Thank You, Blimey Mighty Morons *Burp* (TYBMM 'B')- Part 2

Post-ACS, life seens a little less worthless and a little more breathy. This next set of dedications is to the next lot of colourful people, who flitted in and out of my continuously moving mind frame. Also, I figured that many of you guys may have no inclination to know what I think of you. So don't read it. But if any of you don't want me to write about you (sorry, the 10 of you published cases, but that's the tragedy of having the respective last names), please call me up and tell me. Of course, it does get to my discretion and how much you have pleased me and my appetite for the past 2 years, but give it a try, I may be in an exceptionally forgiving mood.
Meanwhile, suffer.

2008.3.066- Trupti Mistry aka Bench-chhod-na!
Uhmm, confession, you first reminded me of Shweta Tiwary- good or bad, you decide. The long tresses, the drama queen eyes and the highly animated speeched made me confident that if I die an early death (back then this thought came up during C.P. Sharma's lectures), then someone can carry on my legacy of wildly gesturing in the class. Though not as wildly, but yes- you're always a strong contender for that one. Be it dance, the endless presentation rehearsals you've had with yourself or the integrity with which you once cornered Ankit (Yessir, you appear again- though why Trupti fought with you I forgot) and blasted him, you've got spark, woman! The frustrated answers and the eye-rolling add to the glory. My favourite memory of you? "Mera portfolio le na!" I was wondering what made you think that I was THAT good, but for a Dairy Milk? Anything!

2008.3.067- Prerna Mukherjee aka BongBrains
Singularly the calmest, nicest, and most mature girl through FY and SY. Of course, the others existed, but you're calm waters. My memory of you starts before I even met you. Now, stop thinking if you're getting the wrong ideas, but apparently our mothers shared a rick from UPG to Bhavans in the long-forgotten admission days. Ah what a cosmic connection! Then you start springing the surprises. 1. You sing! The calm, soothing tone was pretty supportive of that. 2. You're part-time training to be an airhostess. Dude! Talk air! I'm an Air India baby and anything related to aviation and I feel like we've bonded (Bong-ded for you..uhm, not funny enough, na?) well bonded for centuries. And then comes the final 'oh-my-god-this-woman's-awesome' strike...street hiphopper, and Shiamak's first privileged external faculty? Thou takest the crown, mahn! I sincerely miss the 'theek-aahe-aahe-mee' girl of my class.

2008.3.068- Neel Nagda aka SMS-Scream
Probably a memory you'd never wanna relive, but I remember what you had to do when the ragging session was on! Trust me, the entire, go-down-and-propose idea was too mushy for imagination, and when you went down to the ever-colourful Rashmi, I wriggled in my seat. Not because I didn't like the combo/feeling etc, just because the live version was a thousand times mushier with a guy whose hair I couldn't make sense of doing it. And I still can't figure your hair out, so yeah. You weren't exactly talkative, but I never missed the live version thanks to....SMS! Kahaan kahaan se kis time par KYA message bhejta tha! All mushy looouuu wala texts, and JUST when I'm expecting someone's important text or really looking forward to sleep, or almost asleep and wake up with a start...I tried being immune to the timings, but nope, 12.05 am, Neel Nagda HAS to flash (the name, doofus) across my screen. Still, that's made you sorta immortal in my world of texting, so cheers :)

2008.3.069- Ankita Palan aka Palan
Of course, thanks to your namesake, you didn't have a variety in a nickname, but hey, neither did I. Well, the pioneer of vocals in the Mini-Gujarat society of TYBMM, you've made one entertaining package through these years. The dramas, then the contact lenses, and the kickass eksent- it shall live in our hearts. And our ears, but yeah, hearts being more important. The media planning project is the only one I remember, honestly, where we've worked together ("What a conincidence", said Shobhna, "Radhika and Radhika, Ankita aand Ankita!" ha ha) you're someone who I'll always related to songs, and for some random reason, Asha Parekh. I don't know why! Aur ek secret bataau? It took me a lot of time to figure the difference between you, Prachi (Patli waali) and Manali.

2008.3.070- Khyati Panchmatia aka Karaari Nachaniya
The agitated tigress. The vocal lion. And the stern teacher- add to it "Yeh bola hai, yeh masst bola hai"- and you have the most eccentric genius of TYBMM. You weren't there in FY, so no apologies for not remembering you! But when you say SY- the orientation zooms into view. Baawre and Powerless were not only eye-openers for your talent, experience and expertise, but about aspects of recognising people's attitudes as well. How you pulled any of the Orientations off is a wonder. Also, the major part- and I used to get MIGHTY ticked off because of this- The laughter and the distraction during everyone else's presentation, which was NEVER taken in good spirit when you were subject to it! Dude! Relax! Besides, we've never had a maar-peet with Sagar before. You, dear girl, gave my class a lot of firsts, and I'm proud of that.

So much for now, the next darlings will star in the next issues depending on how the hormones work around me. Pray for my papers, and subsequently, I'm sure yours will shine too.

Thank You, Blimey Mighty Morons *Burp* (TYBMM B)- 1

My friends. This is a series of posts to be continued over time, and with due regard to the writer's mood. This one is written in a good one, so enjoy it.

This is one of those dream blogposts every blogger wants to write- not this exact topic, but everyone who writes has this ambitious goal of one topic they simple HAVE to write about.
Mine's a tribute to my friends.
Trust me, I've trashed three of the lamest attempts at poetry in trying to write this one. I know I've dedicated a million notes to a million people, but this is for those who stuck through from Day One on Planet U, and still in the grind with me. This is for the legendary, emotional, animalistic TYBMM 'B'.
I know we've had a ride, and on a scale of one to ten, I'd be honest and give it an 8- we could have done so much more, reduced so much from the fun, but just like the score, we weren't perfect. That made you guys a better deal. So I'll go according to your roll-call, so I don't miss out on anyone.
Ready? Here goes.

2008.3.061- Siddharth Kutty aka Kutty
I think it's absolutely unfair that you should go first because (duh) you're the latest addition to the lot. In any case, you're welcome. Trust me, even three days after you'd attended, you'd already attended almost a semester more than the other Mallu in class (Yo, Rahul, you're awesome- but you're at the end :P) TYBMM suddenly got its own chalta-phirta Wikipedia (After encyclopedia, question bank, Mini-Gujarat, Bhaidas). Thou hast enlightened us about two things- 1. Presentations in the third year can still be worth watching (Oh yes, you have been graded real high by most of us who usually throw imaginary smoke bombs at boring presenters) and 2. It's actually not a waste of time standing up to argue with professors. You've got FYBMM back to memory, minus a certain Ms. Casper.

2008.3.062- Sanil Kothari aka Brownie!

The Master of Ceremony, the organiser, the showman. Yes, there was a rough patch in the beginning- but your quirky humour, your costumed presentations and the B-yummies have made you stand out. Well, I confess, I used to connect you to Cakes, at first, then the bright Pink shirt that you wore on Ink&Pink day when you didn't know it was Pink for girls, but somewhere down the line, the sarcasm and the Navi-aunty jokes made us roll in our seats. You're always walking on the knife's egde with that one, but trust me- it's worth the deal. If there's one single memory I'd pin to you, it's blocking you off from Tahira's dhoondhti hui nazarein on the day of our Save Tigers presentation. You added colour (and that pink comes to mind again) to our lectures, and you're hell of a sweet guy, but you know that.

2008.3.063- Sagar Mehta aka 'I-shall-guard-that-secret-nickname-till-the-end-of-time'
I've already told you, a 12-year lapse in conversation made it slightly awkward to be sitting next to you in class again. You were the rebellion leader, ALL the time. Like, to use a crude example or similarity, an autorickshaw union leader. Crude, I repeat- but come on, think about it. "Humaari Maange poori karo, or I'm not co-operating, jo ukhaadna hai ukhaad" Well, the union did get their raise, and you did get the best deals. The perseverence that you put into all your projects, academic and otherwise, is scary. Really. You inspire people to stay up at night trying to get that one spot off the image in photoshop, perfectly. Thank you for taking care of the creatives in all our common projects, and for standing up for what's right. We'll stick it through, all of us- and one day take over the 13th floor of Westin. O&M Baap ka hai (Ankit, patience). Keep talking random stuff at the backseat of Peggy- one day we shall find a music composer for Taught-not-to.

2008.3.064- Sarvangi Mehta aka Maiyya Maiyya
Hah! You can run from Advertising, but you can't hide from TYBMM 'B'. If you're by any way surprised by the nickname, I'm shutting shop. If I remember clearly, Casper put you through the tragedy of singing to a class of wide-eyed co-FY's on the first day- which began your tryst with being forced to ga-ga pretty literally to the class almost all the time. On the first day, it shocked me to see that such a dainty looking damsel could muster such crystalline notes, but after the first three rounds went up only singing Maiyya Maiyya, I was relieved that you also knew the Close-Up 'paas aao na' jingle. And then they both stuck. Maiyya-Paas-Maiyya-Paas. One day, you'll sit me down and tell me what other songs you can sing, but were too pestered by the class to sing them anyway. AND of course, the hot-blooded arguments during presentations. Dude, seriously. I miss the drama, can you shift to Ad for one presentation day?'s journo treating you?

2008.3.065- Tanvi Mishra aka Howtallareyouanyway?

When I wake up in the morning, and am feeling sorta low and down- YOU NEVER HELP! Around you, I think even Ankit (6'3") feels like a commoner. You've been perfect for three years, consistently! Never made a boo boo, never got pathetic marks, never got yelled at by a professor, never said anything too loudly- You're so, well, right! I mean, kids in first grade these days learn opposites, the list goes like Clean x Dirty, Left x Right, Radhika x Tanvi, Dark x Light, and so on! I stand on the desks sometimes just to see how the world must look like to you (btw, you look preddy preddy on TV). The only presentation I remember working with you on was the newspaper scrapbook one. I won't pretend I know you, because I honestly don't, but it was one of the most stable-headed presentations I'd had, even with one newspaper missing and no gum and no sleep. Oh and btw, I also think that your sudden bursts of sarcasm are awesome. Whooohooo to you, O Tall one.

That's it for now, Thank You, Blimey Mighty Morons *Burp* - 2 shall return with more dedications to the inhabitors of the place.

I also have friends in the Thank You, Blimey Mighty Morons *Acchhhoooo* section, but they can wait. Also, code-name for our college is You-Piggy, you-geddit? Nightos.

Sleeptalk? Id Talk?

Pushtiie S, and Yash Raj TV- I'm out to sue you.
Thanks to you, now I'm all sappy and waiting to find a foopid prince charming amidst this clutter of TYBMM all over.
I also now believe that I have an existing, albeit television/fiction, which is NOT fiction, twin.
Besides, you have created the need for a person who I aspire to be married to in someplace I shall aspire to work, who shall be my boss, and not-so-cute at that, in fact- the bachpan-ka-dost/neighbour/knight-in-shining-armour is distinguishably sexier.
Which comes to the worse part- I don't have many bachpan-ka-dost-options thanks to a dance sequence by Their Royal Sathini'd Highness's- Madame Manasi and Shri, that you have zeroed down to make him the hero of your fat baby, who returns after some random number of years. Thou arst dead, after killing me!
The final problem- is that every single day, I spend one whole hour willingly sapping up your make-believe Mahi Way.
Mahi Talwar has done the most random thing I'd written in my bucketlist- she ran away from her own wedding. HOW can you not love her?
Her hair ends in curls. You could have made it straight! Why oh why?
I received 24, repeat- TWENTY FOUR calls on the day this show premiered. I don't get that number for a MONTH under normal circumstances.
I'm a sucker for chocolate. But I'll grant you that- who isn't?
Viraf Patel. *Drrrrooooooooooooooooooool*. Period.
Thin, style-icon, fussy best-friend? Make that two!
WRITER? Couldn't you have made her a kindergarten teacher? A secretary? A COBBLER?
One glaring difference is, DDLJ- No, seriously, can't stand that one.
But it's YRF. Phhbbt.

I'm willing to bet everyone who's watched it knew that they were the Mahi of their own life. Seriously, you need to have that romanticised picture of yourself, to believe in mushy tv soaps. But hey, so what? If believing that there's a cuter life for choice for me makes me an idiot, I'm an idiot.
I totally encourage going all 'Oh-my-God-that's-so-me' in any series. I could be Monica, Mahi and Geet for me, you could be your favourite combo of characters, and the world can be who they want to be. You've gotta know that you're the only one who judges you. So if there're benchmarks, they can be what you like, na?
So my hero's out there, my face and the whole of me will stay a perfect circle, but who defines what perfect is? Is a size zero perfect?
I'm shape zero, take that!
I do believe that one day, Nerds will take over Humankind- I shall oggle at them mercilessly. Till then, we shall all be at the mercy of those perfect sixpacks and slim curves.
It's not about the relativity, but I hate Mahi for making it seem so real. Like I deserve a happy ending, almost fairy tale-like. But why not?
I'm missing the point.
What this series has taught me, or us, is that the perfect you that you can be, is the imperfect you you are. Geddit?
I hate Jassi for becoming all babe at the end of it, it's like saying, nerd is cool- but at the end of the day, chic (and this is no spelling error) wins. But Mahiism says, at the end of the day, burger wins. I like the way it sticks through their ideology consistently. That's important, na?
I'm asking too many questions.
Ramblings of a sleepy mind :P
Good night, world. I have to fall in love with me again. Ciao.


You kinda wonder what is wrong with these girls, you know- statements like 'lets go clubbing sometime etc'... I appreciate the sentiment, really- I started the entire drool business! But there're lines you can't cross.
WHAT am I about, anyway? I just hang around, say a few lines to sound interested, lose interest, and then walk away before I can actually be part of anything. Then I wonder how I land up so lonely.
He was walking towards me, in my day-dream, yesterday. Yup, striding with his million watt smile, appearing suddenly out of nowhere to meet me! Imagine the surprise! And the thought of you turned up, popping right next to me, and again, he vanished. Like I'd feel guilty about nothing. Why do you do that to me? Someone mentioned you in a doze-dream too- and I jumped wide awake. I shall wake till the withdrawal symptoms wear off too, but till then- please stop making it seem impossible for them to.
I hate people who don't deserve what they get, who live with it, and pretend that they deserved it. It's like grabbing something that belonged to me away from me, and then not being able to handle it. I can do better, but will not.
I haven't had orange juice in weeks.
WHY anyone but me should be bothered about my issues, is something I will never know.
Besides, I can forgive liars- cheaters are for someone else to punish.
In a wreckless world with a wounded heart and a stinging truth and no knowledge. Anyone on a suicide mission?
On the brighter side, my belief that not all of my photos are rubbish was confirmed yesterday (or was it the day before that?). Thanks to newly found angles of tilting my face, I've figured how smiling does, like to everyone else, make me look less hideous. Of course, as a result, now I think that I'm among them all.
Friends. And their stories. It's about how seriously we take one another, in th end. And there's a good point, you know, when they say that in the end, it doesn't even matter. Because no amount of pushing about will change what has to happen. So go with the flow, cry when you have to, upset yourself to insanity- because, five years down the line, you won't remember what this felt like.
Yes, I beat myself up too. I can stand in one place, thinking about a past moment for hours, and dehydrate myself of crying. Or I can push away the best of my times, just because I feel like it.
I will, I still will. You will too.
So long as you're happy, you'll stay here. So long as you crave, you will want to stay. And so long as you know you will get what you desire, you'll try harder, fight harder to stay.


A home that lay abandoned
Its tenants strewn aside
The rust claiming its railings
The beauty locked up inside
The home that witnessed growth
Its own and ours as well
A time that was cherished
A story we'd love to tell
No tears can stop the burning
Of the eyes that cared to see
A floor that kept creaking
Like a dusty memory
Who stepped into the garden?
Have you seen the glorious past?
Felt dew dry up on petals?
Was it a spring that didn't last?
What floor suddenly caved in?
What pillar and post gave?
Mirage of a childhood
Under that cement grave
A hum in the splintering steps
That led to a heaven of pride
Who knew what was beyond that?
What secrets the sky would hide?
A tree may stand where once it had
A blade of grass may grow
But the winds will never sweep through
The familiar willows we know
We pass through the neighbourhoods
No scowls, and yet no smiles
A home that no one forgot
A dream faded by the while.
The children now build castles
On sands we’d once snuggle in
Grains of which we loved so much
Corners which we struggled in
The fence now shuts out a world
That once welcomed hearts abound
My home, my heaven, my streak of light
Now lies battered to the ground

The assholeousness of it all

A day of revelations, nahi?
I reveal a 9-month old secret to one (no I'm not delivering anytime soon) and a 9 week old to another. One is surprised, the other isn't. My head is spinning, tooth shaking, I have huge responsibility tomorrow. I'm insanely happy, and I have nothing more to say this time.
Or do I?
What is it to be valued?
How do you define who cares?
A benefit of doubt for the uncaring?
Or the careless?
You look, we saw- I was conquered.
And a battle I threw away to run back- only to myself.
This time I refuse to be alone, to be shaking at the knees and begging myself to keep my sanity.
I chose me, over him.
Which, by the way, is a good feeling. Like that insane day when everything changed.
Long back, before I knew he existed.
I'm my own story- my Velutha exists, my Ammu shall live.
I'm a storm full of emotions again, but this time the tide shall take charge, clean the shores and find new ones.
I lived again today.
My dream of falling hard shall come true again. This is not it- not this tragedy of a story. I choose a happily-ever-after. I'll skip what he's taking.
Yes, I'm rambling, but I assure you, my rambles make more sense this time.
No one shall be hurt, no one shall drown.
And in any case, it doesn't matter to him. And even if it does, that doesn't bother me.
The stupidity, or the assholeousness of it all lies in the fact that I was at fault. They'd warned me, like MAJOR warned. I still believed I could be the difference (with the next one, I say, I will be) but nay. I'm sooooo insistent on being correct I can't see my mistakes there. Why blame the bugger, he was just doing what he always did.
Happy birthday, Radhika.
To a new dawn.

Birthday no.20.

7 hours of presentation. Had fun, laughed, got bored.
Manasi, Shri, Clar, Coll co-ordinated with my spy-cum-friends Radhi and Shristi- surrrprised me at college...Rishanka joined the celebration too...glad she did!
Had awesome fun. Like awesome fun.
At aunt's place- with family. Eating, laughing, fighting, dancing.
Read Dad's message. Cried.
Loved my birthday.

Funeral Blues

From 'Four weddings and a funeral'. A poem that makes me cry everytime I read it. It expresses the anguish and the hurt of the lover.
The times when I can't make sense of why I'm hurt, and when even the closest of friends can't seem to grasp why I'm behaving a certain way. I think at times these lines can express what each one of us feel- the need for the world to suffer because someone we care about has a raw deal.
Do read it, it's beautiful.

Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut of the telephone
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
Silence the pianos and with a muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead
Put crape bows round the white necks of the public doves
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves

He was my North, my South, my East and West
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood
For nothing now can ever come to any good

- W.H.Auden

Avoid yaar

People do perceive me as someone who's open to a lot of ideas, a lot of fun, and heck loads of nonsense. None of which is untrue. I like the more-than-usual jabber. I love talking about stuff, more than any physical activity. I could talk for hours. Hell, I do.
But something yesterday made me realised how many things I WASN'T comfortable discussing. With anyone.
One of them stands out.
My religious perspective- Or the lack of it. I am not comfortable discussing religion. The stories in it, yes. But just as the usual fellow gets slightly squirmy the moment someone mentions to him that I am an atheist (by birth and by choice), I feel like an oddity when someone enunciates the converse. Someone I barely know, but have come to be extremely fond of, for the first time observed my reaction to keeping an idol of a deity in the fest lab. I really have no idea of how he came about it(unless he's been told previously of course, but I highly doubt that because of the tone he said what he did in), but he looked at me for a second and asked, "You don't believe in God, do you?". Now that's a first, someone observing it. Others have to be told. Kudos to his observation.
My first reaction to that, was "No, I don't" followed almost immediately by "No offense, though". I wonder why I did that. Was I seeking to stop the subject because it'd have made the others uncomfortable, sitting in a room with someone who has a radical viewpoint about something, or was it because I'd feel terribly up-close and exposed by talking about something that's such a personal choice?
I do believe it was the latter.
I'm an objective person- I don't know what makes me that confident, but I am. Almost Nomadic- with opinion, friends, incidents. I move on really fast. So it is very necessary for me to have a clean slate every next hour, every next conversation. Religion stagnates my thoughts. I cannot deny that sometimes, and as pseudo-Ruskin-Bond that it sounds, when I am looking closely as a peacock's feather, or the circle symmetry of multipetalled flowers, that I wonder of a mind greather than nature has gone into its making. But at the same time, it is the force of the waters, the pull of gravity and the vastness of the planets that makes me remember how strong our sciences are. How beautiful the world is, how old it is, and how little credit we give nature for being the way it is.
I also look at religion as something man has created to cover up his faults. His shortcomings and his inability to be as spontaneous as nature and science has forced him to say, "Tough luck" or "It was never meant to be" or "if He didn't wish it, it wouldn't happen". That's my perception, and I think discussing it, or debating over it anywhere, on this site or any other, even face to face, is as offensive as challenging your beliefs (if you're religious). I don't like to be proved wrong, no one does. And this is a topic that is a little closer than you'd believe it to be, even if I'm so blatant about it. It's my idea of faith, not asking someone else to be in control of our lives, or expecting someone else to take charge of it, or even thanking someone else for what it is- but to keep trying, keep believing that the power that rests in the human mind and body is humungous enough to push us through the million years that we've been around in different forms. Often you'll find me staring down at my hands- that's when I'm either trying to muster the courage to do something I think needs my mind to gather all its faculties in, or I've just realised that I've accomplished a task that any person would've done less dedicatedly. It's an overwhelming feeling, knowing how you can create beauty.
Evolution fascinates me. Because it has reason. Of all the religion that I have heard, what only makes sense is the inferences and conclusions. Well, I'd suggest let us all follow them as laws, rules, mores- all of those. Ethics, even. But clubbing people together and claiming that my set of beliefs supercedes yours- it's sometimes as silly as street gang wars. Be nice to everyone, earn your money and name, have great holidays, do what you love, die in peace. What's anyone else got to do with it?
I have a lot of people saying, "but there are so many things science can't answer for us" in argument of my atheism and my support of science in the place of religion. As much as they have ground, I have nothing more to say to then than- your religion has been around a good thousand years- since there has been man, there has been religion. How long has science been around? How many things in the span of decades has it proved to be a matter of physics, and not of some unknown, intergalaxial force?
Something from Dan Brown's Angels & Demons just struck me- how the Chamberlain speaks of science. He talks of how we've broken down every incident to a piece of physics and now the number of things that have been so beautiful and jaw-dropping for so many years have been reduced to experiments in a science lab by the theorem that man pins it down with. In argument, I'd say that man needs to know. With every such experiment has come the realisation of how ignorant we really are. It sparks the scientist (the reasoners and the observers, not just the lab-coat-donning nerds) to believe more that nature has so much in store that no matter how far he goes, he's still an infiniti of knowledge from knowing everything.
It just struck me how hollow the theorem of religion, each claiming to be right, must be- if they're all different. We're living on the same planet, in the same country, breathing the same air. So if your God made this world one way, and someone else's the other, who gave in? Who wasn't powerful enough to stand out? Or maybe they coexisted as part of the same divine social circle.
I do find the topic of religion interesting, by the way- so long as it is not focussed on why I'm not keen on being in the group. I think the stories and the characters are etched so finely, like trying to be ideal characters in their own fashion. I'd suggest you watch the movie Raavan, with Bachchan Jr and the Mrs. No entertainment per se, but there's a strong perspective challenge it offers that makes you think, what if? I like stories, I like characters and I like the circumstances they find themselves in. I just don't find them perfect and believable if you tell me one walked on water and the other's head was chopped off, only to be replaced very successfully by an elephant's. As a child encouraged to be curious, my reaction for each of these was the 3-year old's version of "What the f**k?" I really do not know any Islamic stories, so I won't bring that up.
My mother made me recite complex Sanskrit verses as a kid. I do have some idea of Ramdas's Manaache Shlok as well. But that, she'd done to get my pronunciation right. I feel like I'm explaining myself here, which I hardly do, but it was more of a kindergarten lesson for me to not stumble over long-lettered words than any knowledge about religion.
I sometimes feel that people have a strange outlook about religion. In any scenario, when you're walking in a crowd, let's say, you come across a man with a long beard and a skull cap, you do a mental double-take and register- Okay, Islamic. Alright, their religion has a certain protocol that makes them physically stand out that way. But how many times do we go 'Okay, Hindu' when we're in the same crowd surrounded by people without the skull cap?
When I look at a person, I want to be able to think, 'Okay, moustached dude passed by me' or 'Okay, lady in nice top to the left'. It's blatant discrimination in our heads that we hypocritically refuse to accept we make. Alright, granted that some names have a very strong religious ring to them. But that's their significance. Very different from meaning. Why should that make it any different? Gulzar, Padma and Gloria are girls. But it comes easily for us to say- Muslim girl, Hindu girl and Christian girl.
Again, you may or may not agree. Perspective, I say.
Religion may have united people in thought, but I do believe it has distanced the world from being truly human. We're just mankind, after that.

Wake up, Sids of the world...

Off facebook for a good week now. Turns out life can continue. Special thanks to Rishanka, Kapish and Sahil- all in the previous post :P for being on gtalk as well, that really helps keep some conversation going!
Essentially, I've begun to learn to manage my time. Not better, but just manage- since I didn't do any of that before this. Now I read, do my projects, update this page, do my projects, think obsessively of festival names for this new venture UPG's starting this week. I also believe my writing quotient has dipped- I am not half as funny (in case I'm flattering myself there, don't tell me), gawky as I was the last time. Serious stuff (Academics, ambitions, love) get in the way of my sense of humour. I'm 11 days from turning 20, but somehow, I think this time it's gonna be cool. Cold almost. I mean, usually I engage myself in all the birthday preparations of people all over, my friends do that for me too- but this time, everyone's in their final year, and everyone's creeped out. This is including my building lot- Manasi, Shri, Coll, Viv (who never turns up anyway), Deepa and Clarie (Both of whom I miss). Everyone's up to something. Good, really.
The name Siddharth- it's making a comeback every few weeks these days. If people weren't enough, characters in books turn out to be Siddharth. None too bad, but I think it's slooooowly replacing 'Aditya' at my fav names list. People include- Dilpreet's (who's working, and completely out of touch) IIM buddy, who I met ONCE! Had to go for the big fat Delhi wedding (note about which you will find on fb, in Manasi Vaidya's profile), so needed some pro-Delhi tips. He's from there, but he hardly have much to say- except for that Punju weddings should be fun (Fun being QUITE the understatement)...and this Diwali, I'm heading to Hyderabad- where he's working.
Siddharth no. 2 was at the wedding. He'd got hitched to the groom's sister 2 days before the wedding I'd gone for. Complicated? In any case, he looked like Mr. Khamosh from back home, and for once, Shriya agreed (I have a chronic ailment of being under the illusion, and a lot of times with substantial grounds, that people I know look like other people I know. Or maybe I was just missing college too much) Anyway, Sahil, IF you're reading this- remind me to show you the pictures- Siddharth Sr is an older version of you- the same quite, observant, crowd-resistant thingy about him. (BY THE WAY, one of the groom's cousins was Umang! And NOTHING like Mann the Maheshwari)...I tell you, it's love that keeps these two together in spirit, even in seemingly unrelated situations in Delhi. Or I'm cracking up.
Siddharth part 3 is my new classmate (On hearing 'new' classmate, Manasi's first reaction was, "So he enters TY only- and gets the degree all of you do AFTER trudging through FY and SY? So I can suddenly jump UP the ladder?") He looks like Mohnish Behl (which when I told him, he was the first person to go "Nutan's son?"...WOW! I thought people only related him to Bharjatiya films, while I did as the guy who was accused of murdering his dad- all three cases are idea about the murder, but the accusation was definitely made) Kutty (as in Siddharth) is a Mallu! Almost MNS-like of me, but I LOVE it when people in the Mallu quota increase!
Siddharth 4, is a character in the book, The Collector's Wife (not to be confused with Thy Neighbor's Wife, though I seriously doubt anyone knows or will admit knowing the latter). Well, he's the collector himself. I like the way his character is portrayed- so sincerely at work, that he neglects, almost the needs of his wife. A recommended read for everyone- the topic of infidelity has been handled rather nicely- without justifying it in anyway. It’s something I’m likely to do (not the infidelity part)- get so engrossed in my career that I detach myself from most things that matter. Like I said, it’s the way he’s been portrayed, not the character itself. The desperation towards needing to be there on duty, almost like a constant, nagging obsession- that gets me. All the time, like no one else can handle it better. It’s a trait, I think, of possessiveness. Creepy, na?
I’ve been around, yes. More updates coming. Cheers.

My super-secret extended-ninja-best friends

To make this the most obvious post, this is for the eyes of everyone, and for the attention of three people.
1. Is the Ninja part of it. She's hilarious, cute, amazingly retarded, possess no amount of attitude whatsoever, and is the world's most verbose chick. She could feature on the cover of Cosmo, Tintin and Archies at once. Her habits ("Duuuuude!", Snow Patrol, "I CAN'T speak hindi yaa!", "We're talking about such INANE stuff...") have attached themselves to me. I love her bwahahahaing.
I just miss her a lot right now, and if she does read this, I hope she revives that derangedpandabear blog of hers.
2. Is best friends. Bloody lawyer. Born to blab and argue. Makes crazy Chinese Smiley from icons he gets godknowswhere. Says the most sane things. Is online (yes, except for one time this vacation, I haven't met him in 5 years) at the most required hours, especially in times of distress (not damsel am I a) and can blah blah blah his way out of anything. Never thought I'd be overruled in most of my arguments, but yeah- that's him. Kapdap. Woooohooo Long distance nutcase :P
3. Extended me. As queer as it sounds, he's like an alter ego thingy now, so when I'm talking to this one, it's more like talking to myself. Writerfolk, camerapeople, bandaddicts. Loooooooong time no see's ALL the time, and we could walk right past each other 5 times a day. Has inspired volatile rage, absolute calm, and headsplitting laughter. Someone who just gets it, needn't try hard. To hell with the world, always on his own track. And I like it that way. Undefined. My fav to him- you're you, I'm me. (Ok at least come more often on gtalk! Abandoning fb does NOT include stepping into yapping-abyss!)

That's it :P

No I won't.

My fascination with the Heer-Ranjha duo will never end. Not this way, at least.
I was sure I'll get over Heer, too. Stop dressing my mind up like the lover who'll wait till the end of eternity, who'll brave the odds and refuse to look at any man who isn't her Ranjha.
I'm almost sure all the time.
Turns out reality (or the world you people claim to live in) has plans of its own.
As much as I try to live out of it, by the way, it has ways of magnetically dragging me into its chain of unfortunate events.
Like recently, when I thought I fell in love.
Edward Cullens of the world, you ought to hide in embarrassment- my Ranjha turned out to be twice better than all of you put together, of course- he doesn't know.
That's the funda with me- I can't tell what I feel. Crushes, yes- all my friends will know about them. But I superstitiously guard the loves of my life. Only the privileged circle of friends (in my case that'd be Manasi, Shriya, Rishanka, Srinath, Renu and Trup) Otherwise, they'll be miles away from the public eye. I'll hardly be seen hanging out with them- it'll be obvious by my tomato red face and the absolute loss of sense in my vocab when I am with unidentified talking object that something's cooking. Moreover, I always am better prepared when i have comebacks ready in my head and you-don't-know-who says something that I predict he will. So that takes a lot of thinking.
Plus, if you like him, what the hell is there to say.
Imagine a conversation that goes like-
"Hey wassup"
"Nothing much (inevitably- it'll be a leap in mankind's vocab and in global chat history if someone comes up with a different AND sensible reply to wassup) You tell me"
"Aah actually there's something I needed to tell you"
"I dunno"
go on"
"I like you"
"Oh that
I like you too
what do u have to tell me?"

(if our heroic revealer of one's own dark secrets hasn't died of being popat'd yet, our conversation will continue like...)

"that's what i had to tell you
I like you
Like, 'like' like you"
*Beep is offline*(when it actually wants to say- *You scared beep offline. You had it going so good, you smartass, happy messing up day. Now if you're lucky enough, he won't sprint the other way when he sees you the next time, but that's only because there's a wall on the other three sides. If there isn't one on even one, say buhbye to your love, loser*

Imagine a conversation on those lines. So, sirs and madams, I'm happily (or otherwise) out of the go-tell loop. For reasons like these, and beyond.
To add to the embarrassment, there's your gang of giggly friends(guys included) who'll hoot whenever you and Beep are in a radius of 30 mts of one another. So as much as they mean you good, regardless of how they are or whether they are connected with either Beep or you, you have to face the ooooohs and the aaaahs, and you can't even look at Beep to say, 'Hey, relax- I don't mean this/Dude I didn't start this/On the count of three, we run the other way/Uhmmmm sorry about this/etc'
And besides. I have embarrassing tendencies to be loud, intelligent, unpretty- and on the whole ungirly. Stuff that's ok when you're a guy, you know. But yeah, I'm the ugly Betty in most cases (mind you, I'm as proud).
This time, is as different as the other times.
In the beginning, it's like, ok, you exist. Then we get talking.
And talking. Talking talking (and more and more and more...) talking.
And then we shut up. That's fun- shutting up when the world expects you to be talking. Happens all the time.
I'll tell you about one crush of mine.
Or not. Whatever man.
If this note gets pasted of facebook, I'm dead meat. So I've pruned it to be facebook friendly.
Because really, I'd rather have a guy who knows I love him without being told, than one who'd believe it only after I've spelled it out to him.


Relatives, get out. I'm not in a good mood.
Ok so I'm pissed. So mad, and at nothing that I can publicly describe, that I feel like I don't have a face anymore.
I hate the way people take control of my life- and what hurts, is that I let them.
Just because I don't talk about it all the time, I slip further into that shell that was never there. Sorry to bring her back- but that 14 year old looks up to me and asks me- Where the fuck do I figure? When was hate all about you?When was love so conditional? WHEN DID YOU DEMAND YOUR KISS BACK?
I have to answer her. I have to sit down and cry- funny thing, is that tears don't come anymore. A face that no one found special but adored itself now contorts with a fury that twists all its features so much, it scares the heart inside.
I want to hurt. I want to hurt so badly that this love-foe falls to his knees and begs for mercy.
And I fall to mine and cry.
I want to cry. Please let me cry.
I can't wait till the day comes that I get myself out of this. Suddenly the person who would rather be heartbroken than not fall in love has given up- and the bleak expression of the day award is in store for the one person who she looks to to make her feel like a smile could break the chaos that she's asked for.
Just because a person falls for the 15th time, doesn't mean that you shouldn't still offer that him a parachute.
I was right- I am scared this time, and I have every reason to be scared- my moods, my feelings, my belief have been shaken by this time.
Imagine Pankti Gandhi asking me, someone who was the emotional twin of Radhika of 15 asking me- 'You're moody?'
And the world thinks I just am that way.
No, I am not, morons.
I'm unbelievably a happy person. I live for the rain. I smile at the sun. I stare into it. Now I can't raise my eyes anymore.
It would have been less painful if I'd changed- my soul has changed, and my conscience doesn't sleep anymore.
Friends, fiends, family- they bow down after the drama ends- but that's when the drama starts. That's when I need the hands, not just the audience.
Writers are unbelievably lonely people. I thought I could change that. I'm crippled. I am not lonely- I just can't tell people stuff.
And man do I have arrogance- to claim to want to tell people everything, yet not say a thing.
Where did the self-love go?
Where did you go?
In that room, the other day, someone asked me what goes on in my mind when I get all 'moody', a term I've come to accept as a pseudonymn for Radhika.
I had it figured then- I push away all the people that I want, just to hope that they come back. I test, and I don't believe.
I'm a cynic, and I will kill my heart. That one thing that stood strong.
My imagination has run out on me.
Take me, or kill me.

Updating for the heck of it.

I like what I'm upto these days. It's the entire, keep yourself occupied deal and man do I have a schedule. Though I'm doing this to keep my mind off its sickening, maddening 'phases', I can't deny that getting my head and life back on track is taking some real effort.
It's fun getting up at a fixed time, and doing things at the right time, etc. The work thingy rocks. Got a lotta you saying you wish you got jobs too, and thank you all for the congratulations you've given me for this one. Education Times is good. The editor is Nipa Vaidya- and if there's one word for her, it's 'cool'. I would usually refrain from using that word, but when you meet her, that's the only thing that comes to mind. The others in the dept. are Ruchi, Pooja and Shubha- who works on the portal. They're very patient with me. I need to pull up on the speed, because if I were them, I'd fire that retard Radhika.
I sit on a swivel chair with the right arm broken. I happened to get it on the first day because it was the closest to my desk (and I have my own computer here it's what I'm typing this from) and it stuck. I'm getting used to it. To my left, sits Faye. On the first two days she looked really upset about something, but on the third she smiled, and now we have a 'hi' routine. Faye by the way, sings brilliantly. Considering that this place has learnt to survive without music, and she's got a beautiful, beautiful voice, I look forward to her singing.
Behind me, there's Faye's friend Elton. I haven't been introduced to him, but you pick up names as they call each other. Faye and Elton are very, very quiet. This place is very quiet. Today I've risked in a 7up. I hope I laugh and add some noise here.
The telephone ringing problem still persists. But Nipa said that most of the calls they get are bogus, so it's best to not answer. However, these people answer their cellphones very soon. So that'd mean that the boring, ancient tring tring keeps ringing, while the good ringtones shut off.
Apart from that, there isn't much to describe. The canteen is quite something, though. I bought 10 coupons for a total of 5 bucks, and by the end of two whole meals consisting of rice, 2 chapaatis, dal, 2 bhaajis, egg curry, papad, banana, chhaas and a sweet dish, I still had one rupee worth of unused coupons on me. You do the math.
But this is a different summer, you see. I'm away from home most of the time, and I miss my lot. For a change, I also miss my college lot. A lot. In fact, I may guiltily add that I miss my college friends enough to make my stomach ache. I, for the first time, am wishing my vacations away (what is wrong with you, I hear 18 years of Radhika ask me). But I'll get over it soon.
I'm writing here after what seems an eternity, so pardon the sudden formal format.
I'd like to believe that I'll be back to who I was, or I'll become something better. But right now, I'm not so happy being me. Thankfully, Shriya, Trupti, Rishanka, Kapish and Sahil stick around. It feels great to have them. Manasi's been busy for the past few months, but once she's free I've got a lot of catching up to do.
My story's in print today, and I'm happy :)