Delightful, indeed!

This advert takes me back to the days when Miss Vee and yours truly

• wore stupid uniforms and long plaits.
• reserved seats for each other- in the bus, in the classroom, in the Audio-Visual Room, in the matchbox that was the Assembly Hall and a place  in the long queue inside the girls’ washroom even.
• whispered plans of world domination during the history classes.
• tried rapping like Eminem loudly, with special pauses.
• smuggled notes saying ‘the one who is reading this is a super dumb person’ during lectures.
• shared newfound expletives on the phone amidst giggles.
• became the pain in the neck of the Principle by raiding her office with stupid suggestions.
• heard about each other’s crushes.
• got always reprimanded for ‘giggling during lectures’.
• were banned from sitting together, ‘cuz their talks in an ongoing lecture disturbed the class.
• were always addressed as ‘hasmukh company’ by the class teacher.
• were two little mad girls.

Long live, our best waali friendship, Vee! <3

What I Miss And How!

College does not offer a better playground than the metaphorical one of college festivals. A college festival alone, with all its kaleidoscopic possibilities and temptations, attracts more students in the college campus than all the classrooms ever could, in the history of studentkind. With no direct authority to keep tabs on every little going-on, the college festival is very much the proverbial forbidden fruit falling directly into the students’ laps.

The fun is manifold when one is a part of any of the various organizing teams that toil (or pretend to, anyway) to usher in the festival with a bang. The work of a volunteer is not as easy as taking candy from a baby. It is a roller-coaster ride of emotions, anticipation and triumph. One also needs to brace oneself to face letdowns and disappointments.

Each volunteer is assigned a specific number of events and is responsible for seeing them through. The event is, then, what the volunteer makes it. As such, there is a sense of apprehension concerning the outcome of the event. Moreover, even before the thought of the outcome, comes the task of putting the event together! How else is one to know the outcome? This is a lot of work! A newbie will think that there is always enough time, but they will soon know that it is always otherwise. Excruciatingly busy days fall around the restless tapping of fingers. ‘Time crunch’ becomes your regular chant and ‘deadlines’ wake you up in the middle of the night. This becomes the routine until the festival actually arrives. Even here, happy endings are given a taste of Murphy’s Law. Volunteers are expected to be prepared to face disturbing facts like someone misplaced the papers concerning the event, a few teams have not turned up, teams are doubting the research done and other tales fit for a soap opera. Well, there is one fundamental truth perhaps every person involved in the festival knows: If something can go wrong, then it will

But then again, this is the fun. The work of a volunteer is expected only to be perfect, not perfectly sane. I know, ‘cuz I have, in my tryst of five years, never seen a perfectly sane college festival. Oh well, I have not met a perfectly sane volunteer even.

of fashionably-challenged dads.

Thought of the day: Sometimes life is like that fat aunty perched precariously on the fourth seat of the second-class railway compartment, pushing her fat bum against you to make some room for her. In other words, annoying and disgusting and irritating and just so unfair!

Today was a day well begun. I had barely woken up when I told myself that I would be wearing ‘the casual look’ to my German class today. On fashionably inclined days like these, I normally evade any interaction with the father. ‘Cuz when it comes to my sense of fashion, he turns into the friendly neighborhood sadist.

Coming back to my plans, I muster all that would be going into creating the look. I slip into a pair of blue jeans and a plain black tee. I apply a thin line of blue eyeliner: just the right amount of it. I tie my hair in a high bun and wear a leopard-print headband for some spunk. Lastly, I put on chappals and a sling bag. Tada! I give myself a mental pat on the back for the decent outcome. As I scurry to the door, my dad bumps into me in the corridor. This is the moment when you go all “Oh no!” As is expected from a sadist nerd of his stature, he throws a glance at my avatar and bursts out laughing. He calls out to my mum. Thanks to his laughter, the maid has momentarily paused at her work and she looks at us in a puzzled manner. Now in full attention of my mum, maid and, of course, himself, the father points at me and says, “Doesn’t she look like a postman? Hahaha!” I would say, “Excuse me!” if it also meant “Oh, shut up, you fashionably-challenged nerd!” apart from meaning, well, excuse me. Just when mum says, “Oh whatever! A postman looks nothing like this”, I am deceived to think that she is supporting me, until she finishes her sentence with, “The sling bag is more like the cable operator guy.” The otherwise ever-so-stoic maid breaks into suppressed chuckles. “You guys might want to know you’re not funny”, I protest. “Of course, this is not funny. People might drag my only daughter to their homes just to get their cable connections fixed. This is a serious issue, indeed. Hahaha.” More lame jokes are cracked at my expense. “But if you can do a good job at pretending to fix people’s cables connections, you could earn some money. Hahaha!” I dart to the door, as I hear my maid suppress another bout of chuckles. Admittedly, I am not flattered.

Mental note to self: Strew some earrings on the floor tomorrow when the maid is about to arrive. Keep them pointy side up.

Goodbye!

I have stumbled and fumbled through the corridors. I have scuttled up and down the stairs. I have slept in the classrooms. I have murdered size-zero in the canteen. I have slipped at the gate. I have pretended to study in the reading room. I have borrowed paperbacks of wisdom from the library. I have chatted in the gazebo. I have danced on the stage. I have hosted quizzes in the AVVR. I have faced interviews in the conference room. I have experienced the mucky politics in the student council room. I have clicked pictures in the restroom. I have gossiped in the ladies’ common room. I have sailed paper boats in the ‘quadrangle’. I have lived… a good life.

There were friends. There were foes. There were peals of laughter. There were sullen sighs. There was drama. There was inaction. There were rumours. There were songs. There was counsel. There were harsh words. There was a beautiful bond. There were petty arguments. There was the hot tea. There was the cold chocolate mousse. There was… life.

Still is. There are new happy and shiny faces. They will create their own universe in what was once our universe. Students just out of their school uniforms, like we once were.

The students will make a second home out of the college. The professors will make a college out of the second home.

Create. Repeat. Create. Repeat. Create.

Moron 1: Who do you think will be trying for our team this year, dude?

Moron 2: Guess who won’t be trying.

Moron 1: Umm, who?

Moron 2: Us, idiot. We have graduated.

Moron 1: OMG!

You deserve a better goodbye, college. I will tumble at your gate one day, the way I had, on the very first day. College, we are mad people, no?

He said, “Do the tag!”. I did.

He only wanted to know if I had kissed anyone. So he cooked up this tag thing. So typical.

1. Graduated high school. [Yes, they let me graduate on humanitarian grounds.]
2. Kissed someone. [Ha! Haha! Hahaha! ]
3. Smoked a cigarette.
4. Got so drunk you passed out.
5. Rode every ride at an amusement park.
6. Collected something stupid. [I do, actually. BEST bus tickets, hair clips, stationery items, etc]
7. Gone to a rock concert. [Vaayu, Demonic Resurrection and Necrosis had performed at my college once. College gig it was. Nevertheless!)
8. Helped someone.
9. Gone fishing.
10. Watched four movies in one night. (Staying in one place for that long? Impossible!)
11. Lied to someone. [Like everyday. ]
12. Snorted cocaine.
13. Smoked weed.
14. Failed a subject.
15. Been in a car accident.
16. Been in a tornado.
17. Watched someone die.
18. Been to a funeral.
19. Burned yourself. [Diwali disaster.]
20. Run a marathon.
21. Cried yourself to sleep.
22. Spent over 10,000 bucks in one day. [I wish I could do that with shoes. Someday.]
23. Flown on an aeroplane. [I still prefer trains.]
24. Cheated on someone. [But I so wanna do '6 din, ladka in' just for the kicks. ]
25. Been cheated on.
26. Written a 10 page letter.
27. Gone skiing.
28. Been sailing.
29. Cut yourself. [Accidentally. I think I was cutting a cardboard sheet with a paper cutter and suddenly the thin line between the sheet and my finger blurred.]
30. Had a best friend. [Have. Amazing she is.]
31. Lost someone you loved. [To death, destiny and differences.]
32. Got into trouble for something you didn’t do. [Never! I don’t get into trouble even for things I do. I’m gifted like that.]
33. Stolen a book from the library.
34. Gone to a different country.
35. Watched the Harry Potter movies. [I’m not into HP, I only tagged along with friends and ate butter popcorn.]
36. Had an online diary.
37. Fired a gun.
38. Gambled in a casino.
39. Been in a school play. [I was a rabbit in kindergarten.]
40. Been fired from a job.
41. Taken a lie detector test.
42. Swam with dolphins.
43. Voted for someone on a reality TV show.
44. Written poetry.
45. Read more than 20 books a year.
46. Gone to Europe.
47. Loved someone you shouldn’t have. [So many times. Let’s just say, I have lots of love to give. ]
48. Used a colouring book over age 12.
49. Had a surgery.
50. Had stitches.
51. Taken a Taxi.
52. Had more than 5 IM conversations going on at once.
53. Been in a fist fight. [2nd grade. Over chocolate.]
54. Suffered any form of abuse.
55. Had a pet.
56. Petted a wild animal.
57. Had your own credit card & bought something with it.
58. Dyed your hair.
59. Got a tattoo.
60. Had something pierced. [Ears.]
61. Got straight A’s.
62. Known someone personally with HIV or AIDS.
63. Taken pictures with a webcam.
64. Lost something expensive. [I am the idiot who lost a Gucci watch. Please, slap me.]
65. Gone to sleep with music on.

Tag done. Time wasted.

P.S: Since this entire post happened ‘cuz of this one guy, I say you check him out here.

Go, grab him.

List

… of things I should quit trying totally:

• blogging.
• cooking.
• staying quiet.
• hoping that someday Vodafone will make my day.
• changing backgrounds on Twitter.
• stifling a laugh.
• acting all grown-up.
• giving advise to heartbroken people.
• and again, blogging. Quit trying, already!

I will shamelessly promote my best friend!

She is Vasudha. We should all check her out.

P.S. I am back! Please, imagine a loud bang.

The things I want to hate, but end up loving instead.

I love the concept of sinister days that purpleflames has talked of on her blog.

I have been having too many of them these days, after all.

P.S. My secret blog with Vasudha almost went public today. Now that would be outright suicidal.

In Requiem

You sneer at my coffee-stained world,
Yours is a world sans such addictions!
You think that I’m crazy and passionate too much,
To run barefoot and laugh like this.

You think that I should talk a little less,
That it is good to conceal certain thoughts.
And I constantly blabber about my world,
Trains, cats, love, politics and poetry!

You belong to the blameless lot,
Tucked away in bed at the right time.
And I violate all your standards as
I gape at the stars for most night.

You walk the path of righteousness,
I tread the path of no-regrets.
You always ask me to correct my ways.
But you know I’m hyper (who knows why?).

You fling accusations of reverberating effects,
That I dance even more than I walk.
I heartily laugh and do a pirroutte,
My god tells me that resistance is futile!

We have walked too long and talked the same,
Why then act like nothing is wrong?
I’m here to live (like, you didn’t know!),
So let us just smile and move on!

Love’s Failed Tales And Affected Accents

I have a curse, a curse that has hitherto effectively thwarted every conscious/unconscious endeavor of anyone who wished to ‘hook me up’.

It all started when I took to making comparisons between the people I met and the people I read. Admittedly, I became more comfortable with the latter than I could ever be with the former. Initially, I pleased myself with the prospect of having two worlds at my disposal- the real and the ‘literary’. What lacked in the real world was automatically provided for by the ‘literary’ world. Every now and then, I would take small vacations to this ‘literary’ world to compensate for the disillusionment that the real world meant.

The point of stating this here is that a few days back I was casually chatting with a friend  about relationships. Of course, she is in one and was all gung-ho about it. Alternatively, I was passing snide remarks on how silly it is to think that one can love at this age. This self-assured, almost prophetic, remark has been born out of seeing many friends falling in and out of love with an acquired ease. Also from the zillion times I had thought that a certain boy is very likable, only to spot his friend and then think that he is terribly likable too. As the conversation ensued, my friend accused me of being addicted to fictional/dead men, so much so that I have always found the ‘real ones’ uninteresting because they did not match up to a certain fancy- either dead or fictional, man I like. I wanted to howl and call it untrue, except I knew that she was right. Therefore, I brushed off her statement by saying something very irrelevant like- “By the way, I need you to help with shopping for an occasion.”

It worked, unlike my zillion crushes. Somewhere I know why none of my crushes worked and none of my affections lasted. I mean, how can I ever compare any of the boys I have met/seen to Oscar Wilde or Professor Humphrey Higgins and get away with it?

Nevertheless, the fact that next year I will be graduating with a degree (hopefully), but not a boyfriend has been hailed as comical by some of friends and me. Everyone always thought that I would be the first one to fall in a relationship and all those who thought that about me, ended up in falling in a relationship themselves. Also, some fell out of it. And all this while, I stayed immune and kept on falling in love with me. Narcissist, all right.

So in sheer devotion to idolatry and because we are such incorrigible bums, a friend of mine and I made, um, a boyfriend application for me. I plan to post it here in near future. Yes, I am implying that the aforementioned curse might make me resort to such tactics. Yes, I am hoping I never resort to those tactics. Nevertheless for now, I have some more time to indulge in how there is a certain charm in T.S Eliot’s timidity toward anything female and that Maud Gonne stays unjustified in rejecting William Butler Yeats’ hotness. Also, I am currently fixating on Bernard Shaw’s Captain Brassbound. Bleh.

…

Has this ever happened to you?

Scene: A class of English literature struggling to understand why Eliot used so much of bird symbolism in his poetry. A professor, whose incorrigibility at speaking English has completely numbed the class, throwing in a word or two in his incomprehensible accent. Suddenly, the bell ends the class and the professor rises from his chair and addresses the class-

Professor- Studaynts, tomaarow we weel start weeth weeger.
A student, who probably hates the professor a lot, suddenly shaken up- Weeger? (Assuming it the name of a poet)What? How? I think we should continue with Eliot.
The professor, a little irked- Aye, weeger, weeger, you understand weeger?
The same student, all the more rebellious- I do not even understand Eliot yet. How should I understand Weeger when we have not been taught anything about him.
The professor- Aye, stupeed. I said weeger. (Spells it out) V-I-G-O-U-R.
The student- (After hearing the professor spell the word) Um, vigour? Yeah, um, vigour.
The professor, triumphantly- Yuss, weeger.