10 things....

 ....I wish more people would do more often

Deciding to Carpe

Source

Promise [BarAThon Day 7]

Whooooosa :)

A photo posted by Cookie Crumbs Inc. (@cookiecrumbsinc) on Feb 13, 2016 at 8:54am PST

Dashing Expectations to Smithereens Better Than Kamsa

I hear about Mrs. Funnybones. I hear more things about Mrs. Funnybones. I hear even more things about Mrs. Funnybones. So I decide I HAVE to read Mrs. Funnybones. 

Death by Chocolate. No, quite literally.

So this is one of the (many, many) lets-laugh-at-PV jokes that people told at my farewell in the last company. This is my version and the correct version, don’t let anybody else tell you otherwise.

This was about three months into my very first job (in the aforementioned company) and my dear TL, Manjeet Singh, decided to have lunch with his all-girls team :P (I’m already laughing at how this sounds to the outsider and how far from the truth that impression is, but I’m not going to correct the impression because I like being mean to Manjeeta. Heehee. Hopefully, he will never read his or I’m going to get thwacked). Lunch is at a pub, I didn’t know what to order (yes, a girl from the semi-village took some time to learn how to order. Go on, laugh at me.) Conversation is strained with my friend because I stood her up and I wasn’t really on chatting terms with the rest of the team (yes, I was chronically socially awkward. Still am, a lot of times). Needless to say, the exercise was one of extreme discomfort on my part and stomach cramps did nothing to alleviate the situation.

Till somebody said ‘dessert’.

I jumped at the chance but unfortunately, no one else did because a) they had ordered sensibly and b) they had ordered sensibly. At my downcast face, my friend said she’d shared dessert with me and I didn’t wait for her to ask twice (which in hindsight, I should have).

The innocuous-looking item on the menu turning out to be half a pound of chocolate cake, the moment it turned the corner and headed towards our table, I knew I was in trouble. BUT I was comforted by the fact that my friend was going to share it.

Everyone was suitably impressed by the space I’d left for dessert in my stomach, including Manjeeta, and I smiled and waved and took a couple of bites of the cake. Bits of chocolate heaven, no doubt about it. Things were quite okay till my dear friend decided she’d had enough, after only three tiny bites. I was aghast, how was I going to eat all that cake by myself?!! (no, the thought of having it packed in a doggie bag and taking it home to eat later when I would have actually enjoyed it did not cross my extremely intelligent (please get the sarcasm) mind) 

So I hitched up my pants, rolled up my sleeves and slogged through the whole damn half a pound cake.

Needless to say the last bite was the last ever bite of chocolate cake I’ve taken since (not really, but dramatic effect is necessary no?). Needless to say I was just about holding it together till I got home and cried out chocolate cake.

Needless to say, learn how to say no before you let chocolate cake be the death of you.
Or just ask for a damn doggie bag.

Over. And Out.

The Month That Was.... May '14

At the risk of sounding clichéd, I can’t believe it is June already. I started the #fmsphotoaday but couldn't complete it. And I also wrote so much more than I have in the last six months, all thanks to the April challenge that still has me going. New responsibilities at looming over me at work and I realize now that I have had a cosseted career so far. I bought half a dozen books, went crazy in Blossoms, but guess what, it took me TWO WHOLE MONTHS to finish The Song of Fire and Ice: The Game of Thrones!! Never have I been such a slow reader, I finished Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix in one night and The Deathly Hallows in a day, no kidding :/

I learnt that I’m going nowhere by being honest. I learnt that not keeping my mouth shut about my life in the office can get me into trouble. And I learnt that I should stop ‘speaking for everyone’ for it has made me look like a villain.

OH and I got my first ever white hair :D

Song on my mind: Hulla Re from 2 States. I haven’t yet worked out why the instrumental version gives me goosebumps.

New Food Paradise: Health Food section of Auchan (I’m drinking green tea, FTW!)

Site: StumbleUpon (I know its old news but the things I find over there blow my mind. Every. Single. Day)

Quote: 

In memoriam.

It has helped me find a balance: I trust people implicitly, unnecessarily. And that has backfired on me only a billion times. Not a good thing. Because of which I find myself becoming cynical about everything everyone says. Not a good thing, either.

Plans for June: Just get through the damn month. I have a feeling it is going to be nuts. And maybe post some of the stuff that I wrote last month over here, so that I won’t have a pathetic post count.

How did your May go?

June, how you doin'? ;

10 Harsh Realities of Life

...in no particular order

- Moms will always be right. However stupid/outdated/atrocious/crazy/impossible the things they say seem, they will ALWAYS be right. Like when they say you shouldn't trust the girl you are about to move in with because she seems crazy? You should listen to them.

- There is always someone or the other having a better relationship than you. If you are in a new relationship, you will envy the ‘tenured’ relationships. If you have stuck by your man long enough, you will envy the freshness of new relationship. Not to mention all the singles who are cool and totally independent, secretly bemoan the fact that they have no one to cuddle with after work.

- There is always someone with a better wardrobe than you. No matter how long you spend picking out the perfect pieces of clothing for your work wardrobe, someone will come along looking like Donna and you’ll end up feeling like this.

Donna Paulsen - Synonym of Perfection

- Money and that waterfall that you picnicked at? Same strategy, they employ. Keep flowing, never collect in one place. And unless you set automatic transfers to a savings account that you can’t revert at any point, you will be broke by the first week of the month.

- Friends will make the best of plans only those specific weekends that you are busy or when you are traveling home. And God forbid, you miss a road trip, there will be Hell and a bunch of inside stories and jokes (that you don't get head or tail of) to pay for.

- Your winning streak on QuizUp will be abruptly halted at 9 by the ultimate dumbass who knows squat about the topic because in your hurry to gloat, you will answer wrong to the simplest question possible and give away all the bonus points to aforementioned dumbass. (For those of you who haven't played the game yet, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE).

- “What next?” is a question that people are going to haunt you with your entire life. Do not sigh with relief after any milestone that you might have crossed (boards, college, postgrad, job, promotion, marriage… you know), they are still going to be after your life (literal translation of jaan ke picche pade rahenge).

- All the songs you love will always be break up songs. And when you accidentally hum out loud (except in the shower), there will be at least one person who has a pitying look.

- When you stop watching cricket matches that India plays, they will play like their ass is on fire. When you finally convince yourself and watch a match, the first five wickets will drop like bowling pins along with your patriotic feelings for the team. That is when you will start praying for Pakistan to win the match, out of sheer spite.

- A smartphone will never have charge. Regardless of how many awesome things it is capable of, no matter how conscientiously you charge, at that moment when you really, really need to check directions to the club you are going to at 11 in the night, it WILL switch off.

The speed at which it drains is inversely proportional to how badly you need to conserve it.

Bonus point: The ...last seen at feature on Whatsapp is the most annoying feature in all of social networks.
Bonus point 2: Everyone will have better Flappy Bird scores than you. Unless you are one of those people. In which case, I detest your existence.

The Thing About Photographs...

...is that they preserve memories.

Memories which fade from our minds with time, memories that we hold on to despite everything because we cherish the happiness in the moment – with photographs you don’t have to struggle so hard, they capture the moment exactly as it is, the head thrown back in laughter, the coffee cup tilting to a side threatening to spill, the fingers which are barely touching, the perfectly-plated food that was eaten with gusto…. The photograph transports you back in time to that exact moment of happy perfection that is sure to make you sigh. Sigh with the incapability of the human race to create a time machine to transport you back and forth.

The thing about photographs is that they preserve only happy memories.

A year from now, the photograph will not immortalize the terrible fights, the words flung, the vodka drunk, the pain felt and the despair drowned in. Two years from now, someone will look at the photograph and comment that you looked so happy, what ever happened to it. Kisi ki nazar lag gyi hogi. Three years from now, the photograph will have documented the ecstatic highs but not the depressing lows that have left deep scars. The scars which serve to be the antonym of the photographs.

Should we leave the perfect moment alone because, well, it was perfect? Or erase it off because nothing good ever came out of a photograph that gave the false impression despite the good memory?

P.S: This is the result of having browsed through old photos, both legal and illicit, under the hangover of “The Fault In Our Stars”. 

My Trooper

Cute little trooper.

He comes running in from the yard, tiny feet pattering across the stones and sand without a care. His chubby face is pink with the exertion yet the rose-bud mouth is pulled out into a great big grin, two little pearls of teeth making their appearance right in the front – the kind of grin that makes you inadvertently break into a smile of your own at the innocent optimism and quick contentment that life seems to take away as we grow older.

I think we lose a lot when we forget how, as a child, we could go from zero to elation in the time it takes to say ‘toffee’.

Anyway…. he comes running in, voice garbled with words that he does not know yet and eyes shining with excitement – he found a butterfly, his first. He reaches the entrance only to trip on the door step; hardly noticeable to the rest of us but to this two-feet-something ball of sheer joy, I’m sure it seemed like a high jump hurdle. He trips and fall onto the floor, the only teeth he has making contact with a soft little bottom lip – the sight of blood twists my insides into painful knots.

He bursts instantaneously into loud heart-rending cries as I scoop him up and check how deep the cut is. Not that deep, I sigh with relief. Then I go into damage-control mode, I coo soft nothings in his ear while cuddling him close as his wails die down to whimpers and then quiet sniffles.

I hoist him onto my hip as I reach for the jar on top of the fridge and pull out a bright red piece of candy. He looks at it and shakes his head, the sniffles growing a wee bit louder. I put the red one back, pull out a yellow one and hand it out. He closes his pudgy, pink fingers around it and chews one end – by now the sniffles have died down completely. I set him down on his blue kiddie chair and search the cabinet for oral ointment, it takes me a good five minutes to locate the tube of Zytee.

I turn around only to hear receding pitter-patter of feet heading off towards the yard again, accompanied by slurping sounds and the occasional word that he cooks up when he’s talking to himself. He’s off looking for the butterfly again.

Brave little trooper.

If only we learn from them, children. If only.

P.S: Dramatized real incident, my brother has grown up so much since this happened, both literally and figuratively, that I cherish the memory of this phase of his so so much. If it weren't for memories.

Aggrandize With Gold

I found this quote on Facebook and I have one Mr. Rohith Ramdas to thank for it. It's surprising how you can find these little nuggets of pure, unadulterated perfection when you sift through the wasteland that Facebook has become.

Anyhoo, isn't the quote just perfect? Makes you think about all the flaws you have, all the things that you hate about your past in a better way.

Everyone suffers in life - some more, some less. For some it is the wrath of their Fate or, if you so choose to believe, the repercussions of their actions, Karma. While for others, suffering becomes what they will upon themselves, either creating sadness for sympathy and martyrdom or refusing to acknowledge all that is perfect in their life for the sake of one tiny thing that they don't have.

Either way the suffering is real.
But it goes away. It will go away.

What truly matters is who you become after it.

You can either be that person who is pitied by all, languishing in the throes of sadness or you can choose to become more beautiful for the suffering which has made you better and your history is what defines who you are today.

Which one do you choose?

Our Trysts w/h The Dark Passenger

Never ask a question you don't want to hear the answer to because most likely, the messenger will bear the brunt of the storm that usually accompanies the truth and you'll end up worse for the knowledge.

This applies not only to the literal asking of any question (like the eternal favorite with the ladies, "Do I look fat?" that will make any man cringe with helplessness) but also to the doing of things that will give you information that you don't necessarily need. Like snooping around your better half's phone/inbox - you might stumble across things that you don't want to know, that you wish you'd never started off on the quest in the first place.

Once you end up with the information/result, thanks to your annoying little feline alter ego with its annoying little curiosity that will get something killed, you will see another side of that person, one that you might not necessarily like. One that might put an end to whatever good thing you have going, for no good reason. Sometimes you get over it and move on, sometimes the scar never really fades away. 

What I'm trying to say is once you get to know something, there is no way of un-knowing it. So pick and choose what you want to find out, especially if it is someone you care about.

Also, everybody has a dark side, a side that they are not proud of but they have it anyway because that is what makes them human and whoever it is, however close you are, you do not have the right to pry into their cupboard of skeletons, unless you have been specifically invited to. While this applies to everyone you know, it specifically applies to people you love and care about the most.

In a lot of places, at a lot of times, ignorance is bliss.

P.S: R.I.P Paul Walker.

Ghosts Of Roommates Past

Ah, a topic I could write a book upon.

Caution: VERY long post ahead. ALL rant. At your own risk.
 
When I joined college 4 long years ago, I got the best of roommates (though I wouldn't have agreed then), so when I came to Bangalore first, I hoped really hard that I would find roommates who I could be friends with.

How difficult could that be, considering Bangalore is FULL of girls of all shapes, sizes, orientations, ideas, dress sizes and whatnot. Apparently, very difficult.

I shall elucidate (whether you like it or not):

Number 1 was sweet. She is what I am now, friendly and full of helpful advice but prefers to keep her life completely and entirely separate from mine. Not that it is a problem now but when you are a green, green girl fresh out of college, a kind word and a shopping trip would have helped my case. But she was nice and that's all that matters now. And I shall be forever thankful to her for my first Corner House icecream.
Duration: 1 month.

Number 2, I'd rather not talk about her. She was three times my size, from Hyderabad, had very loud opinions about 'mallus' and their 'chaluness', hated fresh air from open windows, liked the television on at high volume at all times of the day including midnight and threatened to crush me under her weight. Oh and she doesn't flush the toilet or throw away her toiler paper.
Duration: 48 hours.

Number 3 was okay. I always thought that she was a bit of cuckoo because she never used to understand what I was trying to tell her, which is surprising considering I speak her language and well, and also because she spends the entire day on Saturday AND Sundays making rice and steaming capsicum in the microwave. She kept to herself and was nice enough to offer me her rice and capsicum. She always told me that I could take anything from her food ration and cosmetics (including a heavenly bubble bath from the UK) as long as I didn't touch her clothes or shoes. I was A-OK with this and offered her the same liberties.
Duration: 2 months.

Number 4 was a mistake me and my big mouth made. I'd rather not say anything here for I fear lurkers. I think my back did hurt her poor, helpless knife though. Tch, tch.
Duration: 1 month.

Number 5 was a local and got me into a hell of a lot of trouble with the landlady, complaining about me in Kannada. This was happening right in front of me and I nodded along thinking she was saying something constructive about something else and she knew full well I didn't follow. At all. I wouldn't have minded if it were not for the fact that all the complaints were made with the intention of taking over my room which was the best in the PG (in terms of space and ventilation).
Duration: 1 week.

And finally, Number 6. Ah, she is a work of art, a piece that belongs in a museum, nonetheless. My biggest error of judgment and I paid for it with 9 months of sheer misery. Right from bullying me into getting a house with her despite not having the finances and having known each other for less than 10 days, she trampled her way through my life in ways I shudder to think of. The sucker that I am, she fed me a story of missing her parents and I fell for it immediately.

Shopping for the perfect kadhai for her to cook paneer in took precedence to my broken heart right in the middle of a messy, drawn out, painful break up. Between this crazie and my 'extremely understanding' ex, my life was truly hell in a cell those days and I shall forgive neither of them that easily, if at all. I remember sitting outside the room, tears flowing down my cheeks in a never ending torrent, heart breaking into a million pieces and throat clogged in the middle of an international call, when she came out of the room and yelled at me for not giving her company for dinner. I also remember being in the middle of a HUGE blowout that involved me, my mother, my ex and a colleague (you don't want to know) and she wanting me to get the internet guys to buy extra wire right then and there. Gave me days when all I wanted was to jump off the terrace parapet.

A few highlights....

1) She insisted that I eat the food that she cooked regardless of whether I wanted to or not. And if I, by chance, eat out with my friends one in a way or skipped food, she used to throw a hissy fit and not a pretty, I-care-about-you one.

2) She never 'let me' go for nightouts with my friends. I tell her I'm going, she says no, you can't, I'm scared to be here by myself.

3) She sits and looks at herself in the mirror for hours on end. After a couple of minutes, it is just plain creepy.

4) She played the most tacky of songs on infinite loop loudly on her laptop all the time. This includes midnight, weekends and any other time I choose to be home.

5) She has about 6 guys salivating after her, each convinced that she is going to marry him. They probably spend all the time, energy and money on ensuring that their princess is happy. I admire her ability to ensure that none of them know about any of the others. This is apart from flirty texts at midnight to the house owner who she has wrapped around her finger.

6) Every chance she gets she makes me take pictures of her, in different poses and clothes. This is every second minute and regardless of what else I am doing. 

7) She is so dirty. The kitchen hasn't been cleaning in atleast six months, the washroom has stains of i-don't-want-to-think-about-it, she doesn't flush properly, she sheds hair like snakes shed skin and every single square inch of the house is covered in it, she hasn't done laundry in the past three months and the laundry bag smells like no girl's clothes should ever smell. The kitchen clothes that she soaked last month, were still floating around in water when I vacated. The house reeks of the five day old bhaaji that she cooked for her puri and left behind. Open. In the cooker.

8) Creme de la creme. She hits people. Including me. And when I tried staving her off, she hit her own head against the wall and the door and threatened to call the police on me for hurting her.

And all this is only tip of the ice berg and I'm not even exagerrating.

The last couple of months, I have been afraid of going home, I leave for office by 8 30 am and get back home by 10 30 pm, spending more than ten hours in the office. I stayed away during the weekends as well, after a point just sitting at The Forum mall for lack of anything better to do. And when I go back, she still makes a face, makes derogatory comments and makes me out to be evil and uncaring.

She makes me wish the last eight months never happened. 

On 15th August 2013, I moved, extremely happily, into a handkerchief sized place with a clean, beautiful washroom (yeah, another OCD), cheerful in the knowledge of not having to go through the trauma of another roommate. I finally get to put out my books without fear of someone tearing them out, put up my fairylights to satisfy a life's ambition and keep the place squeaky clean and smelling of rose incense.

AHHHHHHHHHH. The Sweet Smell of Peace Indeed.


But, after 7 moves in less than 17 months, all these buggers have left me questioning myself, asking myself if I am that difficult to live with.

Ugh.

P.S: I know this is too long a post but it is catharsis, please bear with me.

Me. An Average Indian.

The alarm goes off and, instinctively, I hit snooze. Few more minutes of my time are not going to make a difference in Suresh Sir’s life, is it? His client can wait, I need my beauty sleep.

I brush my teeth and my half closed eyes catch sight of the price on the paste carton. WHAT?! My mind awakens instantly, HE CHARGED ME THREE WHOLE RUPEES OVER THE MRP?! How dare he, I’m never shopping there again. And then I feel a lapse inside myself as I think whatever, it’s just three rupees, what value does it have these days, anyway. Plus, the shop is so convenient….

As I make the coffee, I throw the banana peel into dustbin…. Curse, when it missed it by a few inches. Ah well, the maid will come in soon, it’s her job anyway.

The milkman calls out. I go outside to get my milk, absent mindedly throwing the dirty water in the vessel on the neighbor’s wall. Oops, she just whitewashed it… maybe she won’t notice.

I smell the fresh newsprint, like I always do, and sip the bitter brew while scanning the headlines. “BABY FALAK DIES OF CARDIAC ARREST”. My eyes moisten for a second, I’d been following the story for some time now. No human being deserves what was done to her… much less a baby, I thought.  I read the rest of the story on page 10…. The advertisement on the side caught my eye. “NEW FOR OLD OFFER”. My thoughts wander…. maybe I should exchange my old laptop and the mixer for that new Inspiron I saw the other day… So sleek, so cool it was… Maybe…

Local elections are on; I snigger at the uselessness of the whole system and wonder where my Voter’s ID is. I proudly proclaim to all and sundry that I don’t vote. What’s the point? Nothing’s going to change.

I dress and head out, I’m already late. I curse the lights for turning red at that precise moment and tap my foot impatiently on the kerb. The boy comes to me with wide, brown eyes and a dirty, dirty face. He has the face of a golden retriever with honesty, cuteness and helpless abandon writ all over him. My will hiccups as I pull out a ten-rupee note... he looks like he should be my niece’s classmate. Which reminds me, I HAVE to get her that HP limited edition set she’s been begging for since January…. Doesn’t matter if it costs half my salary, she is my princess, who else will spoil her?

I huff into my office and snap at the attendant for delaying the lift. He bows his head and mutters an apology. So what if he can’t walk? He’s paid to operate the lifts, he can do at least that efficiently. Loafer, kahin ka.

I start getting calls almost as soon as I log in. I put my headset on Good morning, this is xxx customer care, how may I help you? I deliver in my best chirpy voice. The customer is having trouble checking his balance and I wonder what rock he lives under to not know even that much in this day and age. I check records, he lives in Vanaprastha Home. Ugh, why don’t his children take care of him? At least I won’t have stupid old men asking me foolish questions first thing in the morning.

I saunter in after my long, lazy lunch. Though I wish I hadn’t taken Sumeeta with me; thanks to her I spent the better part of three hours listening to how her baby’s smile was magical.
The boss isn’t in yet. There’s a commotion outside his office. I walk up to Arjun’s cabin and ask what’s going on. Suresh Bansal had a heart attack early in the morning, he is stable now but under observation.

Involuntarily, my mind thinks will they give us a day off?!! I shake off the hope and tch, tch with the rest.

Payday! I pack my bag at 5 hoping the TL will let me leave early and check my account to find the salary credited. Wooohooooo! Shopping spree. My board lights up but I ignore them, say I’m done. White lies don’t matter..... everybody lies anyway.

I reach home with a lighter wallet but a happy heart. The neighbours were fighting again. I heard her scream once and everything was silent. Who am I to interfere, I think. Their domestic issues.

I cook and I eat in candle light, thinking about the day. I can’t finish the bowl of rice and I walk out to the overflowing street dustbins. The stray looks at me with longing eyes; wagging his pitiful tail. The action makes his bones stick out even more. Ugh, such a dirty animal. If I feed him now, he’ll expect the same every day. I dump the bowl into the dustbin and shoo him away.

I do the laundry, I brush my teeth and I fall asleep.

---

I am an average Indian. I live in a Metropolitan city. I eat. I live.

I tch, tch about an honor killing, like/share a Facebook page and lend my support by posting a picture of me in a black dress to proclaim my protest.

I love my own religion, all other Gods are irrelevant.
I love my own State, every other State and its people are backward, dirty and talk funny.

I will isolate that ‘loose’ girl even if I have secretly spent nights in my boyfriend’s apartment.

I refuse to do any work that is beyond the scope of my duties, I refuse to help others even if it is within my ability. What if it rebounds on me?

I will call Keenan and Reuben stupid inwardly for interfering unnecessarily. I will say the rape victim got what she deserved.

I am indifferent.

To everything that doesn’t affect me directly.

To everyone I have no reason to care about.

from dweebness.wordpress.com

It’s time to change. 

 http://ohmenver.tumblr.com/post/12916269499

This might be just another post for a contest on Indiblogger.  And yes, I do have my eyes set on the prizes, as well (proving that, well, I'm every bit as indifferent as portrayed). But the sentiment is one that I have been wanting to voice for some time now. Thank you, Stayfree India, for prodding me into posting this. 

If this makes even one person take that little extra effort to feed a dog with leftovers or contribute ten rupees to a child's education or vote compulsorily at the next elections, rather than being indifferent, I shall consider the post to have been a quality addition to my life.

The views expressed in the post are my own and I take full responsibility for them. It is not my intention to hurt any sentiments, feel free to disagree. But do allow me to exercise my freedom of thought, opinion and speech.

Pick! Perfection Or Messed Up

Sachin FINALLY got to celebrate. About time, I should think. 

But, with all due respect, if I read ONE more update with 'Sachin' or 'God' in it, I'm going on a blocking spree.  

And we lost. To Bangladesh. 

Moving on (before I launch into a rant)...

There is this author, yeah. Pretty famous I should say, from what I hear. I was initially very taken in with the whole idea of her, but, bit by bit the charm faded. Then the charm went 'pop' when that Nanda guy got me her latest book as a Valentines' present and I spent all of six hours with my nose buried in it. 

I was disappointed. For a 'best-selling author' thrice over, the book and the story was only average. 

I don't have a problem with that.

Well, mostly because most recent Indian authors have disappointed me.

She posts regularly on her blog and I read every post religiously (I stalk all writers I can find on Blogger, bit of an OCD). And I have yet to find a post in which she doesn't mention her best-sellers or perfect writing skills or her perfect behavior in all manners of situations or her perfect life or the perfect people around her who are just perfectly perfect. She's always together, always has a condescending tone and a perfect answer to every question you can ever think of asking her. She never fails to mention that she has an amazing figure even after kids (I don't even understand why that's relevant to her work) along with what an awesomely well-rounded mother she is. She even gets her husband to write guest posts about what an amazing experience it is to have her as his wife.

She seems to have mastered the art of perfection.

I don't have a problem with that either. You have enough discipline to write a whole book, the grit to get it published and the guts to put yourself out there for the whole world to criticize and tear apart, you deserve to brag. Not that it's an excuse to be anything less that an exemplary writer but I'd understand. 

My question is: 

Can anyone's life be perfect? Can anyone's life go exactly the way they plan it, have all their wishes come true and never have any major problems to deal with? Can anyone take every single teeny bit of negativity that ever came their way and turn it into the 'most amazing thing' that every happened to them?

Even if you answer yes to all the above, is that how life is supposed to be?

Doesn't it take two weeks of bad food to attain nirvana with one piece of cheese-burst pizza? Doesn't it take tears to find out how beautiful happiness is? Doesn't it take hurt to find out how deep love can be? Doesn't it take mistakes to feel how satisfactory it is to be right? 

Shouldn't we mess up sometimes just to know what the other side is like.... to appreciate good things when they come to us?

If everything is perfect all the time, wouldn't everything become mechanical? Boring?

Or am I psychologically damaged? :P

P.S: No offense to the writer or her fans who might recognize who I'm talking about. She just got me thinking, that's all.

Metamorphos-ing

Change.


For a long time, I and Change have had issues. Change meant loss of familiarity, loss of the comfortable-ness, loss of patterns and schedules that I work so hard to create. And that scared me beyond all reason, I was afraid that any semblance of order that I have in my life would go flying out of the window and the ruckus that will prevail then will lead to failure. 
To losing my ability to do it right. I wrote a post about how the change that looms large is weighing heavy on my head and heart. Outwardly, I chin-upped at Change and said, bring it on. Inwardly, I trembled like aspen in a storm. I was afraid of giving up control.


Right down to when I got obsessively compulsive about little things like re-installing my OS for fear that I would lose everything I worked so hard to compile.


Then, change brought good things. Change showed me that love doesn't have to hurt all the time. That accepting your faults can be a good thing. That apologizing even when it's not your fault can save my own mind from going around in eternal circles. Change can make a best friend out of a mother whom I claimed had never 'understood' me.


Change shakes things up when they have settled down to make sludge. Change keeps the flame alive, change keeps things interesting. Change kicks monotony's ass. Change inspires. 

Change can be a good thing too.

The Road I Failed To Take

Haven't we all had people in our lives who leave behind a faint sense of dissatisfaction for not having truly spoken to them about everything that mattered? Haven't we all had at least one person in our lives who we don't even know properly but have always had the feeling that we would have been good friends, if either of you had only taken the pain to let go of the ego and extend that hand? That someone who has misunderstood you grossly and you have made the same mistake with equal vigor, parted with not so much as a passing glance and then had it come back and irk you in some small way?


(If you haven't, then GAH! to you)


This goes out to one person who I had a lot of faith in, the key word here being had.

I thought you were the sensible one, the one who has the sense to be objective. But more than that, I felt we were friends. Not the close kind of bffs, but the kinds who run into each other in Forum ten years from now and have coffee over how much life has changed. 


But I guess the feeling wasn't mutual. Ah well.


But the thing is, I am worried. Just a little bit though.
Worried that the same friends who you hold close to your heart and fight tooth and nail for are the same ones who never thought twice about calling you that without a moment's hesitation. That too, in front of me. The 'opposition'.
Their poison has already got to you. Don't let them catch you unawares though. 


You think you are always one step ahead? Little do you realise that I withdrew long back. I have been sitting on the sidewalk watching you trying to outsmart yourself... Trip all over your own two feet. 
I considered you a worthy adversary till you played dirty. You stooped down instead of rising up to challenge my very existence. I was just disappointed that you didn't. 


I still have a soft corner for you, somehow. In spite of the unnecessary dirty looks and the conspiracies. 
But you have lost my respect and regard. 
Not that it matters to either of us but still... Like Wordsworth, someday I shall sit on my couch in a pensive mood and contemplate, not daffodils, but a friendship that withered before it bloomed. 


This is mostly because you have helped me calculate my GPA every time. This is almost entirely because you taught me what a Chi Square is when I most needed it. 


Thank you.


P.S: A very happy valentine's day to all those who are hell-bent on celebrating it, but be safe and keep yourselves far away from any violently mental anti-love people. I ceased to believe in the 'magic of St. Valentine' a coupla years back, though. And yes, I don't like being predictable in case y'all were expecting full on mush post :P

How To Scare the BEJESUS Out Of A Blogger

First off, thank you to all those who commented on my last post, I haven't published them yet but each and every comment meant a lot. It was a post from the heart and your comments were equally so.

And how can I not mention those who don't read the post and yet comment, thanks guys.

***

Thanks Prithvi and Arjit for trying to help on Twitter, I still can't reply though.


***
Moving onto what I really wanted to say,

Here I am, happy me, browsing away to glory and on a blog-commenting spree when suddenly the good folks of Google decide to have some fun with my account and blocked it.

I get a "your account has been disabled for security reasons" out of the blue and guess what happened,

I HAD A goddamned STROKE.

After going through my own version of 127 hours minutes, incessantly complaining about it to everybody who'd listen and trying hard not to annoy him or my BFF (for they have submissions tomorrow), I check back to find it activated and immediately publish a post just to prove to myself and Blogger that I can.

What a relief it is, you have NO idea.

I heart you, Blog.

Don't do that to me again.

How do I back up posts, anyone?

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!:)

The Month That Was.. September

September is not a month I want a repeat of.

That said, Darlings of Venus happened. Onam happened. Payasam (kheer) happened. 

I learnt how NOT to study for exams. First time ever that I spent the day before the exams feverishly watching Grey's Anatomy (SO7). 

I learnt how to keep my nose to myself and my tongue locked up inside my mouth. I learnt that, if I don't, there will be far-reaching consequences. This, I learnt it the hard way.

I kid myself that I'd finally grown up and then burst into a ball of fire the very next day at the least provocation. I did NOT learn how to grow up. What I did learn was that dogs will bark - on the roadside, in the alleys... almost everywhere. And there is no way you can ask them to shut up without any damage to yourself. 

Best course of action in such cases - act true to your conscience, be honest in what you are required to do and mind your own effing business.

I learnt two things about Kerala.

1) People are of extremes - either they build beautiful houses (naalukettus, nadumittams and whatnot) replete with the grand, old architecture and classy doors straight out of the Royal Palaces, living spaces straight out of a good living magazine. Or they makes houses like these.

Need more explanation?

2) Men in Kerala are sinfully good-looking; I'm not talking about the college crowd or the hi-fi types. I'm talking tea-stallwala, doodhwala and next-house-neighbor's distant relative's brother-in-law who's here for the weekend types. You will be spoilt for choice for 'bird-watching'. 

BUT, they are aggressive. In the sense that while I'm accustomed to dismissing staring men with a condescending glance, this particular breed only stares back with even more aggression, if you so much as make eye-contact. Intimidating.

I learnt that the blog world can get very ugly and are a very biased lot. What with North Indians and Madrasis and Mommas, the underbelly was exposed and I'm not sure I liked what I saw. Whatever happened to blogging uniting us and all that tosh?

I learnt to make headers and became obsessed with making one for my blog. I did and put it up when I crossed 200 followers (more on that very, berry soon). I learnt to make peace with the fact that I can't write stories at will. I need to wait for the perfect time when everything falls into place and I just have to put my fingers to the keyboard.

I learnt that patience is not one of my virtues, which is NOT AT ALL a good thing. I learnt that Pon & Zi are beyond EPIC. I also learnt that I love science-fiction more than I realized. I learnt that I won't die if I go without chocolate for a week.

I learnt that my brother and sister are growing too fast and if I don't catch up now, I will lose them for the next ten years till they get out of their teens. I also learnt that surprising Amma feels really, really awesome.

Now here I sit, cozy and warm in the comfort of the safest place on Earth, with Amma playing Zuma's Revenge like there's no tomorrow, reveling in the knowledge that I have a whole eight days to waste as I please, satiated from the perfect dinner with the perfect person at the perfect place and all I can think of doing is to curl up with The Shop on Blossom Street till I fall asleep.

Ain't that a good start for a fresh, new month?

 Dear September

October, how YOU doin'?;P