29 Oct 2011

An Ode To Those Eyes

"The eye speaks with an eloquence and truthfulness surpassing speech. It is the window out of which the winged thoughts often fly unwittingly. It is the tiny magic mirror on whose crystal surface the moods of feeling fitfully play, like the sunlight and shadow on a still stream." 
Henry Theodore Tuckerman

Those eyes.
Did you ever see eyes that made you stop in your tracks?
Eyes that had you transfixed at their beauty?
Ones that were the epitome of perfection?

They transfix you. Cast a spell more powerful than any emotion can.
They make you stare, not a care about being rude. 
Proche de la perfection, they make your heart trip a little.
They make you want to write poems. They bring stories to your head.

You dream of them at night.
You struggle with words, which have never failed you, to describe them.
You think of peacocks, prancing in the rain in full-bodied glory.
You think of that poem-worthy point where the sea meets the sky.
You think of the Afghan Girl.
All the while knowing that none do them justice.

They make you jealous for you have eyes too and they never speak.
They make you bridle with the impatience of not getting the kajal that right every morning.

The blue evades description.
The brown defies depiction.
The lashes challenge all reason.

They express more than anything ever can.
They are animate, they are magnifique.

I have seen it.
I have seen them crinkle when she laughs.
I have seen her fell oaks with a look.
I have seen them mischievous when she makes that joke.
I have seen them cold when she's indifferent.

The eyes just make you sigh at God for creating such beauty, beauty that mere mortals can only pretend to understand.

P.S: The photo is of a classmate:) She has such pretty eyes and even prettier hair. And I saw this picture and knew I had to come up with something of an ode.

Photography credit: Subin Kurian Photography.

25 Oct 2011

A Quickie

No this is not about that quickie:P Sorry.
And no, this post has absolutely nothing of importance. 
O.k this is just plain embarrassing. The poem I posted yesterday?
I told y'all that I hadn't asked her for permission right?
Yeah. I told Mum that I'd posted her poem on my blog, hoping she wouldn't scrag me and you know what she said?
"But that's taken from Google!"

Yeah, so basically I copied someone else's work.
So sorry about it, people. I apologize profusely and have taken it off.
She's promised to give me one of her real ones, so yeah.
A DECENT Monday, I had.

After a very PMSy (courtesy: crazy MadCow hormones) day, ahmazeeng pizza (courtesy: Boo), getting soaked in the rain while carrying a lot of luggage (courtsey: TNSTC), a hot dinner (courtesy: Mother Dear) and a zooper bike ride later (courtesy: Varkey), I got home to find this:

My Dove gift hamper!! I love you guys at IndiBlogger:)
I hope I have made you jealous enough to register, at least the girls:P
@Shreya, @Superrrrnick, @Akila so sorry I haven't been on Twitter today, too busy bursting crackers like a maniac:P

Do NOT make me feel guilty about it, for it's been three friggin' years since I celebrated Diwali. For once I don't give two hoots and a half about the environment, I need my smoke-filled air and chemical-smeared hands now. So hmph.

Have a good one:)
And don't burn through your new skirt like I did.

Come back tomorrow to read about "Theatre Goers - A Case Study".

24 Oct 2011

The Monday Pitch (2)

Unlike Facebook where you just become invisible, Twitter lets people know that they have been blocked. Sad, that.
Because it's embarrassing for the blockee and induces them to write whole posts about the blocker. Go meet Suresh, people.

Four photographers for you:
Hari Menon is an established photographer. I love his monos. Mush lovers, do NOT forget to check out his 'For Love' folder.
Naveen Krishnan is my classmate's cousin. Some class-act work he has. I love just browsing through the page when I'm all bleh.
Vishnu Vipin and Subin Kurian are classmates friends of mine, just starting out. Talented, even if I say so myself. They need all the encouragement they can get and tips on improvement, do head over.

1) On a related note, there is this lady who's been saving up to buy a camera but it's never worked out for her till now. This is Sameera's poem on her SLR dream.
2) There are some real stories that you read that make you think, "This is exactly what I want!! This is MY story". Pepper, with her inimitable style, narrates her iPod story and makes me time travel into the future. My future. 
3) There's some class stuff on Darlings of Venus about what the girls think about virginity. Check out the month's discussion corner.
4) MSM managed to choke me up several time with this. Spiff too, over here. What is it with these girls? Making me cry all the time:(
5) And Akila stttttteeeeaaammmed us up with her three part series. Read it in order though.
Lastly, Nirvana is mean. She's mean for making me link back to her every week. But if I didn't this time for this, then there's no point even having the Monday Pitches.

Oh and I guest-posted for Spiff.
Keep it together, people. We'll say TGIF before we know it.

P.S: I have a crush on Mila Kunis since "Friends With Benefits". Yes, she's that hot. 
P.P.S: I'm going home tomorrow *duckdanceisback* :D

22 Oct 2011

Yes, Another Mind-Numbing Tag That Nobody Will Read Fully

After my blog reading spree (during which my browser screwed me over several time because I abused it with the too-many-tabs-open disease) I didn't have the time to type out a whole post. I'll have one tomorrow, though does anybody care?:P

Anyway, this is something I found on Maryam's blog and I think I have seen it on Viya's as well. So here goes.

Edit: I will not admit to making a mistake
I have added a twist to the challenge, I have struck out the ones that don't hold true for me.
*sheepish smile*

I have/had piercings besides the ears.
I want piercings besides the ears.
I have many scars.
I tan easily. (ugh)
I wish my hair was a different color. (perfectly happy with being an almost brunette, thank you)
I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.
I have a tattoo.
I want a tattoo. (SO GODDAMN MUCH)
I can be self-conscious about my appearance.
I have/had braces.
I have more than two piercings.

Disney movies still make me cry.
I’ve laughed so hard I’ve cried.
I’ve glued my hand to something. (ok, this is a frequent occurence, I do this every time I have to glue something together)
I’ve laughed until some kind of beverage came out of my nose. (orange juice, to be specific)
I’ve had my pants rip in public.
I’ve touched something sharp/hot/etc to see if it would hurt.

I’ve gotten stitches.
I’ve broken or dislocated a bone.
I’ve had my tonsils removed.
I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed.
I’ve had chicken pox.
I've had malaria.
I've had typhoid.
I've had jaundice.

I’ve been on a plane.
I’ve been to US.
I’ve been to Europe.
I've been to at least one other country.
I've never been out of my country.
I’ve driven/ridden over 200 kilometers in one day.

I’ve gotten lost in my city.
I’ve seen a shooting star.
I’ve wished on a shooting star.
I’ve seen a meteor shower.
I’ve gone out in public in my pajamas.
I’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator. (it's fun:D)
I’ve slapped someone. (not that I haven't had the urge)
I’ve kissed someone underwater.
I’ve chugged something. (aerated drinks, mostly. And water)
I’ve crashed a car.
I’ve been skiing.
I’ve been in a musical.
I’ve auditioned for something.
I’ve been on stage.
I’ve caught a snowflake on my tongue.
I’ve sat on a rooftop at night. (awesome moments and epiphanies happen then)
I’ve pranked someone. (so many times)
I’ve ridden in a taxi.

Honesty / Crime
I’ve been threatened to be arrested.
I’ve broken a law.
I’ve done something I promised someone I wouldn’t.
I’ve done something I promised myself I wouldn’t.
I’ve sneaked out.
I’ve lied about my whereabouts.
I’ve cheated while playing a game. (what? I hate losing ok?:P)
I’ve been in a fist fight. (almost, though)

I’m afraid of dying. (
I'm afraid of my loved ones dying)
I hate funerals.
I’ve seen someone/something die.
Someone close to me has attempted/committed suicide.
I have attempted suicide.
I’ve thought about suicide before.
I’ve written a eulogy for myself.

I own over 10 music CDs.
I own over 10 novels.
I own over 5 electronic gadgets.
I’m obsessed with anime/manga.
I collected comic books.
I own a lot of makeup.
I own gaming console(s).
I own a car.
I own a bike.
I thrive on compliments.
I thrive on hate.

I can sing low key.
I’ve stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.
I open up to others easily.
I watch the news occasionally or always.
I like to kill bugs.
I sing in the shower. (always)
I’m a morning person.
I’m a sports cricket fanatic.
I twirl my hair. (when I'm thinking or when I'm trying to distract my guy from his stupid laptop)
I care about grammar.
I love spam.
I’ve copied more than 30 CDs in a day.
I bake well cook reasonably well.
My favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, blue, red, black, purple, or orange.
I would wear pajamas to school.
I like Martha Stewart.
I laugh at my own jokes. (:P)
I eat fast food weekly daily.
I’ve not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class.
I can’t sleep if there’s a bug/insect in the room. (Especially one of those flying ones)
I’m really ticklish.
I like live because of chocolate.
I bite my nails.
I’m good at remembering names.
I’m good at remembering dates.
My memory sucks.
I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life. (True story)

...used to ask if I was anorexic/bulimic. (Mom used to)
...called me fat. (not to my face:P)
...say I’m skinny.
...have said I’m ugly.
...have said I’m pretty.
...have spread rumors about me.
...force me to eat. (Mom, again-_-)
...say I eat too much.
...say I eat too little.
...say I eat too fast.
...say I eat too slow.
...have called me a genius. (Mistakenly so)
...have given me gifts.

I’ve lost weight.
I’ve gained weight.
I’m at my thinnest.
I’m at my biggest. (Ever)
I’ve lost weight and kept it off.
I’ve lost weight, but gained it back. (Always)
My weight affects my mood. A lot.
I diet. (Crash and burn)
I’m vegan/vegetarian.
I exercise. Pfft.
I’ve fainted from exhaustion. 

I’ve sworn at my parents.
I’ve planned to run away from home before. (Several times through the ages of 6 and 11)
I’ve run away from home. (never had the balls to)
I have a sibling less than one year old.
I want kids.
I’ve had kids.
I’ve lost a child.

I’m engaged.
I’m married.
I’m a swinger.
I'm single.
I'm in a relationship.
I’ve gone on a blind date.
I have/had a friend with benefits.
I miss someone right now.
I have a fear of abandonment.
I don't like to depend on others. (Not if I can help it)
I’ve gotten divorced.
I’ve had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back.
Someone has/had feelings for me when I didn’t have them back.
I’ve told someone I loved them when I didn’t.
I’ve told someone I didn’t love them when I did.
I’ve kept something from a past relationship.

I’m a cuddler.
I’ve been kissed in the rain.
I’ve hugged a stranger.
I’ve kissed a stranger.

Bad times
I regularly drink.
I can’t swallow pills.
I can swallow numerous pills at a time without difficulty.
I’ve been diagnosed with depression at some point.
I have/had anxiety problems.
I shut others out when I’m upset.
I don’t have anyone to talk to when I’m upset.
I have taken/take anti-depressants.
I’ve slept an entire day before.
I’ve plotted revenge. (Oh so many times)

By far my health has been the most boring category.
Ah, well.
Happy Sunday, btw.

P.S: Now tell me that my page is loading fast.
P.P.S: And apparently this was so mind-numbing that somebody unfollowed me:D

21 Oct 2011

Woes Of A Very Early Bird

It's not that the professors don't give us enough time, it's that I refuse to do any work till the last minute.

So here I sit, a little past the witching hour, with crick in my neck from sitting too long with the laptop (why doesn't it seem so tedious when I'm reading blogs or watching Fringe?) trying to make understand the difference between a hypothesis and a research question in terms of a whole goddamned dissertation (I don't know what THAT is either, sounded fancy enough though:P).

I can see all my roomies cuddled in their cozy comforters and all I think of is how much I hate them for having done it sooner (this is pure evil talking).
Here, I would like also like to mention that when THEY were putting together their assignment, I was too busy watching Grey's Anatomy SO8 (if anybody has seen the 4th episode please let me know if Mer-Der get Zola).
*Sigh* Why can't I be paid a million bucks 5000 INR (Reasonable-ness! Thy Name Is PeeVee) for every post I write, then I wouldn't have to make pointless papers on blogging behavior, do I?

Ah, work. I'm sneeze/snooze at the very thought.

No, this was not meant to be a post. I'm bored and I had a bad day AND I had to do SOMETHING since my ventist/entertainer/parameshwar/better half is busy ignoring me for God-knows-what.

Now is your chance to do something for the underprivileged.
Will you do some of my work?

P.S: That's 7 minutes of your life, wasted.

18 Oct 2011

When Karma Is NOT a Bitch

Note: Unusually large amount of profanity used. Thank you.

Do you believe in Karma?
Well, it exists. So you might as well believe in it.
Why, you ask? (Even if you don't, I'll tell you:P)
Well, it was proved to me some time back by no lesser than the Universe itself.
And now that I think of it, It has been proving it to me all my life.

What did it prove, you ask?
The same thing that Newton harped about so much that we hated him for it.
That every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
The same thing that Timberlake realized back in 2006.
What goes around, always come around.
The same thing that Stickychu (roomie) put so aptly.
Shit happens, Macha. Today you stamped on it. Tomorrow they will. (Yes, she has very profound philosophies).

So basically the whole point is that when you do something, say something to somebody, be very careful. Be very, very careful for if you hurt them without reason, if you screw their case purposely and they get genuinely hurt, Karma makes sure it drops by your hostel room and kicks your butt.
The wonderment? (if that's even a word)
Your butt will be kicked almost similarly to the butt kicking you gave.

And what do I infer from all of this?
That when I get hurt or get judged or something i.e when somebody fucks up my case for no fault of mine, I don't have to do anything about it.
I shouldn't fret or fume or cry or go nuts thinking it might just be my fault.
I shouldn't be upset that I can't do anything to make it better because they won't let me.

I should just let Karma bitch-slap them.

Yes, as a result of profoundly-thinking roomies, I have some profound philosophies too.

That's the end of the originally intended post, go away of you aren't interested in reading life updates.

For those of you are still here,
1) I watched a Malayalam movie in the theater. This is my second time doing something like that. And I regret it as much as the first time. Malayalam movies (except a few) are always better watched in the comfort of my bed and laptop.
2) You don't necessarily have to know a person to tell them hairy details of your life, you just have to trust them.
3) Tell me, please, that I'm not the only one who's tripped over a broomstick and fallen flat on her face. For the 100th time.
4) The rains are here and I got drenched after a long time. Sometimes the place, the time, the reason, the goddamn methodology... don't matter. It's as simple as running along like a crazy freak with the widest grin on your face and not giving an ant's bottom of what people think.
5) Somebody PLEASE tell me a way to NOT get motion sick when I get into ANY-GODDAMN-THING that moves. As huge a killjoy as it is to me, it makes the people I love suffer along with me. You'll have my eternal gratefulness.

Yes, I'm random.

P.S: I have a cloud obsession. So next time you look up at the sky and see a cute/funny/fluffy/macho looking cloud, click a picture and mail it to me. Thank you.
P.P.S: OH and BlogAdda picked Public Transport 101 as a Tangy Tuesday Pick!:)

17 Oct 2011

The Monday Pitch (1)

In spite of Calvin and Hobbes, Mondays are bad.
And I'm sure the whole goddamn world will agree with me that that is an understatement. Since I'm too mind-effed by Mondays, I'm changing mine to "promote-awesome-posts-I-read" day.
No more explanations needed, I presume.

It's double purpose too.
See, here's the thing. I always wanted to do a meme.
And I get maximum updates on my dashboard on Sundays.
AND I read such good stuff sometimes that FB share doesn't do justice to.
So it works out well for everyone.
Anyway, here goes the very first one.

Oh and thank you Chintan, for the idea.

So there's this person, Kalpak, who's obsessed with potty. And he 'had a conversation with God'. No, not the regular grant-me-this-and-I'll-break-100-coconuts kind. Another kind.
If that doesn't pique your interest, nothing will:D

Deeps wrote a poem, her first one I guess. Honesty shines through and I love the feeling dripping through it.

I love this picture. More for the caption.
Grills and netting of that sort hold a lot of memories for me. Tons.

I have always had a deep-rooted weakness for mother-sentiments:) I place my own above all else and I think that there's no greater deal in this world than bringing a child up.
I have always thought my mother was the most harried of all, what with bringing the three of us up, more so because of a lot of reasons. But here's a mother who shares her plight of harried mornings, a wonderful read:D
And the picture at the end is a real treat!

Sugar and Spice has a very, very interesting conversation with Mark. Oh him only, apna Zuckerbergwala :P And she continues treading winding paths of her life, immeasurably chastened:P

My namesake has written so lovingly about hair, not with the least bit of frivolity that you'd expect from a teenager but with a depth that you'll feel only when you read. And I'm also looking forward to the post Farzana of Bit and Pieces writes for the same contest. Have you seen her hair? Oh my.

So there you go:) Hope you like them all.

I'll be back tomorrow with either how I ate my heart out or about how Karma is not a bitch;P

P.S: I have a strong suspicion that my mother is lurking about over here.
Momsuey, if you're here LE BLAH to you:P And stop sneaking around and comment somewhere.

14 Oct 2011

From Diapers To Diaphragms

When I was 8,

1) I thought the lights in the horizon was America.
2) I thought Santa Claus was Amma and wondered how she had time to deliver presents all over the world.
3) I wanted warm scones and jam from the tea-shop the Five Find-Outers and Dog went to.
4) I liked falling sick for I loved the attention. Unfortunately (for me) or fortunately (for Amma), I almost never did.
5) I used to love breakfast. I never skipped it and I always looked forward to it.
6) Coffee made me scrunch my face up in disgust and milk was manna.
7) I longed to have very, very long hair that I could practice intricate braids on.
8) I thought having a boyfriend and kissing him was disgusting and weird.
9) I dreamt of being a rockstar where I was on stage and there were millions of adoring fans screaming for more.
10) I didn't like people who said they hate books.
11) 'Shit' was the worst 'bad-word' you could use (because Grandma gave me a trouncing I'll never forget).
12) I hated the word 'opportunity' for I got 99/100 because I spelt it wrong and resulting-ly lost out on the first rank.
13) I always thought I'd migrate to London for my studies and stay there. Why? I don't know.
14) I didn't like Penelope Pitstop or All Star Laff-A-Lympics, secretly loved Dexter and openly adored Scooby Doo, Disney Hour and Johnny Quest.
15) Babies annoyed me and I loved cookies more than chocolate.
16) I thought brushing my teeth with Rin soap would make them whiter.

Now, that I'm 21

1) I know it's geographically impossible to see America, in parts or as a whole, unless I'm flying over it in a plane.
2) I know Santa Claus doesn't exist except in my irrational hope that he'd get me that Silk Epil from Braun this Christmas.
3) I still do. Even the mention of them takes me to a happy place.
4) I still do :P What can I say, I love it when Amma fusses over me:D
5) The day I have breakfast is when the crow decides to fly upside down.
6) Milk = Egh. Coffee = Life.
7) One, I love well-maintained long hair on other people. Two, I hate normal braids and the damage they do to my hair when I try.
8) Ah well, I can't hate a guy I'm going to marry someday, can I?:P
9) I get uncomfortable and iffy when more than one person looks straight at me.
10) I detest depise pity people who say they hate books.
11) 'Shit' is almost equivalent to 'Hi' and 'Good morning' and a whole new dimension has been added to my vocabulary, over the years, which would give Grandma a stroke if she even had an inkling :D
12) 99/100 is, like, freakishly nerdy. And supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is what I can't spell now.
13) I study right here, in Coimbatore. And London seems as nearby as the moon.
14) It's been ages since I watched ANY of those.
15) Babies turn me to mush like NOTHING else can and life would be meaningless without chocolate.
16) YUCK. What, in fuck's sake, was I thinking?!

Life makes you cynical, the opposite of what you were and mostly grown up.
Don't you think?

P.S: The post has nothing to do with diaphragms but I needed something to go with diapers and that's the only thing I could think of:P
P.P.S: Comments are disabled on the previous post. Sorry.
P.P.S.S: Don't you just LOVE the first picture? Just..LOVE.

13 Oct 2011

You're born. You live. You smiled. You laughed.
You run around. You play in the mud. You get scolded.
You drink milk that you hate. You get your knees scraped. You get grounded.
You tear frocks. You won prizes. You love Math. You love the rain.
You hog. You like green. You study real hard. You have a goal.
You become a teacher. You become a favorite teacher. You become a Math teacher.
You play cards and carom with your cousins. You let your 5-year-old niece practice make-up on your face.
You wear cotton sarees. You're the perfect daughter. You're a son to your father.
You like hair clips and bindis. You miss St. Teresa's. You keep in touch with your bffs long after you're parted.
You get married. You fall in love with him. You have his baby.
You raise him to be the perfect gentleman. Much like his father. Much more than his father.
You teach more. You help students pass. You are loved so much, you're like a second mother to your students.
You believe in doing everything perfectly. You believe in nibhaofying relationships.
Your mother-in-law LOVES you. You become the epicenter of all of their lives.
You leave your dear ones behind. You leave your motherland behind. You set up home somewhere far from home.
You make that home, home.
You put on weight. You eat pizza. You lose weight. You have one tiny but ecstatic family.
Your family is cozy. Your family is set for life.
You're known for the kindness that's you. Everybody loves you.
You pull yourself together in the face of disaster. You help others deal with your suffering. You console them that it'll be alright.
You hope against because there's a lot of hope. You live a substandard life hoping it'll all go away.
You hope believe that it WILL go away.
You're EVERYBODY's support system through you own sickness.

But in the end, God's will replaces all else.
Death prevails.

I never told you but you were always part of much cherished childhood memories, a major part. And you always will be.

10 Oct 2011

Public Transport 101

Having used public transport, intermittently, for around 6 years now, I have observed that there is a certain pattern, a procedure to be followed, a path, rules which been laid down.
Oh, mortals of public-dom, adhere to them or be a small bleating goat at the altar of unbearable crowds and peak hour travel.

1)    The process starts from the very moment you see the bus approaching; hitch you backpack/jeans/skirts up (people might just end up pulling it off in their hurry), make sure your dupatta/stole isn’t around your neck (you run the risk of being strangled) and make very sure that your wallet/purse is in a very secure place (you KNOW why. If you don’t, go save enough to buy your own transport, buses are not for you). And more importantly, poise yourself to launch your person into the bus the moment it comes to a halt (you don’t even have to wait for it to stop completely). Seconds count, mind it.

2)    ‘Reserving’ (for lack of a better word) seats is not like when you book a flight ticket where the hostess takes your boarding pass and leads you, with a smile, to your seat and asks you if you want imli candy.
Think more on the lines of members of the feline family, the big ones, ripping apart the gazelle, whose neck they broke, fighting for dinner. Here, gazelle dinner = seat. You get the point.

Any object, pens, bags, shoes, socks, handkerchiefs, underwear (of questionable sanitary standards) etc found on the seat need to be taken as a sign that the seat is taken and any attempts to sit anywhere near will be taken as an excuse to start a loud, fish-market-like brawl. Keep away if you want to keep your anonymity in the crowd. Pick another seat, preferably window, and choose to ignore the rest of the world until you arrive at your destination.

3)    If, after all your efforts you fail to procure a seat, make sure you do not go anywhere near the middle portion of the bus. You are a woman? Stick to the front, preferably as close to the drivers’ seat as possible. Unless, of course, you want the local law college men boys staring at your chest (what’s new), contemplating with each other (loudly) what school you go to (!?) and exercising their vocal chords with the sole intention of impressing you with their rendition of the latest kuthu song that goes ‘adraadranaakumooku’ (I don’t know, don’t ask). Or if they consider you pretty enough, you might just get treated to ‘Kalyanam than kettikitti odipolama’ (Google the song for the rest of the lyrics, if you care).
True story.
Remember, closest to the driver.
(He’s harmless to you for he usually has his own regular groupies to flirt with at particular stops).

4)    Also, in case you have to stand, make sure you stick your elbows out and look straight out of the windshield. If you don’t, you’ll just be crushed into a grainy keema and you’ll have to call somebody to scrape you off the floor/bars of the bus.

5)    Have the exact change ready; keep extra coins in Re.1, 50p, 25p, 10p etc. I can’t stress this enough for if you don’t have the EXACT amount and you get stuck in a bus that has an irate conductor (who had a brawl with his wife/mistress about his drinking/eating/social/working habits), that’s Armageddon for you in the form of tickets.

Keep your hand extended in his general direction till he chooses to acknowledge it. If you don’t, he’ll just yell at you like you were trying to cheat your way to the stop. Save yourself the embarrassment and keep it extended, wont you.

When he snatches takes the money from you, tell him with precision and clarity where it is that you want to go. Also, how many tickets exactly you want (doesn’t matter if there isn’t a single soul on the bus with you, you still specify ONE TICKET). In case you fail to do either of these, aforementioned chances of being embarrassed come to play.

6)  If you’ve gotten onto the bus with your guy/girl, brace yourself for perpetual stares. It’ll feel like they almost expect you to start taking your clothes off and do it right there or atleast start groping. Also, be prepared for the ‘Tch, tch’ from the nosy aunties who immediately start discussing the ‘youth today’, your moral character, value system and your parentage (this is one of the points I was referring in 6 where you shouldn’t react). They will invariably end the conversation with what an angel their husband/their daughter is. Now, if you have the good fortune of knowing that the husband has been spending quality time with their bai or that the daughter is in love with the mochi and planning a getaway, you’re allowed one snort. One.
7)  Consider wearing Chanel No.6, Brut, Axe and Dove all together before you even think of getting on a bus; you will need it. Trust me when I say you don’t want me to elaborate on this one. Also, practise holding your breath for long periods of time, in case you get stuck between the aunty who smells like she just finished cleaning the septic tank (which consisted of dead rats as well) herself and the uncle who has memory lapses about his last bath (which was three years ago, today). In case, you faint, keep emergency contact numbers on your person.

Also, after reaching home consider taking one bath outside the house with Dettol and one inside with cologne.

8) Ignore all kinds of contact. Most importantly eye contact. Let them stare if they want to, you have your music.
It might lead to inquisitive, inappropriately personal questions like if you’ve tried hash, if you’ve a boyfriend and if you’ve made out with him in the local park, if your parents are divorced etc.
True story, again.

9) If you don’t understand the local language, then all is well. If you do, even in bits and pieces, don’t listen to conversations around you. If you do, don’t react to them; don’t laugh, snort or get pissed. And NEVER reply. My suggestion? A good pair of earphones which cancel out all external noise and an iPod with a minimum of 25 favourite songs upwards, depending on your travel time.

10) In case (after all my warnings) you do get into a situation where you’re pitted against the fattest, ugliest, smelliest woman on board, do NOT argue back. For she’ll make you look like a spoilt, rich brat (doesn’t matter that your father is a middle class istriwala) who is disrespectful, bitchy and careless. And the rest of the bus will revel in the scene of your humiliation. Suggested course of action: pretend you don’t understand human forms of communication. Better still, pretend that you’re verbally impaired. She’ll decide that you’re not fun enough to rape verbally and move on. 

One last thing, please make sure you stand near the door at least a stop before yours and crane your neck out in order to prevent having to flail your arms like a goddamn marionette doll after the driver decides to skip your stop and drop you 3 kms from where you wanted to get down in the first place.

P.S: Do note that my experience is limited to TNSTC and the occasional KSRTC.

Originally written for Spiff but posted here because 
1) She gets something else.
2) I've too many aches and pains to type anything new out.

And sorry about not replying to previous comments, please bear with me until I can move my body parts normally again.

8 Oct 2011

# 1 - Spiff's Sensible Sense

I have plugged her so many times that GPR crawlers are going to penalize me for it:D

Presenting to you,
Spaceman Spiff, the one who makes Senseless Sense? Sensible Nonsense? go round.
No need for any long drawn out intros, she's already guest-posted for me.
And you already know she's awesome (Note: No exclamation mark).

She's here because she wrote a whole goddamn poem for my blog:D
Just for the record, not even my boyfriend has done that for me in all the time we have been together;P
So to say I was flattered would be the understatement of the bleddy century.

I remember the first time I chanced upon her blog from God-knows-where at 1 a.m during my summer break. I also remember having stayed up till 6.30 a.m digging through her archives and laughing so loudly that I woke the neighbors. No kidding.

She's that kinda person who defies definition. In a good way.
She's spontaneous, straight-forward, subtly feminine in a very non-shrieky way.
She's The Grammar Nazi. So what else do you expect, other that perfectly worded and properly punctuated sentences, a rarity in itself over here. No frills, no fancy, yet never fails to hit the nail right on the head.

And she's oh-so-sarcastically funny.
She has this way of making up phrases and expressions that I can't stop chortling at.
Examples:  Her Maa Junior episode, her movie review and her food guide.

She doesn't stick to being ONLY funny either. Damn woman went and made me bawl like a baby with her tribute to her friend's motherhood. Her affection for her near and dear bring out the best in her and her beliefs are strong and sensible. She is also 'ye piroud mellu'.

And it's not like she sticks to one genre, the world is fodder for her posts. I really envy the novel ideas she come up with like the 'what's in your bag' kinda post, her own 'crappy' signature and nails. Yes, NAILS.

She has a wishlist as well, one that tops everything I have seen till date:P

And she's also one of that breed I mentioned yesterday, the one who actually reads your post and comments a mini-post in reply. AND comes back to check if you've replied. Model reader, she is.

Like I have been harping on and on about, go read her frikkin' archives. Yes, ALL of you, even those who have been following her for some time now. Gold mine for you, that. Don't worry, her page loads eons faster than mine does:P

7 Oct 2011

# 1 - Scribblings Far From Atrocious

Ladies and gentle the mans, presenting to you...

'Atrocious Scribblings' is what he calls himself and he has the nicest things to say about my blog:P But make no mistake, he doesn't sugar-coat and calls a spade, an axe exactly a spade.

We first met over his comment on an ode to my best friend. In the next comment he mentioned having exams and not studying and I remember being vaguely worried in passing (I'm paranoid about exams; doesn't matter if I'm writing them or someone else is). Then I dropped over to his blog and thoroughly liked what I saw.

We never chatted like I did with the girls, we never became bosom buddies, but he has become one of my principal male readers, a valued one. For he's honest; he doesn't go 'oooooh, superbly fantastically brilliant post' when he doesn't mean it.

His blog is as random as mine is, no particular genre to it. But unlike usual guy blogs, is not abstruse or techie or filled with descriptions of his girlfraand's amazing-smelling hair. One thing his posts never fail to do is make you snort with laughter. Right from his very first.

His language is what impressed me most. Very precise without being stiff, not too pompous or pretentious yet not trashy and sms-ey. No verbal diarrhea whatsoever, he keeps it mostly short and clean. He uses proper, non-conversational words and still manages to convey the emotion/situation very well (unlike me who is most comfortable in English, even over her mother tongue, and yet uses Hindi and Malayalam expressions to bring in that exact feeling).

I have a special respect for guys who aren't afraid to emote (genuinely). They tend not to get touchy-feely unless they are fourteen and oh-so-in-lowe but AS's birthday post for his mother was truly a gem. I'm sure his mother, if she ever read/s it, would be very proud and even more touched. And if that was touching, his 'reunion' with a long-lost-never-met cousin contests for attention with Bollywood itself:D

He makes you drool (in completely different ways) with Kakao Brownies and cars. And his one serious post makes you think about a tiny yet hugely significant thing. He's just gone ahead and jumped right into the crux of the matter - no frills. The fact that he even felt bad for the dog made me respect him more (being the self-proclaimed animal-crazie that I am).

AND the best part about him being my blog reader? He's one of the very, very few who checks back to see if I have replied to comments. 
That is something that means a lot to me. For it shows that you're truly interested in what I have to say to you.

One thing he lacks is posting frequency but I don't blame him with his 3 month-long exams and all. But I could use more scribbled atrocities (are you LISTENING, A.S?). And he needs more readers, people to read all the sensibly funny stuff that he churns out. Maybe that'll prod him into writing more often. 
Anybody, pliss to oblige? (expression © chintan gupta:D)

Head right over to Atrocious Scribblings, peepuls.

P.S: Let me know if you have any badge preferences, A.S. Thank you for your wonderful comment and hope you like this:)
P.P.S: In case you STILL haven't guessed, this was the promised post about my favorite commentor on my 100th post.
P.P.S.S: # 1 is shared by two bloggers... post about the other one will be up tomorrow!!:)

5 Oct 2011

Break Out The Champagne, Please.

EXTREMELY LONG POST with plugs, proceed at your own risk.

I have been itching to write this post for a looong time and now that I’m actually getting to write it, words fail me like never before. I never thought, when I got back to blogging in June, that I’d take it so seriously, that blogging would become so much a part of me, that it would be something that I’d come to be proud of, something I’d be willing to work hard for.
*insert appropriate bgm*

Ahem. Now that I’m done being all senti and mental about my blogging superpowers (or the lack of them), let’s get down to actually boring your head off because, for once, I’m going to harp my head away without feeling guilty about it:P

So finally here I am, at a milestone in my career (yes, I take writing THAT seriously), typing down my 100th post and talking nonsense celebrating my patience for having stuck to it more than anything most else.

Not many people know that ‘Confessions Of The Chocolate Obsessed’ left behind ‘Hand In The Cookie Jar’ and ‘Incoherent Ramblings On Life’, both of which had 15 odd followers and absolutely no activity except that of my friends. Now I know that chocolate, as always, has been my savior of sorts.

216 followers, 40 networked blog followers, 1645 comments, 92 page likes, 20,700+ page views later, I realize that without these (not so impressive but very, very important personally) statistics, I’d just be another person talking to myself in the virtual world (thank you, Chandana, for that VERY appropriate expression).

Every single follower was (and still is) greeted with an impromptu duck dance that surprised the living shit out of people around and every new comment to moderate was greeted with a silly, gloppy grin which would have made Goofy proud.

I gave my blog a makeover when I got to 200 followers, a feature I’d only envied on other blogs till then. I took me a lot of effort to control myself from putting up a post about it then, for I was waiting for this. Great big hugs to Swathika (it's SUCH a pretty name, you bum) for being my 200th, thank you also for being on my post judging panel.

While the old header was special for a lot of reasons, I realized that with a name and a header like that my blog should contain more of chocolate-based stuff, which it didn’t. This one is more comprehensive of who I am, things that define me, my interests, my loves in life – beaches, coffee, fashion, tattoos, family, love, friends, dreams, babies, teddy bears, animals, photography, clouds, sharpies… make me happy (among other things). Other changes included the addition of a ‘fiction’ tab, a ‘now reading’ (ty, Psych Babbler, for the idea), a 'guest post' (if you want to guest post for me or the other way around, do check) and hopefully, a page which loads faster (does it?).

I’ve had help, a lot of it, reaching here. Thank you..
..Farzana, you’re the best inspiration a person can get, blog look wise. And your hair makes me sigh every time.
..Chandana, for being so unique and being able to make mundane things most interesting.
..Red, for being an enigma and the most-straightforward chick ever.
..Maithili, for Darlings of Venus (BEST idea EVER) and your whodunits which have me hooked, every time.
..Pradeeta, for adding mysticism to my reading life, for the sheer attention to detail and the wonderful way you spin stories out of nothing.
..Divya, for being Spiff:D For being that older sister-like figure, being so goddamn funny, for making up expressions that I keep thinking about and laughing (and making people think that I’m a nutcase) and commenting IN DETAIL on almost all my posts.
..Soumya, for being you. Just that. And your dark, deep poems.
..Srinidhi, for being the first one ever to have loved my stories in the blog world, for telling me I write well, for giving me the confidence to go on.
..PsychBabbler, for making so much sense about so very many things, for Pebbles.

I’m not a girly girl much as you’d argue otherwise. I can give anyone a run for their money on NFS and Blur and be rational too:P I value the guys who are around as well.

..Atrocious Scribblings – for actually reading my posts fully and appreciating my work so much. Doesn’t hurt that you put up pictures of the most sexiest cars around.
..Sushmit – for MAILING me with your appreciation, you will NEVER know how much it meant to me, that mail.
..Phatichar, for that brilliant series of yours. For trusting me with the story.
..Bikram, for making me smile or think with every post of yours. For letting your true personality shine through the blog.
..Anshul, for being so goddamn abstract that it gives me a complex most of the time:D For making a different kind of sense.
..aJ and Ashwin, for liking my work and for having disappeared -_- (please get the sarcasm)

Also, how can I NOT mention,
..KN., dude, you rock. Pakistanis rock. You called me pretty and I spent the whole day flying around:P
..Pinx, for being my bichdi hui twin, for calling ME an inspiration.
..Viya, Deepthi, AnjLi, Akila, Serendipity, Confused Soul, Panipuri Lover, Risha and Vinati, for being part of ‘us, girls’.
..Chintan, for that brutal, blunt tongue of yours and refreshing honesty.

..Induchi, for being patient about my constant 'she's getting...' song and putting up with my obsessiveness.
..Amma, who doesn't for the life of her get why I'm so excited about blogging.
..Nandu, for being there. For letting me say what exactly I feel, when I feel it, letting me rail, jump around for all kinds of reasons, prodding me on and sharing my ecstasy and not giving in to the urge to divorce me:P
For 'getting' me. 

And muchas gracias to every single one of you who commented and liked the way I write.
In case any of you are still reading, thanks to you too, for not falling asleep:P

What's in it for you guys?

Two things:
1) Comment and tell me what you like best and what you detest about my blog/writing and the one I like most will win a whole post dedicated to you and your blog. And obviously a plug as well. (My judgement, enter only if you'll agree to that. Also, more than one winner might also be chosen).
AND if you'd like it, I'll make you a badge, either a winner-of-contestwala or a fancy one for your own blog. (I'm not making it beforehand for I want to customize it according to the winner's blog and personality.)

2) Anything you want to know about blogging, technical AND otherwise, critiques for your own blogs that you want.. ask me and I'll try to answer/oblige as well as I can. Or I'll find out from somebody who does and let you know.

So with that, two milestones I cross, looking forward to crossing two more someday...
And this is me seizing the moment to say


(Do it with me, people.. Shake that thang!)

P.S: And anybody who can make it here, to my place, in the next three days will be given chocolates and homemade coffee&cake and anything else I happen to make on that day.

3 Oct 2011

Unfinished, Incomplete, Unspoken...

I’m getting married, I thought as I twirled the engagement ring around on my finger.

I looked at him from across the room, making lame jokes with Pappa, both of them trying not to feel out of sorts and I only saw the cute boy I fell head-over-butt-over-heels* for in the first year of college. Nitin had grown up, I smiled at the thought.

Nobody had expected us to last a month; when we did until the end of college, they said marriage was out of question. Now here we are, the very same people, wishing me all the joy in the world and checking out my jewellery, promising that they’d come for the wedding.

He was the one who made it work, though. I gave myself no credit for the volatile, moody, opinionated, ambitious, idealistic brat I was. But he’d proved time and again that he was here to stay, take all the shit I threw his way, make me hurt for the very same shit and keep me grounded. Nitin was the one who came home and asked Pappa for his daughter’s hand, true old world style. He was the one who put up with the whiplash tongue of Mummy’s when she riddled him with questions about her eldest daughter’s future. He was also the one who never let me go once during the whole time I’d gone to meet his parents.

He still held my hand while crossing the road, bought me golguppas from the ‘unhygienic’ stalls and never came to see me without a Crackle and a brand new book. Ever.

Yes, I’d gotten lucky. So very lucky.

But it still nagged me. Nagged me like a tiny worm in the apple, at the corner of her heart. Nagged me that I still dreamt, thought about him. Sometimes. Maybe it was just the incompleteness of it all; it ate away at my happiness, in wee little bits.
I hated myself for it and knew that Nitin would be infinitely sad if he knew about this – it was the only secret I had from him. Only.

I got down from the bus and tied my hair into a messy ponytail before hauling the backpack on. I stood there for a minute, a full minute, questioning my sanity. But this was something I’d meant to do for a full eight years now.
Firming my resolve, I took out my phone and dialed.
“Hey.” I tried to keep the automatic smile out of my voice.
“Who’s this?”
“Does Fernandez ring a bell?”
“Fernandez!! Long time, dude. Whaddap with you? New number?”
“Yeah, Bangalorewala
“You are in Bangalore? Where? For how long?”
“Just for the weekend.”
“Business or pleasure? Is naacheez se milne ka koi iraada hai kya?”
“Btw, you remember you owe me something? I’ve come to collect, Mr. Naacheez.”
“The ride?! You still remember?” His deep throaty laugh sounded at the other end.
“YOU still remember. I’m surprised, Shiv. Very surprised”
“I don’t say things aiway, Ms. Nina Fernandez. When are you coming to collect?”
“Now?! Didn’t you just get here?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Where exactly are you?”
“Next to the bus stand, in front of a Wills Lifestyle showroom.”
“Don’t move. Bye.”

 My hands shook slightly as I put the phone away. Now there was no looking back, he was coming. I brushed off thoughts about Nitin and steeled my will.
Damn, I’d forgotten how handsome he was. Devilishly hot – a term he redefined. Right from those beautiful, commanding eyes that had first drawn her gaze to him, and held, to the floppy hair that still was floppy to his impeccable sense of dressing that made him swoon-worthy. The trademark smirk was already in place by the time he parked his Avenger in front of me, “Hellloo, Nina. Long time… too long I should say” and gave me the Once-Over.

“Uh hmm… You look exactly the same as in college, you know?” was all I could manage without making a fool of myself.
“And you look faaaiyyyn, girl. Planning for a wedding suits you, I suppose,” he said with a wink.
“Shameless, still,” I quipped with a genuine grin this time. “Are we going to stand here talking all day?”
“What’s stopping you from getting on,” he came back. “Where do you wanna go?”
“Surprise me.”
So I got onto to the bike and held on for dear life while he weaved in an out of traffic like he was born on a bike.
We sat on the cliff top munching away at the channa he’d got for us.
“So what does it feel like? Getting married and all?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I’m kinda numb now, waiting for it to hit me still…”
“Isn’t this what you have been wanting to happen since you got together with that Douchebag?”
“He doesn’t like you either, so I let that slide.” I huffed.
“Yeah, well, I’ll never forgive him for stealing you away”
I looked at him startled, sure that he was kidding.
He’d never said anything like this before, not in all these years of intermittent contact, the occasional texts and the very, very rare calls. Nothing to indicate he’d ever considered even going out with me.
Not that it would have made a difference, though.

He was looking at the sunset which was apparently far more interesting that my flabbergasted face. “Oh, close you mouth, I’m not that good looking alright?”
It was all I could to not hit him. “Jackass” I murmured.

A few moments of silence and he turned and looked at me, “You never knew?”
“Knew what?”
“That I broke up with Anagha because of you?”
“She caught me staring at you one time too many…”
I was lost for words; I sat there with my mouth open for the second time.
“Stop looking like an adorably brainless goldfish and get your tush up, it’s time to go.”

We got up and made our way to the bike and he took me back to the bus station like a good little boy, I didn’t have to pray this time.
Chalo bye, I don’t think I’ll make it to the wedding, but do NOT cut the cake at the reception until I get there or there’ll be hell to pay, Miss Fernandez.”

And he kissed me.
The world didn’t stop, the skies didn’t fall down but I felt it with every frayed nerve ending. It was over before I could even start processing it for what it was.
“For old times’ sake. For old flames sake. You take care”
And he rode off. Ironically, into the sunset.

“If you were single when I met you. Or if I were single when you met me.
Maybe things would have been different.
A story that ended before it even started.”

* expression copyright Varun Nanda
P.S: Viya, I kept thinking of you while writing this, I have NO clue why:)

Edit: It is ENTIRELY fiction. Resemblance to living characters is not regretted though. 
Bangaloreans, please excuse my poor knowledge of the city as well.