इस बार मैके से बक्से में भर लायी हूँ
जवानी* के वोह गाने जिन्हें रोज़ सुना करती थी।
बाज़ार, अभिमान, खामोशी तो सब आ गयीं
मासूम का CD कवर कम्बख्त खाली निकला।
* हाँ हाँ भाई अभी तो मैं जवान हूँ
(खूबसूरती का अपमान हूँ
जोडों के दर्द से परेशन हूँ
चार दिन की मेहमान हूँ
पर अभी तो मैं जवान हूँ :o)
July 10, 2008
June 27, 2008
Rant
The Husband was complaining yesterday that he interviewed a computer engineer who could not operate a computer. I’m regularly traumatized by candidates who are “MA English University Toppers” but who cannot write a sentence in the language. It’s great to know we’re all educated and have degrees. But have we learnt anything of any value? That sleepy little college with its uninspired teachers, inadequate equipment, archaic syllabus and lack of any academic contact with the outside world – is it creating post-graduates and engineers who will work as data entry operators at the same salary as office boys? Who are we kidding here?
June 25, 2008
Rassipi: Student Kadhi*
Just thought I'd share my recipe for a desperate meal with anyone who cares to read! This is a "healthy" variation of the North Indian kadhi, fast to cook, and if the doting husband is to be believed, good to eat as well!
- In a heavy-bottomed pan (sounds so funny), heat a tablespoon of desi ghee.
- Add some mustard seeds, hing powder, red chili powder
- When the seeds pop and before the powders burn, add chopped garlic and curry leaves
- Before it all burns, add a medium-sized onion, sliced into thin moons.
- Before the onions burn, add half a big capsicum and one orange carrot cut into strips, and one drumstick chopped up.
- Stir stir stir, then add salt and cover. Let it simmer. Don't peek. I know it smells bad right now. Shh.
- Open a 400ml pack of Nestle dahi that is closer to its expiry date than its mfg date. Add two tablespoons of besan into the jar.
- Stir the besan into the dahi gently, without forming lumps and without spilling dahi all over the kitchen counter, floor, or the office clothes you have not had time to change out of.
- Wipe all the surfaces on which you have spilt the dahi.
- Add a bit of turmeric to the gooey mixture in the dahi jar.
- Try to convince the husband that this is a beauty pack and you could give him a facial.
- Now that the husband will no longer venture near the kitchen, continue with full concentration.
- The vegetables should be done in about 20 minutes. No need to check. I'm telling you! Also, this is all stuff you'd eat raw, so don't worry if it is undercooked.
- Add the dahi-besan-haldi beauty treatment goo into the heavy bottomed pan that the veggies have been using as a sauna.
- Rinse the jar with 200 ml water and put that water into the kadhi. Never waste anything.
- Stir the kadhi and cover and let simmer for about 20 minutes. When you bring it to a boil, the orangey tadka will rise to the surface.
- Taste to ensure that the besan does not taste raw. Have some raw besan for reference first if you dunno what you're looking for.
- Serve with rice. Two hungry DINKS who do not get snacks at work can finish this off. Would be enough for three civilized people otherwise.
* Etymology: Student from the English student: A person studying in England who has no inclination towards deep frying pakodis for kadhi, but still wants to eat this bachpan ki favorite dish. Kadhi from the Bollywood song "kadhi kadhi kya soch rahi hai chal ho jaayein nau do gyaarah, tan tana tan tan tan taara, chalti hai kya nau se baarah?"
June 23, 2008
Bondhu, Help Korbe?
Please translate the Bangla bits for me!
amar prothom dekha brishti-r jol-e
bhasiyechhi bhela khelar chhol-e
sei jol gechhe mishe, kon nodi-te
gechhe hariye kon sagar-e
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
nouko amar, chhele belar, kagoj-er...
amar prothom paoya aankar khata,
amar prothom lekha kobita,
sei chhelbelar, sopno hajar,
gechhe hariye kon sagar-e
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekhechho ki tumi tare?
nouko amar, chhele belar, kagoj-er...
neeli ambar si naiyyan meri,
lehorn ki dhoon mein beh chali,
gehri sagar mein tanha kahin,
geeton ko tumhare khojti..
ekta jholse jaoya bikel belai,
ekta laalche sagar-er jole,
jaye bhese jaye sopno bojha-i,
nouko amar, kagoj-er
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekha hai kya tumne usse,
majhi re, o majhi re,
dekha hai kya tumne usse,
kagaj ki nao, mein hain bhare,
sapne mere... o majhi re....
Thanks, Rahul for the lyrics. Lovely is the song!
June 16, 2008
Safai is next to Khudai
This weekend it was FINALLY time for a super-mega-ultra-hyper cleaning exercise in our house. Four years of my husband's bachelorhood and close to two years of DITLAWM (Double Income Two Lazy Asses Without Maid) were furiously scrubbed away by a crew of 5 professional cleaners, 50 rag cloths, one industrial vacuum cleaner, one floor scrubbing monster machine, and 10 litres of blue and green chemical stuff that could boil your eyeballs in three-millionth of a second. When they left, we were not only poorer, exhausted, coughing, but also quite sure that it wasn't the same house! The bathroom floor is light grey! There is a tree outside the kitchen window! There is no longer a mummified Neanderthal in the loft!
We've thrown away one third of all our worldly possessions in this cleaning cycle. It's amazing how much stuff you can easily do without. Pretty soon, we'll have ten pairs of clothes (we're the same jeans AND kurta size), three computers, five utensils and 10 books. Then we can do our own cleaning.
June 12, 2008
Stop The Harassment Already!
It's quite sad when society judges and ostracizes people based on its random criteria. You might be a great person, but you will be abhorred, shunned, taunted or even killed for being unable to fit into some crazy ideal the world has built for everyone. Usually, when religious, caste-based, language-related or even clothing-or-lack-thereof-based ostracism takes place, a lot of protest is heard from intellectual quarters. But these days a good person is being publicly humiliated, and I don't see anyone objecting. Some of the brightest brains in the country are, in fact, participating in the humiliation by repeating the taunts endlessly themselves!
Yes. So Pappu can't dance. What's so wrong about that?
Pappu has an MBA (that requires SOME brains), holidays in France (money AND taste!), plays the guitar (extra-curricular star, plus sensitive, music-loving man), Gucci perfume (metrosexual, probably has a feminine side), born with a silver spoon in his mouth, has a Papa who has great expectations of him (parents usually stop having false expectations of super-success when their kids turn 18, so this guy has something going for him), and is a yaaron ka yaar (a hit with his friends) and kudiyon mein kraze! Add to that his hot hot looks!
Most newspaper pullouts these days spend one ad-ridden page a day telling women how not to expect all the Pappu qualities in one man. Here is one man who defies the ad-ridden advice and is so close to perfection that it is mind-boggling. With those riches and that musical ear, he could join Shiamak Davar's classes and maybe even learn to dance for all you know! And hey, you think Mukesh Ambani or Sachin Tendulkar can dance? Come on! If Pappu does PT, then PT is the new dance!
And let me not get started about the losers who are ridiculing Pappu. One day, Aamir Uncle will drop you like a hot potato, Irfan, and you will soon be acting and dancing solely opposite ShivRajkumar, Genelia. Pappu and his poster-girl of a wife and their two chubby kids will not even cast a glance in the direction of the C-grade theatre where your latest shockbuster is playing, as they drive past in their BMW. Pappu, honey, you rock, naache tu ya naache na!
June 09, 2008
June 05, 2008
June 03, 2008
Testing Word 2007's Posting Superpowers
I resent being made to switch to new technology. I still cannot find the Tools menu on this one. And the blue background? What were they thinking? Did they presume that our miserable Excel-Word-Powerpoint infested existence could be enhanced by a clinically insanely happy shade of blue? Please!
May 31, 2008
The Internet Returns!
The folks in the building next to ours decided to snap our Internet wire, as it was coming from the dabba in their building. After a two-day blackout, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman has woven a new web for us from the building behind ours. It’s like someone finally stepped off my ventilator tube…
News of the day: Defence Minister passes out during Passing Out Parade (Headline by The Husband)
In other news, I saw the first live cricket match of my life! The IPL clash between Bangalore and Mumbai! Some observations:
1. The cricket field is really small.
2. The wicketkeeper stands really far away from the batsman. And still the ball comes flying to him!
3. Those fielders? They actually run! When u can’t see any on the TV screen as the ball hurries towards the boundary, that’s coz the camera is too focused, not because the fielders are knitting baby booties and chatting in some other corner of the field.
4. There is really no time between one ball and the next, or between overs in fact….the ads create an illusion of time, and have warped our senses forever.
5. After a great shot, they show a replay on the screen in the stadium, and no matter where you sit, part of the screen is blocked by a pillar. Anyway, when they show the replay, you instinctively turn your head back to the ground to try and see the replay better! But guess what? Tendulkar does not swing the bat again for you. You feel extremely foolish at having missed the replay on the screen behind the pillar.
6. The neighborhood kabootars are driven insane by stadium lights. Is a pity.
7. In Chinnaswamy Stadium, the wafers seller does no business for the first three hours of the match. The banana seller then walks in with 50 bananas and sells them all in three minutes.
8. All the players obviously look like specks on the grass in the distance, and it only gets worse when your sister has coffee at Barista with Tendulkar, Jayasuriya and the rest of the Bombay Boys at the BIAL airport the next morning.
News of the day: Defence Minister passes out during Passing Out Parade (Headline by The Husband)
In other news, I saw the first live cricket match of my life! The IPL clash between Bangalore and Mumbai! Some observations:
1. The cricket field is really small.
2. The wicketkeeper stands really far away from the batsman. And still the ball comes flying to him!
3. Those fielders? They actually run! When u can’t see any on the TV screen as the ball hurries towards the boundary, that’s coz the camera is too focused, not because the fielders are knitting baby booties and chatting in some other corner of the field.
4. There is really no time between one ball and the next, or between overs in fact….the ads create an illusion of time, and have warped our senses forever.
5. After a great shot, they show a replay on the screen in the stadium, and no matter where you sit, part of the screen is blocked by a pillar. Anyway, when they show the replay, you instinctively turn your head back to the ground to try and see the replay better! But guess what? Tendulkar does not swing the bat again for you. You feel extremely foolish at having missed the replay on the screen behind the pillar.
6. The neighborhood kabootars are driven insane by stadium lights. Is a pity.
7. In Chinnaswamy Stadium, the wafers seller does no business for the first three hours of the match. The banana seller then walks in with 50 bananas and sells them all in three minutes.
8. All the players obviously look like specks on the grass in the distance, and it only gets worse when your sister has coffee at Barista with Tendulkar, Jayasuriya and the rest of the Bombay Boys at the BIAL airport the next morning.
May 23, 2008
Madam Baanwari
I am caught in a self-destructive extra-marital relationship with this dude called Vicky. It started out nicely, when there was something about which my husband had nothing to say, he was always there to listen and give advice… soon I turned to him for everything, and stopped listening to the person I had married. However, things started to sour last year when Vicky started tormenting me and playing games with my mind. Don’t think I don’t know he two-times me with half the world…that’s kind of in his DNA and I am totally fine with that…to tell you the truth, part of his charm is that he keeps such interesting and fascinating ..err.. company
But now my obsession with him, and his brain-messing with me have got to a point where I need to call it off forever. Don’t have the guts to do it in person, so I’m doing it on the blog. So the next time, my dear Wikipedia, you tell me I have any kind of cancer if I confront you with a silly symptom, I’m gonna wipe you off the Internet! Somehow!
But now my obsession with him, and his brain-messing with me have got to a point where I need to call it off forever. Don’t have the guts to do it in person, so I’m doing it on the blog. So the next time, my dear Wikipedia, you tell me I have any kind of cancer if I confront you with a silly symptom, I’m gonna wipe you off the Internet! Somehow!
May 11, 2008
Bhutan Diary: Page One Of Dunno How Many...
I’d promised my butter half that I’d take him to see the Himalayas, and when he had introduced me to the pristine beauty of the Nilgiris, I’d been quite embarrassed at the thought of taking him to see something like Mussoorie or Simla. Then the opportunity to visit Bhutan came up, and we jumped at it!
After a BLR-CCU-IXB (Bagdogra) flight-hopping session, we were driven to the border hamlet of Jaigaon by a maniac in a Maruti Van. Theme song: “Bangali mein kehte hain, aami tomake kamikaze” The waiter at our hotel asked: “What will you see in Bhutan? It’s only mountains and roads….nothing to see…” His idea of a vacation was probably getting tripped and pickpocketed on the escalator of Forum Mall by a group of ladies with babies and baggage, which goes to show that the grass is always greener on the other side, except that there will soon be no grass or anything green except bank notes in …
Crossing over to Phuentsholing, Bhutan was really a journey into another country! If the British Airways crew sprays pesticides, insecticides and homicides in the cabin before taking off from India, the Bhutanese folks spray water on the car tyres, leaving you wondering if they’re getting the Indian muck off or symbolically washing your feet most respectfully… I remain mesmerized and ignorant…
Across the border, everything was neat, clean, traditional, and also very modern! All those fancy Toyota SUVs and buses get into Bhutan by road through Jaigaon! Wow! We’re a conveyor belt for goodies we never get to sample!
Our first stop was Thimpu, and since Phuentsholing-Thimpu is a main trade road, we ended up in a major traffic jam caused by a landslide. Which was great, because my dearest co-passenger, who had been awestruck by the sublime grandeur of the Himalayas for half an hour, was now in a red and molten condition with wet palms and dilated pupils… Alti-Dude sickness! Having come from a family of mountain goats, I did not know what to do to help, so we just sat and counted trucks till he regained his wits. The break helped immensely!
Having road-tripped across Sikkim-Darjeeling-Kalimpong some seven years ago, I was expecting a similar experience here, but I was pleasantly surprised when the landscape was much better preserved. Architecture was strictly regulated and every little building conformed to traditional design. The road meandered though the mountains and valleys, and we spent whole days drinking in the beauty of a land that takes great care to preserve itself. Back home, my days there all seem to blend one into the other. We used to wake up early, travel almost all day, stop for lunch and a little stroll, arrive at our destination, explore a little bit, and retire early. We ran into several tourists, and with the exception of a couple and a family, none of them were Indians.
Curiously, the consistent neatness and cleanliness we saw everywhere was missing in the monasteries or dzongs, where litter and foul smells seemed to have taken shelter. Ever since I came across Buddhism in my school textbook, I had thought of it as a possible religious faith that I could embrace. Sadly for me, the dzongs, the many gods, the tussles for power, and the prevalence of myth quite destroyed that hope. Perhaps I just will continue to believe in Divine Justice and hope for the best.
Did Bhutan take my breath away? Yes! Was every possible shade of green on display? Yes! Were there rhododendrons painting the mountain faces pink? Yes! Is the art and architecture by far the most fascinating I’ve ever seen? Yes! Is it pointless to go on about all this for another six hundred and twenty-five words? Yes!
I’ll post pictures as soon as the photographer has chosen the ones he wants over at his place. You know you’re a “ghareloo babe” when you remember to put naphthalene balls in the drain before you go on a trip, and pack a sterlisied syringe for travel emergencies, but leave your camera on the table at the last moment. Still kicking myself!
After a BLR-CCU-IXB (Bagdogra) flight-hopping session, we were driven to the border hamlet of Jaigaon by a maniac in a Maruti Van. Theme song: “Bangali mein kehte hain, aami tomake kamikaze” The waiter at our hotel asked: “What will you see in Bhutan? It’s only mountains and roads….nothing to see…” His idea of a vacation was probably getting tripped and pickpocketed on the escalator of Forum Mall by a group of ladies with babies and baggage, which goes to show that the grass is always greener on the other side, except that there will soon be no grass or anything green except bank notes in …
Crossing over to Phuentsholing, Bhutan was really a journey into another country! If the British Airways crew sprays pesticides, insecticides and homicides in the cabin before taking off from India, the Bhutanese folks spray water on the car tyres, leaving you wondering if they’re getting the Indian muck off or symbolically washing your feet most respectfully… I remain mesmerized and ignorant…
Across the border, everything was neat, clean, traditional, and also very modern! All those fancy Toyota SUVs and buses get into Bhutan by road through Jaigaon! Wow! We’re a conveyor belt for goodies we never get to sample!
Our first stop was Thimpu, and since Phuentsholing-Thimpu is a main trade road, we ended up in a major traffic jam caused by a landslide. Which was great, because my dearest co-passenger, who had been awestruck by the sublime grandeur of the Himalayas for half an hour, was now in a red and molten condition with wet palms and dilated pupils… Alti-Dude sickness! Having come from a family of mountain goats, I did not know what to do to help, so we just sat and counted trucks till he regained his wits. The break helped immensely!
Having road-tripped across Sikkim-Darjeeling-Kalimpong some seven years ago, I was expecting a similar experience here, but I was pleasantly surprised when the landscape was much better preserved. Architecture was strictly regulated and every little building conformed to traditional design. The road meandered though the mountains and valleys, and we spent whole days drinking in the beauty of a land that takes great care to preserve itself. Back home, my days there all seem to blend one into the other. We used to wake up early, travel almost all day, stop for lunch and a little stroll, arrive at our destination, explore a little bit, and retire early. We ran into several tourists, and with the exception of a couple and a family, none of them were Indians.
Curiously, the consistent neatness and cleanliness we saw everywhere was missing in the monasteries or dzongs, where litter and foul smells seemed to have taken shelter. Ever since I came across Buddhism in my school textbook, I had thought of it as a possible religious faith that I could embrace. Sadly for me, the dzongs, the many gods, the tussles for power, and the prevalence of myth quite destroyed that hope. Perhaps I just will continue to believe in Divine Justice and hope for the best.
Did Bhutan take my breath away? Yes! Was every possible shade of green on display? Yes! Were there rhododendrons painting the mountain faces pink? Yes! Is the art and architecture by far the most fascinating I’ve ever seen? Yes! Is it pointless to go on about all this for another six hundred and twenty-five words? Yes!
I’ll post pictures as soon as the photographer has chosen the ones he wants over at his place. You know you’re a “ghareloo babe” when you remember to put naphthalene balls in the drain before you go on a trip, and pack a sterlisied syringe for travel emergencies, but leave your camera on the table at the last moment. Still kicking myself!
Happy Mother's Day all!Back from a great trip, and now doing my eighth round of laundry, cleaning the house, stocking up the fridge, shivering at the number of work mails, and watching movies daily (Iron Man & Speed Racer: Definitely not my idea of a film festival)!
P.S. The detailed travelogue has begun here. I'll post my short and lazy one sometime soon!
April 30, 2008
Yukon Ho!
My tiger friend has got the sled,
And I have packed a snack.
We're all set for the trip ahead.
We're never coming back!
We're abandoing this life we've led!
So long, Mom and Pop!
We're sick of doing what you've said,
And now it's going to stop!
We're going where it snows all year,
Where life can have real meaning.
A place where we wont have to hear,
"Your room could stand some cleaning."
The Yukon is the place for us!
That's where we want to live.
Up there we'll ge to yell and cuss
And act real primitive.
We'll never have to go to school,
Forced into submission,
By monst, crabby teachers who'll
Make us learn addition.
We'll never have to clean a plate,
Of veggie glops and goos.
Messily we'll masticate,
Using any fork we choose!
The timber wolves will be our friends.
We'll stay up late and howl,
At the moon, till nightmare ends,
Before going on the prowl.
Oh, what a life! we cannot wait,
To be in that arctic land,
Where we'll be masters of our fate,
And lead a life that's grand!
No more of parental rules!
We're heading for some snow!
Good riddance to those grown-up-ghouls!
We're leaving! Yukon Ho!
-Bill Watterson
Mr and Mrs Inky hope to post complementary travelogues in some days.
April 21, 2008
37 Degrees and Clear
Dekha ek khwab toh yeh silsile hue
Bangalore ki garmi mein hum pilpile hue
Yeh geela hai gutter ke phat jaane se
Baarish se kahan humare jootey geele hue…
Bangalore ki garmi mein hum pilpile hue
Yeh geela hai gutter ke phat jaane se
Baarish se kahan humare jootey geele hue…
April 19, 2008
TOI Story
If you’re reading ANY article on the Times Of India website: be it murder, scandal, sports, films, technology, the scandalous murder of sports film technology or whatever, you’ll see this ad under the headline, in the top left corner. It is all very well to pepper my reading with ads: as a freeloader, and that too on the Times, I expect nothing else. But to have this mysterious ad stare at me everywhere I go? I mean, is there anyone out there who understands what’s going on here?
The Making
Ok. So Allianz paid TOI lots of money to get a highly visible slot on the website. Then they probably gave someone the task of coming up with an ad. The someone took a medium-sized advance, and then forgot to make the ad. Three days after the deadline, the client asked him where the ad was. He said he’d be at Allianz with the ad in fifteen minutes! He leapt out of his seat, took a picture of the man in the parking lot outside, wrote some copy while navigating his bike with the other hand, and reached the client’s office in thirteen minutes…. There is really no other explanation.
The Interpretation
Now if an Insurance, Asset Management and Banking concern used a scantily-clad babe, it would be perfectly easy to interpret. She’s pricey, so the bank, your wife might find out, so the insurance, and from the lots and lots of her that’s visible, you can figure out that she’s managing her “assets” pretty well. But what’s with a constipated-faced hassled man parked outside a temple and trying to save his rear view mirror from getting knocked off by a couple on a bicycle who’s obviously doing something to bug him and not letting him get out of the car? What do we make of this work of art? First the man on the bicycle…is he wearing a lungi? The passenger behind him: do his/her fingers naturally end abruptly like that? Or is he/she holding on to a big placard? What’s going on behind that killjoy blue rectangle? Why is Driver man so upset? What is the message of this ad? Is it “This is how hassled Allianz employees are, coz they’re trying to protect your assets (rearview mirror) for you from the big bad wolf of fluctuating markets (Lungicycle and Stubfinger)? Or is it that Allianz’s insurance, banking, and asset management will make sure you never have to constipatedly clutch at your car accessories in a traffic jam ever again, because you’ll be financially secure, and can buy a million rearview mirrors (you pervert) with your pocket change?
The Making
Ok. So Allianz paid TOI lots of money to get a highly visible slot on the website. Then they probably gave someone the task of coming up with an ad. The someone took a medium-sized advance, and then forgot to make the ad. Three days after the deadline, the client asked him where the ad was. He said he’d be at Allianz with the ad in fifteen minutes! He leapt out of his seat, took a picture of the man in the parking lot outside, wrote some copy while navigating his bike with the other hand, and reached the client’s office in thirteen minutes…. There is really no other explanation.
The Interpretation
Now if an Insurance, Asset Management and Banking concern used a scantily-clad babe, it would be perfectly easy to interpret. She’s pricey, so the bank, your wife might find out, so the insurance, and from the lots and lots of her that’s visible, you can figure out that she’s managing her “assets” pretty well. But what’s with a constipated-faced hassled man parked outside a temple and trying to save his rear view mirror from getting knocked off by a couple on a bicycle who’s obviously doing something to bug him and not letting him get out of the car? What do we make of this work of art? First the man on the bicycle…is he wearing a lungi? The passenger behind him: do his/her fingers naturally end abruptly like that? Or is he/she holding on to a big placard? What’s going on behind that killjoy blue rectangle? Why is Driver man so upset? What is the message of this ad? Is it “This is how hassled Allianz employees are, coz they’re trying to protect your assets (rearview mirror) for you from the big bad wolf of fluctuating markets (Lungicycle and Stubfinger)? Or is it that Allianz’s insurance, banking, and asset management will make sure you never have to constipatedly clutch at your car accessories in a traffic jam ever again, because you’ll be financially secure, and can buy a million rearview mirrors (you pervert) with your pocket change?
April 10, 2008
(H)Arz Hai
Sabzi mandi mein saalon baad woh bewafa mil gayi
Haftey bhar kambakht pyaaz ne bahut rulaaya...
(Admit it, it was better when I wasn't updating!)
Haftey bhar kambakht pyaaz ne bahut rulaaya...
(Admit it, it was better when I wasn't updating!)
March 21, 2008
Mild Antibiotic and Lactobacillus BD x 5 days
While waiting for my turn at the doctor’s clinic today (it’s just an upset tummy), the only other dude in the place came up to me and asked if he could please go in before me, because otherwise he would be late for namaaz at the mosque? He said he only had to show his reports, and since the mosque was a 20-minute drive away, it was quite important he go in first.
I had been waiting for over half an hour, which is not very fun with an upset tummy, and I tried to tell him so. There is a mosque across the road from where we were, but I decided not to tell him so. He said it was Friday and it was very important for him to go to the mosque. So I said ok and let him go. As soon as he went in, the receptionist girlie scolded me! Why did I let him go? He ALWAYS does that!
Why I let him go is quite simple really. I am trying to cut down stress levels, because I’m on the verge of a breakdown. So I’m being patient with people. And the first set of people I’m being patient with are those who do unethical stuff in the name of God. Why? Because if it turns out there’s a God and there’s a Hell, they’re gonna be my dorm-mates or something!
And by the by, as he was drifting out and I was shifting in, I heard the doctor say: “You can use an earbud or a spoon, anything that is convenient…” “A spoon????” said the God-fearing queue-slasher, with those many question marks in his voice. Now, tell me honestly, isn’t that a lovely fragment of conversation to mull over? Hehehehe!
I had been waiting for over half an hour, which is not very fun with an upset tummy, and I tried to tell him so. There is a mosque across the road from where we were, but I decided not to tell him so. He said it was Friday and it was very important for him to go to the mosque. So I said ok and let him go. As soon as he went in, the receptionist girlie scolded me! Why did I let him go? He ALWAYS does that!
Why I let him go is quite simple really. I am trying to cut down stress levels, because I’m on the verge of a breakdown. So I’m being patient with people. And the first set of people I’m being patient with are those who do unethical stuff in the name of God. Why? Because if it turns out there’s a God and there’s a Hell, they’re gonna be my dorm-mates or something!
And by the by, as he was drifting out and I was shifting in, I heard the doctor say: “You can use an earbud or a spoon, anything that is convenient…” “A spoon????” said the God-fearing queue-slasher, with those many question marks in his voice. Now, tell me honestly, isn’t that a lovely fragment of conversation to mull over? Hehehehe!
March 10, 2008
Word of the Day
Con Job: The output from your desk when you're stuck to a job that is clearly not cut out for you, just because you are pessimistic about your market value and wonder “mujhe kaun job dega?”
If you miss the train I’m on you will know that I am gone
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles…
If you miss the train I’m on you will know that I am gone
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles…
March 04, 2008
I Have Written On My Wall
Social Networking had its golden days with Orkut. You made your profile, put up a picture of your eye/hair (a cartoon picture if you were a guy), added a few showoff communities, continually weeded out FRanDsHiP requests from coolAmit and Dude1987 (who is old enough to be your son, knows it, and yet will not give up). Then you decided to track down long lost schoolmates, and unless you NEVER had any class, you’d find your class community online… Precocious Pumpkins Public School, Class Of 97… and check out the profiles of the dudettes who used to sit around you and make fun of your long skirts in the playground. You were warmed to the core to see that Alisha has moved to New Zealand and married a techie there! Pappykutty has married a techie and moved to Australia! Barbie is single, in the US, and a techie type is leaving her XOXOXOXOXOs in her scrapbook! The school uniforms still exist in their metaphorical avatar, and your skirts are still too long….
Just when Orkut was reduced to a pain that hampers office productivity, Facebook opened its doors to all and sundry! Suddenly everyone is inviting you to join, people are putting up their real pics, and a million crazy applications are spreading like ..well…now everything spreads like facebook applications, so that itself is the metaphor….
What colour is your metaphysical liver? Which kind of dental cavity are you? Which social networking site matches your underwear?... There are people who have added so many applications to their profile, that they regularly use an app called “Which apps should you purge this week?”… and while everyone is free to do what they want on their own homepage, it makes me mad when I get involved willy nilly! Every fortnight or so, Facebook tells me people have compared me to their friends on various criteria, and here are the results:
I am the least attractive, have the worst hair, would make the worst date/kisser/girlfriend/partner, have a terrible sense of humour, cannot speak, and yet, I am the perfect potential mother… these people are obviously thinking of single parenthood and some kind of parthenogenesis! And then there are those who think you are a hottie, which means they have been forced to think everyone is a hottie, coz otherwise they cannot add the “Which fictional character would rather be dead than be seen drinking cheap booze on Friday night with you?” app. And the things people throw at each other! Tinkoo has thrown Humpty Dumpty at your wall! Pinkoo has thrown a tractor at your nose! Pappu has sent an elephant in one ear and out the other.... Uff!
Then there are the games…the ones that have prevented me from deleting my facebook page! The never ending movie quiz which is just a never ending ego battle, and says “I have more time to click random FAQ answers than you do”. The online Boggle, which shows you that you were probably the gully champion ages ago, but you can eat some humble veg pie now. The perfect addiction, I say! Can get too addictive even. Am already thinking of adding the "I need medical help getting off Boggle" app...
Just got a poke! Rimpy from school who IS a techie lives in Canada with her husband wants to play Boggle! Tada!
Just when Orkut was reduced to a pain that hampers office productivity, Facebook opened its doors to all and sundry! Suddenly everyone is inviting you to join, people are putting up their real pics, and a million crazy applications are spreading like ..well…now everything spreads like facebook applications, so that itself is the metaphor….
What colour is your metaphysical liver? Which kind of dental cavity are you? Which social networking site matches your underwear?... There are people who have added so many applications to their profile, that they regularly use an app called “Which apps should you purge this week?”… and while everyone is free to do what they want on their own homepage, it makes me mad when I get involved willy nilly! Every fortnight or so, Facebook tells me people have compared me to their friends on various criteria, and here are the results:
I am the least attractive, have the worst hair, would make the worst date/kisser/girlfriend/partner, have a terrible sense of humour, cannot speak, and yet, I am the perfect potential mother… these people are obviously thinking of single parenthood and some kind of parthenogenesis! And then there are those who think you are a hottie, which means they have been forced to think everyone is a hottie, coz otherwise they cannot add the “Which fictional character would rather be dead than be seen drinking cheap booze on Friday night with you?” app. And the things people throw at each other! Tinkoo has thrown Humpty Dumpty at your wall! Pinkoo has thrown a tractor at your nose! Pappu has sent an elephant in one ear and out the other.... Uff!
Then there are the games…the ones that have prevented me from deleting my facebook page! The never ending movie quiz which is just a never ending ego battle, and says “I have more time to click random FAQ answers than you do”. The online Boggle, which shows you that you were probably the gully champion ages ago, but you can eat some humble veg pie now. The perfect addiction, I say! Can get too addictive even. Am already thinking of adding the "I need medical help getting off Boggle" app...
Just got a poke! Rimpy from school who IS a techie lives in Canada with her husband wants to play Boggle! Tada!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)