bella luna

The waxing crescent. 

Gleaming like the pearly whites in the smile of a Cheshire cat.

The sight of the moon instantly turns on the song Bella Luna by Jason Mraz in my mind.

touché

The mother while typing in her gmail in the username bar, continues with '@gmail..'

Me: You don't have to add the domain name when you're logging into gmail.

The mother starts hitting backspace.

Me: You don't have to remove it when you've already typed it out.

The mother is impassive.

Me: Noob.

The mother: Boob.

-_-

dedicated to the twa

HAPPY BIRTHDAY B^2!!

For the friend, the awesome ever-encouraging friend, current twin, sole companion throughout the 4th sem,  proof reader, critic, faithful follower - being the one person in the world (as far as I know) who has read my blog completely and gives me feedback after thoroughly enjoying each post (=P), self-proclaimed maverick..

Here's to the discovering, exploring, bargaining with nariyal pani walas and every other wala, intense book analyzing, movie criticizing, vocab enhancing, mouth watering discussions of chicken and crab and the everlasting yearning for the same, testing the elasticity of our imagination, trudging through the city streets, exaggerations, heated ego disputes, excursions over the hills breathing in fresh air gazing at the view in awe, side splitting conversations whiling away Vodafone minutes..

Here's to a lot lot more of that.

And of course a heartfelt wish for you to inevitably succumb to the shackles of matrimony, hopefully by year end =D

Hope the new year brings in everything you want, deserve and more.

Cheers mate!

thrusting out the old, saluting the new

A few weeks back while ravaging through my old sketchbooks and stuff, I found a list of resolutions I had written with a friend in 2008. There were some 20 points, some of them general like keeping my room clean so it didn't look like Hurricane Paloma hit it, organize stuff (FAIL), less facebook, while others were involved with being a better person such as less swearing and being nice to dumb people. I think I crossed most of them off, the last was a bit of a pain.
This time, I will not be so ambitious.

Resolutions for 2011:

1. Find a job by Jan end.

2. Move base to a country where I know no one and no one knows me. And keep it that way.
   And if THAT doesn't work out, visit atleast ONE country that isn't India, Kuwait or the UAE.

3. Write something remotely decent that'll throw the world into shock and awe.
4. Make memories doing something totally unconventional, innovative, avant-garde. Things so thrilling, I'll never have trouble remembering them and will relish the thoughts of. Coz life is too short to be taken seriously.
5. Never, ever leave home without the camera and take a picture every time the thought 'I should take a picture of that' crosses my mind.

So far, so good.
For the first time in a loong time, I am strangely excited this new year's eve. It's always been like any other night for me. But tonight is different. I feel something, an intense energy, adrenaline throbbing in my veins, charging me up. And I feel this year holds promise, that it has great things in store.

Here's wishing you all a very Happy New Year!! =)

a look back - ghost of the year past

2010's been a blur. Honestly. For some months, I had to refer to previous posts. It's been a great year for shoes though! And books too, as I rediscovered my love for reading.

Let's recapitulate.. This is more for my benefit than to entertain you.

All through Jan-May: Last semester of MBA. In terms of studies, it was a fruitful sem, it made me glad I chose Marketing and I learnt a lot about it. Some relationships thrived, some suffered, but everything ended on a good note. The sole incident in April that held any excitement was that I fell down the stairs. It was thrilling. The pain was not and my phone lost a crucial key. I haven't replaced the key or the phone. Now it has a story behind it :D

June is a total blank.

July: A bloody AWESOME trip to Bombay.

August: Extractions and Gossip Girl. Period.

Come September and it was all about audieu, one mind blowing day out at a lake with my entire family and some of the best times I've had with my friends. Which inspired me to write this, so far the best post on this blog.

October: Interviews and a couple of amazing morning outs. And books.

November was a test of our hospitality as home was more like a guesthouse. My bff was down, then my cousin, then my mom's bff and after they left my grandmom (who I almost poisoned UNINTENTIONALLY, but let's leave that story for another time) and my cousins from Hyderabad for a couple of days in between. And another fab fab fabulousssso two trips to Bombay. Best month of the year - strengthening the bonds with family, friends and Damon Salvatore (YUMMY!) from The Vampire Diaries. I admit the relationship with the last is a bit one sided.

And December? I sliced the palm of my right hand. How, you ask? Indeed you should.

Well, I was walking. Maybe it was with a little skip. It was dark. The road was bad. And the rest of me decided to join my feet on the ground. My cousins helped me up and I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my right hand. I turned it and was surprised to see it trying to drown itself in my blood. I turned the palm down again lest they should see it and freak out. Which they did. What followed was people gathering and gazing at my hand in dazed horror, a rickshaw driver trying to stop the blood with 'spirit' (so he said which I suspect was his daru ki bottle), a two hour wait for a surgeon at Jehangir Hospital after the nurses patched me up and a lie down in the minor operation theatre getting stitches by the craziest doctor I'd ever met who made me promise my next holiday would be in Paris.

That's a promise I don't mind keeping.

And then there was my birthday. 23. Some great gifts. 'Nuff said.

Now I'm back in Kuwait. I've caught up with all the series worth watching (Outsourced is a good one), lost the mood for movies and have a whole bunch of books to read. The stitches and bandages are off but my skin still feels tight. I still love my own company and prefer to be left in solitude most of the time. My age is still mistaken to be around 15-18 years and I found in me a passion (of sorts) for photography after I was blessed with a hot purple compact camera (Canon SX210 IS - a cam so cool, so mod, it has sex in it! xD) which takes gorgeous pictures without giving me the need to tweak on photo editing software.

I have time to read again. My muse reaches out to me more often than it ever did before. And as long as I have that I don't need much more.

Except that holiday in Paris. ;)

the tall and short of it

I have one sibling.

The sister.

The sister is 4.5 years younger than me.

The sister also towers over me by 3 inches at 5'7".

The sister and I are often asked if we are twins (this never fails to puzzle me deeply, we look nothing alike).

When we reply in the negative, the public, dissatisfied, then inquire if the sister is older than me.

Infallible logic but we have encountered it countless times.

Much the same thing happened yesterday.

Only nothing was asked, but assumed.

Whole new angle.

The sister was congratulated for completing MBA.

When the bungle was cleared, I was asked in wonder how the sister hit such a growth spurt and I am obviously stunted (not exactly in those words).

'God's will,' I usually reply, an answer which is a huge hit with older people (read uncles who are no relation).

But this time, I merely shrugged, weary of the whole act.

Image courtesy: a forward - how to kill time at work.

the biggest bloomin' roses

Every time we fly down from India, the first thing that catches your eye as you enter the house is a humongous bouquet of flowers on the dining table reaching halfway upto the ceiling. My dad places a rose on each of our pillows with a chocolate. This time it was a cream coloured rose with a pink tint and a Kit Kat.

my winter wonderland

If you're in Pune right now, you're probably feeling the chill. I love that it's finally cold enough to wear a sweater throughout the day. It's exceedingly gratifying to dust the woolens out of their prolonged hibernation.

Revelation for the day: Bad idea to get the remaining wisdom teeth extracted in winter when you're down with the flu and your immediate diet should include only ice cream and all things cold.

Yes, a very bad idea indeed.

Not that it matters anymore, as I intend to keep the rest of my teeth firmly attached to my jaw.

(rescued from drafts)

blitz

The girl smiled peacefully in her sleep, dreaming a lovely dream.

Little did she know she was being watched.

The observer rubbed her hands in glee. She had just found her next victim. The ones in deep, sweet sleep were always the ones that gave her the most satisfaction. Never being entitled to the pleasure of losing herself in a dream, she felt she had the right to crush the ones of those that did.

Jealously, she looked at the inert girl and tried to speculate what fantasy the latter's subconscious might be conjuring up but she couldn't, being cursed with a dreamless sleep.

She smiled cruelly and struck.

The girl didn't know what hit her. She stirred, her dream shattering.

Drunk on the successful implementation of her nefarious plot, the evil intruder flew off, leaving no trace of her visit except for a tiny swelling on the girl's elbow.

when the bffs hit town

She's gone.

The last twelve sleep deprived days were full of fun, frolic, family, friends, green pastures, blue hills, really good home-cooked food, Innovas and Taveras, gorgeous weather, splendeferous views, irresistible shopping deals, mosquito repellent creams, bites and spurts of creativity inspired by the Vampire Diaries, hours long uncomfortable seating wedging between three people at the back of a car or a rickshaw and more chocolate than I care to see again in my life.

My mom's bff, the lovely Mauritian forever bestowing upon me the most fantastic of gifts, flew down a couple of days later, hence the subject.

There was a day trip to Panchgani and Mahableshwar which included a ride on a cart drawn by a horse called Sharukh over Tableland. The rickety cart took us over every rock embedded in the soil almost throwing us all off and the air was consistently full of yells of 'Bhaisaab, Sharukh ko control main rakho!' or 'Behave, Sharukh!' It was hilarious. Oh and the guide was very informative; he showed us every single location of every scene of every movie right from the 60s to the recently released Dabangg ever shot in the picturesque hill station.

There was a quick visit to a few of the points - Parsi Point (why it's is a point baffles me), Kate's point, Arthur's Seat and Harrison's Folly. The name of the last one always raised curiosity on my part. Who on earth was Harrison and what was his folly? Why was it such a huge deal that a whole 'point' was named in memory of it? Questions to guides have remained fruitless, unless Harrison was a Bollywood actor who got into a scuffle with a fellow star while shooting and pushed him off the cliff, no local guide in Panchgani would be interested in his fate. No one can enlighten me on the nature of Harrison's foolishness let alone who he was. That's where Google returned that apparently 'Harrison's Folly is named after a Mr. Harrison who built a house there that caved in under the winds.' Well if that's the truth (doesn't seem likely, I doubt the winds were ever that strong in Panchgani), it's obvious the folly is related to trusting the scum of a builder who must have cheated our unsuspecting Mr. Harrison on the quality of materials used in construction of his home. Poor schmuck.

A view of the surrounding hills from Arthur's Seat, engulfed in an azure haze.

On our way to some such point, we spotted the only wild animal on our short trip, a gaur (seladang sounds so much cooler) that we, and a few other cars that came to a halt at the sight of it, tried to take pictures of unobtrusively.

A horse with a name such as Don or Veer (surprisingly there was no Rajnikanth), gets on his way after a drink.

A day later was the trip to Panshet (40 km or so from Pune). The sun burned down but the place was exquisite. We went for a boat ride on the lake, 'woohoooing' on sharp curves, spraying each other with the miniature waves that rose as we disturbed the stillness of the water.

On the way to Panshet.

In between, we somehow fitted in a concert of French artists by name of The Arties, performing Beethoven, Weber and Schumann (Weber's Grand Duo being especially beautiful and memorable). dinner at Hard Rock and another the next night at 11 East Street Cafe and a hell lot of shoe shopping where, JOY! I found a pair of gladiators in MY size! *dances a jig across the room*

The bff's last day was spent quickly touring South Bombay, with the mother briefing us on the buildings and locations we drove past, pointing out the heritage buildings and asking us take note of the once glorious architecture. The weather was FAN-FRIGGIN-TASTIC. Never has the sun taken refuge behind the clouds for so long and the wind blown so freely in this city..

Worli Seaface, where the sea usually raging and uncontrollable at high tide, lies still, biding its time.

And after stuffing our faces with doughnuts from M.O.D. with the family that night, she left. At times, not much was said, but there was no need for it, in light of a strengthening bond, coupled with a strange, unspoken tenderness.