So serene. So beautiful. Like lilies in fresh water, dancing to the tunes of soft westerly winds. Peace. Like the waves on the sea shore who come forward and recede away in shyness. I can see a light. A beautiful white light, shining in its full splendor and glory. I can feel the goodness, the tranquility. I can feel the warmth in the moron chill all over me. I feel like melting away. Like flying. Like a motley of variegated colors exploding pleasantly in my head with all brilliance.
Finally I feel God has heard me. My wish of just one extra day with him has come true. I know he cant leave so abruptly. Leaving me to grope in the blinding darkness. Leaving me with so many infectious aberrations around. I want to ask him how he is? Is he eating well? Taking his BP tablets properly? Watching his favorite Cricket matches? Going on long drives (but with whom? As my mom is here, perhaps hoping he’ll come back some day, one day, today?).
A sudden jerk. The bus has come to a halt for nature calls near midnight. Everything disappears. Memories remain. Thanks Dad, You have always been the one to wish me first on my birthday.And this year is no exception.Thank you Very very much.You showed me to fight. You showed me Blood is NOT thicker than water. You showed me the true colors of everyone near and dear.You showed the survivor in me.
Some people form indelible imprints in your life. No matter how far they are, or how near, they are always there. To support, to care, to love. Dictionary calls them FRIENDS but I call them LIFE. A few click click moments with them all..
Party at ma place for Bharathi's Birthday :) (from left: Anu,Vikram,Urundai,Korr,arithri,malini bharathi,JK @the phone guy,Suma, Nannu,Her Highness and Bhai :))
Thinking hard.. Please comment on my photographic skills :)
Nannu, my nephew sang and me :) He has the sole authority and guts to make me dance to his varied tunes..I am not complaining though. I love every bit of insanity.
My ex-juniors Kamala and Divya who took the pains to travel far and long to see me.
Prasun. He gets me the choicest books every year on my day. We hardly talk ( rather I dont talk). But still.. we are good friends. As I say, In true relationships physical closeness and hi-how-are-you phone calls never really matter.
Bharathi. The forever Bulwark. Needless to say anything more.
Priya Mom and Me :) I love this pic and the people in it :)
Thanks mommie for the book :) Will read and review soon :)
Madhu. The insensible guy when it comes to thinking aloud. But yeah, He is the best :)
Greeting card- best way to express you care.
Which is lovelier ? the watch or the luxury chocolates? Still thinking..
A consortium of all the goodies that wonderful people gave me. As a token of their remembrance, their love and affection. Yeah, am creative to border them with new dupattas( thanks Mother Earth for your 20%discount offer and Bhai for your overflowing bank balance :))the only color of my life for six days as we have to wear uniforms (colorful duppata allowed).
Missed Viji, Leena, Ini, Moti, Revs though :(
My grandma's sister visited us on my Birthday. She has her Knee replaced recently but nevertheless climbed three floors to see me. This is my achievement. Love in someone's heart. A guileless heart who blessed me.
I am indeed a lucky girl. Aint I??
PS: I know that many of my friends read this blog but never comment. Just drop by this post to say a hi. I shall be honored.
So, I had been to Coimbatore this weekend. To meet my little fussy sister, who got conjunctivitis and acted as though she was on death bed and her last wish was to see me. I pulled along, cursing the darn elastic strings of emotional bonding!!
I took the bus from Bangalore. I was shaken out of my beautiful reverie by the lack of rickety motion of the bus. I realized there was traffic jam on either side of the Mettur by-pass road, for nearly 2 km long.
Reason: Head on collision between a highway traffic patrol car and a lorry.
Casualities: None. Albeit The” Ego war” between the highway police and lorry driver as to whose fault it was and who should move out of the road first. (yeah, we the people of India have a deep rooted obsession for public property including roads, that a few years down, I wont be surprised even if NH roads are issued Legal heir certificates).
Finally after two heated hours of bickering, a third party Police intervention took place to pacify their brothers involved and clear up. The bollywood formula that the Police arrives after the “THE END” card flashes is true.
The 2 km long traffic had all sorts of vehicles and people stranded. Marriage parties, buses, two wheelers, cars of various sizes and shapes and prices and also AMBULANCE, in which a tiny life was struggling to extricate from the darkness of the womb ( Little did she know that it is the safest place ever). The lady delivered in the ambulance. Sans any Doctor. With Just a few villagers who held sarees to cover her up from poring, curious yang eyes. The lady and baby survived. The real endurance test, for both alike. The umbilical cord was cut with a Gillette shaving razor. Then the reality slapped hard on my face. Do we have any value for Human life here? Had this ambulance been stranded in USA, the highway patrol, lorry man and police dept would have been sweet geol birds for eons. Now I love my country and am not being a cynic, but this made me think. WHO IS TO BLAME?
So, we the random group of ten wanderers went to this awesome place called Shivaganga. Four bikes and a car transported us there.It is some 56 km from Bangalore, on NH-4, Tumkur road. A great spot for trekking, provided you've struck a deal with rain gods. A picture speaks mightier than a 1000 words. So feast on...
The group of ten starting from my place at morning 6 23 a.m. Yeah, you read it right, I woke up.
Me on the bike with Korr, a great rider :)
View of the plains and rocks from half way through the top.
Befriending the clouds.
Photography novice click
Vikram at his best. A true marvel of a photograph.
Green green everywhere.
Pseudo Eminems :)
A random click
From the top.
One of my favorite pics.
Not pretty much fond of masonry structures. Nevertheless.
Relaxing at the peak after the four km long uphill trek.
There was this one temple where you need to put your hand in a pot like thing. A water column will be vibrating within it. If water touches your hand, you are a blessed soul, else you are up to no good. My question: Do I need drops of water to tell who I actually am?
In a nutshell, it was one of the best trips I have had, despite the continuous drizzle, slippery rocks and wet shoes.
So I was in Delhi earlier this week. We shook the sleep out of our eyes and took the 6 00 a.m flight from Bangalore. Landed safely (I am in-and-out acrophobic. I wish to die beautiful. Up in the air, I murmur many deals with all the gods my brains could think of. So yeah, landing safely is sort of a big deal). We had to wait for two hours in the endless queue for a cab,due to puja holidays' rush. Hence could not attend the meeting in morning. Perhaps sleep's wrath for driving it out so soon. Took a metro from Karol Bagh to Noida. Author is used to travelling in uncivilized parts of the country in a tonga. So Metro was like-Whoa!!! what is this thing? Trains of India? Had to take plastic coins for tickets, put my bag through an electronic scanner, swipe the tickets and get into the station. Wait for the train in the correct platform, near "women only" coach. Once the doors open, I come across 'beauties' of all kinds. The following is in common with all girls (well, at least 90% of those I witnessed)
1. More than the dress you wear, the hair you bear needs ironing. That is the need of the hour. Then it has to be cut at odd places, each strand in a different length and let loose. Make the hair wantonly fall all over your face and keep pushing it apart with one hand, of course, cell phone in the other hand. Color it with some pale brown or deep maroon, the exact sick dead color that your hair will naturally get once unattended for two three weeks. Dah this is fashion. God save them.
2. Painting of finger and toe nails is a must. That too in shades of black, green, blue etc which, at least to me, look devilish. I had a good mind to take a nail cutter and clip them all off. Believe me, there were two college girls who were actually applying a 'third coat of nail enamel' on the running train, cursing their mother all along for forcing them to a breakfast which wasted their time, that could otherwise have been used for painting nails. Duh!!!
3. The more uncomfortable your slippers are, the more fashionable you are !!! I am happy with my floaters, no matter what people say, its torn, its old, it does not go well with my clothes etc. My question is: Aren't footwear meant to go well with your feet rather than clothes? I just don't get the point.
4. You should show just the right amount of cleavage as a semi naked arousal technique. Men look on. In return they get monster stares from cleavage bearers. Girls forget the fact that there's a top button on their shirts that yearns to be put on. And those good ones that don't show cleavage, wear such tight non breathable T shirts, that the push-up brassiere pattern could be made out easily.
To all the girls: You look beautiful. In your own special way. So please DO NOT go out of the way to spoil it.
Found these few lines somewhere and thought will put it up here.
Go ahead take a second glace,
It may be your last chance.
This beauty right here,
Is not what she is to appear.
All the make-up and all the lies,
Something you cant see through naked eyes.
True beauty that is hard to find,
It comes from within the soul & mind.
When I stand here you turn away,
As my inner self starts to decay,
Just like an old pipe beginning to rust,
Another of God's true beauty turns to dust.
I liked Enthiran. Yeah, am a hard-core Rajini fan. No matter he's 60 years old. No matter he cant dance. No matter he cant look that great. But he's got something mystic about him that is really magnetic.
Aishwarya Rai Bachchan has tried best to look hot? sexy? dont know what. I dont understand why she wants to flaunt a wrinkled back. To Aish -"Baby, you cant ever act. Now you dont look good either. Please retire. Take care of your hubby and parents-in-law and sit back home. Give us rest too."
The effects are stunning. Especially in the second half during the various robot formations in the form of sphere, python,hoist etc are a visual treat. Kudos to Shanker for that.
Music is not upto the mark. None of the songs are like hummable once out of theater. I still don't believe its ARR.
Danny is not used properly. His role comes to an abrupt end.
Costumes are really good. Make-up for Rajini is also good. Not over-done at all.
Rajini as the robot "Chitti" has done a really good role.
In short, this is not one of Rajini's mass movies, but class movie. My take- must watch- once in theatre, for Rajini. That said, please dont look for logic or reality. Remember its a Rajini + Shanker movie.
Strangely I have never mentioned about my father in this blog roll till date. Why? reasons unknown. Perhaps I dont love him.. People dont love to breathe, do they? Then why today of all days, I feel I should bring him to this space?...
The man of big dreams, hopes and ambitions,which made him climb the career ladder in no time. One of the top ten metallurgists of India. The man whose heart can forgive both friends and foes alike. The man of indeterminable maturity and composition. The man whose generosity knew no bounds. The man who loves to eat good food, no matter if it contained high fat or calories, which his doctor advised him not to take. The man who chose nothing less than the best for his wife. The man who has a truly liberal thought pattern, albeit hailing from a staunch brahmin family. The man who loves to treat his workers like his own brothers. The man who never knows the parasites around him (or did he know and never bothered?) The man who loves every iota of his life. The man who was...
I love you dad. Like never before. Tears never dry, but I know you hate to see me cry. I am your daughter. I know you are watching me. Will live your dreams. As always, you shall be ever proud of your little girl. Noever gone, never far, in my heart is where you are.
One good feel I get by working for my company is I get to explore so many remotest locations of India, which I shall never do otherwise. Bikaner is beautiful in its own inexpressible way. I am staying in a Hotel JamnaNivas which looks like a simple single storey, un cementedbuilding from outside. But the food is good, homely and simple, something which is difficult to get in these parts. People here add a huge amount of oil in everything they cook. Reason: Rajasthan has water scarcity. Oil films the thirst and keeps body cool for considerable length of time. You can start the day by visiting the KarniMaatha temple, the famous rat temple.It is 35 km from Bikaner railway station. I felt irky at first to see 1500 odd rats, ambling about the temple, sipping milk by forming the periphery of a "parat"(a wide circular two inch depth plate), eating laddoo from pujari's hand, the remnants of which is distributed as prashad to the devotees(I did not eat it though). Jerry time: a must visit place, makes me wonder how so many rats live in harmony with people without any record disease.
Next stop: Camel park. Camels at various stages of development. Some were beautifully adorned in traditional camel clothes , a feast to eyes. Camel bone keychains are available at low prices. A good buy. Camel milk kulfi, sluuurrrrppp :)
KundhSagar: Minarets of the entire dynasty of Bikaner kings who had ruled for 300 years. Beautiful monuments made of rich marble, arranged in a neat matrix. Maintenance however is not very good.
ChotuMotuJoshi: You will curse yourself if you go without visiting this place. World's unbeatable lassi in such a huge stainless steel glass, can easily make up for breakfast. Big things come in small packages. So true when it comes to this place.
Return to hotel by 7 p.m., calling it a good memorable trip. Getting geared up for Monday morning blues already. PS: Shall upload pics sometime later. Poor net connectivity.
So the other day I was in WESTSIDE desperate to buy a kurti. My boss' daughter's marriage was in a couple of days. I just grabbed a few with no green green or pink or yellow or orange on it. Wanted to try at least one from each size as I feel I have grown pretty much horizontally (nowadays, as the sun sleeps till 7 30, preeti follows suit). There was a long queue outside the trial rooms. Pretty much the same size as in ration shops for buying kerosene. Finally after some twenty minutes, I was bum kissing just one lady before me. She tried on one beautiful looking kurti.
She(after coming out of trial room to show her guy/husband/god-knows-who): Kya yeh thik hai? (Is this looking good?).
He: haan, par thoda loose hai (yeah good but little loose).
Trust me there was just enough space for her to move her hands 90 deg to her body more than that then , better watch it babe.Then she tried something more skinny, her tummy threatening to explode any moment (cant blame her, climatic effects of Bangalore). After about seven such dresses she finally chose one. I really wonder if she is still alive , as the dress was holding her breath. My point is western clothes need not be provocative. You need to radiate dignity and elegance, however dressed you are. People do not realise that there is just a hairline difference between looking sexy and looking vulgar. And if you really want to spend a fortune on such non existent and invisible clothes, you need not go to malls, please come to me.Two hand kerchiefs each worth Rs 10 shall do the job.
err.. by the way did not buy anything for myself. Went to the wedding in uniform :) directly from office. Safe, best and soft on wallet too.
After having a totally screwed up day at office, I feel awesome. Yeah, you read it right. Am really feeling good. The reason is I am going to release my bottled screwed up feeling onto someone else. A sadistic pleasure gained, but nevertheless, priceless:) Trust me, when you are totally a goner, try passing the fever on. I know radiating positivity is the way of life, but try radiating negativity too, its the fun of life. You certainly gain some relief.
Ok, let me stop digression. This incident took place a couple of days back. Me and Mohan were in BUN WORLD (the black forest cake there is awesome, not tried the buns though). There was a size zero girl nearby Mohan. She had worn knowingly a cute girly pink skin fitting T-shirt and a "neatly laundered jean" (not sure why am calling it a jean, anyways...) and unknowingly she had worn a cute little brown slim equally size zero lizard on her lower left hip. So Mohan noticed it and asked me to tell her about the lizard as if he would tell the latitudinal and longitudinal location of its place, she might take offence.
I called out," Excuse me..."
"You have a lizard on your BUTT", completed Mohan. The girl was muddled whom to tackle first, the lizard butt-kissing her or a total stranger calling out to her butt. She chose to react to the former. I am glad we were out of BUN WORLD without any charges filed.
MORAL: am feeling loads better now by pulling some one's leg in my space. You are down,continue the tradition of leg pulling, author included, she shall take no offence what-so-ever.
Let me quote a few day to day instances I have witnessed that stands testimony to my title.
1. My sister had come to Blore from hostel for two days. Her AIEEE entrance exam center was here. She was a hosteler for two years. So dirty plates in middle of room is culture, clothes all over bed is way of life, crumpled bedsheets is 'cool' and to top it all, her dead cells greeting me every time I take my comb is 'fun'. Now that I am err.. professional and organised (forgetting my four years of history at hostel) I cribbed fired and fired and fired her every single time. for every single thing. Now that she has gone home to my parents', I miss her. I love her despite all her shabbiness and yearn for her (yeah, dirt comes free, I understand). I need my sister when she is not, I am the most peculiar creature of all.
2. "Preeti, I am on leave tomorrow", when these heavenly words are uttered by my boss, my joy is boundless. The same joy that Obama has when Bush invites him for a dinner date, the same joy that Aiswarya Rai Bachchan has on actually 'acting' and getting appreciated, the same joy that Harbhajan has when Sreeshanth hugs him..get the joy thing now right? But when the day at office dawns, and people wait like a pack of hungry leopards to pounce and tear you with questions, document details, technical clarifications, site problems, motor ratings and the list goes on.. The balloon of joy gets deflated at an exponential rate. I need my boss when she is not, I am the most peculiar creature of all.
3. I Love the weather when it is bright and sunny. So Mr. sun shows me extra love , more and more each day. So I need to tell him NOT to be over giving. But no, Mr Sun never listens and shines till 50 deg C. Then suddenly it starts raining. Cats and dogs. My laundered clothes get a second free wash. I curse Mr Sun for betraying me. I am the most peculiar creature of all, I always want for sun, when he is not.
This is my first albeit meek and sincere attempt at short story writing. I would like everyone who reads this post to leave a true comment. Thanks in advance.
Maya was late. She panicked on seeing the time, cursing herself for watching a late night movie and over sleeping, also making a mental resolution never ever to do so again, at least on the day of meeting Prem. Maya and Prem were going strong for 6 years now. They started as good friends and slowly yet serenely, the friendship blossomed to an intimacy beyond imagination, they becoming soul mates each heart beating for the other, each pulse throbbing for the other. Maya had a fascination for the color pink. She lived in a posh colossal villa off the shores of Juhu, with a bay window overlooking the waves, which , she felt, always reached out to her to send a message, but receded away coyly, letting silence fill the space. Living room walls were tapered with alternate shades of shocking pink and pale pink, giving a sensual touch to the Da Vinci and Hussain pencil sketches. The couch had a soft touch of pink and glamour blue in an intricately woven fabric of jute handicraft. Her bedroom was meticulously designed having a bedecked wardrobe and a round single bed again matching in vagaries of pink. There she stood confused, what to wear, on such an important day for both her and Prem. She chose a casual pink silk blouse with beige loose pants, then fought with the mirror at different angles and elevations and changed to an off shoulder flowing gown in blood red and pink fabric design, finally settling down on a knee length sleeveless, floral pink and white frock, bought by Prem the previous year on her birthday when things were.. She then had a hasty coiffure and scurried to the kitchen to prepare Prem's favorite breakfast, scrambled eggs with a hint of mint leaves and olives. And a dashing glass of fresh orange juice. She didnt like either the eggs or the juice , but let her eyes feast upon the glow on his face, radiating innumerable feelings of love, adoration and trust. She prepared breakfast singing happily to herself the favorite foot tapping song PINK by Aerosmith. There. The door bell rang. She peeped trough the magic hole , took a deep breath and opened doors to her Prince everything. He can be classified as hot, 6 footer with a great Indian tan and eyes that shone with acuity and truth. He held in his hands a bunch of red and predominantly pink asters, the favorites of Maya. He gave her a warm hug, binding her in a bond ever strengthening with time ad cupped his hands on her chin and kissed her softly. She surrendered to him completely, silent tears of joy wetting her soft blushed pink face. They lay there in each others' arms in the living room, letting each other enjoy the pervading silence and cherishing the moment, wishing time to freeze. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, they interlocked their lip curves once again, washing away fear, loneliness and negativity, if any. They had a silent breakfast, Prem eating and Maya watching with abysmal joy. Later Prem hugged her sensing her fear of the outcome of the important appointment and kissed her forehead, silently walking her up to his porch. She had a surprise waiting on her seat. A pink teddy bear with a cupid in its hands. Her sockets welled up once again. It was a 10 mile drive to the hospital. Appointment with Dr. Radha Srinivas was fixed up a month back and every essential document for the operation was ready. Yes, Maya, like many other Indian women, was an innocent victim of breast cancer. Prem knew of this two years ago, and had stood by her, despite refusal from his parents. He never let trepidation cross the strong walls of his will and lived in hope that Maya will be perfectly fine after the mastectomy. He waited outside the operation theatre, fingers crossed for the red lamp to turn green and the news to fill him with joy.
He waited in hope... He waited for Maya to come back to him in pink of health and spirits... He waited...
Some people adore Gandhi. His only clothing being simplicity. His weapon being non violence. His thirst for peace. His devoted efforts to maintain umbilical cord relationship between Hindus and Muslims. His unostentatious smile which is frozen forever in the crisp tree remnants (err.. sorry if its too much for your pea brain, the author is highly shaded by PGW and her phrase “crisp tree remnants” means paper notes. Sorry for underestimating your brain to the size of pea, in case you already cracked it). Some people adore the last part most. Yeah, his smile. On crisp notes. Get the point? Bingo, A thief broke into my home a week ago. I was as usual in under-civilized part of the country (this time in East Rajasthan, 20 km from the border). A hacksaw and a can of chloroform did the trick. He broke open through the main door. Dad was in deep sleep(mom had gone for vacating hostel for my younger sister), perhaps romancing with mom at least in dreams. Little did he know he was being chloroformed and taken the rudraksh that he was wearing tied by a gold chain and which has been running down our family for the past eight generations, cash taken from his wallet and other odd places where mom feels is for emergency use like behind the gas cylinder in kitchen, behind the mirror in the bathroom, inside the rice drum and other such equally not-so-cashy places. Then he took my dad’s third daughter, his blackberry phone along with two AC remotes and his diabetic check kit (thinking them to be mobile phones too). So it is definitely someone who knew the stuff at home. But fate has it that we cant blame it on anyone as the gardener, house keeper and cook work in shifts, so there are nearly 20 different persons every week allotted by the company.
Am not done yet. There is more. He has taken the three year old son of my neighbour, bought him lot of chocolates and biscuits and put him in the police station himself.
Am still not done. My dad after the chloroform finally gave way for his neurons to start reacting, went to the police station to lodge a complaint, only to find the DSP’s house had been looted too.
And Mr./Ms Thief, in case you are reading my blog (yeah, this incident has made the author believe that even thieves read her super famous blog L) please keep everything. Just return the rudraksh. My dad loves it. Perhaps more than me.
And if you think this is an April First Fool post, the author swears the contents are true to the best of her telephonically heard knowledge from home and is in need of comforting words, and of course, crisp tree remnants as a source of temporary solace from the shock.
Nowadays Preeti wakes up with the sun, arm in arm they go for a brisk morning jog to a lake nearby. Courtesy Priya, who changed me completely. How? Well anyone would, if you talked about the total lack of stamina and fitness during any process or act (well, I was talking about absence of stamina and fitness at work, what are you thinking?) So I keep myself boosted up for the 3 km jog , slapping on sleep’s face rudely and torturing my eyelids open. More than being self boosted, one person really boosted me. A girl. Age 27-29 years. Size 38 (oops sorry, I am shamelessly brazen). Red T shirt size 34. With the text “milk shake” written in white bold letters. I am straight, but am a mixture of embarrassment ( as I too am biologically a girl) sympathy (perhaps she does not have money to buy clothes and is still wearing her tenth grade T-shirt) anger and empathy in equal proportions to the other male-jogging community. So she stops her jog and catches one of the guys looking just a little below her face :0 He stutters. She blasts. He says sorry and moves on. She looks at me and says “cha, India has got independence but still this eve teasing continues” I tell her back “ yeah true, India has got independence and Men cant have perfectly functional hormones”. So, To all such attention seekers- Please understand men. They have curiosity over things which they don’t have, not now not ever. You either try your wee bit not to kindle their fire, else love the attention and accept the fact that you are being looked at and cleavages are God's gift. You got it, You flaunt it. And as freebies you get all the yang eyes poring into you. Today is International Women's Day ( not the kinda post that women will like I know) and I wish all the women realize these two things:
Stop the “save women” rant. We are not weak to be saved. You in case are being crushed by the society, its YOU who is responsible for giving them access. Be bold. Be a man :) Men are not aliens. They definitely (at least majority) love and respect us, for being the way we are. Yes, there are some morons in men, but so are there bitches in women.
So this day can be celebrated as HAPPY HUMANS’ DAY :) Let us accept the fact that we definitely complement each other. In all walks of life.
I came across these interesting concepts in a few advertisements. But this made me think where these ads are actually telecast. I find most of the ads silly (like the kinds of fair ever fair and handsome etc) childish and creativity not in the least vicinity of the commercial.
Marriages are truly made in heaven. This picture is shot beautifully. The blend of concrete, humans and flora is realistic.
wish things were as simple as this Xerox machine…
come what may, our ladies wont change
I loved this one. Creativity in its true form
This was the lone solace during hostel days.. endless cups of tea and one packet of maggi.ahh.. I just remembered a few nostalgic lines from WESTLIFE, Queen of my heart , " I ll always look back as I walk away these memories will last an eternity.."
A picture is more powerful than a thousand words..
Give it a thought.Imagine two people seeing this beautiful world with your sexy eyes ... hmmmmm.
Here comes one ad with a pint of Indian masala.. Zara hatke in class from the rest.
Or there is an easier way. Bum kissing your boss 24 * 7. This is a sure slow poison, though may not be instant relief.