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. :)

A'am Lovin It!

Okay, two things come to mind with this title -

1) The new Shrek Menu at McDonalds. You HAVE to try their new guava-mint ice cream! Have to! (P.S. I tried it, thought it was pretty much like the mint fudge sundae at Corner House, except with a little more toothpaste and guava juice thrown in.) Also, you must take their happy meal! They give you the cutest Shrek toys! (I got a Puss In Boots that purrs thrice and goes 'Do I know You?' in a very 'I'm-too-hot-for-you' tone. Oh well, some compensation for the real Antonio Banderas.)

2) Now this is the story that really matters, since the title is supposed to be for this one.

My family is the epitome of a nuclear family. We're little units, scattered worldwide, and meet at least twice-thrice a year. The one thing that has kept us bonded are the 'Mango Stories'. Each of us has a tale of his/ her own related to mangoes.

Recently, when we all had a reunion of sorts, it happened to be Mango Season and these stories re-emerged. Today, as I happen to have accomplished a certain task (which I shall talk of later), I feel it's probably the best time to write an ode to these Mango Stories. Because they deserve a mention somewhere in the leaves of our lives. And because, maybe, the generations to come will get a glimpse of 'my' own little mango story.

So every summer, my grandfather (or thatha, as I refer to him) sits down with a HUGE plate and a bowl of mangoes. The news is generally running on the TV, occasionally alternating between some movie (when I manage to find the remote and change the channel), and then going back to the news (when my dad re-finds the 'lost' remote).

He begins to peel the mangoes first. Not in a clumsy way that would waste more fruit on the skin, but with the skill of an artisan. He practically carves the mango, coaxes the skin to leave as much juice as possible within the fruit, and just surrender itself without too much trouble. The skin that he peels off the mango is so thin, it could give the phrase 'Size Zero' an inferiority complex.

Now that's just not it. He not only peels the skin thin, but in one single gesture. At the end of this masterful operation, we find the entire mango skin like a twirling ribbon around the mango, that can be pulled off with one stroke, and not a single crack or seam can be seen. An entire mango is de-skinned in one long, tenacious but graceful attempt.

Remember the times when we would sharpen pencils and take extra care not to break the shavings? We'd try to make them as long as possible, and compete with each other about the length of continuing shavings. Transgressing to mangoes after that seems the only natural thing to do.

This is my thatha's little mango story. Once the peel is off, it is carefully preserved (by me) and observed ( by me again). Eventually, my mother gets exasperated at seeing me collecting the now rotting skin, and throws it away. But for me, it still signifies a piece of untainted beauty and perfection.

Yesterday, I peeled a mango. In one shot, I managed to get the entire skin off without breaking it or cracking it. I was so ecstatic that I held up the skin to show it off to everyone at home. In the process, I stained a shirt with mango dribbles from the juice of the fruit (okay, so that would mean my peel still had juice and fruit, and was thick. Uhm. Some points were deducted for that.)

I looked eagerly at thatha for approval. He smiled, and although he can now no longer sit on the floor and cut mangoes like he would every summer, he was content with my peeling. I guess he realized that there is finally someone in the family who can continue his tradition of mango-peeling! (Okay, I'm sure the rest of my family can peel mangoes really well too. But that's their story to tell. And I just have to share mine.)

So I created my own little mango story yesterday. Up until last night, I always wondered what story I'd tell my family if the event came up (believe me, the mango stories always come up. My dad's story of having climbed the Mango tree and chipped his front tooth are evidence of the fact - he still hasn't done anything to that tooth!)

Patience and Perseverance lies beneath that Mango Skin. And although my shirt has been given a touch of abstract art (It's true dude. Mango Stains are tough to come off), I'm glad the splash of yellow lies there. Reminds me of how much A'am Lovin It! :-)

Shopping for Adventure

Ever been to T.Nagar? Try it, once in a year or so. It's highly recommended to sharpen your survival instincts and clean the rust off your 'fight-or-flight' responses. Of course, whether you come out of it unscathed, depends upon Social Darwinism and um, what you ate for breakfast that day. But still. It's always worth it.

Mission: To Buy.

Now, you could be buying sarees, jewelry, flowers (real, fake, dried...or even something you've never imagined of.). Or maybe you want to experiment with the latest styles and want fake hair? It's there. (Believe me, I had to ogle at the lady selling it for one full minute before realizing it really was fake hair.) It's like Aladin's Genieland. You wish for it, it's there.

Vision: A must.

It's good to have a vision beforehand. That sort of helps you figure your route-map for the day. T.Nagar is not for those who want to 'explore'. You may find yourself dragged into the invitingly cool air-conditioned showrooms of a saree shop, just by the crowd entering it (like the Mumbai Locals, but here you're entering better weather.)

Or you might just find yourself dragged away someplace random if you happened to stand for less than 10 seconds without a vision. (In my case, I was projectiled towards the fake-hair-selling-lady, because I was trying to take in the 'atmosphere of it all'.)

So, um, anyway, plan your vision carefully. Draw a map, prioritize your ambitions of the day. Sketch out routes that will take you to the-right-shop-at-the-right-time. Keep strict timing for every rack, every floor, every style you're remotely interested in. Little alarms might help too. Be prepared to revise your vision. Chances are you will find a hundred better options.

Position: Always train the GPS in your mind carefully to know exactly where you are and where you're headed. You may begin at Pothy's (which resembles an African Safari, with actual foliage and pretend monkeys peeping at you from the entrance) but land up at Kumaran Silks, Nallis or RMKV, without your realizing it. It's like a tour you embark upon in a dazed sort of way. Keep pinching yourself once in a while to know your positions.

Composition: Like I mentioned in the beginning, it helps to strengthen yourself a bit before starting your adventure. A hearty breakfast, extra glasses of milk, and maybe a mound of fruits ought to help. Oh, and carry some glucose biscuits and an endless supply of water (I have no suggestions on how to carry that) in order to sustain yourself with an irritatingly optimistic nature about finding what you want to find. You'll find it, but not without turning a few hairs grey.

Hm. I've never tried it, but maybe watching The Amazing Race, Armageddon, Independence Day (feel free to improvise and choose other movies too!) might prep you up for what's in store. Ooh..you could get walkie talkies and stay in touch with home base (just makes the whole trip more adventurous, don't you think?)

Conclusion: Do a re-check of belongings, bodyparts and such after your shopping is done. People have been known to have left their sanity behind, as they step out of the mayhem. Of course, if you're like me, having no sanity to begin with, then it's fine. No problems.

And finally. Remember to see, re-see, re-re-see your wares at the end of the day. Believe me, it'll be worth all the effort. :-) I know this sounds like a statutory warning, but nothing can ever beat the charm of shopping in T Nagar. This place has a charm of its own, that drags you and intoxicates you with the colours, patterns, sounds, smells and people (uh, don't imagine them all together. That just sounds odd.) Show off your wares to other Bangalore people, and watch their faces light up with awe (ok, this I haven't tried yet. But if you have, let me know if they DO light up 'in awe')

So people who visit, and work in T.Nagar, hats off to you. You've battled the recession, rains, heat, (no bomb scares, strangely), and made this market one of the most exciting places I've ever been to.

This place reminds you of what 'culture' really is. How warm people are, despite having to serve hundreds of demanding clients. How they stay cool despite the scorching heat. How they never fail to greet you with a smile, even when you haven't bought a thing. How they all mingle amongst each other flawlessly, helping a fellow shopper find her 'perfect' ware. It's an amalgamation of goodwill, if you ask me. The place where occasions become adventures and functions become fairytales.

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 :-)

The Thought Bubble

Exams get you thinking. More than just the ritual of learning *cough* mugging. For a change, this time, I actually managed to sit it out and read up the causal factors of all disorders. It made me think all the more (really, why don't I ever contemplate life on non-exam days, when I'm more jobless, I wonder.)

In School, I would always end up with a throat infection or an upset stomach every March and September. I still remember this one time when I had written an exam in school, and then had to sit mum throughout the entire bus journey (and our school was on the outskirts of Bangalore, so go figure!) , only to rush back home from the stop and throw up. I would never eat outside, never drink cold water/ice cream/just ice (yeah, it's a peculiar habit, I know) at least weeks before an exam. And despite that, I'd land up with a stomach/throat infection. Every March and September.

Today, it's manifested in a whole lot of different ways. I don't worry so much about the exams. Other things take up priorities. But the throat/stomach infections got me thinking about the stress that we all carry on our heads all the time.

Nearly all the causal factors of disorders that I've studied include stress. From Unipolar Depression to Schizophrenia, Eating Disorders, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Conversion Disorders..etc. They ALL have the common etiology of stress involved. In fact, stress has been credited with a whole set of disorders, called psychosomatic disorders, instead of just being causes of co-morbid conditions.

How many of us can stay cool in the face of exams? I know I can't. Sure, I walk into the room like an ice cube, but before entering, I'm a bundle of nerves. I wonder if it is worth the cost of my sanity?

We all live in this thought bubble that unless I have a schizophrenic relative, I'm not likely to get Schizophrenia. Oh well, I'd like to tell the rest of us, happy wishing. Stress is harmful, way more harmful than we can ever imagine, if we let it take over our lives so completely.

The prevalence of most disorders caused by stress is highest in the age range of 20-30. We're building futures, shaping careers, managing and sharing lives...basically constructing that dream house for when we retire. So I guess it's unfair to believe that we can all just take a break, relieve the stress and wait it out. We are probably going to have to deal with it instead.

So just take a minute off your work/study/life. Close your eyes. Replay the technicolour movie of the most important people and events in your life (happy ones only. I don't want to get into therapy for depressive disorders now!). Think of that flower you saw on the bush, but did not stop to admire it's hue and texture. Think of the time when you saw your first perfect A (sure, I'm a geek and that works for me!). Think of everything that can possibly bring a smile to your face.

And then open your eyes. You'll see the world differently. I know I did. It's worth spending a minute every now and then to appreciate what you have rather than worry about what you may/may not have in the future, right? In fact, if nothing else, it gives you the determination to pursue your goals with an increased fervor. A will to build more dreams, and convert them into reality.....who knows, maybe some day, you'll close your eyes for that one minute and think of the very dream you're trying to achieve today?

P.S. If I sound like an evangelist/fanatic/yoga teacher/value education teacher, kindly blame 'Abnormal Psychology and Modern Life'. A book that has inspired me to take a minute off, and think. Made me realize that my life is much more important than appearing as a statistic in their future editions.

A-Glovely-RAmble

Read between the letters, and you'll know what this post is all about. I'm finally back with my usual dose of corny titles, loooooong posts and technicolour descriptions of my oh-so-enchanting life. This time, it's about a trip to Agra with my Glovelies.

So who are the Glovelies, you ask? Well, they're a not-so-secret gang of girls, that has a motto (yes, the motto rhymes, and no I will not divulge it, or else I might lose my last ditch attempt at being perceived as humanly sane.) They...ahem...we decided that it was finally time to put a memory or two down in our scrapbooks of life, and decided to go on the vacation of the millennium.

Basically, when everything can go wrong, it does. And more. That probably best describes the beginning of our trip. But after everything has gone wrong, it somehow manages to untangle itself and become one huge right. That's what the trip actually became. :-)

So this is the story of eight girls who had been planning on this trip for a long time. I still cannot fathom as to why, after all the weeks of advance planning, we decided to buy tickets a few hours before departure. What touching belief we have in the Indian Railways, really. Considering the fact that it was Valentine's Weekend, and practically everyone with something that resembles a heart wishes to visit the epitome of love (The Taj Mahal), on this day.

I began writing the entire trip in prose, but realized it would take me days to finish....so here are little snippets that conglomerate into one heck of a trip!

Our hair-raising auto-ride (jaldi chalao bhaiya...train choot jayega!), which resulted us in landing up ridiculously early. So we fooled around with those jing-bang-colour-colour weighing machines..(I'm intellectual, romantic and a perfectionist....and also Yukta Mookhey, apparently).

Bribing the TC to convert our unreserved tickets into a sleeper berth by giving him full puppy eyes which read Akeli ladki uss ghor jungle jaisi compartment mein kaise baith sakti hai?

Potate's true Jab We Met fashion of catching the train.....our high pitched squealing at spotting her make her way into our compartment. And then Ash's Jab We Could Not Meet fashion of missing the train.

The weird compartment dude, who was acting all pseudo-politician.....I climbed all the way to the top compartment to give him an * cough* accidental kick on the head with my sneaker.....sigh....I think I missed by a few millimeters.

Agra Cantt station, Farid Chacha's Ambassador that fit all of us in...and the marvelous guest house, thanks to the PsychoMommy! :-D (Although, we were not exactly on our best behaviour...I wonder if they'll welcome us back!)

Our long rambles on Sadar's MG Road...the auto ride to pick up Ash (who finally caught the next train in a not so Jab We Met fashion.). Why a simple auto ride, you ask? Well, one auto, seven girls and the poor hassled driver! :-D And since we had made such a spectacle of ourselves, we decided to spare the other auto drivers and walk back home instead! We did, however, hassle a baraat ka ghoda, some random lost tourists and just the general public. I think there have been cautionary posters put up in Agra now, which forbid us from entering the city, and others from abetting our entrance as well!

Greeting Ash in true Ekta-Kapoor Serial style, re-doing it a couple of times to capture a good video. Retiring to the beautiful rooms, watching that gawd-awful Akshay Kumar movie, even more gawd-awful songs and that funny reality show where everyone cheats on everyone and gets caught on camera.

Dinner time! The Valentine themed decoration in the Mess, and our messing around with them! Ice cream at MG Road late at night....and then gol guppas!

Sameer....sigh.....what a man. It's not very often that you come across a gaudy-flashy-white-car filled with men who increase the tempo of their music just as your gang walks past them, only to throw some confetti at you. (I was actually going to yell at them about littering the beautiful road, only to realize later that what they'd thrown was their number and the name of the brave man Sameer, who decided to represent the fountainhead of fools.) On a particularly spiteful day, we intend making good use of that number! ;-)

The late night banters....ridiculous overdramatizations of everything! And the million pictures that were taken to capture those into memory.

Waking up before the sun, so we could catch the Taj in it's dewy splendor. Reaching the Taj, waiting in the line with all the Oh-my-god-we'll-finally-see-the-Taj foreigners (By the way, did you know they are charged at least 50 times more than us for tickets? Poor things. I'd rather be Indian than ripped off. But oh well. It's all contributing to our economy anyway.)

Potate's Hot Foreign Men. (ok ok. I did ogle at them a little later, and yes, I concede they were quite dishy.)

The TAAAAAAJ MAHAL! (and the seedy background music sonorously provided by the gang from a movie with the same name.) Of course, either the Taj is just very shy, or was really scared of harmless us, because he was cowering behind the thickest blanket of fog. Hmph. So much for wanting to raise hand and pretend to hold the minar pose. We didnt give up though. We did pose at the exact spot. Spotting the Taj, however, is left to the beholder's imagination.

Oooh...the kachoris and that yummy matar ki sabji that came with it outside the Taj Mahal. And those paranthas that never stopped coming from the depths of that little kitchen in one of the small dhabas in the by lanes of Taj.

Agra Fort!! Now, this is one place I could totally live in. Seriously. It's so green, serene and clean. This is Reason #2 why I want to relive Jodha Akbar in reality. (Reason #1 being, obviously, Hritik Roshan as Akbar...duh!) It is the most mesmerizing fort I've ever seen (and believe me, I've seen quite a few.) We just couldn't get ourselves out in time. Even pictures fail to capture the feeling of wonder, although we've tried our hardest.

Honestly dude. I think I'll retire from MA and go find a time machine that will transport me back to the times of Akbar....Shah Jehan even.

Hmm...did we eat lunch? I cant seem to remember......we did eat a lot of chips, some Agra Petha and more chips. And then raced towards Fatehpur Sikri.

Fatehpur Sikri is equally breathtaking (partly also because you have to climb a hefty flight of stairs to reach the top, and partly because the guide was making us hurry...so that we don't miss our train to go back....for which we still didn't have tickets...really, people worry about us too much, I tell you.)

The ride back to the station after having visited everything......the driver seemed to be in a hurry to drop us back too....hmm....I seem to notice a pattern here.....

Finally, the station, where we found tickets, had to use the bribe technique again, found ourselves in a compartment with two cute little brats (aged 3 and 6) who decided we were trampolines, so they would occasionally launch themselves at us without warning and expect us to laugh and clap about it (which we did...the first couple hundred times at least)

Then back to Delhi....sigh...why? :-( As our bus was taking us back home, I wished we could've rewinded and paused on the weekend. It really did deserve to be frozen in time. So the Taj was fogged out, and I was the one who had insisted that we go see the Taj for the longest time. But strangely, I never felt any regret in having missed its view in sunshine. I enjoyed the fogged out Taj way more, thanks to the gloveliest gang of girls I went with! :-)

The Choice to Say No

'How easy is it to say no?' She wondered.

She had seen this coming, somewhere deep

in the clutters of her mind.

She could not pin point to what

had lead it to this juncture, but knew,

that the time had arrived.

The time to say no.

She first ignored the messages.

Thought it safer not to bother

about them at all.

It began to infiltrate her workspace soon.

That also, was something

she learnt to forget about.

But eventually, messages turned

cynically sweeter.

They became flowers.

Chocolates even.

Not something easily digested

(pun intended) by anyone.

The beholder of those

messages had questions.

Answers were sought from her.

She then decided to say no.

The questions were all

given the same answer.

No. No. No.

It could not have been clearer,

bolder or better understood

by anyone else except the beholder.