Source: The Hindu, dated 13th April, 2006. Newscape section (that appears at the top of the page)
Found, at last
The police in California recovered a motorcycle 35 years after it was stolen, as it was being shipped to an unsuspecting person in Finland who bought it on online auction eBay. It was a year-old Yamaha 360.
Define cool. C'mon, humor me - define cool (in the context of a person, not temperature!). Do you immediately get this image of a hip girl (or guy) in jeans and t-shirt with a funky hair cut/color (4 Cs - cut, color, curls, combed), nose ring, toe ring, ear ring, orange tinted Oakley, a generous splash of Gap..you know what I'm talkin' about, right? So does that define cool? My question in short: Does attire define cool? Even if you say No, I know deep down you know it's not true. Even I've been ingrained like that - jeans is cool, salwar-kameez is not. Saree? Getouttahere!
My rant arises from a conversation I had some time back. X and I were having lunch and at the table nearby there was a girl with jasmine flowers in her hair (gajra in Hindi, malligai poo in Tamil, malli poo in Malayalam and malle poovulu in Telugu). The fragrance was awesome. If you live anywhere in Tamil Nadu, it's no big deal - agreed. But if you live in Hyderabad, then 'seeing' white jasmine flowers is a miracle in itself - what you find will generally be in varying shades of brown (flower wearers would know brown means dried!). So getting back..X and I saw that and I was really missing my college times when I used to keep those flowers every single day. I love them.
X immediately said, 'Wow what a fragrance! Should tie that on my wrist and walk around!'. Maybe now would be the time to mention that X was a girl (and not a malluveti minor - that's Tamil for a guy who wears a pink silk kurta, white silk dhoti with a gold chain around his neck that ends in a pendant shaped like two cornucopias stuck at the heads..with gajra tied to his wrist..get the picture? A bit like Shakti Kapoor with gajra in his hand..).
I hid my shock. Instead, I said, 'Yeah..reminds me of college times. I used to wear that every day'.
X actually doubled over in amazement. She went, 'What? Eww!'.
Two words are enough actually to understand what she meant. You're sooo not cool! You wore flowers like that? Were do you live, Keezhakalkandarkovil?! (That's a cute little railway station on the way from Trichy to Chennai..hee hee) What a pattikaadu! (Tamil for a plain village girl). I didn't say anything on the topic after that. We went our respective ways to our desks.
But this conversation (if you can call it that) kind of got me thinking as to why people think it's not the IN thing to be what you always were. It's no big deal for me to cover up my 'un-cool' habit of keeping flowers by saying 'Yeah, I used to be that dumb!' - but why should I? Who defined cool like that?
I say it's not your attire but your attitude that shows if you're cool or not. I don't think it's un-cool to go to a 5-star hotel and order Masala Dosa when everyone around you is ordering Bouillabaisse and Beef Stroganoff. I don't think it's un-cool to go to the most happening multiplex or shopping complex wearing your favorite cotton churidhar - with your hair braided instead of left open. Wearing a pair of jeans (torn at the knee caps, mind you) doesn't make you cool - people would always find that out the moment you open your mouth.
LOOKING cool is easy - any Ann, Mary and Jane can do it. But BEING cool - well, that's something you gotto work on. That's something you cannot take from your wardrobe and just wear.
A person who is 'cool' will not think it's un-cool to wear jasmine flowers in your hair. Yeah, that's the way it works.
X - if you're reading this (by some freak of nature, ofcourse): Yeah, I used to keep jasmine flowers in my hair when I was in college. And guess what? I would do it even now if only I could get fresh jasmine flowers. If that makes me un-cool, then yeah - I am un-cool. And I'm not going to change.
It didn't hurt anymore. She'd gotten used to it. The screams just died in her throat these days. All that remained was this constant ache in the heart. And a sense of betrayal that refused to die down no matter how much her mind thought otherwise. He had loved her. She was conscious of the past tense every time that sentence came up. Had loved her. She doubted if there was any left now. She had always believed that a heart that loved cannot hate. If hate comes in, love tiptoes away. Unheard, unseen, but felt by the heart. But she stayed on because she still loved him. Inspite of everything, she did. And she was not going to give up. She also believed that love conquers all. She was also conscious of the foreboding in her heart that something was to go wrong. Very wrong.
He hated himself. Not her, but himself. He hated his dependence on alcohol. He hated himself everytime he hurt her. Physically or otherwise. He longed for those wonderful times they had spent with each other when he was not the monster he was now. The laughs, the long never ending sweet nothings...her smile! He could not remember the last time he had seen her smile. He had loved that smile above all. Now all he found were tears. And fear. There was always a fear in her eyes. He sometimes wished she wouldn't take all that he did and just leave. But she never let go. He loved her more for that. But somehow, that could never stop him from having that one last drink.
They found their bodies the next morning. She lay crumpled at the foot of the bed, the bedstead streaked crimson - crimson like the floor beneath her. His body was hanging from a rope tied to the fan - looking down at her, asking for her forgiveness and loving her more than ever.
Do you believe in God?” the old man asked, as if we had known each other forever but had somehow neglected to discuss that one topic. I assumed he wanted reassurance that his departure from this life would be the beginning of something better. I gave a kind answer.
“There has to be a God,” I said. “Otherwise, none of us would be here.” It wasn’t much of a reason, but I figured he didn’t need more.
“Do you believe God is omnipotent and that people have free will?” he asked.
“That’s standard stuff for God. So, yeah.”
“If God is omnipotent, wouldn’t he know the future?”
“Sure.”
“If God knows what the future holds, then all our choices are already made, aren’t they? Free will must be an illusion.”
He was clever, but I wasn’t going to fall for that trap. “God lets us determine the future ourselves, using our free will,” I explained.
“Then you believe God doesn’t know the future?”
“I guess not,” I admitted. “But he must prefer not knowing.”
“So you agree that it would be impossible for God to know the future and grant humans free will?”
“I hadn’t thought about it before, but I guess that’s right. He must want us to find our own way, so he intentionally tries not to see the future.”
“For whose benefit does God withhold his power to determine the future?” he asked.
“Well, it must be for his own benefit, and ours, too,” I reasoned. “He wouldn’t have to settle for less.”
The old man pressed on. “Couldn’t God give humans the illusion of free will? We’d be just as happy as if we had actual free will, and God would retain his ability to see the future. Isn’t that a better solution for God than the one you suggested?”
“Why would God want to mislead us?”
“If God exists, his motives are certainly unfathomable. No one knows why he grants free will, or why he cares about human souls, or why pain and suffering are necessary parts of life.”
“The one thing I know about God’s motives is that he must love us, right?” I wasn’t convinced of this myself, given all the problems in the world, but I was curious about how he would respond.
“Love? Do you mean love in the way you understand it as a human?”
“Well, not exactly, but basically the same thing. I mean, love is love.”
“A brain surgeon would tell you that a specific part of the brain controls the ability to love. If it’s damaged, people are incapable of love, incapable of caring about others.”
“So?”
“So, isn’t it arrogant to think that the love generated by our little brains is the same thing that an omnipotent being experiences? If you were omnipotent, why would you limit yourself to something that could be reproduced by a littleclump of neurons?”
I shifted my opinion to better defend it. “We must feel something similar to God’s type of love, but not the same way God feels it.”
“What does it mean to feel something similar to the way God feels? Is that like saying a pebble is similar to the sun because both are round?” he responded.
“Maybe God designed our brains to feel love the same way he feels it. He could do that if he wanted to.”
“So you believe God wants things. And he loves things, similar to the way humans do. Do you also believe God experiences anger and forgiveness?”
“That’s part of the package,” I said, committing further to my side of the debate.
“So God has a personality, according to you, and it is similar to what humans experience?”
“I guess so.”
“What sort of arrogance assumes God is like people?” he asked.
“Okay, I can accept the idea that God doesn’t have a personality exactly like people. Maybe we just assume God has a personality because it’s easier to talk about it that way. But the important point is that something had to create reality. It’s too well-designed to be an accident.” “Are you saying you believe in God because there are no other explanations?” he asked.
“That’s a big part of it.”
“If a stage magician makes a tiger disappear and you don’t know how the trick could be done without real magic, does that make it real magic?”
“That’s different. The magician knows how it’s done and other magicians know how it’s done. Even the magician’s assistant knows how it’s done. As long as someone knows how it’s done, I can feel confident that it isn’t real magic. I don’t personally need to know how it’s done,” I said.
“If someone very wise knew how the world was designed without God’s hand, could that person convince you that God wasn’t involved?”
“In theory, yes. But a person with that much knowledge doesn’t exist.”
“To be fair, you can only be sure that you don’t know whether that person exists or not.”
Found C n H treasure on the internet. Not going to divulge it to anyone. MUAHAHAHA!!!
Source: Internet (but, ofcourse!)
Note: Don't ruin your eyesight (or what's left of it) trying to read from the image - that's just namesake (uppuku chappani types). All the text in the image is given below. You're welcome. ;-)
A letter from Santa
My hands were all shaky, My face had gone pale. A letter from Santa Just arrived in the mail!
It was hand-written In old-fashioned ink pen. It was handsomely printed And dated twelve ten.
"Dear Calvin," it said, "I'm writing because This year I've repealed My 'Naughty/Nice' laws."
"So now, I urge you: Be vulgar and crude! I LIKE it when children Are boorish and rude!"
"Burp at the table! Gargle your peas! Never say 'thank you', 'you're welcome' or 'please'."
"Talk back to your mother! Don't do as you're told! Stick your tongue out At your dad if he scolds!"
"Drive everyone crazy, I really don't care! Act like a jerk, Anytime, anywhere!"
"I'm changing the rules! The BAD girls and boys Will be, from now on, The ones who get toys!"
"Good little kids make Me sick, it's no joke. Sincerely, signed Santa.". ..And then I awoke.
I hate being good (or trying to fake it). Six days until Christmas! I don't think I'll make it.
I sit in front of the screen, Words fail me! I'm worried, what could that mean? Fingers poised on asdf jkl; Nothing, blank, zero, nil.
There is no dearth for inspiration, Blogs all around me, no lack of motivation! Then why this sudden lull, Why am I not able to write, no matter how hard I mull!
My head aches from the inactivity, Have I lost all my creativity?! That is a very serious prospect, you see - Without frequent writing, I'd be stranded at sea!
For writing is what I do best I pretend to take it lightly, ofcourse, only in jest! Me - I'd like a pen 'n pad even on my hearse - Look! All my anguish is coming out in verse!
Fine Print: Before you think how pretentious of me to say I have writer's block when I have been updating my blog almost every day, here's the real deal - I find myself writing, but not writing what I actually want to. And it kills me to be like that. I'm waiting for a huge bolt of creative thunder to hit my otherwise dull brain to make me finish what I've begun. Or atleast make me start writing the one thing I've been procrastinating for aeons.
The morning seemed more beautiful than usual. She noticed the flowers this time. And the chirping birds flying hither and thither. She realized she'd been smiling too broadly and stopped - what will people think! She smiled again. The wait for the bus didn't seem long, even though it was a good 20 minutes before it came. She got a window seat, again, something that rarely happens.
What's with today, she thought. He had called last night and said he wanted to talk to her about something very important. That's what was different about today. His call. And what it could mean. He had asked her to come to the icecream parlor where they'd gone on the first day of college. Why there, she wondered. Why not the college itself? She smiled again. Maybe because it was special.
She wasn't his only friend, neither was he her's. But she'd always felt there was something more between them. An unknown chemistry, if you could call it that. He never flirted with her like he did with the other girls. There was this unsaid silence between them when their other friends were around. And she could never look into his eyes. He hadn't got her anything for Valentine's Day last week. He hadn't got anyone else anything either. And he had smiled at her near the flower stall - he had looked at the roses, turned to her and smiled. She closed her eyes and saw that smile over and over again. She missed him.
The day seemed the longest ever. She couldn't wait to get out of class soon enough. When the last bell rang, she had to stop herself from running out. She took an auto to the icecream parlor. She reached the parlor 15 minutes ahead. He was not there yet. She went in and took the table in a corner next to the bay window. She adjusted the flower vase on the table and smoothed down the tablecloth. The girl in her. She heard the sound of a bike and looked out - it was him. But then...he'd come with another friend of their's. A girl.
Yeah, musing is what you can do on a Monday. Especially if you had a fun weekend. Don't get too happy, I'm not going into the details (makes me hate today all the more and I'm trying to keep my Monday-bashing to a minimum since it has started to appear in my Y! 360 testimonials). Right, so the weekend..some things I observed -
* If you think sitting in front of a computer all day long, typing away god-knows-what for god-knows-when deadlines, is a boring job then think again - there is a person in this world who's job is to repeat the same 15 lines over and over again to complete strangers and listen to sub-standard music. Feel lucky to do what you do.
* Nothing is free in this world. You have to spend precious money for anything and everything. Money saved somewhere is money spent elsewhere.
* When it rains, it not only pours, it also ruins good roads. Not to mention the ankle-deep mud water in front of your own gate.
* Mango icecream can be white in color.
* Chocolate chips in chocolate icecream lose their taste after a while - since it's icecream, your tongue loses its sense of taste after sometime and then its just like chewing tasteless chocolate chips. Which tastes like tasteless chocolate chips.
* You can feel cold even in summer. If you live in Hyderabad, that is.
* A lake cannot be a substitute for a beach. Ever.
* Most people on the roads do not know how to drive. They are also blind, deaf and plain dumb.
* Some shops still close on Sundays. (We shopping-mall-generations forget that sometimes).
* The shops you want to visit are usually the ones that will be closed. (Muphy's Law, perhaps?)
* It is very easy to get (back) into a dilemma seconds after making a seemingly clear and satisfactory decision.
* There are really beautiful flowers near the sidewalk on the way home. Every single day.
* The anxiety of spending vanishes the moment the credit card is swiped and the amount entered. What follows is good ol' guilt.
* Not blogging for 3 days makes you feel completely and absolutely out of touch with the rest of the blog world.
* Irrespective of the weekend being good or bad, Mondays on my blog almost always has posts like this one.
(I wrote this ages ago - never got around to posting it. Considering what big a chocolate-freak I am, that is a wonder! I'm in the mood for some heavy-duty chocolate right now, hence this post - here's to 'Heaven on Earth' - Chocolat!)
I love chocolates . Who doesn't eh? You could say I'm a chocoholic. There's nothing better than chocolate - the rich, creamy, smooth chocolaty feeling..sometimes (ok, most times..er..all the time!), chocolate is the answer to all my troubles. I dedicate this post to chocolate. The second love of my life (don't get ideas, my husband knows this already, so I'm ok).
Why chocolate? * Why not chocolate? * Scientific studies have proved that chocolate stimulates the happy places of your brain - it does make you happy.
Some things to remember - * If you've got melted chocolate all over your hands, you're eating it too slowly. * It's ok if you don't share your chocolates. You're not expected too. * Do not insult chocolate by worrying about your calorie intake - A nice box of chocolates can provide your total daily intake of calories in one place. Isn't that handy?! * Keep chocolate on person at all times. It's like a first-aid kit - you never know when it will come in handy. * Chocolate should never be an add-on to other foods. Other foods can be add-ons to chocolate. * If you become rich overnight (filthy rich at that), first buy all the chocolate factories in the world. Then think of that Mercedes or the Crown Jewels. * Put 'Eat chocolate' as the first thing on any 'To Do' list - that way you'll get atleast one thing done right away.
If you're on a diet, some tips to still continue eating chocolate - * Chocolate covered raisins, cherries, orange slices & strawberries all count as fruit, so eat as many as you want. (I personally don't prefer this - raisins, cherries, etc are places where chocolate should be!!) * Eat a chocolate bar before each meal. It'll take the edge off your appetite and you'll eat less. * Store your chocolate on top of the fridge. Calories are afraid of heights, and they will jump out of the chocolate to protect themselves. * Chocolate has many preservatives. Preservatives make you look younger.
Problem Solving Problem: Bored, nothing to do. Solution: Eat chocolate.
P: Tired, feel like crashing but got work to do. S: Eat chocolate and then crash anyway. The chocolate is to take the guilt away.
P: Got scolded by Mom/Dad/Spouse, feel like crying. S: Chocolate. Don't share it with the scolder - it's only for the scoldee!
P: Late night. No sleep. S: Chocolate. And then keep awake all night feeling happy and content. Sleep the next morning.
P: Nothing good on TV. Channel surfed till fingers ache. Still nothing. S: Chocolate. One bite for each hopeless channel. My TV has 88 channels (proper programs, with no static) - go figure!
Bottom line, anything that is called a 'problem', has a solution. The solution is chocolate.
FAQ Q: How to get 2 pounds of chocolate home from the store in a hot car? A: Eat it in the parking lot.
Q: Why is there no such organization as Chocoholics Anonymous? A: Because no one wants to quit.
Q: I could not eat all my chocolate, what should I do? A: If you can't eat all your chocolate, keep it in the freezer. But if you can't eat all your chocolate, what's wrong with you?!!
Q: What's better than chocolate? A: Chocolate in the hands of a friend/spouse who hates chocolate!
Q: What's "The Chocoholic 12 Step Program"? A: The Chocoholic 12 Step Program: Never be more than 12 steps away from chocolate!
Unless you're dead and gone, no reason why you cannot eat chocolate.
If you're out of ideas, you can stop blinking - There is now a tool to do all the inking! Fill in the gap Using a Mind Map, I'm attending a workshop on Creative Thinking!
Mahi didn't know how that day had turned out to be so special. It started the way most days do - a lazy morning, followed by a hurried getting-ready-to-work routine and a rushed breakfast. Then began the short, but seemingly unending, ride to the railway station - on a TVS moped that once belonged to Appachan when he was a peon at the local registrar office. It was always in the family, so when it came to a two-wheeler to use for commuting, it was a natural choice! "This is the safest thing you can use when you park it in the railway station da kutta", said Pappa when the moped was handed down to Mahi.
The ride to the station would have been eventless if it werent for the tiny nail on the small by-lane that Mahi generally used, to avoid traffic. Two hours earlier, the nail had felt it was time for it's act of glory - all these days it had remained the only thing between an old man on a rickety old stool and the hard brown floor. The strain on the poor nail was so much that it decided to give way. Down fell the rickety old stool, taking the old man with it, to the hard brown floor. The impact of this fall sent the tiny nail flying on to the street - where it lay waiting for Mahi's moped.
As usual, Mahi stopped the moped for 2 minutes in front of the small Vinayaka temple and did the usual praying. It was more of a mechanical ritual than an expression of devotion. The moped knew, more than Mahi, to stop at the temple - come rain or shine. Mahi took the sharp turn into the by-lane and tried hard not to accelerate - the road was non-existent, but the potholes were very much there. The moped was in a good condition, but there was no escaping the fact that it was old! Mahi had thought of messing up the moped in the hopes of getting a new one, but that thought was driven out by Pappa's casual remark - "Mahikutta, it's just a matter of another 8 months. Then you're not going to be here after that. If this moped doesn't last, you could always take the bus for a while." So, this moped, no matter how old, was still Mahi's preferred mode of commute.
The nail was lying on the road, its head stuck between two pieces of stone and its pointed tip looking up to the skies. Call it fate or the laws of flying-objects, the nail was positioned to cause maximum damage to any made of rubber that passes over it. The moped, with Mahi on it, oblivious to the waiting nail, was coming down the very road.
When disaster struck in our case of the nail and the moped's tyre, the sonic effects were minimal, to the extent of being virtually undetectable. The moped didn't feel a thing but the nail on the other hand, had met the purpose of it's Creator. Barely 100 metres from ground zero, the moped realized what had happened. Mahi did too, although Mahi's realization was punctuated with 4 letter words that would have made Ammachchi do a somersault in her grave.
Mahi got down to assess the damage. It was bad. The only thing to be done now was to get the moped to a mechanic and find a way to get to work. All this in the next 15 minutes before Mr.Nair, the manager, could realize Mahi was late. The road, for all practical purposes, was uninhabited. Except for the old man on the erstwhile rickety stool outside a shabby tent, there was no other living soul. If one didn't count the stray dog lying in the corner near the lamp-post that is.
It was a while before Mahi realized that the only way out was to leave the moped and walk to the nearest junction and get an auto. Just then, there came a Maruti 800 car on the very same road. A savior in a shining white automobile, perhaps, thought Mahi. The car seemed to understand the moped's predicament and stopped. Sanju was not the kind of guy to just drive past when someone was in distress. Especially, if it was a young and lovely damsel like Mahi.
Mahi heard the door bell chime - it seemed to reflect the happy chimes in her own heart. Sanju was home.
In the film world where being anorexic is the norm, roly-poly Mohanlal has survived for 26 years. The unapologetic foodie unwinds.
Calling Mohanlal an everyman superstar might be a bit of an oxymoron. But if one were looking to formulate him in a phrase, it would be the most apt one.
For someone who has clocked 26 years in the Malayalam film industry, acted in 270 films (and counting), won innumerable awards including the Padma Shri, he wears his stardom lightly on his more than ample shoulders.
In the city for the opening of his restaurant, The Harbour Market, Mohanlal is charm personified as he patiently answers excruciatingly similar questions. "Everyone asks `why Bangalore?'" he says with the trademark grin.
"Why not? Bangalore is a beautiful place. For a restaurant, location is very important. I saw this place and liked it. We did a survey and found that there is a market for seafood. We are into marine export so we can get quality seafood — all the prawn, squid and lobster that we serve here is of export quality. The spices we use are also ours — Mohanlal's Taste Buds. We are focussing on quality not the name. The tagline, Mohanlal's Taste Buds Restaurant Pvt. Ltd, is in really small print. People may come once for the star value but after that if the food is not good, they will not return."
The restaurant business is not new to Mohanlal. "In 2002, I started a restaurant in Dubai. And we have plans of opening restaurants in other cities as well — Kochi, Hyderabad, Mumbai, Delhi and so on."
In love with seafood
Mohanlal is a self-confessed foodie. "I love food — cooking, serving friends and eating." In an increasingly image-obsessed world, he is disarmingly candid when he says: "Sometimes I exercise, and sometimes I don't. Malayalis have been seeing me this way for 26 years and they don't have a problem!"
Mohanlal's favourite food is "seafood. But if that were not there, I would try anything else. My cooking is all by the gut. I close the doors to the kitchen and whip up dishes which my friends enjoy thoroughly even though they complain that it is too rich!"
Ask him about how he would manage to find time for the venture and he laughs: "There is always time. We live in a connected world so I could monitor the restaurant even if I am not here all the time. And acting is not a 24x7 job. I don't act, I react!" This is coming from a man fresh from an award-winning turn in Thanmatra!
"It is a blessing from the Almighty. When one is performing there is a hidden energy that plays on you. It is true of anyone — a cricketer, a surgeon, a master chef. Everyone works with the same tools but the Almighty chooses one person and that makes the difference between the commonplace and genius. We cannot claim any credit. The lifespan of an actor is very small — between action and cut and in that infinitesimal time frame, we are helped along by the divine."
Modesty thy name is Mohanlal!
Mohanlal's chillingly affable CBI chief in Ramgopal Varma's Company had Varma singing unqualified praises. And there is the buzz that Varma has signed him on to play Thakur Baldev Singh to Amitabh Bachchan's Gabbar in his Sholay remake. "Yes, he came to me with the offer and I have said yes. I have not heard anything after that. I think they need to buy the rights from the Sippys. It would be in a different setting obviously, we are not going back to the Chambal!"
While Mohanlal has produced films, direction is not his cup of tea. "I will have to quit acting if I am going to direct. The director is the captain of the ship. He has the final word. Sitting at the editing table, he makes the decision of the final cut. I don't think I have it in me."
A suggestion of an autobiography is met with disbelief. "One must do something to merit an autobiography," he blurts out. As if joining films at the age of 17 is an everyday occurrence! The film, Thiranottam, made by Priyadarshan, Mohanlal's friend and classmate in M.G. College Thiruvananthapuram, marked an association of more than 30 films.
"Priyan is very busy now with Hindi films. Incidentally, all his Hindi films are remakes of the Malayalam films we made together, including the recent Garam Masala, which is a remake of Boeing, Boeing. But he is writing a script and we may work together again."
Mohanlal does not believe in "running after roles. If you wish for something, you should get it, otherwise why wish? I did this Sanskrit play. It was not something I wished for; it just happened. That is my motto in life: let things happen, don't go after it."
Politics has him purse his lips: "Power is a big addiction. Like the man on the street, I have my views on what is happening in the country. And unlike the film industry here, politics and film are kept separate in Kerala."
Mohanlal, a commerce graduate, laughs outright when I ask if the degree has helped in the food or film industry: "I don't know how to solve problems — accountancy or anything else!"
- listening to the story of Krishnadeva Rayulu from Ammamma, with Mum as co-listener and Aunt as co-contributor. (Me almost cried when Appaji blinds himself for no fault of his!)
- Home-made Aakkoora pappu (that's a dal dish made with green leafy vegetables).
- Home-made anything. Even Idli-Sambhar or Mudhdha Pappu! (I'm too tired to translate folks, so adjust please)
- playing Chinese Checkers for the first time ever in your life and win! It's another thing that my 'opponents' were my 11 yr old cousin and my 68 yr old Ammamma. **sheepish grin**
- learning silly hand games (you know the girlie ones that girls in KG classes play? Yeah, there ya go!) from my cousin. Hey, you guys are not supposed to tell my cousin this - she's really enthu about playing such games with a 24 yr old!
- get introduced to Hiedi (the most adorable Labrador ever!) as 'Priya Akka' and get a million tail wags and 'Welcome Home' jumps. (I do not want any smart-ass comments about being referred to as a sister to a dog. Don't even think about it, you!)
- watch 'Selvi' with the rest of the female junta at home and scold 'Thamarai' Sarita when she doesn't meet 'Selvi' Radhika to hear the latter explain why she married the former's husband when the former was in a coma! (Yes, these things happen on TV these days).
- sit happily while Mum combs and braids my hair. (That is actually like being in heaven).
- go to Kumaran Silks and select 5 sets of clothes in 15 minutes flat. My female readers would know what a big deal that is.
- buy 5 sets of clothes from Chennai, come home to Hyderabad and find that Hubbie has bought me 3 more from Cochin. You know, there's a reason I love him so much. :-)
- raid Aunt's refrigerator for snacks and find a whole bar of Toblerone (dark chocolate, mind you) tucked deep inside next to a pack of jujubes.
- filter coffee at 4 PM
- explain to 11 yr old cousin that a large pizza from Dominos will be enough for her and she needn't worry about having to share it with my brother.
Disclaimer: All opinions expressed here are my own and do not represent those of my employer. The fact that a particular comment is posted on this blog does not mean that I have endorsed it in any way or verified the accuracy, completeness or usefulness of any such comment. I, in no terms, shall be held responsible for/associated with the content carried by the blogs I link to.
