Grrr.

I'm going to use Blue Shirt's head for target practice.  Really, I am.  It will be like this. His head will pinned to the wall between rows of balloons in the shooting stall, at the carnival where I go every year. And then I will go pop! pop! pop! and poof, he'll be gone.  Okay, so given my exceptional hand-to-eye coordination and natural arm strength, NOT to mention the size of his pig head; all chances he'll come out of it unscathed, but that's completely besides the point. You get the point. I want to kill him. 


Now, there's three people in the entire world that I feel like that about, you understand? HIM, that loony Smugface (who is always offering to help when I say I want to kill myself) and of course, Devilkid (who was born and genetically designed to make my life miserable). 


Only, I can't seem to rid myself of any of them. And this one, I've been putting up with for like years. Okay, so maybe he's just this side of cute, can come up with a wisecrack or two and, knows me very, very well. But that's it. He's SO insufferably arrogant, and SO mean. Definitely deserves this much blog space, NOT.


But today, I tell you, he went too far. TOO far. How dare he doubt if I'm good enough to snare the celebrity husband that i'm pining after? This is it. I'm so totally done with him. Long time readers of the blog need not snort. This is only the 4569th time in the past seven years I've said that. But I promise you, this will be the last time and you all know I am woman of my word.  If you don't know anything of the sort, well, you will find out now.


Baah, now what I was saying? Yeah, so he's a dog. Whether he thinks I can do it or not, I'm going to marry NK and that's that.  If for some reason should NK not consent, (which frankly, I don't think will happen. After all, it's not like I'm some crazy, creepy fan who watched Hyderabad Blues once and then decided to marry him), I will resort to us touching noses, which will be considered and blessed as holy matrimony under the Eskimo tradition.


"Realistic ambition", is it? "Buy me ten pairs of bunny slippers if I marry NK, each in different colour", will he?  Hah! There. Now, that will show Blue Shirt. 

Its in the air

Exactly this time last year, when I back in J, I asked Mongoose -- an unashamedly brazen chennaite -- when the blasted summer was ever going to end. She looked at me like I was a particularly slow bovine and screeched, "but this is winter ya, see you don't even have to switch on the A/c." 

And, here I sit now, in a cozy corner of my room wearing candy-striped socks sipping hot chocolate, willing myself to believe that it's finally here, the real thing. And about time too. Yeah, I'm a little crazy about this. You see, winters are my favourite, favourite time of the year. I'd bet that if you met me from now until the end of the year, you wouldn't even know I'm the renowned Grouchy. 

Instead I become this play dough like goof-ball when I sleep like a bear. And wake up feeling like Goofyalmighty, which is an on-top-of-the-world type happiness. And step into steaming showers only to come out hours later, feeling like a prune, wrapped in a big fluffy towels, swinging to favourites like man! I'm feeling like a woman or Road House Blues or Jail House Rock. And, long aimless walks under dewy green canopies just to feel the chill in the air. And, smile blindingly at random people on the road. And, pop-corn and LOTR marathons, great gatsby cuddled up in bed. And, pani-puri and ice-cream in the middle of the night.  And finally, sleep listening to us them and me.

I know. It can't be. But it is. 

Happiness has come on me!    

Fools like me

I'm so, so, so tired, dear readers. I worked and worked and worked all week long. And today, I even made a phone call, answered three e-mails, collected my pay cheque and wrote four 60 word reports, all by myself and didn't even get a byline for it. Reap the rewards of hard labour, my ass. 


But that was not what has me so,so, so depressed, dear readers. Tookie and I have been in search of two things the last week --  One, people who will buy us kindles. Two, people who will marry us.  While the former can be anyone, we agreed that by the virtue of necessity, the latter have to be boys. 


That decided, even before Tookie said the word "k-i-n", Werewolf Singh, long time "friend" and fan who works in Amazon, no less, lent her his kindle until her happily married (to a rich investment banker) sister got her one from Dubai.  


Needless to say, the second wasn't even a search to begin with. Being the uber-cool gujju bred tam-brahm tecchie that she is, she could have twenty different rakhi-ka-svayamvar type things going on for her. 


Now, let's pan it back to me, dear reader. 


No one offered to lend me their kindle, let alone buy me one. Smugface, true to our equation, said he will send me money to buy myself a chocolate. Amen offered to get me momos. And, blue shirt said he will get me bunny slippers! So, between how mad I was at smugface and how much I love momos and bunny slippers, I forgot all about the kindle, dear readers.  But now that you think about it, isn't it so utterly sad? Doesn't your heart just bleed for me? *Flutters eyelashes* Don't you feel like following the link and adding one to the cart, and freely shipping it to me? Don't you? Don't you? Don't you? Okay, I suppose you don't. But its still sad, no? 


But this, dear readers, is what got my goat. As much in demand as I usually am in the adulterers, perverts, creeps, voyeurs market; the demand seems, strangely enough, inversely proportionate to my matrimonial market value!  How can it be? Why would any mother, other than my own obviously, not see me as perfect? I simply don't get it. But as all heroines of lore, I live with it.  But now you see dear readers, why I've been so, so, so blue?


However, I stand resolved. Now, I have a new raison d etre. To make more loving friends and become more marriageable, is of course, what a less evolved mind like yours would have obviously concluded. And you would of course, be wrong. 


My plan is, as always, almost lex luthoresque in its genius. What I have to do is simply turn into Tookie, snatch Werewolf Singh and elope with her intended. And, for that too I have a plan. If you must know, it will include vaguely cloning, rohypnol, makemytrip.com, hypnosis, a will, and a kindle. 


It's not simply that I call myself brilliant, you know.  

And, so we are back

LAST MONTH

Wolf:  "You know, you should open that old blog of yours again." 

Me: "Oh yeah? Why?"

Wolf: "So much ammo, all buried in there. Would be much more fun, don't you think?" 

Me: "Sure I do, which is precisely why it's going to keep closed." 

Wolf: "You won't even consider re..".

Me:  "Nope. Its done. For good"

LAST WEEK

Me: "You dog! How'd you do it?!"

Wolf: "Do what?" 

Me:  "I can't access my blog, the new one" 

Wolf: "You can't, why not?"

Me: "Don't make. You know I can't. You made it happen!" 

Wolf: "Me? How could I have possibly have ma..?" 

Me:  "You must have bribed/threatened/cajoled/hacked... I don't know. You just did." 

Wolf : "Wait.. you think I'd do any/all of that just to read your old blog? 

Me:  "Of course. You are a techhie! So you are basically jobless and have access to, you know, ermm, these kind of things"

Wolf: "I'm a mechanical engineer!"

Me: "Hmpf, well okay, don't have to yell."

Wolf: "Did you forget your password?"

Me:  "Of course not. It's been the same for the past four years, you know I change only the number according to the month"

Wolf: "No need of hacking your pwd, it seems" 

Me: "Huh?" 

Wolf: "Nothing. So, wait a while, reopen your old one or start a new one." 

Me: "See! I knew it! It's all your doing. To make reopen the blog. Admit it"

Wolf: "Yeah right. So, don't open it. Start a new one. Do whatever"

Me: "You don't have to tell me that. I'm NEVER going to reopen it." 

TODAY

Wolf: "You opened it." 

Me:  "I know." 

Wolf: "Too lazy to start a new one?"

Me: "No...! This was, practical and, you know" 

Me:  "Yeah. Twas too much effort."

Wolf: "Figured"

Me: "Banjara Hills"

Auto Driver (AD): "Where in Banjara Hills?" 

Me: "Road no. so and so" 

AD: "Left side, right side? "

Me: "Left side." 

AD: "Down aa, up aa?" 

Me : "Down" 

AD: "Before so so or after so so?" 

Me: "Before." 

AD: "Oh, next to so and so?" 

Me: "Bite me." 

AD : "$$$ only." 

Me:  "WTF? Why?" 

AD : "Traffic, madam!" 

Me: "So? It's a road, so there's traffic. You wanna fly or what?" 

AD:  Aaah..."U-turn madam"

Me: "What U-turn?"

AD: "The U-turn?"

Me:  "It's a straight road. No U-turns and all." 

AD: "No? Ermm..then rain, too much water here there."

Me: "So? How does that matter? "

AD: "Night no madam? "

Me: "Huh? So what, you have night blindness? And besides, its not even 10 o clock!." 

AD: "Aah. Half price, half price. "

Me: "Half price is only after 11, you dip shit!!!"

AD: "No, its from now." 

Me:  "Oh yeah? You want to check with that cop there? "

AD: "Ayyo, what madam, what you are doing like this." 

AD: "Okay, baah, if you are so miserly, give Rs 5 less, the roads are very dirty now"

Me:  "So you charge less on cleaner roads?" 

AD: "Yes, yes." 

Me : "Okay, let's go on that other road then." 

AD: "No, madam,"

Me: "Why?" 

AD: "Just give me $$.$$"

Me: "Tell me one reason why I should give you that and I will." 

AD: "You are ladies." 

Me: "You sick gay bastard. What's has me being a girl gotta do with anything. Do I consume more petrol because I dont have a dick?! !"

AD: "Abba, why you are getting upset madam. I was, simply saying.  So what... you will pay $$$.$$?" 

Me: "Of course not, you dumb f***"Me: "Now f*** off, if you are not going to come by the meter." 

AD: "Meter not working madam" 

Me: "Why the f*** not?"

AD: "It's showing too much bill. Bad for you only. That's why I giving you better price." 

Me: "Very sweet of you, but I think I'll risk the meter."

AD:  "What madam, from that time. I ask just $$., see I earn *((#&*#& per day, and how much you must be earning, what is this tiny amount for you. Last word, what will you give?"

Me: "Ha ha ha. Heh heh heh. Hoo hoo hoo. Muahahaha." 

Oh, dear. Now there's a line you shouldn't crossed. Talking about my salary. Rubbing it in my face. Mistake. Big mistake. Wait, there I see it. A shovel. Plastic bags. Big suitcase. Trash can. Hyderabad is awesome like that. Eternally under construction. Everything you want, right there on the street. 

Me: Change of plan. Know the cemetery on Road no 3?  There, please. 

AD: Okay but that will charge madam, traffic, u-turn, rain, you know? 

Me:  I know. It's fine. 

AD:  You want to come back also? 

Me: Yes, but I think I'll need another auto. 

Arrggghhhh

I'm in an universal hate mode. I hate everything and everyone.  


I obsess over the Investigative report so much that I dreamt about getting this big scoop and everything, only to wake up and realise that I have nothing. I have cruel dreams like this all the time. My worst however is when I'm asleep on the train to Chennai and I dream that I'm coming back to Hyd for good and then, I wake up to see the squiggly wiggly letters that can only be tamil. It's so excruciatingly painful, I can't tell you. 


King Kong says I might be in the middle of a quarter life crisis. I think I'm in the midst of an existentialist angst. The same one I've been in since I was 14. 


I hate that I met the gang once, ladies and gentlemen, once in two and half years! And, might not again for twice that long. I wonder why I even bother. 


I say, all guys should wear across their hearts those trial-room thingies that say whether they are vacant/occupied.  At least then they'll know whichever f***ing side they are on so that idiots like me can stop falling for all the wrong ones. 

I don't want to be placed. I HATE news writing. The idea of working for a newspaper makes me want to search for a well that's not too smelly or depleted and jump in. I don't think I  want to work. Or study. Or get married. Or any of those things. 

I wanna go to a cooking school. Read pointlessly. Write stupid things. And watch movies. And learn kick boxing. And become pretty. And travel to a Himalayan retreat where I will have to meditate, and go seven days without speaking! Wow. See those are the kind of things I wanna do. Now, why is that so hard to understand ? And, so bloody unpardonable?

I hate this the most. Not having the guts to do the things I want.  


Right. So, I'm just going to be go back to worrying about that lame 1500 word paper on post-modernism and fascism that I gotta give in. When all I can think about is why I get the feeling that I'm going to die on the train to chennai tomorrow without doing any of these things. 

That, I guess, is my cue to stop writing.  A good night to you all.  Yes, those will be my last words.

A typical Q&A session at J

Professor: Yes! Since we are done with the lecture, the floor is now open for questions.  Thank you. 

Over Enthu pest: Yes, sir, I have a question. It might sound a little off-track from the course of our discussion here, but it's of my strong belief that it is pertinent to give voice to an inquiry so that it is adequately addressed in the appropriate forum, having being necessarily subjected to the considerable thought that it requires? 

Professor: Oh sure, sure. There is always a need for healthy debate, discourse and dialogue in our classrooms.  In fact, its interesting because I would say that it's the Socratic tradition that we uphold when we engage ourselves in an inquisitive mode of dialogue. Would anyone else like to contribute to this?  No? Okay then, back to the question.  

Over enthu pest: Yes, sir. So, I was thinking that if it doesn't conflict with the current scheme of things, may I switch on the fan?

Professor: That's a very very good question. It's actually quite impressive how intelligent these sessions are turning out to be. It means that you are applying your concepts in class to your day-to-day living. A liberal would be overwhelmed by your enthusiasm. 

Over enthu pest: Thank you sir. 

Professor: So, does anyone else have any questions? 


Another pest: Oh yes sir. I would like to submit that the lecture was highly illuminating. Now, I might be wrong, but from what I gathered from the talk, which again could be argued is a purely empirical exercise; if it would be right if I offered that the author's words can be construed and approached in a multitude of ways, in manner of a different interpretation or a value-judgement if you like, even though one might be caught in an intrinsic dichotomy if one does choose to take this stand while naturally understanding the difficulties of upholding such a superficial construct. 


Yet another pest:  Sir, sir, if I can make a observation on this?


Professor: Of yeah, of course. It's an extremely interesting thought. Please, go on. 

Yet another pest:  Its my thinking that it's imperative to our comprehension of the context that it be understood that we are contemplating a fine line between the physiological constraints of a psychological construct and the psychological barriers of a physiological one. So if that is to be considered as a premise of the structure on which this assumption is to be made, then it follows naturally that it is a premeditated endeavour on the part of the author to have created a text that is deliberately subject to interpretations and therefore, a probable juxtaposition of ideas, in the manner of a post-modernist epistemic.  


A third pest: But Foucault...


A fourth pest:  Sir, if I may, I wonder if it's prudent to take Foucault into account at this junction as it is markedly evident that his school of thought has been allegedly influenced by Kant, who in turn is known to have heavily borrowed from the writings of Hume. So, in effect, we should be looking towards Marx. 


Professor:  Oh, wow. That's an extremely valid point. It's brilliant that you guys are able to delve so deeply into the heart of the lecture and discuss these intricacies with such ease. Does someone want to throw some more weight into the discussion? 


Or is there anyone who is at a loss to comprehend these issues? Oh, don't feel dejected if you do. It is natural that you might. These are very tricky concepts. Alrighty then. It was an extremely enjoyable session. Well done, you guys. See you day after. 


*Class ends*


As we walk out... 


Friend: "WTF was all that about? "


Me: "Oh, that guy wanted to know if a text can be open to different interpretations." 


Friend: "Well, duh? That was a question?!!! We woke up at 8:30 and sat here for the better part of a hour discussing that?" 


Me: "Yes." 


Friend: "Dear god, please save the world from us. In the absence of that, do us a favour and make us illiterate again?" 


Me: "Yes please! Do god, do"  

A mighty quest

I'm a survivor and I come to tell you my tale.  Two months ago, one seemingly innocuous mosquito bit me and transferred into my bloodstream a deadly disease. Like Lily sacrificed her life for Harry, my mother sacrificed her K-serial marathon for me and brought me back from the jaws of death. I oathed then to make it my life's mission to kill every single mosquitoes in the world. Lets call me, the-girl-who-lived. 

The girl-who-lived fought valiantly against the odds, outmanoeuvring the enemy's superior aeronautical skills and causing grave harm to its army, until one day, the news about this brave girl reached the Queen Mosquito. She consulted her counsel and so it was decided -- the girl-who-lived was ordained to die.    

In the dead of the night, they came stealthily and in swarms while the poor child slept unaware; dreaming of her bed and her food, her love and her mosquito repellent. In a typical ugly insect fashion, without so much as a war call, they attacked all at once hitting at the most vulnerable spots of her body. 

The girl writhed in pain as they sank their greedy mouths into her delicate skin and drank her blood, weakening her body, minute by minute. They laughed and laughed at the poor girls plight; assured as they were of their imminent victory. Little did they know that the girl-who-lived had been preparing for this her entire life. It was for this reason that she had stored tremendous reserves of protective fat in a number of places throughout her body that shielded her and saved her life that day. 

With the element of surprise on her side, she rose and she killed, ruthlessly and with deadly precision.  One by one, each troop fell to the mighty hand. Too late did the Queen gnash her antennae and made her retreat. By then, the damage was done, the battle lost. The girl-who-lived emerged victorious once more. 

However, the girl-who-lived did not bask in the glory. Her hands were dirty. She felt like Lady Macbeth when she wanted to be Bella Swan. In the aftermath of the war, the colossal death and destruction she had caused seemed so futile. So she vowed anew that she would give up the blood lust and spread the message of universal mosquito tolerance and painless swatting techniques. 

And she did too. For ten long, peaceful, bloodless hours.  

Until the new moon.  

When she closed her eyes and dreamed her dreams once more and then... felt  the lusty mouths suck at her skin once more. 

As the mosquitoeth army comes forth again, the girl-who-lived rises from her lair. The quest is renewed.  Now, the thirst will be quenched only after the mosquito army is destroyed. Once and for all. 

And, so it begins

High on Insomnia!

Okay, so the Naz Foundation thing that I talked about so enthusiastically last time? Not fun. We have a paper on it that's due for submission tomorrow and I can't get myself to even look at it anymore. All I seem to do now-a-days is read about LGBT rights. If I am not, then I'm talking about it. Or, well... I'm thinking about it. This is between washing clothes and pressing them, you understand.

Addition to Addiction List - Ironing. I love it. Seriously. There is something about smoothing every single crease in my clothes that resonates with my OCDs. Besides, I just really like the warmth of freshly laundered clothes.

No, I'm not yet there. I will be in a few. Get me gummy bears when you come to visit me. I heard all asylums allow soft toys because they enjoy seeing inmates fight over them. Don't forget.

Baah, anyway, the good news is that each week is flowing into the next. Sometimes, I'm not too sure what I'm doing when I'm doing it but I'm being utterly mature and just going with the flow. Made friends with a decent bunch. So we hang out in the 'campus' ( they keep insisting, for some absurd reason, that we call it that). It's just two buildings really, facing each other, with a solitary tree in between, and an unhygenic water body (which again, for some absurd reason, they want us to call a lotus pond) to a corner. Sometimes, we venture into the city ( which also again, for some absurd reason, they call a metro) and eat food (yawn, which they insist we call 'south-indian cuisine'). The three delicacies, which I've found exclusive to Chennai - The 'Pau Baji', The 'Madras Briyani' and 'The Gobi Manjuria'. I can't really suggest a place because each joint makes a version unique to itself, so I suggest you try all that you have the courage for.

Since, there is no hope of ever seeing what I would call a real man in this part of the world, I've resorted to watching movies like Twilight. Now, I want a vegetarian vampire of my own too. But I would prefer it if he wasn't some two hundred shades fairer than me.

You will notice that I'm flitting from thought to thought as it appears in my head. Besides the fact that I have an early morning lecture about reporting from Gaza and that I have had no sleep in the past week, I'm doing this because of the lightening fast internet connection I've got. By lightening fast, I mean that it appears for a flash and is gone the next. So I'm hurrying it a little bit. I realise I would have saved a lot of word count/time/effort if I had spared you the explanation but I just had to tell you, you know.

Okay, okay, the real reason? Its 09/09/09 and I sorta wanted to post today. Even if I had nothing to say. Which I did not. The grammar lady says I shouldn't use too many negatives. But, I can't not not write that in negative. See?

Oh, oh, oh. But I'm not done yet. Two things more only, I promise. Our CM popped! Can't say I mourned. But I did write a nice headline for him in Editing class. But seriously, I'll die if his son comes to power. All of us will.

I can't believe I left this for the last. Well, you know how I wrote this post about things-to-do in the next year, some four years ago? Now, I can cross three off the list. I have a passport. I have my drivers license and I got the folks to finalise on buying a house. So, if you want to be really technical, I didn't. And it's a really really old house. But it's nice and cozy, I'm told. And that, for a family of zamindari descent, which didn't believe in owning property. Damn neat, huh?

Lastly, King Kong left for his Hong Kong home today. Every friend of mine, without exception, leaves the country and stays outside. I really should stop this J school nonsense and open a visa business, no?

Madras Madness

I spent a whole afternoon today learning to use the comma. That way, I gotta admit -- I have some great classes here. Some. We are currently doing the 377 case, you know, the Naz Foundation v/s Union of India one. The lawyer guy who came to speak to us about it is awesome. He started by telling us a story about the origin of love according to Greek mythology and tied it up all neatly to homosexuality! The wimpy female in me totally fell for it. It was by far, the coolest lecture I've ever been in. It'll take way too long to write about it here, but if you know me well enough, ask me about it. Men and women being two halves of a whole and all that comes from here. So go figure.

I just realised that I haven't talked too much about my life here, have I? Let's rectify that.

It seems like I've taken to it pretty well. Why else would I find some guy sleeping in my room and not even be fazed by it. He had slept in my bed the previous night, I heard, and yet I still feel nothing. I've been living without drinking water for the past two weeks so I now drink cheap packaged water. I walk into people making-out in the common room and I sit next to them and watch T.V. After a month here, nothing surprises me anymore. Pretty cool, huh?

Chennai is cruel. I haven't changed my mind about that. I have a list of all the things I hate about the place; I'll put it up the moment it touches 100, which I'm sure it will in the next week or so. Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little. But its true, I do have a hate list and I will put it up whenever I update next.

Aside: A certain someone I met in a supermarket. Decidedly cute and funny. Definitely not from Chennai. A design student, I learned. What are the odds we'll run into each other again, you reckon?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

_________________________________________________________________________________

***My reply to a special letter to the author***.


Dear grauchy,

>>Dear X,

I got mad about you first time I seeing you. I remembering every thing of you. But I don't think you will remembering me. You didn't even answering to my hellos and byes. I thinking you got shy.

>> I'm sorry because of me, you went mad, dear X. I did forgetting you, sorry again. You are right, shy must have been coming on me which is why I didn't hiing, byeing you. Thousand sorries for that also.

I finding out this two months before and again I loving your writing also. Youre so intelligent and so funny. Its your beautifulness that I liking very very much. Youre no like no other girls. Till now I staying inside closet but I come out now.

>> Great to know people like you like my writing. A pity I made you come out of the closet. Please go back inside. And thank you for liking me; I didn't know I had so much beautifulness.

You writing again and again of your boysfriends this blue shirt and that rr, I making you forgetting them forever. I giving you everything.

>> Thanks for offering to erase my memory for me, dear X. Neither this Blue Shirt nor that RR has ever wanting to do anything like this for me.

I am loving you now. You loving me also. If you saying no I still loving you but I leaving you but you writing here why. If you saying yes give your phone so I calling you. After I marrying you.

>> I'm flattered like anything that you chose me, dear X. It being very hard for me but I cannot loving or marrying you. I loving my boysfriends. So, I can't giving you my phone. You leaving me now.

See, now I byeing you.

Yours Lovingly
XXX

>>Goodbye,
Grouchy