Me and my friend have been sitting in this café tucked into a corner of nowhere somewhere in this city that for all practical reasons, I refuse to name. This is probably the last thing we’re going to eat here, the unwelcome end to a rather uneventful trip nonetheless.
After a while, you figure out that every major city in India offers exactly the same things. A mall, KFC, McDonalds, Barrista, Café coffee day, Pizza hut, that just being the food, coupled with shopping malls that make you go ”Oh that’s nice” and then walk in the opposite direction when you see the price tag, and not to forget all the superficial people…
Pack all of this together and you get a major metropolitan city in India.
So we thought, let us do what we actually came here to do, which is what we’ve been doing for the past two days, which is what most college students do, when you let them loose in the midst of a city like this. We eat.
And so it arrived, our chocolate brownie fudge something sizzler.
You felt like you were crammed into a bakery and denied departure.
Heads turned and mouths watered and you felt like it was judgment day and you had passed with flying colours.
Chocolate sauce dripped over a perfect piece of chocolate brownie that was drowned in sizzling hot chocolate. It was an explosion of chocolate with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top that gave the unique sensation of having something that is simultaneously both hot and cold.
Alluring to all five senses, the mixture of watching it arrive on that perfect wooden base, with the sound of it sizzling in hot chocolate to the hot cooked chocolate smell, with the taste of it melting in your mouth and the feeling of a burning tongue subdued by the refreshing cold of vanilla ice cream is TO-DIE-FOR..
And there you sat, feeling fat but not caring, slightly sleepy and you begin to hear “Hello…is there anybody out there…………..IIIII have become…….comfortably numb…” and you think right! So this is what the guy was actually talking about.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Food as only Mummy could cook it – 30th July 2010
As she poured the chocolate cake mix into the round non stick dish, we watched in amazement. In less than an hour, you could smell the rich chocolate saturating the air so that you breathed delicious hot cake. The oven would open, the cake would come out, a little puffed up but perfect nonetheless. And we stared unblinking as she stuck a fork in it to make sure that it was cooked well. And Aley would run, pick up the phone and call her friends to inform them about the latest developments in the event of the day. This would be followed by the quick arrival of a bunch of 9th grade boys, shy at first, with alarmingly widening eyes as they gazed upon the treasure with watering mouths. She must’ve done this a hundred times in the course of our lives so far.
The baked Italian chicken filled with fresh spinach mixed with a number of cheeses came out of the oven. The cheese shamelessly overflowed from the sides of the oblong chicken pieces .The best part was when you poured the faint orange sauce over the pieces of chicken. She would watch as we sliced our forks through the chicken and placed the piece dipped in sauce in our mouths and an expression of nirvana crossed our faces. Except papa who was impossible to read only if only about his wife’s food. But you could tell from the speed with which he ate and his sniffing nose that he enjoyed it greatly.
And the Biriyani.....I think maybe I should stop. Strange as it seems, I feel my laptop growing jealous of its natural inanimateness and therefore inability to eat.
Some things and some people are too personal to write about. Words seem rather inefficient. They really fall short. So I wrote about food instead and I really do love food.
The baked Italian chicken filled with fresh spinach mixed with a number of cheeses came out of the oven. The cheese shamelessly overflowed from the sides of the oblong chicken pieces .The best part was when you poured the faint orange sauce over the pieces of chicken. She would watch as we sliced our forks through the chicken and placed the piece dipped in sauce in our mouths and an expression of nirvana crossed our faces. Except papa who was impossible to read only if only about his wife’s food. But you could tell from the speed with which he ate and his sniffing nose that he enjoyed it greatly.
And the Biriyani.....I think maybe I should stop. Strange as it seems, I feel my laptop growing jealous of its natural inanimateness and therefore inability to eat.
Some things and some people are too personal to write about. Words seem rather inefficient. They really fall short. So I wrote about food instead and I really do love food.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Vengeance - 25th June 2010
The act filled her with a deep sense of both satisfaction and cold justice. She felt particularly proud of herself seeing how she was the one to serve this justice. The blood on her arm only amused her slightly. It reminded her of her achievement. The quick, skilled move of a practiced killer. He had got her the last time but defeat at the hands of an enemy only drove her to revenge. And boy was it sweet.
She was watching him for some time now, observing how his movements displayed to the untrained eye, a complete lack of interest in her. But having been struck before, she knew he had an unquenched thirst for her blood. Having tasted it once, he longed for it even more. He ran circles around her, whispering things meant to confuse her. But this time she was ready. She had learnt her lesson the hard way. She knew that all it took was a single moment of distraction, a single mistake and he would win again. So she waited patiently as he moved closer, his whisper louder, perfectly in tune to the sound of her growing heartbeat. He touched her skin, went for her blood and she killed the mosquito.
She was watching him for some time now, observing how his movements displayed to the untrained eye, a complete lack of interest in her. But having been struck before, she knew he had an unquenched thirst for her blood. Having tasted it once, he longed for it even more. He ran circles around her, whispering things meant to confuse her. But this time she was ready. She had learnt her lesson the hard way. She knew that all it took was a single moment of distraction, a single mistake and he would win again. So she waited patiently as he moved closer, his whisper louder, perfectly in tune to the sound of her growing heartbeat. He touched her skin, went for her blood and she killed the mosquito.
Kerala and the Rain - 19th June 2010
I woke up today to the strong smell of rain outside and for a second I thought I was home, where I come from that is. I don’t have particularly fond memories of Kerala, at least not of the people there. My good memories of ‘Gods own land’ consists of exactly that, the land. Staring out of the window as we traveled back and forth from our house in Pala, it often occurred to me that the place that I so detested, the place where I spent two and a half months of my summer vacations every year simply because I was forced to by my parents and not by choice, it often occurred to me that the place was actually beautiful.
And then I felt at home. I felt strangely honoured to come from a place that was as green and as peaceful, if you were in the right place in Kerala that is. I mean, take a ride through Kottayam town and you could smell the combination of vehicle and industrial pollution in the air. A smell so strong, you risked choking to death or at least you are haunted for a second by that ridiculous fear that sometime in the future you would be told in a doctor’s office that you shockingly have lung cancer and two months left to live and at that moment sitting there, you think that you will think back to the day you rode through Kottayam town in an ambassador car, eating up the pollution in its fullest. But this thought is quickly brushed from your mind. Point being, you find yourself in the right place in Kerala and thoughts of tiny paradise fill you up like coconut water and you start thinking romantic thoughts about a nadan chekan that does not exist… or maybe he does, but then that’s another story.
The rain, nothing soaked through me as much as the rain in Kerala. The smell of wet grass and mud, the sound of the thunder, the cool nights, waking up after an endless night of rain to a faint morning that refused to let the sun shine. The rain in Kuwait where I spent the rest of the year, in our 3 room apartment was just not the same. It felt more like a shower switched on. But this rain felt almost mystical. Every time it rained in Kerala, it was as if it was a message from someone else, a sign of good hope. Maybe it was just a little way of feeling special, but I felt connected to another soul who stared out of his or her window at that exact moment, thinking exactly the same thoughts.
The rain in Kerala had the most hypnotizing effect on me and my sisters. I could stare for ages at it pouring outside our window. Just after completing another session of complaining to our mother of how much we hated it here, it would rain, and then we would be quite…
And then I felt at home. I felt strangely honoured to come from a place that was as green and as peaceful, if you were in the right place in Kerala that is. I mean, take a ride through Kottayam town and you could smell the combination of vehicle and industrial pollution in the air. A smell so strong, you risked choking to death or at least you are haunted for a second by that ridiculous fear that sometime in the future you would be told in a doctor’s office that you shockingly have lung cancer and two months left to live and at that moment sitting there, you think that you will think back to the day you rode through Kottayam town in an ambassador car, eating up the pollution in its fullest. But this thought is quickly brushed from your mind. Point being, you find yourself in the right place in Kerala and thoughts of tiny paradise fill you up like coconut water and you start thinking romantic thoughts about a nadan chekan that does not exist… or maybe he does, but then that’s another story.
The rain, nothing soaked through me as much as the rain in Kerala. The smell of wet grass and mud, the sound of the thunder, the cool nights, waking up after an endless night of rain to a faint morning that refused to let the sun shine. The rain in Kuwait where I spent the rest of the year, in our 3 room apartment was just not the same. It felt more like a shower switched on. But this rain felt almost mystical. Every time it rained in Kerala, it was as if it was a message from someone else, a sign of good hope. Maybe it was just a little way of feeling special, but I felt connected to another soul who stared out of his or her window at that exact moment, thinking exactly the same thoughts.
The rain in Kerala had the most hypnotizing effect on me and my sisters. I could stare for ages at it pouring outside our window. Just after completing another session of complaining to our mother of how much we hated it here, it would rain, and then we would be quite…
Friday, June 18, 2010
Good food and the danger of roads - 27th April 2010
Saturday Afternoon
Dodo:” I can’t walk…”
Me: “I know…don’t you just wish you had a hovercraft right now. Buzzzzzzz vrrooom vrrooom vrrooom. VEEEEEEEEE. ”
Dodo:” Hahahaha… Idiot! Don’t make me laugh. It’s paaaaaainful. Can you imagine, I actually have to climb stairs to get to room. Mamma!”
The rest of us:”Hahahaha..”
Me:”Idiot! Now who’s making who laugh.”
Earlier that day
The four of us, after suffering for sometime from an acute case of NITW mess food, decided to EAT “proper proper” food at an apparently proper restaurant.
Oh and eat we did. We ate like we’d never eaten before, like the world was coming to an end, like food was air and we were suffocating to death. Ok, getting way ahead of myself but basically I think you get the point.
So there we were walking back to college, literally dragging our feet, the “pleasant” weather making things so much easier for us.
Me: “Do you realize we are drunk on good food?”
Dodo:” Yeah, well think about it. What does getting high mean after all? It is a release of ecstasy in the body that makes one feel immensely happy or good and lasts for a short while so when you think about it this is an appropriate explanation for the condition we are in which means….that logically speaking we are high. ”
Devil/ angel: “Huh?”
Laughter followed by clutching of stomachs in pain.
All of us:”Ouch!”
The night before
Dodo: “Isn’t this the best grape juice ever?”
Me:”Yeah I know. It’s really good.”
Rizwan:” Mary, look at what you’ve done to poor Shine.”
Shine, the poor guy, was looking all depressed because a certain someone (moi) raised a particular finger at him earlier that day.
Shine turned his dejected face away when I called out his name.
Dodo:” FRIENDS is good.”
Me:” No it’s not.”
Shelton (looking at me like he’s going to reveal the most shocking fact of the century)cue in the background music, the tempo rises and the score has raised to a higher pitch, leaving the audience in utter suspense for what is about to happen next:” I left MY GAMES……… for FRIENDS!!!!!”
Yup. The music stops abruptly.
At that point I actually felt like changing sides because if Shelton left HIS GAMES for something…..
During the course of these two separate and unconnected incidents, there was also underlying danger at every road crossing.
26th Night:
Dodo:”BUS!!! Bus, bus, bus.”
Me:”Hold on.”
As Dodo held on to my arm that day and we crossed the road together, I felt thankful that I survived yet another episode of “CROSSING THE ROAD……………WITH DODO!”.
.
27th Afternoon:
Dodo:”Hey, I can cross roads by myself you know.”
An auto zooms past and misses her by inches. Dodo doesn’t even notice.
Looking at the expression on my face,
Dodo:” What? I can!”
I think to myself, oh holy mother of god, please let us just survive another episode of
“CROSSING THE ROAD……………WITH DODO!”
Life goes on at NITW. An occasional dose of good food, dangerous episodes of road crossings, but mostly and most importantly, a regular and steady supply of good company is what keeps us going here.
Dodo:” I can’t walk…”
Me: “I know…don’t you just wish you had a hovercraft right now. Buzzzzzzz vrrooom vrrooom vrrooom. VEEEEEEEEE. ”
Dodo:” Hahahaha… Idiot! Don’t make me laugh. It’s paaaaaainful. Can you imagine, I actually have to climb stairs to get to room. Mamma!”
The rest of us:”Hahahaha..”
Me:”Idiot! Now who’s making who laugh.”
Earlier that day
The four of us, after suffering for sometime from an acute case of NITW mess food, decided to EAT “proper proper” food at an apparently proper restaurant.
Oh and eat we did. We ate like we’d never eaten before, like the world was coming to an end, like food was air and we were suffocating to death. Ok, getting way ahead of myself but basically I think you get the point.
So there we were walking back to college, literally dragging our feet, the “pleasant” weather making things so much easier for us.
Me: “Do you realize we are drunk on good food?”
Dodo:” Yeah, well think about it. What does getting high mean after all? It is a release of ecstasy in the body that makes one feel immensely happy or good and lasts for a short while so when you think about it this is an appropriate explanation for the condition we are in which means….that logically speaking we are high. ”
Devil/ angel: “Huh?”
Laughter followed by clutching of stomachs in pain.
All of us:”Ouch!”
The night before
Dodo: “Isn’t this the best grape juice ever?”
Me:”Yeah I know. It’s really good.”
Rizwan:” Mary, look at what you’ve done to poor Shine.”
Shine, the poor guy, was looking all depressed because a certain someone (moi) raised a particular finger at him earlier that day.
Shine turned his dejected face away when I called out his name.
Dodo:” FRIENDS is good.”
Me:” No it’s not.”
Shelton (looking at me like he’s going to reveal the most shocking fact of the century)cue in the background music, the tempo rises and the score has raised to a higher pitch, leaving the audience in utter suspense for what is about to happen next:” I left MY GAMES……… for FRIENDS!!!!!”
Yup. The music stops abruptly.
At that point I actually felt like changing sides because if Shelton left HIS GAMES for something…..
During the course of these two separate and unconnected incidents, there was also underlying danger at every road crossing.
26th Night:
Dodo:”BUS!!! Bus, bus, bus.”
Me:”Hold on.”
As Dodo held on to my arm that day and we crossed the road together, I felt thankful that I survived yet another episode of “CROSSING THE ROAD……………WITH DODO!”.
.
27th Afternoon:
Dodo:”Hey, I can cross roads by myself you know.”
An auto zooms past and misses her by inches. Dodo doesn’t even notice.
Looking at the expression on my face,
Dodo:” What? I can!”
I think to myself, oh holy mother of god, please let us just survive another episode of
“CROSSING THE ROAD……………WITH DODO!”
Life goes on at NITW. An occasional dose of good food, dangerous episodes of road crossings, but mostly and most importantly, a regular and steady supply of good company is what keeps us going here.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Hyderabad, as I will fondly remember
Wandering the streets of Hyderabad at 4 in the morning, when not a soul is awake and you are left ambling about not knowing where you’re going, leads to the most wonderful exchange of information.
“Did you know that Google maps is one of the sexiest applications.”
This was followed by an illustrative example on how Google maps work.
“Oh wait! So that’s where we are right now?”
“Yup, and not only that, type in……….lets say Imblibandh bus station and…you get directions on how to get there and in how much time.”
“Cool.”
An hour later.
“Did you know that idli is considered to be the best breakfast in the world?”
The expression of the person in concern was one of utter disbelief. Almost as if I had said “the sky is red today”.
“By who?”
Never mind. I thought.
A half hour later.
“What is the difference between a tooth fairy and a phoenix?”
%#&*!
“There is a world of difference between a tooth fairy and a phoenix.”
“Ok then tell me ten differences between a tooth fairy and a phoenix.”
“Well, a phoenix is reborn from its ashes…”
“I don’t mean like that.”
“I think I get it. Well for one a tooth fairy is fairy tale meant for children, whereas a phoenix is myth.”
“Myth is just a fancier word for fairy tale.”
This conversation led to another virtually never ending disagreement that neither party involved would ever agree on.
We couldn’t even agree on whether it was a disagreement.
“It’s a discussion, a difference of opinion.”
“It’s an argument.”
“No, it’s not!”
Approximately 6 hours earlier.
12:00 a.m.
It was already way past my curfew which, even with late permission, extended only up till 11.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Ahhh lite! I guess I’ll have to sneak in.”
“Isn’t that risky?”
“Yeah but I don’t really have any other option.”
“Well……. we could go to Hyderabad.”
“What? At this time?”
“Well only if you wanted to….it’s a stupid idea isn’t it?”
“Lets go.”
3 hours later we found ourselves wandering the streets of Hyderabad, with not a soul awake and not having any idea of where we were going.
Now let me share an interesting piece of information with you.
It is often a single spontaneous idea born out of the heat of the moment that leads to experiences that define our life. And it is these moments that we remember forever...
“Did you know that Google maps is one of the sexiest applications.”
This was followed by an illustrative example on how Google maps work.
“Oh wait! So that’s where we are right now?”
“Yup, and not only that, type in……….lets say Imblibandh bus station and…you get directions on how to get there and in how much time.”
“Cool.”
An hour later.
“Did you know that idli is considered to be the best breakfast in the world?”
The expression of the person in concern was one of utter disbelief. Almost as if I had said “the sky is red today”.
“By who?”
Never mind. I thought.
A half hour later.
“What is the difference between a tooth fairy and a phoenix?”
%#&*!
“There is a world of difference between a tooth fairy and a phoenix.”
“Ok then tell me ten differences between a tooth fairy and a phoenix.”
“Well, a phoenix is reborn from its ashes…”
“I don’t mean like that.”
“I think I get it. Well for one a tooth fairy is fairy tale meant for children, whereas a phoenix is myth.”
“Myth is just a fancier word for fairy tale.”
This conversation led to another virtually never ending disagreement that neither party involved would ever agree on.
We couldn’t even agree on whether it was a disagreement.
“It’s a discussion, a difference of opinion.”
“It’s an argument.”
“No, it’s not!”
Approximately 6 hours earlier.
12:00 a.m.
It was already way past my curfew which, even with late permission, extended only up till 11.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Ahhh lite! I guess I’ll have to sneak in.”
“Isn’t that risky?”
“Yeah but I don’t really have any other option.”
“Well……. we could go to Hyderabad.”
“What? At this time?”
“Well only if you wanted to….it’s a stupid idea isn’t it?”
“Lets go.”
3 hours later we found ourselves wandering the streets of Hyderabad, with not a soul awake and not having any idea of where we were going.
Now let me share an interesting piece of information with you.
It is often a single spontaneous idea born out of the heat of the moment that leads to experiences that define our life. And it is these moments that we remember forever...
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Of apples and gods – 4th February 2010
A thought was born at a random and otherwise insignificant moment of my life. So there I was looking at the apple in my hand, just another apple in the long line of apples that I had eaten in my life so far, when an idea tickled the periphery of my mind. It sort of giggled and danced at the boundaries of my thoughts, shy at first but grew bolder as it went along and finally took one giant leap into *SNAP*.
You know how sometimes you are completely and utterly lost in thought and suddenly the weight of reality crash lands on your head and your thoughts start running amok. You are left scrambling for them, trying to collect all of them like loose marbles before any of them get lost forever.
An apple. Really? But in reality, what is an apple? Is it only an apple or is it completely an apple? Or is it just an idea.
Think about it, suppose your apple was called banana, would it still be an apple. Is an apple defined by its name or by its character? Don’t tell me now that inanimate objects cannot have character for I am already well aware of that.
So what is an apple really? But then I ask you what is reality really? Is it not but what we mould it to be? Is it not but the most abstract thing that was ever defined?
Getting to my point, apples are apples only because we believe them to be so. For if an apple was indeed a banana, it would actually make no difference. If from the day a person is born they are taught that apples are bananas and bananas apples, then who are you or me for that matter to tell them on their death beds that they were wrong about it all this time. Do you think for one second that you could convince that person of a truth that does not exist to him or her to begin with? If you try, then let me tell you something, you are the one who is a fool, not them.
If it tastes good, feels good, fills an empty stomach and keeps you away from the doctor, at the end of the day, isn’t that all that matters? Does it really matter what it is called?
An apple or a banana? Now you decide, what am I really talking about. Or better yet you could also decide that it doesn’t really matter. For when you really think about it, who am I to decide what is reality for you.
You know how sometimes you are completely and utterly lost in thought and suddenly the weight of reality crash lands on your head and your thoughts start running amok. You are left scrambling for them, trying to collect all of them like loose marbles before any of them get lost forever.
An apple. Really? But in reality, what is an apple? Is it only an apple or is it completely an apple? Or is it just an idea.
Think about it, suppose your apple was called banana, would it still be an apple. Is an apple defined by its name or by its character? Don’t tell me now that inanimate objects cannot have character for I am already well aware of that.
So what is an apple really? But then I ask you what is reality really? Is it not but what we mould it to be? Is it not but the most abstract thing that was ever defined?
Getting to my point, apples are apples only because we believe them to be so. For if an apple was indeed a banana, it would actually make no difference. If from the day a person is born they are taught that apples are bananas and bananas apples, then who are you or me for that matter to tell them on their death beds that they were wrong about it all this time. Do you think for one second that you could convince that person of a truth that does not exist to him or her to begin with? If you try, then let me tell you something, you are the one who is a fool, not them.
If it tastes good, feels good, fills an empty stomach and keeps you away from the doctor, at the end of the day, isn’t that all that matters? Does it really matter what it is called?
An apple or a banana? Now you decide, what am I really talking about. Or better yet you could also decide that it doesn’t really matter. For when you really think about it, who am I to decide what is reality for you.
Imperfections – 4th March 2010
If I actually did never reach for that snickers bar (In spite of the fact that I was on a diet), never forgot to brush my teeth, never eavesdropped on someone’s conversation, never took a particular route just so I might “accidently” bump into someone, never sat next to someone hoping against hope that they would hold my hand, never took 15 minutes to make sure my hair was perfect though I am a self declared “I don’t care about how I look” person….
If I always smelled good and never lied and had enough self control to actually resist that bloody snickers bar. Damn it! Having another one. If I never stayed up late into the night overlooking the fact that I have a minor the next day, only to listen to my favourite songs or even write new ones.
If I never did any of these things, well, I would be perfect. But I would be living one sad life.
When I think of a person, maybe , yes it is their best qualities that you remember. But when that person is far away or unreachable, you start thinking about every little imperfection. Every little vice that made that person so annoying but so fond to remember about.
We are completely our best and worst qualities. And when you miss someone, you don’t miss the number of mountains they’ve climbed or the number of awards they’ve won. You miss the way their room was always a mess, or the way they talked too much, or the way they said the most nonsensically adorable things. You miss the way they sound when they are sleepy, or the way they are always late to class.
It is our imperfections that make us beautiful. It is imperfection that makes society an interesting place to live in.
It is other peoples’ imperfections that make us fall in love with them……
So sitting here, munching on my snickers bar, I think of all the crazy, mad people in this world and heave a sigh of relief because if it weren’t for them, man!!!!!!, life would be so damn boring .
If I always smelled good and never lied and had enough self control to actually resist that bloody snickers bar. Damn it! Having another one. If I never stayed up late into the night overlooking the fact that I have a minor the next day, only to listen to my favourite songs or even write new ones.
If I never did any of these things, well, I would be perfect. But I would be living one sad life.
When I think of a person, maybe , yes it is their best qualities that you remember. But when that person is far away or unreachable, you start thinking about every little imperfection. Every little vice that made that person so annoying but so fond to remember about.
We are completely our best and worst qualities. And when you miss someone, you don’t miss the number of mountains they’ve climbed or the number of awards they’ve won. You miss the way their room was always a mess, or the way they talked too much, or the way they said the most nonsensically adorable things. You miss the way they sound when they are sleepy, or the way they are always late to class.
It is our imperfections that make us beautiful. It is imperfection that makes society an interesting place to live in.
It is other peoples’ imperfections that make us fall in love with them……
So sitting here, munching on my snickers bar, I think of all the crazy, mad people in this world and heave a sigh of relief because if it weren’t for them, man!!!!!!, life would be so damn boring .
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Rage – 14th February 2010
It dilly – dallied, hopped, hid behind people and eventually peered at me with its large brown eyes and puppy face. It placed its hands on her shoulder and I was shocked to see unusually long claws for something of its demeanor and size. It did however interrupt our conversation and replaced it with a very eerie silence.
I was very unsure but it made me uncomfortable and I shifted slightly in my bed. Completely disgusted, I turned away from it to look at her. She smiled at me and gently placed her hand on my face and told me something about how everything was going to be okay. But in her face, I saw nothing but hypocrisy and suddenly I was filled with this enormous repulsion. I sat upright and shook her hand off of me.
I found that it had barely taken a moment for that feeling of nausea and unexplained uneasiness that had been clawing away at my skin for days now to turn into something else, something called rage.
The monster I saw behind her, looming above her head was my anger.
And it came.
And it took all of my self control and years of practiced calmness to prevent me from strangling her to death.
Betrayal is a painful thing. It tore at my skin, burnt my throat and ripped the flesh from my bones. I looked in the mirror, only to see that I did not recognize myself. But it was different this time. For the first time in my life, the monster staring back at me did not scare me. For once in my life, I had become the very thing that I had always feared.
The tiny little creature with its puppy face and big brown eyes, barely as tall as my knees, peered at me from behind my legs. As I gazed at our reflection in the mirror, calmness started to spread and as I gazed at its tiny little face, it smiled, no gave me a hint of a smile because we both knew what I had to do.
So I give her warning, if she is reading this, stay clear, put your tail between you legs and hide because rage is upon me.
I was very unsure but it made me uncomfortable and I shifted slightly in my bed. Completely disgusted, I turned away from it to look at her. She smiled at me and gently placed her hand on my face and told me something about how everything was going to be okay. But in her face, I saw nothing but hypocrisy and suddenly I was filled with this enormous repulsion. I sat upright and shook her hand off of me.
I found that it had barely taken a moment for that feeling of nausea and unexplained uneasiness that had been clawing away at my skin for days now to turn into something else, something called rage.
The monster I saw behind her, looming above her head was my anger.
And it came.
And it took all of my self control and years of practiced calmness to prevent me from strangling her to death.
Betrayal is a painful thing. It tore at my skin, burnt my throat and ripped the flesh from my bones. I looked in the mirror, only to see that I did not recognize myself. But it was different this time. For the first time in my life, the monster staring back at me did not scare me. For once in my life, I had become the very thing that I had always feared.
The tiny little creature with its puppy face and big brown eyes, barely as tall as my knees, peered at me from behind my legs. As I gazed at our reflection in the mirror, calmness started to spread and as I gazed at its tiny little face, it smiled, no gave me a hint of a smile because we both knew what I had to do.
So I give her warning, if she is reading this, stay clear, put your tail between you legs and hide because rage is upon me.
Indomie – 13th February 2010
Indomie is this brand of Indonesian noodles that has recently become very popular in the visitor’s block.
When I then think about it though, Indomie is a lot more than a brand of noodles. It is our survival tool, our equivalent to chicken noodle soup though I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have any of the nutritional goodness. It is what we make for each other when relationships break down, ragging speeds up, exams come up or you just feel so damn sick of the mess food. Entire friendships have been kindled over Indomie.
This is the first time I have made Indomie myself, for myself. It feels utterly lonely eating it alone. It is at this time that it occurs to me that Indomie is a dish best made, served and eaten together with a group of friends. I vow never to make Indomie alone again.
Indomie is not a brand of Indonesian noodles that has recently become very popular in the visitor’s block.
No, it is much much more………
When I then think about it though, Indomie is a lot more than a brand of noodles. It is our survival tool, our equivalent to chicken noodle soup though I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have any of the nutritional goodness. It is what we make for each other when relationships break down, ragging speeds up, exams come up or you just feel so damn sick of the mess food. Entire friendships have been kindled over Indomie.
This is the first time I have made Indomie myself, for myself. It feels utterly lonely eating it alone. It is at this time that it occurs to me that Indomie is a dish best made, served and eaten together with a group of friends. I vow never to make Indomie alone again.
Indomie is not a brand of Indonesian noodles that has recently become very popular in the visitor’s block.
No, it is much much more………
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Triumph – 26th January 2010
What is it with boys and their fascination for women’s lingerie? Whatever it is, no one could predict what was going to happen when Nathur asked us for a volunteer. Completely unaware of the trouble she was getting herself into, Dodo volunteered to be his wingman.
I walked towards the group of guffawing boys, Kathanar getting the whole thing on video. I watched Nathur and Dodo walk into the lingerie shop and a couple of minutes later I saw Dodo run out, completely shocked and laughing her head off. The series of events that unfolded after that happened so fast, we’re still wondering what exactly hit us.
Nathur runs out and yells………….
“Run, run, run!!!”
Before I knew it, we were running for our lives. Nathur, Radio/Ecchi, Kathanar, Dodo and me. On the way out we slammed into Achayan who was very busy talking on the phone. We tried telling him to run but he didn’t seem to understand head or tail of what was happening around him.
Avar achayannne pidichu.
Nangal kudungi.
Athode nangalde katha theernu….
……….to be continued……….
I walked towards the group of guffawing boys, Kathanar getting the whole thing on video. I watched Nathur and Dodo walk into the lingerie shop and a couple of minutes later I saw Dodo run out, completely shocked and laughing her head off. The series of events that unfolded after that happened so fast, we’re still wondering what exactly hit us.
Nathur runs out and yells………….
“Run, run, run!!!”
Before I knew it, we were running for our lives. Nathur, Radio/Ecchi, Kathanar, Dodo and me. On the way out we slammed into Achayan who was very busy talking on the phone. We tried telling him to run but he didn’t seem to understand head or tail of what was happening around him.
Avar achayannne pidichu.
Nangal kudungi.
Athode nangalde katha theernu….
……….to be continued……….
Sunday, January 17, 2010
We have a chicken in our room – 15th January 2010
We have a chicken in our room or so read the message from devil/angel. “Is she drunk? Or has she gone crazy”, dodo asks me.
With earphones on her head and talking to her parents, it was beginning to dawn on me that I would have to be the one to get up from my ever so lazy but comfortable position and go check up on devil/angel.
“Hmm…. I think I better go check up on her.”
So I walk down the stairs and up another, en route from dodo’s room to mine. By the way, devil/angel and I are room mates. As I close in on room V226, I hear a commotion inside. For all I know, they could actually have a real……………
“OH MY GOD!”
“It’s a real chicken.”
Devil/angel looks at me furiously. “We have a chicken in our room.”
“Hey that’s sweet…” Devil/angel’s eyes flash red and I swallow the rest of my words. ”I mean….I suppose.”
“Stupid chicken.”
The chicken was probably 2 to 3 months old, golden yellow, adorably cute and unfortunately extremely noisy. Unfortunate for the chicken that is, because his new room mate happened to be devil/angel. So there I was with my arms stinging from an earlier mishap that I had about which I shall tell you later, looking from the chicken to devil/angel. Was it just me or did the chicken actually take a couple of furtive steps backwards.
“Stupid chicken.”
“Dude, what is your problem with the chicken”
“I don’t like animals”
“And yet you refuse to eat them”
“What has that got to do with anything!”
Okay phoenix, time for you to back off before devil/angel really loses it. Like the chicken, I decided it would be best if I took a couple of steps back.
This was a good thing though because a few minutes ago, I was feeling immensely crappy. Things had not gone according to plan and once again I found myself hurting (this time physically too). Life surprises you in the weirdest ways and I was glad, no thankful to have something to distract me.
Seeing how I was the most well informed about chickens, I decided to delegate work. Operation keeping the chicken alive began.
Plan A:
Keep it in the Morphy Richards box.
So devil/angel starts cutting holes in the box with a very sharp and long blade. The look in her eyes tells me that we should move to Plan B.
Plan B:
Keep it in the balcony.
Enough sunlight, fresh air.
Just have to make sure it doesn’t fall into the drainage hole.
So we begin the process of building a fortress around the chicken with all the boxes that devil/angel likes to collect.
I’m happy to say that Plan B was a success and that the chicken is happy and…….
“Oh shit.”
“What now!” devil/ angel looks at me from across the room through the kitchen to the balcony door where I’m sitting currently with my laptop in my lap and keeping an eye on the chicken.
“Nothing “, I said as I picked the chicken up from the ground and put it back in jail..sorry…enclosure.
“The chicken just sort of escaped, that’s all.”
As I looked from the chicken to devil/angel, I thought, stupid chicken.
This is phoenix looking after her chicken.
Note: No animals or birds were harmed during the making of this blog.
With earphones on her head and talking to her parents, it was beginning to dawn on me that I would have to be the one to get up from my ever so lazy but comfortable position and go check up on devil/angel.
“Hmm…. I think I better go check up on her.”
So I walk down the stairs and up another, en route from dodo’s room to mine. By the way, devil/angel and I are room mates. As I close in on room V226, I hear a commotion inside. For all I know, they could actually have a real……………
“OH MY GOD!”
“It’s a real chicken.”
Devil/angel looks at me furiously. “We have a chicken in our room.”
“Hey that’s sweet…” Devil/angel’s eyes flash red and I swallow the rest of my words. ”I mean….I suppose.”
“Stupid chicken.”
The chicken was probably 2 to 3 months old, golden yellow, adorably cute and unfortunately extremely noisy. Unfortunate for the chicken that is, because his new room mate happened to be devil/angel. So there I was with my arms stinging from an earlier mishap that I had about which I shall tell you later, looking from the chicken to devil/angel. Was it just me or did the chicken actually take a couple of furtive steps backwards.
“Stupid chicken.”
“Dude, what is your problem with the chicken”
“I don’t like animals”
“And yet you refuse to eat them”
“What has that got to do with anything!”
Okay phoenix, time for you to back off before devil/angel really loses it. Like the chicken, I decided it would be best if I took a couple of steps back.
This was a good thing though because a few minutes ago, I was feeling immensely crappy. Things had not gone according to plan and once again I found myself hurting (this time physically too). Life surprises you in the weirdest ways and I was glad, no thankful to have something to distract me.
Seeing how I was the most well informed about chickens, I decided to delegate work. Operation keeping the chicken alive began.
Plan A:
Keep it in the Morphy Richards box.
So devil/angel starts cutting holes in the box with a very sharp and long blade. The look in her eyes tells me that we should move to Plan B.
Plan B:
Keep it in the balcony.
Enough sunlight, fresh air.
Just have to make sure it doesn’t fall into the drainage hole.
So we begin the process of building a fortress around the chicken with all the boxes that devil/angel likes to collect.
I’m happy to say that Plan B was a success and that the chicken is happy and…….
“Oh shit.”
“What now!” devil/ angel looks at me from across the room through the kitchen to the balcony door where I’m sitting currently with my laptop in my lap and keeping an eye on the chicken.
“Nothing “, I said as I picked the chicken up from the ground and put it back in jail..sorry…enclosure.
“The chicken just sort of escaped, that’s all.”
As I looked from the chicken to devil/angel, I thought, stupid chicken.
This is phoenix looking after her chicken.
Note: No animals or birds were harmed during the making of this blog.
Good morning NIT – W – 12th January 2010
Imagine, waking up in the morning, Natasha Beddingfield’s ‘unwritten’ playing in the background, the song that every girl is certain was written about her life. The room is still dark, your bed still warm. Downstairs you can hear the spoons and plates clattering, the perfect background score to the most well written awakening. The “wonderful” smell of the mess coffee drifting upwards, making you want to wake up all the more. You rub your eyes, your hair looks like it has been electrocuted but you don’t know this yet because you haven’t looked in the mirror. You walk towards the door all ready to breathe in the fresh NIT – W air, to have the sun shining on your face. You open the door and take two steps outside…..
“Shit, shit, shit!”
The record in your head comes to an abrupt stop and Natasha Beddingfield’s voice falters as you quickly step back inside your room.
“Damn it, you wake up in the morning and the first thing you see is one of your third year guy seniors.”
Dodo lets out a very sleepy grunt as a display of her sympathy for my predicament. I walk towards the mirror and let out a tiny yelp looking at my own reflection.
“Great I’m Frankenstein’s bride.”
Dodo lifts her head a little, gives me a cheesy smile and with a thump, goes right back to sleep.
I’m pretty sure today is going to be an awesome day. Better tell devil/ angel what happened.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
The record in your head comes to an abrupt stop and Natasha Beddingfield’s voice falters as you quickly step back inside your room.
“Damn it, you wake up in the morning and the first thing you see is one of your third year guy seniors.”
Dodo lets out a very sleepy grunt as a display of her sympathy for my predicament. I walk towards the mirror and let out a tiny yelp looking at my own reflection.
“Great I’m Frankenstein’s bride.”
Dodo lifts her head a little, gives me a cheesy smile and with a thump, goes right back to sleep.
I’m pretty sure today is going to be an awesome day. Better tell devil/ angel what happened.
The “twilight” zone – 31st December 2009
Declaration to the world: I, like so few of you out there, was once a ‘twilight’ hater. But now I am happy to say that my friends have made me realize the error of my ways and shown me the light. I am now a proud ‘twilight hater recoveree’.
Hehe. Did you know that you can be trialed, prosecuted, jailed and executed for speaking out against ‘twilight’ in a girls’ hostel. I made the grave mistake of declaring out loud my obvious loathing for the series about some gay vampire and his troubles. Oops, did I say gay. Anyhow, they almost killed me for that. Ok, so fiction is supposed to be fictitious, but this is just silly. Intriguing and impossibly good looking vampire and a beefed up sixteen year old kid made to look like a strong but slow werewolf just happen to fall for the dumbest girl in the world. I’m sorry, I just don’t get it. The author has obviously seen too many crappy c grade romantic flicks. Perhaps, it is a personal shortcoming but I never will be able to understand the fascination the book holds for a very large number of otherwise pretty sane group of people.
Ok people, time to go into hiding. See you in four years.
Hehe. Did you know that you can be trialed, prosecuted, jailed and executed for speaking out against ‘twilight’ in a girls’ hostel. I made the grave mistake of declaring out loud my obvious loathing for the series about some gay vampire and his troubles. Oops, did I say gay. Anyhow, they almost killed me for that. Ok, so fiction is supposed to be fictitious, but this is just silly. Intriguing and impossibly good looking vampire and a beefed up sixteen year old kid made to look like a strong but slow werewolf just happen to fall for the dumbest girl in the world. I’m sorry, I just don’t get it. The author has obviously seen too many crappy c grade romantic flicks. Perhaps, it is a personal shortcoming but I never will be able to understand the fascination the book holds for a very large number of otherwise pretty sane group of people.
Ok people, time to go into hiding. See you in four years.
Worldly affairs – 30thDecember 2009
So dodo, devil/angel and bugsy were having this discussion the other day about how everyone says holy shit and yet none of them could actually figure out how shit was holy. Then bugsy has an epiphany. See, don’t you get it, it’s really holey shit and not holy. Now that actually makes perfect sense…
We went on to have a very interesting discussion about what else we thought was holy or holey and shitty in this world. Now dodo and devil/angel are watching ‘the hangover’ and bugsy ‘s gone for a session. Lifes great in NIT-W and phoenix is signing off.
We went on to have a very interesting discussion about what else we thought was holy or holey and shitty in this world. Now dodo and devil/angel are watching ‘the hangover’ and bugsy ‘s gone for a session. Lifes great in NIT-W and phoenix is signing off.
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