Confessions of the Honest kind

She isn't here, again. That naturally means I HAVE to fill in her unwanted shoes - this woeful predicament including cleaning/mopping the house, tossing up some godawful-preparation-that-more-or-less-resembles-chapatis, feeding salty bhajis/watery dals to dad & sis (they're probably pleading for mercy by now), filling empty refrigerator bottles (bottomless pits, I tell you), washing utensils, drying clothes, buying vegetables from the swindling bhajiwaala, attending the door (incredibly irritating especially when you're in the midst of burning a perfectly rhombus-shaped chapati), picking up the screaming telephone (ok ok.... I ignore 9 out of 10 calls) and what not! And to top it all - it is such a thankless exercise. Retribution is merely a mirage. Exactly 10 minutes after you've transformed the kitchen into a sparklingly clean place (no magic wand, mind you.... a humble mop does it after 20 minutes of back-breaking effort), devoid of the colossal mess it was half-an-hour ago, it reverts back to its original dumpy state. Classic case of the Midas un-touch. How tremendous is that? Even for someone with the patience of a saint (me), it is extremely exasperating! By now I passionately *hate* household chores, cooking topping the list.... I'm a disaster, you'd rather starve than gulp down any of my pathetic culinary attempts! I wasn't born to do it (yeah yeah... silver spoon and all). My friends tell me with profound wisdom, "Accha 'training' ho raha hai...." Deep, huh? Lord help the unfortunate recipient of all this 'training' that I'm undergoing. He should go jump off a cliff right now and save himself some serious constipation.

So there it is.... I feel SO much better, now that I've got it down in writing and you, poor reader, as usual have to bear the full brunt. The whining 'ol Avanti is back with a dustbin bag.... err.... I mean - bang!!

Anyway, coming to brighter, more promising things.... I have been tagged by the lovely, much-too-generous Anu. Why she (or anyone else) should consider me tag-worthy boggles even the smartest of minds; and since I've hardly ever been famous for having one, I'll cut the needless ruminating about. So, without further ado, I hereby obediently respond to Anu's tag, the awful delay notwithstanding:

Here's the deal - I must enlist 10 honest things about myself. Ha! I think I've been more honest than a real estate agent trying to palm off a haunted house to you. People often ask why I disclose so much about myself in such a public forum. I say it is because I have nothing to hide. Quite simple it is.

I might as well compile the list rightaway. Statutory Warning: If and when you reach the end of this post, most of you will think I'm a freak. Its tough to pick only 10 of my freakiest habits, but a list must end somewhere. So here it goes:

1. I obsess. Over inconsequential things that I ought not to obsess over. Like that renegade drop of water on the floor or the oil ring that a bottle of oil leaves behind (mop comes out immediately, fierce scrubbing ensues). Also other stupid, silly things like which side of the bed sheet covers my face (I tie a little knot at one end to identify the side, so that the side that shrouds the legs will never cover my face the next time), the number of times I should wash my hair in a week, cleaning of own plates/spoons with a paper-napkin before dining at a restaurant, flushing a public toilet even if it has been flushed clean by the previous occupant, the placement of things on my desk (can't leave their slotted place) and other such freaksome habits. So yeah, I suffer from a mild bout of OCD. Painful stuff.

2. I love compliments. Who doesn't? But wait, here's when it gets funny. When I do get a generous word of praise or two, I just don't bluhdy know how to handle it! Sample this -

Instance 1:

Person A: "Nice earrings, Avanti!"

Avanti: Oh, they are? I think they make my ears droop....

(*wouldn't mind if you'd slapped me right then*)

Instance 2:

Person B: " Wow! You drive the car really well"

Avanti: "Yeah well, you see that dent there - I bumped into a big bad bus the other day....."

(*you can shoot me too now*)

Instance 3:

Person C: "That was a brilliant report, Avanti!"

Avanti: "Yeah, but I don't like the 2 spelling errors I made... I just don't know HOW it happened...!"

(Did anyone say modesty is a virtue? Well, I should be hanged for it)

3. Despite the alleged 'opulent' lifestyle I lead (my only claim to extravagance being a car, a Macbook Pro and a closetful of clothes that I own), I honestly will not fret over loss of the same. Neither do I mind being married to a pauper. I do not crave for the material world. Its just that when I have the means, I go ahead and buy insanely expensive stuff. I'm only too happy to let it all go if need be. (this is not some monk-who-sold-his-ferrari crap... I really mean it).

4. If I see a similar outfit (that I also possess) on any other chick, I will NEVER wear it again. Duplicity is unforgivable!

5. I don't drink tea or coffee. Only bhais ka doodh for me. Go ahead and laugh now.

6. Despite the intimidating, fiercely-independent image that I tend to project, I'm still old-fashioned. If I ever pen a romantic tale, in it guys would chase girls and girls would be coy and shy. Darcy remains my favorite hero till date. They don't make more like him anymore!

7. As a kid, I was a tomboy. Right from cropped hair to an astute dislike for barbies, there was a point in time when I excelled at all things boyish. Playing cricket, strumming the guitar, a craze for video-games (Wolf 3D, NFS Underground, GTA3, Quake 3, Ghost Recon and Formula 1 Racing '99 were my forte), watching WWF, F1, having a weakness for sneakers.... you see.... pretty much everything except whistling or hooting at girls (thank God for small mercies). I'm pretty much reformed now, behave more like a girl and do nothing that I did as a kid. Not that I regret doing them. We all have our phases.

8. The best gift to give me is a book. Fiction only, mind you. The thicker it is, the better. I love the smell of new books. Also fresh newspapers, paint and kerosene. That's it. No more weird stuff.

9. I've had 3 serious crushes till now. One lasted a good 4 years. Never spoke to ANY of them till date. Never found the spunk to.

10. I'm not easily amused. Santa-Banta jokes won't work on me. Nope, not even a polite laugh. Only Rakhi Sawant makes me laugh. She never fails. I admire her for that.

There you go! Whew! That was tough. I have weirder stuff up my sleeves, but I'll save it for another time (can hear collective sighs of relief). After all, I still need to maintain my scarce audience, don't I?

Oh, I need to do one more bit - here are the sweethearts that I must tag (rules, what can I do?). Go ahead, darlings! Confess!

Deepti

Shikha

Indy

Ankit

Arslan

I am....

I'm alone but I'm strong
I'm defeated but I'm spirited
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm lost but I'm hopeful
I'm not rich but I'm kind
I'm slim but I'm healthy

What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine..
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five..

I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working
I care but I'm restless
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry, baby

What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright..
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a hair strand..
And what it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet..
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign..

I'm free but I'm focused
I'm serious but I'm wise
I'm shy but I'm friendly
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chickenshit
I'm cursed but I'm lucky

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet..
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is blowin' kisses..
And what it all comes down to, my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine..
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is typing the last word..

Hogmaster

That's moi performing a blitzkrieg-of-sorts on the third strawberry-cream helping (maybe that's what caught the photographer's eye.... yeh chalti-phirti bamboo itni khaati kaisi hai? Completely caught me off-guard though!). And that generous helping came after 1 plate pasta, 1 plate lasagna, 1 bowl ragdaa patice and 6 yummy pani-puris (I think my dietitian would faint). One could arrest me for gluttony ;)

The weighing machine dutifully says I've gained 3 kgs. Well, I should, considering the rate at which I'm going. Could do with more!

Escapist Bent

I've been thinking. And one knows the outcome of such exercises of the cerebral muscles. The mood, which was until a few minutes ago jauntily bopping about, suddenly deflates and rids itself of all frolicking gaiety. And when self can take it no more (read, needs to dispose off whatever the bothersome thing is out of the distressed confines of the cranium); self resorts to this page. This little nook, tucked away in an undistinguished and unknown hide-out of the world wide web, privy to only a select few.

Now that you've been greeted with the most grim of prefaces, I'll arrive at the crux of this post. And the reason for several brainworks and contemplations that I seem to be undergoing these days. It all began with that saucy, yet hard-hitting comment from that insolent-bundle-of-a-pest who also happens to be my sister. "Don't you have a brain of your own?" she snaps at me, "why do you always listen to everything Mom says?" And you know what? For a second there, that always-ready-with-a-smartarse-retort Avanti was stumped. She had no fitting reply with which she could send the audacious interrogator packing, dismissing her as a mere mosquito, meanwhile tut-tutting about how kids these days have no tact or respect for their elders. I let it go, didn't shower much attention on it. And then, just as I was retreating back into good ol' blissful complacency, it happened again. Another pal quips at me - "You're so comfy with your job & the subordination that comes with it. Why aren't you your boss's replacement by now?" Again, I was left speechless. Left to execute some serious thinking-about. And the result goes thus - I don't want to do this ALL my life. Certainly not a 9-6 job. And most definitely, I don't wanna be what others want me to be. My folks want to see me 'settle down', with a 'nice, educated boy' of their choice from a 'respected family' (how the HELL are they gonna accomplish that astonishing feat beats me), have babies that will call them grandpa/grandma, raise the kids, marry them off and then pop off to meet my Maker. They want me to live the exact same dull, monotonous life they've been living all along.

I think I'd positively go mental if I had to follow this roadmap in the future. Is that the purpose of my life? To marry some stranger and manufacture babies? Or say, if I had to follow the advice of my well-meaning friend, should I be a ultra successful biz-baroness? I'd just be another casualty in this infinite rat-race that we seem to be increasingly associating ourselves with. Okay, so you climb the corporate ladder real swift, you're the toast of the business world, you own palatial mansions, a dozen flashy cars and hop across continents in your private jet. Then what? If I had to choose between taking all the money I've earned or the myriad experiences I've had on this lovely planet with me to my grave, I'd choose the latter without doubt. I want to be a rich, plentiful person - the abundance not measured by my bank balance, but what's swimming up there in my head. Memories of the people I've been with and loved to bits, memories of the various things I've learnt - be it playing a guitar or speaking 5 languages, memories of the numerous places I've traveled to & memories of the sights and sounds I've been subject to, good or bad.

So, to all who expect many dazzling things of me (however noble your intentions are), let me tell you this - I just want to be me. Not what you want me to be.

Dreams on Wheels

Suave.

Stylish.

Sexy.

Simply splendid!

No, I'm not talking 'bout Daniel Craig in Casino Royale. That's my sleek 'n swanky (atleast for my current income levels) new car! :) After nearly over a month of cumbersome paperwork, numerous shellouts, a hundred calls and a nail-biting wait, it finally arrived. Always wanted to own a neat lil' set of wheels of my own, what with myself being a speed freak. Rest of them worldly possessions can wait. Though at the end of 3 years, I'm gonna be a half a million rupees poorer (I make that sound dramatic).... still, its gonna be worth every diligently-toiled-for-rupee for me. Not to mention the proud faces of Mom and Dad. Now that's priceless!

Got a lot more to do to jazz up the car a bit. Equip it with remote lock systems, window films, audio system (of utmost importance!), anti-theft mechanism, seat covers, throw in a few pillows to add the homely effect and some additional decor.

Gee, can hardly wait to get started! The i10's my paramour of the hour. Atleast, until the novelty wears off.

Although I don't think it ever will ;)

Wedding (Not Mine!) Memories

My cousin Aditi (very much married now) with her cousin Akhshada

Myself, Anagha & Shruti

Dancing to some very silly tunes

Posey uncle at the back ;)

Squinting in the sun (& traditional clothes)

Aditi & Abhishek

Hitched!

We are Family!

Aniket - (as usual) being extremely silly!

Baccha Party

We are Family - Part 2

Neon Lights

Gentlemen

Nillionaire

I am broke. No lollygaging on this subject. No preludes and interludes. No festooned descriptions of how, when & why. Coz no matter how hard I try, every subsequent purchase seems to be more frightfully extravagant than the previous one. Resultant, I am well and truly deep into Chapter 11 now. Almost cleaned out, dirt poor & near-penniless.

Until the next 23rd (when my monthly salary will be dutifully, I fervently hope, credited to my depleted account); don't allow your jaw to plunk onto the floor if you find me prowling the streets with a begging bowl in hand & a kilometer-long bill in tow (much like a bridal train). Coz at the rate I'm dishing out the good ol' greenback/plastic, you may more likely than not find my-self-indulging-person in that unenviable, austere position. Either I must soon untangle myself from this dangerous shopping binge (ranging from imprudent bags/exorbitant shoes/expensive apparel to a brand new car) that I seem to getting myself rapidly tangled up into, or face the consequences. And I think you will unwaveringly agree with me that the consequences do not look very shimmery-sunshiny.

Need to buck up and rid myself of this disease that has inflicted me, else might end up in a very special home of sorts.

A remand home, no doubt.

Well, I'll be a Bee!

The year has begun on a winning note. Small fry, you may say... but it means quite a sackful to me! I mean, to beat 80-odd participants to win a spelling competition (don't laugh) is no minuscule feat, innit? Now before you dismiss such orthographic tournaments to be more appropriately executed by an assemblage of uniform-donners, let me inform you that it is, indeed, recognized as a sport. Simply switch on ESPN to corroborate. Though this particular contest at my workplace was nowhere near the standards set by the Spelling Bee, it was nevertheless a test of mettle, nerves and of course, language skills. To watch people goof up with their e's and i's and a's and s's... it was one and a half hours of pure amusement and enjoyment! More so for me, naturally, as I bagged a couple of Crossword vouchers for my efforts. Not a bad start to the year at all, considering what a rotten time I had last year!

Here's the notice in acknowledgement of my efforts (circulated around the bank... wheee!) Special mention also goes to my 'coach' Arjun (aka 'CK') who pulled off quite a stellar job! All those words he threw at us (even delving into phonetics of the scientific & medical kind!), challenging us to spell 'em accurately and those little spelling quizzes he dug up from obscure habitats of the world-wide-web (how many trojans did you download as well, Arjun?), then subjecting us to them, did pay off very nicely in the end!

The glib write-up would suggest hysterical jubilation, as though I've won the Oscars itself! Not quite, but the outcome of this event did bring sunshine in my life for a couple of days! Renders me lighthearted - these tiny, little things life hauls at you at equally tiny, little intervals!

Weighty Issues

'18 days off from work! You're sooooooo lucky, yaar... you can rest all you want!' Rest?? That does not figure on my immediate to-do list and I wouldn't be wrong to hazard a guess that it would most certainly be the last thing I'd subject my crumby corpus to. Instead, I have every intention to rid it of its despondent skeletal frame that has become increasingly tantamount with me (the word 'skeletal' I mean), what with the general public eyeing me with that condolatory look, 'Now here's a poor lass who could really do with some feeding.' Some even manage to bump into me, thinking I'm not there at all (yes, I have quipped this stinker of a line many-a-times before... but those who know me would damn well vouch for this theory!!) And more often than not, poor ol' Mom is subject to admonition and speculation, 'Don't you give her enough food?'; 'Bahut kaam karwaati ho kya?' (The last rebuke, in particular, leaves Mom royally peeved; as my aversion to help her out with daily chores is, best as I can put it, fairly conspicuous as well as notorious... the sole bone of contention between her and I).

Back to the key issue at large, I intend to solve the matter of wagging tongues and disapproving heads, once and for all. Infact, one chatty aunt who has a rather dim view on the subject of 'How-many-kilos-go-to-maketh-Avanti', has decided to wager the meager income at her disposal on my gaining atleast 5 kilos in two months... a tall (or rather, fat) order... but I humbly accepted, nonetheless. I stand to gain a paltry 'I-can-buy-roasted-gram-with-this' Rs. 100 in case I achieve the mean feat; so I'm pretty sure you are convinced that the monetary bait does not excite me enough to pile on the pounds. I ain't going the whole mile for no-one. This one's for me.

It is not going to be a joy-ride. Bones are going to ache (if not break), muscles (what little there is of them) are gonna be stretched and a lot of sweat is going to ooze out. Plus, there is the additional matter of juggling my daily routine with gym timings. Take Dad for his cardiac rehab/physiotherapy sessions at Bandra, go to work, have the weekly catch-ups with friends, get my unruly hair in order, file my investment proofs with my organization, manage the numerous bank accounts that have been opened in my name, get my annoying 'other' wisdom tooth out (yes, it has begun to ache profusely again), get new clothes stitched... and.... eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! What am I doing here, typing furiously on my keyboard? Gotta scoot.... a million things cry for my attention already!

MINE!!

The title is cautionary enough... this post has 'ego-tripping' written all over it. After all, its not everyday that you're treated like a very important person and majorly sucked up to. So when I step into this prominent outlet that wares that lustrous commodity called gold, people cluster around me as if I was distributing free tickets to a Himmesh (bah! I have NO idea why the multi-toupee-wonder is SO popular!!) concert to all and sundry. A beautiful lady, resplendent in a sari and a strapping, charming young man clamour for my attention, repeatedly addressing me as 'M'am', as in - 'Welcome, m'am'; 'What can I do for you, m'am?'; 'Please come this way,m'am'; 'Have a seat, m'am'; 'Would you like a drink, m'am?'. Please Note: This kind of suck-up fest only takes place when gold prices are up and shops are deserted. When prices plummet and hence, the shop is as crowded as a sabji-bazaar, no one gives bearshit about you.

So, I put up the 'pricey-customer' show too. Act I. I dismiss the lady by saying that I have business with one particular chap at the shop. So she can please get outta my face, thank you very much. Act II. I go to the chap who's grinning from ear-to-ear by now and hand him my order slip. "Please, I have to collect these today," I say. "Why, of course, M'am! Please have a seat, I'll be right back!" Almost breaking into a sprint, he dashes off, while beckoning someone to offer me (M'am again) a drink. "No, thank you," I say, "I'm not thirsty" (I almost wanted to feign the 'mineral-water-only' act, but I shunned the thought away... its too passe). "But m'am, please," he pleads, as if the stock of soft-drinks must be emptied today, "kuch toh lijeeye!" "Okay, okay..." I hurriedly say, getting very annoyed with the word 'M'am' by now... "I'll have half a glass, if you insist". With a satisfied smile on his face he runs off to get my bangles. And returns back with the gleaming ornaments. Its my turn to grin, I'm smiling in my drink by now. Weren't they just splendid! And I had every reason to be proud, they were MINE! I bought them. With MY hard-earned moolah. Gave me an unbridled sense of pride. Though I'm not a big fan of gold/diamonds (what a lucky husband mine will be!), I must admit, when you're in the gold-store with all those shiny lights twinkling on the yellow metals around you, you just give in to the dormant admiration inside you. Of course, it pinched my rapidly-emptying-pocket when I had to shell out a fortune to acquire the same; but my wise (and also, extremely persuasive) mom tells me its an 'investment'. She totally drools over gold by the way, and dons it magnanimously, a sparkling ring on each finger, goldchains, bangles, a bracelet and diamond-studded gold earrings (4 in each ear... I kid you not!) all gracing her queenly-self. A walking-talking gold mine, we chide her. Potential kidnap target too, but she never understands.

Anyway, the tryst with my first gold-purchase complete, I happily troop back home and reveal 'em to mom. She's delighted of course! After some 'oohing' and 'aahing'.... she promises me she'll keep it safe in a bank vault. "Okay," I say, "You can have them if you want". "No, no!" she thundered, "Its yours... an investment, remember?" Yeah, yeah ... I do! You conned me into buying this, right?

The picture below (with me in a rather silly pose) will not display intricate designs on them bangles, but take my word for it- they're beautiful!

10 Things to do before I Die

I haven't set out anything unrealistic or larger than life for myself. (Like some looneybins quipping he wants to buy a stairway to heaven from ebay... aargh! I'd say - rather grow a brain, dimwit). Anyway, the list below is attainable. All I need is oodles of idle time, truckloads of luck and a smitten, crazy-rich husband to shell out some cool mega-bucks. LOL! Nah... I'd go dutch in this quest... pay my share of the expense (yes, I'm the most generic cliche in fashion these days - a fiercely independent woman of the 21st century... blah blah blah). Why ten, you ask? There're soooooo many things to do in this vast expanse of our world... Well, I'll add another ten when I'm through with the first ten. Lets begin somewhere, no?

1. Watch a live Formula One grand prix. (HIGH on my list.... I was so close to doing this but the plan fell apart .... grrrr... parents worry a lot at times).
2. Buy a round-the-world air ticket, a rucksack and run away... to tour the remotest places of the world with my beloved. Just him and me. (Are you reading this, future-husband?)
3. Drive (if not own) a Ferrari on the Autobahn at 300 kms/hr. (Are you reading this, dear Mr. Boss? I need a raise. Pronto!!)
4. Sleep in a lush meadow high on a Himalayan mountain, under the stars, a cool breeze teasing your body. (Ah, heavenly!)
5. Attend a huge sporting event (the Olympics for instance) or a Coldplay concert. (Chris Martin! If I could land just a small, teeny-weeny, lil' peck on your cheek for all those incredible songs you've penned and sung, I'll die a contented lady)
6. Skydive. (And land, marooned on an exotic island & bump into Sawyer from 'Lost!')
7. Shoot a gun, a real one. (Don't mess with me fellas!)
8. Enrol myself for a social cause, and stick to it throughout my life. (Meet future Ms. Teresa)
9. Take my kids to Disneyland. (And pinch Mickey Mouse's butt... lol!)
10. Get lost in a jungle and come out of it alive. (With a handycam full of adventures!)

Happy Wishes...

I know I was fretting 'bout growing older 'n all a few posts back... but I gotta admit... on the day of your birthday, all that whining can go take a long jump in the nearest pit! Awaking to a brand new day of a brand new year, having a flurry of friends and family call you up (each hoping they were the first ones to call), donning that spankin' new outfit, have a yummy cake with your name written on it cut in perfect lil' squares (and some being smeared on your face too), gifted with flowers, dining out with the family and retiring to a day well spent and thoroughly enjoyed; this was one tiring day.... but a terrific one nonetheless. Not the usual in-your-face partying, dancing, clubbing, boozing and passing out... I think I prefer quieter, sober birthdays. Sets the tone for the year ahead.

A big thank you and a hug to all those who took out the time to wish me happiness on my b'day! Here they are - I love you all!

Ma, Pa, Sona (thats my family), Zarna, Priya, Krina, Ranjit, Arjun, Shikha, Mansi, Deepti, Divya, Rimjhim, Ajja & Ammi, Ronak, Chandramani, Pranali, Shraddha, Shruti, Sweta, Rose, Michael, Shiv, Vinay, Amrita, Saba, Ishani, Nitya, Merrilly, Sanjana, Lakshme, Sri Mami, Babu Mama, Ravi Mama, Aditi, Vinaya Aunty, Anjana Aunty, Ashwin Uncle.

The ones on Orkut:

Hiren, Jalpa, Tanu, Shraddha, Tanya, Yogita, Kalashree, Mamta, Trishann, Aniket, Vibhuti, Swati, Radha, Neha

And of course, the guys at work... there're too many to list!

I'm sure I haven't missed anyone. If I have... I still love you! Thanks a gazillion... You're all dahlings to me!

Nostalgia

Its been extremely BORING for the past few days. At work, at home... everywhere. And as if to corroborate this grim situation, the weather goes ahead and exhibits its gloomiest best. However, I have this nagging feeling that my current predicament may not have anything to do with dismal weather, lackluster colleagues or exhausted family members (and hence the spillover effect). Rather, its because I'm approaching a point in my life they call the 'quarter-life crisis'. Not yet though, I will turn 24 this 28th of August... but yes, the dreaded '25' looms before me like a rabbit in a car's headlights. Only this time, I'm the shit-scared rabbit.

I've been through an assortment of such stages: the I-can't-play-with-barbies-anymore crisis (10 years old), the gawking-boys-are-staring-at-me crisis (15 years old), the sweet-sixteen-is-an-illusion crisis (yes, 16 years old) and the most tragic of all: annoying-aunts-are-trying-to-marry-me-off crisis (20 years old and still going strong)! WHY? Why do we have to grow older? (thats a brainless medical-cum-philosophical question. I seek no smartarse answers; this is a purely rhetorical query). I then came up with a wisearse statement to cheer myself up (which my pal thinks is a brilliant quip) - "I'm getting older.... but so is everyone else!" Good one, innit? But alas, it didn't work. Saw these schoolgirls the other day and was immediately struck with a fresh bout of despair. How I wish I was in school again! How I wish I wore starched-blue uniforms again, fought for the front row seats every morning, sniggered at my malyaali teachers pronouncing 'air' as 'aiyer', fought for the duster to clean the blackboard, stood in line in stoic silence at assemblies, memorized long speeches for annual days, shared my dabba with my classmates, wore a 'color' dress on my birthday, distributed candies for friends (and Cadburys for teachers), scrammed at the ring of the closing bell & ran for window-seats in the school bus! Ah, how wonderful were those days!! How carefree we were, cocooned in the protective shells of school & family! How I wish it never ended!

And now... here I am, at the threshold of a another phase in life, engulfed in mild agitation & uncertain of the future. Its not as if I don't look forward and anticipate exciting times ahead. Its just that sometimes I wish we never grew up so fast. I wish I was stuck in this continuum called 'time' for a wee bit more longer? But as a wiseman said 'Time and tide wait for no one'. Soon this quarter-life thingy too shall pass. What matters is how you make it more wondrous & beautiful so you'll always have memories to cherish in the future.

Just as I cherish my amazing days in school at this stage in my life.

The Blog Trap

I've never been a a great fan of blogs, nor did I regularly read them. Don't ask me why, but I've always thought they were musings of a self-besotted mind. But then I reason - blogs are not always that; my previous accusation was misguided, perhaps by reading a few of them blogs which had "I/ ME/ MYSELF" strewn all over it. I mean, who gives horse-shit if you've bought a bejewelled comb yesterday, lost a few strands of hair today or will go for hair-replacement tomorrow? And on and on they go.... mammoth blogs that begin with an individual's morning ablutions & end with a goodnight teddy-bear hug. Such atrocity on the poor reader!

This blog was never created to chronicle daily minutes of my life, writing is just a great stress-buster for me. I don't lead a diva's life. Its a simple one. No flashlights, no drunken nights out, no hit-and-runs, no brawls (don't have the bodily construction to even fight one), no procalmations-atop-rooftops, no heists, no sex tapes, no goondagiri (ok, I don't think ANYONE has such an eventful life, except for, maybe that bimbo Paris Hilton.... or apna very own Sallu bhai). I am content with the unadorned, though not unduly austere life that I lead. Low-profile is my mantra. I'm no wannabe, I let my actions speak for me. Thats not to say I'm unambitious. I dream of many things, like others do. But I don't let my dreams consume me. Anything unattained is taken in my stride. I walk on to newer, better things.

So there you go. Day 1 of MY musings/rantings. See.... I've become one of them now.... But I assure you, I won't bore you with lengthy transcripts of how-I-tied-my-hair-into-a-bun-today. I hope I have more interesting & less excruciating matters to write about. (Sure I will... our world is weird enough)!

Until then, adieu! And wish me happy blogging!