I did something horrible today. And I'm blaming Eido for it. Rice and I went shopping this morning. Rice needed shoes and I needed underwear. And we had to pick up a kurta for Skimble. So we went to Fabindia first and picked up the kurta (it's a really nice white one, but Mum says it makes him look like a priest) and then we went to inc.5 to pick up shoes. Which I thought was really stupid of Rice because the last time she bought shoes there they broke in three months. So I was telling her that if she didn't mind her shoes not lasting long then we should go to Ebrahim Sahib street and pick up something because they have really nice stuff and she wouldn't end up spending like seven hundred bucks on a pair of shoes that wouldn't last. Like they wouldn't last anyway, but at least she'd spend less than half at inc.5.
But she was already kinda pissed with me because in the morning I had this irresistable urge to eat vada sambhar and so I dragged her to this darshini close by to have some for breakfast. But of course, Rice is too high and mighty to eat at a darshini and she just sat there while I tucked in, completely silent the whole time, staring disdainfully at the chipped formica table. So anyway she was already pissed with me and I started going on about the shoes and how it was pointless paying seven hundred bucks for shoes that wouldn't last and that they were ugly anyway (they were. horrible white and silver chunky straps wound round and round like a spring) and then she started bitching about how I wouldn't know an ugly shoe if it hit me in the face and that I always bought exorbitantly priced shoes (which might be true, but my shoes last and last for years) that were super ugly (which is not true, they're very nice, just not all strappy and flimsy) and then she kept bitching and bitching and I got really pissed and then.....
And then I stormed out. She cried out, I need the card. (my dad had given us his credit card) but I ignored her and strode out and before I left I turned around and said (dramatically) you can take a 'rick home.
And then I went and bought my underwear, which for once wasn't much of a hassle. (Won't get into that. ) After I picked it up I went back to the shoe shop. I had this vague idea that she'd still be there crying or something. But she wasn't. So I walked up and down Comm Street a bit, thinking I might spot her, but I couldn't. I also thought she might be waiting by the bike. But I wasn't sure and thought the best thing to do would be to call. I didn't have my phone and so I tried to find a pay phone. Which, as any cell phone bereft Bangalorean will tell you, is a very difficult thing to do on Comm Street. But I managed. So I called her and asked her where she was.
And she hung up on me.
So then I just finished off whatever shopping I had left. Also bumped into M on the way, and had a lassi with her. (at Sreeraj's. Yummy!) M told me she tried calling me on Rice's phone and Rice said that she was at home and she didn't know where I was. So I went back home.
And we're still not talking.
But the point is : That this is ALL EIDO'S FAULT. Because him being the total sweetheart he is, is turning me into this superdivabitch. Like I can hang up on him, storm out on him and pretty much be a superdivabitch to him. And he won't stop being a sweetheart. So I end up expecting people to be really nice to me inspite of my superdivabitchiness. Which is not a good thing. (a. because the Buddha said so and b. because it's so not going to happen)
Ergo, my new year resolution: to be a nicer person and eschew all superdivabitchiness.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Christmas in Suburbia
Christmas this year was slightly depressing. Don't know why really. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that everyone seems to be growing up and leaving. Normally there'd be at least fifteen of us cousins and this year there were only four. N flying down from Bombay was the only bright spot this Christmas. She's this storehouse of gossip, witty and amazingly fun if you're not the one she's ripping apart. Mum always called her The Mirch. The last time we saw her, she'd mellowed. We attributed it to her newly acquired boyfriend and sighed, thinking we'd seen the last of her mirchiness. But we were wrong. The Mirch's boyfriend moved to Gurgaon and I think the distance made the difference because she was back in full form.
Her sister in Chicago was recently mugged by a six foot by three foot (that's excluding the hairdo) African woman in a purple mumu. The Mirch had us in splits describing how her sister desperately clung on to her bag trying to ward off the woman by banging her on the head with a tiny box of chocolates. Her screams for assisstance were ignored by her hapless husband who later defended himself by saying that the attacker was a woman, and there was nothing he could do about it. I guess damsels in distress can only claim chivalry if they're being attacked by a dragon or something. Though I think a big purple woman comes pretty close.
The depressing part however, was not so much how everyone's growing up as how they seem to be subsiding into some sort of suburban middleagedness. Except for The Mirch, I think, everyone seems to be so smugly contented about where they've reached in life. Take my cousin Bose for instance. He's getting married in about a month and he's seems so old and boring. It's not just that he's losing hair and gaining girth. It's that he's so blahly happy with his beautiful home and his beautiful wife. Like he's got everything life has to offer and now he's going to sit back and enjoy it. AND HE HASN'T HIT THIRTY YET!
The scariest part is that I can see myself getting there in ten years time. Maybe even less. I can see myself getting a good job and (gasp) settling down! And being trapped in suburbia for the rest of my life. Right now, I so desperately want to just cut and run. Just chuck college, chuck everything and get out of there and backpack across the world doing unbelievably stupid stuff.
And this is the most depressing part. That as much as I want to, I know I never will.
Her sister in Chicago was recently mugged by a six foot by three foot (that's excluding the hairdo) African woman in a purple mumu. The Mirch had us in splits describing how her sister desperately clung on to her bag trying to ward off the woman by banging her on the head with a tiny box of chocolates. Her screams for assisstance were ignored by her hapless husband who later defended himself by saying that the attacker was a woman, and there was nothing he could do about it. I guess damsels in distress can only claim chivalry if they're being attacked by a dragon or something. Though I think a big purple woman comes pretty close.
The depressing part however, was not so much how everyone's growing up as how they seem to be subsiding into some sort of suburban middleagedness. Except for The Mirch, I think, everyone seems to be so smugly contented about where they've reached in life. Take my cousin Bose for instance. He's getting married in about a month and he's seems so old and boring. It's not just that he's losing hair and gaining girth. It's that he's so blahly happy with his beautiful home and his beautiful wife. Like he's got everything life has to offer and now he's going to sit back and enjoy it. AND HE HASN'T HIT THIRTY YET!
The scariest part is that I can see myself getting there in ten years time. Maybe even less. I can see myself getting a good job and (gasp) settling down! And being trapped in suburbia for the rest of my life. Right now, I so desperately want to just cut and run. Just chuck college, chuck everything and get out of there and backpack across the world doing unbelievably stupid stuff.
And this is the most depressing part. That as much as I want to, I know I never will.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Sticks and Stones
Had lunch with T and S today. More fun than I expected. Except for one interesting observation they had to make: I have qjada. Would you believe it? I mean I keep hearing it from Trichy people but I thought it was just urban Bangalore me in parochial Trichy that made the difference. Apparently not. They said I've always had qjada and since they last saw me it's increased. I guess having it confirmed from so many sources means it's actually true. But like they kept assuring me, "It's not a bad thing." I wonder.
Then, since I absolutely refused to go bowling. (I suck at it), they took me to a pool parlour. Looked pretty seedy, but apparently this was the only place decent enough to take a female to. T's the kind of guy who worries about taking girls to 'unsuitable' places and I got a lot of "What would your dad say if he knew you were here?"(freak, for sure!) but S was more than game. The place was dark, two in the afternoon, but the windows were heavily shrouded.(i guess it's something to do with the pool tables being more brightly illuminated) There were guys lounging around chalking cue sticks; there was a constant low hum, broken by the occasional expletive when a shot went bad. Looked thoroughly disreputable. And I was the only girl in the place. Hence T's unease. But I got my first pool lesson. And I'm not too bad at it. For a beginner. At least I can hit a ball squarely. Me getting any better will depend on my practicing, but I'm not sure if frequenting these places is a good idea.
Then, since I absolutely refused to go bowling. (I suck at it), they took me to a pool parlour. Looked pretty seedy, but apparently this was the only place decent enough to take a female to. T's the kind of guy who worries about taking girls to 'unsuitable' places and I got a lot of "What would your dad say if he knew you were here?"(freak, for sure!) but S was more than game. The place was dark, two in the afternoon, but the windows were heavily shrouded.(i guess it's something to do with the pool tables being more brightly illuminated) There were guys lounging around chalking cue sticks; there was a constant low hum, broken by the occasional expletive when a shot went bad. Looked thoroughly disreputable. And I was the only girl in the place. Hence T's unease. But I got my first pool lesson. And I'm not too bad at it. For a beginner. At least I can hit a ball squarely. Me getting any better will depend on my practicing, but I'm not sure if frequenting these places is a good idea.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Issues
I attended a mission. Two days of it, rather. Cynical ol' me couldn't last the whole week. My parents couldn't figure out why I went. Unlike the many retreats organised in school, I was under no compulsion to attend, and they couldn't help but contrast my voluntary disappearance for two hours every evening with the pleading and begging before every retreat for a letter that confirmed my status as a non-practising Catholic. (nope, never did get one)
I didn't even try and explain it to them. Did try and explain it to Rice, but she didn't get it. The one person who did, not surprisingly, was my cousin Z who spent the last five years studying law in little hamlet in Andhra Pradesh. Much like Trichy, I imagine. I told her I thought I needed an infusion from the church. To make me feel good about being Christian. She nodded and said, yeah I know what you mean. When I told Rice the same thing I got a startled, my god, what did they do to you in Trichy?
Both of us studied in the same convent run schools right up to Grade XII. And I guess that's why, though the non-Catholics out-numbered us, my faith was never an issue. I sometimes wondered if they minded reciting the Our Father occasionally at assembly, but beyond grudging them the free periods they got when we were at Mass, I didn't really think about it. Then Rice went to a convent run college and I went to NITT.
I suppose it shouldn't have affected me. Being the single Catholic among the zillion Tam Brahms. But it did. It wasn't the absence of carols around Christmas time or the fact that no one else had a smear of ash on their forhead at the beginning of Lent. It was the subtle insinuation (unconscious perhaps) that I, as a Christian was somehow inferior to them. You might say I was imagining it, but for the fact Z went through the same thing.
And so I went for the mission. Not that it helped much.
I guess you pay for a good education in many diferent ways.
I didn't even try and explain it to them. Did try and explain it to Rice, but she didn't get it. The one person who did, not surprisingly, was my cousin Z who spent the last five years studying law in little hamlet in Andhra Pradesh. Much like Trichy, I imagine. I told her I thought I needed an infusion from the church. To make me feel good about being Christian. She nodded and said, yeah I know what you mean. When I told Rice the same thing I got a startled, my god, what did they do to you in Trichy?
Both of us studied in the same convent run schools right up to Grade XII. And I guess that's why, though the non-Catholics out-numbered us, my faith was never an issue. I sometimes wondered if they minded reciting the Our Father occasionally at assembly, but beyond grudging them the free periods they got when we were at Mass, I didn't really think about it. Then Rice went to a convent run college and I went to NITT.
I suppose it shouldn't have affected me. Being the single Catholic among the zillion Tam Brahms. But it did. It wasn't the absence of carols around Christmas time or the fact that no one else had a smear of ash on their forhead at the beginning of Lent. It was the subtle insinuation (unconscious perhaps) that I, as a Christian was somehow inferior to them. You might say I was imagining it, but for the fact Z went through the same thing.
And so I went for the mission. Not that it helped much.
I guess you pay for a good education in many diferent ways.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
A Grain of Wheat.. ..
Skimble has a vast arsenal of jokes, that vary from the corny to the obscene. We make it a point to laugh at them whether they're funny or not because he's apt to wrestle you to the ground and sit on you till you do. Occasionally though, he comes up with something that's actually funny.
Last night at dinner, I found a spoon laid next to my plate. I got up to exchange it for a fork. Why? inquired my mum, what difference does it make? Skimble replied dead pan, she prefers forking to spooning.
Last night at dinner, I found a spoon laid next to my plate. I got up to exchange it for a fork. Why? inquired my mum, what difference does it make? Skimble replied dead pan, she prefers forking to spooning.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Life in NITT
A month or so ago, a girl in Shaastra broke up with her boyfriend. He therefore hatched a vicious plan for revenge. He told his parents that his HOD wanted to meet them. While they were at his college, he lured the girl to his house and strangled her. He hid her body under his bed and the next day killed himself on the railway tracks that ran conveniently close by. (Point to be noted here : Though both NITT and Shastra spawn crazy lunatics, the Shastra variety are homicidal while the NITT ones just like to chaat)
About a week ago, a PG with a somewhat skewed sense of priorities tried to kill herself in Opal B because her boyfriend dumped her.
From the two incidents mentioned above, the college athorities have concluded that relationships between two members of the opposite sex are the cause of all evil. And in order to fight these malignant forces of evil, they have vowed to mercilessly hunt down and wipe out all traces boy-girl interaction.
Their decision to crack down on all the couples in college was further hastened by the fact that an NITT couple was found in BHEL park in a compromising position. By the police, no less. The girl's parents are on their way down to Trichy. Her fate is still undecided. The boy's parents are of the opinion that boys will be boys.
Incidentally, the couple has since broken up.
Therefore, all dark areas in the college have been brightly lit. Trees have been mercilessly chopped down. Rumours have been started of ghosts and ghouls lurking around the areas they don't have the resources to light. (Though I doubt a few spirits would deter a really horny couple) also, the number of guards patrolling the college have been increased. Unfortunately, these guards, though assiduous, are dumb.
Three days ago, a girl and her boyfriend were walking up college avenue, past the ad block, closer to the chemical dept. Suddenly three guys burst out of the bushes pursued by a lathi wielding guard. The couple thus found themselves amidst these three, who had been peacefully smoking up prior to the chasing. The guards, being as I've mentioned before, particularly dumb, completely misinterpreted the situation and thought that the girl was canoodling with FOUR guys in the bushes. They confiscated her ID and reported the incident to the Dean of Student Welfare.
She, luckily, managed to talk herself out of it. But the fact remains that the college is facing an Inquisition. No couple has ventured out for the last two days, for IDs have been confiscated at random, for as little as sitting next to a guy.
HT, convinced that the girls' morals are deteriorating by the year, (please note, the boys' morals are unaffected) has decided to introduce swipe cards in Opal so that she can keep track of the female students' comings and goings. Till the system is in place, the girls are required to sign in and out of a register if they leave the hostel after seven. Also trips out of campus have been limited to two per week.
There is unrest in Opal. Murmurs of revolt, whispers of an uprising. However as the girls muster the courage to speak out, college life goes on as usual. The sun beats down upon students as they scurry from classes to labs and back again. The clock in the clock tower still says eight ten.
About a week ago, a PG with a somewhat skewed sense of priorities tried to kill herself in Opal B because her boyfriend dumped her.
From the two incidents mentioned above, the college athorities have concluded that relationships between two members of the opposite sex are the cause of all evil. And in order to fight these malignant forces of evil, they have vowed to mercilessly hunt down and wipe out all traces boy-girl interaction.
Their decision to crack down on all the couples in college was further hastened by the fact that an NITT couple was found in BHEL park in a compromising position. By the police, no less. The girl's parents are on their way down to Trichy. Her fate is still undecided. The boy's parents are of the opinion that boys will be boys.
Incidentally, the couple has since broken up.
Therefore, all dark areas in the college have been brightly lit. Trees have been mercilessly chopped down. Rumours have been started of ghosts and ghouls lurking around the areas they don't have the resources to light. (Though I doubt a few spirits would deter a really horny couple) also, the number of guards patrolling the college have been increased. Unfortunately, these guards, though assiduous, are dumb.
Three days ago, a girl and her boyfriend were walking up college avenue, past the ad block, closer to the chemical dept. Suddenly three guys burst out of the bushes pursued by a lathi wielding guard. The couple thus found themselves amidst these three, who had been peacefully smoking up prior to the chasing. The guards, being as I've mentioned before, particularly dumb, completely misinterpreted the situation and thought that the girl was canoodling with FOUR guys in the bushes. They confiscated her ID and reported the incident to the Dean of Student Welfare.
She, luckily, managed to talk herself out of it. But the fact remains that the college is facing an Inquisition. No couple has ventured out for the last two days, for IDs have been confiscated at random, for as little as sitting next to a guy.
HT, convinced that the girls' morals are deteriorating by the year, (please note, the boys' morals are unaffected) has decided to introduce swipe cards in Opal so that she can keep track of the female students' comings and goings. Till the system is in place, the girls are required to sign in and out of a register if they leave the hostel after seven. Also trips out of campus have been limited to two per week.
There is unrest in Opal. Murmurs of revolt, whispers of an uprising. However as the girls muster the courage to speak out, college life goes on as usual. The sun beats down upon students as they scurry from classes to labs and back again. The clock in the clock tower still says eight ten.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
The Bigger Cheat
Skimbleshanks and I were playing scrabble the other day. Skimble by the way, is my younger brother. And despite the three year difference between us he manages to beat me regularly. Well, to be perfectly honest, manages to thrash me.
The game started well, I'd opened with a bingo and for once it looked as if I might actually beat him. But there he was, inching along, slowly eroding away the 50 point lead. I needed another bingo and I needed it fast. That was when three e's, an i, s a t and a blank showed up on my rack. There was a relatively isolated n on the board and flipping through the dictionary (house rules allow it) I found eternize. And hey, I'm human, how much thrashing from a kid bro can you take? So, I put eternise on the board and tried to bluff.
Have I mentioned I'm not a good liar? Skimble looked at me suspiciously and reached for the dictionary. A moment later, he snickered and told me that the dictionary only allowed etern-i-z-e. So, ruefully, I took my letters off the board. Karma, apparently, has moved with the times and delivery time is faster than ever before.
But that's not the end of it. A few more moves into the game, Skimble chuckled. What was so funny I wanted to know. He picked up the dictionary and found the right page. There, sandwiched between eterne and eternity, was eternise.
The game started well, I'd opened with a bingo and for once it looked as if I might actually beat him. But there he was, inching along, slowly eroding away the 50 point lead. I needed another bingo and I needed it fast. That was when three e's, an i, s a t and a blank showed up on my rack. There was a relatively isolated n on the board and flipping through the dictionary (house rules allow it) I found eternize. And hey, I'm human, how much thrashing from a kid bro can you take? So, I put eternise on the board and tried to bluff.
Have I mentioned I'm not a good liar? Skimble looked at me suspiciously and reached for the dictionary. A moment later, he snickered and told me that the dictionary only allowed etern-i-z-e. So, ruefully, I took my letters off the board. Karma, apparently, has moved with the times and delivery time is faster than ever before.
But that's not the end of it. A few more moves into the game, Skimble chuckled. What was so funny I wanted to know. He picked up the dictionary and found the right page. There, sandwiched between eterne and eternity, was eternise.
Ticket to Ride
I pull out the bike and honk twice.
"Coming..", my sister yells.
She blows a kiss to Coal, our half Irish setter, rest unknown mutt and sits down behind me. I start the bike; it revs up without any trouble and soon we're on the main road.
"So... what do you want to sing?"
"I don't know," I say, "you pick."
"Vindicated?"
"Umm... No, something faster."
"Hitchin' a Ride?"
"Ok", I agree happily. We're both Green Day fans and Ride is one of our favourite songs.
pumpum pumpum pumpum pararara
pumpum pumpum pumpum pararara
I keep time with my foot and speed up a little. Her fingers dig into my shoulder and I slow down.
Hey mister where ya headed?
Are you in a hurry?
She freaks out if I travel over fifty. But for all her safety consciousness, she refuses to wear a helmet. Unlike me, I might add.
Need a lift to happy hour?
I said oh no
To misquote a little Zen, driving a car is like looking a a picture. It's nice, it's pretty; but you're just looking at it. Riding a bike... Man! that's like being in the picture. I get a buzz doing eighty on my bike. One twenty in a car and... Zip. Nada. Nothing. Pretty picture.
Do you break for distilled spirits?
Need a break as well
The well that inebriates the guilt
One, two...
"ONE TWO THREE FOUR!... we erupt in a cacophony of euphoria. Now we're loud enough to get strange looks from passing motorists. Not something we're unaccustomed to. Booze? No thanks. My highs are clean and hangover free. Well, not exactly clean if you consider how much Bangalore smog I end up inhaling. But definitely hangover free.
There's a drought at the fountain of youth
And I'm dehydrated
No way. Not now, not ever. There's something about a bike.. Whether you're flying on the Ring Road or crawling through JC Road traffic. There's that indescribable feeling as you dodge around a precariously tilted bus. The thrill of doing something that isn't entirely safe laced with a curious feeling of independence. If someone could bottle that feeling, I swear he'd have the elixir of youth
I'm off the wagon and I'm
Hitchin' a ride
We've reached. Sis gets off the bike, peers into the rearview mirror and adjusts her hair. The residue of that exhiliration makes me reach out and give her a little hug. I'm happy to be alive. She stares at me. "Jeez. What's with you?"
"Coming..", my sister yells.
She blows a kiss to Coal, our half Irish setter, rest unknown mutt and sits down behind me. I start the bike; it revs up without any trouble and soon we're on the main road.
"So... what do you want to sing?"
"I don't know," I say, "you pick."
"Vindicated?"
"Umm... No, something faster."
"Hitchin' a Ride?"
"Ok", I agree happily. We're both Green Day fans and Ride is one of our favourite songs.
pumpum pumpum pumpum pararara
pumpum pumpum pumpum pararara
I keep time with my foot and speed up a little. Her fingers dig into my shoulder and I slow down.
Hey mister where ya headed?
Are you in a hurry?
She freaks out if I travel over fifty. But for all her safety consciousness, she refuses to wear a helmet. Unlike me, I might add.
Need a lift to happy hour?
I said oh no
To misquote a little Zen, driving a car is like looking a a picture. It's nice, it's pretty; but you're just looking at it. Riding a bike... Man! that's like being in the picture. I get a buzz doing eighty on my bike. One twenty in a car and... Zip. Nada. Nothing. Pretty picture.
Do you break for distilled spirits?
Need a break as well
The well that inebriates the guilt
One, two...
"ONE TWO THREE FOUR!... we erupt in a cacophony of euphoria. Now we're loud enough to get strange looks from passing motorists. Not something we're unaccustomed to. Booze? No thanks. My highs are clean and hangover free. Well, not exactly clean if you consider how much Bangalore smog I end up inhaling. But definitely hangover free.
There's a drought at the fountain of youth
And I'm dehydrated
No way. Not now, not ever. There's something about a bike.. Whether you're flying on the Ring Road or crawling through JC Road traffic. There's that indescribable feeling as you dodge around a precariously tilted bus. The thrill of doing something that isn't entirely safe laced with a curious feeling of independence. If someone could bottle that feeling, I swear he'd have the elixir of youth
I'm off the wagon and I'm
Hitchin' a ride
We've reached. Sis gets off the bike, peers into the rearview mirror and adjusts her hair. The residue of that exhiliration makes me reach out and give her a little hug. I'm happy to be alive. She stares at me. "Jeez. What's with you?"