Boondoggling with Slop!
Today was an ultra-waste day in the chapter of my life. Where I spent the whole day doing NOTHING substantial. Squandering on barrenland. The newspaper didn’t come early in the morning. Went all around my locality in a cycle-rickshaw and spent 20 rupees to find a newspaper worth 2.50 rupees , and couldn’t find the one I wanted, The Hindu. Had to resort to the TOI. I get so bored reading the advertisements that I never get to reach till the edit page. TOI is a broadsheet tabloid! I sound like a pseudo-intellectual wanting to grasp all the knowledge of the world in the next two months.
**I have a very strange attitude, that whenever I am pissed off, I just rush to my Sify Internet Connection Wala and blow all my anger out on him for his stupid super-slow lousy connection whose wires cant beat the dust, wind and rain; and locomote erraticallyu. So as usual, I was feeling irritated in the afternoon, so took all my rage and threw it on that idiot. It relieves me soo much. Some shani-raashi (evil omen) on my poor net wala and cable wala’s destiny. They are always on the receving end of my wrath everytime they come to my place for their payment.
**I am pretty short. And I don’t know how to carry myself in heels. I have a pair of super sexy slender white heels lying in my shoe-rack that has never seen the light of the day. So I wore them and walked in them all around my house with Freedom Struggle notes in my hand, so that the next Saturday Evening get-together plan, I would look as tall as the boys! I tripped and fell and fractured one leg my my limping dining table.A Mayawati wanting to be Madonna.
**Anyways, coming to THE spoiler. My sister and me ended up singing together. Actually I was singing, and she was mocking on me! With hindilyrix.com on the comp screen and the songs blaring in the background with me pretending to be Ashlee Simpson of the Bollywood World. Husky voices echoing within the walls of my room. My sister surreptitiously recorded my voice and was making me witness the flashback. Boy Oh Boy! I sound like a C-grade version of Ila Arun. And I was trying to sing female versions of Himmesh Reshammiya tracks. I spent two hours downloading his music to see if I could compete him. This is what happens when studies bore you.
**That’s not it. Tired of our singing renditions, my mom called us to watch TV. Some IPL related programme on CNN-IBN. The host of the programme was Meha Bharadwaj. I am fascinated by her pout. When she speaks, I just love to notice her lips. They just standout. Since my braces are out, I decided to stand in front of the mirror and practice pouting! My sister said that she could rate me on a duckling-o-meter, cuz that’s how I look when I pout, like a DUCKLING!
In conversation with Retardo Man, I was telling him that I could make him my brother, from today on. Spat comes the reply, ‘If God wanted me to be a brother to you, then why didn’t he make me the son of your mother?!’
I am on a 12-week break from work. I wonder which organization gives so much of liberty to little kids. I just kept sleeping with my notes today(like every other day). I want some freedom from the ‘Freedom Struggle’. The readings of Homer Dixon are yelping for some attention. The Frontline issue wants to feel my fingerprints. But all those souls aint getting lucky. Off I go to complete my holiday mood sleep of 12 hours. Adios!
Update: Birthday was real FUN. I just LOVE the feeling of people tinking you at midnight, each wanting to be the first one to wish you. Had a close bunch of friends come over. My ex cooked for us. I looked horrid on my birthday. It seemed as if the other chics were the birthday girls in their strappy Lifestyle tops and bold FabIndia kurtas. I didn’t buy anything special for myself. All my savings were blown up in the La Marte shopping for grocery!
Played cards, my ex won consecutively in BLUFF. I wonder if he has been bullshitting me all this while. But Blah! It’s just a game. Atleast that’s how I consoled myself. We made lots of chicken, in inappropriate quantities. And because my parents don’t approve of chicken, I had to do 20-plate dishwashing before they entered home. That was a CRAZY time. Had to clean the kitchen thoroughly. Burnt 7 incense sticks to rid the smell. Never spent so much time in the kitchen ever before.
Apart from the usual routine gifts of flowers, chocolates, cards, I got some bizarre gifts like a beauty book on ‘How to keep Yourself Stylish!’. A book on beauty ‘secrets’, how to keep your skin glowing and maintain the fuzz filaments on your scalp! I am in desperate need of mane-care. Another friend of mine gifted me Olive Oil on my birthday! I wonder what the idea behind that was.
Being 20 has just got me some lectures. On how I am a BIG girl now. And I am supposed to act responsible. Learn how to cook or else I wouldn’t get a Tamil Brahmin Iyer husband for myself who would not divorce me within a year of marriage. On how some things are not good no matter how cool they look! Lectures, lectures, lectures. But, I guess they are fun in a way.
Plug-In: I realized that my posts are random in nature. But that’s because ten different things run on my mind at the same time. And my short-term amnesia reminds me to throw all of them on Microsoft Word before I forget about it, and hence the randomness.
Jab We Net!
This post got triggered as I was in conversation with one of my school pals. ‘Hey chic! I suggest you put your blog into the dead journal.
Me perplexed, ‘What is that?’
‘It is a website where people come and pour their thoughts of how life is a misery, life is a pain! Who think that life is wretched!’
And I burst into laughter! My life is not sad. My life is not boring. Its just that I don’t write, when I am happy. I don’t KNOW what to write when you are happy. When we are sad, there is an amount of depth attached to your feelings. But when you are happy, you are HAPPY. For heaven’s sake, why would one make note of their happiness.
I also realized, that my creativity is provoked only when I am feeling low. When I feel like no-one would understand what I mean to say. That’s when I come and throw my rant on my blog. No-one has the time and patience to listen to what I have got to say, when I am struck with melancholy. I act like a sorrowful mourner when I am depressed, so this is the best place to dump the negativity. And that is why, this space is filled with SAD stuff.
[PLUG-IN: I started to write something, and left my seat to eat chicken momos with a glass of appyfizz, and when I came back to my seat, a new set of thoughts stormed me and I started to scribble something else, and the shape of the post completely changed! So, u will not be able to relate to the part written above and the part written below. So, this plug-in is like a commercial advertisement! Please bear with the inconvenience.]
Rewind back tape: I started to know a guy through the internet like a month back. Sadly, no more details about him, people 
Our messages on a community of a social networking site, turned into one-line scraps. Transformed into e-mails. Longer e-mails. Never heard his voice. Never seen him. But that one-week of communication was really eccentric! The first thing I did once I got up, was check my mail. The last thing I did before going to sleep was to chat with him. He perfectly filled the momentary void. And one fine day, we just stopped talking. I don’t know why? Was it is something I did? Something I didn’t? Something I said?
But my pride, wouldn’t allow me to go and find out what went wrong. I am the make-the-first-move-only-if-it-is-worth-it kinda girl. I don’t mind making the first move, but I don’t like to accept failure specially, when the issue doesn’t bother me too much. On giving a second-thought to a second thought, I guess, I must have pushed it too much too soon.
But the time, I knew him was fun. Mush enhanced to the peak. The sweet-nothings. It was kinda funny. The unpredictable spins the conundrum. He could be a self-obsessed, cleft-tongued sex maniac, wanting to kidnap pretty girls for a ransom; or some bald, ugly, squint-eyed freak! But those are things you don’t bother about, while structuring conversations.
The grey part: Internet friendship is very funny. You don’t know that person, but you know so much about him. The sad part about such ‘friendships’ (if they could be called friendship) is that one could mask a LOT about oneself. Even I could be a buck-teeth chic, who is has a skeleton frame with dark ugly elephant skin with black moles all over my face! I could say that I am some hi-fi girl working with a job-profile that makes me eat, sleep and breathe money. You just tell what YOU want to tell. So, the person on the other end would only get to know that part of you that you presumably reveal. But all is not grey, my friend.
Some of the best friends I have met, were through the internet. Because, we had to have similar interests to pursue our conversations that reach the sms, fone-calls and meetings routine. I believe, the more difficult the medium, the more interesting are the conversations. Things get REAL boring, after we meet-up. There is no mystery to chase!
The black part: When I was just outta school, there was this time when I met this MAN (I call him a man, because I was 17 and he was 29!) just after my school life came to a halt. I had taken a friend along for company. And a bunch of guy pals were standing at the corner of McDonalds to see nothing goes wrong! My friends were very protective of me, that ways. And then, there was this big-sister friend, who SMS’d me after every 15 minutes to know if I was alright.
This MAN was very witty, maybe age rubs in a lot of humor. He asked me to recognize the man in the brick red shirt. Me dressed like a little doll, with my braided hair and green cargos and a black shirt and I soon recognized him. He came closer. He was bald, and whatever hair he had on his scalp was white! He smiled. I saw the gutka-stained teeth. He just didn’t fit the image of the person who spoke to me over the phone. He started to talk. The red-teeth shone on him! Looks don’t matter, presentability does.
After he met me, we still exchanged messages. He said that he liked me. I freaked! There was NO WAY I was going to like him. I feel fetters and manacles when someone expresses the more-than-friendship liking for me. I don’t know how to handle it!
Since then, I have been VERY picky about people whom I talk to. Again, age tells you a lot of things. Now, I am sensible enough to not even converse with some I know I wudnt click.
The white part: But I still say, some of the closest friends, I have in my life, were known through the medium of internet. Anonymous, but genuine people. We got acquainted and had a HUGE group of internet friends.
My Yahoo Messenger days. Aah! We(the huge jing-bang of net buddies) all used to come online at 11 ‘o’ clock. As soon as my dad went to sleep, I would sneak to switch on my system and log onto YM. I used to be the little kiddo hanging around girls and guys of 24. we used to pull all those dick-heads from chatrooms and trip on them! Great fun. I used to bribe myself. If I would finish the chapter on ‘thermodynamics’, I could chat for an hour! And it used to work. Greed is man’s best friend and his biggest enemy too.
I met my dodo ex through the internet. And our friendship has blossomed all the while we have known each other. And I am really lucky to have him in my life. We may not make a good couple, but we do share an awesome chemistry as friends.
Internet friendship is like a global neighbourhood. It just shrinks the world. It is great, but you must need some people to be with you, when you are not in hanging out in the ‘virtual world’. It might kill your boredom. It might engage you with people of similar interests. But there is a lot of difference between face-to-face interactions and chatbox-to-chatbox interactions.
The web is a nice place to crawl around; just make sure you don’t get eaten by the spiders!
Sunday Sickness!
As much as I love Sundays, I hate Sundays. This is the most awaited time of the week. Away from a boring cubicle, away from deadline screeches, away from the mundane life at work. Sundays is generally supposed to be a chill-out day with no worries.
Sunday reminds of getting up in the afternoon, complete the basic morning routine, basking in the sun in the frosty winter temperature of two degrees, speak to your relatives, take the whole bloody day to read every word of the newspaper, sit with mom dad, chat about the week. Then formulate the POA( Plan of Action) for the day. Decide where to hang out. Get Dilbara( my parents adopted third daughter;)) home, have her dressed up, and persuade the three-year old to convince my parents to take us out to any new hang-out zone in the city.
But eventually turns out to be a day, when mom ends up scolding me for not cleaning my room. I love my room when it is in a perpetual mess. With the single-bed that crowns my room, the left corner of the bed stacks the newspapers that are strewn apart after reading. You can find the whole week’s newspapers on the left side corner if it is a Sunday. The right corner of my bed houses the clothes I have adorned me all through the week. Under my bed, lie the shoes that have been worn the entire week!
Every Sunday, the newspapers get thrown into the balcony, and my clothes get thrown into the washing machine. And the semi-automatic bugger is a pain-in-the-ass, specially when the water is freezing cold, and washing clothes is the last thing you would wanna do on a holy-Sunday.
Every Sunday, HBO or Star Movies runs a nice movie, but my mom’s desirable wishes of watching a Tamil movie over-rides my desires. I don’t fucking understand coherent sentences in Tamil. My knowledge of my ‘mother-tongue’ is basic woodworking tools. Just canonic knowledge. Enough to talk to the grocery vendors and auto rickshaw walas. Fuming with rage, I enter my room, and start to watch a movie on my desktop.
And as soon, as I station myself to watch a mush movie, my dad barges into the room, to check his stock share prices. And my sister queues up next to check some stupid study material. And I go sulking in the corner. Its amazinghow everyone wants the same thing when I want it. And me and dad/mom would end up having a verbal encounter when we see each other for a VERY long time. Even if it is just momentary.
And beat this, it happens on every Sunday that I am at home.
Next Sunday on, I will not stay at home man. Away from vex, away from hen-pecking, away from the jade. Aah! I am just like any other teenager who just doesnt like to stay at home.
my blog needs a doctor!
Man! this blogging thingy is fretting me now. I kind of hate WordPress now. I bloody waste an hour of my working schedule, to construct a post, just to know that bloody WordPress foils my decent efforts by playing physically repellant games with me, by fucking with the spacing and numbering. Anyways no one reads my smutty posts, and if this phenomenon continues, I shall resort to my good old ‘free-from-anxiety’, hassle-free methodology of e-mailing my own self to track record my expansive thoughts.
I had this perception in my mind, that blogging is an amateur’s night-cap at writing. But this activity needs a lot more than creative brains. It’s a double-header ring-a-rosy affair, where I keep trying harder and harder, till I need to give my user name and password to someone who could make the requisite amendments. If this situation persists, I might give up the 7th clause of the New Year Resolution to continue blogging.
WordPress is making me gimpy! Crippling my desire to write. The technicalities are too much for a layman like me. Infact, anything that can’t be done by me on the web world, cannot be done by anyone. My thinking pattern is obtuse; I have a strangulated arena of knowledge and my cosmic universe is limited to the stamping quadrant.
With this of writing, and injured presentation, I would not even read my own posts. But, my horro’r’scope asked to keep a lot of patience this week and for its sake, shall have something fixed up soon. Guess, would read the Help section through and through, because someday, u got to learn to do stuff by your own. Not everything in life can be out-sourced. Nor do things come with user-manuals-for nitwit brains!
Resolution for the week: I shall furbish up my impaired blog. At least I shall try!
whiff of fresh air!
Could I have two posts named untitled?!
I wonder how people manage to come up with titles for their post. This time I thought that I shall first construct a title, before I develop my post. What an aleatory concept, wherein I roll the dice and let it take wherever it wants to.
A lot of thoughts rolled into my mind, a day before New Year. A lot of folks called in on the eve to check out what my plans were, and experienced a cardiac tamponade as I told them that I plan to stay at home. Infact, for a moment, even I was surprised. What a sorry life I lead, sitting and watching Star Plus on the eve.
I was supposed to go out for dinner on the day of the New Year, but the plan got royally screwed due to the guy who ditched me at the last moment. But as the new day dawned, I had a list of invitations.
That’s what generally happens to me. Either everyone wants to entertain me, or else no one wants my company. Dene wala jab bhi deta, deta chappad faad ke!
It turned out to be an ‘exes’ day. The first person to wish me New Year’s was my ex. The day started with meeting my first crush. He has grown fat, and I have grown pretty. Or atleast that’s what we think! It was followed with a meeting with my ex. It feels so good to be in someone’s company who really misses you, and treats you like you are the princess of his world. And there is something about the ‘exes friendship’, there is a lot of warmth, care, affection. But no love.
That was about New Year. Check out the lousy service of the Café Coffee Day opposite Taj Palace. Again, bumped across a friend.( it happens to me, wherever I go! Maybe, my friends just hang out in the same places as me.) I got so frustrated with their service, that I actually fumed in rage, as I blasted a few expletives on their manager. I hadn’t ordered for a coffee in the Mesolithic Age that it should be taking him so much time to deliver. I hate waiting. Took a few pictures of me drinking coffee from the straw, but it looks as though I am smoking a cigarette. IRONIC!
I also made a few resolutions this year. Though I am sure, that I aint gonna keep up with any of them.
1. I shall invest myself in a few people, but the right people.
2. I shall not eat so much chicken like I do now.( I just love chicken. Life is so dull without it.)
3. I shall try reading the newspaper everyday. I do that now too, but read till the edit page, atleast.
4. Learn a new word everyday. Religiously doing it for the past 2 months, don’t know if I would be able to retain it.
5. Get serious about work. Been on a fling relationship with work. Shall ‘try’ to come to work on time, and WORK, instead of draining my peanut brain into unwanted stuff like reading on Rabbit Proof Fence(that’s how I spent the entire morning, reading about the release of 24 rabbits in an Australian farm in 1859, which caused an ecological imbalance in the Australian farms)
6. Check out new eating joints in and around Delhi. I have this real crazy thing for eating at new places. Right from the roadside dhaba to the high-end joint.
7. Continue blogging! It doesn’t take me time to think, it takes me time to put them in words. Moreover, all the effort of resolution#2 of learning new words can be put into use only if I write. moreover, i am a novice. i write a post and then ask someone else to edit it before i could publish it. but seems like that guy is frustrated, and i would have to do it myself!
Being single has made me sick for the past few days! So, I did a real crazy thing, but looking out on guys from the Tam Bram community on orkut. I just cant believe, I am that sick. But nothing progressive happening for me. Aah, luck aint just sprinkling any of it on me. But blah, what the heck. I no longer care.
I might go out to check out the new Turquoise Cottage in Vasant Vihar. I have never been there, because I was too young. And when I am old enough to visit some places, I don’t go. I am not a drinker, but I want to check that place out, just for the heck of it. Any takers for TC?!
On retrospection, my blog is becoming a daily diary entry, after a lousy day at work. I need to start writing substance. That is why I am not ballyhooing about my blog. The day I start to writ meaningful stuff, and not just jazz around aimlessly, I might start to spread the word. Till then, its just me and my own world that shall tramp on this page!
Gusto!
Ahh! i just love these kind of weekends, which comprise of way too many holidays. A four-day weekend and nothing much to do. And the sudden realisation, that there is so much to do, apart from ‘working’ on holidays. Holy Lord, i work for an events website. Logged onto my own website, to know what is happening in the twinkle-town. It was a typical ‘matargasti’ season, with checking out of new places to eat-out, catching up flicks, ogling at men, buying tik-taks!
Saturday was a check-out guys day which turned out into a meet-ur-best-friend day! loitering in the lanes and by-lanes of Connaught Place, I inadvertantly stopped by at Central Park to see the photography exhibition. It was an unalloyed experience. With black and white pictures from the 19th century, the watch was worth it. It was followed by grab-some-grub from Wengers, which housed special Christmas cakes.
The next day was followed by Tare Zameen Par. What a fantabulous movie! I was reminded of my childhood. No, i aint giving any expertise comments of the movie. But it reminded me of those days, when i had a crush on a guy called Soundarapandyan( because he had given me a Jesus cross, and i thought that he gave it to me, because he loved me! i was just in class 2, then). It reminded me of those days, when i used to get scaled on my knuckles by Miss Stella, for not doing my Maths homework. It reminded me those days, when i had just shifted to Delhi, and i got a ’shoonya’ in ’shrutlekh’ and the teacher made me a cock in front of the whole class! It reminded me of those days, when i had no friends, and my toy-dog used to be my only companion. It reminded me of those days, when i thought that i was incompetent. There were times, when i related myself to the protagonist of the movie. Of misfires, of flame-outs, of fizzles, of misplays. And much-more.
Oops, this was supposed to be a post on my hair-raiser week-end. Lets get back to it.
I visited quite a few new places. Khan Market’s Chocola, Khan Chacha and Big Chill. then Greater Kailash’s Minar and Cafe Turtle. All in a span of four days! Chocola is a neat upmarket place, that doesnt have much on the menu, but has got lot of comfort with its refined furniture. Of all the places i have been, nothing can match Big Chill. Amazing place, amazing people, amazing cuisine, and has the best mousee in the city! Minar is a family dine-out place, with formal seating, and too boring for a friends-get-together. Cafe Turtle, was a quiet place, with nothing non-vegetarian in their menu(atleast i could’nt spot any!). Any place with no non-veg is too ho-hum for me! Khan Chacha, he needs no description, atleast not mine. He is certified with an ISO 9001 mark. You have to savour his rolls, to know that the place is actually good.
I also went for a teerath-yatra(religious expedition) to the Church and the Gurudwara. It was a head-trip. The Sacred Heart Cathedral, one day before Christmas, is a sight to see. With the Church braided in beauty, and little kids dressed as Santa Claus’s rehearsing for the choirs, adored the place. It was followed by a trip to the Gurudwara Bangla Sahib, where I learnt pretty much about religions. I thought that the most exciting part was the ‘langar’, which is said to be a token of God’s blessings. Men, women without discrimination of caste, creed, religion, sect, sit together on the same mattress and have food together. The guy smelling of the penetrating odor of stale sweat, to a woman who cannot afford to offer two square meals to her children, to people who can afford everything they desire are offered the same treatment. And you aren’t supposed to waste even a morsel of food that is given as ‘langar’ you actually realize how lucky you are, when you meet people of those sorts, who cannot afford the minimalist pleasures of life, and yet are content with whatever they have. And we people, who have the basic needs and still lust for more! What a stark difference in the same ambit.
Guess that’s a lot for one-weekend. I am gifted with a gargantuan potential to be on the move, within the constraints of my time. I can just go round and round places, exploring hang-out joints. It’s like a pastime. I hate to visit a eat-out place, more than once. If a place is good, it is good; you don’t need to go twice to re-affirm the fact. You might as well try a new place, and rate it!
So there is the story of my transit from a holiday mode, to the work mode, as I sit at work to type this post. Gusto!
