I love coming home to bangalore because I get the opportunity to unleash myself on all the rasam-sambhar out there. I love south indian cuisine. Its my soul food. Infact when I got home, my mother asked me what "special food" I would like her to make and without blinking an eye lid, asked her to keep the sambhar and rice coming. It feels like truly coming home you know when the familiar taste of the hot sambhar kicks in. I don't know what "Home" is, but it gives a feeling of security which feels most odd.
For the past 2 years (almost), I've been on an alien diet. Roti, rajma, unfamiliar curries and tastes. It has dulled my palate and made it indifferent to food. I hate eating in Pune, I don't know why though. I'm sure living on your own does this to you, together with working 14-16 hours. I hate coming home after a hard day and dealing with the fact that I have to make dinner. Being the lazy person I am, I just nibble at some brown bread or when I'm feeling particularly industrious, make some pasta. But still, I hate eating the food. This realization just hit me when I was asking for a third helping of sambhar rice. I was surprised by how much I was enjoying my food. It filled every dull pore in my palate and energized it. Thanks to all the copious amounts of rice consumed, I feel like a thoroughly sated beached whale.
I have also been tucking into some awesome sea food. I guess that's one of the advantages of being managalorean, sea food is par for the course. Lots of pomfret, tuna and sardine and I'm more than making up for the 6 months that I went without having any sea food.
Thats why I love coming home. I'm treated with so much indulgence by the parents. Every request of mine is acquiesced to- even the TV remote is handed over to me. THAT in my family is HUGE. Its a great responsibility and I have discharged it with great character by watching repeat episodes of America's Next Top Model and Big Boss. Watching the TV with my parents has scared me though. Scared me because I've realized that my parents watch the very same programs as I do. My dad mentioned how much he liked Bones and Prison Break and my mother knew all the goss on Big Boss. Infact, I was filpping through a Susheela Raman interview on TV and my mom asked me to keep it on because she liked Susheela Raman. Infact my parents sound more erudite than the RBI Governor. Its very very cool that they are so current, but it somehow feels like invading into my territory.
I love their coolnes though. I worship their nonchalant attitude to everything. After spending time with them, I realize how fortunate I am to have such liberal parents. Parents who are not insistent on marrying into the right background and shit like that. Parents who are okay with me staying out late. It may sound trivial but after interacting with prudes in Pune, I know I am fortunate to have parents who'll even mix weird cocktails for you. Mom shocked the wits out of me by mixing wine and sprite. Its btw a most awesome mixture and we are planning to call it "Write". That was another scarily cool moment because, now my whole experiment of adding vodka to cough syrup last month seems genetic. EGAD!!
My parents are weird people and I love them for that because that has in turn has contributed to me being weird. On being confronted with a cocktail mixing Mom, most children would be alarmed, but not me. I'm thinking of introducing her to Tequila and Bombay Sapphire gin and can't wait to see what she comes up with in the next 6 months hehe
*raises a toast to quirky parents all over*
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Mere Pass...ISRO ke scientists hain!
Well history was made yesterday, no I'm not alluding to the successful launch of the Chandryaan mission, but to the fact that CNN IBN featured a half hour special on all the scientists involved in the mission. Why history? because it was probably the longest, unbridled footage of South Indians on mainstream television, since well, Kamal Hassan sang mere jeevan sathi, to serenade Rati Agnihotri in Ek Dooje Ke liya on Doordarshan (as an aside, should I get myself examined because I actually remember this thing??) . I'm not kidding about this. All the scientists that were featured were South Indians and no where in this footage did people make fun of the way South Indians spoke, walked, danced, oiled their hair etc etc. To say, I was stunned would be an understatement. I was infact most suspicious of the whole thing and was quite sure that a Sardarji would pop out in the end and say chak de phatte and make fun of the way "madrasees" ate pappads or washed their bums or whatever mannerism of ours that people find peculiar, even if it was rocket science that we were talking about.
That's my main peeve actually. I don't see my ethos in mainstream television. South Indians are rarely featured in mainstream media. All the ads have this good looking punjabee family with little bunty who has a little beanie on his head. Little bunty infact comes across as a perfect pest but does that matter? He's punjabee, he represents the entire nation. Infact a couple of years back when Chevloret came out with a Karva Chauth Ad, all my, ahem, North Indian friends really lurrved the AD. I ofcourse, didn't get (still don't get) Karva Chauth, because in South India, women don't starve for their husband's longevity, but infact beat them up if they (the men) even so much as moot such an idea. I hated that Ad actually, more for the fact that Chevolet ostensibly chose to advertize to a North Indian Mileu. What about the rest of us who don't get/care about Karva Chauth? There is no South Indian-ess portrayed anywhere on TV. If a paint company talks about celebrations, they show a North Indian wedding. I hate the fact that when I see TV, I can't relate to anything. And no Vidya Balan and Madhavan on Airtel's Ad don't qualify because although they both are south indian, they don't act South Indian. I mean which South Indian woman massages her husband's shoulders?? She would more likely whack him on the head and tell him to massage his own goddamn shoulders. The only south indian person on TV that I can clearly recall, is Mohinder Suresh on Heroes, and he's on American TV!! Although, that too is a bit of a farce, because which southie would be caught dead with a name like Mohinder?? I personally thinks that the producers of Heroes should be given points for understanding the great north-south divide in India, even better than us Indians.
There are two reasons for this methinks. One - is that south indian culture is not attuned to spreading propoganda and the second - we don't control the media. Lets tackle number one. South Indians are assimilators not propagaters. We don't make an effort to propogate our culture to people. So when the immigrant population in Bangalore rises, the auto drivers, start speaking in Hindi and everybody talks about what a great melting pot the city is. We are melting pot while the brits rock to bhangra at the London underground. Point number two, is self explanatory considering most south indians are loathe to do an arts degree, so it is no wonder that we have no presence in the media. As there is (almost) no presence, it isn't surprising that our stories, our ethos is never portrayed. I'm yet to come across a book in recent times on South Indian life. There are tons on the Mehras, the Aroras and the Chatterjees but none on poor Kuppuswamy and family. Anita Rau Badami's Tamarind Mem and R K Narayan's stories come to mind but there's still a great void.
That my wonderful traditions are never portrayed anywhere is what peevs me today. That I feel like an alien sometimes in my own country. That I sometimes feel itsn't even my country to begin with. That I love my rasam-sambhar and have to search high and low for a specialty South Indian restaurant to serve it here in Pune, when almost any nondescript food joint can cook up Butter Chicken in a trice. That people chortle when I speak in Kannada and call it a jalebi language. That I have to feel apologetic when I eat rice with my hands.
You can't imagine the amount of jibes I've had to take because of my South Indianess. Be it listening to a guy making fun of south indian women and their tendency to oil their hair or listening to people make fun of our devotion to Rajnikanth. I hate reacting to negative stereotypes and worse, explaining our ethos to people. Why aren't we ever portrayed in a decent manner on TV for instance? Either we have a terrible accent or too dark or whatever.
I was having an argument once with this Guy who was majorly dissing Bangalore and was waxing eloquence about his Dilli. He then veered the conversation to how Bangalore's crumbling infrastructure reflected the lackadaisical nature of South Indians, while the awesome Infra in Delhi showed how sprightly his brethren were. He almost said, "Mere pass Delhi Metro hain, Night life hain, 6 lane road hain....tumhare pass kya hain?"
Well, he knows the answer now!
That's my main peeve actually. I don't see my ethos in mainstream television. South Indians are rarely featured in mainstream media. All the ads have this good looking punjabee family with little bunty who has a little beanie on his head. Little bunty infact comes across as a perfect pest but does that matter? He's punjabee, he represents the entire nation. Infact a couple of years back when Chevloret came out with a Karva Chauth Ad, all my, ahem, North Indian friends really lurrved the AD. I ofcourse, didn't get (still don't get) Karva Chauth, because in South India, women don't starve for their husband's longevity, but infact beat them up if they (the men) even so much as moot such an idea. I hated that Ad actually, more for the fact that Chevolet ostensibly chose to advertize to a North Indian Mileu. What about the rest of us who don't get/care about Karva Chauth? There is no South Indian-ess portrayed anywhere on TV. If a paint company talks about celebrations, they show a North Indian wedding. I hate the fact that when I see TV, I can't relate to anything. And no Vidya Balan and Madhavan on Airtel's Ad don't qualify because although they both are south indian, they don't act South Indian. I mean which South Indian woman massages her husband's shoulders?? She would more likely whack him on the head and tell him to massage his own goddamn shoulders. The only south indian person on TV that I can clearly recall, is Mohinder Suresh on Heroes, and he's on American TV!! Although, that too is a bit of a farce, because which southie would be caught dead with a name like Mohinder?? I personally thinks that the producers of Heroes should be given points for understanding the great north-south divide in India, even better than us Indians.
There are two reasons for this methinks. One - is that south indian culture is not attuned to spreading propoganda and the second - we don't control the media. Lets tackle number one. South Indians are assimilators not propagaters. We don't make an effort to propogate our culture to people. So when the immigrant population in Bangalore rises, the auto drivers, start speaking in Hindi and everybody talks about what a great melting pot the city is. We are melting pot while the brits rock to bhangra at the London underground. Point number two, is self explanatory considering most south indians are loathe to do an arts degree, so it is no wonder that we have no presence in the media. As there is (almost) no presence, it isn't surprising that our stories, our ethos is never portrayed. I'm yet to come across a book in recent times on South Indian life. There are tons on the Mehras, the Aroras and the Chatterjees but none on poor Kuppuswamy and family. Anita Rau Badami's Tamarind Mem and R K Narayan's stories come to mind but there's still a great void.
That my wonderful traditions are never portrayed anywhere is what peevs me today. That I feel like an alien sometimes in my own country. That I sometimes feel itsn't even my country to begin with. That I love my rasam-sambhar and have to search high and low for a specialty South Indian restaurant to serve it here in Pune, when almost any nondescript food joint can cook up Butter Chicken in a trice. That people chortle when I speak in Kannada and call it a jalebi language. That I have to feel apologetic when I eat rice with my hands.
You can't imagine the amount of jibes I've had to take because of my South Indianess. Be it listening to a guy making fun of south indian women and their tendency to oil their hair or listening to people make fun of our devotion to Rajnikanth. I hate reacting to negative stereotypes and worse, explaining our ethos to people. Why aren't we ever portrayed in a decent manner on TV for instance? Either we have a terrible accent or too dark or whatever.
I was having an argument once with this Guy who was majorly dissing Bangalore and was waxing eloquence about his Dilli. He then veered the conversation to how Bangalore's crumbling infrastructure reflected the lackadaisical nature of South Indians, while the awesome Infra in Delhi showed how sprightly his brethren were. He almost said, "Mere pass Delhi Metro hain, Night life hain, 6 lane road hain....tumhare pass kya hain?"
Well, he knows the answer now!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Silly!
She: We should start talking about deeper stuff, you know, like philosophy and stuff. We talk like a superficial couple..we need more depth...
He: Ok, so do you know where the Mariana Trench is?
She (absentmindedly): I dunno...somewhere in the pacific....err...why?
He: You said you wanted to talk about "deeper stuff".....??
Happy birthday baby! I love the madness that is you!
He: Ok, so do you know where the Mariana Trench is?
She (absentmindedly): I dunno...somewhere in the pacific....err...why?
He: You said you wanted to talk about "deeper stuff".....??
Happy birthday baby! I love the madness that is you!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Ze Burday Update
Well my plans of getting rich on my birthday backfired majorly. Instead, I ended up losing a lot of money, which has led me to abandon plans of ever mass advertizing the day of my birth again. I got the usual SMSes, Orkut/Facebooks scraps, calls, flowers, cards, chocolates but no Money and my birthdays, since time immemorial have always been about the money.
Before, I be accused of being a cold-hearted b***ch, let me plead my case. Ever since I was a kid, I have always gotten cash on this day. I never liked the presents that my relatives gave me. Either it was some silly puzzle book (people who give puzzle books to little kids should be shot, well to be fair... I used my puzzle book presents to gift other hapless kids..which in my opinion is the best way to use terrible gifts) or a book I'd already read. I got a famous five book as a present once when I was 15!! This, when I was reading Dickens for goddsakes!! When I opened the gift wrapping and saw what was inside, I wanted to scream "Are you Kidding me???" So I decreed to everyone that it was in everybody's best interest that I get cash for my birthdays. I would be able buy what I wanted and good karma would follow the gift giver. Clearly a win-win for everybody. That's when the deluge started. Packets of cash stuffed envelopes from everyone, which went to ma for safe keeping. After combining the money from the Diwali bounty, I use to make my way to Gangarams, my pilgrimage spot in bangalore and buy tons and tons of books. I never used my birthday money to buy things other than books till I was in 2nd year college. So to cut a long story short, cash is what makes my Birthday a Birthday. Otherwise I see no point for this day to be celebrated. I don't like gift wrapped presents because 9 times out of 10, I get something I have no use for and I end up cursing people and their ilk till 2070.
So when yesterday, dawned, I waited to see if the usual suspects would offer cash again. Ok thats a terrible way to address family but I do it in jest. The parents called in promptly at midnight. They were very sweet and lovely. Then we came to the part about the presents. Last year I got a diamond solitaire from them so this year my expectations were understandbly higher. Ma said that I'd get my present when I came home in a couple of weeks. I was actually horrified and asked her if it was a "gift wrapped kind of present" she was talking about. My mother, god bless her, knows me and never judges my quirks. "Cash it is then" she said. My brother called later. He wished me first and promptly launched into a monologue on the cold he was battling. I behaved like a good sister and told him about my home remedies that he could use, while all the while thinking about how I could cut this crap and fast forward to the part where I'd be offered cash, in aussie dollars or Indian ruppees. I was actually trying to see which currency was more beneficial, given the current currency exchange rates. After finishing the tale about his epic battle, he asked me to have a great day and hung up. WTF!!!! I stared at the phone in disbelief. My own brother! Judas!! that was the story basically, all the relatives I knew, called me and asked me to have a great day. How the hell was I to have a "great day" when no one was giving me cash to have that proverbial "Great day" huh? Thats when it hit me. Thats what 25 means. You're grown up. You don't need cash and you ain't gonna get it either. I find it greatly unfair that just because I'm self sufficient and have a job, I'm not gonna get cash presents anymore!
So given the grand disillusionment, I only did what a girl in my place would do, I went shopping for the birthday dress. Ok let me warn all the boys reading, that this is the part where they should skip because it includes all the boring girly stuff. My bought a lovely black embroidered corsett top, which not only looked beautiful but also fit me like a dream. I cry and burst into happy tears when things fit me like a dream. I must clarify that I'm not overweight or anything, its just that I have unusual proportions. Large hips, large bosom and slender waist, all translates into fuck ups in the trial room. Infact there was time, several months ago when, a dress I had gotten into wouldn't come off. I was utterly horrified and was half afraid that the store people would tear me out of the dress and would make me pay for the shambles. I speed dialed the loved one in desperation. I knew there was nothing he could do given that he was what 800km away, but he is my wise person and I always turn to him when I have to extricate myself (quite literally in this case) from any situation. So I called him and explained the situation. He calmed me down and told me that if I had gotten into it, it would very reasonable to assume that I could get out it too. Only this man could calm the madly blabbering and hyperventilating me with a booster shot of reason. I calmed down and got of the dress one boob at a time. It was actually very funny had it not been horrifying. Yes, so coming back to the birthday dress. It was gorgeous and I teamed it up with a beautiful pair of silver open-toes stilletoes (6 inches of glorious heels) from Charles & Keith. I looked all radiant and soo 25 and sorted type.
Dressed to kill, I took my friends and my roomate to La Dolce Vita for the birthday dinner and the dinner party gave me Milk Chocolates as a present. Now Milk Chocolates is actually worse than puzzle books. As far as birthday bounty was concerned this birthday was a disaster. I had a whole birthday register going. I had picked out what book I wanted, what shoes I wanted, but, nothing, except for a bunch of superfluous things I have no use for. All this has made me realize that once you're over a certain age, birthdays cease to be significant. It has all become so perfunctory. Apart from family and a few friends, nobody, including my closest friends, bothered to call. Yes, technically, I got tons of scraps on orkut and SMSes but I missed seeing or hearing the joy of it being my birthday being conveyed to me, like they used to in school. I loved birthdays in school, all the more, because my birthday always used to disappear in the diwali holidays and I was the only one who never got to wear a pretty dress or to whom the entire class sang along to the tune of "happy Birthday" :
"You were born in the Zoo
You were born in the Zoo
With the monkeys and the donkeys
...and you are one too"
But when my birthday did come on a school day it was fabulous. I used to be assaulted by bear hugs from all the other girls. My friends were genuinely happy for me and I was actually glad it was my birthday. In class 12, for example, the class got a cake and I cut the cake infront of everybody, complete with candle blowing, singing and all. A Funny incident that ocurred, was when I went to give a piece of cake to my physics teacher later. She asked me what my plans for the day were and I said, very deadpan-edly, "I'm planning to have an orgy tonight." Obviously, Mallu, physics teacher didn't understand what orgy meant and told me to "Have fun and enjoy every second." I'm sure I don't have many redeeming qualities in me but Chutzpah is one thing I have an abundance of.
So yesterday night, when I signed for the dinner bill, I realized what an Investment banker in Manhattan might feel like these days. You take certain steps expecting bounty and then you end up in the red horribly. Another life's lesson learnt the hardway. I realized that apart from the superfluous associations with Birthdays, it is also a day to look back and be thankful for. And I do have a lot to be thankful for, especially the people in my tribe who stand my wild rants and encourage me when I'm down.
The last thing I expected was to get wise on my 25th. Damn!
Before, I be accused of being a cold-hearted b***ch, let me plead my case. Ever since I was a kid, I have always gotten cash on this day. I never liked the presents that my relatives gave me. Either it was some silly puzzle book (people who give puzzle books to little kids should be shot, well to be fair... I used my puzzle book presents to gift other hapless kids..which in my opinion is the best way to use terrible gifts) or a book I'd already read. I got a famous five book as a present once when I was 15!! This, when I was reading Dickens for goddsakes!! When I opened the gift wrapping and saw what was inside, I wanted to scream "Are you Kidding me???" So I decreed to everyone that it was in everybody's best interest that I get cash for my birthdays. I would be able buy what I wanted and good karma would follow the gift giver. Clearly a win-win for everybody. That's when the deluge started. Packets of cash stuffed envelopes from everyone, which went to ma for safe keeping. After combining the money from the Diwali bounty, I use to make my way to Gangarams, my pilgrimage spot in bangalore and buy tons and tons of books. I never used my birthday money to buy things other than books till I was in 2nd year college. So to cut a long story short, cash is what makes my Birthday a Birthday. Otherwise I see no point for this day to be celebrated. I don't like gift wrapped presents because 9 times out of 10, I get something I have no use for and I end up cursing people and their ilk till 2070.
So when yesterday, dawned, I waited to see if the usual suspects would offer cash again. Ok thats a terrible way to address family but I do it in jest. The parents called in promptly at midnight. They were very sweet and lovely. Then we came to the part about the presents. Last year I got a diamond solitaire from them so this year my expectations were understandbly higher. Ma said that I'd get my present when I came home in a couple of weeks. I was actually horrified and asked her if it was a "gift wrapped kind of present" she was talking about. My mother, god bless her, knows me and never judges my quirks. "Cash it is then" she said. My brother called later. He wished me first and promptly launched into a monologue on the cold he was battling. I behaved like a good sister and told him about my home remedies that he could use, while all the while thinking about how I could cut this crap and fast forward to the part where I'd be offered cash, in aussie dollars or Indian ruppees. I was actually trying to see which currency was more beneficial, given the current currency exchange rates. After finishing the tale about his epic battle, he asked me to have a great day and hung up. WTF!!!! I stared at the phone in disbelief. My own brother! Judas!! that was the story basically, all the relatives I knew, called me and asked me to have a great day. How the hell was I to have a "great day" when no one was giving me cash to have that proverbial "Great day" huh? Thats when it hit me. Thats what 25 means. You're grown up. You don't need cash and you ain't gonna get it either. I find it greatly unfair that just because I'm self sufficient and have a job, I'm not gonna get cash presents anymore!
So given the grand disillusionment, I only did what a girl in my place would do, I went shopping for the birthday dress. Ok let me warn all the boys reading, that this is the part where they should skip because it includes all the boring girly stuff. My bought a lovely black embroidered corsett top, which not only looked beautiful but also fit me like a dream. I cry and burst into happy tears when things fit me like a dream. I must clarify that I'm not overweight or anything, its just that I have unusual proportions. Large hips, large bosom and slender waist, all translates into fuck ups in the trial room. Infact there was time, several months ago when, a dress I had gotten into wouldn't come off. I was utterly horrified and was half afraid that the store people would tear me out of the dress and would make me pay for the shambles. I speed dialed the loved one in desperation. I knew there was nothing he could do given that he was what 800km away, but he is my wise person and I always turn to him when I have to extricate myself (quite literally in this case) from any situation. So I called him and explained the situation. He calmed me down and told me that if I had gotten into it, it would very reasonable to assume that I could get out it too. Only this man could calm the madly blabbering and hyperventilating me with a booster shot of reason. I calmed down and got of the dress one boob at a time. It was actually very funny had it not been horrifying. Yes, so coming back to the birthday dress. It was gorgeous and I teamed it up with a beautiful pair of silver open-toes stilletoes (6 inches of glorious heels) from Charles & Keith. I looked all radiant and soo 25 and sorted type.
Dressed to kill, I took my friends and my roomate to La Dolce Vita for the birthday dinner and the dinner party gave me Milk Chocolates as a present. Now Milk Chocolates is actually worse than puzzle books. As far as birthday bounty was concerned this birthday was a disaster. I had a whole birthday register going. I had picked out what book I wanted, what shoes I wanted, but, nothing, except for a bunch of superfluous things I have no use for. All this has made me realize that once you're over a certain age, birthdays cease to be significant. It has all become so perfunctory. Apart from family and a few friends, nobody, including my closest friends, bothered to call. Yes, technically, I got tons of scraps on orkut and SMSes but I missed seeing or hearing the joy of it being my birthday being conveyed to me, like they used to in school. I loved birthdays in school, all the more, because my birthday always used to disappear in the diwali holidays and I was the only one who never got to wear a pretty dress or to whom the entire class sang along to the tune of "happy Birthday" :
"You were born in the Zoo
You were born in the Zoo
With the monkeys and the donkeys
...and you are one too"
But when my birthday did come on a school day it was fabulous. I used to be assaulted by bear hugs from all the other girls. My friends were genuinely happy for me and I was actually glad it was my birthday. In class 12, for example, the class got a cake and I cut the cake infront of everybody, complete with candle blowing, singing and all. A Funny incident that ocurred, was when I went to give a piece of cake to my physics teacher later. She asked me what my plans for the day were and I said, very deadpan-edly, "I'm planning to have an orgy tonight." Obviously, Mallu, physics teacher didn't understand what orgy meant and told me to "Have fun and enjoy every second." I'm sure I don't have many redeeming qualities in me but Chutzpah is one thing I have an abundance of.
So yesterday night, when I signed for the dinner bill, I realized what an Investment banker in Manhattan might feel like these days. You take certain steps expecting bounty and then you end up in the red horribly. Another life's lesson learnt the hardway. I realized that apart from the superfluous associations with Birthdays, it is also a day to look back and be thankful for. And I do have a lot to be thankful for, especially the people in my tribe who stand my wild rants and encourage me when I'm down.
The last thing I expected was to get wise on my 25th. Damn!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
waiting for that macrame bird of prey to come down and sing la-ling la-ling la-ling...
Yes, that's my sound track for October. Andrew Bird's My Skin. Its so very bohemian raphsody and has me singing laling laling laling...which is a good thing because its OCTOBER people! Clearly it doesn't take a genius to figure its my favourite month of the year. It has always been. October is the one month in the year that gives you a break. I'm not speaking in a literal sense, ofcourse in school we used to get holidays for dussehra, but I'm talking about the state of mind here. October is the month to stop running. It's the month of winter sunshine and blue skies. Its not as horrid as those winter months that bring with them coughs and illness, although there's a certain nippiness that adds to the excitement of the month.
Part of what makes October special are the festivals. Navratri, Dussehra and Diwali. I'm not one for festivals but if there is merriment count me in! Yes Navratri is part of my psyche even though I'm as south indian they get. I like Navratri and the whole Daandiya ding. I went for daandiya again this time and it was sooper fun. Funny thing, though, was the fact that after 2 hours of daandiya, the music turned to old faithful punjabee music and Singh again became king. What is it with us and punjabee music?? I'm looking forward to Diwali this time because I get to go to Bangalore for a full week! I can't wait to go to LOR and have cheese bites. yummmm!
Also, another thing that makes October special, is that it features my Birthday. I only like it because I'm guaranteed money and prezzies on this day. Which is a good thing because I'm like a human ATM, doling out money and paying various bills every other day. This time, given the financial situation, I've decided I'll accept only cash. I'm crushed about turning 25 though...eeegad. I don't feel 25 at all and I'm thinking if that says something about me. I don't feel like I have achieved much you know..... aah fuck it. Tomorrow, just tomorrow, I get rich.
Part of what makes October special are the festivals. Navratri, Dussehra and Diwali. I'm not one for festivals but if there is merriment count me in! Yes Navratri is part of my psyche even though I'm as south indian they get. I like Navratri and the whole Daandiya ding. I went for daandiya again this time and it was sooper fun. Funny thing, though, was the fact that after 2 hours of daandiya, the music turned to old faithful punjabee music and Singh again became king. What is it with us and punjabee music?? I'm looking forward to Diwali this time because I get to go to Bangalore for a full week! I can't wait to go to LOR and have cheese bites. yummmm!
Also, another thing that makes October special, is that it features my Birthday. I only like it because I'm guaranteed money and prezzies on this day. Which is a good thing because I'm like a human ATM, doling out money and paying various bills every other day. This time, given the financial situation, I've decided I'll accept only cash. I'm crushed about turning 25 though...eeegad. I don't feel 25 at all and I'm thinking if that says something about me. I don't feel like I have achieved much you know..... aah fuck it. Tomorrow, just tomorrow, I get rich.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)