Going Dutch on a Vicious Cycle

I always look forward to those trips to Chech’s place as the pleasure derived from shopping without looking at the price tags for a chronic miser like me is …well….cannot be expressed in words. This trip, being my 3rd in the last 3 months was extra-special, cause I was confident that I had made some progress on my ‘lose weight’ resolution. So after 4 weeks of jumping in aerobics sessions, running by the side of Thames (evoking laughs from ppl who saw fat girl running), trying to avoid looking at my favourite ‘chewy chocolate cookies’ in the supermarket, I looked forward to the moment when I will stand on the weighing scale and the needle will gladly deflect to the left from my previous weight, when I wear the much sexy outfit and not look outrageous, when I can finally get some looks from deserving men, when I will finally choose a design for the tattoo that I was chickening out all this while. This was also to be my ‘Binge Week’- so in comes the drinks, snack-in-betweens and out goes the salad! I also kept getting info that Chettan (brother-in-law) was also making plans for happening weekend.

With all this optimism I head to the airport. Travelling for the first time with my new reissued passport, the worst of my fears came true. Seeing the foto in my passport (where my look is heavily inspired by a cross of Veerapan and Amy Winehouse), I was escorted for ‘additional’ security checks. Now I am someone who ‘silently’ walks across the metal detectors till date & here I was standing in weird positions (eg standing like a lizard) in front of an invisible X Ray machine!!! Once the woman at the security desk learnt that 'they' are real (not fake as thought 'they' were) and not the new way to conceal ammunition, I was let off... So far so good- I touched Schipol, met Chech-Chettan. Okay so I was jealous seeing that Chech has also lost weight, but I was happy to know that my ‘size XXL’ cheeks where only ‘XL’ this time.

Scene I- After a dinner of pizza I complain of having too much carbs for a day, when I was suggested that I can go cycling. Cycling in Holland, that is like French kiss in France!!

Scene II- Next second, I am on the cycle, enjoying the Dutch scenery at night and burning all the carbs. We were looking for Chinatown to see the leftovers of the Chinese New Year celebrations and on one of the bridges, I am distracted by the looks of another cyclist crossing my path, wearing aviators at NIGHT!!...

Scene III- I am head over heels or rather ‘cycle’ over heels, shin, ankle, foot’

The passers by surround me, and a woman asks me – “have u broken anything or is it jus a sprain?” With all due respect lady- HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!! A black ‘gentleman’ [I believe an Usher’s look alike] is lifting the jeans of my right leg, when I had hurt MY LEFT LEG!!! Soon the whole event sank in when Mr. Usher’s look-alike, with his hands stretched out in a chivalrous manner, told me- ‘If ya havent brok’n nythin’ then stan’ up, why yee sittin’ down’. I replied – I need sometime to come to terms with what jus happened and next second he vanished!! I wanted to tell him- dude your women are strong, but we Indian women take more than 45 seconds to come to out senses and STAND UP!!! So there went my "looks from deserving man"...

Scene IV- back at home and got to know that the ‘vicious’ cycle had made Chech also ill with ‘over cycling’. For her adventure click here. From then on it was a weekend when Chettan was taking care of 2 beautiful patients. Since I was ‘injured’, partying took a backseat and it was binging all the way- with comfort food like bakhlava, biryani, bbq flavoured chips, bacardi… :~(

But then I also cooked… (yes yes thats my creation..entry sent to Ripley's Believe it or not!)

Ate…






Drank…. (Chettan's Mojito-[read lemonade])





and with restricted mobility there is always ‘tomorrow’ to start exercising :~P


Scene V- The two sisters cast an evil eye on ‘healthy’ Chettan and he is now sitting with a football size foot!

PS: The last time I cycled was 15yrs ago, when I stopped cycling because I fell off the cycle!!

PPS: My Valentine's Day wishlist is out-

1) A cricket team-preferably the Mumbai team

2) 100 or more Reliance Power shares

3)Macbook Air

and no Tata Nano will not do.....

Malayalam Ariyilla

(Dont know malayalam- when spoken in the 'fake' mallu accent can also mean 'cannot SLICE malayalam')

A little knowledge of malayalam is advisible for this post.

I have read many posts on misadventures of malayalees speaking hindi- some original, some copied. Quite ashamed to admit it, but in my family we have had our embarrassing moments trying to speak our mother tongue- Malayalam.

During those long evening family prayers (when all except Ammachi are alseep), in response to the Litany to the Blessed Mary everyone mechanically responds ‘Njangalku vendi apeyshikanamey’ (pray for us)...Now the jus-returned-from- Ooty-boarding-school uncles in an attempt to actively take part in prayer and listening to Appachan started responding ‘En CONDITIONamey’….

In Malayam, (if I can translate per se) we try to ‘make sure our prayer reaches’ God. (That should explain one and half hour long Sunday mass) My sister is generally good with her Malayalam, except one day when she told father- “Daddy nammakku prarthana CHETHIKYAM”… Dad with the 'why-did-I-bring-these-girls-out-of-Kerala' look, corrects her- ‘Moley prarthana CHETHIKYAM alla, ETHIKYAM (refer to ‘reaching prayer’ logic)’
P.s chettiya has no sensible meaning as far my knowledge of Malayalam goes.

Yours truly- the worst in the lot. My knowledge of Malayalam is purely phonetical and vocabulary mostly picked up from movies or Asianet. If my younger cousins want to outsmart me all they do is ask me the numbers in Malayalam-especially 85 and 95. If they want instant entertainment, copy of Malayalam Manorama is pushed in front of me.

Once sitting and watching Ammachi dry betel nut (adakya) in the sun, I innocently asked Mum- “Ammey idano olakyya”!!! (Dear cousins don’t say ‘olakya’ or ‘thenga kola’ in front of kids). Or the regular question I ask Mum- Amma ente pillowna evidey? (Mum where is my pillow- talona in mallu) The other day I wanted to scrap a malayalee friend ‘endu patti’ (wat happened)..typo error it ended up being ‘enda patti’!!

When I was enrolled in St. Teresas’s school in class 8, girls in class viewed me as the NRK mallu from Bombay and I did get a good share of attention and respect. So much so girls would try (uncomfortably) to speak in English or not talk to me at all. [Little did they know that I was not speaking to them cause I was not comfortable with my malayalam]. In addition, the strict Chemistry teacher was my aunt. So no messing with the new girl in class. Now the tailors were taking more than 3 weeks to stitch the new uniform. On enquiring

Me- Uncle uniform eppo kittum? (wen will I get the uniform)
Tailor- “uniform chuvayazhicha kittum” (u will get the uniform on chuvayazhicha)
Me- “chuvayazhicha paranya” (what is chuvayazhicha )
Tailor- “kuttyikku Malayalam ariyillale- toosday toosday” (kid u don’t know Malayalam. Tuesday)

Now on the way back, I chat with some other northy friends and laugh and say “ooh chuvayazhicha matlab magalwaar” and all of us repeat that line a zillion times in the break. Break ends. Class teacher walks in.

Teacher- “Anndey uniform ready aayile?” (Ann isn’t your uniform ready?)
(Since the question was posed in Malayalam and I was not on guard I respond back in malayalam)
Me- “Illya ma’am. Tailor parayanu enikku uniform MANGALAZHICHA kittum” (No. Tailor said I will get it on MANGALAZHICHA)
Rest is history- I was the butt of jokes in class for the next one week. I was reduced to a normal student and started speaking in broken Malayalam and my friends in English to me...

I am very grateful to my father for taking us out of Kerala because with our family practices, my priorities today would have only been a husband and two kids. But somewhere along the line I regret the fact that I do not know much about my state, my culture, my language (and most of my relatives). And it is sad that most malayalees take pride in saying that they don’t know their language or their culture. And even if they do know, deny it and fake a 'malayalam-is-so-difficult-for-me' accent. And i have noticed this is more among the fairer sex. Those chechis at St. Teresa’s college and convent junction, endless heroines in movies, kitty party aunties in Ernakulam south and rotrary clubs, the funny hostess of Idea Star Singer… What is sadder is that NORMALayalees tend to put these ABNORMALayaless on a pedestal!!

Doing fraandsheep on Orkut

“You don’t know Orkut, the whole world is on orkut.”
That line and a dirty stare-like smiley from a friend three years ago was how I was initiated into orkut. Four years back started what I would call a revolution (atleast in India and Brazil)- social networking sites. In the beginning this concept caught my fancy. I met friends with whom I had lost touch for over 5-10 years. Checked out the profiles of the erstwhile high school babes and bitches and got jealous (I am human!). Found all my past crushes, checked out how they looked after all these years and their present relationship status too ;~P. I hate to admit it, but yes orkut is a part of my e-life. Wat makes orkut interesting?

Names- (& u thot I will start with fraandsheep :~P) I thought our parents named us Ram, Shyam, Sita, Gita, Libby, Tibby. But who names their kids ‘trust no one’, ‘love is blind’, ‘don’t believe wat u c’, ‘love knows no boundaries’, 'smell of love ummm...'. What compounds the problem is the display pic- the place is infested with Deepika Padukones, Shahrukh Khans, Che Guevaras, Emma Watsons, Brad Pitts. Do they realise how difficult it is for their scrap recipients to identify them wen they get a scrap from ‘MorOniC WoMaN’ and the profile picture shows Rakhi Sawant or ‘Blessed Gurl’ with Pam Anderson. And we also have stars, hyphens, asterisk marks decorating your name..

Albums- So all of us know that photos in orkut till sometime back were not safe as one could save a pic at the right click of the mouse. But there were (are) still some people who want to put their pic, but still fear and we end up seeing their backs, hand, torn jeans end, eye, a newly-shaped eyebrow, nostril and puppy’s tail, rahul dravid, some hills and valleys..

Foto captions- Some ppl come up with brilliant captions for their pics. Captions like ‘I am hot, am I not?’, ‘isnt she smart?’ [y do u want our opinions too], , a pic with a girl in front of the computer ‘This is what I do when I am boring’.

“Mah-moi” language- Our wannabe-ism has been taken to new heights with this language. So sometimes the new ‘about me’ columns have ‘This is mah life, I live with moi parents’ or photo caption ‘moi sister and ma’. (my heartfelt sympathies for the French.)

This one worries me-
Kiddie champs- Sadly orkut is getting very popular among kids-The Orkuttans and Orkutties and their folks don’t understand the dangers I presume- so we have a random Tia Mol who writes ‘I am not 18 I am jus 9, here to have fun. Relationship status- open marriage, orientation-bicurious’. But that apart there are these dashing heroes, all of 10, putting up their macho pics- a) Where they are wearing ‘full pants’ standing with their chettans and wearing plastic ‘cooling glass’, b) with folks wearing a wet t-shrit in Veegaland and other such concerns . Their ‘ideal match’ is Emma Watson’ or ‘Miley Cyrus’. And they converse in the ‘mah-moi language’ more than teens.

Fraandsheep request- It is through orkut, I learnt that ppl are seeking ‘frandsheep’ and not friendship and that they don’t want to ‘befriend’ you, but rather ‘do frandships’ or ‘make frandsheep to’ you. Take for example

“H@!!!!!!..I'm Gikku,Nw Frm Mavelikara..I would like to Make a Good Friendship with u..(I kno these r usual words of Every Guy to Start a chat with a Gal.) Bt I'm not. I realy like Good Friendships.If U havnt any Objection...... I expecting Ur Rely.. For More abt me go through My Profile.. Take Care.”
Or
“i am a cool dude with good sense of humar as my Existing friends say,i found your name and profile, it's very intresting , if u want to maintain a good friendship
u r most welcome u can reach me @ 98XXXXXXXX”

Followed by the regulars- u r my ‘hart’, ‘sole’, ‘liver’ etc, ‘there is somethOng in you that I like a lot’ (talk abt I and O being next to each other on the keyboard)

I tried to wean myself away from Orkut, but with fraand-requests like this who can live without Orkut :~P

New Year Revelations

Lot of revelations happened last year, especially in the last quarter, when I left home for the first time to firang land. Here are a few of them.

- A ‘please’ or ‘sorry’ or ‘thank you’ will only get your work done in England. Never said so many sorry, thank u please ever in my life.

- Even an Englishkaran (Englishman) has problems in understanding my English, which I thought had a neutral accent.

- It is the policy of National Health Services to ask you if u r pregnant on routine check up. It is not that they suspect/ accuse you of being pregnant.

- Don’t get shell-shocked if prophylactic is provided in the ‘student induction pack’.

- I still manage to get ‘looks’ from old 50-65 yr old Englishmen. Wonder y they keep thinking that I am interested in them!!!

- Rajma bursts when heated in a microwave and dal needs to be soaked before it is cooked.

- You have to attend to the milk kept on the hob. The hob doesn’t switch off on its own.

- I look like a Bangladeshi and Dad looks European Chinese (according to my Polish hallmate). And I thought we looked INDIAN!!

- Gatwick Airport resembles Bhatinda railway station as the Europeans also convert their bags into pillows and lie on the couches in the waiting area, thereby not letting others sit.

- Our ‘Cuticura’ is an international brand. Saw it lying in a dutyfree shop.

- When they have no reservations on a train, the Europeans like Indians will sit outside the loos and in some cases even inside.

- Inter City Express (ICE) touches 300km/hr only from Cologne to Frankfurt. (We should have gone further!)

- KÖLN is Cologne (this was my biggest revelation)

- Read about a place the next time I head somewhere. I have to go to Cologne once again to appreciate the Cathedral.

- Eau de Cologne is different from the water flowing in River Rhine through Cologne.

- Fallen snow resembles ice found in a refrigerator without defrost.

- The dumb actresses of the Indian film industry deserve some amount of respect. Its not easy standing on snow with a backless blouse and chiffon saree.

- I should just stick to juice as just one glass ends up making me dance much to the embarrassment of my company. (Disclaimer: I am not a drunkard, I dont go beyond a drink except that one dreaded time)

- Chech and I still look ‘under 18’ [according to German standards] as we were the only ones asked to show our passport for entry. (Man did I feel good!)

- Mum is still not concerned about my advancing age, Dad is still concerned about y he is not receiving any ‘pocket money’ demands from me.

- Ammachi thinks I am a little girl, she still calls me Minukutty (aargh!)

- Never rant about any blog in particular to Chettan to an extent which irritates him. He ended up attacking an unsuspecting fellow blogger, followed by attacks from Chech and yours truly. (Disclaimer: We r a heady mix, but we aren’t as crazy as we appear)

- Chettan is the brother I always wanted (Thank u Chech for the kidilum choice, Chetta- my Euro trip ;~D)

- Chech has become a very good cook, and I have gotten over the paranoia that she is trying to poison me.

- College is the best time of your life and u realise this only when u finish college and land up in an office staring at the computer and trying to sound pleasant and more importantly ‘knowledgeable’ to your clients.

- Office is the best time of your life and you realise this when u land up in college after a 4 month stint in an office and start hating homework and taking down notes in class. Suddenly ‘end of the month’ lost its significance and excitement.

- May be middle of this year when I am out of grad school I will appreciate it more.

- A stricter boss is a better boss. (BFD u r still my best mentor till date)

- There is no place like mum’s kitchen. Never looked forward to idiappam and puttu as I do now (Mum are u listening??)

- There is no better place to study than a room where u can overhear Mum humming. Over the past three months I ‘hear’ silence more often than sound. And there is no better luxury in knowing that ‘Dad will take care of everything’.

- I can never find a replacement for my best friend Vidhi. May our friendship continue forever and ever. Amen

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

Your gift for this Christmas orphan was purrfect. This proves that I have been a good girl this year. I am not going to be lonely for Christmas. :~). But I also know that I am the punishment you are giving that couple in Amsterdam for being very naughty this year. ;~)

Love
Ann

!!!Merry Christmas Everyone!!!!

PS: Mum i am missing your plum cake and that famous mallu Ann's bakery cake still makes me nauseous.

PPS: New year resolution- to stop laughing like a hynea...

Marriages made in heaven...

As a child, 14th April was the deadline by which we had to reach Trichur (for the uninitiated a place in Kerala) in the summer hols. It was my maternal grandfather's (Appachan) birthday & every year it was celebrated with great pomp & grandeur. All of us remembered Appachan's b'day. But many didn't realise that Ammachi even had one.


One day, on telling Ammachi this, she told me that Appachan also complained about the same thing. Further her b'day was at a time which did not clash with any holidays. & then he had told her that he would do something so that people will remember her b'day.....A few years later he died on her b'day. Appachan did what he promised. People now remember Ammachi's b'day. Because of his popularity in the business community, even business associates remember.


This for me was love in its purest form. They had seen the highs and lows of life. Been there for each other for nearly 50 years. I then see my folks- 2 totally contrasting personalities who have been with each other through thick and thin for 30 years. And there were just two people in these relationships.


Circa 2007. I see people around me. Some with a string of flings behind them, some seeking non-commital sexual relationships (the bastard* didnt want to pay for a service i presume), dangerously flirtatious married people, now with Mr, with Mr Y a few weeks later and these are your average Indians. Am I getting too cynical or am I expecting too much from the world or are we getting too westernised or am I too old fashioned? what happened to marriages like that of Appachan-Ammachi or Dad-Mum?


Call me boring & old fashioned, but i do have a problem in equating sex with just another physical need or a favour for a promotion..


Wedding season has set in. For Xtians starting 26th December all churches, priests, florists, couturiers, saloons etc will get busy. I got the news that my best friend and ex-colleague got married, another cousin is getting engaged (& yet another pregnant & one had a baby-all of them younger to me..sigh!). Some arranged by family and some self-serviced marriages. I am happy for all of them. Hope all ur marriages are like my Appachan-Ammachi’s or Dad-Mum’s and may u live 'happily ever after'.....


* I do not generally swear, but here I think it is justified.

Unique-ly yours!!

(yay! my first tag)..listening to Blue Danube Waltz celebrating the end of my first term....


Tagged by agent Egg Bonda (because of whom i hv watched Sound of Music 4 times in the past 2 weeks), i am expected to disclose unique things i possess.

i dont possess anything unique as Chech. (but i shall steal some of them this Xmas and make my room unique) But I think the sentimental value associated with some of them is wat makes them 'unique'..atleast to me.

5 Unique Things Found in My Room

1) A rosary which i picked up from the one and only retreat centre (in and around Trichur) i visited in my life.
2) An old dupatta of Mum's which she gave me to use as a rag(!!!). But it is not yet used as rag..guess i am getting emotionally attached to it.
3) 3 different plastic bags for 1) biodegradable waste, 2) glass and plastics, 3) paper [environment friendly Ann :~) ]
4) Brochures and pamphlets which are invitation to college parties, tube farelist, day trips out of london, tabloids containing lousy gossip which i use as coasters and tablemats.
5) A tastelessly done collage containing pics of my close friends and family. (also revealing the gradual increase in my weight over the years)

5 Unique Things Found in My Wallet

1) My college Id card which entitles me to highly important things like discount at Subway & other eateries, tube etc. and entry to half the buildings in college.
2) Some Austrailan 'chillar' (change) which i have been carrying with me ever since my eventful trip to Melbourne 2 yrs ago.
3) A very old visiting card of Dad's in the hope that his presence will forever be on my wallet (okay at least till next year)
4) Rs. 130 given by Dad at the airport just in case i wanted to get anything at the airport.
5) A note from sis wishing me 'Good luck in London' which came in the pocket of my 'life-saving-in-winter' jacket that she sent me.

5 Unique Things Found in My Bag

1) A copy of 'London A to Z' (which i never consult to navigate my way through this city as I have always managed to get lost with it) and college map (why have classrooms in various nearby buildings too)
2) A windcheater. It rains anytime and everytime here or at least wenever i am in the 'exploring' mood.
3) Black ink pen and passport size fotos. Thanx to the englishmen's fixation for 'black ink pen' for completing practically every form. The foto is back up option as many a times i was made to queue up again because i didnt have a foto!
4) The 17 yr old watch which was actually gifted to my sister wen she was 10. I upsurped it & wore that to all my exams. Its like a goodluck charm. However now only the dial is left. NO strap, no battery.
5) My room key which works on some weird technology that most of the time either i am locked out or everyone expect me can open the door.

So thats wat is 'un-uniquely unique' abt me...

Dream to dare

(for ppl in the real world [as contrasted with the blogosphere] who know me this post will leave them in splits)

In my dreams…

I am a wild girl constantly ‘living on the edge’ or a biker babe. Myself dressed in the trademark riding jacket, boots, gloves, waterproof jeans, helmet et al…(zzzzzippp- fastening my jacket) zooming past the motorways. Going on a road trip on my bike…zzzzoooommm…..

Or

I am a don’s moll, constantly showered with costly gifts by my gangster-drug dealer Don. In the dimly lit-with neon-lamps discotheques which my Don owns I shall give my special sexy performance (where I will be wearing a gold sequined slinky dress and high heels). And in a room in the top floor, Don shall be threatening a middleman for messing with the cocaine consignment and eventually shooting him point blank. Of course I am also having an affair with the doorkeeper of the disc.(wonder y but even in reality I find the disc doorkeepers with their long overcoats, blue tooth devices/bugs(I think that’s wat they are called) in their ear and stern face so hot!)

Or

I am a Baywatch lifeguard. In this particular dream I am blonde (Pamelaji ki Jai!!). Wearing the red swimsuit, standing on my watchtower keeping an eye on the beach with my yellow binoculars. And when I hear the frantic call ‘help! help!’ I make the dramatic 'slow-motion' run towards the water and rescue him. Of course later myself and hunk (who I jus rescued) go on a date and then kiss with the sunset in the background.

In real life…
A law student trying to finish her reading before class, understand wat is being told in class, (as incomplete readings lead to incomplete comprehension), hope to clear her exams and get a job with her new found postgraduate status. Adventure quotient- nil, Social life- practically nil, Party scene- nil, Love life- what is that?

I cannot handle a normal TVS Scooty, forget handling a superbike. Infact I can’t even ride a bike. Drugs, deals, dons petrify me. I haven’t been to a disc/bar unless accompanied by brother-in-law or sister (and I also have the dubious distinction of being the only one landing up in track pants on a Friday nite) Imagine the sight of me introducing my doorkeeper boyfriend to my folks (i.e. if the Don spares us both). Red swimsuits and tanned bodies- my attempts at learning how to swim ended with me being highly hydrophobic, so much so that even a powerful bathroom shower can scare me off. And I will be charged for the offence of obscenity and indecent representation of women if I try to fit into a swimsuit and run. (huff pant pant…)

The closest I got to an exciting life was wen I was caught by the receptionist returning back to my hall on this early Saturday morning (the first time ever). Trying to sneak in without waking him up, I tip toe into the hall when
Receptionist: Hello young lady
Me: (deer caught by a headlight look) ooh! Hi good morning..
R: Well it sure is a good morning for u, isn’t it? (giving a cheeky smile looking like 'i caught u coming back from ur boyfriend's place')
Me: (trying to act brave, simultaneously walking to the door)..hahaha..well then have a nice day..
R: u sure did have a nice day afterall right… (nodding cheeky smile again)

Me: (by then ran up to my room)
[I let him live in the misconception that he is in, little does he know that I was at my friend’s place last nite and cudnt get a bus back from her shady area!!! At least somebody thinks I have a happening life!]

I amsterdAM!

Kehte hain agar kisi cheez ko dil se chaho toh poori kaynaat usey tumse milane ki koshish mein lag jaati hai....

After reading The Alchemist, I did start believing in destiny. I do look out for signs. Ever since I reached London, the thing on my mind, after (‘wat to eat for the next meal’) was when I will be invited to Amsterdam by Chech and husband, Chettan(ok I correct myself-wen i will get a 'relatively' free weekend to go-the it ws an open invitation). I wished for it ‘poore dil se’ and did have an eventful trip….

Sign 1- My visa was processed in 5 hours contrary to the regular practice of 24 hours. All thanx to over cautious approach to the documents by sister and the kind lady at the counter. (also thanks Dad for all money invested in my dental braces for my charming smile-I brushed my teeth twice that money). Although I had to spend the entire day in beautiful-in-autumn Kensington Garden without a camera and became frozen meat due to insufficient dressing, (I dressed according to central London weather!) the wait was worth it. I proudly called up Chech saying- Breakfast in London, dinner in Amsterdam.

Sign 2- Woken up at 9 for a class at 10 by Chech, I was warned to not be late for the flight. According to my calculations, to reach Heathrow at 3.15 I had to take the 2.15 tube. Reaching the platform I was reminded of Rajiv Chowk metro station!!! There was not an inch of space left all thanx to maintainece work on Picadilly Line. But 3 yrs Delhi Metro experience and a few months exposure to Mumbai Local, I was the first to get into the tube.

A journey which was to last for 50 minutes, took 90 minutes. Then the real action began. Everyone at Terminal 4 on that day would have testified that they saw a crazy Indian girl running about the terminal between 15.45 hrs to 16.15 hrs on 16 Nov 2007.

15.45
Ran out of the tube, hit a few passers-by, dropped a glove, ran back to collect it, took the lift, ran to the BA counter, looked puzzled at the boarding pass ‘vending’ machine only to be helped by a customer services member.

15.53
Running to the security line and I met an interesting man who was blocking my way while I was trying to pass him, on being asked, told him my flight takes of at 16.05! Good enough to let me ahead, we were stuck at the counter. Took out laptop, metallic things on person, jacket, i-pod, cell fone (which rang while in the X-machine-making me look suspicious to the English cop), shoes…(the next time they might just expect us to strip right there). During this entire exercise, the interesting man tells me BA will put me on the next flight and there was a huge public transport problem in central London.

16.00
Ran (again) to the BA counter to be told to run FASTER to gate #. With only Indian airport experience, I expect gates to be in one line, each at a distance of 10 baby steps apart. But run as much I did, gate # was far far away.

16.02
Reached the gate (pant huff puff!!). Sardar BA official called up the pilot and then turned to me saying Miss Jose (pronouncing it HOSSEY- I am not Hispanic plz plz) “u jus missed ur flight”. [Come on dude u can do something, u Indian, me Indian..but how wud u know I am Indian, u keep calling me HOSSEY!!]


16.04
Chech called “Are u in the flight…no…it says ‘last call’..u can still catch it”
“Chech I missed the flight”
“…………….silence…………” (Thinking- how many times have I told her to be on time)
“Well they told me go to flight connections”
“Ok..bye” (Thinking- my money!!)

16.06
Chettan- “Don’t worry..u take the next flight. If need be buy a ticket for the next flight”
“what…are u sure?...ok” (Thinking- The next flight only has business class, cheapest being GBP 385, I don’t think he checked it)

16.09
Running (yet again) to flight connections, I put up the famous ‘damsel in distress’ act- explaining to them how I was harassed by the Piccadilly line, its maintenance and Indian style tardiness. The act successful, I was put on the next flight with no extra charges but with a warning that the tube is not trustworthy and I should learn from this lesson.

16.15
Dad- “So u r on ur flight to meet chechi”
“Dad I missed my flight”
“……silence……” (Thinking- eeh kochine kondu thotu- basically this girl has crossed all limits)
“but I have been put on the next flight and that’s an hour later”
“ok…but are u in a safe place??? "
“huh??...Dad airport terminal…duty free shops..safe of course” (Thinking- its Heathow ppl ppl everywhere)
“Oh ok then, DON’T MISS UR NEXT FLIGHT” (Thinking- She in a dutyfree shop is not a safe place for me especially when her monthly bill comes)

Sign 3
22.00
I amsterdAM!!!!

Moral of the story: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”....Apart from this ‘want’, I also had the desire to overcome my laziness and start exercising. That was also fulfilled on this trip- in A’dam, I ran behind buses, trams, trains and even a PLANE!!

End mein sab theek ho jaata hai…Happys Endings!!!

for pics (if interested) check out-http://picasaweb.google.com/annmjose
(i am just a rookie though)

Sibling revelry

Warning: Chech-Both of us are not very ‘vocal’ about our feelings, piss offs and craziest thoughts, but this time I guess it’s the weekend hangover that has led to this verbal diarrhoea.


As the youngest at home, life was fun as my folks didn’t experiment their parenting skills on me coz they were all tried and tested on big sister- Chech or Chechu as I call her. I was entitled to the bigger serving of ice-cream and the last piece of chocolate, not subjected to corporal punishment and always talked back to my folks. On the flipside, my middle name was entailed to rhyme with hers (malayalee parents fear being in breach of Section 3(2)(ii) of Kerala (Nonsensical Names) Act, 1951), received all hand-me-downs, wore similar clothes (I am sure that was mum’s way of saving money) and was constantly compared to the ‘well mannered, hardworking, less talkative’ sister.

From Rivalry…..

For some inexplicable reason, I was born with no hair on my head and 4 year old Chechu (who had jus received a ‘live’ doll) used to call me ‘motta vava’ (bald baby). She even composed a funny but irritating jingle on the bald ‘beauty’ (ahem). As a child, I always thought that I was adopted because Chech’s baptism, ‘1st birthday’, holy communion et al were ‘social’ events which relatives attended and mine were just a formality. And the child prodigy that Chech was, reaffirmed this fear. She convincingly told me that a scary looking man, appearing in an old album back home, had plans to finish off Dad, but then spared him subject to me being given to him when I complete 10 years of age [Dad agreed to give me off coz I was the adopted one]. And the stupid kid that I was, would count on my fingers how many years were left. (and I couldn’t beyond 3!!!)

Not that I was an angel in disguise. Whenever I sensed that Dad was unhappy with Chech’s studies, I would run and get the biggest ‘eerkkili’ (broomstick) for her punishment. We fought tooth and nail for frivolous things like remote control (cartoon network versus MTV), stationery, chocolates till Mum intervened saying – “ooh eeh kochungale kondu thotu!” (I have given up on these kids). She had the neat handwriting, systematic approach to study (waking up at 4.30 to prepare for her Chartered Accountancy exams), a voracious reader blah blah & blah and I was constantly told to ‘learn from her’. In a nut shell, she had made my life a living hell and I would tell people how lucky they were coz they didn’t a have sister like Chech. I wanted nothing to do with her.

….to Revelry

Times have changed now. We both look nearly alike (bad news for me coz she is 4 yrs elder!!!!). She lives with her ‘charming’ husband- (Chettan) just an hour away by flight and that is what keeps me sane here. The loser that I am, moved out of home just 2 months back. From being the carefree butterfly (though I doubt if my weight will permit me to defy gravity), I am forced to do my cooking, cleaning, washing and studying- apart from worrying about work prospects next year. Theories on mergers and acquisitions, pending laundry, bank account, what to prepare for dinner all in one go!!

Chech has, to an extent, now taken Mum’s place (as mum doesn’t talk much on the fone, and I need to ‘talk’ abt life’s happenings and not-so-happenings, not ‘write’ abt them in emails) especially when she says ‘get up get up its 5.15’. Her cooking has improved by leaps and bounds (if I describe her kitchen skills 5 years back she will sue me for defamation). I have special interest in her professional and financial success as it is directly proportional to the gifts I am showered with. (get the hint Chech, I am coming with more food requests next time). She always keeps a check on me & the gossip at my end- her’s and Chettan’s latest worry being my lack of lady like elegance and premature ageing.

Back from a much awaited weekend trip to Amsterdam. My clumsy nature made the process of getting the visa, hopping on the flight and the events thereafter surprising-embarrassing-and-fun in that order (details of which shall be elaborated later). But what I enjoyed the most was being carefree once again.

Now I tell people how lucky I am to have a sister like her. Further due to her, I now have a big brother(in-law) who provides all the fun element and sensible advice. (How much hv I flattered u today) Years back we were the good Roman Catholic girls who went to church and Sunday class every week. Thanx to Chettan’s sangria, last Sunday night we were two lightly drunk women (our first time ever) standing at a tram stop remembering those crazy childhood days, singing the ‘motta vava’ jingle and giggling. Chech just imagine what if Dad had seen us there??!??!

London-y Snickets- A Series of Embarrassing Events

Absence from the blogsphere for a long time (like anyone cared!) is blamed on my inability to manage time efficiently. A lot has happened ever since I saw “The Namesake” (no I did not paint my full name as a graffiti on the walls of Mumbai- the innumerable C-grade movie posters didn’t spare any brick of the wall). I left my traineeship and got an Annie McBeal certificate. Since the boss was left speechless seeing my performance, he asked my goodself to prepare the certificate. I shopped for 20 days and packed everything into 3 bags and left the country to fufill my teenage dream- to meet Prince William! (he is balding and re-engaged but he still is in the second in line to the throne). On a serious note, I thought a li’l bit of London education may save my future employers.

The Journey

All my bags are packed, I ready to go
I am standing here outside the check-in counter
I hate to unpack all the excess baggage
Coz I am leaving on a jet (airways) plane

1) 20 days of shopping for an entire academic year. Linen, towels, cutlery, stationery, spices, pots, pans and finally some clothes..all packed into 3 bags.
Permitted weight = 28 + 23.
Packed weight = 35 + 33.
Finally checked-in weight = 30+ 25
Value of left behind Excess baggage= Priceless
Stares from the nearby people straight into my suitcase = Embarrassing
Lesson learnt- always weigh your luggage before a trip

2) When Mumbai was hot and happening at 35 C, my goodself was the only person in the airport with a sweater and a padded jacket (which made goodself look like an eskimo) and drawing unwanted stares from the NRIs. (you wore the same out-of-season clothes the first time u left the country!!!!)
Lesson learnt- ignore them.

3) Seated comfortably in the flight, goodself thot- lets watch some in-flight entertainment. So all buttons on the remote is pressed, touch screen is touched again and again till fingerprints ruined the screen, passengers seated nearby look and think ‘another FOB student’ and laughs and goodself thinks-‘Oh another IT onsite FOB’. In 15 minutes all misconceptions cleared- IT onsite dude is not an FOB, but a frequent flier (overheard conversation with third passenger) and the touch screen works once the inflight announcements take place and hence he laughed.
Lesson learnt- don’t turn on the entertainment as soon as u take ur seat. Be patient and wait for the flight to take off.

4) Dinner is served and it is some chicken achari roll (sounds good tasted ridiculous). The roll came in a cover double its size and goodself tries to put her hand all the way through, but the role doesn’t come out. IT-frequent flier-dude again laughs and then jus rolls down the cover half way till the actual achari roll is reached.
Lesson learnt- when u know not what to do, jus watch what others are doing (mebbe u too could get a chance to laugh). Your greed can wait!

5) The flight lands after circling London city 6-7 times as its too foggy for the ATC to give clearance and then thud! The flight touched the ground...(yay! I am in Lundun). All the passengers rush to the door and goodself thinks ‘dude this is Mumbai local train behaviour’ and casually wears the jacket, straps the laptop and pulls of the ‘overweight’ inflight bag (managing to look like an FOB all the more). People rushing all the way, running down the escalators. Soon the suspense ends at the immigration counter (or ‘UK BORDER’ as it is written in bold letters). At 6 am the rush at the counter resembled the crowd outside ‘Jalsa’ for Bacchan Jr’s wedding and it will take an hour to ‘cross’ the UK border.
Lesson learnt- the ‘Mumbai local train’ rule is universally applied at every international airport.

6) Lucky I was to meet a student (SM) also heading to my college and she suggests that we take the tube to our hall. Goodself had planned on taking the ‘sexy taxi’ (the famous black cab). Once across the trolley limit, the real adventure begins- getting our heavy luggage (each person pushing-tugging [I refrain from using the word ‘carrying’ which we were incapable of doing due to the weight] upto 70 kgs) to the tube. Goodself gets frustrated and comes up with the bright idea- THROW THE LUGGAGE down the escalator. So SM pushes the bag from the top, the bag tumbles and reaches goodself upside down, in the process also providing some comic relief to the passers-by.
Lesson learnt- Always travel light. (u get over the rupee-pound conversion soon)

7) So goodself reaches Holborn, again tugs at her luggage and manages to look helpless. An Indian student visiting London takes pity and helps. Together we pull down the luggage on the stairs and the wheels go manage to irritate everyone present.
Lesson learnt- Never do this when ur folks who funded the new luggage is around u..i was picturising the look on my folks face- the thot scared me.

8) Goodself stands on Kingsway hoping a ‘sexy taxi’ comes by…waits..waits..waits..(thinks-I SHUD have taken the cab at the airport)..waits..waits…(WTF!!!)…waits…waits..soon a cab finally comes..tells the cab driver ‘please take me to Drroorry lane’..he says ‘what’..goodself repeats.. ‘drrooorrry lane its jus the parallel street’..he says.. ‘oh druhry lane..i didn’t understand’!!
Lesson learnt- Even if English is the only language u can speak, don’t think the world will understand u. I thought my English was good, (I pronounce ‘r’ like the Americans do, not ‘arr’) but guess I was wrong.

9) Seats herself inside..nice ..wow I am in the sexy taxi..looks straight ahead to find the meter and sees the fare running at pace faster than the second needle in a clock. Reaches her destination and pays 6 pounds for a 3 minute ride. (Heathrow to Holborn- 45 minute ride-4 pounds!!)
Lesson learnt- the taxi is not that sexy afterall.

10) Goodself is now at her ‘home’ for the next 9 months and she didn’t know how to pronounce the name of the building. But this time smart enough, she did not take the name of the building, but quietly showed the offer letter and carefully overheard the receptionist talking over the fone and learnt pronunciation.

Conclusion- it might seem that I learnt all my lessons in 12 hours. But this is not the end of the story. More events happened but if I sit to write all of that I will not be prepared for tomorrow’s class. (what I actually meant to say is that it wud jus bore u to the core)

Birthday resolution

....a lot happened since i snatched the 'annie mcbeal' certificate from my( no ex-boss)....i realised that an idle mind is definitely a devils workshop...today I turned a year older and decided to get back to things i like..now I AM BACK!!!!!...and this time hopefully to stay!!!....

PS i purposely took this resolution on my birthday and not on new yrs as the latter resolutions r meant to be broken....

The Namesake

This post is slightly on the serious side. Last nite I watched ‘The Namesake’ (yeah finally!) and must say I loved the movie, not because of the stellar performances by all the actors, but because how close that movie is to my own life. Don’t worry unlike posts seen in many other blogs, I am not gonna write a review of the movie.


Watching the movie I felt that the lead characters Ashoke and Ashima were a reflection my dad and mum. Dad like Ashoke wanted us to stay outside Kerala cause a metro city was the ‘land of opportunities’(for further reference please refer to the post ‘Leema I got transferred’) and mum like Ashima still has the distinct accented English. What is strikingly similar is the relationship they both share, the downplayed romance, the concern over their ‘slightly’ indifferent children. I was reminded of my folks in the scene where Ashoke explains to Ashima that just because other husbands don’t build the Taj for their wives they don’t love them any less, where Ashoke calls Ashima to be with him in Cleaveland and when Ashima asks her husband ‘u want me to say I love u like the americans’ and the way she does not say it.


Similarities don’t end there. There are shades of Gogol in me coz I too have issues with my name. I always complain to my folks that in an effort to match my name with my sister’s, they have given me a lousy name. Why did they have to give me 3 names, y give me a name does not mean anything, y put my ‘good’ name, pet name and dad’s name in the school register, the names are three small names which they sounds ridiculous when taken together, y cant I make my dad’s name an initial and take my granddad’s name and…on and on and on. But in the scenes where his father says that Gogol can change his name and when it hurts him when Gogol’s wife says that she intends to retain her maiden name, I realized how much I hurt my folks wid my ‘name changing’ tantrums.


Sorry dad and mum coz I hurt you with alternatives for my name..after all whats in a name.. a rose by any other name would smell as sweet and there is no more room for granddad’s name in my name- Dad this is for your 'namesake'....

Annie McBeal

Blogging frequency has become dismally low [like anyone cares, but still] these days as I serve the society as a corporate lawyer by raising bills on firangs. I am no more ‘just a student’ and since (wo)manhours are being billed, I chose to something more productive (but if I am showered with comments I will choose blogging over billing). So everyday Annie McBeal packs herself to the office and does wonders!! Here is an excerpt of what my certificate will be:

XYZ Associates

Certificate
TO WHOMSOEVER IT MAY CONCERN*

(* we dont except anybody to be concerned abt her)

Miss Annie Macbeal worked with us for the past____months. Listed below are the wonders she ‘performed’ during her stint at XYZ Associates.

Wonder 1- Dress Code
Annie McBeal is the only person in office who wears jeans on a weekday. On other days she obliges the firm by wearing Indian formals. But in that she appears to the client like a social worker striving for the cause of the downtrodden and destitute and not like a hard core mercenary willing to help firangs sell nuts, bolts, lubricants, plastics in India. She still carries a ‘backpack’ in contrast to a boring ‘formal’ bag and wears ‘funky’ socks instead of classy silk stockings. Her hair is in dire need of an ‘iron’ or at least a comb.

Wonder 2- Body Language
Annie Mcbeal is the classic case of ‘rebel without a cause’. She looks like a college student who has still not left her ‘glorious’ past behind. Her sitting posture resembles a Ramdev aasan. In her first month at office, to show her displeasure at a delayed pay cheque, she broke a chair. She breaks into a jig on solving a query. A complete clean freak it is not surprising to see her frequently cleaning the keyboard, mouse and office stationery with sanitizing lotion. [Warning: She needs to seek medical help on this issue] She needs to hone her choice of mobile ringtones, ‘Sexy back’ is ‘cacophonous, jarring sound’ affecting the office environment (I know sexyback is now passé..but that’s till I get some time to download a more “cacophonous” sound).

Wonder 3- Work culture
Annie McBeal has absolutely no clue of what she is doing in office. Her knowledge of corporate law at present is zilch and we are not contemplating or expecting any change in this regard in the ‘far’ future either. She can draft something, however we attribute this to her excellent talent at ‘cut, copy, pasting’. She gets jittery on meeting a client and in the process manages to get clumsier. Her patent dialogue to client is ‘We will have to ask boss about this. We shall get back to you in some time’. All in all she is our Bridget Jones.

To conclude, it was a delight having Annie McBeal in our office and it is BIGGER delight NOT HAVING her in the office. We wish all her future bosses good luck and success in all their endeavors.


Sd/-
XXXXX
Partner

Rainy days are here again!!

"Rrain rrain go yaway
Come agyain anotherr day
Litttel Jhony waaants to playyy
Rrain rrain go yaway"

As a child i remember singing this rhyme (in that irritating voice and strong mallu accent-that explains the spelling) on a rainy day coz the rain ruined our evening play plans and we had to be content with indoor games. In school 'games' period became an extra-class period by the history teacher (of all the subjects HISTORY!!!). Folks would never allow me to get wet in the rain saying i would catch a cold. (if thats so then y didnt we catch cold wen we took bath under the shower!!!!). I hated wearing the raincoat, coz i thought it hid my curves (tho i didnt have any!). I wanted to carry an umbrella because all grown ups used an umbrella (i was 8 wen i thot this!)
Rainy season was something i wanted to enjoy sitting at home coz schools wud be shut for a day or 2, get wet, jump into the puddles of water and splash water on a newly painted wall (of course not ours, some others')- but cudnt coz it was banned by folks. So i would enjoy rain from my balcony with those few raindrops (which showed some mercy on me) falling on my outstretched little palm. (damn that parapet!!!!!) I was FORCED TO AVOID the rain.

"Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turning red.
Crying's not for me
Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining.
Because I'm free. Nothing's worrying me."

In college, rain symbolised fun and romance (tho nt in my case sadly-the good (read stupid) mallu girl i am u see) , coz folks could no longer exert much control (mind u my folks r still very strict). Rainy meant teachers in no mood to teach and taking a walk in the rain with friends (some of them were given the much needed bath by mother nature herself) and yes ur heart would skip a beat wen u see the university heartthrob all wet and sexy(and for that moment the fact that he cant speak english and that he is just a gawar gaonwala doesnt matter-he still was the heartthrob as our univ lacked good choice). I once took a walk with my friends in the rain- walking wid that somebody who u think is secretly nursing feelings for u and suddenly the orange stain of the henna applied on my hair the previous day started draining and it resulted in orange spots on my my cream dupatta!!! [HOW ROMANTIC!!!!! and it also resulted in no more feelings being nursed]. I NO LONGER AVOIDED the rain.

At work, rain is taken in the same breath as traffic jam and boss' bad mood coz u jus cant save ur ass from it!!! Be it a 10km stretch traffic jam or ur assignment getting reviewed by boss wen his mood is at its foul-est peak or incessant rain- u still HAVE to be in office and show that pleasant face!! A rainy day means more stink in the bus, never ending traffic jam, overflowing gutters, multi-tasking trying to prevent ur umbrella from flying off and making sure that ur pyjama ends dont get wet (being all grown up i now carry an umbrella, but i realised that a raincoat is better!!!) and after all this battle sit freezing cold in the airconditioned office and finally catch that cold which ur folks always warned u abt. Now I WANT TO but CAN NO LONGER AVOID the rain!!!

"Rain rain go away
Come again another day
L'il Johny wants to play
Rain rain go away...."
These days i have resumed signing the same old rhyme, but the accent has changed- (its all the influence of Star TV!!)

From Walled City to Maximum City

2 months in Bombay and my good self can see the difference between saddi dilli and amchi mumbai. here are a few.....

1) first and foremost- I don't think I am short anymore! (the delhi crowd gave me a complex!)


2) fat aunties with low neck crepe suits and fatter uncles yapping in punjabi have given way to fit dada and dadis jabbering in marathi


3) neon colored polythene lifafas have been replaced by psychedelic prints- wali thaili


4) sweaters have given way umbrellas and rain coats


5) no more papdi chat, dahi bhalley, chole bhature, jus vada pav, pav bhaji, pav samosa, pav this, pav that


6) bbye golgappe, hello pani puri :~(


7) no more lecherous looking uncles, infact hardly any leching these days and a man to woman conversation happens eye to eye (thank god)


8) um still trying to find a woman who wears make up, as contrasted to the quintessential delhi woman with all the make up on her face 24/7


9) sleek metro is no longer a luxury, only ur local Mumbai local


10) we have gateway of India instead of India Gate

11) green colored CNG buses replaced by red colored BEST buses with all directions written in marathi except 'Purchase your ticket'


11) no more nosey neighbors or prying public, only the bindaas bombayite, who can be very impersonal at times


12) paneer has been elevated to the status of "Chef's Special" and so has its cost(!!)


13) I no longer begin my day hearing MC, BC and its cousins


14) I am learning to value time


15) I am enjoying the sense of independence that Mumbai has given me!!!!

Walled City to Maximum City

2 months in Bombay and my good self can see the difference between saddi dilli and amchi mumbai. here are a few.....

1) first and foremost- I don’t think I am short anymore! (the delhi crowd gave me a complex!)


2) fat aunties with low neck crepe suits and fatter uncles yapping in punjabi have given way to fit dada and dadis jabbering in marathi


3) neon colored polythene lifafas have been replaced by psychedelic prints-wali thaili


4) sweaters have given way umbrellas and rain coats


5) no more papdi chat, dahi bhalley, chole bhature, jus vada pav, pav bhaji, pav samosa, pav this, pav that


6) bbye golgappe, hello pani puri :~(


7) no more lecherous looking uncles, infact hardly any leching these days and a man to woman conversation happens eye to eye (thank god)


8) um still trying to find a woman who wears make up, as contrasted to the quintessential delhi woman with all the make up on her face 24/7


9) sleek metro is no longer a luxury, only ur local Mumbai local


10) we have gateway of India instead of India Gate

11) green colored CNG buses replaced by red colored BEST buses with all directions written in marathi except ‘Purchase your ticket’


11) no more nosey neighbors or prying public, only the bindaas bombayite, who can be very impersonal at times


12) paneer has been elevated to the status of “Chef’s Special” and so has its cost(!!)


13) I no longer begin my day hearing MC, BC and its cousins


14) I am learning to value time


15) I am enjoying the sense of independence that Mumbai has given me!!!!

"Leema, i got transferred"

This is the line that sister and me dreaded everytime we were in a particular city for about 3 years. My dad has a transferable job and he is one of those few employees who LIKES transfers.
A 'few years' back to when i was 6 yrs old (i am not very old) when dad got transferred to Madras (Back then it was Madras) In fact he wanted to transfer himself to Madras for he wanted 'without Mallu accented English' speaking daughters. So we shifted ourselves from Alwaye (Kerala). Madras gave us a slight culture shock. Children conversed in English and my knowledge of English was restricted to 'cat', 'bat' and 'rat'. Others spoke Tamil- a word of which i didnt know. I didnt speak for a month to anyone outside home (for ppl who know-this should surprise them!!!). In a month we joined our new school, learnt the new language (English and Tamil-all the English i know today and my accent is courtesy our stint in Madras), ate tamilian food etc. All this for 5 years....

Just wen we got comfortable, the dreaded fone call came. “Leema, I got transferred”. This time we packed off to Bombay (it was Bombay back then). From now on the cultural shock was less, cause we were used to city life. But now everybody spoke hindi and i had to study marathi for school.

Two yrs later, the call came again. This time to Kerala- a stint we or rather i didnt enjoy much. We lived near our relatives, so we HAVE to meet them every sunday for some function. I didnt miss my cousins anymore, so i no longer had the excitement to meet them. Dad saw this coming, he too felt that we relegating back to the 'rice and fish' culture (i would like to mention here tat dad has the highest regard for mallu culture, but he didnt like those functions eating into our study time)

then the calls became frequent- Kerala to Delhi, Delhi to Chennai(ya then it became Chennai), Chennai to Delhi- then in Delhi for 6 looong years. Till the call came again....this time to Mumbai (name changed!!)

Thanx to transfers, we have a cosmopolitan upbringing, we know more languages, more places, friends in these places, 7 schools (thankfully only one college) i did grades 8-12th in 4 different schools!!! Transfers made us bold and confident. We are 'non mallu accented english speaking' girls!!...But transfers also made us thick skinned and hard hearted. We longer feel very close to people. We are apprehensive of getting close to people, cause we know that one day soon we have part. People say that we have friends all over, but line 'keep in touch haan..' is just a formality. Nobody keeps in touch- even with the advent of orkut, hi-fi. When we go to any place, we have an identity crisis- we are not south indians for an ordinary south indian- we are dilli or mumbaiwaalis, while we are in the north, we are tambis!!

But Dad was very particular that we always see transfers in positive light, we just could not complain about a transfer. “Every new place holds new opportunities”- thus spake dad. Lets see wat oppurtunity this mumbai stint has in store....

Rickshaw ride....

Delhi is known to be one place where the past and present are closely linked wid each other, so much so that every dilapidated building has a history. Mum and urs truly jus need an excuse to go and explore a new place. so today we decided to head to sadar bazzar thru an unexplored route. for the uninitiated, sadar is delhi's age old wholesale market, with each 'gali' specialising in a particular product, along wid scary looking ppl, pollution, animals which add to the fun. and y do we head there...well to eat chole bhature and great discounts!!!



so at 40 C, 1.30 pm ventured out. hopped into the metro. got down at 'new delhi'. went by my 'gut' feeling. took the wrong turn. landed up in 'kamla market' (back in first yr of college i was told that Kamla market is near GB Road-one of delhis biggest red light areas). fought wid the rickshaw pullers to take us by the road we knew, none agreed. then bargained wid the rickshaw pullers abt the price. finally we are seated on a royal rickshaw, as it has no roof we cover our heads wid scarves.



the ride begins, and um looking at the 'new' street. the new street is better as there us lesser traffic. mebbe because of its afternoon. strangely there are very few women on this route. and the few women who are present on the street are passing contemptuous looks. thats strange. havent they seen women travel alone on this road.


soon the suspence ends...closer scrutiny of the address of the area reveals that mum and urs truly are on GB ROAD!!!!!!!! and we are two women wid our lovely (ahem) faces covered wid scarves!!!need i say more....


(oh ya the exploration trips have been stalled for sometime now)

Smart Girl

'Just wat have u done to ur hair....kid are u alright'!!!! thus screamed mother.

"nindey mudi (ur hair)...this costed u a grand!!!!"- dad joined in wid that disapproving look.

few weeks back.....

mum plz let me get it done..plz plz plz...look at my hair, when i tie it up it looks like ageing horses tail (no more the perky 'pony'tail)

but do u think it worth all the chemicals, u r not a kid now, u know we have to go to kerala this year...

mum plz plz plz......

go and ask dad

"dad i wanna do something to my hair, u wont understand wat it is. but its gonna cost"(sheepish grin)

how much

'one grand'

"ONE GRAND!!!!' (muscles tense, eyes turn red..thankfully breathing returns to normal)...listen u r a responsible girl...i hope u know wat u r doing." (that means i wont buy u a wig if burn all ur hair)

and wat did responsible girl do???...she underwent 'permanent waving' (perm for the uninitiated)....hey then y this reaction- preity zinta, meg ryan, nicole kidman, even oprah looked good....because some ppl also end up looking like this.
http://images.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.hindu.com/mp/2006/07/29/images/2006072903060201.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.hindu.com/mp/2006/07/29/stories/2006072903060200.htm&h=300&w=265&sz=28&hl=en&start=1&tbnid=ssNM7_n3EL4UZM:&tbnh=116&tbnw=102&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dmakrand%2Bdespande%26gbv%3D2%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den
no i didnt grow a mush tho thankfully!!!

(i didnt bother much abt the formatting..i have hair to take care of)