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...