14 reasons why you must read Vikram Seth

After being part of a conversation where the other person did not know who Vikram Seth was, I had decided it was time to put up a spectacular post on the man. Of course, reason one is reason enough to read him but just in case you need much persuasion or are difficult to convince, I list down my reasons. You are free to add some more:

1. He looks like this.
2. If you went to school in Chennai (or India perhaps) and studied CBSE, odds are your textbook would've had a poem by him and you wouldn't have been intimidated by it. (The Frog and the Nightingale, The Hare and the Tortoise)
3. He studied at Oxford. OK, I'm not being biased about quality education or the fact that people who haven't received an Oxford education suck at writing. Seth does justice to it.
4. If you're not a poem person (I know I'm not) don't worry. Seth has been kind enough to write novels for us.
5. A Suitable Boy - This should convince you to take up his work. I know it's a cumbersome read, 1400 pages, but it doesn't feel that way. So what if it's a big book and you don't have enough patience? Take time out to read this masterpiece and you'll know why.
6. He does not *try* as hard as other Indian writers to introduce a sense of Indianness to his book. It flows naturally.
7. Subjects like partition are boring I know. Imagine having to go through it in school every year! What's that? You know too. Good, I'm glad we're on the same page. Now A Suitable Boy deals with partition in a manner you can actually read without dozing off.
8. Awards and prizes
9. He has written a book for children as well. It's quite difficult, actually and he's done a wonderful job.
10. He takes his time to write books. (See, now we can all procrastinate without guilt!)
11. Not much of a lit person are we? Music? I bring to you An Equal Music.
12. Apparently this. 'In 1981 he hitchhiked 4,000 miles across China and produced the charming, clear-eyed travelogue "From Heaven Lake."' Who doesn't love a traveller?
13. Guess who's NOT a fan of Ulysses? YES!
14. (So that I don't end with an unlucky number) There's something about his writing that makes you all warm and fuzzy inside. Like a bear hug from your mother, or a pot of hot cocoa consumed on a cold day, that sense of achievement when you ran a whole kilometre, laughed at something till you cried. I could go on but I'm sure you get the point.

Convinced? 

Running away

From anything sane

anything that makes sense

anything that doesn't make sense

anything that involves more than an hour of my time

From questions that require answers

from statements that take a stand

from words that try to choke

and sentence that intimidate

From people

and from me

Not letting this go

I'm writing this while I sit in my rain soaked clothes. Primarily because I'm *that* pissed and I don't want to let go of this anger. What happened is as follows:

It was just starting to rain or rather drizzle when I left work. As a person who dislikes getting wet (in the rain), I took the chance of riding back home. Halfway through (somewhere around Chintadripet) the rains stopped. Once I reached Nungambakkam, it started pouring heavily. Here I have to mention that I didn't take my helmet to work today nor did I carry a raincoat/jacket but I did have the sense to wear old rubber chappals to work.

So getting back to where I was, I'm trying to see through my rain-stained glasses to ride carefully on the road when I hear someone speak incessantly. Trying to concentrate on the road I ignore the voice that seemed to be getting louder and closer. Curious, I turn to my right to see a fellow commuter speak something. Ignoring him to be yet another talker on his bluetooth I inch forward. But no. The guy comes closer and mouths something that goes along the lines of me being wet and extremely sexy and if I'm interested in him. For a minute I'm left wondering what just happened. But, I quickly regain sense of what he just said and I speed up to catch him and yell in the choicest of Tamil cuss words. I must've done enough damage to his family and to him when he turns back, smirks and speeds away. This pissed me off to no end so I rode like a mad person (in hindsight it might seem like a stupid thing to do with the slippery roads and all) and caught up with him again and swore like a fisher woman. Of course, he with his powerful bike overtakes me and leaves.

Now this isn't a one-off incident. Three days back (when it wasn't raining) I'm riding back home again when a guy stealthily follows me and yells "nice black bra!" and overtakes. Though I'm not quite flattered with his compliment, I still catch up to have a conversation and yell "Fuck off, suck my dick" (a la Tina Fey) simply because I was too enraged to think of anything else. Other words did however enter my mind, seconds later. Also, this incident happened again in Nungambakkam.

My point: Why is it that you guys cannot keep it in your pants? Why can't you focus on the road and not on a girl? I know my bra is showing and I know that it is indeed stylish, but if you intended it to be a compliment then let it sound that way. Not like you're sexually harassing me (verbally). And what am I supposed to do if my clothes get wet or if my bra is showing? Do I concentrate on the road or on my appearance (that I'm hardly bothered about unless I'm on a date or attending a function or just never)? Or do you want me to borrow Harry Potter's cloak of Invisibility and wear it ALL THE TIME? If that's the case then please ask Harry and explain the situation because I think he'd be kind enough to oblige.

We also look. At cute guys, at hot guys. But we control it, don't we? Do we go behind them and make them feel violated? We have desires too. If we can control it, so can you. Practise it. Any stare that makes me uncomfortable should be accounted for by you, you creep.

Guys (the creepy kind), if you want to wank off I suggest you take a look at porn or find a girl who'd be willing. Not me. Not women who want to be left alone. But if you do try funny business with me, be willing to endure taunts and cuss words that'll be thrown your way because I'm not one to ride the other way when you yell "variya?" to me. No sir. I'm going to follow and catch up with you, take you to the police if necessary and make sure you wish you'd never spoken to me like that. Because I've done this before and I'm not afraid.

Be warned.

Love actually

It was these three tumultuous days leading up to the greatest event of her life she would never forget. Or the months before that. Rukmini would have such dreams that disturbed her very existence. She looked outside the window and at the moon for comfort. But as she searched the dark skies she couldn't find it. Realising that it was Amavaasai (new moon) she turned back. Bathed in darkness, the room would offer her solace for now. As tears rolled down her face, Rukmini looked back into those five months that changed her life.

Five months of pure ecstasy.

It was in Shekar anna and Gowri manni's wedding that she met him. Armed with a dazzling smile and a ready answer to everyone's question, he captured her heart the moment she set her eyes on him. Wearing a peacock blue kurta that highlighted his eyes, only helped the cause. 'Such gorgeous dimples,' she thought.

"Sorry, did you talk to me?" he asked.

Not realising she had actually thought aloud, she cringed. "Uh no I was umm.." Silence.

He flashed his brilliant smile again. She gazed into his eyes and smiled sheepishly.

"Would you like to have some filter coffee with me? It's the best I can offer now!"

"Not if we team it up with some pongal and vadai," she said, finally finding her voice that surprised herself.

Laughing aloud he lead her to the dining area. Talking with small mouthfuls of food, she kept glancing at him. Catching her in the act, he smiled dashingly.

"Why do you keep looking at me from the corner of your eye?" he queried smilingly.

"Um, what are you talking about, I'm just concentrating on my food." she defended.

He bared his teeth and smiled knowingly at her. She was taken by him and how! Quickly they finished their meal in silence. Slowly sipping coffee, he said.

"How would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Choking on her hot coffee Rukmini replied, "What? I don't even know your name, let alone going out with you!" She knew in her heart though, all she wanted to say was just an emphatic yes. But it seemed her mind had taken a path of its own.

Grinning he replied, "My name is Govind. And before I forget what's yours?" He asked with such an ease, he was certainly not stumbling for words.

"Rukmini" she replied abashed.

"Rukmini," he repeated. "Has a nice ring to it, one of my favourite names. So you never answered my question properly, come on now."

"Er I would...." she broke off as she heard a voice through the crowd calling out her name.

"Rukki, enga di irukka?" It was her mother who had been frantically searching for her.

"Amma, inga vaa!" she called out, eyes seeking out to her. Her mother came up to her and said, "Shekar anna unna thedara, po poi congratulate pannu. Apdiye rendu vaartha pesitu vaa," her mum urged.

Before she could greet Govind, he remarked, "Hello aunty, I would like to marry your daughter. My appa had shown me Rukki's photo and I'm very taken by her and I'm guessing she by me."

Rukmini's mother was flabbergasted to say the least. The nerve this boy had, she thought. "Erm Govind, what does your appa say? And amma? Do they think my Rukki is a good match for you?" she ventured.

Govind merely eyeballed her; his future mother-in-law who would come to be quite a handful. "Sigh, yes aunty they love her to bits, I mean the usual amount. Plus she can cook," he added, knowing that would please her. He was right, she flashed a toothy grin. Govind, meanwhile, was watching a struggling Rukki congratulate Shekar and at the same time giving him coy looks.

Before Govind and Rukki could look back, five months had passed by. Five months of pure marital bliss. And Bangalore during the monsoon for honeymoon. What more could she ask for, really? Walking hand in hand down the road, reliving those moments that flashed by her eyes. And just like that, Govind. She was back in the dark.

---

"Why did you finish Govind's character in the book? I thought you loved him," questioned Jessie. "Unfinished business, eh?"

Gowri just stared back at her friend. "If I don't get him, no one does. At least in my story she doesn't," she said and snapped her book shut. Somewhere else Rukmini was hiccuping.

Lessons from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani

So the sibling and I saw YJHD in the theatre and it set me thinking and I have put together 11 points on what I learned from that movie.

1. Take off your glasses 
2. Wear skimpy clothes 
3. Have loads of money 
4. Marry an engineer boy
5. Keep drinking 
6. Travel the world 
7. Don't let the bridesmaid be hotter than you 
8. Gamble enough and you'll own a bar 
9. Get married at Udaipur (look up number 3) 
10. And go for a trek to Manali, and beginning where it started all 
11. Wear glasses
12. (added by Subhadra) make friends with people that are likely to get married in Udaipur.

Of course, I also came home to find tears streaming because Ranbir (in the movie) gets to go abroad and do journalism and ends up travelling (something which I've been trying to, but hasn't worked) and then I look at Facebook. People who don't know what MOMA stands for, or haven't heard about Halloween suddenly put up pictures of them in ridiculous costumes or "chilling" in New York. Sigh.

Gibbericks* - I

The people you never thought you'd meet
are actually waiting 'round the corner
for a shout and a greet
Some with heart full of scorn
some with regret; some with pain
and others with thorns
But the ones that really matter
are the people who don't have to chatter
because all they have to do is look into your eyes
with a smile

-------

In a small town lived a hothead,
making a living by baking sweetbread
He came 'cross a poisonous chili spread
couldn't resist and smeared some on his forehead,
two days later on the river bed,
he was mysteriously found to be dead.

-------

*- Gibbericks are gibberish+limericks

A checked the time on her monitor. It was almost 2 am. She clicked on the mouse impatiently and drew little squares on the wallpaper, as if expecting something to happen.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

She shook herself up. He was here, and it was about time too, she thought. 

“Hey, what’s up,” Z typed. “It’s my mother’s birthday, so we all stayed up to wish her.”

A steadied herself, she was falling asleep. ‘I need coffee and fast,” she muttered, but she knew she couldn’t risk waking her mother up. If her mother knew or worse if her father knew, she’d be asked to go to sleep at 10 pm, every day that too.

“Oh, wish her a happy birthday from me too, not that she knows me or anything,” A typed. “Btw, my mother’s birthday also falls on this month, just a few more weeks!”

“That’s nice,” Z said.

This conversation isn’t going anywhere, she thought. Yeah, maybe if you guys met then it’d go somewhere, said the little voice in her head. How do I ask him out without actually asking him out, she wondered. 

“You have to give me a treat, you know. For that thing you won, remember?” A typed, happily. Not a bad line, she thought.

“You must be kidding,” he said. “Besides we aren’t even in the same city, how is that possible? Of course, I’m coming down for something, maybe we could meet. How does that sound.” Z rambled on chat.

Wow, that’s the biggest paragraph he has typed out so far, she wondered aloud. 

“So when are you coming here?” A tried to sound casual. 

“Next week. So have you gone to this idli-dosa-vada shop, it’s amazing!” Z said. “It’s cheap, good food and down-to-earth.”

“By down-to-earth you mean noisy, right?” A nonchalantly flirted. She didn’t want him to know she was flirting with him; of course, there were possibilities that he hadn’t realized as well. Anyway, no harm in trying, she mused. 

“No, I haven’t been there. I have heard of it, but haven’t been there.” A typed. “Why can’t we go to that new place that serves amazing Greek food. I heard good reviews and I’m…” she was typing but she saw that he had typed something already.

“I cannot believe you haven’t gone there! Then it’s settled, we MUST go there.” Z decided. 

“Ok I’ll settle for that,” agreed A. At last, a place where we can meet finally, in person, she thought. 

A was also a little nervous at this point. This could be my first date, she wondered. “Or not,” she said.

“Okay I have work tomorrow, so good night,” Z typed.

“Bye, and good night,” she said.

Two years later, as A looked at Z’s display picture on Facebook; she wondered what happened to her so-called first date. It just never happened, it was never meant to happen, she concluded. She smiled and closed the page. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

It was her phone vibrating. D had texted her asking if they could meet.

Life's just too weird, she thought. 

“I land in the same city that Z is in, but I don’t talk to him anymore. No connections whatsoever; it’s like we never knew each other,” she exclaimed. “Instead, I’m meeting a new guy who I had never known.”

She looked at her phone. D was different. A fresh start, a new guy. Maybe this time it’ll be different, she thought. 

Maybe. But a little voice in her head thought differently. 

She shut her laptop, turned down the lights and went to bed.

“It will be different,” A muttered. “Good or bad, it’ll be different for sure.”

List, list, list!

So currently ODing on Explore. Such a wonderful website, especially if you adore literature. Well don't worry if you're quite the opposite, you'll come to love literature once you go through this site. In this post, I'm going to pick out my favourite lists on writing and well, life. (Will keep updating as and when I come across good ones. You can also send me your picks.)

Moving on, this is an oldie but a goodie! Orwell always has the right thing to say on writing. So if you're a writer go through this.

Yet another writer I love is F Scott Fitzgerald (author of The Great Gatsby etc., alternatively you can also check out Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris). He wrote a letter to his daughter on things that she needn't worry about. Last night this boosted my confidence and made me feel much better.

Here's one more list on how to write by ad legend David Ogilvy of Ogilvy & Mather.

Henry Miller's 11 commandments

On love

Inviting comments/thoughts/definitions on what you think/feel/know is love.

To keep things interesting, compile it within 140 characters. I'll put it in a post.

Do spread the word, I'd like to know what you all have to say.

-Apoorva

Accusation

Till date the biggest I've received is: too diplomatic

Meltdown

Happens when you least expect it,
happens when you're at your strongest
the tears that follow determine
what happens next.

----

Not able to come up with more stanzas. If you do, please leave them as comments!

Readling list

Have to finish these, just have to (By March at least)

1. The Rozabal Line - Ashwin Sanghi
2. Penguin's selection of Mahabharatha short stories
3. Sita's Ascent - Vayu Naidu
4. The Naming of the Dead - Ian Rankin
5. A Road Less Travelled - Pradeep Chakravarthy
6. The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby - Charles Dickens

Why not

What is wrong about having a botched CV?
Or leaving your job in the first few months to think about what you *really* want?
What is SO wrong about being confused?

Maybe I haven't figured it all, maybe I'm being lazy. Maybe I like my incomplete CV.

Sometimes it doesn't really matter does it? You have all these ambitions and goals you set out to achieve, start building a tower of cards but a gust of wind knocks it down. You start again only to realise that the wind persists and knocks it down, again. Starting from the bottom of the pyramid is the toughest but at least you're in the game. Also, I don't get hazaar people giving gyaan like "oh but think about your CV, it's going to look bad," or "work for 6 months, it'll be effective on your CV," "just grit and plough on." While all of this does makes sense, why haven't I got one that goes, "just be happy in what you're doing?" But I've also learnt one thing on the side. Why wait to hear something like this? It's ok to be confused, to not know what you want (but not for long). Whatever happens today (and everyday) happens for a reason, good or bad. Whatever happens, I will move on. Start afresh.

Inspiration

I've never thought of myself as a person who inspires others, I mean the thought of it is just plain funny! But two wonderful people have described me as motivating and inspiring them to get off their ass and blog. Er.. well maybe just sit on their ass and blog/write. But what this has done (apart from bringing a single tear in my eye) has in turn motivated me to write more and often. As non-readers of this blog, I know I'm nothing but frequent in updating the blog. However, such wonderful compliments should not be ignored. Which is why I shall write more posts. MOAR.

Lost

Dear Space-above-my-head,

All I ever want is to be happy. To go through everyday with a big smile on my face, to love my job like it's the best thing that ever happened. No, I don't want to change the world and such but I'd love to travel the world. I finally understand that living in the moment is not something to be really proud of and at the same time not something to be ashamed of, but that planning for a life ahead can do wonders. Now, I'm not depressed but I'm sad, angry, frustrated and irritated with myself that I didn't plan ahead. By living so much in the moment that I forgot to plan for the future; not a plan for when I'm 50 and I'll live on my retirement fund (yeah right), but what-I'd-like-to-be-doing-when-I'm-25-above. At least to get out of my parents' hair. And to top it all, Google promptly informs me that I'm going through a quarter life crisis.

Quarter life crisis: Experienced in one’s twenties, involving anxiety/fear/confusion over the direction and quality of one’s life.

So that. I tried putting together a list of what I want to do, but I couldn't get past two points and I got distracted, as always. I've found it so tough to concentrate on most tasks, unless it involves reading or cooking. Even this post started at 9.30 pm, it's 11.34 pm and I'm still working on it. (Back to rant, back to rant.)

It should be about me right? MY future, MY life, MY money etc. But it's not. My meagre salary is not going to help fill all the loans but it is something. And the experience that I need to shift to a job that I've always wanted and that will happen only if I stick to one thing. And whether I like it or not (now, I mean) I will get married. Let's face it, there's no escaping that. So it'd really suck if I was still confused career-wise and that might bring out all the imbalances.

But most of all, I should be happy, right? Happiness counts. And yes it's like a butterfly that rests on your shoulder when you're not chasing after it, but shouldn't you really chase after what you want?

I'm just drowning in self-doubt really. Someone just put me out of my misery and tell me what to do. Or don't. This is one decision I have to make for myself.

Love,

Apoorva

Reality check

Never thought it'd come to this; where I'd have to do justice to the title of my blog. But I guess it's for the best right? I mean, I'm always this confused, confused girl. I have second thoughts about most decisions (only because a better one always comes along!). And I still haven't realised what I want, I'm sure I'm always going to be searching for something. But I demand instant happiness, especially from a career that I will love and cherish and till death do us part. And so two weeks ago when my health scared me, into a cave, and made me realise that work isn't everything, I'm now sitting back and pondering on the reality check that dear life has to offer me.

1. Life's too short (yeah yeah done before, I know)
2. Know what you want. At least a vague idea just to answer people's questions.
3. Learn to say NO. (This one's a toughie)
4. Laugh, a lot. Love, a lot. Forget, all the time.
5. Eat, no matter what happens. And protect your lunch from nasty-always-hungry-colleagues.
6. Read before you go to sleep. Just about anything.
7. Chill (I don't know how else to word this)

How a one-rupee coin saved the day

Disclaimer: Extremely silly post

Today is supposed to be an awesome day. You know why? Because on my way to work I sighted, not one, but three good looking guys! In addition, I brought two lunches to work, actually a pre-snack lunch of sandwiches—peanut butter and honey.

The great day continued with a colleague bringing thenkuzhal to work and another colleague opening a box of keerai kootu! At 7 ish, we were hungry after consuming all the food we had brought. So with a 10 rupees note in hand I proceeded to the boring canteen and bought three kadalai mittais and four butter biscuits. I later realised that I didn't have money to buy my daily quota of 5 rupees tea/coffee.

Two minutes later, my colleagues come up to me and ask if I can buy them biscuits and Cadbury Shots and give me a grand total of 30+20 rupees. Wanting to be on the safer side, I took along a 1 rupee coin and bought a packet of biscuits, some shots and a cup of coffee. So where does the one rupee coin feature, you ask? Well if I hadn't taken that one rupee coin along, I wouldn't have been able to buy 7 shots (each shot is 3 rupees and considering colleague gave 20 rupees) and my cup of coffee.

Well, I did put up a disclaimer didn't I?

Anti-story story

Saaminathan Street was a drowsy street. People were either sleeping or watching TV; they would seldom venture out of their comfort zone. Like every other area, this street also faced a two hour power cut, and on the morning of January 1 when the residents opened their newspaper they found out that the power cuts would get extended by two more hours.

Every house on the street panicked. Maami A called out to her fellow serial watchers and ranted till no end. Unemployed boy C called up his friend (waiting for call letter from Company X) and cried, no more Jack Black movies machan; girl-next-door Q marched up to busy bee M and complained that her quota of re watching Grey's Anatomy would stop. Basically Saaminathan Street was ruffled up. Also the street was named that way because the painter had misspelt Swaminathan.

Getting back to the story, residents of Saaminathan Street were waiting for 12 am. And it did come. but wonders of wonders there was no power cut. Maamis, boys and girls-next-door rejoiced. Maamas were carefully scrutinizing the situation. And then they realised, the state cable company had its premises on their street.

"Naalai thodarum" said the text on the screen, maami A switched off the TV and went to sleep.
----------------------------
Usually a story has a definite subject and the readers should see it going "somewhere". However, this story is the exact opposite. I'm just writing to get laziness out of my system. Feel free to criticize.

It happened last night

Casper took a swig of rum from the bottle. Old Monk, it was always Old Monk and nothing else. His head swirled as he got up and walked towards the balcony to start his scooter, his grandfather’s actually. He was surprised at how the rickety old thing still worked perfectly, except that he had to kick-start it 5 times at least.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit!” yelled Casper. “Why can’t I see anything in front of me, maybe I had too much rum.” It took a full minute to realize that he hadn’t had his spectacles on.

“Of course, I have to forget them as well. Why can’t everything go right today?” he said.

Casper ran into the house to fetch them. As he picked them up and wore them, he looked around the house and started to get grasp of things. Everything seemed different. Everything was cold and distant. He turned his head to the table right next to him. Lying on the table was a bloodstained knife. Casper’s eyes grew wide.

Sensing another presence, he turned himself around. A pair of yellow, unnerving eyes was fixed upon him. Slowly they traced his form and the figure stepped in front.

“Meow,” she called.

Casper took hold of the rum bottle and flung it at the sallow-eyed beast. She jumped sideways and raced forward to claw him with a piercing call. He ran for his life and started his scooter and as if by fate, it didn’t start. He ran past the creature and into the hall once again, trying to look for the knife—but it was nowhere to be found.

“Clang, clang.” Casper turned towards the entrance. It was the gate. Someone was coming in—but who was it?

And there he spotted the knife, lying on the same table. He grabbed it, ready to meet his attacker. The cat suddenly came near him and was circling him and moving in between his legs, Casper tried to move away, but she followed him—it was as if she knew his every movement.

“Who’s there,” Casper called out.

He got his response in the form of a wheezy and rasping cough. Suddenly the room became silent.

“Who’s there,” he called out again. “I have a knife and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Silence.

Casper stepped backwards and banged on an old chest of drawers. The cat screamed and hid herself under the sofa, her bright eyes radiating eeriness.

“A knife that has already been used before, one which has YOUR fingerprints on it? Go ahead use it on me,” the voice growled. A throaty voice that hid nothing, a voice that gave people the shivers, a voice that seemed familiar and oddly comforting to Casper.

At once Casper dropped the knife and got ready to run, but powerful, unyielding hands gripped him from both sides and pushed him back. “Let…ugh…me…ughhh…go,” Casper struggled.

“HAHAHAHAHA,” the voice boomed and seized him roughly. Writhing in his grasp, Casper cried aloud. “LEAVE ME ALONE, I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE. I DON’T KNOW HOW MY FINGERPRINTS ARE ON THE KNIFE. PLEASE LET ME GO, I’LL PAY YOU…” However, he wasn’t allowed to finish. One hand moved from Casper’s shoulder to his mouth. Casper tried biting but in vain.

Hot tears streamed from Casper’s eyes, there was nothing he could do but to silently hope that this was all a bad dream. His mother flashed before his eyes; she was crying. Father had died in a car accident, drunk and reckless. Grandfather left his old scooter to Casper and bid goodbye. Jenna locked hands with their professor and walked away. He killed someone. He wailed loudly and hung his head down.

“Cut!” yelled a voice. The hand moved away from his mouth and people were straightening him. Water. He could taste water.

“Casper! Are you drunk again?” someone exclaimed. Casper opened his eyes. It was Mihir, shaking him wildly. “Are you OK?”

“Whaa… where am I? Mihir, you have to believe me, I didn’t kill anyone I swear. I don’t know how the knife has my fingerprints; everything’s a hoax. Mihir, Mihir… help me…,” Casper spoke in one breath.

Whack. Mihir slapped Casper across his right cheek. The whole place went silent.

“Mihir what are you doing? Let’s get out of here,” Casper exclaimed. Mihir pointed out to Casper and asked him to look around the place. Casper woke up and saw at least 20 pairs of eyes stare right back at him.

“You come drunk to the rehearsal, forget your lines and if that’s not enough you scream like a child whose rattle has been plucked. I asked you to live the scene but I didn’t expect you to be this serious Casper,” Joshi sir quietly said. Casper blinked back and hit his forehead with his left hand. He grinned sheepishly at the whole cast and crew who were pointing and laughing at him.

“I hope I’m not out of the play,” Casper nervously said.

“No, no of course not. Next time, just tone it down a little bit. We don’t want the audience thinking that you’re being tortured, do we?” Joshi sir winked.

The cat purred in agreement.

-------------

This story was submitted to a competition condcuted by Helter Skelter

Updates

It's quite early to do a 2012 roundup, we still have a month to go. Then again, there are rumors about the world ending on a certain day (Reddit has this to say). Brushing aside all that, I have a couple of announcements to make.

I'm back to good ol' Chennai (Madras); back to make a living in my hometown. Quit my job in Bangalore, made some wonderful, lifelong friends, bought books that I couldn't carry all the way to Chennai so left them with a friend (who has promised not to sell them), lived alone/with a roommate, and just gained life experiences as such.

Also a new phone is on its way thanks to my dear brother, and therefore I have given into peer pressure and will be available on whatsapp, gtalk and all that. I've heard SO much about whatsapp especially and now I'm curious to see if it'll be worth all the hype.