Friday, March 30, 2012
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Somehow all the words ever coined, in any language seems insufficient to describe the world's most loving person, my grandmother. All I could do was pray hard for the monsoons, torrential rain and thunder, that would mirror a fraction of what was going on inside me.
At the end of it all, I let the tears flow as I painfully realised that there will never again come someone in my life, who will love me as unconditionally as she did.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
I love a table that has food on every surface, and as always there was the omnipresent (VEG) caesar's salad. We ate, we drank, we made ourselves look like stuffed turkeys. As we were finishing our caesar's salad, I, Chief-hawkeye, spotted a tiny, miniscule piece of chicken, it should have sent me into a "great white" like frenzy, but I very calmly pointed out this anomaly to the waiter, he blinked, twice, stared at the plate for several seconds and on my behest took it away. I was "scandalised". After a million apologies from the management, I said no to the waiter who wanted to know if I'd want anything else with a very pained expression. The fact was that I was stuffed beyond belief.
We continued to sit there for another hour oblivious to all that's happening around us. At long last we decided to leave the place and head home and called for the bill, the manager came over and in a grave I'm-about-to-deliver-a-eulogy tone declared that the entire meal was on the house! We exchanged incredulous looks, and in a very orderly manner made a quick exit. We marched out, and kept walking until we were well away from the place before bursting into shrieks of laughter. Obnoxious though we were at the restaurant, we really didn't have a problem with the ridiculously small piece of meat. Extremely glad that the restaurant authorities failed to grasp it though. And to think that I'd convinced myself that karma would bite me in the ass for all the uneaten pieces of meat.
Monday, February 22, 2010
I finally read the Hobbit. Its a wonderful book, but not in the same league as Lord of the Rings (the daddy of all fantasy novels). It amazes me, the amount of trash people read. The craze for the Twilight series is simply beyond my comprehension. But I refuse to over analyse the already cliched topic.
Cul-Ah came (theme being Jungle Fever), fun and fun is all I can say. The fashion show left me feeling like an overweight and hideously sun burnt heifer. Who cares about internals? No one. So lets not talk about it. Plod on further my brave friends. I may write something interesting yet.The days went by in a blaze with me alternating between great excitement and confusion (psychology students, does it ring a bell?). I realise to my utter dismay that I've lost my phone. My mum shrieks something about terrorists, stalker, identity thefts, and you know something is really going wrong when your mum starts making sense. I ran helter-skelter, called a million people and is currently headed off to the Police station to file an FIR. For all I know sometime in the near future, the authorities might issue an arrest warrant to dock me in for kidnapping three fat Palestinian men in Gaza. Pray for me people. Jihadists and non- jihadists alike.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Angels come in many forms ( pretty, mild or downright scary looking) mine came in the form of, my bro who got me a brand new camera for Christmas (never mind the fact that I'm a techno retard) Anil who pulled strings to get me a ticket back home, Shruti my ever optimistic little elf, Nima my tweety bird and a whole lot of other people who saved me from jumping over a cliff.
Christmas Eve was better than Christmas itself. My cousins and friends came together to light up my Christmas with a Christmas tree and fine food. We made merry, we made the house a huge mess, and I wowed everyone with my hitherto unsuspected culinary skills. Christmas morning dawned late and groggy. I smiled, I sang off key Christmas carols at the top of my voice, ate cake and packed my belongings to head home. A Christmas eve well spent is a Christmas day well celebrated (and a lot less grouchier Nina).