Friday, December 28, 2012

Wonderland 2.0

Today I walked to office from the station and I bumped into an irate lady because I was busily peering into my phone.

I imagine what it would be like to be in my phone. Actually IN it. I would be looking at it, all immersed in whatever new social media dinkum is occupying me at the moment, and I would fall right into my phone. Through the Looking-Glass App.

I would be very very tiny. I'd run and jump and leap to stay in one place because whoever would then use the phone would keep switching between screens and panels and apps and the constant flux would scare me. But then I'd say fukkit man and go with the flow. 

I succumb to Instagram. I stare in awe at the beautiful forest surrounding me. I am about to be attacked by a giant kitten wearing a hat. I am standing knee deep in someone's pretty caramel custard. The whole world in a minute (or until the next refresh, whichever comes sooner).

Take me to Twitter. I will run upwards, the timeline will scroll and I will read everything during my steady jog. A part of all these people lives in my phone with me. They don’t actually realize it. They are my friends, my comrades. A lot of them are idiots.

Now to the Music player. I jump on the play button and something fantastic and weird comes on. I feel the beats move through my body. Everything vibrates. I faintly hear my heartbeat, an insignificant thump in this noisy universe. The next song makes my heart breathe a sigh of relief and I pant with excitement and lie on my back, spread-eagled on the album art, and sigh with happiness as the music soars.

This year has been so very strange. 

It's been worrying and stressful and confusing and happy and exhilarating and wonderful.

I've started reading again, like I haven't since I was 10. Like pick up a book and not stop until it's over and then lookie here, here's the next book and the next and the next and oh I love it.

I’ve managed to listen to a lot of good new music.

My movie watching record still remains abysmal.

I feel like I'm magically a tad smarter than before but maybe I'm actually just a little more delusional that's all.

I don't make as many terrible jokes as before which saddens me a little.

There is a future and it doesn't look as terrible as I imagined it would.

Happy New Year guys. Be happy.

Friday, November 16, 2012


I have discovered the utter beauty and magnificence of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups

I imagine a giant peanut butter cup on the floor. Its upper chocolate layer is soft. Out of the fridge and been sitting in a warm kitchen for half an hour type of soft. So soft that if you touch it, a warm sticky thread of chocolate will threaten to come away with your blessed finger but will just restrain itself.

I imagine myself climbing a ladder and standing on a diving board high above the ground. I prepare myself; I jump. Right into the peanut butter cup. I break the chocolate surface in one smooth easy motion and reach the sweet-salty peanut butter centre. I float, I dive, I swim. I stay in the peanut butter cup for a whole day until I have eaten it all at which point a crane comes and hauls me away to my untimely yet immensely satisfying grave.

This is perfection.

So I went to Dubai this week. The only thing better about the trip than my discovery of peanut butter cups was skydiving. Maybe I should have lead with that. I WENT SKYDIVING!

I, of the crippling fear of heights variety, who cannot look out a 10th floor window without experiencing involuntary tightening of all nether regions and quickening of breath, jumped off a plane 14,000 feet above the ground AND I FLEW. I made for the most shocked and awkward bird ever, but flew I did.

It was a tandem jump which means I was strapped to an instructor throughout, who in my case happened to be a lanky blonde boy who shone brighter than the sun. He was Belgian, was around 7 feet tall, spoke with a darling accent, and was nice enough to look away from me every time he rolled his eyes at my terrified teeth-chattering. Him and his peoples joked around, good naturedly bullied me for being nervous and casually fell out of the plane before I could fully grasp that I was about to fall away into a void. But once we actually jumped, it was glorious. The sheer shock of just falling from the sky made me want to scream but we were falling much too fast for me to get any real sound out. So I just fell, silent and open mouthed and wonderstruck and so thoroughly happy. And then there was a parachute. I hovered above the earth lazily, drifting down slowly, looking at the map of Dubai spread out under me, strapped to the cutest man to ever emerge from Belgium while he gently laughed and welcomed me to "his office".

I'm so happy I did this. I cannot wait to do it again.

skyfalllll, when it tumblllllles....

Monday, October 22, 2012

Joy to the Swedes

See, I'm sitting here in office but what I actually want is for the lights to dim, a disco ball to pop out of the ceiling and for me to be suddenly wearing a sparkly dress as I slow dance to Patience with a boy in a snazzy suit. So snazzy it makes my eyes, ladyparts and miserly sensibilities twinge.

In a nutshell that is prom, yes?

This romaance mood is solely because of this one email I got from Four Fountains Spa saying they wanted to give me a free massage. Now the only massage propositions I've gotten are from posters in the ladies train compartment. One beauty was offering "Therapeutic massage. Foot massage+back massage+vaginal massage. No charge". So after being suspicious as to why a spa would offer this to me, of 5 blog readers fame, I said yes please.

So anyway. Yesterday I got one (free!) Swedish massage from there. It was ohgodd so good. It was the first time I was getting some proper spa type treatment so I didn't know what was more acurate, the Hollywood representation of all this (it is) or the YouP0rn representation (it's not). Everything smells yum, there are pretty dim lights everywhere and a cute man at the reception. One also looks straight out of an exercise machine infomercial and feels like a shiny happy throughly content beached whale once the actual massage is over. Good people, these guys. I am very much in favour of giving them money in exchange for happiness. So much happiness.

Now I need someone to mail and offer to give me some sparkly dresses. Don't be shy.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

I am Storm's sidekick.

I sit quietly at my window seat in the ladies compartment, headphones in ears, eyes closed, head leaning on the window grill. The music in my head reaches new crescendos and the wind buffets my hair in time with it. I feel like any moment a leather clad Halle Berry is going to burst into the compartment and tell me I'm the only hope for the future, before we both leap out into the unknown to battle the forces of evil. I wonder if my co-passengers have any inkling of the drama they are about to witness. But then I open my eyes and most of them are asleep with their mouths open and one is giving sidey looks to the unruly mop on my head that the wind has so carefully styled.


I saw a cocker spaniel outside office. It was fat and brown and curious and did not know how to walk in a straight line. Ooh what is this, ooh what is that. Someone needs to plot what would happen if a dog like that walked across a chessboard. Like, assign different pieces to his legs, tail etc and see what plays out. That'd be one trippy chess game.

Anyway the dog zig zagged all across the pavement, his beautiful silky feathery ears brushing the ground, sweeping up the dust gently.

I wonder if anyone has had the business idea of designing a mop which looks like a dog from the outside. The inside part will clean the floor and all. The outside will look like a happily scampering dog.

Life is.. interesting. But mainly because it's not really.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Civilisation 2.0

Now that we've become so smart with our opposable thumbs and our web 2.0, we're probably going to halt evolution in its tracks with unnecessary surgery and/or ostracism of the higher evolved, leading to either suicide, genocide, alcoholism or X-Men style drama.

Then we will regress to the caveman stage in which we don't know how to maaro-pair-pe-kulhaadi anymore.

Then we will evolve back to this stage and repeat the process all over again. 

Rubber-band evolution. Bouncing back and forth, back and forth.

Or maybe the next time around, the cavemen will sprout wings and have green skin so we can photosynthesize. In mid air. So cool.

Now this all makes sense.

Thursday, September 06, 2012

#55WordStory - Shadow

Theme: Shadow

A cloud drifted over the sun. Vishnu started, glanced about uneasily, took a bullet to the head and crumpled gracelessly to the ground. If life were a movie, portentous music would have played. 

A kilometer away, a farmer sat down. A sigh, a weary smile. Finally, some respite from the heat. A slow, joyful lilt.

Monday, August 06, 2012

The post-its are everywhere.

Ever since I was a kid who unlocked the house door after school, feeling very uppity and responsible for being entrusted the keys, and ate her solitary tiffin while staring at the TV,  my dad would leave me post its, the scheduled SMSes of the past, on the dabbas in the kitchen. ”Eat me” “Keep me in fridge” “Boil me”. These would eventually all be stuck in a patchwork pattern on the fridge.

Now my dad leaves me post-its on a pile of washed laundry after I tell him to quit bugging me to put it away. “Put me in the cupboard” my blue formal shirt impatiently proclaims. The post-it stays on my table for a month, for when the blue shirt returns to it after 2 more washes.

Dad wanders through the house at night whenever a wave of insomnia hits. He walks into my room and lowers the fan speed as I snore obliviously. I usually wake up an hour later, drenched with sweat, and undo his handiwork. The next day he tries to repeat the process but is halted by a post-it stuck over the fan regulator. "Touch this and die" it says in angry red sketch pen.

The doodhwala speaks to us through post-its. We say “No milk for the next week”; he replies with an “Ok.” “2L tomorrow” "1.5L tomorrow" “Need to discuss bill this weekend” All these accumulate on the fridge. Now we just grab the appropriate note off the fridge and paste it outside for the milk guy.

The day we discard our beautiful phones and tablets and regress to communication through post-its alone is the day we shall all find true happiness.

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

I've got baggage and it has teeth.

There is too much cool stuff on the internet. Most of them are, of course, kitty pictures.

Kittens are little fuzzy balls of soft cottony fur that can curl up on your shoulder and make your neck all warm and toasty till you get all sleepy and content and happy and then if they want, they can go for the jugular. I want a cat. Life will then be very interesting and dangerous and action filled. Yes.

I was gifted this strange replica of The Luggage for my birthday last year. I love it. I tried putting my turtle in it but The Luggage and my turtle both looked at each other with their mouths wide open for 4 seconds and then one of them tried to bite me, so that plan was abandoned. Unfortunately The Luggage's teeth are falling off one by one and I keep popping them in the box itself. There must be some punishment for making a creature eat its own teeth but at least I’m not scaring it by saying a tooth tree will grow inside it one day. I was very scared of lemon seeds as a child ok.

She has started this blog in which everyone is invited to contribute a kiddy story for her very cute 4 year old daughter. Writing stories for kids is difficult boss. I was toh wondering if such-and-such is too much for tots to digest, or whether so-and-so word is too complicated for them and I had to refrain from puns, double entendres and everything my instincts told me to do. But whee, fun. Kid's fiction means license to go completely nuts. I will try to write more.

I have registered for the half marathon in January and am sitting around lazily like I’m the Energizer bunny and I don't need no practise yo. Shame on me. I’m actually very nervous. I will now start accepting applications from people who would like to volunteer to wake me up early every morning so I bloody well start running. 

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Mind yer own booswax.

As time ticked by, people grew richer and houses grew smaller. Back then he had been so highly regarded, living in the attic and popping out every now and then to give his homeowners a bit of a fright. He was respected in the community, a role model. Now the only place he could get any peace and quiet was in that little box under the table. It lay silent all day when the brats were at school and he could ruminate in peace about all that had been. But in the evenings, lord, what a racket! A constant hammering and whirring.  Every few days he would lose his temper, stick his head out the box, right out of the Esc. key and crankily ask the kids to go out and play badminton or something, because all that typing was giving him a headache. Oh, how they laughed at him.

This was humiliating.

You gotta feel bad for old fashioned ghosts in this time and age. They must be damn bewildered. They can’t even commit suicide.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Deep. Deeeeep.

Life is quicksand. The people in your life are different objects in your own personal quicksand. You hold onto some and try to haul yourself out while you touch others and instantly sink. Sink deep down till the mud fills your mouth and ears and nose and poof, you're gone.

Taken frame by frame, life is excruciating. In fast forward, life is inconsequential. But we're cool and useless so we take it nice and slow. Life is grim. It is grey. We move slowly and deliberately through it in slow motion. We see our arms and legs leave streaks in the surroundings.We waddle through an invisible molasses, which isn't even sweet. Bastard molasses.

If we had to be suspended in something, it should be lemon jelly. Lemon because it'd be a nice neutral colour and we would at least feel fresh all the time, and jelly because this lovely lady makes it sound so very appealing.

Friday, July 13, 2012

#55WordStory - Scream

Theme: Scream

Her shriek echoed through the empty rooms; the kind that’d spur a buff Bollywood hero into action. The kind that’d cause a camera to rapidly zoom onto curtains flapping at the window of a bedroom with ominously disheveled sheets. It spoke of unmentionable horrors.

He sleepily stepped out of the bathroom and squished the bug.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

You're a heel.

You know when you're really tense and scared and you desperately need some release but you're at home and can't do much, so you scream loudly into a pillow while playing loud music in the background? That feels so good, no? Well, taking off a pair of painful heels feels better than that.

My big toe is nonchalantly relived but acting like a tough guy while my little toe would hug me and weep with gratitude if it could.

Taking the lid off a pressure cooker doesn't release as much pressure as taking off a pair of painful heels does.

Now imaging myself exhaling steam. I'm a dragon yo. A dragon that can cook perfect khichdi.

Friday, July 06, 2012

Death cab for cutie

Liking something requires too much jhing bang nowadays.

If I like a few songs of some band, I don’t usually bother to find out which albums they’re from, when they were released, the detailed history of the band, or the lead singer’s sister’s real hair colour. But people refuse to accept me as a fan unless I have all this information. 

No one has any respect for the half hearted. We're people too, ok.


Someone I knew very vaguely passed away yesterday. She seemed really nice. It's a terrible thing to have happened, and I hope her friends and family get through this ok. 

A while back, someone told me about a study conducted to analyse human behaviour, which established that the average time a person spends grieving a death is 6 minutes. 

I've spent a lot of time just thinking about this preposterous little figure. 6 minutes.

Although I outraged at first, what's become increasingly and disturbingly apparent to me, with time, is that this figure might not be that preposterous after all.

People invariably have to forget and move on. They must. Obviously. But it makes me uneasy to realise that most of our lives will be reduced to one miniscule 6 minute blip in the giant sine wave of life.

Thursday, July 05, 2012

#55WordStory - Mystery

Theme: Mystery

He grew up wanting to live the Enid Blyton mysteries he devoured. Later, the mysteries of science and religions of the world fascinated him. An inferno of potential, one day he would have stunned the world. Preempting all that, as he stood on the ledge, the mysteries of the heart led to his downfall.


Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Big red eyes are not always scary.

On Sunday, due to strange and awesome circumstances, I played with a big fat rabbit.

Noorie the rabbit

Rabbits shiver ALL the time. Not a bad strategy. They can make everyone think they’re paavam terrified little things while they hatch a plan to gnaw at your big toe and hop out the door.

This rabbit did neither of the above. It twitched continually and wiggled its nose and seemed rather nervous when I picked it up and started babbling at it. 

It was adorable. Its eyes were unnerving.

It’s name was Noorie.


I saw Gangs of Wasseypur yesterday and it was.. weird. 

I am singing O Womaniya on loop and causing my colleague to glare at me angrily. This is the same girl who said “OMG you went to see a movie called Gangs of Wasseypur? Why would you do that? Even the name sounds so ick.”




The rains are eluding me. It stops raining as soon as I arrive at any place and quickly resumes once I leave. I am the antithesis of The Rain God.

I want the rain. Beautiful fat drops falling mercilessly on people who scurry rapidly because it's Bombay and that's what people do, not because it's raining. A view from the window that makes the city look like it’s covered with butter paper. Puddles and thunder and clouds and a rainbow of umbrellas poking me from every side as I try to navigate through an annoyingly shrill sea of humanity wading through a sea of brown water. I’ve managed to be absent for the majority of the past six Bombay monsoons and I want it now.

#55WordStory - Immortality

Theme: Immortality

“A lonely Jazz singer rescued from a life of drugs and poverty. A sudden worldwide sensation, never to be forgotten.” 

She snapped out of it when someone jostled her. Her brother’s funeral was beginning. Never again would she stop thinking of all that could have been.

Monday, June 25, 2012

#55WordStory - Moon

Theme: Moon

She finished her model of the solar system just in time. As she sat in the bus, she realized she had forgotten all about the moon. After all that work… She was about to cry with disappointment, when the strange boy no one talked to walked up to her, handed her a cheeseball and smiled.

#55WordStory - Silence

Theme: Silence

He had always been rather alarmingly practical. 

After the accident claimed his voice, his grief-stricken family gathered around him, preparing to console him. Brushing aside their platitudes, he shrugged and signalled to them, “Hey, now I’ll never get disqualified in dumb charades.”

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Rain rain. Rain rain. Rain rain.

The rains are here and everything is green and puddly and squelchy. Some people are going "wheee!" and some people are behaving like the Wicked Witch of the West. I am ignoring everyone and silently rejoicing while worrying myself sick as to the fate of my beautiful new phone.

Come monsoon and my streetside bhel cravings shoot up exponentially. I wish last year's jaundice hadn't made me so boring.

Jaundice is such an ugly word.

People get whole new disposable lives just before the rains begin. Cheap new bags are bought so that expensive leather ones don't get ruined. Brightly coloured rubber slip ons that everyone has are bought in bulk.  People start keeping mini wardrobes in their office drawers, and all whites are snubbed like street dogs snub the Parle-G biscuits I try so hard to feed them.

This is what happened the last time I persisted in feeding a dog Parle-G biscuits.

I wish we had portable monsoon kits. The type I'm imagining would fit in my wallet and look like a thick-ish credit card. With one press of a button, it would expand into a nice attaché case containing a toothbrush, new chaddis and one change of clothes. But alas, that is not to be.

We all need Hermione bags. 

Tuesday, May 08, 2012

Fatness and 30 Rock and turtles.

My life is a constant struggle between "Life is short yo, must eat everything yummy before I die" and "Damn, being thin feels so good!"

Big Loser is a really cool project. You see everyone else being all fit and showing immense amounts of willpower and you oscillate between getting inspired to exercise and eat right, and wanting to kill yourself by overconsumption of pizza.

But it's great, really. I've lost most of the post-accident weight that had made me look like a giant flesh coloured balloon and I'm back to normal fatness level. In fact, I even fulfilled my childhood dream (ok not really) of wearing a formal shirt tucked into formal pants, with a thin belt. Corp ho, bitchez!

In other news, I am madly in love with both Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin, and I think Liz Lemon is the best name in the whole wide world. I wish I had named one of my turtles Lemon. What a cute name. Only everyone would make lemon juice jokes whenever he peed and no one wants to be thinking of that. 

I have also discovered that I always either have absolutely nothing to do in life, in which case I sit on my bed all weekend and stare at my turtles yawning and go "Awww", or I have way too much to do. Too many people to meet, to many things to get done.

Equitable distribution of work and awesomeness should happen but then life would be no fun.

Monday, May 07, 2012

#55WordStory - Magic

Theme: Magic

The news report said the 11 year old had fallen out of a 2nd floor window. He was found holding onto a broomstick, and had a gold coloured plastic ball that had once contained Gems clutched in his hand.

What brightens the lives of so many kids had just ended one.

#55WordStory - Alcohol

Theme: Alcohol

Skinny legs in tight jeans and stilettos tapping a dizzying drunken code onto the platform stairs. “Hold me, I’ll fall”, a sharp onlooker deciphers.

They would later tell their children they met on shaadi.com.

Friday, May 04, 2012

#55WordStory - Blood

Theme: Blood

It trickled wetly down her neck, staining the collar of her pristine white shirt. A single drop fell through the tepid air and splashed onto the beige carpet below. She closed her eyes, exhaled deeply and let the feeling wash over her.

Summer would be unbearable without watermelon juice.

#55WordStory - Gravity

Theme: Gravity

The spaceship hurtled towards Earth through the pristine murkiness of space. It landed in a park. A lone figure emerged, scurried up to a bewildered little boy and gave him a big hug.

“Last night you focused on me out there. You sang Twinkle Twinkle and wondered what I was.”

Everyone’s existence needs some validation.

Thursday, May 03, 2012

#55WordStory- Catalyst

Theme: Catalyst

People are born ordinary, meant for ordinary things. Everyoneneeds a push towards greatness. They need inspiration, love, faith. He aimed tobe the catalyst that made them aspire to greater things.

He leaned back, looked at the thousands of devoteesprostrating before him and grinned at the cameras.

People are just born stupid.

#55WordStory- Decadence

Theme: Decadence

“Look at these decadent fools. Luxury is but temporary. Selfindulgence is foolhardy, always springing from insecurity. To show the worldwhat you have is madness; they’ll just take it all away.”

They found him weeks later, buried under all the gold he hadhoarded, swimming in what he could have spent.

RIP Scrooge McDuck.

Wednesday, May 02, 2012

#55WordStory- Night

Theme: Night

He was going away on a long expedition. She was miserable. ‘Every time I see the sunset, I will think of you’, he had said. She had hesitantly gurgled her goodbyes. Warm fuzzy thoughts and longing clouded her mind, until she googled for sunsets on the North Pole. 

#55WordStory- Space

This guy has started something very cool. He posts a theme everyday on twitter and invites everyone to write a story on it, in 55 words or less. Then he posts them here. Go read that blog. People are fascinating.

I've started submitting stories only recently. I'm posting mine here.

Theme: Space

It had been going so well. They were getting serious, contemplating living together. He'd even suggested getting a cat (maybe 2 to keep each other company), a precursor to the kids he hoped they'd have someday. And then she said it. He was petrified, insecure.

"Why're you sulking you idiot? I said I wanted spays."

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


I got a haircut again because Bombay has turned into a giant sauna and there was hair everywhere and I was starting to resemble an unhappy sheepdog. But now I look like a rather sad, chubby little boy. My height, broad shoulders and giant feet don’t help matters. Maybe I should ride this phase of the hair-from-hell out by wearing baggy pants and faded black band tshirts.

I’ve used this blog for many things, to do useless tag-5-people posts, to be embarrassingly emo, as a dream diary and, for a brief period, to actually try improving my writing. It’s finally been reduced to a dozy record of not-very-important events in my life. I’m just very loath to let the blog die. I’ve abandoned too many hobbies and activities in life and out of a sense of duty itself I want to keep this 7 year old (whoa) blog alive, albeit miserable.

I’ll go practice making kissy sounds at girls now.

Thursday, April 05, 2012

Gold medal

I've been very lax with my running lately. No one is scolding me about it also. How will this ever work?

I ran yesterday, after ages. Nearing the end of my round around the building, there's a plant which has one stem growing horizontally. Always slaps against my arm when I run by it. By the end of my rounds,  I was speeding up every time I neared that plant and throwing my head back in victory. In my head I was breaking the ribbon at the end of a very long race.  I slowed down immediately after.

Doesn't take much to amuse me.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Mad haven.

Because my life is so hot and happening right now, I spent my weekend with my turtles. They've almost become the size of desert plates and I kept wondering how they would feel if I put them on the floor and put a dollop of ice cream on their backs. Speedwalking ice cream that snaps at me occasionally. This is like a dream I once had. In that one, I vanquished the evil desert by eating it, after eating my way through a sponge cake prison.

My sad ass fitness regime is getting to me.

I saw Jodi Breakers last night. It was the most awful thing I've seen for a long long time. Ah Madhavan... my dear sweet Madhvan. That adorable man who could not look more like a paavam South Indian boy if he tried was wearing shirts that looked like tablecloths and a preposterous tiny hat on his large chubby head and was trying to be a stud man. Cavorting with bikini clad ladies and running his hand up impossibly toned thighs. Shudder. The highlight of that movie was when he stopped trying to be a playaa and lapsed into his cute Tamil boy accent. "I don't believe in lou", he said as everyone fell in lou with him right there.

What a brain hemorrhage fest.

Why do these movies end up making obscene amounts of money while they slowly kill every remaining brain cell of the large audience that watches them? Why do these movies even get made? I barely watch Hindi movies anymore but the last one I saw that was remotely bearable was Dhobi Ghaat. It wasn't completely ridiculous. That is all. That is all I look for anymore in any Indian movie. 

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Rut a tut tut.

I ended my last post with "I will try to get myself out of this uber-cozy little rut that I've settled into."

Now that I've written that, I actually picture myself setting up home in a pothole on a road. I've put up pink curtains, there's a beautiful brown Lazyboy, there's one corner with a teeny little pond because all potholes inevitably have some water in them sometime or the other. There's a little TV which I watch when I'm not busy reading one of the books in my vast collection of which are kept in a bookshelf that line one entire side of the pothole.

Now one day a bullock cart will come by and its wheel will go right into my pothole home over there which is when everything will be in shambles and I will have to relocate and everyone knows that finding accomodation in Bombay is absolute hell. 

This right here is the reason I have to get out of the rut.

(Rut or no rut, there's certainly nothing wrong with my imagination. Also, I really like saying rut.)

Monday, February 20, 2012

Death of the performing monkey who never danced very well anyway.

I'm going to stop attempting to entertain and be my normal boring self from now. I will try to blog a bit more regularly. I will try not to blog about local trains all the time.

I've been trying very hard to be funny and witty and engaging all the time and now it's all gone. I'm burnt out. Even I don't find what I have to say remotely interesting anymore. This is why I have all but retired from Twitter. It's a shame because I've met some absolutely fantastic people there and I hope I'm still invited to hang out with them from time to time.

So enough contrived jokes and enough attention seeking. This is Step One of many following which I may eventually turn into a grey spinster lady who only talks about her cat.

I've recently taken an unhealthy interest in the stock market. Let me clarify that I don't know the first thing about investing, but I am hooked. Since I am almost penniless, I'm playing around with itty bitty bits of money that most people who do this on a regular basis would chortle at but OMG THIS IS FUN. Whenever I make a notional profit (see what big big terms I'm using!) of 5 bucks, I get thrilled. That’s one whole 5 star. FOR FREE. I found out today was a bank holiday and that meant the markets would be closed and I went into depression. I wants my Sensex. I NEED it.

After zero physical activity for the 6 months following my accident, I had bloated like a giant scarred blimp. I was recently informed that I can start running once more which absolutely thrilled me and I'm trying my best to be healthy again. I run around 4 times a week, I'm trying to up that to running everyday. I do my physiotherapy semi-regularly and I'm trying to cut down on my junk food intake. Hopefully I should be an acceptable size in a few months.

Next year I shall run the marathon. Doing that has always been on my bucket list and after the game of twister I played with that car and that truck, I thought I would never get to do that again. Sincere effort shall be made.

I will try to read more, I will try to write more and I will try to get myself out of this uber-cozy little rut that I've settled into.


Monday, January 30, 2012

One more about trains. Please excuse.

I do love Bombay. As much as I try to convince myself that I don’t.

It was so cold today. Way too cold for Bombay standards. Bombay is not behaving herself and has gone and clandestinely crawled into the walk in freezer in search of ice-cream even though her daddy didn't allow her to have any.

The train was very crowded. I managed to get a place to stand near the door. The sun was shining into my face weakly, trying to reassert its strength amidst all that cold I told you about. Women behind me were talking loudly abut their in-laws. This piece of Trent Reznor awesomeness started playing at its beautiful frantic pace on my iPod. Shuffle really gets it right sometimes. I held on to the overhead handle, closed my eyes and saw the the rapidly moving landscape cause the deep red behind my eyelids explode into a flurry of dizzying shapes and silhouettes. I had the sun as my strobe light. I was so happy.

It felt like a scene from a movie. Full intense music plays, the girl closes her eyes and has a doozy of a revelation and then she goes and tells her parents that she is moving out of home to fulfil her lifelong dream of opening a flower shop and then she meets a prince-person and gets married off while her expensive clothes billow gracefully in the breeze.

But because this is me, the train soon stopped and I stepped on the platform and a crow did its business right on my head.

Saturday, January 21, 2012


Years of experience with Bombay locals have taught me that every journey is a battle, to be handled with fortitude, confidence and absolute disregard for peoples toes. Your elbows are your best friends and your trailing dupatta your worst enemy.

Today my usual train arrived just as I ran breathlessly on to the platform. Equipped with knowledge garnered after 6 years of train travel, I took careful aim and rapidly catapulted myself into a compartment before the train could stop fully and twirled gracefully to execute a perfect landing near the opposite door, where I leaned comfortably, turning to face everyone else. In my head, I gave a little curtsy to what I was sure was my dumbstruck audience, which would largely consist of ladies scrambling frantically to get in.

The compartment had 4 ladies in it. 3 more got on after me. 6 eyebrows raised themselves at me. That was my cue to sit in a corner next to one lightly snoring girl and sink deep into my oversize sweater.


Yesterday I saw a very paavam looking 3 legged dog. It seemed sad. I bought some biscuits and gave it two. It ate gratefully and looked at me. I gave it some more. It came up to me, licked my leg, let me pat its head and went back to eating. It was like a thank-you. Heart broke only. 

I want a dog. Gimme.


For the past few days I've been waking up thinking I'm still in hostel. Biting winters, drafty corridors, all that maggi. The different songs playing in each room all mingling to form a pleasant white noise. The unbelievably shrill laughter from a room down the hall. 5 girls in a messy room, talking about giraffes.

This is my happy place.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Because even the Terminator wala Arnold fellow was once called Chotu. Maybe.

My office has finally gotten around to giving me a 2012 calendar. I have proudly kept it next to my computer and circled this month’s holidays on it. The January page happens to inform me in squiggly blue and grey letters that "Well arranged time is the surest mark of a well arranged mind."

With cunningly cunning foresight, I had already thought of this way before my calendar took the liberty of telling me. *drumroll* I had bought a yearly planner. Such grand plans I had. I will make to do lists, I will arrange my appointments properly, I will get so much done! Productivity FTW and all that. I started by noting down some birthdays that I can afford to forget only if I want a month long guilt trip. With this preliminary prep done, I got down to "planning".

Unfortunately, all this comprises of is noting down what to google for and download after I get home. The only indication that this arranging time business is working is that every morning, when I reach work, I dutifully set aside a few minutes to cancel what I was supposed to do the previous day from that page and add it to todays page.

From February onwards, I shall work on “taking charge of my attitude” because the squiggly letters command me not to let someone else choose it for me.
A few days ago I showed my parents the Benny Lava video. My mother was the epitome of :|. My dad laughed so hard I thought he would cry.

Then again, my dad watches nothing on TV but the news and Mr. Bean. Because he’s awesome.
My baby turtles are full comedy. The one I named Bazooka is an introvert and tries his best to hide under a giant rock at the first sign of movement. The one I named Nano because he was so minuscule when I got him is slowly turning into a tank. He tries to eat everything he can see, which includes air bubbles, the filter in the tank, my fingers and Bazooka.

One never stops panicking and one is a turtle shaped vacuum cleaner.