This is for those who read my earlier post which was an exercise in creative lying. I've fianlly been outed by one person in the S&C group. I'm sure even she must be surprised by the unlikely lie.
The only fib in this tale was that my sister was far too kind to beat me. In fact she grew even kinder to me after this! In fact no one has really been able to come between us- ever!
January 30, 2006
Full of friends
This weekend I acquired some best friends. The regularity and periodicity with which I have been doing so seems to have taken the sparkle out of this worthy exercise to my friends who hear me recount it. Nevertheless, for me, each best friend is the bestest friend. And I am as excited about the newest best friend as I remain about the older ones. So what do I look for when I go about acquiring a best friend?
The appearance of a best friend for me would be utterly unique- and suitably shabby. Who would complement me in my various moods, not detract, would not overwhelm me- not clash violently with my rags, my un-made face, my blowsy hair. Who would be the perfect accessory, not hog all the attention. Would sing lyrics when called upon to do so, yet not scream with an in your face attitude. Would have as many shades and hues as my moods- turquoise, red, emerald, sunny yellows and the enduring purifying peaceful all-encompassing white.
Talking of such a friend, would size matter? I would say not. I'd rather have a tiny solitaire which touches me than a crowded pricey arrangement which may leave me cold. And yes, size and colour are of no consequence, it is clarity I treasure in a friend. No wonder diamonds are a girl's best friend! :)
While on the topic of my friends, a comment on a post by the proposer of happier women led to some reflection on my relationship with my friends. While they consider me strong and personally powerful, there are times when I fail miserably to deal with my problems. At such times I find myself isolated in the midst of friends. To illustrate this asymmetry, I have chosen the most symmetrical of metres- a rictameter! Am not confident of the syllable count so its the thought which counts. Here goes:
With you
All emotions I share -
your joys I celebrate, in your plans I collaborate,
within me our words adumbrate resonate reverberate-
always through your moods, I reach in, participate- ponder,
deliberate. Your enemies I denigrate, and thoroughly berate.
Yet, when its my I grief I share, you dissipate enervate
I wonder why I bare
with you
January 25, 2006
An absurb Surd post
Recently, I've had the dubious distinction of being asked to adjudge a po-ab contest. Po-ab as in the poem absurd. While the general theme was absurd enough for me to participate or judge, with equal facility or lack thereof, I did not compete, merely judged. So I post my absurd composition here to be canned by you, the readers.
Typically for a dilli-walli, my sense of absurd immediately invokes an image of sardarjis or 'surds' as they are popularly known. More popular, no doubt, than the mathematical fragments, which I might have wrestled with, but would rather forget. I have had some of my dearest friends being surd and therefore would have liked to have penned an ode, but for the present this verse would have to suffice as an expression of my delightful relationship with sardars and sardarnis.
The poem follows an aabb ccddee ffgg sequence. I do not know what that makes it- hope it is suitably absurd! :)
Surds and Absurds
Talking all this absurd talk
I wish, and I do not mock,
I long for a long surd trip
But my yarn, I'd better 'zip'
Who would not love a surdy boy
The sight of one who is 'suchha' joy
With chubby cheeks and knotty tops
Intricate plaits lacing their mops
Even the gauntest of them are never grim
Hollowed cheeks maybe, but kerchief trim!
If boys be so pretty, what of the girls
Their hair is the hallmark, at times it curls
Little sikhnis, beautiful young ones
Sharp noses, sharper longer tongues!
Typically for a dilli-walli, my sense of absurd immediately invokes an image of sardarjis or 'surds' as they are popularly known. More popular, no doubt, than the mathematical fragments, which I might have wrestled with, but would rather forget. I have had some of my dearest friends being surd and therefore would have liked to have penned an ode, but for the present this verse would have to suffice as an expression of my delightful relationship with sardars and sardarnis.
The poem follows an aabb ccddee ffgg sequence. I do not know what that makes it- hope it is suitably absurd! :)
Surds and Absurds
Talking all this absurd talk
I wish, and I do not mock,
I long for a long surd trip
But my yarn, I'd better 'zip'
Who would not love a surdy boy
The sight of one who is 'suchha' joy
With chubby cheeks and knotty tops
Intricate plaits lacing their mops
Even the gauntest of them are never grim
Hollowed cheeks maybe, but kerchief trim!
If boys be so pretty, what of the girls
Their hair is the hallmark, at times it curls
Little sikhnis, beautiful young ones
Sharp noses, sharper longer tongues!
January 23, 2006
An update
Somehow for most part of last week I was living my life off-line much more then on-line. Nothing muchly, but just life...
It started with the 14th. Just when I thought I'd spend the day idling around, a stray thought assaulted me and I got cracking at making the gooey salty-peppery porridge that goes locally under the name of pongal. Now a walk is indicated I thought, as per Alice in Wonderland, a walk to clear my head of all the pepper I'd been dealing with. Stepping out, I was rather proud of the huge festive decoration in front of the gate, made by my extremely enthusiastic maid.
Now the street we live in, its one of the loveliest, leafiest, languid streets in this 'Garden City'. That day it took on all manner of hues to look its colourful best. I ran back home and sent dd on a similar walk. She too ran back home with the exactly same idea. We had to colour the rangoli in front of our house! I had always wondered how exactly people went about this stuff, having never dared to do this colouring stuff myself. Mixing Prussian blue with vermilion and attaining the right shade of gaudiness with a pink, at the end it looked like this:
Very happy and tired by this fun and futile stuff, we sat down to our porridge much like the three bears, only difference being we were unexpectedly joined by papa bear himself, happy and back from a good game of golf- and then we were four!
The other highlight of the day was the S&C meet. I was so excited about meeting these uber literate folk at Koshys over coffee and snakes. However, while Bangalore's famous snake-man was there in person, Prem Koshy, being his hospitable best, served us (including the vegetarians) a more acceptable repast of coffee and snacks! There were the regulars word smiths as well as other gentle masters who stepped into the parlour and have since been caught on the web! There was much illumination about the group, quite a few bright sparks, and the entire experience, caffeine and all, was so heady that Sunday passed in a whirl.
Monday and Tuesday, I was in Delhi, purportedly for an official meeting but spent a major part of my stay mooring myself at the emotional anchors I have there. I confess that as happens every time I'm in Delhi, I could meet only a few of my favourite people there. Sorry again, Chitra. Back at home, there were so many things happening at home and work. Long evenings and whole day meetings with impossible deadlines and a big event coming up over the weekend had me totally tied up.
Ever since I read WhirlingBetty's post a couple of weeks ago, I'd been agonizing over my own arrangements for my little one's birthday do. We are big on birthdays in our family. Which means a lot of organizing - from the guest list, balloons and streamers, games, music, food, and age-appropriate return gifts. The pleasure, and believe me, its there, is to see all the kids have a ball. I realize too that these are limited pleasures because soon the kids are going to out-grow this birthday party thingie!
It started with this.
Seven is considered a significant number for a number of things including a marriage. For a little boy *obsessed* with beyblade, the significance or otherwise of the number would be obtruse to say the least! And yet, this list (put together with a bit of help at the end from his wise sibling) was my starting point. I was quite at sea but chose to go through the list rather than be totally hoodwinked by the smart salesman who knows a desperate parent when he sees one. There was one particular item which even smart dd couldn't help me with, she hadn't ever heard of beyblade 'gattling'! The little one educated us that 'gattling' meant scratch! A seven year scratch sounded even more significant!! :)) Guess what it turned out to be- a game board of beyblade driger Battling- I just love the way my little one coins 'new' mint fresh words.
As with Betty, I pleaded with so many parents to have the pleasure of the company of their little ones at the party, as usual I was prepared to all to actually turn up and again had stocks of uneaten candies and unused return gifts. Among the non-attendees were his partner and the girl who has the sweetest smile in the class! Anyway on Saturday, we all had a sweet, lovely seventh birthday party for a little boy who is growing up so fast that he thinks he won't sit on mamma's lap anymore.
Bearing all the surplus goodies, we went yesterday to a nearby orphanage where these were truly welcomed by such an enthusiastic bunch of kids! Returning from the orphanage which had so many tiny abandoned babies as well, dh asked: "Isn't it a crime to abandon a baby?" That really had me at a loss for words- don't know what to say.
And yes, this is what I made yesterday! Don't ask me why- just felt like it.
It started with the 14th. Just when I thought I'd spend the day idling around, a stray thought assaulted me and I got cracking at making the gooey salty-peppery porridge that goes locally under the name of pongal. Now a walk is indicated I thought, as per Alice in Wonderland, a walk to clear my head of all the pepper I'd been dealing with. Stepping out, I was rather proud of the huge festive decoration in front of the gate, made by my extremely enthusiastic maid.
1.0.jpg)
Now the street we live in, its one of the loveliest, leafiest, languid streets in this 'Garden City'. That day it took on all manner of hues to look its colourful best. I ran back home and sent dd on a similar walk. She too ran back home with the exactly same idea. We had to colour the rangoli in front of our house! I had always wondered how exactly people went about this stuff, having never dared to do this colouring stuff myself. Mixing Prussian blue with vermilion and attaining the right shade of gaudiness with a pink, at the end it looked like this:
.jpg)
Very happy and tired by this fun and futile stuff, we sat down to our porridge much like the three bears, only difference being we were unexpectedly joined by papa bear himself, happy and back from a good game of golf- and then we were four!
The other highlight of the day was the S&C meet. I was so excited about meeting these uber literate folk at Koshys over coffee and snakes. However, while Bangalore's famous snake-man was there in person, Prem Koshy, being his hospitable best, served us (including the vegetarians) a more acceptable repast of coffee and snacks! There were the regulars word smiths as well as other gentle masters who stepped into the parlour and have since been caught on the web! There was much illumination about the group, quite a few bright sparks, and the entire experience, caffeine and all, was so heady that Sunday passed in a whirl.
Monday and Tuesday, I was in Delhi, purportedly for an official meeting but spent a major part of my stay mooring myself at the emotional anchors I have there. I confess that as happens every time I'm in Delhi, I could meet only a few of my favourite people there. Sorry again, Chitra. Back at home, there were so many things happening at home and work. Long evenings and whole day meetings with impossible deadlines and a big event coming up over the weekend had me totally tied up.
Ever since I read WhirlingBetty's post a couple of weeks ago, I'd been agonizing over my own arrangements for my little one's birthday do. We are big on birthdays in our family. Which means a lot of organizing - from the guest list, balloons and streamers, games, music, food, and age-appropriate return gifts. The pleasure, and believe me, its there, is to see all the kids have a ball. I realize too that these are limited pleasures because soon the kids are going to out-grow this birthday party thingie!
It started with this.
Seven is considered a significant number for a number of things including a marriage. For a little boy *obsessed* with beyblade, the significance or otherwise of the number would be obtruse to say the least! And yet, this list (put together with a bit of help at the end from his wise sibling) was my starting point. I was quite at sea but chose to go through the list rather than be totally hoodwinked by the smart salesman who knows a desperate parent when he sees one. There was one particular item which even smart dd couldn't help me with, she hadn't ever heard of beyblade 'gattling'! The little one educated us that 'gattling' meant scratch! A seven year scratch sounded even more significant!! :)) Guess what it turned out to be- a game board of beyblade driger Battling- I just love the way my little one coins 'new' mint fresh words.
As with Betty, I pleaded with so many parents to have the pleasure of the company of their little ones at the party, as usual I was prepared to all to actually turn up and again had stocks of uneaten candies and unused return gifts. Among the non-attendees were his partner and the girl who has the sweetest smile in the class! Anyway on Saturday, we all had a sweet, lovely seventh birthday party for a little boy who is growing up so fast that he thinks he won't sit on mamma's lap anymore.
Bearing all the surplus goodies, we went yesterday to a nearby orphanage where these were truly welcomed by such an enthusiastic bunch of kids! Returning from the orphanage which had so many tiny abandoned babies as well, dh asked: "Isn't it a crime to abandon a baby?" That really had me at a loss for words- don't know what to say.
And yes, this is what I made yesterday! Don't ask me why- just felt like it.
.jpg)
January 19, 2006
Eating sugar? na na na
I'd undertaken this exercise in story telling in response to a 'trigger' from the S & C group. Catch me if you can!!
I kid you not. This is a true story. True. Well almost. Somewhere within it, there is a teeny-weeny fib. Not big but its there. So all you who claim to know me, the challenge is to identify the only falsehood in my story.
Each product and commodity comes with a best before date. It may keep for longer but past that date there is certain deterioration- tangible, physical change, in some cases or, more insidious and more damaging. You may be attracted to it, bite into it, consume it but doing so would nevertheless put you to some risk. We humans come in such packages too. So when did my descent begin? Could it be the first lie I had uttered all those years ago?
I was a thin, small, painfully shy kid and people had to bend really low to be able to hear what I was mumbling. I used to be on a continuous search to find new places to hide and lose myself in my thoughts. It was a long languid afternoon in muggy
Outed: The only fib in this tale was that my sister was far too kind to beat me. In fact she grew even kinder to me after this! In fact no one has really been able to come between us- ever.
January 14, 2006
Addiction
Reading Ellen is such a habit with me now that I feel I should formalize my dependence by signing up for those CoDA classes she's promising every Tuesday. She has a way to getting to me (and at least half of the angst-ridden female population of bloggers!) and making me think. Think long and worry, of course. :))
This was her latest salvo, which along with the 40 odd (till date) posts it has generated makes one conclude(!) that being spouse to an addict is not fun. But somehow being non-spouse to such is also not so easy. Why ever? Thought of Draupadi who was set as wager and lost by her Pandava husbands to the Kauravas, a spirited female in Hindu mythology who chose to live on with her five self seeking husbands right up to the very end. No paragon of wifely devotion she, didn't even make it to the top five list of Hindu satis in the league of Ahalya, Sita, Savitri, Arundhati and Damayanti (that I can recollect)!
In my current verse-challenged state, I set out my thoughts in verse. I do hope it does not trivialise the issue.
This was her latest salvo, which along with the 40 odd (till date) posts it has generated makes one conclude(!) that being spouse to an addict is not fun. But somehow being non-spouse to such is also not so easy. Why ever? Thought of Draupadi who was set as wager and lost by her Pandava husbands to the Kauravas, a spirited female in Hindu mythology who chose to live on with her five self seeking husbands right up to the very end. No paragon of wifely devotion she, didn't even make it to the top five list of Hindu satis in the league of Ahalya, Sita, Savitri, Arundhati and Damayanti (that I can recollect)!
In my current verse-challenged state, I set out my thoughts in verse. I do hope it does not trivialise the issue.
Addiction
If he is addicted to other women, gambling or drink
She wouldn't want to live with him, one'd think,
Yet studying our prime mythical story
I?m no closer to unraveling this mystery
Draupadi, that acme of Indian polyandry,
She was no drudge; she was known to get angry
Brought up as a precious princess girl,
On occasion, her lips would curse and curl
She was not known to be as docile
As Sita was, in her forced exile
With each of her husbands having personal wives
Why didn?t Draupadi leave them to their loves and dice?
Why, if she could subvert chiraharan,
Did she choose the life of a common char-woman?
When all her husbands had crucially failed her
She turned to cosmic
Why then, did she continue to be by them?
Engaging herself as their menial pro tem
If Draupadi had recourse to divorce
Would she have fared any worse?
Gambled away by her principal wooer
The second having to live as a neuter
The big middle one, by her, couldn't do much
And the twins, they were quite out of touch!
Dharmaraj Yuddhistra was unrighteous
Virile Arjun, reduced to shikhandii
Powerful Bhima was, for her, powerless
Nakul and Sahadev mere have-beens
With five husbands and on her own
A personal revenge she had sworn
And yet she adorned other princesses
While she didn?t tie her own tresses
A princess, a natural queen to-be,
Why did she acquiesce to ignominy?
Is there any algorithm to explain-
Why some de-train but others refrain
Not opting out, staying on, till their defenses are worn
Is it that some have a lower threshold,
while others have a lower still self esteem,
or martyrdom, a search for a higher being?
Is it love for a self-indulgent big child
Who makes the right public noises but privately cries
Is it response to a defence-less spousal position
Or simply passive masochistic destruction?
Or is it a final irony that the addict 's addiction
Creates and supports in the family, a mirror position?
January 12, 2006
Under the banyan tree
I strive restlessly ceaselessly
Thrashing hard, long, all day
Hoping that the next dawn will
Find me somewhere closer to you
Yet when day dawns seamlessly
You are you are no closer I daresay
But I aspire to reach you still
Hope these dreams will come true
You are grand, big and give me shade
I'll try to match you blade by blade
As I look up at your lofty brow
Much faster, bigger I wish to grow
But people say that it's the truth
Its unhealthy for me to be under your sway
Ah! they are plucking me from my root
And transplanting me some place away
OK. This one has a metre which I do not claim to comprehend!
This was the result of a desultory discussion on growth in corporate organisations. My position was that occasional uprooting is a prerequisite for gaining extra perquisites!
Hi!
I hurtle up the narrow flight
To answer that unheard call
The blinding blazing sunlight
On the bare white-washed wall
White-red white-red white-red
Insistently persistently pounding
This pattern permeates my head
Urging me to stumble up tripping
The leaf latticed, sun bleached terrace
Instills in me cold confounding dread
My eyes flicker in feverish pace
Seeking some temperate solace instead
But abruptly my jerky puppet movements end
Its not everyday, I make a new friend!
This one is 'inspired' by the head cold I have (acquired from Delhi, second-hand via dh who has been buzzing between the capital and home these last two weeks). The rush up enabled me to see a similarly heat seeking butterfly on the aforesaid terrace.
The last line of course is totally Narnia, which I finally managed to see yesterday, with the kids. Loved it! :))
January 11, 2006
Eid mubaarak!
Hi all you folk who may or may not celebrate Eid (or is it Id!;p)
Heres wishing you all for a speacial reason- Eid (Id) is my favourite festival. No, not for the sweets or the savories and definitely (defiantly?) not for the reason it may be celebrated of which I claim absolute blissful ignorance. Its my favourite because of all the hugs going around on the day. So here then is my idi for you- a curly hug! {{}}
Heres wishing you all for a speacial reason- Eid (Id) is my favourite festival. No, not for the sweets or the savories and definitely (defiantly?) not for the reason it may be celebrated of which I claim absolute blissful ignorance. Its my favourite because of all the hugs going around on the day. So here then is my idi for you- a curly hug! {{}}
Heres kicking at you!
Started this morning with my usual checking of mail. But guess what really grabbed me! This! While I keep talking of my tremendous adoration of this handsome and happening hunk, its nice to know that theres something we have in common!
Even at the risk of sounding crass, I admit to indulging in some weird physical games with my kids. Apart from the customary tickling sessions on the bed as a destressor, we also do this. We run towards each other (preferably on the carpet to avoid sudden skidding or un- intended toppling over) making menacing noises while trying to kick each other. Of course, as a basic safety measure, it is ensured that there is no actual physical connect, but we do try and aim as high as possible! It is great fun for all though I do have to be very careful with these kids of mine who are baby sized compared to their huge mama! Wonder whether this game would qualify as anywhere close to a martial art of kickboxing, but we do mange to kick up a pretty good time with it!
Even at the risk of sounding crass, I admit to indulging in some weird physical games with my kids. Apart from the customary tickling sessions on the bed as a destressor, we also do this. We run towards each other (preferably on the carpet to avoid sudden skidding or un- intended toppling over) making menacing noises while trying to kick each other. Of course, as a basic safety measure, it is ensured that there is no actual physical connect, but we do try and aim as high as possible! It is great fun for all though I do have to be very careful with these kids of mine who are baby sized compared to their huge mama! Wonder whether this game would qualify as anywhere close to a martial art of kickboxing, but we do mange to kick up a pretty good time with it!
January 09, 2006
Breaking Point
Break, Break, BreakAlfred Tennyson, 1st Baron (1809 - 92)
| BREAK, break, break, | |
| On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! | |
| And I would that my tongue could utter | |
| The thoughts that arise in me. | |
| O well for the fisherman's boy, | 5 |
| That he shouts with his sister at play! | |
| O well for the sailor lad, | |
| That he sings in his boat on the bay! | |
| And the stately ships go on | |
| To their haven under the hill; | 10 |
| But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, | |
| And the sound of a voice that is still! | |
| Break, break, break, | |
| At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! | |
| But the tender grace of a day that is dead | 15 |
Will never come back to me. | |
I do not wish to insult the intelligence of the worthy reader by dwelling at length about the loss of a dear friend which Lord Tennyson suffered badly. While this led to other worthier poems which have been panned extensively, this one was relegated to school texts. The bleakness of a gray sea side landscape, the image of a gay fisher boy calling out to his play mate, the stately sights and the landscape evoke the image of tremendous absolute loss which is experienced when one finds oneself friendless. If such a person, be an introverted intense poet, who is not likely to be able to communicate with the sea of humanity around him which carries on unmindful and seemingly crashing against the grayness within him, the result had to be this jewel which is steady in its lustre and timeless attraction! |
January 06, 2006
Life IS haw-haw he-he in the ladies coupe
One week (weak?) into the new year and I confess that I hobbled in- huffing and puffing and all padded up and in the uncomfortable ladies coupe! Well, not literally, but as metaphors go, this'll do. Ladies coupe sounds far more genteel and refined than some others which I can but choose not to use. I haven't got a rating for this post and heaven forbid, if it read by those it is not meant for, notably the squeamish and non-women!?
It also serves as an indicator to all those who do not wish to get into details of typical talk in ladies coupes, or ladies' coops for that matter.
Ellen complained of how her welcome to Santa was constrained by the earlier arrival of Aunt Flo. In my case, as I was preparing for the 'New Years', as it is popularly referred to, and was in the 'more the merrier' mode, I got a bunch load of unwanted guests.
Guests- who come regularly enough and long over-stay their welcome but can cause extreme paranoia when they do not appear at the correct periodic intervals. A bit about them now- even before their presence is formally announced there are o so many indicators heralding that they'll be around soon. The Champ Cramp is the first among the outriders. The royal cavalclade is then made up of the Mood Hood who does a thorough once-over with his arsenal which is deployed against the valiant warriors- led ably by dashing dopamine. It is only in this suitably 'prepared' environment that Her Highness, Aunt Flo comes, accompanied as always by Uncle Blob. The Royal train is made up of their unmentionable offspring who regardless of the exact number appear to be a real dirty dozen. Theres gassy Gussy, who makes a pompous ass of himself and tender Princess Belinda who causes much ouch with her touch of tenderness. Then there is His Royalty, Prince Payne, who comes clad in dull fatigues and makes straight for the below the belt. With such a lively party on, could one ask for more?
The official New Year started with the customary bouquets (floral) and some brickbats. One of my guys had come up to 'call-on' with his wishes, in deference to my position in a floor above his. He walked in with a mouth full of paan and managed to shower me with the choicest of his good wishes, in flowery Hindi! But in the process, he also sprayed his spittle on me! "Hip-py Noo Eeear, My-dum", he managed to spit or not to spit(?) "And a happy (hippy) new year to you too!" I said, trying to seek cover against the assault of spittle. "Arre, my-dum, aap ismile kyon nahin de rahiin?" he asked. "Chehre pe barah kyon baja hai? Khush rahiye na. Aap khush hi acchi lagti hain." This smart guy didn't need any research to inform him of the relationship between hormones and appearance. How the hell do I tell this guy that I can't be bloody happy and grinning when I'm bleeding sick!?!
Then within moments I get an SMS from Big Sister (hereinafter referred to lovingly as 'BS') from across the length of the country. I had been talking to her nearly every am/pm and reassuring her ad-naseum about how 'good' I was, but unconvinced she plodded and pleaded. "tell all to mamma i can feel it here". Given that there is little I can do about biharis and BS, I just need to make friends with Aunt Flo!
Hmm, hows that for a New Year resolution?
PS: Haw-haw, apart from the jolly sound it makes, is also the Hindi term for 'shame-shame'!
It also serves as an indicator to all those who do not wish to get into details of typical talk in ladies coupes, or ladies' coops for that matter.
Ellen complained of how her welcome to Santa was constrained by the earlier arrival of Aunt Flo. In my case, as I was preparing for the 'New Years', as it is popularly referred to, and was in the 'more the merrier' mode, I got a bunch load of unwanted guests.
Guests- who come regularly enough and long over-stay their welcome but can cause extreme paranoia when they do not appear at the correct periodic intervals. A bit about them now- even before their presence is formally announced there are o so many indicators heralding that they'll be around soon. The Champ Cramp is the first among the outriders. The royal cavalclade is then made up of the Mood Hood who does a thorough once-over with his arsenal which is deployed against the valiant warriors- led ably by dashing dopamine. It is only in this suitably 'prepared' environment that Her Highness, Aunt Flo comes, accompanied as always by Uncle Blob. The Royal train is made up of their unmentionable offspring who regardless of the exact number appear to be a real dirty dozen. Theres gassy Gussy, who makes a pompous ass of himself and tender Princess Belinda who causes much ouch with her touch of tenderness. Then there is His Royalty, Prince Payne, who comes clad in dull fatigues and makes straight for the below the belt. With such a lively party on, could one ask for more?
The official New Year started with the customary bouquets (floral) and some brickbats. One of my guys had come up to 'call-on' with his wishes, in deference to my position in a floor above his. He walked in with a mouth full of paan and managed to shower me with the choicest of his good wishes, in flowery Hindi! But in the process, he also sprayed his spittle on me! "Hip-py Noo Eeear, My-dum", he managed to spit or not to spit(?) "And a happy (hippy) new year to you too!" I said, trying to seek cover against the assault of spittle. "Arre, my-dum, aap ismile kyon nahin de rahiin?" he asked. "Chehre pe barah kyon baja hai? Khush rahiye na. Aap khush hi acchi lagti hain." This smart guy didn't need any research to inform him of the relationship between hormones and appearance. How the hell do I tell this guy that I can't be bloody happy and grinning when I'm bleeding sick!?!
Then within moments I get an SMS from Big Sister (hereinafter referred to lovingly as 'BS') from across the length of the country. I had been talking to her nearly every am/pm and reassuring her ad-naseum about how 'good' I was, but unconvinced she plodded and pleaded. "tell all to mamma i can feel it here". Given that there is little I can do about biharis and BS, I just need to make friends with Aunt Flo!
Hmm, hows that for a New Year resolution?
PS: Haw-haw, apart from the jolly sound it makes, is also the Hindi term for 'shame-shame'!
January 05, 2006
My meme to you all
Two memes(7 & 5) came here my way and I thought I dealt with them the best I could and that having done so, I'd given them a resting place. But no, it doesn't do. I am flooded by queries from those who are curious about memes and wish to try their hands at this sport! But haven't been tagged!
Heres tagging all of you- all my friends with a their own blogs. Prithi- you're long overdue. Arvind, Pallavi, Naresh and you too, Scott, if you'd oblige. Asmita, Alankrita, David, Jyotsna and of course the cause of my ryze, Dan! You could choose the Seven or Five or both. Prose or verse, heres waiting to your posts!
Heres tagging all of you- all my friends with a their own blogs. Prithi- you're long overdue. Arvind, Pallavi, Naresh and you too, Scott, if you'd oblige. Asmita, Alankrita, David, Jyotsna and of course the cause of my ryze, Dan! You could choose the Seven or Five or both. Prose or verse, heres waiting to your posts!
January 03, 2006
Tick Tag Two
I'm pretty much used to various labels- even reconciled myself to idiotic ones like 'special' child! But was not used to tags. First it was by AfricaBleu and then it was Artsymama who tagged me! I took on the might of Becky by refusing defiantly (have I got that right now!?!) to carry on the meme, but now, emboldened by the mighty Scott-sman himself am bold to meme and be done with the same.
Seven
Before I die, these seven things I've to do
Shed inhibitions, get about,
Scuba dive, glide, fly. But shoo,
there are other things I could never do
move my two left feet or care a jot
to sing in tune, sulk for long, smoke pot,
run or have matching shoes and a neat hair do.
This brings me to what I fancy in my man-
bright eyes, sweet ears n' lips, a nice nose,
brains to wit, brawn that looks good in repose
and yes, suitable taste in prose.
Keeping me company in my throes
I acknowledge his presence the best I can.
The seven things I say most often
don't merit such consideration
common expressions of shock, delight, affection
cogitation, action, negation and in addition,
tremendous consternation
on the sins and virtues 'seven'
The celebrity crushes I've had
in typical random order are:
Will Smith, Pierce Brosnan, Milind Soman,
Michael Holding, dare I slip in John
Abraham, Viv Richards and (my first!) the hockey Somayya
thats just some of them, not bad!
Five
For the bees in my bonnet
Could I have come up with less
Than a Shakespearean sonnet?
And for this, S & C I bless
Stranger folk are said to be
Inhabiting the land
so why not me
and my quirks- not so grand?
Capricious, unfocussed and confused
I swear I snore
hold my rigid views
And am a deadly bore
Signing off with both these tags, Whew
without a-tagging any of you.
Seven
Before I die, these seven things I've to do
Shed inhibitions, get about,
Scuba dive, glide, fly. But shoo,
there are other things I could never do
move my two left feet or care a jot
to sing in tune, sulk for long, smoke pot,
run or have matching shoes and a neat hair do.
This brings me to what I fancy in my man-
bright eyes, sweet ears n' lips, a nice nose,
brains to wit, brawn that looks good in repose
and yes, suitable taste in prose.
Keeping me company in my throes
I acknowledge his presence the best I can.
The seven things I say most often
don't merit such consideration
common expressions of shock, delight, affection
cogitation, action, negation and in addition,
tremendous consternation
on the sins and virtues 'seven'
The celebrity crushes I've had
in typical random order are:
Will Smith, Pierce Brosnan, Milind Soman,
Michael Holding, dare I slip in John
Abraham, Viv Richards and (my first!) the hockey Somayya
thats just some of them, not bad!
Five
For the bees in my bonnet
Could I have come up with less
Than a Shakespearean sonnet?
And for this, S & C I bless
Stranger folk are said to be
Inhabiting the land
so why not me
and my quirks- not so grand?
Capricious, unfocussed and confused
I swear I snore
hold my rigid views
And am a deadly bore
Signing off with both these tags, Whew
without a-tagging any of you.
A short sweet(?) one
My very first attempt at versification. A bit of a doggerel, but here goes...
Tremulous
From the edge of my chair
From my corner of the bed
From under my massed up hair
From the recesses of my head
From the bottom of my heart
From the depths of my soul
Like a small bit part
Of a much larger whole
Trying with a stutter
To find my voice
With feelings a-flutter
I hope to find poise
Among the general melee
I'll try, lets see!
Tremulous
From the edge of my chair
From my corner of the bed
From under my massed up hair
From the recesses of my head
From the bottom of my heart
From the depths of my soul
Like a small bit part
Of a much larger whole
Trying with a stutter
To find my voice
With feelings a-flutter
I hope to find poise
Among the general melee
I'll try, lets see!
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