cirlce of life.

as i was washing ankita's clothes, i realised my mom still washes mine, whenever i go to mumbai.
amma, you are cool, but i hope ita doesn't harbour any hopes regarding me picking after her 20 years hence.

i got a new keyboard, one of those that make thak-thak-thak noises as you type. love them. totally love them. my first keyboard at rediff was like this one.

rahul razdan sent me an ibibo card that said "gaavaat naveen pakhru aalela distay" (literal translation with neelu phule twang = in the village new bird has arrived).
meera and mugdha and i used to maaro this line super lechorously if we happened to see any new girl/guy/generally long long ago.

it rained 2 days ago. my baby and i had a lot of fun getting drenched and dancing on the terrace. we used to do that sometimes in mumbai. i hope ita remembers to have fun.

Not quite but thanks anyway

my friends think i am stressed after reading the last post. i am not. well, maybe i am, but can't do much about it now can i? like sheetal says, if we talk like turtles, we ought to be shelled.

thanks for worrying though. it makes you want to fight back to know there are people who are backing you all the way.

meanwhile, ita says tars pretty confidently. that is stars for you. but i quite like the way she points out authoritatively and says, "amma, tars."

Because he is not ours anymore.

Why can’t they leave me alone? Why don’t they just take their fancy stuff and smart mouths and get the hell out of here? Why do they have to plague me thus? What have I done to deserve this? Save me … help me … someone, please …

Ravi, you hold his hands, Shyam… legs. His nails are too sharp, they need to go.

Ganging up on me are you? You think because you are three you will get away with anything? Come on you sons of bitches, let me show you what I am made of. I might go down, but I will go down fighting.

Oh man, that hurt! Hold his hand tightly will you. God, the fellow has a mean kick. Where did he learn to fight like that? Ravi, stay away from his head … he will head butt you all the way to Chennai and back. Steady now.

Take that… and that. Ha! Bet that one hurt. Hey, wait a minute, why are you covering my eyes? I can’t see. Why are you pulling at my clothes? Stop it. STOP IT. Help.

Quick, hand me the scrub. Look at all this filth. There must be layers and layers of it. Ugh. Pass me the water. Yeah, get me the towel. Steady now, I am not going to hurt you… relax, relax, re …OWW! I see stars! Pretty blue ones.

What is the world coming to? Why are you cutting me up? I have never ever hurt you guys … I have never even seen you before. Why are you helping that woman undress me? Oh the shame … oh the shame … fie on you people. A pox on you. May you burn in hell …

I have never heard such foul language from him before. By struggling so much he is only hurting himself. Why can he not understand that?

Because he can’t understand us Maya …

Damn it man … he is my father… he acts like he doesn’t know me anymore

That’s because he doesn’t. He is in his own little world now where none of us exist

Thank you so much Alzheimer’s … thank you so bloody much.
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First hand experience has taught me to be scared of this dreaded disease. Mortally completely scared.
Often, sri and i discuss about what would we do, if we found ourselves forgetting ourselves. And most often than not, we end with a pledge, which might not be the right one, but for us, it sounds fine.
The pledge to end it before the disease ends everything else.
I have never had a stand as far as mercy killing has been concerned. Now, I do.

Absolutely nothing

... makes me feel better than a cousin dropping by, who just happens to love food and books.

got gift = one graphic novel = yay.

ate food = at chocolat AND big chill = wow.

thank you god for the three best things on earth. blueberry cheese cakes, books and matching wavelengths.

why am i doing this?

wallowing
self pity
probably two words that i detest most in this world. i am not a kind person and i seldom mince words, not a trait i am particularly proud of, but that is what i am. so why am i expected to live amidst people who do exactly that and why the hell am i killing myself by being polite?

damned if i know.

polite.
it IS the word i hate.

someday soon the dam is going to burst and there is going to be a very bitter exchange of words. i can feel the pressure building. i just know it is going to be the beginning of the end. and i dread it. dread it because i know me. i know when i constrain and strive and struggle against my most basic instinct, i end up spewing venom. and it is driving me mad.

did i mention i hate polite? and kind. and good. oh boy, do i detest good or what. screw it. there is no point in this mindless ramble.

Checked Chaddis and Unchecked Elastics

Ok, i am writing this post in lieu of my friend, lets call her Jugs (to protect her identity and all), as she cannot write about it as she is a very nice human being who does not laugh at other people's misfortune.
It is all essentially bull crap because the witch would laugh at her own flesh and blood given an opportunity. But still.

Jugs is very maako types, you know, the kinds that would rather climb mountains and kick ass than play dress up. So our Jugs is into this Jujitsu stuff where she gets to jump, punch and generally make people quiver. So the other day, one of her fellow students, who just happens to be a fortyish man, has some issues with his track pants. The firt time they slip, the instructor asks him very kindly to stop flashing his ahem, half moons to the class. So half moon man pulls his pants and everything goes back to normal. They learn new techniques to bash people. They have to practice these new moves. Jugs is looking for a sparring partner and thats when she noticed that the track pants had played truant again. She caught sight of some yellow and red checked chaddis* before she quickly turned and choked on her own laughter.

She called up to get it out of her system. I thought I would help by posting it here, to exorcise it completely. I am so considerate.
Now I hope one of her fellow students read this.

* colours changed to protect identity as well.

simply the best

you are light and nice
just spiced right
with a little bit of pickle
you are the best diet
dear curd rice, dear curd rice ...

on hot summer days
i crave for you
on stomach upset days
i'd kill for you
dear curd rice, dear curd rice ...

some say its boring
some say its typical
but the need for you
is very very physical
dear curd rice, dear curd rice ...

little kids to toothless aunts
thayir saadam fans, them all
no pizza, no pasta, no samosa pavs
gimme gimme, the only thing i wants
dear curd rice, my lovely curd rice...

- tambrahm girl.
ps: preferred pickle = vadumaangai.
ok bye.