tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74669773345630787932024-03-19T08:45:22.409+05:30Wandering ThoughtsSome musings, few thoughts...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-20599899150384443372021-03-16T02:08:00.005+05:302021-03-16T02:15:10.744+05:30The Balance<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Y0_i2cuJtLkMx_yqNRyW8mC9Oj301wQK917f3RA2AkpwijiorDwLTMsTaEpGtTC_MOCK2Wmx2Qfo475NNGnfvShaww_jhDK47dI3zHpS52G5aJoG9SlNG8bdE0XMnUZ2jkiiJpN4-0yM/s400/images+%25283%2529.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="320" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Y0_i2cuJtLkMx_yqNRyW8mC9Oj301wQK917f3RA2AkpwijiorDwLTMsTaEpGtTC_MOCK2Wmx2Qfo475NNGnfvShaww_jhDK47dI3zHpS52G5aJoG9SlNG8bdE0XMnUZ2jkiiJpN4-0yM/w320-h400/images+%25283%2529.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Women </p><p>Fragile</p><p>Delicate</p><p>Flowers</p><p>That carry the weight </p><p>Of the garden they are born in.</p><p><br /></p><p>The same voice </p><p>Dictated that </p><p>Men be labelled strong.</p><p>Be wooden filings </p><p>Wrapped around</p><p>Precious cargo.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Pitted against one another</p><p>Designated roles </p><p>One protecting the other</p><p>Expectations.</p><p>Each one crying foul</p><p>In a voice that's louder.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Balanced nevertheless</p><p>On either side of the scales</p><p>Bickering.</p><p>Neither sought to seek</p><p>The one</p><p>Who really held the weights.</p><p><br /></p><p>Rules they made</p><p>Laws were laid.</p><p><br /></p><p>Demarcations</p><p>Boundaries</p><p>Courtesies</p><p>Responsibilities</p><p>Divided never</p><p>Shared.</p><p><br /></p><p>Fingers always pointing</p><p>Righteousness to be upheld</p><p><br /></p><p>Not once was it questioned</p><p>Who really holds the strings...</p><p><br /></p><p>The laws seek to punish</p><p>The black and reward</p><p>The white.</p><p>Convenient to ignore</p><p>That people cast shadows</p><p>In different shades of grey.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Not all men, not all women.</p><p>Then why not be simple</p><p>Why not be kind</p><p>Why not hold your own</p><p>Why not just be...</p><p>a good human instead?</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-57163260973858850312020-08-21T01:36:00.002+05:302020-08-21T12:15:24.001+05:30The Curious Case of the Chaos in My Biological Clock<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Although it still feels like March, we are staring at the end of August. After stating the obvious, I will explain why this feeling had to be acknowledged. Is it just me or is everyone else realising their biological clocks are seriously malfunctioning? What commenced as a long weekend has now revealed itself to be a tedious, torturous staycation. And this has led to some rather unusual behaviour displayed in my daily activities.</span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Time had always slowed down when I was drowsy- during classes and after lunch at work. But since the lockdown began, the opposite seems to happen. I feel drowsy after lunch, and then I sleep and voila, it's already 5pm! Strange!!</span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am someone who can wake up at 6am, hit the treadmill and head to work by 9. I can also be found in bed at 1pm on a Sunday afternoon, with indentations on my skin, vouching for how well I have slept. My current internal clock seems to have mixed up the settings and I often find myself attending stand up calls in bed(what a misnomer), only barely conscious. And you'd similarly find interesting shots of the sunrise on my Instagram feed on a Sunday morning. </span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I set the alarm diligently for 7:30 but because of my new addiction I manage to kill the battery in the next 2 hours I spend scrolling through memes on Imgur. Memes by the way is my only reading material these days. As a result I have to rely on my beautiful, predatory pets that wake me up at 5:30am to pretend pour food in their already full bowls(cat habits, don't ask). But sadly this pandemic has started affecting animals as well. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMofPDMjSOR-v5HhKbm8yre57VgB-DpNjHftI44AM45f2SFX9Y9M7AGuhMk9aq3KA5pyi4QV9uKixBB0k62BHfw6ECnbZBJ0uCgiUb35W-UuN3Yf735NsWiQugfWBiNVo1KG6SumXD2tHI/s1152/WhatsApp+Image+2020-08-21+at+12.14.08+PM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="864" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMofPDMjSOR-v5HhKbm8yre57VgB-DpNjHftI44AM45f2SFX9Y9M7AGuhMk9aq3KA5pyi4QV9uKixBB0k62BHfw6ECnbZBJ0uCgiUb35W-UuN3Yf735NsWiQugfWBiNVo1KG6SumXD2tHI/w240-h320/WhatsApp+Image+2020-08-21+at+12.14.08+PM.jpeg" title="Drowsy Sheldy" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">My cats have started becoming lazier. Choosing sleep instead of food-the blasphemy! </span><p></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The opposite has happened with this rooster that's my neighbour. He has started crowing at 1am. In what universe does one anticipate sunrise at 1am in Bangalore, I want to ask him. But then the bats in the adjacent tree join him, screeching as if to reclaim the night and all I want to do is stand in the balcony asking everyone to shut up already.</span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> "Insomnia is a global pandemic whose Typhoid Mary was Thomas Edison, forcing fake sunlight into hours when ancient biology demands shut-eye.” this quote is mentioned in The Scientist review of Dreamland: Adventures in the Strange Science of Sleep. </span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Covid clearly takes away the prize for being not just a pandemic in terms of well, causing death, but also messing about people's biological clocks. </span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of course there are others like me, worse than me.</span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Every other night post 11pm I hear bikers on the road by my house. I see dogs startled awake, staring at the noisy apparition too horrified to bark and I wonder, what must go on in the minds of such people who decide to rev their engines and embark on this arduous journey? Are they playing vigilante, the friendly neighborhood biker-man? Are they lovesick souls out to steal a glance at their sweethearts standing by the balcony, basking in the moonlight? Is this some real life, gangster style speed racing? I will never know.</span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And just like that it's post my bedtime and another week has passed. Fridays are the only remnants of what can be called a schedule in my life. Fridays will always bring that relief, together with that pinch of sadness about a week ending yet again, insignificantly. Fridays will, pandemic or no pandemic, always pass by in a blur leaving behind a feel-good dizziness. </span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Fridays you see, don't have a biological clock.</span><br />
</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-16863291800938709762020-08-16T21:46:00.002+05:302020-08-16T22:22:37.596+05:30Episodes with Google Home Mini <p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anyone who owns a voice activated smart home device knows that those things are clearly not designed for Indian households. I still get a good laugh when I watch the Big Bang Theory episode where Raj tries to talk to Siri on his new iPhone. Now however we have Google maps with Indian language support and in the possible future may hear Big B’s voice reprimanding us on missing the nearest highway exit. And if you’re driving in Bangalore, you get Gordon Ramsay instead and will have to listen to his admonishments for being an incompetent driver & a failure in life, for half an hour till you reach the next U-turn (said feature is merely a product of yours truly’s imagination). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have however also used a Windows Phone’s navigation system once. Which is why, even though I cannot ever be sure whether to take left or get on the overbridge (<i>every... single... time</i>) I will never complain about Google Maps. Oh fun fact, I don’t drive, I’m usually the human equivalent for that plastic thingy that holds the phone and attaches to your windscreen or dashboard when you drive. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Moving on from that image, my Google Home Mini experience has been rich during this lockdown. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have a smart TV from Vu (relax! I had bought it before we decided to boycott China and I still<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> have to pay my last installment). This one has built-in Chromecast but will lag when you use VLC media player to play movies from your phone, much like how WHO did in deciding we do need to wear masks while Covid was merrily spreading around already. Also it has voice recognition but the remote does not have a voice command button ( I want to insert a funny political joke here but I live alone & also don’t have a voter ID). Anyhow, being the true computer-savvy, working in IT person that I am, I figured out how to control the TV with my Google Home mini. Kudos to me *pats back*. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">However my joy did not last long once I discovered how difficult it is for my poor Mini to understand when I want my TV to play “Yeh Hai Chahatein” on Star Plus in Hotstar (don’t judge me with those Dark eyes of yours, I’m entitled to relax my brain however I want). She keeps opening videos on YouTube trying to act as if she is right every time until she finally gives up with a “This feature is not available in your region” message which is clearly a veiled F-off. I say “Okay Google” and we begin the dance all over again, simply because my hand is already in the food and I’m too lazy to go wash it and then use the remote. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This behaviour is still tolerable. But I have noticed her suddenly beep and get activated when my cats meow out in some weird tune. I can see the lights are on and she is listening and then after they stop yodelling, she beeps again and all is quiet. Like she just took some instructions from my cat and is getting down to business. I have started being nicer to my cats after witnessing this. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have also read through many online forums (I call it bedtime reading) where people have discussed their Alexa laughing in the middle of the night or just being sassy. I have decided to draw the line the day my Mini does anything like that. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I know she is always listening, an actualization of the adage that even walls have ears. But I have given up on privacy, what does it matter now. Enough has been viewed accidentally on Zoom meetings than can be leaked online to do any actual harm. But, no matter what she hears or says, it is one thing denying me the privilege of listening to Avril Lavinge (because apparently all these years I had been mispronouncing her last name) and another thing to secretly laugh at me just because… </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">That day I shall literally pull the plug. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-76073648689109499332020-03-18T02:03:00.001+05:302020-03-18T02:03:27.398+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm not afraid</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of trying again</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To you it may seem </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">An attempt in vain</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I know</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Where I stand</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I may fall down</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But on my feet I will land</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I don't believe</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In luck or destiny</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'll get what I deserve</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There ain't no mystery</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've cried my tears</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've been low</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But the truth remains</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You reap as you sow</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Don't you dare</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To give anyone credit but me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The sweat that poured down</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You weren't there to see</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You laughed at me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Behind my back</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You mocked, you joked</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To make up for what you lack</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today I stand </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Although the wait was long</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am where I'm meant to be</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Agreed the struggle was long</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But here I am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In all my glory</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Let the pages be written</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Let them know my story</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0Arfy3HNa8cFlDi56sQai60vg-qCuXc2zm8vMEMD-PSCmLv5eG6Rb09dobwVXXGX1CzaHR2Apl9a3H7mhCjLNP9mPcmMcTW_R4eQCdwvyzdY3hoR_K-hDce4ijXrWZEmKfxbuEATtVNW/s1600/1584473356990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0Arfy3HNa8cFlDi56sQai60vg-qCuXc2zm8vMEMD-PSCmLv5eG6Rb09dobwVXXGX1CzaHR2Apl9a3H7mhCjLNP9mPcmMcTW_R4eQCdwvyzdY3hoR_K-hDce4ijXrWZEmKfxbuEATtVNW/s320/1584473356990.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-46835766893223607172020-03-18T02:01:00.000+05:302020-03-18T02:01:05.310+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUnWPUOaDjdn354Ec216qOpPz5VvnVpQCgkyVTBSFDQzZ0uH4wBq6gJLaU5eLS2o9BOWPFcDcOs7UoDGjkbVolqSQzyU4xMWEoOaeAfnj7Rq92SyXVnE8gb9OV7rAJDjSFvPF_wCGIk_M/s1600/1584475256408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUnWPUOaDjdn354Ec216qOpPz5VvnVpQCgkyVTBSFDQzZ0uH4wBq6gJLaU5eLS2o9BOWPFcDcOs7UoDGjkbVolqSQzyU4xMWEoOaeAfnj7Rq92SyXVnE8gb9OV7rAJDjSFvPF_wCGIk_M/s320/1584475256408.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To you</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who says</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm privileged</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe I am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But who says I've not faced troubles</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe the extent of it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Isn't up to the mark</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am lucky</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I agree</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To have a roof over my head</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To which I must scurry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Every time before nightfall</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Everytime I hear </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A nonchalant catcall</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am lucky</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To not be crucified</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Each time a stranger hand </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Slipped over my ass</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've been lucky to escape with a sigh</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Privileged yes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To have the burden of decisions</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of my life, my fate</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My womb, my body</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being taken by someone else</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thankful I'm alive</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">21 centuries of</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The glass ceiling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Female infanticide</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Domestic violence and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The pay disparage</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lucky I make enough money</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To be able to afford</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To shave my armpits,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Trim my brows</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Look pretty</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lucky... you find me pretty.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-32227717425587352952019-04-13T22:37:00.002+05:302019-04-13T22:40:29.422+05:30Thoughts On A Hot Summer Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was hot. And not just any normal level of hot that you've managed to believe it might have been. It was to put in prettier lexical terms - sweltering, decaying, broiling, and perspiring.And it was just April. May was yet to come.<br />
<br />
As another ginormous vehicle sluggishly but deliberately cut in front, splashing precious water from an orifice located on top like a whale in the ocean, it was decided that a prodigious traffic jam was inevitable.<br />
<br />
Dehydrated.<br />
One more term to describe this April. It began slowly at first. The taps would start protesting by 9 am. An ominous cry would emanate from the other end, wailing into the bathroom, echoing off the walls in protest to being asked to procure something they no longer had. One does not accept defeat in such scenarios, The taps are twisted in clockwise and anti clockwise directions, pausing in between when fervent prayers are sent through the foamy deposit of lather on their face.<br />
<br />
Dehydrated oddly meant that even stores ran out of beer faster than it takes to gulp a pint. I say oddly since alcohol is meant to make you dehydrated, to call oneself dehydrated for the lack of it is a misnomer. But this city survives on beer, so we shall go with the term for sentimental purposes.<br />
<br />
It rained one evening. Oh it rained. If you saw what was happening outside and then looked up Google to describe that phenomenon, the word you'd get is drizzle. A drizzle is a form of pity rain that is sent to us by the Gods when our whining reaches levels that they grow intolerant of. It's a lollipop one gives to their kid who is bawling at the mall, by the video games aisle. A drizzle is only welcome as a precursor to or the final notes of, a heavy & melodious downpour. On it's own, it holds no significance and is just a waste of a word.<br />
<br />
People are seldom quick to catch on. 1-2 degrees higher each year meant nothing. The idea of total water depletion is shelved quite naturally in the farther corners of one's mind, which is only dug up in company when society requires an enthusiastic & intellectual response to global warming, preferably in an air-conditioned room, with beer.<br />
<br />
The 'It-wont-happen-to-me' train of thoughts will not be derailed this easily.<br />
For a nation that attributes an almost divine significance to procreation, it is puzzling to note how little we have saved of the tasty pie for them. Probably this generation is going to die of diabetes anyway.<br />
Boy, I can't wait for May!<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-30157340598600746272018-05-27T12:17:00.001+05:302022-09-29T23:33:42.073+05:30Getting A Schengen Visa When Travelling Solo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The last couple of months had been excruciating for me. The virtue of patience has been ever elusive in my case & this time the wait was even more painful. In order not to let anyone go through the same torture, I have decided to share a few pointers into getting a tourist visa in case you're planning a trip to Europe.<br />
My case was-boyfriend on site at Helsinki invites me to come spend my birthday with him there. The catch being, he cannot really send me an invitation letter due to company restrictions.<br />
<br />
After spending a good amount of time on the internet I finally applied for the Schengen tourist visa on 4th of April, for travel dates on 16th of May. Guess when my visa arrived? 14th May!!!<br />
<br />
Hence the first rule <i>apply well ahead in time, especially during summer.</i> Summer sees a lot of tourist visa applications along with a ton of student immigration cases which makes the processing time at the Embassy longer than usual. Although in situations where you have an invitation letter of someone residing in Europe, spouse is on site or if you're going for your honeymoon, the processing rarely takes longer than 2 weeks.<br />
<br />
For solo female travellers-<i>strong cover letter </i>is a must. You can read mine <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GPxmzux7HiNKchNATsIY0wKtD3ptFgDUnB48nLBZ9Lw/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">here</a>. The letter should not be elaborate, but a concise one that would answer all questions that could arise regarding your application. As you can see, I have outlined everything including purpose of visit, documents attached & brief itinerary.<br />
<br />
Next up <i>bank account statement. </i>Keep at least 1 lakh in your account, if you're applying for tourist visa, with the flight & hotel bookings already done. You can even show your RD, or FD, as well as credit card statement, but bank account statement for 6 months is a must. They normally check the closing balance-in my case I was asked to email them the statement as the hard copy attached wasn't clearly showing the closing balance.Usually a balance covering 80 Euro/day of your trip should be enough.<br />
<br />
Don't forget to attach your <i>ITR </i>form of last 3 years. This shows that you're not a defaulter of some sort & have been paying your taxes.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOEef_YzHaukaNYccK7pQY1Dlkis9RT5nO8ylquGq2qeaz3GQ_8c4dXpIRNj8UhlpV_-viiIGINlkNgJXUHm0PqrA8SjXLe2HaNczE-5w5omRpduBdsk2b5tuz6t0k7dfm7hKpKHtAl0m/s1600/IMG_20180517_142806.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOEef_YzHaukaNYccK7pQY1Dlkis9RT5nO8ylquGq2qeaz3GQ_8c4dXpIRNj8UhlpV_-viiIGINlkNgJXUHm0PqrA8SjXLe2HaNczE-5w5omRpduBdsk2b5tuz6t0k7dfm7hKpKHtAl0m/s320/IMG_20180517_142806.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Suomenlinna</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>Flight bookings </i>are the main worry. But I found this awesome website <a href="http://visareservation.com/">visareservation.com</a>, that allows you to book authentic tickets, paying as low a price as 1600INR. I booked my flights from Delhi to Helsinki for the scheduled dates & they sent me a booking reference, complete with flight & passengers details. This booking is valid for use when applying for Schengen visa.<br />
<br />
<i>Hotel bookings</i> can be easily managed with booking.com website. You can add the filter of pay at hotel, book without credit card or free cancellation. In case of free cancellation just ensure that the booking remains valid until your visa processing is done.<br />
<br />
For <i>Travel insurance, </i>I used HDFC Ergo travel insurance which cost me something around 400INR and provided the required 30,000 Euro/$50,000 coverage.<br />
<br />
Getting a <i>leave certificate </i> if you're employed is easy. However ensure that the exact dates of leave availed are mentioned along with your designation on the company letterhead. Same holds true for your <i>monthly payslips of the last 6 months.</i><br />
<br />
It is advisable but not mandatory to also submit a letter of employment, if you have one.<br />
<br />
If your passport photo is more than 6 months old, better click a new one.<br />
<br />
And last but not the least, your <i>travel itinerary </i>should be in place. I used a number of travel websites to come up with a plausible itinerary. When I received a call from the Delhi Embassy I was asked if I have taken help from a travel agent, which I denied. I clarified that I did all the booking & research on my own and they didn't seem to mind.<br />
<br />
And lastly always look for direct flights, if not from your city then from anywhere else. It is always better to have a connecting domestic flight rather than international one. I flew from Bangalore to Delhi & then from Delhi to Helsinki via direct Finnair flight. My boyfriend on the other hand had to wait for his checked in bag one extra day, due to some delay at the connecting flight via Amsterdam. And while applying for visa, I had only shown my flight tickets from Del-Helsinki, although my current address said Bangalore. As long as you're coming back to India, they don't care which city you land up in !<br />
<br />
Hope this has been helpful to some extent. In case you want to know more about the actual process of application, what to expect at the <a href="http://www.vfsglobal.com/Finland/India/" target="_blank">VFS Global</a> office in Bengaluru, please leave a comment.<br />
<br />
You can read about my trip <a href="https://www.tripoto.com/trip/helsinki-tallinn-about-salmon-soup-saku-beer-5b0a6ad66b097" target="_blank">here</a> on Tripoto..<br />
<br />
P.S: Carry cash-around 8000INR, they made me run to the ATM & I got sweaty palms which made it take forever to get my biometrics!</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-29643427671457982562018-02-01T14:55:00.002+05:302018-02-01T14:55:21.180+05:30A Taxing Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Disclaimer: This post is in no way remotely related to tax-saving. The writer claims absolute ignorance on the topic of investment & the market. Kindly read at your own risk.<br />
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<a href="http://www.successtaxrelief.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/056-doing-your-own-taxes-stokkete-Fotolia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="349" height="243" src="https://www.successtaxrelief.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/056-doing-your-own-taxes-stokkete-Fotolia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
My father has quite often remarked at how he fails to understand my lack of financial awareness, him being a retired bank manager. My mother says that even if I were to be allotted a yearly income of a crore or so, I'd still be broke at the end of the month. My expenditure is directly proportional to my salary & increases in geometric progression. Sadly both are extremely accurate in their observations.<br />
<br />
I started working when I was 23 years old. You'd think at 28 I would have saved up enough to buy a house or a car since I'm working in the very lucrative IT industry (if you got the sarcasm, congrats!). All I have is a credit card outstanding amount of 30000 INR.<br />
<br />
If you take a look at my Zomato reviews, you'd understand why I'm so broke. Or even the Amazon/Flipkart product reviews will vouch for my lack of self-control. Then you can proceed to my Facebook/Instragram account and hit a like on the pictures taken at various tourist places, while admiring the delicate balance I maintain with the hand-to-mouth existence I lead( I'm quoting my father here).<br />
<br />
So as I write a helpless email to my old <i>khadoos</i> landlord to send me the scanned copy of the rental agreement since I lost mine, I wonder, is it just me?<br />
<br />
Millennials can be divided into basically 3 categories-the ones that leave everything to their parents & put all their trust and financial decisions with them; ones like me who spend their time trying to Google the difference between 80CCD(1) & 80C NPS and then systematically bang their head at intervals on the keyboard. The third category are CAs who have just chosen the wrong the career path. They have all their investment proofs ready by January, with their boarding passes, their rent receipts, medical reports etc meticulously placed in a file. I'm yet to meet such folks-they are very elusive creatures, like the Himalayan Yeti.<br />
<br />
All we were taught in school was something about BASIC+DA+HRA=Gross income. And now when you actually have to do your taxes, you realise this wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. 80C has 80CCD, 80CCD(B) and other equally confusing sub-sections. I can't even...!<br />
<br />
I used to believe that only us Indians suffer from this predicament. Then I watched an episode of Two Broke Girls, in which Max hasn't done her taxes since forever!<br />
<br />
So it's not just me. And I still haven't given up hope. One day before I turn 60, I will definitely figure out how to do my taxes without taking advice from 10 other people.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://media1.tenor.com/images/ae2381252b5433c9af7e03f6064bc0f0/tenor.gif?itemid=4998183" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="498" height="191" src="https://media1.tenor.com/images/ae2381252b5433c9af7e03f6064bc0f0/tenor.gif?itemid=4998183" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Meanwhile, I need to ask a certain airlines to issue me a travel certificate because apparently just buying a flight ticket isn't proof enough for the Govt that I actually travelled. Hello...have you never checked the refund amounts of cancelled flight tickets people???<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-14412397076207615722018-01-12T14:44:00.004+05:302018-01-12T14:44:50.613+05:30A Girls' Trip to Puducherry (Part II)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Puducherry is a beautiful place.<br />
The beaches are pristine, the cuisine wonderful, the whole architecture of the town will leave you in awe. Winters are the best time to visit as the humidity is manageable & though the afternoon sun is harsh, the breeze is cool & soothing. And the early morning walk on Rocky beach is something to be never missed!<br />
<br />
So we were a group of 5 wise ladies who had booked train tickets from YPR(Bengaluru) to PDY(Puducherry) & s hotel nearby, well in advance ( more so that no one can back out than for the fear of hotels getting overbooked). We decided to avoid the Christmas/NY crowd & chose a moderately peaceful December weekend for our first ever girls' only trip.<br />
<br />
We chose this hotel Le' Mirage and it was good! The location was excellent, as we simply walked down to it after we got off the train. The only disappointing part was the mean lady at the reception who seemed pretty confused about the early check in rules but confident about trying to rob us dry.<br />
The rooms were clean & nice, although for no good reason we got a smaller room in spite of paying the same for both.<br />
<br />
If you're interested in early morning cycling tours, then do book them in advance. We missed out on it. Also there are places where you can get a very relaxing full body massage for as low as 1k! Y<br />
<br />
The Ashram is a must visit, and you need to collect the tickets for entry into the meditation centre for the next day, should you wish to meditate. Otherwise you can simply go for a visit in the morning, avoid the afternoons as its pretty hot and you have to walk at least a kilometre inside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggi37p7o8vQfhY6dlqJUTlM1V2QZoUnf6yEWnFbx_m-FitpMupL82yW4-xC0I0TxsyPn47LQKS5ufPPPTWO7ARfU-366hV285MDJnlNzLwXSVC6Zi1ITk4gj9BMPeYSxQ3roT9IG7sBMDs/s1600/IMG_20171216_142913067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="905" data-original-width="1600" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggi37p7o8vQfhY6dlqJUTlM1V2QZoUnf6yEWnFbx_m-FitpMupL82yW4-xC0I0TxsyPn47LQKS5ufPPPTWO7ARfU-366hV285MDJnlNzLwXSVC6Zi1ITk4gj9BMPeYSxQ3roT9IG7sBMDs/s320/IMG_20171216_142913067.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Puducherry traffic is a dream come true for Bangaloreans. There are no rules, there are no speed limits apparently either & caution is thrown into the wind very harshly. We had 2 Fast & Furious riders with us as well, but you need to very alert when riding your 2-wheelers in the market area. Our unfortunate friend experienced this first hand as she landed on the road with the Activa on her. Thankfully there were no serious injuries.<br />
<br />
It is a safe place as we saw vehicles along the market area as late into the night as 12am. Not too crowded but hotels remained opened until late. But be very wary of the luring eyes & road Romeos you will encounter at tourist places. Somehow I never came across this issue on any travel website or reviews. But here the local miscreants are aplenty-we encountered a group who kept staring & then even managed to video call their friend while turning the screen to face us! Another group openly took photos! We eventually cancelled our plans to go the nearby botanical garden as we expected everything to be worse there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTbP5HRRrnL0UUqaNyu7OirtsrsXNt2YS0G1AFhcFYXIxdt_hfuxVVctQW_I-7BaOl1hG242NLBV1iIyKdZjQ_OobQfE35WU-zQecmyiFay8UJvJFw07cyd5aRIqhbjfwNr6wpP-YIxfH/s1600/IMG_20171217_145129459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="905" data-original-width="1600" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTbP5HRRrnL0UUqaNyu7OirtsrsXNt2YS0G1AFhcFYXIxdt_hfuxVVctQW_I-7BaOl1hG242NLBV1iIyKdZjQ_OobQfE35WU-zQecmyiFay8UJvJFw07cyd5aRIqhbjfwNr6wpP-YIxfH/s400/IMG_20171217_145129459.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paradise Beach View</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Paradise beach is great, but if you are lazy and decide to take the late ferry, then be prepared to miss out on all the fun. Apparently all the shacks shut down well before 2pm and so do the water activities. We literally had to eat Cup-a-noodles for lunch! And the ferry leaves in 2hrs, so if you're buying a round ticket, be sure to head back on time.<br />
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South Indian breakfast is available at all the nooks and corners. the KFC here is the worst by the way! For the French cuisine and the party animal in you, head off towards Rocky beach as there are many good places there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZZhPhqbqzM8UT6Q5_XHhR3P9ym1nPBIqnBxwQYYFGeaEL9HIl5Xezyp4oGjNV5gCd80dM8nL2g_yF_B29PEE4oMkbnwiaevMhG50KQatScq2RsfRpLGr2Y4ipQaWS4krhnZVGamPrhrN/s1600/IMG_20171217_070023913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="905" data-original-width="1600" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZZhPhqbqzM8UT6Q5_XHhR3P9ym1nPBIqnBxwQYYFGeaEL9HIl5Xezyp4oGjNV5gCd80dM8nL2g_yF_B29PEE4oMkbnwiaevMhG50KQatScq2RsfRpLGr2Y4ipQaWS4krhnZVGamPrhrN/s320/IMG_20171217_070023913.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise at Rock Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One weekend in Puducherry is enough if you plan to just chill but if you wish to explore the place, try for a long weekend, as most of the good things are to be had early in the morning.<br />
<br />
And if its a girls' trip, be prepared for it to become awkward with stalking, leading to change of plans & upset group members. And try not to wear too many short dresses, even girls will stare !!<br />
Be safe and have fun!</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-56101844607378550382018-01-10T13:11:00.003+05:302020-04-19T21:50:58.779+05:30The Princess' Song<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is a really old story<br />
I hope you will bear with me<br />
<br />
So..<br />
once upon a time....<br />
I'll spell it out in a rhyme...<br />
<br />
There was a lovely Princess down south<br />
with beautiful locks and a frown on her mouth<br />
for you see she had no song of her own<br />
something written just for her alone<br />
<br />
So she travelled far and travelled long<br />
to find it; just that one special song<br />
as all the musicians in her kingdom<br />
happened, to only bring her immense boredom<br />
<br />
So she travelled far and she travelled wide<br />
into distant countries crossing fearsome tides<br />
The loud roar of the ocean and the gentle hum of the ship<br />
only making her more determined to find a song for her lips<br />
<br />
She sighed upon the sunsets at the Thar<br />
and all the gold that lay at Qatar<br />
Even the Taj Mahal could do nothing<br />
to her aching heart that sought soothing<br />
<br />
She thought perhaps if she fell in love<br />
her woes would be taken care thereof<br />
and so she sought a handsome man of virtue<br />
the song her heart would finally sing to<br />
<br />
But alas here too she did not succeed<br />
for the enigma of love who can interpret?<br />
And so days passed by with no outcome<br />
hopeless and resigned she had finally become<br />
<br />
And once aboard the ship in the end<br />
with her all servants waiting to attend<br />
and all her friends' letters to read<br />
she felt she'd never been so alone indeed<br />
<br />
For what is a Princess without her song<br />
nothing to wake up to listening at dawn<br />
No ballad to pass on to the next generation<br />
oh must she have to suffer from this abomination?!<br />
<br />
And then when her country was almost in sight<br />
her ship suffered from a terrible plight<br />
For they were hunted by pirates strong<br />
and their capture didn't really seem very long<br />
<br />
But the brave Princess put up a fight<br />
and watching her valour the rest fought with all their might<br />
An hour long they stood their ground<br />
until their enemies turned around<br />
<br />
Alas for the Princess it was too late<br />
sometimes you wonder how very cruel is fate<br />
So as she lay breathing her last<br />
taken down by the wounds that bled too fast<br />
<br />
She heard her crew singing a song<br />
of bravery, honour and of a woman strong<br />
They sang with tears flowing down<br />
they sang her song, the song of her crown<br />
<br />
So the Princess finally rested in peace<br />
knowing her quest was not futile in the least<br />
and for many years along<br />
they'll sing of her, sing her one special song.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3nl23yJq1PTBrxvb26RWVM3RmgELfk4O72IU200rL8xJIPuCadHQ0hAxM8SeO9eJorqLN_yp1YzfdDcDod_RhKYSQUMq5DkKlVJwEHiYfxhYsqGKWwurBcdQ2H70llgqt_neZUSVjV0b/s1600/0e3d7eaee34584812db2ed8230cc4a42925ca76b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3nl23yJq1PTBrxvb26RWVM3RmgELfk4O72IU200rL8xJIPuCadHQ0hAxM8SeO9eJorqLN_yp1YzfdDcDod_RhKYSQUMq5DkKlVJwEHiYfxhYsqGKWwurBcdQ2H70llgqt_neZUSVjV0b/s320/0e3d7eaee34584812db2ed8230cc4a42925ca76b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image source:Google</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-20632108041502013702017-12-21T12:06:00.000+05:302017-12-21T13:03:18.534+05:30The No-Secret Santa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So yesterday I went to a nearby mall. I usually avoid malls, because the compulsive-shopper in me always finds a great excuse as to why I need that new top & then spend the next few minutes looking for something to go with the newly-bought top. Then I have to also find a restaurant to which I can go wearing the new ensemble. And if God forbid the mall has a bookstore, I can be found sitting inside with 2-3 novels in my lap & one in my hand. Worst part is I am the kind who has zero bargaining skills & loads of sympathy for the shopkeepers. So I actually feel sad if I have just asked the assistant to show me millions of dresses & then bought nothing. And I wonder why I am always broke.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Moving on... so I went to the mall to buy a gift for a person I may have talked to once in my entire duration of stay at work. Have you heard of the Secret Santa thing? Yes, you have. Because I am pretty sure you have also spent the past few days debating on whether you can just wrap up a 2018 diary & pass it off as Santa's gift. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For the those yet to be initiated into this corporate hell-hole, Secret Santa is the way we adults (I actually smirked when I wrote those 2 words) decide to celebrate Christmas. everyone writes down their names on chits of paper & picks one from the lot. You end up being the Secret Santa of the person whose name's on the chit. Someone else will have your name & you can only pray they like you and gift you something good. Some offices have it as a compulsory task-to-do for everyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUuVYE7IE6SLL-pP74RaKcVkWdmJAp5LrjQN1CHb_nsop2arTBmsiVoH8Jm3rLRQtmEtNFlGB3SFtgi1zUMDlKHJroiqU4XW8qBkJFQeaSMOQLAiMfWXrPxyJBKtmFq6IU-6ktDLrjYs-/s1600/WhatsApp+Image+2017-12-21+at+11.56.25+AM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUuVYE7IE6SLL-pP74RaKcVkWdmJAp5LrjQN1CHb_nsop2arTBmsiVoH8Jm3rLRQtmEtNFlGB3SFtgi1zUMDlKHJroiqU4XW8qBkJFQeaSMOQLAiMfWXrPxyJBKtmFq6IU-6ktDLrjYs-/s320/WhatsApp+Image+2017-12-21+at+11.56.25+AM.jpeg" width="180" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At my previous workplace I was the one organizing the whole Secret Santa thing. But it was amongst friends-people willing to & interested in giving gifts to each other. People who actually like each other. So that is excusable kind of, to a very small extent. But over time I have realised that this is just a waste of time. I mean, we are what they call 'millennials'. Why do we need any gifts anyway? We dine at the finest restaurants, buy clothes from the costliest brands, go on trips every other month. Doesn't that count as, I dunno..blessings maybe? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am not preaching, far from it. I don't want to come off as a hypocrite. I do love giving gifts & receiving it too. But when I went out looking for gifts for a person I don't know much about, I realised this is just futile. I mean I didn't have fun the whole 3 hours I spent in the mall trying to figure out if gifting someone beard oil passes off as too over the top.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I know i am not alone in this struggle. Within those 3 hrs I found many such victims of the HR's well-meaning attempt to spread Christmas cheer. Guys holding shiny, cute looking thingummies & looking lost & girls just going "aww, so cute" over every decorative item, ending up buying nothing for the intended person and something for themselves (guess I am just talking about myself in that situation).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The entire mall as you can see from the picture above, was lit up with decorations and in spite of your aversion to selfies you'd inevitably find yourself saying cheese before 3D cutout of a Santa Claus(not posting that one here, I look fatter than the Santa). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The kids were the ones having the most fun because you see, they get the gifts & don't have to worry about the price tags on it. Talk about having the cake & eating it too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well, to be honest not everyone was as grouchy hunting down gifts as i was. I lost quite a few thousand calories going up & down 3 floors looking for something, <i>anything</i> I could call a good gift. So that's a good thing too. I didn't want him to feel sad his Santa was such a lazy bum. Because honestly it's a fact, no matter how old you grow, if your Christmas gift isn't a good one, you feel pathetic and start questioning all the good you've done that year and then turn cynical and selfish and not care for anything any more. We just can't have that now can we?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So in conclusion I should stop being a Grinch now and go spread selfless joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But seriously, would beard oil be that bad an idea? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">p.s: I have been updated about the absence of beard on the said person, maybe this will inspire him to grow one. Why couldn't I get a girl, things would be so much easier... damn you unequal gender ratio in corporate world!</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-84319413413800778332017-12-18T15:32:00.001+05:302017-12-18T15:42:49.464+05:30A Girls' Trip Reference (or not)-Part I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So after writing my last depressing <a href="https://mywhisperingsilence.blogspot.in/2017/12/an-extroverted-introverts-new-years-eve.html" target="_blank">post </a>about how I am going to probably be asleep when the clock strikes 12 & people get new year kisses, I have since improved my mood & returned from a girls only trip to Puducherry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm currently running on coffee after 3.5hrs of sleep and hence penning down my experience at the only place where I am actually required to be awake-my office (really if the HR guys were bored enough one day & chance upon my blog, I'd be in so much trouble!). I am an otherwise diligent employee, but c'mon! It's the Monday after a trip.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So here I am, all wise after spending nearly 3 days with a group of girls and surviving without making it to the local news. Let me impart some of my newly-found <i>gyaan</i> to you innocent bumbling idiots who think a girls only trip would be such a blast-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Rule no.1- Never & I mean NEVER underestimate the camera addiction of a girl with makeup on..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And never take good pictures of your friends or you're doomed for the entire trip. When I sat back & scrolled through what appeared to be 200 pictures of the same person in the same pose with changes only in their micro-expressions, I understood why my friends got so mad at me if I react whit a 'ha-ha' emoticon on their profile picture. I mean, that's 30 min of hard work you're laughing at moron!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Rule no.2- Again , NEVER believe a girl when she says she will be ready in 15 minutes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She does become ready in 15 minutes, but then she spots the perfect winged eyes of the other female or the hairdo on another and then the entire group must have wavy hair, perfect wings at the end of their eyes with flawless lips. And then you go back to rule no.2.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Rule no.3- Open hair on a beach looks good ONLY on celebrities.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Like who do you think you are really?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Unless you want to look like Medusa or return home with half the amount of hair you left with, always cover your hair -doesn't apply when you're taking a picture(s) of course.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Rule no.4- A shopping halt for 'few minutes' is NOT a good idea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Girls have an amazing trait which enables them to find something completely useless & buy it because it looks cute. Heroin addicts stand no chance before a girl who wants to shop. She will shop & she WILL try on those dresses, then leave the shop nonchalantly buying nothing with her head held high. Many a salesmen have had their hearts broken this way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Jokes apart, a girls only trip is a serious affair. If you live in a country like India then no matter how feminist you may be, you will have to take precautions when travelling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The next post will feature the uncut version of events which unfolded on our trip. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9s_rd-BNya8xhwnNuRkmCZ1vOlFGkXEgoAyWpOUN87o0wYio-M26zHmvuLyX3Cx8NDb1yS04o7fo2rTW6IxwGGOfjCs6kTATkyk9_XWfMb1S-FvT70X94k92JiBtQal3pnVkfm7oYh9IU/s1600/IMG_20171217_145129459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="905" data-original-width="1600" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9s_rd-BNya8xhwnNuRkmCZ1vOlFGkXEgoAyWpOUN87o0wYio-M26zHmvuLyX3Cx8NDb1yS04o7fo2rTW6IxwGGOfjCs6kTATkyk9_XWfMb1S-FvT70X94k92JiBtQal3pnVkfm7oYh9IU/s640/IMG_20171217_145129459.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Meanwhile enjoy the beauty that Paradise Beach is..</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-47322226606743997252017-12-08T12:57:00.002+05:302017-12-08T12:57:50.744+05:30An Extroverted Introvert's New Year's Eve Dilemma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The first
week of December is over! Yes, that's done with. Today is the 4th last Friday
of 2017 people!!! Just 3 weeks to 2018. Do you even know what you're doing on
new year's eve? No??!! Have I induced enough panic? Good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">I
currently reside in Bengaluru-a city which lives for its weekends, because
let's face it, the weekdays are a blur of wake up-traffic-office-traffic-sleep.
It's a city where #TGIF is the most over-hyped, over-used hashtag; where people
actually sit & enjoy music in the pubs in stark contrast to dancing like
they are at someone's <i>baaraat, </i>where stand-up comedy &
theatre, lit-fests, flea markets are organized by the bored IT-junta in a last
ditch attempt to give meaning to their lives. In short, you can imagine what a
nightmare it would be for new year's eve (and here I skillfully avoid
mentioning last year's M.G road fiasco).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">While
most of us <i>wander-lusts</i> would be counting off the ticket
stubs/ boarding passes to check if we have travelled enough to find our lost
souls yet & comparing notes for where to welcome 2018 from, the introverts
amongst us would perhaps be on their 3rd or 4th repeat of Stranger Things 2 ,
FRIENDS, Breaking Bad etc and/or updating their Goodreads reviews of this
year's books they read.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">But what
if you're doing both?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Say
hello, to the extroverted introvert- the grey to the world's black &
white. When your soul is forever torn between wanting to be the one
cracking the funniest joke & also regretting leaving your Kindle behind.
They are the ones who say yes to going out on a weekday for 'just one drink'
& instantly regret it a second later when they remember how soft their bed
is & how sleep is nirvana. They will rock the dance floor yes, but they
need to eat their dinner later & will be mighty pissed if the kitchen's
closed by the time you're done with the <i>naagin </i> moves.
They will politely come to your play or show but will freeze when asked to
volunteer for anything apart from looking good in the audience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">How to
escape the dreaded New Year's eve thingummy now?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">I almost
miss the good old childhood-thing we all had. Being from a middle-class family
meant the New Year's Eve was spent before the T.V watching family-friendly
shows that had perhaps been shot months ahead, waiting for the clock to strike
12, waking up your parents who have probably fallen asleep by now & giving
them the Happy New Year cards you bought from the Archies store near your
school. It involved wishing everyone a 'happy & prosperous new year ' and
actually believing it. There was no confusion involved then, you just had to
stay home & watch T.V.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">And now I
don't know what I <b>have to</b> do any more. Shall we pay 20% of
our salary to enter a pub & then spend the evening sipping on an overpriced
pint of beer while pretending to enjoy the caricature of a good song track the
DJ plays to which the mass of drunk, sweaty humans grooves & twerks or
whatever it is they do these days? Or should we ride/drive away into some
exotic location, where in the tranquillity that nature offers, we can find
peace in 2018-only to find that half the population, thought the same and now
there are wailing infants, honeymooning-PDA champions (who will probably be
here the next year with their offspring), hipster youngsters & the previous
generation, all gathered together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Do we
Netflix & chill ?-only Netflix monthly membership costs as much as 2 days'
dinner(no, I don't cook & Bengaluru is costly) & I can't afford it so I
made my boyfriend buy Amazon Prime membership.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Do I host
a house party?-and deal with drunk humans, dirty dishes, jokes that stopped
being funny since Y2K & playing dumb-charades for no good reason.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">What to
do???<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Guess
this time I'll not make any plans and leave it to chance & Bengaluru
traffic conditions to see where they take me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://content.mycutegraphics.com/graphics/newyear/kids-celebrating-new-year.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="500" height="319" src="https://content.mycutegraphics.com/graphics/newyear/kids-celebrating-new-year.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image source:Clipart<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">P.S: Just kidding, if you got passes to any good New Year's eve bash, drop a line here!</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-42091497792833116252017-11-22T12:15:00.001+05:302017-11-22T12:15:13.567+05:30Tumhari Sulu-Feminism with a Smile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the age of misdirected, compromised feminism, and the ever-present patriarchy, a film like Tumhari Sulu, is like the first spring blossom, the lyrical call of the cuckoo you hear in the middle of the February cold. Excuse the funny parallels I draw, but that's the best I could describe it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is not a movie review, but just an attempt to draw the Indian audience's attention to good cinema. This is for those who dismiss films starring a voluptuous, middle-aged housewife as the protagonist, with no gun-blasting men, or item songs that border on the brink of being classified as porn; as 'boring'. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was watching this movie with my friends, I reminisced about the good old 90's era TV shows, where humour didn't involve sexual innuendo or roasting someone without their permission. There was no '<i>bajana</i>' type of jokes, and although the story revolved around a late-night talk show on radio, the dialogues were far from suggestive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes this film had a woman protagonist & was feminist in nature. But I admire how Suresh Triveni stayed away from the temptation of turning his characters into a caricature of evil & good. Sulochana's family is as middle class as it can get, with their own set of annoying relatives & financial issues. But they share happy memories too, they have fun too. I'm no film critic, but I think that Tumhari sulu did a mighty good job at keeping things realistic & not caving to the need to over-do every nuance for the sake of the big screen. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Films like Pink, Lipstick Under my Burkha were good at what they attempted. But there was this need for a film like Tumhari Sulu, to depict that feminism is a part of everyday life. Feminism is, not blaming the victim of a sexual assault irrespective of their gender & feminism is supporting your wife when she wants to do something different , even when both of you are unsure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sulu's husband is not once portrayed as an antagonist, even at times he seems to lose his mind, you end up sympathising with him, the man's trying! Her family isn't the evil, conniving Indian family that they show on daily soaps either. They are like yours & mine, annoying as hell, yes, but family nevertheless. I loved the scene where she is threatened by her sisters not to come running back to them when she is in trouble again, & she replies-why not?! I'll come to you only, you're family!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Neither the climax nor the ending seemed over the top. And for once after watching a woman-centred movie I came out from the theatre with a smile. No adrenaline pumping, no anger, no scary after thoughts, just a content smile thinking "<i>main bi kar sakti hai</i>".</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/teo-MZ2ckbw/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="180" src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/teo-MZ2ckbw/maxresdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image credit: youtube</td></tr>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-43799414423769843282017-07-21T12:57:00.002+05:302017-07-21T12:57:29.889+05:30A Dream to Remember<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me begin with the cliched line-"dreams are a reflection of your innermost desires". Having said so, I refuse to believe that any deep subconscious part of me desires to have my boyfriend suddenly develop questionable assets (okay, maybe I do ) and certainly no I don't want to have a gnome hit me with a huge <i>lathi</i> each time I tell a lie, nor do I want to be around anything possessing supernatural powers. Personally I prefer daydreaming any time & have been an active practitioner since school days (continuing while at boring meetings at work).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I get sleep paralysis often which happens I guess due to asphyxiation when I do the very lovable "fan on full-speed & whole body wrapped up in a blanket from head to toe" thing. It's a horrible horrible feeling to realize you're up but your body isn't. You're screaming but no voice comes out and sometimes you see dark objects loitering around to add to the fun. This one time I did sit up straight & actually heard laughter somewhere near my head in a different voice. Unsurprisingly the only thought that came to my mind was -"Wow, I'm Voldemort with a Potter inside my head!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But we're supposed to talk about a dream that stayed. And everyone knows how rarely that happens. Most often we remember bits and pieces. Most often we scare others by laughing in the middle of the night (yes little sister, I'm looking at you). Some people dream of the beach & the waves and wake up in a pool of their own pee. Some people get dreams about exams & flunking them, long after college (thank you Indian education system). And some lucky bastards just snore & have a dreamless stupor.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The one dream that I always remember which had me in ecstasy at one moment & majorly suicidal the next, was when i was in Class 10th. Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix had released then and I was a neo Potterhead. No amount of tears & promises of scoring above 90% could persuade my parents to spend so much on just one <i>book</i>(middle-class upbringing). So I was pleasantly surprised when one morning my father gifts me the book. The fact that the book's dimensions resembled that of a question bank didn't alert me. My subconscious brain even fabricated some chapters which I obviously don't remember now. And so when i finally wake up on chapter 3 or so, I literally checked my bed for the book before realising it was all a dream! Major disappointment. No wonder I still remember the dream more than a decade later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I own the entire Potter series and a Kindle. Unless it's Stephen King I'm reading , I'm all set for the night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 700;">This post is a part of</span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 700;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 700;"><a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/category/write-over-the-weekend-wow" style="background-color: transparent; box-shadow: rgb(15, 15, 15) 0px 0px 0px inset; box-sizing: inherit; color: #222222; transition: color 80ms ease-in, box-shadow 130ms ease-in-out, -webkit-box-shadow 130ms ease-in-out;">Write Over the Weekend</a>, an initiative for</span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 700;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 700;"><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: transparent; box-shadow: rgb(15, 15, 15) 0px 0px 0px inset; box-sizing: inherit; color: #222222; transition: color 80ms ease-in, box-shadow 130ms ease-in-out, -webkit-box-shadow 130ms ease-in-out;">Indian Bloggers</a></span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 700;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 700;">by BlogAdda</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">.</span></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-68645037297310391082017-03-10T01:23:00.001+05:302017-03-10T12:37:37.213+05:30Don't Touch My Bag!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She walked at a brisk pace. Not exactly running though she desperately wanted to. Not daring to sprint either. It was too risky, to draw attention to herself. She must appear nondescript. Blend in,like always. Why did it have to be so far?<br />
A familiar face turned around the corner and her heart skipped a beat. Not now. If he saw her, he'd want to stand & chat. She didn't have time for that. She had to deliver on time. It was crucial to be on time.<br />
She turned around pretending to be on a call,hoping he would leave her alone. Luckily he did.<br />
Turning back she resumed her walk. Her hands were sweaty as she clutched it and her dupatta tighter. Almost there.<br />
She entered with a sigh. Nandini appeared visibly relieved. No words were spoken. No words were needed as a green packet exchanged hands and Nandini dashed to the nearest empty stall.<br />
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This isn't a story. It's what many girls will relate to. The backdrop that I didn't bother with could always be a school or an office or even someone's house. Nandini could be your sister or friend or mother or wife(if you're a guy) or you dear girl. <br />
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The reason I wrote this was because the other day at work I spotted this girl,clutching her dupatta,head bent down, speeding away towards the washroom. I knew why she walked that way. And I felt bad. Why this walk of shame?<br />
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I have always been a careless girl. I remember once at my old office, I had gone in to discuss something at a colleague's cubicle. A few minutes after I got back I received a call on my extension from him-"Rinaya,have you dropped you *<em>dramatic drop of volume</em>* pad in here?"<br />
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Okay I had one in my pocket and somehow it managed to fall off without my notice. What followed next was even more dramatic-female member of said cubicle was assigned the task of meeting me at the ladies washroom and returning the item. Turns out she didn't even let him lift it off the ground! Are sanitary pads honestly radioactive..just for men mind you. No wonder the shopkeeper wraps it in layers of newspaper and black polythene as if the mere sight of it may render someone unconscious. <br />
Some men would proudly buy a condom at a local pharmacy. Ask the same men to buy you a box of sanitary pads and they'd stare at you in absolute terror. It's our fault. Yes. This time I think we should blame ourselves. Why do we hide it from our sons, brothers,our friends or colleagues? Why do you say you have a headache when in fact your uterus is trying to detonate itself? <br />
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When you can show Sunny Leone or some voluptuous female form in a condom ad,why do we have blue ink thrown around for 'representational purposes' in a sanitary napkin ad? And also I want to know who started this rumour that using a tampon makes you lose your virginity? Having sex the first time makes you 'lose' it, although I've never found myself at peace with the whole concept of 'virginity'. But that's another story.<br />
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The reverse side of the story exists as well. People who flaunt their bloodied garments on instagram etcetra. Seriously? I understand its a natural process about which you wish to spread awareness. But why post a picture like that? If you wish to spread awareness,talk to people, behave normally. There is absolutely no need to flaunt it. It defeats the whole purpose of claiming that menstrual cycle is an everyday biological occurrence! <br />
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Hormonal imbalance, mood swings are expected during this time. To rub it in the face of people around you just so you get to eat chocolates is utter nonsense. I know girls who have cramps so bad they literally cry their eyes out. By making light of this issue,acting as if being pampered and cuddled by your 'bae' makes it better,is really doing no good to others.<br />
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I told my younger sister what to expect after I'd attained puberty. I think it made her better prepared. She didn't freak out or start crying at least. <br />
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This issue has been addressed too many times but we're yet to see any change. <br />
Maybe you & I can start by being normal about menstruation. Not using stupid metaphors for it,not saying you have a headache, and certainly not hiding your sanitary pads like it's marijuana!</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-66880463350407450952017-01-15T18:01:00.000+05:302017-01-15T19:00:13.884+05:305 Things I Want to Give Up in 2017<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm out of creativity... Adulthood has caught up, much to my dislike killing the little child in me. It was inevitable that I'd lose my initial spark (I'd like to think I had one to begin with, <em>humour me</em>). So here I am with a typical blog post ,a semi philosophical...little funny and much mundane list of things I would try to avoid in 2017-<br /><br />1. <strong>Believing an e-commerce site when they claim I belong to their "elite" clientele.</strong><br />Agreed I have spent all my life's earnings on stocking up my wardrobe and shoe rack, but it's time I got a grip on myself and realized that these shopping hubs are not my friends. All those discounts they send me are in fact a broadcasted message...like an unfaithful lover proclaiming their undying eternal 'exclusively for you' love ! No more giving in to those flat 50% off mails now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. <strong>Ghosting people</strong>.. Yep I am guilty of doing that to some folks. In my defense they were worthy of nothing better! But yes, now after I have been on a date and realized its not going to work, I would rather tell the guy the same thing instead of pretending that my manager is the very reincarnation of Hitler and would not let me leave office at any godly hour. I am tired of pretending to be busy and ignoring texts. Off late I have started becoming more of an empath and I certainly would want to be told it's not working out than hanging on to formal good morning / good night texts,right.<br /><br />3. <strong>Reading a book just for the sake of reading</strong>- while I firmly believe that everyone has a story to tell,some stories rather not be shared. I have tortured myself over weeks fighting to read a book, cursing myself for not finding it interesting enough. This year... I will let go. If a book isn't interesting,if every page feels like I am reading my Geography textbook after the lunch break ..or worse the maths tuition,then I shall quit. There is no shame in that. It is indeed okay to let go..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4. <strong>Faking niceness</strong>- <br />I'm not much of a selfless saint. I am more the mind your own business until till you need someone's help. Even then I try to avoid taking anyone's help. As a result I assume everyone to be doing the same. When someone asks me for help I try helping out of politeness,not out of the non existent goodness in my heart. I have been nice to people, gone out of my way to help but now I have realised the world is a selfish place. Help only if you really wish to..if I feel a person is genuinely in need of assistance I'd offer mine. But if you're just being lazy around me...beware! <br /><br />5. <strong>Trying to convince my Mom I am not ready to get married.</strong> <br />Frequent visitors( read people who I spam with my blog links until they read it) would know my aversion to the so called holy institution of marriage. I am open to dating. I am okay with commitment and relationship. But I just am not ready for marriage. To share almost all my meals,al my nights and days,my quirks and farts and burps with some guy. Not yet. Maybe one day I will but not now. <br />But I am tired of arguing with Mom about it. Her rather pragmatic logic of me dying childless,husbandless all alone in some hut is very disturbing albeit unrealistic. But I love her no matter how eccentric she sounds at times and I am done with pissing her off<br /> so this year...no I won't get married! I'd just be more patient with her and try to make the phone conversations last more than 5 minutes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So that's the rather comprehensive list of stuff I'd avoid this year. Although not new year resolutions...i suck at those...this is something I'd like to try and save myself some money ...and obtain some peace while I am at it.</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-54359391310781277182016-12-22T19:34:00.000+05:302016-12-22T19:34:34.779+05:30How To Get Fit (not) In A Month<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Each time I dab my KFC hot & crispy chicken leg piece into the red creamy ketchup, I promise myself I'd watch one more fitness video that night, in bed before sleeping. My favourite part is the end of a set, when the lady with a chiseled body would stand tall with a grin & not a drop of sweat mind you, look nearly genuine & try telling me that I too can lose my love handles & back fat if I did this for 15 reps. I almost believe her.</span><br />
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">But first a disclaimer:</h4><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">If you came here looking for an inspirational post with the 'Before/After' photo shopped image, then sir/ma'am please lets not waste your valuable time that can be better spent on debating if flax seeds are good for you or not. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Those who are looking for something better to do than read posts about Saif-Kareena's poor baby, read on-</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So this is not a motivational post, (I just learnt how to click-bait, haha!) nor is it a morbid tale of a fat lady who is determined to go all feminist/Nazi-grammarist/etc-ist at you & call you out for body-shaming.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm a much-debated-and-finally-agreed-upon normal person. I pamper myself with treats from KFC/McD after a tiring day at work. I can eat my burger & drink up my Appy Fizz while talking about how much I need to go to gym this week since I have been missing it for the last 300+ days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm a Taurean & I pride myself in being bull-headed about a lot of things. But somehow I seem to lack determination & loyalty -the true traits of this sun sign. Determination of achieving my goal & loyalty to my diet-I stand guilty for cheating on both.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Don't misunderstand me. I'm not berating diets or people who are health conscious. These are wonderful people who deserve to be applauded for their hard work. I have seen a friend of mine, eat boiled vegetables with minimal salt and cheese for a month to lose 10 kilos. And he did lose it. But here I stand uninspired, because each time he sat for lunch with us, with that feeling of melancholy on his face, I felt depressed too. No man should have to look at his food and feel sad I say! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My father always reprimanded us-you eat to live, not live to eat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But sometimes when life starts throwing lemons at you, you need to make a tequila shot & have that lemon afterwards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I tried to go the 'low carb-good fat-high protein' diet way but that resulted in a 'low patience-bad digestion-higher irritation' situation for me. And then a friend suggested Keto diet & showed me pictures of these marvelous ladies who stood by the cravings & laughed at them & reduced kilos & inches from their bodies. The first taste of black coffee without any sweetener defeated me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I use my resistance band to hang clothes indoors when it's raining...you get the drift?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So now I've made peace with myself. I don't eat out much, having recently discovered that I can do more than burn milk in the kitchen. I drink loads of water & hit the washrooms more often thus extending my loo breaks into longer coffee breaks too. I let myself indulge in KFC once (okay <em>fine</em>, twice) a month. I walk about a lot more, being on a call makes it easier (and will irritate your parents too, who will then stop complaining that you don't call them often). I do hit the gym 2-3 times a week & check my weight, keeping a tab on it.<br />
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I may not reduce 5kg in a month or suddenly look like how I used to a decade back, but at least now I can say I won't die of obesity and...wait th</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ey're giving out free burgers at my office....so that's all for now folks!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">P.S: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Yeah I'm back. So the point is, be healthy & happy and don't be too hard on yourself for not fitting into some predefined image. Let being healthy be the goal, than being a runway-model look a like. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-6549874092520721892016-09-24T22:07:00.002+05:302016-09-26T14:58:23.288+05:30The Empty Train<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 12pt;">Have you heard of the empty train</span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
The one that runs post <span style="color: #222222;">midnight<br />
</span>When all the town is fast asleep<br />
She merrily bolts under the starry night<br />
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I watched her every night<br />
A beauty of a train she was indeed<br />
With a shiny coat of paint on her<br />
She appeared with lightning speed<br />
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The platform long deserted<br />
The lone guard snoring in his sleep<br />
The train politely waited still<br />
She had a timetable to keep<br />
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The windows had colourful drapes<br />
And the insides were lit up bright<br />
And sometimes when the moon came up<br />
Her name would appear in plain sight<br />
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When the clock struck one every night<br />
She'd appear,never be late<br />
Prompt and eager like an anxious lover<br />
Going on her very first date<br />
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I always wondered when a kid <br />
Standing by the window sill<br />
A train as pretty as she was <br />
Why did she run empty still<br />
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Mom said that the train must have been<br />
A very mischevious one maybe <br />
So the King of trains banished her<br />
And thus she's forced to run empty<br />
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I felt sad for her and vowed to<br />
Someday climb aboard the empty train<br />
And travel far and wide in her, for I'd<br />
many adventurous journeys to gain<br />
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Grown up, one day I went up<br />
To the old platform and searched in vain<br />
I guess she must have found a passenger</span><br />
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She was no longer my empty train.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;">This post is a part of</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span></span></span></span></strong><a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/category/write-over-the-weekend-wow" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Write Over the Weekend"><strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: x-small;">Write Over the Weekend</span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;">, an initiative for</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span></span></span></span></strong><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Indian Bloggers"><strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: x-small;">Indian Bloggers</span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span></span><span style="color: #333333;">by BlogAdda.</span></span></span></strong></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeAaaB4lyAjGOPJ_OiDa_mZHCsfI5dDGjeHYKlIm8kDsWdkENKf_OQBOS2JvEcZLZc4C5S_1NFwpAhYwu14UKx6AFhU-xHjrGarUoCMtsDkYnAkc9RTD1cr1Zv9SeqqRxF23AcDX8a9sF/s1600/wowbadge.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeAaaB4lyAjGOPJ_OiDa_mZHCsfI5dDGjeHYKlIm8kDsWdkENKf_OQBOS2JvEcZLZc4C5S_1NFwpAhYwu14UKx6AFhU-xHjrGarUoCMtsDkYnAkc9RTD1cr1Zv9SeqqRxF23AcDX8a9sF/s1600/wowbadge.png" /></a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-10743305259090181252016-06-23T13:50:00.002+05:302016-06-23T13:50:10.278+05:30Are You Travelling or Traveling?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #134f5c;">I do NOT claim to be a traveler. I am not exactly hit by the 'wanderlust' bug & have zero intention of 'some day having made enough money, quitting my job & traveling around the world solo...period'.</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">It's only my thoughts that wander around while I usually stay put staring blankly at the laptop before me.</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">But...but but but.. I belong to that category of Indians, who if they have arrived at a restaurant which is visible from their balcony, will painstakingly remove their 10" phone from their tight jeans pocket, stretch out their flabby right hand, try to get their faces to resemble a fish out of water, click a selfie (amazed to see the word underlined in red, Blogger grow up!) with a check-in to Facebook & innumerable hashtags (again underlined) on Twitter with the picture edited to make you look like a white guy in the 1920's with a sinister halo around him & then post it finally to Instagram (is this Blogger or the IE browser that I'm using? Hey I'm still in office, don't judge me!!).</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And that kids, is how you should never write a single sentence</span>.</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Moving on...</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Having confessed to being a social media traveler, I can now reveal that I often find myself incapable of staying at home on weekends...okay even weekdays! I have never sat still until I have explored the city that I live in. I arrived in Bangalore on 29th of Feb this year & already I have been to too many places that even my friends staying here for over 2years haven't heard of. I don't care who the company is, as long as it's not some drunken group of hooligans with a hidden criminal record, I'm fine. I can say I was for a while the smartest user of Tinder- I mean you can never really find any sane guy on that app, meanwhile why not checkout new places eh? I have even acted as the typical <em>'kebab me haddi</em>' & barged into a group comprising of couples only.</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">I am shameless & ruthless when it comes to making plans, even if it's for a lunch during office hours at a restaurant 500 metres from office. </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">The one way to lose my trust forever is to have abandoned us -me & my plan become one entity once the plan has taken shape. You could have stolen money from me : I usually don't have much ..IT job...anyway.. you could have bitched about me sometime, you could have planned my murder & failed to execute & still I'd trust you my friend. But ditch my plan once & you're Judas for me!</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">I'm often adjudged the 'default-member' of any group that's planning an outing. And I bear the tag with pride even though my Mom tells me it's really because I am so jobless & needy & alone & don't have a life, which is why they all call me up. But Moms don't know nothing, right...right...right buddies? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Needless to say there are many who'd judge me & try to figure out why it is that I am always restless & raring to go out. Whether I choose to go walking up a hill or clubbing with some guy, I am always called out for it. And honestly I don't care....it is not about getting a validation from others, or about the number of likes your Titanic pose got on Facebook -</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEistRtjN_4rPnyTM-nzYqHRmxVm5v-fUdgCQjVIkAD5aO9H-UBKR6raywk5RVfzKNY0izsOmLVnHyOG2fQjzLfegr_eou-GVsufuHSiNL6uZGMCiru_SU_N4habak1ZfgWgjrYL2pniyW8L/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEistRtjN_4rPnyTM-nzYqHRmxVm5v-fUdgCQjVIkAD5aO9H-UBKR6raywk5RVfzKNY0izsOmLVnHyOG2fQjzLfegr_eou-GVsufuHSiNL6uZGMCiru_SU_N4habak1ZfgWgjrYL2pniyW8L/s320/2.jpg" width="170" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">#Fail #lame</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">It's just about not being a frog in the well. </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Getting to try new cuisines (the delicious menu at McLeodganj), coming across new people (Tinder...hehehe kidding!), challenging yourself to new goals (not taking a dump in 2 days 'coz of the dirty washrooms in Rishikesh), overcoming your fears (river rafting, and now a trek), experiencing nature up close ( Nandi Hills, Shimla..etc) & the culture (Jaipur, Chandigarh, Bangalore, Delhi) is what makes me want to hit the road again & again.</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">So no matter what you say, </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">no matter how low the funds are,</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">I will always find my way </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">& travel wide and far.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: x-small;">Again #fail #lame poetry</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"> Oh & by the way, you can use either travelling or traveling as one is British English and the other American. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"> See you learnt <em>something</em> after wasting your time here.</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-26783641332984220162016-06-03T13:06:00.001+05:302016-06-03T13:06:18.429+05:30Being Bangalored<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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And finally the famous Bangalore weather has decided to make itself known. The mornings are pleasantly cold, inducing sleep which does no good to a lazy bum like yours truly who believes donning a fitness band & taking a walk can make her lose weight. But let's save that for another story. The days are sunny & mildly humid with a cool breeze blowing all the time. And evenings are marked by thundering clouds that burst open on a whim & leave the city stranded in traffic jams. I think it's a plot, these traffic jams are perhaps the only time, the IT folk of the city get to experience the beauty of the rain.<br />
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I thankfully live only 1.5-2km away from my office which gives me the liberty to take a walk back in the drizzle. But it is advised to stay away from the pavements in Bengaluru for you never know which 2-wheeler might honk you off it on to the dangerous road, where buses & cars fly around almost like the Knight Bus ( that's a Harry Potter reference you GoT-brained git). <br />
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Power cuts happen a lot during the rain. And I happen to live on the outskirts of the eastern part of Bengaluru. PG owners here don't believe in the concept of installing a power backup because you know...it's Bengaluru. Rarely you'd find rooms with ACs or coolers in them, because again...Bengaluru. Until a few weeks back, when temperatures reached 44-45 degrees, this was a nightmare for my<em> spent-3-years-in-Gurgaon-AC-PGs wala</em> body. But now I've joined the "It's Bengaluru" bandwagon as well.<br />
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Food here is not always idli-dosa-sambar as many believe. Sure you'll find a lot of those, but then round the corner there'll be this little 'litti-choka' stall, or a 'Kolkata kathi-rolls' & even 'Punjabi tadka' dhabba. My favourite is the <em>golgappa</em> stalls, because unlike the NCR <em>golgappas</em> with their <em>meetha paani</em> & <em>suji wala</em> puchka, here I get the Odia taste with the proper spiced up paani & deliciously filled up atta puchka. And for all those complaining about the quintessential coconut oil, here's a fun fact-it's healthier than the refined oil we generally use in cooking. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.eventshigh.com/170/2015-05/18d0eae09c1ac3772a9f0780a11ab2db/primary_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://images.eventshigh.com/170/2015-05/18d0eae09c1ac3772a9f0780a11ab2db/primary_original.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Last year when I'd visited Bengaluru for my cousin's marriage, a rather long discussion had crept up amongst her friends from NCR & B'lore about which city has the best pubs and breweries. I'd say both the cities have their own charm in that department. Pubs here apart from closing earlier on weekdays, also are not always equipped with a dance floor. But the crowd here is good. Of the 4-5 places I've been to, never have I seen anyone have a drunken brawl or behave rudely. Although the popular places are sometimes so crowded you have to take care of your elbows not hitting anyone by accident!<br />
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People are very friendly. They mostly mind their own business. They would gladly help you out if you've lost your way. You'd find a few of those over zealous folks who if given a chance would make people get a visa to enter Karnataka, with the criteria being how well you speak Kannada. But you find such idiots in every state anyway.<br />
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So far so good at Namma Bengaluru...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic source: Youtube.com<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-68260548679048855012016-05-13T14:26:00.001+05:302016-05-13T14:26:30.152+05:30The Quintessential Loss <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Been a long, long time since I wrote something. BlogAdda's WOW prompt about stuff we have lost, seemed to be perfectly timed-given my recent break up. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">And while I was once again stifling tears & pulling out my hair, I noticed that I didn't need to pull it out at all. Strands of my precious mane seemed to be just waiting to depart my head. My most gentle caress could now, easily liberate 3-4 strands of fine hair off my scalp. This was no news, but it set me thinking. I like the many other fellow humans suffer from hair loss. Hair loss of the kinds that makes you worry & well...further lose more hair, is the worst!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">From a thick mane that had once broken the teeth of many proud combs, I have now resigned to combing the delicate strands with my fingers. The idea of using shampoo fills me with sudden nightmarish visions-of the hair falling off and clogging the drain while I sob beside it. Being bald will never suit my large round face.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">I miss the days when I could go off on my 2-wheeler, hair flying in the wind & it being so dense, not ending up in tangles that make you almost lunge for the scissors...almost. Now I cover my hair more carefully than I'd care about covering the rest of me. Fine, straight hair that can get tangled up faster than a pair of earphones placed in your bag. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.beautyglimpse.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/henna-hair-packs-dandruff-2.jpg?35aa0a" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.beautyglimpse.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/henna-hair-packs-dandruff-2.jpg?35aa0a" height="99" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">I have tolerated the stench of eggs & milk, a deadly combo that can knock anyone out, just to pamper my mane. I have harassed my room mate, refusing to bathe until the hour was up & then returned from the bath stinking worse than before. If you don't think that's possible, try keeping a mix of eggs, henna & milk on your hair for an hour & then <em>wash off with cold water only</em>. </span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">I have oiled my oily hair, used up all 'love yourself'/'you are worthy' shampoos, even resorted to the orange-clad baba ji's concoctions that had me smelling like organic manure; but to no avail.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">So I declare the loss of one's hair as the supreme leader, the top contender of all losses.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">You lose a boyfriend, you get another. I have lost toys, clothes, lipstick, pens (<em>pens...hmm..there must be a parallel universe where the pens disappear to</em>) or keys, I have always bought another. Losing hair...seeing it fly away in plain sight and land lazily on the floor, in slow motion, will never stop sending a sharp stab of pain right in my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;">And when the time comes when I finally go bald, I'm going to put this quote on my wall-</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 400 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">This week’s WOW prompt is –</span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>‘League of Lost Things’</b></span></span><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="color: #333333;">This post is a part of</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span></span></span></strong><a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/category/write-over-the-weekend-wow" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Write Over the Weekend"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Write Over the Weekend</span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="color: #333333;">, an initiative for</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span></span></span></strong><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Indian Bloggers"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Indian Bloggers</span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span></span><span style="color: #333333;">by BlogAdda</span></span></strong></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-87451742602225128812016-03-22T23:49:00.001+05:302016-03-22T23:49:18.722+05:30Turning Pink<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I remember waking up to the sound of the alarm at 4am that day. Panicky & groggy-eyed, as I scrambled out of bed, the realization stuck-My Board exams were over! <em>And</em> it was Holi the next morning!!!<br />
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With a million-dollar smile, and a kick to my sister's butt (she had again snuck into my side of the bed) I fell asleep. <br />
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The Holi of 2005, right after ICSE 10th exams, has remained until date the best Holi ever.<br />
Finally free from the torture of trying to remember the Moghul heritage, the Venn diagrams, the topography in those maps (I never really understood what we were supposed to be doing with that thread in a Geography exam) & Shakespeare's "Et tu Brut" (trust me he was the brute, that damn Shakespeare), we were all waiting to paint the town red-blue-green-yellow.<br />
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The day started off with the neighbourhood aunties ringing our doorbell, all still dressed in their nighties with dupattas thrown over casually, one of them holding a big bottle of Coca Cola & the rest having <em>abhir</em> in their hands. One of the ladies was putting up a very convincing act of being drunk & that made me take a sip of that Coke only to be heavily disappointed-it was <em>abhir </em>flavoured.<br />
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Thankfully the kids around our place didn't let us down, as they attacked all females in sight with <em>pichkari</em>s filled with nasty violet color. I remember recognizing the people in Avatar when I watched it a few years later -" Hey, I looked like that after Holi that year". Me & my sister & my <em>padosan</em> friend were not the type to back out & out came the water balloons, thrown safely of course from the terrace. The best part was a classmate turned up in her Scooty & I hopped on to visit the rest of the gang. <br />
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The sense of fulfillment attained after applying colours to a freshly bathed person, is immeasurable!<br />
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At one point of the day, you'd see pink coloured people all around, all shabbily dressed & all having multicoloured teeth on display. It didn't matter that time, if you were fair or dusky, the colours would hide you anyway. It didn't matter if you were poor or filthy rich, you would be dressed shabbily & still smiling anyway....<br />
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"So no colours inside the campus,"the HR lady's stern gaze was on all of us breaking my happy daydream. "You wish to celebrate, we can celebrate with flowers or colourful ribbons & snacks...." she droned on. <br />
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Duh..!<br />
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I'm going shopping tomorrow for the colours. And a bottle of Parachute Advansed oil (for my luscious mane of course)<br />
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I just can't wait to turn pink! <br />
How about you?<br />
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P.S:<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">I’m pledging to<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><strong style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2016/03/15/khulkekheloholi-parachute-advansed-blogging-activity" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">#KhulKeKheloHoli</a></strong><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>this year by sharing my Holi memories at</span><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #b85b5a; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank"><strong>BlogAdda</strong><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">in association with Parachute Advansed.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">P.P.S</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/19px "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">I don't have any photos of my favourite Holi. Maybe because those days no sane parent would let their kid have a costly mobile handset & mostly because we were too busy having fun to bother about such unnecessary thingies.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-48309987936421481182016-01-18T15:38:00.000+05:302016-01-20T12:21:35.066+05:30Desi Bon Apetit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Fact is stranger than fiction, and I honestly believe if someone were to make a T.V series based on my life it'd be one weird, unintentionally hilarious sitcom.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sample this- a simple dinner date with a friend at a popular restaurant in Gurgaon's Cyber Hub area...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Friend, with a serious look totally not suitable to encourage further questions-"You will have to place the order"</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Me,totally ignoring aforementioned look-"Why??"</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">"You just have to!!" </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">"Why?"</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">"Because...the waiters here speak English and you know how I am before you"</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Said friend seemed to suffer from a strange affliction that rendered his brain-tongue synchronization useless when speaking in English in front of me.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Please don't ask me to elaborate.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I took the menu.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The waiter came bustling to our table.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">"So..we'll have this butterfly chicken...on it's own and...which one did you say you wanted dear...?" I slyly smiled at my friend.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">"The.. Err...grilled tender chicken..with err rice..spicy rice side..?" he fumbled glaring at me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">We completed the order somehow and it was repeated to us in an accented English & a speed that made me wonder if the waiter really wanted to visit the loo,or had just transferred from a South Indian restaurant. I hoped for the latter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"So...nice place" I muttered staring at the mass of Gurgaon's well-to-do folks. I call them well-to-do because they don't mind shelling out 300 bucks for a 'refreshingly crisp Caesar salad' that anyone in their right mind can see is nothing but <i>ghaas-phoos</i> tossed around in olive oil & lemon juice. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Is she drinking wine?" my friend was staring at a buxom female at the adjoining table who was holding a glass in one hand & cajoling her 8 year old son to gobble the Caesar salad with her other hand. Traces of "C'mon baby, who's my good boy?" could be heard over the din.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"That's a Sangria." </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Hmm...hmpph" and he went back to staring.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"So this place requires you to use your fork & knife you know" I smiled remembering him drinking his soup, his lips kissing the bowl, the last time we had dined together. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"So?" he smirked. "I have better table etiquette than you do".</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Oh yeah? How do you hold your fork??" </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">The food had arrived by that time. We both stared at the </span>minuscule<span style="color: #222222;"> quantity.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"This ..is like appetizer..?" I was crestfallen. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Anyhow...." he had lifted the fork & knife off the table, "let me show you how you use these"</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After 20 seconds of struggling with the equipment, he finally met my eyes, "Something's wrong..."</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"That maybe the case because you're holding the knife in your left hand & the fork in your right..?" </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"You...you make me nervous"</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Yes, I'm like the Medusa.."</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He gulped down his Coke. "Why is this called a bottomless drink?" was my next question. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">"Ha.. you don't know? See this glass? This is a bottomless glass. You can't see it's bottom." he answered </span>knowledgeably<span style="color: black;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I stared at him, "I thought it was because the drinks would be refilled each time & hence it'd be bottomless". "You know nothing"</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As if on cue, the waiter arrived-"Sir would you like a refill? This is a bottomless drink".</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm taking him to the <i>dhabba</i> near Convergys next time.</span></span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7466977334563078793.post-83790666252785711742016-01-07T16:29:00.000+05:302016-01-07T16:29:00.608+05:30Reviewed: The Bestseller She Wrote<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Love. Redemption. Betrayal.. Soon to be a motion picture</i>-reads the cover page of Ravi Subramanian's latest work. And having gone through the 390 pages, the book can be best described as a movie that stretches far too long. And it's not even that interesting,<br />
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This was my second Subramanian title. After reading the <a href="http://mywhisperingsilence.blogspot.in/2014/12/review-god-is-gamer.html" target="_blank">first</a> one my expectations of the author had reached a high which unfortunately has come crashing down after this book. The genre of middle-aged romance (or rather adultery) is much explored & R.Subramanian doesn't have anything new to add to it.<br />
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Aditya Kapoor is every man's dream come true, with a plush job, pretty wife & kid and his share of the limelight as India's most successful author. He is popular, he is loved & adored by fans and family alike and there's nothing more that a man can wish for. All that comes toppling down when he is on a visit to his Alma Mater IIM-B. A student Shreya Kaushik stands up to his commercialization of writing & claims that shameless promotion of books only serves to take away the charm associated with it, leading to quantity taking precedence over quality. This annoys Kapoor and he challenges her to read his books & then decide for herself, if he is wrong in channeling his resources for the promotion of his work.<br />
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And in typical Bollywood style, Shreya literally turns into a fan overnight.<br />
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What follows next is a cliched whirlwind extra marital affair between the famous author Aditya & the wanna-be writer Shreya. Some semblance of a mystery is thrown in to alleviate the reading. It takes almost the end of the book for the hapless wife Maya to realize her perfect husband is cheating-Subramanian is realistic here, I'll give him that.<br />
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I found the presence of sub-plot rather unnecessary. The story, had it been restricted to adultery & zealous ambitions, would have fared well. Adding the sub plot to help take away the blame from the protagonist was not required. Normal people cheat too. To portray Shreya's character as a psychotic, ambitious female who'd stop at nothing to get her own seems like just an attempt at pulling the story closer to Bollywood.<br />
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Characters could have been developed further. As a reader I felt no sympathy for Aditya- who has been showed as the victim. Even with Maya, the reader can feel no association for her character although an IIM-B grad herself, is shown to be quite naive and gullible. Aditya's colleague & friend Sanjay, is quite hidden and we don't really get to see much of him until the end.<br />
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The conversations in the book are not gripping & seem rather forced. So also the sex scenes.<br />
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Summing up, Ravi Subramanian's latest offering is rather disappointing as a book. If written with a movie in mind, then given the Indian audience's taste, it just might work.<br />
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Nothing more than 2/5 from me for this one.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I am reviewing </span><a href="http://dl.flipkart.com/dl/bestseller-she-wrote-english/p/itmeca2xhvfmtdmf?affid=contactblo&pid=9789385152382" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank">‘The Bestseller She Wrote’ </a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">by Ravi Subramanian as a part of the biggest </span><a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank">Book Review Program</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">for </span><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">. Participate now to get free books!</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Yours truly
(Thinking hard...)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0