31 Dec 2011

You Give Me Hope, Ms. '12

Dear 2012,

You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you. Why? Because you’re going to be my lucky charm. You’re going to turn my life around; you’re going to throw me into the world and help me find my feet. You’re going to help me take a crack at being a hot-shot career woman.

I don’t know what you have in store for me, I can only hope that you have considered all the above. You know how mean he was… don’t make me rehash it all over again. I don’t mind disappointments and pain if you balance it out well; I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Just make sure the changes I’m expecting lead me down to where I want to be. Or atleast somewhere good. Like Hawaii.

None of you, New Years, seem to like my resolutions for you let me down by the end of January but I have still gone ahead and made a few for you. Simple things, so try and let me live it out.

- No more potty mouth (rare exceptions allowed).
- Being a quiet person (21 is a nice age to let go of blabbering like a 14-year old).
- Minding my own business for not doing so got me in a lot of unnecessary trouble (not getting involved or passing judgments on what doesn’t directly concern my life).
See? Easy-peasy.

And don’t make me a morose, too-stuck up person; let me keep my happy-go-lucky status. Speaking of luck, do get Ms. Luck to come back and hold hands with me like before, please? Especially during the April-May period. We used to be so close, I don’t know what I did wrong.

I’ll accept the decisions you make for me as long as you justify them. Well. Also, make me less philosophical than now, I don’t think I can handle any more soul-searches, beliefs in the greater power and niceness for some time; give me six months of work and rewards, then I’ll go back.

If you feel like letting me travel, don’t hold back. And between us, girls, we know how awesome it is to see a full wardrobe with lots of variety and shoes to match, keep that in mind... woncha?
Also, help me meet up with my blogger friends, I’d like those relationships to not be virtual anymore.

Bring cheer and put a smile on our faces, you know we need it.

With hope (for what are we without it),

Let go of the stale and bring in the new.
May this year be all that you wish for and more…

See you on the other side!

29 Dec 2011

Gah! To You Mr. '11

P.S: In this post, the P.S come first.

P.P.S: I have another post scheduled for 31st, so this might be the last time this year that I’m posting in person. Don’t flay me if I don’t reply to comments for my darling of an uncle is coming tomorrow after three years and I fully intend to spend every second I can with him before I have to leave to college.

P.P.S.S: People around Blogger have been saying wonderful stuff about me, compliments showered about my writing and the person I am. I don’t know whether I live up to even half of those, if I deserve any of it even, but do know that it means a whole two dozen pure, blood-red roses to me. Thank you, with every bit of chocolate obsessiveness.

P.P.P.S.S: You want to know what happened when Chandana let me loose on her pretty blog? Here. Oh, and read this too, just for year end el-oh-els :P


Dear 2011,

You have been, by far, the most disappointing year in recent times. I kept my expectations low, for 2010 was dismal and you, somehow, still managed to not measure up.

Happy moments were but a blip on the radar with the bad ones leaving a distinct and cloying aftertaste. I became a doormat, one that will let people walk all over her and still want to ‘sort it out’. You made me lose friends who I actually thought would last. You kicked me in the gut when I was down and sulked when I was happy. You screwed around with my head so many times that I even started questioning if I’m really who I think I am.

You destroyed annihilated all my summer plans, big and small, almost gave me a heart attack for two whole weeks in October, made the whole of November crappy. You also gave me a measly A- on my favorite Sir’s paper (I’m NOT bragging for I expected a roaring 100% on it, for it is the only subject I even make an effort). It makes me want to question your sanity a little bit. You gave me back pain. Are you kidding me? And as a bonus, you gave me five friggin’ kilos; are you or are you not aware that I’m only 5’2” and I will look like Spongebob minus the cuteness-factor if I put on more? Shame on you, really.

But you gave me blogs and for that, you shall be respected for that and that alone.

But don’t ever expect any fondness from me because I promised you a standing ovation and, in return, all I got was a poke in the eye.

You say GAH? I say double GAH to you.

Not-so-much love, not even a little bit of it,

25 Dec 2011

Fairy Dust And Pots Of Gold

I never believed in fairy tales. I loved them but I never believed in them.

I never believed that Rapunzel’s hair could grow that long, that Snow White’s father never knew or suspected what was going on. I never believed that Hansel and Gretel found a whole house made of chocolate. I never once had a doubt as to whether the frog really turned into a Prince. In fact, I never did believe in Prince Charming.

I never believed that snow came down from the Heavens, that it rains when the Gods cry. I never believed that my painfully pulled out tooth would be replaced with a coin by the tooth fairy under my pillow. I never believed in the horse-shoe or the three-leaved clover and though I love the very thought of them, I always knew fairies, pixies and unicorns are make-believe. And mostly I knew Ram and Ravan never deserved all the diyas because they are the Ying and the Yang. I knew that the footprints in rice flour was not Lakshmi. I knew Ganpati never did dissolve properly and come back again the next year.

I knew the Witches of Oz couldn’t harm Dorothy, I knew that Tinker Bell was safe with Peter Pan. I never looked under my bed for goblins; if I was scared, it was always for the human psycho-killer. I always enjoyed The Hound of the Baskervilles a tad more than the regular twelve year old.

I knew God wasn’t Krishna or Jesus or Allah. I knew God was just Him, a chilled out dude who loved nagging us from deep within. A conscience, some would call it. I knew temples were calming but nothing more, the church was peaceful but that’s about it.

I worshipped Harry Potter, stayed up whole nights with the three of them and spent days wishing I’d get my Letter. But I always knew that Hogwarts was the place I’d escape to when things got tough in my reality. Galleons hold no value and Butterbeer would only slip down warmly to my stomach in my imagination. No wand would pick me, I wouldn’t have to wait to have my first sip of Firewhisky and I couldn’t give Fred and George bear hugs for bringing laughter into my board exams. Because I accepted the simple fact that Rowling has a phenomenal imagination.

Santa Claus was always fictitious; I knew it was Mum bought the presents under the Christmas tree. Even when I was three. I remember eating his cookies and thinking that it would be good if he went on a diet.

I was, am, a skeptic. I try hard not to be, try to love life and all it has to offer but deep inside skeptic is who I am. I know it’s all a façade man creates to find happiness, to escape into a place where things are not as tough as in his regular life.

But if they are all untrue, if they all are imaginings, if they are nothing more than extensions of wispy dreams, why are fairy lights irresistible, why is the Christmas tree magnificent, why are the carols so soothing, why do I put up with cold feet and nose just to put up my stockings? Why do I continue to delude myself?

Why is it all so magical even when I know magic doesn’t exist?

Merry Christmas, everyone :)

23 Dec 2011


Happy Blogoversary, Confessions of the Chocolate Obsessed.

Picture Courtesy: Varun Nanda
It's been a wonderful three years.

20 Dec 2011

The Park Bench

It was a dark night, darkest one in December yet. The icy wind made her teeth chatter as she stuffed her cold fingers into her sweater and picked up the pace.

A delicious steak dinner with home-made apple sauce had made Sandeep a happy man, he was already buried knee-deep in his papers, with the patch-work quilt she’d given him for last Christmas keeping him toasty warm. His midnight cocoa was already in the microwave.
She did her duties well and happily too; least she could do for the man she loved with her whole heart, for the man who was her husband.
For the man who was there for her when she needed him, who had centered his world around her and made her feel like his Queen.

He sometimes came with her on her nightly walks, but more often let her go alone for he understood long back how much she craved the solitude of the walk down an empty street. 

She loved the dim street lamps strewing erratic lights in her path, they cast dancing shadows as she moved… how she loved the half an hour on the park bench where she sat, arms crossed, eyes closed and breathing in the crisp scent of the night. The sounds fascinated her too, the chirp of the busy cricket, the croak of the frog that lost his way, the silent hoot of the owl just before it snapped up the mouse between its razor-sharp beak.

That half hour was Her Time. And nothing ever got in the way, not work, not exhaustion, not parties, not nothing. It was then that she made peace with the day gone by, however good or bad the Universe had been to her.

But today peace was not what she strove for.
A phone call had stirred up her life.

Silence. She struggled to collect her thoughts.
“Hi, Sabal. Long time, no hear?”
“Yeah, life happened... or something...” She heard the smile in his voice.
“Ah well, how is it going? What have you been upto?” 
She’d always tried to keep it cordial after they’d broken up. She had never wanted to be like one of those couples which had a happy, memorable run, broke up and then never stopped bitching about each other.
“Good, good… Nothing much. The usual. I have come back to India for good. True blue Indian, I am now.”
“Oh good, I was tired of you complaining about Muscat last time you called, actually. You’re in Bangalore?”
“Yes. Whitefields. Bought a house, mum is here with me.”
“Oh my, look at you all grown up!” she teased.
“Ah well… Listen, I called you because…”
“Yeah…?” she asked, almost tentatively. She hoped fervently that he wouldn’t start with the ‘come back to me’ routine. It had been so long, yet he never seemed to give up.

“I’m getting married.”
Her breath left her body in a surprising whoosh of relief. Relief, not at not having to refuse yet again, but relief that he was getting hitched. Finally.
“Wow. Who? What? When? How? Why?” she didn’t mask her delight. “And sorry, congratulations!” She added with a smile.
He seemed a little chagrined when he replied, maybe he had been hoping for a different reaction?
“Her name is Maithili. She’s from work. Mum liked her. It’ll be small. On the 29th. At the cathedral. No reception.”
“…. Wait a second… from work? Aunty liked her? As in this wasn’t arranged?”
“Erm… not really… ”
“Wow. I’m so happy for you, I really am,” she just could not keep the smile out of her voice.
“I know you are, which is why I wanted to tell you before you heard from the grapevine.”
“Thank you for that,” she said quietly.
“Chalo, I got to go see to some furniturewale who insist that I ordered a mammoth study that I have never seen in my life. You take care, alright? See you around.”
She giggled like a twelve-year old. 
“It’s funny to hear you’re being all grown-up. Anyway, congratulations once again. Buh-bye”

And the conversation played on loop in her head all day.

Now, as she sat alone on the cold, hard bench, one that had become her companion during her rendezvous with her own inner self, her mind filled with memories.

They had been so young, so innocent. That first bitter-sweet sting of Cupid’s unmerciful arrow, sneaking all over the place to spend a few minutes alone, lying at home about extra classes after school, hiding scraps of paper from the teacher, 14-rupee cards on Valentines' and the key chains they got made with the other’s initials. Being leg-pulled by friends who secretly envied them for the dreamy smiles they exchanged during class, first butterflies, first nerves, first dates and first and (till then) only true love.

They had taken it very seriously, planned their whole life together right down to the color they’d paint their house. She didn’t want anything more than to be married to him and he’d kill himself before he’d even look at another girl.

But, like always, things had started falling apart by their second year together. He wanted a ‘homely’ girl, like his mother, who’d not question him, not be ‘modern’ in ways she didn’t even understand and questioned her even on things she considered as basic freedom.

And she, on the other hand, was a wild spirit, untamed and free, who chose to believe in what she experienced and live the way her beliefs dictated rather that what the society did. But she tried to change for him, tried hard considering he was the love of her life. She gave up everything she believed in and tried her best to fit in the ‘homely’ mold. She tried to get him to meet her halfway but he was too set in his ways. She struggled occasionally only making him hold on tighter.

Finally, the day came when love was just not enough. The sun rise saw her failing miserably at pretending to be what she was not. Pretending to be Miss Goody-Two-Shoes when all she wanted to do was do three shots of tequila and ride the fake bull at the bar. Pretending every day that her swollen eyes had nothing to do with tear-soaked pillows.

She broke free. And she broke them too. 
The most successful couple from school bit the dust.
He fought long and hard to get her back for once she was gone he realized what she’d meant to him. He swore to change for her, every time she chanced to pick up his calls, but she knew that people were born a certain way and if they tried to change, they’d only be miserable.

She told him it was over. That she’d moved on.
He said he’ll wait.

And he’d waited ten long years, saw her become successful at a profession he’d hated, saw her fall in love with another man who accepted the wild mare and never tried to hold her tight. He saw her walk with him down the aisle and have his child, never…. not once letting go of hope than she’d come back to him.

The guilt had eaten her alive every day, just a little bit. She felt that she’d been the cause for all the ill-luck in his life. She wished that he hadn’t fallen for her. She prayed every day that he’d meet somebody.

Because she was happy and he was not.

Now, she sighed as a small tear escaped the crinkle of her eye and dripped down to her now dormant dimple. A tear shed not for grief or pain. Not for a relationship lost nor for her failed first love. 

The tear was for peace. For closure.
For he’d finally gotten his happy ending.

19 Dec 2011

Misty Memories - February & March

This is a continuation if the Monthly Memories Challenge started here.


Even with a track record of two stable relationships right from when I was fifteen, surprisingly, February doesn’t remind me of Valentine’s Day.  I’m shocked at myself but then, I haven’t had a truly memorable Feb 14th till date (*clearing throat* You hear, Mr. Nanda?:P)

February has always brought with it, a feeling of the end getting nearer. The end of the school year, I mean. When almost all the lessons have been completed, the brown covers of the note books are peeling off and the white tennis shoes are brown and scruffy.

February also reminds me of my Grade 10 Physics board practical. Till before that, I’d never been nervous for I always knew everything there was to know about the subject of exam (it was a combination of me being a nerd and my mother taking active interest in my studies :|), but I was shivering before this one.

I kept making mental exclamations.
“I have forgotten my hall ticket!”
“The examiner is going to play favorites!”
“What if I don’t get the result!”
“What if I do the calculation wrong!”
“What if my pencil point breaks and I can’t draw!”
“What if I get the prism experiment!”

Here, I’ll say, that the prism experiment was hated by one and all with a vengeance because it was the most complicated of all fifteen we had for study.

I prayed to all the God’s I’d ever heard of before I picked my lot and surprise, surprise! The examiner handed me the prism and paper and sent me off on my way to the last table. It was as if he thought that I was going to screw it all up, given my penchant for all things science.
But for once in my life, science didn’t fail me and I got the right result with full marks. Maybe I wasn’t as stupid as I thought after all :D

And every February, I look back and smile and marvel at how long I have come after that first practical.


Exams. What else. Not my favorite month, not by a long shot.

The worst was again during my Grade 10 boards, because by 12th, I’d decided that nothing I studied then was going to be of any use in life and I stopped caring)

I remember one cold, chilly morning (read: 2 a.m, because I wasted time at night doodling the name of my then crush in the margins of the book) sitting huddled in a not-so-comfortable couch, trying to finish the last two lessons in Zoology, cursing everyone including the cats and dogs for not having to wake up that early. I especially hated my siblings (whom I shared a room with then) for sleeping so soundly and cozily, while I had to try not to fall asleep while studying immunization techniques. 

And March in college/hostel is synonymous to sticky heat, sun burn, talking multiple baths a day and resultant piling up of clothes to wash. Did I mention sticky heat?

Only two things make my March’s slightly bearable, Grandpa’s birthday and the countdown to mine.

What are your memories of Valentine’s day? How crappy were your March’s?

16 Dec 2011

Misty Memories - January

2011 gave me goodies and made me bite dust, all too often, that I can’t decide whether it has been good or bad. Yes, I have started saying my goodbyes to the year that closes in exactly fifteen days and this challenge gives me an opportunity to do it, memorably. Thank you, Nimue.

It’s quite simple actually, capturing the essence of what each month in a year has had to offer to date in my life. I had never really thought about it but it turns out I do have special memories associated with each month.


The year’s new and I’m always full of resolutions. Some that I pretended to keep and some that just collected dust in the nooks of my head. Prayers for the year to be better, to be kinder than the last and wishful yearnings for gifts that I failed to receive the year gone by… wishes, some good and some wicked like the time I wanted the shopkeeper to stub his toe.

Also a month (in 1999) that took away my mother for more than a week, the longest I have ever gone without her till date. I missed her sorely and spent time bunking school and seeking comfort in her nightie that smelt of her.  I didn’t understand why I couldn’t visit her in the hospital either.

But when she came back she had a fat bundle in her hand. I was delighted when two huge, coal-black eyes peeped out curiously out of the bundle and the rose-bud mouth pouted as though, even then, he knew that I would be his best frenemy.

I shrieked with joy, literally. I wasn’t a single child anymore.

January will always be special for 7 days into the month, it gave me a handsome devil of a brother, one whose hair I’ll gladly pull out for over-heating my laptop, for making me BEG him to take a bath every single day, for all the dirty nappies he made me dispose, for snitching me out to Amma, for discovering all my hidden stashes of chocolates, for being taller than me at age 12 and being annoyingly better than me at Math.

But it becomes worth it when I tie him a rakhi and he promises to take care of me, once a year.
I dread to think of a January without him and his birthdays, he adds spark friggin' fire to it.

What are your special January memories?

15 Dec 2011

Blog Makeover 101

I swore not to write abstracts because 
1) I tend to wander and get lost and write four page long 'philosophy' (which makes perfect sense to me but may not for you) that I'm sure you don't want to read.
2) Too many people already do. And they do it faaar better than me.
But I was surprised that so many people liked my abstract, thank you:)

Let me harp for a minute here.
You know how important the layout of any blog is? Well, it is. Very important, that is. 
Content is still king but a shabby blog puts off readers, while a well-aligned, well put-together blog, that reflects you personality... who you are, can earn you followers. More importantly, you rub your hands in satisfaction every time you look at your page, for you know that it was all you.

I have been meaning to write a post on these lines for some time now, but I don't have the technical expertise to. I learn through trial-and-error so I'm not sure I should be doling out advice. So when the Moolady asked me if she could guest post about this, I jumped right at it.

For those who don't know the Moolady, here's presenting Sumitra Madireddy from The Daily Moo. She's been making some changes on her blog and I have to say, I'm pretty awed by the way she's put together all of it.

Over to her now:
Six Steps to a Beautiful Blog

Hi there! I recently gave my blog a complete makeover, and I’d like to share a few things I learnt in the process.

Last year I started a baking blog. I wanted it to look delicious. So, I decided to hire a designer instead of doing it myself. The design was really amazing, it cost me only $50. This year for my personal blog I went back to the same designer. Guess what? They’d upped their charges to $500! Wow, right!

Being a true blue Indian, I decided to “make it at home for free”. Since I worked with the designer last year, I realized that it’s actually not a very difficult job. It would probably take me longer to finish, but that was okay with me.

So here I am, blog complete, and I really like how it turned out. I spent a lot of time on it, sometimes even trashing everything and starting over. In the end, it was worth the effort.

Here I present, the 6-step guide to a blog makeover!
Note: These tips are best suited for the Blogger platform. I’m assuming you know your way around the Blogger ‘Design’ tab.

Step 1: Choose a Design
A blog design could be simple, photo or graphic. There could be several others too, but these are the most basic ones.

Simple blog designs don’t have images, just the blog name done in a very elegant font, maybe with a few geometric shapes or patterns. Photo designs are based around photographs – of yourself, your family, or your work. Graphic designs use illustrations – we’ll talk more about these in a while.

Step 2: Choose a Header Image
The next step is to select the images you want to place in the header. If you already have your own photographs to work with, then great! Else, you’ll have to scourge the net for suitable images. And also deal with copyrights and permissions.

The easiest way of getting permission to use an image, is to buy it. Professional designers ask you to choose something from a stock image website like iStockphoto and charge you extra for it. But of course, you can always look for freebies and use them with the owner’s permission.

Illustrations can really brighten up your blog, just like the cow on mine. Try to choose vector images. Unlike bitmap ones, they are made of strokes and not pixels. So you can change the size of the graphic without worrying about losing resolution. Just google ‘free vector images’ and you’ll get a ton of options available for free download. That’s how I found that adorable cow.

Step 3: Create the Header
You need a graphics or image editing software to do this, like Adobe Illustrator or Photoshop. So beg, borrow or bug the hell out of your boyfriend/best friend/colleague, whoever it is that gets you software. And then it’s design time! There are so many options to play around with; you’ll be lost in it for hours. If you don’t have access to these, try free software such as Gimp.

Start by deciding how you want to place the image, the type of font you would like to use for the blog title, etc. Here on, it’s totally your baby.

Step 4: Create a Background
A blog background can be a solid color or patterned. You could use free downloads, there are lots. They give you a piece of code to add as a Gadget and you’re done. Shabbyblogs has some good options.

Pretty wallpaper patterns with florals, polka dots, stripes, etc. are also available for free. You need to upload the image as a background through the Blogger Template Designer. Make sure you search for ‘seamless’ patterns, because the image will repeat itself and you don’t want ugly lines running throughout the background of your blog.

I created the background on my blog using Illustrator. I put a bunch of coloured circles in a seamless row and then uploaded the image to Blogger. It was easy and worked just fine.

Step 5: Choose the template
Now you need a template to put everything together. The new Blogger Template Designer has some wonderful options, you need to choose the one works best with your header and background. Not happy with the Blogger templates? There are countless free ones available out there. Take your pick!

After installing the template, upload the header and background. You might have to play around a little with the sizes and positioning before you get it right.

Step 6: Choose Fonts
Template Designer comes with some amazing fonts. Try out different combinations of fonts and colors till like what you see.

And, you’re done!

Some Useful Tips:
Pay attention to colors: A good practice is to go with the ones that are in the header image. For instance, I've worked with all the colors on the cow. The blog title is in eye-patch color, the circles in the background are from the snout, and the tab & sidebar colors are from the hooves.

Keep it simple: This is of course, not mandatory, but I like to follow it. You don’t want a very loud design that takes focus away from your content. I prefer to keep the post background white, that way, people don’t have to strain their eyes while reading.

Study Other Blogs: Take a look at several blogs before you decide on yours, so you’ll have many options to work with. Some of the good blog designers are: Designerblogs and Dcrdesign. Looking at their samples can give you some good ideas.

Use Tutorials: I couldn't stress on this point enough. There’s nothing that you can’t find a tutorial for online. Found something fancy on another blog that you want? Most likely, there will be a tutorial for it somewhere. Use Google, people!

These are the major tips I could think of. Please let me know if you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them. 

Take care, and a huge thanks to PeeVee for letting me use her space to get these tips out to all you folks out there!

Well, now GO. Go pretty up your blog. Spare one day (it takes only one, even lesser, if you're really interested) to liven up the space that is part of you.

OH and she's making Bill Watterson proud with her Giveaway. Go enter.

P.S: Another awardee for the 'Rok My Sox' Award:) See!

12 Dec 2011

The Subtle Winds Of Change...

I sit here in my over-sized comfy tee listening to the wind wreak havoc on the plants outside. I keep the drapes down but the all-permeating chill still manages to creep through me, an involuntary shiver running through my hunched up body. I can’t call him either, he’s too far, too removed from my life now.

I reach out for the teddy bear mug, my favorite, and find myself thinking how clichéd it is. All my adult life I have been defending myself from being categorized as ‘girly’ but almost every possession of mine screams out ‘girly’ in not-so-dulcet tones. 

But I don’t faint when I see cute actors, I get excited with shopping only if the time is right, I don’t have to try to NOT be blonde. I detest pink, I don’t like taking photos of myself because I look dreadful in all of them, I definitely do not go squeaky… but maybe that’s a thought for another day.

The milky coffee is hot enough to burn my tongue just a little bit. I like it that way. I never could stand lukewarm anything. It’s either boiling hot or freezing. It’s all or nothing. My thoughts wander. The cursor blinks awaiting instructions like a tiny little genie awaiting orders.

Silence. Silence as loud as a rock concert. It seems to be pressing at me from all sides. But somehow I like it.

I relish solitude these days. I like being by myself. I like the silence that solitude brings with it. I seem to have changed somehow. Planes shifting within me, subtly changing who I am, what I stand for.

I seem to have left behind the version 1.0 and evolved into someone else, version 2.0 perhaps. The old me would have been miserable without anyone to talk to, without a life outside this life. She would have cried lonely tears, ranted and raved till she got what she wanted. Till all became well with the world. But me?  I’m happy satisfied with what I have. I stop expecting, I stop reacting. I wait for it to come to me before I make a decision, rather than be trade markedly impulsive.

Maybe this was always me and I hid behind who I wanted to be.
Maybe this was a change that was a process rather than a happening.
Maybe it’s my reaction to all that happened this year, good and bad.
I know not and I’m proud to say I care not, either.

I still love chocolate, though, much to my own surprise and nobody else’s. A Milkybar Choo can still make me smile even in the loneliest of times. Maybe I haven’t changed that much after all.

And this one goes out to someone who'll know it's for them: 

"You should not try to force someone to be with you,
especially when you know that your being there doesn't make a difference."
- as tweeted by Red Handed

P.S: I'd promised myself I wouldn't write abstract posts. This, I couldn't help. Bear with me.
P.S: It's not sadness, it's melancholy.

7 Dec 2011

FML = Fluff My Llama. You Didn't Know?

Note: The only unpublished draft I had. I'm in a particularly foul frame of mind and this was lying temptingly in the folder, so I just took the easy way out and posted it.

All of us have those moments when we wish the Earth swallowed us whole, that makes us want to melt into oblivion and wish we were never ever born. But would you believe that one person can cause destruction of mammoth proportions in her own life, image, reputation and property, single-handedly? 

So much so that she can write a whole book on it titled - FML: A Case Study of PeeVee.
(No, I'm not one of those sickos who get high on self-inflicted pain, just a sufferer of chronic mouth-in-the-foot disease)

You think I'm exaggerating? Presenting five random moments I picked out. 
(not in any order)

1) The first day in college hostel, I'm just getting acquainted with every one/thing. It's difficult enough without your entire family standing around and lifting up embarrassing things like my heart-shaped pillow and stuffed dinosaur (don't you dare!) and asking me where to put them, when I decide that I want to demonstrate that I am Bella Cullen née Swan's twin soul. What do I do? 
I trip over a bucket. Yes. A bucket. A friggin' blue bucket. 
In front of the whole corridor of my newly-made college friends(?).
Talk about social suicide.

2) After not-so-much thought and very less discussion, we decide to go to my 'esteemed and highly reputed' college for admission interviews. It's a good one and half hour long ride and I settle down, not nervous at all, with three packets of Hide-and-Seek biscuits. Yes. Three. 
Have I mentioned that I have motion sickness?  
Anyway, I am wonderfully excited about the college. Why? Their curriculum is the best in the country. Because the grapevine said that there are really cute guys there. Yes. Cute guys.

So what do I do when I spot three Greek Gods standing near the turning of the college? Smile coyly, bring out the attitude, stare with my mouth open. 
I puke. I puke my guts out, all three guys witness to the mangled remains of all three packets of Hide and Seek coming out the wrong way.
Didn't help in the least bit that Dad stopped the car right in front of them.

3) Four years ago, we had a horde of cats at our place. When one of the kittens got stuck in the tree, I didn't hesitate to hitch up that skirt and climb the tree to rescue it, all in the name of humanity and compassion towards animals.

Just my luck that I get stuck in the tree after the old ladder cracked under my hippo weight. And you know what was delightful about it? That I remained stuck there till my family got home, called the neighbors for a new ladder and helped me down a good hour and a half later.
All the while, a small crowd was collecting outside our gate to look at 'the girl in the tree'.

Needless to say, I never talked to that kitten again. Ever. 

4) In high school, a (reasonably cute) guy comes and gives me chocolates for his birthday. The key point here is that he gives me a Perk XXL and the rest of the class toffees (don't judge him:P). 
So what do I think? That he has a crush on me.
And what do I do? Promptly start crushing on him.

Bad part. When I think that the crush is serious. To the extent that I sing 'Zara, zara..' and 'Tere bin..' to him in my head. (What? Hormonal teenager filled with angst and shit ok?)
Worse part. Someone tells me that it was my ex who told the guy to give me the chocolate on his behalf. Wtf.
Worst part. He falls head over heels for my friend. AND they start going out.

If this isn't a FML moment, nothing else is.

5) Class is going on. As usual. Very informative *yawn* lecture. As usual. And we're all texting away to glory. As usual. 
My guy is, unfortunately, a fan of sleeping in class. So I'm trying to prod him awake with slightly racy texts (ahem!:P) while texting five people other people.

Yeah, you guessed right. I sent the text meant for him to his friend.
I didn't even realize it till he caught my eye across the class and sniggered. 
How I wish it was just a normal 'I love you' or some such.
Agreed that we all type without looking but are there any other fools like me who send without looking as well?
And no I'm not going to tell you what it was either, so don't ask.

What did I tell you?
You can't make this shit up. 

P.S: Now that I have finished crapping all over my exams papers, I can post with my screaming regularity that everyone seems to be talking about.
P.P.S: December is here, you know. It's the Month of the Reindeer, you know. Please tell me you noticed all the snow on the page. And btw, where the fuck did the rest of 2011 go :| 
P.P.S.S: I apologize profusely to those I have promised a guest post to and haven't sent them yet. Chandana, you top the list. I'm so very sorry, I have been swamped am a lazy, stupid procrastinator and I'll send them in soon. Sorry:(

Edit: To the Grammar Nazis who drop by (read: Spiff, Darsh and any others lurking in the dark corners), do consider giving me a break about crappy punctuation this time-_-

6 Dec 2011


Yes, I added a new page. Go read.

4 Dec 2011

Marveling The Miracle Called Humanity #1

I was coming back home for the holidays by the very same public transport I was harping about earlier. I didn't get the window seat, there was this girl who looked slightly older than me resting her skinny behind on it... She didn't ask me where I'm going, what I'm doing.. so she seemed ok.

Lo and behold, she struck up a conversation about the lecher standing near the next seat who was looking down the lady's blouse; as we bonded over our mutual frenemy, men, her phone rang.
(I have issues with the song, which I will force you to read about next time, when the furore has died out and you have just begun forgetting it:P)
I should have prayed to become temporarily deaf then.

She looked quizzically at the screen and then picked the call up.
This is the one-sided conversation I eavesdropped heard.

Who's this?
I don't know... Oh ok, ok.
From where?
Yes, yes.
Yes, Krishnammal ya, studying economics (that's the name of a college here, yes)
No, final year. 
Oh yeah? Nice.
Yes, it's Vijaya The Adorable on Orkut (#?!), the picture is Anushka Shetty.
Ah in Singam no? Yes, that pink saree one no? That only I have as picture da.
Oh ok k. You attend college fests and all ah?
No, no. Line is disturbance. I ask if you participating in college fests ah?
Fine. So whats up?
Not that da. Tell properly... don't say fan and all now.
Really? Don't simply put kadalai (kadalai = flirting #tamilgyan)
*giggles again*
Ok seri seri, my voice is sweet wonly, don't get angry.
No, in bus. 
Goes through PT colony no...
Ya, ya. Third house.
Pink. Brown windows and all.
No, not my choice, I like wonly white and black.
*giggles yet again* 
*mock anger*
My life is very colorful ya. You don't have to make it more and all.
Okay, okay.
Seri da. Bye. We will talk some other time da. 
Take care ya.

The she turned to me and said casually, 
"Wrong number tholla thanga mudiyale..." (Wrong numbers are very irritating)

Is it me who's been rude all this time or do any of you give out most of your personal details to wrong numbers?

P.S: Most of the originality in the Blogger world jumped out of the window, landed on the pavement forty feet below, twitched twice and died a very painful death *sigh*