Mooch part 2, with photos

and so was chronicled our hairy brunch :)

cheers~
ps: bloody mooch tickled nose bad, wonder how people have it for ever and ever?

mooch nahi toh kooch nahi

we were supposed to meet over brunch this sunday ... and i forgot, so did sri.
we had all of 10 odd minutes to announce our departure, put ita to sleep, leave instructions for when she would wake up, get out of pyjamas, wear clean clothes (damn the bath, damn the bath... it was sunday!) and leave.

minutes before our destination and in the middle of the zillionth signal, we noticed an auto driver trying to commit suicide under a water tanker. on closer observation we realised that the guy had wedged the auto (almost) underneath the tanker so he could clean his windsheild with the water dripping from the leaking tap behing the tanker. we almost missed the bearded salesman during our enthusiastic photographing of this cleansing ritual. almost but not quite.

the false beard and moustache set we bought for Rs.15/- turned out to be a riot at the brunch meeting. fulltoo paisa vasool. all of us tried it on, with variations of course - with moustache, without moustache, the beard on the head (a few drinks later) ... and got ourselves photographed.

it was one of the most amazing meals i have had. we laughed more than we ate, which if you know us, would really tell you how much fun we were having.
if only i could find the picture of mugdha and me posing as sardars now.

No matter what.

upset or sad
yell or shout
hungry or in pain
for a hug, for a cuddle
mums are the best.

i didn't quite get it.
until now.

no matter how much i yell and keep her from doing fun things (eating the chappals, toppling dustbins, putting fingers inside sockets) ... she holds up her little hands and wants her mother to comfort her ...

i am going to miss it when she grows up.
wonder if my mum does too.

willpower

must ...

lose ...

weight ...

uhm... is that a blueberry cheesecake? i'd like 2 slices please.

i hate sequels.

thanks to the delhi book fair, i have loads of books to read. and then, there was the landmark sale. so you understand just how many options i have, right? wrong. you know why? coz, i read the part 3 of christopher paolini's eragon series: 'Brisingr'... and the thought of having to wait for another 2 years for the concluding part to arrive is driving me batty. so batty, that i cannot concentrate on any other book.

bleddy nonsense.

superb third book btw. go pick. atleast just so we can all discuss and crib about the waiting period.

Monk-ita

Apparently, ankita looks like a buddhist monk.
Only we know that she ain't no peaceful meditating kind.

So, between all of us we have agreed to call her Monkita ... half monkey, half monk, full timepass :)

Sea Saw

The husband had to travel to Chennai on business and the 'lukkha-aatma' that I am these days, ankita and I tagged along.

I had so forgotten how beautiful the sea is. And how wonderful the breeze feels.
We are lucky that the sister in law has a house that faces the sea. And thanks to the crazy schedule the daughter keeps, am up at all hours ... staring at the sea. I have seen so many shades, so many moods, so much loveliness.

And, I have been eating kaccha aam and sundal and boiled channa and bhutta ... no wonder sri ka standard joke these days is ... what did the baby elephant say when he saw toinks? Mommmmmyyyy :D:D:D

Ok bye.

my mobile phone

is not letting me download the pictures i took with it.
and i am too lazy to re-charge the battery of my camera.

stupid mobile phone.

inglis is my 18th language and i spik it well

i was reading the Zoya factor by Anuja Chauhan (nice, nice) and i actually noticed that most people around me speak just like the characters in the book. very very desi english. it is is so much easier to communicate when you have a masala mix bag of several languages and you can pluck and choose and plug in words from all of them to form one gloriously riotous language that reflects your deepest thoughts in the most effeiceint manner, unlike this long sentence.

for example, if you had a brilliant idea, you can't just say hey, i have a brilliant idea ... it is wayyy better if you say something like, abbe sun, i have this super tohdu idea. i mean .. do you see the difference?

and then we have some drastic classic examples. like the names caterers give their "special" concoctions.
like stay fried vegetables
like paneer saslick
like hukka nudles

so cool neh? they make for so much entertainment.
chalo abhi katlo.

go... went ... gone

after the initial flush, this sudden window that enables freedom is beginning to look daunting.
tomorrow is my last day at work.
i
am
so
freaked
out.

we went out for a nice lunch today. just soo, nigel, nishtha and me. and i realised, i am not going to have anybody around to maaro my stupid pjs on.
nobody is going to understand sarcasm.
nobody is going to sit with me and crib about the nonsense deadline.
nobody. nothing.
and worst of all ... no pay cheque at the end of every month.

how am i going to pay my phone bills?
and my credit card bills?

penury ... here i come.

older and poorer, thats what my tomorrow looks like. and lonelier.

mumma :(

i am obsessed

with dragons, elves, dwarves, fairies, magic and such.

now i cannot read anything else.

please tell me it is just a phase.

to chronicle or not to chronicle

i want to write about every little thing she does...
the way she looks
the way she smiles
about how she loves curds like a good tam-brahm kid
about how she babbles all the time
the way her eyes shine on spotting a newspaper
the way she tries to put everything in her mouth
...

i don't know how or when i morphed into a wannabe mommy blogger
and i always thought i would never ever go on and on about ita.

...
and all ye parents, i do not want to hear your "we told you sos".
go and smirk some place else.
buggers.

The bald baby

there is this baby i know,
who used to touch her bottom when the nappy was off ... just to make sure her bum was still there.

the other day, her parents went and got her head shaved ...
and now she alternates between assuring her head is on and her bum is still there.

very very funny.

to know more about this baby, check her papa's blog.

For the first time

.. in over 9 years, I am not going to have a job.
i have no plans
and i am loath to take up other offers.

the prospect is daunting.
and strangely liberating.

now would be a good time to catch up on all the housework.
and to go to the gym.

and maybe ... just maybe, it is time to revive an old dream.
pruthvi - a fistful of earth.

dreams and schemes
crown and glory
one more chance
one more time...

peter peter, pumpkin eater

alright, it is supposed to be something like:
ita, ita, potato eta (eater)... but the pumpkin version sounds better.

sri, ita and i went out for brunch last morning.
and she managed to destroy a toast and polish off a wedge of boiled potato ... toothless as she is.



now we know she is our kid.
never say no to potatoes. in any form. any time. tooth or no tooth.

am gonna miss you amigo

was flipping through 'The Roald Dahl Treasury' this morning and was relishing the beautiful illustrations and thinking to myself ... Soo would love these ... when it came to me, she would not be around at office anymore... to discuss a design, admire a cover, talk about animation movies or share books with... and i am gonna miss it, lots.

have not known her for long, and i know we will be in touch ... but i would like to thank her now before i forget to be properly grateful ... for letting me inside her world of colours and teaching me to observe the beauty of lines drawn just so.

thank you, and i now know why you insisted on calling them graphic novels and not comic books :)

rock on, become insanely famous, write many-many books, make pots of money ... and share it with us poor folks. okbye, happy sailing ~

Thought bubbles

sometimes i think of those people, who touched my life briefly and vanished
when a current life incident triggers a buried memory
when a word, a song brings forth a face to my mind
when i am traveling and have nothing to read

i think of them
and wonder about where they are today
and why we fell out of touch.

i don't miss them
not like i would miss some others
but i would still like to say hello sometime.
just for old time's sake.

underneath the mango tree
there was a girl
waiting, waiting, waiting ...

All you people in Bangalore..

please tell me you all are safe...
Can't get through to most of you.

you bloody asswipes who planted those bombs ... may your liver be eaten away by red ants.

Have you ever

... confused a person for someone else and had a long conversation with him?
I did.
Today. Over the messenger.
Not my mistake actually. He shares his first name with another good friend. And his second name. But still.
Mighty silly.

letter in earnest

To,
The husband
Please come home. And take over midnight-baby feeding-changing routine.

Yours lovingly
Dog tired wife.

2 weeks have never seemed so ridiculously long. sigh*

how do i say i am sorry ...

... when i have never met the person who has passed away
... when i have never experienced a similar pain
... when i know the words are going to sound superficial
... when i cannot look her in the eye
... when i have a frozen tongue

how do i tell her ... that life will go on after her father's death?
i know it will, painful as the times would be ... but how does one go and offer condolence?
condolence ... such an ugly word. a poor representation of the anguish one feels for a friend going through a terrible phase.

i can only hope and pray for the soul
hers and the departed one's ... and mine
peace unto you.

a cat lives in my throat

and is trying her damndest to get out.

itchy scratchy cough-scarred throat.

bring on the sympathy and some hot water. and also strepsils. forgot those at home.

okbye.

I have noticed

that there are two kinds of people in my industry.
one who can write
the others who think they can.

Poetry from inside a cement pipe

I pinged prabha late last evening and asked her to take a dekho at my brand new blog header. I was super proud of it plus I needed to know if she was ok with being pictorially associated with my blog.

She was. Said she would have probably killed me if I hadn't put her snap.
Ok, its prabha we are talking about. She is so mild, she would probably just have gone all silent on me. And that would have killed anyway. So coming back to the long drawn point, she was quite ok with it. She ought to be. We share history. We wrote poems together. Whilst sitting inside an abandoned cement pipe. In the middle of a ground. Next to a gutter.

And she has got amazing memory. She actually remembered a couple of them. The following is the product of two kids with too much time at hand, a book and a pen.

I met a girl from fairyland,
She had in her hand a magical wand.
She looked at me with a friendly glance
And invited me for a little dance.

But I couldn’t dance as I was in a trance.
And so I missed my only chance to dance with a girl from fairyland.
And that is the dream I had had and so I am sad because I missed my only chance to dance with a girl from fairyland!!

Now if I can only find the book so I can treat you all to some more classic pieces of work.

My head needs to go for a walk

I know I ought to share, but it kills me to let anyone else bask in her smile.
But I know I am being bad, so I force myself to leave her with them.
And then hang around just beyond the door, watching, hoping... she'd miss me.

I know I ought to move on, but it hurts to know that my reputation is dog shit.
But I know I have a point to prove, and hang in there.
And pray everyday that they would give me a reason to say good-bye.

I know I need to confront her, but it scares me to think of not having her around anymore.
But I know I am being a coward, and I pick the phone up to call her.
And tell her about how it rained heavily today.

Mugs used to say that I carry a lot of baggage.
She must have been speaking the truth.
Suddenly the weight is overwhelming.
And I am not even talking about it in Kgs.

Let it up,
Let it go,
Heavy heart
Feather light.

sometimes

the sun shines
and it rains, hard

clouds converge
and the wind blows

happiness happens
and sadness seeps in

in and out
out and in

over and over again
cycle of life.

this and that

The only thing I seem to talk about these days is about the daughter.
I really ought to write about my life.
Now, wait a single minute ... what life am I talking about?
Mera jeevan ek susu potty nappy dudu routine ban ke reh gaya ...

Arrrgghh ...
Ok. Am so not letting the boredom demon seep in.
But it is difficult.
To suddenly be house bound. Not meet friends. Not have brain storming sessions. No deadlines. No lunch time gossips...

Am I a bad mother then? Because I cannot seem to find complete joy in just looking after my child?
I love the kid. I would hate to miss a second of her life. But somehow, the heart seems to crave for more. Not like I have the energy for more though.

Oh well, the silver lining is the number of books I have been able to read. Buddha the graphic novel, the entire artemis fowl series plus everything else that eoin colfer has written, the avalon series, a couple of daniel steels and ...uhm, a few mills and boons...

Oh and, the daughter has managed to crawl ... in reverse gear. Doesnt seem to get why the toy she was crawling towards suddenly seems so far.
Total nutcase.

Cheers~

The Golden Period

... ah, that would be a time when I get 8 hours of sleep, but thats not what I started to write about.

Since the time I hit 25, my monthly cycle has been a pain, I have often wondered how anyone could call it "chums"... admittedly some of my so called friends are bigger pains, but firbhi. Nausea, backaches, drowsiness, cramps, headaches ... its a wonder I have not plunged a knife and removed the bloody uterus myself yet.
So, when the other day the periods arrived, I was overjoyed. No trouble at all. This motherhood thing must work. Man ... I can stand them sleepless nights. Fair exchange I say.

And then, just like when the brat lets out an almighty yowl when we are sneaking out of the room after a 45 minute marathon session to put her to sleep, the tank dries up.

WTF? False alarm and all that.

No golden periods for you sweetie. Howdy womanhood.

Joys of Motherhood ...

and nope, am not talking about the book by Buchi Emacheta.

Our daughter Ankita is currently the source of Joy. Well ok, most times. Except when she wakes up at 2.30 A.M and for no reason. I mean, if a kid wants food or needs to be changed ... I get that. But if a kid gets up just for kicks ... I SO DO NOT GET IT.

Anybody who knows me understands that sleep is next to Godliness in my book. Does this 1 foot nothing tyke get that? No sir, not her. No respect for elders. Whats this generation coming to... tch tch tch.

Ok bye. The Empress is upset that I would rather stare at the computer than look at her making bubbles. Nonsense.

And the award goes to ...

I had borrowed the 'sisterhood of the travelling pants' from Soo.
Loved it so much I insisted she pick up the other parts for me (Lucky woman lives closer to the Landmark store than I do).
Read them all and felt strange. Like someone had placed a camera inside our lives. Mugs, Meera and I.

I knew Mugs had to read the book. So, with permission from Soo, I couriered it to her.
She loved the book and as usual, tried to whack it. Dire warnings about lost front teeth and bad curse for stealing third person's book had her couriering it back.

Got the courier today, and Soo ... just like that, gave the book away to me... because, it would complete my set. So cool! And, her note inside the book says:
Lifetime Reading Award :)
Of course, afterwards she keeps chuckling about how my lifetime is over at 30.

But wot the heck. I have the full set. Yipee!!

fearless warrior

and to doom i walk

all alone all alone

solitary soldier

braveheart girl
... half wise woman

on the way to work, i bit into a piece of roti ... and a part of my wisdom tooth just fell off.
now, it does not hurt or anything
i am not scared of the dentist or anything
but forces beyond my power (read very painful colleagues + husband) are insisting i go get martyred at the decay doctor's rickety chair.

so good bye and fare thee well beloved world.

he told me so :)

she: hey... beautiful sari!
he: uh huh... beautiful wife :)

ultra super.

No hang ups, no worry

Can I be like you?
You, who has lived and never learnt,
To feel the bitterness
That life has to offer…

Can I be like you, little girl
The one who has been cheated
But still bears no grouse
And is willing to give it one more try?

Can I be like you?
You …
The one “Maya” doesn’t seem to have a hold on?
Can I?
Please?

You might not know it, but you kick ass. Thank you Meera.

C ycle of life

I remember the days I used to come home from the playground to find my grandmom (my mother's mom) and my dad arguing loudly. She called him a cheat. He would respond in kind. They would glower at each other and walk their separate ways.

The fight was always about a game of carrom. Granny had her own set of rules. Dad was a pro. Both of them, bull headed. My poor mother, tired after a long day at work would be besieged with complaints from both the parties. I am sure most days she would have gladly rammed the carrom board down their collective throats.

One would think after an evening of bitter fighting grandma and dad would let up on their evening ritual. But no. The carrom board was a shrine they visited regularly. The ensuing argument, their homage.

Fast forward 2 decades... and I walk in on my mother and husband playing carrom. And they were accusing each other of cheating. When my presence was detected, complaints poured in.

Fulltoo deja vu happened :-)

Jai Mata Di

Ever since I have come to Delhi, I have always, every single time, tried to prove that Mumbai was way better than this *insert hugely popular bad word* place.
Mumbai locals blah blah
Public transport blah blah
Safety for women blah blah
People in general blah blah
Better food blah blah
The sea and the rocks blah blah
Closer to the mountains blah blah
Decent autowallahs blah blah....

The Delhiites hate it. Hate me. Tell me to go back to where I belong. And all that. Sometimes I grudgingly accept that the roads are way better and the Himalayas are worth the pain... and the forts and monuments and history is worth another round of paneer parathas ...
But today, when my ma got off the train, my hand reached for her bag and positively grabbed the bottle of water I knew she always carries with her when she is travelling and took one long swig out of it.

Ma gave me a smile and said "Bombay ka paani? :)"

Sigh *

HNY 2008

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=joidNeA5Q-Q

Starring:
Kiran as the God
Sriram as the God's 2nd pair of hands
Meera as celestial dancer part 1
Uma as celestial dancer part 2

That was what I was doing. Well, part of the time anyways. If the good Lord above made this year half as much fun as the last 8 days then I would so so so achieve Nirvana :-)

Rock n Roll...
Happy New Year.

Was gonna write about this and that but ...

I have just got to write about this beautiful conversation that Mugs and I were having:
Actually, I need to copy paste it.

19:19 me: :D

sun

i have an idea of sorts

a business idea

wanted to discuss with you and laloo

Mugs: *choke

another one?

:D

me: yes

:D

19:20 asshole

Mugs: lol. i loved doing that.

go on shoot

me: bloody constipated chicken's intestine

Mugs: lol

me: nice eh?

19:21 graphic enough for you

Mugs: yeah.

me: :D

bcci

lol

lol

lol

lol

Mugs: lol

me: takes a bow

19:23 am copy pasting this onto my blog.

Brilliant eh? I tell you, I can make a living out of inventing new new gaalis.

must write must write

must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write must write .....
oho deep in my heart,
i do believe that,
i have gotta write someday.

Raindrops keep falling on my head ...

Plenty has happened. Plenty to go. We are at the crux where the road can take us anyway. To the top. To the pits. Across. Within. No place. Every place.

There are so many thoughts in my head that the words are all rushing in causing a jam at the fingertips.

One thing that escaped the chaotic neurons was the immensely beautiful trip to Mukteshwar.
The weather, the food, the company, the locals and of course, the Himalayas.

Temple temple burning bright :)


Himalayas... gorgeous


The mad gang


For more pics, check out my flickr account ya?

we won we won we won...

yay
we won
we are the champions
we won
we are the amazings
we won
we won
we bloody won
the world damned cup
we won
we SO SO SO won

though,
i was not allowed to watch the match
that was on at work
because
my husband called and informed my colleagues
that i was a jinx
bull c r a p.

grrr.
but anyways. what the heck. i can live with that.
we won.
oh joy.

ringa ding ding ding

Ask no questions, get no lies
Hear no sound, hear no cries
Sympathy, Empathy… wasted words
Hello no more, no more byes

Sluggish rivers, blackened skies
No more hows, no more whys
Stalled connections, crossed swords
Bleeding ulcers, heartfelt sighs.

Ps: No idea how this came about. Generally only. Am not even depressed. Nonsense.

Not all relations have names...

Stumbled upon this group on Orkut sometime ago and it made so much sense that I joined up pronto. The introduction to the group goes thus:

Not everybody is someone's brother, or sister...
Or someone's father or mother...
Or boyfriend or girlfriend...
Or lover or friend...
Or......
Some relations go beyond the human confine of words...
Some relations which define you...
But you can't define them, no matter how hard you try...

There are indeed so many such relations that we come across through our lives. So many people we cannot call brother or friend or relative. So many faces that are dear to the heart, but have no labels attached to their names. So many acts of spontaneity that have moved and touched you ...

I want to say this to you folks whom I cannot for the lack of vocabulary (mine) categorize under a bracket:
You are the dew drops of my life. Rock on.

Hallelujah, Its raining books :)

13th Delhi Books and Stationary Fair
Pragati Maidan

Joy. Joy. Joy.

Gaya and I made a killing
Sri... is the best husband ever :)

tra la lee

i was gonna watch ratatoille (spelling is galat, i the know)
got together a bunch of friends
got husband to agree
got cousin to agree
and then got stuck in a meeting that went on.
and on.

the friends left for the theater
husband and cousin reached the theater

while i sat in a meeting ...

the point being, i missed the movie
but i did make it to the mall... where i waited for the people-who-got-to-see-the-rat-that-cooked

i waited in a bookstore
and i ended up buying 11 books and placing an order for 4 more

the day was not all that bad now was it?

The sign

Show me a sign that you exist, I pleaded.
God said, you think of me.

Realization...

I do not love him anymore
Probably never did ...

sigh*
Growing up simply kills all your youthful fantasies …

And to think I moped around for almost 14 years over it.

Bloody hell.

Good, bad and a happy friendship day

Monsoon has become a crazy time. Sometimes I pray with all my heart for a few stray showers and sometimes I keep my fingers tightly crossed, wishing the clouds away. The emotion is directly controlled by the day, traffic and road conditions.

Friday was a bad day. A few hours of rain and Delhi was flooded. Roads caved in, traffic signals failed, chaos ensued... and it took me a long, long time to get to work. Despite it all, not once did the thought of turning back occur to me... all those years in Mumbai have me well trained. The times we waded through knee deep water and other flotsam are memories I cherish now (though I wished to throttle the municipality back then)... and for a moment, when I reached office, I felt this rush of cheer... a feeling of achievement... rubbish I know but what the heck.

Little did I know that it was indeed going to be a long day. By the time we were done for the day, the car broke down on us. If it hadn’t been for the non-poetry appreciating caveman I would have been royally jacked. Didn’t expect to find help, don’t usually accept help… but cars and such are so not my forte.

Then I hear of a friend’s father being grievously hurt.

A few hours later, I hear of another friend’s mother being critically ill.

And all I could do was pray. And worry. And pray some more.

Time has this strange way of becoming sluggish when mental trauma is at its peak. The minutes ticked by like they were tied to enormously heavy metal balls. The wait to hear the all well sign played havoc on my nerves and once again I realized what I wanted most out of life … proximity to my friends… to people I could talk with …

It was then that I turned to my ever present buddies. Books. Marley & Me by John Grogon is an amazing tale of the relationship between a dog and the family that adopts him.

Just the right book to read on Friendship day.

Hope you guys had a great one…

So, who am i?

i speak in english, i think in english
i speak hindi, sometimes i think in hindi
i speak in marathi, seldom think in marathi
i speak in tamil, i concentrate to be able to speak in tamil

i listen to songs
english, hindi, marathi, tamil
i love them all...

english and hindi are just languages to me. a way to communicate... and i always felt closer to marathi than tamil despite being a tamilian.

the other day i listened to carnatic music and abhangs back to back.
both managed to touch me... deeply.

and suddenly, today i dont know where i belong anymore.
it would be so much easier to say i am an indian and go on with life.

Partnered our way to Jaipur. Almost.

Friday night was gonna be movie night. Yay. With husband and Gaya-tree and her friends. Yay.
The movie we were gonna watch was 'Partner'. Er, yay. Starring Salman Khan. Ugh. And Govinda. Yay.

Let me cut the yaying and get to the point.
Bloody nonsense movie.
Super nonsense movie.
The last movie I truely wished to walk out of was Hum aapke hain kaun... but even that seems like a wholesome entertainer after that utter wastage of blood and tissues - Salman Khan showcase. Grrr.

So to compensate for all that torture and to clear our heads, we decided we'd drive down to Jaipur.
At 1.30 A.M.
So, we drove on and on. Listening to some good music, munching on some agreeable chips.
And then Gaya says she has got to catch Maya ... and we think she is going to go philosophical on us ...

Only, Maya is her maid who comes in at unholy hours (like 6 A.M.) and is not often catchable/ cornerable.

So we went about 3 quarters of the way and u-turned our way back home.

Slept till 9... and I never heard Maya.
Wish I hadn't heard of Partner either.

Nostalgia: Now three pence less

thats a line that was part of a sonnet ... or was it a couplet. thought it beautiful enough to put it here.

read some more and stumbled upon another gem:
The puppet thinks:
It's not so much,
what they make me do...
as their hands inside me.

a colleague sat on my desk whilst i read through that and he didn't get it. didn't get such simple lines. why? he is not dense or anything, usually is quite a bright chap... but when it comes to poetry... i have seen people just scampering away like they'd catch some dreaded disease or something.

i mean, i don't boast of understanding the rhymes and meters and haikus of most poets, but atleast i try to read it and if it reeks of reality, if the meaning hits home, if it smells of truth and honesty ... then i know i like it.

am blabbering.
sigh*
i miss you soo ... atleast you got poetry.

Blog, I love you

No, I truly do.
So why have I been ignoring my blog?
Well, that my friend, is the million dollar question...


...
What?
Am already gone. To find the answer or Nirvana in the process.

Toodles~

talk, talk, chatter, chatter, gossip

i spoke with her last evening. the one we used to call laddoo. she has been unwell for a while now... didnt know about it, until a chance encounter of the orkut kind. spoke with her for a long long time, about masala pavs and cutting chais, slimy profs and handsome editors, crazy classmates who are now papas and mommas.

i spoke with him last evening. the one i used to call ass****. he has been through a lot of crap. i did know about it, but never managed to call him as often as i should have. we spoke very briefly, thanks to bad coverage. we exchanged the mandatory insults, bitched about work, cities, lack of money, lack of time, lack of life.

i spoke with her last evening. the one we used to call bambola. she is the reason i have faith in God. she is the one who makes me believe in smiling when life comes up with a lemon after another. we spoke about the one who got married and the one who has got promoted, shared pjs, shared worries, laughed a lot and then she disconnected because an Amitabh Bachchan movie was coming on cable.

now i know why i don't mind travelling 50 kms one way to work. i get to catch up with people who matter...

Reality bites

Muscles and bones
Ache and groan
The injury, forgotten
The pain remembered

Actions and gestures
Tears and bonds
The gaps, monumental
The memories remain

Torn with concern
Anguish and sympathy
Whom do I hurt for?
The one who is distressed physically
Or the one who doesn’t even know?

gloat glee gloat...

been a while since one posted
but am back, to gloat
and show off

all hail latest pair of footwear
they are the comfortablestest floaters on earth...
anndddd ... they are in O R A N G E ... how cool is that!!!!

ps: ignore foot, admire the footwear ok?

Corbett is one of the best places, ever

Jim Corbett did us all a favour by helping build the Tiger sanctuary.
No, we didnt get to see a Tiger ... that royal of all royalty.
But we stayed in a forest reserve guest house
where we had chinkaras (blackbucks) for company
with occasional visits from stags and deer, who had been fed and raised by the forest officials
and how could i forget the peacocks?
Dancing gaily and calling out to each other all day .. and practically all night

This was my second visit. I loved it the first time. I loved it this time around. I am going back. Promise.

A lonely tree against a blue blue sky



The game of stones in which the older generation won, hands down



Staple evening diet ... Maggi Noodles :)

The steps to the machaan

The ancient Banyan

The little bugger who kept head butting me all over the place :)


cheers~

Long chutti yay!

after a long long long time,
we finally have a couple of days off.
Yay.
yay.
yaaaaaay.
~happy :)

Cyclecart and Mud

the demolishers came (behind my office)
and they left behind a load of mud
and a lonely cycle cart.
if nothing, this place provides for some very scenic pictures :)

God threw ice at me

when i first heard the sound
i didn't quite believe my ears
or my eyes either
but when comprehension dawned
i ran helter skelter in an undignified dash
to catch up with the ice-rain

sigh*
my very first hailstorm

i freaked out
until the time the wind blew some huge chunks over my way
then i froze.



ps: not a good pic, but thats the best i could get with the mobile... the grass did look awesome... like someone had dropped a bag of diamonds on a sheet of green velvet... pretty :)

Colours and some more

It sure feels good to blog again. really good. i should ideally start with the stuff i had typed out last week... the one about the trip to Jaipur... but i'd so much rather speak about Holi.

Such a beautiful festival... and i celebrated it like it should be... with family and friends and some of the loveliest people i call my neighbours. For the first time since i moved base to delhi, i felt at home. i felt like i belonged. that i mattered to people... and this holi, i am right where i should be... finally.

here are some more pics. colourful aren't they?

Home sweeeeet home :)

The rain God played party pooper and we had to cancel our trip to Surajkund Mela... was a major disappointment, especially since it would have been my first visit to the place and I have heard so much about it...*mutter mutter silly rain god fella mutter mutter*

In the end, I was forced to do the very thing I wished to avoid by going off to the Mela ... unpacking. Bleh.

Tch.

But its ok, I clicked a lot of flop pictures.

*tadaaaaa*
Presenting... our house, in delicious disarray:

Who stole the washbasin?

The only reasonably sane place at home

The terrace garden thats supposed to have picket fences *fumes*

The bed of roses?


The guest room. The guest can come and unpack ;)

Trying to make sense of all them bills...so many of them :(

Stairway to heaven ... kitchen :)

A study in chaos

The long road to work

…is one of the best one, ever.
We have taken to driving through this diversion instead of the highway and I personally believe it is the single biggest reason for my feeling a lot happier in life.

Yes, it does take me a trifle longer thanks to the added Kms, but it is so much better than being stuck in a stagnant traffic jam amidst boring motorists who cannot seem to get one simple fact… constant blowing of the horn does not help un-jam the situation.

So, coming back to this new route, it leads me through a village, up a hill and fields.
Tiny mud houses, whitewashed and fresh
Little children, stirring awake
Ladies sashaying about their chores
Colourful ghaghras, multi-hued turbans
An old couple drinking chai, seated on a charpoi
A lazy bunch gathered outside a shop
Buffaloes and cows and calves
Some dogs and goats too
Fresh air and the smell of earth
Ripe with cowdung and last night’s fire
A dhabba cum puncture repair shop in the corner
Boulders and thorny bushes on either side
The kali temple, the other one dedicated to an unknown God
And a thousand other things that hold me enthralled
In the 20 odd minutes it takes me to get to the city again
I hit paradise.

a box full of memories

you know whats the best part about moving homes? the fact that you never know what little treasure is gonna be unearthed during the process.

my find was an ancient wooden casket.

it was all rusted and mouldy. perfectly lovely :-)


so once i had it suitably dusted and sandpapered, i painted it in brilliant shades of green and blue.

i even tried my hand at vegetable patterns... which flopped miserably. but we shall not discuss such trivial things. all in all, an excellent way to spend a saturday.

even if the end result leaves the husband completely perplexed.

P M S.

Your head hurts,
Your stomach rolls
You feel drained,
You lose control

You curse God
You curse Nature
For gifting you
With this monthly torture

Shallow eyes
Sleepless nights
Easy arguments
Quicker fights

Fiery temper
Weak in the legs
Drunken stupor
Stop it, I begs

Take it back
Gift of woe
I willingly offer
Take it and go.

Had posted this once before here. But a topic like this, deserves mention. Over and over again.
*shuffles away, feeling miserable*.

Cartons; full and labeled. Not.

we gonna move in
we gonna shift
new home,
here we come
the smell of fresh paint
the shiny taps
cabinets in deep wood
i would live in them
(if i could)
cartons lugged
cartons, big and small
up the stairs
and down
aching limbs
sore muscles
we barely felt
as we bathed in the lights
of home, our home
our hearts did swell

our eyes took in
every precious corner
and
thats where we spotted
the damaged wall.
seepage!
sacrilage!
i am so bloody killing the plumber.

The (F)art of Fine Dining.

it was a day to celebrate. so i asked around and zeroed in on a fine place to dine.
beautiful ambience - check
soothing music - check
well mannered staff - check

a dream, it was... before it all came undone.

the first indication of disastor was the audible gulp that came from the husband. the table, neatly tucked away in a corner (thank god for that, thank god for that...) looked deceptively tame.
in its fold it held an assortment of cutlery that i failed to recognise. i almost turned to ask the waiter if we were expecting company.

so, the guy-who-takes-the-order came over. he put a card that listed all the wines they serve. i for one know of only port wine and white wine. the husband is well... er, lets just say he is a beer guy. after much deliberation, we asked the person responsible for putting us in the situation for suggestions. that done, we turned our attention to the food list aka menu card.

i am starving said the husband
so am i, said i.

we ordered for a platter of blah blah something for starters.
i think they take you literally in that particular restaurant. they did get us a platter. a really huge one. nice and white and ceramicy. only, there was barely anything IN it. a tiny piece of cheese here and a sauteed capsicum there... oh and, plenty of crunchy lettuce.

moooo to you too.

the order guy looked definitely disapproving when we used the wrong fork. until that minute, i didnt know there could be any such thing.

its my birthday and i don't think i wanna eat here says husband
situation = bad.

our main course arrived.
my 2 year old nephew gets larger helpings.

we ate in silence.
paid the bill.
headed out to the nearest mcD/ barista/ cafe coffee day.
fine dining is not for us.

ps: Jai Hind. Go India!

line up for the autographs

The husband and I were on national tv last afternoon.
We were invited to be special guests, experts, awesome couple (ok, this was not listed, but what the heck) on a show that spoke about marraiges that are fixed over the internet vis a vis the traditional offline version.

A lot of people asked a lot of questions ... some innocent, some blooming out of ignorance and some downright moronic.

I liked it. A lot.
Despite having to sit there in a stuffy studio with cameras catching your most inopportune angles (er ... and the decent ones being?)
Despite having a terrible allergy that made me want to scratch my forehead off
Despite having to wear a knowledgeable/ agreeable grin when Team India was taking a bashing by nonsense WIndies

I liked it.
Know why? The very reason people called up to ask, argue or chat up was because the Internet had managed to rouse their interest. Which is incredibly good.

I believe in the power of the www.
Hardcore fan.

Go Internet.

Good help is non-existant.

One day, I shall write a book ... nay, a trilogy... on the trevails of building a house.

For anyone out there who has ideas about doing the same (building a house, not writing a book silly)... just remember, you need immense dedication, patience and energy.
Dedication to see the project through
Patience to out think, out manouver, out argue (?) the masons, carpenters and painters
Energy to survive and go on with life.

Cheers~

let me tell you about the tree

the neem tree
it swayed gently
green... so green
right outside my window too
beautiful, majestic, grand...
squirrels made it their home
and the birds
oh the cute little chirrupy birds
the cacophony
the symphony
i stared at it
dreamily
many a morning
and then
last evening
i stood staring
at a naked tree
stripped
off all her glorious leaves
and branches
raped
mutilated
left for dead
and all her tenants
my lovely neighbours
gone
but i have faith
in nature
in my tears
in my brave tree
she will come around
i think
i pray.

Happy new year and its a boy!

Happy New Year to ye all ...
and my lil sistah has had a baby boy...
Yay boy.
Cheers~

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