Inked

For all my show of bravado and pompous declarations of fearlessness, I am actually a wimp at heart. I am wimpier than the proverbial 'scaredy-cat' and the touch-me-nots. Yellow, sissy, chicken, weakling, fraidy-cat, namby-pamby...but by now I suppose you get the drift.

One of my most cherished dreams has been to get tattooed. It took years of mustering courage and making three other friends get inked for me to finally manage to stagger into the snazzy tattoo parlour.

Months ago, I had been scouring the internet in search of the perfect design, but then I am not very easy to please.

"Do you have any designs I can select from?"

And the next thing I knew, I was swamped to the chin in design books, searching for anything that would catch my fancy. After about an hour of hopeless poring over countless designs, shortlisting, discarding, re-shortlisting and what not, my friend (you don't think I walked in there alone do you) had just about had it with me.

"Now you select something real quick or I'm off!", she threatened.

Suitably chastised, I quickly picked on the design that I had been eyeing for a while and decided that that was that.

The starting up of the tattoo machine was about the scariest noise I had ever heard. If you don't count the dentist's drill of course. I looked at the tattoo artist's face in the hope that he will be gentle with me, and saw this maniacal gleam of evil in his eyes.

"Oh god, I shall be very good, I shall never thumb my nose at passers-by, I shall always let elders sit on the last seat in an exceedingly crowded bus.....OUCH!"

The needle had pricked my skin. The first few minutes were terrifying as I tried to not hyperventillate and thrash about like a convict on the electric chair. But eventually, when I did come to my senses, I realised that it didn't quite hurt as much as I had envisaged. Unless he drew long uninterrupted strokes with the machine that is.

I sat there patiently, asking the artist tons of questions about the whole world while my friend thumbed through magazines. After an hour, it was over.

I am now officially stamped with a pair of gorgeous blue tulips.

New Shades

Yeah, again.

For some reason that I can't even begin to fathom, the trickiest task for me is being able to keep a pair of sunglasses safe and sound while using them to the fullest.

First it was those blasted monkeys that grabbed my sunglasses. Then it was those blasted evolved monkeys, or man, as they are commonly known, who grabbed my sunglasses. Oh, but I haven't told you about that now, have I?

Whilst vacationing in Gangtok, I took my sunglasses from my bag and kept them on the bed at my hotel room as I wasn't anticipating needing them. The day was cloudy and dark enough and my bag was overflowing with its usual junk and I had wanted to make some space. I locked the room carefully, put the heavy brass keys into my bag and went off touristing away.

When I came back, my glasses were missing. So were a few gobs of aloe vera gel from my friend's beauty kit.

I had to go and get new glasses made now. Story of my life. Sigh.

At least I have the last laugh. I wonder what the thief will do when he finds out he can't see properly through my sunglasses because they have my power built in?

Travel Travails

I am a seasoned traveller. That means I have travelled in all seasons. I am also a weathered traveller. That doesn't mean I travel in all weathers but rather that I am rusted and totally beat. And there's a sound reason for that.

On most occassions, the normal man flags down the ubiquitous autorickshaw, climbs in and zooms off directly to his prefered destination while in the Big Bad City. Snaking through trecherous terrain and serpentine rows of honking vehicles stuck in traffic jams while the merciless rain drums down relentlessly is quite the normal affair for the Common Man.

Unfortunately, as I have pointed out in my earlier compositions, whenever anything is applied in my context, it ceases to be normal or common anymore. The laws of physics hold good only so far. In case you were ever wondering where your hard earned tax money vanishes, then you'd be extremely gratified to know that over half of it is employed in funding reasearch of the Me phenomenon. No wonder our nation is forever in need of accomplished scientists.

Anyway, life throws quite interesting "common" problems my way. One of God's favourite ones is providing me with sufficient adventure and excitement while I am trying to reach the darn airport on time. His Chief of Staff has decided that my dull dreary life needs to be enlivened and the only time it is appropriate to do so is when I am in a mad dash to reach the airport in time for my flight.

So today, Mr. Chief of Staff (hereby refered to as CoS for brevity but mostly because I am too lazy to type such a long phrase again and again) decided to personally help me get to the airport.
Dad was out on the road waiting for our ubiquitous rickshaw to arrive. There was no sign of any. Of course when you don't want them, they keep getting in your way like an overgrown belly and often you have to walk around with a huge red-and-white signboard screaming "I do NOT want any autorickshaw".

After about ten whole minutes of frustrated waiting, we had to pick up my bags (which weighed about a ton with all the goodies mom makes for me - the 'overgrown belly' reference isn't entirely without a history of its own mind you) and start walking towards the main road in the hopes of getting one rick. We found one rather quickly after that and before the driver could change his mind, we parked ourselves with authority and got ready to be whisked away.

However, the minute the rickshaw turned the corner, one of its tyres got punctured. Muttering unprintable expletives under my breath ('coz my Dad was right there so I couldn't say them out aloud. We Indians pride oursleves on our culture) I clambered out and immediately started looking for another one.

The CoS was getting warmed up so there were no other rickshaws in sight. When dad finally managed to flag a couple, they refused to go to the airport and scooted off faster than the Roadrunner. Finally, after much flagging and other antics whose details I shall spare you, we got one that agreed to take us to the airport. As luck would have it (rather as the CoS would have it), the minute we settled in, the back panel popped loose and the driver started expending all his energy in fixing it up. This rickshaw wasn't going anywhere either.

We extricated ourselves from the interior and started our flagging business again (my arms have quite toned up I observed). I have a notion the CoS was getting bored with this routine so he sent us a rickshaw to get us to the airport and we were finally on our way.
He sent some other distractions for variety instead.

Remember the serpentine rows of honking vehicles stuck in a traffic jam referenced above? Yeah, every line here has a history as you may have noticed by now. So, our rickshaw was stuck somewhere in this serpentine row of honking vehicles in the traffic jam and was contributing in some measure of its own, to the decibel levels by effective and well-paced honking.

I got a wee bit uneasy and decided to call up the airlines to explain my predicament and see if they could let me tele check-in. They politely told me to piss off.

CoS must have been enjoying himself.

I figured there was no need to get upset and worst case I'd miss the flight and end up getting more vacation than I had bargained for. I immediately brightened at that thought and grinned to myself. Now that I was looking at things in the right perspective, I was beginning to positively beam at the traffic, the rain and the local cat. Just when I was about to offer a friendly advice to the driver to turn back and head for home instead, all traffic vanished in a puff of smoke (pun unintended) and we reached the airport in no time flat.

Cursing CoS for spoiling my plans again, I quickly hopped off and rushed to the terminal to catch that blasted flight. I was the last person to arrive before the gates were closed.

The Efficient Packer

I'm pretty non-fussy when it comes to packing. I pick an outfit for each day using pure arithmetic, dump it into a suitcase and its all done. However, this time I decided to save space by taking less clothes and washing them to reuse. That way, half my suitcase was empty for all the shopping I would do.

I rubbed my hands with glee (and some sanitizer) and went off into the wild blue yonder.

Unfortunately, pure arithmetic hadn't taken into account the complex weather conditions which wouldn't allow my clothes to dry at all. It was either too cold or too rainy.

I ended up buying more clothes and filling up my suitcase with unwanted junk. Oh well, at least I had space.

Best laid plans

Ever meticulous and cautious, I do weeks of research about a place before I actually land there and Darjeeling was no different. After careful digging around and tons of time spent on the internet, I finally prepared my masterplan - the itinerary for my vacation. Hotels were called, tickets were booked, local taxi numbers were noted, wardrobe was planned (and replanned about five times), goodbyes were said and I was on my way.



Only, someone up there had a different agenda in mind.



Absolutely nothing worked as per the plan. Which is no problem to someone gifted with as many grey, blue and pink cells as I, but it kinda gets a wee bit heavy on the pocket.

So we reached Bagdogara airport from where we would take a taxi to Gangtok, but were informed that there was a huge landslide and roads to Gangtok were closed. We'd have to go there via Darjeeling.

So what was the issue you may ask. Well, in case you don't know (and that's rather obvious), Bagdogara, Darjeeling and Gangtok form a triangle. One of the first principles of a triangle is that you can't go someplace via some other place without doubling the time. After a 5 hour trip we were in no mood to go winding about on mountain roads for another 9 hours. Besides we had scheduled our hotel dates in Gangtok first.

Anyway, reason took over and we decided to start our vacation with Darjeeling instead. Unfortunately when we reached Gangtok after a few blissful days in Darjeeling, Nathula pass was closed, I ran out of camera memory, the famous Kanchenjunga sunrise was blotted out with clouds and we got stuck in another landslide on our way back and nearly missed our flight.

Did we enjoy the trip? You bet we did. How much did we spend? At least 30% more than our budget!

Momos

It was 3pm. I was surveying the lush greenery of the tea gardens of Darjeeling with awe when my tummy gave a low growl. Distracted, I looked at my watch and realised what my tummy was trying to tell me. I hadn't had anything to eat since morning and tummy was angry.

I looked around the tiny little tea-shops that dotted the landscape and approached them expectantly.

"Do you have anything to eat here?"
"Yes madam, Momos"
"One plate please"

As I sat on a broken wooden bench, gazing in wonder at the rolling mountains merging into the green slopes, the tea boy came up to me with a steaming plate of 5 tiny momos.

I picked one up, dipped it in the chutney provided, blew off some steam to cool it down and put a giant bite into it.

I have never tasted anything so divine. The chutney was the hottest, spiciest one I had ever eaten and the momos just melted into my mouth. In almost no time at all I had gobbled up all the five.

"Another 2 plates please" I asked, my appetite totally on overdrive even as my tongue was on fire. "And some of your famous tea to go with it".

The tea boy grinned and took down the order.

Half an hour later, tummy was satisfied, palate was in heaven, tongue was burnt to cinders. After all, I had gobbled down four plates of the delicacy.

Food

Sometimes I get very childish when I'm in a dumb restaurant waiting for hours for the food to arrive. I then make creative use of my time with the material at hand.

Here's the bored, pissed off me on the empty plate.

Personae Dramatis

This applies not only to human beings, but also to mundane things like vegetables as I very recently discovered to my chagrin.

I decided to make this Sunday very special for my boy by serving some of my fabulous home cooked meals. I am normally not your kitchen-types but I do make some killers.

So when I went shopping for vegetables, I realised that I had a lot more to learn than a silly MBA.

"Bhaiya, zaara woh choti waali lauki dena" I said
"Woh baingan hai memsaab" he replied.

I was stunned. I looked at the vegetable closely and decided to buy something I could recognize correctly instead.

"Those strawberries - how much are they?" and my mind drifted off to all those innovative uses I could put those lovely red strawberries to.
"Those aren't strawberries, madam, they are litchies"

AArrrgghh.

I decided to go to some other market and try my luck there. This one was very deceptive I thought sourly.

Half an hour later, I was haggling with a vendor on the prices of ginger which turned out to not be ginger but arbi.

Oh well.

I came home and cooked a potato dish instead.

The Kiss

I knew I was a gonner the moment I looked into his eyes. Those jet black whirlpools of infinite secrets sucked me in and I lost all sense of time.

He looked intensely into my eyes and pulled me towards him in an embrace. I shuddered at his touch and looked up into his smiling face. Oh God! He had got to be the hottest creature I had ever laid eyes upon.

My heart thundered in my chest as I tried to remember how to breathe. Yeah, in deeply then out, got it. I exhaled slowly as my gaze lowered to his lips. Their lush fullness promising untold pleasures was temptation enough without him making it even more irresistible with a slow tantalizing smile that showed glimpses of his fabulous teeth.

And before I knew it, his face swooped down upon mine and his warm luscious lips captured mine in a deep passionate kiss. I was lost to all humanity. I closed my eyes and gave myself up to that feeling. His lips were warm and soft and...demanding. They coaxed and cajoled and teased. I decided I had died and gone to heaven.

Suddenly I felt a terrible coldness. Alarmed, I opened my eyes and found myself alone in the midst of smouldering fires, dancing dervishes, red skies and skeletons. I looked around in fear as they mocked me through sightless eyes, their cackling the sound of pure evil. Realisation dawned.

I hadn't died and gone to heaven.

I had died and gone to hell.

Bite it!

I was excited. It had poured buckets last night and I knew this morning would be simply amazing. It was. The air smelt fresh and sweet, the temperature was great, the breeze blew tiny little flower-petals around playfully and I smiled to myself. Yesterday's pissy mood had long gone. And the good mood had come back with a vengeance!

We left promptly at 6 and reached Cubbon Park around 6:30. Ten minutes of stretching and warmups later we started our weekly jog. I was thoroughly enjoying myself and keeping a keen eye open for Mr. Super-Hot in case I ran into him again (that's another story for another day folks). I was into my 5th kilometer when suddenly my forehead exploded in pain and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Waitaminit, I am not Harry Potter. Then why is my head hurting?
I didn't run into anything. Then why is my head hurting?
No one else stopped running, its only me. Then why is my head hurting?

While I was trying to figure out what was going on, I brushed my forehead vigorously and pulled out a bee from it. The bee seemed to think that expression "bee in your bonnet" should be taken literally to get with the times.

As I stared appalled at the mess in my hands, it occurred to me that the bee sting definitely proved one thing - I was SWEET!

I grinned wickedly at the now dead bee, wiped my forehead thoroughly and resumed my jog.

Gainfully employed

My true test of patience, apart from tolerating the constant crib-crib-crib of the Blubbering Bimbo was how not to die of boredom in a house full of strangers.

Thankfully, my little friend, the Canon Powershot SD400 was there to keep me company.

I quietly sneaked out the front door and closed it gently behind my back. As I stepped into the pitch black porch, a streak of lightning lit up the sky. I involuntarily cringed and started back towards the comfort of the house but the loud crib-crib-crib arrested my steps. I was damned if I was going back in there now.

I turned around slowly and walked back into the darkness. Another flash, brighter and longer, greeted my tentative steps and I shut my eyes tightly.

I hate to admit it but I am quite chicken when it comes to lightning and thunder. All I can think of is to hide under the bed with my eyes closed, sixteen pillows at my side and Rambo standing guard outside. I peered around the blackness hoping to distract myself from the spectacle in the sky. I looked down at my camera and a slow wicked grin lit up my face.

I knew exactly what I had to do. It would keep me gainfully employed, away from the Blubbering Bimbo and with luck, help me get over my irrational fears.

I played around with the settings and aimed my camera at the spot in the sky where I had seen the maximum flashes and waited with bated breath.

It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. First, the ligthning was not tongues of fire all the time, it was more of an ambient blaze of light in the dark sky. Second, it was very very very cloudy. Third, it was drizzling a wee bit. Fourth, I wasn't fast enough with the clicks. Fifth, the camera was not fast enough either. Sixth, I could hear the baying of two hundred dogs and it sounded quite near...

I shook myself and concentrated on getting good shots, hell, any shots of the lightning. I changed my camera settings five times to see what would be best. I snapped off about a thousand frames relentlessly. About 45 minutes later, they called out that dinner was ready and I went inside.

"You look like the cat who swallowed the canary. Spill it!"

"Take a look at the shots I got" I cried in excitement. I had got about a dozen photos of lightning, but there was one that was mind blowing.

And now, I don't think I will be that afraid of lightning anymore.

A night in a homestay

So far, my weekend trip wasn't turning out to be as exciting as I had hoped. Apart from the fact that I had to put up with a senseless female who only opened her mouth to crib (and trust me, her mouth remained open 24*7), the 6 of us were going to be staying at some sidey homestay.

I am not against homestays, but I am strictly against sharing rooms with blubbering bimbos. But since all others were men, we were conveniently paired and bundled off into one room.

I did my best to fall asleep. But one can hardly concentrate on serene thoughts when the melodious notes of a rumbling snore keep assaulting one's senses. I realised that our blubbering bimbo couldn't keep her mouth shut even when she was asleep.

Disgusted, I buried my head under two pillows and tried to think of the Bahamas but to no avail. The racket she was making was enough to be heard in the next country. I got off the bed, snatched my pillows and blanket and left the room in search of greener pastures.

I stumbled through the dark lobby in search of a place to park myself. I remembered that there was a small room in some corner where extra mattresses were piled up. I blundered around in the dark till I found it and then switched on the light. There were five mattresses. I sighed with relief and satisfaction. Without wasting a minute, I quickly laid out one mattress on the floor, yanked a bedsheet off a divan and spread it across my mattress. I switched off the light and snuggled in to get some sleep.

Alas the sound of the snore kept tormenting me even there. I squirmed around in bed trying really hard to stay calm and get some sleep. I sorely missed my ipod. As I lay there awake, other sounds starting penetrating my consciousness - I counted three dogs barking ferociously, the occassional rumbling of thunder and - what was this - another more horrible sound of snoring!

I sat up.

Yes, it was unmistakable. It was a much louder, more obnoxious sound of male snoring. I shrugged and decided there was no way I was going to be able to get any sleep that night. I tossed around in bed and employed my wide-awake mind to other tasks to keep myself busy.

Soon, I was mentally plotting graphs on amplitude vs time for these two snore-ers and comparing their snoring patterns. Then I added another dimension to this graph and observed the snoring patterns again. I prepared a weekly forecast of snoring patterns assuming certain attributes remained constant and looked at my handiwork with satisfaction. By that time, I felt like the resident authority on snores. I was about to move on to other creative thinking areas when I realised that a third snore had joined in the competition.

I laughed and gave up.

Then I mentally wrote three bestsellers on the hazards of staying together in a homestay and concocted a horror story where the snore turns into a monster and eats everyone staying at the homestay. As my monster was gobbling up the loudest of the snore-ers, I invented another much bigger monster. His job was to gobble up the other monster, I decided with relish. I was quite enjoying my story and adding more embellishments when a rooster cock-a-doodle-d. I reached out for my cellphone and looked at the time.

It was 6 AM. Time for the house to awaken.

"Wow, you look so fresh", I snidely remarked to the blubbering bimbo when she stepped out after a shower, "slept well?"

"Yeah, I slept very well, and how about you?"

"Oh, I had a nice sleep too, thanks".

That's what happens when you go out with a bunch of folks you work with. You gotta grin and bear it!

My Hairband

Most of the times, I forget to be all prim and ladylike. The other times I am too busy goofing up to be any good at it. So, all in all, I am the most hopeless failure in the feminine guile-and-charm department which the rest of the female species seems to be naturally endowed with.

So I go and buy a lipstick and half an hour after dabbing it on my lips, it disappears into thin air. Or rather into my tummy. At other times, I try kajal and then go on to rub my eye, blackening half my face in the process. I buy high heels and keep them in the showcase for display purposes while I saunter off in floaters under formal trousers.

However, there is one accessory that no one on earth seems to use but which I can't live without - my black hairband. It is a metal affair with jagged teeth to hold unruly tresses with authority and aplomb. It is the singlemost important item of clothing when I am at the gym. It also comes in handy when I want to pry open stubborn doors or ensure my cap stays in place. Of course when it is not plonked on my head, it acts as an effective paperweight.

Business Law

I stared at the book for about an hour figuring out how to interpret it. Although the words were in English, the language strangely was miles off.

Yes, I am talking Law. Business Law. It is totally incomprehensible.

Seven days later, I was still struggling through my 7th chapter. I have 2 more to go. Sigh.

10 K

I did it again.

While the world slept peacefully, earning a well deserved rest after two days of hard partying, I was busy brushing my teeth with half an eye open at 5AM on Sunday. I had decided to run and when I do decide to do something, its rather difficult to dissuade me. Even if it means neglecting my precious beauty sleep.

At 5.45, I was ready to tackle the world. A bunch of us were practicing for the marathon and I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. We reached Cubbon Park around 6:30 and after another few minutes of waiting for others to join in, we started off at a brisk pace.

It was amazing. The park was gorgeously green and cool and last night's rain had added to the overall beauty of the place. Here and there the road was dotted with the serious joggers, the mild joggers, babies in prams with plump mothers cooing over them, big men with ponderous moustaches and even more ponderous gait, young children playing badminton, dogs barking at other dogs, dogs barking at people and the five of us weaving through without breaking step.

I looked around me with interest and excitement, never realising that an early morning could be so vibrant if only you were awake to see it.

I finished a straight jog with 7 km and the remaining 3 km walking.

Confessions of a Devil

1. I so wish I could get some of those modern ACs installed in here. Its terribly hot in hell
2. They don't make good enough sunscreens anymore...
3. When they talk about being between the 'horns of a dilemma', are they talking about my brain?
4. I am so tired of my boring red outfit. Now, white on the other hand...
5. I don't have too much work to do these days. Man has started following in my footsteps of his own accord. Remember Hiroshima and Nagasaki? Remember 9/11?
6. My phone number is NOT 666. Cellphones don't work here, they melt in the fire.
7. I do have a 2MBPS ISDN connection though...
8. I am D evil one. Or De Vil-lain. Hence Devil. Always curious, aren't you?
9. No, my tail doesn't poke me when I sit.
10. Can I have an iPad? I have heard so much about them...

Excalibur

I was facinated by King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Legend has it that only the king could extricate this magnificent sword from the slab of stone it was embedded in and when Arthur, a mere boy of 16 did so, history was made.

So when I chanced upon this drilling machine in a mall, it occurred to me that here was our very own modern version of the story.

Yeah, I did pull it out of that stone.

No, I wasn't crowned king. Hmph.

Managerial Economics

I just finished my assignments on this subject and gained some valuable insights into the mysterious world of Economics. Here are some definitions:

Demand - what you make when you want to go shopping
Supply - credit card of your boyfriend
Demand forecasting - how accurately your boyfriend can gauge your impending urge to shop
Law of supply - the less money your boyfriend has, the more you will want to shop
Elasticity of demand - a woman's demands are never ending. Period.
Production function - how many credit cards your boyfriend has or can procure. Also, how much money does he make
Monopoly - having only one boyfriend
Oligopoly - having 2 boyfriends to choose from
Perfect Competition - when you are happily playing the field. There are no entry restrictions.
Opportunity Costs - what you miss when you choose one guy over the other
Cost Benefit Analysis - a girl's guide on how best to choose the right boyfriend.

Brain Drain

My brain is on vacation. Officially.

So how do I manage to work? Are you kidding? Whenever did you need brains for that?!

GAH!

Sitting in a training can be quite fun. As long as others are somewhere close to your intelligence level.

But as usual, since I get caught in all sort of sticky situations, I got pulled into one where the whole class was a classic bunch of nincompoops.

Not only was the progress of the subject matter slower than mollasses, I fell asleep at least five times without missing anything worthwhile.

I am still sitting in that infuriating training session listening with wonder to the extent of stupidity that people can display.

Of long meetings and unending trainings

Sometimes, I think that man made meetings solely for the purpose of avoiding work instead of bringing together the right resources to tackle an issue and get work done. A prime example of this was one of the ostentatious 2-hour long ops reviews I attended today. How they manage to sit so long and look attentive throughout that duration without actually listening or understanding is a skill that I desperately need to muster!

Writer's Block

One does tend to suffer from the Writer's Block from time to time. Even one as supremely intelligent and cosmically significant as I. And when the Writer's B does come to one as supremely intelligent and cosmically significant as I, it comes in spades.

I made a large cup of steaming hot tea and pondered over my problem between delicate sips of the restorative. Tea normally perks me up and gets those grey, blue and pink cells going. The old mitochondria start pumping away, the dendrites and axons begin to start oiling the old works and within minutes, I am refreshed and full of fresh energy, ideas and enthusiasm.

Alas, but no free flowing prose poured out of my divine fingers this time.

I should change the brand of tea I suppose.

Left, Right, Wrong

I left right on time. Then turned left at the intersection, looked right and left, and walked right into the right shop. I had a big agenda today. I had to right a few wrongs.

I walked up to the counter grimly and pointed to the object of my interest.

"This one Madam, right?"
"No, the one on the right"
"Right? Ah, right. Well, here you are"
"No, the other right"
"Ah, you mean left"
"Right"
"Right"
"Yes, that's the only one left"
"Rather. This is the one you were alluding to?"
"Right"
"Right"
"Right"
"Right"

After this intellectually stimulating conversation, I left with the right thing. Or so I thought. When I reached home, I realised I had left it wrongly right where it should not have been left.

Don't blame me. English is a funny language.

Thirty minutes

I have lousy stamina. I mean, really really lousy. If I so much as cut vegetables I get out of breath. One sunny Sunday, I was out doing the community a whole lot of good by cutting down dead trees and cleaning up the area. They had grouped us in twos and threes to make the activity simpler. My partner was an 83-year old given more to babbling than to working and I realised this was going to be a rather long Sunday.

I picked up my axe and with all the force I could muster, hit the tree hard. The axe barely made a scratch. I hit again and again and again. After about 10 minutes of hacking, I finally saw a tiny scar on the tree. I realised my partner was probably having a worse time and decided to help him first. I had just turned around to look for him when a sapling came crashing down near my foot.

"Sorry", he grinned sheepishly. "Rather poor calculation of where it would fall. Its quite easy though, isn't it?"

I gulped.

This "old" man was hacking away like the villian in Texas Chainsaw Massacre while the "young" me was already huffing and puffing away like a steam engine. I decided then that that was that. I was going to do something about myself real quick.

I enrolled in the friendly neighbourhood gym and started running. I would tire out in one minute flat. It took me one full year to manage 20 minutes.

Now I can do thirty. I can also hack away a sapling without breaking into a sweat.

And this year I shall run a marathon.

Music?

The world is beginning to lose its creativity, I mused, thumbing viciously at the remote in my search for the perfect channel. I was in the mood for some good songs but the world's definition of 'good' had drastically changed from my own.

I sighed and reflected back to the time when Metallica were revered like an alternative religion, when people wanted to see Alice in Chains instead of out of it, when Nine Inch Nails had nothing to do with your local hardware store and when 50-Cent were much more expensive than a hundred dollars.

I was tired of the junk they belted out today - Lady Gaga, Pussycat dolls, Greenday...

I think I'm getting too old for music.

The Hunt

So I had these useless pair of sunglasses that I had left at home thinking I'd take them to my trusted optometrist and have them re-glassed (pun unintended). Unfortunately I couldn't for the life of me remember in which 'safe' place I had last secreted them.

So this time, when I got home, I tore my room apart (literally) - reorganised the wardrobe, looked in all the suitcases, all drawers, underneath my study table, under the bed and under the mattress for good measure. Alas, I didn't find them anywhere. I decided to start looking in the other rooms as well.

At the end of a gruelling four hours, my house was in quite a mess. I even found my Mont Blanc pen that I had kept 'safely' seven years ago. But no sunglasses. Tired, I reluctantly gave in to the conclusion that it was nowhere in this house, but my other one instead. After another hour of putting things back in their rightful places, I espied a bright yellow plastic bag sitting cozily on the mantelpiece. I quickly tore it open and lo and behold, my sunglasses popped out!!

Of muddy shoes and sweaty shirts

What moron would bother waking up at 6 in the morning, on a holiday that too, just to go outside and run?

Yeah. Me.

But I really like that. Not the waking up part, but all that other stuff I do when I have managed to pry my eyes open and shake my brain awake. I am really addicted to running outdoors and when you have a beautiful stadium dedicated to that purpose and a great pair of Nikes to go with it, you sort of manage to overcome the dreadful ordeal of waking up early.

So now, I manage to do a 5km run in 30 minutes which is quite an improvement.

The Foreigner

A bunch of us had gone off on a holiday to Mysore and surrounding areas to give our English boss a taste of India. Everything was hunky dory till we reached ticket counters of various places. We used to be sized up and the attendants used to ask for 2 foreigner ticket prices. Who was the second foreigner? Apparently it was me. Remember my shady shades?

Well, at least they didn't ask me for the alien price!

The phone

The phone rang at precisely 3.12 am. I opened a bleary eye and glared at it before moving to see which counfounded idiot had decided to wake me up. It was the CCT. I mentally sighed and hoped it wasn't a big outage.
It wasn't. Our pal was calling me up to ask me if they took care of development environments. We don't. Idiot. I all but threw my phone down and snuggled back into bed.

It rang again at 3.45am.

This time, it was a big outage.

Oh well.

Love

So I feel fast and fall hard. You can't blame me for being the intuitive/sensing type. At least now I don't have expectations anymore. That should count as progress, shouldn't it?

Questions, questions

Have you ever been influenced by someone you didn't even know? Ever been mesmerised in the short acquaintance of a day? Ever seen someone through eyes not clouded by filters of country, race and culture? Ever observed the real person behind the facade he presents to the world? Ever been open and honest about life and joked away the miseries? Shared your thoughts without realising or without meaning to? Broken rules and had fun? Just plain listened? Held hands and felt emotions dancing through you? Laughed at yourself? Empathised with those less fortunate? Been a baby for a change instead of a responsible adult?

Yes, my weekend was rather action packed.

Car-eer

A successful career is very much like a good car.
1. It requires you to have a tough exterior
2. It cannot flourish without a regular infusion of spirit
3. It needs to have a well established baseline
4. The moment you think you have achieved something, you realise it has become outdated.
5. A six-month counselling is required to ensure it runs smoothly
6. You are always worried you are going to lose it.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

My lonely Valentine's Day. The coffee was good though.

7 habits of highly effective procrastinators

1. I'll tell you about it later.

Strawberries

I decided to put my kannada speaking skills to good use one day when I espied rows of sparkling red strawberries in the vegetable market.

"How much are these?" I asked in perfect kannada.

The vendor looked at me suspiciously and replied "35" in English.

I glared at him. If I had asked that question in English, he would have given me an incomprehensible reply, I thought darkly.

"Give me those that are sweet" I asked again, this time in broken kannada.

Our pal grinned and rattled off a stream of verbage.

"Er, yeah, I will take this one" I said with the confidence I was far from feeling by now. "And I want it for 30 rupees, 35 is too expensive".

He smirked. For all the entertainment I was providing to him with my broken kannada, he didn't hesitate to give me the required discount.

I picked up the strawberries and strode off extremely pleased with my bargaining.

Beauty lies

"You are beautiful", he murmured, black eyes gazing intensely into mine.

I turned around and looked to my left and right. 'Wonder who he was talking to'I thought idly.

He put a finger under my chin and lifted my face up to meet his still intense gaze. "Yes, you. You are beautiful. You are."

I thought he had finally taken leave of his senses. I pushed my thick eye-glasses firmly up my nose and looked at him in mild annoyance.

"For the last time, I am NOT going to do your homework for you" I declared pompously.

"Darn", he grinned, "it was worth a try anyway", and gobbled up the rest of his tiffin box.

Much ado about nothing

Ever tried stuffing your butt into a pair of jeans three sizes too small? That seems to be the story of my life lately. I always am at a loss to know whether I shall fit into tomorrow what I am fitting into today. But then, variety is the spice of life isn't it?

No more spices for me thank you. I am on a diet.

The day I gobbled up a whole plateful of biryani

oooooooooo........don't ask me anything else.....I'm still sitting in the loo.

Shady Shades

So, remember how the monkeys snatched my fancy glares? I went for 2 months without any. Then I decided that I had to get my lazy butt off the couch and do some legwork. I called up my old faithful shop.

Just my luck - the technician who had made my eyeglasses (and that's another long story for another day) had quit and opened a business of his own. I decided to go to him directly and get my new shades made.

I had a hard time finding his shop and an even harder time finding something that would suit my face. All those fancy shmancy glasses made me look like batman. After an hour of scouring the shop (and I can recollect with distinct clarity the sigh of relief) I found one that didn't make me look like an alien. Quick orders were placed and I waited impatiently over the next few days to get my brand new glasses.

He got it all wrong. I couldn't see a thing. The power was wrong, the fitting was wrong, there was a chip in a lens, just about everything was off. I was pissed. He gave me a fancy story about curvature and I then selected a pair of nerdy looking frames and asked him to redo the whole thing at no extra cost.

He agreed and within 2 days, delivered the new shades to my house.

They work.

I am protected from the sunlight.

I also look like an alien.

30th Jan 2010

It was the brightest full moon of the decade. I was really excited. Tried real hard to get some pics. Check out my photoblog to see what I managed to capture!

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YAWN. I don't quite know what all that hoopla is all about. Its not even an interesting movie. And does it have any 3D effects at all? No sir-ee! Mr Cameroon please look at the dictionary the next time before you start with the script. While you are at it, try getting someone to write a story too.