It's all in the mind

Your eyes are tired and so is your brain. They probably want you to sleep more than you do. But your mind, it is the culprit. It keeps you awake than you should be. Voices circle in your head; they go back and forth. You lie awake wondering why it happened even though you know exactly why and what happened. You then wonder why it happened to you and then are momentarily distracted by the problems faced by starving children in Somalia or even those at the end of your street. The aged woman who begged for money at the traffic signal and the girl who got raped in a remote part in India come to your mind. You whisper a silent prayer and then think: to each his/her own. Unfair, but valid. You get up and write. Write, to erase the pain and the extreme sadness in your heart. But the words don't pour out of your fingers and onto your phone as they did easily from your mind to your sub conscious. You are aware of what is going on, wide awake and cursing your mind of sabotaging your sleep. There's nothing you can do but perhaps clutch your pillow and gently rock yourself to a deep sleep. A futile promise, it does sound good nevertheless.

You do finally sleep, but it's three hours later when the birds have started to chirp and gentle sunlight streams through your window and hits your face urging you to wake up because sleep, beautiful sleep, is nothing but a farce. A lie that helps us calm down when nothing is alright. "I'll sleep on it," you say, when you have to make a tough decision but have no idea what you're going to. When you want to put things off, hoping to be in the clear when you wake. Unfortunately, none of that happens. Because time, my friend, has gained in that blink of a situation. You have lost, but you are none the wiser. The cycle repeats again and you are left staring at the darkness, hoping to see some light. You do finally see, because it is morning again. And you haven't slept.

On running

You know what should actually get a bad rap? (no, it's not rep. I checked.) Raping, sexism, stealing, anger... Instead, running has suddenly become a vice. I write to dispel that wayward notion that has been put into your heads.

Running has increasingly become my go-to choice for comfort, second only to anything chocolate. Music and books, I see you to(w)o. At this point forget everything you've heard about running and by that I mean, "ew so sweaty," to "In Chennai and outside? Har har, good luck," or "You wear sports bra no? Or two normal bras?" or even "Carry pepper spray I say, like dumbbells but with protection." Clean slate? OK, now listen to me.

Running is like therapy, but costs less and only involves you. Two, if you count your iPod. There are days when I've had to take decisions - some tough, some easy but equally tormenting - and I've always turned to running for an answer. It hasn't disappointed me, yet. I'm going to go out on a limb and say - running is a state of mind; it relieves stress and makes one feel good about oneself, while making you sweat. (Haven't you heard of "comes with a price?")  I've made better decisions after a run and I'm almost always happy with them. I've had my terrible days as well, but who doesn't? I have to admit, I did start running with an aim to lose weight and so far that hasn't happened. Surprise, surprise. But what I am amazed by it is for something that involves frantic movement, the end result is quite calm. Like charming opposites that attract.

I know many of you think that running borders on masochism, a concept that also explains why some women wear high heels, and yes your body does hurt but I have an analogy that might fit the bill. You know how when you really want to pee and you have to hold it for long but when you do finally relieve yourself, the feeling is out of the world? This is quite similar to that. Of course, I'm not suggesting you actually hold your pee all the time. Or consider slaving over a dish that you've been making for hours and the end product looks like it is right out of the Food52 kitchen. Or a story/website that you've been working on but what you end up with is something you've never imagined because it's too perfect to be explained. That. Running itself is perfect.

The beautiful thing about running with my headphones on is that I truly believe I can do anything. It gives me a sense of what life would be like with the right background music. Perfect.

But what do I like most about running? The fact that there are more than a dozen Pinterest boards to endorse it.

I'm sorry

She could see him see her through the crack of her barely opened eyes; he was staring at her intently. Should I wake up and startle him or do I go on with this charade till he leaves, his train is in an hour after all Sowmya thought. She switched sides while scratching herself suddenly, a trick she always deployed while pretending to be asleep. (Show the right number of movements and the interested party will think you're having a disturbed sleep and will go away.) After what seemed like minutes later, but actually an hour, Sowmya woke up to find him at the door with a grey-blue backpack on his shoulders, a plastic cover with food for the train journey and a duffel bag with neatly pressed clothes, all double checked by his mother and dutifully triple checked by his wife (on his mother's insistence). Sunanda was on the sofa lazily flipping through channels while keeping an eye on her father who was ready to leave. Sowmya emerged from her room yawning wildly and stumbling all the same.

"OK I'm off," he said.

"Bye pa," chorused Sowmya and Sunanda. "Please call me when you reach the..." the girls' mother's voice trailed off. It was drowned in her mother-in-law's shrill tone. "Check again for your train tickets, eat on time, call us, when will you hear about your transfer, should I ask my brother in Delhi to help you?" the matriarch went on, oblivious to everything around her.

"I will take care. You please take care of your health," he said while bending down to touch her feet. He smiled at his wife, "I'll call, bye." She smiled, she was used to this. Sunanda's attention went back to the television, Sowmya was searching for her glasses. "Thud" went the door and what followed was silence. Not the pleasant kind but an empty, lonely one. Upset that she couldn't find her glasses, Sowmya went back to sleep.

----

She woke up with a start. Squinting her eyes, Sowmya looked around to see blurry images of people around her talking in hushed tones. Irritably she yelled for her mother only to be hugged by Sunanda.

"What happened, why are you hugging me this early in the morning," Sowmya asked. Sunanda just remained silent. "What is it? Is it appa, did something happen again? TELL ME," she exclaimed.

"Appa met with an accident Sowmee. But it's nothing serious so go back to sleep," Sunanda pleaded.

Sowmya tried to speak but for some reason she found that she couldn't. Lips were moving but she couldn't hear herself. "OK where is he now? Still in Hyderabad?" Sowmya questioned. Sunanda just nodded, adding that he was all right now and that amma was flying there in an hour.

"Su, how did this happen," Sowmya asked. Sunanda paused for a while as if gathering all the strength in the world to give her company to narrate the story. "He was on his way to work, on his motorbike when a guy tried crossing the road. But Sowmee, appa is always careful na. He saw this guy yet still almost ran him over!" exclaimed Sunanda huskily. "It was like something was on his mind, maybe he was still upset about..." Sunanda stopped abruptly realizing that Sowmya had understood what was going on.

Running out of the room, Sowmya searched for her mother. It wasn't too late, she could still squeeze in an apology. "Sowmee, amma has left. Look at the time. They'll be back in two days, please stop pacing around. It's not your fault," Sunanda cried. Sowmya, giving up after a while, sat down and stared in front of her.

"They'll be back soon, you can apologize then. There's plenty of time," smiled Sunanda.

----

Four months. She stirred her coffee briskly, went back to the other three cups. Apologize? Never, Sowmya thought. The first sentence that came out of his mouth was, "It is time for you to get married before I die." How could she apologize to a man who was bent upon fixing her marriage to a person she didn't know? How could she apologize when that was what they fought about in the first place? Sowmya thought that they could sit down, have a conversation about her life and come to a conclusion amicably when he returned. But her father was determined to make it a monologue, a short one with a curt ending. Never, never, never, she whispered. And now the guy's family were arriving in 10 minutes and she had to carry cups of coffee and serve them. How humiliating for a women's studies major.

And after a whirlwind hour, it was done. Her wedding was fixed. With a twist she never expected! Her father actually talked to her boyfriend and made it happen. Before she could even apologize, he did something that made her want to thank him. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. People were hugging her too tight. Too much happiness, she thought. "This isn't going to last Su," she yelled. "Oh shut up, why must you be so negative," demanded a visibly excited Sunanda.

----

Flipping by the pages of what looked like a new diary, Sowmya wondered if her father had ever used it. "Sowmee didn't we give this to him for Father's Day a long time back? Looks like he's kept it safe na," commented Sunanda. Sowmya nodded, there was nothing she could say anymore. Especially not her overdue forgotten apology.

Sunanda relieved her of the diary for sometime while she went through appa's other belongings. "Sowmee look! Look what appa has done. I think it's for you though," Sunanda screamed. God, no one can yell like Su, thought Sowmya.

Right there in the middle, where the pins held the pages together, were photos of her and Sunanda smiling awkwardly. And below the photos was a line in her appa's neat handwriting "I'm sorry".
 
Sowmya could only feel Sunanda hugging her tightly as she drenched the diary in her tears.

"Nostalgia is denial"

When I was in the first standard I got introduced to a girl, who bore the same second name as me. Only it was her original name. Naturally we were thrilled and became best friends. I'd hang out in her house all the time after school (as she had a room to herself). And during summer holidays, besides traveling to Mumbai, I'd spend all my time at her place. We'd read books together, separately; play games; eat; watch TV... you get the picture. This went on for two more years. We'd never imagined the presence of complete strangers would threaten our friendship so much. Actually, I never imagined it. But it did happen.

She remained in the same section while I got transferred to a section I came to loathe. No amount of Enid Blytons could soothe me. I turned to her for help, only she was not available. Or every time I'd go to her class, she always welcomed me with a stranger, whose eyes reproached me. But I didn't mind. After all I was spending time with my best friend. So was she.

As days passed by, we grew apart and they grew close. So much so that people had begun to notice. We were nicknamed "twins"; conjoined, not fraternal. And since she was the only person I hung out with, everyone else had their own friends. I was left alone. It never did cross my mind that “being alone” was a natural state. But at that age, everyone has friends and shows them off. Eat lunch together, whisper secrets in each other’s ear, laugh out till your sides ached and of course, hate the same people — all together. I lost what I had.

See I'm the sort who can be alone in a crowd. But to actually have no one to share that with, that struck me quite late. My visits to her class became noticeably desperate, despite her insisting that she was busy. She wasn't. The stranger, now her best friend, told me off. Told me to back away and leave her friend alone. I was causing inconvenience, apparently. But I still didn't believe it.

The day I did? The stranger had told me firmly that my best friend simply wasn't my best friend anymore. I wasn't welcome; I had to leave. I tried talking to my best friend, but funnily enough she said she didn't know me.

My best friend left the city for another country eventually - something I heard from other people. "She didn't tell you," they gasped. "She must've been busy, I'm sure she'll write to me," I insisted. But she didn't have my address. She wrote to the stranger regularly, who made it a point to wave the letter in front of my eyes. All I could manage was "I have her letters at home, they're personal," coupled with a feeble smile. But I knew I couldn't get it back. I think she went to Dubai. I don't know. The stranger continued in the same school till 12th standard.

For a long time I blamed myself. For not being pushy enough, but I reminded myself that force was never the answer. So I shifted the blame to the stranger. Of course, she must've tainted her mind. What else could it be? I've lost a couple of friends between then and now, nothing has affected me as much as this incident. My parents still remember us as a pair of cheery girls who would grow up to be the thickest of friends; a case of death do us part. In retrospect, I think my parents were innocent. To believe that two people can go through all their childhood, teenage years and adult life without changing.

In the midst of all that, I grew up. Told myself steadfastly and repeatedly that she doesn’t exist and even if she did, she’d never come back. But there are moments when I fish out my dusty diaries and flip through long-lost-once-familiar pages, filled with scribbles and artwork, to see if I can find her number. I’m sure it’s hidden between all that chaos, I’m sure I haven’t noticed it.

Why you need to go to Ambattur by a share auto before you get married

(Roughly inspired by http://www.indiahikes.in/blog-section/trek-blogs/trek-dates/. Please read this link before proceeding with this post.)

As much as I want to travel, I haven't been able to. So worldly experiences are replaced with my cityly experiences, please excuse. I will however focus on Chennai (Madras) for now.

So getting back to the topic. I know you're getting married, there's no need to hide that. I know that in all probability I will not be invited (going by the number of classmates who chose not to, it's a no brainer). I'm basing my theory on the number of "makeup pages" and "photography pages" you have liked and all the new friends you have added via your partner-to-be, which are clogging up my feed as I write. 

Forget treks or scuba diving together or even the task, which is doing the rounds on Twitter, of asking the to-be-significant other to work on a slow broadband connection. An auto ride to Ambattur, nay, a share auto ride to Ambattur is a wonderfully efficient way to check if your partner is worth marrying. Take that ride in May for a really challenging task.

1. Is your partner capable of travelling by public transport? Because it requires skill and only seasoned public transport users can master it. It requires discipline, to stay in the same autorickshaw even if a sweaty, hairy person shoves their elbows on your face. He/she has to stay put, there's no looking back. (There better not be.)

2. Does your partner complain? A share auto ride is not easy. Imagine 14 people packed in a vehicle that should only accommodate 8 people (excluding the driver). Is your partner complaining from the word go? If he/she finds fault with the difficulty of Chennai roads, the other passengers in the auto to the torn seats that are missing the spongy cushions but instead have cold metal rods, which is the only cool comfort you'll ever get in May in Chennai, then I'm sorry to inform you that life with them is going to be similar.

3. Does your partner cooperate and adjust if there is no space to breathe, let alone sit in the auto? 9 out of 10 times you would've had a co-passenger almost sitting on your lap. If your partner cooperates, then they have a kind heart. (Bless them.) Bonus points if they offer their lap as sitting space.

4. Does your partner make the best of situations? On a share auto ride sometimes things go out of control. Someone will feel thirsty and will drink water, which is when the driver will decide to go over potholes and the water may spill on the person sitting opposite (hint: your partner). What does your partner do in such situations? Reach out and slap? Yell and complain? Or remain cool and composed? Your ideal partner is the person who chooses option C. C for cool and composed (see what I did there). If they manage to laugh it off, you have a winner.

5. Does your partner make small chat with the other people in the share auto? Are they "alone" even when surrounded by people? We all value our alone time but mingling with passengers in the share auto is important. It represents the people who walk into our lives, the ones who will be part of our social world. If they're only showing you their Facebook updates and taking selfies to Instagram it later when they are outdoors, they will be a pain indoors (ugh, not that way you sicko).

6. Are they considerate? Imagine a situation wherein someone throws a chocolate wrapper on the auto floor. Does your partner pick it up, keep in their bag to throw it in a dustbin later? Do they talk sweetly to the driver? If they see someone feeling low, do they offer kind words of comfort and solace? If you check all the boxes, congratulations! You have found yourself a thoughtful partner. 

7. Can your partner restrain himself/herself? A share auto ride is indeed a life changing experience, especially during May. When one is dehydrated and almost everything near seems like pools of water and one doesn't reach out thinking they're bottles of water, it shows that the person is patient, kind and mature. Qualities one needs in a stable marriage.

I hope these points have been useful in selecting a suitable partner. Forget trek dates, share auto dates are the in thing now. If it's the former, you have to ask prior permission from your boss, mother, father, pet etc to take a break. Then your dates have to match and these days jadagams are easier to match. After dates come the amount of money required to spend for these treks and the preparation involved is another task by itself. 

A share auto ride, fortunately, costs you nothing, doesn't require a week and maybe only very little preparation (it's all in the mind, you see).

Make share auto dates popular among the youth. (Actually, I have seen numerous couples spending time with each other in a share auto.) They also help single people find their potential others*. 

So go on take that ride for it may change your life.

* Conditions apply

When in doubt, make good art

Slightly tweaking Neil Gaiman's words on good art.

Made these. I'll call them mediocre art, how's that instead?

- On the cover of my reporter's notebook (1 & 3)
- First page of the book (2)

Things

Crushes make you feel excited, all tingly inside. Whereas love makes you feel miserable, like you're falling into a bottomless pit. But only because you know someone is there to catch you.

----

You know when you over think things, they don't happen. For example, there's this one thing you've really wished for in your life. Really wished it would happen, so much that you lie down at night with the thoughts consuming you. But it doesn't. At the same time a second thing begins, slowly but steadily. And you are unaware of it, innocently thinking and dreaming about the first thing. But slowly you put together the pieces of the second thing and it seems to be more than just a mere coincidence. Soon the second thing takes over your life and you find that you are distracted, miserable and lonely. Sitting alone, listening to music and rolling your eyes at the ceiling has become a way of life. Now you want the second thing to happen because it looks perfect. On paper, in reality. The universe has other plans though. It slowly tries to make the first thing happen. Or at least that's what it looks like. But what if the first thing was never meant to be? And what if the universe is trying to lure you away from the second thing, which could be IT, by making the first thing look real. Only it isn't. It doesn't feel real.

What's meant to be, what isn't? What's real and what isn't? What's the problem really?

It's just you over thinking it.

Random musing no. 5467430

"Sadness is best brought out in writing; happiness in photography"

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