Holiday Tips

It's been put here by popular demand. (Read:1 person following my blog as 2 people)

Christmas time, and you have no idea how to spend your holidays? Those five days that come between Christmas and New Year are bothering you silly because you have nothing to do except eat, sleep, eat and sleep? Oh, you poor poor thing. Don't fear, I'm here! (but not my sanity, it seems)

These have been painstakingly devised after being inspired by real-life incidents, lots of chick-lit, chick-flicks and basically a creatively bored mind. They have also been painstakingly compiled by the Sexy Potato (as she likes to call herself...we'll stick to Potate, if you don't mind. This is a PG-13 blog.) So thank you Potate, first for compiling all of this from your FB wall (where I would religiously post them everyday) and then e-mailing them to me (which I studiously ignored for several months) and pestering me to put them up (which I finally did...and look! I found an old languishing draft that I could edit and make it look like I put it up in December only!)

Darn. I gave away my secret.

Anyhow, this is what happens to me when I'm high on holidays:

Holidaytipoftheday #1: Go for a walk in your garden. Examine the weird looking plants and flowers. If you're lucky (or are hyper-allergic to everything like me), then a rare bug may bite you and you may become The Bugwoman. And unleash your terrific powers on all those you've always wanted to extract revenge from. Find a flop director and get him to make a movie called The Dark Nightie...where you can finally show the world your 'Peace on Earth' Nightshirt and extract the ultimate Beauty Contest Accomplishment - Global Peace. But remember, with great power, comes great responsibility. (Bah, I wish it came with great pajamas...so I could get rid of my 'Peace on Earth' shirt.)

Holidaytipoftheday #2: Overdose on bournvita. Then, when you're feeling all sugary high, walk up to that neighbour who's been singing upstairs all day (and not even nice songs, at that) and stare at him intently, as if you can X ray his tonsils from where you stand. When he gets all self conscious, you can clear your throat very importantly, and as he shakes with fright, you pointedly glare and say, 'Pliz gime vatar'....and continue to sing the rest of the song. This may not earn you the title of India's Got Talent, but once you get back to normal state after bournvita wears off, it will effectively keep you away from public interaction for the next three decades, at least. Three weeks of holidays is a blip.

(If you have not heard 'Pliz gime vatar', I suggest you contact me/potate sometime. We shall delightfully enlighten you about the 'dude' song of Youtube.)

Holidaytipoftheday #3: It's Christmas eve! Go around your neighbourhood in search of that cute Christian boy who used to come to your tuitions in 12th std. Round up little mohalla kids and pretend to be teaching them carols when he 'happens' to walk past. Get one kid to bring weird pokey looking leaf and ask you what mistletoe is. Look at the cute boy helplessly as if kid has asked you out-of-syllabus tuition question. As the boy begins to explain, you may demonstrate. (However, if you are more the ears-turning-red type, then just stand and smile like Christmas tree lighting). After which you may all troop into his house and drink cuddly hot chocolate with plum cake and stare at each other in candlelight.

(If you feel this ain't so PG-13 rated, then just drink more bournvita and dream up the whole sequence. I promise I won't tell on you.)

Holidaytipoftheday# 4: It's Christmas!! Okay, it may be one of the most magical days of the year but it is still a freakin holiday. And we're here because we find them holidays boring right? And since Christmas is all about stockings, do a recce around your house. Gather all the pairs of socks your family owns. Bring them together, either draw weird cartoons on the toes of some,... or cut off the little toe part....add ribbons, stick confetti, use shoe polish - Be creative! And when they search the high seas for you (uh, yes. Try and hide on Christmas morning as soon as they discover the creative damage you have unleashed), scatter around some cute kiddie photographs of yourself and the family. By the time they're done going through all the albums, you're bound to be welcomed with an 'Aaaw...look at the cute little fiascos you got into as a kid'.

(This is, of course, assuming you're still cute. Otherwise, it may begin a whole new argument.)

Holidaytipoftheday # 5: Find a Camera! Be a photographer! And stalk everyone in your family, pets, stray dogs and cows, crows and pigeons, those nasty little neighbourhood boys who scream and yell outside your window just when you have exams coming up. Click away and take candid pictures of everything and everyone. Make sure they are on FB and then put them all in one album named Amateur Photography (everyone you know will be impressed with your new hobby, you'll pass time, and that picture of the next-door-aunty squealing in surprise when she gets blinded by your flash wont really mind since you've made her your muse.) Remember to tag them though!

So, if you survive the holidays after following all my tips, then make sure to creatively modify them next time. However, if circumstances (after having followed these tips) make you pull a burlap sack on your head and run away to Cayman Islands, then it's what you wanted all the time, innit? ;-)

Happy Holidays!! :-)

Winter Frost

A strange shiver tickles tall trees

A butterknife can cut through the smoggy breeze

The sunrays have enrolled for holocaust

The city is taken over by the Winter Frost.

Smoke rings spiral out of quivering tea shops

Leaves shed icy tears of frozen dew drops

Fireflies hunt for warmth, their goals so lost

Cold-hearted, aint it? This Winter Frost?

Pen touches paper and the fingers freeze

The chill refuses to let go, the trees long to sneeze

Even then, warmth trickles in, at Summer's cost

Maybe there is some hope within Winter Frost.

(This is what happens when you shut me in a cold room for over three hours of psychology seminars. I guess I ought to thank the girls who presented in class for having given me time for my creative catharsis! :-D It sounds very pretentious, if you ask me, but it describes Delhi's current weather so aptly! Ah, I've finally begun to look forward to more days like this, not for writing mundane poetry, but to really enjoy this Winter Frost.)

Chennai Chronicles

I like Chennai! What can I say? Put me in a city with friends, a brilliantly stocked library, a dessert parlour and you've earned a loyal fan for life! Delhi and Bangalore became my soulmates like that as well....and finally, after much prodding and nudging, Chennai has entered the list!

Its been eight years since Chennai became my 'semi-home town', and each trip to the place consists of Fruitshop, The Beach and the library. This time was slightly different. So here's a tribute to the city, and the smart trio (that includes me too) that made history there! :D

I spent three blissful weeks lying around doing the best of nothing and being completely pampered with food and remote control. The porch swing and I became inseparable as I devoured book after book after book until I suffered from an overdose (not that it's a bad thing!) The week in Bangalore whizzed past me like a colourful comet and I had some fun reunions with old friends (including a hilarious lunch with my college gal pals...really, it's amazing how we've stayed so wacky even now!) Then came the weekend when the trio got together.

Their bus journey, I shan't describe since only Sneha can do justice to it on her blog. At least that way, SOMETHING will come on that poor blog. (Oh, off topic, but I'd like to tell you, Sneha, that your blog is rusting. You might want an intramuscular tetanus before you venture near it.) So my job only began with picking them up and bringing them home. And for some strange reason, I feel like narrating the rest point-wise. It just cuts out the fringes and makes everyone's life simpler.

1. The movies we saw. Shopaholic was only seen by me, as the two tried to sleep off their justified 'jet lag'. Bride Wars was nice ok? And totally cry-able. Sorry, but I get a little sentimental when friends give up weddings for each other. Wait till it's your wedding Reenu! The day's not far when you'll need to get your wedding hall waterproofed! :-P and He's Just Not That Into You was slightly confusing since I had not slept too much and the movie had too many characters for me to comprehend. So there went the movies, kaput.

2. The BEACH! Marina beach, not-so-early in the morning reeks of fish, but what's more fun are the characters that hang around there. There was this drunkard who warned us to stay away from the waters since the Tsunami was coming. There was a flasher who decided to sit right in front of us. There were two men who kept talking to the waves and urging them to come to them...and when they heeded, they'd run like sissies (the men, not the waves.) there was also a man who had walked right out of a board meeting and decided he'd play Baywatch for a day. Sigh. Those poor formal clothes. The waves were really high (high tide, new moon day) and the water was refreshingly clean....except for the occasional unidentifiable black objects and coconut husks. Anyhow, clearly we had enjoyed enough to bring back most of the sand! (See Sneha? Now I don't need to pack it in a friend's economics paper to get it for you! :P)

3. The BEACH part II! Elliot's Beach is the most awesomest place in this part of the world. Really! There is no other place I'd have the guts to wear identical shirts with my two wacky friends and go gallivanting on the sea shore acting completely crazy on a Sunday evening. Honestly, we gave Chennai people SO MUCH entertainment that weekend! :D That carousel (ok ok, merry-go-round) ride, the funky fluorescent wands, the loud songs we sang all around Besant Nagar..made the beach part II even better than the first one.

4. The food. When we're around, can food ever be ignored? Not only did we eat some very interesting stuff in the form of that lebanese wrap (guys, please don't ever let me try that again ok? I'm still not too sure about what went in it.), we had a one-by-three Jughead Special that warranted dirty looks from the waiters at Fruitshop. We finally ended it with that late night pizza dinner. Seriously, sometimes I think that waiter still wonders what mistake he made with our bill and why he gave us free overpriced ice creams instead of the usual scoop in a cup! :D And yes, Reenu does eat a lot of food. There, I've said it on cyberspace! :D

5. The Pictures! It was Diwali that they'd come for after all...so the pictures not only were colourful but FUN! The elevator picture that we finally perfected, our star wars themed powerpuff movie starring the wands, the beach and the beach thingamajigs, home and the convocation ceremony! :D The entire trip was chronicled in pictures that spoke more of the fun than this blog. For a change, I managed to send them on time! * Applause *

So anyway, Chennai was fun this time around, being with friends and family. Maybe enduring that 2 hour 30 minute flight in the dangerous skies is always worth it! :)

Colourful Roominations.

My room is pink. I was born into a pink room. When my grandfather was overseeing the construction of the first floor in our house, he decided that a grand-daughter would merit a pink room. A couple of days later, when I was born, the pink was commissioned.

I have very few, but fond birthday memories in that pink room for the first couple of years before we trotted off to Delhi and lived in rented homes (where thankfully no one had an insight to paint the room pink for a prospective girl to stay in!) with off-white colours. It was only when I returned to my pink room did the troubles begin.

My classmates from school would come over for project discussions and what-not, and I would continually be embarrassed at the pinkness of the room. The boy classmates would be stunned to see anything that pink, and the girls probably thanked their parents silently for not being subjected to such a torture. I tried very hard to disguise the colour though. I went through a distract-people-from-room-colour-by-drawing-attention-to-bright-curtains phase, a cover-every-inch-of-visible-room-colour-with-animal-posters phase and finally when nothing worked, I bought myself a can of blue paint (oil paint actually, something I bothered reading only after splashing it around) and began to paint the room, my cupboard and a bookshelf.

The bookshelf and the cupboard were completed in time, but when it came to painting the room, the ADHD in me lost interest and that resulted in a huge square of blue in the middle of a very pink wall. It brought out the pink of the wall, really!

I finally gave up and convinced myself that pink is a fab colour to live with, and I should really focus of enhancing it rather than camouflaging it. (That was because my mother put her foot down refusing to let me try painting it another colour after the blue fiasco.)

Today, the room has finally changed colour. The house was being repainted, and my parents thoughtfully decided I should get my wish and have this room painted a different colour. They chose a beautiful orange cheesecake type colour and really, it looks very delectable. But it's no longer pink, and I actually miss that. I miss seeing my blatant attempts to hide it, those fading scotch tape marks that held my animal posters, that blob of blue (which incidentally took the painters a FULL day to scrape off the wall!), the growing up pictures, birthday poems, Topaz house flags, the loud curtains that tried to steal the limelight and the bed covers (which were also pink!).

Of course, I no longer live in that room, so I should technically not be bothered what colour it is/was, right? But the room represents my childhood, and I have memories related to every little scratch I have made in that pink room. It's now changed colour and matured, maybe so should I.

Time to fly? Sigh!

I was four when I stepped into an airplane for the first time. I was allowed to wander down the aisle, collide into the stewardesses who loaded my fists with candy, and basically smile benignly at all the passengers as if they were attending a feast thrown in my honour. I remember thinking back then that I should do this kind of thing more often and flying is the best thrill of life.

Fast forward sixteen years and you have a different me. One who steps out of the plane and looks upward in silent prayer that she's landed on solid ground. Whose knees are actually shaking (not because the pilot is cute) but because she is finally out of the big bird of the skies. I have 3 weeks of fun and sun to look forward to, but at some teeny tiny corner in my brain, I'm dreading the flight back! What makes me think like that, you ask? Here begins my 'adventure in air' (like those Famous Five books...except mine was not all that adventurous, but for my decidedly boring life, I'd like to call it that, thanks very much.)

1) I enter the airport two hours early, misjudging the distance between the airport and my college (which is only 10 minutes, but I conclude that it is halfway across the universe.) I check in, complete security check and rush towards the McDonalds counter gleefully to grab myself a humongous glass of Iced Tea to last me the wait.

2) I meet a kindred spirit who is also going home and we indulge in a lengthy conversation about everything and beyond. (I asked her name about an hour after we chat!) My flight is now boarding and I step into the plane.

3) It's a new airplane and there are screens in every seat. My antiseptic alter-ego makes me use my iPod headphones instead of the ones they provide. So ear infection has successfully been prevented. The flight takes off and I settle down to watch some weird movie involving a camera that sees the future. (It was called Aa Dekhen Zara, something I figured out when the credits were rolling and the title track came on at the end!)

4) The food is served, I devour the chocolate brownie, spinach quiche and indistinguishable paneer and check the time- around two hours to go, I realise, and look out - the fright begins then.

5) It is considerably dark outside, and the sun is melting slowly into the sea of sky. The aircraft wing lights are blinking in rhythm and the flight cruises on the blanket of clouds.

6) Suddenly, I feel the bumps. What begins as a harmless thud escalates into positive bumping, like the plane is riding on the Gurgaon road filled with potholes. The pilot switches on the seatbelt sign and the stewardess screams in the PA about not getting up from the seats. At one point, she actually screams 'Get back to your seat MAAM and don't get out until I SAY SO!' (she sounds exactly like a hijacker and I begin to wonder if they learn these dialogues from them.)

7)I distract myself and look outside the window. Big Mistake. I can see the sky lighting up every couple of seconds. Lightning, it suddenly strikes me! (Not the actual lightning, but the thought.) I see it stab the clouds viciously every few seconds, inching closer and closer to the aircraft. I look around frantically if anyone has noticed it - everyone is so engrossed seeing Bipasha Basu gyrating in a sleazy Thai pub, that they apparently don't deem it necessary to write out their last wishes (which might never be found anyway, so they have a point.)

8) As the flight trembles more violently, I wonder if it's a good time to listen to that devotional channel in the aircraft audio and bribe god to make us land carefully. I look out again, the lightning becomes brighter and closer. I wonder if I should try and salvage my original certificates and passport from that overhead cabin while jumping out of the plane. I wonder when the stewardess will instruct the emergency exit passengers to 'co-operate' and open the doors in mid-air.

9) The flight stops trembling and swoops down, as if to attack it's prey. I cautiously look out again, and this time I see an iridescent city glowing below me. The lighting has passed, so have the clouds, and all that remains is the city below the aircraft. I wonder if he's making an emergency landing in some other city.

10) It turns out that we've finally reached our destination, and as the flight touches the runway, the breaks come on at full speed but the flight just goes on and on....the airport passes us (or we pass it) and the flight still refuses to stop. (The aeromaniac in me tells me that we might have skid on the wet runway and will end up overshooting it). It finally stops thunderously close to the boundary wall and I hear a collective sigh of relief. It turns out everyone on the flight has been just as paranoid.

I've flown a dozen times this year alone, and this has GOT the be the worst flight ever. Blame it on the weather, or the grudging pilots (incidentally, the airline I flew is on an indefinite strike since yesterday!) or my aeromania, but in three weeks I'll have to fly again. Sigh.

The owl finally hooted!

Ooh! This is my 50th blog post! Yay! (For a lazy journalism student who should, technically have crossed this milestone years ago...it IS a big achievement OK?) So anyway, it is a ripe afternoon as I write this....my laptop tells me the time is 12.12...and it gets me thinking of the bewitching midnight hour...

For all you guys who know me, I'm the goody goody thing who goes to sleep at 10 every night and wakes up bright and cheery every morning...sometimes trying to give the rising sun an inferiority complex! But circumstances have spoilt me! The sun seems to overtake me these days and I seem to overtake the moon! In less complicated words, I now know what the world looks like past bedtime thanks to insomniac friends, messenger (if my fingers cramp due to excessive typing and I walk around with bandaged hands, I'll have a lot to say to you Sneh!) , lots of assignments and just dull boredom (which completely evaporates the moment I decide to stay online!)

Remember in childhood, when you would be given special permission to stay up late and greet a visiting relative from abroad (since they ALWAYS choose to fly in at unearthly hours) or even stay up on a weekend to watch an entire movie on the TV? Those were rare privileges that I treasured....and was filled with awe that Mr.Night is letting me stay up and watch him ageing! That soon gave way to slumber parties where no one knew when it was night and when it was day! We'd just stay up all the time....and watch the hours melt into one another! :-)

Even on birthdays, I've always been the weirdo who calls up early in the morning to wish the disgruntled birthday baby with a nauseous cheery greeting! I've never been the midnight wisher, simply thinking that they would hate to be disturbed in the middle of their deep sleep by that nauseous greeting! Conversely I have always threatened to kill people in cold blood if they dared give me even a missed call on my birthday! But this year changed all that.....not only did I stay up ALL night (Thanks, you guys...if you'd told me you'd be gate-crashing to give me a surprise, I'd have worn more decent nightclothes and not be embarrassed to put the pics up on FB!). I cut a cake, two dessert pizzas, painted a T shirt, ate chips...and received calls...things I would ordinarily do in my dreams every birthday! The freezing party on my terrace really showed me what it's like to stay up all night on your birthday!

And Google, of course....we stayed on the terrace one entire night just to catch the sunrise! And then trooped off to bed early mornings....our nocturnal instincts were so sharp back then....I don't think I've ever stayed so alert at 1 in the night to play Musical Chairs! I think that's the reason why after I got back home, my mom kept shooing me away when I would eagerly plan the 'night's' agenda....I had lost any sense of day or night and would be irritatingly active only at night! It took me a few bleary eyed moments (and sharp glares from teachers as I stifled yawn after yawn) in Literature class to realise that days would be days and I'd have to straighten my biological clock!

Since then, I've been back on schedule....sleeping early and waking early...but now suddenly everything has become Topsy Turvy all over again! I seem to sleep way after my laptop clock warns me it's 00:00. I seem to sleep en route to college and yawn throughout the day...but when nighttime strikes again, I seem to be up for a roller coaster ride! Really, somethings happened and my clock has taken a hike....the lark has decided to call it a day and the owl has finally hooted!

Nibbles of Nostalgia

I'm twenty one now. I should stop using these blasted alliterated titles, REALLY. People generally write a post, and then spend hours together finding a suitable title. I, however, decide to write a post based on a good title.

Moving on, don't you think rain somewhat clears the sinuses in your memory and makes you remember so many gorgeous moments you've had? This post is one of those sorts.....some fun times I've had in the rains, which needed to be recorded somewhere...so I can clear that slate and start over the next time it rains. (and Ms.Nature forgets to turn off the taps when it rains in Delhi.)

The sun has finally decided to play peek-a-boo and has warmed up the soggy city.....and these past rainy days transported me to so many recent memories of rain...all of which included the same three of us and ice cream, incidentally! So you guys, if this post wont make you want to bunk your college and hang out with me when I get there, NOTHING will!

Hmm....the first time was Reenu's birthday. (Yes, I got your message last night...about the 'anniversary' of discovering a certain food item and it got me thinking!) After making her open those twenty wacky presents, we whisked her off to Cream and Fudge Factory in the rain! The ice cream is sort of vaguely present in my mind (it involved a lot of sprinkles) but the impromptu decision of eating that roadside Gobi Manchurian in the rain is etched ever so clearly! And then riding back with the cold biting wind and frozen drops of drizzle on Hosur Road!

Then came Sneha's college fest! Aaah..that was such a memory! After spending the entire day judging events (sigh, it was such hard work! ), the rock concert was generously given a washing down! I know, Sneha went around running from pillar to post (quite literally you know) trying to prevent the stage from collapsing on Avial, but Reenu and I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience! (okay, before you include it in your comments, I'll concede that I needed some convincing to get my new shirt wet in the rain..but I did in the end you know!) Including all that slush and mush on the sneakers that weighed down on us so heavily! After getting so completely drenched, we trekked back onto Hosur Road to catch that bus back home. We waited under that bridge with some shady characters...wondering if we should just camp in the college for the night! When we got onto some bus and reached the Silk Board Junction, we had to swim our way through to the next bus stop! And I mean swim! We managed to get up on some broken wall and walked on it precariously as if we were practicing for Miss India (they would've been proud of us though...one tiny slip and we'd be Miss Kichad instead!). After actually touching real, solid ground, wet with only the rainwater, we ran towards another bus that would finally take us home. When we reached home, it began raining again...I don't know why, but I never felt the need to run for shelter....even that late at night, we walked as if it was a bright sunny day and reached home so merrily, my family wondered if I had caught a severe form of head cold that had affected my sensibility!

The last memory is recent...when we went to see that movie at Inox near home. Yeah yeah, so it rained inside the theatre for different reasons...but once we got out, it was actually raining. This time again, we just walked so lazily in the drizzle and ate that scrumptious ice cream in the Fake Corner House. (I'm the biggest fan of Corner house but the ambiance of the Fake one takes the Cake..and the whipped cream on it!) I remember as we walked back, people kept giving us weird looks about how three carefree girls can just waddle in the rain when people run towards cover.....somehow it never affected us....we roamed all around Jayanagar that day, not even realizing that rain is supposed to be a hindrance! If that wasn't enough, we actually rode triples on a bike in the rain!

These three things have happened at different times of the year...not really in the monsoon, and still somehow every time we meet, it rains! I dunno...there is something about our meeting and the rain playing host! And there's something intoxicating about Bangalore rains...sort of makes you want to go out right away and eat ice-cream! Do you think the monsoons will be generous enough to extend themselves for three more weeks?

A journey called JAM!

Two months ago, if you were to throw the word 'Jam' at me, I'd think "Umm...mixed fruit? Maybe with buttered toast?" I have been that naive about traffic jams despite having lived in what people often call the most 'jammed' city of India. (Tell me, where do they see jams in Bangalore? I mean, every time I tell people I'm from Bangalore, they go 'Oh, the traffic is so bad there' Honestly people, have you not SEEN Delhi traffic?)

A typical day starts with me wondering whether I'll be stuck in 3 jams today or 4. At my age people wonder about so many more productive things - Their future, for instance (Something that would be jeopardized if there are 5 jams and they don't make it to class on time), Their family (Who might also be stuck in jams scattered around the city), Their Love, maybe (Yeah, because 'Soul' mates are often found on the road, holding up the collar of a fellow driver and singing profanity to him hence successfully causing another one of those jamthings.)

But no, I choose to wonder about the Jams, the flavours they come in, their tastes and my cavities for having indulged in so many of them.

Let's start with a typical day jammed with jams. I set off primly, clothes all ironed and resembling the 'after' part of a detergent ad (only to resemble the 'before' part as soon as I step out, thanks to the Weather Lord who makes us sweat and Lady Humidity who wont let it dry)

The first jam starts right at the end of the road. The perpetrator? A majestic Bull. So majestic, that he chooses to ignore the Monday-Morning-Blued irate drivers of swanky cars. (Secretly, I bet these guys wish they had the power of that bull) I wait patiently until the Bull finishes his morning job, avoid the spot delicately, and move on.

Then comes the next jam, (I've become accustomed to so many of them, I have favorites!) This one is near the Metro Construction site. Mini Jam, I tell myself as I look up in silent prayer to Ms.Sheila Dikshit and ask her to finish the Gurgaon-Delhi belt of metro SOON! It passes, and so do we.

Then comes the TollJam. This is caused by people who either have grandiose personality disorder (and think they own Delhi, Gurgaon, the expressway...basically the entire world) or those who have dyslexia (and CANNOT differentiate between a 'Tag' lane and a 'Cash' lane). There are those rare specimens who have Anterograde Amnesia and 'forget' they are in the wrong lane. Everyday.

Finally comes the 15 minutes of bliss. The vast expanse of the expressway coupled with an occasional flight that swoops down to land in the airport on the left takes my mind off the wretched you-know-whats.

We then exit the expressway and enter the Royal Gaspberry Jam. Gasp, you ask? Well, when there is no traffic, I gasp (Oh wow, it must be my lucky day!) When there is little traffic, I gasp (Oh no, the peak hour is gone and that means I'm definitely late) and when there is heavy traffic, I gasp (This one exceeds my last record in length of jams!)

The Gaspberry jam can last anywhere between 5 minutes to 45 minutes. It all depends on karma, my friend. Do good, and you'll drive good. I have, however, found ways to pass my time in what I call 'The significant moments of my day'.

a) I contemplate life. Without cars, that is. I wonder if Rama and Sita were ever stuck in a Chariot Jam..oh wait, they spent most of their public lives in the forests...so my focus shifts to Mahabharata and the wars that might have caused traffic hold-ups...especially since these elephants get a little antsy when there are too many crown-clad people (Read: The new Mani Ratnam movie and the elephant rampage) And so it goes on....

b) I look out. Remember my staring hobby in that other blog post? Well, it comes to full use here. I look at the people around me. Flustered office people who keep looking at the watch with the frequency of blinks, angry auntiejis who have to rush and deliver forgotten books to children at schools, serene drivers who listen to the music enter a robotic trance, Army men (who are mostly expressionless but their good looks more than makes up for that) Once I saw a car full of hippies as well...matted hair and everything..kind of an oxymoron innit? Hippies in Air conditioned cars?

Aaah...I see that the traffic has finally cleared and the jam has now been eaten up by the cars. I turn into the blessed, empty road that curves towards college and finish my day's ramblings.

So the next time you ask me where I'm from and I say 'Bangalore', don't even make the mistake of bleating out 'Oh, the traffic is so bad there!' I might just transform into those collar-holding-gaali-maarofying rowdies and gag you, throw you inside the car and take you to college everyday with me!

CPR for comatose Blog.

If personalities were colours, then the trait of self-obsession would be the new 'pink'! I honestly need to get a grip and move on to other things in life...but till then, I might as well indulge in good ol 'pouring out my soul' rituals in these tag things!

4 places I've lived in :

Bangalore, Delhi, Chennai, Hyderabad.

4 TV shows that I like to watch :

Madhur Jafferey's Flavours of India, New Detectives on Discovery Channel (I dont think it is aired anymore though) , Small Wonder (in English, Hindi, Kannada, Tamil...bring it on in any language, it's always a delight!) and a certain anonymous Hindi serial that I am rather ashamed of admitting on the world wide web.

4 places that I've been to, on vacation :

Hm? My most memorable? Shimla-Nainital-Devprayag-Haridwar-Rishikesh '97 (One trip) , Durgapur (West Bengal) '96 , Goa '03 and Singapore '02.

4 Favourite food items :

• Rasam rice with Papad.
• Dessert Pizzas
• Cinnamon Toast
• Gulab Jamun with Ice Cream.

4 places I would rather be :

• Home (I'm not complaining though. I just wish it was closer)
• Burkina Faso (on Mondays mostly)
• Egypt
• Greece

4 websites that I visit everyday :

• Hotmail (Yeah, some of us still use the thing)
• Gmail
• Delhi University website (for a long long time)
• My Blog. (To re-read my stale posts.)

4 things that I hope to do before I die :

Bring a smile on a face everyday. (very Miss-India-ish no? But I did bring a smile on a little kid's face today, and well...it was a beautiful feeling.)

Go backpacking across Europe.

Make the perfect Chocolate cake. (and pancakes, while I'm at it)

Write a book.

4 novels I wish I was reading for the first time :

• Roald Dahl's Matilda
• R.K. Narayan's Malgudi Days
• Anuja Chauhan's The Zoya Factor
• The entire Enid Blyton series.

4 movies that I can watch over and over again... :

• You've Got Mail :-) Isnt it one of the most delightful movies ever?
• Andaz Apna Apna
• Mozhi
• Ganeshana Maduve (ever watched this Anant Nag flick? It beats the socks off all Kannada movies!)

Do I need to tag this to anyone? I dont think people have been reading this blog anymore anyway....the paltry few who did read it might have given it up for good thinking it is history....until I find some effective revival strategy for my comatose blog, I'll leave it open for anyone to tag and be tagged.

Head over Reels

I like Hindi Movies and I cannot lie. To frown down on them disdainfully, I really try. But it just doesnt work. On the outside I can appear as a pseudo-artsy type who will discuss French and Iranian films, Mis-en-scene and Montages. But inside, I'm a Hindi movie freak. I can burst into a little jingle if the movie of my choice is playing anywhere around me. 

It started with Hum Aapke Hain Kaun....a fitting movie title for my first tryst with cinema, dont you think? While my parents fidgeted in their seats, waiting for those fourteen songs to get over and be done with, I was starstruck! I watched in delight at Salman's gaudy clothes, Madhuri's gollywog hairstyle and her sister's Colgate smiles. Even now, Pehla Pehla Pyaar hai happens to be my all-time favorite song despite the small pleas of my sensible mind which tells me that they are mutilating the pool table on which they sing it. 

Then came Baazigar and Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. My folks recall how my cousins and I would squeeze into the boot of our old Maruti 800 and sing Yeh Kaali kaali aankhen. They never gave up hoping that we'd stop if some passing car might take pity on us and give some loose change! And Mere Khwabon mein jo Aaye made getting wet in the rain the ultimate ambition of every little girl! Baazigar was actually censored for me, I was not allowed to watch the last few scenes, due to their gory nature....actually, I still havent watched them......and I have no idea how it ends....but I'm sure Shahrukh takes his revenge and the hero shall triumph...not letting me down. 

DDLJ, however, I have watched over and over again. I never get tired of those songs, the ridiculous dialogues and Kajol's weird clothes. Everytime, I sit on the edge of my seat biting my nails as Simran runs down the platform to grasp Raj's hand in the last scene. It just has some magic that will never fade away. 

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai was my next muse. I think I wanted to watch the movie on the day before my Math exam....the only time I had ever rebelled against studying! I clearly didn't have much practice in rebelling because I didn't get my way and had to finish fractions before watching Rahul explain the funda about Romeo and Juliet. The little kid in the movie was so charming, and a flood alert was issued at the very beginning of the movie in Swagath theatre, as I began my crying spells the moment the movie began with the funeral. 

Then came Kaho Naa Pyar Hai....I still remember the shock Sneha and I got when Hritik fell off the bridge and drowned. We could NOT accept that the hero dies, that too in the first half of the movie. The duplicate never convinced me completely...but I decided to adjust. :-P and take it with a pinch of salt. 

Dil Chahta Hai was THE film in my 10th std. I remember how the songs became such a rage, as did Goa. Incidentally, I did go to Goa that year, but came back hugely disappointed with all my filmy expectations thrashed. Aamir Khan, however, became my perfect Hero and in some quaint corner of my mind, I cherish the dream of being shown Sydney the way it comes in the movie, with the helicopter et al. 

Since then I've fallen in and out of love with Shahrukh in Swadesh, Veer Zaara, Main Hoon Na, Don, Aamir in Lagaan, Fanaa, Ghajini, Rang De Basanti, Ranbir Kapoor in Saawariya, Imran Khan in Jaane Tu and even both the protagonists in Dostana! 

I have never disliked a movie that I've watched in a theatre. (Ok, except Aap Mujhe Achche Lagne lage...I mean, even the actors will second me on that one). I've laughed, cried, sang and danced in all those movies. I wonder how people can frown upon these movies being shallow and lame. But that's what retains the charm and the distinction of something being a fantasy and not a boring chunk of real life. 

Logically, the plots makes as much sense as scubadiving in a sewer. Still I get tickled to no end while watching Andaaz Apna Apna (The king of logic defying movies). The first thing I do every morning is scan the papers to see if any over-the-top, melodramatic, ultra-filmy movie is playing. My day is made if it is! I know after reading this blog-long torture of the magic in hindi movies, you all would be rolling your eyes and saying 'Grow Up'....what can i say? I'm head over reels in love with Hindi Movies! 

News to Amuse

'News you can use' - is passe now. The latest trend is 'News that can Amuse'. In my first class of journalism, we were taught that if a dog bites a man, it is...well...normal. But if a man bites a dog, it becomes news. Clearly, my teachers meant that news is something that is meant to be real, but sensational...something that can grab your attention and sustain it long enough to stuff data into that overworked brain. However, dog biting man story was just an expression. Something that distinguishes news-worthy stories from other stories. 

Recently though, I realised that a news channel has taken that extremely seriously. They seem to be literally running around finding men who can be coaxed to bite dogs just to get some news material. They happened to cover a story about a prostitution racket that was exposed and how a woman who was infected with HIV was given 'justice'. It angered the journalist/moralist/feminist part of me to no end. And this is how it was shown: 

News Reader: (In loud, pseudo-Amitabh Bachchan baritone) " this is the story of a poor woman named D. Her dreams and her hopes have been shattered!!!! She is now living the life of misery!!! Only a womaan can understand another womaaan's heart, but in this a womaaan has poisoned a womaan's heart! She has been doomed to a lifelong battle!!!! We bring you exclusive report of......." and so it went. 

The baritone was being supplemented by images of an activist aunty openly slapping another woman. Not just slapping, but basically thrashing whichever body part she could find. The camera man was clearly psyched and hence was shaking (of mirth or horror, I cant say) and the images were blurring but even that could not prevent a couple of dragonflies (or rain poochis) to wave at their mums into the camera. The images were played over and over again (and once, even backwards!) 

So the story was about a girl who was duped into flesh trade by a landlady of some sort. This girl was rescued by a samaritan, who became samaritin-er by marrying her and 'making her dreams come true'. He was aghast to find out that she had been infected by HIV and regretted (this was on record, by the way) 'Having married her and not taken her for an AIDS test'. He decided the best way to give her justice would be to take a couple of activist aunties and thrash the living daylights out of the landlady, which was caught on camera. 

What exactly bugged me in this? 

1) The background music. They were alternating the music of Black (when Deaf-Blind-Mute-Rani is at her lowest possible level of melancholy) and the music of some B grade action flick when the ladies were displaying their brawn.

2) A re-enactment of the entire story was a roughly put together collage of movies where horrible, paunchy men have locked up petite damsels and are waving whiskey bottles around like showering holy water. One scene was so obscene, I'm sure it was ripped right off some blue film.

 

3) The translators who re-told the story in English. While the people in the story spoke kannada, their speeches were being translated with emotional overtones garnished generously with hyperboles. 

4) Expressions such as 'D's dreams came true when he married her' 'Her life was given the sparkling new light of love from a husband' 'One woman's love became conditional and made the other woman miserable' 'Life has now become a bleak beacon'...or somewhat similar. 

Why do I point this all out? Because at the end of the show, I was laughing so much, I literally fell off the chair. Bad effect, since I should have been symapthizing with the girl and understanding the deeper meaning of problems such as prostitution and AIDS. But it ended up having a completely opposite effect on me. For the first few minutes, I sat mesmerized as every technical/journalistic blunder was commited. After that, this just turned into a farce.

 What saddens me now is that many people who have watched this news will only remember it for it's blatant effusion of emotional melodrama and not the hard, harsh facts. The activist aunties will only pride upon the fact that they were shown on TV slapping the villians, but not that they rescued girls from the throes of prostitution. The girl, who will probably be grateful for having been rescued, will continue to make her dreams 'come true' by living with the samaritan. And I really hope the samaritan doesnt drop her like a hot potato once the show is off air. The underlying message of AIDS awareness (which by the way, was the 'theme' of the programme) was lost completely and the cameramen and the crew just blessed the man benevolently for having taken the poor, desolate, HIV woman into his household despite her 'history'. 

Man has really bitten the dog and how! News is now meant to Amuse, apparently. 

Yo! It's Yoga!

My demented title name gives the secret away. What yoga has done to my sanity and creativity...or the lack of it. It isn't all bad though. Sure, yoga lives up to every one of my glossy diet magazine expectations of staying fit and healthy. My temper has been at bay for so long, I have forgotten how to lose it. And I spend my days blissfully ignorant about my scary future college prospects and urge my family to 'breathe deeply' when they panic and decide to panic for my sake. 

But it ain't all good either. Here is a general overview of what happens everyday. I mean it, it's almost like a dejavu. 

I enter the hall. There is an eerie silence which is penetrated by a grunt from Mr.Reebok at one corner. He attempts to stand on his head, an aasana that we wont be taught for another couple of months at least. Anyhow, he still attempts it, half successfully and Reebok can be proud of the extent to which their stretch pants, well, stretch. I turn away so he doesn't catch me giggling from his upside down position. 

I look to Mrs. Smiley. She smiles. Asks me which college I come from. I reply politely that I have graduated. She smiles (sympathetically now) and asks if I am searching for a job. I smile back (reassuringly) and say, no, I'd like to study further. She smiles, puzzled, and turns away to the wall, smiling. 

Another Mrs.100% attendance sits next to me and asks what I'd like to study. I reply 'Psychology.' She puts in her two cents rather enigmatically. 'Psychology and Yoga. One science compliments the other. Do you teach your patients yoga? ' My mind fights with me. Tells me to convince her that perhaps, just perhaps, Schizophrenics might not like to be taught Vajraasana. But I take in that deep breath and cross my legs. 

The instructor enters. Mr.Soul Reason, I call him. We all begin, an eclectic few. As we do the stretching exercises (Mr.Reebok is on Cloud 9), I glance around to see if anyone can make out that I cant even touch my toes. I am the thinnest in the class and yet so inflexible, that cardboard makers could earn a fortune by using me as their mascot. I spend most of my exercise time in looking around to see how much I can accomplish in that race to the toes. 

The aasanas begin. They are fairly simple. And fun, since I can do most. Until we reach trikonaasana. We are supposed to form three triangles with our body and the ground. You do the geometry. I just end up looking like a twisted jungle gym (who still cant touch her toes, rendering her triangle incomplete) while the rest of the class manages to achieve the perfect pose in synchrony. I sigh. And pray for the seconds to pass and Mr.SR to say 'Sloouly Staap'. Immediately after this aasana comes the Ekapaadapavanamuktaasana. Little kids are charmed by the name. So charmed that they don't really bother trying the aasana itself. Older people try desperately to get their kneecaps and foreheads to meet. Surprisingly, I manage to do it perfectly. I look around triumphantly as I see everyone around me writhing and struggling to make the ends meet. Just as I re-do the aasana to teach these poor mortals, Mr.SR looks at me sternly and says 'close your eyes'. Hmph. So much for achieving the perfect pose. 

We move on to Praanayama. No snide comments on this because I still keep my eyes closed, and so do others. 

Finally we reach my favorite part - the shavaasana. We lie down and I contemplate life (or mentally replay yesterday's prime time soap). As Mr.SR (who incidentally begins this everyday by telling us to relaaix the soul reason - it took me three days to figure out he meant sole region.) The silence is pierced occasionally by Mr.Reebok's abrupt and scary snores. Clearly, when the brand says comfort, he takes it too seriously. 

We turn to our right and get up. I open my eyes slightly to watch Mr.Reebok. He seems to be in his own REM world and continues to lie down. It takes me all the patience and constraint that I have learnt in Yoga not to laugh out loudly. We recite the finishing shloka. In our second line, Mr.Reebok's Baritone joins our weary chorus. (I am sure Mr.SR prods him to wake up everyday, but I still have to find the proof. One day, I'll spy a little more keenly.) We all finish and stretch our legs. Mr.SR thanks us, and we all spill out of the class, rather sleepily. 

I smile at another classmate while getting out, and in an attempt to make polite conversation, I ask her where she works. She says, 'I'm studying in II BCom.' And gives me the cold shoulder since that day. Hmm...I guess Yoga is a solitary pursuit after all! 

What's YOUR hobby?

Funny word innit? People keep asking you 'What's your Hobby' as if it is your blood group and would be essential to know for your survival. When I was a kid, I'd be constantly pestered by aunties and uncles. Being an only child, it was presumed that a hobby is a great substitute for a sibling. I'd always angelically smile and say 'ReadingWritingTravelingandListeningtoMusicaunty.'  Even in my resume, I've continued to follow the same format. Although, I must confess here that I do possess other hobbies. Just ones that I cannot reveal in a resume or a social function. 

My first hobby is staring. Not that perverted voyeuristic type that's running in your dirty mind. But just staring. Staring at people, posters, streetlights, garbage dumps...anything. Generally when my object of interest is a person, I'd be mentally figuring his/her life out. Wondering where they're off to, what they might be doing and what they might have been in the previous life based on their facial features (I've concluded half the people who travel in route 27 were seahorses.). While this hobby is hugely entertaining for me, it isn't so for my object. Once my classmate demanded to know why I stared at him as if he were a slug and I couldn't wait to squish him! So Staring can certainly not be entered in social networking profiles as a Hobby. 

Collecting. I started off fairly harmlessly by collecting Stamps, Coins, Shells etc.  A trip to Kodaikanal got me into collecting Pine cones. I decided I would paint them and adorn my room with them...until some started attracting weird looking bugs. I then progressed to collecting leaves (for a sci..science project, of course!) and pebbles. I moved on to collect travel pamphlets. In the hotel lobby at Singapore, I set off smartly in the direction of that pamphlet rack and pulled one of each type, much to the embarrassment of my parents. I then proceeded to read through every single one of them. I even convinced my dad and uncles who traveled abroad to get me route maps and brochures from there as well. I now know transport systems of Germany and Kenya at the back of my hand! My latest collection is Cadbury Dairy Milk wrappers. I must be owning at least over a hundred. An explosion of purple in my desk. 

Writing my name. I could write my name over and over again in different fonts, materials, colours. I'm obsessed with my name, I suppose. At least it's better than writing Leonardo Di Caprio all over my notebooks. (I tried that once, it was the longest name I knew, but reverted back to my own name.) Actually, I just like writing. Anything. I like to write stuff and then sit back and admire my handwriting. Really, I should be banned from this selfless world. 

Watching advertisements. They're so much fun! Especially the type where you have to figure out the product because there is no inkling of it until the very end of that 40 second commercial. I have a list of favorite advertisements....that may even exceed my list of favorite movies! 

and finally, writing all this out on public spaces of the Internet. Really, if you haven't figured out as yet, I seem to find some cathartic joy in embarrassing myself on the World Wide Web. Hopefully there are more like me out there who pride upon being so self-obsessed! 

Some Obscure Poetry

 

(I have just finished three years of literature. For the life of me, I cannot understand poetry unless it rhymes. I know, it sounds very five-year-oldish but honestly, I have always wondered how poets can turn mundane situations into fascinating inspirations. I decided to try it out myself. I mentally took note of all the stuff while cleaning out an old shelf and tried to make a poem of it. I must admit, it didn't come naturally to me, and I used the Synonyms option in MS Word a tad too often. But for a non-poet, or maybe a non-serious poet, this is refreshing. As I re-read it, a lot of lines sound very familiar so I suppose I have subconsciously plagiarised from poets I have read!) 

A Resolution

It took some serious blackmailing and a threat

To turn my holidays into an endless strife

When I finally decided to pay back the debt

And clear out fifteen years of my life. 

Fifteen long years of my student life

Locked away in that dusty cabinet

Old memories sharp as a brand new knife

Fighting the seams for an outlet. 

Newspaper clippings of a forgotten tale

Diaries and Notebooks, filled with scribbles

Tickets to The Frog and the Nightingale

I look longingly, take in little nibbles. 

Old School Magazines, my articles well thumbed

That math answer paper, my first 100 marks 

They thaw out thoughts that have been numbed

And frozen, like ice, in desolate parks.  

I clean out the shelf and lose myself in 

Clutters of memories so yellowed and deep

Now, its time for them to enter the bin

As new wool gathers on the sheared sheep. 

Writing on such thoughts is perhaps, cliched 

But those earmarked experiences are not

Fifteen years later, when this day is frayed

The process will repeat, and replace this blot. 

(If you know me and are wondering whatever happened to that bubbly person who does not look beyond chick-lit, either you have to suggest some ways of helping me pass my time or endure more such obscure poetry!!) 

Fairytale Friendships

A mush-fest is about to start. This week was like a whirlwind. It came, swept me off my feet and has deposited me several inches above the ground. I don't feel like stepping down on the uneven ground again. Ever. If only the week could copy-paste itself 52 times so that the entire year would be the same and things like Future Planning, Exams, Practicals would slip away unnoticed into oblivion. 

But.....life isn't a fairytale. Although my friends are characters from those. Really, the non-stepsistery but more like perfect quality type characters. For someone who has never celebrated her birthday on the birth day (thanks to Bored exams, final exams, every other exam that books it's place in March) , this birthday was AWESOME!!! So here's a tribute to those angels who decided to sacrifice a holiday and shared their day with me instead. 

(Sorry dudes, I really wanted to write a poem and live up to the title Gyaan Guru Rhyme Shuru .....but my mind is clogged with random essays on African Education, Paranoid Schizophrenia and Exit Polls...so I shall do that some other time) :) 

So I'll begin in the order of their appearance in my life. Sneha and Reenu, I really wont miss you. That's because we're the only three who are giving outdated social networking sites any business at all by constantly writing mundane little notes to each other. I know it will continue....so I'm totally at peace thinking I'll always stay in touch with you. ( I really cant help myself...you both are contagious!) 

My google buddies - Naya, Bihari Bahurani, Resh and Maddy..... I didn't know you guys before Google happened and I sincerely believed that we wouldn't really keep in touch at college after Google either. But the fact that we still act like three year olds when we greet each other, and share the same Googly vibes nearly a year after the internship shows that the internship did nothing much except to catalyse our friendship. We were meant to be friends...internship or not. And the very fact is proven by how much fun we've had outside of Google as well. I hope this friendship continues even as you all strut off to work and I settle down with my books! :) P.S. You all can take turns in treating me - after all, you'll be earning! :-P 

My college pals! My college life is defined by you all. I don't think I would've enjoyed even half of what I did if I was in any other Combination. PyEJ is not a class, it's an identity. A personality trait ingrained in all of us. You guys have been the best! And the only bit of that looooong graduation address I caught was "You will make many friends in your life but the college friends are those you keep forever".

Repstar - This swamiji of yours has totally become your disciple in learning how to let go and have fun. I'll miss your warmth and compassion towards us and that right-out-of-a-shampoo-ad hair! 

Sirchi Mirchi - We've made everyone deaf by our melodious rendition of Livin' in my OUWN world! E-mail will never let us down as we discuss the technicoloured lives of Hayavadana and our cutie from MJTH!!! 

Foo Foo Princess - We've had Chats, Chit Chats and you've managed to get me to try that raw mango with toxic green lethal chutney also! My life has been sprinkled with spice thanks to you..and we'll definitely continue our tradition of violating birthday cakes even in our Backpacking trip! 

Sauce wali red! - I still have that first e-mail you wrote me! I'm probably preserving it to show your kids how reluctantly shy you were at first....and now? The word isn't Shy. It's Sigh. How DO we get you to shut up? :-P You've redefined red! 

J Lo with Twinkle Toes - The ONLY person who's even attempted in getting me to shake a leg. Clearly, I'm not meant to do it. But you still dance with me! I'll kidnap you from Dubai just to take you shopping....so that I look more like a normal college girl and less like a pre-teen wannabe fresh out of Weekender Kids. 

Techie Tingu!! We've had a looooong connection...from the crow to maaaaaam to front and back! Really, Sanskrit classes wouldn't have been this memorable..in fact, I really don't remember what we've studied..but I remember how we've studied them! We'll be in touch until our bled stays red. :-P 

Register ki Rani - My cute little anda who's so mature and dignified now! Your perfect attendance has meant that you've lit up my life every single day of college! Just remember to close your windows during sandstorms and give the Internet some good exercise by constantly staying in touch! 

Pingu Penguin, Scandalized, Rasam Kali.....a big big hug to you all....for that 1000 watt smile, the tales in your house and the chubby chubby hands. 

No matter which direction we all disperse in, whether we stay in touch or not, you guys will always be 'The guys'. It's really hard to find new friends after you all have set such high standards! Looks like I'll be coming away from college with that Snooty Carmelite attitude after all. It is not going to be easy settling in a new place after leaving this home.....but your memories, experiences and idiosyncrasies are going to make it like cake-walk. (and in my line of study, if someone glances at my glazed daydreaming expression, they might end up classifying me into Axis I disorders!- but it's worth taking that risk!)  

If THIS big post of self praise I've meted out to you all wont get you to read my blog, seriously, NOTHING will! 

A very very humble thank you. :-) 

Two Decades and a Dozen Months

It has been a year since I cribbed about turning twenty. This time however, I shall not rant. I shall instead, wish for a couple (okay, much more than a couple) of things that can possibly make me forget the fact that I am indeed turning twenty one. 

So here come the twenty one wishes (in random order) that can positively make my twenty first year a joyride. (quite literally, in one case.) 

1) Nigella Lawson!! Will someone please gag her, shove her and her larder in a big gunny sack and export her to Bangalore? Pretty please? Every time I watch her show, I drool so much that Pavlov and his dog must be giving me a standing ovation from up there. 

2) A customized BMTC bus that will appear miraculously in front of my college every time I think about going home. That way, I don't have to reach home in a grumpy mood after having broken my thigh bone by an 8 year old who decides my lap is more fun to dance on than maybe.....the floor of the bus? Most of the times, I love traveling by buses. It's one of these rare instances that completely spoil that joyride for me.

3) Delhi in Bangalore. I WANT Delhi in Bangalore. I miss Delhi so much, I can picture Evergreen ka chaatwalla in my dreams on particularly hungry nights....and days even. Bangalore is home, but Delhi is where a part of my heart still remains. Why cant I mix the two cities like that horribly sexist Axe ad?

4) Websites that don't give you the preview of an essay-that will be very useful for your English exam research-only to wait for you to scroll down and then scream out 'YOU CAN BUY THE FULL ESSAY FOR $8.59 ONLY!!!!' Really, computers are supposed to be the storehouse of knowledge, not a warehouse. 

5) Unlimited supply of Lay's Magic Masala. You know, the type that will not make you puke even if you crunch down 7-8 packs at a time. I can only go past one. The second one makes me queasy and the final one brings out the other two. :-( 

6) A Mindwriter. When I'm not yapping (on rare rare occasions), my mind is constantly yapping inside, if you get what I mean. I could probably write a really funny book with the kinda stuff I think...but I forget it all very fast. I wish I could have something that writes down everything that goes on in my mind only to read on a grey day.  Also, I wouldn't need to type this out so meticulously after forming grammatically correct sentences. 

7) A book wishing spell. It's like I really wish I have this book and POOF! It turns up! And if I get bored halfway (which sadly happened to a certain Russian Classic writer I was reading) then by wishing so, the entire book should be read without my knowledge. Just in case I need to show off that I've read the book, and quote a line or two, then it would be cool! 

8) Water bottles that don't get opened by anyone other than me. I'm stingy with water OK? I hate sharing water and believe it must be a fundamental duty of every citizen to bring their own freakin bottles to college so that my bottle doesn't get passed around like some purple toy. 

9) A Pizza cake. Has anyone ever made that? It would be nice though...with a pizza-ish filling and a crumbly crust with cheese as icing and olives as the sugar balls. 

10) A pair of Self-exercising shoes. I've given up trying to exercise a long time ago. Maybe I can get a pair of shoes that will promptly start exercising the moment they're worn. By me, that is. Or if someone can invent a wireless connection wherein other people exercising can burn my calories, then that would be perfectly alright. 

11) A security alarm for my Psychology notes and record. Something that will blare out if they have been displaced from my bag. Or maybe I should get them insured somewhere. 

12) A brand new memory! Something that will remember every face, book, movie, textbook and experience of my life. I've been getting rather cold looks from people I cannot place. Wait now, what is the mineral responsible for good memory? Is it Iron? 

13) People who laugh at my superstitions must be jinxed to immediately babble out one deep dark embarrassing secret of theirs. So I have a lucky (fine...and unlucky) song. And I believe in the 'One for sorrow Two for joy' crow thingy. It's worked for twenty years. I think that's good enough evidence to justify its miraculous powers, thanks. 

14) A backpack that can hold everything and still appear tiny. Hermione, are you listening? 

15) Contact lenses that scream out in agony when I try to put them in old solution. At least that way, I'll remember to change the solution every day. It really is tough with my memory and all. Honest. 

16) A mini planner executive person thingy in my mind that goes Go now to room 15, you have class there or Today is the last day of the extended version of your extended deadline to submit English assignment. FINISH it. It really would help. Most of the times, I seem to be floating in a parallel world with a dazed expression. Except, I am not romantic film heroine thinking of dream sequences with hero. I am generally thinking of what to eat next, or which notes haven't been completed, or something equally intriguing. 

17) An age changing potion. So that sometimes, when I feel I want to be pampered like a five year old by my family, I can go back to that age. Or if I want to watch TV like a 70 year old granny, then I can go forward in time. 

18) A mini chaat stall at home. I love chaat. Everyone should have chaat stalls at home. Its a pity the home made chaat never tastes like chaat. It just tastes...well...like its been made at home. 

19) An alarm clock that will alter the Greenwich Mean Time if I want to oversleep. That way, I'll never feel guilty for being late to any place. They're running on my time anyway. 

20) One of those mini retort books that will immediately tell me which smart ass comment I am supposed to make if I am rebuked by someone. In most situations, I end up standing befuddled and the person just walks away. I need to make a witty retort at that moment, not in my diary three hours later, or even worse, in my memory for at least 5 months. 

and finally, my twenty first wish for my twenty first birthday is -

21) To have all of this come true. Can it? Do you see that mail van anywhere?