cheating type of post #2

I give up. I had thoughten that i woulddo a tag post but I couldnt find any1 Yet I'm certain that someone had tagged me recently, or a few months ago.

Been having terrible days at work, now my arm is hurting and I took a brufen for my 'housemaid's knee. Yes, I'm getting old. funny how by the end of the day I'm so tired, there's absolutely nothing but work-related nonsense in my head. I'm going to sleep now, please excuse this sad post, though by now, I guess you're used to it. I don't even have the patience to proofread this. If anyone remembers any tags I was supposed to do, please tell me. I shall go back to nursing my hard working knee.

phbbbbbbbbbbbt (for lack of a better word)

The grandmother is very sad. Somehow, there's some problem with a bunch of cable tv channels and the grandmother's favourite Colors is gone too. The first day, however, she couldn't watch TV because her son and grandsons had taken over the TV to watch a cricket match. So she went into her bedroom (which I share with her because the grandfather has so, so generously vacated it for me to sleep comfortably and sleeps in the drawing room instead) and sat on the bed, picked up her cellphone and dialed her daughter who lives in Jodhpur. The same daughter who first got her hooked to these serials when she had come down for the summer vacation. She calls up her daughter and the conversation goes like this

"Achcha, yahan pe match chalra, jaldi jaldi batao kya hora?"
"...Achcha, haan woh ladka toh waisa hi tha"
"...Achcha, haan main samajh gayi thi woh buddhi aisich karingi bolke. Achcha usko malum hogaya tha?"
"Aur woh aath baje ke serial mein woh ladki ko kya hua?"
"Achcha... aur saade das wale serial mein?" :D

Poor grandmom. She just goes to bed early now.

The post that I had written did get pubished yest, only after I wrote the 'cheating type of post' to make up for it. So das. I spent nearly an hour and a half writing an assignment, rather copying one for the M. I've completely lost the habit of writing with my hand. Thanks to my awesome (the HIMYM effect) typewriting speed, I hardly ever take handwritten notes anymore. So within ten minutes of writing, my hand seemed like it had frozen and hurt terribly! It was nice to write after so long though.

Am I not sounding like the horrible bore at a party? I have the lamest posts! But I shall keep at it, I should be able to do this at least! I'm so used to twitter, I really can't get past 140 characters.

Immu might have met her future hubzand today. We do not have the details yet. I have not seen any girl react to the idea of getting married as this girl does. May God bless her with the best.

see ya o

They're only words but

Last night, I finished reading 'The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay'. The author's rendition of pain, grief, desolation, death and loneliness, mostly loneliness, is exquisite, the writing is taut, the imagery sears your consciousness, deftly hewed dialogues sting with the sharp, unexpected pain of a papercut and its pace hurtles you along story twists that progressively become more tragic as you go along. The author brings into the story thinly disguised real life incidents that leave you seething in its wake, helpless but hopeful still. And you think again, that in your little bubble of a world, that 'Kya hoga is desh ka' is probably the most thought you will ever give to these incidents, and there are others whose lives change irrevocably, even lost forever. How significant your life is to you and how insignificant to someone else.

This book is now part of my 'heartachingly beautiful' collection, joining 'The Map of the World' and 'The Lovely Bones'. Both books are about death and life, or life after losing someone, both in very different ways. In fact, while the story of 'The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay' revolves around the lives of the upper crust, it hardly feels superficial. Both 'The Map of the World' and 'Little Bones' are, however, about very normal people whose lives change with the death of someone in their family. 'Map of the World' is like Ian McEwan's 'Atonement', death and guilt go hand in hand. In 'The Lovely Bones', Susie's died and gone to heaven and watches how her family copes with her death. There are sentences you wish you could savour like toffee, preserve forever.

I bought 'The Lost Flamingoes of Bombay' at Crossword, and no, it wasn't the cover that bought me, but the blurb on the jacket made it sound exactly like Bas Ek Pal, a movie whose trailer I was obsessed with at K (the movie was good, but not great). I picked up both 'The Map of the World' and 'The Lovely Bones' at a second-hand bazaar, at different times. After I finished reading 'The Lovely Bones', I felt like I was a thief, having paid ten rupees for such beauty.

Tomorrow, if everything is alright with my head, we will talk about happy books.

Lotsa lerve.

Day 5

So I came home early last night and realized that I was missing Ammy, so I called up the blister and said ‘Fontin yaad aara’ (long story) and then the ammy and I began a long nonsensical conversation. Most of it was her telling me a long story in her own version of English. It sounds a lot like English - the tone, the words, it even has some whathappeneds and yous in between - but it almost entirely gibberish. I think it was a rather long story about a cat and there were many miaows that sounded like the cat who was going through a bad break-up. So of course, when I just happened to ask ‘What happened to the doggie?’, a number of painful bhowbhows were also added to the mix. Too bad I can’t tell what the story was.

Before the story began however, I told her that ‘nanima’ (i.e. her par-nanima) was missing her and she immediately said, ‘Zara do phone unko, hum baat karte’. To which I said, ‘Pehle mere se baat karo na?’ and she said in a very grown-up, slightly exasperated way, (like one might talk to their child), ‘Aap se karte hum baat inshaallah, pehle nanima se baat karte. Phir baad mein aap se call karke baat karte, theek hai?’ And I couldn’t stop laughing. She’s barely three and she sounds like sixty.

I learned about Simpu Singh only the day before yesterday. And now I’m so taken by the videos that all I can think of is ‘What’s the zok?” and ‘Ask the Pankazz’ and ‘Khade ho jao, bhai khade ho jao’. If you don’t know what I’m talking about (and there’s little chance of that happening) google the ‘simpu singh’ on the youtube.

Oh and there’s apparently still some chance of going to Yurap. Apparently, just June is not good enough. The July possibility should also exist. Sigh.

What else? I can’t think of anything else to add. Oh yeah, the grandmother is completely hooked to serials on Colors – Uttaran and Is Desh Mein Na Aana Meri Laado. Is it Laado or Laddo? Laddo, I believe. Why didn’t they extend it to ‘Is Desh Mein Na Aana Meri Laddo, Yahan Sirf Dukh Aur Drama hai. Phir Bhi Agar Aana Chahti Ho Toh Mere Liye Thodi Chai Zaroor Le Aana’. (Okay, forgive me). So every night when I get home, there are a bunch of people enjoying watching this extremely over-dramatic drama on the nyu 46” LCD TV. So over time, I learned that there’s a good girl (the servant’s daughter) and a bad girl (the daughter of the house) who are good friends and who both apparently love the same guy. The night when good girl is to get married to her lau, badgirl slashes her wrists so goodgirl decides to sacrifice herself and badgirl becomes the bride. And of course nobody comes to know because of the ghunghat. Duh! And it took three real days for the groom to discover that the girl he’s married is badgirl and not goodgirl. And then a whole week went by in the real world, but the bride was still in her bridal clothes! And when the groom came to the goodgirl-badgirl’s house, they spent 15 minutes just showing the goodgirl come down the steps. Some of the older characters are so Machiavellian that I really do not want my grandmazzar watching this stuff!

Okay, I’m done. Is there anyone who wants to hear anything specific from me? I’m running out of ideas :< How am I ever going to reach day 30? :|

Here comes the sun...

4 out of 5 things crossed out on PC's post-it notes. Whoo-hoo! Life is finally looking up!

Ammy's blabbering a lot these days. Today she also caught her first fever, first in her whole life!

The urge to run home has dissipated. But I'm dying to meet Ammy again.

It baffles me how we're one species but still think so differently. How can someone be convinced that Carrie Bradshaw makes for a good role model?!

Shell go to bedz now, goosenight.

Today's 3:
1. The feeling you get when you cross out entries on a to-do list
2. Cotton pants
3. No broken bones

and today...

... we have a slightly better day, more productive but with spells of illness thrown in. Hope things get better soon.

Today's 3 I'm grateful for

1. That Blister is a doctor
2. Bingo! Finally new flavours of chips to try
3. Johnson's baby oil :)
   

Hi, I'm Argentyne and I suffer from chronic laziness.

Tis Diwali. I'm not feeling well. There are too many things troubling me and I am solely responsible for most of them. The past two-three days have been awful, not painful but just depressing. Mostly due to bad skin days and my horrible sleeping habits. And yet, I continue and the vicious cycle becomes a noose around my neck. Today evening I found myself thinking about the guy from my college who committed suicide and left a note saying 'I have a severe sinus problem'. In my case, it's the dry skin that's driving me nuts. N and I went out the other day and I bought two moisturizers that I thought would work, I'm sure they would do very well on normal people. On me, zilch. I must get the old cream I used to use, but it's so expensive and I run out of it so often!

Bad sleep schedule, cold mornings have ruined my eating cycle which means it's giving me acidity. My skin is driving me nuts. I've also begun collecting other people's hangups, I've become OCD about multiple things. I *have* to sweep my room every morning. I *have* to look at the dust and cringe. I *have* to start getting overobsessed with disorderly clothes/books or dust on boxes. Just looking at insects makes my skin itch. If the fan is running at a very high speed, my skin goes dry, if it's running at a slow speed I get restless. The regulator's come off now and it's become extremely hard to get the fan to switch speeds. I've become careless about prayers. Everything is fluff. A firefox tab with inspirational quotes on the importance of time is perpetually open but I don't bother to look at it anymore. I listened to Dawud Wharnsby (I recommend this to anyone, just for the lovely and soothing music) today and the famed 'Last Breath', but still couldn't make myself get out of bed.

Back after a long break. It makes one feel so worthless when you know you're doing nothing worthwhile. Specially since you've suddenly realized that the most successful people (by any standards) are those who make the best use of their time. It was reading what has come to be one of my favouritest blogs, Lightness of Being that I realized I've stopped evolving, there are people I know everywhere who're disciplined, who're actually getting things out of life and here I am, and yet, and yet in spite of everything it's only here that I am. What does it take to get up and go? Why do some people find it so easy and why is it so tough for other people? When I was reading her blog, I just wanted to run to some Cave Hira of my own, find peace, find answers. And right now that's impossible, extremely loud music is reverberating throughout the campus, discordant with music playing within the hostel, finally resulting in total chaos. I know it's worse in the boys hostels, but this is really driving me nuts right now. Why, why so loud? I wanted to scream, to shout, but I'm more or less much more peaceful than then.

I know, I know that I'm happier when I"m ticking off things from a list. But what, what does it take to get from here to there? Why don't I have it? And I did try, an extremely ambitious revamping plan that failed, probably because it was too ambitious. I want a rehaul, I want a cleansing waterfall. I want to go home where I'm normal, but that's not a solution. Because it's here that I really am, the kind of person I am without being influenced by others. I sometimes find myself wishing that water would gush through the roof of my room and then everything would be all right.

I wish there was a No Sitcoms Day. Or No Meaningless Television Day. It's become such a useless addiction. There's no routine, so there's no reason to cut down on it. I remember how sick I was of routine during my summer internship. But the routine was satisfying to an extent, I managed to get in 10 mins of exercise, at least everyday. I'm going to sleep now, though it seems impossible that I will considering the painful noise and that I'll probably end up mulling over everything. Another sleepless night that will end up in me waking up tomorrow afternoon, same thing all over again...

I'm going to do one small thing though. I'm going to join the NaBloPoMo wagon. Late and for half the time only. I'm going to post three things I'm grateful for each day; I whine enough.

So here goes NaBloPoMo no. 1, 3 things I am grateful for today:

1. For friends who truly have the patience and the insight to understand me, at least 98% of the time
2. For Maliha's blog, I should call it a Ramadhan gift to myself.
   
3. For people like Dawud Wharnsby and Zaid, who offer much needed alternatives to regular music