Like a whiff of air
Drifting towards you
Pecking on the cheeks
When you sleep after a hectic day
Caressing the wrinkle on your forehead
I want to see you drifting into the soundest sleep
Cuddling myself in the window seat
Looking at you intently
From the hazy steaming cup of coffee
I slowly put the cushions of my hands
Under your strained neck
So that you relax and sigh
And get a moment
To remember me
The soft smile on the corners of your mouth
Would fill me with a deep satisfaction
But you would never see that
Because I will be drifting in the folds of
Your velvety curtains
I will be hiding behind the snowy soft cushions
I would love to shuffle your well kept hair
I would love to caress the frown, dear
It would please me to see you shiver
The touch of my fingers you know so well
But when you open your eyes
There will be no one
Feeling sad and attached to you so much
It breaks my heart to think
That you are going so far from me
Where there is distance of many skies and sea
It is a solace to get this power
Where in spite of distance I can shower
My love, my fondness for you
I thank an Angel today
Who gave me the power of being invisible for a day!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
A YUMMY DATE! (short story)
She stands in front of the full-length mirror and looks at herself.
She cringes a bit, for she does not like what she sees.
The jeans make her look fat.
And the tight blue top – it’s all wrong!
So she wears a loose dress – Churidar, Kurta and Dupatta – to hide her bulges.
She looks at her new high-heels – should she? They’ll make her look tall, less fat.
No. Not today.
Now it’s got to be walking shoes.
A brisk invigorating walk from Sanky tank to golf course rejuvenating her body breathing the fresh evening s breeze is what she needs to cheer her up.
She stands on the weighing machine near richie rich ice cream parlor and, with a tremor of trepidation, puts in the coin.
Lights flash.
Out comes the ticket.
She looks at it.
Same as yesterday.
And the day before.
And the day before.
No change.
She is doomed.
There is never any change in her weight or in her fortune!
Her face falls.
She’s trying so much; exercising, dieting. But it’s no use.
She looks longingly at the Softy Ice Cream counter.
There is a smart young handsome man with two Ice Cream cones, one in each hand.
He looks at her for that moment longer than necessary.
She averts her eyes, but he walks up to her and says, “Hi! How are you?”
She looks at him confused.
His face seems vaguely familiar.
“You are Sheena’s roommate, aren’t you?” he asks.
She remembers him. He is Sheena’s boyfriend!
“Here,” he says, coming close, proffering an Ice Cream cone.
She steps back awkwardly, perplexed and taken aback by the man’s audacity.
“Take it fast. It’ll melt,” he says.
She hesitates, confused.
“Come on. Don’t be shy. I know you love Ice Cream. Sheena told me.”
She takes the Ice Cream cone from his hands.
“I’m Raghav. I work in the HR department"
She doesn’t say anything.
“Let’s walk,” he says, “and hey, eat your ice cream fast before it melts”.
They start walking.
As they walk slowly out of richie rich 's towards golf course, they slowly lick the creamy yummy softy ice cream off their cones.
“You walked all the way?” he asks.
“Yes,” she speaks for the first time.
“All alone?”
“Yes.”
“You come here every evening?”
“Yes. I jog every morning too.”
“All alone?”
“No. On other days we come together.”
"We?"
"Sheena and me."
“And today?”
“Sheena’s gone out.”
“For the office party at the disc?”
“Maybe.”
“And you? Why didn't you go for the party? Didn't want to go all alone is it? No date?”
She’s furious. But she controls herself. Says nothing. No point getting on the wrong side of HR.
He notices and says, "Hey, don't get angry. I didn't go the party too."
She hastens her steps and says, “Okay. Bye. Time for me to go! And thanks for the Ice Cream.”
“No. No. Wait. Let’s have a Pizza over there,” he says pointing to the Pizzeria near golf course.
“No. Please. I’ve got to go.”
“Come on. Don’t count your calories too much. And don’t weigh yourself every day.”
“What?” she goes red with embarrassment!
This is too much!
So this guy has been stalking her - watching her every day.
Outwardly she fumes. But inside, she secretly feels a flush of excitement.
“Yes. Don’t get obsessed about your weight. Like Sheena.”
“Sheena?”
“She keeps nagging me about my weight!”
“But you’re not fat!” she says.
“Then what would you say I am?” he asks.
“Let’s say you’re on the healthier side?”
“Healthier side? That’s great!” he says amused. “Then you too are on the healthier side, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes. We both are on the healthier side.” She laughs.
He laughs.
They both laugh together.
Healthy laughter!
They sit in the cool breeze and relish, enjoy their pizzas.
He is easy to talk to, she has much to say, and the words come tumbling out.
And so they enjoy a ‘healthy’ date.
Relishing delicious Pizzas, and other lip smacking goodies, to their hearts’ content, capping the satiating repast with the heavenly ice creams at Baskin Robbin's nearby.
“Where were you?” Sheena asks when she returns to their room in the working women’s hostel late at night.
“I had a date.”
“You? Fatso? A date?” Sheena says disbelievingly
“Yes. A yummy date at golf course.”
“A date at golf course? Wow! Things are looking up for you yaar!”
“Yes. Things are really looking up for me. And you Sheena? How was your date?”
“The whole evening was ruined. That creep Raghav. He stood me up. He didn’t turn up at the disc and kept his mobile off.”
“You’ve met him.”
“Raghav? You’ve not introduced me to any Raghav.”
“Of course I have. He’s come here to pick me up so many times. He comes over to meet me at our office too. He works in HR.”
“Oh the guy from HR. The chap on the healthier side! That’s your darling Raghav, is it?”
“Darling? My foot!” Sheena says angrily, "Bloody ditcher, that’s what that Raghav is - how dare he stand me up - to hell with him!” Sheena mutters and goes off to sleep.
But our heroine cannot sleep.
She eagerly waits for sunrise.
For at six in the morning her newfound beau Raghav has promised to meet her on Sanky tank opposite the - for a “healthy’”jog on Sanky tank.
And they will be meeting in the evening too - at golf course- for ice cream, pizza and a yummy lovey-dovey date.
She feels happy, full of anticipation and zest.
Happiness is when you have something to look forward to.
Monday, January 04, 2010
No Regrets
Some days she was saddened by the cocoon of ignorance that no longer kept her protected. She imagined herself as she was then. Enclosed in her woman's body and seeing the world through her feminine experiences. In her peripheral vision there was another world that she was aware but did not fully comprehend. Then one day it was like she found the "open" switch. Like some science fiction movie her feminine exterior just opened up. She saw herself just leave her body and just emerge. She had a 360 degree view of the world.
It was different.
Liberating yet confusing. She saw the things she did not understand. She had no way of relating them to her single dimensional perspective. She had to make a decision. She could stand frozen in confusion ; retreat back and choose to "close" herself, or she could enter confidently this new world of perspectives. Every instinct in her body that was created through her conditioning, urged her to retreat, her intellect urged her to standstill and gauge her options, but destiny beckoned. She knew that if she didnt respond to destiny's summons, it had her way of angrily biting her. Destiny was one cruel bitch. It was not a very good idea to annoy her. It was better to welcome her. It was best to nurture her and gain her loyalty. It was important never to trust her. She squared her shoulders. She took a deep breath and prepared to follow the summons of her own destiny.
When she was a child her mother always said to her "right first". The first foot out of the door, the first foot in the door, the first reach of the hand, all the firsts must start with a right. Always use the right foot, always use the right hand. Right was good. It was good to be right. Start right and everything will be right. It was a lifelong practice. The left leg was already firmly supporting her weight. The right knee was flexed in anticipation of raising the right foot for the first step.
Then she changed her mind. She straightened up. Everything was different now. It was time for the right to take a back step. She looked at her left foot that seemed frozen to the ground unbelieving at the command issued by the brain impulse. Then slowly with the smile that reached all the way from the heel of her wrong foot right upto her eyes, she took her first step. How does one experience the new worlds if one goes only the "right" way?! It was time to break the circles of right.
It was time to be wrong.
Those lines that defined her place in the world got smudged. She crossed them with impunity and she no longer could see the lines. Those arbitrary markings in the tide of time, the social structure and mores of the day' even if she saw them i dont think she assigned them any value. A cursory look, every so often a nod in that direction, and then she went on with her day. She ignored those arbitrary man-made markings of ethical and moral rules that preened in self righteous importance and crowed with the need of absolute adherences even in the face of their own certain mortality. Occasionally that made her smile. The rewarding of meaningless awards breaking the tedium of their own pointless games of conformities beckoned but never engaged her. She kept her date with destiny. Then again- every so often she needed to define herself and her place in the world. But such lines once erased cannot be drawn again. Because the smudges from previous lines still exist and will not yield to new lines. Once clarity is erased one must learn to live with ambiguity. Once beliefs and proven wrong one must learn to make peace with the paradoxes. Her insecurity with ambiguities made her yearn for the person she was. Those days of simple definitions when black was black and white was white. Occasionally, wrapped in lonely solitude, she opened her photo album of memories and stroked the old sepia toned potraits with nostalgic fondness. They made her cry. They still made her cry. She wiped her tears. She shut her album. She got up with a sigh on her lips. She turned to leave, but something tugged her back. Solemnly she held her past in her arms and softly kissed it with care. She would stop again. She promised. When destiny let her pause for a moment in time that blessed her by standing still- she promised to return.
Then she moved on........
It was different.
Liberating yet confusing. She saw the things she did not understand. She had no way of relating them to her single dimensional perspective. She had to make a decision. She could stand frozen in confusion ; retreat back and choose to "close" herself, or she could enter confidently this new world of perspectives. Every instinct in her body that was created through her conditioning, urged her to retreat, her intellect urged her to standstill and gauge her options, but destiny beckoned. She knew that if she didnt respond to destiny's summons, it had her way of angrily biting her. Destiny was one cruel bitch. It was not a very good idea to annoy her. It was better to welcome her. It was best to nurture her and gain her loyalty. It was important never to trust her. She squared her shoulders. She took a deep breath and prepared to follow the summons of her own destiny.
When she was a child her mother always said to her "right first". The first foot out of the door, the first foot in the door, the first reach of the hand, all the firsts must start with a right. Always use the right foot, always use the right hand. Right was good. It was good to be right. Start right and everything will be right. It was a lifelong practice. The left leg was already firmly supporting her weight. The right knee was flexed in anticipation of raising the right foot for the first step.
Then she changed her mind. She straightened up. Everything was different now. It was time for the right to take a back step. She looked at her left foot that seemed frozen to the ground unbelieving at the command issued by the brain impulse. Then slowly with the smile that reached all the way from the heel of her wrong foot right upto her eyes, she took her first step. How does one experience the new worlds if one goes only the "right" way?! It was time to break the circles of right.
It was time to be wrong.
Those lines that defined her place in the world got smudged. She crossed them with impunity and she no longer could see the lines. Those arbitrary markings in the tide of time, the social structure and mores of the day' even if she saw them i dont think she assigned them any value. A cursory look, every so often a nod in that direction, and then she went on with her day. She ignored those arbitrary man-made markings of ethical and moral rules that preened in self righteous importance and crowed with the need of absolute adherences even in the face of their own certain mortality. Occasionally that made her smile. The rewarding of meaningless awards breaking the tedium of their own pointless games of conformities beckoned but never engaged her. She kept her date with destiny. Then again- every so often she needed to define herself and her place in the world. But such lines once erased cannot be drawn again. Because the smudges from previous lines still exist and will not yield to new lines. Once clarity is erased one must learn to live with ambiguity. Once beliefs and proven wrong one must learn to make peace with the paradoxes. Her insecurity with ambiguities made her yearn for the person she was. Those days of simple definitions when black was black and white was white. Occasionally, wrapped in lonely solitude, she opened her photo album of memories and stroked the old sepia toned potraits with nostalgic fondness. They made her cry. They still made her cry. She wiped her tears. She shut her album. She got up with a sigh on her lips. She turned to leave, but something tugged her back. Solemnly she held her past in her arms and softly kissed it with care. She would stop again. She promised. When destiny let her pause for a moment in time that blessed her by standing still- she promised to return.
Then she moved on........
Happy new year to me!
Posting something after a long time. Was just thinking...its so wierd... i suddenly stopped blogging.. for no reason! probably was too busy with life...and i can say really happy and satisfied with it... just felt i need not write because i had many people to talk to....too many people who i think listened to what i said... and now suddenly there is a void. some kind of hollowness. something in me is saying that i need to be alone for sometime... few months probably... retrospect.. and probably start blogging full swing. Today morning when i woke up BANG!!! came in my head... i need to blog! so here i am... planning to do something i havent tried before... will come up with it in a day or two! oh yeah happy new year to me! :) i am really hoping for a wonderful year ahead.. have great expectations and this time no resolutions! always make a weightloss resolution..never seems to work : :P but yes i think i need to be a bit more careful... have control on my temper... become more calm and composed... and yes most important... to forget the people i never liked anyway, a good fortune to run into the ones i do and most important to have an eyesight to tell the difference! i am happy to be back! :)
Monday, May 25, 2009
Saturday, August 23, 2008
I AM DEPRESSED
I refer to the Hindu and Business Line of 20th of August 2008 and two articles that made me think.
Let me take the first one mentioned above: ‘Denmark’s solution to energy crises by Thomas L Friedman. That particularly favorite journalist of mine talks about energy conservation and alternate energy development in two small countries. He starts with describing a town in Greenland as a ‘charming little place’ where energy saving has become a way of life. I immediately wonder whether he would say that about my little suburban village in Chennai. Of course we have this beautiful temple which is around six hundred years old. But would he able to ignore the empty temple tank which now emanates sulphurous fumes (of course I am joking)? Anyhow Mr. Friedman then goes on to elaborate on Denmark and the responsible Danes. At this moment I think about the other article I mentioned about, the one which appeared just above the said article in the Editorial page. ‘What about guarantee of output?’ asks B S Raghavan rhetorically. I had just finished reading about the hard truths which I generally try to forget about pointed out with dexterity by Mr. Raghavan. I remember the adjectives and nouns used there ‘appalling’, ‘callousness’, ‘corruption’ and this rather long but explicitly correct expression: ‘workers who are absent, incompetent, indifferent and outright corrupt’ by the World Bank. I also think about the comments made by the honourable judges of the Supreme Court of India that ‘even God cannot help our country’ while speaking about the inaction of the government and the officials.
Denmark, Mr. Friedman says is today energy independent. The Danes did not protest the imposition of a set of gasoline taxes in 1973 when it was hammered by the Arab oil embargo. Instead they innovated. They recycled waste heat from their coal-fired power plants for home heating and hot water; incinerated their trash in central stations to provide home heating. I think about the Pallikkaranai marsh, the virtual mountains of city waste and its dying flora and fauna. I think about all the overflowing dust bins as well as the empty dust bins with the waste thrown around by us otherwise vociferous city dwellers! I think about all the political parties and the party workers who have generally all the time to agitate on any issue but organize the clearing of the waste. I wondered why they do not come in to raise awareness amongst the people about self-help.
To come back to Mr. Friedman, he comes around to talking about wind industry and how it was nothing in 1970s and that today one third of all terrestrial wind turbines come from Denmark. India is a leading of wind power generator. Where is all the political will required to elevate this technology to bridge the energy gap now prevalent in India? I am an aam aadmi and needs to understand. I see fanatical obsession about the rights of diverse faiths, even the intellectuals pitching in. When will we direct our energy towards a total clean-up?
Now let me see, I want to see India with well laid out roads, clean railway stations, clean public civic amenities, continuous water supply, clean drinking water, uninterrupted electricity, housing for all … the list can go and on. Is this an Utopia? They say we have more than a billion population. But I think these facilities are available elsewhere where the population is more than ours. I quote an article in Hindu by Parvathy Menon on Tibet (Inside Tibet 1). She talks of attractive tree-lined avenues, a busy industry district, open spaces… I am jealous. China proudly holds the Olympic Games. The Chinese athletes shine. We start the blame-game. Actually we can make the blame-game our national sports.
Actually I will stop here. Not because I have covered all the issues facing us, because I am already depressed. Now do I have good mental health-care doctors?
Let me take the first one mentioned above: ‘Denmark’s solution to energy crises by Thomas L Friedman. That particularly favorite journalist of mine talks about energy conservation and alternate energy development in two small countries. He starts with describing a town in Greenland as a ‘charming little place’ where energy saving has become a way of life. I immediately wonder whether he would say that about my little suburban village in Chennai. Of course we have this beautiful temple which is around six hundred years old. But would he able to ignore the empty temple tank which now emanates sulphurous fumes (of course I am joking)? Anyhow Mr. Friedman then goes on to elaborate on Denmark and the responsible Danes. At this moment I think about the other article I mentioned about, the one which appeared just above the said article in the Editorial page. ‘What about guarantee of output?’ asks B S Raghavan rhetorically. I had just finished reading about the hard truths which I generally try to forget about pointed out with dexterity by Mr. Raghavan. I remember the adjectives and nouns used there ‘appalling’, ‘callousness’, ‘corruption’ and this rather long but explicitly correct expression: ‘workers who are absent, incompetent, indifferent and outright corrupt’ by the World Bank. I also think about the comments made by the honourable judges of the Supreme Court of India that ‘even God cannot help our country’ while speaking about the inaction of the government and the officials.
Denmark, Mr. Friedman says is today energy independent. The Danes did not protest the imposition of a set of gasoline taxes in 1973 when it was hammered by the Arab oil embargo. Instead they innovated. They recycled waste heat from their coal-fired power plants for home heating and hot water; incinerated their trash in central stations to provide home heating. I think about the Pallikkaranai marsh, the virtual mountains of city waste and its dying flora and fauna. I think about all the overflowing dust bins as well as the empty dust bins with the waste thrown around by us otherwise vociferous city dwellers! I think about all the political parties and the party workers who have generally all the time to agitate on any issue but organize the clearing of the waste. I wondered why they do not come in to raise awareness amongst the people about self-help.
To come back to Mr. Friedman, he comes around to talking about wind industry and how it was nothing in 1970s and that today one third of all terrestrial wind turbines come from Denmark. India is a leading of wind power generator. Where is all the political will required to elevate this technology to bridge the energy gap now prevalent in India? I am an aam aadmi and needs to understand. I see fanatical obsession about the rights of diverse faiths, even the intellectuals pitching in. When will we direct our energy towards a total clean-up?
Now let me see, I want to see India with well laid out roads, clean railway stations, clean public civic amenities, continuous water supply, clean drinking water, uninterrupted electricity, housing for all … the list can go and on. Is this an Utopia? They say we have more than a billion population. But I think these facilities are available elsewhere where the population is more than ours. I quote an article in Hindu by Parvathy Menon on Tibet (Inside Tibet 1). She talks of attractive tree-lined avenues, a busy industry district, open spaces… I am jealous. China proudly holds the Olympic Games. The Chinese athletes shine. We start the blame-game. Actually we can make the blame-game our national sports.
Actually I will stop here. Not because I have covered all the issues facing us, because I am already depressed. Now do I have good mental health-care doctors?
Thursday, August 07, 2008
First day at school
I remember my first day at Kendriya Vidyalaya Mysore so vividly, I just love telling this tale.
I joined Kendriya Vidyalaya Mysore in the sixth standard, and I was all new and shiny like a pair of freshly polished boots. I think Mamma scrubbed me really hard to get that effect.
This was my first school in a big city (yes, till I was in the fifth standard we were in KV Dharwad)and I was not looking forward to it. I remember that Mamma bought me a new pencil box that looked like a Cadbury's bar, the chocoholic I am I probably wanted to eat it then. In the box were Nataraj pencils(you know the black and red ones) all pointy, a new eraser and a pencil sharpener.I kind of missed my previous fancy pencil box which had a magnifying glass, magnets to both the doors (yes, a two-doored pencil box), in-built pencil sharpener and little slot for the eraser to go in; I can't remember the other useless attachments it had but it was pretty and pink and smelled of strawberry. Oh yeah, poor little "my-earlier-pencil-box-smelled-like-strawberry girl".I went to school in an auto-rickshaw which worked on a pool system. There were kids everywhere, some spilling out of the rickshaw, some inside who were jammed, some sitting and some standing in that two feet of space.
The great pearly gates, oh alright I'll stop exaggerating; I stood in front of the huge iron gates of KVM, very sceptical of stepping in. I spotted a statue of lord ganesh at a distance and the good hindu girl that I was immediately went there and asked for blessings on my first day of school.
I asked around and finally found my classroom which was on the first floor of the building. The teacher asked me to sit next to a girl; someone who I don't remember now.Everyone was quite excited or so it seemed then, to have a new girl in the class. The girls already had their own groups and best friends and I wondered if I was ever going to fit in. My neighbour asked me, "Are you a chinese?" Yeah, I used to get that a lot . Thanks to my small eyes and nose (and I am proud of it). No, I am from Belgaum."People thinking I was and calling me a foreigner annoyed me, always. I am proud to be an Indian."I am Indian. I was born in Belgaum." I had to convince some of the girls who had gathered around me.
During the break the girls took me out of class, to get some fresh air. And there was a swarm of blue and white (our school uniform, white shirt and blue pleated skirt) in a matter of seconds.There were girls pulling my cheeks. "She's like a doll, so chubby and so pink."Some were poking my hands. "She's so fair man. So nice no."I really didn't know what the big deal was. It was just weird. And I won't deny it, in a way it felt good to get all the attention and not sit in a corner and worry about not making friends.Suddenly I was in a moment I had probably sub-conciously craved for and now that it was here I didn't know how to handle it.So, I just smiled, extremely embarrassed, and told people that I was Indian and that my parents and whole family right from the start of the family tree, was Indian.
I had confused some who thought I was lying about being a chinese and they thought I was at least chinese-Indian, there surely had to be some chinese blood in me. :D
So my first day was a hit and I went back home, again in the bursting auto-rickshaw, waiting to tell Mama about my new school and confused new friends.
I joined Kendriya Vidyalaya Mysore in the sixth standard, and I was all new and shiny like a pair of freshly polished boots. I think Mamma scrubbed me really hard to get that effect.
This was my first school in a big city (yes, till I was in the fifth standard we were in KV Dharwad)and I was not looking forward to it. I remember that Mamma bought me a new pencil box that looked like a Cadbury's bar, the chocoholic I am I probably wanted to eat it then. In the box were Nataraj pencils(you know the black and red ones) all pointy, a new eraser and a pencil sharpener.I kind of missed my previous fancy pencil box which had a magnifying glass, magnets to both the doors (yes, a two-doored pencil box), in-built pencil sharpener and little slot for the eraser to go in; I can't remember the other useless attachments it had but it was pretty and pink and smelled of strawberry. Oh yeah, poor little "my-earlier-pencil-box-smelled-like-strawberry girl".I went to school in an auto-rickshaw which worked on a pool system. There were kids everywhere, some spilling out of the rickshaw, some inside who were jammed, some sitting and some standing in that two feet of space.
The great pearly gates, oh alright I'll stop exaggerating; I stood in front of the huge iron gates of KVM, very sceptical of stepping in. I spotted a statue of lord ganesh at a distance and the good hindu girl that I was immediately went there and asked for blessings on my first day of school.
I asked around and finally found my classroom which was on the first floor of the building. The teacher asked me to sit next to a girl; someone who I don't remember now.Everyone was quite excited or so it seemed then, to have a new girl in the class. The girls already had their own groups and best friends and I wondered if I was ever going to fit in. My neighbour asked me, "Are you a chinese?" Yeah, I used to get that a lot . Thanks to my small eyes and nose (and I am proud of it). No, I am from Belgaum."People thinking I was and calling me a foreigner annoyed me, always. I am proud to be an Indian."I am Indian. I was born in Belgaum." I had to convince some of the girls who had gathered around me.
During the break the girls took me out of class, to get some fresh air. And there was a swarm of blue and white (our school uniform, white shirt and blue pleated skirt) in a matter of seconds.There were girls pulling my cheeks. "She's like a doll, so chubby and so pink."Some were poking my hands. "She's so fair man. So nice no."I really didn't know what the big deal was. It was just weird. And I won't deny it, in a way it felt good to get all the attention and not sit in a corner and worry about not making friends.Suddenly I was in a moment I had probably sub-conciously craved for and now that it was here I didn't know how to handle it.So, I just smiled, extremely embarrassed, and told people that I was Indian and that my parents and whole family right from the start of the family tree, was Indian.
I had confused some who thought I was lying about being a chinese and they thought I was at least chinese-Indian, there surely had to be some chinese blood in me. :D
So my first day was a hit and I went back home, again in the bursting auto-rickshaw, waiting to tell Mama about my new school and confused new friends.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
A Visit To The Dentist
Once my friend called me over to some adventure sport and I said, ‘no thanks’, I am happy with my dentist! If you were to rate the scariest things on earth on a scale 1-10, I am sure the local dentist tips the scale to 9 and the 10 goes to the ‚orthodontist’- for it’s his unique capacity to send shivers, not just when he’s operating on you but thereafter, when he sends the bill!
Eating chocolates is a very happy & thrilling experience. Happy because, it releases endorphins- the happy hormones that makes one (read Dentist) happy!’ and thrilling because you will be on a scary ride thereafter, courtesy- The dentist! I was one of these chocolate consuming creatures that often made the world of dentistry happy.
A visit to the dentist is like a horror flick show. Like the horror movies, they don’t show the monster (read Dentist) at the beginning, the nurse and his receptionist helps in building up the tension and then our protagonist just lives to it! Talking about horror flicks, I just figured out the reason, for horror genres to be more popular than the other movies, when I recently visited a dentist. Like the horror shows that keeps the cash machine ringing even when it’s speaking in foreign tongues, the dentist no matter what language they speak, vernacular or otherwise, they can just manage to keep you scared stiff. After a brief ceremonial exchange of wishes, in the name of courtesy, the dentist proceeded to examine my teeth. After the initial probing and tapping, what I call the Fore play! He clicked his tongue swaying his head sideways and said, cant save tooth, tooth should come out’, well then lets wait for it him to come out, I thought. Maybe the doc didn’t want to ask my tooth nicely and resorted to his learning’s! ‘Teeth extraction’ he said in halting English. ‘Big Molar, very very bad’. ’Is it the wisdom tooth doc?’ I asked. He looked puzzled and said ‘no no he’s a bad tooth’.
‘Will it pain’, I asked and he looked at me, like I just farted in a funeral and said, ‘Nein’. He then proceeded to give me a local anesthetic shot’ and went away to attend on another patient till I get just right for the ‘Big Play’. It was a big room and was plainly decorated with just a few postures stuck around with tips on dental health and there was one big blue poster portraying an array of sparkling teeth in an anonymous mouth and it read , ‘Smile and the world smiles at you’. It must have been half hour after the shot and after a heavy feeling of numbness, when the doc stepped in. I smiled at him and the doc’s eyes weighed upon me, his intentions of a serious business. ‘So much for the poster’, I thought.
He seated himself, beside me and started the ‘foreplay’ again just to see if I could feel anything. Before I realised, the nurse stuck a small Hoover in my mouth and the doc proceeded to cut my gums around the ‚'Bad Bad Molar’. He now brought forth a small drill and asked the nurse to hold my tongue with a probe, lest I tongue his drill. He then said in a muffled voice, ‘tell me if it pains’. Must have been a joke, `cause the more I grew stiff with the slowly progressing pain, the firmer, the nurse held my tongue, `maybe, the dentists have progressed to telepathy’, I thought. The ´Bad Bad molar´ turned out to be a `Big Bad Molar’ and the shot was just too weak for him and I started to writhe in pain.
After a time, that seemed like eternity, the doc finally won the dual and held the molar proudly, with an expression of holding out a trophy! Only when I thought, everything was over; he proceeded to stitch the gum. `Now `, he said, 'ALL OVER' . You were not as cooperative as the patient before’, he said .The patient must have passed away, after his shot, I thought. `Any Pain?’ he asked. With the nurse still holding my tongue , I decided to answer him better, with a sign language. I wanted to show him ‘The Finger’. A large bloke as he was, with an assortment of Dentists’ paraphernalia, lying beside, I decided to use my prudence better and showed him my ‘thumb’.
Eating chocolates is a very happy & thrilling experience. Happy because, it releases endorphins- the happy hormones that makes one (read Dentist) happy!’ and thrilling because you will be on a scary ride thereafter, courtesy- The dentist! I was one of these chocolate consuming creatures that often made the world of dentistry happy.
A visit to the dentist is like a horror flick show. Like the horror movies, they don’t show the monster (read Dentist) at the beginning, the nurse and his receptionist helps in building up the tension and then our protagonist just lives to it! Talking about horror flicks, I just figured out the reason, for horror genres to be more popular than the other movies, when I recently visited a dentist. Like the horror shows that keeps the cash machine ringing even when it’s speaking in foreign tongues, the dentist no matter what language they speak, vernacular or otherwise, they can just manage to keep you scared stiff. After a brief ceremonial exchange of wishes, in the name of courtesy, the dentist proceeded to examine my teeth. After the initial probing and tapping, what I call the Fore play! He clicked his tongue swaying his head sideways and said, cant save tooth, tooth should come out’, well then lets wait for it him to come out, I thought. Maybe the doc didn’t want to ask my tooth nicely and resorted to his learning’s! ‘Teeth extraction’ he said in halting English. ‘Big Molar, very very bad’. ’Is it the wisdom tooth doc?’ I asked. He looked puzzled and said ‘no no he’s a bad tooth’.
‘Will it pain’, I asked and he looked at me, like I just farted in a funeral and said, ‘Nein’. He then proceeded to give me a local anesthetic shot’ and went away to attend on another patient till I get just right for the ‘Big Play’. It was a big room and was plainly decorated with just a few postures stuck around with tips on dental health and there was one big blue poster portraying an array of sparkling teeth in an anonymous mouth and it read , ‘Smile and the world smiles at you’. It must have been half hour after the shot and after a heavy feeling of numbness, when the doc stepped in. I smiled at him and the doc’s eyes weighed upon me, his intentions of a serious business. ‘So much for the poster’, I thought.
He seated himself, beside me and started the ‘foreplay’ again just to see if I could feel anything. Before I realised, the nurse stuck a small Hoover in my mouth and the doc proceeded to cut my gums around the ‚'Bad Bad Molar’. He now brought forth a small drill and asked the nurse to hold my tongue with a probe, lest I tongue his drill. He then said in a muffled voice, ‘tell me if it pains’. Must have been a joke, `cause the more I grew stiff with the slowly progressing pain, the firmer, the nurse held my tongue, `maybe, the dentists have progressed to telepathy’, I thought. The ´Bad Bad molar´ turned out to be a `Big Bad Molar’ and the shot was just too weak for him and I started to writhe in pain.
After a time, that seemed like eternity, the doc finally won the dual and held the molar proudly, with an expression of holding out a trophy! Only when I thought, everything was over; he proceeded to stitch the gum. `Now `, he said, 'ALL OVER' . You were not as cooperative as the patient before’, he said .The patient must have passed away, after his shot, I thought. `Any Pain?’ he asked. With the nurse still holding my tongue , I decided to answer him better, with a sign language. I wanted to show him ‘The Finger’. A large bloke as he was, with an assortment of Dentists’ paraphernalia, lying beside, I decided to use my prudence better and showed him my ‘thumb’.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Writers Block: SPF 365
When I woke up this morning I seemed to have a lot of "writing" ideas. You know what they say about free flowing creative thoughts when in a state of semi-consciousness, well I don't know exactly but it is true.Now, it seems like I am having the writer’s block again, no it's not sold in an environment friendly recyclable container; but seems like I have adequate supply, any takers?
I wonder if writers can insure themselves against this henious, comes-and-goes-as-it-likes disease.
What if my next meal depended upon it."Hey girl, you've lost an awful lot of weight." "Yeah, I'm having the writer's block."
Oh well, you can't say it does not have any advantages after all.I wonder how these newspaper columnists churn out piece after piece every week. Well, they're not all good all the time, but even then, it is a commitment and they have to keep up to it, else they will all be joining the skinny brigade.What about authors who have editors and publishers breathing down their necks to meet deadlines? Is the "block" a valid excuse for missing a deadline? "I would've made a best selling author but I just got hit by the block."Have you ever had those brief triumphant moments when you've written this extremely brilliant line and that's that. For hours after, you keep staring at it and no more brilliance is oozing from nowhere. And the harder you stare the brilliance of the brilliant line also keeps diminishing till frustration prompts you to do the inevitable, ctrl+a and shift+del.
Oh the number of times I have been on that trip.And then my friends ask me, "Hey, you haven't written in a long time." "What happened to your blog, is it still there." Of course, it is still there. You think the blog people would dare delete my blog, which is waiting to overflow with brilliant writing.Err, maybe it has been a while, you know writer’s block and all, but that's just a passing phase. I think writer’s block can hit you at any time. After one line, one paragraph, one page and in my case sometimes even after one word."Preposterous", I thought I was getting somewhere with that word and thought I had a great piece outlined when it hit me. So after the staring and crinkling of the nose and sheer disbelief that I couldn't write further I just hit backspace; ctrl+a and shift+del would've taken longer.
There it is again, I know it, I can feel it. And people ask me why I end my writing abruptly.
I wonder if writers can insure themselves against this henious, comes-and-goes-as-it-likes disease.
What if my next meal depended upon it."Hey girl, you've lost an awful lot of weight." "Yeah, I'm having the writer's block."
Oh well, you can't say it does not have any advantages after all.I wonder how these newspaper columnists churn out piece after piece every week. Well, they're not all good all the time, but even then, it is a commitment and they have to keep up to it, else they will all be joining the skinny brigade.What about authors who have editors and publishers breathing down their necks to meet deadlines? Is the "block" a valid excuse for missing a deadline? "I would've made a best selling author but I just got hit by the block."Have you ever had those brief triumphant moments when you've written this extremely brilliant line and that's that. For hours after, you keep staring at it and no more brilliance is oozing from nowhere. And the harder you stare the brilliance of the brilliant line also keeps diminishing till frustration prompts you to do the inevitable, ctrl+a and shift+del.
Oh the number of times I have been on that trip.And then my friends ask me, "Hey, you haven't written in a long time." "What happened to your blog, is it still there." Of course, it is still there. You think the blog people would dare delete my blog, which is waiting to overflow with brilliant writing.Err, maybe it has been a while, you know writer’s block and all, but that's just a passing phase. I think writer’s block can hit you at any time. After one line, one paragraph, one page and in my case sometimes even after one word."Preposterous", I thought I was getting somewhere with that word and thought I had a great piece outlined when it hit me. So after the staring and crinkling of the nose and sheer disbelief that I couldn't write further I just hit backspace; ctrl+a and shift+del would've taken longer.
There it is again, I know it, I can feel it. And people ask me why I end my writing abruptly.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Unaccustomed Earth
Well this is the first time i am writing a book review...read this book couple of days back and all i can say is....AMAZING!!!!
“Fiction reveals truths that reality obscures,” with her immigrant characters and their Americanised sons and daughters, Jhumpa Lahiri tries to reveal the truth of immigrant life in her latest offering “Unaccustomed Earth”.
After her debut short story collection “Interpreter of Maladies” and novel turned motion picture “The Namesake”, expectations were surely high and she had lived up to them. All the stories in Unaccustomed Earth are based on the Bengali immigrant experiences in America while chasing their dreams and lives.
In the title story, a widower’s new found independence surprises her daughter Ruma and proves her all vexations about inviting him to move in her house wrong, he declines her proposal in the pursuit of enjoy his rest of life with his new companion “a girlfriend”.
As the synopsis reads “Everyone has their secrets”, Lahiri is her wittingly simple presentation goes on to carefully reveal all the secrets that engulf the readers in a compelling emotional landscape.
Book is divided in two sections; first section has four stories “Unaccustomed Earth”, “Hell-Heaven”, “Only Goodness” and "A Choice of Accommodations", while the other section titled “Hema & Kaushik” takes the readers to a journey as 16-year-old Kaushik and his family, having returned from India, move in with 14-year-old Hema and her parents. His parents are searching for a house, and the month long sojourn marks both teenagers in profound ways. Kaushik's revelation of the true reason for their return shocks Hema out of her childhood innocence. Her crush on Kaushik could not find a suitable way out until after 25 years, when they meet again after bearing so much of turmoil in their lives. But destiny had something else written for them.
Travelling through their lives, Lahiri emerges a true storyteller, in the course of three stories; she subtly acquaints us through the load of expectations that Bengali immigrant parents push on their children, who some times fail and some times rise to the expectations.
After her debut short story collection “Interpreter of Maladies” and novel turned motion picture “The Namesake”, expectations were surely high and she had lived up to them. All the stories in Unaccustomed Earth are based on the Bengali immigrant experiences in America while chasing their dreams and lives.
In the title story, a widower’s new found independence surprises her daughter Ruma and proves her all vexations about inviting him to move in her house wrong, he declines her proposal in the pursuit of enjoy his rest of life with his new companion “a girlfriend”.
As the synopsis reads “Everyone has their secrets”, Lahiri is her wittingly simple presentation goes on to carefully reveal all the secrets that engulf the readers in a compelling emotional landscape.
Book is divided in two sections; first section has four stories “Unaccustomed Earth”, “Hell-Heaven”, “Only Goodness” and "A Choice of Accommodations", while the other section titled “Hema & Kaushik” takes the readers to a journey as 16-year-old Kaushik and his family, having returned from India, move in with 14-year-old Hema and her parents. His parents are searching for a house, and the month long sojourn marks both teenagers in profound ways. Kaushik's revelation of the true reason for their return shocks Hema out of her childhood innocence. Her crush on Kaushik could not find a suitable way out until after 25 years, when they meet again after bearing so much of turmoil in their lives. But destiny had something else written for them.
Travelling through their lives, Lahiri emerges a true storyteller, in the course of three stories; she subtly acquaints us through the load of expectations that Bengali immigrant parents push on their children, who some times fail and some times rise to the expectations.
I highly recommend this book for everyone...and yes post a comment after u read this book.....
cheers
pheonix
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Celebrity Musings
Next thing we might read about Bachan family's trips to the water closet or toilet. The bahu rani goes around flaunting her body in France and the moment they return to India she acts like this sati-savitri head to toe covered bahu. What people wouldn't do for publicity and limelight after aging????????????????? Aishwarya bounced from one boyfriend to another and finally tied the knot to someone who's got a famous last name. That's one way to ensure fame and popularity after she stops working. (She is not a good actress) Amir Khan wants to be in the news because he's been out of the acting circuit for a while. I am sick and tired of watching remakes of Hollywood movies, Hindi remakes of South Indian films. Priyadarshan thinks casting Akshay Kumar or Paresh Rawal in a comic role in a South Indian remake would make a hit film. Just because some things sound funny in Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam or Kannada doesn't mean it would have the same effect in Hindi. Filmmakers argue they chose exotic locations to entice the slum dwellers in India. How many Hindi movies were filmed in Switzerland or Canada in the sixties or seventies? Those movies with their melodious, ear-pleasing songs were entertaining to Indians. So why this shift to women in scanty clothing, flaunting their bodies, singing ridiculous songs running around in navel-displaying sarees in snowy locales while the males are bundled up head to toe in the Hindi movies? How many folks in India walk around in their houses dressed in expensive clothes, lots of jewelry and lots of make-up and drive a new car every day of the week? How many people live in palatial homes in India? There are people in India who were poor in 1947 and are still living in poverty without access to electricity, clean water, medical care. The affluent people have a servant to clean their unmentionables in India but there are people who still live not knowing where their next meal is coming from or where they will sleep for the night. There is palm greasing going on at each and every level of government and non-government agencies. Every so often an actor or actress will try to publicise the plight of so called disadvantaged people but after that day no one pays any attention to the disadvantaged folks. Everyone from stewards in Jet Airways to desk crew at airports, office employees to people riding overcrowded buses and trains have nothing to offer but RUDENESS. Those who can afford to send their kids to expensive schools in hopes of making them doctors and engineers even though they might be employing child laborers in their houses to do jobs they are too lazy to do. Try looking at India beyond the sarees and vehicles and opulent houses. Try getting an LPG connection, phone lines repaired, electricity restored to your house, getting a street lamp installed near the house, navigating through knee deep rain water through the muddy roads near big houses. There are people still burning wood and charcoal to cook and clean and pollute the environment. There are still people who think boys are better than girls. There might be boys and girls dating but caste, skin color, status, money rule Indian society today as much as it did several years ago. Indians go abroad, live in shanties and save and send money to family in India. We are a nation full of intelligent doctors and engineers and yet our very own democractic nation does nothing for its down-trodden population. Everyone sets out to make money and politics and acting become their means of livelihood. How many actors and politicians do you think actually help Indians? They might make donations here and there to get tax breaks or for publicity when their movies are about to be released. How many Aishwaryas, Jayas, Amitabhs, Shabanas, Prietys, Ambanis, Mittals, Julias, Pitts or Katrinas do you see going around wiping snot off kids living in slums, getting them a proper place to live, providing education for however long the kids want to. Should we teach our kids to be bullies just so they can get ahead in life under the pretense of competition? Should we teach our kids to be generous when it befits them? Should we teach our kids to put themselves first before thinking about others. All of us are selfish one way or another. We all have lunches and dinners to network, use ourselves. Should we teach our kids to be narrow minded geeks who get used by their own parents? We are always trying to please someone. Who is that..................................
Thursday, May 29, 2008
SPARE A THOUGHT!!!!!
In the new India , everything is shiny , new , sleek and costly especially our cars , till they stop at the Red light and you find so many eager faces begging for money !! There will be a couple of boys , all around 8-10 years old , one pregnant woman with a child , one small girl with hands that remain wet somehow in the heat of the afternoon and in a distance , if you are sharp , you can see a man lounging or watching with keen eyes the goings-on !! Familier discription ? It is the same sight all over India in its metros , almost as if there were a common script to it all !! probably it is . India , with its teeming millions is a place ripe for business , of all sorts and begging is BIG , if big it can be !! But finally , just spare a thought for the poor boy or girl forced to become a part of this mafia for no fault of his.
We pay taxes , social cess , road cess , kargil cess and so many taxes that the government is overflowing with funds , so much so that it is able to take , many a time impractical decisions at our cost !! Why cant Poor houses be made in our cities , why cant the poor , forced to beg , be made to work in our infrastructure projects that are so woefully short of manpower of all sorts !! lets spare a thought and let us ask our representatives what will they do about this ?? Lets spare a thought a give a brighter future to such kids !!
We pay taxes , social cess , road cess , kargil cess and so many taxes that the government is overflowing with funds , so much so that it is able to take , many a time impractical decisions at our cost !! Why cant Poor houses be made in our cities , why cant the poor , forced to beg , be made to work in our infrastructure projects that are so woefully short of manpower of all sorts !! lets spare a thought and let us ask our representatives what will they do about this ?? Lets spare a thought a give a brighter future to such kids !!
Monday, May 26, 2008
HERE COMES THE QUEEN……
“I am just kidding.”
“Dude, if you kid too much, you might just end up with a dozen!”
“That’s the worst PJ I have heard”
So, yeah! I am the PJ queen (my friends say so...) Not much of a title and I don’t get to strut around in a bikini and blow kisses to a raving crowd with a shiny tiara on my head. But it’s alright. To keep my title I just have to crack the most pathetic jokes people have ever heard.No, you don’t have to make them up all the time. You may pick some of what you’ve heard somewhere and just tell it like a story.
Let me warn you, the story ones might actually prompt somebody, maybe be your closest friend, to just pick up a knife and butcher you. Oh no, they wont be happy with just stabbing or slicing. How do I know? I get that look a lot. That’s when I know I have to run.
There are some PJs which you can repeat;
all the time.
“hey! I am hungry.”
“Hi hungry, pleased to meet you.”
That’s not original. But you keep doing that over and over again and I can tell you my friends are this close (0.0069mm gap between thumb and index finger) to killing me.
“I am so hungry I could eat a horse right now!”
“That’s a weird name you’ve got. Pleased to meet you anyway.”
“I am so going to kill you”
“Never heard of a Chinese with such a long name. Pleased to…” Slapping and thumping in the background.
Annoying knock, knock jokes. Oh the joy of telling them.
“Knock, Knock”
“Who’s there?”
“Mos”
“Mos who?”
“Mosquito”
There’s that look again. Just a blank stare. The you-did-it-again look.
“Knock, Knock”
“Who’s there?”
“Anna”
“Anna who?”
“Anna-ther mosquito.”
Now, I get the raised eyebrow look. That’s like a warning. If you get one more word out of your mouth, I am going to cut you up into teeny-weeny pieces and flush you down your toilet.Not difficult to stop then, is it.
I started narrating a really spooky story once, during a pyjama party. Of course, I had an audience who were engrossed; some even had their fingers in their ears. Thing is, this was just another ruse to get people to listen to me. And when this ‘spooky’ story ended up as a detergent commercial, I was mauled. 15 people huddled in thick blankets and expecting the ghost to eat up the victim; I didn’t stand a chance.Sometimes I like to just cut short my friends, when they speak.
“I am so tired of this bad coffee…”
“Well, that’s a funny surname you have but pleased to meet you”
The you-did-it-again look.
“Man, I went out in the hot sun yesterday afternoon and…”
“Never heard of a cold sun, have you?”The that-was-a-bad-one look
“Oh shoot…”
“You? Gladly!”
Ok, now this is when the staring starts. The will-you-stop-it look.
“I am so going to kill you.”
I get this a lot.
“Hi ‘So’, pleased…”And then you just run.
I sometimes wonder why my boyfriend hasn’t left me yet. I guess his tolerance level is high. What’s supposed to be a mushy romantic conversation ends like this.
BF: I love you too.
Me: Me too. Great band.
But then sometimes he is just as bad. :P
Me: You know what?
BF: Yeah! He invented the steam engine.
A combination of the zombie look and the will-you-let-me-finish look isn’t a pretty sight. Yeah, I have thought of auditioning for ‘Evil Dead 4 – Return of the Mangled Prom Queen’.
And before you start pulling out the hairs from your nostrils, assuming that you have already pulled out all the hair from your head, this is me signing off.
“Dude, if you kid too much, you might just end up with a dozen!”
“That’s the worst PJ I have heard”
So, yeah! I am the PJ queen (my friends say so...) Not much of a title and I don’t get to strut around in a bikini and blow kisses to a raving crowd with a shiny tiara on my head. But it’s alright. To keep my title I just have to crack the most pathetic jokes people have ever heard.No, you don’t have to make them up all the time. You may pick some of what you’ve heard somewhere and just tell it like a story.
Let me warn you, the story ones might actually prompt somebody, maybe be your closest friend, to just pick up a knife and butcher you. Oh no, they wont be happy with just stabbing or slicing. How do I know? I get that look a lot. That’s when I know I have to run.
There are some PJs which you can repeat;
all the time.
“hey! I am hungry.”
“Hi hungry, pleased to meet you.”
That’s not original. But you keep doing that over and over again and I can tell you my friends are this close (0.0069mm gap between thumb and index finger) to killing me.
“I am so hungry I could eat a horse right now!”
“That’s a weird name you’ve got. Pleased to meet you anyway.”
“I am so going to kill you”
“Never heard of a Chinese with such a long name. Pleased to…” Slapping and thumping in the background.
Annoying knock, knock jokes. Oh the joy of telling them.
“Knock, Knock”
“Who’s there?”
“Mos”
“Mos who?”
“Mosquito”
There’s that look again. Just a blank stare. The you-did-it-again look.
“Knock, Knock”
“Who’s there?”
“Anna”
“Anna who?”
“Anna-ther mosquito.”
Now, I get the raised eyebrow look. That’s like a warning. If you get one more word out of your mouth, I am going to cut you up into teeny-weeny pieces and flush you down your toilet.Not difficult to stop then, is it.
I started narrating a really spooky story once, during a pyjama party. Of course, I had an audience who were engrossed; some even had their fingers in their ears. Thing is, this was just another ruse to get people to listen to me. And when this ‘spooky’ story ended up as a detergent commercial, I was mauled. 15 people huddled in thick blankets and expecting the ghost to eat up the victim; I didn’t stand a chance.Sometimes I like to just cut short my friends, when they speak.
“I am so tired of this bad coffee…”
“Well, that’s a funny surname you have but pleased to meet you”
The you-did-it-again look.
“Man, I went out in the hot sun yesterday afternoon and…”
“Never heard of a cold sun, have you?”The that-was-a-bad-one look
“Oh shoot…”
“You? Gladly!”
Ok, now this is when the staring starts. The will-you-stop-it look.
“I am so going to kill you.”
I get this a lot.
“Hi ‘So’, pleased…”And then you just run.
I sometimes wonder why my boyfriend hasn’t left me yet. I guess his tolerance level is high. What’s supposed to be a mushy romantic conversation ends like this.
BF: I love you too.
Me: Me too. Great band.
But then sometimes he is just as bad. :P
Me: You know what?
BF: Yeah! He invented the steam engine.
A combination of the zombie look and the will-you-let-me-finish look isn’t a pretty sight. Yeah, I have thought of auditioning for ‘Evil Dead 4 – Return of the Mangled Prom Queen’.
And before you start pulling out the hairs from your nostrils, assuming that you have already pulled out all the hair from your head, this is me signing off.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
A Dream Date!!!
Last night I went out on a dream
Nah not a date in my dreams…well almost his dreams actually…. That goes so well with what I have been thinking about these days. I was on the net and answering my mails like a good girl, awake at midnight. When a friend came on line. I was so in need of friends at that time, a little sad, and I hate sad, so I hailed him and said hello!
We talked for awhile about stuff like whatz up? Whatz down? And what’s in the middle? That kinda covered it all. Then we talked about dreams…scary ones, funny ones…he asked me if my dreams came true…and I said some felt a lot like de javu.
I told him about a dream I had of being submerged in water…and that was just before Mumbai drowned after rains. He was suitably impressed. He asked if all my dreams came true. I was like…lots do but some don’t. I have this recurring dream about Richard gere and me. That has never come true. I had such hopes while he was in India…but well that dream happened to Shilpa. Then there’s this one about John abs…not just his abs which are cool! The whole of him that is hot! But that one hasn’t come true either…Bips always interferes even in the dreams. My friend, did I tell you how good a friend he is…he said I’ll dream of bips and u dream of john , so bips won’t bother you and john won’t bother me.
Then we went on to his dreams…which were full of fights, jumping buildings…car chases and yea skimpily clad gals…sheesh men are so obvious even in their dreams!!!!!!
Then I mentioned a red Ferrari.
Just last night I had a dream about a red Ferrari...NO I AM NOT ODD! DON’T TRY TO STEER ME TOWARDS YOUR COUNCH! REFFY! RED FERRARI"S ARE....special!In My dream the red Ferrari convertible was glossy, wonderful to touch...the feel, the sight, I loved it. With a passion. The drive was wonderful, smooth...fluid, pickup smooth...fast...I flew. I am so hot behind the wheels, the person sitting beside gets cold, and colder, and out cold as I drive, or is fly the correct word! Lol.
It was a sensual experience...
Friend that he was, he bought a red Ferrari in his dream and guess what! allowed me to drive! Of course I had to wear skimpy clothes…of my choice…so tee shirt and shorts it was, he might have disappointed but well he knows I know karate so didn’t say much…Actually so does he. So off we went on a drive, to a beach…on a straight road which only curved when I steered the wheel. I was bare feet. No other way to drive, you need to feel the pulse of the car. We were discussing the music…I had already checked the engine…
Sigh! You think I would let a chance like that go?
Sitting inside I handed him a cup of hot coffee. Not considerate, just sensible…friends or not HE is a man and it was his dream. Precautions. Music was discussed, from doors, metal, dark stuff I did not understand, Simon n garfunkel, Sufi, Kailash, abida, but we settled on, yeah you guessed right…was not going to settle on anything else his dream or not…just let him feel as if it was a fair choice…Santana’s Black magic Woman. What better song to hear while driving a red Ferrari convertible with a good buddy sitting beside.
Off we went…packed food, fresh baked soft bread, cheeses, fruits, chocolates and he had put a stick of opium too…Wow…what a drive it was…we flew. High. We reached the beach by night; Bangalore to goa takes that long, even in dreams…
Long lonely empty stretch of a beach, beautiful sea, with moonbeams dancing on it, the songs of the seas, star lit night sky, darkest blue. We were lying on the beach looking up at the sky. Contemplating the stars, universe, life, just enjoying each others silences.
He pointed out the Orion, the only constellation he knew, I pointed out the great bear, the small string of stars forming a necklace…n a couple of more. Then I asked him if he could dance…Well of course it was his dream so yes he could and like God too! I laughed, I dance the salsa, took lessons for a year…careless whispers…That’s the song we danced to. Pay attention. It was a beautiful dance. Twirls, whirls, twists, flings, dramatic and wonderful. We were laughing from the sheer joy of it. It ended, and then came a tiny moment, when I was sure he might kiss me, it was his dream after all, so I asked him if he had wave surfed before, He said some thing deep about the currents and pulls in different directions and soul and mind…I was too mellow from the chocolate for that kind of depth, I pushed him hard, he fell and I took off…towards the sea…he followed. We had such fun, wave surfing, dunking each other in the sea; All the horse play had made me hungry again, Hungry for FOOD. So we had strawberries dipped in chocolate and chocolate ice-cream.
If you think I didn’t realize there were two aphrodisiac’s in the food list, you don’t know me. I knew, but one does not need to state the obvious. After food there was again a moment…but it passed because he almost passed out. (He is so going to not agree to this and protest! But even if it is his dream, this is my story) so I drove him home. Tucked him in bed, and bunked on his sofa, I don’t leave friends high and dry, not even in their dreams.
We might have ended up in the same bed…his dreams after all, but you see we didn’t,
Innocence is rare. And beautiful. And friends are rarer.
That was then my dream date. A mind date. This is any day better than a blind date.
And guess what? I got to keep the Ferrari!
Nah not a date in my dreams…well almost his dreams actually…. That goes so well with what I have been thinking about these days. I was on the net and answering my mails like a good girl, awake at midnight. When a friend came on line. I was so in need of friends at that time, a little sad, and I hate sad, so I hailed him and said hello!
We talked for awhile about stuff like whatz up? Whatz down? And what’s in the middle? That kinda covered it all. Then we talked about dreams…scary ones, funny ones…he asked me if my dreams came true…and I said some felt a lot like de javu.
I told him about a dream I had of being submerged in water…and that was just before Mumbai drowned after rains. He was suitably impressed. He asked if all my dreams came true. I was like…lots do but some don’t. I have this recurring dream about Richard gere and me. That has never come true. I had such hopes while he was in India…but well that dream happened to Shilpa. Then there’s this one about John abs…not just his abs which are cool! The whole of him that is hot! But that one hasn’t come true either…Bips always interferes even in the dreams. My friend, did I tell you how good a friend he is…he said I’ll dream of bips and u dream of john , so bips won’t bother you and john won’t bother me.
Then we went on to his dreams…which were full of fights, jumping buildings…car chases and yea skimpily clad gals…sheesh men are so obvious even in their dreams!!!!!!
Then I mentioned a red Ferrari.
Just last night I had a dream about a red Ferrari...NO I AM NOT ODD! DON’T TRY TO STEER ME TOWARDS YOUR COUNCH! REFFY! RED FERRARI"S ARE....special!In My dream the red Ferrari convertible was glossy, wonderful to touch...the feel, the sight, I loved it. With a passion. The drive was wonderful, smooth...fluid, pickup smooth...fast...I flew. I am so hot behind the wheels, the person sitting beside gets cold, and colder, and out cold as I drive, or is fly the correct word! Lol.
It was a sensual experience...
Friend that he was, he bought a red Ferrari in his dream and guess what! allowed me to drive! Of course I had to wear skimpy clothes…of my choice…so tee shirt and shorts it was, he might have disappointed but well he knows I know karate so didn’t say much…Actually so does he. So off we went on a drive, to a beach…on a straight road which only curved when I steered the wheel. I was bare feet. No other way to drive, you need to feel the pulse of the car. We were discussing the music…I had already checked the engine…
Sigh! You think I would let a chance like that go?
Sitting inside I handed him a cup of hot coffee. Not considerate, just sensible…friends or not HE is a man and it was his dream. Precautions. Music was discussed, from doors, metal, dark stuff I did not understand, Simon n garfunkel, Sufi, Kailash, abida, but we settled on, yeah you guessed right…was not going to settle on anything else his dream or not…just let him feel as if it was a fair choice…Santana’s Black magic Woman. What better song to hear while driving a red Ferrari convertible with a good buddy sitting beside.
Off we went…packed food, fresh baked soft bread, cheeses, fruits, chocolates and he had put a stick of opium too…Wow…what a drive it was…we flew. High. We reached the beach by night; Bangalore to goa takes that long, even in dreams…
Long lonely empty stretch of a beach, beautiful sea, with moonbeams dancing on it, the songs of the seas, star lit night sky, darkest blue. We were lying on the beach looking up at the sky. Contemplating the stars, universe, life, just enjoying each others silences.
He pointed out the Orion, the only constellation he knew, I pointed out the great bear, the small string of stars forming a necklace…n a couple of more. Then I asked him if he could dance…Well of course it was his dream so yes he could and like God too! I laughed, I dance the salsa, took lessons for a year…careless whispers…That’s the song we danced to. Pay attention. It was a beautiful dance. Twirls, whirls, twists, flings, dramatic and wonderful. We were laughing from the sheer joy of it. It ended, and then came a tiny moment, when I was sure he might kiss me, it was his dream after all, so I asked him if he had wave surfed before, He said some thing deep about the currents and pulls in different directions and soul and mind…I was too mellow from the chocolate for that kind of depth, I pushed him hard, he fell and I took off…towards the sea…he followed. We had such fun, wave surfing, dunking each other in the sea; All the horse play had made me hungry again, Hungry for FOOD. So we had strawberries dipped in chocolate and chocolate ice-cream.
If you think I didn’t realize there were two aphrodisiac’s in the food list, you don’t know me. I knew, but one does not need to state the obvious. After food there was again a moment…but it passed because he almost passed out. (He is so going to not agree to this and protest! But even if it is his dream, this is my story) so I drove him home. Tucked him in bed, and bunked on his sofa, I don’t leave friends high and dry, not even in their dreams.
We might have ended up in the same bed…his dreams after all, but you see we didn’t,
Innocence is rare. And beautiful. And friends are rarer.
That was then my dream date. A mind date. This is any day better than a blind date.
And guess what? I got to keep the Ferrari!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
GOODBYE, BLUE SKY :-)
Grey clouds were closing in, the breeze gathering dust bring in the smell of the trees, flowers...the ground, and the first rain.
I feel humid.
In anticipation I walk to the window.
It started drizzling. Pleasant – a cloudy day, I went out to feel the drops on me. Fresh water, drops landed on my nose, forehead, eyes, mouth, hands...and the breeze that came by. That was him saying Hey to me.
I smile;
I open the door and step out and I blush and I open my arms wide to take it all in.
Whispers of hugs in the air... I smell it. Love’s in the air. Spring is in.
It showered. Drenching me, my hair to toe... I stood there, taking it all in. More than a hug, reached in places...ears, neck, hands and and runs through my spine... touching me feet. I feel the rain in every where in me.
I smile with glee. Like a little child, now greedy for more. I wrap my arms around me, smiling. Feeling the rain... from head to toe drenched in love. Embraced in love, now I smell like fresh rain and the breeze brings in the scent of white jasmine flowers. Showers bring love.
It was pouring, I stood there, it is not every day I get soaked, I might catch a cold, even a fever...I remember warmth, heat as I stand in the rain. My body heat rises in the thrill. I tried to keep my eye open, to see how it pours, but close my eyes and just feel it.
The rains brings the heat on.I twirl around welcoming the rains – the ground beneath my naked feet sticky, arms around me snuggling, smile in my face - welcome spring.
I love when grey clouds close in. I smell spring in the air.
p.s: For people who know me...its a little wierd that i am writing "stuff" like this....but cant help... :P
I feel humid.
In anticipation I walk to the window.
It started drizzling. Pleasant – a cloudy day, I went out to feel the drops on me. Fresh water, drops landed on my nose, forehead, eyes, mouth, hands...and the breeze that came by. That was him saying Hey to me.
I smile;
I open the door and step out and I blush and I open my arms wide to take it all in.
Whispers of hugs in the air... I smell it. Love’s in the air. Spring is in.
It showered. Drenching me, my hair to toe... I stood there, taking it all in. More than a hug, reached in places...ears, neck, hands and and runs through my spine... touching me feet. I feel the rain in every where in me.
I smile with glee. Like a little child, now greedy for more. I wrap my arms around me, smiling. Feeling the rain... from head to toe drenched in love. Embraced in love, now I smell like fresh rain and the breeze brings in the scent of white jasmine flowers. Showers bring love.
It was pouring, I stood there, it is not every day I get soaked, I might catch a cold, even a fever...I remember warmth, heat as I stand in the rain. My body heat rises in the thrill. I tried to keep my eye open, to see how it pours, but close my eyes and just feel it.
The rains brings the heat on.I twirl around welcoming the rains – the ground beneath my naked feet sticky, arms around me snuggling, smile in my face - welcome spring.
I love when grey clouds close in. I smell spring in the air.
p.s: For people who know me...its a little wierd that i am writing "stuff" like this....but cant help... :P
Saturday, March 08, 2008
METAMORPHOSIS
I feared to stand on my legs until mom held me and taught me to walk
I feared to go to school until I got a friend
I feared friendship until I knew it was true
I feared sharing until I knew I don’t lose anything but rather gain
I feared darkness until I learnt it was just the absence of light
I feared being alone until I started to love myself
I feared to look at myself until I discovered I was gorgeous
I feared disappointment until I learnt not to expect
I feared confusion until I discovered there is always clarity after it
I feared challenges until I found that it leads to my growth
I feared competition until I understood that I am the best
I feared victory until I knew the way to capture it again
I feared failure until I learnt to believe in myself
I feared the past until I learnt to derive lessons from them
I feared future until I discovered that every new day is the threshold of beautiful surprises
I feared back talks until I understood that anyways I can’t stop it
I feared truth until I realized the malice in lies
I feared refusal until I understood it pushes me to prove
I feared happiness until I knew it started from within
I feared hurt until I knew life is not a bed of roses
I feared life until I learnt that it is beautiful
I feared death until I realized it is not the end but beginning
I feared destiny until I found out I have tremendous power to change my life
I feared hatred until I discovered it was due to ignorance
I feared love until I got ‘Him’
I feared ridicule until I learnt to giggle at myself
I feared getting old until I discovered I’m becoming sensible each day
I feared change, until I learnt that it is metamorphosis that changes an ugly cocoon into a beautiful butterfly
Sunday, January 27, 2008
JUST MY RAMBLINGS!!!!!
Ah’m back! I can’t help sounding like Arnold Schwarzenegger. The absence from the blog space was not particularly because of any x, y or z reason. Nothing has kept me overtly occupied.
I remain partially employed, footloose, contemplating what to do, how to become a cleave cat with a fat bank balance, still looking for direction, chasing dreams. With another birthday hovering on my head these words (looking for direction) sound feeble and trite, as if they have been plucked out of from the thought process of a moronic child. Sometime things seem to be closing in on me.
Why should I come to terms with the whole world and meet the standards?
Quite a few like me would understand what I’m trying to say and others can call me a clueless goof.
Normally when it comes to writing, I have an odd sense of compulsion to write about certain scruffy villains, the recent one being religious fundamentalism, mob molestation, social snobbery, Modi and the Moditva. I don’t want to talk about them. Why should I bullshit the bullshitter? Enough egg has been scrambled on the face of the squalor of Indian Politics. Mob molesters once again proved how unsafe and underpowered women are. The religious fundamentalist were woefully wrong in their prognostication. Democracy did not die with Benazir in Pakistan.
On my scattered desk I can see the picture of an activist of Samajwadi Party, who set himself ablaze during his party's protest in Delhi against Uttar Pradesh chief minister. I do not want to go into the rights and wrongs of the particular case but I feel sorry for the family of this gentleman whose existence has been reduced to few lines on a national daily newspaper and had 60 seconds slot on the national channel. What good has he done to his party or the sobbing family he left behind? Arrant Nonsense. I do not want to discuss this either.
From the window of my study, the sunshine paves it way. The orange rays flirt with my face. I wonder how all my fears dissolve in the sunlight. A brighter day is all that i pray for. I can hear tweaking of a child’s balloon and flap of pigeon’s wing. Everything looks fine. There is peace inside me. God has been fairly kind. In life some things that happen are at times beyond us, we don’t have an answer. There are many scores of faces I have added to my existence in all these years. There are people, I wish to meet again and thankfully there is no one I feel I should have never met.
I presume this is life. Why we tend to ignore small pleasures and hunt for the jackpot. Does one need to put life on hold and search for happiness outside the confines of daily existence? Why people like me run amok in the pursuit of elusive happiness. Life is meant to be lived in phases. Kabhi khushi kabhi gham. The forthcoming khushi is my cousin’s wedding. The imminent gham is her leaving home.
What’s bothering me is that there would be no one to disturb me from deep slumber, with whom I would bicker about creating mess in the room and I wouldn’t be sending the standard text message “ when will you reach home” in the evening.
I am absorbed in my own thoughts, and the view outside somehow enters my absorptions. The 100 watt smile frame on the screensaver catches my attention. In the 19 sheltered years of my life, I have never known anything remotely resembling tragedy. Last year in October when my dog died, it stuck me hard. She did everything ordinary with an extraordinary effect. It takes merely few minutes to fade away. What leaves behind is the impression we create and the human lives we touch.
Why hacks like me still wonder what to do with their existence ?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
IT"S RAINING MEN!!!!!! (Statutory Warning: Read at your own risk!!!!!)
It's raining men!
Halleluyah!
It's raining men!
Alright! Alright! Calm down everyone!
That was a complete fabrication!
As you can see, it is NOT happening!
However, the way I'm smiling these days it may as well be raining men!
The way I'm smiling you would be forgiven for believing that men are falling from the skies in torrents!
Not your ordinary run-of-the-mill guys either, but HUNKS!
Hunks with an uncanny resemblance to Kunal Kapoor!
Wait a minute!
There are some George Cloonies too.
And if I'm not mistaken that’s Tom Cruise!
Good Lord! Is that a Ashton Kutcher??? (I LOVE HIM!!!)
Halleluyah!
It's raining men!
Alright! Alright! Calm down everyone!
That was a complete fabrication!
As you can see, it is NOT happening!
However, the way I'm smiling these days it may as well be raining men!
The way I'm smiling you would be forgiven for believing that men are falling from the skies in torrents!
Not your ordinary run-of-the-mill guys either, but HUNKS!
Hunks with an uncanny resemblance to Kunal Kapoor!
Wait a minute!
There are some George Cloonies too.
And if I'm not mistaken that’s Tom Cruise!
Good Lord! Is that a Ashton Kutcher??? (I LOVE HIM!!!)
No! No! Sorry! My mistake!
So there I am smiling away as though it really is raining men.
Raining tall, dark and handsome specimens!
And, as if the above were not enough, they are only semi clad!
Muscles rippling, Abs displayed in all their glory, eyes hooded and mysterious, lips begging....
Oops!
I do think I'm getting a bit carried away!
This blog isn't even about men!
It most certainly isn't about rain.
It is about why I am smiling all the time.
And how this perennial smiling is impacting my life!
Let me start with first things first.
The fact of the matter is I’m smiling ever since I started blogging!
Not surprisingly, I'm on high alert at all times!
Never a moment of rest for me since the fateful day I registered at blogger.com.
- I’m thinking of the blog I read that morning, and I'm smiling because I can’t forget the humor laced in it.
- Some other day a racy blog, ripe with double entendres, will see me grinning from ear to ear all day.
- Or I might be reveling in a comment I got for my latest post, something cheeky, something naughty, guaranteed to stretch my lips from sunup to sundown.
- Finally, if my muse has been generous I may be living out my next blog. That is when I smile the most and the widest! I plot and plan and clip and crop and hum and haw, all in my mind. Smiling, always smiling!
You would imagine that a smile couldn't possibly have adverse consequences.
You would imagine that a mere stretching of the orbicularis oris 24x7 couldn't bring grief upon the stretcher.
Well, you'd imagine wrong!
There are always consequences, even Newton said so!
Here’s what happens when you smile ALL the time:
The fellow in the red Santro who has been weaving in and out of your lane decides to slow down and let you pass. You graciously incline your smiling face, acknowledging his chivalry. Only to discover that he wants to stay behind you so he can follow you to where ever you are going. You realize that he doesn’t know the difference between a ‘come hither’ look and a smile engendered by the sheer joy of blogging! You glare at him, forgetting to switch off the smile. This results in a grotesque contortion of your facial features. The poor Romeo is permanently cured of his lust and falls several cars behind ;-)
You’ve reached the hospital by now, your smile threatening to blind one and all. Your Residents think they can pull one off on you. You ruthlessly brush aside all their leave applications, and other frivolous excuses, wondering if you can generate a blog out of it all!
Your patients think you are the reincarnation of Florence Nightingale. Everybody loves a smiling doctor, wouldn’t you think? Not true. Ask the patient who notices you are smiling as he recounts his litany of ocular woes. He is likely to ask for a transfer, and request psychiatric consultation for you!
( P.S. I am NOT a doctor.....its just an example...actually the day other me and Dr.Archana were discussing this topic....and she came up with these situations.....so thanks to her!!)
Not a happy situation, smiling all the time.
What to do? What to do?
Can’t stop smiling!
Can’t stop blogging!
Can’t see the room mess piling up.
Can’t see the reminder from the lecturer to send in the microcontrollers chapter for the microprocessors book.
Only sure cure is for somebody to take away my laptop.
Or, better still, surgically remove the centre in my brain that screams blogger every time I pick up my laptop to complete the darn chapter!
I hope Siddu doesn’t read this ;-)
He knows some neurosurgeons :P
Meanwhile, it’s raining men!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Blank Thoughts
It’s just so weird ...this thing called life. Isn't it? You feel you are dreaming sometimes and something just floating on the waves of time.
Sometimes I feel so alive, so conscious of life, so conscious of myself.
And then, like yesterday, I felt standing in front of this wall called life.
And sometimes I feel so powerful, ready to take my life in my own hands and then I leave my life at the door of something and someone I call God. I stand up against life and sometimes walk shoulder to shoulder with it.
And sometimes I feel so powerful, ready to take my life in my own hands and then I leave my life at the door of something and someone I call God. I stand up against life and sometimes walk shoulder to shoulder with it.
I wonder if life is like a piece of cake and everybody gets a piece of it, just to taste and admire and then gulp it down. Weird thoughts are flooding my mind...I feel overpowered by my thoughts today.
I went to the shop and looked around; I found fragrant perfumes and glittery dresses, aromatic candles and fresh coffee..But I was looking for something that tells me what is real and what is not.I looked around smiled and came out...empty handed. I wonder if something had died within me or if something took birth. Don’t know. Just passing time with life. I wonder if somebody looking down at me or am I just floating around like a speck of dust
I went to the shop and looked around; I found fragrant perfumes and glittery dresses, aromatic candles and fresh coffee..But I was looking for something that tells me what is real and what is not.I looked around smiled and came out...empty handed. I wonder if something had died within me or if something took birth. Don’t know. Just passing time with life. I wonder if somebody looking down at me or am I just floating around like a speck of dust
I wonder if I am crazy with these thoughts or everybody thinks the same!!!
Monday, January 21, 2008
Indo-China veg rice
boring eh?! the title?
Well.......apart from blogging and singing....cooking...yes cooking is my passion......i plan to open a restaurant later.....(big dreams!!!! i know i know!!!!)
I dedicate this recipe to all those road-side cheap chinesewalla of mumbai streets ;)(had been there this vacation...)
Well, it's not that great how they make it, but can't beat those masters, can we?! ;)
This is how I make it and really enjoy it, being so full of veggies.
Ofcourse, people closest to me, unsure about it, being so plain again.
I personally like my food a little on plain side.
To cut my lecture and woes short, here it is...
taa daaa!!
Ingredients:-
Olive oil
Rice
Garlic (lots)
Ginger (as per your taste)
Green chillies (as per your taste)
Carrots
Green bellpepper
Cauliflower
baby corn
green beans
spring onions
mushrooms (optional)
peas (optional. it's a personal fav so i used it as if it grows in my backyard. even though i do not have a backyard!)
Soy sauce
Chinese chilli sauce (some famous brand) - optional if you used loads of green chillies
Salt (to taste)
pepper (to taste)
Monosodium glutamate (optional, have heard it's not good)
Method:-
1) Soak, boil, sieve basmati rice(or any long grain rice).
2) Let it cool
3) Now, in a non-stick pan, heat a little-more-than-some olive oil
4) add green chillies (slit), garlic and ginger(both crushed).
5) Add the veggies.
6) Make sure it's all covered and cooked well. Please don't overcook them as we want a little
cruchiness.
7) Add salt, pepper, soy sauce, chilli sauce, msg
8) Add rice.
9) Mix well. let it cook uncovered.
10) serve (recommended with a chinese gravy)
Fingers crossed. I love it :)
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