Love Virtually

When Andy Murray was asked to say something to the audience in a post-match ceremony at the Australian Open earlier this year, he looked straight at the camera and said "Watch out. That Blue Shirt, he's...an alien."  

I would have too, if Murray wasn't seven years too late. 

That Blue Shirt got married today.  Naturally, everyone who heard assumed I had died, if not of heartbreak then surely of jealousy, what with him having once been the great love of my life and everything. Assuredly, I did not.  Die.  Of heartbreak, jealously or any other emotional overdose.  I'm fine. If you must know, I have no idea why. 


My best guess is that despite my ardent attempts not to, somehow growing up happened. 


And, since he very graciously ordered me NOT to come to his wedding, (as if he feared I'd go and threaten to jump into the nearest well if he didn't marry me instead of his intended) I had no choice but to oblige.  Ergo, all he's going to get, instead of the awesome gift I would've got him (and everyone knows how awesome a gift giver I am) is this mention here.


There don't exist many people in the world whose happiness I'll put above my own. You have to be everything in my universe for that. For Blue Shirt I always have. And most likely, I always will. 


So on this midsummer day. Him I wish, to find sense.  And her, the sensibility not to kill him in the meantime.  But for both, all the happiness in the world. 


Yes, reader. It's still me.  Don't let all the grace and touching prose confuse you.  I can get like that sometimes. 


And, while we are here, a special mention to the girls. Though all the incessant "how are you doing" calls and tubs of ice-cream were unnecessary and ultimately wasted, it was all still so much fun. 


Jughead, you big bear, don't cry.  Yes, but you liked Blue Shirt and he was "cute" and its "so sad" and "he's such an idiot to let me go."  I promise I'll find a boy who's as cute and who you will like as much and who's not an idiot and then, you can marry him. 


Harmony, for leaving your 28 degreed Bangalore breeze to come down to Fires of Doom that Hyderabad currently is. Even though you couldn't see or hear most of anything I said or did, we still had a ball. 


Smurfette, your escapades with lungied men in Chidambaram cheered up me as nothing could have. 


Samwise, if we didn't do our daily rants and discuss dirty dreams and dissect past, current and prospective love/lust lives, how would we possibly remain sane? Or ever write our books? 


Cud, if it wasn't for you, crew-cuts and blond streaks, classroom smokes and terrace drinks would've been almost forgotten. 


Aghori, for offering to take me along to zendom. 


Amen, whose solution to the problem is to put a ring on it.  To your question, yes, I like sapphires.


As for me, I now have hope.  If Blue Shirt's able to convince a sane creature to have him for keeps, I'm not a lost cause after all.

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.  

Anyone willing to get me outta here, put their hands up!

On the journey back from J, I was bursting at the seams with all that I wanted to write about about the past year. Things I did at J, the people I met, the friends I made, the stuff I wrote, the things I'll miss, the things I won't...everything. But now that I'm here, I have no idea what to write about. So I'm going to randomly ramble on for a bit okay? Okay.

When I first moved to Chennai, to say that I hated the city is like saying I dislike milk. Now, we all know I don't just dislike milk. Oh, no. If you want to get real technical, I detest milk in a let's-invent-a-time-capsule-so-that-I-can-slowly-dismember-the-parts-of-the-man-who-first-looked-at-a-cow-and-thought-let's-milk-that-and-drink-whatever-comes-out-of-it way.  Now, ditto that to Chennai. 

I detested every single thing about it. The atrocious auto-mafia; the average Chennaites idea of good food, the no-season-but-hell weather; the monolingualism, the omniscient odours; the non-inclusive locals; the number of Mc Ds and Subways versus the number of Sarvana Bhavans; the vulgar waste of space, power and size of every showroom in T Nagar; the meagre three multiplexes; the general height and sub-zero lookability quotient of the men; the three miles it takes to walk into Marina before you see the water, well, you get the idea, no? 

So, in the beginning, I would come back home as often as Tharoor got into a tweet controversy. But then something happened. What was home changed. With my room, my wall, my friends; my life had somehow moved to Chennai. Hyd  became a place I visited to meet the folks, eat at 10D, bathe in clean water, watch T.V and sleep. 

That way, whatever J was or was not, it was definitely survival boot camp. I learned to live in the middle of nowhere, next to a swamp, in a room with three females; go weeks without drinking water, bathe in stinky brown muck, eat raw maggi, be eaten by mosquitoes and get stalked by horny midgets every night. 

And the lecture hall, the open-book exams, the assignments, the crazy night talks, the lecturers, the class mates, the room-mates, the birthday parties, the walks on the beach, the movies, the booze, the ladies nights, the trips, the night-outs, the friends, the hostel, the canteen. To put it simply, it's the place I'll tell my kids about the way my Dad tells me about his days at IIM. 

I guess, in the end, my resentment of the city became irrelevant because of J. It all just ceased to matter, you know? Because for me, J was it. It was where I sat in class and listened. Like really, really, listened. And learned. And thought. And worked. Harder than I think, I ever did. It's where I fell in love. Found my hero. And, discovered my calling. 

J! *Sob* *Sob*. 

Oh, I know, this is my city. My favourite place in the world. But then I look around and see him. He has a job, a car, a home and a girl here. His life is here. Not mine. I need to leave. Start again elsewhere. 

Are you listening, God? 

Go week, go.

It's done.  The offer letter has been signed, sealed and returned.  In one month, Grouchy becomes the intrepid reporter. Till then, she's so jobless, she is painting her nails a new colour everyday.

Yeah,  I know. If I'm going to continue writing these one liners, I should just maybe convert to Twitter or something.  But here's the thing - I don't know what to say.  

Okay, so yes, I got the job. But it sucks. Because I'm not proud or particularly even happy about it, you know? How can you be, when your best friends and roomies and classmates are still without jobs? No one seems to remember that it's still early days yet and they'll all be placed eventually! So, for now, we are still the enemy.

I get the antagonism. I do.  I didn't even try for the job. F***, I didn't even want it. I took it because it was  handed to me on a platter. Maybe that's what makes it so much worse, that it was so easy for me and that I didn't even care enough either way, when so many more who genuinely wanted, cared and worked it, didn't get it. 

J is a boiling cauldron now. Every few hours, tests are written, names called, interviews given. Then the lists come and faces fall.  For every fifteen happy ones, there are a hundred and fifty disappointed ones.  Amongst these, we walk.  Apologetically, sheepishly and carefully.  Not knowing what we can say that will not sound  offensive, piteous or condescending.  

Two days and I already hate it.  Being on the outside looking in. I need everyone to get placed, ASAP! Then at least, friends can be friends again.  

Until then, I go underground and hide.  

Peace out. 

Thank you God.

Aren't you a nice God, God?  You couldn't even wait for a day, could you?  You had to show off.  The one newspaper I respect, I walk out on. The one newspaper I don't respect, I'm going to collect my offer letter from. Thanks a lot, God. You were real nice.  

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.

The Blue Mug: life and other things

Why I am subjecting myself to this when I just finished writing a 1000 word chapter for my dissertation and have a presentation in the class on climate change tomorrow, is just one of those random things I do in life but can't explain why.  It must be sheer boredom, I reckon.


The most interesting thing that happened this week was going to the play The Blug Mug, standing next to the stars and trying to be cool. It is a must-watch, the play. It's been a while since I saw a play that was genuinely funny, simplistic, and well.. real. This one was all of that. Ranvir Shorey is, by the way, everything that we girls think he is. What is it about guys who smoke that appeals to me so much, anyway? I must be deeply disturbed if that's what turns me on. 

Wait, I'm still so much better than Ha, who seems so starved that she says she's seeing her crush in this little boy she teaches in her class. That totally cracked me up. Now, there's disturbed if you've ever known one. Of course, I'm kidding. She's a total sweetheart.  

 Let's see, the most interesting thing before that was I think, going to Bella Ciao with RR. Doing the alfresco thing, talking as we always do of love and life, when he said, "above all, she has to be loyal; everything else I'll be okay with."  She, being the woman of his life. For just that, I confer upon him honorary leohood. For a Arian, he surprises me over and over. 

Surprises, well yes, that reminds me of a rather unpleasant one. Now, I have this habit of falling for guys I've never met. They are so much more interesting that way. So anyway, whether they are are not, I just build them up in my head to the point where they hardly resemble the real one. And then I see the non-virtual version and poof! It's all gone. Everything.  They will more often than not, resemble and act like a cross between a groundhog and an aye aye.  Another thing that goes onto the list. 

And more in sad news, I think I have managed to turn escapism into an art form. Flummox derives great amusement from my plight. It's tragic, really -- being at the receiving end of someones feelings you don't return in the least, the accompanied feeling of guilt, the discomfort, the helplessness, it's just too sad. My suggestion, don't tell anyone, ever. 

With that, I think it's enough said. Back to dissertation and climate change. 

Next week I will be reporting live from home! So long, soldiers.


Pic courtesy: www.buzzintown.com

At last, a post.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight. 

That, my friends, is how many tries it took to get this line written. Not kidding. And, trust me, you don't want to know the kind of things that kept me from trying to post. But did I get the hint?  Obviously. Will I do anything about it? Of course not.  I write and you read.  That's the deal.  Go jump in a well if you don't like it. Or better? Watch Phir Mile Sur Mera Tumhara. 

So where did we leave off? *Goes to check* * Shudders* *Returns*  Well, after that, I returned to J.  It's at this point, before I venture further, that I will tell you about my trip from HYD to MAA.  I booked myself on this obscenely expensive Paramount flight which as y'all know is fully business-class. So, I'm thinking that I'm going to be seated alongside dashing-Forbes 500-young-entrepreneurs-of-the century-who-just-came-out-of-a-Raymond's-ad type men. What I got, I'll come to, in a moment.

Meanwhile, I'm checking-in and the lady at the counter says that I may not be allowed my brand-new-digicam in my hand-baggage because it's the Airport Security Awareness Week and so, I, being the really really retarded cow that I am, shove it into the nearest bag. The guy there falls all over my bag trying to load it and then finally puts a snap on it to lock it. 

I board the flight. Get seated next to Mr. Anchappaswammy who had just entered the 13th month of his pregnancy; wore bright orange and also ate half of the measly little sandwich that I was served instead of the four course meal that anyone said I'd get. The gorgeous guy that I imagined?  Sat next to a housewife whose ermm, god given girth and bosom blocked my view and thereby prevented me from stealing a single glance across the aisle. What with their size and all, we are the cattle class? I don't think so.  On second thought or look, in my case, these might qualify as poultry. 

Baah! The raison d'être of this 'animal story', is to tell you that the guy who fell all over my bag? The bloody f*** face flicked it! I can see it in my head now, very slow motion action-replayy and all. Yes, my brand new camera. And, my old memory stick and all the photos in it. In the Airport Awareness Security, no less. His Kārma is so going to screw him over, he has NO idea.

And so, I live. In angst and agony. Licking my wounds in private. Trying to let it go. 

Which is why, in the need to take my mind off it, I've been getting myself into so many kinds of things that I think I could as well have bought myself a new camera with all that money I spent. But hey, in my defence, some people drink when they are depressed. Others shop. I, spend.  

Last week, for instance, was so completely worth it!  Sunday or Monday or just call it what you want, watched Sherlock Holmes, I did. Now I would liked the movie if it was called anything else.  But this one, no. No. No! Didn't do a single thing for me.  The next day, a whole bunch of us went to Eden, this swanky all-vegetarian italian/indian place for dinner and guess what? I spot Krishnamachary Srikanth.  The chairman of the selection committee guy? Yes, that one.  I didn't even talk to the guy but I already know one thing about him - Henceforth, I'm not eating anywhere he eats. Eden sucked. So big. Another bait-and-switch. Seasoned non-resident Chennai people that we are, we didn't even bat an eye-lash.  

And day before? Kiwi Boy and I set off to the beach for some peace and quiet and the beach is lit up with a gazillion lights and had about two gazillion people on it.  A shooting scene in some Tamil flick, I understand. Don't ask me which one. I can't tell between one squiggle and the next wiggle in the language. What to do, tamil terriyada.  Whatever it was made the beach, for a change, seem quite pretty. 

Pretty takes me to yesterday when I finally made it to Dakshin Chitra - the awesome arts & crafts village on the ECR road. Trust me when I say, it's beautiful! Non-psuedo in a very non-aurovillian way and damn picturesque at that. I learnt pottery,  Kolams, basket weaving etc. etc. I'm out of steam. So all I'll say is that I clicked thousands of pictures for the tabloid (some of which I'll soon put up here, so I don't have to write a 1000 words)

I think after yesterday, I'm now fully qualified to be the perfect domestic help or for that matter, the yogya south-indian bahu. Hmmm. Nice choice, don't you think? Soon enough, the placements will start and since no one will ever pay me to write, I might as well decide between these and keep. The former, I'm thinking.  At least, I'll still get paid. 

Oh, oh, oh.  Tell me you guys saw the 22⁰ halo around the moon, last night? Really, kill yourself if you didn't. Okay, so I'm not too sure if it was even visible wherever you were, but out here, oh, it was so awesome. Before we knew what it was, that is. Once we found that it's not once-in-a-life time, we stopped with the UFO/poltergeist/werewolf/moonbow theories; yawned and went to bed. 

And today, boy, did we have some kick-ass visitors or what?  There were people from Sangam House come to deliver a lecture and it was such awesome fun! First, the speakers were cute. Very very cute.  Especially the goras - two Germans, a Korean, an American, a Brazilian and one Danish. The danish guy was a rake, wearing a blue shirt that he kept wanting to take off, he read us stuff that had us applauding for hours. And trust me, in J, that never happens. 

The week is not even over yet. Tomorrow, a bunch of us are going to watch Rann, lunch, an appointment at the salon, landmark and then, the turtle walk from midnight! Followed by an equally taxing Sunday when I'm going reviewing to at least a dozen restaurants.  Moral of the story being that I have to be tucking in now, if I have to be able to do any of those tomorrow.  

Off you go then. Toodles.

A Beginning

I missed my covering deprivation trip. Yeah, the one for which I joined J in the first place. Why did I miss the trip? Why? Because of a mosquito, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, a mosquito that decided, a day before I was due to leave, that it just had to serve it's grand purpose on God's green Earth. So, what does it do? After careful examination of the subjects at hand, which could have been anyone from here to Zoozoo land, it bites me.  


I wake up that morning. Wait, actually I don't. My mum wakes up to see that I'm dying. Well, as good as. Malaria, it was confirmed. The next week and half, I alternate between absolute delirium and peachy pain. Add to this, a rash developed from an allergic reaction to a drug meant to cure a rash. The doc looks at my case file, points to the drug in question and off handedly sniggers "over enthusiastic treatment."


And so it starts, my "happy" new year.  

The End

It's not anything like they say. Heartbreak. It's not about craving for that person. Not about wanting to be with them. No. It's all about pain. The kind of gut churning, stomach wrenching pain that'll claw at your insides until you want to curl into a tight ball and die. Nothing makes it better. Not, being with someone else. Not, being with that person. Nothing.

Every moment, a memory will surface. Something he said. Something he likes. Something that didn't fit. Something that suddenly fit. And then you think of him with someone else. It hits you. Everything that was between you was a lie, a dirty little secret. Realising that you were not even the real thing, that your heart was just collateral damage.

So, all you do is sit and watch while it's being torn apart. Scrap by Scrap. It's killing. But you already know that's what you want; for it to die. Forever. And, with it, the pain. Now, there's nothing there. Just a gaping black hole.

As the haze of the pain lifts, a catharsis dawns on you. It is finally over.

Here and There

It was mad, the wedding. For most of it, I was like WTF, you know? Because, by the time my plane landed and I got to the hotel, things were already under way; for all my careful planning, I appear in a T-shirt and cargos in all the wedding pictures! And when I finally wore the pretty blue and golden dress and then the plum coloured sari? Nothing. It got too chaotic and none of us had any time for snaps. Don't even get me started on the designated photographer; he was such an asshole.

But I'll tell you this. For all the craziness that the wedding was, there was this one moment, the actual tying of the knot (when the guy dropped a soft kiss on her bent head) -- it was so beautiful, I went all "Awwww". There it was, the whole point of the goddamned circus. Made me all warm and cushy inside.

Apart from that, it was a terrible ordeal. I now officially hate flying. Usually, every time I see a plane in the sky, I want to be on it, going to whereever it's heading. But on this trip, both times, I was all like, c'mon...land already! One way, I sat next to a Gora who I'm pretty sure molested me while I fell sleep in my seat. On the way back, I sat next to a techie, who has facebooked me and now sends me messages everyday. Do yourselves a favour, don't be a moron like me and use your boarding pass as a book mark. It's plain stupid. In fact, don't read. Plug in your ear phones and don't make conversation, yes, even while you eat!

Why do I attract these types anyway? Why? OMG, he might even be reading this as I write. As has been often proven in the past, the blog is certainly not one of my best kept secrets. If you are indeed reading this, dear stalker, please chip in here. I would love to hear your thoughts on this. But I don't accept any compliments, comments, questions, tags that reach me in person or by e-mail. The comments column, believe it or not, works. The zero comments record is because I also attracts other types of perverts, in this case - voyeurs. But don't let that discourage you. Comment on.

I know I should give in and sleep. Okay! Fine, I'll go. Just wanted to put it all on record before the week was out. I do also have an early morning class, come to think of it. So, just the last couple of things here then.

I'm doing my dissertation on the Holocaust. Yeah, don't ask me how I got there. I had it all planned, I swear. So, I went to submit my proposal on Michael Jackson and somehow ended up with Nuclear Armageddon. What can I say? My plans usually take little detours because I'm ummm, what they call spontaneous, and I always go with my instincts. Whichever takes control of me at the moment. Even if I go blue in the face cursing and regretting it for the rest of my life after.

I read Shantaram a couple of weeks ago and I can't stop thinking about it. Everybody I know has read about half of it and given up. I can't explain why I am so hooked onto it. Oh yes, I do want to write like that. But it's more. I've been looking up the author every chance I get. I read his interviews. I watch his videos on You Tube. And, I've developed an unhealthy interest in heroin. But most importantly, here's the thought that's been nagging away at me - how would it be to throw away everything I've built in my life and just let go.

Why do I want, more than anything else, to find out?

What I say and What I mean

Right. So, where were we? Going home. Right. If I didn't write about it already no point doing it now, is there? Let's just move on and skip that part then? Yes. Move into something more topical, maybe? Good. Let us.

Now, examining the newsworthy events of my non-existent life, what do we have?

Something happened and a dilemma has arisen. To commit or not to commit, that is the question. A very illuminating statement, don't you think? I do too. But for reasons many, that's all I'm saying on this. Shameful to censor on one's own blog, I know. But what to do? Too many prying eyes for comfort or for full disclosure. A cue to move the blog to another track? Hmmm. Perhaps.

As consolation, here's another piece of meat. I hate what I've become here. I'm a compulsive liar now. I lie all the time. To everybody.

Prof: How was the class?

Me (thinks): I didn't listen to a single word of it. That's btw, is a record. I thought X-rated thoughts for four hours. But I still smelt the stink. That's how stinky your class was.

Me: Very thought-provoking. Thanks for the lecture. Was immensely helpful.

Y: Did I do something wrong? Don't you like me any more?

Me (thinks): Yes, you did. You exist. No, I don't. Newsflash: I never did. To be specific, I think you're the algae the feeds on the pond scum that lies underneath the sewage in our acrid lotus pond.

Me: Of course, you didn't. I like you. What made you ever think otherwise?

Z: Hey listen, there's this thing for some close friends this Friday. You wanna go dancing? It'll be fun. I promise.

Me (thinks): Looking the way I am and looking the way you do, you are asking me out? Close friends huh? Wow! Dancing? But why?! We were doing so well until now. Can we sit in a corner and make out instead?

Me: I'd love to have but I already made plans. Sorry.

Z: It's cool. No issues. We can do coffee or catch a movie or something, some other day? If you are not already seeing someone, that is. (Smiles)

Me(thinks): Oh, don't smile. That's not fair. What toothpaste do you use? Wait. He asked you a question. Movie. Right. Dark Lights. Limited space. Sharing armrest. Nachos & Salsa. You got it, dude! Any day. You choose.

Me: Err. No. Not seeing anyone. And really, I'd love to hang out. But I'm truly short of time this trip. Maybe next time?

Z: A gentle let-down, huh? (Smile) Okay, I'll let you get away with it this time. But at least gimme a call when you're in town, okay?

Me (thinks): No, don't let me get away with it. At all. I'm one-of-a-kind! That's why, I won't call.

Me: Sure, I will.

Z: Ciao. (Grins)

Me (thinks): I hate that word. Grrrr.

Me: See ya. (Smiles back)

See what I mean. I don't mean anything I say. I mean, I don't say anything I mean. Baah. You get the point! It's like I'm possessed by a good-Samaritan ghost who needs to only say the right things. Whatever happened to the WYSWYG me? Gaaaah.

And, don't ask me why I won't call him. I just won't.

Oh and how can I forget? Cousin's wedding tomorrow! Yeah, the shameless pig that I am, I'm going to be leaving for her city on her wedding day. But hey, I'm wearing a sari for her! Wait. that means jewellery. Damn. Match-making and relatives. Oh F***.

>>Gulp<<

I mean. Help.

Note: Remember. Peace comes from within. Oh my! Shoes. I mean heels. I don't have any. Never mind, they'll come from somewhere. But grace and elegance and poise? Good God. Whoever thought of celebrating weddings. What's so happy about them anyway?

PS: Mission Impossible IV: Finding a way to the Airport without paying as much as I did for the flight ticket. Good luck to me.

You Know

Read My Friend Sancho.

There. I said it.

I couldn't wait until I got through with three paragraphs of my lifely woes before I came to it. It's my book. I mean, if I ever wrote a book, this is how it'd be. I'd pretend to have a plot -- because it's a novel -- but care really only showing off my wisecracks, get bored half-way through and finally give up the pretence and give it an excuse of an ending. But hey, it's still brilliant writing, his. Almost like mine, you know.

By the way, I have a love life that's almost bursting at it's seams, did you know? Yeah, me either. But well, I do. I'm always on the phone with the first or the second boyfriend. When I get off, I'm online with number three. Or otherwise, I'm with the fourth who I go out with every other night. And, I have something on with someone in class. What can I say? "Not guilty, your honour. It is not what it seems. We're just friends?" I think not.

Exploring the food scene in Chennai has been the theme for the last couple of weeks. Now, I know places that are nice to sit at and places that have good food. Discoveries include a decent Dhaba, a cozy continental place overlooking the beach, a restaurant that serves "contemporary Indian cuisine" and a stall that sells Irani Samosas. Can you imagine the implications of these discoveries? Of course, you don't. It means that maybe, I will survive this rot after all!

Brain food for the week? I've been chancing upon all kinds of things I never knew about people I've known a long time. It's made me wonder about if we ever really know anybody. Not just know. But know. You know.

And then there's this whole thing about live-in's in My Friend Sancho and Wake up Sid and stuff that I've been thinking. I have a theory -- I'm sure it's named after some bugger already -- that everything else being equal, if a man and a woman (Doubt: Is it even politically correct anymore to say a man and a woman without including LGBTs?) are confined to a space and are given enough time; irrespective of how different they might be, will end up together in the end. Not much of a theory. But nevertheless, kinda works...doesn't it?

It's official. No matter how many ever courses I take, it's wasted. I was never, am not, will never be likely to be feminist. Blame it on my all-girls education or the guys in my life, I like my men. That's the bottom-line. It's another matter altogether if I still don't find a guy at 35, start growing plants instead of adopting cats, and turn lesbian. Maybe then, I might turn feminist. But of course, with the current state of my love life, that's never going to happen.

Like all roads lead to Rome, all my posts lead to going home. I'm off to mongooses' tomorrow and to Hyde for the weekend. See you guys on the other side.

To all, a kickass Diwali! Play safe.

Respite.

Dude, seriously, home is it!

I've been here two days and I'm so in love that I can't see anything straight. If you asked me now, I'd probably swear by my life that even the rain here is sweeter than that in Chennai. But since half of our state is currently being submerged, I should probably keep my mouth shut, yeah? I think so too. Anyway, but you get my drift, right?

After that crazy Auroville week when we were ready to die of exhaustion and the one following that when we thought we did die, we somehow floated through to heaven and came home. I needed this.

The first day back, I went out like a light the moment my head touched the pillow. My own bed - the smell, the feel, the warmth, oh what I'll do to take it back with me. Okay, okay, no need for bad words. It's not like I would have gone on to describe the comforts of my bathroom. Though I have to point out, I'm sorely tempted to do. No hair, anywhere. Hot water, everywhere. And no clothes to wash? It's a fairytale. Stop rolling your eyes! This is important stuff. If you want to read national affairs, go read another blog. Sheesh. A girl can't even write about the beauty of her bed in her own blog these days. Double Sheesh!

Where was I? Right, so when I did finally reincarnate, I went out to meet Amen. It's weird but we never hug or say anything. That's how it always is with Amen. No matter how many new friends I make, it's almost always her shoulder that I cry on whenever I'm cross with the world or hateful towards 'man'kind. Not that I actually cry cry. It takes a lot to get me to cry and it's been ages since I've done that. Well, except that one time recently when I wept until I looked like a splotchy rabbit the next day. You should ask the other party why.

For godsakes, what's with me today? At this rate, I'm never going to end this post. Right. Focus!

So, what I was trying to say earlier was that Amen and I watched Dil Bole Hadippa. Now, now. Don't judge me yet. It was the only movie that we got tickets for and let me tell you that it was an okay watch. Really. True, there's no such thing as a plot in the film but there were decent performances rendered all around. Talking of movies, I did watch quite a few- The Kingdom of Heaven (5.50/5) , Requiem for a dream (4/5), Outsourced (3.99/5), Bangkok Dangerous (2/5) and my Mom's new boyfriend (2/5).

You'll never guess who I've been hanging out with. Yes, my bete noire, my arch enemy, my nemesis, my personal monster, my brother, Demon kid! It was then that I really realised how pathetic my life must be for him to be nice to me. But he was and we did some great things.

We went to all my favourite places and I ate as if I was dying the next day. Then we went to Big Flix and rented out a box full of movies that I won't have the time to watch. And then we went shopping. He got me the Last Symbol and hold your breath, he's consented for me to play his X-box! Boy, if this is charity, I'm loving it.

Though I have in mind to bore you further, alas, I have nothing more to say. I leave tomorrow. *Weepy eyes and wobbly chin*. I still have to shop some more, get a haircut, meet some people, eat some more, pack, and just now, go to sleep. If the train does get cancelled, I'll have to get the first flight out on Monday. (Dear God, please give one more day. I won't ask for anything more. Except electricity and internet. And good airfares. And good food. And a good haircut. Promise!)

Next term at J is going to be long and mad. Electives, assignments, stream work, insomnia, projects, paper, quark, chennai. GAAAAHHHHH!!!!

Still Sleepless!

I promised myself that I wouldn't do this, but here I am, at 3 'o clock in the morning, foregoing yet another night of sleep (5th in a row) to write an entry for an audience that can't be more indifferent. I'm pathetic. Oh, who am I kidding? It's those two baby lizards crawling my walls and my floors. I can't sleep knowing they exist. And, I'm too embarrassed to admit it to anyone or to ask for help. What am I to do?! The mosquitoes, I can still live with. But I HATE the reptile family. All of it. Will they die, like rats, if I cunningly mix their food with something? No, I suppose not. Evil things those. **Shudder**

Anyway, on with my life then.

Academically, there has been intense activity in the past weeks. The good news is that I've finished with an ultra serious exam this morning thereby ending the core curriculum for the term. Now, I lift my arms and pray, to be only a C+ or higher, I pray. Completion of pending projects will form the crux of my next week. And then, and then, the end-of-term holidays (which is okay, really only 3 days) and I leave for home! So, I'm already making lists of all the things I need to do/buy/eat when I get home.

But what's really keeping me happy, now that I have a super internet connection, is all the things I'm back to doing -- writing e-mails to old friends, playing pool & literati with random strangers, lengthy chat sessions with He-man, et cetera. I didn't realise how much I missed doing these things until I got back to doing them. It's inexplicable. I love the anticipation that comes with waiting for the inbox to open and then to see a certain someone's e-mail in it. Or to spend a lazy sunday afternoon competing for a pool or literati championship. And then, my chat sessions with He-man. I still spend hours laughing and crying while pouring over our past chats. Oh, I know, it's silly. But I simply can't help it. If you haven't noticed, nothing affects me quite like the written word.

That said, I've been a good little girl. For 23 days to this date, to be exact. Like it or not, right or wrong, it will end this time around. Erasing everything helps. Thanks wikihow.com

Okay, so sleep has finally come to claim me. Enough to even overcome the lizard aversion. So, I'm going to tuck in now. Going off to Auroville for the weekend.

May I find some peace and quiet. And reptileless dreams. Amen.


PS: Facebook says my favorite sexual position is so and so. I can't believe it. Really? That?! Strange. Very strange!

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

Wordle

Washing clothes. Sucky food. Sweat. Hair in the bathroom. Cold showers. Sweat. Sweet bread. Green curtains. Waking early. Stupid lingo. Sleep in class. Shooting on the roads. Writing. Assignments. Flunking. News. Roomies. Local trains. Assoholic Autos. Salty Water. Homesickness. Dirty odors. Cotton Clothes. Relapse. Mad people. Madder Professors. Wasted money. Wheel of Time. Regrets. Withdrawal symptoms. Dirty Roads. Four hour classes. Men in hostel. Deserted streets. Brown skin.

That's my life for you, as it is.

Having been the goose that I have been, I promised myself that I wouldn't crib. Especially, not after having said all those things about "doing what is close to my heart" and all that rubbish.

So, I'll just say two things

One: I'll never admit it otherwise but here it is - I miss these guys like mad. All of them. Hawkeye. Eye Candy. King Kong. Ha. Tiny Woman. Gobbler. Mommy Depp. Amen. Jughead. Cud. Psycho. RR. Even all the people I can't think of just now. Is this homesickness or have I just turned into a wimp?

Two: Help! Somebody. Anybody. Just get me the hell outta here. Please?!

PS : I was on an INS - FAC today. Honest to God! A Fast Attack Craft of the Indian Navy, just in case you weren't impressed. It was the coolest thing ever. Remind me to talk about it the next time**.

**If I am still alive and kicking, I will tell you all. I promise.