of birthdays and broken glasses

Revelation for the day?

Before smashing cake on someone's face, make sure your victim is de-spectacled first. The outcome might put a damper on cheerful proceedings.

the long and winding queue

My spirits sank as I saw the mile long queue snaking around the building. With a heavy heart, I joined it. Atleast it wasn't raining.

Queues are great equalizers. If they're positioned in front of Pune University that is. No matter whether you've slogged in engineering or breezed through commerce, an under grad or post, how fabulous/pathetic your college is or how great your institute's placement scene is (or isn't) if your institution(aren't they all that) is affiliated to the city's university you have to stand in that damned queue for a minimum 2.5 hours with some 5000 people in front of you if you want that scrap of paper called a degree certificate to mark the end of youth and the end of the torturous existence of being a student. Unless of course you've got a jobless friend(baqra imo) who's willing to stand in line for you coz you've got way better things to do with your precious hours.

I didn't.

Shogun FINALLY downloaded! Been waiting for someone to put up the series for two years now. Watched the first episode of Pillars of the Earth last night. I haven't read the book though it's been strongly recommended to me. I tried alright! I couldn't go past the first page so I have no idea whether the series is faithful. But it does hold promise even if it is full of the usual Middle Ages England cliches - fight over throne, political instability, Church thirsting for power and manipulating for the same, scheming gentry, starving commoners, bitter winter.. same old same old. It's a bit reminiscent of Shogun (the book) surprisingly.

Glad I have some good stuff to look forward to. Gossip Girl was numbing my brain.

Today's revelation: It's painful to have pistachios if your nails are clipped short. Real short.

there and back again.

So I got home yesterday and ecstatically reunited with my laptop and internet connection. It's like the keys embraced my fingertips..

I'll miss the time spent in Bombay though. The nightly banter that would carry on well into the wee hours of the morning, the hypnagogic afternoons that followed, the sporadic trips downtown of which the ambulatory exploration of Colaba causeway stands out distinctly - the countless stalls selling items such as tees with weird slogans, wannabe antique curios (fish and turtle shaped gold locks over which I freaked), Cafe

Mondegar(be a dear and forgive the terrible pic, courtesy my cellphone) and the illustrations canvassing its walls(and the pitchers, and the mugs..) had me fascinated the whole time we were there. And then of course, there was the drive down the sea link.. FINALLY! After years of longing and anticipation, watching it stand there, incomplete, I was finally seeing the city from the other side..! Spectacular ride by nightfall.

And how could I forget that lunch at JW? The mirth that the repartee was full of, the lame pictures, the drooling over the cakes and the lesson that I will never learn, to hell with the main course - keep room for dessert!

Back to here.

I read Animal Farm last night. About time or so my aunt let on. Disturbing how easily the wretched animals are misled, made to believe that what they are doing is for their own good. It's an allegory of the communist regime in the Soviet Union but can apply pretty much to disguised dictatorships prevalent today. How much of what we see on the news is actually the truth or just a fabrication of the same or what the politicians want us to think? How much do we unconsciously absorb believing it's the truth getting brainwashed instead? For that matter, how could you tell you were being told blatant lies? People put their faith in strangers, trusting them to better their world. Why would you trust a stranger so implicitly? When your own can deceive you?

dedicated to the first fan.

I started this blog with the intention that I'm doing this to find an outlet for my creativity, to develop my own style so no matter if there are no takers for it. Then, a few minutes back, I saw my first follower. The excitement was too great. Names I shalt not take to protect the privacy of my dear friend. Of course it doesn't help that the follower has had the good sense(not!) to use her own name to sign in. But it also feels good that the unimaginative twat liked what she read :)

How dearly I do love thee, o unimaginative twat! You made my day!

Finally hit the bookstore yesterday with the intention to buy, not browse. and hoo boy, did I buy! Completely ravaged the classics section! Mark Twain, George Orwell, Tolstoy and a weird book that I bought on impulse, the summary of which seemed mind-boggling at the time - The Language Instinct. Wonder if it's any good. Oh and the sequel to Three Men in a Boat - Three Men on the Bummel! This is THE ONE. The ultimate. I harbour sky scraping hopes for this one. Which does not seem unwise, as the facetious misadventures (past and present as mentioned in the book) the characters get tangled up in the first are so side splittingly priceless, their arguments over various matters so unbelievably ludicrous, you feel sorry the three reach the end of their journey. Jerome K Jerome has a true flair for descriptive and humourous writing.

As of now, I'm impatiently waiting for a day when I'm not bone-tired to read at leisure, in peace, and the earth is still..

try this on for size

A heartbreak over a break up is overrated.

You want to know what true heartbreak is?

How about never being able to wear gorgeous shoes 'coz you're cursed till the end of your days with feet the size of split a/cs? Watching bimbos you dislike(or even your friends for that matter) flaunt them in your face? Snubbed by
salesmen who take one glance at your feet and inform you patronizingly that 'madam yeh aapko fit nahi hoga!' (Madam this won't fit you!)

After a point, the fury just gives way to despair and then dejection. I lost all hope of ever finding even a decent, forget dazzling pair to adorn my abnormally wide feet with. Finally coming to terms with fate, I tearfully said goodbye to the images of the wedges, mojris, stilettos, gladiators, pumps, boots, even bedroom slippers that were swimming in my mind. All because my ancestry could probably be traced to the Abominable Snowman.

But sometimes, there is justice.

Like the sinfully attractive red suede shoes from M&S that the world goes gaga over. *content sigh*

Or colourful ballerinas from some shop in linking road. The salesman assured me that they'd open up when i remarked it was a snug fit. A bit too snug. But well worth the initial shoe bites! If the shoe fits even remotely.. shut up and buy it!

*another content sigh*

There must be others out there like me right? If there can be plus sizes for clothes why not for shoes? This is a niche market that needs its share of attention. Someone pay heed!

The younger sibling fell ill last night. High fever, regurgitations and if that wasn't enough, she fainted while getting into the elevator and gave my mom a near heart attack, her high pitched screams probably sending the dead into shock. Got the sibling admitted, my poor dear mother needing hospitalization more in my opinion.

One thing I miss back home is the family. The loving aunts, the jovial uncles, the sporting cousins. I don't think we realize how soothing it is to be able to count on them sometimes instead of always having to go it on our own. And when we shift base once again, it's going to be hard.

Back to the clinic. My sister was put on the drip and was asleep. My mother, frantic with worry, desperately whispering to me that she would not survive if the blood test results gave proof of the diseases going around by those dratted insects, left to obtain the same. After almost 20 hours of barely any sleep passing the night trying to get her fever down, I settled my abused self onto one of those office chairs in the counselling room, the back rest reclining quite decently, kicking my feet up on another chair and declaring myself dead to the world around me. There were glimpses of faces throwing me peculiar stares from the waiting area for an hour or so, until a nurse had the good sense to close the door, and then, I was gone. Head lolling, I was rudely awakened an hour later to clear out, to make way for the doctor. I forgot to mention I was dozing in her office.

The sibling's made a quick recovery by the way. So has mommy dearest. Either of her daughters falling ill is more of a risk to her life than ours. So much melodrama.

But, all's well :)

a new beginning.

So.. here it is.

The First.

Finally.

After months of facing a crippling writer's block just coming up with the name. The NAME! and even then what made it wasn't my idea. Oh, woe is me!

As of now, I have no clear idea what I would like this blog to be about. I intend to go with the flow. To put you at ease, I swear never to use that taboo word, 'random'. *shudders and prays that her cognitive process never gets that debilitated*

I love watching trailers. LOVE. I enjoy that almost as much as reading Oscar Wilde witticisms, while marvelling at his ingenuity. I think that particular genre (if you may) of men is extinct. The thought, however, of meeting a man like that is quite intimidating.

I absolutely abhor the television. Or, to be more precise the incessant noise that MUST occur in every single household in three different rooms, simultaneously. Don't get me wrong I love movies. I like ads. But I loathe the absurd Indian ones though with the doting mother/wife preparing dishes or ready to eat meals for her wise mouth kids/seemingly devoted husband. And there is a desperate need for a synonym for the heavily overused word 'kitaano'. And don't get me started on the serials. How do those screenwriters get away so damn easily with their lack of inspiration by covering it with 10 shots of every conceivable actor of every single actor in the serial, zooming in of course, complete with dramatic music. and then there's the close allowing the writer more time to come up with another ridiculous plot. dhadham dhadham dhadham..

I don't understand why people can't function without that cursed box blaring in the background even if they're not watching it or have guests over. Get your eyes off the screen already! It's like their lives depend on it. I prefer choosing what I want to watch, when I want to watch it at my leisure. Which is why I have a TV but no cable. Most people's first reaction is eyes widening coupled with 'How do you survive?' I can't believe how starved people are for entertainment. People generally spend more time flipping channels than watching one!

But enough about that.

In Bombay!! *continues typing gleefully*

One of my favourite sounds is that of a vacuum sucking up crumbs. There's something immensely satisfying about the way they clatter against the inside of the metal pipe post suck-up.

This has been in drafts for days now. I was on a roll when I started. After wondering for days what on earth I was going to begin with, the creative juices were finally flowing. I wish I had started this a couple of years back at the brink of my master's. Like Betty tells Mark *all happy happy*, 'I started a blog!' and Mark replies, 'Oh great, welcome to fifty years ago!'

I love being in Bombay. *satisfied sigh* The only impediment on my path to absolute contentment is the skies turning out. Need fresh air! *gasp*

It's so rare to meet genial people especially in the material city that this is and so heartening when you do. I can hardly count the few that I've had the good fortune to cross paths with.

Roald Dahl, in The Twits, wrote something I'll never forget - that a plain person will look appealing if he/she has pleasant thoughts but even beautiful people will look ugly if their thoughts are horrid. Your face reflects what you think.

So peeps, think happy, look pretty. How flippin' gay o_O

On that note, I bid you, adieu.