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.