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.