There's a big LCD TV in the cafeteria at my workplace. TataSky enabled, really funky.
The problem ('coz everything I write about is a 'problem' at some level), then, is the programmes we get to watch on that TV during our time spent in the cafeteria. If I happen to be there for breakfast some days (woe to ye if you judge me on my breakfast-making habits), I'm faced with either Tom & Jerry or on unluckier days, Himesh Reshammiya. The remote control is always absconding. On second thoughts, maybe that's just me.
During lunch hours, one is blessed by some mundane Hindi news channel, as opposed to the umpteen English news channels that can be viewed. News channels are safe bets when it comes to a TV in a public place 'coz it's very generic in nature. Unlike the saas-bahu soaps or, well, Himesh Reshammiya's nasal tones. My issue with Hindi news channels? Nothing in particular, just that it's too local and reminds one of cheap tabloids where the front page is dedicated to the pathbreaking news that a certain third rate actress was found in the company of a certain fourth rate actor in some fifth rate place. This, when bomb blasts rip my city apart and the culprits are still at large. This, when Aung San Suu Kyi's detention has been extended by one more year by the military government of Myanmar. This, when diplomatic wars are being fought across countries which vaguely gives one the fear that Nostradamus might just hit the bull's eye with his predictions.
But my rant is not about Hindi news channels. My rant is with the fact that I go to that cafeteria almost every day for my lunch and not once have I actually fished out the remote control from its hiding place and changed the channel to something that can be viewed by the majority. Ok, kidding, change the channel to something that can be viewed by me.
And as I sat there today having my lunch, hearing my colleagues and myself ranting about the stupid channel, it hit me that the state of the cafeteria is, sadly, the state of our country. I know to crib and cry about being made to watch stupid channels, but I rarely go for that remote control to change it. A lot of us know to crib and cry about the state of our country, but very few actually do something to change it. I can tolerate Tom & Jerry, but not the cheap news channels. Just like I can tolerate some politician making money out of fodder, but not politicians/rich-buggers escaping the law just because they have money and power.
Tomorrow I'm going to change the channel if I don't like what I'm seeing.
If someone has a problem with that, I can always chuck the remote into the sambhar that's floating in the oil. And then the entire world will watch what I want them to watch. *evil laughter follows*
P.S: Updates on my blog could become irregular for the next few weeks. I have deadlines to meet and most times miss, books to read, movies to watch - in short, a life to live. And this time around, reality ruins my virtual life. Bear with me, dear readers. And enjoy the peace and calm in this space while it lasts. One is tempted to use cliches like 'the calm before the storm', but one refrains.
The title refers to my very emotional outburst when I stubbed my little toe [1] (which I think is not exactly so little anymore) on a sharp corner and spent the next 48 hours limping around like Capt. Long John Silver, minus the crutch and the parrot. It's amazing how a little toe can cause so much pain and anguish in my otherwise painless and anguishless life. The little bugger was swollen to two times it's normal size and wouldn't let me take a step without wincing when the pain shot up till my knee.
Once there was a girl who was accident-prone - Whatever she did, it always ended with her groan. She stubbed her toe today, Like she does everyday It's a pity resistentialism won't leave her alone!
Now for the conspiracy theory: When this happened before, my allegations were pointed at the Chair and the Bed. And I was this close to actually proving that the Bed did not like me one bit. I mean, let's face it - you stub you toe once, fine. Twice, fine. Thrice, well I have doubts. But the fourth time? And the fifth? I'm not blind, people! I can see things before I actually go bump into them and my policy in life has always been to never bump into the same thing twice. So the only other explanation to this painful incident is Mr.Bed [2]. The 6X6 wooden Goliath is taking on a poor hapless David aka me. Injustice, I tell you!
Just as I was on the verge of asking my husband to throw him out (and get me a new one, all at the risk of sounding highly insane and plain mental), I stub my toe on the door frame. The interesting thing here is that Ms.Door Frame is also made of wood, from a good teak lineage and has a really slim figure with a glossy polish - which Mr.Bed totally fancies. That cheating bag o' wood hasn't given a second thought to his wife, Mrs.Mattress and their Pillow kids. How awful, isn't it? And Ms.Frame is so smitten by this 6x6-monster-with-a-fancy-bedstead that she had absolutely no qualms in going against the Door family and turning against me, me who owns the very marble and concrete on which she stays attached! Where is this world coming to, I ask you!
So, what's gonna happen now? Nothing much. Mr.Bed and Ms.Frame are going to elope, leaving me sleeping on a weeping Mrs.Mattress, who's now orphaned with two little Pillows. If this isn't heart-rending, what is?!!!
There's just no point rambling here on my blog when I have this grave a situation on my hands at home. I've declared a state of emergency, and any Door related activities can happen only with my prior approval. Mr.Bed has been considerably warned against carrying on with his nefarious doings - hopefully he understands that being dismantled is a very ugly thing to go through indeed. Ms.Frame has been let off this one time with a strict warning that anything like this again would mean 100 times of shutting the Door really hard into Ms.Frame. Mrs.Mattress keeps thanking me profusely everytime I walk into the room (with unstubbed toes, mind you), and the Pillows have been so well behaved that I decided to let them lie around on the bed for a day without being stuck to one position.
I'm still watching out for any new developments on this saga. And how will I know if something's cookin'? Well, I still have some unstubbed toes left. And I still live with the same furniture.
[1] Contrary to popular belief, the title does not refer to a famous blogger's famous blog of the same name. I'm hoping he hasn't copyrighted the words, 'coz I really don't know what I would say when I stub my little toe!
[2] Note that it's Mr.Bed and not Mrs.Bed. I do not share Ekta Kapoor's ideas on how women do all the cheating, scheming and evil things, while men are their poor victims. I'm not exactly a feminist, but I do have my prejudices, whims and fancies. Sue me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Poll is still on, please feel free to goad me to new heights or lambast me to newer lows, as applicable. Since I'm the one who started it, who actually asked for it, apparently I don't have a right to complain. But don't take everything light, ok? As opposed to good people with good hearts, I don't take criticism in a nice way. I keep grudges and take revenge all the time. If you're mean to me, well, count your days for they are numbered!
(I'm hoping if I intimidate you enough, you'll all go ahead and vote saying you dont care what the blog looks like 'coz I write so amazingly well. Time will tell if my plan worked or backfired. Bless the two souls who actually voted for that option.)
And the following 'comments' from the not-so-blessed souls who clicked on 'Other'. As usual, sarcy comments in square braces by me -
fook gak gablonk pbffffffffff!!!! [most definitely a Calvin fan! Cmon, own up.]
I am not bothered by them, do you? [I asked you. You're asking me back?! Man!]
just wanted to put kalla vote :D [Long live you! thiruththave mudiyaadhu.]
Thanks much. I asked for it, yes.
Like I've said before, with friends like this who needs enemies!
No, not talking about my own. Well, at least, not in so many words. The daily commute from home to workplace and back takes it's toll on one's body and mind. The most affected, ofcourse, is the mind. Why? Because the mind is constantly on overdrive trying to make sense out of the chaotic surroundings (otherwise known as deathly traffic, arising mainly due to neanderthals under the garb of sophistication, behind steering wheels), and bring a semblance of sanity to the entire journey. It's not easy, I tell you. As if your self-consciousness was not enough, you also have to keep abreast of the latest styles of handbags, footwear, salwars, jeans and tops that the rest of the office is wearing. When best to do that other than on your commute!
After attire-checking-out-ing (I've given up on my vocabulary, bear with moi please), the other hugely popular time pass for someone on a commute is a game of Who's-Got-The-Most-Yucky-Lanyard. It's simple enough and enormously time-passy. And this can be played in and around any office space that has at least one other human being other than yourself wearing their corporate ID cards on a lanyard. And as a person who has successfully completed a zillion commutes, I've seen the best and worst of them all. So much so, I could write a thesis on it. Pity I 'm not doing anything even close to a post graduation (or just even education!) which would expect a thesis from me.
Well then, getting to the point, there are a million different types of lanyards. Ok, so not a million. But at least 20,000 types exist. From the completely harmless single string hapless looking one to the 5cms wide yellow colored I'm-a-clown-look-at-my-lanyard one - they're all there! And some poor soul is wearing one right now (and we convey our heartfelt sympathies to him/her) at the risk of looking like a, well, a cross between a clown and a pet. A lovable pet who goes around with a yellow leash around its neck.
It's not so much the size of the lanyard that matters. It all comes down to the color, IMHO. Honestly, the I-look-like-a-clown lanyard wouldn't be so gross if it had been, say, white! Where it could just blend into your shirt. Or you could be wearing a black shirt and completely throw my argument out of gear. Ah well. Happens. One wonders why some corporates insist on blinding colors like lemon yellow, Ferrari red, Fanta orange or candy-floss pink! Whatever happened to human rights?! If I were ever made to wear one of those monstrosities, I swear I'll quit! (Understandably, that's a blatant exaggeration. I won't quit. I'll come right back to this very blog and post my rant and expect you all to leave me sympathetic comments. Just so you know.)
But what sometimes gets my gall is people wearing these things for their mobile phones. I mean, when you have a choice between looking smart and looking like a dumb fool, what would you choose? Honestly! It's a pain on the eyes, people! It's a veritable pain on the eyes to see pink, red and yellow colored ribbons hanging around your necks and if this is your idea of cool, then you're probably living in the wrong century.
The whole thing reminds me of what my aunt says everytime she sees my ID card - 'Doesn't it make you feel like a dog?'. Yes Auntie, it sure does. And that's why it's safely hidden inside my purse. (I still have the lanyard mind you, otherwise the poor ID card would drown in the deluge of crap that is my purse.) You wouldn't catch me dead (or alive) wearing it around my neck. I'm not stupid, ya know. At least not as much as you think.
I've written about this before, but it's just so horribly frustrating that I'm going to do it again.
The other time it was tea. Now, it's coffee. There was a time in days of yore that I loved coffee. The smell, the color, the taste! But all that changed with the advent of the omnipresent coffee dispenser in my normal working life.
Picture this: You have a splitting headache, and you have work to do. What's the first thing you try? Coffee, ofcourse. And what if that coffee is such an abomination that you start to hate the very beverage? Or maybe I should thank my stars that I'm not a coffee addict because of this! Unlike my parents and friends, I don't need coffee to keep me going. But once in a while, one does miss the golden brown brew.
The problem is not with the coffee per se. It all boils down to the milk (no pun intended). Milk and not milk powder. I don't know much about the dispenser settings to control just how much milk powder, sugar and coffee flows into one cup, all I know is whatever is there in the cup finally looks a lot like dishwater. If it weren't for the fact that I do not know what dishwater tastes like, I would've loved to say the coffee tastes like dishwater. (And this is to prevent any smart-ass comment on me knowing what dishwater tastes like. Tell the truth, you did think of that, didn't you? Ha, gotcha!)
To make matters worse, it's not just the regular coffee. The options on the dispenser are very very misleading, mind you. Let's take it one by one - first, there's Cappuccino. Any resemblance to any coffee, good or bad, is purely co-incidental. And I did the greatest mistake of having cappuccino from an authentic little cafe in Rome, after which cappuccino from even Cafe Coffee Day or Qwiky's or Barista is nothing short of..well, dishwater! So that just made the whole thing even worse. Second comes Mocha. Again, pretty much a big fat brown lie.
The same goes for Hot Chocolate - it looks all nice and chocolatey, but the moment you taste it, well, it transports you approximately 15 years into the past when your Mom had to run behind you with a huge steel tumbler filled with yucky-tasting Complan. And if you're trying to calculate my age based on this piece of information, give it up - ain't gonna work, 'coz I'm totally lying about the 15 years.
The lesser of the evils in the dispenser seems to be 'Nescafe'. Don't let the name fool you into thinking it's the authentic Nescafe that your parents so hate (because they are staunch filter coffee addicts and drinking instant coffee is a sin by itself) and you so love (because you can't stand the after taste of filter coffee and the color is so much better for instant coffee). Lesser evil, but evil nonetheless.
So the only other option left is good ol' hot water. I once tried using them Bru sachets (instantly instant coffee, mix in hot water, add sugar and voila! dishwater ready!), but that didn't work either. Which brings me back to my original rant - there's nothing like fresh coffee. And there's nothing called fresh coffee in some workplaces.
If you're one of the lucky few who can smell the coffee brewing, sitting right at your desks, count your blessings 'coz there are a lot of us who do not have that luxury. But 'us' are also glad that 'us' are no longer coffee addicts, thanks to the omnipresent coffee dispenser.
Now, if only my Mom were here to make me a cuppa! Alas, wishful thinking!
Image Source: That cup of cappuccino scored a full 10 on the droolworthiness scale. So, drool on!
All my creativity leaked out of my ears last night and now I have none left. Ergo, I will be putting you both (yes, I still firmly believe there are never more than 2 people who read this blog) through the following painful ordeal. Resistance is futile. Resign to your fate and read on please.
One of the most entertaining part of my work-day is the coffee routine in the evening. Not because the coffee is good (it never is, FYI), just because 1) I need something hot to drink at that time and 2) believe it or not, I badly need that eensy weensy bit of exercise (approximately 25 steps from my desk to the pantry, go figure.). Now, one cannot drink a coffee/tea without something to munch. The thoughtful people that they are, the office guys keep a whole variety of biscuits next to the abomination of a dispenser. (Some day I'll blog about how much I 'adore' that dispenser.)
Right, so about the biscuits. When I say wide variety, I mean really wide variety. We have the usual Marie, Krackjack, Goodday and cream biscuits (orange, milk aka yuck, etc) but then we also have *start drumbeats* Britannia Milk Bikkis *end drumbeats* Remember those biscuits? The first ones we probably had (if you're as old as me, chances are this was the first biscuit you had with your two tiny milk teeth) and maybe the only ones in the grocery store of yore! Like I was telling my colleague, these Bikkis always remind me of little babies leaving half eaten, soggy biscuits on the floor. Don't ask me why.
But the point of this post is not Britannia Milk Bikkis. It's about which biscuits are best soggy. Yep, yours truly will now reveal the findings of this top secret project to determine which biscuits..er..soggy biscuits go well with coffee/tea. All my opinions, which I will definitely try to impose on you. Escape it if you can.
1. Britannia Marie - Typical chai biscuit, isn't it? A full 95 marks on 100. 2. Britannia Milk Bikkis - They're ok. Just that they taste a wee bit too sweet when soggy with coffee/tea. If your coffee or tea doesn't have sugar, you might enjoy this. But if your coffee/tea does not have sugar, you probably shouldn't be having biscuits, no? 75 on 100. 3. Britannia Chocolate chip biscuits - I used to like them at one time. But then I had it so often that now I can't stand them. The chocolate chips kinda melt when they're soggy. But it's ok if you want a change in your usual soggy biscuit routine. 70 on 100. 4. Britannia Goodday - Ditto above. Like some Spice Girl said, too much of something is bad enough. I wouldn't suggest a soggy Goodday. It soaks up the liquid too soon and more often than not, breaks in the cup. And then you have fish around in the cup to take it out or even worse, leave it in till the beverage is over. Messy matter. 20 on 100. 5. Cream biscuits - Wrong choice again. The cream makes it too sweet. They have a new flavor called Milk cream (which if Im not mistaken is also used in soaps!! enough said.) - 'yuck' is an understatement. 20 on 100. 6. Krackjack/Salt biscuits - Not exactly good when soggy, mainly 'coz it's a bit salty. Salty biscuit dipped in sweet coffee tastes like salty biscuit dipped in...coffee! I lost what I wanted to write, so excuse please! Also, it takes longer to soak up the coffee. 30 on 100. 7. Britannia Bourbon - Woe to ye if you dip this in coffee or tea. Thou shalt never insult chocolate by mixing it with other things. Putting chocolate between two biscuits is bad enough. 0 on 100, because this is not acceptable behavior for a normal person. I mean a normal chocolate loving person. 8. Britannia True Coconut biscuits - Surprisingly good when soggy with coffee! Try it to know it. 85 on 100.
Note: I'm not paid by Britannia to do this research (although I wish they would!). It's just out of goodwill towards the general public that I indulge in such activities.
Bored? I understand. I'm bored too. Time for coffee! And...a soggy biscuit!
BTW, picture above has nothing much to do with the post. It just looked so yummy that I had to put it up and drool a bit.
P.S: I write too much in brackets, don't I? Shows what sort of a chatterbox I am, no? :-) Too late, you already know me/my blog.
Interesting, given that kirpans (upto 6 inch blade, with 3 inch handle, according to BCAS) are allowed aboard. And, correct me if I'm wrong, the tridandam is made of wood!
I understand it's hazardous to carry any sharp objects or objects that could be mis-used on an aircraft, but why, pray, is there a different rule for different objects?
Has it ever happened to you that unknown to yourself you end up humming the same song all day? Or a phrase pops up in your mind out of nowhere and just refuses to die down no matter how many things you try to think about? Or how a word which you probably last heard in your 8th grade suddenly comes up in your mind for no apparent reason?
Any idea at all what I'm talking about? No? Hmm. Can't blame one for trying though, can you? Anyway, if you did get what I'm trying to say, good for you. If you didn't, act like you did.
I've had all three things happen to me the last few days. I've been humming a Himmesh Reshammiya number that I absolutely detest, been repeating the same proverb over and over again in my head and I remembered the word 'Mangifera indica' after god-knows-how-long, god-knows-for-what.
I tried listening to a whole load of other songs to make my stupid mind forget the Reshammiya number - no use! It's like stuck with fevicol or something! I could've even enjoyed it if it had been an ARR number or at least Ilayaraja, but no! It had to be Reshammiya. Why, O, why?!
And the proverb I've been repeating: Janani janmabhoomishcha swargadapi gareeyasi. The last I heard this was in Sanskrit class in my 6th grade (or was it my mom telling me this as part of her usual gyan? Hmmm.) and I've been thinking about this for the last 2 days, I have no idea why. To give this proverb company, came all the other Sanskrit slokas I had ever learnt, including the Vishnu Sahasranamam!!! Know what else I remembered? The first Geetham I ever played on the veena, Shri Gananatham and then Ra ra venugopala, to end with a Keerthanam - Ninnukori (Mohanam)! Iyo! You would think I'll admit myself into an asylum at least now, wouldn't you? Nope, not there yet.
Mangifera indica is the scientific name for mango. When I remembered this, I remembered a whole lot of other things on how scientific names should be written and the enter science class chapter! And I cannot remember what I had today for breakfast! (Heh heh. Typical exaggeration by yours truly. I had dosa for breakfast today.)
On the way to work, on the FM channel, I heard the RJ say something about chemistry and chemical equations. One guy said H + O2 forms water, H2O. Another lady corrects him saying, no, its H2 + O2 that forms H2O. And you know what I did? I tried to balance the equation in my head! Yep, 2H2 + O2 = 2H2O! (To maintain public *cough* admiration for my intellectual capabilities, I refrain from mentioning how many iterations it took me to arrive at that balanced equation. My chemistry teacher would have died of shame.)
If you forgot what I was trying to say, well, you're not the only one. Join the club.
To quote Einstein, 'A thought that sometimes makes me hazy: am I - or the others - crazy?'
I can't wait to see how many of you leave a comment saying 'You!'. Thanks in advance.
Scene: Busy traffic junction. Vehicles whooshing past red lights. In other words, a typical Indian traffic signal junction. It would be suicidal to even BE on the roads.
A well-dressed guy (by the looks, a software engineer) holding the hand of a really old lady (by the looks, a poor beggar) and taking her across the road on a zebra crossing. Took her the whole way to the other side and then crossed back to catch a cab/auto to his workplace.
I don't know who he is. But whoever he is, he did a really really cool thing.
To you, stranger-who-helped-an-old-lady-cross-the-road: Way to go, dude! It could be a trivial thing for you, but it would've meant a lot to that old lady. You probably saved her life by helping her out on that road today. And I know she would've blessed you with all her heart. And that is one of the best kind of blessings you can ever hope to get. Feel proud. And blessed.
Humanity is still around, you know. It's not completely wiped out. Yet.
The 20° C that Mother Nature gives once in a while is a gazillion times better than the 20° C my airconditioner gives everyday. For one thing, my a/c doesn't give this really slight drizzle that just looks like fog. Neither does it give the smell of wet earth (if it does, well, my a/c badly needs a cleaning service done) or this tingly feeling that comes when a little droplet of a drop of rain falls on your cheek - you know, the feeling that starts at the base of your neck, sends a shiver up your spine and ends somewhere around your fingertips? Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about.
The original is always better than the fakes. Always.
I'm content with today's weather. Perfection, I say.
Home. It's such a comfortable word, isn't it? Home. Rest. Peace. Mom. Home. It doesn't matter if you don't own it, doesn't matter if it isn't huge or beautiful. Doesn't matter if it's just one room with a bed and a table. Nothing matters as long as you can call it home.
You fight your way through work, the traffic, the morons behind steering wheels with no clue about driving, the dust 'n smoke and finally, home. Nothing matters the moment you cross over the threshold. You chuck the laptop on the table and slosh down on the comfy sofa. After 15 minutes of pure bliss, you get up and change. A shower, your alma mater's T-shirt and the oldest, most comfortable pair of PJs - Armani? what Armani? I could go meet the Queen in these clothes! If they let me, that is.
Coffee in hand, you open the door to the balcony. You just missed the sunset - no worries, the sky is still saying good bye. The entire world in front of you, bathed in orange. Down on the easy chair, legs up on the stool, you stretch back and close your eyes. This is what heaven must feel like. The coffee never tasted as good. You catch the tune of an old melody in the wind. You see birds flying back to their nests, a cacophony of chirps. You don't mind - the pings and drings of the laptop have numbed your ears - the sounds of life are always welcome. There are no sounds of automobiles or drilling machines. The only mechanical sound is that of a bus braking before the speed-breaker - the rickety ol' bus reminds you of grandma's village. You drift off into another world.
Time flew. It always does when you're having a good time. The stars have come out. The moon's playing hide and seek with the clouds. The breeze is cooler. It brings with it the smells of yummy things from the neighbor's kitchen. It's a different joy to realize it's from your own kitchen. Dinner's served. From one heaven to another.
Dinner, followed by some mangoes. You think they should make mangoes the national fruit or something. You drag yourself out of the chair and into the sofa - 'kazhichchu kazhinjaal manushane onninum kollathillae!'. You switch the TV on and catch the last 5 minutes of the primetime soap. You wonder if they'll ever move the story. You channel surf, only to doze off at channel no. 20. Sleep. The third heaven.
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.
- 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.
Had the best Sunday ever! Well, if you exclude the sermon at church (it was a sermon in the true sense - all of 1.5 hours!), it was the best Sunday in a long long time. And the reason is 'Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat'. And what the heck is that? **wicked smile** You'll see...
What you see above is a dream come true. Yep, my very own Calvin and Hobbes tome with two complimentary Jujube sticks!
Been postponing a trip to the bookseller for eternity (I know! That's so pathetic!) . Went yesterday and blew a thousand bucks on books. It was totally worth it, though. And when we were paying the bill, Hubby Dear found these cute jujube things and picked that up (along with some mint - I hate mint! It's like eating toothpaste!!).
Came home, bugged him to take some pics so I can show-off here in front of you guys. Yes, I'm a meanie, so? You're just jealous, so I don't care. ;-)
And then spent an hour reading it and laughing my head off. The jujubes were yummy too.
So...that's one down, a million more to go. I intend to own every book of Calvin n Hobbes ever published. Even if it means me working for 2 years more than I intend to - the books are not that cheap, you know. I blew around 500 bucks for this one. I was not so sure about it, but Arun was totally for it and said, 'If you dont take it, I will. Later don't complain you've read them already.'. He's so sweet, isn't he? **blush blush**
I actually thought of takin' the day off and sitting at home to read this one. But had to come to finish some important work @ work. :-( Some things in life don't change - like Mondays.
I got one more jujube stick at home, for tonight. :-)
I got a whole bunch of absolutely random things to talk about, I mean, write about.
First: I got my Google Page Creator account today and was a bit excited about it for no specific reason. Thought of trying it out - my first impression, if you're used to Blogger or Y! 360, this is not exactly something you would like. More so because it's a page, not a blog! For people like me who prefer writing than doing the entire web-designing thingie, it's not a big deal. But, I'm not gonna leave it like that. Will try it out when I have more patience (I'm running short of that these days!). I did see a teeny weeny box that said 'Upload File'!! Gotto try that out for sure.
Second: I hate all songs by Himmesh Reshammiya! Dear God, I hate 'em. I hate the voice, I hate the noise and they are sooooo monotonous! It's the same music in all of his songs! I had to (yes, had to!!) listen to all this new numbers like 'Aashiq Banaya', 'Aap ka Suroor' and 'Jhalak dhikla ja' and it's a wonder how I didn't become deaf or lose my faith in music completely! Man, it's a waste of time and money (if you're crazy enough to go buy the CDs). I'm pretty sure they'll all fade away into oblivion soon enough. End result: I think I appreciate ARR a bit more than I did before I heard the above songs. On the same note about songs - I think my hubby and I have watched 'Right here Right now' from Bluffmaster more times than even Aishwarya Rai! AB Jr is soooooo cool in that! It was a drool fest for me! ;-)
Third: I'm a fan of Takeshi's Castle on Pogo! It's awesome - imagine a skinny dude trying to pole vault his way from one place to another across slush..he comes running, puts the pole into the slush and slides down the pole into the slush - STRAIGHT!! And man, Javed Jaffery is amazing in his commentary. And these folks who actually take part - my god, where do they come from??!!! If you haven't seen it yet, see it. Almost as good as 'Just for laughs - Gags'. :-)
Fourth: 5 back to back shows I watched on Sunday - well, watched as in didn't change the channel for like 2.5 hrs (which is a long time watching the same channel right?). So started with 'Parkinson' - cool show. All the guests have such an amazing sense of humor! Enjoyed it. Then came Oprah Primetime - interview with Tim McGraw and Faith Hill (for those who don't know, they are hubby-wifey and both do shows together). Seemingly simple folks, seemingly very much in love...add to that the ever-screaming audience of an Oprah show! This is what happens if you put like 340 women in one room and give out freebies. ;-)
Then came Rendezvous with Simi Garewal. That's about the time I became temporarily blind due to all the white. Also had to strain my ears to understand all the whisperings. Followed by my fav, Desperate Housewives! Lynette spills hot coffee onto her boss's lap so she can go back to her desk to watch her son at his first day at school. Bree packs off her MIL (amazing woman, that Bree). Ok guys, stop yawning - I get the hint.
Last show was 'Lost' - its a mini series about an aircraft that crash lands on an isolated island - an island nobody even knows where! There is an escaped convict among them and all assorted kind of people. There's trust, faith, betrayal, pain...its a different kind of thing - exact opposite of Desperate Housewives, maybe. ;-)
I'll let you guys in on a small secret - my most profound thoughts come to me when I'm standing in front of my stove, waiting for the oil to heat up before I add the mustard for the sambhar's tadka. Believe it or not, the biggest test for your patience occurs at that time - the oil has to be hot so the mustard pops and gives an aroma, but it shouldn't be too hot that it burns the mustard (then you end up with bitter seeds all over your sambhar). For someone who starts making dinner at 9:00 PM, those 2 odd minutes in front of the stove, waiting for the oil to heat up, feels like an eternity ('coz you're hungry enough to eat wood, but then since you're not a woodpecker, doesn't help at all. BTW, I know a woodpecker doesn't 'eat' wood, it just pecks at it. Jus' go with my flow, will ya, and stop analysing!). And that is when the mind wanders.
The wandering mind shalt return when the mustard is burnt. Yes, that's like a law. Lucky for me, it wasn't all that burnt (and no, you cannot go ask my husband if that is true). I got all the stuff from the fridge that needs to go into the sambhar and kept it all ready. And then...
Now, did you know that I've digressed from my original topic so much that the topic discussed on digression feels like the main topic? Go scroll back, read the first line and come back, I'll wait.
(Took you this long to read one line?) Right, what was that oh-so-profound thought, you ask? In those quiet moments of desperation, I realized that I first need to cook the dal before I make the tadka for the sambhar. **runs to hide before someone comes**
Thursday Tortures, this one. You're most welcome. :-)
Image Source: Yummy sambhar-vada isn't it? Me yet to have lunch ;-)
I thought of cleaning my desk at work today. No, I'm not being fired (how could you think that?!! **emotional**), just that the mess it getting a bit out of hand. Now, let's see what I have in there - (you're most welcome to walk out this exact minute if you want - I know it will be boring going thru' another person's desk, especially if you're a guy. Girls love it!)
Biotique Mositurising lotion - I need this. Stapler (no pins, mind you) & Stapler remover (it's very handy, trust me) Headphones (very uncomfortable ones, I still wonder why I use them) Bills (no payments due, just FYI bills that deserve to be in the trash - that's why they are in my drawer you say?) Chocolates (all the time) - I need this too. Pens (that never write - we know why!) & Whiteboard markers (with no ink) Whiteboard duster (I need my board to be clean always - not a big thing given my inkless whiteboard markers) Paracetamol tablets (dont even ask) Income tax filing forms from the year 2002. I got like 4 copies of each! Umpteen copies of crap that I had to submit for my US visa long long ago. Umpteen copies of crap that I had to submit for my Italian visa even more long long ago. An empty Pierre Cardin pen box (For the world of me, I dont know where this came from! I dont even have a Pierre Cardin pen!) A cute masala box with 4 elastic bands, 2 hairpins and a keychain with a smiling Buddha. An empty Ferrero Rocher box (**singing** memories..left alone in the moonlight..) In transit (friend borrowed and returned it last year) - A novel - Colin Forbes' Sisterhood 2 CDs - 1. Mr. Bean the movie 2. Tom and Jerry Lunch and snack coupons (by far, the only useful things in my drawer) A mountain of tissues (I'd die without 'em - you could say OCD with wiping hands and desk) Work-related reference books (used during training, forgotten ever since. C'mon, I got PDFs of all those things! Can't do Ctrl+F on a book, can you?)
Bored already? That's just the first 2 drawers, folks, I got 1 more. And if you're anything like me, you should have, by now, got an idea of what sort of a person I am. Didn't understand? **exasperated** Ok..do you read detective novels? Poirot, Ms. Marple, Holmes, Perry Mason? If you just said no, then forget everything I've said till now. If you said yes, you know how you deduce all details about my life @ work with the above list of items, right? Yeah..nod your head now, good. :-)
My Dad always has this complaint with my Mom and me - we both collect things a lot. We hate throwing 'em away! Our reason? What if you need it some day! And its worse for me, 'coz I apply this logic to my hard disk too - I got songs I never listen to but hate to delete thinking what if I feel like listening to it some day. I got sticky-note-worthy-notes all over my D drive with Customer complaint numbers and just random digits I don't even understand now. The only time I had to delete them was when I had a change of machine. That seems to be the only thing that will make me clean up.
BTW, lost the mood to clean my desk today. Maybe another day. Maybe never. Whatever! It's raining outside and I just walked a little distance in a drizzle - man, nothing like it! Cold, but not too cold, the petrichor above all...Hmmm, best for a lazy day at home with a cuppa hot chocolate, hot potato bajji with chilli sauce and my favorite movie/book!
I flooded my apartment today. Seriously. I'm not kidding. There was toe-deep water in the hall, the dining hall, the guest bedroom and the entrance of the master bedroom. My cleaning lady had left already so guess who did the water works? Yours truly, ofcourse. :-(
If you'd care to listen, let me tell you how it happened -
Saturday, in my home, is the day of the washing machine. I have a fully automatic, front loading washing machine (white color, if you must ask) - seems it was bought to make my work easier. Yeah right.
I put all the clothes inside the machine. Next, I plugged in the washing machine. I then connected the inlet pipe to the tap (we do not have a permanent connection for the inlet) and turned the tap on - water will start gushing into the machine the moment I turn it on. Now, this is where you should pay attention, 'coz apparently, I did not. The outlet pipe has to be at a height of atleast 2 ft from the level of the washing machine, so I generally place it inside the wash basin. Generally I do. Today I did not. I went ahead and added the washing powder (Surf Excelmatic - stop asking irrelevant questions! Oh wait, this is totally relevant - wait and see) and set the appropriate wash cycle. I switched the machine on and hit the 'Start' button. And I went into the kitchen to check on the cauliflower curry.
Time elapsed: 3 minutes. By now, I should have heard the rumble of the clothes tumble. I did not and I didn't notice it either. Stirred the curry and decided to see whats on TV - enter dining hall and I heard something synchronous with my steps - splat splat..spl-aa-t! Water water everywhere and no, you wouldn't want to drink it. Since the outlet was still on the floor, all the water entering the washing machine simply went out the outlet! Rushed to the washing machine (almost falling in the process) and switched it off, realized the outlet pipe issue and yanked it from behind the machine and pushed it into the wash basin! Phew! Close!
It wasn't close. It was way beyond close. I walked into the guest bedroom and saw that the water had reached the corner diagonally opposite to the door - which means the entire room was flooded. Not just any water mind you - Surf Excelmatic water! The one where all you have to do is place your foot lightly and let you body go - and see yourself win the figure skating championship at the Torino Winter Olympics. It was not as bad in the hall - just one long strip from the main door till the dining hall entrance. The dining hall itself was half flooded. Thankfully, my teak-wood dining table was spared.
After cursing myself and the washing machine with some choicest expletives, I spent the better part of 2 hours in flood relief measures.
And I almost burnt the cauliflower curry - hey, hold your horses, I said almost! I had the best lunch ever - there's no better accompaniment to food than hunger.
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