Lunch at Vasavis'..

Lunch at Vasavis' is no novelty. I'm welcomed into her humble abode, once a month at least, to gorge on her cook Ramu's amazing stuffed parathas, dum aloo, muttar-paneer et al. But this afternoon was a little different.

The gang and i, bunked the last hour of college and rode upto Vasavi's place with salivating mouths and food deprived bellies. (5 hours of no food, IS food deprivation) We climbed up the stairs, rang the door bell and was welcomed by her adorable dog, Simba. He led us to his mistresses' bedroom. On reaching it, we plonked ourselves on bed and chatted up each other over some raw vegetables sprinkled with chilli powder and few squirts of lemon ( I felt like a cow chewing on grass, but as they say, when in Rome be Roman, so when in Cowland be a Cow -- no offence to vegans!).

Salad done, we sat ourselves down, around the table and looked on with anticipation and hungry eyes over the lovely spread before us and within the blink of an eye, the dishes were polished clean. Dessert was served next -- Cookie crumble icecream, with Hide and Seek sprinkles on it.

Few burps and praising our perfect hostess for the lovely spread later, we played a few games of UNO, a fun card game, which I learnt to play today.

Being the slow learner that i am, i goofed up whenever my turn came around to throw a card. A lot of giggling, sweetened popcorn, a pack of Hide and Seek cookies and Ritu's YOU KNOW (instead of UNO) later, the show had finally come to an end.

Oh, how could i forget, we danced along with Bipasha Basu on MTV for her Beedi Jaleile number (we managed to entertain the maid, and piss off the neighbours with all the screaming and jumping) and THEN the show came to an end.

Lunch at Vasavis' shall be cherished for a long long time to come. Ramu bhaiyya, you rock! Keep that stove nice and hot for many more parathas! =)

Transformers..

Stupid boys and their stupid toys, was the first thing that came into my mind, when my brother picked up the VCD from Odyssey.

Transformers is a crazy 143 minute ratatatatatata, bang bang bang movie which has its share of funny moments. But for the most part, you'd be increasing or decreasing the volume on your DVD player and biting your nails off, hoping that the good guys -- Bumbleebee, Optimus Prime (heroic leader of the Autobots), Jazz, Ironhide, and Ratchet win over the bad guys -- Megatron (the evil Decepticon leader) ,Blackout, Scorponok, Frenzy, Barricade, Starscream, Devastator and Bonecrusher.

I'm not sure, what genre to categorize this flick into -- sci-fi? stupid boys and their stupid toys walking around and squashing things? (THIS should be a genre you know).

The machine thingies were quite nicely done though, i liked them. Very cute indeed! Transformers -- watch it just before a very tough exam, your brain goes into ALERT mode and sleep of course is not an option because you'd be wide awake with all the robotic voices still lingering in your head. *arrr arrrr ARRRR*

Within Temptation..

"Evanescence who?!" was the first phrase that popped into my brain when i heard The Heart of Everything, the latest album by Within Temptation.

Within Temptation is a symphonic rock band from the Netherlands. The band was founded in 1996 by, dig THIS - vocalist Sharon Del Adel, who by the way, has THE most amazing voice on this planet!! She made me kick myself mentally a few times and reminded me of my glory singing days when mom kept telling me to go for my music classes, but i paid no heed to her, stayed at home instead and ate like a pig all day long.

Respect woman, R-E-S-P-E-C-T. I bow to thee and your lovely throat. Lage raho Sharon babe, lage raho! I am undoubtedly your newest humble fan.

You've Got Mail..

You've got mail is a movie which was made during the "Internet is amaaaaazing" era, when people had no idea what an E-mail was, what chatting was all about, it was also the time when connecting to the Internet took a little while and a very cute "bzzz uuuuu krrr krrr krrr" noise was produced by our modems. This 10 second noise found people holding their breaths in anticipation and thanking the good lord of technology,when they finally got through.

Finding love online was a novelty then. Now my 10 year old cousin is orkutting so voraciously and chatting up every random girl he meets online, that he puts my 15,000 odd scraps to shame. (Yes, he is a chip of the old block, that little dog!)

Anyway, back to the movie. It is a classic Meg Ryan - Tom Hanks starrer. They send each other uber cheesy e-mails, whilst in real life they cant see eye to eye. Eventually Tom Hanks, discovers that Shopgirl (Meg Ryan's online id) is infact the woman he loathes through and through. He then, takes matters into his hands, befriends her and slowly breaks into her facade and learns that they have a lot in common.

My favorite line in the movie goes something like this -- "The strange thing about communicating like this,is that we eventually end up speaking about nothing. But, all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings in my life." I could picture myself saying that one liner to someone special.

I hope i find my NY152 (Tom Hanks' online id) as well. The internet is the only medium where I'm completely myself, uninhibited, fearless and bold.

In real life, I'm almost invisible! I have to scream and jump around to get my point across.

The Making Of I'm Alright Ma..

I'm a director once again, for the 3rd time in a row, all thanks to my wonderful course, Bsc Electronic Media. 3 weeks of anticipation, sweat, blood and writing away furiously has all boiled down to almost a whole day of shooting.

I could'nt sleep last night, exactly like all my previous shooting eves. I tossed and turned and thought about each shot, the costumes and re-checked all the dialouges. I woke up dot at 6.40 am, rushed around nervously, had a huge tongue lashing with mom, managed to drag dad out of the shower and drive me to college. On reaching college, i rushed to my video studio, looked around for my sir -- who was'nt around. I begin to sweat profusely now and imagined the worst case scenario - he has forgotten about my shoot, he met with an accident, he's pissed off with me because i'm 9 minutes and 35 seconds late. I paced up and down the studio like a woman possessed and then, lo and behold, in comes sir, with a huge grin on his face.

Me : Siiirrr, i'm soooooooo sorry, how long have you been waiting?
Sir : Wokay wokay ma, no tension, it ees wokay.
Me : Sorry sorry sorry
Sir : Wokay wokay

We (sir and i) begin to load all the equipment in the car's boot. 10 minutes later my hero Mr. Varun Sharma aka Barani and heroine Mrs Rita Sharma aka Sandhya Iyer stride in confidently. Without further ado, we sardined ourselves into the car.

The rest of the day was a blurry haze of dialouge and scene rehearsals, checking and re-checking each frame, screaming at people when needed et al.

Mrs Rita Sharma is a character who is 9 months pregnant, so stuffing a cushion underneath her outfit and tying it with a belt was absolutely hilarious. We giggled for 10 whole minutes, and finally managaed to pull of the "swollen bellied anxious mother" look.

Direction is out and out fun, every moment is an absolute treat for the senses. All the hardwork of weeks and weeks pays off really well at the end of the day.

A day to remember..

Today has been a mixed day, not good, not bad. Just mixed. Last night i did the unthinkable and i got the result for the act this morning. It was exactly what i expected, a red signal. But i accepted the rejection, with a smile on my face.

I was not happy, but i wasn't sad either. I felt relieved to finally close a chapter in my life and move on. No more questions, no more what ifs and buts. There was a surety to the situation now, I had all the answers i needed.

Nextly, i chatted up with an established Indian writer, who is, at present compiling Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul for Indian readers. She appreciated my writing skills, called me a teenage rebel and asked me to send her more articles, for her yet to be published book.

Call me an arrogant pig or an overconfident buffoon, but i decided not to send her anything more than what i already had, because i fear that she'll flick my ideas and elaborate on the same. She wanted me to add on 2-3 lines more to everything i had sent her. And that i realized is NOT me. I don't want to write for HER, however established she may be. I want to write for MYSELF. I refuse to give a solid conclusion to any of my articles, I want them all to be open ended, left to the readers imagination, vague, unpredictable et al.

I learnt two things today. Firstly, when it comes to matters of the heart, don't hold back, just spit it out and face the music head on. Rejection is a very over hyped thing, it's sad yes, but not 'i cant live anymore' sad. The circle of life shall continue to revolve and rotate.

Secondly, be yourself. Don't change your identity for anyone and someday the world just might appreciate you, just the way you are, irrespective of how deranged and mad you might be. Period.

Heartbreak..

Disclaimer Note : This is a cheesy post, so non die hard romantics look away!

A boy becomes a man and a girl becomes a woman, the day he/she flips for a person who he/she can't have. I became a woman, when i was 10 years old. I saw Titanic and fell hopelessly head over heals in love with Leo Di Cap. I cried through the nights, chewing my sister's head off, asking her a million times why the ugly red headed broad hadn't died instead of my very first love.

She laughed!! Hearing her squeals of laughter, I cried harder and my heart, i could actually feel it breaking. The pain in my chest was so acute, i couldn't breathe.

Food lost it's taste, sleep was a forgotten best friend. And then, a nerdy looking 11 year old moved in next door. He was my "get back on the horse of love" boy. We spent time pulling off silly pranks and eating. I moved on with life and the pain of loosing Leo wasn't so bad anymore.

Meeting this 11 year old, was a turning point in my life. I realised right then, that i will someday flip for and marry an intellectual nerd.

Sadly, the flipside of intellectual nerds are, they're eternally busy. They have no time for women, in fact i suspect they don't give women a priority at all. So even if a woman hints subtly or screams on his face "I like you" he'll just walk away.

Online Fraainships and Louships..

Before i begin, let me clarify that the title of this post has been mis-spelt on purpose. The world of Internet socialising is not new to me. I've been a voracious YAHOOer, MSNer, GTALKer, ORKUTter and now add to that list FACEBOOK! I'm still figuring out how to use that last one by the way.

It all began when i was in class 8 and daddykins took fancy to a huge white box that looked a little bit like our old Television set. According to one of the girly fashion magazines i was hooked on to back then, this huge white contraption was what people called a "Computer" and you could "chat" with it. I didn't hesitate for a nanosecond. I spun out a yahoo chat id and a yahoo e-mail id, logged on to the yahoo chat rooms and voila, the metamorphosis from book-lover to useless Internet junkie was complete.

I just could NOT get offline! My fingers were glued to the keyboard and i was talking non-stop with my mouth tightly shut. Sometimes I'd forget to pee, eat, sleep etc whilst chatting. Finally, i had to go to Internet rehab to cure the disease. And Internet rehab for me was class 12. The books called out to me, rather screamed out to me and chatting was forgotten temporarily.

Right now, almost 3 years of college done and 8 years of chatting later, i would call myself a semi Internet socializer. I still love meeting people and talking for long hours (because some habits are hard to kill), but now i know, nothing beats offline socialising. The flesh and blood people we meet in our day to day life are pretty much the only folks we can sort of trust. (Read again : SORT OF trust)

Onliners are scary with a capital S-C-A-R-Y, trust me blindly on that folks!

My Family..

Family gives us an identity - both personally and in social circles. This was one of the characteristics of the term 'Family' i learnt in class 7 or was it class 3 now? School was not my happy place, so i don't remember the nitigrities too well.

My family, like all other Indian families i suppose takes this above mentioned trait to a whole new level. I could call myself, Gayatri Bhadran - almost graduate, fraud mallu, potential field journalist, wannabe Bipasha Basu et al.

But in THIS family, I am the great granddaughter of C. Keshavan - writer, freedom fighter, philosopher, the very first Chief Minister of Kerala state. Or i could call myself Gayatri Bhadran, youngest granddaughter of Captain P Thyagarajan - Deputy Port conservator, a very charming, dashing merchant navy officer who had a tale or two to tell - which would either leave people completely shocked and at a loss for words or it would leave them amused and in splits of laughter.

When i was younger, I LOVED family get togethers, back then Family Gatherings = Loads of good food, mischief and 25-30 equally crazy, mad cousins who'd help me with my pranks.

But the older i got, I began to loathe these family gatherings. There were too many nameless faces who walked up to me and enquired with glee, "Gaayaaatri, do you remember meee?" and right there I'd find myself in a tight spot.

Aunts of all shapes and sizes draped in expensive sarees, looking everyone up and down and commenting on how much weight has been gained or lost, where they got their earrings from, who is the prospective groom X for bride Y - that lucky girl, she has quite a catch, the servant lady ran away with the driver man - and so and on and so forth. Juicy tidbits of gossip always float around these women.

The uncles on the other hand are loud, huge, boisterous and crack dirty jokes like nobody's business. They claim to know all about computers, IT professions, fitness regimes and who Bollywood's sweetheart is at the moment.

Yesterday, after a grueling zillion hour train ride, I stepped foot on God's Own Country - my native town - Trivandrum or Thiruvananthapuram (Phew!) No sooner had i reached home and bear hugged my grandmother, she announced that I must get ready A.S.A.P and rush to a close relatives' house as it was the 16th day function of his late wife and as a passing comment she mentioned that i looked emaciated and food deprived.

15 minutes later, we ( mom, gran and me) squeezed ourselves into a Maruti Wagon R and headed off to the relative's house. All eyes were on us latecomers (a few disapproving glances and head shakes) as we got out of the car.

The widower, one of my grandfathers (i have roughly around 10 grandmothers and grandfathers - its all part of being a malayalee) looked up from his food and teared. We rushed to his side, hugged and kissed him and then seated ourselves for an elaborate, sumptuous Sadhya (a typical south Indian vegetarian meal served on a banana leaf)

Sadhya done, I chatted up one of my favourite uncles ( yes, again i have a million uncles and aunts) said polite hellos to the aunts and then settled down with all my uncles.

The next 2 hours were a blurry haze of nonsensical chatter, huge bellies wobbling with laughter, crude comments and of course dirty jokes (this goes without saying you know)

MY FAMILY - You'll either fall completely hopeless head over heals in love with them OR you'd loathe them at sight. But i assure you, if you stick around a while, they'll grow on you and before you know it, you'll be one of them.

Junk Jewellery..

Junk jewellery is not a style statement. It is a way of life for me. I live for junk jewellery. I have 5 boxes of it and I have been collecting it from road sides, from fancy overpriced malls and from vendors (after bargaining my ass off). My collection is not just confined to the streets of Chennai, I would like to think of it as a global/national collection. Ever since i was 10 years old, I've had an eye for junk trinkets.

So naturally, it goes without saying, wherever i go my junk jewellery follows suit. While packing my bags for a quick 5 day vacation, i don't pack the essentials like toothbrush, kaajal, shoes, underwear etc, i pack my junk. I take them all out of their boxes, re-arrange them, put them back inside their boxes, tie the boxes with 2 strings and then put these boxes overflowing with my neatly arranged jewellery into plastic bags, which i fold and refold and tie with strings again.

Every year, my mother and i have a 2 minute tongue lashing which goes like so :

Mum : Don't take everything, just take a few earrings, chains, bangles and bracelets. You're going for a very short trip, how much are you going to wear anyway? Listen to me, you're coming back alone, you'll have to lug it all back.
Me : Okie mum

Mum : So you wont take them all?
Me : Okie mum, whatever you say.

Mum : So you wont?
Me : Yes, i wont take a few earrings, chains and blah like you said. I'll take them all.

Mum : How foolish can you be?
Me : Okie mum

The joys of being a woman lies in those 5 boxes, i would'nt trade them for anything in the world!

A Lot Like Love..

Oliver and Emily are two totally deranged souls who keep meeting each other over a span of seven whole years. They become acquaintances and then close friends; going through different partners (READ : lousy love lives) and careers at the same time.

The relationship between the two is portrayed perfectly, its not overdone, its not under-done. It's real. Absolutely anyone who has ever had a crush on a person, at a point of time and then drifted apart from that person, became friends with that person and ultimately said bye to that person and made peace with the whole thing, can relate to this movie.

It has a happy ending of course, because its a movie after all, what do you expect? Good soundtrack, Ashton Kutcher was his usual cute self and Amanda Peet (who is she again?) did a fairly decent job.

A must watch flick on a boring Saturday afternoon with a belly full of Mooli Parathas. *burps*

Taare Zameen Par..

Dyslexia. I didn't give the word or the disease/disability much thought until 3 hours ago. Dyslexia is, according to Wikipedia, a specific learning disability that manifests primarily as a difficulty with written language, particularly with reading and spelling. It is separate and distinct from reading difficulties resulting from other causes, such as deficiencies in intelligence, a non-neurological deficiency with vision or hearing, or from poor or inadequate reading instruction.

Mind boggling eh? Albert Einstein, Tom Cruise, Keanu Reeves, Pablo Picasso, Cher, Muhammad Ali and Tommy Hilfiger were all dyslexic. People with dyslexia view the world with a different eye, their brains are trippy machines which spew out ideas no mortal being can fathom.

Aamir Khan's Taree Zameen Par sheds light on this disability in a very tear jerking, thought provoking manner. The things which we take for granted in our day-to-day life is a huge pain in the butt for these folks. The child actor, Darsheel Safary was just too cute. Each time he cried, got bullied by kids and was generally down in the dumps, i felt like giving him HUGE bear hugs, slobbering him with kisses and stuffing him with cookies and chocolate milk.

It's a MUST watch flick especially for children, for parents, for to-be-parents and of course for the rest of us non parents and non children.

The Lake House..

Disclaimer Note : This movie is meant only and ONLY for the die hard soppy romantics who tear every half an hour.

Clearly, i LOVED it, why else would i post about it eh? It was cheesy, slower than a snail crawling a wall and right out of a Mills and Boons book.

Don't use logic or your brains too much while watching this movie. Just relish every minute of it. Drink in every detail about the joys/sorrows of falling in love with a person you can probably never meet.

Does this kind of love exist, how can someone be so in love with someone else i kept asking myself through the whole movie. Love does not come from throwing around material possessions at each other and calling each other every second and mooning with each other. Love is.. What is Love? A pain right there in the middle of your chest, a tingly feeling of anticipation, dressing up and looking your best. What is Love?

Movies, the surreality, makes me go :( and :/ Why cant real life be just like the movies? Or are we living our lives at jet speed and forgetting to actually LIVE it.

Temptation..

One more kiss could be the best thing

Or one more lie could be the worst

And all these thoughts are never resting

In my head there's only you now

This world falls on me

In this world there's real and make believe

And this seems real to me

And you love me but you don't know who I am

I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand

And you love me but you don't know who I am

So let me go, let me go..

These are the lyrics of Let Me Go by Three Doors Down. And i think it BEST describes this particular human emotion, TEMPTATION.

What differentiates us from the 10th grader who was up to no good and living a life of a rebel, from a grown up woman, whose priorities are nothing spectacular, (aka a good job, a settled non wild child life) is temptation.

The really yummy fun things in life are all merely momentary pleasures. Once you've gone through the act, it hits you hard, very HARD and then you slap yourself on the forehead and say out loud, "I've lost it, somebody stop me or throw me into the nearest asylum"

I have sobered down a LOT, thanks to college and thanks to a very sober bunch of women who keep me on a leash. Thank you ladies, thank you.

But every now and then, the wild side says, "Hello darling, did you miss me? I missed you too. Come to momma" Last evening was a very testing couple of hours for me. I bit down crazy wild lunatic me and i finally behaved my almost 21 years of age, I'm old i realize and i cant blame my behaviour on "racing hormones" anymore.

Temptation. Overcoming it, is damn hard and it might kill you a little, but the point is, its the RIGHT thing to do. So don't think, just slap temptation hard on the face and ask her to take a freaking hike. Amen!

I’m Alright Ma..

Varun Sharma was a very naughty little boy, who had a love for toy guns and war movies at a very young age. So it did not come as a surprise to the family, when he decided to join the Indian Army right after his Bsc Zoology course.

He excelled in his chosen career and he was very happy to be serving his country. He was itching to get into some “real action” and his prayers were answered in the year 1999. Varun was deployed to the icy heights of Kargil, a remote region in the state of Jammu and Kashmir.

The whole nation stood like a rock behind the men fighting a war forced upon India by Pakistan. Mothers lost sons, wives lost husbands and children lost their fathers.

Varun’s family, which included his parents and his pregnant wife, waited anxiously for his phone calls. He always managed to sound cheery and optimistic, but the strain in his voice was loud and clear.

The news channels declared more and more casualties in the Indian Army and Varun lost many of his friends at war.

On July 26th Varun’s wife went into labour in the wee hours of the morning. So Varun’s parents rushed to the hospital to look up their daughter in law and waited patiently for the arrival of their very first grandchild.

The baby was not due for another 3 hours, so the elders decided to take a quick nap in one of the waiting rooms.

Mid way through her sleep, Varun’s mother woke up with a start on hearing Varun’s voice.

"Ma" Varun said.

She turned over and blinked in the dim light coming from the streetlamp outside the hospital window. Varun was standing beside the bed, gazing down at her tenderly. She sat up immediately.

"Varun!!" she gasped.

He smiled and sat down beside her, as he had often done when he was little. He took her hand and said: "I want you to know how much I appreciate you and Dad. It couldn't have been easy, raising a head-strong boy like me, but you did a wonderful job."

Varun's words filled her with a great joy and a terrible fear. Tears sprang to her eyes. He gently wiped away her tears with his finger. "I came to tell you that I am all right. Take care of my little baby girl for me."

"We will," she managed to say, realizing at last what this visit meant.

"I love you, Ma. We'll be together again real soon," Varun said. He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, and then he was gone.

She fell back against the pillows, too stunned even to weep. Her husband, who was a heavy sleeper, woke when he felt the bed jerk. He rolled over and mumbled: "Are you all right?"

"Something has happened to Varun," she said, too grief-stricken to be tactful. "I think he's dead."

Her husband jerked awake. "What?!" he exclaimed fearfully.

And on cue, they heard the voice of a baby crying out and a nurse came in holding a small bundle in her hand.

“Congratulations grandma and grandpa, it’s a little girl” And the nurse smiled brightly at them.

The language of silence..

It's so damn easy to just keep talking and talking and talking AND TALKING. There are the listeners and then there are the yappers. Both kind, are dangerous and unstable. The listeners may listen with interest or pretend to listen, the yappers are cool people WHEN they make sense, if not its sheer torture.

I had to attend a lecture today, actually i have to attend this lecture EVERYDAY until the 17th of December. It's a soft skill course, where we're given credits. Today was class five for me out of 15 classes. The lady was painful to say the very least, i dozed off and even snored a little until i felt my friend's finger jab my ribcage requesting me to shut my gob and snore softly. So yes, it goes without saying I'm a pathetic listener. Leaving boring lectures aside, I space out when friends talk as well. I'm like Joey, i just nod along and laugh if everyone else is doing it, or i frown and look pissed off IF everyone else is doing it.

My friends on the other hand are darn good listeners, they're more mind readers and face readers than listeners. Just a slight facial expression is enough for them to shoot out ; "Alright lady, what did you do this time? Spit it out you idiot" And of course i spill my guts out for a very verrrryyy looo-hooong time.

I'm not a whine, but if given the opportunity, i could whine on and on and on and make even the happiest person around me gloomy. And if I'm happy i could go on and on about that too and make the saddest person around me slightly happier.

I personally don't think I talk a lot, but people who know me claim i don't know the meaning of the word silence. If that is indeed the case, i hope I'm an interesting yapper and not the boring kind.

Language of Silence. Profound indeed. But what the hell is it exactly? *scratches head*

The hairy stink bomb..

I had to do 30 hours of community service in the first year of college. So the gang and i, went to this old age home in Porur, called Little Drops. Getting there was a task in itself. We met at college, took 2 buses to reach Porur, walked from the Porur bus-stand for 15 - 20 minutes to this godforsaken location. Once we reached there, all calm prevailed; we'd drink loads of water, freshen up and get busy with the old folks. Cutting their nails, feeding them, talking to them, making merry etc. Old folks are fun to be around.

At the end of the day, we'd bid adieu and head back home, back to this treacherous journey of 2 buses. By the time I reached home, I'd be so pooped, someone would have to bathe and feed me. And I'd recall the day's events in my head, and thank the good Lord, for giving me such a comfortable life. Eating on these days was out of the question, because all through the day my nose would be subject to the most horrible smells, and to get those bad smells out of my system took another 24 hours.

Today, i had a similar experience. Not at an old age home, at gym. A 15 minute run on the threadmill later, i was panting, puffing and breathing in huge gulps of air, when suddenly i smelt something, something worse than rotten tomatoes and rotten eggs combined. It was nauseating. I turned to look at the direction of the smell. He was big hairy and wearing too little clothes. Apparently he was quite proud of his disproportioned eye sore flabby body. I applaud the man for that, because if I was him, I'd be caught dead in that outfit in the loo, let alone a public place with civilized human beings around.

I looked at him once more, pleading silently with my eyes "go away, walk on another treadmill" and i gripped my towel tightly around my nose to emphasize this non verbal plea. But he mistook my plea, he conjured it up as non verbal flirting instead and gave me a huge toothy grin. I felt like a soldier fighting for her survival. I kept chanting in my mind "I cannot die, today, not here, not like this. I have too many responsibilities on my shoulder." And i took few deep gulps of air, (quite similar to what deep sea divers would do, before taking a plunge) and kept walking. Next, I tried breathing through my mouth, instead of my nose.

And lo and behold, there are moments in my life, when I truly realize the meaning of the words "Divine Superpower and Lord Almighty", the man thing fell off his threadmill, moaned for 5 seconds like a sleepy hippopotamus, clutched his sad excuse of a bum and walked away. Fresh air, never smelt so much better. *gasps*

Life In A Metro..

We live in a selfish world. A world where the thin line between love and lust are blurred. A world where technology makes life easy for us, but the very same technology adds on to our day to day stresses. A world where, people would do absolutely anything to climb up the corporate ladder.

But admist all the madness, there still is some innocence left in our hearts. Some of us choose to see it and act upon it. The majority of us bite it down and adapt to the situation at hand. We leave the things and the people we love in search of something better.

Life In a Metro is OUR story. The story of ordinary human beings, who make choices and live with those choices, happily or with sadness.

School..

School.. For most people, it was the age of joy, bliss and innocence. But i was a sick kid, (no REALLY, there was no innocence whatsoever, i was a pervert then and i suppose i still am) and i had a bunch of very deranged friends. All in all, school was not my happy place. The happiest day of my school life, was when i passed out. I laughed the loudest and ate the most for my farewell, whilst everybody else were sad and gloomy.

Now after saying the afore mentioned you'd presume, I'd never go back to school. But life as they say, is weird with a capital W-E-I-R-D. I met all my 11th and 12th grade teachers today and a few others. I don't remember the conversations now, it was a blurry haze of words, summarising each other's lives of 3 whole years.

My goals and objectives in life, became more sharper and clearer after having spilt my guts out to all of them. I knew right then, I had to do something really mind-blowing in the next 1 year, namely : Be Barkha Dutt version 2.0

Although i hated school and everything about it, with every last nerve in my body, today was the best day ever. I feel so content and at peace.

The cute hairdresser boy..

A man who goes clip clip clip with scissors to cut hair. Nothing can get hotter than THAT. For a beauty parlour to do good sales, all they'd have to do is employee ONE very cute hairdresser boy who talks smooth, looks like your next boyfriend and has the most piercing gaze. *sigh* I think I'm in love.

What started out as a very boring day (a trip to the doctor, a trip to the nearest diagnostic center) ended with a trip to the beauty parlour. I don't generally get too excited about beauty parlour trips, but this morning, I could smell something in the air, woman's intuition told me that good karma was in the air and i was in for something exciting.

Mum wanted to give her hair a trim, i didn't protest, i just nodded along absently to the words coming out of her mouth. We parked the car on the street, walked down the street to the beauty parlour block, climbed up the stairs, reached the foamy glass door of the parlour, opened it and VOILA, our eyes met. He was a Greek God.

He was not too tall, not too short, just the height i liked, he donned a small diamond stud on his ear, had a smart pair of jeans on, very nice sneakers and a smart shirt. And he was cute. Not the boy next door type cute, but the OH MY GOD i think I just died and went straight up to heaven type cute.

I decided very impulsively to get a pedicure, partly because i care about my legs, they're legs after all, we need to take care of them, and mostly because i wanted cute thing to see my gorgeous legs. *evil grin*

Mum took her seat and the man began to clip her hair. I envied mum for the very first time in my life, i wished i was sitting on that seat and his fingers were running through my hair. I couldn't take my eyes off him, he was a complete professional, very focused, very dedicated, he had on a very serious expression whilst chopping mum's tresses. And at the end of it he advised her on the hair products to use and how to comb her hair. I was blown away. This man knew hair care like the back of his hand. I fell a little more in love with him now.

He finished off faster than my pedicure lady, which gave us some time to discreetly look at each other and then pretend we're not looking at each other. I wished he'd drop a note off with his number on it while walking past me. No such luck though.

Rest assured, i shall be a very regular customer. Pedicures say hello to your newest friend.