load of misery [apni pativrata nari]is all set to bash him up. Suddenly there is a change in her demeanor. She starts to abuse, rant and so on. The man...takes it all in his stride and ends the relationship. He got what he wanted while she bared her pathetic life in public.

Moral of the story: What did the channel and the show achieve? Was there some money to be earned or a foreign trip? None at all. Yet, the atyachaar continues...literally.

P.S: Yes, I have allowed myself to be inflicted with such pain, all thanks to these reality shows.

For you...

2010-08-20T01:03:00.005+05:30

For there is so much to tell,

I wonder how will it all gel.

I stare, keep staring at the wall,

Will it bear, keep bearing with all?

For there is so much to think,

I wonder, if it will push me over the brink,

Deep in sands of time,

What if I sink?

For there is so much to dream,

My life lies agleam.

Scrounging through the streets,

Restless, the heart beats.

For there is so much to do,

All forming a long queue,

I wonder, if we’ll see,

That we were meant to be!

The lost shoe...

2010-08-09T16:24:00.000+05:30

My rather elusive best friend pinged me on gtalk today morning. "Nikki, a rather funny thing happened to me today morning!" said she. Now I don't get 'pinged' by her every now and then [she is going to kill me for this but hey we both are both girls! :p]. I was like, "What happened?"

Ancel [the elusive one] said, "When I boarded the train in the morning to get to work, it was crowded so I got pushed into the compartment as usual. But today in the process my shoe came off and I was pushed further inside so I had no chance of retrieving it!"

Me said, "Eeekks...no shoes in the dirty local compartment?" [Okay our Mumbai locals are not so bad but I cannot imagine boarding one bare feet or rather with only one shoe.]

Ancel said, "Yeah...I thought my sandal was gone...my Clarks! So I stood quietly and then found that someone had actually kicked my shoe inside the compartment. Phew...I quickly wore my shoe!"

I am sure everyone has some incident of this sort to narrate when it comes to travelling in our Mumbai local. I have one too. A cardinal rule of travelling in trains here is that if you live in Andheri or Borivili [far off suburbs in Mumbai] you never get into a Virar [very far off suburb] local at rush hour. But nobody told me that when I started college. So flash back...rewind eight years back, my friend and me wanted to reach Andheri as soon as possible. However, when we got to the platform the Borivili fast had just left and the Virar local stood empty. So we were tempted and coolly got in.

Soon a mob-like crowd filled up our II nd class compartment. In a fast train one can reach Andheri in 7 minutes flat so when the station closed in, we moved ahead only to be cursed, shoveled, and pushed around. Of course we got nowhere. Instead of letting us out, the incoming crowd pushed us in further. I am tiny so I am completely lost. Suddenly a hand pulled me out and that was my friend of course. Phew...a long sigh of relief. But my nightmare wasn't over yet. I realized my left foot was still stuck in the compartment and the train would start any minute.

Panic set in...and I thought I was going to be dragged and then killed by this speeding monster of a train. Now the women panicked as well. So there was a lot of pushing from both ends. My friend was pulling me away from the train while two ladies were trying to kick my foot out [no exaggeration here!]. After what seemed like a zillion seconds, my foot was out! Phew. But my shoe...my new shoe was split into two! :(

The heal was nowhere to be seen and possibly still being trampled upon within the compartment. I wanted to cry but my pal instead of consoling me, burst out laughing. She kept giggling while I walked bare feet to the auto rickshaw stand out and took a ride home. Bah.

Just shut your trap

2010-08-08T02:16:00.000+05:30

An apt image for me right now. Looks like most of my weekends I am going to end up feeling this way. Its the same old story and the same old rant. I hate having to promise something that I am not going to do and being promised something only to continue doing it. May I suggest something very simple? Just don't freaking promise me anything! It helps. Because once I know someone is not going to do it then there is no hope and no hope means no disappointments. And leave me be.

But no...promises, promises and promises, what for? For breaking them after they are made. Take my parents for example, they always promise to take some action against a certain somebody for misbehaving. No that has not happened in the longest of times. And frankly I don't care. My mom is never on time so I just grin when she tells me to do something on time. And whenever I am around dad, he starts to crib about how dirty the house is! What happens when his lil precious one is around? Nothing. He goes mum then. Hilarious.

And my boyfriend [he insists that we are still boyfriend/girlfriend even though we are engaged] has already started behaving like a disinterested husband. Work takes over my time for him. The MAC is more important and yeah, suddenly he wants shorter conversations. For heck sake, we have a long distance relationship which is already tough but no shorter and shorter it gets by the day.

Romance has of course taken a back seat. He insists that we are never going to be a boring couple. But hey...I am already yawning! Bah. Whatever. I can go on and on.

I love my work and moreso now because I don't have anything else to do. So its taken for granted that I am a workaholic and yeah, I will never be able to be the homely girl people expect me to be. I have one question - Do I look like I care? Frankly with so much going on...I don't. Think what you want to. There is time till I get married and I am going to do what I like till then!

Another stupid thing that comes my way these days is - learn to cook and look after your husband. Okay what about me? I am the one who is going to leave my family behind and go into a new house. So why doesn't anyone tell him to look after me? No, thats not happening because he is the Jamai. Nice.

So I don't know about God and how he/she manages to answer stupid questions. Just don't ask me any. And if you happen to...then you will get what you asked for. You have been forewarned.

Insomnia

2010-07-28T00:57:00.000+05:30

You lie like a lifeless body; unmoving, yet continuing to feel things around you. But within you? The air seems acrid as the darkness descends further. Night falls darker than ever. The world outside the window is all black just like the raven you know, that lives on the tree right outside. Is it calling out to you now? Can it see you unlike you knowing nothing of the hue less world outside?

Your bed is your world, your universe in which you are stuck. You want to move but it pulls you back like you belong to it. It won't let you go, tightening its grip...tighter around you. You are nailed to the bed yet you do not bleed. There is no pain but you have this eerie feeling of it sucking your life out of you...

The eyes are unseeing now in the dark. You reminisce about your life and what it is going to be now. There is a crack of a lightning and the whole world seems to be captured on a Polaroid in a flash. Yet the image is unclear. You do not see yourself in there. The window glass vibrates and the clouds up above burst into tears. Little rivulets of water must have formed in the mud, slicing it to make way.

You want to get up to see the dark world outside with a hope of a little ray of light. But the night is unforgiving and unrelenting. And its accomplice, the bed, won't let you move. You are stuck.

[I am suffering from bouts of insomnia and its wreaking havoc on my life; personal and professional. This is how I feel...very pessimistic, I know...]

The star...

2010-07-19T11:02:00.002+05:30

I just remembered that I was really amused by this incident. I was in Kolkata visiting my aunt earlier this year. So on a particular afternoon, we decided to go shopping and took the local train from Liluah to Howrah. Now locals in Kolkata are nothing like the ones in Mumbai. Sure they look the same but the Mumbai ones are jammed. But its one of the best ways to travel nonetheless.

Beggars and urchins are a common thing. I used to feel bad for them once upon a time but I guess I have just grown cynical over the years. Now begging or rather the art of begging is a business and a very lucrative one at that! Our local arrives and we manage to get in safely. At the next station, a trio - 2 blind men and women enter the ladies compartment. One man had a mic, the other a harmonium and both were blind. Now the woman was just accompanying them so that she could collect the money on their behalf. They placed themselves very strategically and started belting out this Bengali song [don't ask for more details...]. Of course everything was off key. The singer was no real singer and the Harmonium player knew a few notes. The woman was expressionless and continued to go around collecting money.

What is weird is, we still give them money! Bah, we know all this is a sham but nevertheless. This goes on for a bit and Howrah station is closing in. Howrah is a huge junction and so our train halted long way before the platform due to some signal. The singing stopped and they got into a discussion.

The singer was miffed. He was like, I am a star and I have to go singing like this daily...its not working. The other one just smirked. A bunch of loose change cannot earn you a fortune right? Ha! So he continued ranting as to how he planned to sing Rabindra Sangeet and not some popular Bangla Gaan from the films. The woman still had no expressions.

Finally, sensing that his colleagues were not paying heed, he started to mutter to himself. "I need a new strategy and fast! I need to earn more money out of this singing..." I could not get more out of it as they had stepped out.

Some star indeed.

Recently I have been hooked to this reality show called DID Lil Masters. Its a dance show and the kids are brilliant, one being better than the other! I usually watch the repeats and I have come to like this contestant called Manoj.

Manoj performing with Hansika

Manoj has an interesting story. He is a urchin who lives in some home for destitute children in the city. Terence Lewis, one of the judges on the main show, had seen him dance. Lewis had asked the boy to audition and backed him. Because Manoj is truly talented, he was selected and has been performing brilliant dancing all these weeks.

Kids like him are truly deserving. He is a star. :)

Ad for writers

2010-07-17T11:03:00.000+05:30

As you know I am into content writing...I am always short of good writers. So please check out the ad and see, if you think or know anyone who would like to join me!

Being me...

2010-07-13T14:03:00.000+05:30

[This is an extremely random post. Read at your own risk. I am trying to cure myself of the block (mental and emotional)]

I was tweeting today morning when a pal (@Viveksingh) asked me whether I was writing anything new these days. No, I told him. I lacked inspiration [whatever that is!]. He, then suggested that I get down to writing something very random and that ideas spring out of nowhere sometimes. I agreed. So here goes...

I am feeling very random right now so I am gonna write some random things about me... after all this is my blog ha?

1. My dad still calls me by my bari-r-naam [pet name]. I am hardly ever called by my name- Nikita. It is either Nikki, Nikku, Nixie, Nixon etc.

2. I don't look like my dad or my mom while my sis is my mom's carbon copy...you have got to see it to believe me! Friends always teased me by saying that I might have been adopted.

3. Never beaten up anyone. Cannot yell and fight [but fight I can!].

4. Once while visiting a homeopath, she asked me to list my favorite food and I was like- Tindora, daal, bhaath etc. She burst out laughing.

5. I used to be embarrassed about my looks as a kid. In school I was incessantly teased and called a Nepo [Nepalese...no offence to them!].

6. I still have every bit of my kitchen set and barbie...I treasure them. I have tonnes of books too.

7. My sis grew taller than me real quick so when I was introduced as the older sister, I always got amazed cum sympathetic looks. Sheesh!

8. I enjoy a good argument and I proudly say, that my sis can never live up to it [I almost always win it too!]

9. I am a mess and I don't care. The goddess of cleanliness has overlooked me.

10. I love spicy, deep fried food. Yummmmyyy....

11. I thrive on sarcasm. I love being bitchy and mean...sometimes.

12. I am possessive about each and everything of mine.

13. its my way or the highway.

14. I am a workaholic.

15. Mom and I have clashing egos. We can never be on the same track.

16. I love getting into an argument with my dad.

17. I would elope if I had the opportunity.

18. I have a huge crush on Howard Roark and Daniel Craig...sigh!

19. I just cannot drive. That is because I suffer from ADD - my attention span is like 5 secs.

Bah. The randomness is getting to me. Thats it. Cannot think of anything more.

Mirror, mirror on the wall... who is the fairest of them all?

2010-07-07T17:39:00.000+05:30

Remember the evil queen from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, who kept bugging her magic mirror to tell her that she was fairest of all? She knew she wasn't yet she wanted to hear from the poor mirror on the wall. Poor Snow White almost died for being so fair and pretty. We know the rest but do we realize that as Indians we are stuck in the same rut as her?

Don't we all want to be the fairest of all? Yeah, we most certainly do! No wonder we have so many ads for fairness creams. Every fairness cream ad states that once you get fair skin, the world will be at your feet. Is it true? Yeah, maybe it is. Else why would stars like Shahid Kapoor, Priyanka Chopra and the likes of them endorse it!

Since the days of the yore it is understood that a fair woman is better looking than a dark one. All colors suit her and all that jazz. She may have no features at all except for the white color but she epitomize the beauty of womanhood. Heck, we even have goddess who are fair except for Kali ma who is considered powerful but not beautiful.

Okay so we are bunch of biased people. I remember when we were visiting Dehradun, my grandma's childhood home, she had met this young girl. Now the girl was nowhere close to pretty just fair. And by fair here I mean really white. So when she touched my grandma's feet for blessings, the old woman quipped, 'Koto shundor mein eita!"Meaning what a beautiful girl. Bullshit. So from that day I knew my grandma like many other grandmas in India was biased.

On the hindsight my sister always had a major complex. She is darker...maybe a shade darker than I am. And we both were constantly being told what colors to wear and what not to wear.

Every time Rani Mukherjee stars in a film, her dusky skin is caked with make up to make it look fairer. The same goes with actresses like Sushmita Sen, Priyanka Chopra and Kajol. And one of Kajol's endorsements' Olay is the worst ever! She is fair in it...completely white! It looks so bad and fake that it makes me wonder how she allowed it to happen in the first place? Maybe the money is too good? Whatever!

What is the obsession with being fair? I have no clue and I know this is a cliche, this topic is! But then being bombarded by ads on fairness creams and now men are doing it too! Yeah, all women want to be fair and lovely, and men want to be fair and handsome. Hilarious.

How young is too young?

2010-07-02T00:59:00.001+05:30

How young is too young? Confusing na? Totally so! Why do I ask...because I am looking for answers. With every passing year, the idea of being young changes. Now I am not talking about the youth. Being a part of the same fraternity, ideologies or the lack of it, keep changing daily for us. It is all about the next youth icon for us...ain't it?

Anyways coming back to the question, 'How young is too young', I am talking about the kids here. By kids I mean those little ones with rounded oh-so-soft-cheeks we want to pull and kiss. Kids these days are probably born as grown ups. They surpass the infancy and the toddler stages way much faster than we can fathom. Okay agreed they are still little in height and might seem innocent to us, but are they? Well, we would like to believe they are innocent. But on the other hand, they are smarter, sharper and wittier than we could ever be at their age. How do I know? I have a nephew who is total treat to talk to and in between we get some precious gyan from him as well.

I am sure many of us have such nephews and nieces who might be all of three, but have aged wisely. I had a classmate in college who came in looking harrowed one day and we asked what was the matter. She sighed even more and narrated her tale of woe.

Scene: I

Her older sister lived abroad. When she was down for a holiday she happened to tell all to my classmate. Apparently one day her daughter, all of four, walks in nonchalantly and confronts her parents on the subject of kissing.

"Papa how do you kiss?" Obviously she meant to ask how her father kissed her mommy. Both the parents exchanged weird glances, whatever was the kid talking about! However, the little girl continued, "How do you kiss?" Now we all know it is best to answer a child's question. So the surprised father replied by kissing his equally surprised wife on the cheek, "This is how we kiss!"

To which the girl added, "Nope. This is not how it is done." Now bewildered, both of them asked her in unison, "So how is it done?"

"You face each other. Then bring your face close. Pout. Then come closer. Join your lips together and that is what is kissing," replied the little one. Need I say anything about the parents who continued to stare? Nah. Priceless expression of course. The sanest thing was to ask her, who told her how kissing was done and to this she proudly replied, her friend [same age] next door had told her how kissing takes place after she saw her folks kissing.

So my classmate was worried on meeting her nieces, god knows what would come next!

Scene: II

My dear little nephew is not behind. One fine morning his dad, my brother, was eating Maggie for breakfast when the little guy walked in and demanded another plate of the yummy noodles. Random discussion ensued and my sis-in-law happened to ask whether my bro wanted something else or not. My brother joked and said, "Yeah lets get another baby!" And before my bhabhi could react, the little quipped guy in [looking very serious],"Papa you don't know anything!"

"Errr...why?" asked the father. "You think you can just get a baby?" continued the kid. My sis-in-law had stopped dead in her tracks dreading the worst. "You won't get babies in the toy shop. You need to go to the doc. Then the doc will decide which baby is to be given to you. And then you bring the baby home," explained my nephew.

My brother was already very embarrassed and silently cursing himself for starting such a topic. The kid had this wisecrack expression on his face, like he could advice you on anything. Brother left for office right away.

Scene: III

My wedding is the hottest topic of discussion right now. And my little nephew caught on to the excite just recently. Coolly, he stated that I was getting married the next day and then would be flying off to my husband's house. We kept telling him its not tomorrow but he had decided it would be tomorrow only. So the next day he woke up early and polished his shoes. He asked my uncle to get him dressed in his wedding clothes [read: the clothes he wore on his uncle's wedding. He cannot explain the difference.] But my uncle stated that my wedding was six months away to which he replied that I would have to get married today as he was done with polishing his shoes!

So I guess him spending time over polishing shoes is a big thing even compared to my wedding! Lol. So I ask you, how young is too young?

Changes

2010-06-27T23:17:00.000+05:30

In six months' time my life is going to change. I am getting married. And this feeling has just begun to sink in...

I have been up to no good. Shopping in full swing. Talking non-stop only about this all the time. Throwing my weight around [literally...]. Planning to hit the gym [have to lose 7 kgs...woah!] but plans like these never come through! Shopping some more. Ignoring my blog...you see now I blog at A bride to be's diary as well. So excuse me as I am a bit delirious these days. Will be back to blogging soon on Ire...

The Parting

2010-06-20T03:32:00.000+05:30

The heavy rings of cigarette smoke hid the peeling blue paint on the walls. Smoke was just a distraction and a welcome one at that. The smell had permeated through every particle in the atmosphere. She sat, crouching on the bed, snuggled with the stained pillow in the corner as Deb continued to light another one.

She could only hear the flick of the gas lighter as she tried hard not to pay attention to what he was saying. Hard, it was really hard for her to be deaf to his words.

His voice, that sound had made her heart jump every time he called out to her.

From the very first time he took her name, it seemed that she was yearning for him to call out to her. Her name seemed to sound sexier, more meaningful when he took it.

But now she did not want to hear any of it.

“Suncho?” said Deb as he blew rings of cigarette smoke into the already foggy room.

"I don’t like sloppy kisses, you know that don’t you? Ki korcho? Look here shona…"

Yet she couldn’t. She would have run into his arms had it been another day, another time in another era. But today she wanted to turn into a stone.

[I could not go on after this bit. I hope it is promising enough for me to come back to it...confusing times ahead.]

Amused...I am not!

2010-06-12T07:41:00.000+05:30

This post actually belongs on the 'About Me' page. I have been asked this question as a kid quite often and have always had the same answer to it, yet people like to keep throwing it at me.

By people I mean long estranged family [because I have hardly met them and don't consider them a part of my family] members. Perennially, my sister and I are asked, by amused onlookers, "tumi/tomra maach khao?" meaning do we eat fish, to which we promptly nod and say no, we are vegetarians. You should see the amusement being wiped off their faces in a jiffy. Serves them right!

I am a half bong and a half gujju. Yeah, my parents had a love marriage in the days of the yore. To most people, love marriages are 'oh-so-exciting' but to my sister and I, its normal. It does not amuse us. Frankly it is our parents who are the love birds in question, so what do you expect?

But every time our mixed-parentage is mentioned to people, especially women, they break into a beaming smile which is followed by a "how sweet!" exclamation. Yeah, so its sweet and its old...25 years. It doesn't end here. We have to answer a question bank which goes like:

1. "Your parents must be really cool na?"

2. "Isn't it just like a Hindi film?"

3. "So do you speak Bengali?"

4. "Can you speak Gujarati?"

5. "What traditions do you follow?"

6. "Vegetarian or non vegetarian?"

And so on... phew! We also have to add how our parents met, whether or did they face any objection or not and much more. Women drool on the story. I am not exaggerating here. My parents are cool and there are no two things about it. My mom loves going back in flashback and we have been told stories of their courtship too. So yeah, on the whole its fun...to the others. Its normal for us. [In addition to this, now that I am of marriageable age, I am asked whom would I prefer? A Gujju? A bong? None...I say!]

People find it amusing that we spoke both languages and as a family we can speak 5 languages [Hindi, Marathi, Bengali, Gujarati and English]. The funny part is when we are introduced to people, they first speak to us in Hindi thinking we can't either speak and understand Bengali or Gujarati. Why? Grasping two different languages is so difficult? Maybe we are just plain lucky or brilliant...lol. Bengali women never talk to my mom in Bengali, even though she replies back in bong. My dad speaks good gujju and people believe him. As for my sister and me, we are always lost in the crowd. Or rather look so snobbish [only look..we are nice kids!] that no one comes up to us.

Love marriages run in our family. Practically every single couple we know or are related to, have had a love marriage. Isn't it normal today? Apparently not.

I going to be tying the knot soon and of course it is a love marriage. My fiancé is a Punjabi and this is going to be the first love marriage in his family. And no we did not face any obstacles...touch wood!

So here I am; half bong [East] and half gujju [West] living in Maharastra [West again] and now marrying a Punjabi [North]! Cool mix, ain't it? Yup...maybe my kids will have to bear with the amusement as well. And yeah, they hopefully will know more languages!

Woes and woman kind!

2010-06-10T01:13:00.001+05:30

Bloody hell... what was the need to yell? Let alone yell, but shriek? No. That is not acceptable behavior and she is aware of that. Every time this happens...I come into the room and she starts to look for things to hurl at me!

Am I punching bag or what? I mean I am lost...even my friends who are so much more experienced in relationships like mine, have never dealt with so much yelling and cussing. That woman's got a bad tongue in her mouth, I tell you! Sheesh...my ears are still ringing.

It is an insult to be treated this way every now and then! I mean doesn't every person have some value? The other day she accused me of finishing up her food! Well, hello...someone tell her that I had been watching her when she went on ranting into the telephone and finally, got up without even eating a bite! And then she was like, I ate her cheese cake! I say, a perfectly delicious looking cheese cake sitting on that table, untouched is a shame. To leave it just like that would be an insult to the cheese cake. Hell, I love cheese cake!

Okay I ate hers...she had another one in the refrigerator? She could just take it out and eat it if she craved for it so much! But nah...she had me to blame. God what is with women in general that makes them so weird?

Its not like she is a goddess or something but I thought we had a thing going on. I have lived here more than she has and yet, she continues to talk about the place like its her 'own' pad or something.

I have had enough and I have threatened to leave as well. But I guess my rantings aren't loud enough or good enough. I tell you she is trying my patience. She got me to vacate the only cupboard in the house as well. The spoilt brat!

Sigh...I feel so left out. My pals tell me its a lost cause and that I must dump her. And I think I need to act fast, I just heard her talking to some guy on the phone. Now I wouldn't have minded if it was some lame boyfriend of hers but its the rat catcher she had been talking too!

How can someone be so mean? I mean why hurt me? Just because I eat some food of yours? Occasionally nibble on your clothes...and some new shoes too? Now do I deserve to die in some drain? Be poisoned to death? Bah what has (wo)man kind come to...

Errr...I have to dash else it will be the end of me!

P.S: This post is dedicated to the bit fat rat that has made my home his abode. It has managed to climb into my 4th floor house somehow and sat itself cozy in one of the grocery drawers. When ma opened the drawer, it just jumped out and dashed. But in the meantime it had bitten into the oil packet and seemed to have swum in it. Shat all over the place due to oil overdose and so on...

Sinking in...not yet!

2010-06-05T12:17:00.000+05:30

Dear readers,

I am engaged [full on Jane Ayre style]! Funny, I never meant to start this post this way but I couldn't think of anything better. Life's pages are turning real quick and a new chapter seems to have begun already! I don't sound too sure right? Yeah, it has not completely sunk into me...

Image courtesy: www.myspacegraphics24.com

All this happened last Sunday. My folks and me had flown to Delhi to be with the Bf's family. Discussions about finalizing things between us were in the process. Ma and pa wanted a April-May 2011 wedding while his ma wanted a wedding in October-November 2011. Each set of parents had their points. But as fate would have it, the Bf intervened and made it very clear that weddings in January and February 2011 seem the most ideal. I cannot agree any lesser! So okay we might be sounding like a lovelorn couple torn apart by distance [I love the dash of drama...] but it is true the distance between the political capital and the financial capital are too much. We don't mind flying to each other whenever we would like but parents of course have reservations about it. So it was decided in our favor.

No, the dates are not out yet and the fiancé is already panicking. Why? Because good banquet halls don't come by easily and we have less time on our hands. Anyways, thats another ranting post for the future.

So coming back to the last weekend; Saturday he showed us around his city and all that. We were at Hauz Khas Ruins [our last stop for the day] when dad decided he would stay back and rest his aching feet. So ma, Manu, him and me, went towards the ruins. Soon, dad called and asked us to hurry up.

Why? Because a bunch of stupid meddling boys had decided to disturb a huge honey comb and of course the bees don't take things lightly...do they? Nah! So they were on a rampage and stinging everyone who came in their way. And poor dad was one of them. Anyways we did not know this yet and hurried towards the entrance. Now we were on our way out and suddenly I see two fat [cherubic chubby] uncles sweating it out and nursing the stings. We were soon dashing towards the gate. Poor Him was the one the bees targeted next. Three of them were after him. And the man ran for his life. Hilarious [mean but it was funny as hell!]!

In between ma cracked a joke saying that the bees might have more of a female population and hence they were after the men. Little did she know...she had spoken too soon!

Soon enough dad caught up with us and all the laughing stopped. The bees had stung him just below the lower lip! Opps...we all quietly got into the car.

Cut to Sunday...we were shopping at the mall. A small rokka ceremony was decided upon where a few members of his family would come and bless us. I was advised by would-be-ma-in-law to buy something that I liked!

She called at lunch time to tell me that I was to dress up and come. Okay I enjoyed that bit but had no clue of what waiting for me at home. Each and everyone from uncle and aunty's side had come. It was a huge family gathering when everyone made it after a gap of 4 years! Woah and I was their center of attention. The new bhabhi...shoot me someone!

Introductions, giggles, observing looks and grins followed. One particular thing shook me completely was when his nephew was introduced to me. "Yeh lo nayi mami!" And I did not what to say.

On the whole the ceremony was impromptu and I had a gala time. I sure did miss my cousins though...

To end it, one does end up making a lot of money on such occasions...hehehe!

Sweety

2010-05-28T10:30:00.000+05:30

Okay this post is long due. I have repeatedly mentioned in many of my previous blogs that I love dogs and badly want a pet. But no, I don't think that is happening in this life. To make up for this void [100 ft deep or more I think!] I pet and play with other people's dogs. I don't mind stray dogs either. Lucky are those who have pets...I am jealous.

So I get a call from my aunt. She is my gossip buddy actually and being so much older than me never stops me or her to burst into fits of giggles whenever we talk. We do this once in a while and its a lot of fun. But this time round she forgot to tell me something important. And what amuses me is this is something I should have known right away! Bah. But dad told me and took off right away...

And what is this all about? Well my aunt like me is a dog lover. Actually she is much more than that. She is an animal lover. Won't even hurt the rats that mess her garden...so beat that! Now she has had three dogs in the past and has affections for the strays outside. Recently her driver found this Alsatian on the street. The dog sat close to his tyre shop the whole day. It looked tired and forlorn. So he finally called up my aunt and told her that he thought the dog was abandoned and left on the streets. He asked whether he should let it go and bring it to her.

Now my aunt being my aunt...lol, rushed to the scene right away. She took the dog in. Gave it a bath. Found that her [it is a her] body is infested with maggots and ticks, took her to the vet and got her cleaned. The vet declared that the dog was indeed abandoned and traumatized. Had my aunt not taken her in, she would have died soon.

Cutting back to the present time, 'Sweety' is safe and sound with my aunt and her family. My brother is happy and so is my uncle. Luckily all of us are dog lovers. Why call an Alsatian Sweety? My aunt simply said, "We tried calling her many names but she wouldn't look and finally I happen to say Sweety, and she responded!"

And she is an amazing dog!

But my question is...how can people abandon such an amazing dog? Actually any dog for that matter? Why get a dog or any animal as your pet if you think you are going to abandon it at some point? They had left Sweety on the street and the poor thing had nowhere to go. She is seven years old and has littered twice. Does this mean they thought she was too old to have puppies again and hence abandoned her?

I finally asked my aunt what if the owners come back for her? My aunt was immediately pissed and said, "I would kick them out!" She totally should.

And all those who abandon their pets...you guys are pathetic people.

Death - The Ultimate Wish

2010-05-09T21:51:00.001+05:30

Do we know? Always? That we are going to die someday? Or is it something that happens when you grow old and feel that yeah, I could be next? Does one want to be next? Confusing. My ma says killing yourself is the biggest sin ever and it is a cowardly act. I am not convinced. Nor have I ever thought of committing something like this. I know I won't do it. But what about those who don't want to live anymore?

My Nani [maternal grandma] died last Wednesday. She had been suffering for a long time now. Hallucinations, Alzheimer [partially] and old age. In the recent past, she would always ask my ma whether ma had consulted the astrologer or not. But why an astrologer? She wanted to know when would her time come. She was sad. Old, frail and dependent like many grandparents become.

I have a few pictures of her of when she was young. A beautiful lady and my ma takes after her. Its difficult to find resemblances in the same person now and then. Her death was very sudden. Sudden because she was recuperating. One moment my cousin was helping her in the loo and next she was gone. My ma was in shock the entire night.

But life goes on, doesn't it? It does. We are all back on track. Ma is doing okay. Finally we have accepted that she died in peace and find consolation in this.

Just in the beginning of the year, I lost my young aunt. She was seven months pregnant. A first successful pregnancy after many failed attempts. But one day she was gone. Uncle tried many doctors and so much more, but in vain. It was food poisoning. No baby. No mother. My uncle was devastated. I have not spoken to him since, I am too scared.

Funny, my aunt did not want to die and my grandma did. I wonder how God grants us wishes. It must be all skewed up there too, just like it is here.

Dear Unknown Uncle...

2010-05-02T03:03:00.000+05:30

I read this on Twitter recently:

Dear unknown uncle,

Please don't die in Nigeria leaving behind your wealth to me.

We all miss you, especially because you are a millionaire.

Hilarious. Each day when I check my spam filter, I have a few mails which state the above. Some woman from Nigeria whose husband died leaving behind tons of wealth or some woman who wants monetary help located in some corner of the world. Some mails state that I have won a lottery of some huge amount and that too in pounds denomination! Seems like everyone is eager to get rid of their extra money and I am the new found heir to all of this! Alas, I am not interested. No moh maya for me. Or maybe I should be? What happens when I give them my mail id and bank account details?

No clue, because I ain't giving any details! But the mails don't stop, do they? Nah. Recently my colleague received a mail stating that he had won 5,00,000 UK pounds! He was delirious...immediately announced that he is quitting his job! He attained nirvana! Lol...Imagine all of us doing something like? Giving up our jobs and wait for the money to be transferred to our accounts?

Unfortunately none of that will happen. The funny thing is some government official recently believed in some mail like this and transferred some money too! The poor man with good intentions was at loss when the newspaper reported that he had been duped. He refused to believe it...such was the shock. Bah.

Frankly, there should be a spam filter for the spam mails too. What a waste of time!

P.S: Apparently Radha Ramalinga, the wife of Satyam's Raju wants to transfer a lot of money to my account and similarly to all those who received her mail! Whatever...but does make an interesting read!

Emptiness

2010-04-27T00:59:00.001+05:30

I watch the clock ticking by. It has encircled the time thrice already. I am still waiting for you. When I look out of the window, I see the neighbor's car pass by for the third time in three days. It is frustrating to say the least.

I sit here all by myself thinking of how much I want to share my coffee with you; how much I want to see you smile. I know you that you smile every time you think of me and my yearning for you grows stronger. The sugar cubes lie wasted just like the countless numbers of coffee lie untouched on the kitchen table. Your chair awaits your presence just like I do. Your crumpled towel lies on the floor just as you left it days ago. It hasn't dried completely and I know you will complain once you are back. I long to hear your bickering over the fluffy piece of cloth. But I love the musky smell of you it has, which now slowly begin to fade. I wish you would come back soon.

I set the table each night and stare at the empty plates. It seems the morsel of food won't go down my throat. I have no taste left, no sense of your touch to cure me of the numbness. I yearn for you. Every time I go to bed, it gets colder. I miss your warmth. I miss the way your arms closed around me, the way you cuddled me close enough to gently nibble on my ear lobes, the way you caressed my tummy. Your kisses brought back that burning desire within my soul to be devoured by you, to be become one and whole again. I miss your touch.

My heart feels empty. I am waiting and it seems to be endless. But they say its futile. You have left and there is no coming back. Your cup will remain untouched, the chair wasted without you, your side of the bed, cold, and me; staring at the door.

Please Don’t Die…

2010-04-13T01:37:00.006+05:30

I came across a real smart blog post here: Talpita’s Why politicians don’t commit suicide?

And I call this post smart because it got me thinking. It is indeed a thought provoking ‘thought’ that raises many questions [so many that it makes me want to write about it immediately!].

Now politicians are a unique breed. Something like the mushrooms which grow from within the earth that has bodies buried. And literally, politicians seem to thrive on dead bodies. So a politician, my dear readers, is unique because however much the world around them deteriorates, they continue to thrive. They are like CEOs of sinking companies who end up making tonnes of money. How? Simply by sucking the blood of the people who are forced into voting for them and to these same people, politicians promise ‘promises’ year after year which of course are in vain. Do you now know where the phrase, “Promises are meant to be broken” come from?

Well, it doesn’t end at broken promises but it definitely begins at the huge amounts of money they dream of making while they are at it. Take for example, Miss Mayawati, the way in which she has accumulated wealth, built statues and aspires to be the prime minister of our country, makes her the most eligible spinster, doesn’t it?

And to get to such a position, one requires huge aspirations at the cost of anything and when I say anything, it does mean anything and everything. In short, she doesn’t care two hoots about the same villagers who vote for her. It doesn’t matter to her if the poor are paid peanuts for the piece of land she wishes to acquire for her personal regard. And if she weren’t Mayawati she would have paid through her nose to buy it.

And coming westward, our very own lion or tiger [I am not sure which animal, as both might be extinct in the near future] is not very far behind. There are no statues yet [Or I have missed them!] but there is a fortress nevertheless. So if the tiger or lion asks you to growl, growl you shall. If he mewls, mewl you will! Not other dialect please! Else you will be imposing on him which he of course cannot tolerate.

So I guess, our very diverse India has many such breeds of politicians who in turn are unique in their own respective lairs, who continue to live their lives king-size while the common voting man who hopes [the ever hopeful man!] for some respite. But, man will continue to carry the burden of the lavish lifestyles of the so-called politicos or better called, ‘netas’ who continue to bury the common man further into the ground!

Being alive and kicking they cause us so much grievance, imagine them being dead? Whoa…dreadful thought! No, not because we love them but because of the collateral damage that will ensue. States will be shut down and in order to bring it to an immediate halt; shops, cars, homes and the same voting banks will be looted, beaten up and burnt. More drama. Truckloads of flowers will be wasted. Streets would be flooded with people, who apparently have come to pay their last respects. The police force, the Para-military and God knows who would be involved to keep the devotees at bay. Death anniversaries will be declared holidays. News channels will waste precious public time to screen the tributes and perfectly practiced speeches.

But it definitely makes or huge amounts of fodder for the print and TV. But let’s not let this happen please! Why? Because they are politicians? Hell no! Because we are the ones who end up paying for all of this tamasha; flowers and statues, and blah!

So please don’t die, Mr/Ms. Politician!!! Spare us some money…troubled times ahead!

Caught the writing bug, have you?

2010-04-06T15:51:00.003+05:30

Hello all,

I just came across this post on a Living your passion:

"And then he/she took out his gun, aiming at her head..." Begin or end your story with this line! Write a 350-400 words short fiction story and get featured on our blog. Last date: 15th April. [Please note: your work must be original. One entry per person only and if it exceeds the word limit, it will not be accepted. Mail us your entry at livingurpassion09@gmail.com. Voting begins from the 16 April]

Maybe you would like to try!

Life

2010-03-21T23:31:00.001+05:30

Her eyes wandered around the room as if she was looking for something. Or was it someone? She kept looking. Her eyes moved quickly in different directions as if she was trying to take it all in, at once. Was she? The pale walls seemed dark around her. The light coming in from the window was not enough. It looked across a park where no seemed to come and go; the window.

"I must get out of here," she thought. Slowly she got up, looking back once as if making sure of something. She moved out of the room, into the corridor; her shadow on the peeling pockmarked walls down the steps, out of the gate and onto the street. It was nice and breezy. Lot of light was here, unlike her room. "Maybe I should take a stroll," she thought and so she did.

Morning turned to noon and noon to evening. She kept on walking the streets; taking in the sights and scenes of the day. She saw a balloon seller at the kerb, content with so many kids surrounding him. She imagined how a balloon, filled with gas, brought so much happiness to a child? Wouldn't it finally fizzle away? It would, like life does right in front of your eyes.

Walking through the in-roads and the out-roads, passing the lazing cats in the sun, drowsy dogs with droopy eyes and men, and women with solemn looks on their faces, she made her way through.

Why solemn? She wondered.

Did they find her queer? Bah, they are the ones who are queer!

She walked on. It was time when the sun dipped into the water. She gazed as it slowly drowned. She wished it wouldn't!

In the meantime, she realized she had not eaten the entire day. The wafting smells from the food stalls nearby had caught her fancy. Something pungent would be nice, she thought!

And so she moved towards the stall. The huge cauldron had something simmering in it.

The world around her had been clear just a few moments before, but now it was blurring. The huge cauldron had something simmering in it. A sharp ray of light hit her eyes just when she was going to touch the huge pot…

And she let out a blood-curdling yell!

“Stupid woman! What have you done now?” yelled the supervisor. “We have been looking for you the whole day and you have the nerve to hide around the place. Who will answer the doctors ha? I will have you locked up! Yes, that would be the right thing to do!”

Tears kept falling as she tried to nurse her hand. life in a mental hospital sucked out the imagination in you.

2010-03-14T01:44:00.000+05:30

So I guess I am going bonkers! No clue as usual to why this is happening! I have a story in the draft which I am scared to publish. I have free time now on weekends which is unusual. I like my job and the work is good. People in office are good. The bf is amazing. Meeting his family today.

New things and some old. Plotting a revenge for someone. Not writing a blog post [this is hardly a post]. Clicking away random pics of him& me.

Phew!!! Confused you, have I? Sigh so am I!!! lol. That is a lot of exclamation marks. Hope to post something decent soon. :) :) :)

Taxi Chronicles

2010-02-15T00:10:00.002+05:30

I always complained that we never had many pics of us. We still don't. What we have is much more...

Running back and forth to meet each other. Umpteen cab rides that have left a huge hole in our pockets. Fading movie tickets and restaurant bills. Grains of sand from our last visit to Chowpatty. Countless Shivneri bus tickets and some BEST bus tickets.

Love you lots Himanshu... :) Happy Valentine's Day love.

Whiling away time...

2010-02-14T01:41:00.000+05:30

Almost a month and no blogging. Is my blog dying? Hopefully not. Things not going very right for now with me. Just looking for the silver lining amidst the dark black [thunder generating] clouds. Love life is stable and good. :) Reading a few books and buying quite a few.

I cannot seem to think of anything exciting to write about for now. Went to Kalaghoda...wasn't as good as the last year but fun. Click a few pics that you can see at Mumbainagari.

Will think of a story soon. Wonder what happened to me being the weird magnet...bah.

Fate

2010-01-17T00:39:00.001+05:30

The buzzing of the fly resonates in my ear like someone was beating a drum. The silence is loud in a way I had never imagined before. The distant skyline was all pink with a hint crimson just a while ago but now it seems all deathly grey and pale. Such is the colour that it reminds me of a face. A face that has long lost its charm. But a face that might have looked better when it grew old. The lovely jaw structure would have softened by then, fine lines shaping the face at the corners and crinks around the eyes indicating a life well spent.

But then not all faces have that liberty, do they? No. Life always has plans of its own. However much we plan, make plans and vow that we would do so and so...life's plans triumph at the end. I remember the time when I was a child. My ma used to say look carefully before you cross! I did, I always did. But Barney my older brother always laughed. He called me names.

He told me that he had plans and that his plans were indispensable. I believed him. But fate did not. One evening while we were crossing roads I approached the road slowly like I always did. He called me names that day too and I could only stare back. For an instant I thought he was right. Ma was being silly. I had plans for myself and they would materialize just like Barney's.

For Barney though...lady luck ditched him that day. I remember the exact details; there was a loud crash, some screeching tyres and a bloody lifeless body. I just stood there motionless. What happened next was chaos. Ma did not cry so din't I.

I stopped believing in plans from that day onwards. Good thing. Like Larry says as Life had better plans for me anyways. I loved heights and that is what Larry said was Life's plan for me. It was easy for me. I could look from far up above. After every assignment I sat and did the same. I stared at the skyline. The colours in the setting sun, or the rising dusk or morning reminded me of faces. Of faces I brought up with me to high rises. Of faces I would sit and think of when I left alone. I never cried. I never complained. Nobody ever asked me anything ever and I gave no answers.

Life should have taught Barney never to call people names. He would have been alive today then and I would not have any blood on my hands and would not look for faces in the skyline.

More Kolkata

2010-01-14T23:51:00.000+05:30

Hello,

I have some more pics of Kolkata [ okay I have seen quite a bit of the city but did not have my camera always!]

The quintessential rickshawala

The best adda ever! The coffee house...

Through the market place...

Tram...this time round I got to sit in one and loved the ride! Hahaha...

More tram...

One of the oldest juice centres in Kolkata...Paramount. Yummy stuff here and College street is a must visit for book lovers!

On way back to the airport...New bridge on a bright morning...

Kolkata through my eyes....

2010-01-13T21:41:00.001+05:30

Hello there,

I cannot just write anything these days. All the documents are being sent to the recycle bin. So I am posting pics here from my trips to Kolkata. I love the city now and wish I had a home there! Maybe someday...

Belur Math from the Nauko

Dakhineshwar

Money Menace!

At the Ganga Ghat

The awesome nauko [boat] ride across Ganga to Belur Math

At the small harbour

Leaving Dakhineshwar for Belur Math

Under the Bali Bridge

Nauko ride

The Serene skyline

Life at Random

2009-12-24T13:41:00.001+05:30

A blogger pal had once said that I attract weird things to me. I agree, I do. And these weird things happen to be really funny [at least to the ones who will be reading them...hopefully]. So here goes...

My extended family in Kolkata is one of a kind. I say this because I have a cousin bro is always up to mischief and always has new tales to tell...

Story one:

This was way back in the 80s. He was all of four or max five. Pishi [my aunt], dada [the elder one] and lets call my crazy cousin A, were on their way to nanibari [maternal grandparents home]. Now A was a huge Mithun fan and it was during this time that Mithun caused a stir across India with his film Disco Dancer. A was of course enamoured and imitated the actor whenever he could.

So on the road, there being no other source of entertainment, A asked his bro whether he could show him a few dance steps. With consent, he broke into a jig. Stray dogs live on the street and one lay just close enough to A while he got on with his dance moves. Bursting with enthusiasm and with the heady feeling of dancing the disco moves, A kicked the sleeping animal.

The kicked landed on the doggy's tummy and yelping with pain the dog turned around and bit the elder brother. What happened next was utter chaos...

A stopped dancing. Pishi was horrified. Dada started to howl [he was all of 7!]. A feared his life more than anything as his mother plucked her slippers to hit him with.

At the doctors, dada was livid and was like A should be injected and not him. A was the one who kicked the dog!

Complete mess.

The endless wait...

2009-12-22T23:57:00.001+05:30

Pic courtesy: Photo Arts Creations

A mournful morning bright,

The sunrays prick my eyes,

I wait for thee, my life in blight,

As you left without good-byes

An ageless light casts shadows,

Shadows timeless with light,

Giving closure to the morning,

Comes the painful night.

Will you be home soon?

Will I see you at noon?

Maybe, my heart lies. But I

know these questions are

Not wise.

And I keep waiting for thee,

My life in blight. As you left me

Without any good byes.

Jontonas and more...

2009-12-16T17:09:00.007+05:30

Bah. Holidays are over. I have so much to write about the Kolkata trip but all of a sudden I am blank. Its like tabula rasa, blank slate! I had great fun though and learnt a lot of new bong words like-niramisi which means vegetarian food, jontonas which means suffering [I think!] and sabooj which means the color green.

I had a gala time traveling in the metros and the antique tram. I had my fill of puchchkas, chur-mur and jhalmuris. If you are in Kolkata you just cannot miss the street food there. Its just yummm... and don't even think of the hygiene [much better than Mumbai]. Every city has its flavor and charm. But the soul of Kolkata is different. It let's you fit in, doesn't push you around like Mumbai and you don't have to ape anybody. Here life goes on in its own pace. Nobody seems to be in a hurry. Life in general is not about money. The old heritage buildings in the heart of the city stand there sleepily and they look like they have many tales to tell.

The Indian Coffee House at College street is the hub for the now pseudo-intelligent crowd. But it had it's days as the only place where the thinkers from the Renaissance era gathered to ponder upon life in general. The Paramount juice house gives you the old world charm again. But it was the College street that I loved the best! Books and so many books...I could spend days and days going through them. It is like a haven for book lovers. You name the book and they might have it. [I bought English translations of the Gitanjali and Sesher Kobita by Rabindranath Tagore.]

Another plus point about Kolkata is that the cost of living here is cheap. Food is cheap and the quantity is more. The Magnolia and the BBQ at Park Street reminded me of one of the Colaba Cafes. Shopping is brilliant here if you love saris. Beginning at Rs 250, saris at Adi Dhakeshwari, will get you practically any type of cotton and silk under one roof. [I bought 15 sarees in total]

Places of worship like Kalighat and Dhakhineshwar lend you an experience that are calm and serene. Once you are done with th darshan at Dhakhineshwar, you can enjoy a beautiful sunset at the Ganga ghat near by. If you have the time you can take a ride across the Hoogli river.

This was my second trip to Kolkata [I went way back in 2001] and I was to tour the city. The climate was amazing and the wedding was awesome fun.

My cousin had a traditional bong wedding along with a church wedding. For the church wedding we traveled to Asansol but did not see anything there as the wedding kept us busy.

Now everything mentioned above reads very smooth but I do have a few funny things to share:

I met this pishima [aunt] who is really old. My mother had told me stories about her from her last visit but I forgot. She is nice in general this old lady, but weird. When you wake up in the morning, she asks you about lunch. During lunch she would ask you about dinner and to add to our woes, during dinner she would ask everyone that in the morning whoever wants to go to the loo must do so as soon as possible. WTF!

Being old she dozed off during the wedding ceremony. Soon we realised that she was mumbling in her sleep and that she would topple off the chair anytime. But she woke up before that and yelled asking.. "khe nao baba, ko nau...[ eat child eat!]". Bah.

Worst was what happened in Asansol! Old pishima and her daughter were on the stage. Suddenly her grandson came and she caught hold of his hand and yelled, "Aee bathroom kore eli?" [Did you go to the loo?]. The poor boy never came near her the whole night.

I had the opportunity to watch Patolbabu Filmstar by Purba Paschim, a play based on Satyajit Ray's short story. [I shall upload the review soon]

I had so much of luchi-torkari each morning that I cannot think of it eating it anytime soon. It is almost the staple diet [breakfast] for people there!

More updates later!

Finally...Holiday

2009-11-24T21:31:00.000+05:30

Hello blogger pals,

I am off to a much needed sabbatical. A nine days long holiday...woohoo! Hehe. I am off to Kolkata from tomorrow till the 4th. I may or may not post stuff from there. Promise to be back with a lot of stories and pics!

Bye bye!

Birthday and more...

2009-11-17T15:51:00.001+05:30

So I am 24 today. Totally hate being 24 but cannot help it [on the bright side age is just a number; a dialogue I keep throwing at my mum] Bah. I have been away from blogging. Two stories lying in my holder. I can say I have a time block and not a writer's block [read: I am a lazy ass].

I have news like I had promised more updates after birthday. The bf had been challenging me since Diwali that I have a deadline to break the news to my folks about us up till my birthday. And now I can say I have successfully managed the feat on the 7th of November...Hurray!

I was expecting some drama. A raised eyebrow or some gasping. But nothing happened. When I say nothing...I mean to say that the reaction from mum was all flat [just like a fizzy drink out of fizz!]. So it was 7th evening... Saturday. We both were sitting and watching some saas-bahu saga.

So suddenly I had this urge to tell her and I did.

N: "Ma I need to tell you something,"

Ma: "So tell na,"

N: "Ma...what do you think I want to say?"

Ma: "How should I know?. (Gap of 2 seconds) Are you going to drop the bomb on me?" [stares eyes wide!]

N: "Er... yeah. I really like him [name withheld for the safety of the person :P]

Ma: "Ok."

N: "Ok? Only Okay? I say this and you say ok?"

Ma: "Yeah. I already knew it. I am not shocked or amused."

N: [irritated] "If you knew it then why did you not say? How do you know?"

Ma: "Nikita you keep talking about him. I can put 2 and 2 together as 22."

Bah. So my mum is smart. Actually all mothers are smart and they know what is going on most of the times. She was cool with it. She of course went about like a question bank; how, when and where was the norm. I answered everything frankly. Now my sister did not know nor did dad.

Ma said she would speak to dad and Manu had warned me to not involve her in this [too much tension she cannot handle!] So i told Manu the next day and she wanted to flee. Dad was zapped.

But it is okay now. Spoke to dad on Sunday. Had a long chat. He too asked me questions which I answered. All cool. Suddenly ma interrupted and said, "Manu has to give her inputs too." Now ma meant that Manu likes my bf and all that but dad was baffled.

Dad: "Manu has a bf too? What is happening? Both my daughters? Please I cannot handle this in one go!"

We were all roaring with laughter throughout. It was hilarious. I think dad did not sleep well in the night. But all is cool now. They are meeting him tomorrow.

POPAT

2009-10-29T18:20:00.003+05:30

Remember the post about the hand brake? Now I have another story to add to our car woes. Recently my mom's friend and her son had come over. The chit chatting session went on for real long. At about 11 pm, they decided to leave but the gossip session had just begun so I like a good daughter and a host offered to drop them home. They live close by only. So they stayed back and I informed Manu that we would have to drop them home.

She was cool and we like to go for late night drives. Twenty minutes later Manu's head appeared out of the room and said, "I cannot find the car keys. Check the hall or go ask the watchman downstairs." I did so. No keys. Now I was worried as I had given my word. Manu joined me in the parking lot later.

M: "Papa took the car keys."

N: "What? Why? WTF?"

M: "Funny. He doesn't take the car but the keys he takes!"

N: "Now? No car? Oh shit....[starts to mumble all by herself]

M: "No silly I have spare keys and lets hope this remote works." [Please note: along with the handbrake we have had major problems with the auto lock too. It's old and doesn't work properly anymore. So when we press the unlock button, the auto lock doesn't stop. It continues just like a siren.]

Manu hits the dreaded unlock button and I watch with anticipation. Whoa...no sound. it sure is our lucky day. But just seconds later the horrible siren goes off! And it wont stop...WTF!

Manu, nonchalantly sits in the driver's seat and reverses the car. Okay she takes little more time than usual or maybe it is my head that is running at 1000 km every second. Imperturbed my sister carried on as I imagined our disgruntled neighbours coming down and giving us a sound yelling. I wouldn't blame them if that happened. It was past midnight and a siren for no reason is not welcome at any hour of the day, let alone in the night!

Now I my palpitations increased and Manu was still reversing the car. I asked her to somehow stop the noise.

M: "How re? What to do?"

N: "Gimme the keys! hmmmffff....." What followed was not pretty. To understand it better think of a hammer pounding a plastic toy. Gory. Yeah, what do you think happens to an old remote that wont work?" After a lot of hammering noises later, I get off the car dejectedly. The music score continues.

By now we have managed to park the car outside the building. And then its time for the guests to get into the car. The siren goes off again.

N: "Sorry aunty. You know this generally doesn't happen. It is the handbrake generally."

Aunty's son,"How old is the car?"

M: "Never Mind."

We make small talk through the ride and finally make it to their destination.

Aunty, "Son call your friend Blacky na...maybe he can fix this!"

N: "No aunty its too late. We will manage."

A: "No No beta go to the petrol pump they will fix it."

N: "Ok surely aunty. Thanks."

A: "Son go with them, alone girls in the night...no no! You go."

Aunty's son, "Please follow my directions."

We do and the petrol pump is just round the corner. The guy at the pump fixes it in no time. [But while he tries to shut the siren, dad calls. A frantic dad asks us, "What are you doing to my car?" "Tearing it apart what else!"]

Aunty's son, "Pay him some 20 bucks."

Big oops. I had no money and Manu never carries money with me around. Aunty's son saved the day. He told us he would handle it. We left red faced. Bah.

Riding with Willy

2009-10-26T01:12:00.005+05:30

Please Note: Long post ahead.

I loved Willy. He was the best really. Better than my own people. I remember the day I met him. It is very clear in my head, my most vivid memory actually. It was a sunny day. Bright sunny that makes you want to go out and take a deep breath. Sunny but pleasant when the sun rays don’t hurt you and all you want to do is to prance about.

I remember I had no shoes on. It was my rare fee Sunday. I was lazing in barn when I heard a large commotion outside. Now I wasn’t worried. Fighting, beating, yelling and all that jazz was a part of my daily life. Yet I was never the one to yell or beat but the one who was yelled at and the one who was beaten up. I don’t know why I could never retaliate. It was not that I did not have it in me. I just wouldn’t even though I wanted to…

I don’t remember any other detail though, of these things, I only remember Willy. I was 15 when he came to our barn and I knew in my heart that from that day onwards all would be good. My folks back home did not think so. They thought I was queer. They kept saying I had a big head. A big empty head. I would be made to sit at the end of the table. I ate only potato and peas. They thought I had a limited sense of taste. Not true but they never really bothered.

Ma looked at me with watery eyes and John my brother said she cried a lot and it was because of me. I did not deserve to live, they said. Whatever does that mean? John said all the fights at home happened because of me. I don't see how. Pa never spoke to me. I did not exist for him, like I never existed for Pete. But it was okay. Pa never beat me. I liked him for that. Ma never said much either. I don't remember talking to them.

I liked church picnics though. I liked that people wore colourful clothes that day. They came with large baskets and mats. They would gather around chat and eat. They would meet their neighbours and laughter rang through the day. I never found anything funny. They thought I was funny. They stared at me. Especially the girls. They would laugh from a distance and smile. But if I went near them, they would shriek and run. I wonder why. John beat me up once. I don't know why. He was yelling as he pulled his punches. I had messed with his girl. I did not know what was going on. My cheek hurt for the rest of the week and Ma bought me chicken soup.

That was the Sunday before Willy came. I knew Willy would talk to me. I knew he would be my friend. Pa said I could have him. Told me Willy was an old horse. John and Pete just looked away.

He was shinning in the sun, Willy was. It was amazing. I had never felt anything before. Ma seemed to be smiling at me. I was happy, I think.

I spent all summer with Willy. We roamed in the barn, in the village and I rode him till the mountain once. Pa was worried for me that evening but it was nice to getaway from my farm.

Then one night they came from somewhere. Pa, John and Pete asked me to leave the barn. I was terrified of them, and John slapped me. He told me to getaway. I did not want to leave Willy. Willy was uncomfortable and scared just like me. But I was the guy with a big head and had to leave.

They were in there with them for a long time. I knew they had come for Willy. I had eaten all my nails and felt dizzy that evening. Pa came in and went to his room. John and Pete spoke within themselves. Ma never said anything. I did not eat that night and they did not ask why.

I did not sleep. I wanted to go to the barn. If Willy would go, I would go too. I would go away I thought, in the morning.

The next morning seemed fine but I knew Willy wasn’t there. I searched and searched. John and Pete laughed at me. They called me the mad big head. Ma wouldn’t look at me and Pa was not to be found.

I had not eaten in three days. Ma tried once but I yelled and she left me alone. Then they came again. I cowered behind Ma. They seemed to talk to Pa, John and Pete again. They were not looking at me. Suddenly, they took out something from a bag.

And that is when…I remembered that colour from somewhere. Those silky strands, the colour and the smell…it was Willy’s. What had they done to him? I was frantic and Ma couldn’t control me.

The table was over turned and spit was oozing from my mouth. John and Pete tried to grasp my hands and legs but I kicked and scratched and then…

There was resounding sound. I thought I had gone deaf but it helped to settle my anger. After what I thought was an eternity, I could hear Ma sobbing. John and Pete stood far apart and stared back at me. Pa jus stood there motionless. They said I had shot him. Him who? I did not know him? I did not care. Him, who had taken Willy and showed Pa Willy’s hair, good I thought. Very good. I was contented. I missed Willy. Willy was dead. I knew I would find him one day and that day would be today.

I don’t remember the exact details but I was sent away. Ma was wailing they said and John and Pete said I should have gone long back.

I was sent to the house on the hill. Pa had come to see me yesterday but he did not talk to me. In the morning they took me to this room. Huge one with harsh lights and put me on a cold bed. I don’t know what happened then. My head was feeling heavy and then I felt a jolt. A very strong jolt. It happened again.

And again. It hurt. Now it doesn’t. I feel good now. I am waiting for Willy. He will take me down the hill house.

The doctor looked at his watch, “time of death: 9’O clock.”

I wonder whatever was that.

Silly Poem

2009-10-26T00:52:00.004+05:30

Peter pan Peter pan

did u see uncle sam?

once upon a time in the world so high

now looking dazed, I wonder why!

promising the world full of peace

and we can see Pinocchio's nose increase!

[simple yet profound. A friend of mine sent me this!]

Happy Diwali...

2009-10-17T00:19:00.003+05:30

May the festival of lights be the harbinger of joy and prosperity.

As the holy occasion of Diwali is here and the atmosphere is filled with the spirit of mirth and love, here's hoping this festival of beauty brings your way, bright sparkles of contentment, that stay with you through the days ahead.

Best wishes on Diwali and New year.

Face...errr f@#$ off!

2009-10-12T15:19:00.005+05:30

Imagine this: Manu comes running into the room.

"Nikita Jaldi kar please!"

N: "Kyu?"

M: " I have to check on my crops?"

N: "Huh"

M: "Get your ass of the chair...I need the PC"

N: [even more puzzled] "Ok"

This was my first introduction to farmville on facebook. Next I hear cows mooing, neighing of horses and what not! Such behaviour by Manu continues for days to come. She is hooked onto farmville. What the fuck is that? Well, Facebook decides to take a step ahead and gives you piece of land for free, albeit, it is in virtual reality.

Interesting I say. Manu asked me to join too. I shrugged it off saying that I barely have time and blah blah but was intrigued. So i take out time and get the application. I have my piece of land. I sow seeds and periodically harvest them. Woah. I make money. Nice. I am hooked in no time. Daily depending upon my very busy schedule [no exaggeration!] I sow seeds so that I might look into them later. This means I keep checking on my farm every now and then!

So I spend the whole day waiting on my crops. Result is I hardly pay attention to my work. Life goes haywire. But I continue. One day I have a brain wave [gack!] and give it all up. I am a new person now. No horsy, cows or chicks! Bas hua. I have a real life and in this life I am a writer and my writing needs more attention.

On the other hand Manu is still playing. This holds true for many of us. In my case, as soon as I am up, I look for my laptop and start off. I constantly want a break and want a vacation. But the reality is that I need a vacation from my laptop. This Sunday I decided to go shopping with my parents. This now is a rare Sunday I take an off. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I did glance through twitter once I came back though.

Twitter is fun. Keeps me entertained and updated along with my friends. Recently I messaged my friend to wish her Happy Bijoya. She called back and asked me whether I knew or not that she had shifted to Delhi. I obviously had no clue. She was like for how long you haven't checked facebook? I was like its been a while [after the farmville episode] and so she added no wonder you have no clue.

Another friend of mine from twitter got talking. He asked me about my love life and me asked him about his. He was like I broke up. I obviously asked why. He said that his girl was on twitter too. My bf is on twitter too but he doesn't tweet much to me. Keeps away. This friend of mine broke up because his girl friend was hooked to twitter and refused to call him. She would rather tweet him than talk or meet up! Poor kid. Lucky my bf is smart and keeps away from me on twitter.

I am not against twitter or any other social media networking site. I am worried about us completely forgoing the real for the virtual. There was time when I met my friends every now and then. But now it is either facebook or twitter or their gtalk status message that gives me an update. Same goes for me.

What are we doing? I am know I am writing in the virtual world while I ask this...We keep blabbering about the reality TV blurring the lines of reality, aren't we letting the virtual world do the same?