Saturday, October 21, 2006

Diwali Joys

Here is a list of things I love about Diwali:

1. I loooove the sweets. Although I love salty stuff more, Diwali time, I just love the sweets...Besides there is a valid excuse to stuff my face with motichur laddos, sandesh, gulab jamuns, ras malai...ummmmmm...And best of all, thanks to the adulteration, I end up with loosies the very next day. Pooping it all out means never putting on the extra calories. If anyone of you know better, and want to contradict me out of my beliefs, stay away!!!

2. I hate crackers and the noise they make. I made the casual remark to my fiance, a 4th generation Canadian Indian, and he was perplexed and very worried. He kept asking me how I would survive in Canada if I hated crackers. I thought lack of sleep and math exams were robbing him of his sanity, till I realized that "crackers" is what they call white people in Toronto...Well well, the things I learn thanks to Diwali.

3. I love dogs and I hate how they start crying because of the damn crackers. I want to bring them all into my house, but they poop and pee when they are scared..Damn...Who'll clean up the mess?

4. I love having the excuse to buy clothes and jewelery. I turn into a total female and love getting beautiful silks and gorgeous heavy Indian jewelery...The rest of the year, I never wear it, because I hate it so much!

5. I love watching all of Delhi crowd the markets. No matter which market you go to, its totally crowded...And Delhites are obsessed with creating bigger impressions on just about everyone. So you have people carting around HUGE giftboxes...You'd think they'd be heavy and full of stuff...Then someone gifted one to us. It looked big enough to fit a mini TV into it...When I opened it, it had a big shiny plastic box, with 6 teeny weeny compartments filled with 3-4 cashews and raisins each! Rest of the box had air. Hmmpff!!! I prefer those heavy Haldiram boxes instead. Refer to point 1 for any clarifications.

6. Diwali gives me a holiday. Except on those horrid years when it falls on a Sunday or something. I think pandits should have a secret agreeement to always declare Diwali on a Friday or a Monday. That way, I get a 3 day weekend.

7. I love Eid also as it comes just after Diwali. My office has to give a Eid holiday too, coz otherwise we accuse them of being partial to the minority religion. Thats how we got a 5 day weekend this time!! Yay!!

8. I love watching lights. I think diyas look nicer than those blinky lights. I wish everyone would go back to diyas...You know what looks wonderful? Houses decorated with diyas and mango leaves and marigolds.

9. The holiday gave me a chance to download 6 Harry Potter books. I'm reading them all on the lappie now and preteding to my mom that its office work...har har har.

10. I love my mom. She's too smart for me. She figured wizard and magic talk wasn't a part of my office work when she snuck up on the lappie and read over my shoulder. I've been drafted to clean my room, pack away extra clothes, go shopping for curtains, and visit ALL my relatives.

Oh well, I still love Diwali. Have fun you all. Be safe.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Performance Anxiety

No bride-to-be worth her weight in salt, and that is a LOT of salt for this bride to be - its all the water retention you know, ok veering off topic...let me start again.

No bride-to-be worth her weight in salt, will ever confess, that secretly she doesn't want the wedding. Oh no, its not that she doesn't want the marriage, although in some cases that may be it, but its just the whole wedding hoopla.

Ever since Sooraj Barjatya inflicted that Hum Aapke Hain Kaun flick on us, he's set up umpteen Indian families for failure. Everyone expects multiple functions, a perfect family that stands in one line, dancing with an ever smiling papaji, mamaji, buaji etc. They also expect fluffy dogs that can play cricket, and sensing family tensions, can convey messages between unwilling-to-wed jeejas and saalis...The only fluffy dog in my family is psychotic and likes to bite everyone. He even pees in the house at night when everyone is asleep.

The pressure I tell you is immense.

Mr.Barjatya has made it so that all families are expected to turn in dance performances at their weddings. Somehow, the bride's younger sisters are always roped in for this task. My younger sisters have far to much self-respect to do that. And yet, societal pressure has had numerous family friend "uncles" asking them what song they are performing to. I had to hold them back when they almost named songs like "Tu Cheez..." and "Samundar mein naaha kar..." To say that would have incited a couple of heart attacks is an understatement.

I also have a set of uncles, none of whom are anything like Alok Nath, smiling beningly at one and all. No siree. Mine are more like Prem Chopra. They love their whisky and can drink an Irishman under the table. They cuss enough to put the Haryanvi guys who drive my office cabs to shame. They abuse each others mothers and sisters, even though they may be married to each others mothers and sisters. The women look fondly, and in some cases, not-so-fondly on.

I feel like I'll be walking this tightrope at the wedding with Alcohol-Hating-Seriously-Religious-Mother-In-Law at one end, and Alcohol-Loving-Ciggie-Smoking-Cussing-Uncles at the other.

Then there are my aunts. Every single one has a unique neurosis. One aunt loves looking at prospective boys for her girls, and then promptly rejecting them. She's gone through more boys for her girls than Liz Taylor has gone through face lifts. She once even rejected this great guy, who is now in and out of the Indian cricket team, and plays county cricket in London. My sister could have been giving Reed Thin Spice a run for her money. Instead she travels from Ghaziabad to Gurgaon, crossing 3 state lines twice a day. I know, marriage isn't a way out (it's usually just a way to turn yourself in). But still, where will you find the perfect man?? George Clooney is too happy with his pig you know. But what is really scary is that my aunt has now set her sights on my poor single brother-in-law. Don't even get me started on my other aunts. Thats a blog on its own.

Mr.Barjatya has also espoused the concept of the perfect bride. He obviously hasn't heard of the "Bridezilla" concept. His brides blush demurely at the first glimpse of Daddyji, Mummyji and ofcourse "Prem". Brides today are a tad different. They gripe in their blogs and bitch about relatives.

As if Sooraj Barjatya wasn't enough, we then had Laxmi Mittal, getting his daughter married at a goddamn Palace in Paris for God's sake! Then that Sahara Parivar dude took over all of Lucknow for his sons' weddings. He chartered all his guests to the venue in private jets. Last night, my uncle told me, we needn't book the Indian Railway sleeper coach for our guests, as everyone is making their own bookings. I even heaved a sigh of relief at that one! Yeah yea, so I'm cheap.

I know some of you may think that comparisons are odious. After all, I'm getting worried comparing my shing-a-ding to movie weddings and multi-millionaire baraats. But isn't this what happens to normal men and women when they start comparing themselves in bed with digitally enhanced porn stars? Maybe I should get Wiagara (Wedding + Viagara). Get it...haha...I'm funny at 11:27 in the PM.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Holy Matrimony

I know I haven't written in ages.....But what was I supposed to do. My creativity is being sucked dry by my relatives who are planning my wedding.

Let me start at the very beginning. I returned back to Delhi (40 deg + humidity) in the middle of August from a wonderful vacation in Toronto (20 deg + cool winds).

Husband-to-be took me sight seeing in his city. The highlight of the tour was our visit to what is popularly known as a "Novelty" store. A store that sells candles, movies, blow-up dolls, things that look like 12 inch sausages...well, you get the picture right? No we didn't buy anything (personally, I figure people need those things after 3 years of marriage). But still, worth a good laugh...

I saw men and women walk right in and out of the store without a trace of embarasment. Some were even brown. Now how does one tell the difference between a seasoned-almost-white-brown, and a Fresh-Off-The-Boat-Brown (FOB brown)? The guys standing outside the store, peeking looks inside, and pretending they are reading the Toronto Star (held upside down) are the FOB browns. Somehow, all of us in the sub-continent, Indis, Pakis, Bangis, Lankis...all of us are collectively taught to be ashamed of our sexuality. Amazing then, that we have the fastest growing population in the world! Compare this with Europe, one of the most open societies in the world - who are paying citizens to have babies to battle declining birth rates. Lesson to the Indian goverment - Advertise Sex!

So what happened after I returned? A wedding date was decided. To anyone, who has ever fixed a wedding date without a pandit deciding an auspicious occasion (suiting the side of the family that gave a bigger dakshina), you know what I'm talking about when I say this is just the first of the battles. No date will suit everyone. You could pick any date in the calendar. Someone will always have a kid with exams, someone will complain about not getting leave that time of the year, and someone will just say no for the heck of it...After the to-be-married couple try to spend a couple of weeks doing people-pleasing, they give up. In our case, we told our families, they could pick any date they wanted...but the wedding might not be as much fun if the bride or groom or both were missing in action!

Once we had a date, we set about to the task of appeasing those who we couldn't please. I need to mention here, that for some reason, women always end up with the appeasement task. What is it about us? Is it the extra chromosome (or is that the missing one?)? But somehow, all the man has to do is turn up at the right place, at the right time. Everything else is for the woman to handle. I'm not saying this is deliberate because the man doesn't want to help. Its just the way it is. If I have a child, I'll beg him/her to elope.

Just like appeasement, everything else from venue to cake to color combinations - is all the bride's work. And God Forbid, if you think you have a choice in the matter, you've had it. You must, you must pick something every one else likes, if even you think its puke.

When I started, I had accidently believed myself to be important to the wedding, till a friend at work, also planning her wedding told me that I was the least important person in this whole thing. After all, I am just the bride! Another friend told me that weddings are a test of patience. You try to get through the months preceding that day, and the day itself, one day at a time...

So why am I so venomous about my own wedding. Well for starters, my relatives decided that this being the first wedding in the family in 15 years, it needed some added all of them organizing it for instance. Can someone say too many cooks...?

They are all trying to do everything they couldn't do at their own weddings...and making a total mess of mine...and they FIGHT...about everything. Being in the unenviable position of needing to please everyone, you may see this bride in some "unique" attire.

You'll see me walk down the aisle wearing a saree that looks like a gown, or a gown that looks like a saree, wearing 5 veils, to please my 5 aunts. The makeup will make me look like a goth chick, or Raveena Tandon from the early 90s, considering aunty 1 leans towards baby pink based makeup for that fresh innocent virginal appeal, while aunty 2 prefers a more smoldering look ("he'll be wondering when he can be alone with you" - eeuuuu, please please don't talk to me about that ever again).

Then there is the cousin brother, who wants a bollywood bhangra DJ at the reception and also to book the best disc in town for the night. When I asked him his opinion on how this will fit within our budget, he said "No comments on that" NICE!

And how can I forget the uncle who has ordered a 5-tiered wedding cake...I'm afraid when they click photos, it'll look like my groom is holding hands with the cake, because I sure as hell wont be visible behing that monstrosity.

Then there is my dear beloved husband-to-be, who bought a wedding cake top online. Most couples choose romantic figures with the groom sweeping the bride off her feet. My man picked one that has a groom being dragged by the collar by the bride...obviously to the altar...Husband-to-be thinks its the FUNNIEST thing since Archie set up a date simultaeneously with Betty and Veronica.

And moms...yours and his. Especially yours. Seems like the emotions of the time get to them so they feel the need to pick fights with you all the time. Then when you fight back, they cry, making you want to crawl right back under that big dirty rock where you belong.

So, fellow brides-to-be, or those who may join us soon, in the near or distant future, here are some handy tips for us all -

1. Remember, YOU are not important. Everyone else is.
2. If you have a choice, keep it to yourself.
3. If you have a dream wedding, don't ever imagine you can get it for yourself...Instead hold your horses...Force you niece, nephew, child suffer ur perfect wedding instead. May the circle continue.
4. Be nice to mom. You'll regret any other way later.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Pet Cemetary

Its been a long time since I've posted. Don't blame me. Ok, blame me. But also blame the corporate slave masters who've chained me to the conference room from where I'm penning this down.

I'm currently attending an extremely boring (and that is the understatement of the year) session on SAP. Infact, the session is so boring that:

1. The speaker's colleague nodded off to sleep 37 minutes after the start
2. The speaker himself headed out to get caffeine during the break because he realized he was delivering his presentation under the influence of sleep

Somebody, please drive a knife through my heart. It'll be so much kinder than having to bear this torture chamber any longer. A meal followed by a monologue by this sleep-inducing man in darkened conference room are not my idea of a fun post-lunch activities.

My brain is sluggish and I don't know what this man is saying anymore. Something about client ID, session, process and a bunch of acronyms like SD, BD, SM, PA that mean nothing to any of the attendees. Well, I've got a bunch of acronyms that do. How's MC, BC sound to you old guy?

Ok brain, 57 minutes more. I promise that if you do this for me, I'll give you your heart's desire (Ok, that sounds wrong. How can a brain have a heart's desire?). OK brain, basically you can have your fill of oxygen.

My mind wanders in a bid for survival. It latches on to the first mildly amusing thought that comes to it. And that brings me to the wildlife sanctuary of chaos that is my house these days.

A pack of street dogs constantly wander the lane outside my house. They are very loud. Always. But because I've known them since they were pups (infact I think I may even have observed their conception), I have a soft spot for them. However that does not mean that I'm ok with their excitable barks at all hours of the day and night. I know they mean well and are playing guard and all, but what are a couple of burglaries compared to uninterrupted hours of sleep or phone conversations? Atleast the burglaries give the neighbourhood a reason to get together and talk.

And then there are the monkeys. A couple of them climbed out to our balconey a few evenings ago. Now here is something we all wish to see when we return home from a stressful day at work - a bunch of monkeys in the balconey, one sitting on the rose pot scratching its buttocks. Two grooming themselves on the clothesline. And one making a meal out of my pink lacey thingies. So atleast the last one had good taste.

If you remember, there was also a cat that had taken over my house once. His progeny stalk around these days.

And NOW, we have a pet lizard. How did I end up getting one of those? Well, during the mating season, we got a baby lizard who never learnt how to climb walls like most self-respecting lizards. Yours truly being petrified of anything that crawls never quite learnt to be fond of "Lizzie", but my mother ofcourse found it "cute" (belch) to see this lizard crawling around eating up all the insects. So now Lizzie has made the foyer her permanent abode. A few evenings ago mum came to me and started telling me how Lizzie was sitting there and staring at mum. My mother sounded almost affectionate (!) and I felt as thought I'd suddenly acquired a bug for a sibling or something. I warned mum that if she continued talking to the lizard like that, the lizard's likely to get fond of her. And guess what happened? I was right. I now have a lizard who scurries away at the sound of my footsteps, but sits and just swishes her tail when mum walks near her.

The lizard has developed an identity crisis. I think she thinks she's a dog! The other day, I swear, I caught her wagging her tail at mum. So now we have this lizard that follows my mum around the house and wags her tail. In fact tonight, this rain bug came and landed near mum's foot. Lizzie jumped out from behind the couch and ate the bug up. Loyalty people. Another doggie trait.

I found a solution to my dilema though. Mum's come to fear Lizzie's devotion finally. Especially since I told her that Lizzie may start wanting to lick her now to express affection.

Peace prevails.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Hyderabadi Biryani

A few weeks back during a meeting with my big boss, I told him how I wanted onsite opportunities and direct interaction with clients. See, all I wanted was a free ticket to the US to sightsee...I thought I had made myself crystal clear. Apparently not.

Last week, I was caught hold of and told I had to go Hyderabad.

As with all MNCs I was told a day before about my trip and the remaining time was spent trying to get approvals for payments and tickets from just about everyone from the janitor to the CEO. I made the strategic error of booking Air Sahara tickets. Both times, my 2-hour flight was delayed by 3 hours. You know, I honestly think that all those rumors about Subroto Roy having HIV and dying were spead by the honcho of the airline division to deviate attention from the perpetually late flights.

Not to mention the age of the Sahara planes. The one I went in, had the following message printed infront of my seat: "Incase of submersion, use lower cushion as floatation device." What The mean to say that if the stupid plane were to land in deep water, I would survive by hanging on to a tatty cushion?? Well, perhaps the absorbed gases of the previous passengers (they are not to blame, the day-old food served in-flight is) will keep me afloat!

The really fun part were the 4 brats who were sitting next to me. I had tele-checked in like a seasoned traveler, and had got a window seat. The 4 brats kept whining to their mom about why "aunty" wouldn't let them sit at the window. "Aunty"?? Bloody hell. I even stuck my tongue out at them when their mom wasn't watching.

Anyway, so in Hyderabad, once I reconciled myself to the fate of a domestic "onsite" of 3 days, I figured I could still enjoy the city in the evening, visit Char Minar, have some fantastic biryani, and buy myself some pearls. But did I manage to do that? Well, lets see, between getting my laptop to work, getting cabs and commuting for 4 hours daily, ummm, no. The only biryani I got to eat was at the office cafeteria, and all of you who work in MNCs, are probably laughing out loud right now, or just shaking your heads along in pity. You see, office cafeteria food is a separate blog of despair all together.

So anyhow, I never managed to visit char Minar either. But on the way back to the airport, I begged the driver to stop at Mangatrai and I picked up 2 sets of pearls - black and white. When I reached the airport and reported at the Air Sahara counter, I got a call on my cell. Guess who? Air Sahara - informing me that my flight was delayed by 3 hours. What fucking geniuses man.

When I finally got my flight, I was relieved to note that this time around the plane had life jackets and did not expect me to float on a cushion the size of my ass.

I spent my time at the airport and in-flight with a wonderful gentleman who I recognized to be from my office. Ofcourse I had no clue who he was. It was sometime during the flight, when I was grabbing my arm rests in fear because of the turbulence (bitchy storm), that I found out that the man I had been gabbing with was the damn Asst. Vice President for Finance. Rest of the trip was spent trying to flash back to try and remember if I had said anything ungainly about my company. I realized what a futile exercise it was. Waiting at the airport, all I had done was bitch about Air Sahara and my company. I had specifically bitched about the compensation packages, and how the finances of the company were in dire straits. Way to go woman, I said to myself. Pat on the back doesn't even cover it.

In conclusion, on this business trip I did the following:

1. Scared kids on the plane
2. Got sick on the plane
3. Worked till 1 AM at the hotel, woke up at 5 AM to work more - everyday
4. Traveled for 4 hours everyday
5. Fought with transport and IT
6. Ate office food that I eat in Gurgaon anyway
7. Cooled my heels at the airport for 6 hours
8. Embarassed myself in front of the AVP Finance

When I reached back office, my AVP sauntered over to me and asked, "So, how was your vacation?"

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Introducing - My Photo Blog

I find myself wanting to capture silly things on the street. 4 boys riding on the scooter, celebrating India's win in some cricket match. A little girl crying with a pouty bottom lip on her way to school. Aunties haggling over veggies with a vendor. Those huge tractors from the farms with veggies stackpiled so neatly on them. Vendors selling colorful baloons to kids. A 50-year old distinguished CEO-type licking an ice cream with the same joy as his 4-year old son. A pretty flower just growing out of a cracked concrete driveway.

Therefore, introducing my photo blog - Through The Lens I See.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Interview With The Vampire

The idea for this post came when Safari Al posted a comment on my last post, asking me for any pointers for job interviews. Seeing as how I'm older and wiser, I've decided to help good 'ol Safari, and any other about-to-interview kids out there. The only condition being, you have to buy me a glass of some superlative ice wine or what the heck, beer ought to do.

One of the most traumatic experiences you'll ever go through in your life is an interview.

It starts when you're a 2 year old toddler and need to get admission into a playschool. Now what is the maximum that 2 year olds can do? I mean drool and ga-ga is pretty much it right? However, to be able to check that you can drool and ga-ga in a social situation with 10 other little todds, you need to give an interview where they will check if your social conditioning is appropriate and if your psychological makeup is at par with your peer group. What the fuck? At 2, the only social conditioning I had was to make sure no one stole my chocolates out of the tiffin box. And my peer group? Heck, we all came to playshool with our names stitched onto our hankies and panties.

The playschool apparently prepares you for the next interview. The school interview. As if it wasn't enough that our parents like to treat us like monkeys infront of relatives ("Beta, uncle to namaste karke dikhao" - Child, show uncle how you do namaste")! Now the playschool will teach us how to be uniform monkeys. So you have a bunch of 3 year olds all trying to identify colors. Parents will pay teachers extra if their kids can say fuchia instead of pink and tangerine instead of orange. Ofcourse, this is a double-edged sword. My niece, the by-product of 2 doctors was a precocious, although intelligent 3 year old. When asked what her parents did for a living, intead of saying they were doctors, she told the nun that her "dad is an ortho surgeon and ma is a paeds anesthetist". She was denied admission on account that she was being "over-smart". Now tell me this - how is a 3 year old over smart??

You must be wondering where I am going with this. I mean this post was supposed to be advice on job interviews. But see, being older and wiser, I'm just setting precedent. Basically you have given interviews your whole damn life, so this one will be just the same.

Anyway, so then you give interviews after school to get into college. Everyone has heard how at Stephen's some dudes were asked, "What's the color of the wall behind you?" Most of the simple ones turned their necks to check the wall behind them. Other's confidently strutted, "Same as the color of the wall behind you Sir." No prizes for guessing who got it and who didn't. I have just one question here. In the Asian Paints advertisement on TV, for that matter Nerolac too, they show how every wall of the house has a different color. So now what do you do?? Here's my suggestion, take it for what its worth. You just say, "I'm color blind, and I hope you don't prejudice against me because of my disability." If you don't get in, just leak to the press how this famous institution does not welcome students with disability. See how fast they offer you a scholarship. Actually, even better, get an SCST certificate, and see how the doors open for you. You don't have to even study you know. And thanks to Arjun Singh and all the pro-reservation idiots, we'll have a country of inept fools, who won't know what color the wall is.

Ok, so now after college, assuming you get through your MBA interviews (since I'm not one, I cannot athoritatively write on the matter), you finally get to the Holy Grail. The job interview.

Job interviews work differently if you are a man and if you are a woman. So I think both sexes should be tackled separately.

If you are a woman -

1. Depending on where you are interviewing, dress carefully. Ask the HR the name of the person who will interview you. Google the person before hand and see if you can get some dirty goss on them. For instance, if you are being interviewed by a male, and you find his name and number at a men-wanting-sex-with-men site, then he is probably my ex-boss. If you still want the job, go with something cleavage revealing and you'll probably get the job before you open your mouth. Remember though, once you do get the job and start working for him, the only time he'll want you to open your mouth will not be to speak! So beware.

2. If you are being interviewed by a woman, make sure you dress severely and professionally. You cannot under any circumstances afford to be perceived as an attractive woman.

3. What to say - Now this is not as tough as it sounds. Pepper your sentences with words like core competencies, benchmarking, best practises, six sigma, market thrust, critical to quality, proactiveness, initiative, my dad is the director, market intelligence etc. You'll just sail through.

4. Should you get a call back, don't start talking excitely. Try and remember how you behaved in college when hot dude Rahul finally asked you out. How did you calm yourself on the phone? Do the same here.

If you are a man -

1. If you are being interviwed by a woman, make sure you are slightly flirty and complimentary. At the same time, you also need to appear like a good boy. You must walk a line as narrow as the yellow line that divides the roads in Delhi. And if you fall on either side of this yellow line, you will just end up being road kill. This takes years of practice, but don't worry. You walked the exact same line in 12th grade when your practicals invigilator was a female. And you got through that one didn't you?

2. If you are being interviewed by a man, you cannot under any circustances appear to be more confident or powerful than he. Remember he has to feel secure about his position as the king rooster (or cock, take your pick). You on the other hand are the little chick (or baby cock), no matter what you try to convince your gym buddies and girlfriends with.

3. What you must say is pretty much the same as the ladies. Use the phrases listed above frequenty and you should get by just fine.

4. Men must remember one more thing - the handshake. Remember the old saying, "Limp handshake, limp d**k." Trust me, it holds so true in the corporate world. At the same time, your handshake cannot appear stronger than the male interviewer's. And please please be careful while shaking hands with women. You have to be firm, but you cannot crush her hand and leave it imprinted with her diamond rings.

5. Finally, men, you must also remember that the Kwality Feast advertisement showing on TV these days (where the interviewer and interviewee get all hot over a cone) is purely a work of fiction.

With these tips, I welcome you to the corporate world. Its bigger, messier, and nothing like what you dreamed about (Inject evil laughter track). We'll be waiting.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

The Wanderer's Tags

Its been a long long time away from the blog. Life has been hectic with new and interesting things happening. But before I start on any of those, I have to execute the great Wanderer's tag that Silverine tagged me with. So here goes-

5 people who top your shit list..... and why:

1. The Games Teacher from 2nd grade at Fr. Agnel's School, Delhi - As a 2nd grader giving her final Math exam, I was a bit unclear about a question on long division since I had been out of school for a couple of months because of Measles. When I went to the Games Teacher (the invigilator) to ask for a clarification, he slapped me infront of the whole class. Now I wouldn't be dramatic enough to say he sparked a life long fear of mathematics, but I always remember the humiliation of my first and only ever slap in school.

2. The ex-boss - Some men are just born so that they can be killed again. He was one such item. The man harassed every female within a 10 km radius. Infact I believe he just had to look at a woman to harass her. He made my life living hell, constantly arranging so I had to work late, and then offering to drop me back home. The sick bastard didn't even spare the pregnant HR Head!

3. Arjun Singh - He's the asshole who started Mandal Commission and the whole reservation shit. What is the point of blocking off some 50% jobs on the basis of a piece of paper, which can pretty much be bought off the street. If he really wants to give opportunities to those he feels are lesser blessed on account of their birth (!!) as SCST, why he can't open more schools and colleges?

4. Irresponsible Parents - Especially those idiots who never make an effort to calm their little brats. Don't get me wrong...I love kids...but I don't love brats...and certainly not their parents, who insted of controlling them, smile on adoringly. What is it with that eh?? On a recent trip to Agra, one such brat happened to make my aquantaince. Now the little brat kept running up and down the AC Volvo bus, and every monument we visited, he spoilt the serenity with his constant screaming. And what did his mom and dad do? They sat and smiled proudly at their little creation. Ghhrrrr... Yours truly was visiting the Taj with her fiance (yes I got engaged!) of one day, so a little peace and quiet for a romantic moment was much desired. But did the brat allow that? what did I do? Outside the main Taj monument, I caught the little brat when his mommy wasn't around, and had a little staring down competition. And I made him CRY!

5. Delhi Auto Wallahs - I know I know I've mentioned them before. But what can I do? They fit the category so well. Why do they have a meter if they refuse to ever use it. And if they ever decide to use it, the damn meter will run like its in a motor rally for meters. Often they refuse to go to a certain destination as they may have to return empty. Oh really? I didn't realize I had to pay return fare when I travel in a rickety vehicle balanced on 3 wheels. Figured that part was reserved for rickety vehicles that fly and do a landing on 6 wheels, and sometimes even 5 or 4.

Close brushes with death/danger:

1. On the way to Kodaikanal with parents, our little bus almost plunged into the ravines. They aren't kidding in the Kodaikanal sightseeing guides when they call every single point a "Suicide Point".

2. Almost got run over by a bus while crossing the street at Janpath. Why? Because I had just spotted a gorgeous pair of Kolhapuris. Thank God the bus driver spotted me.

3. On the way to a dam in UP, our Ambassador (yes, I've actually ridden in one!) got stuck on this really narrow road (if a dirt path with boulders can be called that). There were no oncoming verhicles, but somehow the driver of our Ambi thought it was a good idea to honk. So there we are, hanging off the dirt road, ready to plunge to our death, and the driver was honking like his life our ours depended on it. For a minute there, I think my family preferred the plunge than an Ambi horn, but I lived to tell the tale.

5 Preferable modes of suicide, in descending order:

I'm going to skip this one, because I have no intention of killing myself, or giving any ideas to those who may be thinking along these lines.

5 Guilty pleasures:

1. Dark Temptation at Barista - A scrumptious dessert with warm Chocolate excess cake, ice cream and whipped cream covered with chocolate sauce...Ok people, wipe off the drool.

2. Long Island Ice Tea - 2 of these babies, and I can pull a Marilyn Monroe on a piano top.

3. Big Chill Food - Penne with mozzarela, chicken, and cheese. Bolognaise with tomato sauce. Naplotanaise spagetti. Belgian chocolate shake. Squidgy dark chocolate cake. Missisipi mud pie. Need I say more?

4. Saturday sleep-ins - Getting to sleep in on Saturdays till noon. Read a little. Sleep a litle. Read a little. Sleep a little. Hmmmmmm....

5. Responding to Blog Comments at Work - I'm supposed to do it...but then rules are made to be broken right?

5 things you never want to forget:

1. My mom and my fiance - The 2 more important people in my life.

2. My first kiss - It was outside college, when it was raining and Delhi was its prettiest best. The kiss however was not! It was so awkward and funny that we both just ended up laughing afterwards :-)

3. First time I felt a baby kick - My cousin sister stayed with us during her final trimester, and at night, her baby would get all active. I felt that baby kick, and it was the most significant moment of my life. I've wanted babies ever since.

4. My engagement - He proposed in a bus. And I proposed in an auto rickshaw. How can I ever forget :-)

5. My school farewell - All my false bravado at never crying on the farewell was swept away when I made that long walk from my seat to the center of the school field during my farewell. The Principal was reading out my citation, how I had come there as a gawky 7th grader. I was surrounded by beautiful diyas. And as I walked past the teachers who had taught me all those years, who had laughed and cried with me...I couldn't help it. I blubbered like a baby.

5 things you wish to forget:

1. First slap - Read above.

2. Basic Instinct 2 - It is horrible. I can't believe the last 2 movies I've seen are Memoirs of a Geisha and Basic Instinct 2. And I saw BI (or BS, take your pick) on Easter!

3. Math exams in college - Honest, Real Analysis sucked

I can't think of anything else I'd like to forget. I figure, if I forget, how they hell will I learn from it right?

5 really exotic dishes you have tried:

I'm really not into experimenting with food. If it has more than 4 legs, you can just leave it ff my plate, thank you very much. Same goes if it doesn't have legs.

I did however go to this chocolatier at Priya, Basant Lok, which served these amazing chocolates. I had a chocolate sauce...which was AMAZING.

5 crushes/loves in your life... in chronological order

1. This guy in my office. I don't know what department he is from, or even what his name is. But he has a shaved head, and he is super hot.

2. Dude from French class. He was a German trying to earn French. I had never before been so interested in Germany before.

3. Choir boy in Church

4. Judo Champ

Strangest dream you ever had:

I have only strange dreams, so picking one out is quite a task. I used to have a best friend in school who lived in the hostel. He was this tall arab kid and we got along super well. Only problem was that he got in regular trouble with the other boys at the hostel. One night I dreamt that I walked into class, and looked to the left. Tauqir was sitting on the left most bench with a bruised left eye. I ask him in my dream how he got the bruised eye, and he says he had a fight at the hostel and got hit. About this time, my mom woke me up to go to school. Guess what happens. I reach school. I walk into class, and look to the left. Tauqir is sitting on the left most bench with a bruised left eye. I ask him how he got the bruised eye, and he says he had a fight at the hostel and got hit.

Bizzare? Hell yeah!

5 most valued personal possessions:

1. My books. My mother keeps threatening to sell them for recycling. But I've told her that if she does that, I'll leave home or something. I'm so kicked about the idea of giving these books to my future generations someday.

2. My Nokia 6600. Do I need to say more?

3. My engagement ring.

Not too many other possessions I'm nuts about.

5 favorite superheroes..... and why:

1. Superman: I think more than Superman...its Christopher Reeves I would end up admiring.

2. Spiderman: He was had such cool lines. The original one-liner guy.

3. Batman: Wham. Whack. Thud. Don't you miss that show?

4. Captain Planet: Is it strange that I found him hot? Recycle anyone?

I can't think of any other undie-over-pant I'll sign off here.

I promise the next post will be quicker than this.

I tag Lalit, World Seller Gal, Vaibhav.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

In Bed With A Tom Cat

My old bones have finally recovered from my recent office trip into the mountains. My mental state however is still undergoing recovery. So I figured before I start writing about the trip, I ought to write about the weeks I endured before it.

When I was a wee bonny baby, carrying my 50 kg bag to school each day, and studying countless books for pointless exams, I used to dream of growing up one day and going to a glamorous office. I used to wonder what it would be like to wear "civil" clothes each day instead of my dull blue and grey school uniform. And how wonderful it would be to not have to attend even a single PTA meeting ever again.

Then I grew up.

My 50 kg school bag has been replaced with a 60 kg laptop bag. Honestly that's how heavy it feels. Office is hardly glamorous considering the people I meet in the cab each day, the amount of FM I have to listen to, and the kind of food I have to eat. "Civil" clothes have become a headache unto themselves...Catty women abound the office. I have on more than one occasion observed a boardroom drama come to a climax with one cat looking at another and saying, "Nice top..Sarojini??" Meow anyone? For the uninitiated, Sarojini is Delhi's export surplus market. Everyone buys it. No one admits it. And PTA meeting. Well its been replaced with the MNC torture method - quaterly evaluation. Often I feel like my functional manager is my class teacher and my manager my daddy. I have to hear what a bad girl I have been in the quarter from both of them. And then I'm sure they discuss me between the two of them also. I can just picture it...

Class Teacher: She has not been doing her homework
Daddy: Really? You know, I give her sufficient time to do it
CT: Well, I know, I see her with her friends quite often...So I'm sure she has the time...But neither flesh nor spirit seem willing
Daddy: You're right. I'll just ground her.

And that's how I find myself working late hours.

Anyway, that's not what this rant is about. In school, I used to also dream of days when March would no longer mean studying for exams. Instead I would have the time to enjoy spring with long walks under trees with leaves of different colors. I thought this year would be one such year. Alas, it was not to be.

I received a merry mail in the last week of Feb announcing that there will be exams in March in office. Essentially to test the skills for which they have hired me. A little late in the day I say, considering I've been using those skills for a year now. There were going to be three exams...One each week of March. So much for spring.

Week 1:

An exam to test my grammar. Went smoothy enough. There were just a couple of glitches when during the exam, I was more fascinated with the invigilator's gorgeous white heels. Honest...They were super sexy. I think they were Ashley. They bore a resemblance to these Jimmy Choo's I saw in this month's Elle. What? You want to know how the exam went? Errrr.....Well....The heels were amazing.

Week 2:

A written or rather typed exam to test how well I can write. I hurt my left hand's middle finger 2 days before the exam. Don't ask me how THAT finger got hurt. Believe it or not, I was just cutting my nails. The finger was filled with puss and pained like hell. I had to get a minor incision to drain it all, but I figured I better do it all after my exam. The fear that a stich may disable my left hand from typing paralyzed me.

Anyhow, I started the exam and typed away with one hand. It was smooth like a baby's bottom. The exam. Not my hand. And I was through with it well ahead of time. Infact I even managed to review my answers once before time was up. Something I absolutely never achieved throughout my education. Feeling very proud of myself, I saved and closed both the documents I was working on. I was feeling particularly happy with myself. And guess what happened. When I tried to re-open my docs, one doc went MIA. I searched high and low, through various temporary folders, I almost dismantled the hard drive...But I never found doc 2. It was something I had been working on for 3 hours! Sysadmin wasn't much help either. He shrugged his shoulders and said...I suggest you just re-create you doc.


So what did I do? Well, I stayed back...Hurting hand and all. And I re-created the damn doc and gave it in. This is why they say don't count your chickens before they cross the road.

Week 3:

Project presentation before a tough panel. I had the luck of being one of the first presenters. Keeping in line with my luck the past 2 weeks, I didn't have much hope from it. My presentation was on Monday morning. Sunday night, I was still preparing my pitch till 12 in the night. Having planned to reach office early to prepare further, I was going to leave home in the morning at about 6 AM. That gave me about 5 hours of sleep.

Like a good girl, I went to bed at 12 midnight. The nervousness kept me up till about 1. Now my bedroom is placed in a manner that there is a balcony behind it. And just behind my head is a large window. A window with a cooler but no wire mesh or glass. In summers, its quite a relief to have all the fresh air...But this one night...Perhaps it wasn't so safe. Sometime towards 3 AM I heard a thud in the balcony. Sounded like someone had landed outside. Ma and I both got up with a start (I'm afraid of sleeping alone...Don't judge me!).

Ma (in a whisper): Did you hear that? Sounds like someone jumped onto our balcony
Me (in a whisper): Yes
Ma (very very loudly): Kaun Hai??? Who is it??
Me (irritated and loudly): Ma, what the hell makes you think its an English speaking burglar. If he spoke English, he'd be in a call center wouldn't he?
Ma (defensive and weepy): I said in Hindi also!
Me (pacifying but sarcastic): If its a thief, do you honestly think he's going to answer you????

My ma, still sprightly for her age...Climbed on the bed and tried to peep through the window onto the dark balcony to see if she could spot a thief. Since she chose to stand over my hand, there was nothing I could do to help. When I finally managed to get my voice back, I squeeked, "Ma, switch on the bedroom lights..Atleast you'll be able to see outside." Relief poured through my veins as Ma got off my hand and walked over to switch on the light. As our tubelight flickered to life, both of us now peered onto our balcony. We saw nothing. Finally we decided to call it a night. Time - 3:30 AM.

Sleep took over me again, although I was still palpitating at the thought of a burglar in my balcony. Suddenly, there was a loud CRASH and something jumped at the suitcase just behind my headboard...AAAAHHHHH...There was a very loud MEOW and both Ma and I screamed in terror! A cat ladies and gentlemen. A TOM CAT. A BIG BLACK TOM CAT. I don't know who was more scared, the cat or us! The cat streaked out and ran into the other room. Ma and I completely taken aback at this surprise visitor. Time - 4 AM

Ma heard me groan. I reminded her of the ordeal I had to face in just a few hours, and how the lack of beauty sleep was just going to make me cranky. Seeing disaster about to erupt, Ma told me to lie back in bed, cover my face with the quilt and go off to sleep while she hunted out the tom cat.

So while I covered my face, Ma went and got a broom to drive out our midnight intruder. I could hear her thrashing about with the broom. At one point I heard a loud "Stupid Bitch". I couldn't help but smile under the quilt...Evil laughter more likely. As if the expletive wasn't bad enough, Ma started whispering sweet nothings to the tom cat and went "here kitty kitty kitty...Here kitty kitty kitty".

At this point I felt a lumpiness in the quilt. I thought Ma was messing with me. Besides which I wanted to breathe and laugh at the whole "kitty" bit. So I uncovered my head. THE CAT WAS SITTING ON TOP OF ME 2 INCHES AWAY FROM MY FACE.

Me: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I quickly covered my face again. Ma ran into the bedroom. The cat got scared and started running up and down my body. I was screaming under the quilt. Ma got into action mode and started trying to hit the "kitty" with the broom. The cat was fast. ma wasn't. She hit me more than the cat. I felt like I was the victim of a village exorcism ceremony. Ma with open hair and broom in hand...Hitting me...Black cat tearing up and down me.

Ma ran and opened the back door to allow the cat to escape. But our kitty wasn't the brightest spark in the woods. He tried to escape from the same window through which he had come. Unfortunately, he was a little too fat to through the sill on the way out. Garfield anyone?

My traumatic night came to an end when the cat finally escaped through the backdoor. Time - 4:45 AM

She'll be back I know. Seeking her vendetta. V for vendetta.

Wake up time - 5:30 AM
Cab pick-up time - 6:15 AM
Presentation time - 11 AM

How did the presentation go?

Well, I don't remember any shoes, and I didn't loose and documents. So that's good news I suppose. I'll find out more when I get my results in April. Maybe at another pseudo PTA meeting!

Friday, March 10, 2006


Some time back I was tagged to write a work of fiction. I duly completed the tag here. After the post, some very polite people asked me to continue the I've decided to do so today...See this is what mom was talking about when she said "Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it!"

It was him. There was no mistaking it. He smiled at her then. That same aggravating grin she remembered from all those nights ago. Was it a month back, or a year? It felt just like yesterday. She hadn't been the same since then.

"So, fancy meeting you here", he said. "I wondered where you had dissapeared to. I had got your number from Deepa and called you a few times but I always got the answering machine." She was still thinking of what to say...should she tell him that everytime she came home from work and heard his voice on her machine, she either dropped the laptop bag on her foot and once even accidenlty nuked her cell phone in the microwave. Naah...that hardly gave the right picture considering what had happened.

"Well, I had been a little busy...the company needed me to set up a new office at a foreign location", she replied. "There! Ha!" she thought. "What do you think of that now eh?" Ofcourse there was no point in telling him that the foreign soil was no further than good 'ol Bangladesh. Details hardly mattered.

"So what are you doing here? I thought I recognized the hackles at the back of your neck from a distance..." he asked. "Its a river...with rapids...people usually come here for the rafting. What do you think I'm doing here? Annual reports?" she retorted.

He said "Well you never know..Anyway about the other night...I hope there are no hard feelings." "No hard feelings", she thought, "Sure, for you maybe". Instead she decided to play it cool and said, "Oh absolutely not...these things happen all the time. No big deal. I've hardly given it a thought." "Grapes?" he offered again. "I wasn't kidding about going off Vit C at night you know...Do you know what it can do to you? Atleast as a guy you should avoid it", she said. He seemed to squirm on his rock at that...and looked at the grapes though wondering if the price of the grapes would be too high. She almost burst out laughing...All grapes did was make her burp a bit...but what the heck. He deserved it.

He: So are you here on an office trip or otherwise?
She: I'm here with some friends
He: Office friends?
She: Yes
He: Boyfriend?
She: None of your business!
He: Oh c'mon...Don't be shy
She: Who are you here with?
He: Oh I'm here with my team
She: Female subordinates?
He: I like to think of them as equals
She: Yea right!
He: Your rock is so much smoother than mine
She: Stay by your rock. I came here first
He: Ok ok...Man...people will think you're some kind of victorian prude
She: Prude? Prude! What the hell! What kind of a nut are you?
He: Actually, speaking of prude, I am a Jane Austen fan. What do you think of Pride and Prejudice?
She: *Asshole...I'm not spoiling my beautiful night by discussing Jane Austen with him under a moonlit sky. Besides all I know of Jane Austen is some movie with Aishwarya and a white guy dancing to some really bad songs*
He: *If she would ony loosen up...I've even pretended to like Jane Austen. What more could a woman want!!*
She: I have to go. Good night
He: Wait. Before you go. There is something I've been wanting to do all evening

Hmm...thinking of 2 possible alternatives now. Will get back to this later.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Tagged, Yet Again

I have been tagged by Lalit to come up with a list of things I hate...I can't believe he would take such a risk!

But since I so admire Lalit and his perseverance, I shall do justice by his tag.


1. Memoirs of a Geisha - I saw it yesterday and I had this heavy cloud of gloom and anger over my head till today morning. Don't get me wrong...Its not the concept of women servicing men in this movie that bothers me...maybe the Japs do it and so its their business. Its the idea that a 30 yr old man can develop feelings for an 8 yr old girl. That he takes her under his wing and lets her grow up to be a Geisha. And despite being in love with her, he lets her virginity be auctioned...C'MON !!

2. Mamma's Boys - It seems very cute when a guy will tell you how he adores his mother. You think, well...atleast he knows how to respect women. But nothing bugs me more than a grown man who needs to seek permission from his mother for everything. Love her yes...but do you have to "love" her? Be a man and learn to make your own decisions too every once in a while.

3. People Who Are Rude to Servers and Hosts at Restaurants - This category of people truly anger me. The person serving you is just serving you...that does not make him/her your servant. A little respect won't hurt. And if you still insist on being ready to savor your dish with a seasoning of spit!

4. Bosses From Hell - When I say boss from hell, I don't mean the boss who expects you to work late or pick up their laundry. I mean the boss who will pester you for dinner and will offer to drive you home at 10 PM even though you can take company transport. I mean the boss who will pay you embarrasing compliments at important meetings, and who will mis-use a position of power and responsibility to seek special "favours". Ideal solution is to just puncture the wheels of the Lexus when he is not looking...well, either that, or post his pic and cell number at a men-seeking-men-for-sex site.

5. The New Budget - PC has really gone and done it this time. He's now taxing us every time we use a debit/credit card to pay for anything. He's also taxing us if we withdraw 10 grand or more from our ATMs. Wait a second...pretty soon we'll go back in time to the days of Sholay and we'll all have our own personal munshi ji. What the fuck man! Its my are already taxing my income and every bloody thing I buy. Now you want to tax me to withdraw my own money? What am I supposed to do now? Carry 2000 bucks with me everywhere if I need to go buy groceries? Ofcourse if I get mugged and murdered for my money, I will be told I should have been more careful and was probably asking for it by carrying around so much cash. C'mon PC...I was expecting better than this regressive move.

6. The Vagaries of the Indian Justice System - Jessica Lal was murdered at a party infront of more than a 100 people. Witnesses were threatened, and today the accused have walked scot-free and one even runs a night club. Yes we are all protesting, but for how long can this mockery of the legal system continue? A medical student from MAMC was raped in broad daylight, the culprits were arrested and then released. Does any one know what happened to them? Every one knows what happened in Godhra. Yet the accused have not been brought to justice. If these lunatics want to fight wars to prove their religion is better, what better way to do it than rape and murder little girls right??

7. Delhi Auto Wallahs - These guys have their own mob scene going on. As soon as you step out of a mall, a hoard of them will descend on you like a swarm of locusts. They are better off than most of us; some even carry 2 cell phones. The cell phones are snazzier than mine. They are so choosy they will refuse to take you early morning when you are rushing to your bus stop. They will refuse to go by meter. And when you do sit in the auto, they will "adjust" the mirror so they can leer at you throughout your journey.

That's my lucky seven for the day. There is so much more to hate...but really...what is the point right?

I am tagging Safari Al, methinks, mind curry, and vaibhav.

Monday, February 27, 2006


Owing to my last post, a lot of my friends/readers thought that perhaps I was one of 'em bra-burning feminists, who hate men, and everything they stand for (or everything that stands for them). That is hardly close to the truth because I quite like men. Infact I like them better than a lot things like bird flu, rodent plague etc...

I've been challenged to write atleast 10 things I like about men (without invoking the license to dream), without drinking, and without repeating myself. Ha I say to the challenge. Here goes:

1. I truly like the way men love little boys (NO, I do not mean like MJ). I just admire how they try to teach little boys tricks like how to turn cartwheels, how to hold a cricket bat, how to deal with rejection from girls...Its actually quite endearing.

2. I admire how men will not try and analyze every action, word, and gesture to death. If a woman shrugs her shoulder when the man says "So baby waddya think of em jeans eh?" the man will think "Oh great..Woo hoo..she wants me!!" Imagine what would happen if the sexes in this situation were reversed. Since I don't want to repeat myself, you can read the results here. Bottomline, men are definitely less stressed out than women and enjoy life more than we do. Why they die more of heart disease than women is a multi-million dollar research industry. Perhaps all those years of not telling us whether the turquoise silk looks better or the mauve chiffon finally catch up with them?

3. That men make better bosses is a world famous phenomenon. Most male bosses tend to be more sympathetic and understanding. Yes, they do tend to stare at Thelma and Louise, but then its either that or the hell bitch who will not let you take the day off that time of the month. I don't like dissing women bosses coz I have had some great ones, but somehow opposite sex boss-subordinate relationships work better. Don't ask me why. That would be probably be another blog.

4. Men are adorable when they are shy and in love. Try remembering how your guy pal's kid brother behaved moonily when he had a crush on you. How about that geek in school, who looked up from his Organic Chemistry book only long enough to spot you? Sure back then you laughed, but now he is probably an IIM graduate, working some high-flying job, and loves his wife and 3 kids. Guess who is having the last laugh?

5. Men go to puddles when we cry. It doesn't matter if we are sisters, friends, "rakhi sisters", mothers, whatever. Good men cannot stand to see us cry. They tend to do irrational things to get us to stop. This includes making a fool of themselves, or going and hitting the people who made us cry in the first place. Barring all this, nothing consoles a case of the weepies better than a pair of good guy arms. No point even trying to deny this. I know I know it seems like this is ammunination I'm handing over to the male bastion, but don't worry, I still have a couple of tricks up my sleeve.

6. Men are forever confused by women and we can get away with anything. Says cramps, menstruation...and see them run for cover. But my personal favourite is how they are so sure they think of you as a "rakhi sister" till 8th grade. However as soon as 9th grade comes (for some late bloomers 10th grade), its like a little bomb goes off and they realize their feelings are anything but brotherly. This is also the stage when they will start carrying your fat books and help you out with dissections in Biology.

7. Men have the most convinient neck space. No massage chair can come even close. God was very intelligent when he made that space between their chin/jaw and shoulder just so a girl's head could fit in there. This is especially useful when you are watching the Matrix for the nth time. Also useful after that last fight you had with mom over your curfew time.

8. Men smell good. No not all. But mostly they do. That familiar fragrance of Old Spice, and even the new age Ax Effect, do strange and wonderful things to our hormones.

9. Men will never remember that 4 years ago, when his mami's cousin sister gave you a saree, you didn't appear thankful enough. The off side to this is that they will forget the anniversary when you held hands for the first time. Men have the task of remembering some 5000 dates that commemorate your relationship. They will forget 4999 of these dates, but will go all out to make it up to you. This includes wine, candle lit dinners, diamonds, and other unspeakable joys.

10. It isn't exactly heart-melting when they check out other women infront of us, but when we catch them red-handed at it and call them out, that sheepish smile makes our stern expression so tough to maintain. Once again, they will go all out to make it up to you.

11. The way men look just after they wake up is another heart-melting moment. Hair typically resembles a gollywog, and their not so sunny termperament makes them so cuddlable.

OK...I was told 10, and I came up with 11. The extra one to let everyone know just how much I don't hate men. Convinced?

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

The World Through Bad-Alcohol-Tinted Glasses

Warning: Do not ever ever consume a cocktail called Regent Punch at Days of the Raj. You're safer drinking recycled sewer water. The result is a bad headache and this post. I wrote it, but didn't post it because I wanted to read what it would be like once I was sober...In any case, I'm posting it here without any changes because I thought it made interesting "rambling" reading, and I figured these must be things that are really bothering me.

*This post was written under the influence of some very bad alcohol. Reader discretion is advised. Any resemblance to individuals living or dead is likely to be true since drunks cannot lie. Any disputes arising from this post are to be raised in my toilet where they will be flushed down like soiled toilet paper.

1. Why does Saddam Hussain get suits stiched by some designer dude in Turkey. I mean what the fuck... you kill like a few million people and live like a king...and at the end of your life, you go around wearing designer suits and complain that you aren't being treated well in jail. If Bush could go around bombing lil kids accidently, why the hell couldn't they just shoot Saddam accidently too??

2. What is it with ex boyfriends? I mean, they talk about wanting to move on and being friends and talking about everything. But when the girl starts dating, they get all "aww....but i can't sleep...but i can't eat...waahhh.." Basically traslated that means " a a loser...waahhh.." Am I cold hearted bitch? Hell ya!! Especially when I find out someone I trusted stabbed me in the back and had cheated on me. Dude, you deserve everything you're getting right now and are about to get!

3. Why can men and women not stand each other?? I mean, I've met so many who have the same complain. Men marry expecting their women will not change but they do. And women marry expecting that their men will change but they don't. Since this is a common saying, I know its been around since Adam, so why the hell can't men look for women expecting change, and women look for men, who they don't feel like changing?

4. Why do men always say that women think so much? Would you prefer if the world was full of blondes whose idea of thinking was just deciding whether to wear the pink thong or the green one? Actually, don't answer that...No point.

5. Why do women get so confused with what they want from a guy? We all know that the perfect guy does not exist. Yet we have laundry lists of what we want from a guy...Yes he should be loving and kind... I mean c'mon...I didn't exactly expect any female to want an alcoholic wife beating shit head! So isnt it easier to just list the qualities you can live without? And please note, I said qualities.

6. Why do men want virgins only? And this is a phenomenon that apparently exists all over the world. My girlfriends in the US keep telling me that guys there are crazy about Indian girls. They feel Indian chicks are more moral (read virgins). At the same time, all guys want one thing grandmother told me so. Men want great girls who they can have sex with, without having to marry (some guys are willing and even keen to have sex even with not-so-great girls, but I won't count them in here). And men want great girls to marry as well. So if all the great girls have sex with the guys, then where are all the virgins left for marriage?? Math was never my strong suit, having scored 19/100 in class 11th, but this equation certainly boggles the mind. And why would any self-respecting female admit to being a virgin/non-virgin anyway? I mean, you're damned if you're a 24 year old virgin, but you're damned worse if you're a 24 year old non-virgin.

7. Why does my best friend, a guy, have softer, straighter hair than I do? He fucking even has longer eye lashes. Where is the justice in that?

8. When a girl I know has to register for a famous matrimonial site buckling under family pressure (and this is a phenomenon solely for girls), why is it that all the weirdos approach only her. Is it some sort of a special query run on the database? Or is it like one weird homing signal that this unnamed girl has buried under her skin?

9. When you decide that you would like to work in the international market, and figure that with your credentials, they would be happy to have you, you find out its one fucking chicken and egg story. And we all know what happens to the chickens and eggs. I mean they will give you a job if you have a work permit, but you can get a work permit only if you have a job. My condolences to Laxmi Mittal.

10. Why do most lists have 10 points...what is that all about? In my current mood, I think I will be different. 9 points is all!

Thank you blogger for spell check.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Twenty Point Someone?

Hey people,

Lalit had tried to leave a post on the Comments section of my previous post! Unfortunately, Blogger wasn't too impressed and removed the comment on my behalf, but without my consent!! No problemo...

What Lalit posted sruck a cord in me. I'm sure by now it's a well travelled forward, but just incase it isn't, I'm pasting it here for everyone to read.

"Being Twenty-Something"

They call it the "Quarter-life Crisis." It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job... and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you. Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward. You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you are doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person.

One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself... and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out. Send this to your twenty something friends.... maybe it will help someone feel like they aren't alone in their state of confusion.....


Thanks Lalit!

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Compliments of a Dangerous Mind

I was sitting with a group of friends today and we discussing the kind of compliments we get from time to time. Conversation started as such, when someone dropped by and "complimented" yours truly by saying "Nice hair. It makes you look thinner."

Umm....Thanks?? I guess...

It got the rest of us talking on some of the more strange compliments we receive. And ofcourse the compliments that men bestow upon us especially when they don't know better!

My eccentric brit accented neighbour is one of those men who are scared of women, and what we may ask of him! He's a bit of an ascetic too. Often the women in my team will walk upto him and ask him to comment on their mehendi, clothes, nail paint and the lot. Not to be left behind, I went to him one morning, quite happy with myself for having used a new glittery eye shadow, and asked him what he thought of it. He carefully looked at my eyelids and then remarked, "I was wondering earlier if it was sand on your eyes."

And she huffed and she puffed and she blew away his entire stock pile of fake medical bills...

Many have heard the urban legend of the man who took a moment too long before answering his wife/girlfriend when she asked lovingly, "Darling, do these pants make me look fat?" Legend has it that all men who commit this blunder never reach heaven, or for that matter, hell. They all languish somewhere between the mortal and immortal worlds. They get no beer and no sex. Oh and no chocolates or cricket either.

Among the other strange compliments I have received, I was once told I look like Shahrukh Khan. I truly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I assure everyone that I look nothing like the Bollywood actor.

Now tell me this wonderful people - if a guy is driving a girl home, and drives at the speed of 10 miles an hour on a road that can take about 60 miles an hour - is that a compliment or an insult? And if he continues to talk to her even after reaching her house...till she reaches the door...and switces off the porch lights?

Friday, January 27, 2006

I'm it!

Yes people. Its your favourite 24 year old on the prowl again..meeeeoowww...or it supposed to be gggrrrhhhhh.... well, whichever!

The Girl Who Sold the World tagged me and I'm it. My task: to create a lucid work of fiction or fact (well, knowing my love for it) of 100-200 (yea right!) words using these words: I, me, blowjob, grapes, random, power, loneliness, water, robot, and blue. They've to be used just once. Now I just need to think of creative ways to use these words ;-D Ha with "blowjob" in there I just wonder how creative I can get! So here goes...

She sat on the rock by the stream. The water was gently passing over the rocks. Smoothening them as it had been for years. The sky was mid night blue. She couldn't help feeling a wave of loneliness sweep over her. She wondered if she could ever find a mate who was as much a constant as the stream was to the rocks on its bed. Ofcourse the stream did run dry every couple of years when the rain fell short! But then, there is only so much one could hope for. That's when she noticed a dark figure walking towards her from the neighbouring camp. "Probably some random corporate romeo type", she thought. He was holding something in his hands. He came, sat next to her and offered her what was in his hands, "Grapes?" "No thanks, I don't take vitamin C after 9 PM." she answered curtly. "People these days are on the strangest diets", he started off..."Me, well, yours truly believes in having whatever is available." She couldn't even see him in the darkness, and he was already pissing her off. "Probably hoping for a good lay or a blowjob" is all she could think.

She wished to be left with her melancholic thoughts, stemming from a childhood of Barbie and Ken, and teen years of Mills and Boons. She did not respond and sat there like a robot, hoping the stanger would get the message. However he seemed almost as unperceptive as HR. Suddenly there was lighting. The sheer power of the single bolt lit the sky. Scared witless for a minute, she leaned towards the stranger, chanced a look upon his face...and froze..."Oh my can't's not possible!"

OK, I'm out of words...paisa hazam, kahani khatam as my grand mom would often say.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Losing It

Its happened. I was afraid about it from the very beginning. I had heard it was painful. I was worried what scars it may leave behind after it was all over. I had been told it got better over time.

But I must was't as bad as I thought it would be. I was so scared and I realized that feeling scared may stop me from enjoying it. So I let go of my inhibitions. Stopped worrying about everything. I relaxed myself...and believe me...while there was a bit of pain initially... once I got into the groove, it was mostly pleasure.

No I didn't get a tattoo (isn't that what you were wondering *fluttering eylashes*). It was my birthday. 24th to be exact. And guess what. It was a lot of fun. No. My bones haven't suddenly crumbled. I don't have wrinkles. No grey hair. As a wise friend at work was trying to tell me, I suddenly realize, I'm in the prime of my youth, I earn well (if HR reads this, I earn pittance!!), I work well, I'm single, attractive, reasonably funny, and I can be with any one I want.

Thanks P and D for the great fun last night. You're good friends.

And to everyone who has read this blog over the past half a year, posted comments, mailed me, and generally made my day, you're all fantastic people and wonderful writers.

Happy Birthday To Me.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Friday the 13th

When I titled this post, I was not thinking of the strange, somewhat scary connotations associated with the date thanks to Jason and gang. The title actually had no point.

Now that we've moved beyond that, let me share with you the highlights of my week.


Ran from home to bus stop. Nearly missed office bus. Sat with a new hot guy. Witnessed two accidents on the way to Gurgaon. Started talking with hot guy about the rise in accidents during winters (its amazing how something as morbid as accidents can help you strike a conversation with someone!). In the evening, ran from office to bus stop. Nearly missed office bus. Sat by myself. Noticed new guy sitting at the back. Smiled politely. New guy came to my seat, asked if someone was sittng with me, and then sat with me. Discussed state of Delhi, favorite hangouts, professional aspirations. Yours truly was quite happy at having her faith re-affirmed in the possibility of divine intervention and availability of hot eligible young men in the capital. Nearly missed getting off at the right bus stop for home.


Ran from home to bus stop. Nearly missed office bus. New guy was sitting by himself. When guy ahead of me tried to sit next to new guy, new guy told him seat was saved. Then smiled at me, said had saved seat for yours truly. Hallelujah!! For once was not tempted to sleep on the way to office and catch an extra hour of shut eye. In the evening, ran from office to bus stop. Nearly missed office bus. Sat by myself. Noticed new guy sitting at the back. Smiled politely. New guy came to my seat, asked if someone was sittng with me, and then sat with me. Dejavu anyone? Discussed new guy's work with ye corporate Gods. Hmm...strange. New guy seems so enthusiastic. Not what I'd expect from someone who has been a slave as long as I think he's been one. Still shared an amazing conversation. Discovered common love of cars (SUVs in particular) and bikes. We even watch the same TV shows!! New dangly earrings fell in bus. Gawd knows how. New guy helped me search them all over bus. People stared, but did he stop? Nay siree. Nearly missed getting off at the right bus stop for home again. Found the earring stuck somewhere in my sweater. Found new guy. Found lost earrings. This is definitely my week !


Whole day spent in training. Did not see new guy morning or evening. What else can I say?


Ran from home to bus stop. Nearly missed office bus. New guy was sitting by himself. Smiled and said, I've saved a seat for you. Whew !! I suddenly realized I knew nothing of what new guy did professionally. So I asked. Was expecting a response like - manager, asst manager, CA, well, something like that. New guy told me this was his first job. He passed out of college last year. WAT THE FUK !! I passed out like 3 years ago... So that would make me...OHMIGOD....OLDER THAN HIM !! Pardon me if that took the wind out of my sails. In the evening, ran from office to bus stop. Nearly missed office bus. Sat by myself. New guy came to my seat, asked if someone was sittng with me, and then sat with me. Started asking my advice about the company, MBA options - OH GOD...he thinks of me as his MENTOR!! arrrggghhh. Deep breaths...deep breaths...counted to 10, then counted to 20. Meanwhile new guy was telling me about some club a buddy of his has opened in Delhi. Said he could tell me about some live rock performances over the know, by calling on the mobile nmber he doesn't yet have. Yours truly smiled sadly...Let new guy know that 24th bday is just around the corner. Another week to be exact. Figured he'll realize I'm a hag and leave me alone. New guy just smiles and wants to know my birthday plans. Whoa! Missed getting off at correct bus stop for home. C'mon, can you blame me??


Ran from home to bus stop. Missed office bus. Got a second office bus. Had to stand for half and hour. Slept for another half and hour when a seat finally became available. Reached office refreshed. Entered work bay. New guy strolls over to say hi. Wait a minute...I didn't tell him where I sit. Talks about the band performance. Takes my number to inform me about it over the weekend. When he leaves, I dance over to eccentric brit neighbour and tell him how I enjoy the sheer innocence and exuberance of younger guys. How sweet they are. And how new hot guy is totally innocent and harmless (well, I thought he was!). Eccentric brit (also wily old man) points out how my "innocent" young friend had managed to get a mobile number and permission to call on the weekend. I am amazed at the smoothness of it all. I feel old and dumb. Speak to work girlfriend later. She tells me I should feel flattered and happy. After all, I am now the old wine. Old wine at 24. Sigh. I tell her, old wine is ok. What if I'm rancid wine! She bursts out laughing. So do I. Suddenly we realize this would be a great line in the blog and I quickly write it down lest I forget it due to my advancing years. Yes, I know. I need to get a life. In the evening, ran from office to bus stop. Couldn't find office bus. New guy calls me and says bus is about to leave, and he is holding it up for me. I run to bus. Sit with new guy and try very hard not to let him see how out of breath I am. I remember the bus stop this time. I guess the facination is over.


Sleep. Get hair cut. Shop. Have girlie night out. At night mum tells me she went to buy Harpic. The shopkeeper showed her 4 bottles and said it now comes in 4 "flavours"! Get a giggle attack.


Write about my week. Start giggling again. Cannot stop. Hope I don't miss the bus tomorrow morning :-D