Kollywood Calling

Finally, a post. I know it has been a long time and I have no excuses. Anyway, it’s December and I am down south. It is my first December sans woolens and it is a new experience(but I still like my sweaters).
Coming to my title, no I have not got any acting offers but I have been watching a lot of the madduland movies. It’s been a long time but I have slowly got used to the slangs. I have observed some things- these people like their heroes to be dark while their heroines should be fair and stout. No wonder, they have nicknames like “Thundering Thighs”. Even after all these years, Vijay still remains the best among the lot. Trisha is the best among the fairer sex( you can see the pictures).

And now my experience. My tamil, which till now, I believed was quite good, has left me in a few lurches. I tried to get a recharge for my mobile, which resulted in me doing a song dance routine in front of the shopkeeper. But I still managed to get the recharge. I analysed the cause of my delay in comprehending the language (with some help from the Incredible Bulk) and found out that my thought processing takes place in English or Hindi and it takes time to translate tamil. So I am not at fault.
I have right now run out of things to write about. But don’t worry, I will be back.
And “Yenna Rascala, mind it”(just wanted to fit it somehow, it is funny)

Chak De!

It seemed that a curfew had been imposed on Village R. The roads wore a deserted look and the one or two brave people who had managed to venture out, quickly hobbled on. The students had managed to get the class dispersed in record time and were seen sprinting towards their hostels. As I walked past Alpahaar, I saw the barren landscape and my heart skipped a beat. What was the world coming to, I thought. And then it struck me. It was the final match of the Twenty20 world cup and that too India Vs Pakistan.
I reached my hostel and was greeted with the sound of rejoicing from a mile away. I believed someone had scored. As I wearily pushed my way past the crowd, I realised that a batsman had just been dismissed. I somehow managed to mingle with the crowd, lest some superstitious soul pointed her finger at me and had me thrown out of the TV room.
I managed to find a small corner for myself and settled to watch the proceedings. It seemed that all the girls of R had turned up to watch the encounter. Every ball which made it past the boundary was applauded while every dismissal led to shrieks. I was pretty sure that my ear drums would burst.
The match managed to reach the half level mark(my ear drums were still intact) and my first thoughts were to scourge for a good seat. But even the others were no fools. Nobody even moved an inch, lest their seats were taken.
Anyway the match proceeded with Pakistan making an impressive start. And then a wicket fell. Along with that, our mess secy came with the good news that the mess timings had been extended on account of the match. Loud cheers followed.
The match proceeded and along with that the oohs and aahs increased. And then Shahrukh Khan appeared on the screen. The poor soul had come to see the match but one has to pay the price of being a celebrity. He waved and the intensity of the shouts increased. He went and the girls sighed. Coming back to the match, each wicket was greeted with dancing which could have put even the cheerleaders to shame.
The finale of the match was the last over. Even atheists were seen fervently praying to God. As the last wicket fell, the whole room erupted with screams. People jumped on to the tables and strangers hugged each other. It seemed as if each and every one had been there on the field. The happiness in everyones eyes was unmistakeable. Messages were being sent at a fast pace and calls were being made to spread the good news.
I managed to escape the happy riots by a fraction of a whisker. I am still in one piece(given the fact that I did appreciate the Pakistanis time and again, and in doing so, managed to irk quite a many people.)
I have just been informed that a dance party is being organised to celebrate the victory. Well, I plan to go and have a ball. Chak de India!!

Ye Haath Mujhe De De....

As I sat down to write my exam, I happened to glance across my desk. And there deeply engraved on the bench was the four letter "F" word and its equivalent hindi translation. Not that I was shocked. Two years in college have greatly improved my vocabulary. I have learnt anatomy in MD classes. But the best thing, are the various signs which are made to vent out frustrations.
Nowdays fingers are used for many other things apart from counting. It was earlier taught that pointing fingers is rude. Now I know that pointing middle finger in worse. I once happened to see a presentation in which the speaker kept pointing at the transparencies with his middle finger, oblivious to his mistake. Recently my friend returned from abroad. She brought with her the learning that pointing thumbs also means the same thing. The index and little fingers when pointed upwards together, also refer to the same thing in some Scandinavian country. And Ross had already taught us the use of our fists. I now feel that it is safest to walk with my hands in my pockets. But that is also a sign of insolence. I really feel that at least Sholay's Thakur was happy in one way. He didn't have to worry which way his fingers were pointing. :)

Jinxed

This Tag game is jinxed. Since the day I have been tagged, I have been unable to post anything. So I am breaking the sequence. I don't want to jinx eight more fellow bloggers.

Which school are you in?

This is the question which everyone frequently asks me( for general information, I am half an engineer now). My petite structure and innocent face(hem,hem...) fool many. There have been countless instances, when people have asked me if I am in the 8th standard.
The most recent of them occurred today morning. As I hurried to class, a group of second year guys were waiting in front of the department, searching for a scapegoat to rag. As I walked past them, I was ordered to come in proper dress code. I just stopped myself from laughing on their faces, as I saw the professor enter the class. I wish that I meet those guys again, so that I can teach them a thing or two about ragging.
But it is not always that the situations are hilarious. Once while travelling in a train with my mother, the TC refused to accept that I am 20 years old. He was very obstinate and I almost had a fight with him. It is basic common sense that if a girl is lying about her age, she would never show herself as being older.
But now I have come to accept that people think that I am a kid. I had a awkward experience in the library, when the issue clerk asked everyone to move aside so that "Gudiya" could come and get the book issued.
But looking at the brighter side, I will look younger even when I am very old. I may even be able to promote 'Santoor' soap, the advertisements of which show a young looking mom. But my friends say that if I do that advertisement, I will get the role of the daughter! All I would like to say to my detractors is that, "Meri twacha se meri umar ka pata hi nahi chalta"!

Think before you speak

An adage recently caught my eye- "Arrows once shot and words once out of the mouth, can never be taken back." This is perfectly true. History is full of illustrations, where people have said certain things, leading to wars.
Even we say certain things, which we do not mean to say. But once said, nothing can be done. This specially happens when we are in a group. Spurred on by others, we may say things, which we might find funny, but others may not.
I have been caught in sticky situations where in the flow of the moment, I said many things, resulting in fights and once even costing a friendship. But still, I feel I have a lot of scope of improvement. Hope I can do it.

Left, Right, Left!!!

While reading Lefty's blog a few days back, I realised that we both shared something: our interest in sports. Just quiz me on any sport, be it the Rolland Garros(Long live the French), else even obscure sports like Shin Wrestling(played in the English countryside) or Elephant Polo(played in Thailand), and pat, you will have an answer. But while selecting a team, I am the last person one should place their bet on. In school, I abhorred the physical education examinations. I couldn't even outrun a snail( if a snail agreed to compete against me). When I reached college, I was informed that we had the best sporting facilities in the country. Like this was the golden chance for which I was waiting. I still can't understand why people torture themselves, in order to sweat it out. Even entering the UGES gives me the creeps, seeing people play so many games. And believe me, Foosball looks good, only when Joey and Chandler play it.
But this does not mean that I have not had my moment of sporting glory. When I was elected the captain of my house, in school, the one thing which really worried me, was the Sports Day. Normally, I would have abstained from taking part in such mundane activities. But "With Great Power, comes Great Responsibility". I had to lead my squadron in the march past competition. I thought, all I needed to do was to walk and shout orders. I could do both, so it should be a piece of cake. Albeit a few minor hiccups, my long hours of shouting, did pay off. I was highly complimented on my skills and our squadron did win some prizes.
After that, I hung up my boots and did not further exploit my sporting prowess. One may wonder, why? But it is my belief that one should gracefully retire at one's peak time. Else he is capable of being mocked at. Till the day, when I again get the right platform to showcase my talents, May My Boots Rest in Peace!

Thank You God!

Another Sunday, a day to laze and do nothing (as if I do a lot). As I lay in bed, deciding how to spend time, my dad came and told me that there was an exam that day and a visually handicapped person was appearing in it. So they needed a scribe. He asked me if I was willing to take up the job. I thought for a while, and since there was no good movie to watch, I said yes.
I reached the exam centre and roamed around. When I told the people there as to why I had come, they all smiled. I was informed that no visually handicapped person had ever appeared for the exam and so I could just sit back and relax.
I sat down in the control room with a book. Suddenly the chief examiner told me that the candidate had arrived. So I marched into the room and sat down beside him. The man was in his late 20s and he was a teacher. He had a very high power in his eyes and he could just see the outlines of objects. He told me that his subject was mathematics and he had read everything through audio medium.
The first paper was objective. As I read out the questions, I could see him concentrating hard. I felt helpless as I saw him solve mathematics questions in his mind. It was a tedious procedure. I had to read out each question a number of times for him.
And then I realized that he had actually given his whole future in my hands. I had just come here, as I was a free. But he had come all the way from another city to write this exam, which would ascertain his whole career. If I did not put in effort to read the problems in the proper way, then he would be unable to solve them. With this thought, I resumed my work with increased effort.
The second paper was subjective which was even more difficult. I noticed that he solved only those questions where you were required to prove something. I understood that the questions, in which some value was supposed to be found, were obviously difficult for him.
At the end of the paper, he thanked me for being a good scribe. On hearing this, I felt happy. I thanked God for giving me the opportunity to help that person. The person’s determination inspired me. It was a learning experience for me.

I was reminded of these lines:

I complained that I had no shoes, until I saw a man who had no feet.

Right To Equality!

I have always believed in the equality of men and women. What a man can do, so can a woman and vice versa. And finally, the world is also realising this(especially the vice versa part).
Yesterday, as I sat and watched the idiot box(not again, you may say), my attention was caught by an advertisement. The product being endorsed was a men's sunscreen lotion. The model was shown riding a motorcycle and then applying the lotion, while a voice in the background informed us about the 5 superb effects of the lotion, and so on and so forth.
I almost did a somersault on seeing this. Men have, at last, come of age and are acceptng that they also wish (and need) to groom themselves. Countless other products have also hit the market shelves like fairness creams and shampoos which are exclusively for men. Women, it is time to be cautious. Men have also entered the arena and are enjoying it!
But I must say, that even I ( a campaigner for equality) had a heart attack, when in my first year, i saw with my very own eyes,the numerous beauty products which guys used( Shehnaz herbal creams, L'Oreal shampoos and the odd ones even owned lip gloss!) Gradually, news started trickling in about their grooming expenses which left us bewildered. And the last nail in the coffin was driven, when one of my classmates shared his acne troubles with me and suggested remedies to cure mine( and they worked!)
So, I have accepted that boys are no longer boys. They have treaded into the so-called female do main and are loving it. Right now, the trend has gained only limited acceptance, but will soon be the In-Thing. I don't like the term metrosexual, so all I would say is, Welcome, To the New Age Man.

15 Seconds Of Fame

Picture this scene- A couple take part in a reality show in which they have to stay separately for a week with other singles. When they meet after a week, the husband tells of his undying love for his wife. The wife, on the other hand, has second thoughts and tells her perplexed husband that she has found someone else. And she leaves.
Not to worry, this is just the starting scene of “The Stepford Wives”. But still with the advent of reality shows, I think that such days are not far away.
I am nowadays sitting at home, and with nothing better to do, my constant companion is the idiot box. I have come across some unusual concept shows, which force me to think about their consequences. Some of them are:
• Wife Swap: Two wives swap their dysfunctional families for two weeks and try to bring about certain changes (for better or for worse) in their new residences. I wonder as to what would happen if the wife returns and the family feel that the new wife was better or vice versa.
• Monster House: A family hands over its cherished house to the crew, which tears it apart and presents it back in a new refurnished format. What would happen if one does not like this renovation? Would they get back their cherished abode?
• What not to wear? : This is my personal favourite. Women hand over their wardrobes to two stylists, who show no mercy as they restyle everything. The end product is something, which everyone may not appreciate.
These and many other shows, force me to question their very basis. Just a single thought comes to my mind- Is the 15 seconds (minutes) of fame worth all this effort?

Leaving On A Jet Plane

If there is one word to describe life, then it is Bizarre. Life throws unexpected challenges at us and then waits to see who has the last laugh. But then, this is what makes it worth living.

I got up yesterday morning, full of enthusiasm and happiness. The reason: I was going home. After a tedious semester, I was returning back to my soil. Like Antaeus, the greek hero, I too derive strength from the soil. I had plans to rejuvenate myself and come back fresh.

I and my friend made our way to the station with some discomfort due to our luggages, and reached a bit late. Our train which has the reputation of never arriving on time, shocked us by its puctuality. We somehow managed to heave our luggages into the compartment, and sat down with a sigh of relief. We were finally, on the way home.

We arrived in Delhi right on time(another first). We had three whole hours to while away, before boarding the connecting train. After dumping our luggage in the cloak room, as we made our way towards the exit, I glanced at the train timings. Horror of horrors, our train had been rescheduled and was now leaving at midnight.

Now, what were two young and beautiful(ahem...) girls supposed to do till midnight in a big and unknown city? After a frenzy of frantic calls, we found that there was no train available before midnight. We were in a state of panic, when a brainwave hit us: Try flying. Now after this idea, all that was left was its execution.
A good samaritan (my friend's friend) helped us. He offered to get the tickets booked for us. All we were supposed to do, was to go to a cyber cafe and get a print out of the tickets. Sounds easy, but there was no internet cafe nearby. A helpful man directed us to one, about a kilometre away (Later we saw, that there was one right in front of the cloak room). We trudged to the cafe, and after waiting for an hour, we finally got tickets on a Jet airways flight(It did burn a hole in my dad's pockets, but still....).
The best part was that the flight was at 4:30, the security check began at 3:30, we were at the station and it was already 2:45. We still needed to take our luggages from the cloak room. And to top it all, we had to go the airport and we had no idea about any route in Delhi.
Somehow, we managed to reach the airport on time, without any further mishaps. I asked the security personnel for directions and managed to board the flight.
I reached home and got a sound scolding from my mother, and an elaborate lecture on the virtue of patience. But still, my holidays started with an adventure.
Some good points also stemmed out of this incident: I reached home early, I got to fly, I got a new incident to post on my blog, A new story to tell to my friends and the best part: My favorite song "Leaving on a jet plane" the OST of Armageddon suited my situation.
Life is good.:)

Requiem of Dreams

I started this semester with great plans. Enough is enough, I told myself. I decided that now it was time to take matters in my hands and show the world that I existed. I made a short term plan, which consisted of among other things, increasing my grades atleast to a respectable 8.5, learning french, updating my blog regularly and using presumptuous words so that people would have difficulty comprehending my posts.
I started working with great determination towards my goals. I attended all classes, made notes and did tutorials myself. I was very particular about my french and was a star student. I also kept the world abreast with my thought proceedings through my blog.
But how long could it last? I soon fell back to my old ways. I had other preoccupations and soon my goals went on the back burner.
Now the semester has ended and I realize that I am not a penny wiser. I am still to get my grades but I don't want to expect anything. My blog is still in a condition not worth mentioning. I have not written any brilliant posts. But the worst part of it, was when I got a participation certificate in french instead of an Excellent. Oui, Moi( Yes, me). It was the second worst day of my life. (The worst being when Rahul Dravid got married. More about it in another blog.)
My dreams have all been shattered and I am still where I started. I console myself by saying that there is always another day. And now my bags beckon me and I need to complete my packing. I will be back next semester with newer dreams.
Au revoir. Abientot.

To Mom

Amma, mamma, mummy....the names are many, but they all refer to the one special person in my life. (Dad, even you are special, but since today is Mother's Day, so this post is specially dedicated to mom.)
Each child says, " My mom is great" and I am no exception. I have seen my mom running about the house completing all the chores, getting her two angels(or may I say devils) ready for school and never even once complaining about it. Obviously, she has lost her temper many a times but still that is acceptable. As a teacher, she gives personal attention to all her students and is a counselor par excellence.
I respect her most for her gritty determination. When she came to North India, she did not know a word of hindi. But still she managed, and now I must compliment her that her hindi is quite good.
I know mom that I have not shown my appreciation as much as I would have wanted to. I have thrown innumerable tantrums and have been punished for them as well. You have helped me to become what I am (whether or not it is a compliment, I can't say).
Mom, You are The Greatest. Happy Mother's Day.

Never Say Never

Once a girl X visited her school excitedly, after clearing IIT JEE. She was being congratulated by everyone. Suddenly a cheeky junior Y walked up to her and remarked, "So, you are going to Roorkee? Didn't you get any other IIT?" X was stunned and fumed on hearing this.
3 years down the line, one fine day X received a phone call. A tame voice spoke from the other end, " Hi, this is Y. Remember me?"
X: "Oh Hi! So whassup?"
Y: " Nothing. I wanted to tell you that I am also coming to Roorkee"
X(smiling):"Welcome dear"
Y is none other than the great me and X is my lovely friend Proxy.
Experience has taught me that never to say that a thing can never happen to me. Whenever I am pretty sure that a thing will not occur, it does occur. When I first entered college, I was convinced that I could not be one of the group, which was always apprehensive about the way they looked. Vanity, I called it. But slowly I have come to accept them.
There are loads of instances which take place, that reinforce the fact that anything can happen. All of us were sure,that India would not loose to Bangladesh. But lo and behold, it did happen.
Call me a pessimist or whatever, but according to me, we must be prepared for anything.
Always hope for the best. But if something unexpected happens, don't be surprised. After all, anything can happen. That is why I say, Never say never.

Bhawan Day Time

Pre script-Please don't read this. I have just blabbered about something.

I know that have not updated my blog since a long time. I was not doing so purposefully, but I have got valid reasons for my behavior. After returning back from the hols, I was involved in many activities- cognizance, ts and of course bhawan day.
It all started from the first week of January( no need to roll your eyes). Girls had started working on their wardrobe since then. Then came the task of the bhawan mag. I was a part of the editorial team and our long hours of toil finally paid off. We received a good response from he crowd and people liked it. I must really thank all my team members for the work they all put into it. I am really grateful to my friend who patiently heard about my fears and always encouraged me.
After all this sentimental stuff, I must now come to the practical part. Our bhawan day attracts a large crowd, and passes are in great demand. All methods, including bribery, are tried to get hands on those coveted passes. I had this idea that being a volunteer, I would be able to get some passes, but it was not to be so. So I also went on a hunt for the pass and was brutally shooed off everywhere. I told my friends that they would be unable to attend the gala event. But finally I managed to lay my hands on those golden tickets and so the gates were thrown open for the guests.
The invitees were left bedazzled by the splendour seen on that day. Girls were seen flocking about looking exquisite. Little do the guests know about the night long preparations required, to achieve these effects and the amount of moolah which beauty parlors rake in during the celebrations.
But this time no one was allowed to enter the rooms due to some unpleasant incidents in the guys hostels. So the small lawn was crowded by a huge mass of people. People thronging about, wandering aimlessly. When the food was served, the queue that was seen, robbed most of our appetites. But we somehow managed to get inside the mess, and have a meal.
Despite all this, I can say that the bhawan day was quite enjoyable. One of the good things was that i did not have to clean up my room both before and afterwards. I don't know if others enjoyed it as well(lefty did not, he managed to scoot off early).
Anyway, there is always a next time. Cya then.

The Firsts

There is always a beginning...and which i believe is the most hyped. The first time I won a prize, the first time I cycled, the first time I wrote a blog...et cetra are all memorable moments. I remember the first time I came back from hostel, the atmosphere at my house was electric with excitement. My parents were very proud. Neighbours came over to talk to me and my long lost friends called me up to know about my well being. But this excitement has gradually ceased. Now my dad mostly comes and picks me up from the station. My friends call me up sometimes , but lately they have gone up to the extent to say that i come very frequently.
I agree that the first time is mostly the best time, as everything is new. But I don't think we should undermine the event just because it has occured previously. Let me illustrate with an example the afore said differences.
I got my ear pierced for the first time at the age of one in a proper hindu ritual. My parents took me to a temple on the auspicious day. After invoking God's blessings, my father held me in his lap, while the goldsmith pierced my ears. And all this was done without my consent. After that all my relatives congratulated my glowing parents while i wailed in the background.
Now the same scenario repeats after 20 years, albiet a few minor changes. This time I want to get my ears pierced and my parents are not willing. Finally after a lot of coaxing they agreed. I was taken to the local jeweller. He brought out a gun and unceremoniously fires a shot into my ear. And lo and behold, my ears were pierced. All this was done in a matter of seconds, without any fanfare. After this I was quickly whisked away by my parents for some other work.
Now wait a minute. Wasn't this supposed to be a momentous occasion? There were no congratulations, no offerings. Instead I got a blast from my brother, who is a doctor, that i had successfully mutilaged my cartilage tissue.
Well ,as I said it is the first time which counts. There is no fun in the second time. All I can do now is to wait for a new first. Till then, cya.

An "I" for an "Eye"

The day dawned bright and beautiful. I had enjoyed a lot on the previous day. The Fest was a new experience. Seeing how the campus looks like after 10 PM was an eye opener. I was at peace with the world.
That day I decided that I should grace some of the competitions with my august presence. I looked at the schedule and there it was-" DEBATE" ,the event that would cause me embarassment for a long time. But i was blissfully unaware of this fact and marched happily to the gallows.
A few bored looking people had turned up for the event with equally bored looking judges. Participants were given topics 2 mins before going on the dias. I got an absurd topic " What if I had been a judge?" and quickly floored the judges with my wit. Obviously I easily went on to the next round along with some other heavyweights.
The second round was turncoat. I was to give my views on the age old saying "An eye for an eye- is the way to go". But I am one of those who use their grey cells a lot. I interpreted the topic as " An I for an I- is the way to go"(Typical IITian- using brains for silly purposes). The best part was that I spoke eloquently, giving my views both for and against the topic( don't know what I spoke). This time as well the judges were floored albeit in the opposite sense. The few people who were watching the event, were rolling on their seats with laughter. And the best part was I realized my mistake only after completely speaking for the stipulated time.
I was embarassed and I only wished that I could disappear. The judges eyed me with displeasure and pity as if I had let them down. And once outside I realised the significance of telecommunication. The news had travelled far and wide. I could feel people smirking at me as I walked past them.
More than a year has passed since this accident occured. But still my friends remind me about it before any debate or GD. And whenever an extempore is held, the organisers make it a point to give me the topic in writing. But I must pay for what "I" have done.

All Alone

It is the rule of nature: Survival of the Fittest. Finally it does become each man for himself. All the relatives and friends whom we have succeeded in accumulating throughout this mortal life, finally leave us alone. After all what are we, but specks in the universe. In this vast cosmos, we are nothing.
It is for us to understand that one day all our beloved people will leave us. It is not only them, but we will also do the same to someone else. All the talk about relations, friendship, love et cetra about which epics have been written, will be reduced to nothingness. The sooner one understands, it is better for him.

The Female Psyche

I recently read a book "Roots and Shadows" by Shashi Deshpande. I liked the book because it was able to bring across the trials of the protaganist, Indu, very realistically.
This book was also instrumental in bringing a thought to my memory. In it, a relative of Indu, Naren gave a very thought provoking reply, when it was asked as to why he smoked? He replied that women are generally reformists at heart. He smoked because it gave the women a chance to reform him and feel elated.
A true feminist to the core, I should have felt angry on reading this. But I agree with him. On dwelling into the female psyche, I have realized that women are attracted to bad boys. There is something about them which makes us feel that they are actually very vulnerble. And then the sensitive and caring attitude of the fairer sex surfaces. We wish to save them from this big bad world and strive to bring them on the right track. It gives a sense of power which is not felt in any other situation.
If you don't agree with me then ask Ash what she saw in Salman. Else think about why women love Shoaib Akhtar.
Just think about this.