Why manicure sets are useful after all.

Hostel life. So much more educational than one would imagine.

This, I realised this afternoon when I had to change my cooler pump and the college electrician drunkenly informed me he would "be right there madam-ji", thereby letting me know that I needn't wait up.

Which led to Wonder Girl and I deciding we had to take matters into our own hands. Electrical work commenced and my cooler was restored to perfect working condition. All with a pair of dainty manicure scissors and magically procured electrical tape.

And of course, typical to the boy species, just after we were done performing electrical wonders, a guy friend calls to ask what I'm up to. When I tell him, I get this response. "Two girls changing a cooler pump? That's hot."

Sigh.

Run

You hear nothing but the sound of your feet thudding away on the uneven grass. Dodge to avoid the odd shrub or raised patch of earth that comes in your way, leap over the raised water pipe that is a permanent fixture on the football field. It's nothing but a glorious obstacle course. The wind blows through your short hair as you adjust your earphones and are greeted by The Killers. Think nothing, feel nothing. Except the delightful twinge of pain in your calves as you near your penultimate stretch. Any minute now...

An upbeat song comes up and you make an effort not to sprint. Must conserve energy. The last half-lap comes up and you can't take it any more. You pull out your earphones so they don't fall out and hinder you, and you take off. Fast. Faster. Faster than all those painful, miserable thoughts. The need to feel good about yourself. The need to feel wanted, the need to feel loved. The need to feel attractive, to feel worthy. Of yourself, of those who love you. Of anyone's attention, of any love or affection that you already have.

You hear and feel nothing except your breath coming in heavy pants as you tear across the field. You reach the end and almost collapse. Who knew exhaustion could be so pleasant.

And as you gather yourself, gulp cold water and head back, you reflect on what a good friend told you and feel a faint sardonic smile creep across your face.

"He can only be your walking stick. He cannot be your rock."

Happy Halloween.

Yeah, so I went to Jaisalmer over the weekend. Good stuff. Sand dunes, camels, shopping, all that. Interesting places to see, whacked out people to meet. Stoned foreigners wearing tiger masks, vendors who tell you to add them on facebook, and shy old auto-walas who hand out posh visiting cards, all in equal proportion. On second thought maybe not so many tiger masks. I saw several Mickey Mouse ones as well. It's a quaint little place, nice enough. The following, however, just made my trip several times over, clicked by either this woman or this one. (Click on photos to enlarge)

Wattay marketing.

Wattay brand.

Ah wattay character.

Ok then. Till the next post. Till then, as the Dalai Lama would say to all you lovely people out there...

On the menu of a restaurant called Little Tibet.

P.S.- Mucho thanks to this man for help with the pumpkin heads.