Have a blast ok?

dear people mine,
you guys, each single one of you
is a rock star.
so when the old year bids adieu
think of things to do anew
that makes me cringe
that makes me smile
that makes my life, worthwhile.

love, luck and laughter
toinka~

a season for change

2006:
i moved out of a sheltered existance
to learn new things
and when the dream began to show signs of rot
i am all set to move on.

am going
am going
am going deeper underground
theres too much panic in this town...

a view to die for...

and to trudge to work on a monday

... when it is freaking cold.

But yeah, the view is beyootiful.

when the sun takes his final bows

he gifts us with a rainbow sky.

And then, there are the hawks. They are so damned royal. Really. Its a treat to stand on the terrace (13th floor) and watch them glide around lazily.

Maybe, just maybe there are some high points to coming to work.

Ha, pun intended :)

Cheers~

Blurred images apart...

Vegetables or bhaji shopping was always dad's forte. He would set out with a bag and a mile long list and come back with several bags and almost nothing from the list. I have seldom bought anything from the sabzi mandi ... except for the occasional potatoes, onions, ginger, chillies or coriander. It never took more than 30 seconds. I mean ... how much time can one spend staring at a 3 by 2 feet cart laden with some very tired looking vegetables?


Here, my concept of buying vegetables has changed... thanks to the weekly Bazaar. It is an amazing concept based on the weekly market funda. Every day of the week, a gathering of vendors (fruits, vegetables and household products) converge at an alloted spot in a particular sector. Thus, people around the area get to pick and choose from a large variety and they also do not have to travel miles for it. The vendors get to sell their wares to a wider mass and they get to pack and unpack in a different place everyday (look ma, am a gypsy). Our area hosts the mela on Saturday... hence the name 'Shani Bazaar'.


It is an awesome, awesome experience. But there are a few ground rules:
Too much dust = carry a hanky or a tissue to cover you nose
Too many people = be prepared to be jostled around
Too many people = beware of pickpockets
Too much variety = remember, you have only ONE fridge and only ONE week to finish stuff
Too many vendors = drastic difference in prizing and quality


So... here are a couple of blurred pics. Have the fun ok?

Old jungle saying

A boil on the bum is a pain in the ass.

may i find a comfortable seat.
amen.

the mirror

i was part of the media
i was proud
once upon a time.
bursting at the seam, gloriously, gloatingly proud.

a snake chasing a toddler
a wife beating her husband
a child trapped in a pit
a man with a tail
a father's anguished plea to be left alone
a daughter naming her mother for a pimp
news. news. news.
coverage. 24 hours of in-your-face coverage.

100 Tibetan protestors... bundled and sent to jail
for protesting against the guy who represents their misery, their anguish, their loss of the place they called Home

not newsworthy. nope. such things dont matter. people are arrested. people are not let out even when their bail can happen. not just worthy of a coverage.
its just a bunch of people you know ... fighting for their rights... how can that possibly be better than the miraculous appearance of the image of a God on a tree? i mean... toinks, how dumb can you be?

i am part of the media
i cringe, shrivel
every single time.
ashamed.

edited to add:
redemption in sight: http://www.rediff.com/news/2006/nov/22jintao7.htm

i am big brother

the little one,

she grew up quick.

the little one

the one i played all my pranks on

the one who cried when i said boo

the little one

who pointed fingers

the little one

who hung on to my words

and followed me everywhere

the little one

... yeah ... that little one ...

she grew up quick

she is gonna be a mommy

she says she is gonna be brave

only, i am supposed to go into the labour room with her

and she tells me ...

"tu aayega na? tu mera bhai hai na... "

gulp.

i dont think she is gonna be very thrilled to find out how 'brave' her older sistah is.

i don't wanna do any bhai giri...

i don't wanna end up on the labour room ka floor ... along with her husband...

muummmmaaa... stoopid lil girl saying bad bad things ....

Cya next Sunday… be on time ok?

Week after week, every Sunday, at 6.30 AM, we met next to the tea stall, under the indicator of platform no 2, Dadar station, western line.

Week after week, for almost 3 years.

He would be late most times and so would I; Teju and Monu took turns … but never Preeti… she was always there on time. We arrived at the designated spot from a variety of directions. We bantered and argued our way to Churchgate and almost ran all the way to the Unit.

1 Maharashtra Air Squadron, NCC.

We trained
We learnt
We laughed
We cried
We shared
We fought
And of course, most often, we were punished.
Crawling
Frog jumps
Running
Marches

Blood and sweat fought to mingle with tears and smiles.
Torn uniforms… Dropped rifles… Lost berets … Missing badges … Shoe polish … were an intrinsic part of our lingo.

And then, one day… we passed out.
The mighty ‘C’ certificate holders.

The ‘group’ held on for sometime.

Some of us managed to hang in there, connecting, communicating, keeping the bond alive… while others floated away.

He … was one of the floaters
He … one of our best buddies
He … of the miserable pjs
He … the Jordan follower
He … who first coined the term mput.com … monu, preeti, uma, teju
He … the guy we called Pandu, PC and an assortment of names

He … who came back to our midst last week
We spoke, like always … a gaali here, a rotton joke there … 10 minutes of long distance calling to bridge the gap built over years.

Damn the miserable twit for getting me all choked up but I am so glad to have him back… just so we can skewer him to the first signal we come across.

Oh and, Thank you Internet for your billion networking sites.

Don Bhai, Salaam.

The husband and I went to watch Farhan Akhtar's Don the other day.

We came back with our faith in Mr. Akhtar's skills intact.

Nice movie.
Heard a fellow movie watcher comment: "Would have been a bumper hit if only he had chosen another name for it..."

Maybe.
Maybe not.

We liked it anyway.

Nice Film there ... despite Shahrukh Khan... and *shudder* Kareena Kapoor.

I gots amazing T-shirt

It says a lot of stuff on one side of the face like: Chameli, Kamli, Saheli, Paheli, Mahakali, Gussewali, Nakhrewali, Gharwali, Kaamwali and some others I forjots.

And just one thing on the other: Ek Paheli

Ain't it the coolest thing ever?

*thrilled to bits*

Thanks guys :)

Even in dreams, Australia wins

This is so frustrating.
Yeah they are a good team, maybe the best even, but I so do not like them and their we-are-superior-than-thou looks.
They have brought down cricket.

And to think, even in my dreams, they continue to triumph and wear a very irritating sneer.
I mean, it is MY dream and I should be the first, second, third umpire, right? RIGHT?

am bored.

i took the day off yesterday
took the parents shopping
bought a truckload of clothes
oohed and aahed at the great indian weave mela
spent more money
avoided husband's probing finance related questions
ate some not so good but heavanly smelling food
am back in office
and it is friday
i so do not wanna work

i am very super ultimately completely bored. i am so bored that i am going to find words @ thesauras for synonyms for bored...

... ok. am also lazy.
boo.

Light me a glow

I thought I’d come back on Monday and write a long post about our trip to Dehradun – Mussoorie – Haridwar – Rishikesh. In a way, I am doing just that… in a way…

We did touch the above mentioned places, but what touched us… me… was the Ganga Arti at Har-ki-Pauri, Haridwar.

I have no words to describe the feeling.
No words can capture the beauty, aura or the sheer energy level of that event.

All I can say is … there comes a time in life, when you are so moved that every nerve, every single pore in your body responds to a unique beat, of tumultuous joy, of pure belonging…
I had one of those moments when I sat there amidst thousands of people on the ghats of the Ganges.
Unbidden, prayers leapt to my lips
My eyes were drawn to the flaming Arti thali
Magnetically, my feet led me to edge of the embankment, so I could touch the holy water

And I left the place, a little more blessed… a little more at peace with myself.

Har Har Gange! Protect us Ma… May the human kind find salvation yet…

Toinks’ day out plus bring on the cake

After gaping at the size and intricacy of the Akshardham temple in Delhi every single day for over a year, we finally managed to pay the place a visit last afternoon.

To say it took our collective breaths away would be an understatement. The style, the painstaking symmetry, the detailing, the idea, the execution, the sheer effort of creating and maintaining a monument of that size is testimony enough to the perseverance of the human mind. But what positively was the icing was the way the volunteers handled the crowd (a very significant one at that).

Brilliant. Brilliant. Simply Brilliant.

Patient prompts. Gentle guidance. Soft assurance. Smiling authority.

For a person who has been to a LOT of temples and experienced the ‘paid-darshan’ routine, the simplicity and the whole-hearted devotion of the volunteers touched a chord.

So, all you non Delhiites, rest assured of being escorted to atleast two places when you come a-visiting:
a) Akshardham
b) Red Fort for its awesome sound and light show

Ah Delhi…
Drenched in History
Memories in your ancient walls
You try to bind me to you
With soft whispers
From the ages past

And on another note, it is that elephant sized bird brained ignoramus’ birthday today.

(Yup, thats her trying to sneak into our room via the window when the main door AND the porch door were both open... but thats just her)

Happy Birthday Mugs
Shine on you Crazy Diamond…

Happy Diwali Folks

Genetic Garbage

I almost killed a guy today
Given a chance, I would do it again … and again.

There are these bastards roaming the streets of Delhi. They wear the sacred ochre robes of the sages and captured snakes around their necks. They shove the snakes into the faces of unsuspecting people and demand money in the name of the Snake God… and most folks give in… more out of fear than reverence.

One of them tried his trick with me this morning.
The poor cobra he had captured was reason enough for me to kick his backside to hell and back. The way he tried to threaten me broke my resolve.

He got away with a tongue-lashing this time. The next time around, changing lights not withstanding, he or one of his cronies are going to see what a sting really feels like.

This snake bites. And she is bloody venomous when threatened by scumbags who torture animals and play up on people’s fears.

Pay Back

After seven years
Yesterday
I met up with one half of the people
Who gave me my first break
He sat on the opposite side this time
As a vendor

Eight years ago
He sat on a table once
With a lost scared girl
And explained a concept
She worked on building
For one whole year

I left the place
Moved on
Built my career
Doing the very same thing
He taught me
One day
Eight years ago

In that place
I met with colleagues
I call my friends today
Blood of my soul
Pulse of my life
Buddies forever

Thank you A and M
You have done a lot
That a lot do not think right
A lot, including me
But I remain
Grateful
For that first break
That lesson in life

Regards~

Of Gods and Traditions

When it comes to traditions, religion, culture, history, mythology ... I am an ignoramus.

I have often pooh-poohed at my older relatives who have religiously stuck to their faith. While most time they actually do not understand the deeper meaning behind an act, there are times when I end up getting an answer to satisfy even my boxed opinion.

Hinduism they say, is not a religion, but a way of life.

I hunger to know more about it. The real reason behind every ritual, every act. This is one good place to start, I think…

Look ma, an elephant and another and ...

We scrubbed with the rind of a spiny fruit. It looked and felt like a wire mesh, but the elephants didn't look too distressed... so we scrubbed and scrubbed and IT WAS HARD WORK. So we went back and had a hearty lunch.
I am good at justification.



This guy was a hunk. Every inch of him reeked of royalty. Only, I forgot his name.
I do remember the name of the littlest fellow there though.



He is 'Ekdanth' or the single toothed one.



One of the beautiful cottages that were occupied by some of the most beautiful people.
us :D



Bum Chums. I watch your back, you watch mine. Yada Yada. Blah blah.

Why can I not upload images and other such rants

actually, thats the only one.
Dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee blogger diiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

i am gonna try with the help of flickr and if dat doesn't work either, am gonna go home, wear my witches' hat and put a hex on the whole bleddy thing. not the hat stupid, on blogger. here goes:

first try
...
...
second try
...
..
third try
and you are soooooooooooooo cursed.
start hanging out the garlic and thyme makers of the blogspot
grrrrr....

our 5 day vacation

So,
We saw Lage raho Munnabhai
We watched it sitting in seats scattered across the hall
We laughed a long time after the movie was over

We went to Dubare elephant camp, coorg
We extended our stay once we got there
We ate ... a lot
We slept ... a lot
We did a bit of walking (to the dinner hall from the cottage and back)
We bathed elephants
We patted errant puppy dogs
We missed friends, old and the older
We saw water snake, in water
We saw, through Mugdhas' eyes, National Geographic Moment where the snake missed a meal
We went koracling
We never learn spellings
We went for morning walks, our souls and moral support rested with Mugdha and Sri (because we were resting ourselves and could'nt be bothered to move our butt to go on a nature trail and identify crows)
We ate ... a lot
We slept ... a lot
We pottied... a lot
We saw stupid documentary made by stupid half french half indian curly haired moronic slimeball who loves elephants for all the wrong reasons and keeps them in captivity with big fat chains on their feet and calls it historic relationship between mahouts and pachyderms and we think she sucks rotton turkey eggs
We clicked nice pictures
We bathed elephants
We slipped in the slush and while flailing for support, almost pulled the mahout's chaddi
We took video recording of all the moments
We think every moment was momentous but we lacked cds, batteries and brains
We also did lot of translations from Marathi to Hindi and English for the benefit of Sri
We are considerate peoples
We went to nincompongolim* monastry
We drank coconut paani
We saw Monks playing goti
We bought rang de basanti cassette
We donated cassette to driver and kept cover ... so we could get lyrics atleast
We want to go back

We are Thanks to you for reading us and our long travel story and we will posting photos soon.

Cheers~

*We are not very good with complex names

Boudica, the dragon rider of Africa, thank you for the flashlight

I have always been a little weird. The reason being my pre-occupation with books in general and specific characters in particular.

I know a lot of folks who read, but I am yet to gather courage to ask them if they get the various characters mixed up in their heads like I do.

Maybe they do.
Maybe I have Alzheimer’s*.

I remember a lot of most stories. Never the author and almost never the name of the book though. And the lot I usually remember always end up being very similar to other characters in newer stories. I mean, they mi9ght not be the same characters, not even on the same side (of good and bad, duh!) but they have these certain traits that carry forward in stories from different folks, era and genre. Know what I mean? No? Forget it…

All the above apart, I also tend to get obsessive about some characters… like Boudica aka Breaca of the Boudica series by Manda Scott. Or Firedrake from The Dragon rider by Cornelia Funke and Sapphira from Eragon by Christopher Paolini, Taita from RiverGod by Wilbur Smith and Shanthi from the bearer of the reading light.

Ok, I no longer remember the point of this post.
And, Shanthi is not a character, she is Santa Claus in drag. And very pretty. And nicer. Santa never got me anything. Cheap bearded slave driver.

Lost the thread again.
Nonsense.

Cheers~
Ps: Alzheimer's is a degenerative disease of the central nervous system characterized especially by premature senile mental deterioration.

Pps: You think? You really think … Hmmm…

It is all in the name

You can call pav-bhaji … bhaji-pav (only coz I have come to accept the fact that all of us cannot be blessed)
But you do not, I repeat, do SIMPLY not call Vada Pav … Pav Vada…

It is an insult to that amazingly delightful of dishes.

And will someone please open a tapri where I can get a regular supply of the above mentioned yummilicious thingy in deprived Dilli? With Garlic chutney? And meetha chutney? And onions? And green chillies? Droolllll ...*

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet." - Shakespeare
Whatever you say Mr. PearyShocks

Rats that don't let you gym

sri and i have joined a gym and we have opted for the 6.30 AM slot.
the problem is that we have a rat in the house.
make that multiple rats. and mice. and moles.
and they all have inter racial fights.
inside our house.
our home = a regular panipat = big battlefield

they (the rodents), like the kshatriyas of the by gone era, strictly adhere to war time rules.
the war conch is blown sometime past 1 AM and the battle begins.
trivia: each of the above mentioned race have a unique battlecry.
they call it a day (?) sometime around 5 AM.

Now, all of us reasonable human beings understand that a little more than an hour of sleep is not enough for a normal person.
try telling that to my husband.
silly fellow is up and chirpy AND EAGER to gym at 6 bloody 15.

now you tell me, is it my mistake that i detest gymming so?
the cruel instructor is another story, but still.

Define Beautiful

or love
or joy
...

or alternatively, tell me why people look so earnest when they are digging their nose.

cheerings~

Rich and the Really Rich

On the 15th of August, our Independence Day, the husband and I were invited to attend a cultural program. It was organised, choreographed and conducted by special children.

As I sat there, watching the little ones perform their hearts out… I heard a sniffle. I turned around to see a young woman with tears in her eyes. She said that was her daughter singing … the one who had to be carried on to the stage because she suffered from severe cerebral palsy. I could almost touch the pride I saw in the mother’s eyes.

Their family was not affluent she said, but they felt their child deserved more than living off a wheelchair.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Last evening we went over to a friend’s place. The friend told us about the horror stories she had heard in an adoption centre.

One of them was about how a couple came by in a Mercedes and dropped their infant daughter in the crib kept for abandoned children. The couple had decided to keep the twin, a boy, though.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Gems and gold
Are all you hold
Coz you miss an important part
Several tongues call it several things
What we commonly call a heart.

Grandma Toinks

My cousin's daughter gave birth to twin girls

Learnings from the above sentence:

1. All my ancestors had children ... loads of them. Pots and pots of them.
2. The oldest sibling was usually old enough to mother/father the youngest one.
3. I have a large, extended family.
4. I am a grandmommy.

Yay!

Pride clogging my arteries

You, who made me the person I am
You, who can charm an ant out of its pants
You, who is striving towards a doctorate
You, who is the handsomest pest in the world
You, who is strumming away on my ancient guitar
You, who bunks college to finish a much loved novel
You, all…

I hate you guys…
Every last one of you
For in your own devious way, you have worked towards making my existence miserable.

Happy Raksha Bandhan … And you darn well keep up with the good work…
I love your brand of misery...
Maybe, I am just going senile, but what the heck!

Cheers~

I am going to write a poem

Yeah.
Cos I figured it was better to write a poem and get it passed for an attempt than to write a post that had nothing to say. So here goes:

I wanna be in Mumbai
I wanna be in Bangalore
I wanna be in any place
Anywhere but here
ohhoooooo lalala
ohhooooo lalala
oh ho
la la la

*notice how the last four ahem lines make it a song?

I am brilliant.
I am also little bored.
Ok, maybe I am also a wee bit envious of the husband and his globe trotting in India job.

All that Jazz and some

If I had been in Mumbai today
Prabha and I, or alternatively Meera and I… or some poor pal of mine and I, would have got up at the crack of dawn, caught a train to Dadar, waded through muck and an assortment of people and bought bags full of flowers.

Yes, it is that time of the year again

Puja time – Varalakshmi time

Its unbelievable… I never thought I would miss it so
The crazy folks
The long hours
The constant chatter
The piles of work
The never-ending stream of guests

… but I miss it… s o b l o o d y m u c h

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

On the other hand, if I had been in Mumbai now,
I would have to think of what to get my friends for Friendship day
And I am broke
As usual
And I don’t think they would accept IOU vouchers
Again…

So, I guess I am better off here
…

I am
Really.

Eradicator - Search. Find. Destroy.

It was a dark night
The humid weather lulled the mind…

The slightest of sound
And the inert body was transformed to a state of supreme alertness
A tiny beam of light emerged on its right hand
And scanned the breadth of visible territory
Even the minutest of movement didn’t go unnoticed

The predator was a seasoned one…
Treading softly
He jumped when he had to, making almost no sound

Almost …

That tiny slip-up cost him
…
..
.
His home
His food
His hearing ability
And
He probably died of a delayed cardiac arrest
When the terminator screamed out her lungs.

~ The End ~

Credits:
Predator – Killer rat disguised as a meek mouse


Terminator – Toinks disguised as a shrieking banshee


Source of light – Torch disguised as a regular mobile
(No picture available. Shy guy, this one.)

Gymming after 2 years

Ouch*
Ouchouchaouch
Ow
Ouch.

Stinky Socks Alert!

If I gag to death
And my green green corpse is discovered
Kindly put my colleagues behind bars
Hopefully, the bar will have 3 dozen pairs of wet stinky socks and no windows
Choke*
Smelling salt... get me some freaking smelling salt ... fresh air... help ... help ... hellllppp
...
..
..

The casting couch exists…

We sat across the table, the old friend and I
Sipping a sad cold coffee and a watery iced tea

He: Am producing a movie sometime soon
Me: *Insert smart-ass inane joke here*
Me: Hyuck hyuck… I am so funny… you ought to use my lines for your film
He: Why not ... You will have to buy me dinner though, and often
Me: What? Waitamminnit! Why?
He: Simple funda … You wanna write for my movie, you gotta feed me… and anyone who wants a role in it will have to sleep with me… *smug grin*
Me: Haila … *Imagine open-mouthed, utterly amazed/disgusted/vague expressioned toinks here*

Pirated!

He walked off a ship and straight into our hearts
We raved, watched and drooled over his movies
He, of the intense kohl lined eyes
He, of the weird stutter
He, of the crazy attire
…
Loved him then
Love him now
Captain Jack Sparrow

All in agreement say ‘Aye’!

- and so we depply believe

Do I even exist?

human i am
i am human
cells few
a couple of tissues
blood and flesh
and a brain
to think
a heart
to feel
and a mind
somewhere in between
to fly above
reach further
to be one
with the one
who created
who will destroy
to recreate
an endless loop
a continuous cycle
some call it living
i call it life.

Blood on my mind

blasts. death. blood. gore. crying. injured. calls. panic. rumours. killed. bombs. stations...
*^%$#@!()&^

each time i believe i have left behind anger
immature urges to murder
basic instinct that says get violent
curse
kill
curse
kill
...
wipe the scum off this earth
kill
kill
beat
hit
destroy
...

God ... why ...
leave my city alone ... leave my country alone ... let us all be ...
live
and
let
live

damn you
die
... hurt

Corporate Meetings

This was scribbled this morning, when I was supposed to be taking down notes.
I h a t e m e e t i n g s .. especially those long never ending ones where I am supposed to look intelligent. Takes a toll on my energy levels.
Keeping eyes open + look intelligent & interested...
Multi tasker I am not...

Bored to death
Muddy brown
A handful of earth
and I'd settle down
No riches, no wine and
and certainly no goals
Gimme my cheque
and just lemme go

Smoky wifts of contempt
Eyes full of scorn
Petty talks to submerge
the arrogance of sound
I'd rather be sleeping,
sleeping snug and warm
In the embrace of my blanket
peaceful ... and calm

Drenched in Nostalgia

"u know... yesterday i didnt go to office.... it was raining so bad, and i rememebred the tp we used to do when u were here! felt like going out int he rain with a closed umbrella in hand... felt like getting wet by sharing jsut 1 umbrella with someone.... felt like going back to that day when we walked all the way home from station after dropping meera at her place! :-) missed u :-( ..."

Congratulations. You got me. Again.

Yes, I remember the day you are reminiscing about.

The rain
The crowded platform
The cancelled trains
The crazy ideas
The long walk
The shared umbrella
The drenched shoulders
The mad family
The smell of vada-pav

I miss it all, sorely.

But you know what hurts the most? The part where I cannot be with you today… the fact that I cannot be there to see your eyes shine as they scan through birthday cards… I cannot feel the laughter bubbling up behind that indignant voice which trying to guess the contents of the ‘gift-wrapped’ package…

The fact that I cannot be with you on your birthday

Such is life huh?

Happy Birthday Prabha… Have a brilliant life

2 drops does not a shower make

See, I am a Mumbaikar. I have lived through the mad monsoons of that side of the Vindhyas.

I have waded through potholes full of roads*.
I have cursed the central railway. I have cursed the western railway. I have cursed the harbour line.
I have hitch-hiked, shared rickshaws, hopped off trains, prayed for a cup of warm tea, sang songs, held hands, heeded advice, lent my raincoat, shared umbrellas, pulled my hair in frustration, shivered in cold … in the rains of Mumbai.

So kindly do not tell me that the 1.64 mm of afterthought from the sky that you get here is RAIN.

Also do not stand over my cubicle and stare at the television set located strategically above my head. I do not want to hear moronic anchor repeating incessantly about the tragic condition of Mumbai after another lashing from the rain God.

It is not as bad as 26th of July 2005 (I hope and pray)
So stop adding to my already frayed nerves and … and I don’t know. Just keep off I guess.

And you guys out there in Mumbai, keep yourself out of trouble or I will come and personally whip your sorry bottoms.

Yes, I am irritated as hell.

*Intentional goof-up. Learn to understand these things.

Woman, Ye foul temptress

This is a post that is going to reek of dissent, so if you are not up to a dose of gripe, I suggest a long walk away from this page.

Working at a place where I have a television set blaring all day has lead me to master partial hearing. Now I only wish to learn how to filter out stuff I read.

I was blog-hopping and happened upon Sai’s blog. He has written his take on the women in the Sabarimala shrine issue.

And then, I clicked on the comment button. Biggest darned mistake of the day.

People have thrashed the article and the author in the basest of languages. The argument on is utterly pointless and vague. Most of the idiots there don’t even know what the entire post is about. The whole idea has been misconstrued while a bunch of pseudo preachers of Hinduism have taken the utterly predictable course of pointing out the holes in other religions. A couple of them have the cheek to talk about menstruation as if it was some kind of disease. They have gone on and on about how religion and beliefs are not to be touched by a barge pole because the sentiment of 1000s was strung around it…

Hello?
Wake up and smell the coffee you big nitwits.

It is not about one temple or one religion. It is about equality and the right to worship. It is about the one supreme God who does not believe in divide and rule. It is about getting a life. It is about thinking logically. It is about faith … in God and the judgment meted out therewith.

Blech.

I have got a bad taste in my mouth just reading the thoughts… how do these people live with them?

Gumboot Gibberings

Have you ever noticed:
The way the helmet jiggles when the wearer is moving his head to music
The way the trees smile and sway after a brief shower
The way generosity meter goes up when the weather is beautiful
The way people try to wipe their eyes through goggles while riding their bikes
The way the bhutta smells better during monsoon
...
Drizzle a little
Pour a while
Drops of beauty
Winds of joy

Shine as the dew
Crystallized smile
Rainbow of colours
Sweet reprieve

I love monsoon. Even if it means being stuck in jams for hours.

And for those who complained, swore, cribbed about moderated comments, I plead not guilty
I am technologically challenged.

Mindless Reads

The husband has gone gallavanting under the garb of an official training and the weather still sucks big time...

Also, I am a little agitated over the fact that Christopher Paolini is not a fast enough writer and his third book is not out yet. Ditto @ Ashok Banker, only in his case it is the 6th one.

Did I mention that not one bookstore stocks Manda Scott's Boudica part 2 and 4?
Cosmic Thrashbags.

So, I went to the cousin's house and picked up a set of the most amazingly mindless literature I could find.

They are like the Govinda movies one used to go watch after stressful times (for e.g. exams).

I love you writer of frothy mushy nonsensical works.

On Your Knees, Mortals

I have Samurai – The Sword
I have Zulu – The African hunting knife

Now, I also have ‘Feather’ – The Mohawk Axe

See, Drool and Go Green ...



Ps: Thanks guys, for a farewell gift like this I’d quit a million jobs

Mithu from Meerut

"It will be a tough journey
But the pain will be eased if you come along..."

Now, which girl can walk away from a corny line like that?
Not this girl anyway… especially when spoken with a particularly ‘paavum’ expression.

So one wakes up nice and drowsy on a Saturday morning and gets driven down to Meerut.
One is hauled from one government building to another on the pretext of registering a 4-inch by 7-inch or some such length of plot.
One felt awed at the imaginative artwork on the walls of said buildings … the people spit creatively in this land of mine.
One would have liked to ram a creaky chair down the 10th official who asked for ‘chai-paani’.
One felt like swooning when no breakfast was in sight and the time was 1.00 PM.
One grayed out (semi-blacked out that is) when lunch was not in sight either.
One wished to commit hara-kiri when one was informed about the 3-hour incubation period necessary for a document to be signed.

One would have gone on further with demented activities … if the one responsible for getting one in the said situation had not intervened and took one over to one another friend’s uncle’s place.

That’s where the hero of my entire post made an appearance.
Mithu – The talking parrot.

22 years old, he snuggles up to one and says… “chota Mithu kehdo na”
Aww shucks, so sweet.
Maybe I wont drop a bomb @ Meerut afterall.

Meta Crap All

No comps
No people
Loads of work
Multiple meetings
Hot air
No water
Sand everywhere
Same news
Fuel hikes
Bad food
Worse chai
Sigh*

actually, its probably lack of sleep or pms .... or both.
tch man...

The Sun shines brighter

Last year, this day, I was in Goa
A phone call early in the morning had transported me to virtual heaven
Our Princess had arrived

My niece Radhika is one year old today

I cannot imagine how we lived without her around

Live, Love, Laugh sweetheart…
And together we will drive your father nuts

Cheers~

Why?

After one year,
I have learnt to like the city I call home
I have found a set of people whose company I genuinely adore
I have gone around by-hearting road names
I have sampled the raste ka khana
I have done the tourist round
I have haggled with rickshaw drivers and taken the white line buses
I have mastered the art of making aloo paranthas
I have developed a taste for gol-gappas
I have automatically started saying ‘haanji’

Magar firbhi …
I cannot bring myself to be called a Delhiite
I cannot help but miss Mumbai’s sheer pace and spirit
I cannot forget the taste of the season’s first Alphonso
So many memories … and then, there is this:

Mumbai
26°C
Overcast
Wind: N at 0 km/h
Humidity: 83%

New Delhi
41°C
Scattered Clouds
Wind: NW at 9 km/h
Humidity: 27%

One year on ...

Yup, It's anniversary time.
Anniversary of the day (25-05-05) I got engaged to my sister-in-law
and
the husband exchanged rings with my brother.

Once again I wonder at the eccentric mind that created tam-brahm rituals...

Hallelujah...

Belonging

New Place
New people
New Job

I walked out to the terrace and stared

13 floors high

I saw eagles fly

And sensed belonging.

Sixth Sense

I knew it the minute she told me about him
I knew it would not work out

4 years later, they still were a couple
Maybe I was wrong …
Maybe they were meant to be

Weeks later, they broke up
He left
She wept

So, do I feel thrilled that my gut instinct is intact or do I feel sick for my friend?

Cut the Quota

The subject has been brewing around for quite a while. Everyone with a tongue in his or her mouth has discussed it. I am talking about the wonderful brilliant idea of a set of amazingly bright politicians to reserve further quotas for the ‘underprivileged people’.

I am not against it. No way. I just love the thought of being treated by someone who got his/her qualification because his/her seat in the medical college was booked the day he/she was born.

I also don’t mind using software designed by an idiot with the brains of a termite but with a degree from a premiere university. No really, I do not. All software crash anyway.

But I will mind… oh hell yeah … punch-in-your-face mind … if someone ever suggests that my friend who knows more about her subject than anyone I know from her field, got her degrees because she belonged to a certain caste.

I will mind if someone sniggers at my engineering buddy and mentions he got his promotion because he was a you-know-who.

And I will most definitely mind the mentality this “quota-system” will create… that the so-called underprivileged people can only make it in life… thanks to what they are and not who they are.
It befuddles me completely … I mean, someone please tell me again, how is this reservation thing going to help anyone?

Gourmet meets Glutton

... inside the same body
and the resulting tragedy cannot be expressed in words
Except maybe, *burp*

Freaking hell ... someone stitch the jaw together
Or get blueberry cheesecakes banned.

grrrr ..* urp ... grr ... er... xcuse me...