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.

Two Arms

Two Arms were gifted to help me out

To keep me safe from harm

To keep my smile from going south

And fill my life with charm

Twenty four years, it doesn't seem

Only yesterday it could be

When these two arms entered this dream

And now, share it with me

If one arm taught me how to drive

The other gave me the car

Together, they strove to make me strive

And encouraged me to fly afar

I'm called the apple of their eye

Their pear and orange too

And with each day that goes by

I live more and more like you

The arms have stood by me all through

To be my beacon and wings

To repay them, all I can do

Is to fill joy in each day life brings

Happy twenty fourth wedding anniversary, Amma and Appa. :) I know I don't say it often enough, but you are everything to me. Thank you.

P.S. You are allowed to read my blog now. But only for this post.

A Zappy New Year!! =)

Remember what I said about the month of December being Magical? There's something in the air and the weather that makes you want to....just go out. There is no way such beautiful weather could curtail me from sitting inside a closed room and writing blog posts.

*Pauses*

*Thaws fingers out of the frozen keyboard*

Right, moving on. Delhi is frozen. No, really. It is one big misty block of frozen traffic, colourful winter wear and smoky shacks at every corner. Last year, inspired by the weather, I had written this poem - Winter Frost . It was probably my first (and so far, best) attempt at poignant poetry. So as I sit down today to recreate that frosty magic, I seem to be at a loss of words.

The weather is really beautiful, I concede. Honestly, when the flight was about to land, I was terrified (what's new?). I could only see a thick creamy blanket of fog with no visible land and the plane kept losing altitude rapidly. As I bizarrely began to wonder if fog could insulate us against the fire that would probably break out due to a crash landing, I saw the runway about 10 metres from the ground....and the plane finally went thud thud thud...vroooom on it. Phew. Of course, when the stewardess announced that the temperature outside was 6 degrees, (this was at noon, mind you.) woolens started popping out of cabin baggage like magic. So yes, this season is truly magical.

Poetry will follow sometime soon, but now, dissertation and term papers await. So here's a quick update of my fabulous Christmas break before I delve into windows with 'better' views (read: Google Scholar)

It all began with the flight, like it always does. The humongous T3 terminal in Delhi made me feel like a liliput in Gulliver's land. And being the posh airport that it is, the attendant at the bookshop pursed his lips in polite consternation when I asked for my only therapy for aerophobia (A Mills and Boon book, remember?). Salvaging my dignity somehow, I trooped away and found a rather interesting book instead and walked off towards my gate.

Home was awesome, to say the least. This is the first time I've truly been at peace, without worrying about which entrance exam I have to write or which direction I have to go in the next couple of months (uh..not like these worries don't exist. I've just given them a raincheck for the summer.) So the blissful bournvita-filled days passed by me like a Delhi metro train, and before I knew it, I was packing to come back. (With 4 kgs over the baggage allowance and tonnes of good memories.)

Good memories, you ask? Because this time in Bangalore was special. :) convincing two of the best BFFs you can ever have to take a day off work and roaming all over the city (or at least all over one part of the city) can only result in good memories. From that fancy dinner in fancy clothes to the funny auto-bhaiya who insisted on charging us, like, half the normal fare at 9 in the night, the pajama party began with a bang.

Of course, staying up most of the night and watching mindless movies, only to wake up after a few desperate hours of sleep was just as entertaining too. The heavy breakfast at Maiyyas (I want Masala Dosa. NOW!) and walking ALL around Jayanagar made up for all the lack of exercise I have (or don't). Eating golguppas (Yes, in Bangalore. I've become a tainted Delhite, eating and bragging about paani puris outside of my ultimate food paradise) and just spending all that time together somehow made up for the fact that I don't see them as often as I could have, had I been at home.

But it's ok. I'll be back soon, and we'll go where we've been planning since forever but couldn't make it this time! (And no Sneha, that does NOT give you the right to crib about my grand-motherly lack of energy after a long day's hard work of walking for over 10 kms.)

And yes, reunions of other kinds happened as well, which was great fun too. But my loopy friends stole the limelight for these holidays. Thank you for a brilliant time and for treating me like a completely pampered baby. Thank you for the superb gift that I will wear and show off to everyone I know (I think I've already covered about 50% of that.) But most importantly, thank you for taking time off your super-busy schedules and spending a wonderful weekday-night-day with me.

Why does this sound eerily like I'm being forced to give a vote of thanks after a conference at school? Anyway, the point is, Thank you for YOU. And rest assured that my god children will be supplied with endless stories of our stupidity when I babysit them (in that solitary house atop the hills of Mussorie) and you guys holiday in far off destinations. (Unless, of course, you keep your word and give me that promised birthday gift!)

So a brilliant start to a New Year. There are 11 months and 27 days to go, but something tells me that the finale of 2010 has given 2011 something to seriously worry about, if it has to be upped!

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.

Bibliophilia!

Donald Duck did it. He got me hooked to books. In a desperate attempt to quieten my constant chatter, my mother found me a couple of tattered Donald Duck comics in her library and gave them to me at the age of two, to flip through and amuse myself. However, her plan failed horribly, because not only did I NOT stop my chatter (I would make up gibberish and substitute them for the dialogues I was too young to read), but I demanded to be taken to the library every second day, to find and 'read' more!

It's been twenty years since then, and the bibliophilia in me has spread like an epidemic through all possible genres, even giving me the eternal hope of writing a book someday. Recently, Facebook had the BBC Booklist Buzz that got me thinking about this post. (If you've been tagged in that note, how many books have YOU read?) While some part of me felt immensely inferior, thanks to the insane number of books I have NOT read, the other part of me felt like documenting the fun memories of those that I have read.

Through my entire childhood (uh...I would define childhood as 2 through 22), I've been gifted books as birthday presents. Of course, having a birthday in book-ridden March when exams are scorning intently at you would put people off at the prospect of more books, albeit for entertainment. However, I'd wait eagerly for my birthday presents, tearing off the wrapping of all gifts that resembled books first. Within the next few days, I'd stay in a blissful oblivion of the outside world, as I floated in and out of pages and pages of wonderland.

The first books I was gifted was a twin pack of Snow White and Cinderella by my neighbours. The beauty of fairy tales began with those two books...and has lasted ever since. (That can't be truer, since I spent last night on the couch, weeping happily over the ending of The Princess and The Frog - a really beautiful movie!) After pre-school years of 'I have 20 ladybird books how many you have' discussions, I finally moved on to greener pages.....the Enid Blyton series.

Enid Blyton is the rite of passage to childhood, if you ask me. Blyton and Dahl were such prolific writers, that they can be indisputably credited with the ability of sparking creativity in every starry eyed child. From getting scared while reading 'Witches', to getting ravenous while reading about the sumptuous feasts in Malory Towers, my holiday train rides were never complete without a brand new, crisp, Blyton book. When I finally ran out of bookspace (which I unfortunately did, thanks to the 3 generations of Reader's Digest my family has been collecting since forever), I gave up all my Blyton books to my cousin, so that she could be introduced to this magical world of the English Countryside. However, a couple of years later, when I went visiting there and saw all my books looking so out of place in her shelf, I secretly collected them all back and brought them home to re-read them all over again! (And uh, this wouldn't be too far long, so it shows the sort of childish insanity I develop around Blyton books!)

While Blyton introduced me to Girl Power, Carolyn Keene, Ann M Martin and Francine Pascal reinforced it. After years of constant reading, increased glasses power and countless taunts about reading in low light/moving car/upside down, I can officially claim to have read ALL of the Nancy Drew and Babysitter's Club books. (Uh, I somehow gave up after reading about fifty Sweet Valley books. I had discovered Judy Blume and Harry Potter by then.)

So after the overdose of girl power, I had the next obsession with books...and magic! Anyone my age would instantly connect with Harry Potter best, because we grew with him. When I was 11, so was Harry. Reading and re-reading each book over and over again made me sink deeper into the world of fantasy and charm. Watching the movies, and then dissing them for not having stood up to my creative vision of Harry's adventures made excellent pastime. Of course, randomly playing Harry Potter quizzes in class (and I'm talking about college here, mind you) was so entertaining.....as I tested the depths of my memory trying to figure out the actual meaning of Dumbledore's name.

Today, I have read so many books I'd NEVER be able to remember them all. The fact my very thick glasses (now replaced by very thin contact lens) testifies to. My tastes in books have probably changed a lot. I've been through the:

'Classic' Phase - When I would devour Austen after Austen....I still love reading her books..and using the quaint English expressions in speech and befuddling people!! Of course, Shakespeare and a few other Classic Authors fell into this category by compulsion, as they were prescribed in curriculum - but they got me hooked to discovering more of the series as well.

'Comic' Phase - Tinkle was my favorite-st train comic!! I would always secretly dream about writing to Uncle Pai and praising him to no end about the stories! While I've read dozens of Archie Comics and Tin Tins (which were never really comics, but a frozen motion picture in boxes), Tinkle has, and will always remain THE comic forever. :)

'Indian Author' Phase - When I discovered R.K.Narayan and he transported me to a world I would give my left hand to be a part of. Of course, Rohinton Mistry, Ruskin Bond, Vikram Seth, Shashi Deshpande and Anita Desai have all been an integral part of the books I love to read, but R.K.Narayan's entire collection will always hold a permanent membership in my mind library!

'Chick-lit' Phase - From Opal Mehta to The Zoya Factor, I've read them all. And someday, when my life gets as exciting as theirs, I will write one. Till then, I'll continue drawing inspiration from feisty chicks all over the world and devour their adventures.

'Romance Phase' - Yes, I read Mills and Boon, ok? There you go, I've admitted it on the world wide web. They are the BEST cure for my aerophobia, ok? At least, if my plane were to go down, I can imagine being rescued by the handsome pilot or co-passenger and live a happily ever after life, no?

'I should read this book because everyone else has read it Phase' - Uhh...Kite Runner, God of Small Things, Shantaram, Midnight's Children and all of Jhumpa Lahiri's works fall in this category. I know, I should've probably discovered these books myself. Having others forcing me to read the above titles have had me both cringing (whoever you are, who lauded GOST and made me read it, I will find you, hunt you down, and make you read my Mental Chronometry book. And test you on it.) and reading up more (like The Joy Luck Club - Amy Tan, inspired me to read Lahiri)

and finally, the 'Oh no, I have nothing new to read now, so I will just pick up the first Nancy Drew/Harry Potter/Famous Five and get right to it' Phase - The one phase I love slipping into every once in a while. :)

I've been bitten by the book bug, and I have a bibiliophilia. The one disorder I'd never like to be cured of!

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.