A Funny Thing Called War

Yesterday, we watched a play put up by the Cut 1 and Cut 2 (partly) batch of Evam - Tahatto. Really good for a first attempt! :)

Been a while, hasn't it?

I'm back! So is the smile!

:)

The Other Day

...at a restaurant that serves (as the menu card tells us) Seva Puri, Tomoto Omlet, Amerikan / Chainse Chapsy, Green Piece Fry, Cooktail Juice (all the drinks are listed under the section named Fluids, by the way), Jero Rice, Fingure Chips, Thrible Fried Rice, Mancho Noodles, Sizwan Mashroom and other such wonders - which I've promptly made note of with much joy and delight - we ate some delicious lunch. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth ... and the sibling ordered fresh lime soda. And was told it was not available. Super. After lunch, the waiter brought the finger bowl, or should I say fingure bowl, to our table. For those checking the link, what in the world is doily? Okie, I shall dictionary dot com the word. Coming back to the fingure bowl, I got a brilliant-or-so-I-thought-idea to trouble the brother. I squeezed the half-lemon into the warm water, looked at the sibling sitting beside me and said 'You wanted fresh lime soda, no...?' The sibling, without much ado, well, with much ado actually, took his fingure bowl and added tomoto sauce, chilly sauce, vinegar, schezwan (spelled sizwan, schizwani and sehezwan in different parts of the menu card) sauce, paper (pepper) and not to forget some salt to taste. He then offered the concoction to me asking very politely, 'Soup?' Pah. At that embarrassing point in time, I wanted to send him to Singapur (or to China to get the Chainse torture) or make Kukumber Raitha of him, the yeeediyatt. I was secretly khush for the shameless brilliance of the sibling but just pretend you didn't read that. --- Doily, by the way, is this: /ˈdɔɪli/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [doi-lee] –noun, plural -lies.

1.	any small, ornamental mat, as of embroidery or lace.

2.	Archaic. a small napkin, as one used during a dessert course.

Thenkoo, dictionary.com --- So that's that. I'm still wondering what Spaice at Peace soup is.

For the Record - II

- I had the most eventful birthday ever. But my family was sorely missed. - Gift-wrapping papers shouldn't be so pretty, no they just shouldn't. - The tour of South Goa followed by the cruise was wonderful. As was the company. - 2008-'09 was awesome. - I have some of the sweetest and coolest relatives ever. - It's official: Mom's sister is my favourite aunt. - It was super to have Mom come to Mumbai for my Convocation. - We had a lousy Convocation. - I still haven't gone to our college Chapel. Or St. Micheal's Church at Mahim *insert sad face here*. - Bangalore's calling. - I will miss the Western Railways, the friendships, the bonds, Colaba, Churchgate, Dahisar, Bandra, Xavier's, the sea, Dadar, the rush, the heat, the joy, the laughter, the chaos, the delight, the madness, the wonder and all that is Bombay / Mumbai. - For the moment, this is my last post from here. To Bombay / Mumbai - Au Revoir!

For the Record

- My Malayalee affiliations are increasing exponentially - I'm growing older - I'm very happy - I've found love, joy, peace, warmth - much more than I had ever expected - I'm jobless - I miss Home/Bangalore - I crave filter coffee - I don't like the fact so many of my sentences are beginning with I - It's scary when it's so perfect - S doesn't deserve all the hurt and the pain she is going through - Soon, I'll be 23 - *sick* - My family and friends in Bombay have taken and still take really good care of me - I love fabindia all the more - I can't wait to tell my family - I can't wait for next Thursday - I'm back to the 'I' again - I want to be an expert cook - I'm a hopeless/hopeful romantic - There I go again - Music keeps me going, and how! - My Faith gives me unbelievable strength and fortitude - With ethics, I don't think I'll get too far in the corporate world - But I have big, big dreams and they don't include the corporate world - Some children deserve a very, very different life - My children will have super cool parents - Fullll santhosham - My brother is brilliant - My parents are the best - I love french fries - And Al Pacino - Dark chocolate is sin - I haven't gone for Confession in about 4 years - Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter won't be the same without Mommy, Daddy and the sibling - Bombay brings out the liveliest in me - I believe in true love - Unconditional love still exists - I have been a recipient of a lot of it - Karma, also, exists - I don't understand how some people just will not smile - I smile/grin a lot - Even though I'm aging - Pah - I really want to hug the person I'm on the phone with - I cannot keep the person waiting; I shall end this post --- Update: 07/04/2009 To my dearest Anonymous/Mystery (who I know really well) balance recharger Thenkoo for the recharge(s) and for doing so only because you believe I should be able to call anybody I want on the big day. Awww. You give me a million and three reasons to smile.

For Regmaan

Like today, even in future, I might - no I'm sure I will - get pissed off with you, yell at you and say that I might've been wrong about always telling people that you're a gentleman. But today, I want you to know that you'll always remain a gentleman for me! *insert smiley* *insert another smiley* *insert one more smiley* Yeah, however much you piss me off.

Art of the Matter

Most book launches, exhibitions, art galleries, plays and the likes are, invariably, a profusion of - salt and pepper heads of those who've vowed never to colour their hair; it's so uncool, rather, unintellectual. They've chosen the do over the dye. - spectacles - big beads and junk jewellery - Ah! - kajal-ed eyes - smiles - a variety of them - pretty, fake, genuine, uncomfortable, envious... - khaadi - 'Ohhh, it's been so long since I saw you! Where were you all this while?..Mmuahhh!' - block prints and kalamkari - beards And (seemingly) thoughtful pauses accompanied by slight nods of the head and narrowing of the eyes before coming to a life-changing conclusion in a moment of joyous epiphany... 'Interesting...'

Masala

Some things in life are worth alllll the time, effort and mess. One of them, for me, is cooked crab. *slurrrp*

Perks for Quirks

As evident, I have absolutely no regard for word limit.

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When I see anyone wearing hooped or long, heavy earrings I have this urge to pull, no yank it and yank it baaad.

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While listening to my mp3 player, if I come across a song that reminds me of someone (many songs remind me of many people) and in case I have fought with / am pissed off with that ‘someone’ I mutter ‘get lost’ under my breath and immediately go the next song on the shuffle playlist. It gives me a strange kind of sadistic pleasure as if I’ve actually turned away that someone, when they don’t have a clue.

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I have a habit, especially prevalent in my tenure as student at Xavier’s Institute of Communications – when I see familiar people walking ahead of me, I act like I’ve run a long distance and dash the person’s shoulder with mine and then say ‘I’m so sorry’. It’s become so common that when I try such stunts on the usual victims, before I mutter, ‘I-I’m s-…’ they say, ‘Yeah, I know you’re sorry.’

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I laugh/grin a lot, even in public when I see funny hoardings, writings at the back of vehicles and the like. The most recent incident was when I was travelling in the bus and saw a big board of a shop. The board proudly read ‘Shopper’s Spot’. It amused me to no end.

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Whenever I see stray dogs that are cute and look remotely friendly (most dogs in Mumbai are perpetually sleeping, I kid you not, but I will save that for another post), I call out to them like a child that has seen the giraffe for the first time at the zoo, ‘Dawwwgiieee..’ like they’re supposed to know about their origin and nomenclature. 4 out of 10 merrily ignore me, much to my dismay and disappointment, 1 looks at me quizzically like ‘Huh?!’ much to my dismay and disappointment while the other 5 do seem to realize I’m addressing them and look at me with the ‘Yeah, that’s me. So…? (yeah, much to my dismay and disappointment again).

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Two of my compulsive and obsessive habits are: a) I have to, have to, have to iron my clothes (barring the jeans) and if after wearing them, I think they look even a leetul bit crumpled, I iron them all over again till I’m satisfied that they’re ironed enough. All this, despite knowing that I’m going to be crushed and my clothes (and I) mangled by the ladies in the Second Class compartment of the Western Railways. Please note that this obsession with ironing clothes is one of the causes for me being late, more often than not.

b) I have to, have to, have to have head bath every alternate day and even more often if I get the chance, the water and an assurance that I won’t get late. And the head baths have no fixed timings. At home, in Bangalore, head baths accompanied by loud bathroom singing is not uncommon after midnight. Now you know why I sneeze so much during the daytime, blaming the dust and pollen for it. --

Oh yes, when Maggi becomes too solidified like a cake of soap, I mix it with curd and devour it. Ewww? Get lost! It’s yummy!

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Which brings us to my love for food. When I see anybody eating on TV and if kind souls like my Mom, Dad, Mangu and the good-hearted kinds are sitting at close proximity, I say ‘I waaaannnnttttt…’ Mangu recently reported (after exhaustive calculation) that in a span of an hour, I had expressed great desire (I waaannnnnt...) for at least 8 kinds of foods, ranging from potato wedges to coffee to Pringles, sugarcane juice…well. Her (Mangu's) standard line in self-talk referring to her problem child is ‘Like a child only she acts…I want, I want…evvverything she wants!’

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If anyone points out to me, especially with their finger anywhere near my face, I take their hand, close to my nose, with the finger still pointed out in the Late, Dr. BR Ambedkar style, and say ‘Come, dig my nose’, in rowdy fashion, much to their embarrassment, ewww-ness and cheee-ness.

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Speaking off ewww-ness and cheee-ness, well, I, only I seem to have the good fortune of witnessing utterly sick sights such as phlegm on the road, on the platform, on the footpath...like everywhere! Everybody else in the world seems unaffected. If you think that's bad, analyse this: ladies scratching underarms and picking their noses in the train...let's go a step further..once while sitting at a window seat and generally looking around, I happened to spot the girl sitting opposite me take off the first button of her formal top (oooh, where is this post heading?), putting her left hand (with shabby nails) inside (oh man!), reaching straight for her right underarm and then...she began to scratch away merrily like she was alone in the train.

Why, God, why?!

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I just cannot stand people littering, throwing garbage where they are not supposed to, spitting etc where they are just NOT supposed to. Whenever I see anybody – man, woman or child – throwing plastic covers, papers, tissues etc outside the train window, I feel like holding their hand (just above the wrist) with both mine while they’re still in the act of throwing whatever, and then shaking the criminal, insensitive hand so violently outside the window that they’re so shocked and traumatized that they won’t ever sit beside the window let alone throw anything out of it.

For those with urges of slyly throwing garbage inside the train, I’d like to poke them with a pin/needle or such sharp bearings or execute the aforementioned violent shaking of the hand to their heads in the hope that it might do their brains (if any) some good.

I do wish I had the guts to do it, though or for that matter, guts to just yell at them.

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I am super possessive about the green board in college, (at least in the 3 classrooms that we usually have class in). I have come to believe that it is solely my duty and right to write on it and everybody else (except the professors, of course) who writes on it is a trespasser. So I guard it with all ferocity (yeah, that’s the word) and change the date and day without fail along with smileys (starting from a sad face moving towards a happy one from Monday to Saturday, respectively). On Thursday, 19th February, 2009, I actually wrote on the entire board filling every possible space starting top-left and ending on the bottom-right, reluctantly letting go of the chalk and duster only when I was sure I could not write anymore, anywhere else. What did I write? Well, the questions for the Copy Test that was due the next day and about which, everyone already knew, anyway.

Kind remarks from behind me, from kind classmates went something like this, ‘She’s going to start writing on the walls next..hahahaha!’ and ‘You should become a teacher’ and ‘Ey what did you have for breakfast?’ and ‘You’re writing like there’s no tomorrow!’. Hmmm.

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Now finally coming to the final one (a big Thank You to those who’ve reached this juncture. For those reading from bottom upwards – eyy rascal, read from starting I say!), I am more or less a peaceful non-violent being, except the alleged traits of a bully/rowdy that I display sometimes, just sometimes. Even then, I use only words, (no touching-vuching and all) if I’m bullying someone. But Wednesday, 18th February, 2009 (a day before the board incident), something dramatic took place. No, no, I didn’t bash anybody up. Read on…

I happened to get to college about 15 minutes late (cuz I was making a power point presentation on Careers for my cousin. The presentation turned out to be keek-asss!) but learned after a series of frantic exchange of messages learned that the not so kind professor wasn’t in a good mood at all. I thought there was no point in pissing her off even more so I got down from the cab and instead of going to class, promptly started walking to Marine Lines Station. I typed out a message for Mangu ‘I am on the steps of Marine Lines station, will go help out cousin. Will tell her class got over early if she asks.’ And quickly sent the message – not to Mangu, but to my cousin. Aiyyyooo, what evil sin had a committed that Karma was slapping me so hard today? With no balance- and no will or energy - to justify my message to my cousin, I just caught the train back to Bandra. After sometime my cousin’s message popped in my inbox ‘Hey girlie I think you sent the message for someone else to me’. Wow. I did explain to her later that I had bunked and would get proxy (which I wasn’t even sure of).

I was already pissed off. And when I’m pissed off you don’t mess with me, no you don’t. I was getting off at Bandra station when a bunch of ladies desperate to get inside the train began to push. One girl in particular, in a copper sulphate blue salwar kameez, acted oversmart and said ‘Arreyyy chaloo’ and pushed her way past me. She didn’t know what was in store for her from a formerly pissed off, currently super pissed off victim of Karma. I turned around and just as she was about to get into the train pushed her with four (except my thumb) bony fingers of mine. Believe me, it’s the first time I’ve done it to anybody here (or anybody anywhere for that matter) despite being pushed/pulled umpteen times. By the time she could turn around to see who the perpetrator of the crime was, I had moved away. Even if she had seen me, I’d have told her point blank ‘That’s how it feels when you push somebody, in case you didn’t know’.

Muhahahahaha.

I couldn’t stop laughing to myself after that. I rolled up the sleeves of my big black favourite t-shirt and felt like a totalll rowdy. I felt so good, I cannot describe or quantify how much.

I later learned that I had got proxy for the class I had missed.

Kind Karma.

03/02/2009

It is a sick feeling when at around seven past midnight, you remember the birthday but can't call or message because your currency is 49 paise. Then in the morning, you take your friend's phone and message, apologising profusely saying how bad you felt. In the evening after finally getting a recharge, you send a message that reads: Hi Breder. How iteez going till now? Hope so you is having a wonderful times. God bless you. Muha, I means muah. In the train now. Will call later. And nothing can make you feel worse today than this reply: K. I is missing your presence. First time* I'm celebrating the birthday without you. *since I was born that is

You write back: I know :( :,( not knowing if the smileys emote even 2% of your misery. And then, just as you are typing out this post - from a dingy cyber on a system with a yellow screen, a keyboard that has letters of the alphabet on paper stuck on the keys and a CPU with its open side staring at you with its convoluted insides of wires and what nots - you receive a message that makes it all worthwhile. It's ok. Next time we'll celebrate my birthday twice when you're here. What say? That boy brings such joy and sorrow in my life. Idiot. To the most wonderful, nonsensical, insane, unique, logical, wonky, intelligent, crazy, brilliant teacher, friend, confidant, last-minute-saviour, protector from parents' wrath and my only, only my brother: It makes me sad to miss your 25th birthday, to hug you at midnight on this day, to make a big noise, to bug you some more, to not be Home. I remember and smile at our childhood, how Dad used to take us to the saloon to get our hair cut, how we trilled when Mom did the 'elephant dance' (was it? I don't know what it's called but you get it, don't you), how we're together in each of our birthday photos, how we posed in our chuddies in front of the bathroom holding the mugs, how much you defended me if I got picked on and still do, what a fabulous sense of humour you possess. As the years went by swiftly, how you taught me the Physics chapter and I got 9/10, how you've kept my secrets, And what a marvellous teacher you've been - to me, to others. You still defend me with the same fierce love and protectiveness. Our drives, I miss terribly. I love that you're excelling at French. I am très très proud of you. Yeah yeah, now laugh and correct me. What a fabulous sense of humour you possess (I repeat).

Listen to John Mayer's 'Say', a dedication from me to the both of us. Wish Mommy and Daddy a very happy and eventful 25 years of Mommy-hood and Daddy-hood respectively, as well.

I still mean every word of what I wrote two years back.

And I love you more than you will ever know.

--- Now, in reply to the aforementioned italicised message your sibling sent, you will ask him to check your blog.

Dreadmill

Half the exercise in my life is due to the fact that more often that not, I'm running late.