Hey jot down a few of your most memorable times this year in the comments' column na?
Cheeries, my dearies!

Heylo, we're three days from end of the year, and have no real goals in the head. So I guess it's best to see through the past year!
Of course, I'm banking on my 'write-past-midnight' skill to deliver what could have been a worse post. Happy birthday to all those born on the 29th of December, specially to you, Gigi- my neighbour and the only person in the building who appreciates Secondhand Serenade. And the only neighbour who you get to see twice a year, and still stay on great terms with. She also helped me nurse Simba.
I'm on a horrid spree of indecisiveness. Ranging from people to things to ideas.
The year began with- my 12th. I wasn't really obsessed about it the way I should have been, but there you go- I am not the world's most hardworking person.
Thanks to my mum's acquaintance, Mr. Dighe, though- I did get some hope in chemistry and physics. And mathematics (God bless him).
Feb brought along a lot of studying, and that surprise chill in the begnning. Of course, another Valentine's day gone wonky, with nothing at all- but I live on hope!
March first got exams, then the beginning of a wonderful vacation, all of which you can read on the blog. It also gave me the hint that cupid was hanging around Namaskaar these days!
April got a series of travels and piercing (my nose) and Shiamak and most importantly CEB!! Which meant new experiences and people and shocks and surprises...and the rise of the carrom reign. The class crowd still had CET preps going on. So no point disturbing them. A week with only Dad was great, he let me do everything I wanted- get friends over, play, pierce, dance, stay up to 10.30 on the name it.
May was just pretty much the same, though outings had come to a halt- Shiamak ruled my life. Carrom and Shiamak constituted my life. With a little more on the lovey dovey part.Of course, there was the anniversary issue of CEB to write in...10th batch of students.
June got on with results, Simba, running about for colleges, getting through at UPG (LOVE MY COLLEGE!!), the fact that I couldn't make it to Xav broke my heart- I cried on the train. The really nice thing to happen was the interview with CRY's Irwin Fernandes. Very sweet.
July was terrible. The death, the big fat heartbreak, the awkwardness. Went for a movie with Mihir, who managed to irritate Myron- the guy-who-can't-be-irritated. But the good news was- my college. I met those people who are as of now some of my closest friends.
August was moderately ok. Had a lot of intercollegiate, added to Shiamak. My birthday was on the day of my first presentation. Other presentations followed.
September was happily occupied by projects. And then entered SNIFF!
It has taken over my life since!
October I got a lucky break for exams, amidst those wars against the HoD. Then entered my new cellphone. I adore it. In the end of October I went in for the back-to-my-roots trip to the south- where I met a load of relatives I didn't know existed, and visited some of the best houses in the world.

November was good too. A Diwali well spent outside. My SNIFF work continued, with the battle over HoD still being fought by Khan...and brochures being made and corrected and made all over again. Registration boomed.
December was the most entertaining...what with two of my good friends hooking up, and the WEIRD IV. The after shock was something, relief, stronger bonds. The end was laced by another death on the family- that of my grandpa's brother, the day before yesterday.
Looking for a little happiness as the year ends.


The Mehendi, 3 hours after I washed the powder off. I think I can do better, though.
Got mehendi on my hands (I refuse to call it Henna, for god's sake, it's so beautifully Indian to call it Mehendi, though Henna is Indian too!). The last time I had that was my cousin's wedding last year- both hands covered, from some roadside artist in Vile-Parle, managed to soil Manasi's shirt.
It was a Sunday, 7th of May, just a after a chem and physics test. Manasi met my friend Myron, for the first time, she was wearing the green Hongkong shirt, and we had masala chhaas at the bus stop!
Mehendi also brings along a lot of other memories, one related to Myron- this was the next day, after the wedding, in class. Someone, Karvi I think, had started teasing him about whose 'haath peela karega' and all.
Another one is when I wrote, drew cryptically actually, a certain 'crush's name a little over my ankle. Wore socks for a week in the house, claiming it was cold. I had to feign a fever an entire week. It was really cute, and quite daring considering a cursed-to-cowardice kid like me. This must've been in the 11th, I was VERY crazy about him!
Mehendi gives me a very Indian feel, you know. Kinda pleasantly bridal too, if you know what I mean. No, no hurry to get married, no prince charming in mind (well...maybe...)- just a very giggly feeling takes over.
This time, the design's got my festival logo in it. SNIFF obsessed!
Happy Christmas!


Was watching Karan-Arjun a few minutes back. For a lot of reasons, I shouldn't. Remembered a post scribbled some three years back on my long forgotten MSN blog, or space, whichever you prefer. I've worked pretty hard at editing the post to convert it from hyper-teen SMS lingo which doesn't make sense anymore to legible English.
The central idea stayed the same, only that I have a few positive opinions of SRK these days too.

You ought to know what kind of movies you can watch and you can't watch. I mean not what's 'meant for you ' and otherwise, but what you need patience and stamina for and what comes easy.
But I wish I had realized this earlier..because right now I really can't tolerate some movies I was rather fond of before.
Take for example:

Hum Aapke Hai Kaun.
genre: family, drama, musical..
..had to be...its got a 20-something member family, everyone who's BAAAD at acting, and 13 songs...I won't ask anyone to 'beat that'...because who would want to watch a movie with the same or more songs..
At the age of 6, when the disastrous movie was released...I was head over heels in luuuv with Salman. So it was a must watch for me...moreover I ws pretty fond of (the late)laxmikant berde...whp was soooooo 'funny' for me...and then the best part....I was amazed by Renuka Shahane-Rana who played good ol' pooja bhabhi or jiji in the movie...for, i think, her smile...something like that.
And now...I hav personally banned Salman as to me he is a blot on the name of humanity, laxmikant berde on any of the channels on TV and the TV goes off..and well, Renuka who?

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai

genre: family, friendship, relationships
Yeah for the sake of family there lasted without a death, friendship swapped for a stupid crush, and more on anti-relationships than relationships...except if you are gonna count Shah Rukh's always available lecture on 'My mother'
Ok, i was SRK's beti Anjali in the movie, with a hairstyle like Kajol before the interval, liked singing n dancing....and then onwards wanted to go really badly to Simla...and liking SRK was a fad..even 2de. Rani Mukherji was ideal mummy...believe it or not I kinda wished my mummy was a college friend of daddy's and his second wife too...ok, that's sad.
now its soooo can a mother give her 8 year old daughter such an emotional load to carry along?? Kajol's wig makes me wanna throw up, I prefer not dancing in public, and to hell with Simla, Matheran's good enough for me...I can't believe I liked Shah Rukh..he's sooo predictable, its like, you see the first show of his latest movie and you can tell his next dialogue...c'mon man, get a life!! The only thing that's stayed constant is my utter adoration for Rani...she's amazing...unbeatable..WOW!!!

Other movies I fell in love with were:
Raja Hindustani
Mr & Mrs Khiladi
..yes there was a movie like that- remember 'jab tak rahega samose mein aloo'?
Karan Arjun

But some movies which released along the same period but still make sense are....
Kabhi Haan Kabhi Na
Andaaz Apna Apna
Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar

I guess like man himself, his choices and opinions also evolve.
I'm relieved mine have.

I'd say that's a fairly good job by a 15 year old, kya?

About a 17-and-a-half year old me.

An awfully long time back, when Roadies 5.0 was still on air, I'd written a common 'about me' for Facebook and Orkut. One of the my favourite, hence has probably written after a glass of 7UP or at 4am. Those are the conditions when I give out good stuff.
I liked it a lot, so what better way to preserve it than to copy-paste it to your blog. Yes, I am extremely sleepy.
I shall now finally write a fresh about me, keeping this one in mind.
Do read, mindlessly.

My current BIG crush is Rannvijay. Hmm…the ‘Roadies’ fellow that’s right. Another thing about him, For the people who this might make sense to. He does resemble one guy I’m really confused about.
Also the fact that I’m officially out of love. It’s like this: you’re a swingy, see-sawy teenager with not even the basic control of hormones, and when there’s a ‘void’ is your assumed love-life, you grab at whatever’s in sight. Something like the drowning man and the straw story. So you grapple, and in my’s something of a life-saver. But one fine day this supposed ‘love story’…well you grow out of it. Distance makes the heart grow fonder only if you are a character from Shakespearean era. It just gives you time to look at other prospects, compare them to what you had at first, and lo! You have a contender for your premkatha.
If this goes on for too long, you either
1. keep bumbling around like a nymphomaniac who’s all gaga over the slightest suggestion of maleness (which did not happen in my case)
2. you grow bored, start seeing a happier life without crushlet interference, and then enjoy it like those really bold middle-aged women you read about who’re just out of a tragic marriage and go living their life with the occasional kitty parties, take up hobby classes…blah blah.
My case is not so boring. I’m not the kitty party type, won’t take up hobby classes…’I know everything you see, and most importantly, I’m not exactly a middle-aged divorcee.
Today, even without chemical equations and De Broglie’s hypothesis, I feel..or I know I have a lot to learn. And in turn in the past two years I have learnt a lot. From textbooks, people, traffic jams, friends, crushes…everything I passed through. I’m proud to say I know a lot more about how my life functions practically than most other people my age. For them what counted were the marks. For me, it’s the learning.
My dream guy **ho hum** is 6 feet tall, can dance, is really smart with words, and loves dogs. He could have a stubble, and also be a genius. For that matter, he's real, just tooooo far away these days!

Hey giggle giggle.

We and me

So we walked the distance today
Held hands, smiled about
We tried to show we're two best friends
And said we'd always be around

Then there were others who called it love
and then there were few who didn't understand
That the connection was somewhere deep in our hearts
And not just lost in intertwined hands

We walked through fields of yellow flowers
And walked through rain and sharp stones
We walked through thorns and walked through clouds
And places where our feet froze

On our journey to hell and back
We met our friends, we battled our foes
What we feared we conquered, what lost was gained
Feelings and thoughts beyond our know

Then came the day when my friend's heart vanished
To someplace he didn't reveal
He lied to keep her secret safe
And made bruises in me that still won't heal

What he betrayed was a trust of a friend
Who promised to stand by till the end
What he missed on his way to woo his girl
That he'd left half of him in a ruthless world

Sometimes time does heal all wounds
Sometimes, it just forgets
Sometimes one friend only gives
While the other unintentionally only gets

It could've been that it was love
That he felt for the maiden fair
So I was blind to hurt and bleed
Life's little games aren't always fair

Today we stand still smiling well
And trust stays hovering more than ever
I found a way to live with cuts
We and me shall stay friends forever.

And then again...

I'm back to the giggling phase. Sometimes I really wonder if I'm all that sane. I see look-alikes of the guy I'm currently whooshing over, and blush all the while.
Like today. Some random basketball player from Xavier's was all it took to have me fantasizing (again!)of the multi-talented genius.
Am I the only person who daydreams about the person I am so into?
Are there others who smile to themselves when that one comes to their mind?
Are there more of me who are constantly wishing he wasn't all that far away?
Are these signs of falling into a deep, dark pit of dreams and words and pictures of one day being by his side?

Mumbai Meri Jaan.

Another attack. The Taj, the Trident and Colaba under attack. Add to it the blasts and firings at GT, Cama hospitals and the taxi at Vile Parle. Physically, there has been a death count of about 200- police and civilians included, whereas the injured number a mighty 300-plus. Heritage structures mutilated, and property lost along with irreplaceable lives. Here we see the picture of the city of Mumbai broken in its proudest junctures, at a time when it is rising to global scales which no other city in India has achieved, and still staring with wide eyed surprise at the encounter with terror it has faced.
Here we see the picture of a city whose famed ‘spirit’ has evaporate in the dark clouds of terror, discrimination, politics, and blood of the innocent. The first three factors can be termed as evil without batting an eyelid, but the last- it signifies the undue and unfair quota that is included in the foursome of the darkness that envelopes the city at this hour.
The ‘spirit’ of Mumbai, they say, is resilient and can help the citizens overcome any disaster that comes its way. What people overlook is that here, every citizen has no choice, but to put the past behind them. In the rush for basics of food, shelter and education, the Mumbaikar has to, without an option, work like there has been nothing wrong in their life. Mindlessly, machine-like. The city doesn’t bounce back from the shackles; it smudges its past experiences into its history and works for the uncertain future. All this so that if one day any of their loved ones do disappear in flames of terror, they still have the means to continue life- an incomplete, lonely life.
This attack has rendered the spirit of Mumbai helpless, aghast with the feeling that even though they live in a metro that never sleeps, someone has infiltrated what should be the most secure points in the city. It would be a pity, or a blemish on the pride of Mumbaikars, if in three days’ time, life were to resume to normal pace, with reports about the blasts occupying the first page today, the second in three further days, and slip into the oblivion like every other terrorizing attack does. We claim to be a proud country, but we aren’t too sure if what we are proud of still exists.
A reality check would do the country good. Are we proud of our past, our struggle for independence? Well the youngest person to be alive when the country was in foreign clutches would today be 61 years old, a senior citizen past retirement. It’s the past, and as much as the country did show unprecedented valour at that point, let us face the fact that we aren’t living up to the India our forefathers would thought we’d live to value. Are we proud of our culture? Then why is it that today parents resort to slip into the friend’s shoes, that teachers are no longer paid good respect to, and that the original forms of art, science and literature have now vanished? Are we proud of our farmers, our fruitful land? Please explain the resorting of suicides by farmers. Are we proud of the army? Then why are they underpaid? If we have overcome discrimination, why do communities fight to prove themselves backward? What are we oozing patriotism in movies for?
Let us face the truth. We haven’t gained self respect in our independent era. The glory we revel in is brought to us by our forefathers, and we have done nothing to increase it. Success and fame is not something Indians can handle, only because as a country we are used to being slow, bent, and backwards. Hundreds of people lose their lives every year due to some freak mishap which we title ‘terrorism’ and ‘condemned’, and do nothing about. In our history of 10,000 years, India hasn’t invaded a single country. Be it for the sake of egoistic expansion, ruling might, war, revenge. We are too used to bending backwards to make way for others to go ahead. The ahimnsa strategy has showed up as a lame pretext to not bear the load of asserting ourselves and then facing the opposition, like true heroes.
Where does the Saare Jahaan Se Achha brigade lead us now?
People die like mosquitoes in the country every year due to our ‘condemned’ terrorism maladies, yet we plead for peace, and rational thought. Why aren’t we ever on the offensive? Why do we get stomped out? Today we strive to achieve American acceptance, every decision requires the stamp of approval by the US. But why would that happen if our minds are still moulded in the ‘atithi devo bhava’ clamp? Take the example of ‘9/11’ or Daniel Pearl. Two buildings collapsed, one reporter murdered, and the country announces war. No second thoughts, no permissions- only revenge. And whether or not they are successful in their motives is another question. What matters is that no country looks at them without thinking twice. And here we are, asking for negotiations. A thousand lives negotiated. How neat.
Our politically correct attitude makes our disasters come into American perspective- the recent bombings are the ‘9/11 of India’. The statement that rubbishes India’s identity as a nation that is not American. Why isn’t it 26/11? Our heritage monument is hurt, and we say, ‘Just like America?’ It’s sad that India has to live by American standards, and it has begun to believe that we actually are a part of the Superpower and not one ourselves.
I’ve mentioned the system in a collective term, as in ‘we’, ‘our’, ‘us’ etc, because when something goes wrong in the country, and the government is blamed, we forget that it is we who decide who rules. We are as responsible (or irresponsible) for the lack of effective governance.
What I ask for here, is a revamp. A government that is more a company working for collective gains than political.
All I ask for here, is that the sacrifice of those people who died in the attack be avenged, duly, strongly, and in a way the world remembers that India is not one to live with a subdues identity and a bowed head, anymore.

Better days- Goo goo dolls.

And you asked me what I want this year
and I'll try to make this kind and clear
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
'cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings
and designer love and empty things
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words and sing out loud
'cause everyone's forgiven now
'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I need some place simple where we could live
and something only you could give
and that's faith and trust and peace while we're alive
and the one poor child who saved this world
and there's ten million more who probably could
if we all just stopped and said a prayer for them

So take these words and sing out loud
'cause everyone's forgiven now
'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I wish everyone was loved tonight
and somehow stop this endless fight
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words and sing out loud
'cause everyone's forgiven now
'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

'cause tonight's the night the world begins again


Darn people!
Mumbai under terrorist attacks. I hate this.
I hope everyone I know, and everyone they know is safe.
At home, mum's getting better. The previous post was written when she was on her way to Rajasthan and had to turn back halfway because of medical emergency. She's the type who'll act normal to get back to normal- one of the very few things I inherited from her.
Dad and Rahul are at Rajasthan, probably sighting tigers. Good for them.
People in the building, the Lambodar- Dostini lot are actually meeting up everyday. They play cards like gamblers!
At college, everything's going fine and slow. Not complaining.
Big mess at SNIFF. do visit
signing out,
Peace- even to you, violent gumbugs at the Taj and Trident and Nariman House, holding people up like that. Seriously, didn't your mum tell you how to play fair?


The scariest thought is losing my mom.
To Death, insanity, life, family, my brother, some job, college.
Was watching The Namesake a few minutes back. I don't know, but losing a parent is one thought I get very often. See, i like both of them, equally, I guess. But comes the question of attachments, and I swear there's no one in the scene but my mother.
I'll say, it's like that song from Taare Zameen Par, Maa.
I guess I relate to it the most.

Main Kabhi Batlata Nahin
Par Andhere Se Darta Hoon Main Maa

Yeah, Aai. I'm all ready to face the world most of the time. Mostly all of the time. I've had fights with the best of my friends, with drunkards trying to act weird, with people who push their way into the line, guys who don't do their part of projects.
But I'm scared of darkness. Not knowing what's coming ahead. More like, not being certain. You've always made me so confident, I'm sorry to let you down on this. I can't take one step ahead without knowing where it's going.

Yun To Main,Dikhlata Nahin
Teri Parwaah Karta Hoon Main Maa

I do speak crap to you, specially when it comes to my brother. I like him too, I'm just trying to protect both of you. He's not going the right way, mum, and though I know he's got a future ahead where he can make amends- I also know you won't be able to bear him getting into trouble or hurt. Don't get me wrong, but I have to be downright cruel to him, and hence to you. This may not be the best way to get him ok, but I'm still trying.
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata, Hain Na Maa
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata,,Meri Maa

Bheed Mein Yun Na Chodo Mujhe
Ghar Laut Ke Bhi Aa Naa Paoon Maa

You say I'm prepared to take my own decisions, but I need you to decide everything for me. When I'm ready to get up to when I should get married. To what I should wear to college today. Or to which sum I should solve first. It's crazy, I know. You've been around all this time to make me steady on my own. I am steady (or so I think), but you're the base I stand on. How am I to live alone for a week? A lifetime? Damn, away from you?

Bhej Na Itna Door Mujkko Tu
Yaad Bhi Tujhko Aa Naa Paoon Maa

You've made up your mind to let us grow on our own. Yes we will. But in case I make mistakes tomorrow, will you be there for me? Just to hear me out, and then follow with your 'I-told-you-so' lecture? It gets repetitive and predictable, but I still love hearing it. It gives me the feeling of being a 6 year old, or 10 year old or a 14 year old or even an 18 year old all at once. That you see no difference and that you'll still hit me on my backside for spilling water over the dining table or wasting time on the PC. It's the feeling I love the most, you're still around to pinch me when I'm talking nonsense.

Kya Itna Bura Hoon Main Maa
Kya Itna Bura Meri Maa

I never want to hurt you, I'm too much of a coward to do that.

Jab Bhi Kabhi Papa Mujhe
Jo Zor Se Jhoola Jhulate Hain Maa
Meri Nazar Dhoondhe Tujhe
Sochu Yahi Tu Aa Ke Thaamegi Maa

Dad wants me to be like him, fearless, strong, steady, brave, outspoken, adventurous. I am trying to be that, because he's not wrong. To survive, I'll probably have to trample over a few people. I will do that. I am ambitious.
But I'll still want to come home to you and tell you how my day was, how I cracked some really good comment, or how my article was accepted without a correction. I'm still a kid, really. I hate admitting it, but there's nothing I haven't admitted to you yet. I need you to be my landing cushion.

Unse Main Yeh Kehta Nahin
Par Main Seham Jaata Hoon Maa
Chehre Pe Aana Deta Nahin
Dil Hi Dil Mein Ghabraata Hoon Maa

Everyone has their own expectations from me. Dad wants me (or rather every person in the world) to be a wise, financially secure investor in life and mutual funds. The family wants me to be a good journalist. I have no clue what my eldest brothers expect of me. My sister wants me to be her rock when she falls. My brother wants me to allow him to go around making a worldly fool of himself. You want me to be healthy and happy (Maa di laadli).
I'm going to be all of this. Succeeded in quite a few.
I just want you to stroke my hair at least once when you talk to me. Specially when I weep about not having friends who like me and tolerate me, like Manasi, Myron and Hormazd do. When I'm just tired, and characteristically can't get sleep. I need you to be the mom you weren't to me because my brother took up your time, patience, stamina, love.

Tujhe Sab Hai Pata Hai Naa Maa
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata Meri Maa

Chapped lips

Try drinking orange juice with those; it burns through the delicate skin on the lips. Try eating anything with lemon.
It's a subtle feeling of prickle, but it goes away. The next time you have chapped lips and eat anything citric, however, you remind yourself of how it had prickled you the last time. And then you give it no thought till the next time you do the same thing.
I saw Dostana today, and like every other movie, I caught myself fantasizing about being someone in there. Just made me wish a hundred people I hardly think of these days would call me. Hypocrite? Sure.
What happens to all those people who write in that ridiculous slam book and say stuff like 'friends forever'?
I got upset because a friend of mine wrote on the first page of my slam book, the page I'd reserved for my then reigning crush. This friend however is the only one I still look forward to seeing.
What happened to those girls who all the guys I drooled over drooled over?
They're probably repeating their 12th. Bimbos.
The girls who pronounced 'and' as 'end'?
They probably still do.
The guys I used to swear by?
I know they're alive, but that's about it.
They could be on the moon I'd never know.
The girls I called my best friends?
Probably embarrassed of me, and have boyfriends of their own to make up for the inconspicuous loss of a shoulder to cry on when their parents yell.
They probably don't think they'd be able to stand me if we met again, what with all that blabbering I do.
Those kids who I never spoke to, without noticing that I didn't.
They probably had something to say, what would our conversations be like?
Those people who felt I wasn't existent enough?
They may be thinking I don't exist at all.
The girls who thought me irritating.
And the boys who had crushes on them.
The girls who helped their best friends get over those crushes.
The boys who felt tingles for them.
The girls who whoopee'd when these guys played.
The guys who wished they could play that well.
the girls who wished that didn't matter.
The guys who wished they did.
And me.

What happened to my friends?My family?My school?My home?My life?
I've seemed to forget them by every passing day. All those promises to check in every week, evaporated.The 'I'll call you' were fake, weren't they? 13 years of my life were a superficial love for something I'd been brainwashed to adore with every part of my existence.
Vissanji Academy is just another building I glimpse from the bus. No more the stop where I'd grin to myself. There are ghosts of memories which I thought I'd carry forever, but things don't work that way. The people inside the white and brick walls are just another young bunch of kids marooned on board. It's not a promise of belonging anymore, it's just a sentence every student clings to.
Someone on my farewell day told us, 'wherever you go, whatever you do, all you life- you will always be a Vissanji child'.
Promises promises.
This was the same man who was around for 5 months in the school who asked us, who spent 13 years of our then 15 year old lives in that place, to stop dashing around as if the place belonged to us. Yes, Mr.Pereira, it does, it still does.
Yet I can't wake up completely a single morning and wish I hadn't grown up, that college was still a long time, and that the bus with those bent seats and vandalized backs would stop at my gate.I can't seem to believe that it isn't a passing dream anymore, just a fact. People grow up, they have to move on.
And every time I see, that I have, I feel guilty.
Like I've had chicken tandoori with squeezed lemon. On chapped lips.

In my head

"Up yet?"
"You woke me"
"Hmmm...should I call later?"
"No, it's fine. What happened? Wassup?"
"It's gonna take some time, you free for a while?"
"Yeah yeah, tell"
"I thought about it"
"Wait, I'm talking to you after a week, you thought about what?"
"Our conversation a few months back"

"I think I know what you're talking about. I'm just surprised you should bring it up. I thought we finished with it"
"I know, that was what I thought too. Like that was long ago"
"Ohk. Well?"

"So how's Anvit?" "Yeah he's good. Out for the vacation" "Hmmm, and Mohit?"
"Haven't spoken to him since ages. Why you asking?"

"So you like Anvit?"
"No re, nothing serious. He was something like an overblown infatuation."

"Was I one?"
"Do we have to talk about this?"
"Just curious. Sorry"
"No it's fine. If you must know, you were more than infatuation"

"Okay, so tell me, how's Priyal?"
"I don't know"
"Haven't met in a while or what?"
"We split"

"Oh gosh.I'm so sorry to hear that"
"Yeah she decided I was getting too serious"

"This happened a month back. Or wait, 2 months back"

"It'll be ok. If you really like her she'll come back to you"
"You think so?"
"I don't know. I hope so"

"Did you really like me that much?"

"How much?"
"You know, that I'd come back, or something"
"I did like you a lot, I don't know how much though"

"'I did'? You've moved on well na?"
"Pretty much. See even you'll get over her. It's just a matter of time. She'll come back to you if this has to happen. It's a-"
"Did you wish I'd come back to you if we were to happen?"

"This is about you, not me. Let's not mix the two"
"Answer me"
"Answer me"
"Well, to an extent I did"
"You still think so?"
"Where's this going?"
"She decided I was getting too serious about you"

"Did you remind her we weren't ever together?"
"Then you should have. Do it now"
"What'll happen then?"
"Then she'll understand and you guys'll be together again"
"What if I don't want that?"

"Chaitanya, what's the matter?"
"I couldn't stop think about what you said"
"What did I say?"
"The part that you couldn't figure what you liked about me, but you did"
"What about it?"
"I think I'm seeing sense for the first time in months"

"You've stopped making any to me for the past 5 minutes"
"Reva, I haven't stopped thinking about you for the past 4 months"

"So you think Priyal's right?"
"I know she is"

"Chaitanya, I got over you 4 weeks after our conversation"
"So I don't stand a chance?"
"What do you want me to say?"

"Don't you feel even a fraction the same about me?"
"I moved on"

"Are you with someone?"
"Do I know him?"
"It's Deep"
"Oh, ok"

"I'm, well, I'm sorry to have hurt you"
"Oh it's no big deal"
"I hope you guys do well"
"Now you're sounding like an obituary"
"I guess. Just that, I'll always be around for you, okay?"

"I guess, bye, then"
"Hmmm, yeah. And Chaitanya..."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Deep"
"Aah that's ok. I kept Priyal a secret too, remember?"
"It wasn't to get even"
"I know. Well, bye"
"You'll be therein the evening?"

"I'll be in class. I'll be back, by say, 9.15"

The void

drawn inspiration from derangedpandabear's last post. Thanks, buddy.
I live a different life now. Another confession coming your way. So maybe I am in love, it's just that I'm a classic case of 'once bitten, twice shy'. I don’t know who it is, I can’t define him. A little bit of DDLJ’s Mere Khwaabon Mein Jo Aaye, now that I think of it.
Here’s something that came into my mind this moment…it’s a diary entry made what seems like eons ago, but I’d like to believe it was 13th June 2007, when I wrote it.

Love is a strange thing, you know. It makes you more aware about others even if you can’t think beyond one person. It makes you want to punish yourself for having done nothing criminal. It’s like tugging at your dreams to come true. It’s like sitting at a window watching rain, in shorts, wet hair, barefoot. The winds blowing the Gulmohar. It’s realising you have a spongy soft toy heart with love written across it. It’s this invisible hug that’s always wrapping you. It’s a green frog filled with thermocol beads. It’s two blue coloured bags. It’s a playlist of songs. It’s exchanged chappals. It’s two 50p coins. It’s one spoon of bhel. A thumbfight. It’s whispering over the phone. Sticking your tongue out. It’s homework done beforehand. It’s a clear summer night sky when you can spot the Lion and the Virgin. It’s calling up to say you can’t reply to a stupid forward. It’s being ready to wait. It’s Hotel California’s strings being plucked. It’s a mock fight. It’s running suddenly. It’s grinning for no good reason. It’s sharing a few favourite songs. It’s hoping that you’ll be happy. It’s chicken sandwiches, don’t forget those.
It’s so many more things I can’t explain.

Vacuum again.
I would rather be heartbroken than not have anyone to love at any point in my life.


Sometimes you want to close your eyes and see nothing.
It isn't really the blackest of your days, but your senses fail you. Nothing seems to be right, though it's all correct. The complete opposite of those days when everything seems to go wonky in the eyes of the world but you know it'll be okay. Not one of those days, today. Worked hard, that's it. People smiled at what I wrote. Okay. Laughed at my jokes. Ha ha ha. So what's new, or different?
Politically, I'm appreciated. But I really haven't found my real company where I'm hooding nowadays. Like school time when I had Vishal, he made me rack my brains till they were drenched of thought. Or Pushkar in junior college, intelligent debates. Or Collin, subconscious eyeopener with the right terms for everything.
Or Manasi, who keeps me on my toes waiting to catch up with something that'll quench my thirst for criticism.
I love my festival, but it doesn't give me the adrenalin drive. I'm in dire need of competition, or spark'll be stomped off.
I'm wrenching open the eyelids, waiting for light to fall on the retina. But That's compromise. Can't fiery inspiration come without dropping expectations?
I'm done for the day, but open for someone to shake me out of my elongated snooze.

Drugs and all..

MTV wassup caught me the day before yesterday, and tadaa! I was on TV yesterday!
it's about the drug racket actually...240 kids in a club held for drug detection. Kudos beta-log! Thou hast made a generation of kids who sincerely need to party victim of unnecessary suspicion from parents and all elders alike.
I wouldn't know if drugs were inches of me, you know. This humdrum happened in Juhu, very much the place my darling college is, and I think had it not been exam season a lot of people from my college would've been in the lot. Where on earth do these guys get to lay their hands on that load? How do they even consider snuffing anyway?
Takes us to the point of stereotyping- Rich kids, more drugs/smoking/whatever. Am I all that wrong when I say that the rich babbus are max in the oppsy list? Like, how many middle-class people do you find hanging out in clubs in the first place, let alone be caught with drugs? No offense intended (what the heck, this is MY blog!), but isn't not being able to afford a lot of things a blessing in disguise? I mean, when you can't afford it, you don't plunge in the first place. So the 'vicious' circle doesn't start.
This dude (really sorry, but what's your name again?) from MTV asked me if police raids are the way out of drug abuse. Urrgh, no. It's like, it's a good way, though very severe, to detect where all such activities are happening, then upto family, friends, pets, dhobis, kaamwali baai's to call for rehab. Police = diagnosis, rehab = solution. And awareness of course, though I think a lotta kids are getting their heads sorted. People know what's right and what's not. It's will, if you ask me.
I still don't know if any of my friends smoke up and all, but here's something:
I have a friend who comes from a reserved family in Borivali, he is very strong about his religious ideas, cried around for every mark in the paper, studies hard- but was the first to get absolutely, and I mean absolutely stoned at the Freshers' Party. Enough to go home and call his Grandmum 'sexy'.
And there's another, who carries an iPhone in his pocket, drives around in the city, has piercings, comes from the richest of schools, has super-liberal parents, eats non-veg despite of being a Brahmin, but doesn't see the point in doping. We're often asked why we don't smoke/booze. He says, "I don't think I'm missing out on anything. There're other ways of getting high, like try laughing till your sides ache".
Who is the stronger one?
What are principles?
Are we judging too shallow?
Till then, happy Dassehra. May all evil scramble out of your life like me when I see Prof. Srivastava entering the college.


Hello. Blogging days are here again. Just for the record, my extremely busy schedule has been draggning me away from my favourite website (eradhikated, dearies) for this long. though I wrote in five days back, I must tell you what life's like after sixteen:nine entered it.
Like picture this. You skip the interviews for the teams because your mom says she doesn't want extra activities in your day without you skinning the bare necessities. When you do tell her that it's the International fest you've missed, she gasps and says, "But you should have asked! Such an important thing!!". You smile.
Two days later, a classmate asks you if you are interested in the Literature team. It doesn't take you a second to say 'yes'. So you meet the team. And you're in.
The next few weeks happen to be the one thing you work so hard you forget what life is.
Schedules include staying up till 1 in the night, completing articles for everything, writing about one incident in 4 different tones. God knows what else. Followed by submissions, projects, exams, rehearsals, rejections of those articles blah blah. Then the change in the HoD. And the following upsets, the backing of the teams, the arguments, the solutions, the settling back and work again.
To keep yourself headache-free, you sing. I have no clue what the SNIFF team thinks of me, but I do hope they like me. That's one lot I respect.
Well today they tried teasing me with the VCP. No denying I think he's cute. It started with me singing some 'Tumse Hi Pyaar' song by Aasma. As usual, there were questions like, "Oooh, ********'s not here, why you singing?", "Chal Radhe bataa hi de!" and all that...when I asked them, "Dude, you seriously think I don't have a life outside this room kya?"
It was a rhetorical question for them, but a nervous one for me. No I didn't have a life outside that room. It was me against the world outside the four walls. This isn't some stoic stance, but the truth. My life revolves around SNIFF today. If I'm not thinking about the work to be done, I'm thinking about some person or some incident that occurred in the room.
It's been like that since the day I joined this party. I've decided to commit myself to this, and there's no pulling me out of it.
The place is growng on me. I feel content sitting in one place, having my laptop blasting music in my ears, writing something or just watching people. Trouble is, I'm beginning to feel less happy about it, but content all the same. It's scary, people.
For the difference between 'content' and 'happy', try sitting at a dentist's chair with the knowledge that you tooth-ache will end soon after the gruelling root-canal.

The sixteen:nine Diary

SNIFF stands for sixteen:nine International Film Festival, launched by the students of Usha Pravin Gandhi College of Management. It promotes student filmmaking and independent cinema through the medium of short films.
I'm a committee member/content writer for the Literature Department of SNIFF '09. This blog is a record of my thoughts and experiences during the making of SNIFF '09. I am entitled to an opinion about everything and due to superior verbal stamina, I have to talk about it.
In general, I love reading and listening to music in my free-time. My favourite activities include writing, dancing and playing throwball. I try to imitate planet Earth and sometimes even the Solar system while moving around, otherwise I'm pretty human. My two standing rules are:
1. No Khan-bashing (Khan being out VCP, who I respect tremendously)
2. No talking about SNIFF over food (which assures a SNIFF-free ambience for at least 2 hours everyday). To know more, read this!

An Obituary

There's nothing about today I call out of the ordinary. Really. I mean, I was at college, bugged Professor Sharma to the point of him trying to sing (???), went for a movie with the boys and Rashmi. And got back home to do nothing.
Yet there's this unnerving sense of satisfaction of having spent the day this way. It's getting to my nerves, but the feeling that I'm officially an adult's begun to settle in. I'm beginning to feel more independant of all things my head previously shied off. I've begun to learn where to draw the lines. my head seems to be full of thing to do, something that's so totally new to me.
I had my 18th birthday, by the way, last Monday. And today's a month since my granddad passed away. Hence a month since my last entry. I feel weird thinking about it. So much has changed in the family since he's gone, you know. I don't feel like going to the house any more. there're times when everyone simply shuts up, something like what people do for blast victims. Dad's not taking it in the best way either. I don't think he's had a good night's sleep for the past month. He was the only one at the hospital when Acchappa you-know-what'd. I can't use the other words, they're like, too harsh for my Acchappa.
My cousin had just landed at Thrissur that day, the one Acchppan was closest to. I wonder what he's like. One thing I know for sure is that he won't get the full impact of it ever, since he hasn't seen Acchappa being taken away. He was alone there. If there's anything that went against Acchappan's last wishes, which he had ironically listed a week before he you-know-what'd, it was Ashwin's absence. But it was too sudden you know. Dad didn't even epect something like that to happen. Acchappan actually asked Accha to go home, he was feeling so good. The previous day I'd been to his place, and I'd mentioned how normal he looked. He's given that old man's chuckle at 'normal'. Just when he entered the door, with the same sling bag. Later I'd got frustrated at the weird conversations people seemed to strike with walls in the living room and I'd said to him, "Acchappan, you've got a crazy family". He'd laughed for ten minutes after that. Always found something to laugh at. And once he started, he'd never stop.
He was as senile as anyone. Like he beat his own pawn using the opponent's queen in chess a few years back. It took him five minutes to hit a coin in carrom, at the age of 74! Ancient fellow, seriously.
He'd pile the cupboards on Fridays, just before I came to stay. Chaklis, cakes, pedhas, biscuits. His only granddaughter never ever knew what hunger was. Stuffed me to the core.
He'd always have all information we could want. Us grandkids, we'd never have touched our college prospectus', this man would've read them inside out. He also had those typical stories to tell. Like 'Lion and the Hare', my all-time favourite.
I'm missing the man who started the family I was born into. The man who moved from Kerala to Mumbai, with a wife 13 years younger, and two sons, who had a daughter when he lived in a chawl later, who served the RBI and IDBI for all his years, who laughed with all his heart, and never hurt anyone. The man with the twinkle in his cataracted eyes who's blood flows in my veins.
To Acchappa,
and all those who cared for him and who he cared for.

My college!!

Hey. Yeah, addicted. Yes, better, thanks. No, it'll take time to be normal. Yeah, loving college. Yeah, we meet pretty often.
Hello to my new world. As Hormazd very cleanly puts it, I've lost my 'asking-out' virginity. I've come to realize how much I obsess about something, which isn't all that trivial either. But still, how much am I gonna gloat in self-pity and the thought that I'm never gonna move on? Hell, I will.
I can't not think about it, you know; five years isn't all that easy a while to forget, specially if they cover all your teenage. So here I am, trying hard to not talk about it, and as i read what I have written till yet, it's all about it. Filthy hypocrite. For some reason, I always think 'hypocrite' must've been a Greek philosopher. Like Socrates. Aaaargh, retard.
Life currently revolves around my bedroom, the FYBMM classroom, the SYBMM classroom on the 4th floor, the canteen, and the 339. One bus I don't think I'll be spending a day without for a very long time now.
Anyway, so I'm on the dramatics troupe for my college (nautanki saali), and my attendance is gonna be taken care off. My seniors are the most awesome people I've met- they breathe their college-life. Super-high energy levels. My classmates are superb too. Starting with a hyperactive CR Hyper, who wants to do everything! His co-CR Leakage, who's more laidback and cautious. Then there's the chick gang who's totally girly giggly of sorts- Chiquitita who's totally cute, Fake always running around and all chatty, K-fan who's a boy trapped in a girl! Giggle-talent box, Namesake who's a total social worker of sorts!...And heck loadsa people.
Then the ladka log- Bossy, who's acting skills are killing cool..mimicry and all! Jerry who is subtly the funniest fellow I've met. Issmile who just smiles at everything! Zebra who's random hardly decipherable talk is the most creative I've learnt. Here's a sample: He was asked to abuse MumbaiMirror, he says "You'll get pupped by a chimpanzee!".
And to understand what Zebra says, there's the totally indispensable MumbaiMirror. He's (MumbaiMirror here) a part of the I'm-a-guy-I-don't-need-Harry-Potter brigade.
My opinions may change over the next few months, but let's keep them this way for the sake of recording how I am about my college people 2 weeks into the beginning of a brand new life.
But moving on, like I said, isn't all that easy, specially when you live within 20metres of each other, SMS each other stupid forwards every night, and bump into each other everyday in the canteen. The other day I was sitting totally peacefully with my friends, when suddenly the table next to us suddenly screams his name, I jump 2 feet into the air, and no one notices. He's entered, and sits across his girlfriend. He knows I'm there, and he seems a little awkward to me. She puts out her hand between his hands, and trust me, if I ever wanted to kill anyone for touching anyone else, I'd have dome it. I impulsively looked away, but I got this awkward feeling he did not hold her hand. My own jealousy makes me sick. She kept talking in animated gestures, and he kept laughing, and I kept "staring" into space. If space meant my sambaar. Then I decided I should let him know I'm there. So I gave him a missed call. He looked up, he knew where I was sitting, and did one of those 'I'm-in-public-can't-wave-too-obviously' waves. I gave it right back at him, and then didn't look at him till he said 'Chal see you later' when I had to leave.
I don't know what I'm playing at. But hello, my life rocks. I'm making the best of my time. And if he's to be involved, so be it.

Stupid little update

"Tum Ho Gham Ko Chupaye
Main Hoon Sar Ko Jhukaye
Tum Bhi Chup Ho
Main Bho Chup Hoon
Kaun Kise Samjhaye
Ab Dooriyan Itni Hain To
Milna Yahan Kal Ho Naa Ho
Ab Dooriyan Itni Hain To
Milna Yahan Kal Ho Naa Ho
Tu Vekh Tai Lai Aj Raj Ke
Apne Sariyan Nu
Cheti Apne Nahi Mil De
Ja Banno Pave Khushiyan Te Dil Dariyan Tu
Pave Armaan Sab Dil De

Sach Hai Ke Dil To Dukha Hai
Hamne Magar Socha Hai
Dil Ko Hai Gham Kyon
Aankh Hai Nam Kyon
Hona Hi Tha Jo Hua Hai
Us Baat Ko Jaane Bhi Do
Jiska Nishaan Kal Ho Naa Ho
Har Pal Yahan Je Bhar Jiyo
Jo Hai Sama Kal Ho Naa Ho"

Okay, I admit. I do write super-mushy things. But this is more to give you an idea of what the situation was like 3 days after the calamity, when we were sub-normal. It was guilt-cum-hurt-cum-apology, for both of us. I wonder why, though. Nothing was technically our fault. Things happen. Deal with it. Life sucks sometimes, doesn't mean you stop living.
Mum wants me to scrape coconuts, gotta rush.

The thing that we had going

The hellos to all those who've been wondering where the nag's gone. She was finally busy attending college!! It feels so good to be back to the old routine of having something other than another day at home to look forward to after 3 months spent that way.
Anyway, as I write this, I'm not in such a great mood after all. Reason being only one totally uncomplicated one: Love-aria!
It doesn't matter confessing to it here, considering the guy concerned knows himself now, but I do wish everything were different right now. We're back to being friends and all laughing around and all, but there come these pangs of missing him. In every sense of the term. When I miss a person, I get very restless, and cranky. Here, I'm missing him being actually, physically present, talking rubbish, making me laugh with his queer wisecracks, having that pensive look for a fraction of a second. That's the usual stuff. Then I realised what else I missed about him.
It's very primitive, but I have a thing with smells, just the way I have a thing with numbers: I identify smells to places, incidents and people. They don't have to be a particular smell, like how can one describe a smell anyway? It's the ideas that come along, you relate stories and memories to smells. It's the feeling it gives you.
I wouldn't know what he smells of, but the scent reminds me of mangoes, and rain. And new notebooks, new shoes. It's a combination of all my favourite smells. It's a smell that reminds me of sitting late on the benches talking about people and schools. Carrom powder to an extent. It reminds me of knees touching, playing footsie when no one can notice, kicking each other and the expression on everyone else's face when where everything is normal and quiet, we suddenly start laughing because of something only both of us find funny.
He smells of a guy grown up, and ready to do what it takes to wipe the person he likes off her feet. The idea of which gives me butterflies the size of dinosaurs in my stomach.
And that's it. I wonder how long it will take me to get out of this, but I'll take my time anyway. Adios.

The four rolling months,

Third consecutive day of intensive blogging. Yeah I am addicted.
This is the last day of my summer vacation, and like everone so kindly reminds me time and again, the last day of the last and longest vacation for a very long time now. So here's a list of things I thought I'd land up doing and posted at the beginning of the summer.
A lot of things done and not, have a look at the original post here.

1. Fell left out and alone.: First thing that usually happens to me, and this time, it didn't! Thanks to Manasi, Shri, Deepa, Vivek, Clarence, Collin and Hormazd being around whenever I needed them, I've had the best vacation ever. We're officially a gang!
2. Get excited thanks to some holidaying hopes, and then get them crushed.: Something my mother excels at. I was promised a 4 day holiday at Mahabaleshwar, which (tadaa!) didn't happen, and here I am. Though the travelling was compensated by awesome outings in Mumbai, thanks to Manasi and the rest of the gang.
3. Fall in love (this can wait. this vacation, i've had a very nasty bout of that).:But you know me. It wasn't falling in love, it was falling hell lot deeper into love. Check this, and this and even this..and this, which will make minimum sense, but was written in the same mood. Heartbreaks happen; live with them or die.
4. Have some major fall-outs with friends: Not all that major, but I really didn't keep in sincere touch with the college lot. The rest have been woven into my daily life. The building lot, the classes lot, and by the end of the vacation, even the school lot. Of course one gang from school I totally have no clue about, but they don't matter anyway.
5. Get into trouble because of food (yepo, and no other specimen of my species shows this trait).: Yeah, did that too.It so happens that I've lost only 5 kilos in 4 months, and my mother is out with a butcher's knife to make me realise what trouble I'm asking for when I keep binging. Ooh I like the word 'binging', like Chandler 'Bing'ing. Okay, plain stupid.
6. Strengthen some bonds (friends,hair et cetera): Yeah, to risk being overtly repetitive, friends have just got a whole lot closer. But I won't say the same about my hair. I've had a bad hair fortnight, if something like that exists. Read this, for details.
7. Coax dad into buying me a new cellphone (but i'm happy with this one, may try iPod now): They rendered my cellphone useless. The battery won't charge. The earphones won't work. All because some idiotic panel went super-sensitive and decided to ditch me for a summer I so needed the music through. But trouble started sometime in later June, so not much of a loss. Though I do think the 'coaxing Dad' part's about to start.
8. Smile and blush. and blush myself silly. and still smile.: Happened alright, again, refer to the lovey-dovey entries, tired of providing hyperlinks to the same thing. Places I won't ever forget: Worli sea-face, Juhu, my bedroom (dude, there was a whole lot of us doing nothing immoral, if you must know!).
9. Fall sick...the 'flu thing.: yeah just once, but it was there. Making its mighty presence being felt for a total of 4 days. Yay. Seriously.
10. Learn nothing.: Naah, I learnt a huge number of songs, lessons in falling in love, some good dance, how to write articles- both of which you could read about here. I'm a grown-up girl now. And trust me, I still have a lot to learn.

I'm content. And happy. More content though. Dedicating the last lines to
1. The person without whom a summer like this was way down the impossible lane than ever, and thanks for everything, specially for saying things at the right time: "Time heals all wounds."
2. The one person who makes me argue with myself, and talk to myself, and wonder if I really am alright. It's been the most used line in the past 3 months. Here's to you, for saying things the way you say them: "It isn't's me."


This post is primarily to clear out a few misconceptions people have about me. Though I'm really sure no one who's supposed to read this is doing so, I'm still doing it. The 'Psst!' column, for the first time is a mix-up of people.
This won't make sense to all my fellow bloggers who have no clue what the last week had in store for me, and how I've sailed through it. A note for those who're still reading: Comment, please, on similar reasoning, and how yu'd like to justify yourself more often. Don't hesitate because you haven't been given the entire story.

Scribe's finally broken her own misconceptions about accepting and expressing her feelings. Not learnt the entire lesson, but the semester has commenced. Now, with the help of Dostini, Saxxxy and Lambodar, she's managing to keep her smile on.
Dostini finds Scribe's action gutsy, something she herself wouldn't have ever dared to do. Scribe begs to differ; what happened was an accident, though it was bound to happen on some later date. But the fact remains that Scribe's finally taken responsibility of her own actions, and this time, the consequences are something she least bothers about, with all her intentions really charted well.
Saxxxy finds it hilarious that Scribe should've done something like that. Apart from the teasing that she constantly subjects Scribe to, Saxxxy also makes sure she's always around for moral support. Scribe herself is pretty unmoved by her own actions, and the carelessness that was the reason. But if the support she received from Saxxxy were to waver, she'd have been a lot less confident.
Lambodar is the surprise element in this event. He's the shoulder Scribe chooses to rub off at as his opinion means the world to her. He however presumes that Scribe's embarassed because of what has happened. No, she isn't. She's just anxious about the outcome. She isn't confused either, Lambodar. She knows what she wants, and couldn't be more sure.
Perennial Smarty is something every psychiatrist should have a good look at. He defines confused. He's kept himself away from the scene, just when he's needed the most. Scribe gets a quintal of butterflies in her stomach when she thinks about even facing him. But since both sound pretty normal to each other, the scene's a cool one. Scribe's waiting for a reaction, though she knows what she's in for.
Dabba and Branded are out of the did-you-know-it circle, unhappily. They'd rather be oblivious than uninvolved, but life's not fair. So long as Scribe's not confident about letting them in on the secret, or not, they're staying far, far away from the scenario.

Moral of the story: everyone's in on the big secret, though not everyone's sure what it is!!

Little somethings

It's been a very eventful week. The outcome hasn't been to clear, but all the same, the determination, or rather the obstinacy to stay all smiling has pulled me through. Adrenaline rushes rule the roost, while it's getting tougher to hold back emotions. Okay, getting to the point, here's something I came up with.

There's a little something
I should've said a while ago
But a little part of me
Still doesn't want you to know

About the butterflies I get
When you're here
How you fog up my head
When you're here

And I can't blame you for taking me away
From where I am when you're here

I try to catch your eye and let myself go
I try to be by your side without letting you know
And when you nudge me outta my dream about you
I see you smiling in my reality too
Don't wake me now
Don't let the dream disappear
The dream that I dream
When you're here

The times we pretend we'd do without the other
Ones when we pretend we couldn't be bothered
The blood ion my cheeks that lights up my eyes
The fire in your heart that turns mine into ice

Let's pretend we're alone
Let's pretend things aren't still clear
But deep down I know you can still hear
Those little things my heart says when you're here.


It's official: forbidden timings are the ones where I'm most creative. I didn't have any mad urge to write since 10pm. Dude, here's something I really wanted to talk about, and taking full advantage of the fact that the person it concerns isn't a reader in any way (no, literate, but not interested in reading), I'm using this page liberally as my diary, which, under saner and less dozed conditions I wouldn't have.
So, the reason "Hell's painted itself pink" (to quote Nutee), is that I am somewhere in like-going-to-love stage. It's the guy who
Aug '03:I didn't want to fall for
Mar '04:fell for
Dec '05:fell out of
Jun '06:hated
Jan '07:scorned
Jul '07:pitied
Dec '07:considered (like what the hell is that, anyway?)
Jan '08:tried to ignore
Feb '08:didn't want to fall for
Mar '08:(tadaa!) fell for.
That's how tightly he was packed into my schedule. Like there are these characters you so know your life would be better without. But nay, you just want the pain to start, the wound to burn. Like Dettol down those knee bruises, geddit?
To quote a few lines from a song long forgotten by public memory, but thoroughly etched in my mind as something that vividly describes how I usually feel:
"Abhi Koi Dil Main Jashn Hua Hain
Abhi Koi Taza Zakhm Mila Hain
Abhi Khamoshi Bhi Khamosh Si Hain
Ke Koi Mujhko Soch Raha Hain"

I am a happy girl, all the time, I can't go frowning all day long. Yeah life has its share of awful days, but I'm the type, if there is a type, who doesn't really care. It's the smile on my own face that keeps me insanely happy. It's the maddening will to laugh at myself. I am a happy girl, because I know that happy lies only where you can see it. No one other than yourself can keep you happy.
But there are these times, like once a month, when I take things to heart. When I want to differ from the 'I'm-always-thinking-and-measured-and-calm' sorts, who has her arrogant obstinacy numero uno on priorities. Like, I think with my heart. I want to be Like theother girls around me, the painful, crazy want of attention, and maybe, even love.
Here's yet another secret. I'm scared of that word 'love', like, shit scared of using it. I don't think anyone will ever fall in love, at least now. At least with me. Stupid, childish complex, I know. But it's there, nothing doing. My close friends who know what's in my head try to get me speak the word; but I can't. It's not love, I know it. May be that I'm not giving my feelings the respect they deserve, the credit for maturity they have gained. May be that I still think I'm frivolous. And fickle. The part where you are ready to give up anything for someone else, and not ask something in return comes to me all too easily since a long time now. When I say I choose my friends, I mean it. Not a single betrayal, any sign of distrust, or any cracks. I don't even give the person an opportunity to do that. So if at all I'm not friends with anyone anymore, it's because we've just fizzed out. I choose my friends so that I know what I have asked for. So 'sacrifice', as so many like to put it, is no problem.
This guy happened on such a day. I allowed him a crack; he dug a tunnel. Given a choice, I'd have kept my distance those days, and not given on the vibe that it may be time to start being friends now. Which we never were. So here I'm faced with a sample where I feel like the one being controlled, and the other one is that arrogant brat who, as my closest friend puts it, "is just unapologetic about what he is. A case of confident take me as I am or leave me". What bewildered me all this while, is what makes him that way. The kind who can hold your gaze for just long enough till it's about to reach the friend's warm timeline, and lets go before that moment. Why he still can't qualify as my friend. What makes him any different from the other guys I have liked.
The thing is, I know what's lined up for me next. I can feel it. It's heartbreak. Cold and terrible. It's the kinda pain you can't describe. If you knew me anywhere personally, I hate not having a reason for something. Headaches, Maths solutions, weather forecasts, mythology. I need a reason to stop the questions in the brain. So when hurt comes, it's not just what they call heart, the pain is in the pit of the stomach for starters, but after that it's in every corpuscle, every cell. It doesn't spare you anything. It's just something that doesn't have a sound reason.
A little bit of reasoning could've prevented the situation totally. Had I not tried to close my brains that day and allow the stupid cardio-maniac to work out things for me, I'd have been less preoccupied, more attentive, less moody, more involved.
I keep saying stupid things these days, he thinks I'm drunk all the while. Giggling goes on for hours, little spurts of irrelevant and unnecessary giggles don't stop. I don't know if it's just me, but we're closer now. Physically? Perhaps. Emotionally? I am.
There are two very basic issues I have with falling for this fellow.
1. He's never going to fall for me, which is kinda a non-issue, as I really don't expect anyone to. It's their life, what I feel for them is pretty much the last of their worries. Poeple don't have to like those who feel different for them. Moreover, I'm tending to ugly to look at, and there's hardly much beyond that guys consider. At least the kinda guy he shows up to be.
2. The last time hurt. It was 3 heartbreaks spaced out in a year, like, major ones, and now that I already know he likes someone else, it's only gonna hurt more if I put myself deeper into this. I didn't even consider looking at anyone else the last time. I suppose I must've changed over the years, but I really don't want to take chances. I'm not that consciously insane.
Oh and by the way, here's a link to a very relative poem (thanks there, you made feel a lot better).
Till tomorrow then. This is gonna be a long teenage.

My haircut.

My haircut was free of cost. That artist took me in as a model; well not the slim and trim (ha ha ha) model, the bakra you make sit for 30 minutes so that you can try new haircuts on him/her. So, anyway, she takes me to Khar, to some sidey salon, and she cuts my hair for two hours.
A prologue here: my hair was, before the disaster, 5 inches long at the pinnacle of its length. So a haircut meant, as I told the girl very clearly, that she reduce it to a minimum of 4 inches.
Apparently she hears everything in halves or doubles. So instead of the hair going to 4 inches in half an hour, it goes to 2 inches in an hour.
I kept asking her to not make it too short. But you know these girls, a Sony-Ericsson in their ears makes them 80% deaf. She kept nodding, and when she was done, I was fuming. I looked like the Scribe I remember 8 years back. Even then I wasn't that much of a pleasant sight.
Being the decent, patient person I am, I decided 15 kilometres wasn't all that a favourable place to throw a tantrum.
So, you suffer, dearest bloggie.

Here's todays schedule anyway.

7.45 am: Wakey
8.15 am: Running
9.30 am: Beautician comes over
11 am: She finishes, after 5 10 minute long phone calls.
3 pm: I leave for Khar
4.30 pm: I reach Khar, courtesy a random acquaintance of beautician who meets her at the station.
5.15 pm: I sit for the Cut
6.45 pm: she's finally done with it
8.30 pm: She packs up with Dostini and Saxxxy, equally bored yet calmer.
8.45 pm: I'm running the marathon so that I can collect my cellphone.
9.15 pm: After the cell still not being repaired, I walk off to meet Dostini and Saxxxy who're buying Perennial's cake.
9.30 pm: We leave Vile Parle for home
9.45 pm: We reach the building
10.15 PM: Perennial already knows about the surprise, so we make a few changes, only to revert to plan A

And if everything goes well, half an hour from now, Dabba, Saxxxy and Dostini will be here with the cake, ready to go to Perennial's place for the ritualistic 'surprise'.


The update ticker's back:

1. Scribe's become all cranky, girlish, troublesome- something she missed as a preteen, and she seems to want it all back. I see trouble.
2. Dostini's having tough schedules, hasn't had space to breathe since the time her exams started. Big Sis came and went, and Dostini's still in the panting act. But she's expected to be back to normal (which is what exactly?) anytime now. One person who deserves a vacation, that one.
3. Dabba'a back! wooohoooo! so regardless of what time it is, what season, who died, there's still someone to bore! She's grinning more, runs off into her brain-made Kerala sometime in the middle of the conversation, and then loses overall track of what's being said. Kerala has that effect on people.
4. Lambodar's dislocated his toe. He had a surgery today, and it was hurting him. It hurts to see him in pain, seriously, Scribe wanted to weep.
5. Saxxxy Rakhi's reinstated her love- Japani. Studying has started with new vigour, and so has her friendship with the very naive Bratvita. No one's complaining though, till the time Saxxxy weeps, Vita's gotta be cautious of her words.
6. Perennial Smarty's hardly around, needless to say, that explains Scribe's frowning. College, office, miss the bugger. Birthday coming up on Saturday. Wonder what its gonna be like (***silly giggle in formation stage***).
7. Branded's cuter than ever! Yeah, he's back, and cheek-pulling will continue till the time he finally shakes Scribe off. Dostini's taking up Tamil coaching from him.

That's us.

Radhika the Seer's Observations and conclusions

On the way back from school three years back, the thinker snaps into action. the effect: was never pleasant.
To my friends who I barely managed to stay with, with the exception of Hormazd, here's to your creepy features!

okay..i dunno wat gt in2 me 2de,bt i ws really in2 sum wierd r a few of them...

FACT}---why gaurav patel has such cute dimples.

THEORY}---gaurav nvr talks it cn b assumed tht he doesnt open his mouth much.therefore since there is hardly ne circulation of air inside his mouth a vacuum is created there.nature has a tendency to occupy vacuum.hence his cheeks get sucked right in2 his mouth n therefore, the dimples.

DOC'S ADVISE}---keep ur holy mouth shut.ur dimpies r the best thing abt u.

FACT}---why nyrica is so fair.

THEORY}---during her bachpan, as in 'childhood',nyrica used to hav lots n lots of water.water as u kno is the universal because of the increasing proportion of water in her body, the melanin, as in the pigment in the skin tht gives the skin watever colour it has, got dissloved in the water.hence, no melanin, no promised color.n they'd rather say fair instead of colourless.

DOC'S ADVISE}---eat chocolate.might help.

FACT}---why pankti has dark circles.

THEORY}---pankti , like the above specimen nyrica, also has a tendncy to drink lots of water.the water she drinks however does not reach her eyes n the area around it.this is bcoz of her height.the force of gravity pulls all the water consumed by this figure (or monument) of height 5'7" to da ground.hence the concentration of water is not uniform all over her metabolism.also, thanks to her braces, the water reacts wid the ferrum n produces ferric oxide (or shall v call it rust???)hence, the sensitive area around those brown eyes nvr recieves the fair n intended share of water.hence the melanin does nt get properly diluted as like in the other parts of her body.hence dark, n darkening circle.

DOC'S ADVISE}---sit more.therefore the entire body is more uniformly influenced by the gravitational force.

FACT}---why hormazd is

THEORY}---u kno its not really all his fault.since the earthquake took place, the north pole has shifted southwards by 2 inches.hence the magnetic field of the earth has also gone instead of growing in the north-south direction, horzy grows east-west.

DOC'S ADVISE}---nothing.just pray ur best for the next earthquake.

Radhika the Shrink's Making brains easier to understand!

Written at the age of 14!!

HUMAN BRAINS have the following sections

(N.B.::this note will help students distinguish smartly between female & male brains.)

I::FEMALE SPECIES..........homo sapiens sapiens
CEREBELLUM---->Debating continuously on whether the guy likes her.
CEREBRUM CORTEX---->Whether or not she will look good when she says this this way.
MEDULLA OBLONGATA---->His friend isn't all that bad either....

II::MALE SPECIES..........homo sapiens sapiens
CEREBELLUM---->That schwazernegger movie is out this weekend,which car does he have this time?/Nick's new gameboy is so.....
CEREBRUM CORTEX---->How should I set my hair today,spikes or filmi?
MEDULLA OBLONGATA---->Nick's sister is okay,rather cool timepass.Quite a chick actually...wonder if she's dating anyone currently??

Kindly note:This study was viewed by 7 members of both species mentiond above,and it has been established by the clear look of horror on their faces that MY STUDY IS SO ABSOLUTELY TRUE!!!!!

Boys will be boys.

My brother (extreme right) with his chaddi buddies on the benches.
I've learnt my lesson. Watch football only if you want to, not because your crush likes it. Do not pretend to support a team, just because that's the only team of which you know more than 15% of the players. And yes, football is not worth ruining your morning walk, or playing to have no fever at 101 d.f.
Like, my bro and dad are in the living room watching the match between Italy and Spain, each multitasking; dad's designing the new house, Rahul's eating Maggi. I stood the absolutely disinterest for 66 minutes, and then I gave up. It really isn't any point sitting there waiting for something to happen. So here goes my theory: a game with no goal scored by either sides will be boring (ho hum), as none of the teams are as wild about winning. But the second the other team scores a kickie, the game catches on the zing, because no matter what, this team doesn't want the antagonists to win. What a spendid theory. Bravo bravo (Blame that on 3 glasses of Tropicana Twister and 5 hours of sleep in the last 48).
How those guys up there endure the kick-here-kick-there show is a question loaded with several replies.
"Dude! It's football! How can you not watch it!"
"Chhod, you're a girl", what the pup!!! So??
"Arre it's God's game re. You need to be wild about it"...There goes, why?
"It's better than your FRIENDS at least!"...Objection. Sustained!
"I breathe that game!"...For one and a half hours? Oral odour buggie.
And then there come these guys who wear jerseys all the pupping time. Dude, I mean, why? Okay, most of them are really cute Xaviers maal (no, Clarie, not you), but then, do I wear the Team India shirt? Or the SDIPA? They have it on them wherever they go. College, playground (fair enough), birthday parties. You call such guys the 'Fanatics'. Yet these are the same chauvinists who'd blame their gf's for wearing pink more than twice a day. Hypocrites.
And it comes to you big time when they start fighting over their clubs. I'm sure Cristiano has a bloody good idea of what Daison and Pranoy think of him. It's not just in the friends' circle, I have a pair of cousins who've stopped talking because one is a ManUtd worshipper and the other a Chelsea junkie. Seriously?
What bugs me the most from all of this is that when someone gets their facts wrong about a club, any club, these Fanatics laugh at you. Make you feel like an ignorant ferret. A llama. Isn't it 'oh-so-pupping-funny' when I say Rooney plays for Real? Well okay, that's grave, but get the idea. They act as if you deserve the gallows for such a thing. Pronounce 'Baar-kaa' instead of 'Baar-saa' for Barcelona and they glare at you. Dude, here's a really well known thingy. We know a lot more about things other than cars, football and bikes than you do, things that actually help you survive. So the next time you give me the 'you-so-bloody-stupid' look, save your muscles. I'll start.
Here's what. I think guys (guys here, because girls are properly considerate towards other equal beings who know one thing less than the average girl) who live football, are downright faggots. I like everything in moderation, like you care, but if you're breathing football while even making out, I'll find a nice boy for you. All caring, and sweet and delicate. Stay happy, Prince Charming with the football, I'm searching for a guy!
For the eligible football-nuts, ignore the post.
And goodnight, I've got a match to watch.


Wotcher. I was going through Chris' bloggie baby, and saw that I'd been tagged with the same post he put up eons ago. So, I decided I'd put up what I'd put up then. Whatever. An important notice before you start reading: This was filled up when I was 15, so a lotta views have changed since. Hence it is bound to be half as inetersting as the other entries. You dare contradict that.

1.Grab the book nearest to you, turn on page 18 and find line 4.’(i)hydrogen displacement method: This method is suitable for’

2.Stretch your left arm out as far as you can

RDB DVD, some kinda jewellery box

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
about croc hunter..too bad he died.

4.Without looking, guess what time it is?
Thats easy: 9.45pm? yes yes yeeeeeeessssss

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?

7. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
went down to manasi’s

8.Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
somebody else’s answers to this survey..

9. What are you wearing?

Tracks,grey shirt

10. Did you dream last night?

pretty weird 1…something about my tuition teacher ,my mum,smiley, n me…

11. When did you last laugh?

yesterday at teacher’s day celebration in school.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
a calendar,a mirror,a pic of flamingoes..

13. Seen anything weird lately?


15.What is the last film u saw?


16. If you became a multimillionaire overnight, what would you buy
a home gym,Innova

17. Tell me something about you that I dunno.
I never make eye contact with my crushes.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?

Let ‘em all kno wat a @#$% bush is n stop America’s imperialism

19. Do you like to dance?

20. George Bush...

can eat dung.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
meera,or mebbe alisha or priyanka

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?

Aditya..even if my second's a boy i'll name him name..but i know really goofy people called that.

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?


24.What do you want GOD to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
Get in quick, the party’s just started…

25. People who may do this memo in their journal.

Oh crappity crap. I'm glad my style of writing evolved. So here goes, again, questions copied from Chris. It's like you start your mp3 player,keep it on shuffle, and whatever the next question is, your answer has to be the next song. If you don't geddit, I'm not explaining.

1. If someone says "Is This Okay?" you say?
Pehla nasha, Pehla khumaar- JJWS
I’m some creep na!

2. What would best describe your personality?
Vulnerable-Secondhand Serenade
sheeeeeshhh what timing yaar…

3. What do u like in a guy/girl?
Carnival of Rust-Poets of the fall
Must be some robot I’m in love with..

4. How do u feel today?
How to save a life-The Fray
Yes, sir. I’m a DIY manual as of today. May turn into Fountainhead tomorrow.

5. Whats your life's purpose?
Does your mother know?-ABBA
Seriously, no offense.

6. What is your motto?
Zara zara-RHTDM
Uuurgh…I’m not that way.

7. What do your friends think of you?
Welcome to the Black parade-MCR
Yeah dude, that’s mah gang huh..doncha mess with mah boys..

8. What do u think of your parents?
Powerless!-Nelly furtado
Whoa Nelly! You rock!

9. What do u think about very often?
Risque- Cute is what we aim for
Pretty please.

10. What is 2+2??
Unwell-Matchbox Twenty
Mathematics makes me SICK

11. What do u think of your best friend?
What I go to school for!-Busted
My best friend’s not too happy with that one…

12. What do you think of the person U like?
Jeet lenge haan!-Agnee theme for roadies…
Goes for the guy I like…

13. What is your life story?
Time of your life-Nimrod.

14. What do u want to be when you grow up?
Ankhiyaan na maar-Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena
Abstinence, I be you.

15. What do think when you see the person u like?
Naagin- Decibel
He’s gonna love this!!

16. What do ur parents think of you?
Breath-Breaking Benjamin
They decided to do pranayam whenever they saw me.

17. What will you dance to at your wedding?
My folk are planning for honour-killings.

18. What will they play at ur funeral?
Mera pehla pehla pyaar-MP3
I’m one lucky girl.

19. What is your hobby/Interest?
Do dil mil rahe hai- Pardes
Setting-vetting karneka

20. What is your biggest secret?
Deewana tera- Sonu Nigam
Yeah like that’s So my big secret

21. What do u think of ur friends?
Kal ho na ho- Title track
No guys, please, lemme explain…

22. What would u post this as?
Aankhon mein tera hi chehra- Aryans.
I wouldn’t for heaven’s sake!

So, that's that. Thanks again, CRD!

That HSC-passed kid in my house.

For the first time, after a very long time, I'm signing into this very sacred page. The last entry being on..lemme see...OMG!!13th May!I've grown a month and lost 2 kilos since!!
So here goes...I'm freelancing for Education Times! And I love what I write*!Man, it's been a long month..ranging from being one of those education agony aunts on, I've just come to realise that more people have really stranger things on their mind than you could possibly have yourself. Like half of them keep asking me if their marks are good enough. I don't think so, but I'll be sacked if my moderators (yeah, they keep a check on my wisecracks-repression of freedom of expression) find out I'm being downright nasty to someone. Don't worry, Anuradha/Panna/Barin**...I love you guys!
I've also been writing a few articles. Three actually, one being an interview. No, I don't make up stuff; I actually interviewed someone. So there's the point of word-limit, content, context, quotes, being politically correct. It's this thing I can't stand about writing for someone: being told what to write. That's why I take comfort in this blog (sob sob). Mera pyaara blog.
Also, I am just so bursting to say this, I went to Bandstand for the first time yesterday. And before any one of you's answering all your doubts:
1.Yes, the first time
2.Yes, I'm from Mithibai
3.No, not even in the FYJC.
4.No, not even with friends.
5.No, it wasn't a date.
6.Yes, believe me, the first time.
So this chap I went with, my closest pal, I'd met him after three months. He's down with malaria, is having just as sucky a lovelife as me (though the difference is, he has a love life, and you know me), and is the usual say-three-things-in-a-sentence-that-aren't-related bugger. Yet, he makes the time to get out of his bed to meet you (point is, I'd run away from home to meet him!) no matter what. But when you love a guy (now, that means, the way you love a guy because he's the closest friend, most comforting sample existent) the way I do him, all you care about is if he'll be okay the next minute. He was. Considering he tried blowing bubbles in the freshlime soda we ordered with his nose through the straw. No, the fever's not got to his head, he's just that way.
Also, the loss of my kitten. Or our kitten. Simba found his way into our lives when one fine evening Collin decides to play with the stray. And we all fell in love with him, the cat, that is. So then, I was mamma- at home, caring, with time to spare, give him stuff to eat, take him to the vet, Collin was dadda- the proverbial I'm-just-for-spoiling-you-when-I-get-back-home-from-work type, Shri's the loving aunt, Clarie the coochie-cooing Uncle, and Gigi the Godmother, who would sit alone for hours with Simba when his mum was out. And last Sunday, there's no kitten. We searched the building for hours. But no signs of Simba. He's probably run away, to be in the wishful side. The horrid part is Shri's dad thought he heard a cat-fight sometime around midnight. So there could be anything. My first baby ran away. That's the sad part about cats, they're ungrateful. I loved my baby! (mushy mushy)
I'm running around for admissions. If you have any notion of what being an HSC passed student applying to colleges for graduation means in Mumbai, you'll know what I mean. For those who don't, here's an idea:
8.30 am:Andheri to Bandra
10 am:Bandra to Vile Parle
10.45 am: Vile Parle to Bandra
12.15 pm:Bandra to CST
2.30 pm:CST to Churchgate
3 pm: Churchgate to Mahalakshmi
5.15 pm: Mahalakshmi to CST
6.30pm: CST to Andheri
Then you get stuck in the traffic at Pump House, and what could be a journey of 30minutes on foot takes you an hour and half by BEST. 339, at that. But seriously, I enjoyed it. May I also add, that this all was taken care of by me, with my chappals breaking twice (thanks, Linking Road), and one instance when before my last train journey from CST, the mochi at the corner himself (may you never go hungry) calls me to his stall. I was too zonked to think of anything but food.
So, that is what my day is made up of. Well, like any other writer, I've given you the description of just the most tiring day, but the others were moderately pleasant, with the Mumbai-special Rain Gods sparing me their wrath.
So that's the month that was. The reason I wasn't all that kaam-dhanda-less as usual. Please, pray that I get through at Xaviers. My marks sucked, I didn't contemplate harm. But if I don't get through at Xaviers, the next entry might be my obituary.
See ya!

*I always loved what I write, I just started getting paid for it!
**The guys who're in charge of us unruly, obnoxious lot.

That dancer boy

I wouldn't have given him a second glance had his earring not glinted under the tubelight the other day. Then I noticed his nose. I'm a nose person. In the sense, if there's any feature i notice the most, it's a person's nose. His was big. It suited his face, even though otherwise it would have looked as if the rest of his features wouldn't have been able to balance it. Then his long neck. Then the football jersey.
I think I'm going to have to force myself out of the jersey fascination. If a dark, tall, cute guy wears it, it's likely I'll be wearing my heart on my sleeve for him. Incidently, even those guys who I've had some romantic interest in and I've never previously seen in football jerseys, land up wearing them. And they either turn up to be Catholic, or Goan..or both.
So this guy, from the elementary level of my dance classes (me in beginners, just promoted to elem!) was in the salsa troupe. generally any girl would whoopeee'd the salsa thing. so did i. and his jersey held up over the skinny frame was worth every whoopeee i let him have. He looked like any of those footbaler guys who need something to do for the vacation only because the headmaster of their school didn't allow them to use the grounds. And then he danced.
total fida, by the way. I kept in touch...he's four days younger to me :D, and Goan!!


La la la dididi lalala
It's been a fun summer so far (read:I'm out of being grounded), and only very few more things can make it more fun.
Story till now:
1. Dostini's studying full-swing. If she gets more padhaako,i'm gonna have to start calling her Hermione Granger. she'd like that,daresay. she's coming with me for the Shiamak friends' special. Yayyy!!
2.Saxxxy Rakhi's gonna convert to Japanism. Implies, now she's eating with chopsticks and relishes lizards and bugs. She devoured a live snake in one go the other day. Russell's viper, at that. cool na?
3.Dubbed's still in Mallu gaao. i miss having her omnipresence around. Like she's never not there. SMS's occasionally come this way.
4.Branded. I'm missing him like never before, specially since the Madhavan-Vidya Airtel ad. Maddy leaks Branded. Damn i miss that super sweet bugger. Come back!!
5.Lambodar's back. He's had a helluva time in Goa. keeps beaming all through. Lucky bugger. I'm running off with him the next time. There's a talk of a Karaoke bar. oooooooooohhhhhh.
6.Perennial Smarty***trying hard to keep a straight face***. I hate weekdays. He's never around for carrom. I can't monopolize without that guy. okay, fine. No i'm not giggling.

As happy goes...

Alright I'm in that bad a mood that i actually copy pasted this bit of what i thought was 'Puurrrr'-fect for the occassion when you feel so lost out on yourself your creativity is limited to starting to appreciate what some fellow 'really-bugged-and-mentally-troubled' person has written in as much a crappy mood as you are to read the whole thing.
The result? I feel better thinking that i may not be the lamest creature about to be extinct. Crappy posts do 2 things to your self-regard:
1.They boost your self-esteem when you tell yourself,"what a mushy,candy-floss brained moron so-snd-so is to write such glib" realise that life's not fair to a whole lot of least, another one person who's probably been through the same thing you have, but not as severe since he/she was absolutely capable of thinking beyond the hurt and expressing it. so, your feelings are deeper!you have what can save the world...Sensitivity!
See?I'm better already!though i still feel i should post this bit, hope some maha-bugged/hurt/angry/ripped fellow can read this and appease that murder-intent mind.

(Quoting from the orkut profile of a certain Prabhjot Virk..yes,roadies loveroos, that's the one)

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love!!!!!"