A Whimsical Tale

The Qutub Minar is a silent spectator to a different world. As it towers above the green carpet of foliage in Mehrauli, it watches sightseers scattered among the architectural ruins of its facade. It shudders, as the Metro whizzes past it every couple of minutes. Aeroplanes salute the Minar, as they descend towards the airport. A little after noon, the shadow of the Minar slowly begins to inch towards the old bus stop, where buses are parked for a brief respite from the harsh sun, and drivers tuck into delicious food at the adjoining dhabas.

Behind this bus stop, lies a place. Dismissed as a huge ground with a rusty gate, people often miss seeing the cleanly swept little buildings, the colourful walls and the constant chatter from beyond the gate. A car stops in front of this gate, hesitantly, almost ready to reverse and go back on the main road. But as the rusty gate creaks open, a warmth seems to spread around the car. The buildings look brighter and the walls more colourful. As the car manoeuvres around the gate to park in the grounds, the watchman and several boys run to direct it correctly.

I step out of the car. A small boy, barely two feet tall, runs up to me, fashions a camera with his hands and goes 'Click!'. Three others watch this and begin to giggle. Before I know it, I'm dragged into a room where they're all playing. Hours go by, and we exhaust ourselves by playing every conceivable version of running and catching games. Finally, an older boy walks into the room and announces that it is lunch time. Bone-tired, we troop into the lunch room and grab plates.

Two ladies stand by the food, smiling at every child they serve, as they dole out generous portions of chawal and kadi. The little ones look eagerly into the huge vessel in search of pakodas and they are usually rewarded with a stern look that yields to a reluctant second serving of pakodas. The boys then look pointedly at my plate, so I'm served with extra pakodas as well. When everyone is served, we find a corner in the crowded room and tuck in.

I sit among the slightly older boys now, as they tell me about their schoolwork, talk shyly about their girl classmates and discuss what they'd like to do when they grow old enough to live independently. Before we know it, lunch time ends and we all scatter. The boys go into their respective classes and as I look around wondering what to do next, the little ones come back running and demand a story.

We find a shaded corner on the rooftop and settle down as the winter sun smiles benevolently on us. I begin telling them the story of Hansel and Gretel....but they children start pitching in their suggestions. The witch in the story develops fangs and becomes a ghost at midnight. The children get superpowers as they escape from the witch. The story begins to turn wild and grows completely out of a 'fairytale' proportion, but the kids enjoy weaving this tale so much, I don't have the heart to bring them back to the actual story. We get carried away, involving Harry Potter in the rescue mission as well. By now, the group of five little kids has turned into almost eleven kids of all ages, two puppies that alternate between whining and snoring, and the watchman, who comes to check the commotion. As the clock inches towards four, I reluctantly wrap the story up with a Happily Ever After. The kids let me go only on the condition that I return the next week with another story like this.

As the car slowly manoeuvres its way out of the boundaries, I glance at the rear view mirror. The kids are waving merrily for about two seconds, before they disappear into the rooms, eager to continue playing. On the entire journey home, I try combining my imagination and knowledge of fairy tales to come up with another bizarre story for our next meeting.

There is a change in the way I look at life. For those four hours, I'm treated with unconditional affection. The kids don't care if my hindi has an accent, if I can't really match their speed in running, or if I'm wearing my oldest and most threadbare sweatshirt. I'm there, we play, and that's enough. There are few places in this world, that welcomes you with such a bright atmosphere, brushing all your blues away. Some day, I'd love to go back, stand on the rooftop of the building and watch as the Qutub Minar salutes this unnoticed, quaint place every noon.

Twenty past Three

Okay, It's exactly twenty three days before I turn twenty three. And it is time for the customary Birthday Post!! So I've ranted about not wanting to turn old in when I Turned Twenty . At Twenty One , I wished for dreams that actually did come true...at least the practical ones! And then at Twenty Two , I went back to ranting about my age and how I should not be legally allowed to act it.

(Note: The title says Twenty past Three and not Three Past twenty solely because I'm only actually three years old, with twenty years of experience!)

So this year, I'll celebrate my age. So what if I'm turning 23? It's been a pretty fabulous roller-coaster ride so far, I might as well celebrate the age and look forward to growing wiser! So this year, I'll tell you (the two and a half people who manage to find time and read my blog), twenty three fabulous things of being old!

1) My book will be taken more seriously - Yes, I am writing a book (Read: A titled, nicely decorated word document that's been languishing in a secret folder for the past couple of months.) So the older I get, the likelihood of my finding out marvelous secrets about mankind and revealing them to the world increases.

2) I have stilettos. Okay, so I've been shouting out to the whole wide world that I have stilettos. But that *is* a big deal, if you haven't read my turning twenty post already and not figured out that I can never walk in high heels. But now, I can. Without tripping or ripping clothes with the hypodermic needle.

3) I can cuss, drive and swerve to avoid random people who've sent their brains grazing in the middle of Delhi roads. I can also hijack parking spaces, glare at others when it is my fault and use the horn to give a fire alarm an inferiority complex. While it has nothing to do with age, and more with road-rage, I've realized that people actually take me seriously and make way in awe. Or fear (since I still have the "L" board stuck on the car, nice and bright). Hm. Must. Take. Off. "L".

4) I can eat alone in a cafe without feeling awkward. If you've known me from school, I used to be this really clingy person who wouldn't even visit the loo without a friend accompanying me to the two minute walk down the corridor. I just *had* to chat with someone till there and back. But now, I roam free and alone through Delhi, stopping for a bite, without feeling like oh no there's no one to talk to what will I do sitting all alone here for the next five minutes. That's a big deal. (especially since the last time I tried to act all world-savvy and ordered myself a caramel-mocha in a cafe, I had a violent allergic reaction to coffee and had to frantically call my dad to come pick me up. So Cafe, yes. Coffee, no.)

5) I can cook. 'Nuf said. I have graduated from burning water to making Kadi Chawal and really good cheese omelettes. Next mission: Oreo Cookie Cheesecake.

6) I haven't stuffed my head inside pillows out of fear during the last horror movie I watched. But then again, that was Paranormal Activity. And I was almost half asleep, and since all they did in the movie was also sleep, I didn't really understand much of the door-slamming rituals.

7) I have graduated from wanting to marry Harry Potter or Ranbir Kapoor to Ted Mosby, from How I Met Your Mother. (What? Don't snicker. It *is* a big deal, ok? There was a time when I wanted to marry a certain doctor from a Hindi serial. I've really matured with sitcoms.)

8) Bargaining! They always take you seriously if you're old and bargaining. They consider you as the worldly-wise, well traveled arty woman who knows how much she should pay for any article of purchase. It's no wonder I love going to Sarojini Nagar and Dilli Haat these days!

9) I've retired from Facestalking. Yes, I've finally grown tired of Facebook. I haven't facestalked anyone since...well, yesterday, but that was only because my friend asked me to see that one picture and tell........oh well, you get the point. One entire day without facestalking is a HUGE improvement from the churlish compulsive voyeur I used to be.

10) A-Rated Movies! This time around, no one questioned my age when I went to watch No One Killed Jessica. Unlike the last time when I was taken *out* of the line and asked to show my ID over ten times to prove I was over 18. For The Da Vinci Code, of all the movies (which threw A ratings out of the museum and came on national television a year later anyway.)

11) Ordering weird sounding food in fancy restaurants! The servers actually think you've tasted it before and give you a look of respect. As a kid, they'd always give me a wary look thinking I'd ordered it just because I could spell it right. So, Penne Bolongaise, anyone?

12) I haven't torn one single pair of chappals since 2010 January. That is a HUGE deal, dude. Of course, I've pretty much lived in sneakers and converse shoes since then...but you know, sometimes I stare and they tear.

13) I don't care about the number thirteen being unlucky anymore! (Which is probably why I'm not writing down anything here for the fear it will get reversed or come perversely true or whatever.)

14) I'm addicted to Green Tea! I've graduated from the bournvita-fetish to better brewed, healthier and savvier options like Green Tea. (Uh, also because I'm allergic to coffee so I didn't have much choice.)

15) I can *finally* cut a lemon/orange/tomato the right way. (If you're wondering why that should be recorded here, why don't you go try cutting them and figure out which side you're supposed to cut so the maximum juice can be retained. Hah. Mortals.)

16) I can create scenes! Recently, this little girl tried to pickpocket me in the bus...not only did I catch her hand inside my bag, I even yelled at her mother loud enough to send them both scampering out of the bus. (and then felt guilty for days after because I had stopped the 'livelihood' of a young child by preventing her from stealing all my money and cards. Oh dear.)

17) What number are we on? How many more do I have to go? Is my memory already dwindling? Oh...next time I'll remember to forget incident 16.

18) Parents trust me with their babies! Okay, this has been happening since last summer, because I work with little kids anyway. But not only do parents *not* mind me carrying and playing with their kids, the older ones actually call me "doctor"... (well, that was after I put my foot down and refused to be addressed as 'nurse', 'sister' and 'behenji'.) :D

19) Alcohol doesn't affect me as much as it does other people! BIG deal about being old, I tell you. (Although, if I had tried it earlier, I would've still found this out.) But still, being tolerant to vodka gives me a strange power to watch others dwindling like silly-tunns around me and watching them wisely.

20) Yes, I've tried Alcohol. (If you're still gasping at 19 and wondering where that little kid who irritatingly resembled that other little kid from Kuch Kuch Hota Hai went.) And while it is something that I'm not exactly enamoured with (because it has, like *no* effect on me, dude.), I will still stick to my endless supply of Aerated water to keep me high. (I think my makers up in heaven got a lil bit confused and cross-wired my addiction connections.) Oh, and yes. My parents know. No room for blackmail.

21) I can, in fact, live by myself and not starve, burn the house, flood it, break things or, you know sell it accidentally. It's not like I've done these things before, but now the grown-ups trust me not to do it.

22) I can message fast! Almost as fast as I can type (which is fast dude, so much so that I ditched the idea of writing all this in my diary and put it up here instead, because I'd save time.) That's a big improvement, coming from someone who doesn't know, or really care, where her phone is half the time.

and finally....

23) It's good to be old because I'm ok with growing old! After attaining the wise age of 23, I will have post graduated. So move over, Beeyay Vaishnavi, Hello Yemmay, Vaishnavi! (ok. I'll keep this one in the sidelines until after I'm done with my dissertation, you know. Just in case.)

So here are twenty three reasons why I think it's cool I'm twenty three! *Finally* an attitude change about my age!

The Parade Escapade

For almost twenty years, every 26th January, even before the sun would rise, I would wake up with a zeal that would miraculously disappear on other mornings. I would run downstairs and switch on the television to watch the Republic Day Parade. My favorite bit would be when the cameras were idly capturing the filling enclosures....as patriotic songs would be played in the background. This would begin at least an hour before the parade, and I'd love watching that aerial view of Rajpath, India Gate and little little people in colourful clothing walking around.

This year, I got to be one of the little little people with colourful clothing. To say that it was just an 'experience' would do tremendous injustice to our nation's might. What unfolded before me in three hours encapsulated ten years' of patriotic movies like Rang Day Basanti, Lagaan and Swades. Watching one brigade march past after another made me miss sports day (almost). As each tableau rolled out it's culture carpet in front of the crowds, my enthusiasm would soar higher like a kite on harvest winds.

Ok. Enough with the similes. Everyone must watch the parade live at least once in their lives. (Well, not everyone, because the crowds got so chaotic this year that half the Glove got separated from us.) But there's just something else about watching a Parade. Waving at the helicopters and aircrafts zooming above, waving at the bravery award winning kids, clapping extra hard for the Karnataka Tableau (which was beautiful, by the way), trying to catch a glimpse of the country's leaders (which wasn't too hard actually, considering our Prime Minister wore a bright blue turban.).

But the best bit was the National Anthem. I know we've all squirmed and fidgeted when we sang it in the school assembly. But when some of the best bands play it in front of you, accompanied with the 21 gun salute, it transports you to a different world. You begin to understand the fervour of freedom fighters. You begin to see your nation's might in a different light. As each gun salute goes off, the ground beneath your feet vibrates, saluting the nation by itself.

Okay, so maybe I overdosed on Rang De Basanti before going to watch the parade. But it really was a brilliant experience. There were many non-patriotic highlights of the day as well.

1) Leaving your cell phone behind can be oddly liberating. For almost eight hours, it was like leaving a chain behind and exploring the world uninhibited. And this is coming from me, someone who isn't all that addicted to the phone and carelessly leaves it all over the house, always missing calls and messages.

2) Getting separated from a friends' group. The Glove ended up getting split due to different autos, different routes to India Gate interspersed with half of Delhi's population. So three of us made it to the VIP enclosure and bagged enviable seats, while the other three got left behind. :( It sort of makes you realize how important a big group is. But the one unifying factor with both halves was that we experienced two different sides of Delhi. I know I speak for the entire Glove when I say that Delhi is absolutely enchanting in solitude. Quiet, empty roads sprinkled with little flowers and wide, shady footpaths uninhabited by vendors is like walking into the 1900s all over again.

There are so many many more things that I'd love to record, but they keep fleeting in and out of the memory. Long story short, the parade was a fabulous experience, and the self discovery of a patriotic streak that I thought only manifested when I watched movies.

Hm. Other news. I attended a national Deaf-Blindness conference last week as well. Have you seen The Silent National Anthem ? It sums up the spirit of all the people in the conference. Of course, a good tip for the future is to carry tissues and surreptitiously wipe away tears brought out by a moving performance. When the organizers thanked me for covering the conference, the entire audience turned to find a teary eyed girl muffling sobs and waving feebly. (In my defense, the children who had just performed were beautiful, and I had no idea they would introduce me to the entire audience as their media representative.)

Oh, and Delhi had an earthquake last week as well. Not exactly an earthquake, since the epicentre was south-western Pakistan...but the tremours were felt. And it was a moment of further self discovery for me.

I am pathetic during Catastrophes. Absolutely Pathetic.

So the tremors began and woke everybody up. The buildings from across even began evacuating. I didn't feel diddly squat. Then I was woken up with a very rushed "Vaishnavi!! You have to get up! There's an Earthquake."

To which I respond, "So?"

Anyway, the earthquake didn't do any major damage, and I went back to my not-so-warm covers only to realize the magnitude of what could have happened. I didn't get sleep forever after that, starting at every little annoying pigeon noises. (at one point, I even thought the walls were cracking.)

I think after graduation, I will write scripts for melodramas.

The Magic's Back!

Remember This ? It was a post I had written long long ago, about this very month being magical. Three years have passed since that post, and my life is now in a different college, city and with different friends. But the magic somehow still remains. Lots of little little things I've done this month has made it so magical, that I can't help but pen them all down, so I can come back to this page three years later again, linking it to a newer post.

So I finally saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. After searching frantically for a theatre that would play the movie (uhh...I saw the movie nearly 5 weeks after release, and in Delhi, movies jump out of theatres like frogs on lilypads.) my friends and I (this time there was I-M and the Cake Stealer....who all hit it off so well, that I almost feel ignored these days....and to think I introduced one party to the other!) managed to pick up the last tickets in the theatre for the movie. As in the last remaining ones. I almost gave away my ticket to a little lost boy who was told that the show was booked after we walked away from taking the last tickets.....and then I realized that the boy was probably watching the movie for the second/third time, since he didn't seem too disappointed!

So did I like it? Definitely. A lot of it fit perfectly like a jigsaw into my imagination's version of the movie. Sure, many things were omitted but I walked out in eager anticipation of the next part, so case justified.

And then the place where I do my dissertation. it has become more a fun schedule rather than a dissertation schedule. Who would've thought I would be able to capture the attention of over ten little children in making them work with me? Of course, a LOT of the time is spent in telling them stories (in shudh Hindi, mind you) about the world beyond. But their excitement and enthusiasm at seeing me makes the travel and the distance worth every minute.

Chandni Chowk! Have I blogged about my first paranthe wali gali episode? Or the Red Fort Jama Masjid episode where we were stalked by a creepy looking foreigner? I'm guessing not, but both these episodes have NOT deterred me from going back there for more paranthas. They're more like deep fried heart attacks served on a plate, but washing it down with a huge glass of lassi and ending the meal with a jalebi the size of a small plate completely seals my cardiac fate. In my defense, I walked up the metro stairs, as a form of exercise (more to burn off the guilt calories, than anything else).

Speaking of Metro - I now have a Metro Card!! With a little card sleeve and everything! It is SO COOL to swipe your wallet across the barriers and walk through...rather than standing in endless queues to buy the tokens. And I can use it anywhere, anytime! I've been travelling a lot by metro the past month, but even then, every time I swipe my wallet across the barrier, I get a little thrill when it opens for me! :D

Ooooh..and watching unsuspecting men getting beaten up for entering the womens' compartment - priceless!

Fraandship - Lots of fraaandship episodes have happened this one month. One would think that with our never-matching schedules, we'd not meet that often, but it's turned out to be the other way around. From going to Ash's dance performance, to staying over at Al's place (loooong story, that. Will not be discussed on the world wide web. If you've met me online, or in person, or any of my friends, the chances are that you already know. So zip it.) We've been on the move as a big happy bunch. It feels nice to have a group of friends who are ready for any form of craziness, at any time. And it stings a little bit that this is going to be short-lived...less than a year.

But that's ok. We still have our 'tour' to complete! :D So I louue you, fraands. Dated till the glove flies! :D (P.S. Knowing us, we might actually be able to make it fly. So let's just mean eternity, shall we?)

And FOOOOD, dude! I know, I've become repetitive now. Always talking about friends, public transport, weather and food. I should become the weekend tabloid of a glossy newspaper instead. But you can't live through December and NOT talk about food, dude! This is the no-bacteria month. More like, all diseases have frozen so go forth and enjoy month! Which is exactly what I've been doing. From eating chole kulche from a thela-wala near Qutub Minar, to feasting on Paani Puris, Aloo tikkis, Chocolate-walnut cakes and mini mother dairy ice creams (all at one time, mind you) in a local market, I've left no shack unturned in finding yummy streetfood! A year ago, if you had asked me to go eat paani puri, I'd have given you 'Yeesh-what-is-wrong-with-you-that-is-drowning-in-dysentery-diarrhea-jaundice-typhoid-you-crazy-maniac-who-wants-to-fall-ill-on-purpose-and-not-worry-about-digestive-system' lectures, with free demonstrations on how to sanitize hands well.

Today? Arre! Chalo kuch khaate hain, is what I say! Street food in Delhi is highly liberating. I almost feel like throwing the woolens away and enjoy the spice and heat of the smoky grills and tawas. And then I remember that illness caused by chillness is very possible, so I refrain from doing such filmy acts.

So in a paani-puri shell, December is truly magical this time around as well. There's something about the air that makes me want to drive all the way across the city, combating all the road rage, just to meet little kids. It makes me want to build a permanent shack inside paranthe wali gali and live happily ever after. More importantly, it makes me forget that this weather and flavour of the city will be short lived, as I move on to greener (hopefully) pastures when the new year arrives.

Of Birds and Words

Delhi is a bird sanctuary. No really, it IS. Why don't you visit sometime and open your ears a little bit. (Point to be noted: Your ears are only effective when you have to study. That is when all the outside noises begin to percolate as clearly as coffee decoction through a sieve. But more on coffee, later.) But to defend my attention span, this particular episode happened at 2 in the morning. When most of the world is asleep. (Except you, Al! :D)

So, at around 2, when I was having a rather weird nightmare about being stuck as the only human in a University of Mars because I misspelled an address on an application.....I heard a thud. And then flutter flutter flutter. And a whooosh.....and ggrrrrruuumble.

I woke up with a sense of panic (thinking that the dream's come true and I really AM off to another planet to study) and looked around. All was calm. I then tried to shut my eyes and re-imagine the sound to check if it was for real or not. Within a second, the sounds began. My first thought was - the robbers have finally managed to turn up in the balcony (this is my ultimate nightmare....I think I've mentioned before that while ordinary girls have fantasies of finding Romeo on their balconies, I spend half my fantasy time concocting schemes to thwart plans of robbers who wish to come the same way. Weird, I know. ) And then it struck me that I'm at an impossibly high floor for even acrobatic robbers to try and meet me.

So Robber theory flew out of the window.

And then I saw a harmless pigeon sitting prettily on the A/C and cleaning herself.

At 2 AM.

Which obsessively compulsive aerial creature cleans itself at 2 in the morning? I mean, don't they need sleep? These pigeons are as active as springs on antidepressants in the morning. Can they not just go to sleep quietly? And if they must clean their shimmery plume of mini-feathers, must they choose MY balcony alone? (I'm using 'they', because eventually, a party happens on the A/C with almost 3-4 pigeons fighting for space and having vigorous 'I'm-cleaner-than-thou' competitions. And yes, at 2 AM)

I tried to go back to sleep that night (it's been happening almost every second night....like the cosmos conspires to keep me up at unearthly hours. I mean, I'm this good child who goes to bed at, like, ten, if I can help it.) But the scraping and scratching and ruffling kept me up forever. Because you never know when a robber may use the pigeon as a decoy and just when I lower my guard, jump into the room through the balcony. Oh, impossibly high floor.

There goes my Robber-Theory No.2.

So anyway, my mood in the morning these days depends on birds. I've spotted some parrots, mynahs, crows and a suspicious looking bird that sounds like a jackdaw straight out of Blyton Books hovering around in my balcony early in the morning. I don't particularly mind them, as long as they keep the pigeons away. (These birds are rather anti-social. They never mingle with another kind, I've noticed.)

My neighbour, I realized, was not as obliging as I was regarding the pigeons. One afternoon, as I sat facing the window and writing something, I saw the window of the opposite building opening, a pistol sticking out and heard a gunshot. I ran all around home, warning people that a mad gunman was on the loose in the opposite building. And then I realized, it was a Diwali patakha gun. And was working very effectively on the pigeons as well...since they NEVER hang out on his balcony anymore.

So what do I do now? Adopt a parrot (but I'm against caging birds), buy myself a patakha gun (I'm against crackers as well) or just let them be (I'm against pigeonkind in general now.) I've finally found the perfect solution to everything.

November Rain.

Not the Guns N Roses song, no. (Of course, I wonder if I can play the song and terrorize the pigeons into insanity such that they never turn up on the balcony again. Ever. Little too mean, that would be.) I'm talking about November Showers. The rains that sweep winter in. The sole reason for the chills and foggy mornings. A perfect excuse to bundle yourself up in swathes of blankets and sleep like a log, pigeon or no pigeon, through the night.

Although, if you are the pigeon who comes to my balcony and are reading this blog (ha ha. One never ceases to hope), then can you please come at 7 in the morning as well? I'm...um...oversleeping and I could really use an alarm flock of birds.

A Delightful Diwali

Oh dear. That sounds like a box of sweets, doesn't it? I know it does. But what can I do? In the past couple of days, I've been stuffing myself silly with cakes, sweets and everything with a sucrose overdose that I think it's only fair that I project the mithaas (see? Hindi word! Hindi word!) of the season on my blog as well!

So, it's Diwali! Why is it a unique Diwali this year and no other? Well, for lots of reasons.

1) It's my first Diwali away from home. Not like I'm wandering around, lost and uncared for or anything.....far from it. But still, away from home still leaves a tingly feeling that can only be combated with more sweets. (Works like a charm, believe me.) I never even knew I had such intense feelings about celebrating festivals at home! (Maybe those sweets are turning me into a portion of hindi-serial-melodrama)

2) Because it's a Diwali away from home, I've realized it's also become my Delhi Diwali. Bad idea, since when I went shopping for Diwali clothes, I didn't anticipate the sudden change of weather. I have with me, now, a very ethnic summer Diwali attire that can possibly NOT be worn unless one wants to land up with bronchitis (if the cracker-smoke hasn't yet affected you yet) just after Diwali. I need to now go in search of some sort of jacket/wrap/sweater right away....

3) Serial Lighting. Do you have any idea how much FUN it is to have serial lighting at home? Or twinkling around in other houses? I've always lit my house in Bangalore with diyas. First I'd help light the ones downstairs...then rush upstairs to light some more....then rush downstairs to capture it all on camera before the wind played spoilsport. But here, I've discovered a whole new and colourful diwali. Would you believe I still haven't seen any house with diyas yet? Only serial lighting! Has this been happening forever or do I miss my good ol' 39th Cross in Bangalore so much?

4) Crackers! Yes yes, if you're my friend you probably know my issue with crackers. If you're not, then here's the story. Almost 11 years ago, my class and I were made to write a letter to the then Prime Minister of India taking a pledge that we wouldn't burst crackers that diwali in order to protest against Child labour in fireworks factories. We were shown this video, pictures and told horrific stories of the plight of children there. We were even given little plaques that said 'Aatishbaazi nahin karenge, Baal-mazdoori door karenge' (We won't celebrate, Child-labour we'll eradicate --okay, I twisted the grammar to make it rhyme!) But anyway, I was moved to the extent that I actually did follow that pledge...till date.

I've burst crackers, yes. I've violated the pledge here and there (at the behest of my parents who would clandestinely buy a few sparklers and flowerpots and then disclaim that there's no one at home to burst them...so I would politely oblige.) I've also done it voluntarily. And I don't mean just the sparklers, but all those dhadaam-dhodoom stuff as well. But each year, I'd feel like I wish I could tell the world why they must reduce cracker-usage and save the children, environment, their own ear drums and lung passages.

With this blog, I strangely feel empowered. That I can, in fact, tell the world. So, world! (or the miniscule part of it that reads my blog) Burst crackers, but please remember to check for an indication on the box that says it's been made by adult workers only (I know I can't be naive enough to assume that they're all true. But I can be naive enough to want to assume it.)

And burst less, celebrate more. It's the festival of lights, not sound and air pollution. Diyas and Serial lighting provide a much more quieter and serene feel to Diwali, than smoky crackers. (This is only for people who have crossed 20 years. Don't deny yourself the right to a crackling childhood by imposing self-restraints about calmness and sereneness ok? That'll just be plain weird.)

As you read this, I'm sure you'll have a million rebuttals waiting to burst forth....I can name some very effective ones on your behalf as well. But it is a stand I take, and something I really really believe in. And today, 11 years later, when I have the opportunity to put it up somewhere, I chose to. It's only personal, and gives me pride that I have the passion to fight for a cause too.

So here's wishing everyone a Delightful Diwali....may each of your lives be filled brilliant spots of fiery lights from lamps, and may every day have the warmth of all the lamps lit together, and may each encounter be as sweet as the mithais. :-)

P.S. But think about the child labour, sound and air pollution before you go forth and get crazy with crackers. Remember, it's you who has to live in that atmosphere for about 2-3 more days. But somewhere, there are children who are living in a far worse atmosphere through their childhood.

P.P.S. Sorry for sounding like such a such a sour-milk-ka-halwa. Go and enjoy. Just come back, read this, and feel guilty! :P

10-10-10

10 things I can't WAIT to get through.

(Okay, so that was supposed to be a take on 10 things I hate about you...but clearly, since I've had to explain it, either I've killed the punch, or you're re-reading the title to get the point.)

The tenth thing I have to get through is work

Even the Chocolate Muffins there aren't a perk

A couple of more months, and things will be fine

But that'll bring me to number nine

The ninth thing that I have to clear

And preferably by the end of the year

is My cupboard - which has room for but a splinter

Or else the woolens remain in the attic for winter.

And then comes my hurdle at number eight

The one thing that could probably seal my fate

My two years finding their way to culmination

The essence of my sanity - my Dissertation

Maybe if I managed to get through number seven

I'd really be in a 'curious tourist' heaven

To visit Jaipur, Manali and Shillong

and break out into a Maria-type song!

(Maria being the Sound-of Music-tra-la-la-in-high-octave-Maria)

And that would bring me to number six

To be able to cook without ready-to-eat mix

Edible enough for me to survive

So I can accomplish number five

Five places I absolutely need to see

in this CWGed spruced up New Delhi

To photograph and capture the city I adore

and work towards finishing number four

Eating would come at number four

where I'd like to eat, eat, and then some more

For this season brings with it Aloo Chaat

And immunity to experiment outside of Dilli Haat

The next one up should hopefully induce some Glee

as I set about learning to play number three

A muscial instrument to keep my mind off tune

From all the worries piling up to become a huge dune

I increase the music, go beyond gear number two

and explore the city on my car, that's what I'll do

before I decide to pay public transport a favour

and use my own road-rage as a life-saver.

But that will drive me to number one

which is a secret, won't tell ya till it's done

The jinx'll get broken, it won't come true

Then I won't have 10 things I have gotten through!

SO there you go. THIS is what happens when you put me in a room full of internet and think I will probably be angelically looking through information that would help me in my current/future life. I end up making mundane, narcissistic poetry that will probably not help me in accomplishing ANYTHING I've written about. But it's a date well spent. :-)

Floods of Fools

Pick up the remote and watch any hindi news channel PRONTO! If you happen to read this within 2 weeks of my having written it, then you may be one of the lucky viewers to get a glimpse of sensational journalism at its extreme sense!! (I'm guessing 2 weeks is as fas as they'll take the news...but it may take longer, you never know)

The Yamuna is flooding Delhi, and all low lying areas are being evacuated. While this is grim news for the villages and the little shanky-towns lying by the underbelly of Delhi, the rest of the city is being shown this piece of news as a farce. How? Well, a Hindi news channel showed a reporter (IN THE STUDIO) drowning in 3 feet deep water (IN THE STUDIO) as she was broadcasting the news (IN THE STUDIO).

Why do I keep emphasizing IN THE STUDIO? Because this entire Cartoon Network meets Titanic coverage of the floods was done with special effects as bright blue water kept flowing over the reporter who seemed high and dry. I cannot even begin to think about the IQ of people who concocted this evil plan to thwart decent and dignified reporting. James Cameron did a better job with the water and a ship, if you ask me. At least they could've got the colour of the Yamuna right (and this isn't a slur against its dirt...which it ought to be sometime...but all rivers are murky brown). Bright blue Yamuna? Is it just one big mirror reflecting the sky's colour? (Not that the sky is blue these days, either)

So catch it if you can, and you will be, like me, one of the many millions who fell for the gimmick and increased their TRPs. Increased TRPs would mean more ludicrous productions of news. To quote two very wise radio jockeys (who are my companions on my morning drives) "If the News people would like to see the floods recede and the traffic subside, then they would do well to uhm... remove their gigantic vans and equipment from the bridge they stand on. They end up blocking effective movement of daily life and hoping against hope that the water rises by 0.01 mts so they can IMMEDIATELY BROADCAST IT LIVE FROM THE FLOODING VENUE."

Think about the people who once lived there. Of the houses that now need to be re-built because of the floods, of the Marks cards that have been washed away, the clothes that have begun to decay and the food that can now never be eaten. The homes that will now bear a coat of the Yamuna, once she resides. Think about them now, before you switch on that news channel. Chances are that once you switch the channel on, you'll lose the capacity to think.

A Platinum Post

So my blog has reached 75 posts! No ordinary feat, I tell you. Since it takes me immense will power to get out of a book/TV and log into this thing. Odd, as I generally jump at the opportunity of talking about myself.

And what does one write in their 75th post? Well, I can think of many many topics.....and of course all pertaining to me.....but I figured I should try and think about others for a change. A healthy break from narcissism is essential, don't you think? So with this 75th post, let me try and figure out other things....which probably will all come back in a murukku (a twisty turny south indian snack. Go see the Haldiram version, if you're still confused) fashion to my life somehow. But oh well, the word narcissism can take a break, I won't.

When Facebook asks you 'What's on your mind?' everytime you log in, do you ever stop to think about it? I suddenly have. I obviously don't update every single 'What's on your mind?' as a status message, but it makes me wonder nonetheless. And off late, a LOT has been on my mind. Here are just a few:

Our friend, Aedes has decided to settle down in the dark and dingy corners of the city and meet and greet us every morning. But stop blaming the MCD and clear out that water residing in your old tyre in the balcony. The mosquitoes at the CWG sites will not travel miles to come bite you at your residence. But new ones will certainly thrive in the water park you have created for them at your house. So clean out your neighbourhood first, and then protect yourself while venturing out.

Another person earning almost as much ridicule as Aedes is A R Rahman. For the CWG anthem. It is nice, ok? So it needs a patient listening, maybe a couple of times to let the song grow on you. But the claims about it being the most uncreative song and uninspired with lousy lyrics is rather uncalled for. Take one glance at the mess created in Delhi, and then please tell me WHO can get inspired to produce a grammy-winning song? But that said, the stadiums do look pretty fabulous and people like the construction workers and traffic policemen are really working hard to try and salvage the games. I tip my waterproof, mosquito repelling hat to them and hope with a jingoistic fervor that the games become a success....they deserve it.

The Metro connects us to Gurgaon!! Is it weird that I was as excited as a three year old on a Cotton Candy eating spree when I saw the Metro rolling into a swanky new station? One of the many things about Delhi that gives me goosebumps..... (Chandni Chowk, Old monuments and endless tree lined walkways are some other)

I miss Bangalore. Does that make any sense after having talked so much about Delhi? Well, it does to me. Last night, I had a dream about eating cake fudge in Corner House Basavangudi. Odd, since I've never been to that Corner House before. Cake Fudge, Benne Masala Dosas, Lalbagh walks, Sugarcane Juice, My trusty old 27D, lots of elneerus and just great times. I sometimes feel like rewinding these two years and going back to my college days, just to re-do everything and then come back to the present. Oh well, maybe I'll fall in love with a new city this time next year.

Harry Potter. I've rediscovered Harry Potter. And fallen back in love with him. I just completed the seventh book all over again and found another new piece of information that solves the already solved mystery. Harry Potter is best read the fiftieth time. I have always read the books the first time with such a childish curiosity to know the end that I've missed the vital parts altogether. Re-reading it ages later brings back everything and ties it up like a neatly wrapped birthday present. If you're feeling low or bored, picking up the nearest Harry Potter can absorb you and keep you in a parallel world for at least a couple of days. Perfect escapist route, if you ask me.

School. I realized that I've almost never mentioned my school on this blog before. It's always been a never ending commentary on everything but school. I met up with an old friend online and as we reminisced about things long gone, it made me realize how much I liked school. Running to catch the last seat in the school bus....entering late to assembly (because our L van lived up to its alphabet - being Late and Lazy).... checking shoes and nails of poor unsuspecting little kids..... trying (and failing miserably) to play volleyball in Games Period...eating hot plates of BisiBeleBath from the beautiful canteen....the fervor that Nestle Chocostick created when it was introduced...sitting on the grand steps and chatting away nineteen to a dozen...bunking class to go do SEEK work...waiting eagerly for events like Teacher's Day and then realizing that you have no ethnic wear in your jeans-infested wardrobe so rushing out on 4th evening to buy one....and finally, the friends I made. Almost everyone is now out of the city, if not the country....but I think my school deserves some posterity on this page...and hence it figures in my platinum post.

Oh well...there are so many other things I want to write about. How bad parenting is ruining the lives of the children I meet everyday, How the media is sensationalizing something as trivial as Tharoor's pilgrimage, How Gmail's new priority inbox has grouped random people under my priority list for no apparent reason and How I have a stack of British Council books waiting to be read but I've chosen to blog instead. Since the last option is the only one I can work on, I'll get right to it.

75 posts to mark my *dhai* years of journey on the cyberspace. I've blogged from four cities, and here's hoping that by the next 75 posts, I can go a little more global about my outlook on bizarre things in life or is that bizarre outlook about things in life?

A Relationship with Rain

We now resemble the Leaky Cauldron. More like standing beneath a Leaky Cauldron. The skies are suffering from a spell of Major Depressive Disorder. They have been crying for over 2 weeks with no respite....and I have a weird feeling I'm turning into an amphibian.

But I've recently discovered that I'm in a relationship with the rain. And it's complicated. (and I swear I am not repeating Himesh Reshammiya's dialogue from some movie. But it does sound eerily familiar.) So this Rain dude and I, we got along brilliantly the first couple of days. Eating spicy chaats, cold ice-cream, drives in the drizzle, staring at him through the window et al. But now he's getting to my nerves. Like quite literally, since I've been getting soaked everyday. So after tolerating him for over a fortnight, I've decided not to care anymore. And have fun DESPITE the endless tears he pours forth from the skies.

By doing what, you may ask?

Well, the first thing one ought to do in Delhi Rains is to get into a Bus. Not the bluelines, but one of those swanky low floored green buses. Not A/C either (because that's like sitting in an ice box). Just a fun looking empty green bus. Get into any one. And then solemnly ask the conductor where the bus goes to. If you're lucky (like I was), your bus will go all the way to Noida.

So find yourself a nice seat and begin the Dilli Darshan in the Drizzle. It's perfect, since the rain doesn't really enter but you still get a spray every now and then. And then you begin the most important activity. Observation.

Observe the young man sitting across the aisle. He is wearing earphones and listening to a song. He starts singing. Loudly and out of tune, but very gustily, I must add. He's closed his eyes and his giving his Emmy-worthy performance for an otherwise dull and gloomy crowd. A smile creeps up on one face at one corner and starts spreading soon like an infectious disease. Soon, the full bus is smiling. Reason? He's belting out 'Bheegi see...Bhaagi see...mere tuuunaaaoon mein samaye' (if you've heard the original song, you'll know that the tuuunaaaoon doesn't exist. This is what our Budding Burman makes up because he couldn't catch the actual word.)

Look out of the window now. You're at a higher altitude, and this doubles the powers of observation. Look at the cars slushing by you and trying to avoid the slush created by the adjacent car. (A warning: Don't look TOO inquisitively. The driver often gets mistakes your completely harmless interest for a potentially lethal one.) You may see the happy family riding in the happy car. The husband is looking at the graffiti on the flyover (Jaaaniya I love you....plzzz forgive me) as if it is the latest iPhone. The wife is looking at the wife of the next car and wondering why she's wearing a circus tent. The child is sleeping with a Pooh bear pillow. The mother-in-law is grimacing about the Delhi of today and trying very hard to enter a subconscious world of Delhi in the yesteryears. These expressions don't change for the next 7 kms.

You (or rather the bus) moves on. Finally, it begins the dream ride on the DND flyway. (for non Delhi-ites, this road connects Delhi to Noida and is beautiful...since it's across fields and the Yamuna bank with the river flowing somewhere inconspicuously.) You look at a large water body and realize that it's the Yamuna. She's fattened up and how! You wonder if people would mind if you stick your head out and soak in the rivery smell. You then see the window bars and realize that your bighead might not make it back inside. So you settle for a delicate whiff.

Finally, you reach Noida. You randomly get off on some stop because you can see a mall. With brilliant culinary opportunities. You rush to the place after crossing two main roads, and enter air-conditioned retail heaven. You eat your fill and then some. You then get out and try to find a way back home. You're told to ask bus drivers if the bus goes to Delhi. Suddenly, you feel like a foreigner. You nevertheless find yourself on a nice bus and zoom back home in twenty minutes. As you walk back from the stop, you feel yourself grinning from ear to ear.

Maybe being in a relationship with rain isn't so bad after all!

(And I PROMISE this will be the last of my weather related posts. I mean, I've written so many about the Summer/Winter already, that this is now resembling a weather forecast, rather than literary catharsis. No more, I swear.)

Bhel Puri.

This post resembles one. A mix of tangy, sweet and sour days that constituted these past couple of weeks.

Firstly, I've graduated!!!! Yay! (Okay, so I missed my convocation, and haven't seen my degree certificate but the fact that I have a degree certificate lying somewhere with my name on it is good enough, thankyouverymuch.) It's taken a year for us to get it though. The enthusiasm doesn't seem to be as high as it was on our 'graduation' day, but still. It feels good to hold a Beeyay degree! (For further reference on how much this Beeyay degree matters to me, kindly read up the Beeyay trilogy - one for each year of my Beeyay - Beeyay I , Beeyay II and Beeyay III)

I'm working on a Yemmay (MA) post soon too. Just haven't found enough people to make me indignant enough for it, which may be a good thing - I guess education does earn you respect.

And then there was Friendship Day. Remember how we'd all make friendship bands in school? And then tie them to 'only our close friends' and compare it with others to see who had the maximum on their hands. Somehow, I never really believed in the 'Friendship's Day' idea. Not because I think I everyday is a friendship day or any of that jazz. But more because it forced me to tie bands on only certain people. I mean, how long would those bands last anyway? (I've saved some and used them to tie on my baggage for easy identification) Do you still have the bands people gave you in school? Or even better, do you remember which band was given by whom?

So Friendship is more than just a band (unless you're in the cast of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai). My friends today are scattered far and wide, and we may not really message one another on this day, but are still close enough to be able to message any day, at any time, without giving it a second thought. That's what truly matters, I guess.

Friendship is when you feel so low that you just send a sad smiley to your friend sitting cities apart and she immediately sends one back and calls.

It is when you're struggling to reverse your car, and your friends are standing behind you, glaring at anyone who dares honks at you (including noting their license number...and bothering to remember it hours later!).

It is when you really want to eat an ice-cream at this parlour and you're so sure it was designed for romantic couples, but your friends insist on you trying it out anyway, and grab spoons along with you and attack it with a gusto that would've put soldiers of the World Wars to shame.

It is when you know that if you go online, there's always a friend waiting to share their day with you, to hear out yours, and discuss everything under the sun and beyond.

So cheers to the new age friendships - that don't need bands or vows to reaffirm the connection.

Okay, after all the mush, let's turn to slush. Last week, I waded through the slush to land up at Karol Bagh. Brilliant place it is! Like the Punjabi T.Nagar-land! The beautiful beautiful clothes there brought out a sigh from even a tomboyish cynic like me! (I only have one 'beautiful clothes', FYI...to prove the tomboyish cynic jibe.)

And it has been raining all day all week. It started off by being very romantic (and I mean this in the connotation of relating with nature, not love), and now it has turned plain boring. I mean, everyday? Enough, ok? Delhi, please dry up your tears and bring forth sunshine. You washed away your summer grime very well.

Oh, and have you all been reading about the Commonwealth Games? We're all proof to how much the progress really is. I shudder to think how it'll all be completed. It's like a ghastly assignment that's due in a week's time and you've no idea how to go about it. Let's just hope they do know how to go about it, and will do it. Each day seems like a stab on their report card, and makes even people like me follow the reports anxiously, wondering how our country will be able to pull it off. It's turning me into a Jingoist, and how.

So these past couple of days was truly a Bhel Puri. Since I cannot eat it (do you know how lethal it is to eat anything raw from outside, especially in Typhoid-Jaundice ridden Monsoon in Delhi?) I figured I'd metaphorically use it to convert yet another self-obsessed bunch of thoughts into a blog post. :-)

The Sun Sets on Summer

Two months have passed, and how. If you were to ask me (since I tend to make you ask me ridiculously hypothetical questions on this blog) where I'd spend my summer, I'd promptly reply 'Anywhere but in Delhi, thanks.' And since my life is basically a null hypothesis, where the opposite is always proven right, I did end up spending a scorching summer in Delhi. Which would explain the nostalgic weather posts, I suppose. Well, the experience was totally worth the weather....or so I tell myself in order to dive deeper into denial.

The good part is that I got to see a side of Delhi I never ventured to explore. The buses. Ever tried getting into a DTC bus, mate? Try it. It's awesome. And after you return from the orthopedic ward, tell me ALL about it. But no seriously. I spent two days driving back and forth from work, endured traffic jams, tyre punctures and road rage. Then I decided to give the car a rest and try the bus instead. Worked like a charm. Well, almost, since I spent a fair amount of time tripping down the stairs, elbowing people out of the way, grabbing a seat..the usual stuff. But the view from up there is great! (and I'm generally sensitive about views. All short people are.)

My Hindi improved drastically. So now I actually say something and the other person understands what I'm saying. And if you were to randomly ask me the time at 1.30 in the night, I will now mutter Dedh Baje rather than Saade Ek. Remarkable improvement, wouldn't you say?

I'm more comfortable flying. Yes, because I've suddenly sprouted wings and decided to test them cross country. (Sunsets on Summers does wonders to my depleting Sarcasm Levels.) So in the past two months, I've gone back and forth from home and realized it's not half bad. That would be because my recent flight included a snack of Paneer and a video of Veer. They rhymed to torture me, I suppose...but it did take my mind off flying and focus on lousy in-flight food and entertainment.

I've finally realized the value of 'Home'. Lounging on your couch and watching TV all day, drinking Chocolate Milkshake and leaving the glass below the couch knowing that it would be gone in an hour. Taking small things like wet towels and strewn socks for granted. Having your say in the menu of the day (okay, my mom refused my dream menu of Potatoes for breakfast, Potatoes for lunch and Potatoes for dinner...and after making a mess of the house in two days, I was ordered to pick up after myself as well....but you get the drift.)

So yes, Summer has been a good teacher. Not just in understanding how all my undergraduate and graduate textbooks have transformed into real people and cases, but also in managing a work+home schedule, travelling to far away places in buses, handling car malfunctions, bearing the weather, irate people and crying children. The Sun Sets on my Summer, and will soon rise on a new beginning. (That almost sounds like I've ripped it off a song from High School Musical - I really do need to work on better conclusions.)

Of Whims and Pansies.

I've never reviewed a movie on my blog. And for good reason, because I like every movie I watch. So technically, I should be given commission by the distributors for reviewing their movies because I will invariably write a glowing review. Not a very good, objective journalist, no. But it works for me, because every movie becomes a delightful experience.

The best kind of movies are those that you end up watching on a whim. (Okay, so I had planned on watching this one since forever...but something kept turning up to thwart the plan...and I had almost given up for good when a sudden let-off from work inspired a bunch of us to run to the next available show.)

And yes, I was trying to 'up my cool quotient' (courtesy Sneha) by not mentioning the name of the movie...but I guess it would be out eventually. I was clamouring so vehemently to go watch I Hate Luv Storys. Which I really don't. Hate Love stories, I mean. However, I do hate intentionally erred grammar, but that was forgiven when I saw Imran Khan's beatific smile on those huge posters everywhere.

So yes, it began with that let off (my story, not the movie.) One moment we were trying our best to calculate IQs and DQs and SQs and the next moment we were sent off politely to enjoy the rest of the day. After frantic phone-calls to those who live near newspapers, we found one theatre showing the movie within 20 minutes. Without wasting any time, we hopped on to an auto (actually, we did waste time trying to find an A/C bus....but in vain. One day I will personally vandalize 724 and change every damn bus to numbers of MY choice. I only see the A/C versions of that one bus.) and ran to Connaught Place.

Have I mentioned Connaught Place before? The place I used to love to visit, because of the many 'hurring' opportunities, because of the brightly hued clothes, baubles and shoes lining streets, because of the radials that seem to merge into each other, every step being a new one even after you've walked around for hours. So yes, fun experience.....WAS.

Today, it lies choking amidst the dust emanating from the non-existent footpaths. The pillars are on crutches and roads cease to exist between the radials. Which would explain why our seemingly congenial auto-bhaiya stopped in front of Janpath resolutely and refused to budge. We started our mini-trek amidst the debris to reach PVR Plaza. After crossing many radials, and almost getting steamrollered by a bulldozer (no really, because we kept trudging along the muddy-slushy path without bothering to look up and see that 15 foot monster glaring at us.)

We reached the first building that resembled a multiplex and demanded tickets for the 2.50 show. No can do, we were told, since a 2.50 show didn't exist at Plaza. We cursed wrongly printed time-tables in newspapers until it struck us, to um....I don't know, maybe read the name of the multiplex we were standing in. (really, we HAVE to look up once in a while....bulldozers, wrong multiplexes...everything evades us.) It took us about a millisecond to realize that a 2.50 show does exist in the Plaza, except we weren't there. And it was 2.45. So we began another dash through the radials to search for Plaza.

A couple of very frustrating, sweaty, muddy and hunger-filled moments later, we found ourselves in plush seats, surrounded by popcorn and air conditioning. The movie finally began.

So how was it? Well, I *loved* it. The songs, clothes (including a particular shirtless protagonist ;-) ), the acting, the jokes, everything. It makes for good entertainment. And since I'm a sucker for love stories (and my room is pink), this is one movie people have made with credulous pansies like me in mind.

So the best way to watch a movie is on a whim. Plan everything in advance, and you'll end up expecting too much. Just take the next available means of transport to a theatre and watch the first movie playing, and you'll walk back home in the drizzle with a smile. Or at least, I did.

Bharta of the Brain

A Bharta is a dish of burnt brinjal. It is roasted over a slow flame until the skin is completely charred, and then cooked into a dish. In this scorching summer, I feel pretty much the same. And no, this is not *another* rant about the weather. It is a nice, quaint, petite collection of minuscule things that make me feel like, well...uhm....MAKING A BHARTA OF THIS WORLD.

The other day, I had the misfortune to fall ill and sleep on the couch and watch TV all weekend. Big Mistake. After watching a million reruns of Castle (I will hunt down Richard Castle and marry him someday, yessirree.) and 90210 (What? I was sick ok? I have the right to watch it.) and Scrubs and every other possible show on Star World, I finally found the remote and changed the channel to watch something in Hindi. I figured I would be able to improve my hindi in some way, and not scandalize my poor unsuspecting patients by asking them ridiculously worded questions.

So I put this channel. And this serial is coming. The woman is yelling at her daughter-in-law. After some 20 minutes of yelling, I realize that she's gotten her son married only so that she could find an object of torture on which she can displace her forty odd years of marital frustration. The poor girl gets yelled at for cooking well because this Hitler incarnate feels that this harmless person is trying to usurp her position in the family. By cooking theplas, apparently.

Before I have time to react, another serial begins. (Most hindi serials are 20 minutes of torture and 10 minutes of advertisements) In this one, two 15 year old children are married. *Married*. And the Mother casually asks her older (unmarried) daughter on the phone, 'Beta, we're getting the kids married..can you come early from college today?'

Remember when Baalika Vadhu came out and everyone hailed it as something that would break conventions, stereotypes and expose the rural India's fatalistic beliefs? Well, not exactly. Since the protagonist of that serial is now seen enjoying her 'marital' life by running around the house in pretty clothes, worrying about how much salt to add to the khaana and if her husband is well supplied with his daily dose of jalebis. So much for female empowerment.

Has the portrayal of a woman deteriorated so much in Hindi Serials? Show me one soap where the woman is hailed for being, well, just who she is - a normal person...and I'll show you failed TRPs. Almost everything that comes on TV domesticates the woman like a household cat, which just needs to preen and occasionally purr at people. If the woman is working, then she's either in love with the boss, or the colleague, or just random people. She's not just 'being herself' without the tag of wife/girlfriend/daughter etc.

Why must we be forced to watch pregnant women singing happily about their upcoming babies, married little girls cooking halwas and awkward young women standing in front of random strangers for being 'accepted' as a prospective daughters-in-law?

Feminism in the Hindi TV Serial world has regressed to the 1800s. And we're watching it like unblinking zombies. If the weather hasn't overcooked the grey cells already, then let's just say this has just about burnt it completely.

Weathering Heights!

If you are born a Bangalorean, you will be obsessed about three main things.

1) The Weather.

2) The Weather.

3) and The Weather.

There is a large balancing scale up there in the skies. When the weather gets too sunny, the clouds tip the balance and pour rain all over the city. When the rains get too overwhelming, the Sun tips the balance and pours sunshine instead. The scales stay at an equilibrium, thanks to this natural tipping technique. And we boast about it to the rest of the universe.

Sure, there are those things that irritate you about the weather. For example, I constantly worry about the clouds causing turbulence, which will effectively make me a nervous wreck during take off and landing. Also the fact that now, thanks to the Metro construction work, muddle puddles are no longer just 'Muddy'. They're filthy, and you really don't feel like jumping into one just to dirty your friend's shoes.

But the most irritating thing about Bangalore's weather? You can't enjoy it once you're out of the city. Chennai, you're home. I agree. You have the sea, the sea breeze, and evenings that resemble Bangalore. But you also have Humidity. Someone who blissfully ignores my city.

And Delhi? Oh well. Whatever. You're like Fried Ice Cream. Too hot, Too cold.

But Bangalore? You are a true blue sadist. Making me fall in love with you for over 20 years, and then depriving me of your warmth and coolness.

A place I can wear a sweater in June and not fuss about how everyone will laugh. A place which always has sparkling clean trees, because they've just been given a wash. A place where you can sip hot coffee, and eat ice cream on the same day. A place where you can just walk...with no destination, and no care in the world, because the weather is perfect, and that's all you need.

I miss you. :-(

Snippets of Summer

You know it's Summer, when:

1) You wake up in the morning, look out of the window, shriek loudly when it looks as bright as noon. And then you look at the clock. It says 5 AM. You shrug indifferently at the window, find the darkest blanket and cover your head to go back to sleep...this time, to really wake up at noon.

2) You open the cold water tap. Hot water runs. You open the Hot water tap. Hot water runs. You march up to the fridge, fill up a bowl with ice cubes, and use that to wake your teeth.

3) The fridge has suddenly become your best friend. In winters, it just stored jam and ketchup. Now it stores the essence of your existence. Everything edible. You look up and bless the person who invented it with every chilled sip of water you drink.

4) It is past 7 PM. You're waiting for some respite from the day. The clock ticks at 7.15, it is still day. Tick Tock. 7.30. Still day. You give up, draw all the blinds and watch Discovery Channel to see the stars instead.

5) Everywhere you walk, people smile at you. They give wide grins, but walk past you. Just as that warmth (like we needed any more of that) starts creeping inside your heart, you realize that they're just making that face to escape the sun's glare. Oh well. So much for the weather being 'pleasant'.

6) You step inside your car wearing mitts. The buckle of the seat belt singes your fingers, the steering wheel burns your palms and the pedals down below manage to irritate that part of your foot you didn't know was even capable of sensation (or don't wear flimsy chappals and try to drive like I did. You'll end up driving barefoot and burning them.) You then turn on the AC at full blast, to first get a steam-sauna, and after a couple of heart-rending belches, cool air.

7) Food? What's that? All I need is a coconut grove outside my house, preferably in a freezer. The idea of eating hot, cooked food makes me break into a sweat (pun intended.) Really, can't I just live on water and its by-products? Even Aloo Chat looks unappetizing.

8) The Loo. Ever heard of it? (I don't mean that restroom at the end of the corridor.) Those hot winds that blow and make whistle-y sounds (some even better than flautists in my old school band). Really, if the weather wasn't so balmy, this would've actually scared me. Boo.

9) Air-Conditioners. (Too much time in an air-conditioned environment make my eyes turn red, I start sneezing continuously like a stuck record....of all the things I am allergic to, it had to include this, right?) I like them at a distance, and not glaring on top of me like a big brother as I try and do my work. Some day, I will find the Central Unit of the Air Conditioning and turn the entire building's temperature to a pleasantly bangalored 24 degrees. Someday.

10) At night, when the work is finally done, you step outside for a moment. You see the stars peeping out reluctantly, but finally. The moon shines almost as brightly as the sun, but with that nice cold glow. You see the Mother Dairy shining merrily at a distance (uhm. This is an Ice-cream cart, not a cow.) You buy an ice-cream and slurp it down childishly before the entire thing melts on you. Just as you're done, the loo changes its mind and decides to act cold with you. A gush of breeze sweeps you away from the humidity and you smile.

Summer's here, and it's actually growing on me. :)

Dil Se Dilli...

As part of the experiential exercises practicum in my first month of college, we conceptualized a radio station, and named one of the shows Dil Se Dilli. As I reflect upon the past year, the name comes back to me....reminding me how apt a title it becomes for this post.

Last year, this time around, if you had asked me what my 'plans-for-the-future' were, I would've probably either:

a) Burst into tears, scared at the prospect of not knowing where I was headed.

b) Strangled you for being the 24,568th person to have asked that.

c) Done both. First b, and then a.

But today I'm back home. Officially done with one year of college and not having to worry about ring road traffic making me late for class for a loooooong time. Here are a few snippets from my past one year, that just HAVE to be documented somewhere. And since my diary has been filled with 'Oh-my-god-I-will-fail' entries, I figured this is probably a better place to record it.

1) The 'DU' culture: Words like 'Ho-Jayega', 'Jugad karlenge' 'Kitne Vella hai hum sab' and most importantly, 'HAW' have all infiltrated my I only speak in English, you mortal people vocabulary. From Aiyo Papa, I've transgressed to Arre Yaar. From hyperventilating about not having completed my assignment on time, I've...um...okay, I still hyperventilate. I guess the DU culture needs to rub onto me a little more.

2) Driving: In Bangalore, I'd always blame it on the traffic, the roads, the cows, the crowd on Fridays near the mosque and basically, go back to blaming the traffic, the roads etc. A vicious cycle that had made me lazy...and a coward. But necessity is the mother of conviction. I got myself to get into the car (and not in the passenger's seat) and actually drive it. So today, I can not only drive to college, but also honk like a frustrated English teacher of a Hindi Medium School and can swear quite fluently in Kannada as well! ( It's best to swear in an unknown language...and Kannada is such a boon...even swear words, if said sweetly, manage to shake the irritation out of you, and befuddle the enemy into believing you're praising his driving)

3) Canteen: 2 words, my friend. Samosas. Rs.3. Nothing else can *ever* beat that! Nothing.

4) The Agra Trip. I have waxed eloquently on the topic for hours together. I can still never do justice to its magnificence. It will always remain a favorite memory in all my college years. :-)

5) The Glovely Gang! They've been the best thing to happen since the Smart Girls and The Foo Foos. Yes, so I've been part of weird sounding gal pal groups....but they've all been a riot. And this is no less. May the devil's horns bring us glory, my glovelies! :-D

6) The course in general: Ahem. Yes. So that's what I've gone for. It deserves some mention no? Ok. I've learnt to go beyond just the textbook, use my brain, the internet and the library more wisely...and of course, actually understood what my subject is all about. It's an irritating habit, I know. But I really can tell what a person might be thinking just by seeing his/her communication style, body language and general behaviour. Whoever said we can't read minds? :-D

7) Exaaams: The only thing in this world that can make you regain all the 6 kgs you had lost in a bad viral infection. Sedentary lifestyle galore...and that too for a month. Taught me how to find interesting, and even more sedentary hobbies to pursue when I was not studying..which..um..was most of the time anyway.

8) Flying: Yes. I have aerophobia. I've admitted it ok? So I get very very jittery on flights, keep thinking that my flight will fight with clouds and maybe hit an air pocket, or combat with lightening or develop a technical snag or...okay, I'll stop. You know the irony? I've diagnosed my phobia, and given myself cognitive behavioural therapy to get over it. Whoever thought my first ever case would be I, me, myself? (P.S. If you're wondering, it has worked to quite an extent...I've ruled out the air pocket disaster from my list already..*gasp*..such an improvement, I tell you.)

9) Fooooood: Aloo Chaat! Cakes - Birthday and Non-birthday ones, Oreo Cookie Doughnuts, Parathe Wali Gali, Humongous Jalebis, Oreo Cookie Krushers, Ridiculously expensive but heavenly tasting Chinese food at Chopsticks, the rolls near college..and that date with momos at 8.30 I've never been able to keep! :-D Hm.....this may have contributed minutely in my weight gain. Oh well. I am still apparently 'under weight' but now I can donate blood. Maybe the food has come to some use.

10) My final adventure as an MA (Prev) student. :-) The dinner at Dilli Haat, preceded by the boho style hair braiding (Dude, the people in Delhi airport gave me such These-weird-Children-of-Today's-generation-wearing-weird-extensions-on-hair-that-jingle-and-look-like-they're-loving-it looks! It was only 1 braid ya. Okay. So it was in Purple, Green and Hot Pink with two bells at the bottom. But still. It was harmless. Totally unwarranted for those looks. My parents just gawked for 2 seconds, and then conceded that if this was as 'hippie' as I would get, then they could live with it.)

This was followed by late night Ice Cream at the India Gate. Such a beautiful place, I tell you. We enhanced its beauty by purchasing those glow-in-the-dark devil's horns and lighting up the place with our dazzling smiles! Of course, the late night auto-ride back to the slumber venue was no less than a formula one race! :-D

The entire night...eating parathas at 4 in the morning...cooking Maggi (Ok, Mirage...you cooked. We looked.) Using the powers of the internet to unleash our creativity, and finally...trying to fall asleep.

So thank you PsychoMommy, Mirage, Mash and Soos (sorry...I thought of Moony...but I guessed you may not like it! Please help me with a better name ok?) for an awesome time! Ash and Potate...no excuses next time! :-D Buy your devil's horns and keep them ready!! :-)

What can I say? This year's passed me in a blip. A single post would never do justice to all the things that need to be documented...but it's still enough...because it's Dil Se Dilli :-)

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!! :-)