The Holiday..

The Holiday is for people who are going through a mid life, relationship crisis. This movie covers every nook and cranny about the highs and lows, of being in love. Clingy ex-boyfriends who take you for a ride and you get carried away because you're still in love with the idiot. Girlfriends who claim to be head over heels in love with you, but the minute you turn your back on her, she finds comfort in the arms of another man.

The movie centers around the lives of two women. Kate Winslet - the smart, pretty, kind, generous girl who is blindly in love with her stupid ex, who takes full advantage of her vulnerability and uses her as a nice and proper doormat. Cameron Diaz - a successful career woman, who owns a movie trailor making company. She is at the top of her game - sophisticated, rich, sassy. Her life couldn't get more perfect, except for the fact that her live in boyfriend slept with another woman.

The two women decide to take a break, from their messed up lives and decide to swap houses for 2 weeks. Diaz goes to Winslet's quaint little cottage and finds love in Winslet's brother, Jude Law. Winslet goes to Diaz's mini mansion of a house and makes friends quickly (she is portrayed as the English version of Munnabhai - she spreads cheer wherever she goes) and she finds love in Diaz's ex boyfriends' business partner.

Obviously, all ends well. I will say no more, because this movie deserves at least one watch. It's the perfect end to a perfect Saturday of binging at a buffet lunch and spending some quality time with the folks. *Burp* excuse me. =D

My prolonged vacation..

Vacations suck, especially when you know that after it's over, you will not go back into the routine that you were so used to for 3 whole years.. (I'm still heartbroken over passing out, so please bear with some emotional sop)

I just got back home after a 11 day fiasco, in coconut oil and overly hairy men land. The experience was moderately pleasant. I didn't miss coming online this holiday. Trivandrum for me has always been torture. I'm house arrested with no bike, no friends, no gym and no internet connection at home. But this time around, i embraced all that with an overdose of Zoom TV, MTV, 9XM, HBO and Star Movies. Crappy bollywood songs and ridiculously idiotic chick flicks and vague, stupid boy humour flicks are all on the back of my hand now.

I considered writing a book with all the free time in hand, but NO.. the idiot box screamed out my name the minute my eyes opened in the morning.

As for gymming, my next best friend after the internet, i compensated that with running up and down the hillside. My grandma has a house right on top of the hill. You get a splendid view of the whole city if you stand on the terrace. Anyways, back to my primitive workout sessions.. I couldn't feel my back for 5 hours straight after running all over the hill. And when i could finally feel some sensation on my back, it felt like a T-Rex had marched all over my back and jumped on it a few hundred times.

And finally, the sole reason for this unholy trip this year - Weddings! I tried my very best to slip out of my socially awkward self and make conversation and pretend to know my extended large deranged family with horny uncles and matchmaking aunts all in toe. As for cute boys, there were NONE! *sniffs*

Coming back to the point of this post - Vacations SUCK! Vacations are for losers! I want work, i want work!

Passing Out.. Finally!

Today was the VERY LAST DAY B.sc Electronic Media, Batch of 2008 walked into college. We were called to collect our Transfer Certificates, sharp at 10.30am. Most of us walked in dot on time, knowing fully well that we'd have to wait for at least 2 hours to get our TCs in hand. But today was different, we walked in on time because this was the last time we'd ever see each other again as a class. The noise, the chatter, the sound of the old rusty fan, the faces of our profs - we would drink in the details for years to come.

I clung on to my best friend and made promises of being in touch with her, come what may. Life as we had known it to be, was coming to a sad end. We all wanted to burst into tears, but held them back for fear that we'd kill the festive mood. We smiled a smile that reached only our lips, our eyes spoke of the gloom that lurked inside.

It was finally my turn, to collect my TC. My faculty adviser smiled and wished me luck. I smiled back and walked away, too chocked to let the words come out. I walked out of the Department and looked on with envy at a few 2nd year kids talking animatedly amongst themselves.

I went back to my best friend and clung on to her. We walked into our classroom, looked at the wall that had all our names scribbled on it, looked at our desks, the window we used to spy on the watchman, glanced at the house we thought had caught fire and called the cops (whilst in reality a havan was on and the smoke was from the sacred fire), the blackboard we never used (well, not NEVER, we did doodle on it occasionally) .

We went back to the Department and waited for her turn, to collect her TC. I spotted my gang in the cluster of people inside the Department, hugged all of them and said goodbye.

TC in hand, we decided to walk down the stairs, promising one another to keep in touch through Face book and G talk.

All good things must come to an end; she said. I nodded silently, gave her one last hug and we walked in opposite directions with the hope of seeing each other again, someday!

My hot hairdresser boy - Part 2

This is one of those posts that require a little brushing up. It all began like so :- http://bonappetite.blogspot.com/2007/11/cute-hairdresser-boy.html

NOW resume reading here! Yesterday was a very sacred day for me. I was waiting for what felt like an eternity to have my tresses chopped, by my Edward Scissor hands version 2.0

I walked into the parlour to find my chappie in a hassled mood, the parlour was busier than usual yesterday and he was running hither tither between customers chopping, dying, straightening and advising.

He looked at me briefly, pointed out to a chair which faced a big mirror and continued running around the parlour. Once seated, he took off my hair clip and surveyed the war zone. He suggested that 4 inches need to be chopped off. I LOVE my long hair and in normal circumstances i would've said; up yours and bolted, but because it was HE who had suggested it, i smiled demurely and nodded.

He snapped his fingers and asked one of his helpers, to wash my hair. Hair wash done, a towel was thrown on my head like a turban. He was the last person on the face of this planet who should've seen me like that, but thanks to the nice blue stoned semi danglers i had thrown on, i didn't look too hideous. He towel dried my hair for me, made a parting and picked up his tools.

The next 10 minutes were absolutely out of this world. I felt sparks when he ran his fingers through my scalp. And each time he got his face close to mine to check what he was doing, i had to literally control the urge to smooch him. Remember Leo Di Cap painting Kate Winslets' nude picture in Titanic? I felt like Kate Winslet. I was letting an artist do his thing and trying to look unperturbed about the whole thing, while in reality i could feel an incredible amount of heat from head to toe.

Haircut done, he blow dried my hair and styled it. The person who looked back at me from the mirror was a diva! He had given my straw straight hair fun bouncy curls. I wanted to kiss his hands and ask him, whether he was free for dinner later that night.

But as always, i didn't do anything. I just smiled, blew the hair bang away from my eyes and thanked him.

Message to the Divine Superpower : Please God, give me the strength and courage to ask him out at least the next time.

Chocolate Easter Eggs..

I luurrrrrveee the Easter season. I have to flaunt my ignorance a little now, to make a point. I have no idea, what the season/festival is all about. Mum keeps explaining it to to me every year and so does my maid at home, but it just bounces off my head.

The only thing that keeps me on my toes, on Easter day, is the Easter egg. Not the horrible sugar glazed white hardened thing, which you crack and out pops some yucky candies, not that kind. I'm talking about the chocolate easter egg. A blob of pure undiluted chocolate shaped as an egg. *drools* Heaven never looked or tasted better folks. Trust me blindly!

Last evening, i heard loud drunken singing next door, from a bachelor pad. "Its a long weekend, people are all at home" said daddykins. For me at this point in time, all days are weekends, i have lost track of time and space. Sitting at home during study holidays can be a bore. "What long weekend?" I asked. "It's Easter weekend child" said mum.

Me : Reaallly?! I want an Easter egg then! Remember ammumma (mallu word for grandmother) used to get me one every year
Mum : Yes, when you were 7 years old. *smiles*
Me : Biiig deal. I love easter eggs even more now. Pleaasseee muuummmaaaa. Get it for me noooooo.
Mum : Alright, alright! =|

So this morning, as soon as i got up from bed, i tiptoed outside to survey the house and spot my easter egg. After 2 minutes of searching i gave up, looked at mum with a pout and then decided to hit the gym.

During my 1.5 hour workout, i kept dreaming about my chocolate easter egg and wondered when we'd be united again, together, like a real family. Me and my chocolate easter egg.

Workout done, i raced back home, to find mum standing coyly at the table. There was a small white box on the table.

Mum : Oh, I wonder what that is.
Me : (lunging for the box) Its MY easter egg!! Thankyou mumma!

Halfway through eating my heavenly blob i pecked mum on the cheek, chocolate easter egg style!

I luurrrrrveee the Easter season. =D

Once Upon a Time in the World of Net-dom..

Here I am, back to square one, discussing my favorite topic of all times. Onliners! This time I've decided to tell you the facts in a bollywood masala types tale of love/hate.

Once upon a time in the world of net-dom, there lived a girl. She loved blogs and blogging, more than anything else in the world. So, one day she stumbled on the blog of a very interesting man. She read one of his posts, left a comment and went her way.

Life was mundane, with the routines of gymming, sleeping, reading, eating, watching four movies a day etc. College could have been tossed to the list, but she had passed out and was on her study break. She was just swallowing in the fact that this is IT, the decisions she makes henceforth will define the person she is. She is going through a 'i hate growing up', 'i don't want to leave college' phase.

So, the timing could not have been better, when the random interesting man, commented back on roughly around 20 posts of hers. She was floored, to say the very least.

The random interesting man added her on Orkut, and soon an easy friendship was formed. His scraps made her day and she couldn't wait for the next day and the next and the next , just for scrapping back and forth with him.

Now, remember the old adage, familiarity breeds contempt. This story epitomizes THAT adage to the T.

As the hours flew by, she still looked forward to hearing from him, but he didn't quite feel the same. Her girly alarms rang violently in her head and hence she decided to cut him off.

It was one of the hardest decisions that the girl had to make in the recent past, considering she is a very blah blah, i love people person. But she realized, from the wounds of her past and from all the knowledge she gathered through similar situations, that she is bound to get hurt anyway. Therefore, instead of giving the man a chance at it, she decided to take a painful step back and give Serendipity a chance to do its thing.

Thus children, at this moment we have an incomplete, sad love/hate story in our hands. But that is the game of life, we have to play it. And play it well!

THE END!

Big Girls Don't Cry..

First up, i cant believe my ears, I'm actually listening to songs like these! College and a certain Ms Todi has ruined my life. *coughs*

I really paid attention to the lyrics and to the video today. Milo Anthony Ventimiglia is the kind of guy, I'd personally flip for. Throw in some tatooes as well, and hes one smoking piece of grilled chicken, fresh off the barbecue oven.

My interpretation of this whole song and video is - - Theres this girl. She is in love with a very hot man. But there's a catch of course (all hot men come with a catch, name one who doesn't right NOW and I'll bake you a chocolate chip cookie AND ask for his number) He is involved with the wrong kind of people. So, she decides to move out and live her life, pursue her dreams etc.

It's the melancholic mood of the song, that really grabbed my attention. Why do all us womenfolk flip for the bad guys? Why don't we see, that they're just NOT right for us.

While we'd probably think hours about them and maybe write an entire blog entry on them, they're probably out there getting laid!

So yes, Big Girls Don't Cry! Instead we sit back and ponder for long long hours about pointless things.

PS : I need a nice cup of filter kaapi right now, NOT the fraud cafe coffee day lattes! Thank you very much.

Foot in Mouth Situations..

Foot in mouth situations and me are BEST FRIENDS! There are certain things i blurt out or type out, which i don't really mean. Unless the person I'm talking to is someone who knows me damn well, he/she would probably misunderstand and come to very warped conclusions about me.

I don't know why i do it or how i do it. It's a mystery AND it's a disease. Groovy eh? *takes a hammer and bangs it on my head*

I just had a foot in mouth situation 5 minutes ago and I feel absolutely foolish. The thing about foot in mouth situations are that you can't undo it. Once an impression is made, its made. You can just kiss everything else goodbye.

*more banging with hammer*

Shakespeare in Love..

I was 11 years old when i first saw this movie. The dialouges just went over my head, I didn't fancy Joseph Fiennes (the man who played Shakespeare) and as for Gwyneth Paltrow, i just kept thinking : W-O-W! thats one huge head for a wiry little frame.

The womenfolk in the family made a huge fuss over the movie, they spoke about it for days on end but I just didn't get it! A horny man and an equally lust driven woman, who throw themselves on each other every 3rd scene. Ugh and double ugh!

Fast forwarding to 2 hours ago, i was flicking through the movie channels and caught sight of Colin Firth (LOVE the man, thanks to Bridget Jones). But here he was dressed up in a funny puffy outfit, donning a pearl dangly earring on one ear.

I guffawed and turned to Ma; "Your favorite flick". No sooner had the words left my mouth, i caught a dialouge being said, between Colin Firth and another funnily dressed man.

Lord Wessex (Colin Firth): [about Viola] Is she obedient?
Sir Robert de Lesseps (Viola's Father): As any mule in Christendom - but if you are the man to ride her, there are rubies in the saddlebag.
Lord Wessex: I like her!

Now any movie that describes sex like THAT, is definitely worth watching. I sat up a little straighter on my couch now and fluffed up the cushion.

Shakespeare in Love is the story behind Romeo and Juliet. I could absolutely relate to this mad mad writer. He wrote a sonnet each time he kissed his lady love, Viola and he'd spurn out mindblowing dialouges for the play whilst making love to her.

Each time the camera zoomed in on him writing away furiously, dipping his pen in his bottle of ink, his finger nails covered in ink et al, i pictured myself in his shoes.

The rehearsals of the play, Romeo and Juliet come to an abrupt halt, the minute Colin Firth gets wind that his bride to be is sleeping around, with the poverty stricken writer AND rehearsing along with the rest of the cast in the play.

Luckily for Will and co, their rival drama company generously offers them, their stage to rehearse on. So, the show is back on the road.

On the day Romeo and Juliet is staged for the audiences, Viola gets married to Lord Wessex (Colin Firth and Gwyneth Paltrow). As they walk down the church steps, a flyer of the play Romeo and Juliet falls on Paltrow. (Yes, i know very cliched, but nice anyway!)

So she runs to the theatre, does the role of Juliet, and when the play ends, the Queen comes out of the fray (she was amidst the audience, hiding in peasants' clothes) and tells Paltrow to pass on the message to Shakespeare, that she wants a funnier play on the 12th.

And now that my friends, was Shakespeare's next play, titled 'The 12th Night'. It's the story of a woman named Viola, who gets shipwrecked, but manages to fight the currents of the sea and walk on to unknown shores. In Shakespeare's real life, HIS Viola was also leaving him, she was sailing away to a foreign land, with her newly wed spouse.

So basically, Shakespeare implemented bits and pieces of his life into all his plays.

Brilliant brilliant movie! Watch it if you're a whimsical writer who also happens to be a hopeless romantic. *sigh*

Virgin - Tata tie-up..

Hear ye, hear ye

*blows trumpet*

Virgin will be entering India in collaboration with Tata Teleservices. Virgin will be using its brand name. And Tata will be providing the infrastructure.

Nope, im not Richard Branson's little muse. I'm not here to spread the word and make him profits or make him any richer than he already is. I'm here to salute the brains that went into conceptualizing the Virgin-Tata mobile advertisement, which i saw half an hour ago.

I searched through You Tube in and out for the ad, but i couldn't find it. And therefore, it gives me great honour to describe to you, in detail, about this brilliant ad. *big toothy grin*

We see a young pretty lass drawing back her shirt sleeves (a very masculine gesture) and she announces "Mom dad, I'm not interested in boys"

Our TV frames now fill up, with the dumb struck faces of the mum and dad. The father immediately turns to the mother and whispers angrily "THIS is your fault" The mother whispers something back, equally angry.

They turn to their young daughter with blank expressions, trying not to show the shock and horror of their daughter's revelation and they ask her to elaborate. She replies back cooly again, that she is not into men. PERIOD.

Our TV frames fill up with the parents expressions again. The father's look is ABSOLUTELY priceless. I almost fell off my chair laughing.

Right then, the girl's mobile phone rings. She picks it up and says into the phone "Not now Tansen (or was that Tang Singh?). I'm talking to my parents. Bye" She cuts the phone and throws on a disgruntled look on her face and shakes her head.

Her parents look on with interest and quickly ask. "Who was that beta?"
Girl's Response : Some boy in my MBA class, called Tansen. Wants to go on a trip to Goa. I said i'm not coming.
Dad's Response : So go beta, go. You must take part actively in extra-curricular activities
Mother (whispering frantically into the father's ears) : But Tansen? (disgrunted look)
Father (whispering back) : Whatever, its a BOY. So its all good!

The scene changes to the close up shot of the girl. She is in her bedroom. She picks up her phone and says "Tansen, trip to goa confirmed" And we see her grinning from ear to ear.

Moral of this brilliant ad : Ladies, the next time you want to stay out late with your hot guy friends, pull a Tansen on your parents.

And yes, i will put the ad up here, the minute You tube uploads it! Until then, keep your eyes peeled on your TV screens.

The Ad : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ROFaEycLs_0 Thank you Sangeeta!

Amethyst..

Amethyst is a nice quaint (now forgotten, thanks to Mocha, Coffee Day, Barista and all the other jazzy coffee pubs which have sprung up in Chennai over the past 5 years) eat out.

This is yet another post on food, so non-foodians look away.

The eternally hungry 8 of us found ourselves in a dilemma, about where to go and stuff our faces today. We kept name swapping restaurants, bunked college after the 1st hour, played a game of our very own YOU KNOW (UNO name modified - it's a group thing, the rest of you can continue calling it UNO), gluged down watermelon juice and finally it hit us - Amethyst. Close in distance (1 minute walk from friends' house) and open at 11.30 am to feed the hungry and famished.

We joined 3 small round tables, plonked ourselves on the nice steel/jute chairs and looked in awe at the amount of greenery around us and the nice shade it provided us, from the intense heat outside. Heaven was right there, i tell you.

The next 1 hour was an insane hogathon. We started with dessert and drinks. I was sharing my dessert (a chocolate brownie with chocolate sause) with Ms Ritu Chaudhary -- the barbarian chocoholic. She grabbed the fork from me and dug it into my hand, each time i tried to eat a bite.

Next, three starters were served to us. Potato wedges with a nice pink dip (too sexy, i could'nt stop licking the little steel bowl, long after the dip was over) , a cheesy strange shaped golden yellow blob with tomato sauce (heaven again) and lastly toasted square slices of bread with mushroom and cheese topping.

Starters done, we clutched our tummies and looked at each other with sheepish grins. No sooner had we done that, our main course was served - 3 varieties of pasta - one with white sauce, one with a green sauce and one with tomato sauce. Yummy in our tummies!

We were now officially stuffed, to the brink. If tribal folk caught us right there and decided to make us their meal, they would've had a ball.

But of course, we did not give up. Overeating is the name of the game children -- read and learn. We ordered dessert again - two pieces of chocolate cake and one plate of brownie with chocolate sauce.

Food has a magical power - It bonds people. You suddenly get all gooey inside and mentally thank the Good Lord for giving you such excellent friends.

Burp and double burp. I dedicate this post to my lovely gang of foodians anonymous (alcoholics anonymous re-named because we are shameless eaters, alcohol is not an addiction for us -- yet!)

Nerdville..

After 21 years, 25 days and a few minutes here and there (i suck at math, so kindly adjust) later, I'm guilty as charged. I'm a nerd!

I just wrote a paper which I presumed, I hadn't crammed much for. But the minute the question paper was handed to me, my hand shot out like a missile and I finished dot on time. I underlined all the key words, scratched out the wrong words neatly with a pencil, erased all the unnecessary lines out etc. I walked out of the exam hall, with a very elated feeling.

Now, that doesn't make me a nerd. Yes? No? Maybe the next few lines, would change your mind.

I have a Lion King pencil box, (rectangular shaped and light blue) with a small scale, eraser, sharper and 1 small dark green pencil the size of my little finger. My college gear, I'd like to call them. While most people sleep during a lecture, or pretend to listen and space out, I actually listen to every word that comes out of the lecturer's mouth, I take down notes in my school note book (yes, thats right, I still have 25 of my school note books left) and I underline everything with my pencil and my little scale.

"Gayatri, you're such a nerd man. " quoted my friends with sad, disgusted shakes of their heads. I agree. Guilty as charged ladies, guilty as charged.

On the plus side though, I'd make a hot nerd eh? (Yes, I'm fishing for compliments, I'm from fish land after all, if I don't fish, who will?)

Jodhaa Akbar..

I've been hearing Jashn-e-Baharaa for too long now and after watching the flick yesterday (which was a harebrained last minute plan set to motion, which paid off, so cheers to harebrained schemes, screw advance booking of tickets!) i cant stop singing it, or rather it refuses to leave my mouth. I'm singing it in the shower, while brushing my teeth, riding my bike, mid-way through conversations and through mouthfuls of food.. somebody STOP ME!

Jodhaa Akbar, has SUPER cinematography and excellent camera work. The war sequences were mind-blowing. Hrithik Roshan stole the show as usual, with his larger than life performance and his Greek God looks. Aishwarya (can't stand the woman) surprisingly, did a darn good job playing the role of Jodhaa. There was absolutely zilch over-acting (remember Dhoom 2, Bride and Prejudice *barf and double barf*)

The costumes, the jewellery and the sets were magnificent, i felt i was actually stepping back into the Mughal era. It was absolutely amazing, would be an understatement.

The story though, is okie-okie types. If you're the 'i cant get enough of Mills and Boons' kind of person, Jodhaa Akbar is YOUR flick. For the rest of us semi-sops, drooling at Hrithik and praying that we'd someday marry a dude, who looks just like him will make the flick watchable.

Message to Mayajaal a/c controlling people : 19 Degrees Celsius, are you out of your FREAKIN' MINDS?! Grrr!

Arjun Bhadran

I haven’t mentioned anything about this man anywhere in this blog, partly because I’m a little scared of him and partly because if I write something not up to his taste, I fear that "Donate your music and movies to adorable younger sister" will stop.

Arjun Bhadran is my brother. I’m alive and kicking today, all thanks to this man. When he was about 7 years old, he asked his mom and dad why their household had only one child, while all the other households had two and three. And lo and behold a handful of months later, a fat kid rolled out of mommy dearest's tum tum.

Growing up with Arjun Bhadran was fun, I have vague memories of going to a pool with him, I’d float around with that ridiculous tube thing around me whilst he splashed around in the deep end with his friends. He was, like all boys his age, restless and eternally playing outside with all the other small boys. One evening, I heard loud bawling and screaming in our living room, I ran as fast as my podgy, fat legs could carry me. I saw the most horrific sight – my brother bleeding profusely and crying his guts out, he was surrounded by all his friends, mom and dad.

For 4 years after that, i’m drawing a complete blank, because I grew up with my grandparents, while he grew up with mom and dad. By the end of the 4th year, he finally came home. Home for me back then was, land of grandparents. I had no clue who my parents were, I just saw a few pictures of them around the house.

His room was a treasure chest for me, whenever he was not around, I’d run up and explore it. His room always smelt nice and even to date, all the rooms that he has inhabited always smell nice, all thanks to the most expensive perfumes he uses. That’s another thing, the man is very classy. He uses only the most expensive products.

Movies and music, are like the back of his hand. He knows who is hot and who is not at the moment. I grew out of my awkward Backstreet Boys phase (yes, I’m not ashamed to admit that I was a HUGE Nick Carter fan and even had an e-mail ID on hotmail - gayatrilovesnicky@hotmail.com, I was a child, and it was the age making me do random appalling things!) and into a metal diva (hehe, or so I want to believe) all thanks to this man.

Growing up, we didn’t squabble much or have fist fights, like most siblings do. Our relationship was built on authority and respect. Or in other words, I had to drop everything and tend to his 'get me a bottle of water from the fridge’, ‘change the channel’, ‘bring me the last piece of the cake’, ‘don’t go through my stuff’ and finally ‘go fetch that cricket ball from the bushes’

Arjun Bhadran is now 28 years old and having the time of his life in Dubai. He came home 2 weeks back and time just flew, literally. Every single day that he was around was filled with some activity or the other. And by activity I mean, not physical (unless of course you consider picking up forks and chewing food with your mouth as physical activity).

I have run out of words now. I have nothing more to say, besides, I don’t want my Dubai goodie distribution to come to an abrupt halt. So, I’ll end this post with three words -- YOU ROCK BRO! \m/

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.

My Ammumma and Appuppa..

The title of this post is the very first Malayalam words i have ever used on this blog, which stands for, "My Grandmother and Grandfather"

When i was 3 years old, i got a very severe attack of Bronchial Asthma. My dad was posted in Calcutta then. Each trip to the hospital was hoped to be the last, but the Asthma kept getting worse, i don't remember much about the disease, except being injected with needles in both hands all through the day, with tubes all over my body and running around in the hospital hall and playing with the other kids there, until the Doctor came on his rounds. Then we all had to be "Good children" and lie on our beds for the next 5 minutes.

After being hospitalised for a month,with no sign of recovery, the only solution, was to take me to a less polluted city. And so, Trivandrum became my home for the next 6 years. I stayed along with my Ammu and Appu.

Ammu and Appu had a nice big house with hens and dogs and a huge compound with trees. 3 year old me was in heaven. And it goes without saying, i was spoilt rotten.

My Ammu has six siblings in total and my Appu had three. All of them came home everyday of every week armed with toys and chocolates. I titled myself "Princess Hemagiri" and bossed over all the grown-ups. (Hemagiri is the name of Ammu and Appu's house by the way)

Taking me to school everyday was my Appu's job. I used to cry all the way from home till the front gate of the school, then dragged Appu along with me to my classroom, gripping his fingers with one hand and stuffing a handkerchief inside my mouth with the other hand.

Every Friday, Appu did a pooja for me at a Ganesha temple, the Prashad was some sweetened bananas, which i ate like a pig, without sharing with anyone, not even Appu.

Saturdays was Rasna day. Appu used to mix the Rasna powder along with the water concentrate in a huge steel vessel. Next he poured it into glass bottles and stored them all away in the "meatsafe" (a cupboard with loads of junk food). Next me and him drank a glass each of Rasna, with very little water and loads of the Rasna. Highly concentrated sugar syrup, in other words.

Sunday was Fun-Day in Appu land. His definition of a peg of alcohol was very warped. He had one huge elephant sized glass, which he never washed and he gluged 2 pegs (4 pegs considering the size of the glass) along with sweetened peanuts, fried peanuts, roasted peanuts and various varieties of the peanut possibly invented by mankind.

Ammu was in charge of feeding, dressing, making me do home work, taking me to temples etc. And each ritual had to be done keeping in mind various factors. For example, my hair had to be standing on my head like a rocket-spider, the pony must come in the middle of my head (resembling a rocket) and spread out around my head (resembling the legs of a spider). Breakfast had to be fed to me ONLY after wearing my tie and not before wearing my socks.

And as for the temples, i lost track of how many i went to with Ammu. Even now in fact, when i go to some of the temples in Kerala, the poojaris look at me, smile and ask "Indira ammede kochu molle alle?" which means are'nt you Mrs Indira's granddaughter?

I slept between Ammu and Appu till i was 10 years old. It was my job to switch off the lights and cover them both with bedsheets.

To make a long story short, Ammu and Appu became my everything. So, when Dad got posted to Chennai and it was decided that I'd come and live with Mom and Dad, my world came crashing around me. I couldn't leave my Hemagiri and everything inside it. I begged mum and dad to just leave me alone and go away. But, every child has to live with her parents eventually, so i was introduced to the city of Chennai and the Cooum River.

As the years flew by, i remembered less and less of Malayalam, the city of Trivandrum and i began missing my Ammu and Appu lesser and lesser.

The yearly trips to Trivandrum during X-Mas hols and summer vacation was always done with a hope of coming back to my adopted home-town as soon as possible.

My Appu passed away when i was in the 11th standard. It came as a shock to the entire family because he was only 77, walked everyday, drove around in his Maruti 800 and brought groceries and fish for the house, managed all the finances and the plumbing, fed the dogs and the fishes everyday, tinkered around with the pump attached to the well.. It was not his time, it was just NOT his time. My faith in God went down completely, I became an Atheist, refusing to even look at the prayer room in the house.

I had dreams of Appu very often and i heard his voice calling out my name. Either i didn't want to let him go, or he was still around. I want to believe he was still around, trying to console me.

Ammu now, had to live all alone in that big house. And i felt guilty because i didn't want to live in Trivandrum anymore, i wanted to keep my Ammu company but i just couldn't.

2 hours ago i called Ammu and spoke to her. After hanging up, i cried for 45 minutes, because she sounded very weak.

I wonder whether I'm leading a selfish life, i wonder if i should go back to my roots and look after the things and the individuals who were instrumental for my being here today.

High On You..

There are some who walk into our lives and stay for an eternity,

There are others who walk in and walk out faster than a lightening strikes the face of the earth,

Then I met the third kind..

And you know, I’m such a fool for you,
You got me wrapped around your little finger
But I choose not to say a word, I choose the path of silence..

Stay a while Angel boy, you could stay a while
And lets shake things up,
Come again and tell me what you’re going through..

Sit up straight and look at me
Leave some crazy memories behind..

In you, I see a new life again
You’ve opened my eyes to something unknown and exciting..

This is the way I want to be with you,
I don’t want to hide away..

I want to bask in your light for a while,
You’re the rainbow in my ocean of clogged thoughts..

Children..

I've never liked them. Leaving out the tiny outfits and the cute slippers, whats the high? I'm sure i hated myself when i was a kid. They bite, scratch, throw up, say mean things and they always manage to get their way.

But this morning, something happened. I was in the kitchen making some toast, when the auntie next door waved hello and we struck up a conversation. A few seconds later, i heard the little monster's anklets and desperate squeals of "Akka Akka". Auntie immediately lifted the thing up and put it on the kitchen counter. I looked into that small face and i saw pure undiluted joy. I'd never seen someone looking more happier on seeing me. She was gurgling incoherently as usual, while auntie translated everything for me. A 10 minute nonsense conversation and a flying kiss later, i was back to attending to my toast, which was now burnt.

What is the point of this post you wonder, why am i rambling on and on about a child and burnt toast. The point is this : Kids are genuine, honest and in your face. So, when it comes to kids, trust them blindly and shove your head up in the clouds, because they accept you for who you are and they will never hurt you to the point of insanity.

What is life..?

Swimming in a mini ocean womb for 9 months, finally seeing the light of day at the end of the 9th month, screaming your guts out because you're in shame shame puppy shame outfit and the whole world is ogling at you.. Is that life?

Growing up, being bullied by siblings, screaming for attention, getting things done by biting and scratching the nearest arm or leg, being the youngest kid and naturally a spoilt brat of a loud crazy family.. Is that life?

Going to school, making fling friends, real friends, best friends, true friends, fake friends, close friends and finally loosing touch with all of them unknowingly.. Is that life?

The half child, half adult college goer who has the time of her life, given all the freedom in the world, painting the town red and then realizing she has to loose weight and throws herself into the cause whereby falling sick every 3rd month and looking more and more like Dracula's kid sister (because of the pale whitish face, all thanks to anemia).. Is that life?

Again i ask you.. What is life and are we living it the right way?

Ritu-ness..

Ritu. I didn't give the name or the person a second thought in the 1st semester of college. She was a pesky kid with glasses and way too many teeth. She was always butting into our scheme of action and ruining our well laid out ideas. She cried too much and spoke funny. She wasn't exactly one of my favourite people.

And then something happened. Female bonding. Ritu was no longer the pesky soda putti girl, she became close friend, confidante and source of all craziness to our somewhat sober group. She rubbed off the madness and now we can't do without her. Days without Ritu are boring, dull and monotonous.

So, when i saw Ritu walking in today after a zillion days (she had taken study leave to prepare for CAT) i sprung up like the famous cuckoo in the cuckoo clock, screeched Riiiiiitttuuuuuuuuuu and gave her a HUGE spot jogging falling on her like a sack of potatoes hug. And i wouldn't have let her go, if not for my friend Megha's breathless gasps. We had managed to flatten Megha's nose in the process of potato hug.

The rest of the day was a blur of activity, with everyone vying for Ritu's attention. And i spilt my guts out as well, telling her about the boy who has been running around in my brain like a chimpanzee for the past zillion weeks and we did a detailed analysis of his zodiac sign, dissecting every possible aspect of this new development, whether it has a future or whether I'm being stupid and wasting my time.

We bunked the last hour, walking out like soldiers on a mission with Megha and Vani on the lead. Meghs looked very confident and declared to the watchman, that college was done for the day whilst Ritu and i tried our best to suppress squeals of laughter, because we're lousy liers. We ran out quickly before the man could put two and two together.

5 minutes later we were seated at the brand new ice cream parlour which opened out nearby, walloped tiny blow up your nose proportions of fancy ice cream for which we payed through our noses.. again.

Finally it was time to say bye all over again to Ritu for 5 whole days. I gave her another signature G-Hug, wished her luck and walked away with Meghs.

God, Ritu and certain 'boy' have one common underlying thread. They work in mysterious ways, leaving behind them a trail of happy faces, light hearts and lifted spirits.

Kaakha Kaakha..

I could'nt pronounce the title properly back in 2003, when it was first released and folks made fun of me, asking me why i was squaking like a crow, and now if i dont hear a person pronouncing the title correctly with stresses at all the right places, i'll either pinch them or make them repeat after me 15 times or more.

I love this movie would be an understatement. I'm obssessed with this movie. I've seen it more than 55 times, by hearted all the dialouges and scenes part by part and i get so involved in the movie, its not a pretty sight. I scream and yell along with the 4 cops each time they beat the shit out of a rapist/pervert/kidnapper bad guy.

The very last scene where Anbuchelvan stabs Pandiya with a knife a few million times, with flashes of all his loved ones battered and bruised running through his head was the most intense of all the scenes. Surya is an absolutely brilliant actor and i dont think anyone else could've done justice to the role of ACP Anbuchelvan.

Kaakha Kaakha is THE BEST cop movie ever made in the history of Tamil cinema, or maybe Indian cinema for that matter.

What women want..

This is my 100th post, and i thought the best way to celebrate it would be to spill some deep dark secrets of womankind. So listen up gentlemen, keep your eyes on focus and your writing pads ready. Or you can just read this post a few 100 times and memorise the following.

1. No woman gets up every morning from her bed thinking, "I wish i DON'T get swept off my feet today. I wish i DON'T meet Mr. Right"

2. When a woman says, "I'm really focused on my career right now, i don't have time for a relationship" what she's really saying is try harder stupid or yea sure we can go out sometime, sometime called never and a place called never land.

3. Women never make the first move. This depends from woman to woman. Personally, I'd NEVER make the first move. I prefer leaving strong hints, which clearly screams out, "I like you, you dumbass, so ask me out already"

4. Women love listeners. We love talking. So when we talk, LISTEN to what we're saying. Don't look at our lips, don't look at our gorgeous assets. (I meant the amazing hair, you pervert!) So at the end of our HUGE monologue, when its your turn to talk, we'd appreciate it, if you could say something other than, "i love your lips."

5. This overlaps with point number 4. Make intelligent conversation. This is a HUGE turn on.

6. Appreciate women. Treat us like goddesses. Showering us with expensive gifts is not counted. Spending time with us, giving us a little bit of attention, say 10 minutes, would be more than enough. But the entire 10 minutes must be spent with the woman in question wholeheartedly and with enthusiasm.

7. When you say things, anything at all, really MEAN it, otherwise don't say it altogether.

8. Chocolates and flowers work. ALWAYS. Especially when she's angry and wants to grill you over a hot oven.