tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11529524715732490662024-03-19T05:30:41.584-07:00who stole my thunderConfessions of a wannabe bloggerNina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-77924178891457615022012-03-30T04:26:00.006-07:002012-03-30T05:42:29.950-07:00Berserk in Britannia<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%;">The multiple stab wounds I felt on my back thanks to Enid Blyton are healed. When I came to the UK with my heart set on the highlands, little did I realise that it'd take me over six months to see them. Dreams of chasing Dragons and diving head first into </span>Shakespearean<span style="font-size: 100%;"> literature still remain distant dreams and the only company through literature I have is of J. Stiglitz, Fischer and the likes. Don't get me wrong, they are great company, but not the ones you'd want to call over for drinks or read with in the tub, they ain't no Shakespeare. </span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">First off, 12 Chinese flatmates aren't exactly what you had in mind. Mind you, they are nice people, but not the greatest of conversationalist. The perks of staying with them are of course the food and the occasional herbal tea. But otherwise, the place is so quiet that I think I think too loud sometimes. Secondly, the course keeps your nose pinned to the papers, see how I haven't blogged in the last eight months? Thats right. Thirdly, Warwick beats any hobbies that you had out of your system. And makes sure you don't have the time to whine about it. You also end up with an </span>eclectic<span style="font-size: 100%;"> group of yahoos who are nothing like you and still end up having a blast. So much so that when they leave on holidays and for some god forsaken reason you're still on campus, you know you're bound to go stark staring mad. These are some of the reasons why I love Warwick too. I do. And my alter ego wholeheartedly concurs at this point. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>The pain of leaving everything thats familiar and dear to you, and hopping on a plane took a lot of effort and courage on my mothers part, since I got cold feet and threw a melodramatic fit all over the Airport. Yes, mom gave me one look that said "This is how life is, so suck it up and deal with it", so much for motherly love. Mum and my twin left as soon as I got into the airport, since it was already 1AM and the only comfort remained in the face of a best friend, who stood his ground until he saw my tear streaked face go past security check and out of his sight. And since I know better, until my flight took off.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>Yeah I know, all that drama only so that could I turned up at home right in time for Christmas. Which of course, I did. But with two terms behind me now, I'm glad I went back home for as long as I did, for sanity's sake. I'm glad.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>I being the only Non-Chinese (Indian to be specific) oddity in my flat, spend all my time outdoors. I'm glad I do that, because when snow came, snowman, snow angel, snow ball fight and nasty chunks of snow up the nasal cavity (all thanks to a virulent friend), I got it all. Running amok on campus in the wee hours of the morning with a neurotic friend who had just gotten back from a road trip made things even better.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Whats next? Scotland and Lake District. Same old neurotic friend, same old me but a different location to run amok in. Here is hoping to meet Nessie and an inevitable brawl at a Scottish pub. Black eye and missing tooth, here I come.</span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">P.S. And If you ever visit Buckingham Palace, London, do not forget to squint, glower and then grimace at the royal guards. It is epic fun.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-73625695553393394642011-07-20T12:21:00.001-07:002011-11-03T16:51:36.584-07:00Retrograde evolution.<span class="Apple-style-span">I might have previously stated that mallu freak accidents have no relation to coconuts or coconut trees. I take that back. Having experienced one such freak accident, I'm forced to retract my statement. I'm notorious in my family for being the kind of person who is always, ALWAYS present where something explodes, someone falls off a bridge, dog chases someone, someone runs into a giant field full of stinging nettles! And as always, I'm that someone</span> (no surprises there!)<span class="Apple-style-span">. The stinging nettle incident could send my relatives into peels of laughter, they've very tragically caught it on tape. That story could be the source for an entire novel.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Unfortunately, the coconut tree incident happened very recently, too recent an incident for my liking. A visit to my paternal home required me to drop in at an aunt's place. It is set in one of the most picturesque places in Kerala. It overlooks the backwaters and has gently sloping coconut trees, hugging its fringes. Damn those gently sloping coconut trees! A chimp of a cousin ran up one, and challenged me to do the same. In retrospect, the sheer stupidity that gripped me then, makes me want to kick myself in the rear repeatedly. I ran up some feet with ease, the next few, I tiptoed, the "en pointe" I did next would make a ballet dancer jealous (I was several feet up in the air already). The next thing I knew, my cousin had swung on to the tree I was on, and it began to wobble dangerously. I slipped and was holding on to the "tree" with all my life. It looked as though I was some sort of game about to be roasted over slow fire. An enterprising uncle had already clicked a picture of that, not intentionally of course. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Everyone knows how abrasive a tree's bark is against the skin, I slipped off so fast that my hands looked as though I had sandpaper scrubbed all over me. I heard shrieks of laughter and from the corner of my eye saw my cousins guffawing madly. The hilarity of the incident, I still don't fully comprehend. I let go, that being the only option left with me (I know what you're thinking, I'm not spiderman.). The thud with which I landed still resonates all too loudly. The pain that ensued was nothing compared to the deluge of laughter and jokes that followed. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>You'd think that me, being the product of a Jillion years of evolution would know better than to climb a tree at this age like some arboreal ancestors, or in this case, cousin. Perhaps evolution skipped this family. Perhaps retrograde evolution is the new black.</div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-21810265199761374852011-05-19T11:52:00.000-07:002011-11-03T16:55:53.100-07:00Rain country monsoonsSomebody very wisely once stated that, God went on a riot with the colour green in my country. And by "country" she meant Kerala. After a gap of several years, I went to my ancestral home in Parur, Kerala, this time to attend the funeral of my Ammuma. This was probably the place where I first met her, consciously. With very little to do, besides engaging in the senseless rituals, small talk and listening to ancient relatives tut, I took to staring ceaselessly at the seemingly endless expanse of lush greenery around me. The memories of a woman clad in the softest of white saris seemed to smother me, and I couldn't even cry. She probably never realised, that she left behind a vacuum in my heart the size of the universe. For as long as I can remember, she had had the softest hands and a smile that could light up the darkest of days. The sari with the blue patterns at the border, the one that I constantly tugged at, will never again be a source of comfort to me. Never again will a small voice sing songs, that brought to my mind vivid images of a beautiful time I never saw.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-68992865038522176532010-07-24T09:52:00.000-07:002010-10-13T10:57:29.417-07:00Its on the houseAfter months of coercion my mother finally succeeded (for reasons unknown to the world) in converting me to a vegetarian.My f(r)iends often wondered in astonishment the Himalayan effort that must have required in convincing a carnivore such as yours truly into a rabbit. They failed to realise the huge effort on my part that stopped me from screaming out the truth, it was because of their appetites that dinosaurs no longer walked this planet. Probably one of the worst decisions of my life, walked around campus like a bear with a bad bad tooth ache. To heal my wounded appetite, I grabbed my cousin aka deranged roommate and trooped off to Matteo, my fantasy world's central perk, my red and purple couloured, coffee smelling, Shangri-la.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-55739485554099217402010-02-22T03:12:00.000-08:002010-02-24T09:47:51.675-08:00Shall we dance?If anyone tells you that doing the Naagin dance in language class is a good idea, then don't believe them. Its a lie concocted to get you into trouble. I'm telling you, nuns - not "people". Highly temperamental women cramped up in a tiny campus can have disastrous effects. Language class is where it all happens. I've been in college two years and my Sanskrit teacher never addresses me by my name. Even if I make any noise, its the person sitting next to me who gets yelled at (smirks). It was one of those days, when the sun is hotter, the nuns crazier and watchmen shrewder. I'm sitting in class waiting for the teacher to come, in walks KJ ( my mentally unstable friend) going "oooo wooow oo". Statutory warning: Too much of KJ is highly injurious to mental health. Enter the "warrior". We settle down in the back row. Class begins, as usual- dull, drab and deathly. KJ leans towards me "Lets do the Naagin dance, Nins." I was never much of a dancer. Apparently according to a faithful birdie -carefully re-phrasing- "You dance like a monkey with emotional problems" (you here refers to yours truly). Nonetheless, never the person to lose heart, I join in. "Go cheetah have a banana, hey monkey, get funky"! I totally nailed it. We could soon hear (as did people within 10mile radius) the "warrior" screech "What on earth is going on in the back row?". Thats enough to set her off with her mind numbingly boring rants on girls behaving like guys, lack of discipline among the youth, her going to America to do her Ph.D (I don't know how thats relevant, the show off) and the effect of "too much" freedom on girls. Sigh. The old bat never stops. I stare at her as if in a drunken stupor. The ever optimistic KJ reverts back to her nutty self. She crouches low and continues with her dance and we happily take videos of her without her knowledge. It was all over facebook by night.<br /><p>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. </p><p>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.</p>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.Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-50444198760272453382010-01-04T07:04:00.000-08:002010-03-20T10:27:46.203-07:00Jingle all the wayChristmas this year came early for me. Two weeks before Christmas I was moping around the house acting like a regular Scrooge. Even when my Christmas loving and very well meaning cousin swore to breaks my legs, if I uttered one more word against Christmas, so I continued to put my life on the line by griping about Christmas.I would have made Scrooge seem like a loving joyful Grandpa had he been for real. Everything was going <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Topsy</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">turvy</span>, I discovered that I didn't have half the notes for my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">pre</span> Christmas exams, I didn't get tickets to go home for holidays, teachers mistook my wide eyed innocence for phased out staring, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Autowallas</span> drove me up the wall rather than driving me to the right destination, in short, life made hell look lucrative.<br /><br />Angels come in many forms ( pretty, mild or downright <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">scary looking</span>) mine came in the form of, my bro who got me a brand new camera for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Christmas</span> (<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">never mind</span> the fact that I'm a techno retard) <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Anil</span> who pulled strings to get me a ticket back home, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Shruti</span> my ever optimistic little elf, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nima</span> my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">tweety</span> bird and a whole lot of other people who saved me from jumping over a cliff.<br /><br />Christmas Eve was better than Christmas <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">itself</span>. My cousins and friends came together to light up my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Christmas</span> with a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Christmas</span> 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).Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-31436186651845387032009-10-31T02:39:00.000-07:002009-11-01T22:42:02.238-08:00Confrontations with the otherkindExams may come and exams may go but I go on forever, one wise friend modified the lines of Lord Tennyson. Thus passed by my exams. A blaze of worry, repeated accusations of being a nerd, missing notes, so on and so forth. All of us waited impatiently for the advent of our much awaited holidays, with most of us heading off in different directions. Since my cousin was to come with me to Kerala, 10 days of fun was guaranteed. I frantically made calls to my friends to make sure that they would be free to go out with me. Tough luck, all of them would be tied up with exams.<br /><div><br /></div><div> Exams or no exams I left three of my best friends with no choice. They'll have to meet me whether they like it or not. We (my cousin and I) had our hands read by palmist at around 7 in the night at the Marine Drive. That was so creepily accurate. I was very sceptical at first, (yeah yeah, smirk all you want) but not any more. I refuse to write the content of my palmist's predictions, intending to leave the reader curious at this point. Next day I reluctantly headed off towards the most visited part of my city, Fort Kochi. My reluctance to visit this place were quite well based since this place was where some of my most humiliating incidents took place ( bet you expected me to publish that, psych!!). We went into a place where Ian Wright previously visited, went shopping, crossed the cobble stoned Jew town to the synagogue and hopped on to a ferry taking me back home. Looking back to that beautiful day brings back a smile....when my cousin declared that we'd see the world together, haggled for the best bargain, oggled at the Chinese Fishing nets, walked down the aisle to my fictitious groom in India's oldest European Church. I fell in love with the place where I spent almost all of my life all over again.</div><div><br /></div><div> I wanted my all knowing cousin to meet my two best friends, BIG BIG mistake. All of them made fun of my "awesome" and "happening" life. Bah humbug! Their lives are about as happening as dead flies and bits of fluff. But nevertheless, I'm glad they bonded, even if it were because they were laughing collectively at me and my bungling errors ( I am the Queen klutz, I open my mouth and I stick my feet into it.) My friend drove me around the city at dusk the next day. We went into the most interior part of the city. Parts which still retain and reflect the original character of Kochi. We drove towards the light house and then began the long drive back. Somehow in this city of mad hatters without anyone around me realising, they'd inadvertently set off the clockworks, the slow, very slow process of "re- maddening" began within me. </div><div><br /></div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-91619131846310345352009-10-08T11:13:00.000-07:002009-11-01T22:40:00.113-08:00Frenzied studying and wayward distractionswhenen you read this blog, you might pause to think that this is yet another agonising adolescent. Let me tell you something, I'm no more (gulp) an adolescent. My teenage years, though not so long ago were the most fun years of my short yet very eventful life. Heck, I was every teacher's nightmare in school, and have toned down to be a respectable nerd in the years since. I'm about as temperamental as a sleeping dragon about to be poked in the eye. Venting out pent up anger on unfortunate passersby is a very regrettable trait, that I have honed up to a level where it can be recognised as an art. I can make a person believe that whatever happened is entirely their fault even if whatever happened took place before they were born (Ok thats exaggeration, another trait of mine.) My frequent escapades into the parallel universe has left me with a glazed expression, and I distinctly don't see the point of laughing at my economics teacher's jokes ( I don't see how that was relevant but I had to write it down). <div> </div><div> </div><div> So, the exam timetables are out and I don't even have all the notes and whatever notes that I do have, I don't remember it being taken in class. All I can think of, is this book that I read lately, "The colour purple", an excellent read, I do not recommend it to the over emotional and the weak hearted. The sheer agony of what is written in that book can leave you drained for the next couple of weeks. While I read the book, my wiser and infinitely more admirable classmates got their notes and had it organised. When I got around to it, the syllabi and the quantity left me reeling. I ran helter skelter all around college, grabbed the nearest nerd ( yes, I did mention that I am a nerd, but these girls are the ones with the "nerdier than thou" expressions and the proof to back it up) and issued death threats until she gave me all her notes. "Gangway!! To the nearest xerox shop". To my utter dismay, there was Q of girls there, long enough to beat the great wall of China. After what seemed like a million years, I get all my notes. But who can study with so many distractions, don't tell my mum, she'll rip my heart right out. "Focus, focus." I have to keep telling myself that everyday. Everyone keeps calling me to tell me how much they've completed and I have not yet begun.</div><div><br /></div><div> With the exams looming dangerously up ahead on the horizon, I can do nothing but cram. And when the bridge is reached , upset a bag of trash over the troll underneath and march confidently across it. Sigh. Some days you are the pigeon, some days the statue. </div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-71945366384145479932009-09-08T08:29:00.000-07:002009-09-17T22:24:04.513-07:00To Ooty and the whining, trekking and the bliss that followed.<div align="justify">A trip to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ooty</span> with friends was a dream come true in many ways, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Nazia's</span> home town, a chance to meet the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tribals</span> (yes, I am a nerd) and my all time favourite dream of riding a horse all on the same tour. I was too excited to do any studying for my internals prior to the trip and started packing almost a week before the trip. I was more hyper than usual....hyper to the point of being annoying. My friends got a glazed expression every time I mentioned <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ooty</span>. I even read up on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tribals</span> we were to meet.</div><p align="justify">DAY 1<br /></p><div align="justify">We reached <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ooty</span> via the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Bandipur</span> tiger reserve. Words aren't enough to describe the beauty that is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Bandipur</span>. Our accommodations were arranged at Don <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Bosco</span> Community College. Well it looks neat from the outside, because it was on top of a hill and when the mist spread we felt as though we were floating on a cloud. Jimmy instantly took a liking for me (Jimmy is the St. Bernard) and chased me all over the place like the sheep that he usually chases and knocked the wind out of me on several occasions, he was the size of a young cow! The Dorm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">alloted</span> to us (with all due respect to our teachers) was hideous. It wasn't a dorm, it was a run down old auditorium, with paint chipping in places. We were given mattresses and asked to make ourselves feel at home. Bah! The Irony. I don't even want to talk about the toilets. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Apoorva</span> declared that she wasn't getting out of her clothes till she was safely back in Bangalore. I was at a loss for words, so I ate instead, to cover up the awkward silence and the bewildered looks. We survived on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Thepla</span>, pickles and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">kakra</span> at the dorm.....and several cartons of milk. </div><div align="justify">So much for the Five star accommodations. We trooped off to meet the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">tribals</span> (it was study tour, did I not mention that?). We were to meet members of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Irula</span> tribes, some of whom were brought from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Sri</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Lanka</span> to work in British plantations. We trekked for miles before reaching the main settlement. Since they spoke Tamil, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Anuja's</span> broken Tamil came in handy (the fraud <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Tamilian</span>). It was clearcthat the man we interviewed found her Tamil funny and was doing his best not to laugh. The more courageous of the lot (which includes me) trekked another 5 miles uphill to get to the original settlement. The view took my breath away ( for the record I was already out of breath having trekked so long). </div><div align="justify">The most enjoyable moment that day was when the gang was heading back to the dorm after hunting for stores selling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Toda</span> shawls and Eucalyptus (pronounced <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Youclipeetus</span>; courtesy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Anuja</span>), we stood on the path leading to the dorm over looking the valley of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Kottagiri</span>. It was 7. 30 in the night, pitch dark. We could see pin prick like lights from far away houses in the valley and the gospel music from a nearby church. It was the most peaceful moment of my life. I felt calm ( which is very very rare in my case). There were pillow fights, blanket thefts, near strangulation and photo shoots in the dorm that night. I distinctly heard a muffled voice trying to scream"Bitch central".</div>DAY 2<br />We left for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Ooty</span> from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Kottagiri</span> at 8 in the morning after the catholic students attended mass and afterI got pinned down by Jimmy. I'm sure I left a depression on the side of the hill where Jimmy used me for a trampoline. First stop was the Tea museum. It was bone bitingly cold. All of us huddled inside the museum/ factory for the yummiest cup of hot tea and learned the history and art of tea making. I was more interested in the tea they served rather than its history mind you. I bought several packets of truffles, went to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Ooty</span> view point and trooped off to the bus. We went to the boat house next. All of us rushed towards the chocolate outlets. Nobody gave a second look towards the boats. it was drizzling for Pete's sake. Along came <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Farooq</span> Uncle (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Nazia's</span> uncle) and his sons to our rescue. The gang settled in his car (cramped but quaint) for a ride through Ooty. We were the only ones luck enough to see most of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Ooty</span> within an hour. We bought more chocolates and marshmallows, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Nuja</span> got her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Toda</span> shawl and I got my souvenirs. I cribbed, a lot more than usual because everyone were hinting that I might not get to ride a horse because of the lackof time. I threw a tantrum (It was my way or the highway). We made it just in time to see everyone boarding the bus (smirks from the gang)........ I begged and pleaded with my mentor to let me ride horse just once. She gave me 5 minutes ("<em> 5 minutes, chop chop</em>"), I rushed over to the nearest horse and blurted to its smug owner that I wanted a ride. I got to ride the prettiest white horse its mane glistening in the cold sunlight. Apoorva threw me looks of pure venom, because I got the best looking horse (tsk tsk, such vanity). I felt like a princess (friends suggested "the evil witch Queen" title).<br />We cribbed about our accommodations, threw up during the journey, got back to dorm very well past the deadline at night, did things that an innocent reader shouldn't read about, made life hell for the teachers who accompanied us. But ultimately it was the most fun trip we ever went on. Teachers groan when we mention the dates for the next trip, but heck WE ARE GOING!!Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-19146445191782893252009-09-07T01:39:00.000-07:002009-09-08T08:29:11.193-07:00Cheers to my 19thThis was perhaps the only month that kept me on my toes. Workload enough to choke a horse was heaped on me. With my Birthday looming dangerously over the horizon. I'm weird, yes...i hate B'days......I didn't ask to be wrinkled when I grew up. Looks like I'm heading off in that dreaded direction. Anyway, the Sociology department dropped the bomb, study tour to Ooty. I could have done a back flip, really. But heck, there was still the black prospect of getting past my B'day without killing myself. My best plan was to pretend that I didn't have a B'day and act as if nothing happened. Well my friends and my cousin ganged up on me and decided to make a whole lot of noise about it. Two days before the D-day Dr. Kalam came to college. I know it is inappropriate to say this about a former President who has over 25 honourary doctorate degrees but I think he is unbelievably cute.<br /> The D-day arrived and I was in for the biggest surprise ever. My cake was baked specially for me by Sandhya, and it hurt me to realise that I'd yelled at her just hours before for telling me that she couldn't make it. I got everything that I could ever ask for and more. But what made me fall in love with my B'day all over again was the sudden dawn of realisation that so many people actually cared, cared enough to wish me on my B'day, if they couldn't get through once they called again. It made me feel special (I know what you are thinking...."duh, that's what B'days are for"). It was more special gift than I could ever ask for.<br /> For once I enjoyed the spotlight being on me, for once I felt special and for the first time I'm feeling excited about my next B'day.<br /><br /><div><br /><div></div></div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-90984553750519706392009-08-18T09:18:00.000-07:002009-08-18T09:22:13.744-07:00Blank Noise - my first report<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; "><div> This was written by me for the organisation I work for called Blank Noise. I felt so much for it that I thought I'd post it in my blog. </div><div> I come from a place where eve teasing is considered "normal". And on several occasions my friends have interrupted me in the middle of my rants to tell me that if I keep reacting so much to their comments i'd just provoke them to do more. For awhile i was lulled into believing that eve-teasing was a part and parcel of life. Not any more. Even when I'm out with parents, "modestly" dressed, I can hear men on the road hooting, wolf whistling and what not. More often than not I feel like stuffing all my shopping down their throats. I hate it when friends say "boys will be boys" when they indulge in eve teasing, never for once stopping to think the effect it has on the woman it is aimed at.</div><div>I've heard middle-aged women complaining about eve-teasing.......did they ask for it?? I don't think so. Whatever a woman wears, however she wears it....no man has the right to inflict upon her any form of abuse be it physical or verbal. I vividly remember being teased in my school uniform (we wore salwaar in high school). No woman ever asks for it. </div><div><ul><li>Women are made to feel guilty, guilty of dressing provacatively, guilty of being out too late, guilty of being at the wrong place, guilty of existing. If a man can dress however he pleases then why not a woman?? You never find a woman passing comments on a man............ because maybe men get some sort of sick pleasure out of it. However pleasurable it may seem to them the wound that is caused in a woman leaves a lasting mental scar.</li></ul>There were several occasions when I've felt that I never asked for it. Instances like when I'd be sitting in my car, wearing my school uniform, following all the "codes" that a "modest" woman should follow just to catch old men, men old enough to be my father making obscene gestures at me through the window. Most of the time I'd be too horrified to respond...but then when a construction worker flashed me on my way back home and right after that my friend and I noticed a guy following us on his bike all the way to her house and after that I had enough on an impulse I picked up the biggest stone I could and swivelled around to hurl it at him only to find that he had finally caught on and rode off. I was fuming about it for hours afterwards.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>I told my aunt about it, she was obviously outraged but then she went on "what were you wearing??? where did this happen?? when??" and another jillion annoying questions. She thought maybe I wasn't following one of the "codes".</div><div>Let me elaborate on the Codes:</div><div><ul><li style="margin-left: 15px; ">Dress modestly (code word for....wear an ankle length full sleeved salwaar......oh yeah and don't forget to cover your head and face with a scarf...not a problem if you choke or suffocated to death as long as no one can see an inch of your skin)</li><li style="margin-left: 15px; ">Don't go to the WRONG places ( wrong places in the sense, anywhere but your home and your neighbourhood that is within 200mt radius. Just walk in circles around your house if you want to "go out" and if you want to "hang out" with friends then hang on to the branches of the tree in your backyard.)</li><li style="margin-left: 15px; ">Don't stay out too late (get back home as soon as college is over otherwise dad might jump to conclusions and get a heart attack.).</li></ul>I fretted and fumed for a long time after this and that's when it really clicked that I never asked for it. NEVER.Even when I followed all the "Codes", not thoroughly though, I vividly remember being teased and humiliated on the road, parks, TEMPLES, restaurants, even when my mother went with me. This just goes to show that the "codes" are nothing but a humongous pile of....ahem....crap. I never asked for it, no woman ever does. The codes are only a filthy excuse created by chauvinistic males to satisfy their perverted ego. </div></div></span>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-10111413754836954382009-07-24T02:46:00.000-07:002009-07-24T04:08:03.237-07:00Swords, dragons and dietcoke.Too much chocolate can make anyone look like a turkey on the dinner table on Thanks giving. I closely resemble one of those now. I've given up on me... like my "wise" cousin says - a moment on the lips is forever on the hips! So prophetic. Everyday in every way I'm looking more and more like a fat turkey. Moving on to more happier topics, July was a month of mixed events...the month isn't over yet so The Panic Princess (yours truly) is not ready to make any comments on it.. except, so far so DAMN good. <div> </div><div> Somehow everyone in my class gets a rude shock when I tell them I'm single...then they try to set me up with their friends. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Geez</span> leave me alone!! Its more fun making theories on the "Utopian man", <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Anuja</span> and I came up with that one, its hilarious. As much as I'd love to put it on my blog, I must take into consideration the values and morals of the reader, hence I shall refrain from doing any such thing. </div><div> Things to do before the month is up:</div><div><ul><li>Find time and space to freak out (vent pent up energy).</li><li>Write a bucket list.</li><li>Flush it down the toilet.</li><li>Call <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Nimma</span> more often and yell at someone else for a change.</li><li>Take lessons on covering up my tracks.</li><li>Find some more time for my frequent escapades into the parallel universe.</li></ul></div><div> It was a month of birthdays, internals (I pause to swear under my breath at this point) and whole lot of eating outs....I'm usually broke by the fifteenth of the month. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Apoorva's</span> 20Th was so much fun, it was simple and so damn sweet! Under the pretext of buying shoes for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Nazia's</span> sis, we took her shopping and brought her the prettiest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">kelly</span> green tube top. Had it not been a gift I would have stolen it and runaway. So, she takes us to Mainland China for a buffet, we were in cahoots with the hostess there, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Apoorva</span> didn't know that. From the million appetisers to the desserts it was brilliant! I can't decide which part I liked best, when they taught us how to use chopsticks or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Apoorva's</span> surprised cum embarrassed expression when the waiters came with sparklers, guitars and chocolate cake (on the house) and sang for her. </div><div> All of us kept up our usual coaster signing ritual. I even plucked up the courage to compliment the chef...I'm so proud of me! We went bowling after that and I emerged as the least pathetic one, but at one point I had a sneaking suspicion that my hand might come right off its sockets with the bowling ball....my hand is going to throb like crazy for the next one week. I better get my act together and start running before I start resembling Queen <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Latifa</span>! </div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-11439935783823298422009-07-02T09:23:00.000-07:002009-07-02T09:54:11.728-07:00The next chapter!!All is well that ends well. Sadly that couldn't be said about my mind numbingly boring summer vacation. The last leg of it was fun though with all the makings of a soap....laughter, tears, shopping (it doesn't fit in, I know) and a lot more drama than usual. I lost my mobile and after a lot of unfounded accusations it was restored to me by a good Samaritan who found it in an ATM. Apparently my mobile travelled all over the city before actually being returned to me. Thank you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sangeeth</span>, you restored my belief in miracles. I thanked him a million times in my head and in person!!! I wanted to get back to college ASAP. Never knew I'd actually say that sentence.<div> </div><div> I couldn't wait to get back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">MCC</span> and rag the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">unsuspecting</span> juniors. Little did I know that one of my juniors would be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Sandhya</span>......she turned the tables on me...and now instead of being the scary, growling senior I turned out to be a senior who was actually bullied by juniors. Yes, I am a shame to the cult of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Seniorhood</span>. But now I'm the proud owner of the world's prettiest stilettos.....not taking into fact the self coined phrase "sticks and stones may break your bones but stilettos kill you". sigh. I don't care if I fall from it and break my neck. I'll still love it! Its great to be back though.....the usual pee-in-the pants kinda laughs, helping friends sob over Ex-boyfriends, displaying new wardrobe, exchanging notes on new hangouts etc. </div><div><br /></div><div> I've already been twice around the city doing nothing in particular except "hangout". <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">That's</span> the fun part,a simple word can contain a whole bunch of actions. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">LOL</span>. Even bought 61 red roses for nuja's dad on his b'day, it was the prettiest bouquet ever. I fell in love with it and had a hard time parting with it.....anyway happy b'day uncle!! I have a full calendar already with credit courses lined up (don't ask if you value your life, because I'm done explaining what it is). I miss the old union looks like they were better than the new one. I am pathetic at concluding, I really am. Here's hoping for a brilliant year....better than before!!!</div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-68765220833973595512009-05-30T21:57:00.000-07:002009-06-04T00:16:57.485-07:00Confessions of cousin IT!!!.For the past month and a half I've been sitting at home with little more than staring at the wall and drooling to do. I was getting more depressed by the day. You see I'm not used to such inactivity. I drove mum up the wall. Told her I was already on the edge and inactivity would push me right off it! I took to reading a women's magazine. And to kill time, they (the very active magazine people) had suggested a new haircut for the summer. I warmed up to the idea pretty quickly, considering the fact that I and everybody else around me had gotten tired of my so called "grunge" look! So I went to the salon with a broad smile on my face...........I had taken time out from my I-wish-I-were-busy schedule to do some frantic research on my new look, I liked what I saw in the above mentioned magazine.<br /><br />So I walk into the salon and explain to the stylist in detail what exactly I wanted. She nodded and said something about layers (she had a weird accent probably north eastern considering the fact that shes from Mizoram!) I nod approvingly. I wanted French pedicures too. Pedicures first. It looked great and lasted for about three days!! Damn those pretentious French!!<br /><br />Back to the point which pains me the most now - my haircut. It took the stylist nearly an hour of cutting and shearing to get the desired style. I was mortified at the result!! I could have gotten that look if i gave my 3 year old niece a pair of garden shears. The stylist hurriedly told me that it would look much better if it were washed and dried!! There was no need to cry!! Easy for her to say!! Her non-butchered hair looks just FINE!!! And she doesn't have friends who guffaw cruelly at bad hair cuts!! Only mine didn't look like any hair style I had in mind........... it looked like ROADKILL!!<br /><br />To put it mildly I look like a shampooed and blow dried Cousin It from the Adam's family!! Damn that filthy rag they call a magazine!! Hair extensions anyone???Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-47660866512496431812009-04-03T00:55:00.000-07:002009-04-08T21:11:14.184-07:00Cribbing Mallu, falling coconuts!!!<div align="left">Its been almost a year since I have been officially displaced from my home, kerala. I find the term "mallus" and "malluland" quite offensive because we've given ourselves proper respectable names! Considering the fact that of all the people I've come across, without any bias, mallus are definitely the funniest people, that's besides the fact that they can laugh at themselves (this does not include me). Every time I go to Kerala or someone I know from kerala comes to meet me the first thing that my non-keralite friends ask me is "How many coconuts did you get, dude??". OK!! I can think of a million other places where you get coconuts and a jillion other things that you can get from Kerala!! Yes "Kerala" does mean land of coconuts, but please if I hear the coconuts question one more time, I'll beat/bite that person repeatedly without any mercy!! </div><div align="left"><br />I would like to take time to clear all the misconceptions surrounding mallus and their highly complex relationship with coconuts!!<br />1) We do use coconut oil for cooking but NOT ALL THE TIME!!!<br />2) Not all mallus are "CRAZY" about tender coconuts and products from coconuts.<br />3) Mamooty is not my uncle (its not a coconut related misconception, but a misconception nevertheless).<br />4) Yes, there are a lot of kerala dishes made out of coconuts but not ALL of them.<br />5) All mallu freak accidents aren't because "a coconut fell on his head".</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-12463907468843291382009-03-03T02:22:00.000-08:002009-04-08T21:18:29.052-07:00Home sweet home!<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">Being away from home is the most painful event so far!!! The city of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kochi</span> calls out to me every time i hear or see anything vaguely related to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kerala</span>. Yes to a large extent the city is blissfully unaffected (not ignorant, mind you) by whats going on abroad!! The smell of freshly fried <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pakodas</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">biryani</span>, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">masala</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">dosas</span> brings back vivid memories of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Nandita</span> and me after <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Iyer</span> sir's class. Every time a friend calls I cannot help but let tears well up in my eyes (that is besides the shock about the fact that they actually called). I miss everything about the place....... riding the school bus, yelling at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Anil</span> and David, discussing fervently about EVERYTHING with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Nima</span> and laughing with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Ramya</span> and at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Dipthy</span>!! All that was school, and outside it was a city of wonders!! Unimaginably low prices, sunsets worth dying for, coffee at coffee beans are some among the million things that i miss!<br /><br /></div>And when I think of the coming monsoons, I feel like crying.....there is nothing like running out when it rains, or sipping hot coffee while sitting near the balcony when the wind is howling and the rain makes the coconut palms bend!! Wherever I go I can hear songs that remind me of the good and better times I've spent in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Kochi</span>. There is no place like home!! I burn with envy when friends talk of get <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">together</span> that I'll probably never can attend. Like, what <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Nimisha</span> once said "Nina is a fool for having runaway to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">bangalore</span>, leaving her friends behind!!" How painfully true. I took it for granted, never once realizing the fact that maybe, maybe i might not get to relive those days again.<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><br />The time we had our hands read was so scary, because the man could not have been more accurate!!! How skeptical I was when he offered to read mine and how much I regretted the fact that I refused! The day we spent rolling on the floor laughing at a perfectly good romantic movie thanks to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">dipthy's</span> antics.....<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">LOL</span>!! I miss them so much!! The only two people who could make me laugh were David and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Anil</span>, I still refuse to admit it though (at least not to their faces!!) how I wish they were around. Those were the days. I dwell so much in the past that sometimes I freak myself out.<br /><br />I love my life in Bangalore, but i love my life in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Kochi</span> a whole lot more. Even after living in Bangalore for nearly a year I cannot get over the fact that I'm no longer a Bhavanite but a Carmelite, I guess heart of hearts I'll always be a student of BVM(G).</div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-66402280256156097672009-01-28T01:52:00.000-08:002009-01-28T02:22:56.124-08:00Its that time of the year!!Its that time of the year when you see carmelites running wild looking bedraggled, its time for cul-ah.... the three day college fest. It begins tomorrow and I'm keeping my fingers crossed, I bet the place will be run over by tall & hairy testosterone reeking metal heads, screaming their lungs out!! They've set up three venues leaving not even an inch of space for innocent and indifferent passersby. But there are plus points too......like we can give proxy attendance by bribing the class-rep, shoving down our throats all kinds of eatables....and shopping for clothes and shoes within the campus!!<br /> Of course the teachers will be on the look out too...to see if they can catch the girls with their boyfriends in campus, (all the best!!) and also to get the best buys. I'm just praying real hard I've been set a project for my credit course and it requires me to write a report on the fest (all three days!!), that annoucement knocked the wind off me, i had planned in detail my schedule for the three days (it basically includes watching TV and eating popcorn), having no desire in being asked out by perverts and hit on by horny lesbians. Ok I guess I'll just have to accept the fact that I've been given no other choice and might as well try and have fun!Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-64897565445350065852009-01-07T08:50:00.000-08:002009-01-07T09:45:20.987-08:00New year and free hugs!!So its 2009 and so far so good. I hope I haven't spoken too soon! Having brooded a lot on what this year's new year resolution ought to be, I've narrowed it down to two :<br /><br />1. will listen to more carnatic music (having heard being talked about as musically handicapped decided to turn that around....i love the genre of music nevertheless);<br /><br />2.I want to spread the love....for that I will give out more hugs( so I'm sporting a FREE HUGS badge, drawing inspiration from Juann Mann).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3lZdPvjXc_BGi81akwxixFFjeThpvV43WDB0l7nes5GAdWr2-4l-qjTwOaDQAAnMBxvoEQ8fxQX3lEU92iS1H3UX0I8OKG9nMA9vDL3CGEtEqrPcTMuTeYMp1o2c0yctG8I-2vR_iCs/s1600-h/fh.bmp"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3lZdPvjXc_BGi81akwxixFFjeThpvV43WDB0l7nes5GAdWr2-4l-qjTwOaDQAAnMBxvoEQ8fxQX3lEU92iS1H3UX0I8OKG9nMA9vDL3CGEtEqrPcTMuTeYMp1o2c0yctG8I-2vR_iCs/s320/fh.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288609244524906706" border="0" /></a><br />Everything has been going smoothly with some of my friends joining me in my free hugs campaign. A lot of curious stares, whispered comments, pointed fingers and a hell lot more hugs later....I'm feeling great!!<br /><br />So today one of my seniors who majors in journalism wants to do her portfolio on me. OK! That was kinda weird but in a nice way. She seemed genuinely interested, that made me all the more happy. I'll be sporting the badge for some more time and hope that more people will pick that up.<br />"You get what you give" and it feels great to be hugged......makes me feel happier.<br />The only problem being that my lesbian stalker looking really really weird!! So I've been trying to make myself look inconspicuous (NOT HAPPENING!!) I don't have anything against gay people, but this one freaks me out!!<br /><br />And now I've been bombarding myself with carnatic music and am LOVING IT!!Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-85702210694047315182008-11-30T03:57:00.001-08:002008-11-30T03:59:17.561-08:0060 hours of trauma!!It has only been a couple of hours since the firing has stopped.... the death toll continues to climb.... the heart rending cries of those who have lost their loved ones have still not died down. The topic has been discussed so much that it has been cliched already. The terrorist attack that shook the world!! I could not down the facts that came popping up on the TV screen. The plan had been elaborately sketched out, with cartloads of ammunition already stocked up in the rooms..... 183 dead and god knows how many injured.....and what point have they proved.....what goal achieved?? The NSG, the MARCOS, the Mumbai police all joined hands to flush out terrorists and for once all political parties stood united and did not find faults with the existing congress government, which is quite surprising since they usually take the first chance they get to take a bite at the existing govern<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMQT3Xex3riLvv1JaeWiEODNehoSloMlVRYyEL5slFKfxIVoBV8VhnrgPaeNvdFRPd1wrUxmyiC9aYdDALMFqI60zTebckMIK3aOxs4R_8fMY0TOiAvjZfL-fipg1MkRV8Egkot9Xwb8/s1600-h/Hotel+Taj+Downtown+Mumbai.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274418630391054738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMQT3Xex3riLvv1JaeWiEODNehoSloMlVRYyEL5slFKfxIVoBV8VhnrgPaeNvdFRPd1wrUxmyiC9aYdDALMFqI60zTebckMIK3aOxs4R_8fMY0TOiAvjZfL-fipg1MkRV8Egkot9Xwb8/s320/Hotel+Taj+Downtown+Mumbai.JPG" border="0" /></a>ment!! The other unaffected hotels made room for the displaced guests, the city is yet to settle down and the citizens are still haunted and traumatized. But we will stand together, we will put a brave front and we will never let them get the better of us, it does not matter which terrorist outfit planned and executed this act of heinous crime, what matters is that they dared to set foot on our soil and tortured and murdered so many innocent lives. Mumbai has a soul of its own and it will get back on its feet soon!! We will not let mumbai bleed....... we will do our best to voice our resentment..... Jai Hind!!!Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-9084614047090661532008-11-22T23:09:00.001-08:002008-11-27T04:39:23.860-08:00The other city<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD7l1n8eY4Ri94ye-GKXtyrwgDoWuPyzafGIUzDcw5yb3n2dGXxv30IwQj5qc2ZmTo0BMnxvzSMCgDuetUM_BvWn2nOotlLtyEIaIs_VCEKGIYue176MGUL6VHYFGBImnVXWFCvWaZls/s1600-h/cubbon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271746810812564882" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 214px; height: 320px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD7l1n8eY4Ri94ye-GKXtyrwgDoWuPyzafGIUzDcw5yb3n2dGXxv30IwQj5qc2ZmTo0BMnxvzSMCgDuetUM_BvWn2nOotlLtyEIaIs_VCEKGIYue176MGUL6VHYFGBImnVXWFCvWaZls/s320/cubbon.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhosi4wGsr2_Px4HGsNwS83ZFLppUPYJVZ2n9F81tggjdSkeIpejaL4BUB5hPwOo9nm9aDSdpSZ4f12P_fgGKmBOL7qeUKpcA3lPKlklLlJbYCMeRqGJH-5swY8LF5hHiFgD1JatVkjMLE/s1600-h/cubbon.jpg"></a><br />Now that I have been in Bangalore for more than six months I can safely conclude that this must be the most over rated city in the country. Yes, it does have a large number of reasonably well dressed women but when it comes to men, this must be the most saddest place ever with almost 90% of them being the filthiest pieces of vermin I've ever seen......but one cannot argue the fact that most men all over are quite the same. The city is a lot less prettier than it was when i saw it some eight years back. Even then Cubbon park must be the prettiest park I've ever seen. Especially with the Pink Tabebuia blossoming all over the place. It is simply breath taking..... the air is so pure that you could almost "drink" it. And yes, commercial street and brigade road must be every girls' dream shopping destination. For this I cornered Apurva - who claimed to have profound knowledge when it came to shopping at the above mentioned places, this turned out to be true she really did know each and every inch of the place and would disappear into small <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOAPOlbsSMjJA0-iooIN_OCQsDls6863YiwPwbYYZrkFjzWLQD25ho3jhillFYJ5FpO2ZKKdY-gY3kpBix_CpWSqHSaX7pqVMA2Qaw9aeB-NcWUL6fyWgVfSWiFOOltfmkkCAXdhKwqo/s1600-h/coomm+street.jpg"></a>alleys to come out with some of the most stunning buys I've seen. And the best part is <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ds_vmHrJry5cewzgA0JYj6bi9OPAwxdo4k9Qzx1HiPyg97ue4FluBg187D1B3uv_pXhXHZyNPl2s9gqG8ZWQsKNvZrGLnlBOl90R0Bs8rbveS6wBptXH90sFBuQuKUtCz1vSmIee7Uk/s1600-h/coomm+street.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271746980980210674" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px; height: 213px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ds_vmHrJry5cewzgA0JYj6bi9OPAwxdo4k9Qzx1HiPyg97ue4FluBg187D1B3uv_pXhXHZyNPl2s9gqG8ZWQsKNvZrGLnlBOl90R0Bs8rbveS6wBptXH90sFBuQuKUtCz1vSmIee7Uk/s320/coomm+street.jpg" border="0" /></a>you can bargain with the price (though I am a complete loser when it comes to this) and with Apurva as my faithful charioteer I came out having an awesome time after all. But, (yes there is always a but) Bangalore is infested with a large number of stray dogs...... I love dogs, I really do but having been chased for several kilometres every week without fail I have come to fear them as well. Like every other Bangalorean having an unexplainable hatred towards a Mallu, the dogs seem to have caught on too. The next thing I do not in anyway like are the BMTC buses, even though there are a large number of them operating within the city, it is ALWAYS crowded...... so I am left with no option but to take an autorickshaw. This is not the better option but the only option. The drivers being the MOST lecherous men in the planet!!! And yes the jarring kannada music which gets stuck in my head for hours together and even making me hum during college lectures and smile blandly at my professors for no particular reason whatsoever. The next best thing about Bangalore is the fact that there is always a place to hangout after college hours..... and yes it undeniably is a lot more safer than mostIndian cities. But transport for me is still a problem with the auto drivers charging fares that could buy a piece of the moon!!Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-66017071087904023002008-10-21T22:30:00.000-07:002008-11-27T04:38:29.588-08:00The bullies of Bangalore!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4hffpPr5qz74T1bVQdhsZpPTJI0FEsP5d0oIsh5ARGQ2tO9fPMdXPd0Gx2GQQuUgWWkoCfLeOGyBpywHYGJ2NMVGEsnTLdp6fR3VIQNBxeOuhe_V69MDi7rHL9S_9YSVRLoFdVGhw_0/s1600-h/mcc.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259863896003266002" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4hffpPr5qz74T1bVQdhsZpPTJI0FEsP5d0oIsh5ARGQ2tO9fPMdXPd0Gx2GQQuUgWWkoCfLeOGyBpywHYGJ2NMVGEsnTLdp6fR3VIQNBxeOuhe_V69MDi7rHL9S_9YSVRLoFdVGhw_0/s320/mcc.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>You read that right. I'm talking about Mount Carmel College, like I've said before this must be the bitchiest college in the planet. The nuns of this college somehow have taken an instant dislike towards me.................I don't understand why- I'm very likable (at least in front of them) they seem to see right through the facade. I seem to be getting into a lot of trouble- half of which I do not hold any responsibility for!!! They seem to be watching my moves very carefully and passing unwarranted snide remarks......makes one wonder out loud whether to speed up their path to reach god!! And here I was thinking happily that I'll be able to dodge them...................darn it!!!<br /><br /><div align="left">I've landed myself several nicknames one of them being "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">malluma</span>". My place of birth is not my fault (ascribed status dammit!!!). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">MCC</span> is especially famous for keeping their students very very busy but somehow most of them manage to keep a very happy social life. And the biggest crime around is to ask someones opinion on a bestseller book. Reading for fun is a crime here "read only when desperate " that's the motto. OK I know I sound like a complete nerd but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">MCC</span> makes anyone with even the slightest habit of reading look like a nerd. The worst days of the year are the days preceding the university examination.................... unexpected accusations regarding attendance and death threats from the teachers due to the lack of it. Most of the students wouldn't give two hoots about it had the teachers not said anything regarding the hall tickets, now that's a touchy subject....................they made me run crying all over the campus regarding attendance shortages which I never had in the first place (@#$%#$). </div>There is always something big going on in the campus they even have rock bands screeching their lungs out under the tamarind tree. The whole place would be decorated with streamers and you could see the student Union members running all over the place looking harassed and thoroughly disgruntled.<br />And many a times there are dress codes many of them beyond belief. Ah yes that's the best part of being in an all girl college you can turn up looking like a downright slob and nobody would bother if on "dress like a super hero day" you turn up wearing your underpants on the outside.<br />Then there are the awesome trips announcements that turn up on the notice board that I haven't as yet checked out since none of my classmates haven't volunteered to go for it. And mom would probably go in to an extreme state of paranoia if I asked her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">for</span> permission (for heavens sake <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">I'm</span> in an all girl college) .</div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-64685824362998908732008-06-25T02:37:00.000-07:002008-06-25T02:58:07.101-07:00Death rattle of an era!!!Twelve years in paradise..............thats what its been. Its seems much longer when written down. To me my school life was a bliss. Don't mistake me for an honours student..HELL NO!! But i am an honoured student. Honoured to have been taught by the wonderful teachers of BVM Girinagar. Honoured to have rubbed shoulders with the leaders of tommorow, my wonderful friends. It seems like yesterday when i was a six year old hurricane pelting through the corridors cannoning into people. It brings tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat when i tink of that beautiful school. So many onam and childrens day celebrations....... a treasure chest full of memories to look back on. My teachers and friends stuck me through the ups and downs of school life. A shoulder to cry on, a side to nudge and then burst into giggles, a ear to pass comments on cute guys and bitch about loafers........my Friends .....my Saviours. After Magnum Opus (the much sought after school fest) i realised how little time I had left in my school so many things to say so many people to thank.....so many misunderstandings to clear!!! Thanks to my school Ilearned to love my self and my life. I'll never be so free anywhere else. My first friends, my first memories, my first CRUSH(oops)....its all been here.<br /><br /> The canteen..."Survival of the fittest" this phrase was coined especially for BVMG canteen. Us cupping our noses so as to prevent temptation during class to take whiff at the enchanting smell wafting from there (LOLS). Bunking classes. "Chillin out" with the guys....truly memorable.<br />Pigging out at CCD every chance we got and letting the boys pay for it.<br /> <br /> I didnt get my chance to say my thanks and my apologies to everyone that I love and have hurt. So through this blog I pay TRIBUTE to a school beyond compare. To BVMG..............Live forever!!!!!Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1152952471573249066.post-83168602029588267462007-11-11T06:56:00.000-08:002008-11-19T02:02:40.172-08:00That streak of madness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9BU5JJmSGMdwyNikiuDc6rwxuQ5a233bMChIohkD1vPBPRQjGmCfw6ICU7Wo19RdJ_JhrER_qpqKkmWP6Syx9fP8XkvnjO9x5InLkVPPNxwjYHqiXXpDa-5_0IeB5DDrv-Qamde5KdU/s1600-h/mcc.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259481301548622690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9BU5JJmSGMdwyNikiuDc6rwxuQ5a233bMChIohkD1vPBPRQjGmCfw6ICU7Wo19RdJ_JhrER_qpqKkmWP6Syx9fP8XkvnjO9x5InLkVPPNxwjYHqiXXpDa-5_0IeB5DDrv-Qamde5KdU/s320/mcc.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Well can you blame me for being born with a defective gene that makes me mad and sane at alternative intervals?? I love being mad, though those around me don't.<br /><br /><br />I give off an impression of being a snob(which fyi i am not). Friends say that at first the air of repulsion around me is pretty unbearable. Hell!! that aint no air of repulsion thats my huge ego!!<br /><br />I got my wonderfully big ego quashed down by my best buddies and the guys in my school............I cant blame ........what do they know ....them the lesser mortals. I strut around like I own the place and i get the most humiliating comments from my guy friends.........thanks a lot boys!!!! You cant live with them or without them ???<br />Oh yea that strut of mine has earned me a lot of nicknames which I wouldnt want to mention here in case someone picks it up.<br />The best part of studying in a girls college is that you get keep up with the latest trends. Fashion begins and ends at Mount carmel girls college. I'm thinking that it must be one of the most bitchiest college in the planet!!!! The one other thing that i've noticed is that people here are a lot more judgemental than any other place i've been to. I had sworn to myself that I would'nt let these people get even a whiff of how nuts I exactly am...... but I'm not being able to contain myself any longer and my friends there have started noticing the weird things that I do. Actually when I stop to brood over this i realise that I have toned down a lot. With my mom and sis far away I have no one else to vent my anger at. If i did anything of that sort at my uncles' place my cousin would most probably shove a book down my throat. I'm not taking any risks I love my voice just as it is.<br /></div><br /><div>I love our little jaunts outside of college its like being back home, when I had alot more freedom...thats 'coz i knew the city and it was a lot smaller. The worst part was the day after my B'day when birthday bumps came showering fom all directions and here I was thinking happily that I was safe inside an all girls college..... You have no idea what girls get upto when left alone(heaven forbid). Girls college is fun but coed is a lot more fun......people I've noticed are a lot less judgemental. I wouldnt dare consider even for a moment that MCC is lenient, it is much worse than a school when it comes to adhering to college rules (whew!!). The best part of MCC is the afternoons that we get off....... we usually pig out at the nearby eateries until our pockets are considerably empty.</div>Nina Prasadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18000945354812457070noreply@blogger.com0