All your base are belong to us

I want to write heaps, but this one finally did it, "what are you doing for New years", yes its the season where you have to have someone to be seen with or you might as well curl up and die!. I don't think I've been with anyone for any new years. Last year's took the cake. briefly, big south indian family gathering, cousin from berkely showing off his affiliation to the Berkely Bhangra club, and then the big south indian family gathering also vying for a spot in that bhangra club. that made my new year's resolution for this year - I need a Stiff drink!.

This year has seen numerous phases. I was in college till may, truly some halcion days. Parting with all my friends and with that insouciant life was truly painful. Even now I miss how we used to indulge in meaningless arguments while the sun shone fatheadedly. then came some does of real physical pain when I got operated upon for a ligament tear, I thought I'd never walk again. barely after I started walking, I found myself in hyderbad working For Google. working for the big G can only be described a FUN!. In Hyd I had my own bed, my own curtains, my own toilet with flower motif on all the tiles and my own geyser in my own toilet!. I'll never forget my apartment and my weird roomies. and then 6 weeks after I found myself back in bangalore, back in my parents place.

I still need a stiff drink.

Happy New Year All!

If only I don't Bend and break, I'll meet you on the other side....

Ummm, its been a looooooong time. thankfully my blog is forgiving, unlike most people I know, I even forgot my best bud's birthday. happy belated b'day best bud. oh I even forgot to commemorate my blog annniversary. happy belated b'day bloggie.

I have nothing significant to blog about. Well I do, but I can't really blog about it, and besides my life revolves around work these days. You I didn't even know Paris was burning, I don't have time to read Newspaper you see and besides I was quite shocked when I heard it. Paris always brings images of this 6 footer, anorexic blonde model with no boobs swishing about, amidst flash bulbs in a chanel skirt. Arsonists torching cars? umm no. Mebbe thats why it burned

anyhooo, the only exciting thing (that I can blog about, mark) of note is this grocery store outside office called Monday to Sunday. Now, normally I wouldn't be caught dead using words like Grocery. Enid Blyton made it her own and ran with it. Why are all Enid Blyton's Grocers such ruddy nice people, with nice warm smiles and who always gave bets/daisy/diana/anne a complimentary boiled sweet?. Even her thuggish grocers are squeaky clean. I mean her mean guys are the kinds who buster/timmy/scamper can shoo off with just a growl. Grocers really aren't that pleasant. I mean, you have some who whine when you don't have the exact change, they frown with displeasure when you've chosen something that does not have a bar code, like all of it is your fault.

Ok I majorly Digress. MtS rocks because they have this fabulous Alcohol section which has all the assorted breezers, a good wine collection and get this, even a baby smirnoff Vanilla twist. Jeez when I saw it, I almost ran to the counter to get it billed instantly. oooh another must buy is the Choco crunchers cereal!. Now when it comes to Cereal the world is divided into people who eat it with Hot milk and cold, and I alawys belonged to the former but after Choco Crunchers, I've converted. You have to have it with cold milk to know how good it tastes. Part of the reason for my ebullient reaction to this cereal is the minimum effort involved!

Ok I'll stop now. The product-whore signs off

The Picture of Doriana Gray

Most people drink or smoke to bust stress, I shop. one look at my bank statements (cool huh? bank statements and all, I sound so Important) confirms this. and some smarty pants suggested the other day that I apply for a credit card? eh?? I think I'll I end up on Oprah, teary eyed, confessing that I have a shopping mania, and you know what she'll say? "This is just a symptom, of a deep emotional issue", and I'll say "yeah my mom loved my brother more". ok we digress, but the problem I think is quite chronic, and particularly so when it involves Mango. I love their clothes, I can't help it. their clothes are exactly me!. quirky, girly, chic yada yada and gosh its gotten so bad, that they actually call me when they get new stuff, in a sugary "gotcha sucker" voice.

Well anyhow, my depleting bank bank account made me think about my shopping pattern, this is ofcourse after the initial horrified shriek. All my clothes are indicative of my state of being. and I wonder if its true of all people, their clothes representing who they are. that sounds rather shallow and what the high school clique would endorse, but I think there's some truth to it. I think when people buy clothes for themselves, it subconsciously translates itself into how they're feeling.

hmm so one of the truly awesome investments i made over the past week has been getting myself a world space connection. and for just 2000 bucks. Its a steal! and I love the jazz channel, its called Riff and its heavenly, and ooooh I got my very own remote! all my life, the men around me, my Dad and my bro, have been snatching the remote from my hand and lording over it. So apart from being a perfect lip-synching instrument, it will also be my redemption from those troubled memories of remote grabbing.

also made some investment for the home, read crockery. went to Jamal's to buy mum a neat non-stick frying pan. sort of a first salary gift thingie. I love Jamal's. Every time I pass that store, I'm planning my crockery, linen, curtains etc in my own house. And that thought always thrills me up. I got some chop sticks too and I think another shopping trip is in order to get me a good egg-beater, some mittens... sometimes I think I have all the trappings of that enid blyton cook who just made those kids fabulous scones and cakes all the time. I also need to buy dad something, but I can't think of what to buy him, i thought of Chivas regal, but umm does it look proper buying your dad alcohol? any suggestions anybody?. need help for this one!

Come on baby light my fire.....

arrite too late for a diwali related post, and I had such nice sentences running in my head.
I think I've out grown Diwali. seriously. these days its not so much about lights, festivity as is about Corporate Kaju Katli Give aways and bumper draws promising Cars at the clothing store. Please tell me if anyone actually wins those "Bumper Draws"??? Anyone you know? Please because I've filled 5 billion of those and I've never won anything.

But the vanishing of the Diwali charm (And I think that sentence was wrongly framed, but its 1 AM and I'm still at work, so spare me!) is what's making me a tad sad. I remember what diwali meant to us as kids. Preperations would begin about a week before the grand 3 days, and that would be heralded by mum preparing the batter for real crispy chakulees. Another thing that symbolized the official onset of Diwali was the building of the family Khandeel. Nobody here makes it, but in bombay its really popular. Khandeel is a sort of lantern and some of my fondest memories are of Dad building the Khandeel, with Coloured paper and gum spread astray on the dinning table. Can you imagine glitter strwn all over the solemn Dinning table?. And then we'd get our boxes of crackers. Our Dad always got my brother and I identical boxes of crackers, and then I would ceremoniously hand-over bombs and other despicably loud crackers to my bro, while I held on to other sissy stuff, like Flower pots. I liked flower pots. They came alive with a whoosh and then they burned out and didn't split anybody's Ear drums.

We had to have a piece de resistance too, something that'd make the neighbours look up in stifled awe and envy. We had to. and when you're 12 and competing with the neighbour hood apartment kids, with apartment Diwali budgets, Its absolutely Important. Ours was called the "Shree harikota". It spun like mad in the sky and then burst into a shower. Too wowowow for words. One year we experimented with this thing called "Rainbow" basically 7 multi hued projectiles hurled into the air, but unfortunately, Rainbow became parallel to the ground, while hurling these aforementioned projectiles, and Babli the neighbour's labrador never quite forgave us for the trauma so inflicted.

Diwali also brings back memories of my petrified dogs. Have you ever held a Dog during Diwali. Nothing quite breaks one's heart as that. The heart beats like its going to explode any minute, The body shivers and yet in the eyes complete numbness. I hated having to feret out my dogs, hiding in a dark corner, from under the bed . I guess that marked arrival of anti- Diwali- anti- child labour- anti- air pollution phase. and also lets face it, some of us get tired with the scurrying-after-the-cracker-has-been-lit routine. I prefer watching all the fireworks in a worn out pajama on the terrace. its so much more fun.

This time round, the rockets have improved immensely, we didn't have such good stuff 6 years back sigh!. Well I guess its all for the best, Me being a mute spectator, besides I need to atone for what happened to babli, the neighbour's labrador.

can't find a better man.....

Its turning out to be a ritual Friday night story. I stay back till 9 at work and then everybody else also in the same 9 PM boat, decide to go some place and get some drinks, and that place is turning out to be LOR. now LOR is the place where all your rock/psuedo rock/head-banging types come to, basically weirdos. The kind who'll argue passionately about pantera vs sepultura, (whats the difference???), who find mascara boy marilyn manson cool or are into some band called "Gravediggers" or "Death" or prolly "Blood Blood, Die Die", but last night that place redeemed itself with one simple act. they played Eddie Vedder's Even Flow. I can't describe in words how sexy I find him, or how much I love Pearl Jam. I lurrvee Eddie Vedder, I want to have his babies, but I guess He found someone to do that for him huh?.

Friday night ritual also includes goin to Cousin's place for the night, she lives the closest to my office and I obviously can't go home after downing cosmopolitans right?. I love cousin, she's the kind of person whom you can periodically tune out to while in a conversation and tune back in and still get the drift what she's saying. Thats a good thing. and she's always always on the phone. thats a good thing too when you're head is spinning. Those phone conversations are interesting too. Last night it was how a fellow colleague was dating a married woman, previous week was about how a fellow colleague's marriage was breaking up. last week she also gave me very passionate and embittered gyan on how, "all men are the same".

Friday night ritual is then followed by the saturday morning ritual where I trudge back to work from cousin's place. Saturday morning gyan from cousin are much more educative than the previous night. She's warned me about the perils of the hair growing curly after you've straightened it. what mouse to use, if it does get curly, what straightening Iron to buy, where the jeans can be bought for a steal etc etc. and then its all followed by mom's call in the evening, yelling at me for working so much and how I'll burn out and shrivel away. She YELLED at me one night , when I was in still at office at 12:30. so much so that I had to keep the phone a mile away from my ear. I wonder where it all stems from? maternal care or distrust?

No matter what anyone says, I'm enjoying all of it. Ritual or not.

Swish Miss or alternatively bring on the shampoo ads

a big reason for my relative good humour these days is my straight hair. Yes My hair has direction, it has focus, it has ambition infact its a better career woman than me. I just lurrrve the fact that my hair and I argue no more, and now if that wasn't something to cheer about, I can SWISH my hair!!!. yes swish, like those shampoo ads, where its all sunshine, and her is all straight and silky and she's bouncing around. ofcourse she's a prissy flooze, but she's a flooze whose hair obeys and that mind you is a lot to give up for.

I once was a strong believer in curls, infact in class 12 it was my raison d'etre and vowed never to sell out to straightening Irons and chink beauticians who do the straightening, sorta of a janis joplin ragged doll phase, not that I'm saying curly haired woman are ragged dolls mind you. Curls are beautiful. in fact the very word Curl is beautiful in itself, it reminds me of a purring stubborn cat, but thats the problem, curls are stubborn, they're unpredictable, and they're always at odds with you, while you're in tuscany they're in marakesh, and I used to like the discord, those hair days infuriated me, but there was something acutely alive about the whole thing, something turbulent and I remember how I tied my hair with a paint brush and attended class sincerely believing that I was making a fashion statement. Dear God what was i thinking?

If college was the janice joplin days, work life is more like Sade. smooth and straight and cool and a slightly slightly arrogant. yes I've even discovered the straight hair arrogant hair toss, and its fun, especially when dealing with guys, i can see why guys like straight hair women more. I mean no way you can toss your hair arrogantly when a guy asks you your number and not look endearing. and since only I can turn a straightening iron into an instrument of philosophy and also the fact that I'm very tired, understandably, i've been working for 14 hours and really want to hit Publish badly and go to sleep, all i can say is, living this shampoo ad is fun and all hail chink beauticians!

Acchoo, twenty two and wooo hooo

go shorty it was your birthday!!!! yeah yeah, yesterday was my b'day and it began with some rapid fire sneezing, signalling the onset of two runny nosed days. not too good. kay called at midnight and well girlfriends are the best ever, they love you so much, they'll stay awake till twelve and make you feel soo special. kay you're the best!!!. then later in the day darshini called. *hugs* thank you, nandu and charms for remembering. you googals rock!!!. ofcourse darling anna called twice,and then today a day later i gotta cut a cake in from ofthe entire office. yay me!!. I didn't get any presents though, but I guess I've passed the stage where material gifts really matter,these days I'm giving myself all the gifts, life long romance and the like. I went to these designer stores at atmosphere, gosh they make some crappy clothes, and you'd think with all the footage they'd pass muster atleast!, i ended up buying at top at Mango, which i decided not to wear in the final analysis cause of the plunging neckline, but i love it. ok I sound like a flooze, peh! anyway, got my hair straightened in the process and am enjoying no-hair hazzle days, but looks like it ain't gonna last long, its already freaking curling up!

anyhow thanks to everybody who wished me, really appreciate that. and if you'll excuse me, i need to find some tissues quick before i start sneezing again...

That I miss....

I love Susheela Raman. Yes me too, after reading about her in Vaish's blog, I followed the links and oh my god! i got goosebumps. Nagumomo was so stellar, that I sat under my desk near the comp tower to hear it better at work. Her voice is so seductive and sexy and yet well traditional and thats what blew me away, her music is like us South indian women always straddling the modern and the traditional. ofcourse when mom heard she was so over wrought with emotion, that Vaish and I have proposed to start a "our moms cried for susheela raman" fan club. Its verry much in the offing.

I don't know if the music connects better with south indians, but for a moment there, it threw me back to a time, when I was little where i spoke only kannada with my parents and fancied wearing jasmine flowers on my hair. a place which was rife with sandal wood and bharathnatyam dancing and the ocassional brush with the tanpura. when summers meant guarding over ajju's rice crispies drying in the sun from crows. I've definitely moved on from that realm, i'm no longer thrilled at wearing a mysore silk saree and the like. and then there are these sudden attacks that tradition throws at us renegades, like poojas for instance where I feel totally alien, instances where mum and her ilk are completely at ease knowing what to do, while i stand awkwardly in a corner looking on helplessly.

there's a rift in me, a rift that susheela so elegantly sweeps away for a few minutes. for the duration of that song my mom and I share the same heritage. oh i love her for that!

You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style

7th Oct (when the internet connection was well )

I like the quiet whirr of machines. its peaceful. its like my fridge is going about its business doing fridge type of things, and more importantly perfectly happy doing fridge type of things and now some evil genius, i swear i saw it on TV, want my fridge to talk to my microwave so my microwave, which was also busy doing its own thing mark, can decide how long to defrost my leftovers based on what my fridge says. pretty soon they'll be gossiping over me. my fridge will soon tell me to clean my room, and come home soon and then my microwave will whine and tell me how lazy I am, freak, who thinks of all this stuff?

umm, met priya this week. did i mention that she's the sweetest person ever ever. probably the last guiless girl left down south. we went to landmark and i bought her a copy of the english patient. god, the number of people I've suggested this book to! Ondaatje should prolly make me his agent. I still find the passage on the winds of Africa mesmerizing. not been reading a lot these days because of my job, I can't wait to sink with my books this weekend and finish a good dose. I wish i had the habit of rememering memorable lines from books, the only line i remember vividly, was a line in the death of vishnu, " and somewhere a movie started in his head". i love that line and ofcourse, Nabokov's "She was dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita". i wish i had his talent of making prose sound exhilerating, his words seem to bungee jump with glee. i hope i get the time to re-read lolita again sometime.

cut to 9th Oct (when the internet is all well again, thanks to some maniacal threats and some choice abuse directed at cable guy's err clan)

Priya called to say that my erst while cot in hyd got sold for 750 bucks, I bought it for 1400. sweet. and they (my two erstwhile roomates, and the fraidy cat accountant, who took my place and got my lovely sliding door cupboards) were going out to garbha that night, ras leela and what not, why didn't they do such fun stuff when i was there? the most fun we had was prolly going to farmaish and eating mhooli paranthas. tell me why i gave up all that again?. I wish maslow had just shushed for once in his life. self actualization! hrmph

ah yes, i sank with a book finally, it was jitterbug perfume and i love tom robbins for his sheer manipulation of sentences, he makes up sentences that nobody ever ever would conjure up. this one's my favourite : "Kudra gave him a look that you could spread on a bun . Her words, however, pricked him like the knife that does the spreading", oh i nearly forgot, i had a fancy bookmark while reading this book, a recall arrest warrant slip, of a one Mr. Fordyce, merry company you keep eh? SP, care to explain?? and while i was reading about perfume, i went and got myself one today, CD's j'adore, yea, i bench pressed my economic muscle and cleaned out half my account *sheepish grin* bought myself loads of b'day presents in advance, hell why not?. I really must get myself a boyfriend* soon, i need an alternative to shopping.

*preferrably within a 15km radius, across the atlantic really doesn't count

Sexy sexy made up of plexi disaster

Mid week saw two utterly depressing days. I was brushing my teeth and mechanically ran my finger to my neck, hoping to find the one thing that's customarily there, My diamond tear drop and was horrified to find bare skin. Do you know what rooted to the spot means? it does not mean you can't move, ofcourse you can move, it means you don't want to move and face reality, in my case, that I'd probably lost my 16th birthday gift.

I don't like jewellery, and more so gold jewellery and mum was very firm that as a 16 year old girl, i ought have some jewellery because thats what tradition dictates and Tradition will be suitably unkind to a girl who does not like gold. Gold is gawdy for me, it has no subtlety, it announces itself loudly to the eyes and will go on to illtreat them with its boorish glitter. Diamonds are different, its sparkle is tender and impish, they seem to smile at you with a mirth of a million years. its like the beginning of a torrid love affair. Thats what i offered tradition, a compromise, a diamond tear drop on a gold chain, take it or leave it.

I knew what i wanted, no chunky gold bullion on my neck. but since i was walking with tradition, we had to go to Krishnaiah Chetty's and something something on commercial street. thats where mum buys all her jewellery, thats where she bought her wedding jewellery, thats where she thinks I'll buy my wedding jewellery. have you noticed these south indian brides? all that gold bullion on the neck could anchor a frigate. there are some walks with tradition, i just will not take. I choose a white sun dress and a beach.

KC's is this typical South Indian Jewellery store. On entering you're hit with a blast sandal wood, incense, Karnatic music, red plush carpetting and chunky women in silk sarees franctically buying gold. its not the place you wear torn jeans to, but i decided to flirt a lil bit with tradition. Since i remotely resembled a cutomer, no one paid attention to me. thats great because you're saved the spin and can concentrate on the designs. they weren't impressed when i told them that all i wanted was a tear drop. just that, no flowers, hearts, stars, mangoes yada yada. After a good hour, after i refused to budge from my notion of a tear drop, i found it. An Angel's tear drop, perfectly sized, perfectly tender and perfectly shy. I imagined it sitting on the hollow at the base of my neck, peering at the world from its niche, scandalized perhaps at the things i do, A witness nonetheless to all my adventures.

I thought I'd lost it for good that morning. I didn't want to move. I didn't find it. It wasn't there to fondle when i was thinking. All my fondest memories, my magical date, my first kiss, my first job , everything was hidden in it, for a million years perhaps, and I'd never see it again. Then, yesterday, when i replacing the linen of my bed, it fell out, as if it was found only because it wanted to be found.

she sits in her niche again, like a lil primadonna surveying the world and eagerly collecting secrets she won't ever tell.

All the trappings of a grinning shark

If hyderabad was all about new beginnings, Bangalore feels like returning back to the crime scene and exposing oneself to the risk of incrimination. There are people around me who'll hold me accountable for the things I did long ago, things that they I expect I'll do. There are people I went to school with. Relatives who'll recall how I recited poetry as a child. Parents who still think I'm not capable of eating spinach ever. and all the Photographs and remnants to remind me of who I was. That I once hung Bon jovi posters on the wall and was the laddu who stood between two gorgeous friends with the shadows on our faces. I'm not that person anymore and its sucks that I'm the only one who knows that.

My new work place is great. really hectic though. I stayed but till 10 last night finishing up with work and then joined the others at firangi paani, which was fun. Even did shots with my boss. but curious why are guys so heavily into sexual innuendos? like a weird group psychological phenomenon when guys get together. sometimes i miss him soo much. anyhow came back really late last night. I don't know if it was the buzz in my head, but i loved the ride through deserted streets, the neon glow on the trees and the serenade of wind in my ears. I came alive in those streets with insidious intent and for a brief moment there was passion in that darkness

Blogger, spammer, scammer and just a lil bit tamer

Thursday: I spent the night watching the HI-tec city landscape in reverie from my apartment's kitchen balcony. buildings, for me, symbolize a finger pointing to the sky , a finger to the forces of the universe. I couldn't see my office building because a huge apartment complex blocked the view but i imagined it nonetheless, a funnel-shaped green facade. very quirky, almost as quirky as the people on the 4th floor. i was also listening to Nitin Sawhney, and the music only made the night more fluid and every aspect seemed to have a life of its own and my hands only got colder. oddly enough i got nitin sawhney,the gypsy kings and nina simone from my manager's playlist. she was cool enough to let me acess to her playlist. and then she said, "you're leaving on Friday aren't you?"

Friday: the day i quit my first job after less than 6 weeks. first up i had a meeting with my team manager. hes prolly the hottest gujju i've ever seen and every time he speaks, it feels like a banjo twanging rather impishly. he was very sweet. he told me that as my manager it was his duty to encourage to take a better job. and then sups, darshini and a lot of my friends threw me a farewell party during lunch time. they bought a chocolate cake with "All the best" on it, and made me cut it and then i got cake smeared on my face. very sweet. (pun intended :)). I'm gonna miss them soo much. Ruthu my TA gave me a funky braceletand she looked like she was going to miss me. it was rather unsettling, everybody did look as if they were going to miss me and all i could wonder was why??. gosh and all this after just 6 weeks. thanks to everybody who signed on my shirt and for the many wonderful memories. after handing over my big G badge , it was time to leave for the offsite, which was at pragathi resorts. it was brilliant fun. i played TT and never did i wish i was TT prodigy than when my manager (yea the same hot gujju) beat us 12-21. sigh. fortunately i was on the same team as him when we played volleyball. then we all watched meet the fockers. which was hilarious. the woman next to me was laughing so animatedly, it was even more hilarious. after dinner we all played a guessing game, a limerick describing a person was read out and we all had to guess who the person was. this was my limerick. (nandu swears sups gave her all the info)

She has a weakness for male engineers, (Slander!, Slander!)

And a passion for pulp fiction it appears

This one's a quizzer; with a secret lover for black saber ( sups, please tell me what the hell a black saber is????)

I hope she is happy when this she hears. (happy is rather overstating the case!)

and then we all danced.

Saturday: My last day in hydie. my roomies were preparing breakfast, aloo paranthas and i was lounging lazily watching them make it. at bout noon time priya decided it was time i started packing and she helped me optimize my packing. that girl is a genius at packing, she conjured up space when there was none. while we were packing, my potential replacements came by to inspect the apartment and were grilled by priya. one looked like a snob, the nose in the air prissy types and the other was a self proclaimed fraidy cat. some replacements huh? then charms dropped by to say goodbye. and soon it was time to leave for the station. priya and neha came to the station with me, to express roomate solidarity. god they are the best roomates anybody could ever have and we got on splendidly.

My train journey was awful to say the least, i developed acute motion sickness and a blinding headache, it felt that vulcan's army was working over time inside my head and i ended up barfing 14 times. trains from andhra always have police escorts because of the naxal problem and this policeman who was sitting on the side lower berth, showed his sympathies by offering me Amurtanjan. the smell set off another wave of barfing and by this time i was delirious. i thought i developed gastroenteritis, and i half thought i'd faint in the train. everytime i tried to sleep, the urge to barf came over and so i decided to sit next to the policeman and take in the fresh air, and resolved to stay awake the entire night. the policeman then told me that i prolly had a bad bout of motion sickness. that reminded about this book called the "kite runner" where the protagonist Amir, says that you don't have to under 18 to succumb to motion sickness. i couldn't agree more. then the ever so kind policeman told me that if i pull my ear till it pops, i'd feel a little better, but then i couldn't pull it and so this guy pulled my ear till it popped. and it did pop!. and then he massaged my nape, i was so delirious, i didn't care. the last time someone massaged my nape was in a more intimate circumstance. the weird things that remind me of him! but after that i felt immensely better and i didn't barf again and actually managed to sleep a lil bit.

thoroughly exhausted i came home and slept till late afternoon till i was awakened by mom.

Adieu, Adieu, Adieu, Remember me!

No i'm not retiring from blogging. this blog is verry much my bitch. but there have been major changes but more on that a lil later. I'm slightly alarmed by the growing pile of books on my table here. i came with 4 books and the stack has matured to 20 now and i've only read about 3 of those, I'm reading jitterbug perfume, which i got from a barter with him. I'm open to book bartering, but i never lend books. ummm oh yeah, last week another addition to what i call my book scraper. gurcharan das's india unbound. actually that surprised me. it wasn't good 'ol fiction, i actually bought something that dealt with socio-economics. these are things that tell you that you're moving on to a new phase and basically some things won't remain the same. like when the Doors no longer seemed that godlike, or wodehouse didn't sound that funny. i hated it when bertie's antics trickled down to a chuckle. anyhow, I greatly admire Gurcharan das's writings, i faithfully read his column in TOI online, and he makes me wish i had someone older like that with whom i could bounce ideas off. the book spoils from hydie have been good. I got margaret atwood's Edible woman, for 60 bucks, in this classickly dingy secod hand book store. the pleasures of getting a treasured book is greater in a small gloomy bookstore than a brightly lit funky bookstore, have you noticed? after yelping for joy that i finally had maggie's first book i got another gem, synopsis of all the great operas. good now i'll finally know what rodolfo's been telling his mimi.and then my roomie priya who's prolly the world's sweetest person ever bought me kunzro's Transmission, i can't wait to sink with it.

sigh, now to the life changing, upheaval news, not much actually but i'm quitting from the big G and coming back tto bangalore to work for NI. yes, i'm leaving hydie, free food, my gals and my roomies. i hate it when you have to make sensible decisions, when the maths adds up in every way, but thats how things go. I'm returning to bangalore to a highly challenging job, but somehow i can't get myself to say good 'ol bangalore. hydie is not just a city, its unparalled freedom for me. i'm gonna miss the odd smattering of antique furniture stores on banjara hills, i'm gonna miss odyssey restuarant, and hyd central where i spent my first salary,chinese pavilion where i learnt to eat with chopsticks, Nandu and eli's cooking, charm's crrazy ways, sup's amazing retort skills and darshini's mock tamil accent and Priya's immense goodness of heart (even if she does work for MS, bah!)and most of all the Big G.

goodbye hyderabad, you were good to me.

My fav building (as of today)

this is the The Auditorio de Tenerife by the spanish architect Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava. I love it simply because its awesomely beautiful. I'm partial to buildings with curves, but here, the magnificent arch of the wave is nothing short of aesthetic brilliance.This building as the name suggests, serves as a concert hall and stages numerous operas each year. somehow, looking at it, you get the feeling you're bound to get washed away by euphoric waves of sound.

beautiful.

Me.

This is not a post where i'm vain, nor is this a post where i'm self deprecating, but this is about things about me i just can't change.

* I'm a clutz. and the degree of clutzness increases when there's food around. I always drop the spoon. and one time this ginormous faux pas ocurred. I have this tendency to wave the sweetner packet before tearing it, so one time while i was waving it, I accidentally let go and it went flying over to the other table.

*I like Bananas. (did i hear a snigger there now?). yes but things get infinitely better when there's banana in the food.

*I love dogs more than i do babies. infact i don't like the latter at all. babies freak me out. when i see one, i'm thinking, i hope i don't poke its eyes or something

*oooh more clutz stories, i always drop books in a book store. Everytime. its rather uncanny, like its my way of "marking" a bookstore. all the books in the shelf have to tumbledown and i have to have a sheepish smile on my face.

* i don't like cell phones, especially for that vile thing called SMSes. dn't u jst ha8 dat?

*i can't eat alone, i have to have company. even T.V will suffice.

*i dish out a lot of shrink BS when i'm talking to people and most surprisingly they take THAT seriously

*I'll never go out with a man who does not read. thats unfathomable.

* i lurrve shopping for shoes. especially sandals. and when i'm depressed i inevitably shop for shoes and then inevitably regret spending so much. but shoes are good. they don't BS with you

* i have a secret affection for cheesy pop which sometimes might lead to some shoulder shaking. like the milkshake song, or superstar or toxic. oh i'll have you know, pink floyd is way over rated :P

*my perfect man, and here i'd like to clarify that for me perfection is fluid but it exists, is an intelligent lumberjack with a wry sense of humour.

* i love a well designed building. i love buildings. if i wasn't an engineer i'd have been an architect, but i can't draw to save my life so i don't think that would have worked out, but i love a good design and i *heart* calatrava buildings

ok that was wayyy too much information.

Independant woman update #2

She's strong, she's independant, and oh oh oh she loses her phone twice in one day.loooong story, that ends in a microsoft dude and the hotel staff giving me back my phone in both instances of loss. this is the third time i'm almost losing my phone, and you know why its not err getting lost, because its a nokia 3310, nobody would want to steal it right? no market. infact a few of friends rejoiced when i had almost lost my phone, finally i'd be on par phone wise with the rest of the blu tooth enabled janta, but not to be, julio dearest came back to mama

i had a lovely weekend, on friday a couple of us from office wanted to go boating on hussain sagar lake but were late angd instead ended up cuing up to watch Mangal Pandey at Prasad's which is the Imax theatre. the guys in our group wanted to watch a dinosaur movie, T-rex, but dude why would you pay 175 bucks to watch barney, even if its 3D??. I'll never understand men. on saturday SD and i went shopping- books and other things that satiate our materialistic soul and then we had lunch in prolly the only place in hydie where occurs not continental food massacres. i swear you should see the stuff they pass off as continental food here. i loved the lunch simply because it brought back memories of sun drenched saturdays and iced Tea lunches with friends discussing everything. don't you love it when the conversation flits and jumps like a lark between various things like books, people, attitudes, our hometowns , Men etc?. I remember how back in college we all used to meet for lunch and talk on endlessly, insouciantly about who we were going to be and what we wanted from life and how we'd never sell out.

I wonder if we'll ever go back to such care free existence, where time stood still and good conversation flowed like an exotic wine and the sunshine seemed eternal.

Maydumb.

I never should have gone back to college, but I did this weekend, to get my PDC and at the end of it all, i was not only ready to start smoking, but was ready to finish an entire pack twice over. yes thats how much nicotene i would have needed to calm me down, to prevent me from doing some serious property damage. if you happen to be a fighter pilot reading this, and they give you a coupleof bombs to blow up, please bestow those on my college's administrative building. Nothing would make happier than seeing that building blown to smithereens.this is what happened.

frankly i felt quite nostalgic on seeing college again, after all, this place enabled me to make loads of moolah via quizzes. i went to the admin building to apply for my PDC and thats were i should have retraced my steps and gone back home. First up, gentleman at the Examinations counter,
Me : "Sir i need an application for the PDC"

him: "What Maydumb, you've come very early for it", (mark the dripping sarcasm)

after procuring the form, go to the cashier for his exalted signature.

Me:"Sir, what is the exact amount i have to pay in the bank"

Him:"What Maydumb, you don't know what amount to pay?"

now if i did, we wouldn't have any need for him now, would we?

Me (still persisting):" Sir, i know its 125, but is there any additional fees to pay?"

Him: "Maydumb, you first pay and come"

bitch.
after you pay the fees, you then have to go on a grand trip of places you've never ever visited whilst in college, like the library,sports building and the HOD's office, so that they can ascertain for sure, you don't owe them anything. Nice.

HOD's office
the man sitting in front of the HOD while he's signing my form with marked in difference : "What Maydumb, you people earn your degrees without actually learning anything"

I'm glad, you've finally caught on boyou.

Library

Librarian: "What Maydumb, your ID card doesn't exist, theres something wrong with it"

yea, it expired when i finished my degree, smarty, the comp knows it, when will you?

Sports building: "What Maydumb, you said you'll join the athletics team, you never came back afterwards"

why don't you try, after an accident, huh?

back to the exalted cashier

him: "What maydumb, you haven't paid the alumni association fees?"

the bank had closed when i went bank to pay the effing AA fees, so i stood outside and begged and pleaded to let me pay the fees.
bank teller:"what maydumb, when will you people learn to be responsible?"

back to his exalted royal highness, the cashier, who had gone to lunch when i came back. when he deigned to come back after his sumptuous repast of (i presume) curd rice, the man signs and frees me. i waltz back to the admission section only to find that i have to visit the biggest kahuna of them all, the principal, who as my luck would have it was in a meeting.
the office told me that principal had better things to do than sign my form, bbecause he was busy making fallacious MOU's with obscure foreign universities, that i had to get it signed by the vice-principal, who as it turned out was also in the same meeting, making fallicious MOU's with obscure foreign universities. when the meeting ended an hour later, i mistook the wrong guy for the vice principal, and thrust my form to his face.
Mr. Mistaken Identity : "What maydumb, don't you know who the vice principal is?, what kind of students have you all become?"

rhetorical questions needn't be answered, i knew that so i proceeded to the right dude, who signed my form, also with marked indifference. I'd come to love that marked indifference.

Finally, i handed my form back to the examination section, and the man took it with soo much smugness and i knew what'd ensue in that nasal tone of his, i left before he could open his mouth, i left college for what i'm hoping will be longer than eternity and then i got stuck in a 2 hour bangalore traffic jam.

You know I didn't smoke a single ciggy that day, you know why?, because i knew that i'd be leaving soon for a more tolerable place and thats Hyderabad.

getting along just fine.

yea no exciting news from my end. i just work---sleep----work and I can't comment on the weekends because 2 of them have been spent house hunting and getting tipsy and one was in bangalore with a sore throat. Hyderabad is such a quiet place and when i get back from work, and i've morphed into the person who doesn't want to get back from work and feels good about it, i just read to fall asleep. I really hope theres a *Bomb* ineffable plan for us pathetic people.

well, to spice things up, i mooted an idea to throw a house warming party. My building needs it. all techies doing their mundane techie things, i swear they need to hear loud garrish Hip hop music to wake them up from their stupors. My hommies in my office agree. CD my buddy vehemently agrees that soporific people have no right to exist and vows to throw a party even if i don't consent to it, but i do. but my roomates arn't too enthusiastic about it, because their boss lives on the 2nd floor and their thinking about their techie career path, what if their techie boss gets pissed off?

why can't people show their boss their Hip hop moves i say?. oh speaking of roomies, one of them read a book of mine, the kiterunner, when i was out for the weekend. I'm glad she did, because now we can talk about books, but she read it even before i did, and thats kinda sad, because well when i give my book to somebody, i know the plot, i know what pages they're gonna love, what pages they're gonna blanch, but she knows that now, and claims its absolutely wonderrful.
sigh.
why can't i get my way??

My baby's got ooooooooooooh angel eyes

what do you get when you combine a rather unsocial city and a free gym membership?. well, you get the resurgence of the gym maniac. yes i'm back to my freaky exercise ways even though this gym has distastefully loud pop music. My prevoius gym had world space membership and since I'm the queen of gyms, (i'm the queen everywhere baby), i always manipulated the music to the Mike kauffman show, i miss that soo much, does it still come on?. gyms are verry interesting places. you get all types and by that i'm referring to the male species only, my eyes don't wander around to the women, but yes occassionally when another woman has a bitch figure and then I monitor her exercise routine and obsessively wonder about what i ought to incorporate into my exercise routine ,yadada, but men, aahh them i survey freely, and ofcourse they know you're watching and then they lift those weights or pedal that cycle with extra oomph. In my previous gym, this guy came upto me showing off his iPod. ofcourse i didn't know then what an iPod was, i just saw his playlist and blanched, backstreet boys, codered, blue etc, eeks why can't a guy hit on me with say coldplay on his playlist? but my present gym is pretty cool, largely filled with techie guys and interestingly they even gym like techie guys. techie guys do all things like techie guys, they even eat pizzas like techie guys, lemme know if it isn't true. lotsa interesting things happen at gyms, and this is my favourite gym tale. in my previous gym, i was listening to radiocity while on the tread mill.

RJ : we have a caller who wants to make an announcement to the whole of bangalore city.

caller : yea i do

RJ : go on, what do you want bangalore city to know?

caller: Bangalore! I'm in love with my cousin sister.

RJ: *silence*

caller: *silence*

me: *fallen off from the treadmill*

lol, anyhow back in bangalore for the long weekend but stuck with a sore throat, and no, it was to get 2 weeks of laundry done and not because i miss this city terribly, because i kinda don't, its easily the greatest city around, but somehow its fun living in an alien city, where you need a map to navigate through, where you don't understand the language, where the transportation is totally effed up, where there are umpteen continental food massacres. yea, inshallah its been fun.

Independant Woman update.

the weekend was a glorious sleep deprived one. i think i've slept for about 6 hours the entire weekend, which obviously means i'm getting along fine socially for the moment and i have enough ghost stories and faux pas tales to last me a life time. also did a lil bit of sight seeing. i saw the charminar, and by the looks of it, they ought to maintain it a lil better. hullo?? it has domes on it, one ought not to maintain it like a paan shop. then we proceeded to the salar jung museum, which obiviously was a museum on the life of salar jung, who i gathered was a nawab of this place, but gosh they all but displayed his diapers there. oh i moved to my new apartment this weekend. also fought with the guys who transported the wrong mattress to my place. jallu was there to be the "man on the scene", he also took pics of my place, from his snazzy new phone. thanks jallu. then i dealt with uber control freak roomate's mom. i swear there should be a Nobel prize for taking shit. and today i got my checque book. yahooey, i'm working womwn, who's getting paid, and i can sign checques now, oh arrite from the 1st of next month.
ok i'm done. i'm off now.

*Selecting A Reader*

First, I would have her be beautiful,
and walking carefully up on my poetry
at the loneliest moment of an afternoon,
her hair still damp at the neck from washing it. She should be wearing
a raincoat, an old one, dirty from not having money enough for the cleaners. She will take out her glasses, and there in the bookstore,
she will thumb over my poems, then put the book back up on its shelf. She will say to herself, "For that kind of money, I can get my raincoat cleaned." And she will.
Ted Kooser

thanks to a co-worker who generously passed on this poem to me.

quasi home.

finally, after numerous betrayals, (i'm guilty of one btw, i'm sorry but theres no way i'm gonna be happy living right outside a cowshed. err looooooooong story), i finally found meself an apartment. i'm sharing it with two other girls and yayyy i'm finally gonna have roomies!!!. i always fantasized about this moment. me livin an independant life in an alien city, in an apartment with roomies...i always somehow imagined my roomies to be a hair dresser or this total bohemian DJ type chic, you know, completely different from me, well it didn't exactly turn out that way but i'm extremely satisfied with the outcome. i have me own wardrobe now and soon my own cot and my own mattress, and my own bed spreads, my own linen.....
aah yes, i'm a satisfied independant woman , scrounging but independant. yay!!!.

oooooooh very exciting news just in, managed to rope in some girls and we're gonna go out and experience some "nightlife". double yayy!!!

....take me home to the place I belong

yes folks out there who are curious as to what happened to me and even if you aren't i'll tell you anyway. i've been out house hunting. no thats HOUSE HUNTING!. lower case just doesn't convey the requisite emotions.

my house hunting sojourn began on friday evening. when a friend's friend called up to show me a house and i went forwith, with eager anticipation, romanticizing the entire hunt as a coming of age of age ritual, when the heavens burst open, it is after all, the "rainy" season and literally drowned the pretty picture. trust me on this, the landlord isn't impressed when you show up all dishevelled because of the rain. the aforementioned flat was good but the location wasn't. which is the story of all my house hunting. the flat is good but the toilets arn't, the toilets are good but the location isn't, the flat is good, the toilet is good, the location is good, but sadly the budget isn't.

if that wasn't worse i get stuck with weird people. for one, a schizophrenic fellow house hunter (SFHH) who can't decide between living with the relative and living on ones own. i swear SFHH ruined my house hunting. when SFHH turned judas, i was stuck with over critical mom of friend's friend house hunter (FFHH). over critical mom who thought i didn't know hindi and proceeded to tell FFHH that i didn't look like a "nice" girl. very sweet . thank you. then SFHH would, by now, do a predictible, volteface, and find us a apartment to inspect. infact SFHH found this great apartment on jubilee hills, a 3BHK deal, and the land lord took us in a green ford IKON to inspect the apartment with. the house was fabulous. the view, no thats VIEW was fabulouser. but sadly since another unreliable fellow house hunter (UFHH) was in chennai, we couldn't seal the deal. you the know the woman living in front of that fabulous apartment was a popular telugu actress???. i don't know her name, but imagine i could have landed a role in tollywood!!!, i could have gone to new york, london, paris, egypt for song sequence. i could have had a zillion people dancing behind me!!!.

now that i think of it the whole thing has become a bit too complicated. SFHH, myself and UFHH were a trio and we were supposed to house hunt together. but myself being very smart also secretly teamed up with FFHH, and kept a parallel stream going. but alas! smart won't get you a house. UFHH wasn't interested in the dream apartment, SFHH has decided to stay put with relative , FFHH found a house and is happy and what about me you ask?

STILL NO HOUSE. godammit!

..and so it goes.

work is cool. lots of benefits. this place is stocked with things that are totally nutritionally wrong for you.

New beginnings

my god! does work sap the creative juices or what?. i feel thoroughly disoriented, for one, there's an over whelming majority of girls in our office. imagine, my plight then, coming from 4 years of mech class. jeez its not easy. brings back haunting memories of the girls' school experience. and then hydie sucks, i'm saying this only because i got thoroughly ripped off over 4 passport photos. but i'm hoping things will change, and no cute guys!!!, darn it, i think i'll push for a transfer to the mumbai office when it comes up!

but my workplace is great, we have a uber cafeteria, and i'm waiting to sneak in there again for a second helping of lemon souffle, but they're having a meeting there. double darn it!!!. still looking for an apartment, but i'm put up in the company guest house which is a villa if you please!. i swear, i won't leave this place without a fight. lots and lots of stuff to do, before i can finally reclaim my bangalore mental equilibrium, i wonder if i'll ever get that ever again. that insouciant life where someone else paid all the bills, where your vocabulary did not include rent, immersion heater,water bill, electric bill and 3 day weekends.

i'd never thought i'd say this, but the word thats in my mind right now is "rich husband"

I'm leaving on a jet plane.

actually more like Sahara..... err bad joke. but its true! i'm leaving Bangalore to a place that has "high" and "bad" in its name and inspite of it, the only thing people have to say about it, is that the biryani there is very good. but what i ask, if you're not into biryani?. then??

so today i went shopping, and i dig most forms of shopping, books, music (very rarely these days, all hail torrents), shoes, oh my shoes is almost a fetish, and handbags, and the "unmentionables", but i abhor, shopping for jeans. yes i hate it. its an ordeal, and it morphs into a tragedy, if you can't walk properly. for the first time in my life, today was not a shopping i looked forward to by a mile.

we landed at central, and i with great trepidation made my way to the jeans section. oh right, i forgot to mention why i loathe jeans shopping. ever seen a typical south indian woman? that nice child bearing hips? now see the world is an unforgiving place, we (south indian women(SIW)) my dear folks, are the perfect child rearing machines, ample bosoms, wide hips, slender waists, you get the picture, its like the creator of the universe put in a favour to us SIW to propagate the species and can you say "boo!" to the creator of the universe, can you say, no i'd rather not, can i have normal kate moss type hips please? ofcourse not, and how does the world repay us? by giving us horrendously ill fitting jeans. 28-30-32-34... bitches this isn't an even progression, its waist sizes for heaven's sakes!!. ever hear of midsizes?

well anyway, i'd rant if i hadn't found perfectly fitting jeans on my 14th attempt. yes i did!!! and i heard bells ringing, and the hills came alive and the lark tripped on the brook, the works.

my beloved SIW, its called lycra, embrace it.

* folks out there, i'm moving to a new city for the first time ever, so any tips/advice on moving, finding apartment, things to take etc will be most welcome.thanks.

Scaramouche,scaramouche will you do the fandango?

Thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening......

i'm sorry, i absolutely dote on the bohemian rhapsody, its one of my favourite songs to lip-synch. and i lurrve to lip-synch. i can't sing, no siree. simply can't, but hell i can lip-synch! and i look so cool, if i do say so myself. i realised i can't sing when my mom used to record our (bro & mine) recitations of nursery rhymes and play it out to visitors who came home. that was a maternal subliminal hint i caught on to rather early. but i wanted to sing like a popstar, i wanted to look cool and my world to look like an amy grant video, (hopeless, i know!!) so it wasn't long before i substituted the remote for a microphone and started lip-synching. a compromise i'm very happy with. with time, the remote gave way to the hair brush, this happened when i got my very own tape player in my very own room. too cool. sooo much room for antics. and this week there has been a progression in my lip-synching career. i've got a new microphone substitute. My tripod walking stick!!!

well, admiteddly, i wasn't very thrilled when the doc prescribed a tripod walking stick (knee surgery remember?) for me, like hullo i'm 21!!!, but the depression soon gave away to thrilling optimism, when i discovered its hidden raison d'etre. it looks exactly like a microphone stand. the handle looks like a microphone, and its long and slender and stable, dude!! now i can rock lip-synch!!!. i can do, what eddie vedder and axel rose do to their mics. i can twirl it around and totally put up a convincing rock act. and if i only had a high stool, i'm sure i can even do a unplugged version of "the man who sold the world".

yeah i'm thrilled, but mark, i'm very aware that i'm pretending to be a rockstar, unlike these guys. shame on you INXS for desecrating michael's memory.

Edit : humongous hugs to vaish for this.

Tales from the plains, planes and a little bit from the hills

well, now since i have a lot of time on my hands, beacuse of the injury lay off, the only thing that's keeping me going is arrested development, books and the my pet project, my travel blog. the most delicious feeling in the world is looking at those photographs and reminiscing and reliving the entire experience. more importantly reliving the entire experience when my mobility knew no bounds. sigh. well, heres are some of my notes and observations on travelling through north india. i lost all my notes at the Kashmir airport, as previously mentioned. but i managed to remember a few.

>>>> there are three classes on a plane in india. the business class, the economy class and those with seats near the toilet.

>>>> travel to the north during summer only if you are a sadomasochistic fool.

>>>> Delhi indulges in its tombs.

>>>> why would you travel in a bus called "Panicker"?

>>>> gult crowd fighting with punju bus driver, in hindi, ( over kaput A/C) is the funniest thing ever.

>>>> never support a gult crowd fighting with a punju bus driver, in hindi.

>>>> the aforementioned punju bus driver has the power to put you on another bus (with A/C) when the A/C fails just to spite the aforementioned gult crowd.

>>>> beware of taxidrivers with streaked hair, they might take you for an another ride altogether.

>>>> Bhakra Nangal damn makes your chest swell with patriotic pride, till you read that the Brits initiated the project and us guys only "completed" it.

>>>> where there is water, there are hippies.

>>>> where there are hippies, theres no point shopping.

>>>> don't venture eating israeli food in a place called "Hotel Parampara"

>>>> fields of lavender anyday.

>>>> mountain air these days consists of diesel fumes, smell of roasted bhutta and wails of a petulant two year olds.

>>>> statutory warning that should be present on all touristy snow capped mountains : Beware of Horse shit.

>>>> avoid public hotsprings, unless you're into flabby nude people.

>>>> 15 hour bus journey in treacherous terrain on a bus with no suspension can bring about a spiritual change

>>>> there is a coffe day 4km into the climb to vaishno devi. (???????)

>>>> a 3 sec darshan after a 12 km climb. someone doesn't like you.

>>>> border road organisation rocks!!!!. favourite signs include, "Be gentle on my curves" and
" If you are married to speed, divorce her!".

>>>> what is "100% pure vegetarian" food?.

>>>> kashmir is beautiful, but don't follow an army convoy, chances are, it will get blown up.

>>>> and if it does get blown up, nobody cares.

>>>> kashmiri pulao will make you want to have "100% pure vegetarian" food.

>>>> snow fights are fun!!!!

>>>> they grope you a LOT at kashmir airport and its all legal.

>>>> Sahara is the worst airline, and Kingfisher air serves chocolate mousse.

>>>> if you ever ask a mumbai cop for "Sundance restuarant" chances are he'll point you to a nearby toilet.

>>>> colaba cause way is a riot of colours.

>>>> i love mumbai.

and since pictures speak louder than words, heres my travel blog. i've yet to blog about vaishno devi, kashmir and mumbai. i'll do that soon. and if anybody wants any information about travel in these cities, feel free to contact me.

lonely planet, here i come.

The rain in spain falls mainly in the plain

commiserations to my fellow mumbaikers about the rains. or should that be bombayites?. gujju today, told me that calling a bombayite, a mumbaiker is the ultimate affront. ok i'll compromise, how about mumbaiiytes? (bombayker doesn't cut it, even i know that!!)

My dad who's an out and out bombayite ( i'll bow to gujju's demands, after all, the poor chap waded in squelchy water for 5 hours before reaching home) told me, to my surprise, that the media was sensationalizing the entire issue and that most bombayites were rather enjoying the whole ordeal, secretly atleast. how could they?. how could anyone enjoy wading in knee deep water, that wet miserable feeling under gloomy ominous skies?. i told my dad that it was impossible to be even cheery under the circumstances, so the idea of enjoying it is plain daft. but then he looked at me as if he couldn't understand why it wasn't apparent to me. " its a part of their lives" he said, " it happens every year, and as with most things, they take this in their stride"

i love bombayites. i really do. they are so tough and i feel like a spineless wimp infront of them. they make me feel small and puny and without no guts whatsoever. very very few people make me feel that way, but i'm always overwhelmed by a bombayite in bombay. i call it the local train sassiness. most of them have spent a significant portion of their lives travelling by local train, and i still can't postulate how, but i'm sure there is a correlation between local trains, chaalooness and zero slouch tolerence. everyone i know in mumbai, works so hard, the city brings about such a ferver in one, that its unthinkable to rest even for a second. thats why holidaying in mumbai was a bizarre experience. i got stuck in Dadar station, waiting to rendezvous with my bro, and all around me, people were moving about with a purposeful worker frenzy, as if there was no time to be lost, and the trains zipped by barely stopping for a few seconds, and i felt i had transgressed just by standing there purposeless.

oh, i'm sure, you guys will get through this, you guys are tough bastards. and god bless you for that.

"How many boards would the Mongols hoard, if the Mongol hordes got bored?"

...............and since i have nothing worthy to blog about, except perhaps that i'm now in a position to rate every reality T.V show ever made and that desperate housewives is way over rated, i shall proceed to demonstrate my proclivity for ink on paper, only because he forced me to do so.

i sound so smug.


Total number of books I own:

hmmm, there are about 4000 books in my house and only 800 of them are fiction and own 500 in that. on an unrelated thought, my mum wrote a book called " fruits and their medicinal properties", and you should know that darker the colour of the fruit the better for you. anti-oxidants are good for you baby!.

Last book(s) I bought:

The hours by Michael Cunningham : well, because he's the mentor of Manil Suri, who's absolutely *Hawt*

Farewell waltz by milind kundera : to reinforce my lit exhibitionism

HP6-HBP : I'm going to stick to the tacky abbreviation.


Last book(s) I read:

HP6-HBP : The less said the better.

Breakfast of champions: this one by kurt vonnegut jr. is stellar. this one just laughs in your face and asks "why do you take yourself so seriously?".


Five books that mean a lot to me:
hmmm,

the folk of the faraway tree( Enid Blyton): this was where the journey began, i shudder to think what would have happened to me if this book was hideous read. i love it still. i also love the the find outers and the malory towers series, aah some of my finest afternoons came from these books.

To kill a mockingbird (Harper lee) : purely for atticus finch.

one hundred years of solitude (Gabriel garcia marquez): solely for the departure from tedious reality and ofcourse, who can forget the levitating priest?

The Complete works of Oscar Wilde : i read this one, right before i entered college, when i was goin through a pretty rough time. oh my god, he made me laugh and cheeky!

Death comes as the End (Agatha christie) : probably her finest mystery ever, and oh the protagonist is my idea of the perfect man.

What am i reading now?

Haroun and the sea of stories (Salman Rushdie)

oh btw, i have 1000 bucks worth of coupons from premier book store, any suggestions for what i should buy?

Books i could not finish:

Anna karenina, Dr. zhivago and Crime and punishment, why? why? can't i ever finish a book by a russian author. someone please help me, i really really want to finish Crime and punishment.

Hyped beyond belief

the fountain head (ayn rand) and The hitch hiker's guide to the galaxy (Douglas Adams), I'm not elucidating further, i got thrown out of a bookshop for dissing howard roark. sigh!

ok, people who are reading this, i'm not tagging anybody because i'm sure they've been already tagged. and oh, please help me with the 1000 bucks.

where'd all the good people go?

i'm not exactly ecstatic. there's cause for much bitterness.

My pre-ordered copy of half blood prince hasn't arrived and the internet is rife with spoilers

i'm walking like a penguin without support. oomph and riding, what the hell was i thinking?? (hey that rhymes!)

all the guys i fall for, go abroad in 6-18 months. why on earth am i not going abroad??

but i'm not overtly depressed either

i've been listening to jack johnson's in between dreams, and its stellar, i love it

i've also been reading breakfast of champions by Kurt Vonnegut jr, which is utterly cynical and funny. the other day when i was out at a traffic stop, watching the ensuing traffic chaos, i thought to myself, "why are these people hurrying, almost killing each other to reach their destinations? don't they know their lives absolutely don't matter".thats such a typical kurt thought. he's helping me become indifferent

and i found this on guardian today, they ran a dumbledore's death scene contest, where folks have to write in imitating another author's style. this one was hilarious.

when was the last time you did something for the first time?- Contd.

Yeah so that was the scan and the prognosis was weren't very good. See what happened was, about a year back, March 22 2004 to be precise i had a bad fall from the scooter, and I have decided to come clean about it. It was my fault. totally. really tired and guilty about blaming it on the "vehicle in front". I tried to ride with some oomph and unfortunately there was a bad patch of sand and since oomph and sand, never ever go well, i skidded and fell. This happened right outside college and I'm really really lucky that the RV bus didn't run me over. That fall busted my knee, which saw me go to the lecherous Knee doctor for diagnosis ( Ofcourse i didn't know he was lecherous when i first went to him. Just clarifying). He said it was a knee sprain and suggested physiotherapy exercise and hot water packs. It seemed to heal and i began to walk and everything seemed fine, but whenever i attempted serious sport, it buckled. I was unable to run etc and things came to a head at Vaishno Devi, where even my parents could descend better than me. My knee completely gave away. After i came back, i went to an orthopaedic surgeon who suggested i take an MRI. when he saw the scan results, he said it was a ligament tear and the only way out of it was Surgery.

it's probably one of the scariest words in the language. you go numb on hearing that. You don't want to do it, but you have to do it. so my surgery got scheduled on the 2nd. i don't know why, but before surgery you apparently needed to starve, so what if they say " you can't eat anything"?, deprivation is deprivation. my surgery was scheduled at 4 pm, so i starved. then one of the docs came into the room and asked me to sign a bunch of papers basically stating that if something should go wrong, I'll not hold the hospital responsible. very sweet. and then the doc asked me " what kind of anaesthesia do you want?". what can i say, I'm a surgery virgin, i had no clue as to what he was talking about. so i said "I dunno". " Do you want the safer one?", he asked, trying to help me make my decision. I wish i had the wonderful ability to raise my eyebrow, which would signify, major alarm, disgust and mortification all at the same time. but I don't. so i said, " the safest" in what i thought was a stern voice. " No, no, no" he protested, " All the methods are safe only", and then he sat down and proceeded to explain the various types of anaesthesia on offer.

type one: spinal anaesthesia, where an anaesthetic injection is given to the spine and the body below the waist becomes numb. type two: nasal anaesthetia, where tubes are inserted into the nose, where an anaesthetic gas is sent in and the entire body is anaesthetized. Type 3 : natural anaesthetia, where the patient awaiting surgery faints upon hearing of spinal taps and nasal tubes.

when i got finally wheeled in to the OT, the anaestheologist asked me if i was nervous. i said i was ravenous, which he somehow heard as "nervous", said that i should not worry as all the doctors were "Top doctors". but how does one know? with their masks, it could be anybody. and then to distract me from the spinal tap, he asked me my name. they didn't even know my name!!!. and since i have a quick thinking brain, i also assumed they hadn't read my case file, did they even know it was my knee they had to operate on? did they ? did they?, so without any context i blurted " It's my right knee doctor, the right knee". if they were startled, i couldn't see with those masks and i couldn't care less. i didn't want these jimmies to open my heart out.

Anaesthesia is a very trippy experience,theres a electrical discharge which feels wonderfully weird and then the whole area goes numb and heavy. i couldn't feel my legs at all. then the obviously loquasious ana..gist asked my bio data, which college?, what degree ? yada yada and then proceeded to give me some sound career advice. thats was it really, i didn't want to be awake while this man bugged me and told me i was wasting my degree, i asked to be sedated.oh, i also mentioned i was mangalorean, which went down very well with three of the doctors, they told me that i really needn't worry now since i was mangy and all, they promised to take extra care. before i passed out, i muttered "right knee" one last time and my last thought before succumbing to sleep was the plight of poor non mangy folks.

sometime during the fag end of the surgery, i woke up and though i was still feeling very groggy and drugged, i could hear the docs talking. they are such blabbermouths. the air was thick with gossip. they were talking about this doc kiran who was apparently parting ways with this hospital, Sagar, or was it the other way around?. well anyway, they were speculating as to whether kiran/sagar was actually fired from kiran/sagar and if this guy was stuffing everybody about quitting. then i heard a drill , some more about the plight of kiran/sagar and then drill again. i wanted to shush them. i wanted to shout, " shutup! you pikeys!! thats my knee you are messing with!!". thankfully, the surgery ended soon after that, and one of the docs made a joke in tulu, which was really funny, so i came out of the OT laughing. probably the only person to do so.
which is a great sign, alive, kicking and happy.

when was the last time you did something for the first time?

me?

umm 30th july when the buggers sent me through an MRI scanning machine.now godforbid, you ever need to pass through this machine, but it needs to come with a warning. in English!!. right so what eis this MRI machine? its like a giant tube where you are sent in and scanned, right down to those carpuscles, simple enough. but right before i was sent in, the operator put a couple of headphones on my ears, "you'll need this", he said. "You'll hear a couple of sounds, don't be scared". they should never give innocuous warnings. leaves you completely unprepared. so once i was in, the machine started and after 10 seconds sent a barrage of mettalic sound for the next half hour. the sequence?
drilling, firing from a machine gun by a person essentially bad at shooting, egg beater, nail-on-a-blackboard, refrigerator gone bad, drilling, this time probably a pavement, more machine gun firing, and then finally "red alert" sound. if you're a star trek fan you'll know this. its the sound that comes on when the enterprise goes on "Red Alert", rather like an ambulance.
My thoughts on the MRI machine, allthough they gave the guys who created this the Nobel, it could also find dual purpose as a torchure machine.
i wonder if they've used this in guantanamo bay.

That was 6000 Kilometres and it was bloody good fun.

6 cities, 30 Km trek up a hill, snow fights, bomb blasts and a mumbai in monsoon later, finally glad to be back in nanna bengaluru. i landed at the airport and the pilot said that the temperature outside was 24 degree celsius. 24????. i'll tell you. Delhi was 41, Chandigarh was 43, Manali was 32, Jammu was 46, Srinagar was 35, Mumbai was 32 (and ofcourse utterly humid!, I always wonder what will power keeps those Mumbaikers from running down the streets naked because of that dreadful humidity), and my hometown was 24??, we should have taken residence at the Leela Palace instead and sipped pinnacolada poolside for 10 days, that would have served the purpose. wherever we went, the thermometer touched record temperatures. the trip was awesome but this will prolly be the last time we travel as a family, as 4 finicky adults in an alien landscape.

I'll probably have to create a travel blog for my travel experiences but i made note of a lot of interesting things, and since i didn't have paper on me, jotted them on boarding cards and such, but as things went, had to dump them all at Srinagar airport because the scraps of paper were becoming an embarrassing liability. Srinagar airport has , probably, the tightest security in the country, they check you 6 times before you board the plane, and everytime they do that, they open your backpack and strip it of all its contents and scrutinize it thoroughly till they find something. at the first security check right at the airport gate, they nearly freaked out when they saw the iPod. even more when i told them that battery isn't detachable. they didn't believe it was an innocuous music player and i had to play them some music till they finally let me go. i was frisked 4 times and the CCTV clip would probably make for a B- rated girl on girl video and then there was utterly embarrasing, show- me- your- purse searches.It is, when your back pack contains things like mobile charger, knee brace, a copy of crime and punishment, dozens of cold tissues, boarding cards, air hostess appraisal forms and all sorts of entry tickets with scribbles on them. I had to dump all my scraps of paper after mom told me that the contents made me look like a pack rat. Anyhow i do remember what i wrote and i'll eventually get around to blogging them.

Big things are once again afoot and i can't talk about it right now. Inshallah, i hope the next few days go well.

P.S Nag, you know what to do, incase :P

That would be about 2000 Kilometres

well, after about 4 years, the Iddya clan goes on vacation again. Mark, i said vacation and not holiday, because you should see the bloody itinery. Bangalore-Delhi- Manali- Jammu- Srinagar-Delhi- Mumbai-Bangalore in 15 days. fantastic. i'm soo looking forward to this.
wasn't there a bomb blast in Srinagar the day before? . lovely.

see our family vacation can never be a holiday. it's incapable of such a noble quality. My parents don't believe in "Rest & Relaxation", they believe in Mall roads, Taj Mahal, Viceroy's summer retreat, Botanical gardens (why the fuck have they still preserved raj relics? they should destroy such things and build a golf course in their place), Valley point, Suicide point, waterfalls, Scenic point, River view point, chuk chuk train museum, butterfly cottage...err you get the drift. I'm cribbing about going to Kashmir for obvious reasons, so incase I don't make it back, a few messages to people who matter.

My parents : Thank you for having me, not that i had any say in the matter

My friends: Thank you for teaching me things i should have known.

My lovers : Thank you for teaching me things i should not have known ;)

My animals: Thank you for being furry and for emotionally blackmailing me with those liquid eyes.

The Asghar Family : Thank you for feeding me exotic mediterranean cuisine, although i still can't pronounce those names.

Quizcorp : You owe me a bloody T-shirt.

Abhishek Nag : I owe Eloor Library 3 books and 160 bucks, please do the needful and clear my name. and oh, owe jallu 500 bucks, clear that also.

umm thats it i guess, I'm off.
Take care world.

Another spirited performance

More tales of bacchanalian revelry.

Well last Friday, my brother’s best friend Harish and Vaish got married, and my brother was best man, which in south Indian weddings, means that you are fed a lil more and get to be in nearly all the pictures or sometimes even take the pictures because well you are Best man, you just can’t sod off and be idle, know what I mean?. Well anyhow my brother used his best man pass and got me invited to the party meant for close friends only, in a rather embarrassing circumstance. He marched up to the groom and said, “ invite her to the party, da”. So well, there we go, Saturday night partyyyyyyyyy!

The party was at Sheesh Mahal, and I didn’t know the place existed till I saw it. Its on lavelle road, right next to the Rice bowl, btw. Anyhow I enter the place with bro and I see the bride talking to her group, don’t know anybody there, see the groom, standing next to the bar, that scene looked more promising and so after wishing the groom eternal connubial bliss, (I used the very same words!), headed to the bar and ordered my first drink. See when the drinks are on the house, and there’s someone to drive you back home, you take full advantage of the situation.

The party, like the wedding was like a reunion of the class of 2002. And that freaked me out no end. It was like a trailer to my life 3 years hence, where I’d be at the weddings of my classmates, posing for posterity with a plastic smile on my face. Like someone said, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Of course not, but it’s a very bad thing if you are single and relationships for you have the same degree of difficulty as climbing Mt.Everest. Then imagine in 3 years, my classmates, who are in the same single boat with me now, will be gushing over with matrimonial ecstacy, while I most possibly will be single. Am I the only one who finds weddings depressing?

Soon, I was sitting, nursing my second drink, spinning, feeling very happy with myself. Like I’ve mentioned before, its my favourite part, I become the monarch of all I survey in my giddy world. I struck up a lively conversation with the ginsoaked gentleman, who told me that all bong men have a fetish for a dominatrix type. Then the party got even livelier ‘cause everybody took to the dance floor, I couldn’t because of my knee injury, the better for it because I got to witness some audacious (read comic relief) dance moves. The guy I kinda fancied at the party was dancing with this girl who was tryin some major salsa moves. Sigh!.

I dunno when exactly, but late into the party, I found that I was having trouble walking straight and keeping my balance, and when I told the afore mentioned Ginsoaked gentleman that my bro had used his photo to test the features of the new digicam, I realized I’d had a little too much to drink. I was not drunk, just feeling egregiously blunt. That was when bro dearest freaked out. If my dad came to know of my state, he’d be dead meat. So he bundled me into the car and drove me home. I tried to avoid my folks, but mom came into my room and asked me if I’d had alcohol. Her theory being that men consider women who drink to be very “loose”. I told her, without batting an eyelid, that’d had very little and conducted myself with exemplary dignity. Thank god, she didn’t ask me to walk right then. I can really lie very well, one of my special talents.

Next morning, I woke up with a nasty hangover, and it’s not nice when you have a puja to attend to. I felt lousy, everybody present with a fresh pious exuberance and I with a headache. I wanted to eat but apparently you need to starve till the puja was over. I felt guilty too, somewhat less spiritual, all till the pujari’s cell phone rang and interrupted the puja. That bugger is going to hell before me, he put god on hold!.

its the spirit that counts.

we always experiment with restuarants when we go out to dinner for dad's birthday, not so with mom's. Mom's birthday is always celebrated in a tried and tested restuarant and even the dishes are usually the same, soups,starters, main course and dessert. Theres no definite thought process involved in choosing restuarants in dad's case. we'd be in the car, and then one of us would suggest a restuarant, and the night's gastronomic experience would depend on the strength of that capricious opinion. Yesterday it was my loud mouth that suggested a certain restuarant, i'll not reveal the name because certain events occurred, which could result in the aforementioned restuarant losing its license.

So, we entered the restuarant with anticipation and grumbling insides, and surprisingly even got seats without reservation. the flip side to our capricious decision making is that we never make reservation and more often than not, wait outside the restuarant till we get seating. right, so far things were looking good for the restuarant and the ambience and plush seats elicited a warm approval from Dad, till he saw the menu. " They don't serve alcohol???". shit!!!. and of course my bro didn't help. "she brought us here". i got accusatory looks from all quarters and a full fledged glare from dad. i knew from then on there'd be some fine grumbling.
"this is not how i envisioned my 56th birthday, with apple juice!!!".
" 56 years, and you'd think a man derserves his rightful drink, and its not apple juice!!"
" Two kids over 21 years and they still want apple juice!!"
as a last ditch effort, in sheer desperation, my dad asked the waiter if it was possible they'd serve alcohol, nevermind the costs. the waiter shook his head, but also beamed slightly and winked a little. My dad an old hand at this game, then called the Maitre d' and asked him if he'd serve alcohol. surprisingly, after exchanging broad grins, the latter told us he could serve us Bacardi white with sprite and pass it off as fresh lime soda but it had to be done covertly because the restuarant did not have a liquor license. That bought the twinkle right back into dad's eye. all apple juices were cancelled and we got Bacardi in disguise.
i Dont drink that often, and i have this tendency to get tipsy with a little alcohol. i once started singing all the songs from the "Sound Of Music", after few sips of wine on lysh's terrace. it must have sounded really bad because apparently, a neighbour threatened to throw a shoe at whoever it was that was singing, and not one to be deterred, i apparently yelled back that if he threw a second shoe, i'd end up with a pair!. I'm sure she made this up, I was not drunk!!!. Anyhow, back to the night in question, soon i was spinning happily, looking dazedly at the splendid food before me and leaning on the plush chair for comfort. i like this part, theres contentment in all aspect of me.
the night ended peacefully after that, it was not a disaster. My dad had a memorable birthday, and the next time i suggest a restuarant for another birthday, i will not be poo-pahed.
thanks, Maitre d' of the restuarant that shall not be named.

Out, damned cold! out, I say!

my immune system sucks, a little night chill and i get a damned cold. many things have happened over the last week which deserve a whole post each, but im too tired and i'm walking around like johnny depp in the pirates... because i'm groggy with cetrizine, so lets see then, a brief recap of the week past :

monday: aah yes, the RVCE farewell, well what can one blog about something called the "at home function"?. gowday extracted a promise from me, that i blog extensively about it. i will. eventually when i'm bored to death and have nothing to do. i'm not a saree person, my previous two experiences with it have jarred me for life. first time was at the 10th standard graduation, where i kept tripping on the hem and the second time was at the 12th standard graduation, where i needed to go to the loo urgently but couldn't do so because, a saree is a volumnous bulky shit and makes life miserable. forget bras, burn sarees. i honestly can't imagine how women like me mum work in them. where are you madhu kishwar? our nation turns its lonely eyes on you.

oh btw, gowday gave me a free ride to coll and back, so chics who read my blog, hes single and ready to mingle, i'll pass on ye resumes to him, and i promise no sting operations

tuesday: the house was spruced up to get it ready for my brother. i was asked to wet wipe my room so that the dust wouldn't affect the phoren returned. it reminded me of the times when aunts and uncles, returned from the states, trundled about with boiled water, crinkling their noses at all things indian and telling their kids not to drink colas and other stuff because it contained "germs". No wonder all of them grew to be such sissies.

wednesday: well dear anna came out from the immigration at midnight, and we all hugged, rather a huddle. that indian cricket team is a bloody bad influence. when we got home, we all talked, mom & dad slept, but anna and i talked till 5 am!!!. i got a pink ipod mini. yayyy. hoot.
okay, i confess, i didn't know the ipod existed till i saw it in the september issue of cosmo last year. it was featured in the girly girl's "must have" section. my bro vehemently objected to pink, but for me white is albino and i don't like my posessions to be white, because after a while it will become dirty and then i'll wistfully look back at the time in which it was white and then chide myself for not handling it better. white has such potential to be tainted. i hate the feeling!. so pink it was, even if it was just 4 gb. its so girly i love it!!!

thursday: went to forum and shopped for anna, the man hasn't bought any clothes!!!. just a huge suitcase filled with chocolates to keep the relatives happy.

friday: went shopping with kay for some "unmentionables". my favourite kind of shopping. i love girl friends because they coo so soothingly from the outside when you're infront of the fitting mirror, thinking aloud that you're fat. went shopping for shoes too, i got two pairs of real trendy low heels from Soles. i can't wait to start working and spend my pile on shopping. after that i went shopping with anna again, this time to central. i love shopping malls. clothes, clutter music, escalators, price tags, ingratiating smiles from the staff, aching feet... my future is retail baby. Mango here i come.

saturday : submitted my project report, developed a sore throat and gave up tickets to bunty aur bublee. the latter ofcourse was the silver lining to a gloomy day.

sunday: slept all day. the sore throat developed into a full fledged fever, i'd like to think it was anyhow. one gets more sympathies when its a fever. i hate being under the weather. it dampens the vivre.

and before i go, some posy poetry.

well there, that was my week,
my life is a bore and my throat is sore,
the drugs are taking over, i'm off to sleep.

goodnight world.

From inside the quizcorp "huddle".

shiny happy people

thats right, we can-can !!
ashanka

last tango in RVCE. *ing: gowday and jalan Posted by Hello 

at your own peril

been busy. anna's come home and i'm feeling pretty neglected :(
not really, he's bought a huge stash of chocolates and got me a new ipod mini, so yayy! anna

anyhow, acqueising to gowday's demand for farewell pics, i'll put it up, but readers be warned, these quiz corpers in no way reflect my mental state and oh, im not putting up any pics in which i feature in a saree or feature at all. that would be priceless wouldn't it? :P

Before Sunrise

i just finished seeing a wonderful movie, you know the type that you recollect when you're watching scenary from a moving bus or that brief interlude when you're just about to sleep, when you watch the ceiling and silent images come back.I have poor taste in movies sometimes, i really don't understand supposedly brilliant cinematic techniques, the only ones i like are the ones that come back to me on the ceiling.
its late in the night and my time, i've just learnt is finite. i have my very last internals morrow, i don't give a hoot naturally, but i think that if not spectacular, i should atleast make a graceful exit. but my nonchalence has been dented somewhat, knowing that the time between my internal and now is finite. But it is filled with so many possibilities. i can do so many things while the clock ticks away, i can study, watch another movie, the sequel, talk to strangers, do something terrifyingly exiting, hmmmm. i'm going to say something very trite, but oddly feeling good about it. finite time but infinite possibilities.

Sur la Table

thats the dessert restuarant i will run when im done saving the world.

yes this is a random post, where i ramble on topics as i please with no regards to structure or metre.

what did i do today? well i made money, the only way i can, by quizzing. its the the only thing that has saved me from impecunious circumstances, largely. i like quizzing, i really do,hell it even got me on t.v, but i generally found that i had a dichotomous attitude towards it. i liked it but i also consciously tried to keep away from the nerdiness often associated with it, i tried to be the hip and cool quizzer and today i realize what i fool i was. i drove all the way to the back of boon docks to take part in a quiz today and i get nostalgic about sunday morning quizzes at the KQA. i finally realize. I'm throwing my lot in with the nerds. *hugs*

the UTPT blog looks awesome, Bib and Ganj put up two superb posts. i miss those days, when we were the juniors and had these guys to look up to. i miss that. its such a comfort when you have someone to look up to. i went to IISC today after coming back from the aforementioned boondocks. put up the UTPT poster in and around IISC, un-aided by a roll of terrible scotch tape. i HATE badly behaved scotch tapes. but the poster looks great though, jalan, has done a fantastic job and its absolutely magnificent, makes you feel small and significant at the same time. the awesome picture of the buddha is by Mando gomez who acquiesed and allowed us to use his picture for the fest.

my house is an accent wall mess. mom's busy painting the house and my main pre-occupation these days is coming up with ways to avoid being in the house. the flooring is on, everything is displaced, construction goin on and mom is generally armed with a million shade cards, harassing me to pick colours. sigh. She's majorly into accent walls this time. she saw one at a friends place and now we have one in everyroom. the living room has a bright orange accent wall, dining chrome yellow, my room has a purple one, the kitchen has a buff coloured one......... sigh. momsy they are called colour consultants, for heavens sakes!

found a couple of good links on the guradian, simon schama my favourite historian talks about the recent elections in the U.K. i loved Schama's "the history of Britain" on the beeb. i've always loved history, but this show was so stellar, that i often stayed up till 3 am to catch the second telecast. British history is fabulously checkered. Drama, intrigue, lust,sex.... like a toe curling soap opera.

also found Margaret Atwood's excerpt from her new book "curious pursuits", in which she talks about her first visit to europe. i've always wanted to do that, backpack across europe armed with a lonely planet guide book, inshallah, one day i shall.