The Goddess returns with more... (ahem!)...'pearls' of.... never mind. Just keep reading , and I'll be thankful enough.
Actually these are the side-effects of lying at home doing absolutely nothing (i.e. nothing useful) for a month, with an offensively cheery-blue fibre cast on my elevated foot, staring right back at me. Personal note: Change favourite colour to pista green
1. You know your parents have run out of ideas on what to do with you when you start getting a certain predictable set of q's thrown at you on every visit home.
"Isn't it time you started thinking about your future?"
Like.....future what? Future luxury car, foreign vacation, paycheck??? Good idea!!
"There's this nice boy....."
Of course they're all nice... nobody presents their son as a history sheeter cum axe-murderer cum wife-beater with a roving eye to boot.
"This is not a stage of your life to be taken lightly"
I totally agree. You realise that NOTHING at all can be taken lightly when your father starts encouraging you to do exactly the things he forbade just two years ago. Like discussing what you think of a guy's looks, his personality, and most importantly, his compatibility with you. All this when you realised only ten minutes ago that the guy existed at all!!
2. Things may not always be what they seem to be. Oh, that's old hat, I know. Am talking about displays of emotion here. For instance, the time when my parents were leaving after dropping me off at hostel in Delhi. As they walked away towards the car, I saw Appa steadfastly stare at the ground, and Amma discreetly dab at her eyes with a hanky. Stupid ole me presumed it was the grief of leaving their darling baby at the other end of the country and going back to Chennai. A couple of years and a whole series of arbit observations have revealed a 99.99% probability that their reaction was more on the lines of "PEACE.....After twenty-one years!! Thank God for MBA courses" :-S Now you know why Indian parents don't mind splurging on an MBA for their kids, even when the fees show an overtly positive correlation to global oil prices.
3. Meeting long lost relations and family friends doesn't exactly top the list of earthly pleasures for most of us. There are some exceptions of course, but most of these encounters can make you cringe inwardly, even as you prepare to face the assault with a diabetes-inducing smile plastered on your face. I mean, you just KNOW when that achayan/ammai/ammachy/uncle/aunty bears down on you all goggly-eyed and smiling and making a (ob)scene in general.
"Ente moley, nee angu valuthayi poyallo!!" (Beti, you've grown!)
Errr.... isn't that normal...esp since I hadn't even started crawling the last time you saw me??? Besides, I don't particularly appreciate the not-so-subtle references to my prospering waistline..... Hmph!
4. All those who fell for the hype and hoopla of The Monk who sold his Ferrari have obviously missed out on a verrrrry important point. Why don't you see that the Monk HAD a Ferrari to sell in the first place??
:-( Sadist...BAH!!! Go right ahead and rub it in my face....I'm still saving for a tyre to call my own. Oh, and no comments about tyres of my own making pls!! ;-P
5. You'll always have a soft corner for kids you dandle on your knee in their babyhood. No matter that they may grow, or mutate rather, into unexplained forms of pestilence a few years later.
6. Whoever predicted that "soft, curling tendrils" are THE look for our crowning glories this season obviously has a head full of poker straight hair. I'm serious. Nobody in their right mind would voluntarily put up with the pains of a head full of hairy curls of tendrils...err, curly tendrils of hair, day in and day out. Especially when the tendrils/ corkscrews have no sense of direction. I speak from personal experience. Waking up every morning looking like I was struck by lightning the previous night DOES NOT make me feel particularly hep or fashionable. Ah well, dunno if I can blame that fashionista. We've all heard that one on the vegetation being verdantly viridian on the other side.
7. Answering the question "Why an MBA?" is THE biggest farcical exercise you go through in the process of acquiring the degree. All this even before you're accepted into the course, mind! The whole process should've given me a fair idea of what I was getting into. Every coaching centre worth its salt tells you not to bull**** while answering that one. Fine, but what if I hadn't??
a) It's all about the money, honey!
b) Actually, I'm clueless. An MBA was the only thing left after I crossed out every other option.
c) Pleeeeease give me an admission....my folks will get me married otherwise.
d) I'd rather live on a farm, paint masterpieces and call the cows home everyday. But that doesn't bring in the moolah.
e) Face it. I can't rake in peanuts for another decade to get to an MBA's entry level job in my company.
f) Errr.... everybody else is doing it..right??
None of these seemed like a wise answer despite the honesty. Had this distinct sensation of stuffing both feet down my gullet when I thought of these. Therefore I am an MBA today and practising the bull**** professionally. Looking back now, I wonder how I kept a straight face while answering that question in B-school interviews. That's the scary part, I guess....I'd actually believed what I said then.
8. Why is it that the most charming, sweep-me-off-my-feet gentleman I've ever met is nearly 70 years old? Is it a reflection of declining quality standards through the decades or something? Before you jump to any theories about me being an older-man type, lemme tell you that I have nearly twenty-odd women my age agreeing with me on this. The gentleman I'm referring to was a visiting faculty at our B-school, and living proof that there's nothing like chivalry, respect and politeness to win the ladies over. Looks and physique can take a hike. Even MCP-ish views are graciously excused when they come from such people. Oh never mind. You guys may never get it at all. Gimme a man like that between the age of 25 and 30.... oh heck, make it 25 and 40, and I'll marry him blindfolded ;-)
9. I'll pro'lly live in coastal places all my life. There's something about the way the ocean captures every mood and every shade of my being, and throws it right back at me that I'll never get enough of. Nothing like its vastness to give you a very good sense of where exactly you stand and how significant you are in the scheme of things.
10. Something's seriously wrong when a person's smile doesn't reach their eyes. Age is no indicator of maturity. And you definitely have grown up in some way if you can enjoy a good, hearty belly-laugh at your expense.
Wish I practised half of what I preached.... but hey, spouting gyaan is something we MBA-types do naturally!!
I was born weird. This terrible compulsion to behave normally is the result of childhood trauma - Anon
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Damn... :((
Just received official confirmation....
LIFE SUCKS.
I mean it. But...I repeat....BUT the divine Zahra is made of sterner stuff and shall rise above all this..... just wait n see.
Wonder why folks get the impression that if you've raked through the muck and come out smelling of roses just once, you're dying to make a profession out of it.... have they ever considered that it might just have been a benevolent higher power that was on my side?? :)
My C&H Random Quote generator seems to have sensed it too....hmmm.
Time to roll up your sleeves and swing into action, girl!!!!
LIFE SUCKS.
I mean it. But...I repeat....BUT the divine Zahra is made of sterner stuff and shall rise above all this..... just wait n see.
Wonder why folks get the impression that if you've raked through the muck and come out smelling of roses just once, you're dying to make a profession out of it.... have they ever considered that it might just have been a benevolent higher power that was on my side?? :)
My C&H Random Quote generator seems to have sensed it too....hmmm.
Time to roll up your sleeves and swing into action, girl!!!!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Here's one!
Came across this one in a women's magazine some time ago....
Q: What would a dyslexic, atheist insomniac do??
A: Stay up all night wondering if there is a dog.
Heeheehawhawwww!!!
Q: What would a dyslexic, atheist insomniac do??
A: Stay up all night wondering if there is a dog.
Heeheehawhawwww!!!
Monday, May 26, 2008
Mujhe maloom illai
This post by Nikhil got me thinking about my travails while learning the rashtrabhasha. An unforgettable experience for all the wrong reasons. As a non-native Hindi student who spoke only two languages then, both gender-neutral (Mallu and English), ka, ke and ki were nothing short of absolute naaansense. Psst, am letting you in on a li'l secret here... I still play a mental round of inky-pinky-ponky before using one of the 3 in a sentence :((.
There was this brief episode where I tried using simple logic to connect words and decipher meanings. Nearly 15 years later I've realised that my system of logical thinking doesn't apply to 99% of real-life situations. Damn. Take for egg-jample, the first time I heard the phrase "baap re baap" from my Hindi teacher. (Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure she was looking at my notebook.) I thought it meant...(hehehe, shy is the comings)...GRAND-DADDY!
Simple reasoning. Baap = father, therefore Baap re baap = father's father . LHS=RHS. Bravo, Einstein.
That 'Entammachy' is a pretty commonly used phrase in Kerala fuelled this line of thinking. An 'Entappacho' equivalent for the patriarchal Northies didn't seem all that out of place then.
So it shouldn't be too surprising that I barely scraped through the subject in 12 years of school and one year of undergrad. And cribbed all along about how I was wasting precious hours of my existence on a language I'd most likely never use.
Then came Delhi and a yum-bee-yayy, that unleashed me and my brand of Hindi on an unsuspecting populace (mmhmmmwhahahahaha!!) Landed up on campus with a ton of baggage in tow (3/4th of it to preserve my Mum's peace of mind!) and then realised that I'd forgotten to pack a pair of pillowcases. Never mind. Could pick it up during the Lajpat Nagar sutthal.
And so we landed up at Juneja's, where my parents generally admired the bedspreads and tablecloths on display, and yourstruly sashayed forth to get herself a pair of pillowcases.
Haan, madamji?
Anna, err...bhaiyya, mujhe do pillowcover chahiye. White colour. Umm...safed.(Phew!)
He yelled out to no one in particular
Lal pillowcover dikhao!!
Lal??? Ech-yoose me, white IS safed in Hindi..... I know that much even if I'm a raw southie!!
I square my shoulders and look him in the eye.
Ahem...bhaiyya, mujhe laal pillowcase nahin chahiye. Mujhe safed pillowcover chahiye....WHITE. (for added emphasis)
He stared right back at me. The impudence!! And then a slow grin spread over his face. Grrrrr!!!! Now the Goddess is furious!
Madamji, Lal uska naam hai!
(Something goes Pfffffttttt in my head)
And a smiling ten-year-old's face pops up from behind the counter, saying "Ji madam?"
Eeps. Why doesn't the ground just open up??? As expected my parents didn't miss a word. A pair of biiiig smiles from the other end of the shop. Damn. Trust your folks to hear precisely the stuff they have no business listening to. Stood there with a watery, sheepish grin for the rest of the episode.
Of course it's family legend now, the story of how Granddaughter No.1 kicked off her innings in big baaaaaad Dilli. And she lives to tell the tale herself. In the space of three years I've progressed from the kind of Hindi that made my roomies cringe, blanch and run screaming for the hills,to the type that elicits a raised eyebrow and no comments. Ha!! So there!
Misadventures with the language are still dime a dozen. Am currently in the process of Bambaiyya-izing my Hindi. And the effort looks set to continue for a loooong time.
In the meantime, if you happen to walk around Andheri(W) and hear a lady tell the auto-driver, "Mujhe Malad jaana hoon", do stop a second to say hi to Zahra!!
:)
There was this brief episode where I tried using simple logic to connect words and decipher meanings. Nearly 15 years later I've realised that my system of logical thinking doesn't apply to 99% of real-life situations. Damn. Take for egg-jample, the first time I heard the phrase "baap re baap" from my Hindi teacher. (Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure she was looking at my notebook.) I thought it meant...(hehehe, shy is the comings)...GRAND-DADDY!
Simple reasoning. Baap = father, therefore Baap re baap = father's father . LHS=RHS. Bravo, Einstein.
That 'Entammachy' is a pretty commonly used phrase in Kerala fuelled this line of thinking. An 'Entappacho' equivalent for the patriarchal Northies didn't seem all that out of place then.
So it shouldn't be too surprising that I barely scraped through the subject in 12 years of school and one year of undergrad. And cribbed all along about how I was wasting precious hours of my existence on a language I'd most likely never use.
Then came Delhi and a yum-bee-yayy, that unleashed me and my brand of Hindi on an unsuspecting populace (mmhmmmwhahahahaha!!) Landed up on campus with a ton of baggage in tow (3/4th of it to preserve my Mum's peace of mind!) and then realised that I'd forgotten to pack a pair of pillowcases. Never mind. Could pick it up during the Lajpat Nagar sutthal.
And so we landed up at Juneja's, where my parents generally admired the bedspreads and tablecloths on display, and yourstruly sashayed forth to get herself a pair of pillowcases.
Haan, madamji?
Anna, err...bhaiyya, mujhe do pillowcover chahiye. White colour. Umm...safed.(Phew!)
He yelled out to no one in particular
Lal pillowcover dikhao!!
Lal??? Ech-yoose me, white IS safed in Hindi..... I know that much even if I'm a raw southie!!
I square my shoulders and look him in the eye.
Ahem...bhaiyya, mujhe laal pillowcase nahin chahiye. Mujhe safed pillowcover chahiye....WHITE. (for added emphasis)
He stared right back at me. The impudence!! And then a slow grin spread over his face. Grrrrr!!!! Now the Goddess is furious!
Madamji, Lal uska naam hai!
(Something goes Pfffffttttt in my head)
And a smiling ten-year-old's face pops up from behind the counter, saying "Ji madam?"
Eeps. Why doesn't the ground just open up??? As expected my parents didn't miss a word. A pair of biiiig smiles from the other end of the shop. Damn. Trust your folks to hear precisely the stuff they have no business listening to. Stood there with a watery, sheepish grin for the rest of the episode.
Of course it's family legend now, the story of how Granddaughter No.1 kicked off her innings in big baaaaaad Dilli. And she lives to tell the tale herself. In the space of three years I've progressed from the kind of Hindi that made my roomies cringe, blanch and run screaming for the hills,to the type that elicits a raised eyebrow and no comments. Ha!! So there!
Misadventures with the language are still dime a dozen. Am currently in the process of Bambaiyya-izing my Hindi. And the effort looks set to continue for a loooong time.
In the meantime, if you happen to walk around Andheri(W) and hear a lady tell the auto-driver, "Mujhe Malad jaana hoon", do stop a second to say hi to Zahra!!
:)
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Of everything and nothing in particular
After nearly four weeks of anticipation, I've finally made the transition to a cast(e)less Indian. Nope, no OBC type controversies here.... the cast on my foot's come off and I can finally walk without that ducky-waddle I've been using for a month now.How, what, when and where was the usual barrage of questions when I hopped into office that day and propped up my foot on the nearest chair. Thanks to a colleague's brainwave, a sheet of paper with Q's and A's taped to the armrest saved me a lot of trouble. This is what was written:
Q: What happened?
A: Twisted my foot
Q: Where?
A: Near the office gate
Q: Does it hurt?
A: U bet :((
Q: Saw a doctor?
A: Not yet.
The answers to the last two should've been kinda apparent after seeing a purple, melon sized foot at one end and my facial contortions at the other.... but never mind. Yep, it IS a rather drastic way of applying for a month's leave, but I ain't complaining. The fall was a genuine one, irrespective of the insane and totally unbloggable explanations proffered by my family. Don't even ask what their theories are.
The interesting part came when the doctor was about to wheel me into the X-ray room. I distinctly saw my father mouth "Brain scan also" to the doc. I understand his concern. It would prove once and for all that I have (or dont have) a human brain. In case I have one, it would lay to rest the family rumour of how a distant uncle patted my four-year-old head and heard a distant, hollow echo. Doesn't help that the distant uncle was also a ghatam enthusiast. Two, Dad's job would be a lot easier when he makes a trip to the great Mallu marriage mart (a.k.a. Manorama classifieds) in a fit of paternal duty. And if it turns out that I don't have a brain after all...well.... one more skeleton in the family closet I guess.
Btw, the jury's still out on this one, coz doc finally convinced him that one x-ray of the foot would do. But yes, it's rather mortifying when the only man in my life tries to imply that my brains are in my feet, or that I walk on my head or whatever. Don't ask me how it works. I'm the only non-Biology grad in the family.
Had resigned myself to a month of endless boredom and ennui, with the only highlights being my folks and home-cooked food. But compulsorily putting your feet up and cooling your heels can be a very pleasant change. Trust me on this one :) Have got around to
1. SLEEEEEEEPPPPPINGGGG!!!! (For the first week atleast! ;-D)
2. Reading novels of every kind
3. Sketching, painting and messing around with pastels
4. Watching the clouds drift by (literally!)
5. Endless perched-on-the-kitchen-ledge conversations with Amma, which I so enjoy :)
6. And many, many more
7. And all of this whenever I want, without having to bother about getting back to work or turning in early for another long day at work.
After some introspection and a quick analysis, I have reached the conclusion that the only way to sustain this lifestyle infinitely (minus the cast) would be to become Wife No.3 or No.4 or,heck, even No.5 to some old, debilitated, rich-as-crassus Arab sheikh who'll hopefully kick the bucket soon and leave a few billions to me. Dollars please. And if he doesn't oblige? To quote a pal of mine... "Simple. I'll help him kick the bucket!"
>:-)
As is the case with the most of my introspections and analyses, this one too found its way into that mental wastebasket deep in the recesses of my mind.
Sigh
Wake up and smell the dosai burning, dearie.
The most significant discovery of the last week has been that Nikhil IS a living, breathing, flesh and blood being. Notice that I do not use the word 'human'. Oops. A retaliatory blog post casts its ominous shadow on the horizon. Wisecracks aside, it was good to finally meet in person, after spending 3 years in the belief that the other person existed! We were supposed to have been batchmates but fate and my b-school decreed otherwise. To all you people out there, if you get a 'frand-sheep' request or a LinkedIn invite from this guy, take it from me.....He exists. Of that much I'm sure ;)
My favourite couple a.k.a. yennudaya Appaavum Ammaavum celebrated 26 years of married life yesterday...here's wishing them many many happy returns and much happiness ahead. The 'happiness and peace of mind' quotient is kinda dicey though, what with yourstruly for their only offspring (:D)
Am sure they've had plenty of revelatory moments in past years.....like the one where Calvin's mom gets depressed when he walks by saying, "Hi, it's me!! Your greatest achievement!" Shall put up that cartoon as soon as I dig it out from my comp.
26 years...pretty neat considering that 90% of the relationships I've seen among peers have crashed before the one-year mark.
It's nearly 3 months since I started blogging...frankly, have blogged much more than I expected to. Thanks a ton to all of you out there who've responded with your comments and feedback. It really made my day (and week, and month!) to see a comment on a post of mine. Don't mind admitting that I actually wait for them (Hint! Hintttttt!) :-)
I know. I have all the subtleness of a starving rhino.Another regrettable flaw in an already flaw-ridden being. Double sigh
Bas. Bahut ho gaya. This is enough and more bakwaas for one post. Am off to revive myself.
Viva la filter kaapi!!
Q: What happened?
A: Twisted my foot
Q: Where?
A: Near the office gate
Q: Does it hurt?
A: U bet :((
Q: Saw a doctor?
A: Not yet.
The answers to the last two should've been kinda apparent after seeing a purple, melon sized foot at one end and my facial contortions at the other.... but never mind. Yep, it IS a rather drastic way of applying for a month's leave, but I ain't complaining. The fall was a genuine one, irrespective of the insane and totally unbloggable explanations proffered by my family. Don't even ask what their theories are.
The interesting part came when the doctor was about to wheel me into the X-ray room. I distinctly saw my father mouth "Brain scan also" to the doc. I understand his concern. It would prove once and for all that I have (or dont have) a human brain. In case I have one, it would lay to rest the family rumour of how a distant uncle patted my four-year-old head and heard a distant, hollow echo. Doesn't help that the distant uncle was also a ghatam enthusiast. Two, Dad's job would be a lot easier when he makes a trip to the great Mallu marriage mart (a.k.a. Manorama classifieds) in a fit of paternal duty. And if it turns out that I don't have a brain after all...well.... one more skeleton in the family closet I guess.
Btw, the jury's still out on this one, coz doc finally convinced him that one x-ray of the foot would do. But yes, it's rather mortifying when the only man in my life tries to imply that my brains are in my feet, or that I walk on my head or whatever. Don't ask me how it works. I'm the only non-Biology grad in the family.
Had resigned myself to a month of endless boredom and ennui, with the only highlights being my folks and home-cooked food. But compulsorily putting your feet up and cooling your heels can be a very pleasant change. Trust me on this one :) Have got around to
1. SLEEEEEEEPPPPPINGGGG!!!! (For the first week atleast! ;-D)
2. Reading novels of every kind
3. Sketching, painting and messing around with pastels
4. Watching the clouds drift by (literally!)
5. Endless perched-on-the-kitchen-ledge conversations with Amma, which I so enjoy :)
6. And many, many more
7. And all of this whenever I want, without having to bother about getting back to work or turning in early for another long day at work.
After some introspection and a quick analysis, I have reached the conclusion that the only way to sustain this lifestyle infinitely (minus the cast) would be to become Wife No.3 or No.4 or,heck, even No.5 to some old, debilitated, rich-as-crassus Arab sheikh who'll hopefully kick the bucket soon and leave a few billions to me. Dollars please. And if he doesn't oblige? To quote a pal of mine... "Simple. I'll help him kick the bucket!"
>:-)
As is the case with the most of my introspections and analyses, this one too found its way into that mental wastebasket deep in the recesses of my mind.
Sigh
Wake up and smell the dosai burning, dearie.
The most significant discovery of the last week has been that Nikhil IS a living, breathing, flesh and blood being. Notice that I do not use the word 'human'. Oops. A retaliatory blog post casts its ominous shadow on the horizon. Wisecracks aside, it was good to finally meet in person, after spending 3 years in the belief that the other person existed! We were supposed to have been batchmates but fate and my b-school decreed otherwise. To all you people out there, if you get a 'frand-sheep' request or a LinkedIn invite from this guy, take it from me.....He exists. Of that much I'm sure ;)
My favourite couple a.k.a. yennudaya Appaavum Ammaavum celebrated 26 years of married life yesterday...here's wishing them many many happy returns and much happiness ahead. The 'happiness and peace of mind' quotient is kinda dicey though, what with yourstruly for their only offspring (:D)
Am sure they've had plenty of revelatory moments in past years.....like the one where Calvin's mom gets depressed when he walks by saying, "Hi, it's me!! Your greatest achievement!" Shall put up that cartoon as soon as I dig it out from my comp.
26 years...pretty neat considering that 90% of the relationships I've seen among peers have crashed before the one-year mark.
It's nearly 3 months since I started blogging...frankly, have blogged much more than I expected to. Thanks a ton to all of you out there who've responded with your comments and feedback. It really made my day (and week, and month!) to see a comment on a post of mine. Don't mind admitting that I actually wait for them (Hint! Hintttttt!) :-)
I know. I have all the subtleness of a starving rhino.Another regrettable flaw in an already flaw-ridden being. Double sigh
Bas. Bahut ho gaya. This is enough and more bakwaas for one post. Am off to revive myself.
Viva la filter kaapi!!
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