Power of Two

Didn't need any coaxing to believe in the institution of marriage. These few, simple lines did the trick.

"We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying, 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness'."

-Susan Sarandon, being very wise in 'Shall we Dance'.

Amen to that.

(Mansi & Deeps.... you're likely to have dropped the contents of your hands by now)

Man on Fire

The annual fire drill at my workplace (pic alongside) has always been a ho-hum event. Before the ceremony, mails fly around with alarming frequency, their jumbo sizes clogging the inbox (courtesy - huge jpegs of the building's plan). Instructions and diagrams of the office building and hidden staircases are flung at you dime-a-dozen, but are dismissed with a mere slight of the hand. The usual laggards who are up to the back of their teeth with overdues moan and groan, and inform anyone who would care to listen about how the drill is one colossal squander of precious time. But wait, barely are they aware of the treat that's about to be presented to them this year once the fire alarm goes off.

So the first alarm rings out and is received with cries of 'bhago bhago... aag lagi hai'. Our floor warden appears from nowhere with a bright-yellow cap and seems horribly lost himself. People cluster around him, awaiting instructions. None forthcoming. But then the second alarm goes off, screeching like a banshee in pain now. The door to a staircase opens to our left, that I didn't even know existed. Down we go like little ants in a line. And assemble at one central area. Maybe 2000 of us. So far so good. None of us have been burnt or roasted alive (cause there's no frigging fire, smartypants!).

Then comes THE man of the moment. Fully decked with tie and fluorescent orange lifesaver jacket in place. Also equipped with a mike in hand and a bad-ass public address system (woofers and all) set up around him. Only for him and no one else. (I even reserved a paragraph for his entry - simply cause he over-awed me).

He opens his mouth. A gasp escapes the crowd. Cause this is no winnie-the-pooh kinda voice. Its a booming one. Full of promise, great things and a sensationally heavy South Indian accent. Sample some gems from his speech (which the chap has no doubt been rehearsing for over a year for his big day):

"Keep waaaaking, keep waaaaking", "Only waaaaking, no taaaaking!" (at which the crowd first begins to notice the genius of the man)

Now,

"Can I haaave all the yyyelloww colored peepal with me please?" (reference to floor wardens with yellow caps). He demands that we give them a big round of applause which we hesitatingly do, considering we saved our own arses.

Then,

"I saw two peepal with kaafee cups in their hands... very irrrrrrrrrritating!" (his jarring 'r's were hard-hitting and were a hit with most South-Indians in the crowd, me included).

"Also I saw the ladies waaaaking slowwwly... like in marrrriage function... irrrrrrrrrritating!!!" (this invited sniggers from a sprinkling of the crowd, mostly men, who could relate to this fascinating, knowledgeable man).

"This building is built with most maaderrrrn materials to save yourrr life, like in World Trade Centre, Uphaar theatre etc. etc." (this was mind-boggling considering these places were burnt to the ground). "This (office) is private body, not government body!" (Everyone laughs).

"Can I see yevveryone's IDs please?" (everyone raises their ids). "Rrrrrubbish! That is NOT your ID. THIS (pointing to his face, making circular motions) is your ID my frrrriends! Save that, my frrrriends!!!" (A section of the crowd is impressed, they clap).

"Rrrraise your rrrright hands," (everyone does). "I see some left hands frrrriends.... not left.... left is for somethingg yelse....!!" (Now the whole crowd is extremely amused... gives him a healthy applause).

As if this has boosted his morale, the gentleman goes on with more gusto:
"Safety is yimparrrtant. Like HELMET. H for head, E for eyes, L for lips, M for mouth, E for ears and T for tongue!" (Now completely floored, the crowd gives him another another round of robust applause).

"Bengalooru has one caaaman numberrrr... Chennai has one caaaman numberrrr... 108 for police, firrre brrrigade, ambulance etc. But Mumbai has differrrent numbers... 100, 101, 103 etc. But WAIT my frrrrrriends.... Mumbai will get one caaaman number soon! Till then my frrrriends, don't die!!!" (This was too much for the crowd - they now give him a rousing ovation! Some hoot for him!)

Whatta speech!! Truly stunning! I tell you, if this swashbuckler-of-a-guy stands for the elections, he would be a roaring hit. He would annihilate all competition and make even apna Laloo look like a stale comedian.

Mr. Fireman.... you got my vote for sure! And the odd-2000 'peepal' from my office too!

Some Stupid Cliché

Love - is that what it is? Some stupid cliché? Singular hearts meet and then break. Sweet, soft words are spoken; then you only speak to hurt one another. Your day is brighter than the brightest, the sun only being an incidental appendage in the sky. Then it turns darker than the darkest, the bright lights now mocking you, derisively. There's a zing to your gait, a smile on your lips and a lightness in your head. Then you walk a lonely road, tears in your eyes, engulfed in sorrow & dread. The beauty of it all uplifts you... you're flying high; then you have that sinking feeling... you're going under. You're inseparable at first, then you are cold and aloof. The phone rings incessantly; then a cruel, vile silence greets you. You never want to see each other cry, then crying is all you do. You do the craziest things for each other, then you go crazy without the other. Every part of him is yours and only yours. Then easily someone else's. Mirth and gloom. Happiness and misery. Music and lamentation. Laughter and tears. Truth and lies. Trust and deceit. So alive and irreversibly dead.

If love, that most stupid of clichés, is what it is - sung countless times by hopeless romantics and derided in equal measure by several broken and disillusioned hearts - then I don't ever want to fall in love again.

The Devil wears Heels

They may be only 3 inches high (or more, but that's just being bombastic), but they add a full 300% to your confidence level. Feminists scoff at it, health experts are horrified by it and Moms cluck-cluck at it. "I used to wear them too," mine wisely informs me. "But look at me today. My knees hurt and my feet feel like two slabs of pain." And she isn't wrong. She's taken a shot in her feet (ouch!) and is currently showing signs of mild rheumatism. After chucking her heels for flats, she now wears huge, chunky soles inside her shoes, so that her feet don't give her a piercing pain whenever she walks.

Now you'd think this ominous aftermath is dismal enough to make you dispose your Manolos & Jimmy Choos, but since when did women display rationality when it comes to matters of style and fashion? Take for instance, those huge, luxurious hats that women not-so-demurely display at derby races. Such outlandish and useless inventions. Now why would you want two cuckoos (or any other bird)/wild berries/bushy, furry flowers/large bows or any such comical objects sitting atop your head, the extensive hood of the said hat meanwhile curtaining your entire face, making it impossible to recognize you? Yet, Page-3 divas strut in them as if they were the most aesthetic things on this planet. Personally, I prefer smaller hats - the more humble ones, who have just one function - to keep out the blazing sun; not to make you look like you just came out of the Jungle Book.

Coming back to the topic of heels (and the atrocity they make you go through), again, they may be perfectly irrational inventions, but they are a God-send to us women. They make shorter women look taller and taller women look ...well... even taller! When you first don them, the ground beneath your feet begins to look much more distant. Objects look smaller and you tower over people. When I wore a set of black heeled-beauties, the first starking difference it made was in the train. Earlier, I was taller by a few inches than most ladies in the packed compartment, but that meant someone's hair would end up near my mouth/neck (very irritating!). Now I am a good feet above the entire swarm, so much so that I can almost feel the clean, unadulterated and uncluttered atmosphere above. Next difference it made was when I was with taller men (feminists are not welcome to give their opinions). No longer I feel like a midget (though 5'5 is not exactly one). But I'm 5'8 now and it feels heavenly. No longer do I have to 'look up' to them. Its definitely liberating! And yes, it is also the best weapon for self-defence. If any goon tries to act fresh with you, jab your heels below the belt. Unbearable pain guaranteed.

Yes... I know, I know.... heels are lethal for your legs, back and posture. But oddly enough, I'm okay with the pain. Don't ask me why. We women are dumb-headed when it comes to heels. We will scream and yell at the sight of a pair of sleek, gleaming stilettos, wanting to grab it before the next girl. Rationality goes out of the window.

Until the first pangs of pain hit us, we will happily click-clack in our heels!

The Jaw-Dropper

This gorgeous quadruped was spotted at Inorbit (pics courtesy: Vibz - a great photosnapper!). I say, what a ravishing beauty! Notice how her curves slide smoothly at the rear (Ahem. No puns please). The moment I spotted it, my jaws dropped to the floor and only tucked back into the original slot after a full 10 minutes. Mercedes, you have earned my respect for designing this CLS 280 stunner (though my loyalties still lie with Audi). You sure do have an eye for beauty.

PS: Notice the 'girl in the green shirt'? (ref: Confessions of a Shopaholic). She was eyeballing the car as if she was gonna steal it away. Can't blame you Deepz, we all felt the same!