small pleasures...

“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea... and he told us of his life, in the land of submarines...tanana tanananna tananan tanana... fe fe feeee  feeee fee fee feee” pauses for breath “... in the land of submarines”

“We all live in the yellow submarine yellow submarine yell....” the steps in line with the song; the hand twirling his lunch bag, the lad is making his way home. This song somehow, was stuck to his head right from lunch. Finding no one else in the vicinity, he sings with gay abandon, like he owns the road. “tan tan tan tan”. The bag comes to a stop. Without missing a step, in one fluid motion, with an expertise that comes out of practice, he crosses the road, lifting his hand up nonchalantly, stopping vehicles and stamping his right of way... and it takes just a beat before his trained eye finds a break in the traffic in the opposite direction. Done, just like that...

“What a warm evening” the bag starts twirling again; he’s lost in thought. “Need to ask ma for new shoes, this one’s almost dead, look at that guy walking... must get white leather... ok resin shoes, poor animals... these canvas shoes are so bad, they are not even shoes. Why do they make shoes from bag material? Mad people. The rubber toe guard sucks. And the two holes on the sides; what is the point? On top of all this, I have to wash this stupidity that is this shoe, every Sunday. What a bore. I’ll ask amma for new ones today” He pauses, pulls out a bottle from his bag, frowns at the water level and empties it. “There, 20 grams less. We all live in the... cha such a boring song... fee fee fee feeee“ shuts off his mind “useless”.

The boy walks 1 2 3 *lunch bag twirl* 1 2 3 *lunch bag twirl*. “finally... we are here..” he surveys the shoulder of the road, the walls of the foot path; blows the dirt away and carefully sits down, resting his chin on his palm. “Astra, Escort, Escort, Zen, 800, Esteem, 800, Contessa! Do these things still run? Icon, Icon, Lancer - such a nice car, Zen, Xing, Xing, Xing, Peugeot, man, how do they pronounce this?? Qualis... this is easy today, Uno, Sienna, Baleno. Wow!! What was that? A Merc? Bmw? BMW OMG!! I'm blessed... hmm what's that car? Skoda... Skoda.. oh ya! Octavia... oops! bus vannu (arrived), what number is this now?” He draws up a conclusion from his experience and the remnants of a board partly eaten, on the side.

His friends stay at a different part of the town, on the other side of the school.This leaves him alone, without company while returning home. The lad gets a place to sit if he plans his time right, which is starting half an hour after his school’s final bell. So, he makes it a point to chat/loiter around after school. The early birds would have left by then and the next wave of office commuters would start only at 5. This strategy wins him a window seat most of the time; a seat he values a lot. A seat behind the driver is even better. However, this time, He manages to capture the ultimate prize- the side seat across the driver,with a full undisturbed view of the road, facing sideways.

“Ha finally, some breeze...“  His mind shuts off for a few minutes enjoying the breeze; He smiles. The bus that leaves Malar hospital, Adyar, has to take the Thiru-vi-ka Bridge across the Adyar River to reach the other part of the town. “Appa will want me to cut my hair next, useless. He should see Adi, such long hair. What’s wrong with that?”Absentmindedly curls his hair. “Yay traffic jam!! Hey that was a Corsa swing... ooh and a Sienna weekend. I’ll tell Bala tomorrow, I saw both of them.I'm sure He wouldn't have. These are rare“

The traffic clears. The driver looks across, smiles under his moustache. The kid smiles back.

waaat iss yovaar name?

Venkat

Ethanavadhu padikkara? (Which grade?)

6^th

Veedu enga? (where’s your home?)

Mandaveli

Hmmm...

He converses with his eyes on the road stealing glances at the boy as he checks his side view mirror. The boy mimics him. Looking ahead, answering in the same tone, co-driving the bus with his will. The brake pedal is worn, so is the clutch, from one side. The driver shifts gears. “Ah, so this is why... why does he use his clutch carelessly? Shouldn't   his entire feet be on the pedal? The pedal would have worn out uniformly. This looks ugly. I would have maintained it well.”

A dull horn sounds, like a bored cow stretching out and yawning.”Hehe, what a stupid horn”. They had banned all the loud ones on the city buses. Some of the Periyars and Thiruvalluvars (inter city services) still had them. It’s a pity, really. The private buses had two of them. He had just returned from a trip - visiting temples in and around Kumbakonam. Obviously, this had resulted in a lot of travelling, "specially bus journeys.  He was shaken out of his wits the first time he heard them, the loud horns, but slowly, with repetition, it had caught his fancy. In fact, the creativity of certain drivers using those found him praying for slow moving trucks, carts or tractors. “These buses should have two horns... they can install a goats ‘meh’ and the driver can use it alternately, simultaneously or in quick succession... fun”.  Such possibilities, much creativity, so wow.  

The Tata buses had a distinct sound; or maybe the Ashok Leyland buses had a distinct sound, wait Eicher too... ok every engine had a distinct sound. He hated the Tata buses. He had a curious affection for old, run-down, DATC buses. The buses made much noise and did very little. But it promised value for money for the small distance he travelled.

Tickets tickets tickets

Pass, pass, pass

Kami, kami, kami (show me).. hmmm ok.

Ok, value for bus pass then. “Man! The time is almost 5;I should reach before cartoons start”.

He gets up, steps down the ladder and alights gracefully jogging to a stop while the bus rolls a few meters more. The setting sun starts casting a yellow ray or two as he walks away from it. He prays for a second as he crosses the roadside ‘Pullayar’(Ganesha), more out of practice than reverence.

“I want something to eat...” rummages through the bag maintaining his pace “pch, no money, I’ll ask amma for 5 bucks tomorrow”, slings it back carelessly. “I’ll buy one dairy milk”. He tames his hair, lets his shirt out with a sigh of relief. One hand inside his pocket and the other one holding the lunch bag’s strap, he becomes conscious of himself walking; stylish, no? He stops casually, takes a step back, twirls his bag and moves ahead his head bobbing to imaginary music, his mouth chewing on a nonexistent gum. A slow smile creeps across. “How I wish I had a toothpick now”   

“la la la la lalala lalala heeeey judee jude jude judy judy... wait a nimit, what was the other song? Hmmm lala... Hamm... yellow subjjmarine yellow submarine... wait how does it start? Yellow sub... hmmm...  ma open the door”

“va da (come in)... wash your hands and legs, eat the bowl of flakes ...  Ennada yosikara (what are you thinking about)?”

“Yellow submarine yellow... hmmm aaaargh screw it... onnum illa ma (nothing ma)... maa I’m watching duck tales, I’ll do my homework later.”

“Ok only this, not the next one” heading inside the kitchen ...“Don’t sit in front of TV till 6:30 like yesterday”

“OK OK... no”

fanboy

“Did you know Sachin hit 100 100s ?”

“Nadal is number one now”

“Portugal is through,omg CR… oh you don’t watch no?”

I know, I know all of this and more. The media had managed to etch it into my brain. But, I’m very confident that if you ask me next week I might not recall any of this. I can never recall Djok’s grand slam tally. Neither can I recall Dravid’s count of centuries. I love watching those guys play though. I Egg them on; Shout at the TV pretty much like any other fan.  I’d in fact drop everything and just watch them play if I could afford to drop everything and watch them play. I’m a fan of those two you know? The problem is sometimes, in social circles, I can’t claim to be a fan. I have no idea what he did last week.I have no idea where he is next week. I did not follow them properly, I forgot, my bad, it is really a shame. So! it seems I’m not really a fan. Oh dear! I’m crushed. Well… not really.

I do not hold anything against statistics or numbers. When you are a keen follower of a game, you naturally gather stats, scores, the dates, match venues etc. the problem is sometimes, amongst the crowd, there are people who are not that good with numbers or dates, or people who have pressing demands but appreciate it nonetheless at leisure, or people who really don’t care about what happened earlier or what might happen consequently. These people might not know the exact match, location or the opposition but a sense of déjà vu when a shot plays out in front of them is as good a validation of their love for the game as any other.

“What kind of fan are you?” 

Without fandom, deification, the sporting world would be devoid of a lot of fun. These people pique interest in the plebs lurking in the periphery, letting them enjoy a few moments of unfettered joy vicariously (what a snooty sentence already), thus initiating them to the game. A sportsman, for every fan, is a man who inspires him, a man who stands for his personality, beliefs and standards and wins games validating it. When a fan supports an underdog it lets him fight his demons and he rejoices when his man wins, it inspires him to be dogged and dedicated. While supporting a winner, he is inspired to be perfect, to be the best at what he does, and to be more regimental with his schedule. Sometimes, he decides to start hitting the gym the next day but the day never comes. These emotions, the feeling of victory or loss that course through watching a sport, which can be only perceived by the TV were it a living thing, cannot be quantified in numbers, stats or memory.

If you were willing to give me a penny, I'd tell you that the term ‘fan’ is pretty fickle. The barometer for measuring it is even more so. The point is, I believe it is perfectly fine to go around doing your household chores while stopping for a second to admire a perfect smash from Saina. It is also ok that you missed the better smashes or did not know about them. It is alright to watch a sport as a movie, as a transient phenomenon, as a background noise or as a companion when you need it. I believe, Watching sport is a very personal and rewarding experience. You don’t need to know everything.You don't need to convince anyone. You just need to know enough to appreciate a long rally, a brilliant lap, a perfect straight drive, or the whole 90 minutes of football without being bothered about its prognosis, and you are still in no-way a lesser mortal than the other.

So you think you can biology record?

That was just wonderful, don’t you think so? OMG It blew my mind. The way you drew the respiratory system; the skill, coordination; Not one wrong stroke. It’s one of the more difficult things to draw and your dexterity was there for all to see. I’m still a little distracted, let me complete ogling at it. Oh ya, I love you, Well done kid, It’s a 10 from me.

Haha… Mani my man, you were awesome. I thought the bryophyllum leaf last week was below par. It was amazing, but I believed you were capable of more. You have just slammed my case shut. The concentration on your face, the way you bit your pencil. The lungs were perfect and the final flourish with the man’s nostrils were awesome.  For me, you are the shining example of why this show is such a great success. This is precocious talent right in front of you, India.  

Few things can be taught, some skills are inborn. You have a unique gift of drawing biology diagrams so beautifully. In my younger days, I’d have bribed you to complete my record work for me. It's is really good to see you have improved a lot from last time.That is something because I thought last week's work was your magnum opus. A hat tip to you, Girija ma’am, It’s a nice routine that you have picked for him, the respiratory system, allowing him to showcase his variety. This is a 10 from me too Mani. Well done…

Empty

You have been driving for a long while now. As you ease out of a toll booth, you witness the break of dawn. With another hour and a half to go to your destination, you crank up the volume in your stereo system and listen to it for some time. You sing along. But, after a few lines,you switch it off in disgust. It has been a arduous journey and the repetitive rhythm is getting on your nerves . A few minutes pass. The road stretches ahead, not a vehicle in sight. The first rays of the sun break through. It’s a sight to behold. The contrast and the tone, breathtaking. 

This is beautiful. I can finally get the grime off me. If I make it in 45 minutes I’d probably catch a wink before the day starts. Hope the traffic remains lean. Half an hour is better than nothing. Let me switch this thing back on. *Song 25 of 40*. Hmmm, 15 songs in total, one and a half hours, let me see if can reach before the tenth. *blasts off leaving a trail of throbbing beats*

This is beautiful. I should probably stop. I might end up spoiling the mood if  I stop, and even worse decide to get out. Let's go slowly, enjoying the cold breeze, view,*cranks open the window*. Ah! I can always catch up on lost sleep tomorrow. I should definitely have a hot cup of tea somewhere, would complete this perfect picture. Let’s see what are my melodies? Ha *song 25 of 40* I'm in luck... *whistles along as the guitar strums*

what was I thinking about? sleep? coffee? boss? .*blanks*. Hey it has become awfully quiet. *stops accelerating and glides along releasing the gears. The car slowly comes to a stop. everything is quiet, even the crickets are quiet.* what am I doing here? Why am I in the middle of nowhere? Where am I going with this? I have driven all the way here, great!! now what? why can't I go back? What if I take the next left and disappear forever from civilization? Wait, do I have money on me? Do they have ATMs in villages? might be an issue if they don't have. Ok I'll sell this car, maybe.*pauses..... laughs*. Why am I doing this to myself? I should have brought someone along; at the least I wouldn't be having an existential crisis at 6 am. Sun is boring, the grass is boring, the moon is boring, the car is boring, the songs are such a big bore. What is the point of all this? *gets out of the car, takes a deep breath, stretches*. Ok there is no point, let me just get home. * gets in swiftly, revs it up and screams away, the noise of his engine muting his voice.* 

Love is.... A dosa

Oil simmering on the griddle, reflecting the lights off the surface.

The muffled sound of stirring... the dull, chalk coloured batter.

The pour; the batter touching the griddle, the release of breath... shshshshhshshshsh... 

The warming of the heart as the dexterous spiraling hands, construct the perfect oval.

Oil...of indulgence and the hedonistic justification...

The wait, arduous, lecherous; impatient.

The dollop of potato...deliciously yellow, mashed and mellow. 

A flick here, a flip there and the final fold; a brazen exhibition of practiced nonchalance...

It's poetry in motion, it's an art... The Masal Dosa served with chutney, fresh and chill and sambar, hot and spicy. 

Some of us gobble up masal dosas and order another; realizing none of the existing metaphors have anything on the warmth coursing through the veins as one piece follows another. One wants to hug it, kiss it, serenade it, but the plate is already empty.

Masal dosa is a very spiritual experience.... the composition calls you and you just surrender yourself (to it). Now, if you ask me about the best I've had.... hmmm... how do I say this... it is very difficult to choose one... It is like asking me who's the favorite among my children -ARR on masal dosa.

The oldest memories of masal dosa are of my mom's 'kal' masal dosa. The homemade varieties never taste the same as the hotel ones. This is because the temperatures generated  and the size of these 'kal's' at home are different; nevertheless they become extremely irresistible when served with a dash of love... 

I have had a lot of masal dosas, a number big enough to write my will for posterity in the next near or two (about 20rs; in my pocket, planning to write it off to charity) and some of these dosas have a distinct taste One remembers them with what might be called as a 'tongue memory'(partly gastronomic, partly psychological).I've listed some memorable ones off the top of my tongue... 

Trivia: A number of dosas eaten by an average addict in his lifetime is enough to cover the globe, if spread across the surface of earth!!

Hotel Sangeetha,(any outlet):

Specifically in the early 2ks, Mylapore, when it was establishing itself; I have fond memories of the family dinners, perched on the roof garden, eating masal dosas... These were always followed by the blissful 2km walk back home in the night breeze. The standard of dosa is still pretty good. I've had pleasant experinces with the Guindy and the Mandaveli outlet too...  

Hotel Surya, Trichy, (near rock fort):

The rava dosas are also equally tasty here... Some claim that the vasanta bhavan nearby is better, maybe, but I believe Surya has better chutneys and sambars. This is also one of my grandpa's favorite haunts.

Hotel Shri Sangeetas, Trichy, (near main bus stand):

These two places in Trichy, the one above and this are close to my heart because of my Alma mater. For an eatery that anyway gets patronage from the transient population around the bus stand, the quality and standards maintained in this place is exemplary. The masal dosa here is simple, tasty and served in the 'street' ambiance...  

I'm not against masal dosas in movies; I believe they are effective tools in taking the story forward. They bring out the character of the character in a very short span of time... - Mani, overheard, in conversation with BR

Hotel Saravana Bhavan (any outlet): The HSB bug bit me late; I've been smitten ever since...  HSB is snobbish, HSB is rude, the service is pedestrian, the place is over rated, blah blah blah... who cares... I believe they serve one of the best masal dosas in Chennai... also they have one of the best filter coffees (that's another list all together).The potato pieces in the masala if not mashed uniformly, turns me off. At HSB they get this right and I'm rarely disappointed.

hmmm - MMS,UPA II after HSB

IIT Madras: I have listed this in the chronological order. The various eat outs mentioned above kindle memories of the corresponding stages in my life. The Campus Cafe in IIT. served me a masal dosa that was hard for the puritan in me to get used to initially-the masala used is different. But in time, I got hooked to this new taste.. many of my lunches were just a masal dosa with a fresh brew of their awesome tea...

Nala's mother fondly recalls the delight in her son’s eyes as they rested on the griddle. A prodigious talent who took to eating at a tender age of 1, he could make dosas on his own and eat it too unlike his cakes which he couldn't eat... his grandfather, watching his 5 year old  grandson playing with potatoes, remarked "dei thambi, you will one day make a great cook and cook the best masal dosas in the kingdom". - from the documentary "The life of Nala" on Nala, King, Executive Chef, Nishadha Kingdom.

****** (Ending it here for the post script to actually function as a post script)

PS : There is another variety that is dear to me. The Mysore masala. Most places in Bangalore offer tasty mysore masalas. The street ones are kickass though. More on this later. Also the Murugan Idly Shop almost made it to the list… somehow I have never been able to connect with it emotionally. But I love them nevertheless and the chutneys are awesome J

.....Imagine all the people eating masal dosae...... - Lennon

30 year old critical after walking 4 kms without exact change.

In what could have been dismissed off as yet another incidence of familiar insolence of bus conductors, a specific situation in Adyar escalated to hospitalization of a 30 year old male. The shocking story yet again brings to light the appalling behaviour of the bus conductors towards the public.

After being denied the 2 rupees he was entitled to, on a 8 rupee ticket after handing out last 10 in his pocket, Shiva( name changed from Chandru to protect identity),  already tired after his journey to Adyar from Guindy, couldn't believe his luck when all he had in his pocket was a 500 to catch the ’connect’ to Thiruvanmiyur. Peaceable by nature and not wanting to create a scene, he decided to procure the appropriate denominations before boarding.

As luck would have it, the hapless traveler was forced to go from shop to shop in the mid day Sunday sun. Denied, depressed, defeated, dehydrated and derided by daft denizens, he was left for dead, drooling....

 A Good Samaritan found him around 2 pm. near Jaynthi theatre, unconscious. Doctors say that he must have been walking for at least an hour before dropping on the road. He had on him 2 50s and 4 100s. Shiva, The fearless, had almost won. He had dropped down fighting his last battle, procuring the 5 10s for his 50 near Thiruvanmiyur.. so near (Thiruvanmiyur) yet so far (presently, Malar hospitals, Adyar)..

********

A: Welcome to Discussion At 9:01, this is your favorite news channel and today we have taken up the issue that has touched our collective conscience. As usual we have 9 people of high repute joining us with 9 bored experts in the studio who had nothing better to do… we have a total of 18 with us and I’m your anchor A. A member nominated by the govt.( high ranking civil servant, as per govt. norms) couldn't join us today...

A: This is your favorite news channel…. Let me intro....

**MR, ARBIT BEFORE YOU START I’D LIKE TO SAY THAT THIS IS A DISGRACE TO OUR CITY, STATE AND NATION. THE ROOTS OF THE PROBLEM LIES IN THE WIDE SPREAD CORRUPTION IN THE SERVICES. THIS HAS TO BE ERADICATED. SEVERE PUNISHENT SHOULD BE METED OUT TO THE DIVER AND CONDUCTOR RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS… THIS IS A RAREST OF RAREST CASE AND THEY SHOULD BE MADE AN EXAMPLE...

A: Ms Be.…

**WHY WASN'T AN FIR LODGED AGAINST THE CONDUCTOR. THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOUR SON, YOUR BROTHER, YOUR HUSBAND. WHY ARE THEY LET FREE?? SHOULDN'T THE CITIZENS HAVE THE RIGHT TO COMPLAIN…

A: Mr. Ramakrishnan, AAAAAAA Mr. Ramakrishnan, AAAAA one moment ma'am, AAAAA Mr. Ramakrishnan...  can we,AAAA can we,AAAA can we have a legislation to file an fir for such cases??AAAAAAA can we have the traffic police take more active role in such circumstances…

**WE SHOULD HAVE MORE FAST TRACK COURTS AND THE JUDICIAL SYSTEM IS TOO SLOW TO TACKLE THESE CASES…

A: do we have provisions in the judiciary to handle these cases…

**Mr. Arbit, there is no provision as of now, but the growth in the number of such incidents prompt me to think maybe we need a solid legislation to tackle these violations.

**THE GATES ARE CLOSED PRECISELY WHEN THE BUS STOPS IN THE SIGNALS, HARASSING PEOPLE WHO WANT TO GET DOWN….

A: Mr. Pallavan what do you have to say about this?

**First of all, at the outset, I’d like to convey my greetings with great pleasure to all and everyone and everything, with my heart...…  I’m taking this opportunity to inform you that we are increasing our fleet shortly and these buses will be coloured duller than what it is already saving time on cleaning…. What happened today in Adyar was unfortunate, regarding which we have set up an executive committee which will submit a report after thorough investigation…. yes I think it is high time we changed the gates… gate gate hehehe :D oh sorry…

**the govt. needs to wake up to this.

**I wasn't sleeping, this is atrocious Mr. A, and he’s crossing the line….

**THEY ARE FUELING THE MALPRACTICES. THERE IS RAMPANT CORRUPTION IN THE COUNTRY AND THE PM SHOULD TAKE MORAL RESPONSIBILITY AND STEP DOWN…

A: Should the traffic police take up this additional responsibility??

** whaa ? What responsibility?

**THE TRAFFIC POLICE ARE RESPONSIBLE THEY ARE UPRIGHT CITIZENS OF THE COUNTRY

**hehehe :D

** we traffic police personal stand in the sun doing nothing , our pay is very less and we overwork and are victims of road rages. We have to salute every VIP and are cursed by everyone whenever something goes wrong.

A: there you have it, the unsung heroes of our city, the money they get is very less compared to the work they are expected to do. Yet they do so, with an aviator on their eyes and a whistle on their lips…

** Yes we do….

**there is a good charge he will be discharged by tomorrow evening. He is responding well to the treatment… he had lost some fluids that had led to *medical jargon that sounded like skeptic seema, Ulysses etc.*

A: We have to stop here…we have come to the end of this show...

 How many more people need to die before the conductors start handing out change…? Are we going to take this lying down?  As per the survey conducted by your news channel, randomly, a few minutes back, one in every 1.2345 people are cheated out of their change; many among them are women and children...

The two rupees, the one rupee and the fifty paises are taking its toll on the already delicate budgets of the middle class household (aka aam admi)....

 Will this bus gate close??

********

******Later in the day

A: Earlier today, one of our correspondents managed to get a word on this from an eminent authority… This and more on the other side of the break,

Welcome back, this is an exclusive telecast and you are watching this on your favorite news channel.

Mr. Raghu : The central issue of concern, the lack of ‘change’ among the conductors is not a localized problem. It is widely prevalent all over India. This can’t be solved overnight with a wave of a magic wand. In the time of economic slowdown and rising prices, the demand for 50p 1 re or 2 rs coins have dropped. As a temporary measure, I've recommended to the government to inject 1 re and 50 paise coins to improve liquidity. Travelers will able to breathe l easier in a few months. I have also set the ball rolling to gradually phase out tickets that are fractions of ten in public transport. The extra cost borne by the passengers would be offset by the time and energy saved haggling.

I’d also take this opportunity to wish Shiva a speedy recovery. We are proud of you.

A: Thank you. So there we have, viewers out charismatic governor assuring us that things are going to be alright. The news has just come in that the Prime minister has offered Rs 1000 relief for all the hardships endured by Mr. Shiva. A relief of rs 500 has also been sanctioned to every member in his family. Close relatives have been sanctioned rs 100 and distant cousins are entitled to 50rs. Good news is that they will be handed out in denominations of rs 5,10 and 50.

This is all for today, we end the day with an important lesson,

Be the change you want to see….

We salute Shiva for showing us the way. Good night, Jai hind.

                                                                         ********

Good Luck

Many of us, in school, started reading the newspapers in our secondary or senior secondary. For most of us now, it has become a ritual, habit, custom or whatever one may call it. Do i remember everything I read? No. Never. I used to ridicule my father about his retentiveness and now I know, mine’s equally bad. But it is a healthy habit (in my opinion) and one ends up knowing a little more about the world than the morning before.

A person is drawn to certain parts of the paper more than the others especially when the habit is in its budding stages. These favorite parts clock regular reading time come what may. Over a period of time you like certain people and some are boring. This guy was among the first set of people I liked. He is probably five years older than me and I guess, the “connect” was easier. Though the humour was sophomoric, he was one of those guys who first made me think “how does he write like this”. I’m not a critic of repute and neither am I a social commentator.Now, if you ask me who my favorite columnists are, he might not figure in it. Maybe my tastes have changed; His tastes have changed. Both of us have grown out of that phase.

We grew out of it together, him, maturing as a writer and me moving on to different topics that fascinated me. This gradual shift over a period of years established a kinship of sorts. A one way pen friend if you may. A relationship, where you don’t want to know him more than his columns, lest, it disturbs the mental image. He wrote, I nodded my head in agreement. The snobbery, the ridicule and all the other snide remarks on the blogs, I had a lot of fun.

Now, I come across his movie, a good movie at that, and the kinship kicks in. Suddenly you feel proud of this guy… the “namba payyan da” thought creeps in and you find yourself cheering him on. You find yourself muttering: “I knew it”, “this is awesome” and wear a stupid smile of pride. You stop dissecting the movie; you watch it once more to find traces of the guy you liked. You wish him the very best silently.

Surely the journey would have been hard. Everybody faces their demons; everyone has a story to tell. I know he is as furiously proud of his first movie as he is of this. He brushes all that aside in artificial jest, the loss, the rejection; He has moved on, grown up and made up for all that he was found lacking for. He would have surely done a better job of this meandering passage too. Who cares, I’m furiously proud of my posts too…

I can’t watch every movie made by you, nor read everything written, but I will surely cheer with all my heart whenever I see/hear your mention… go on bro… 

Handshakes? NO…

Few days back, I resolved that I would greet people with a five (at least people of same cadre). In the corridors, in the mess, in the grounds, in the room; just stick my hands up, instead of forward; regardless of caste, creed, religion or sex. To my delight, I got a response every time I tried. Also, I got a smile along with the regular "hi" or "hello". Maybe I’m exaggerating. Maybe I’m trying to oversell my high fives. I don't know.Wait, I believe “thank you”s  are equally amazing . I’ll talk about that later, if need be, ie. if I end up over-killing with my promotion of high fives.

Anyway, recently, I was part of  this 7 day trek up in the Himalayas, Uttrakhand. At every check point, the instructor would ask for a count. A “count’ would be us lining up and sequentially shouting out the successive number with a hearty five as we passed him. The smile, the energy it gave us was magical. It seemed to boost up our flagging spirits & improved camaraderie at least for the next 5 min. Similarly, the morning count would relieve the residual grumpiness; a result of the 6am wake-up call.
This trek also included a visit to this school(CSR activity) at a village near new Tehri, which is about 2km above sea level. As I took my perch on parapet wall, looking on at the kids playing, a kid, about 8 years of age, walked towards me, inquisitive about this new guy on the wall. There was an obvious language barrier between us, one as big as the great wall of china. As he approached closer, I stuck out my hand instinctively and smiled. He leapt up and *clap*; we shared that smile. That, that is how simple a high five is, and that is how easy it works, everywhere; every time; the louder, the better.

Yes, it might not work for all of us, but neither does hand shake. A high five is shorter, more energetic and does not involve etiquette - how long, how short, how hard etc. that are associated with handshakes. Yes, there are drawbacks. A guy might end up slapping your face instead of your hand. Maybe you deserve it, maybe u don’t. If you don’t, you can slap him back as well; get it out of your system. Wait, I’m digressing. But seriously, try it, it is fun. Give them a five or ten if you are feeling particularly generous.

Thank you for your patient reading. Thank you very much 

*high five*

truly madly deeply...(trully, it means i'm deeply mad)

The dots are the thoughtbreaks , the blank spaces are silences…
the bold characters are articulate thoughts, the normal fonts are sounds & the italicized ones are parts of conversations.

PS 1: (prescript) If ur blog posts are not like this, u have no right to include words like random or rambling in ur blogs….

PS2 : I really am ashamed of the fact that the best terminal in India could be flooded with just two days of torrential rain…

******

Is It time? What? 15 more minutes? I’m fed up!! malfunctioning music player, boring news paper, costly burgers , idle travellators,stone faced people, aah! this place is stupid. The weather is dull, pleasant, but dull. What a boring day. The skies are grey, dull. No breeze , dull. Dull Dull Dull. what man!  what a magnificent airport. It is so Big and I’m so bored.

Why is this fat guy snoring? Hmm?... Hehe…  He will surely not clear the medical test. He’s too heavy.. oh no!! will I clear it?... someone give him a tight slap now, nincompoop!... someone? Anyone? please…  no?

krrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRSHhshhhshhhshshmmyumyumyum

hehehehe ....  the yawni of sleep or.. the snoozart of snore…  

Ah. Boarding!!  lets go… yaay

******

the travel time will be 30 minutes. 

 30?? what about on-flight refreshments? I’ve paid for this.

Ting ting

the flight is preparing for takeoff, please fasten ur seatbelts. Kripya Kursi ki beti band len..

Ting

you want me to bond with the chairman’s daughter kripya? Hehe hehehehe. .. sad joke??

Drrrrrrrrryaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarsssss                      lift offff….    Peace…   the calm…..  

lookie lookie the buildings are  sooo small…choo tiny…  cho chweet hihihi… ok shut up….

*******

Snacks ? already? The seat belt sign is still on you people!!

Sir a bun for you, sweet cake?

when will she come here? Will she be able to make it? Will she? The nation wants to know!!

Would you like to have frooty?

Oh yes… but hurry up…. Fast…  Or will I get it as I walk out of the plane?? “Thank you for flying with us, a pleasure, happy to be of service, go to hell etc. now take this cake and sandwich; it’s going to rot in here otherwise”.  will they do this in Hindi too??…  what is the Hindi word for rot?.... Anyway,I’m not hungry now, I’ll eat it on my way to the city… Google maps says it is 30 kms from the airport... 30 kms.. this Rishikesh is just 36kms from the same airport… If I were this airport I’d be suffering from an acute identity crisis… thankfully I’m not an airport… neither am I named Jolly Grant…  who am i?? spidermaaaan.. I suck…

******

What’s making news today??.. torrential rains at Dehradun, landslides along the Gangetic banks.. yes, and all I can see from here is the  grey fog… DARK grey fog.…TAR… ithna TAR *sponge wringing black liquid bleeding stuffs* 

eek! turbulence…  this is exactly how I shake my hand before throwing dice…. Six! Take the ladder to…  hey, water is condensing on the glass and streaking across. Wow. Wowowwow. that was a sexy wing flap, also mildly scary.will it tear off?? Oops!…  should be fun if it does tear off…  good time cartwheeling & barrel rolling before dying.. weee. Ok.

5  mins to land…

where is my snack??… this pilot seems to be having a great time harassing them stewardesses..wonder when she’ll start throwing  those packages at us; like they throw food packages from a relief helicopter…. More turbulence.. hehehe… she's handing out stuff like a tipsy town bus conductor.. 

Captain: we are starting our descent shortly. Cabin crew kindly take your seat.

Where is my bun yo? Gimme my bun!!. Sir cake? yes. sandwich? yes. frooty? yaya. Now run and buckle up u…

*stretch* I still can’t see a thing outside my window… will we crash into the mountains? wing is totally wet and seems to be chattering…  Aerodynamically…  the wing is... forces of… ok screw it… ooh! Another wing flap...  The craft is jack’s blindness…

******

Ha!  I think I see some greenery, yes definitely green, not black not grey… we are flying under the clouds now… This is going to be fun; the wing flaps have not ceased, The wind is still naughty… and the runway is going to be super slick.

BOOM DRRRRRRRRRRRRRWHOOSHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Phew! On solid ground , now get out get out get out everyone… such a small airport…reminds me of the one at Jorhat , Assam. One had to walk across the tarmac to reach the baggage carousel… let me out!! hey you! old lady.. move ya… thankfully it is not raining “30km from the city”… what a contrast!! T3 & Jolly Grant... shuffle shuffle shuffle… ok people enough!  just get DOWN…

*crackle*

zinda hoon yaaaar khafi hai  hehe nice touch, player … khafi haiiii… shuffle shuffle shuffle

Thank you for flying jet airways

Eeeee

Thank you sir

Eeeee

Tiptoptiptop  tip

HELLO  DehrawaitWHaaaaa  ? :O

Jolly Grant

|=|

"We deserve a break"

During the last few years, I have had the privilege of travelling across the lengths of this country, some backed by solid reasons, others on flimsy excuses of sickness. Over these journeys, I have come to realize that the few train journeys, the long distance ones, offered me the quiet moments that I missed. For the outside world, I was moving, working, but for me, the journey stretching across two nights was therapeutic.

"All these people!! Bah”

When you listen (I generally listen, I like it that way) to the chatter around you for 20 hours you come to realize how ideas manifest themselves. How everyone around you are as confused about what they are doing as you are. How each one of them have a theory for what is wrong with the world and how most of them are as right as they are wrong. How for the next 20 hours you are stuck with these people and finally think about why the word "stuck" came to your mind and how by default, you decided not to like someone.

"Oh dear!! Two days with them”

To stop judging people around you is very very very difficult. The worst, in my view, is judging your co-passengers. They might not feature in your pages ever again. These journeys throw light on a lot of prejudices you harbour, makes you see how stupid you are to have them. Based on some observations, I realize, most of us, including me decide some are more agreeable than others. The whimsical prejudices are.Ok..(" I don't like your face :P" ones) but there are others and we all know what those are. I don't want to pass these prejudices on to the next generation. Cultural prejudices once formed, are hard to wheedle out, and the society doesn't let them die. These days, when faced with something I don't like, I ask myself, "so what?"

"Maybe I should book AC next time...."

I work in an air conditioned cubicle everyday,10 hours, amid fake smiles, resigned smiles, devious smiles, knowing smiles, sad smiles, helpless smiles, hapless smiles, creepy smiles, 12 hours on some days. I go back home empty, spent mentally and physically. Here, I see a daughter talk to her father, a mother speak to her son because the phone has run out of charge, the delight of a six year old on finding out she has the sole ownership of the corridor and also some genuine laughter, a thing so rare, I forgot the last time I heard it. I have neither traveled, cramped, in a general compartment nor have I been blessed with perfect journeys every time I've stepped out.I've had my share of summer RAC journeys. How I travel is my choice. I will travel the way I want to, be it 2A or 2S .I will always enjoy it without subjecting myself to guilt trips on the underprivileged. There is something magical about a train thundering through the plains and nothing can change that.

I do grumble about the heat, I do get bored now and then, but when I get down at my destination, I'm humbled, wiser and sated with inexplicable happiness. So, the next time you see someone stupidly staring out of the widow with a smile on his face, say "Hi". :)

inglorious batchmates

The plan would proceed without a hitch, the gang thought. The contact, an actress, an agent, hidden right under the nose of the nefarious. They would pose as her spot boys, handymen or whatever, and enter the precinct the next day. Shankar and Kumar were ready,”kill the chairman at all costs. He has to die.” There was a problem though, their tamil was bad and they had a distinct accent. “No, this won’t do! We’ll be exposed”... They decide to get themselves Marathi aliases to go with their accents.

The next day the atrium is shrewdly monitored by the secret service and leading the posse is an able colonel. “Hi Ragini what a pleasure, you look as resplendent as ever” . “thank you, that’s very sweet of you…” the exchange of pleasantries continues for sometime while the two look on restlessly.” Who are these two?” “oh these two are my assistants, we were nearby shooting for a movie and thought we could pop in for a peek.”

“You don’t seem a political person..”.. “I’m not, The chairman is kinda cute, baby faced, thought I could pinch his cheek while he’s here” she titters.  “Hmmm.. unga peru?” “oh! these two are from cochin”..” oh!.. *random Malayalam lines the author doesn’t understand*”. She realizes her slip,” they are basically Marathi people, their command of other languages are poor…” “oh.. ok btw ragini, where is your regular assistant?” 

“rachit? You will not believe me, it is pretty funny, he sprained his leg on a mountaineering expedition”

“hahahahhahahah hmmmf hahha, that’s hilarious, but I saw him with you yesterday at barista… unless of course he injured himself climbing parangi malai yesterday night…” uneasy silence…. “Lighten up, you know I tease rough, now where are your passes?”

 She hands over their passes.

“Oh great names, I love Marathi“; he goes all ‘mane,thene,ponmane’ at them as they stand flustered uttering a ’ka??’ now and then. After some time : “let me get your names straight. What’s yours?.... mangathram roadside? Can I hear it once more please? Magathram lodshed? Kotse is it? Like the side dish we have with pongal… oh kotse, with a G…. Brilliant, btw why don’t you two start hitting the gym??... oh god where are my manners, I’m Col. HNS Landa.” What? “ HN Shyam Landa”…

*dream breaks*

author : “what crap”

featuring #shaky #kumboy #raggit #shyam #venky 

oh yes #abhi too, special thanks... 

bad poetry for the aching stomach....

#1

The train chugs along, creeping through 

The towns,the villages and lands fallow;

sniffing and searching for a fresh brew

Of piping hot rasam with spicy potato.

#2

The sky-scrapers, the double-deckers and the coastal wave-breakers,

The pubs, the party and the rampant “impropriety”,

The lights, the nights and the guilty delights,

The posse, their push & their pull – they all seem passé

When one craves for a well made masal dosai.

notes:

The poet also misses medu vada, he recognizes the tonal consonance of chembur and sambar. But,as the destination is fast approaching, he packs his bags, salivating...

thoughtscape...

An incessant chatter is met with monosyllable responses: an ah, an oh, an, um, their steps echoing across the alley leading up to the bridge. The little one takes to the stairs with a burst of speed and waits for the other at mid flight. The other gazes at the lake that is almost dry except for the moon glistening off its wet leaves; leaves that have sucked the water up, unbridled. He starts humming a tune, finds the kid getting impatient, switches to a whistle as he catches up two steps at a time. The kid is fascinated. "Two steps?? I want to try”. He stretches across the steps two at a time. Finding this too slow and tiresome he races up, covering the remaining steps one at a time.

On the landing, hands on the railing, the kid watches the gleaming lines running to infinity. He catches up and the they cross over the tracks in silence, lost in thought. On the other side, a train comes to stop. Slowly the two climb down, admiring this magnificence from afar,landing on the platform as the train pulls out. The two pairs of eyes follow every coach out of the station; the faces so similar, the expressions reflecting the ties of blood they share.

After a minute or two: “papa come, we’ll walk to the end of this station”

“ OK”

He walks; the kid trots along, letting him direct his steps while he gaped, agog.They walk till the end; turn around. The signal has been green for a while now. Soon, the 9:00 PM pulls in, on time; big, beastly. Though accustomed to it, the kid clutches his father’s shirt bracing for the blaring horn. The engine passes, no horn. “yay”. He relaxes. *HONK*. He jumps . He is cheated. He stares at the receding engine balefully….

“come.. “. Distracted by gentle hands, he moves towards a coach that has come to stop.

“mama” he shrieks. She alights, takes him in her hands and plays with his hair, smiling at papa.

The three of them walk back towards the flight of stairs as a gentle breeze that was inconspicuous till now blows across, playing with her hair. Papa smiles.

This is something I wrote long time back… I used to commute to office by the suburban trains. I was waiting for a train home, when I wrote this. The station, If one has used this route, can be associated with Chetpet station, where I usually got down.

xi sirji

This kaipulla got me very interested about history and stuff; and as I was poring through his blog I started wondering - what if, what if the Chinese had landed in Rome, or, what if, the Romans had landed in china.

what if....

Hi I’m king Romus. Wassup??

Hi I’m Xi. he is my minister Hi & she is my mistress He.

hi Hi,hi He... *sniggers* it's a pleasure to meet you.

what was that??

we were getting the pronunciation right...

It's He & Hi..

Ok *starts* Hi, He *unable to control* hihihehehahhahahuhuhu

Good you seem to know a lot of people in my family.. I'm impressed.

*wipes tear surreptitiously* Oh yes we take great pride in our databases Mr..uh....

Xi.

Ah yes, wait Xi? But you are just i

No I’m Xi , Xi Xiabo.

What?? No! you might be i Jiabo , but xi? No.. see… how many people are standing in front of you on our side?? i,ii,iii,iv,v... ok?? Similarly, you are i, he is ii and so on.. get it? Just count, it's easy.

No I’m Xi,

Ok where are the other x??

What x?? look.. I’ll explain clearly.. I’m Xi, standing over the hills yonder is my son, Xi the second, and beside him, my grandson, Xi the third....

You mean you people are named xi,xii & xiii??

No Xi(I),Xi(II),Xi(III)..

*face-palm*

hehehihihhahahahuhu... 

PS: Do visit kaipullai's blog... contains absorbing analysis of various events.

rage...

I didn't talk much about it.... probably because I believed that talking did not solve issues.
Recently, my friend had blogged about it, and I thought I'd write this, if not for anything, at least for mental catharsis. the original post was made as a comment on this blog.
what follows is a personal opinion and might be a bit idealistic,insane,etc.
I'm a feminist, rather I try to lean towards "equality among sexes". So the other day among friends, I encountered "women are physically weak" while discussing recent events. Are women physically weak?? Maybe they are. I don't know; most women are stronger than me physically. But that’s beside the point. I don't believe most men are in the pink of their health either.
Rapists are cowards and hunt in packs. And when you are faced with danger, your mental makeup comes into the picture, not just the physical build. In my opinion, The Indian women are mentally weak. They have been fed on the traditional values that border on sycophantic worship of the male and their superiority. A female has to adjust & adhere to the societal mores. A female has to be accommodating; a female must know her place. A dignified female should be silent and composed. Bullshit et. al.
From a very early age a male companion is sent with her if she goes out alone. At college, male friends accompany the female group (most cases) and later you have the male friend or colleague accompanying her back home from work. After all this when a woman finds herself alone, she comes up with questions that are on the lines of: “how can I walk back home alone?”, “can I call him and ask him to drop me home??” .
Yes I agree the streets are not safe and the men are responsible for it. But when the women already feel insecure, I don’t believe there is much to be done. I don’t blame the women for this mind set, the need to cower rather than stand up and fight. I blame all the fathers, I blame all the brothers I blame all the male colleagues who convinced her that she was helpless. Personally, I have told at least a handful of my female friends to get a pepper spray for themselves; as far as I know none of them have got one. They are pretty comfortable,the men are always around.
Sometime back a guy asked me "will you let your daughter out??" . My father gave me a lot of freedom and it increased with my age; so did the responsibilities associated with it. What would I do if I had a kid? I would like her to enjoy this life with the same freedom. Would she roam around after the dark? Yes. She will.
Life is too short to forgo small pleasures. If something has to happen it will. But I’ll make a difference. I’ll tell her about the dangers that lurk; I’ll ask her to stay calm when they present themselves. I’ll give her the first can of pepper spray, I’ll teach her the value of self defense. I’ll tell her not to be afraid of the dark. My wife might curse me for all this and I might lose many a night’s sleep over it. but when faced with a pack of lecherous cowards, she might be able to fight them off and I would have made a small contribution towards the “confident women” ideal that I really wish was visible. I’m not talking about the ‘confident at work’, ‘confident around guys’ types. I am talking about a truly self assured woman who can command the respect she has been denied for so long…

This is dedicated to all those of you whose beautiful dreams were mercilessly ripped apart by the appearance of random characters chanting the lords name just when things were beginning to get exciting...

Long long time ago, there was this young fellow who went to the forest in search of wisdom. He Sat under a shady tree & pondered on the shady mysteries of life. Days became months, months became years and over time, his grew bored of his beard. He longed for a razor. He was trapped, he was bored & he realized that the village folk would expect him to know something more than them if he went back now.But one fine day, he was shook from his reverie (sleep) by a Bombay circus clown. The clown wanted enlightenment & He promptly traded his shady spot under the tree for some magic tricks.

The villagers were awed by his magic, he was God, He was the god’s messenger, He was a swami. As his recent passport sized photographs didn't support his bearded appearance, he gained in mystery what he had lost in identity. They started calling him ‘swamiji’. Swamiji had fun with his new found popularity. Being a pioneer, the rules of swamihood were not really rigid. But as they say, all good things must come to an end. This was no different.

The swami business was proving to be lucrative and swamijis started cropping up everywhere. Recession had affected the job market and the swami business was getting crowded. Some of them realized they needed to diversify. Just when faith seemed to be bottoming out, one guy came up with this brilliant plan of naming himself baba.

“baba, what is this baba??”, a man asked.

 “ arrey baba ‘am dev” ; roughly translated as “my man, I’m god”.

This was simple, and effective.. no messenger, no confusion, just god.

But,in due time , people lost their faith anyway. The baba’s and the swamis were not enough.They were old, boring and had no class. The masses craved for variety. This led to the ‘sri’ movement . These ‘sri <name> jis’ were metrosexual, classy, stylish people who rode around on bikes. The youth were bowled over. They took over the media by storm appearing on shows morning, noon and night. The rage caught on. These people were cool.

But, there was an inherent problem to this movement. Some were born with names such as sri ram, sri Krishna, srinath , srikanth etc., This meant that they were born as good as these swamis and when they joined the cult they became sri sri ram, sri sri Krishna, etc. this was one sri more and it was totally unacceptable to the others who had names like Ponnambalam, Pannerselvam etc. This spurred on the sri sri revolution.

Some of the ambitious members off this clan thought “why stop with two?”. Think beyond the two they said. “ Don’t I deserve it? obviously, I’m holier than thou.. “ there were others who felt “look! I’m cool & I’ve a cooler French beard, so ya, why not??.”  One of them took a bold step; “ look I’m not murali anymore, You all can call me sri sri sri muralidhara swami from now..” Till date ‘sri sri sri’ remains to be ‘the coolest’, ‘the latest’, ‘the fad’, ‘the vogue’, etc..

As the decade marches into its next year, Experts eagerly await the next generation, the sri sri sri sri or mathematically sri^4 swamis. “With ponytails, bandanas and braided goatees, they are just around the corner, Let’s wait and see…”

oh ya you might wanna see this... he's a sri sri swamiji(grade 2 or rather S2).... 

check out his stills.....

http://madhuramurali.org/index.php?option=com_pagecontent&key=vision

Based on this passage, answer the questions that follow…

Q2. What does the author try to convey through this passage?

Q1. Suggest a suitable title for this passage.

Snippets

Hey, you know how my day starts? All groggy and muddled… I don’t remember going to sleep & neither do I remember waking up. I find myself in a strange place everyday.Right now, I don’t understand where I’m going with this. So, I get up, brush, bath, hmmm..breathe maybe? doesn't make sense?  I just wanted three b’s in a row and sound a little stylish.Anyway, I get ready & dress up real dandy.I smile at the thought of my deodorant bringing down heavenly beauties, craving for sex. I spray, I wait, nothing. The Smile lingers. That smile,that smile disturbs me.

That smile starts a train of thought that runs throughout the day, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously. Oh! how beautiful you are when you smile. I smile a little more. It is a beautiful day, it really is, and all days are. I look at all those long faces on the road and my conscience says “relativity bro, ur just too happy”.

The fact that I have not even spoken to you much doesn’t bother me much, you see, I’m happy and you are beautiful, so I’m happy and you are beautiful. I realize I’m repeating myself. I’m also mad. I think I might be poetic too. Wait, let me try. ‘My love, I smile at your reflection of me.... wait, my reflection of you? Well Whatever, I’ll leave poetry to some drugged/drunk loser. For the record, optics was last visited way back in my tenth grade, so it’s a little difficult to frame puns, sorry poetry. Oh ya! by the way, your new frame suits you. You bought it from some turkey optics right. No?

Oh. Office,already? oh no, office. no noo.

*2 hours*

I work I work, work work work, I die,I work, I die, I reincarnate nine times, I work work work. By the way is this Vishnu a cat?? No? He was never one? Tortoises are cute though. Oh wait, work calls. No! nono! I will not work. I will sing, I will dance. Hahaha.dance? I am actually laughing my guts out inside my brain.. wow this anatomy textbook just jumped into the fire.. y??. Guts and brain looked kind of similar. No? sorry. Anyway, Who cares about all these things after tenth grade? Anyway, dance? hahaha... 

I try to stop it, but A thin smile escapes out of my lips, A playful smile, a mischievous grin. oh your lips, darn you are so cute.

*random FFDing*

Exhausting work is exhausting and I return back home exhausted. I’m spent I’m tired & I’m stuck in a traffic jam. So, technically, metaphorically, literally and unfortunately I’m not back home yet & hence while wait for the signal to turn green, I retract my earlier sentence citing temporal inconsistencies.  

I wish there was someone talking to me. I wish you were talking to me. I wish you would lean forward to listen while I rattle intelligently on inconsequential stuff. “ya, she did that once and you barely opened your mouth”. Ok wise one, It was not my fault. It was her fault; she was the one who behaved all ‘beautiful and cute’.

Oh I’m home… hey the day is almost over. “What did I do today?” Hehehe.. nice question. “No really” Good joke.. “no seriously”.. ok shut up..  I’m going to talk to someone...

Hi... How was your day?

‘boring, yours?’

Boring, but you kept me in high spirits..

‘Ok go to hell’

Oh that bad??.. hmmm what happened

*2 hours*

‘So basically the day stinks’

Hmm use a deo spray, and check if beautiful girls appear outta nowhere

‘what would I do with girls? And that is a pathetic joke , bye’

ok I take that back…

‘hmmm I’m going to sleep, I’ll talk to you later’

What? already??  ok… bye sweetheart

‘good night J ’

That smiley…. that smile.....

 Disclaimer: This post might have been really incoherent and idiotic, but then it's not something new is it?? 

PS:

It has been two years and some more with this blog and I'm really happy I started writing. I've made a conscious effort not to stick to anything/any topic in particular and it has helped me write more freely. In hindsight, this might be one of those few blogs that are truly "random". so much for being different...

wishing you all a beautiful 2013... cheers!!!