Umm..

It is supposed to be 'Summer Day' in my team. A fact that was sitting somewhere in the back of my mind, and seems to have been overpowered by more dominant thoughts like 'Get-out-of-bed', 'chase-bus', 'avoid-getting-killed-while-crossing-roads', and so on.

Well, that apart, the fact of the matter is that I forgot 'Summer day' and am dressed in my usual jeans and kurta. And I assume that I am going to be asked the reason for my attire by people. And those who are too disgusted to even ask for a reason will perhaps, just glare and walk by.

When the mail announcing 'Summer day' arrived, it told me to "be dressed in capris, shorts or skirts" and to "beat the heat". It also pleaded "No salwars please" (with about 5 exclamation marks following the 'please').

In a way, I think it is good that I forgot; for the following reasons:

1. I do not have any of the mentioned summer clothes that can be worn anywhere except at home; or at the most, to the garden for fiddling around with mud.

2. By no stretch of imagination (or the clothes themselves!) will I fit into any of my sister's 'summery' clothes.

3. Imagine me wearing any of those and travelling in the bus. The very thought has me in gales of laughter.

4. For all my supposed intelligence, I fail to understand, exactly what sort of heat am I supposed to be beating in an office which is centrally air-conditioned; and has me freezing half the time.

And since there is no better way to end this without bringing my weight into the discussion, this is where I shall stop.

Looks like they reached a compromise. I saw the tired cockroach slinking away from within the 'Enter' key when colleague went to drink water.

All is peaceful again..

We discovered that my colleague's keyboard has a new resident in the form of a small cockroach. Spent the past twenty minutes trying to persuade the insect to come out of its current place of residence. It just kept crawling all over the keyboard, and at one point when our efforts became slightly too violent; it went and hid in the hollow part of the 'Enter' key.

Tried almost everything (barring fumigation). Shook keyboard upside down; jabbed at the insect with pen; hit the 'Enter' key repeatedly.. to no avail.

My colleague is still jabbing away at her keyboard. Lets see who wins..

Cant seem to concentrate on work. Sigh!

The previous evening:

Finished work comparatively early - Yay!!
Got wet in the rain.
Had pizza for dinner.
Was told of an imminent gold medal in the convocation ceremony.

A fine evening.. as fine as they make it.. :)

A teammate called me "Dude" in the morning. Is that not the masculine gender? I wonder what the feminine would be.. dudette, perhaps..

Sleepless night....

.....for no evident reason.

Last night, try as I might (no poetry intended), I just could not sleep. It is a very very rare and strange occurrence. I am usually quite a deep sleeper. Infact, my sister (until recently), claimed that "Any deeper, and you will probably hibernate!!". I assure you, that is an exaggeration. I do not sleep that deeply (I can still hear her chuckle in the background).

Well, as a result of the rare occurrence, I am now sitting at work without an inkling of what I am upto. I have not the faintest idea of what I am doing at work. It is a marvel, I actually crossed the road this morning without being hit.

Tried all known methods of banishing sleep. Drank as much coffee as I could manage without feeling like a coffee vending machine myself. Washed my face approximately 20 times in the past 7 hours. Listened to loud music till my ears started squirming in protest. Nothing works.. nothing at all. :(

Alright, I have been wanting to do this..
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

Phew!

Will go and see if there is any tape around. Eyelids are threatening me again.
Zzz....

Weekend is here... sooner this time!

I love it when weekends come in rather quick succession like this. This week had only 3 days!

Account of week by the day:

Monday: Yaaawn! Home - Bus stop - chase bus - cross road - reach office - work - yawn and strech in intervals - work some more - realise it is 7PM (Yikes!!) - bus stop - home - eat - sleep.

Tuesday: Pretty much the same as monday except that at 11 PM, I get a message telling me of an unexpected holiday tomorrow. Whoop with joy - scare sister out of her sleep - read a book - sleep.

Wednesday: Wake up - realise it is a holiday - whoop again (sleepily this time) - go back to bed - wake up - read - eat - read - sleep...

Thursday: Wake up with big sigh - tell self to be patient - follow routine as on monday - feel elated as work nears an end - Yay!!

It has been perhaps, one of the best weeks in the past year or so. Hope the weekend is as nice. :)

Punctus Interrogativus..

I did it! I did it!!

I finished my new book. Eats, Shoots and Leaves (Lynne Truss). Quite an interesting read it turned out to be. I can now proudly gloat as I ask people, what the question mark was called early-on?? (Heh! Heh!) Punctus Interrogativus.

That term is not a figment of my imagination. It is quite true.

The book tells you quite a lot of interesting punctuation origins and other facts of interest like the 'o' in a name like John O' Gaunt, means 'Grandson of'. It also cites hilarious examples of mis-punctuated sentences that convey a meaning that was not intended in the least. It urges the reader to be armed with the punctuation- repair kit (correction ink, spare commas, stops, exclamation marks and the like), and put it to use the minute you see a sign like "Potato's for sale".

Well, I doubt if I will ever turn into a punctuation stickler and climb ladders to correct a stray apostrophe; but it does feel nice to read about little known things like the Punctus Interrogativus and the lady who hated all punctuation marks (Gertrude Stein).

And the fact that I finally finished a book in 2 days.. elation. Pure ecstasy.. :P

Weekend is here....

Finally! It feels like the last one was roughly 3 weeks ago. As always, I have made grand plans of reading, writing, practising yoga and doing other intellectually stimulating work. And I know for a fact that as always, all I am going to end up doing is - sleeping.

Sigh! such is life. Man proposes, God disposes. Perhaps, in this case I must change it to Woman proposes, fatigue disposes!!

Bought a new book called 'Eats, shoots and leaves'. Hope I get around to finishing it, or even getting through half.

My sister is done with her exams and has three months (aaaarrrrrggggghhh!!) of vacation. And she is cribbing. She is actually, genuinely, unbelievably, unhappy.

The grass is of a very rich,pleasant, emerald-like green on the other side..

A pain in the...

Arm. A pain in the arm is what I meant.. :P. And that is also the reason for this very short post. The reason why I am even typing this post is.....

Ta! Daaaaaaaaaaa!

I am excessively bored today. Sigh!

I know that me being bored is not something new. What is new is a searing pain in my right arm. It is as though some invisible malicious person is pulling my hand and refusing to let go. Much as though he believes that the arm originally belongs to him and my lease on it has expired. As a result of the malice of this particular invisible person, I ahve been amking typos flet, rihht abd centre. :D

Quite annoying, but I guess I will have to bear with ti for a whilr.

Long weekend ahead. Yay!!

A Goat, A Dog, A Worm and me....

This morning I was followed to the bus stop by a very malicious looking goat.

The kind of goat that has a sort of a beard and more importantly, two very sharp horns. I have no clue why it decided to accompany me to my destination. All I had done was look at it a little longer than I would look at a goat minus beard and horns. It was breakfasting as though it had all the time in the world (which is true, anyway) when I happened to walk out of my building. We looked at each other and then, finding me a trifle more interesting (a very diplomatic word!) than the average human, the animal stood up and started to walk behind me. Having reached the stop, I halted. It threw me the kind of look that humans do when a very pleasant activity they are engaged in is suddenly and rudely interrupted. After having stared (glared?) at me thus, it settled down next to me and went ahead with the chomping of grass with utmost concentration . My bus arrived and I bade farewell to my quadruped companion.

Later on, during a very boring bus-ride I amused myself by imagining the conversation we would have had if the goat could speak the human tongue.

Extract:

Me: (thinking) Heavens! What sort of a goat is that?
Goat: (aloud) Good Lord! What kind of a creation is this!!!!!?????????
Me: Errr..
Goat: What are you staring at? Never seen an animal enjoying a meal?
Me: (Gulp) Sorry, I think I shall get going. I need to get to work, you know.
Goat: Yeah right! You stare at me and you expect to be left unpunished? I am going to accompany you to wherever you are headed and embarass you. Heh! Heh!
Me: Oh.. I am sorry you know. I had not really meant to stare. But you do look so different from the other goats.
Goat: Gee.. stop it kid! I am blushing. Now that you have paid me such a compliment, I shall ensure that no evil soul hovers near you till you reach the safety of your stop. Let us venture forth..
Me: Well.... That was not exactly the pupose of my statement, but... never mind..

Goat: (Gets up and starts to walk) Nothing like a nice, peaceful morning walk!!
Me: Hmm..

Bus stop arrives and I come to a sudden halt.

Goat: (throwing me a look of the deepest loathing that a goat can manage) Thank you ever so much for interrupting two very pleasant activities. My breakfast, and a morning walk... humph! And, by the way, you are a pathetic conversationalist..

(I start to make a very rude comment, but the sight of those horns stop me)
Me: Accept my apologies, O great muncher of the grass, but I have to leave now that my bus has arrived.

Goat: Yeah, Yeah.. Go on. And please dont expect me to protect you from evil people every morning. And the next time you interrupt my breakfast, I shall poke you with the horns..

Me: (Getting into the bus). As you please, your Goatness... Phew!

This morning was not the first time I had been followed by an animal. My sister often remarks that I have the brains of a goat and the face of a chimp. This high degree of association with the animal world may be the reason behind the times I have been followed by quadrupeds.

Undoubtedly, the most memorable incident was the time when I was accompanied to the bus stop by three stray dogs, a goat and till a certain distance, a buffalo. I did not object to this till they were at a distance from me. My sister saw the our progress from the terrace and had a hearty laugh. She went around telling everyone who bothered to pay attention, that I had shifted academic interests from Physics to animal husbandry. My grandfather actually believed her and gave me a thirty minute discourse on other career options. :) It took me a while to assure him that I had no plans such as my sister had been advertising.

For a while, I used to travel to school by the school bus. One morning, while we were waiting for a stationary vehicle to be removed from our way, I saw a dog engaged in an activity that was undoubtedly a source of extreme delight to the animal. The activity in simple steps:

1. Crouch inside a garbage bin.
2. Wait till a human is heard approaching.
3. The minute garbage is felt on the head, jump out at the human with a yelp.
4. Watch the human run for dear life and grin to self and the garbage bin.
5. Crouch back into original position and wait for the next victim.

I am reminded of another interesting incident that occured when I was in class 8. We had just finished studying a chapter on animals and some of the defence mechanisms they use. Utterly enchanted by the discoveries I made in class that day, I went back home and started to poke around the garden for an insect that might provide me with a firsthand demonstration of the text.

It is of utmost importance that I mention here, that I am terrified of the members of the 'creepy-crawly' family. I dont mind them as much if they are small and seem harmless (like the brown worms that lie around in bunches after the rains); but of the more able members (like lizards - eep!) produce a shudder..

So, I restricted my investigation to the safer parts of the garden. Soon, I found this green coloured worm crawling and I decided to explore the mechanisms of defence that it might have. I had a foot long stick in my hand and I poked the worm in it's middle (from a safe distance). To my amusement and utter surprise, the worm began to wiggle furiously, (much like someone who has a whole lot of ice put in their clothes) and then lay quite still. Convinced that I had murdered the poor creature, I thought I must bury it; give it a decent farewell. To my surprise (again) and fright, just when I was trying to lift it in my palm, it moved and merrily crawled away!

I have since refrained from poking a worm (or any other insect/animal for that matter). They are interesting to watch, loyal when treated with kindness and more sensible than humans sometimes (no animal has ever poked me in the middle to study my defence mechanism)!!

It is true that the book does not teach you everything - One of the most important things being kindness to animals.

Unexpected holiday a.k.a Myth!!!

Since she started class ten, my sister has proved herself, quite an effective alarm clock to me...

I realise that the preceding sentence does not make too much sense at first glance and hence,

Explanation: Having entered class ten, my sister is out of bed by 7 AM. Therefore, if I happen to see her asleep, I assume I still have some more time before I get out of bed.

This morning, she refused to get out of bed. After having assumed the time thrice, I glanced at the clock. It was 7:40 AM. I shook her awake violently, imagining scenes of her being punished for being late for class. I recieved a well aimed punch, a very sour look and the following sentence "I have a holiday today, ---(a whole load of rude words..)!!". The sentence was followed by a lot of grumbling and groaning and curses. Finally, she went back to sleep.

They had a holiday, right in the middle of the week, when every other institution (in particular, my office) seemed fully functional...on account of a bandh. Apparently, her teacher called her in the evening the previous day and broke the good news.

Alright, this might sound frustrated... AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!

Phew! That felt good.. :D

Gone are the days, when the phrase "unexpected holiday" was valid to me. Back in school, the words sounded like music. The feeling was one of pure bliss, ecstacy. It was like being rewarded for some good deed in a previous birth.. :P

I remember one morning, I had not finished my assignments, I had a feeling I had even forgotten some assignments and I had not slept properly the previous night. I had dragged myself out of bed and through the chores of the morning. While I was walking towards school with visions of being hanged by the toes and being boiled in a couldron, I noticed that the road was not swarming with people as it usually did. By that time, I would have met at least 3 classmates, 7 juniors and a teacher or two. I reached school only to find it deserted. The bulletin board announced with great pride that "Today --- (date) is a holiday on account of a --- (political party) bandh". The emotions that washed over me, are beyond my abilities of description. I wanted to fall to my knees and worship the board, but I abandoned the idea the minute I saw two others happily staring at bringer of good news.

We had discovered that in cases of confusion regarding sudden holidays, extremely rainy days and public transport strikes, the attendance in class was quite poor. A more delightful discovery was that on such days, the teachers seeing no point in teaching a handful of students, left the classes to do as they wished. The ones who turned up that day ended up having the time of their lives. Some of the more sportive teachers even joined us in a few of the less boisterous games.

One morning, I peeped out of my sheets only to see a curtain of rainwater through the window. It was pouring like there would be no tomorrow. I jumped out of bed and got dressed at record speed. My mum thought she was hallucinating; my sister thought she was having a highly animated dream, and went back to bed. By the time I got to school, the rain had soaked my shoes and socks and was persistantly trying to get to my uniform. I was convinced, that I would be one of the very few people in class that day, and the day could be spent having fun and fooling around.

Apparently, every other classmate of mine had thought the same... humph!!

The teachers had a hearty laugh and we had all our classes that day. By the end of the day, half of us were starting a cold, the other half were sounding like frogs, and all of us were wet, tired and grumpy.

Ever since I started working holidays have become a rarity and unexpected holidays, a myth!! And hence the frustrated aaaaaarrrrgghhhhhs are put into use more often these days..

Alright, one last time.... AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHh!!!!!!!!! :P

I cross therefore I am

Road crossing is probably one of those things, the finer points of which, not many people bother to appreciate or understand. Having crossed some of the most terrible roads, I have started to think of it more like an artistic endeavour rather than a regular activity.

Broadly classified, there seem to be three kinds of roads:

1. Fairly empty roads which one can cross at one's own pace and leisure. It is rather easy to engage in this form of the art. Not much expertise is required, except for functional eyes and legs.

2. The ones packed with vehicles stuck in a traffic jam. These are easy too, for the vehicles are in static conditions and hence, are harmless.

3. The moderately crowded ones. These are the roads on which there is always a stream of traffic not very unlike a party of ants running to and fro, very fast.

The third kind of roads are the most difficult to cross and require loads of patience and concentration, a Zen-like-calm and extremely superior reflexes. This form of the art is strictly for the experts and novices are advised to stay as far away as is possible.

One pleasant morning, I was crossing a road that belonged to type 1. It transitioned from type 1 to type 3 at an alarming rate. Apparently, all traffic had been stopped for a certain important person was to pass that way. The important person having passed, the vehicles charged forward like troops in a battle.

Suddenness of any sort, startles me to a greater magnitude than it startles other people. The sight of trucks and buses and a whole load of vehicles approaching very fast on a previously empty road most certainly qualifies as sudden. And matters were a little more complicated, for I was right in the middle of the road. One truck driver took pity on me and slowed down long enough for me to remain alive and cross the road.

Another interesting event occurs when one is trying to cross a road that belongs to type 3. The minute one thinks it is safe to venture forwards, a malicious looking vehicle comes charging at you and you have to move back again. A friend pointed out to me that from across the road, it seemed like I was executing some kind of a dance. Not being anywhere close to a dancer, I took that to be a compliment, though there was absolutely no effort on my part. :P

I have a cousin who claims that crossing roads is one of the simplest and easiest things anyone could ever do. Very true, if the "anyone" involved is not me. He walks across the road with his hand positioned in a manner that asks the drivers to please slow down so that he can cross. I once tried to imitate his example. I put out my hand, the minute I started to cross the road.

Nobody slowed down.

And I was subjected to some of the most rude looks in existance. The next time I met my brother, I beat him up till he felt like he had just crossed the worst road in existence sans the outstreched hand..

To cross a road of type 3, I sometimes follow a strategy. This I usually employ when there seem to be entirely too many vehicles to dodge.

Strategy:

Step 1. Look for a person who is headed in the same direction as me.
Step 2. Stand next to that person so that he/she faces the traffic.
Step 3. Follow!

One morning, I got off the bus only to discover that there had been a sudden increase in the number and the speed of vehicles. Hence, I decided to implement my trusted strategy. I noticed another girl wanting to reach the other side of the road. As per step 1, I went and stood next to her. To my amusement and utter dismay, she promptly came and stood next to me so that I faced the traffic!! Both of us were executing the dance-like movements (described earlier), when an old lady walked next to us with utmost confidence, put out her hand and started to walk across the road as though it were no more than a garden. With a very sheepish look on our faces and admiration for the confidence of the senior citizen, we followed her to our destination..

Ever since, I have implemented my strategy (humph!) more often (and with more success) when older people are around. Most times the drivers are considerate towards the older people and allow you to walk across without theatening to kill you.

A wise man once said "I think therefore I am". If he had also crossed roads like the ones in existance today, he just might have quoted the title of this post.. :P

The Classics and I

I have always been a little slow at understanding the works of writing that are best described as Classics. The kind of literature that is profound and serious and employs a lot of big words and long sentences.

I discovered exactly how slow, when I was in classes 11 and 12.

I had shifted to a different (and more difficult) syllabus after class 10. At that point of time, I had thought nothing could be tougher than the exams I had already written (Oh my innocent mind!!) and opted for a syllabus where I would have to study The Tempest, The Discovery of India, Great Expectations, a collection of short stories and a collection of poems.. (in addition to the mountain of books prescribed for science) whew!! We were told that we were allowed to study all or any 4 of these (Shakespere being mandatory). I was determined to do all the books.

Oftentimes, ordinary mortals like me do not realise what they are getting themselves into. We realise such matters only later, by which time it is extremely late.

I shall refrain from describing my attempts at understanding the sciences and shall continue to describe my adventures with the literature course.

The very first class of Literature served as what is commonly known as an eye opener, and left my eyes as wide open as they possibly could be! Our teacher began by reading a few lines from the play (ACT I Scene II)that went thus:

Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA
MIRANDA:
If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
The fraughting souls within her.

Having understood about 0.3% of the entire reading, I looked expectantly at my teacher's face for further translation. The only words that fell out of her mouth were "Oh, the charm of Shakespeare!".

Erm.. that wasn't what I was hoping for. Undeniably, Shakespeare's writing has a large amount of charm, but at that point of time, I was hoping for words that would translate that charm into simpler words.

We were asked to go through the first scene of the act and summarise it in our own words. I wanted to burst out laughing. It was then, that I noticed that none of my classmates had followed the reading. Well, at least I had company.

The summaries that the class turned in the next day were atrocious, disgusting, ridiculous and about 5 other adjectives that my memory simply refuses to remember now. To the absolute relief of me, my classmates, our teacher and probably the great bard himself, my teacher consented to explain the entire play. Once she began to do that, I genuinely started to appreciate the writing. We were required to quote the text in our examination and we started to memorise the more important lines. We even started using it in class. I got into trouble when my mathematics teacher thought I was using terribly foul language when I called another classmate a "debauched fish"! It took us a while and the textbook to convince her that I was not using foul language in school.

Just when I was beginning to think that I will be able to scrape through the examination after all... we began work on "The Discovery of India" by Pt. Nehru.

I was introduced to some of the longest, most profound and at some places the most contradictory sentences ever written. Sometimes the sentences were so long that one lost track of what was being expressed in the beginning. I remember one afternoon that seemed extremely hot, my teacher's voice started to turn more soporific than usual. Let me tell you that reading and understanding something Pt. Nehru wrote is extremely difficult, at least for me. And things like sleepy afternoons and soporific voices do not help at all. That seemed to be the case with most of my classmates who were absently staring at the teacher.

We were in this state of semi-consciousness, when she suddenly stopped reading. For those of us who fear the stage, there is a fear that numbs one's limbs when one walks up on stage and looks at the audience. This fear numbs the mind as well, in cases like mine. I experienced something not very unlike this particular fear. All the others did too, for they all looked as alert as soldiers at war.

We then discovered that after reading a particularly long and jumbled sentence (which we were frantically trying to spot now), she had realised that the contradiction was too much and had slowed down to make understanding the idea easier for us. A remarkably polite gesture - only that none of us knew which sentence she was talking about.

I thought this was the toughest it could be. I thought this with extreme confidence for I had not yet seen - I repeat..seen - the book of poems. After one class of poetry, I decided to be sensible and opted not to study that extremely-well-written-but-impossible-for-my-head-to-understand collection.

The collection of short stories and Great Expectations were much much better. I finally saw a ray of hope with respect to passing the examination, which I miraculously did.

As the examination approached, I was extremely nervous. I had learnt the text so many times that my sister complained one morning of having heard Shakespeare for 20 minutes in the middle of the night. One friend told me to look at it this way.. 'they'll just come and go, and after that we shall be free'.

Erm.. remarkable approach..but what was I supposed to do after they came and before they went?

Well, like she said, they came and went and I managed not to faint with nervousness in the meantime. I must admit they were not all that bad...

I won the gold medal for highest marks scored in the Literature paper. Heh! Heh! :D

Four and twenty blackbirds..

It seemed extremely simple to me, stringing together a rhyme. Now I know how very wrong I was..

It all began when one very good school decided to organise an "Inter-school meet". Now, this meet was not just a gathering where one could generally go and speak to contemporaries and have fun as indicated by their slogan..."the meeting of young minds". It was (and I should have realised this earlier - before signing up) a series of contests to be held over three days.

The list of contests read thus:

Dance (Group and solo)
Music (Group song, Solo song, instrumental)
Theatre (Solo act, One act play)
Literary (Poetry writing/recitation, Essay writing, Short story writing.) - Hindi and English.

I weighed my options thus:

Dance - Yeah, right!
Music - Group song: No group members to sing with; Solo song: erm...nope!Instrumental: ha! ha! ha!..
Theatre - hee! hee! hee!
Literary - Only hope. :D

In school, I was quite a decent writer (or, I think I was quite a decent writer). My teachers thought so too, and that is what resulted in me signing up for the Poetry writing contest. I had always thought essay writing was the safer form of expression and wanted to sign up for the same. Unfortunately, when you have a teacher who is entirely convinced that you are the next great poetess (and you discover that both the events are to be held at the same time), signing up for the essay writing contest is not very easy. She wanted me to contribute to the recitation contest, but as described in an earlier post, I cant really face an entire crowd of people on the stage. And here I did not even know the crowd. Also, an incident in the past involving a recitation had been quite embarassing. Narrated as follows:

I have always been very fond of nursery rhymes. My favorite poem being

Sing a song of sixpence a pocketfull of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing
Oh wasn't it a dainty dish to set before a king?
The king was in his counting house, counting out his money
the queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey
the maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes,
when a blackbird swooped down and pecked off her nose!

We were supposed to recite this rhyme to pass an examination in kindergarten. I think that was when I started to like the poem so much. I recited it day and night. The thought of the blackbird pecking off the maid's nose was extremely appealing.

When the day of the recitation arrived, I was so nervous on the stage that I mixed up the words of the last few lines. The modified lines were recited thus:

The queen was in the counting house, eating bread and honey
The maid was in the parlour, counting out the money
The king was in the garden, hanging out the clothes,
When a blackbird swooped down and pecked off her nose.

Erm... disaster.

Well, at least the queen did what she was supposed to!

And therefore, to avoid being the laughing stock of another school, I decided not to obey my teacher that one time and put my foot down rather firmly.

The topic was to be announced on the day of the contest. I had never rhymed as much as "toad" with "load" before this event. The sheer excitement of being out of school for an entire day erased from my mind the fact that I actually had some work to do there, and I spent my days in absolute harmony with all who surround me.

My mind recollected that fact at the speed of light the minute we reached the place. Amazing, how a contest can spell 'absolute agony' to some.

The topics announced, were as follows:

A day I had enjoyed
My country
Modern love

Neither of these inspired the poetic genius that I had assumed them to. The third one did not even make sense to me. For fear of offending my social studies teacher (who was already appalled at my knowledge of the subject), I decided to stay away from the second one too. The title of my poem was now evident and my abilities as a poet were attaining remarkable clarity once I wrote down the title.

At that point of time, I fully appreciated how the twenty four blackbirds must have felt being trapped inside a pie, for I felt like one myself.

I could think of around a dozen different days that would have made excellent subjects for my poem, but putting them into that form of expression was the problem. I ended up writing around eight lines of what I called my first poem. As soon as I thought that the length looked decent enough, I gave in my paper and bid farewell to all the others who were furiously scratching away, having been inspired by the likes of Wordsworth and his daffodils.

That event made me realise:

1. What extremely talented people poets are.
2. How extremely difficult it is to express things in verse for those in my league.
3. That I must think before signing up for an event!


I thought I could put them in rhyme
I was so entirely wrong,
To rhyme two words like 'sun' and 'fun'
It took me oh so long!

A song of sixpence
easier sung than written,
Will be shy the next time round,
Now that I have been bitten!


Yay!!!

She is back!!

The grass is most certainly greener on the other side. :D

My sister has gone away on a ten-day school trip. It is a marvel how "ten days" seem like an eternity when you are not the one who is travelling. Relativity, I guess.

I am missing her. Extremely shocked at myself...

My experiments with fruit

For those of you who panicked, I am not writing a book. :D

Once upon a time when days were a little less hectic and one did not find me staring at a computer for 7 hours a day.... my weight was acceptable. I have noticed, that after I started to work, my weight has increased to quite an extent and has rendered it unacceptable (at least to me...:P). And hence, inspite of my mum claiming that I looked healthy and my grandmum refusing to even consider the fact that I had put on weight, I decided to go on a diet.

Ahem.. I must mention here that I fall into the category of humans who enjoy eating, and hence, the very thought of a diet is quite disheartening.

The minute I said I was dieting, suggestions poured in.. at alarming rates. One acquaintance even suggested a diet where one is supposed to survive only on water (har! har!). I told her that I merely wanted to get rid of some fat, not me (incase she had mis-interpreted the intention).

Anyway, a friend of mine suggested something that seemed practical. She told me to go on a fruit diet. I could eat as much fruit as I wanted to, but nothing else. I was supposed to eat a particular fruit on one particular day of the week (watermelon on monday, bananas on tuesday and so on..). At least she did not tell me to starve.

Thus, the following week saw me embarking on a journey never undertaken before (by me). I started my week with watermelons and finished it with grapes. My sister had the time of her life eating (read eating indecent amounts of food that I like) in front of me, with utmost relish.

By the end of the week, I:

had hardly lost any weight
lost colour from my face (mum)
looked weaker (dad)
put on weight (sister!)
looked extremely weak and tired and had lost loads of weight (grandmum).

And, I had started detesting bananas.

As is evident, the diet went into the list of "Things to be erased from memory" - much to my parents' delight and my sister's dismay. I started to practice yoga and found that a much better means to lose weight.

Some things just refuse to happen... me going on a diet and actually losing some weight seems to be one of them. :D

Of Symphony and cacophony..

My sister is a fierce fan of music. Not the kind of music that can soothe the nerves after a long hard day at work, but the kind of music which qualifies more as noise. Everytime she plays some of the tracks she is extremely fond of, I wonder how her ears dont rebel. Mine start squirming in protest. If they had a little more freedom, they would probably have organised a rally..

I have always wondered how she can enjoy the loudest and the most un-melodious music with such enthusiasm. Sometimes the music is tolerable, but the volume is not.

My sister maintains that I dont have an ear for modern music. I maintain that if I listen to that sort of music for very long I will cease to have functional ears.

She laughs at me because I take after my grandfather where music is concerned (Mughal-e-Azam being my all time favorite). I like the kind of music which is calming, melodious, soft. In short, I appreciate music..not noise.

I remember one fine saturday morning, I woke up with a start to see my sister with her walkman, singing in a shockingly low volume. I was just about to congratulate her on this excellent development, when she started to jump up and down and sing at the same time. The activity giving her a remarkable resemblance to a frog in terrible pain. My grandfather who had just returned from his walk, thought the sun had gotten to him. When the fact dawned on him, he went and fetched my mum. It took us a while to convince my grandfather that my sister was not in pain and all that noise she made was actually a song.

He always thought we were pulling his leg.

Some of the songs are actually nice...only till their singer does not start to scream as though he was being subjected touture of the worst kind.

An uncle of mine used to state that There is a very small difference between symphony and cacophony. I wholeheartedly second the statement.

I have noticed about old songs, that the more melodious they sound, the more difficult they are to sing. These are the ever popular kinds. Classics. Most popular songs today seem the easiest to sing. And more the noise, more the popularity. It is disheartening to note that the number of people who appreciate old music is lessening.

Consider the following:
A man singing quite melodiously suddenly starts to howl as though in excruciating pain accompanied by a random hammering of the drums and other objects that are considered musical (!!) instruments.

That pretty much describes one of her favorite songs. We had an argument regarding this once. When she started to play one of the songs to prove a point, I let her be.

I value my ears above opinions. :D

A Whack to remember!

This may turn out to be quite a violent post, as is indicated by the title. It is rather amusing, that though the incident was not pleasant by any strech of imagination, the memory brings a smile.

I was, at the time period in question, a happy three-year-old with not the faintest hint that my happiness was going to bid temporary farewell to me. It all began, when I was selected by a dramatics teacher to play the role of Sita in Ramayana. In our adaption of the great epic, all Sita was required to do was, look helpless when Ravana kidnapped her and cry softly in the garden where she is imprisoned. As I generally have a vague and helpless expression on my face and soft crying may be induced by a threat from behind the curtains, the casting committee (comprising of the dramatics teacher) thought me perfect for the role.

The rehersals went without a hitch. The soft-crying-induction did not even require a threat. A glance at the glaring teacher sufficed. I was as helpless as helpless could be.

My mother was delighted at my newly discovered talent and two rehersals later one could see her telling the neighbours of my skills at playing "The helpless one" to perfection.

The day of the performance arrived and I was the center of attention the entire morning. I was washed, dressed, jewelled, pampered and fussed about. For the life of me, I could not understand this sudden outburst of affection in the household. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when I realised that I was being taken to school.

Now, that was a little confusing for I was wearing a bright green saree in contrast to the dull blue uniform I wore each day. I assumed that the teachers had decided to make rehersals a bit more fun.

To my utmost astonishment (which was turning to horror at an alarming rate), my mum walked in the direction of the stage. All this while I was assuming that I was acting helpless only for the entertainment of the class. I had not imagined that the play was to be performed in front of the entire school.

As the curtain went up, I was probably the most helpless looking soul ever to have walked the earth; much to the delight of my teacher. The soft crying did not need any sort of a motivation, for the minute Ravana put in his appearence I started to bawl with all my might. Ravana thought he had scared me a little too much and apologised loudly in front of the audience. Rama, being the ever loyal husband, came and punched Ravana for annoying his wife more than was necessary, with Lakshmana cheering his brother in the background. The creatures in the jungle where we were supposed to be residing, found the fight between Rama and Ravana more interesting than the grass they were supposed to be chomping, and started to applaud..

It is very true that when you are kids, you can get away with almost anything - including ruining your class play. The key word being almost.

Once I was brought back home, I recieved the worst spanking a child could ever get. Of the whacking spree, the less written..the better.

I remember my mum being reprimanded by my aunt, who had come over to visit and find out how my performance had been (and brought me chocolates!). As a result of the aforementioned reprimand, I was duly hugged and pampered and drowned in chocolates. :D

Ever since, I have never been a part of a play, except for once when I helped with the decorations and the prompting. And another time when all I had to do was deck myself up and nod approval at nobody in particular; so I looked very much a part of the decoration anyway.

Everyone has a good laugh whenever the desribed incident is told and retold on sunday afternoons. All I manage to do is laugh along and at the more traumatic points of the description.. look helpless!!