Present

We played Secret Santa in office today. There was a wild scramble to leave office early yesterday after we got the mail saying that we were supposed to get gifts today! And of course, the ubiquitous coffee mug (masquerading as the ) had already made its rounds when we had nervously picked out random names.

I got a guy...drat! Its so difficult to shop for guys. :( But of course, I knew this guy and I also knew that he had a sweet tooth. Wait...no, he has sweet teeth. So of course, I just got him a gift pack of Homemade Chocolates.

So, we all met today in a meeting room and put our gifts on the table wondering which brightly wrapped package was ours. For my part, I thought it would really be wierd to be exchanging gifts in that way. And I was surprised at how much I enjoyed myself. I felt like I had time-travelled back to my school days where this game was played akin to some holy ritual.

I got a little ceramic jewel box. And it had a mirror too on the inside. So now I don't have to scramble for my purse everytime I need to do a check on me poor face. :)

P.S.: Oooh...the female who actually organised the so-called event was real chalu. She picked out the senior mgr's name before the mug made its round and gifted her something way out of budget. Ugh! I hate such boot licking!

Comfort Food

It's what you think of when you're so tired (physically/mentally) for any reason whatsoever.

The concept of Comfort Food did not exist at all in my life until I started staying alone. There was no need for something like Comfort Food at home when you invariably always had the best meals 365 days of the year. Of course, I never acknowledged it much in those days. However, I do, now.

Living alone can have its disadvantages when you need something in your tummy to quell that head-ache (or heart-ache!) that feels like it houses millions of Liliputs with sledge-hammers. And so your options to zero-in on the one Comfort Food thats easy on your time, abilities and the resources-at-hand can be quite an adventure-trip on its own.

Before I settled down with the-most-satisfactory-amongst-all-avaliable one for myself, I experimented with lots of other options.

1. Soup - its the darndest easiest thing you can make.

2. Curd Rice with maangai oorkai - :) this is for the Southie in me

3. Biscuits - yuck! I had to try this to know that I am soooo NOT a biscuits person.

4. Maggi - thanks to hunderds of mail-chains, this one is now buried with a RIP headstone in my options-graveyard.

5. Eggs - boiled, fried, poached, scrambled...thousands of variations. Plus the smell kinda puts me off on some days.

6. Upma - again, the Southie in me I guess. But of course, never worked out. Too much of pre-preparation with the slicing and dicing and sauteing. Definitely not a contendor.

7. Porridge - this one is a YUCK! option. Anything that has unflavoured sweetened milk is something that totally gives me the creeps.

8. Salad - definitely NOT! It just depresses you even more.

9. Fruits - now, see, although this is a very easy-and-quick option; that is the reason why it doesn't measure up. It's just way too easy to grab an apple and eat it. You need something that involves just the right amount of pre-prep work. Definitely not fruits.

10. Home Delivery - well, by the time these guys deliver; you're most probably out of the craving-mode and into the self-prep-talk mode. It's kinda like an anti-climax.

So, after a lot of experimenting, my favorite Comfort Food is :

Hot butter-toast (only apna AMUL!)

It's very, very, very gettable. Our corner mallu-shop always houses Nilgiris wheat/sandwich/sweet bread and AMUL butter. Plus, having a toasty-toaster is a HUGE plus!

Now, there's something to be said about the freebies that you get during the festival-season-sale in India. I remember that our toasty-toaster came with our SAMSUNG washing machine and amma had dumped it in a corner 'cause they hardly eat toast. I picked it up one day and managed to bring it to Bangalore. And what a blessing it has been! Since then, most of us swear by dear toasty-toaster. And he has saved us on many an occasion.

No great pre-prep needed. Just pop the bread in toasty-toaster, slap on the butter and munch away!

...accompanied by tea/coffee in my favorite smiley MUG, of course!

Yup, I don't measure in cups or the ubiquitous Indian tumbler/lota/gillas. When you're down and need cheering up, large doses are the only way to go :)

What if...?

What if... I had made it through for my B.Arch?


What if... I hadn't got into Engg College?


What if... I hadn't got placed through Campus?


What if... I had gotten married early like my sister?


What if... I hadn't have to move to Bangalore for my job?


What if... I had cracked CAT 07?


What if... I had NOT opted for a job change?


What if... I din't get my project assignment in Germany?


What if... EVERYONE had gotten a hike last year?


What if... VJ had never come to Bangalore? Twice?


What if... Nov 10 had gone fine?


What if... Dec 15 does NOT go fine?


What if... Dec 20 is screwed up?


What if... I just stop with these nonsensical questions? :)



Ok...ok...ok...I get the hint! Adios amigos... :P

Who, Me?

OK...so before I begin this post, ignore the last one. I was in the depths of despair on that particular fateful Friday evening. But, to anyone who cares and who is out there and who still reads my blog: All's well dearies, I'm still alive and kicking!

Now, coming back to the topic at hand: today was Sankatahara Chaturthi. No, actually it still is. Anyways, I keep this fast every month for my dearest dearie Pillaiyar saami. He is my favorite God. Know why?

Well, when I was a kid there was this one song that my mom taught us to sing for our daily poojai. It was Kaithala Nirai Kani and somewhere in the lyrics there is mention of appam-aval-pori. The foodie that I was then (and am now), the song became my favorite and so did Pillaiyarappa. Plus, we both shared another love: kozhukattai's.

There is this very funny story about a boy who goes to a relative's house and tastes kozhukattai's for the first time and comes back home to ask his mom to prepare the same for him. The irony being that he can't remember the name of the dish he sampled. And the story also goes on to say how he bugs his mother no end and in her frustration she gives him a good thrash. After she cools down, she laments how she has given her own son bruises that are like kozhukattai's. And then the poor boy finally exclaims saying that that is what he wants.

There were heavy rumours in the family-mill that I was the main character in the story above and the gender was changed to protect my identity. My love for kozhukattai's are that notorious.

So, again, coming back to the main thread. After my fast for Pillaiyarappa, I go to the temple for the poojai and abhishekam to pray and break my fast. As I waited in the line mumbling my slokas and apologising for my mis-deeds and begging for some favours; the arathi started making its rounds. And as usual there was a lot of crowding. An old man standing behind me leaned in a little and said: "Konjam munnadi po ma...illa na arathi kedaikaathu. Poy eduthuko." I thought I would die there. Why you ask?

Well, I live in Bengalooru. I am a Tamilian. And I am no social butterfly. Especially not in the temple circles in Koramangala. Still, you ask, why?

Well, again, for some god-frosaken reason that I have never been able to understand, almost 90% of the people whom I have met here in Bengalooru (be it in office or in my PG or even my dentist) think that I am from North India. When I gently correct them saying that I am a Tamilian. They give me a surprised look and again emphasize how much I look like I am from North India. Meaning it like a compliment. How dare they, huh? Like one of my Periappa would say: "We are deep-south Pillaival tradition people."

My poor amma gives me a sad look whenever this funny issue of mis-identity happens. According to her our Thirunelveli genes runs in my blood. And anyone who sees me should know that. Its so obvious, she says. You have the typical Palayamkottai-side nose. Now, its my turn to be sad. I never thought my own amma would compare my nose to a district in Tamil Nadu. :(

So, for the first time in 3 years that I have moved to Bengalooru someone finally recognised me properly. Was it my cotton salwar? My pottu? My gold earrings? Did my Thirunelveli genes show through in some aspect? Or was it my Palayamkottai-nose? Unfortunately, the old man had disappeared.

Aiyyo Pillaiyarappa, I hope its NOT the nose!!!

WEE Sing Silly Songs...

I was helping out with a little bit of cleaning at home and guess what the beaver dug up?

A set of cassettes with songs, not just songs but WEE Sing songs.

I am not sure how many people would even know about the WEE Sing series in India but my Google search tells me that its quite popular in America. I found many of them in amazon.com by people like me who grew up with the WEE Sing series and were now selling it off. My market survey also alerted me that each of them are worth round about $ 10. Thanks to my numerous NRI relatives, I could actually get a little "dough" by selling them. But, of course, I really don't understand how people can sell such things that are so much more like wonderful memories than just books/tape.

That got me thinking as to which aunt/uncle actually gifted it to us. My mom helped me out by naming a distant aunt whom, unfortunately, I cant remember at all. So I just nodded and started flipping through the book. My mom joined me and I started singing some of them that I remembered...remembered it so vivdly that I was able to sing without looking at the lyrics.

There were three series that we had plus some others. Each song and illustration brought with it a flood of memories that I dint even know I would remember. I do remember some things from my childhood conciously and then there are these memories; lost somewhere deep down in my tiny brain. I felt a little dazed for sometime as I sat there with my mom. I felt like I had time-travelled back to about 18 years ago and there I was with my mom and KUPY, singing and prancing around the house in an utterly un-self-concious way that only kids that age can.

It felt very, very different feeling that way. I dint want to let go of her.

For the sake of being able to re-visit this memory again without actually needing the book/tape (my mom has now locked it in our safe becasue she feels that doing so would help her somehow also lock up her two little girls who have now moved out) - I thought I'll leave in a song here that was one of KUPY's favorite. She used to love singing this song and actually the beaver also dug up a tape with recordings of KUPY and myself singing many of these songs with a lot of talking and giggling in between :)

---Nobody Likes Me---

Nobody likes me,
Everybody hates me,
Guess I'd go eat worms.
Long, thin, slimy ones,
Short, fat, juicy ones,
Itsy, bitsy, fuzzy, wuzzy worms.

Down goes the first one,
Down goes the second one,
Oh, how they wriggle and squirm,
Long, thin, slimy ones,
Short, fat, juicy ones,
Itsy, bitsy, fuzzy, wuzzy worms.

Up comes the first one,
Up comes the second one,
Oh, how they wriggle and squirm,
Long, thin, slimy ones,
Short, fat, juicy ones,
Itsy, bitsy, fuzzy, wuzzy worms.


Thanks Pamela and Susan! :)


P.S.: KUPY and I are not Pamela and Susan... :P Pamela Conn Beall and Susan Hagen Nipp are the authors of the WEE Sing series.

Transitions

I met someone today. She smiled back at me and I saw something in her that made me pause and take a long, hard look.

From where I stood, she was still the same. The dark brown eyes, which were usually mistaken for black, blinked back at me. And in its depths I saw the person that I always knew she was. Every single time I looked, I saw the same person. I saw myself. In the mirror. Everyday.

One thing that I have always known is that time would change me. And I guess I had come to terms with this fact and I guess that this acceptance also made it more easier for me to move ahead. I never stopped to think about the person that I was before. I always looked ahead at the new experinces (be it good or bad) and waited to see how it would influence me. And how I would change. I never disappointed myself. And to this day I know the phases of change that I went through.

These kind of things are made even more obvious to me when I meet people/friends/acquaintances from my past. I say 'past' because one thing any person who knew me would vouch for is that, once I move ahead, I never look back. The first thing they do is do a double-take at me. Just to ensure that it is the same person. And then when I try to tentatively smile at them, I can see their eyes slowly widen; mirroring something of what runs in their mind as they try to assess the awkward situation of running into me. And that something is what I personaly term as: "Oh...Look at the freak!"

The only relationships that have been "permanent" are my family. And I wonder if I have stuck to them only because they are "family" or because I really wanted to? It's when I do not get clear-cut answers to questions like these that insanity catches up with me, just a little though. But what I do know is that my "family" is the reason that I am still afloat in todays world. Of course, I've had my share of issues with them in my growing-up years, but I know I wouldn't ever leave them even if I wanted to. And I also guess that the reason why I have been so reckless with my "friendships" is because I was always content with having my safety-net (my family).

Some people blame me, some others are glad, some others are hardly bothered and some others miss me.

It's the last category that give rise to stirrings of guilt inside of me. I sometimes wonder whether I should let them know about the kind of person that I am and that I did not do anything intentionally. Or maybe I should re-assure them that what I shared with them was not superficial. Neither was it hypocritical. But then again I wonder if they would truly understand. Or if I would just be worsening things; however uncomfortable they already were.

I guess I know the truth and that should be good enough. Without having to open the closet full of skeletons. Whatever I "had" with them was true and a real and live part of myself. Its just that I "move on". Maybe a little too ruthlessly for the comfort of others. And I guess I take no offence in their perceiving me as a "freak". Ironically, I would agree with them.

If you are reading this and you are actually one such person I knew, I hope I was able to clear the air a little between us. :)




P.S.: I recently posted a set of pics in my Facebook account with the "recent" people in my life. And only after looking at the album later I realised and hoped that I was born with a DIGI cam. The closet would then not be full of "skeletons" but full of such "albums". Does that make me less of a "freak"???

"Blurring Lines"

"I was like a lost moon – my planet destroyed in some cataclysmic, disaster-movie scenario of desolation – that continued, nevertheless, to circle in a tight little orbit around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws of gravity.

I didn't keep track of the days that passed – there was no reason, as I tried to live as much in the present as possible, no past fading, no future impending.

It was a very strange kind of day. I enjoyed myself. I wondered at first if it was just the aftershock of losing the numbness, but I didn't think that was enough of an explanation.

It wasn't as hard as I would have thought to keep focused on the present. The city looked a lot like any other normal hangout, and he set a vastly different mood.

After that, I really watched the show, laughing with him as the comedy got more and more crass. How was I ever going to fight the blurring lines in our relationship when I enjoyed being with him so much?

It was strange for me, being this close – emotionally rather than physically, though the physical was strange for me, too – to another human being. It wasn't my usual style. I didn't normally relate to people so easily, on such a basic level.

It wasn't just that he was always so happy to see me, or that he didn't watch me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for me to do something that would mark me as crazy or stupid. It was nothing that related to me at all.

It was just him. He was simply a perpetually happy person, and he carried that happiness with him like an aura, sharing it with whoever was near him. Like an earthbound sun, whenever someone was within his gravitational pull, he warmed them. It was natural, a part of who he was. No wonder I was so eager to see him.

I could tell that I was boring him, but he didn't complain. I tried not to dwell on my last trip through this part of the city, with a very different companion. Normal memories were still dangerous. If I let myself slip up, I'd end up with my arms clutching my chest to hold it together, gasping for air, and how would I explain that to him?

He whistled cheerfully, an unfamiliar tune, swinging his arms and moving easily through the crowd. The shadows didn't seem as dark as usual. Not with my personal sun along.

It was so wrong to encourage him. Pure selfishness. It didn't matter that I'd tried to make my position clear. If he felt any suspicion at all that this would turn into something other than friendship, then I hadn't been clear enough.

How could I explain so that he would understand? I was an empty shell. Like a vacant house – condemned – for months I'd been utterly uninhabitable. Now I was a little improved. The front room was in better repair. But that was all – just the one small piece. He deserved better than that – better than a one-room, falling-down fixer-upper. No amount of investment on his part could put me back in working order.

Yet I knew that I wouldn't send him away, regardless. I needed him too much, and I was selfish.

This made me brood a little. I supposed that that was exactly what it looked like from the outside; that I was using him. As long as he and I knew how it really was, I shouldn't let those kinds of assumptions bother me. And maybe they wouldn't, if I hadn't known that he would have loved for things to be what they appeared. But his hand felt nice as it warmed mine, and I didn't protest.

Maybe I could make my side more clear, so that he would know to leave me. The thought made me shudder, and he tightened his arm around me.

He was quiet, thoughtful. He left his arm around me, and it was so warm that the cold wind felt good. I stared out the windshield, consumed with guilt.

I watched him go, and he seemed to be in better control – than me, at least. I stared at the empty street when he was gone, feeling a little sick myself, but not for any physical reason.

How much I wished that had some legitimate claim on him that still would leave me free of any blame. Heaven knows I had never wanted to use him, but I couldn't help but interpret the guilt I felt now to mean that I had.

Even more, I had never meant to love him. One thing I truly knew—knew it in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my bones, knew it from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, knew it deep in my empty chest—was how love gave someone the power to break you.

I'd been broken beyond repair.

But I needed him now, needed him like a drug. I'd used him as a crutch for too long, and I was in deeper than I'd planned to go with anyone again. Now I couldn't bear for him to be hurt, and I couldn't keep from hurting him, either. He thought time and patience would change me, and, though I knew he was dead wrong, I also knew that I would let him try.

He was my best friend. I would always love him, and it would never, ever be enough."


DISCLAIMER:

All the content in this post are the sole copyright of The Hachette Book Group's Little Brown and Company and Stephanie Meyer. No plagiarism intended.

Relative PERSONALITIES???

This is something that I got curious about during my college days.

To begin with, I studied in an All Girls Catholic institution for 14 years…my entire school-life. And that too most of them who were like moi, in the sense they too started off with me in kindergarten and lasted with the same set through junior college. Hence I was only exposed to this small sample set of aforementioned specimens. So Engg College brought me closer to so many more species and that too of varied types.

I am a person who is completely introverted. I wouldn’t open my mouth and talk to strangers unless and until they approach me with atleast a “hi” or a “hello”. This is the reason why the proclamation in my profile in the “About Me” section was put in. Almost all of my first-opinion has had me classified as an ARROGANT SNOB who DOESN’T TALK TO OTHERS.

Could anything be more unfair? :(

Anyways, to set the record straight; almost all of them who took the first step with their “hi” and “hello” realized how misled they were by my silence. And these have also been the people who were patient and slowly drew out from under many layers of self-doubt the real person that is me. And these are also the people with whom I am still in touch and still call as my “small circle of friends”.

The problem was that this opinion changed only for “almost all” of them. The rest of them stuck to their pre-conceived notions of my personality judging only by my introverted behaviour, which I really cannot blame much. So, big deal… who cares!!!

But I digress…to come back to the main thread...it did form the basis of a very interesting study for me that stemmed mostly only from the curiosity to know how the same person could be so different to different people.

So partly because of the reason stated above and partly because I had to come up with something nice for my college magazine, I decided to put pen to paper about this “thought” that pretty much intrigued me in my alone-moments. What you will now read below, is an “updated” version of what went into my college magazine.

*************************************

THE THEORY OF RELATIVE PERSONALITIES

I have noticed that a person puts up a different front to different people. Now, please pay attention…not different “faces” but different “fronts”. As in each person seems to bring out a different “personality” from within him/her.

If you tried to experiment a little and tried to switch this behavioural-pattern between the people you know; you would be looked up and down a few times, a few unbelievable blinks and angry glares are sure to ensue too and your well-being would be enquired about in stage whispers!

The million dollar question is this: Why are we so different to different people? Why aren’t we the same to all and sundry? We are the same person no matter with whom we are, then why this change of “personality”? Does this mean we are hypocritical? What is equally astounding is the number of varied stances we take with different people depending on the circumstances.

What I’m really trying to say is that though we are basically one and the same but we have dazzling dimensions to our personality which are brought to the fore depending upon the people and the vibes that we “intuitively” pick up from them.

People, to whom we have a liking, bring out the best in our nature. Ever wondered why you develop an instant dislike to a particular person whom you have just met, for no rhyme or reason? This is what people label as “intuition”. We all have an “intuitive” nature that guides us through, whenever we meet new people, and it is this “intuition” that is responsible for the “apparent” change in our “personality”: when we meet-up with our old pals or otherwise even when we strike-up a balance with a new-found friend.

Now I can’t say much about others ‘cause I haven’t really done some research or random survey across a good sample population. But looking down into myself I can say this: I am all basically three people: one, what I am to my family; two, what I am to my friends and three, what I really am; “The real I, Me, Myself!”

We change our personalities to suit the other person(s) expectation(s) in such a subtle way that it is totally indiscernible to most others and even us! There is a sort of split-personality or alter-ego automaton within us, which works at incredible speeds that’ll even baffle a super-computer! It is this automaton that switches between the myriad personalities within us to suit the company and the circumstances.

*************************************

I don’t claim or state anything in the above post as FACT; I just wanted to pen down my own experience with the people whom I have met in this journey of mine so far. Neither do I claim that this is the single-most truth of behavioural patterns amongst people. It’s my blog and this is just one of my ramblings that I wanted to write about. :)

"I taw a puddy tat"

It's just another day in the never-ending routine that my life is; I am home from office waiting for my other friends while the clock ticks away the seconds. Now, it is very important that you get the picture right 'cause otherwise the ending will be totally lost. So, picture this:

I am sitting on a small foot-stool beside my cot with my laptop balanced on the matress. After kicking-off my sandals I stretch my legs luxuriously beneath the cot to let it relax a bit after the loooong walk home from the bus stop. I get busy pretty soon checking out my mails and laughing to myself at some stupid pics in a friend's album. In the middle of all this Mai arrives and as usual we start our lite-gossip of all things under the sun. She then leaves to freshen up and well I am still not budging my generous self off the foot-stool and get busy again with my mails.

Suddenly, I feel a little furry scratch on my right shin. I share my room with a few thousand mosquitoes, so I really didn't bother. After a fraction of a second my stupid brain realised that mosquitoes aren't in anyway whatsoever furry. Curious, I lift the end of the bed-cover that drapes over the edges of my narrow-little bed and....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

I see an evil white cat with green eyes looking at me from under the cot. I continued to scream as I jumped up on my roomie's cot all the while looking at the evil cat. It tried to advance but I guess the decibel level of my scream pretty much sealed any such option. It turned swinging its tail and with a contemptuous glance over its shoulder (Do cats have shoulders?), it sauntered out of the room. Along the corridor I could see Mai match my decibel level in an equally loud scream as the evil white cat quickened its steps to run past her and outside the door.

You know it's not that I don't like cats...It's just that I hate cats. I just so positively loathe them. I cannot stand the sight of a cat. People who know me wonder how I can call myself leonine when I can't even make my peace with a domestic cat. If I ever happen to see a cat lurking in my vicinity, I feel like its a living evil manifestation of my deepest darkest fears stalking me. It positively gives me the creeps!

After a few seconds, I realised that i had been screaming non-stop and stopped gasping for breath. Mai then rushed into my room asking if I was OK and lifting a shaking finger towards the door I whispered: I TAW A PUDDY TAT!





DISCLAIMER:
* This post is not meant in any way whatsoever to hurt the sentiments of the people who love cats as pets, animals and companions in general.
* It is just a tale of a girl who has her little fetishes.
* If this post has been disturbing in any way to cat-lovers around the world, I sincerely apologise.
* And inspite of this, If people are still angry at me then I know for sure that I am going to be re-born as a cat in my next birth. *GULP* :(

The First time I...

2 years 3months and 15 days...

I'd settled in Bangalore for that long and on that fateful 15th day I finally went Bowling. That was one of my first's and the next one being that I went to Leela Palace. I know...I know... its not big deal and pretty stupid, but then thinking about it later really hit me on how much time had actually passed since I had settled in this city. GOSH! It can't be that long surely! But it was...

I'm not the type who parties every Friday night through the weekends. Neither am I the type who has friends who do that. So *SIGH* I guess that explains my current predicament. The fact that something so stupid got me pretty excited like a kid was just truuuuly pathetic.

I went there with two other friends; VJ and MSS...both of whom were thankfully experienced. *PHEW!* And they knew the routine too...so I was saved the embarassment of being caught doing something stupid. We had to wait for about 30 mins as we sat around in the lounge talking and enjoying the loud music. Finally, our turns came and we went to pick out our shoes. God! I can't even begin to describe the stench in that room!!! I tried to pick out a clean looking shoe while at the same time trying to decide on the most appropriate size that wouldn't send me sprawling on the floor. In the end, we emerged shoe-clad and ready for the game. We were assigned LANE 1 with our own scorecard screen and the whole enchilada.

I started first with the other two teaching me on the number of the ball that I should choose, how to hold it, how to balance and then finally let go. Lucky for me, the first one dindn't go for the gutter. So...YAY!!!

But, many others did. :(

It was less of an embarassment that at the end of the day, the scorecard looked like this:

And I actually managed to get a decent score!!! :)



P.S. : In the pic, "A" is me!!!!

Dial - 101

OK...so power cuts in Koramangala is something as mundane as seeing cute girls/guys on MG road... :)

And as usual, when I returned from office one day I found my entire lane in complete darkness. Fumbling my way to my PG I continued the trail to my room and dumped my stuff. It so happened that there were just two other girls in the PG that day (both of them quite obliviously busy on the phone!)

I promptly lit a candle and settled myself in the Hall with some music. Slowly, the rest of them trickled in, each one complaining about the power and I was tempted to ask: "What else is new?"

So...the junta in the hall increased and each one was quite content to sit around until the power would come back. The usual time frame was 1 to 1.5 hours, so what the heck!

One of the last few to join us was my pal CG (name masked for obvious reasons!) she was quite vocal about the "stupid power problems" and took her time to scream her heart out to us on the same topic. After we managed to calm her down she decided to head to her room for a quickie.

Mai (reason for name: ditto), my other good pal and I were just competing on who had donated the higher content of blood to mosquitoes when we heard someone repeatedly scream: "OH HELL! OH HELL! OH HELL!"

We followed the sound and reached CG standing outside her room with a view through the doorway that literally gave all of us a massive heart-attack! What we saw was the corner cupboard with a mane of fire!!!

On impulse, all of us rushed helter-skelter to collect water in any possible container to douse the flames. After around 20 mins of frenzied activity we finally managed to get things under control. We then stood around in a breathless huddle and the discussion on the fire started:

HOW COME? - Candle
BUT HOW? - Left on top of the cupboard
BUT STILL...HOW DID THE FIRE START? - The top of the cupboard also served as a shelf to one roomie who had loaded it with lots plastic bags stuffed with odds-and-ends.
WHO? - Well, remember one of the oblivious phone gals I mentioned? She had left it there assuming that CG would be in the room.
BUT THAT'S STUPID? - Tell me about it!

Slowly the huddle broke up, each one still amazed at how someone could have left a burning candle unattended that way. None of us had an answer for that!

After a while the power was back and we went to inspect the damage properly. That's when I noticed that the bed that was placed beside the cupboard was also burnt on one end. Apparently, stuff had fallen down on the bed and in all the running-about one of them had taken care of that too. To make matters worse, the plastic that had caught fire had actually melted and seeped into the cupboard through the cracks in the door and burnt most of the clothes too. A scrambled inspection of the contents of the cupboard and we soon had 2 piles of clothes: BURNT and ALIVE.

Phew!

For that night we made places for the inmates of the room within our own and in other empty places in the PG. The smoke filled house felt dark and damp. But we did not dwell on anything. Sitting around in a group in Mai's room we joked about the whole thing while still knowing how serious it was. Slowly, we broke up and went our ways.

It was one helluva evening to say the least!

'Appy B'day to ME!!!

No...actually to my blog! :)

It's been ONE YEAR!!!

Gosh! I still can't believe it...technically speaking, its been one year and 3 days...so whatever!

Hmm...I've been kinda away from the blog circuit since Diwali...I think I'm gonna blame my work again. It's been really hectic since I returned and I am so tired on weekends that even my social life has come to a stand still. I haven't gone to the movies, no fine dining adventures, no new lounges to explore....sheesh! In short, I had become a recluse. I literally and shamefully slept away the weekends.

But all bad (and good!) things come to an end and so did this! My dear dear dear friend VJ had come down from Mumbai. And I was meeting up with VJ after 2.5 years. It's such a nice feeling when you meet friends (real good buddies) after such a long span and still feel like nothing has changed.

All in all, it has been a really good "1st anniversary" !

Cheers! :)