A reality review

So we landed up outside poornima theatre near lalbagh last Saturday. I felt like watching a Tamil movie. The last one I have seen in a theatre was dasaavathaaram , some 2.5 years back (yeah, no doubts am born a Tamilian, but still confused as to which "state" of India my loyalty should lie as many states have equally sheltered me). My friends told me Tamil Padam was screening there. But lo.. to our disappointment it was some new Vishal movie ( err.. I hardly know the actor so did wanna spoil my whole weekend grumbling about the lost money and time over a not-so-familiar faced movie I just realise I have not mentioned about the actress, but trust me, in Tamil movies it no longer matters). So we were hoping against hope hopen to get tickets for MY NAME IS KHAN and we got the breakthrough :) yeah we were a group of six lucky bums :). SRK has actually acted in the movie, and not his usual choco boy self. I still cant believe it is the product of a Karan Johar creation after KANK and other family so called sentiment stuff. It just goes way way over my head. Kajol is stunning and you keep mumbling a secret prayer to god that he should imbibe at least 10% of kajolness in you when you are forty. Story line- Powerful. The actual trauma and pain felt by Muslims post 9/11 cannot be better depicted. SRK's asperger syndrome wants you to have some of it, to make a world a better place to live in (well, think over it, it makes sense). Kajol's role in the second half got irritating and tit-for-tat attitude kind. But SRK was paradoxical to her. Costumes- Simple yet elegant. I loved SRK's reebok shoes :) On the whole, if you are in a not so crazy and party mood and want a change in you (I mean it, this movie has made me 'think global, act local') go for it :) So my judgement, its not a movie, but A REALITY.

Meet my valentine:)

Yeah.. okay valentine's day is round the corner and the title promises all lovey dovey stuff inside. After all,love is LOVE, lets all talk about love.. Abinaya's this post made my eyes well.. Thanks for liking me so much. I really am spell bound at the small incidences you remember that we shared and more honored that some of them have left a deep impact on your personality. Cheers gurl, love you:):) Now let me write about a person who means the world to me, today and forever. And I would like this chain to pass on. Write about one person who really means a lot to you. Dedicate it to the spirit of Valentine :) spirit of love :)

Yeah, I love, respect, adore,admire and sometimes even get mad at this person. Well, I met him a year ago. Tall Dark Handsome . Rather you can say he was THE DREAM GUY. We were sitting together in the Human Process lab (click here for further details of HPL). Where I was the chatter box (bragging butt grin:)) and others were obedient listeners. One post lunch session I was unusually quite, then this guy spoke up to me first time," Hey preeti, why so silent,? so so unlikely of you. Come on speak something." I started speaking to him then. About day-to-day happenings. About people. about sex. About my passion for buying err.. chalo SENSOR :):) about emotions. about parents. about Obama. about road side paani puri. About US. What I felt towards him.

He has always been there for me. Be it going to KFC or leaving me to the bus stop to go home or visiting an orphanage or anything. I want a book and I get it, I want one salwar, I get two. I need love, and he reciprocates with so much that my heart aches for excess love.Unadulterated love. Love as for a friend , well wisher and a brother. Perhaps god has not given me a real one as I have HIM. Bhai, I cannot thank you enough. HUGS :):)well, I just remembered I have already bragged about my bro earlier here.

And yeah, HAPPY VALENTINES' DAY TO YOU ALL :):) Well, Preeti is never ON time, she is well in advance :)

void of life?

It all started with a headache after office yesterday. Little did I know that a normal headache could leave such a deep impact upon me. Little did I know that the headache was an effect of unknown emotional turmoil in my subconscious mind. I cried. Cried is too ordinary a word. I poured out from deep within. Till 2 am. My cheeks had dry tears. Pillow was wet. I still do not have an iota of a clue as to why I am in so much pain. I can still feel it. I have a shield around me. Nothing/No one can break into it. I am strong. I am sensible. Then why did such a thing happen? I am confused. Shaken. Shocked at the revelation of a weakling within me. Scared at the thought of ignorance of the cause of such anguish. Does a different Preeti exist? I don’t need warm words. I don’t need sympathy. I don’t need “don’t worry, things are fine” stuff. Because I know things are not okay. Something is wrong, whose magnitude is grouching behind a black veil. I feel I should shun this off as a bad dream/vision. But I cant as it is still fresh in my mind. I need clarity. .I need the real ME back..

a click-click post :):)

Well, Sunday morning. Wanna blog. But too lazy to write anything. So thought would rather share a few snaps over trekking done at MM Hills in Bangalore and accessories :)

craziness comes free with Preeti :)

Me Mohan and Vishnu discussing about Saitans inside Tanjore Brihadeeswara temple. Trust me, I could not sleep that night. Guess Mr. Shiva got angry as we were bifocal:/ and took revenge on the Ms.Innocent.

The rock band with their leader:)

Me and Priya before the 23 km jungle trek, as fresh as lilies :)

The mystery trail starts off:)

the lady with the gun..

a curvaceous structure

Mohan's best pal;)

the forests...

A police officer was killed brutally by Veerapan, the sandalwood smuggler. In front of His memorial. Two years later, Veerapan was shot at a nearby spot.

Sashi Sir, our team leader, trying to show us a parakeet. The novices look on..

mammoth potties of the mammoth:)

The team of ten... At the end of a long day...

MM Hills is 230 km from Bangalore, towards Hogenakkal. Since it is a jungle trek, permission from the forest officials is necessary, not a big deal to get though. We started trekking at 9 45 am and could find deers and elephants. Ideal start time is 7 am. 23 km. four hour trek. Then food and much needed rest at a cottage. Start at 5 pm to reach Bangalore by 11 or 12. This place is an ideal break for people who work on Saturdays and need to get some lazy bones moving on a Sunday.. My rating 4/5 :):)

:):):)

I have been promoted to an Engineer from Engineer Trainee :):) Though this happens to 750 other Engineer Trainees of our company, I am feeling proud,elated,good and complete :):)

Just these two lines for now. I wanted to capture this precise amount of happiness and excitation running through me at this moment in the sands of time for eternity. So just put in these words here in my space for my friends, wishing this is frozen forever.

A thousand tears...

Laila and Mariam have many things in common. To list a few:
They are both the paradigm of a modern Afghan Woman
They love to Live for their children, even if its a day longer
They fight the Taliban, showing stalwart support to Kabul
They are both married, unfortunately to the same (hu) man
It is tough to choose which is more bearable, bombs being thrown like water balloons over their kins, or being beaten black and blue by Rasheed, their husband.
It is my challenge to all my friends who love good books, that this book will make you shed a thousand splendid tears. Yes, A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini is not as good as the Kite Runner, it is even better. After Shantaram and A fine balance (Rohinton Mistry) this book made my cry, not from my heart, but from my soul. At some places in the book, you feel like giving up your life to end their suffering, curse yourself for being an armchair lady and being so narrow minded to grumble over a job or a missed train or a lost guy or simply over nothing at all. Love is like a silkworm trying to survive every extra second, sacrifice flows like an ocean here and finally you reach a point where you can take it no more and you turn every page hoping Laila and Mariam will wake up to a better tomorrow. The cover page design cannot be better. A lone woman, covered in red, surviving the winds of time, is heading towards a goal, which according to her is a better place to live in, with people to love and respect her, which have become luxuries to her. Food is a rare commodity, hunger, pain, distrust and lingering death her companions forever (?). Will she survive?

TWO STATES ;)

Hey friends, I wish all of you the best in 2010. May you have mannnnyyy boy/girl friends, lots of money and time to buy books, food, movies and clothes :)may married friends be blessed with soft obedient children ;)and yeah, happy new year again :)
I was in Rajasthan for the new year in a thermal power plant. If you really wanna know what it was all about, kindly read my previous rants :)Cut off from people, good food, rice and sambhar for ten days. Thanks to bread and jam. It helped me shed three kgs in ten days. So, this is now size zero rice-less and priceless Preeti for you :O

Then one of my friends was back from the US, remember Jumbili who had night mares about the horse biting him ‘there’(click here for flashback)?? Yeah, that’s the one who has come back for a vacation. So Jumbili wanted to have a ‘feel’ of Chennai and her sister Bangalore (now no wisecracks as to what he was feeling for 20 years at C+B before leaving for MS, that question is beyond the scope of this blog space). So yeah, we travelled by bus from place to place. He was nothing like a typical NRI , who curses the weather as though it were his ex-girlfriend personified(I guess he is still straight, though I have my own doubts as one Mr Adam keeps calling him and talks for :)..anyways..), grumbles about pollution and population and definitely not a mineral water freak.

Scene 1: Chennai, Sunday noon, Mt Road
We were alighting a bus when This Jumbili was standing in a queue to get down . I never really knew what queue meant especially in ticket counters, ration shops restrooms etc and definitely was alien to it in a bus. I guess people feel so restricted, suffocated and deadly inside a bus (people not to be blamed, courtesy weather and temperament of bus driver and conductor) that they want to explode out of it first thing their stop arrives. Its like sperms fighting and finally the king sperm emerges first. Yeah, sperms have random kinetic motion, not in a queue. Jumbili told me he did not feel welcome back here as back in US he had discipline and humanity as the basic qualifications of any person.. Huh, what to say guys?

Scene 2: Chennai bus again
Now here I was bestowed the job of preventing a fist fight between Jumbili and the bus conductor. At a signal , Jumbili asked the driver to switch off his engine for the 120 second long wait. For which he said that diesel is Govt’s money not his. He started giving statistics regarding how his two-minute-engine-on on a continual basis is blasphemous to the environment, financial prospects of India and lots of other above the head concepts. So, the driver rose not-so-gracefully from his seat and rolled up his sleeves. I had to intrude and prevent what could have been a free show and even a bigger hit than 3 Idiots.

Scene 3: Shoe shop, Bangalore
One of the shoe shops said “grab two pay for one” so we tried to do some grabbing and realized anything that we chose was not less than 700 bucks (not branded mind you). Agreed, these are advertising skills or marketing strategies but not all people are so foolish to buy a torn-strap-slipper for a fortune. So Jumbili felt that people are no longer honest to themselves.

Scene 4: Auto man, Bangalore
In Bangalore we have this wonderful meter system unlike Chennai. So the rate is 7 Rs/km. We happened to meet one auto man who said his meter is wrongly calibrated and we should pay him Rs 120 (though the meter cost would have been somewhere around Rs.70 to 80). So Jumbili told him to take Rs 120 but he wanted the meter kept ON to really check the calibration ( A Power Engineer from US definitely cant stand faulty instruments and will go the extent of repairing it, as they feel it is their personal property). So the clever and dexterous auto man switches off his meter at half way through to our home. Jumbili gets irritated and says he wants it on. The.auto man says the battery got discharged and signed a verbal deal with us saying he wont accept a single rupee if his auto does not start working once we reach home. We reached. Meter conked. Auto man stared giving shy smiles. Jumbili said he wont pay. Hell broke loose and finally we gave in, not because 120 Indian rupees meant nothing to him or he wanted peace but because the smell of masala dosa from our home caught him off guard and he wanted to attack it soon.

Then he started all about reckless drivers, lack of lane ethics blah blah blah. But I just said I love my India, however she is and I love my people however they are, as I am no different and very proud.