Hug

Bursting at the seams! Gimme more, more, more! Life and within it, love, beauty, truth, freedom, colour, laughter, sunshine, rain, song, dance, word, sound, rhythm, stillness, exclamation marks! Let me dance on my imaginary stage, let me jive to the beat in my car, alone, in a sea of unknown vehicles and unknown passersby. Let me be. Let me not choose, let me have it all. Let me sing at the top of my lungs, let me smile at strangers, let me share in their family stories, let me adore them, let them adore me, let us play with children, let us give a ear to those older. Let me cry for you, let me save the world from my deskchair. Let me love my favourite song du jour and let yourself love it with me. Let me be all that I can be, let there be space in this jostling madness for all the me. Let me wander, let me be lost. Let me not worry about what's going to happen to me; let it happen anyway. Let me be young for as long as I like. Let me fall in love with you, then me, then you, then myself all over again. Let me stare at the mirror in wonder. Let me run, please! Let me free, free, free. Let me embrace this maddening and infuriating world in all its candy-coloured, sweltering and freezing, multi-sensory glory, let me grin with dazzling brightness, let me rival the sun. Let me explode before I implode.

Kids

Kids are highly interesting.

They suddenly appear at your elbow, staring at your computer while you scratching your head while squinting at a 91 page pdf about Communist hardliners in the early 80s and what they said to Gorbachev and why can't they say it in English oh it is English man I need a dictionary.

You look down at them, peering up at you, the small and warm things. They are so..comfortable with their bodies. It wasn't that long ago. How can you have forgotten? They lean on your shoulder and breathe down your forearm, totally indifferent to norms of social distance.

You need to entertain them. But somehow you don't know what normal kids like. Especially these days. You were always entertaining yourself with imaginary celebrity cartoons and horse rides in the Mexican desert as a kid. Oh, and alone.

So you look through your C and D drive. Um, no not those photos of your class trip. Or that folder with all the collections from 'Marc by Marc Jacobs'. So the older one takes over your computer (after politely asking) and plays something called Pinball which you didn't even know existed in your computer.

You attempt to educate the younger one (ah, the only thing you seem to know). So you take out that ginormous atlas you have and begin by pointing out where India is. But he seems more interested in the animal illustrations that accompany it and calls out all their names. Not bad. Even though that's not a donkey with a pouch hopping over Australia...

The atlas somehow is shut and now you two are racing small cars over its surface. He crashes into your car over the flag of Ghana. "License!" demands our young enforcer of the law. "I don't have one", I mutter sheepishly (ah that's me, always adding the twist like a good obedient student of scriptwriting that I am). "Okay, five rupees" says he. And you fork an imaginary amount over. Yikes! Five years old and he knows about corruption.

The game continues, with innumerable car crashes and somersaults and red lights and eventually you move over to pay some attention to the ten year old who has achieved impressive scores on Pinball. You show her pictures of your social awareness trip and then of your former college, rather wistfully. So many pictures. Why are you showing her this anyway? She comments about the make-up you've worn in one photo and that is why you, bespectacled, ponytailed and home clothes-clad look um, different right now. Observant children these days.

You politely excuse yourself and the dignified ten year old apologises for having interrupted the collapse of the Soviet Union. You turn to your computer screen, black and white words and things that happened long ago. But the police officer demands another car crash and you succumb.

5 current loves of my life I don't think I'll ever get over

I'm in the mood for five. Let's make a wish list.
1. Veg Tandoori platter
I really really really am craving for it. Cauliflowers, paneer tikka and potatoes all smothered in a kind of tandoori chilly paste oh my god I'm going to faint. This must be true love because it has occupied the most dominant portion of my brain for the last THIRTY HOURS. I am clearly insanely fixated.
Something is very wrong with me. I told you I needed therapy. Oh mind, distract please!

2. My bed
I cannot get enough of you. No, I just can't.

3. My pillow

4. My quilt

5. zzzzz

5 Step Plan to get over someone!

Out of popular demand (okay, one person's demand) I have come to the conclusion that some things in life require some sort of step-by-step procedure. In this case, it is getting over a crush that you don't want to have.
During the course of highly stressful counselling sessions, I formulated this plan to get that person out of your head when you can't get them out of your life (or move to another planet). This is for the cases of unrequited crushes/crushes you don't want to work out/crushes you CAN'T see working out/or just plain getting over someone when time doesn't do its trick

1. Decide. It's now or never. Do you WANT to get over this person? Sometimes, some people purely enjoy the rush of a crush and don't actually want to let go. In such a case, you need to give yourself ONE TIGHT SLAP and tell yourself to SNAP OUT OF IT.

2. Make a list (IN YOUR HEAD ONLY) of all the reasons why this person will be so mismatched in your life. He'll/She'll be the yellow in your orange, the whatever jaal colour you hate with whatever sublime colour you will. He/She is NOT the missing jigsaw piece. Maybe it's the fact that you're so inseparable. Get a dog. Maybe it's their sense of humour that you love. So watch Vadivelu videos on youtube.

3.Don't call or message. Really. Out of sight slowly becomes out of mind.

4. Immerse yourself in movies, music, food, work, friends and YOURSELF! Movies work best (particularly Bollywood early 2000's trash/comedies/Pink Panther). Music is a close second. (DO NOT listen to any kind of love song. You will always twist the words around to fit your situation. Rammstein/Dapaan Koothu will do.) Food is not usually advisable but what else do you do when you go out? Especially in Madras!
Yourself-very important. Treat yourself to a hot bath, a body scrub and some Vaseline. Run like nobody's business...RUN from your crush! SLEEEEP. Maybe when you wake up, it'll be a bad dream.

5. Tell your friends not to talk about it. Seriously. The name is prohibited. Enough. Over. Talk about how hot Hrithik is in 'Jodhaa-Akbar' (I cannot think of any female equivalent for this. Sorry, guys)

6. Get busy with other people.
This is not as indecent as it sounds. It just means you have to start realising that other people exist. Like your FRIENDS, hello? Hang out with them. Let them make you laugh. Spend time with your parents. Talk to new people. SIGHT different people. Watch TV and continue the same.

So there it is, mes amis? Easy as pie (NOT). Strict adherence to the regime will 95% lead in desired results.
The rest 5%? Maybe it's true love. Go make a movie out of it.

Writer's Block Talk

I am now getting some allergy to all kinds of paper. Seriously, this is probably just a manifestation of my laziness but it's happening and I can't seem to shake it off.

I mean, I just can't write anything worthwhile in some notebooks. I end up doodling abstract aliens or sketching cartoonified girls or writing song lyrics all over the pages. So I end up, taking a fresh page each time...only to fill it with more doodles. So not helping the environment.

There are some books I CAN write in. Unfortunately, those happen to be my journals. Which I cannot use for any other purpose.

So I wind up with stacks of half-used notebooks, which ultimately get used as scribbling paper for exam study sessions (I HAVE to write down the points as I 'study') There is no tragedy for a notebook greater than being used as a study scribble pad. I mean, class notes is good. But study scribbles? My deepest apologies to all the notebooks that have ended up thus. It was not intentional.

Well, I can't blame myself either. Maybe the vibe wasn't right. Maybe we just didn't gel. (Oh I feel a bad joke about ball points and gels coming along. SHUT UP. NOW.)

So the actual work I'm supposed to be doing? Not happening, seeing as I'm getting too accustomed to typing. (Maybe that's another excuse for not working because I don't get the computer often enough)

This is not good. I used to be the kid who loved the actual process of writing. I was addicted to it. I used to even fill up fee forms for classmates.

I don't think that's something that can die out so easily.

Dance Baby Dance

Something's happening to me. I'm feeling so filmy it's not funny.

I jumped up on top of my bed and was dancing to 'Chhaiyya chhaiyya' this morning. And I want to dance some more, over exaggerated expressions and hands flailing.

Maybe this is my spccial talent-the ability to give myself into music and dance Bollywood style with the least trace of shame.

Does that count as a hobby? A hobby no one should be allowed to see and that cannot be put down on a resume?

Well, it makes me happy.

God bless Bollywood.

Next on the list: 'Banthan' from 'Kurukshetra'.

The worst (best) sms forwards I have received

Okay, everyone's telling me to cheer up. I am trying. And how. Don't say I didn't warn you.

1. What is the opposite of Rajeshwari?



RAJESH DONT WORRY!!
Eppadi..?
( I. LOVE. THIS)

2. Vivek calling Mu.Ka.Stallin at night 12'o clock...
hello, mu.ka.Stallina?
MS: Ama...
Vvk:nenga verum muka stallina illana naku muka stalinah? Good night pa
(It's a good question...)

3. Easy ways to kill an ant:
Mix chilli powder with sugar and give it. After having that the ant will go in search of water somewhere near a water tak. When the ant goes near the tank, push him into it. Now the ant was fully soaked in water. It will go to dry himself near fire. When he reaches near fire, put a bomb in the fire. Then u admit the ant wounded in the Bomb blast in ICU. Remove the oxygen mask from his mouth and kill it. Ha! Wat a criminal mind!

4. What is the difference between 1st night & last night?
If U sleep on flowers, it is 1st night!
If U sleep with flowers on U, it is last night! a dandanakka a danakkunanakka...,, :)

5. Sardar went 2 purchase indian flag.
After a few minutes d shop keeper was unconscious.


Y ???

bcoz sardar asked him
"Show me some other colours"
(I don't really approve of Sardar jokes because Rabbi's a Sardar and so is the PM so they are obviously not dumb but this one's funny.)

6. Heart is like a perfume bottle.
If u never open it, nobody knows ur fragrance. If u keep it always open soon u'll loose fragrance. So, Act wisely! Gud morning

7. Love is for life, life isn't for love. Love may fail in life, life should never fail in love. So dont spoil life in love, but dont forget to love in life...
(Thanks for the advice..I think!)

8. Tamil Nadu= funny state..1 rose rate 5.00 1 kg rise rate 1 rupee enna koduma Cm..
by girlfriendku rose kudukama avunga ammavuku 1 kg rice kudupor sangam...
(Rice is a good choice)

9. Imagine...
U R in a boat which is sinking.
Sharks n Crocodiles all around U!
Wat can U do 2 save urself?




very simple,
"Stop imagening".
Gud eve ;)

Alter egos/Secret talents I wish I possessed

1. Secret martial arts expert.
(Karate, kick boxing, whatever. Something cool with roundhouse kicks and rock-solid punches. The only martial art I learnt was 15 days of summer karate camp of which my most vivid memory is the 6-year-old boy who was probably the first ever official fan of M.S.Dhoni.)


2. Speed racer through mean streets
(Yes. Shh. Don't tell my mother)


3. Hip-Hop, break dancing superstar or atleast Vijay
(I've always been fascinated by people who are in complete control of their body. I don't even know what to do with my arms when I talk to someone.)

4. Bono singing 'Bad' at Live Aid, 1985
(Mannnnn...the power of that song. It just changed my life. Actually, I'd love to perform any U2 song. High as a kite is what I feel singing a U2 song)

5. Parkour expert
(The first dream I remember having is of a large green T-rex chasing me as I jumped from my roof to another. Being good at parkour would help if I come across a real-life situation such as that.)

6. Class clown
(Heehee. )

7. Basketball star!
(I have dreamed of playing this sport since the 5th standard and am still incapable of doing a lay-up, despite going to camp for two years continuously.)

8. Princess in a historical romance
(NO I DO NOT READ MILLS AND BOONS)

9. A mermaid
(So I could swim with the whales and listen to their songs and not be so terrified yet obsessed with the deep as I am)

I Got Therapy

So, I survived.
It was a fabulous Christmas, most unChristmasy in terms of no cake, no tree, no presents (sniff!) but it was a family time. And friends are family.
Christmas eve night: Me in my Chick Magnet T shirt, wrapped up under the quilt, laughing my head off at Ryan and Colin in 'Whose Line is it Anyway?'. Show's over and I prepare to spend my Christmas night glamorously NOT.
K messages and we decide to attend Midnight Mass for the first time in my life. It's been AN AGE since K and I met. After a sudden bout of hysterics for no reason- or maybe too many reasons. (Not been feeling so top notch of late. Guess it all came crashing out. Must vent more and not keep things so compressed) , we finally left. It was late but we got to listen to K's favourite carol ('Mary's boy child') and my second favourite ('Jingle bell rock'. 'Oh come all ye faithful''s my absolute favourite). Then we headed to Barista where I got sick and tried to avoid looking at them while they shared some gooey chocolate cake. Is it possible to be physicaly sick and emotionally rejuvenated at the same time?
Christmas Day! Woke up and put 'I want to break free' on full blast..ah, there's nothing like having Freddie Mercury's voice bring in the celebration. I absorbed the therapy and then dressed up for a girl's day out.
Ah, it was so nice. The four of us had a giggle-fest (seriously. I'd forgotten I was capable of those) and hogged some sandwiches (and i had a choco tart. GUILTY AS CHARGED!But it's CHRISTMAS!) and then we traipsed around till my fuel tank pointed to empty and then we ran home to check a few priceless scenes of OUR movie ('Kaho Na Pyaar Hai'. This cinematic gem redefined our 11 year old lives and gave us all our first crush in the form of Hrithik Roshan). Then we wandered over to Numbi Jim's house and did some more nonsense. I think these three mad girls contribute to my Peter Pan behaviour, seeing as how they're pretty much the same.
Well, so I'm feeling much much better now. Socialising helps... and so does church!

This train don't stop here anymore

Oh I am soooo happy..happy happy happy! Thank you for all the comments, it really made my day (and that's saying a lot, considering the day I've had) and even though there are so many people I can talk to, orally, I mean, it's a real different high when you see these written down responses to your unmonitored rambling.
So, thank you!
Why was my day not so number one? Well, I think I'm in this permanent transition phase wherein I'm not dwelling in the past and I am waiting for this one little twist that'll help me paint myself a happy future. Where does that put me? On this permanent subway train where everything outside is a blur.
This is when you turn on the TV and lose your mind in 'Whose Line is it Anyway?'. This is when you go borrow this stack of Meg Cabot books and fall in love with a ghost (whom you imagine to look like Enrique Iglesias) This is when you vaguely realise that there's something slightly wrong with you-when you fall in love with a ghost who's also a CHARACTER IN A BOOK and would rather re read similar books than go to 10 D or wherever.
Talk about problems with reality.
Anyway, I'm not minding myself much. Let's see where this train stops. It can't just keep going, can it?
Oh it can?
Ho hum. Now where did I put my copy of 'Airhead'?

You greedy happy pig you

I am being haunted.
I woke up last morning to a picture of Sweet Chariot's chocolate mousse in the Weekend section of the paper. I ignored, deftly flipping through the pages for non-food articles, chanting "I can do this, I can do this" in my head.
So I manage through the day, drinking sugar-less juice when I craved for cold coffee. So, we go out for dinner, my mind going "soup", my stomach going "pizza".
Thankfully pizza was not available. But look what else was! On the menu, where Nut and Date Tart and Apple Pie and other non-appetising (to me) dessert items normally reside, was printed in tiny letters:
Chocolate Mousse.
Which to me, of course, meant:
CHOCOLATE MOUSSE.
Ohhhhhhhh heavens!!!! What am I going to dooooooooooooooooooooooo? Is there no will-power in this heart of mine? Why can't I replace the drool in my mouth with an image of all the clothes in my closet that do not fit? Why can't I run up the stairs and keep on running when there is the slightest tingling of chocolate craving in my belly? Why oh why oh why?
Some of life's mysteries remain unsolved.
And so I ordered.
And much as I'd like to pretend I hate myself for it, I don't.
Hee hee hee.

Growing is a Pain

Something is seriously, very wrong with me.

Puer Aeternus is Latin for eternal boy, used in mythology to designate a child-god who is forever young; psychologically it refers to an older man whose emotional life has remained at an adolescent level, usually coupled with too great a dependence on the mother. The puer typically leads a provisional life, due to the fear of being caught in a situation from which it might not be possible to escape. He covets independence and freedom, chafes at boundaries and limits, and tends to find any restriction intolerable.

The "positive" side of the puer appears as the Divine Child who symbolizes newness, potential for growth, hope for the future. He also foreshadows the hero that he sometimes becomes (e.g. Heracles). The "negative" side is the child-man who refuses to grow up and meet the challenges of life face on, waiting instead for his ship to come in and solve all his problems.
"For the time being one is doing this or that, but whether it is a woman or a job, it is not yet what is really wanted, and there is always the fantasy that sometime in the future the real thing will come about.... The one thing dreaded throughout by such a type of man is to be bound to anything whatsoever."
"Common symptoms of puer psychology are dreams of imprisonment and similar imagery: chains, bars, cages, entrapment, bondage. Life itself...is experienced as a prison."

Okay, is my imagination over active as usual or do I detect a familiarity in the above paragraphs? Am I, the ruler of Estarra, in reality a Peter (or Patricia?) Pan???

Oh no, I don't want to think about it.

But wait! Isn't that a typical tendency? Oh no, oh no!

Should I be psychoanalysed? Am I stuck at some stage that hasn't been resolved yet? Is this why I am the way I am? How come no one's ever realised? How come no one's worried???? I seem to have a problem growing up!!

Let's make a list and see:
Adult tendencies
1. I drive. (okay, okay! But that clearly indicates that I have the ability to be responsible for something that is bigger than myself. Though I still don't know how to check the water coolant and stuff. Sigh. My father's gonna kill me.)

2. I do all my homework and assignments and presentations on time. I submit them first (or I'll panic from paranoia!)

3. I am very bossy when it comes to group projects that I HAVE to do. (Otherwise, I couldn't care less. Hmmm.)

4. I have managed to earn money, much to my surprise-twice as an anchor on Doordarshan. Once as an actor in a educational film. One as an MC's assistant at a friend's event. That's it. That's my job history. So I can survive.

5. I hate partying and get a thrill out of organising and arranging and filing all my belongings. (That is not adult-like. That is just plain WEIRD!)

6. Barack Obama is my idol and 'Dreams from my Father' has been way inspiring. I want to bring positive change to this world somehow. I don't know what I have to offer, I don't know how or what I'm going to do. But I figure the first step should be to sort myself out first!)

7. I think and think and think before spending on myself. (Check me out, digging for reasonably priced files and debating to buy Vogue magazine for a month- I ended up missing the anniversary issue and the next one too. Finally, went crazy and bought the one with Katrina Kaif on it.)

Kid-like tendencies
1. I watch Hannah Montana. I want me and Numbi Jim to be Miley and Lily. (Oh the shame)

2. The maximum I can cook is make Top Ramen. Okay, not even Top Ramen. CUP O NOODLES. (Are you happy??? I am embarrassed!! But I do have a big file of internet downloaded recipes that I plan to make someday...someday...)

3.I fall in love with celebrities and fictional characters. Alright, that's got nothing to do with age (I KNOW that my mum had crushes on Zidane and Dhoni.) But I know something's wrong when most of my friends have decided baby's names and wedding venues (okay, not in that order) while I declare my passionate adoration for Enrique,Hrithik, Darius, Arjun Rampal, Edward Norton, Johnny Depp, Jude Law, and characters like Michael Moscovitz and David (Meg Cabot), Kostos Dounas (Ann Brashares- Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants) and right now downright scintillating vampire boy Edward Cullen (Stephanie Myer) etc (WAIT A MINUTE. They're ALL taken. Waaaaaaaaah!)

4. My favourite movies include 'The Little Mermaid' , 'Anastasia' and 'The Road to El Dorado' and my dream is to buy myself an 'Aladdin' DVD. (Even though I have enjoyed films such as 'Impromptu', 'Blow' and other legends that I cannot recall right now. But I must confess I still cannot bring myself to watch Akira Kurosowa. Sorry, Bunny. Your cultured cinematographer's taste has not rubbed off on me.)

5. I sneak into the library, head for the kids section, grab a 'Princess Diaries' and run before anyone (particularly a kid) sees me. I head for the librarian's counter to issue it and pretend to scan through a copy of Business Today to avoid catching his eye.

6.I begin to fall asleep standing at the discussion or perusal of gold/diamond/silver/platinum jewellery or sari shopping. (Or could this be a sign of tomboyish tendencies? But that doesn't explain my fascination for Vogue magazine spreads? Then again, I just stare at the clothes and photos and don't do anything about it. I guess it's like colour and gloss therapy for me) I tune off and you can bring me back to consciousness only at the mention of hilarious headlines on 'The Tonight Show with Jay Leno'. Or just Jay Leno for that matter. Comedy wins over dress-up anytime.

7. I have no clue what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.

Sigh. Sigmund Freud, leave me be. I'll take a while and you can't do anything about it.

Statement of Purpose

Yeah, so, basically, there was this girl. A girl who didn't like to really refer to herself as a girl. Not because she was a tomboy or gay or a feminist. But because she felt itchy under restrictive terms. And also, because she struggled with the realisation that she was an actual living, breathing individual.

Okay, so there was this female person who wanted to write. And she did write, in her poems, her journal, the margins of her college notebooks, ramblings in her blog incomprehensible and insane to most. She did write. She had written since the age of six, mock publishing stories and series. But she wanted to WRITE write. She wanted to spin the story that lived inside her soul. The narrative of her conscious existence. The urban adolescent story. The life within her life. The story of the decade that she had lived, the story of the decade that she wished to document!

But, somehow, around seven years of that decade that already passed.

Ode to a Hanging iPod

Your beautiful face
Blank, expressionless
As if we were strangers
You gaze back at me
As if in a trance
Our eyes meet
But what of our souls?

I want to take you in my arms
Hear you whisper sweet things in my ear
Feel my heart race
I want to take you in my arms
And beg your heart to be mine again

But you look at me
Frozen, thoughtless
Leaving me alone in silence

Wake up, fill me up
Do not leave me thus
My naked ears cry for coverage
My fingers ache for your menu
Wake up!
Come fill me up againnnnnnnnnnnn.............

I am therefore I think...I hope!

This is intended to be an intellectual blog post, intended for the advancement of my own intellect, which has increasingly been neglected. Except, perhaps for those 5 hours of each day. But drama in college life has become so much larger than the actual purpose! Who can concentrate on media democracy or Marxism when SHE actually SAID THAT and then HE said WHAT and then THEY ALL went WHERE and SAW WHOM.
Omg. Lol lol.
But seriously, I am an intellectual person. With sober thoughts on mankind and society and with....knowledge.
Waaah.
What happened to me?
I used to be the twelve year old kid who could spout info on the entire Mughal Dynasty on our trip to Fatehpur Sikri. Honest. The guide was astounded when I asked him questions about Gauharara. (She was the last daughter of Shah Jahan and her mother Mumtaz Mahal who died while giving birth to her.)
Well, I've been starting to analyse my intellectual deterioration and see if it's really something to worry about. Lemme think. I listen in class. I read the paper. I read..books..when I can. I must admit a fixation with my iTunes. And well, Zoom TV.
Okay, I don't know anything about stock markets. And my knowledge of psychology is pretty much limited to Visual Analysis and Aesthetics class. Which I pay full attention to, by the way.
Sir: See, if you agree with these theories, you're a Freudian philosopher. If you don't agree to these theories....
Class (in unison): ...You're a fraud philosopher!
As you can see, I learn a lot from my classmates. Such as Aeroplane.
Me: What was that stuff sir said about Freud?
Aeroplane: Freud? Who? Pink Freud?

So you can't really blame me for questioning my state of brain. I used to be the quiz-girl, me and Ess used to ace all the quizzes when we got together. Of course he was and always is the encyclopaedia (not dusty and a little more colourful though. He he.) but I wasn't so bad. I think. I hope.

What should I do to change this state of affairs?
-Read the Economic Times? (I left behind commerce in school, which is another century of life. No, no numbers please.)
-Ask Ess to fill my brain with facts. (No, I like talking to Ess about self issues. He puts things in perspective. When his blues and my blah moods collide, they just fade away!)
-Read Leo Tolstoy and Doy-shtov-sky. (Give me Ann Brashares' teenage yet delicate, non soppy prose. Give me Paolo Coelho's simplicity. Mario Puzo, even.)
-Write.

Hmm, that I don't mind. When I write, I feel like I'm capable of thinking. Like I'm alive. It's like when the pen touches paper (Or when my fingertips hit the keyboard), it's like a pinprick or a splash of cold water, waking me up.
Till I can attempt to finish 'Atlas Shrugged', I think this should do.

Here and There and Everywhere

Got myself and Mum lost today on a mad drive on the road less travelled (atleast for my wheels) Got stalked by a creepy cycle rickshaw puller, got blurry pictures of Mount Road and got into a Go Karting place to take pretty (yet blurry) pictures of the Coovum. A faraway TV tower gave the whole place such a Parisian feel. Sigh. If I held my nose, I could've sworn I was in Paris.
Okay, okay, pardon my Aminjikarai-accustomed eyes. I'm craving another holiday. My entire class is caught up in the fever of culturals and other extra curriculars (a photography exhibition coming up, hence my feeble attempt at capturing Chennai's visuals) while I am wandering around from meal to meal, claiming no responsibility and no regrets whatsoever.
K has gone home for the weekend and perhaps that is why I am so lazy. He's always coaxing me into some entertainment. Without him, Mum and college, I'd probably marry my room. As much drama as our friendship adds to my life, I miss that nut. Oh god, I'm listening to our song! K, come back soon!
I finally got to see 'Rock On' and it was worth the hype. Arjun Rampal (YES I NOTICE THINGS OTHER THAN HIS LOOKS) has finally made his mark as an actor, with his natural portrayal of the subdued and suppressed guitarist Joe.
Now I want to see 'The Last Lear'. And 'Tahaan' too.
Anyway, where was I? Yes, meandering around. I feel so...expectant. As if I'm done with some great big thing behind me (well, if you really want to count MAD and the excursion) and as if I'm waiting for this great big jumbo jet that's going to swoop down and take me to where I belong.
Is it because of the lack of productivity? Hmmm, no I quite enjoy doing nothing. I could do it for the rest of my life. On second thoughts, NO! Perhaps a week more would be nice.
Is it because of the lack of socialisation? Hmmm, I doubt it. I'm in my self-sufficient phase. Sure, finding love is a childhood fantasy I've still to leave behind. But, honestly, I'm okay with myself.
This limbo isn't getting me down. But it's not getting me anywhere. I hope it passes. It's not a nice feeling to be asleep while you're alive.
But let's not end this post on such a dreary note! Let's dream of the Parisian Coovum...

A Quick Word

From MADness (http://madcampaign.blogspot.com/) to supposed masti, it is no wonder that I haven't stepped ashore Estarra in a while.
The MAD (Make A Difference) campaign gave me purpose, albeit a little delayed, much after everyone was marching around being useful.Indifference among the youth is the heart of all the social diseases we face today. However,it took Rabbi's 'Bilquis' to get me passionate about a cause that is very much etched in my heart. Honestly, I cannot listen to that song without feeling goosebumps . "Jinhe naaz hai hind par woh kahaan the?" (Where were those who had pride in India?)
It seems like a distant memory now. Performing short street presentations and staging an accident to portray how Naveen died due to negligence. All in all, the campaign was full throttle, passionate and we gave it our all.
Immediately after that, my fellow mad hatters and I set off on our much-debated tour (Wayanad, Coorg and Mysore). The beautiful locales proved to be a setting for many adolescent ego skirmishes. However, I must say that Wayanad was lovely. Mysore was interesting as well. My dear friend Aeroplane managed to convince all of us that he was having a past life regression when we visited the Wodayar palace. Indeed, one of the kings did bear a slight resemblance to Aeroplane! However, all kingly duties were not as fresh in his mind as the thought of 3000 concubines...
Moving on!
It was a fun time (my highlight was floating along the Pookot Lake while the other 3 peddled on as I shouted out instructions acting like a commanding officer) but it was not the holiday I desperately crave. Lazing around with absolutely nothing to do but gape at the beauty of nature. But ah, who am I to complain? Something is better than nothing! And travel definitely broadens the mind...it certainly did to mine!

The Skinny on Being Thin

I want to be thin.
I've always felt that I was a skinny, uncurvy, athletic tomboy trapped in a well, chubby girl's body. I have felt this way since I was , I don't know, ten? Before that, I used to climb trees and play dodgeball and not care.
Then Hrithik Roshan happened to India. And while all my friends began to drool over him, I drooled over wanting to BE like him . (Did I not mention that I was a weird child?) I began to dance and exercise and got my hair cut really short. (It somehow made me look more er, challenged than boyish, with my curly hair and glasses. Shudder. I hate to recollect those moments of childish insanity).
As I grew out of that phase (thanks be to God that I did!), I had crushes and got crushed in the process. And somehow grew to believe that my chubbiness was the cause of such a situation. Of course, there was the matter of me not being able to bleat a word around the presence of the crush. (Class topper, public speaker, house captain-these designations were harldy daunting compared to saying hello to a boy I fancied. A root canal would've been far less painful.)
So, I did it. I exercised, lost interest in fries and rice and knocked off ten kilos. It made a great difference. Not romantically, but it did wonders to my confidence. I could be loved! I could be a worthy individual and contribute to society!
Well, then I decided to go even more further and shed some more personal gravity this summer and guess what happened. I put on 6 kilos! And my sorrow has been infinite ever since the discovery of this fact (and the painful realisation that 95% of my wardrobe does not fit me).
Like K remarked, "I wish we'd all been born with the perfect bodies we wanted" (I don't know why people who are perfect ALREADY say things like this! He is an ice cream worshipper and can eat all the Toblerones he wants but he still exercises. The dedication of the boy, I tell you. Touchwood for him.)
It's not fair that I got a backache when I went to the gym. It's not fair that pizza is banned for me BY me. It's not fair that all my idol women are thin, thin, thiiinnn (Kareena, Katrina, Shakira, etc) I don't wanna wear kurtas all the time that reach up to my knees. (Well, now I have to. All my skirts have been relegated to the back of the closet). I want to wear skinny jeans and loose clothes without looking bigger than I already am. I want to not nearly kill myself in guilt of having not exercised. I want to jump and hop and skip without people saying "ooohhh earthquake" (well, they USED TO in school. Kids can be so mean.)
Sigh.
But...
A wise person told me (okay, it was K again!) that we are all born with certain flaws and certain perfections. That I should think of all the perfect features that God has given me.
I don't know about perfect features. But I'm sure glad He's given me understanding friends. Thanks for that, God. And well, the Kingdom of Estarra.
But someday........! I hope that gravity shall NOT be on my side...!

Summer Digressions

I'm in an extremely weird frame of mind. This is the first summer which is not stretching beyond me like an unknown abyss-equal parts hope, equally parts resignation to mind-numbing ennui. This summer I pretty much know where I'm gonna be (no, not on holiday-I haven't been out of station in more than 2 years! :( ) I'm going to to be an intern!!!!!!!
It ain't no big deal, I know, I know but it's a big deal for someone who's never been on a regular job with regular timings. It's only three weeks and it's been my dream to work at the place that accepted me. And it involves writing (which is something that I should be and am immensely grateful for) But I'm the kind who gets apprehensive even about getting xeroxes. So...
My mother tells me that she's happy I'm off her back and she won't have to worry about entertaining me which is all very true. But I was just getting settled to a happy routine of popcorn and coffee at odd hours, bousts of dancing jigs, lots of TV and a stack of Truman Capote books. I discovered a dusty hardbound copy of 'Other Voices, Other Rooms' wedged between 'India: A Travel Guide'(which distracted me by reducing me to a spate of whining) and some meditation book. My parents have no clue which one of them brought it (same case with most of the other books accumulated) there.
Well, anyway, I've been hooked. After finishing 'Other Voices, Other Rooms', I got some books from the library. Read 'Summer Crossing'-his first novel which was lost to the world and was published only a couple of years ago. Now reading a short story collection titled 'Music for Chameleons' which I'm more satisfied with than the rest.
Speaking of my intellectually enhancing routine, I have been catching quite a few movies. Saw 'Tashan' (er, did I say intellectually enhancing?) Heyy it wasn't all that bad-was funny in PARTS. The actors were brilliant and the music, like I said, is quite catchy (I hadn't heard 'Dil Dance Maare' when I did the 'Tashan' music review. That's a cute song-even though it's SO bent upon making you laugh and loses its charm because of that-it is cute.) And of course, Kareena looks amaaazzziiing. But honestly, skip the movie. It strives to be outlandish and then once you've got that fact straight, it tries to inject heart into it. Don't even get me started on the aiyyo-invoking action sequences. And of course, my Mum hates it when they glorify killing the good guys . Stay at home and catch reruns of 'Birdcage'. That's the cutest movie I've seen in such a long time. I soooo miss the comedies of the 90s. ('Drowning Mona', 'Throw Momma Off the Train', and those kinds. Of course there was 'There's Something About Mary' and the like. Hmmm.I guess you can't blame this decade for its spoofs and tasteless humour. Each decade had its own. )
Oh yeah, I digressed. Yes, so...I shall try to keep you posted on my attempts at intern-like behaviour. Knowing myself, I shall probably ask too many questions and wear myself out. I hope they let me keep my iPod on at all times. I hope I don't embarrass myself by playing the foot in the mouth game. And if I do, so what? It would probably make a good blog post.

To my bestest :)

"I'm never gonna speak to him again!"

"That's it. I don't see any point in this friendship anymore..."

"I HATE HER!!!!!"

You're not human if you haven't uttered or haven't had atleast one of these sentences been uttered to you.
Well, I'm human. And I'm young enough to eat my words. Several times. And let's not talk about the indigestion.

But who remembers a few morsels of humble pie while swallowing a tablespoonful of one's pride when it means salvaging a friendship?

When your eyes search across the room to exchange a look after a teacher has said something incredibly disparaging but howlariously side-splitting at the same time.

When you walk alone to the canteen and have no one to grab your cup o'noodles and dig in like nobody's business.

When no matter how much you love all your other friends, there's no one quite like that one person to share your idiosyncracies, your crushes, your obscure jokes and your veg roll.

When you want to just smile at someone for no reason and get that old goofy smile back in return that makes you feel all sunny again.

When you want someone who can obsess with you about something utterly trivial to the rest of the world but earth-shatteringly significant to you.

When you're wake up at 2 in the morning and you desperately need someone to share your recently-formulated philosophies over text messages.

When you're starving and cranky as hell and need someone to just pop a biscuit in your mouth ..even if you steal his/her food all the time and to soothe you with promises of dinner at an A/C restaurant nearby even if you're flat broke.

When you can't think of anyone who hangs out with your family so much that you can't imagine him/her not belonging right here.

When you need someone to tell you that yes, you will find love, SOON and even if you don't, let's go drown our sorrows in chocolate cake.

When you are extremely lazy and need someone to pick clothes for you, someone who knows which are your 'fat-weather' clothes!!!

When you need someone to accept graciously all your inane terms of endearment right from 'tiramisu' to 'bonda raj'.

When you are perpetually single but need to dedicate romantic songs to someone.

When you know, you know that NO ONE else could have possibly been there for you, like he/she was-not at that moment, not at that place and not for that long.

When you can't find anyone who will get along so well with all of your people right from parents to school friends to college friends to house help.

When there is NOT a soul who will remember all the most ridiculous of phrases that made you crack up, whether a year or a week ago, and will repeat them at the most appropriate AND inappropriate moments!

When you need someone to be there with through all your most insecure stage moments, the most awkward encounters and the most boring chores , without you even asking him/her to.

When the code names and code words protect you from the rest of the world even though they remind you of 6th standard all over again.

When you want to vent all your anger about someone to someone who won't spill and more importantly, doesn't think you're an evil/negative/cynical aura-drainer.

When you sigh about wanting to fall in love and experience that magical abyss and need someone to not say "Oh shut up! It's not as great as it looks like! Look at Brad and Jennifer! Kareena-Shahid!".

When you can't remember anyone who remembers all the things that you said in your most affectionate moments when all you can remember is all the mean things that you never meant.

When you can't imagine anyone being your boyfriend/girlfriend/brother/sister/best friend/foe/pet/plaything/Agony aunt/psychiatrist/spiritual comrade/911 helpline/drug/accomplice at the same time.

Anyone, that is, except that person.

It's not Valentine's Day..or Friendship Day..But here's to you, the best friend. Here's to you.

Forever. :)