tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-190379782024-03-13T14:57:15.256-07:00my space...Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-63596221637533456452015-03-18T02:03:00.001-07:002015-03-18T02:08:07.772-07:00What`s up ?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<br />
Trying to mind-map the several 'whats' going on in my lazy busy brain. Here`s to finding some connect somewhere. Amen !<br />
<br />
<br />
WHAT<br />
<br />
- I need : A steaming cup of coffee with just some droplets of actual coffee and heapfuls of sugar (Didn't I tell you I`m a wannabe coffee person. Have been, perhaps always will be :D<br />
<br />
- I want : The husband to roll-back into being the bff he was and listen to me rant and rant some more and stroke my hair in return<br />
<br />
- I should do : Tick the remaining 109 items off my daily to-do list <br />
<br />
- I am doing : Vomiting words and thoughts alike before they assume a physical form <br />
<br />
- I plan to do : Call Daddy and whine a bit, coo a bit and scold a lot <br />
<br />
- I plan not to do : Accede to the meester`s plea for a few centimetres of extra bed-space tonight (He shouldn`t make these huge-ass demands off new-mommy and tiny-human. Tch-tch how insensitive of him !) <br />
<br />
- I dream to do : Take a holiday on this <a href="http://www.bruisedpassports.com/wheres/msc-preziosa-review"><i>Dream Cruise</i></a> ! (New-mommy can day-dream can`t she)<br />
<br />
- I`ve been procrastinating : Squat Challenges, Abs challenges, Push-up challenges.. you get the drift, don`t you ! ( C'mon Snape, brew me a tummy-flattener potion quick, will ya ?)<br />
<br />
- I`m craving for : To get back home and nuzzle with tiny-human and be happily scratched back in return ( Tiny-human`s past life analysis - angry kitty !)<br />
<br />
- I`m thankful for : Family.Period.<br />
<br />
- I`m bitter about : Post-partum hair loss. (Ughh !)<br />
<br />
- I`m sore about : Tiny-human`s first words being 'Babababa' (Daddy`s girl already :S !)<br />
<br />
- I`m happy about : The Meester landing in town from S'pore tonight (Uh well, more happy-skippy about the dark-chocolate Toblerones actually :D )<br />
<br />
- I`m excited about : Doing up our first home this fall. (Yippeeee!)<br />
<br />
- I`m bored of : Nursing bras. ( La Senza, Beware you`re gonna be raided soon !)<br />
<br />
- I`m irritated with : Haggling with B'lore autowallas. (Why is a meter installed in your ricks, again ?? :S)<br />
<br />
- I`m loving : Juggling roles of a mom, wife, daughter, sister, bahu and a consultant. Every minute of my life :). <br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-8027921665780096912015-03-04T23:29:00.002-08:002015-03-05T00:14:43.045-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
Grateful. That is the emotion that seems to have taken over my being these days. Grateful for the life I have. Grateful for the people in it. Grateful for the person I have become. Though it is natural to thank God and be grateful to Him for all of this; I haven`t really been much of a believer in religious manifestations. But I do have faith on a supreme force somewhere up there that makes things happen the way they happen. So, though I don`t know whom to address my thanks to, but thankful I am. <br />
<br />
I hadn't expected my life to change the way it did when I become a mother. Nor had I expected my life to regain the level sanity it has now, 6 months down the line. And for this I thank that Supreme Force for creating this entity called 'Family'. Both the ones at home and at work. <br />
I have been surprised at the support I have received from work folks throughout my pregnancy and still continue to receive, all these months down the line, without being given feelers of the rumoured glass ceiling. Heck ! I got promoted while I was 7 months pregnant and now being given additional responsibilities alongwith the required support. Nothing more nothing less. Just as it should be.<br />
I wake up to my husband's smile, baby`s nuzzle and a steaming cup of mother`s supplement made by my mom-in-law. I reach office with a tummy full of fresh and nutritious breakfast and go back home to both sets of parents waiting to have tea with me. My baby has turned out to be this generally happy little thing who loves her cerelac and mom`s milk in equal parts. She also happens to love baths, maalish and walks and naps without creating much fuss. My in-laws and parents dote on her and take care of her in a way that I`m tempted to term as 'pampering' (she actually eats with a silver spoon !).Her Dad has turned into this expert at putting her to sleep, a mothering skill I still haven`t been able to get a hang of.She is growing up with her grandparents and feels safe and loved and for all of this I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. <br />
<br />
I don`t know what tomorrow has in store. But today I am a happy content woman. Whoever thought the last three words would co-exist in a sentence, eh ? :)<br />
<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-77497328974061915282014-04-14T16:32:00.004-07:002015-03-18T03:31:59.533-07:00Take the trash out .. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
Today while getting ready for work I reached out for my favourite red lipstick. It smelt funny. I looked at the watch which said I had exactly 32 seconds to wear my shoes and grab my ID and be out of the door. As I reached for the door shuffling with my shoes I vaguely remember having dumped the lipstick into the trash-can. <br />
<br />
On my way to work, all I could think of was the red lipstick. How insensitive of me to have dumped it. Just like that. Now, I have no shame in admitting that I am a hoarder. A compulsive one at that. Every expired makeup or skincare product that had very woefully been bid a good-bye earlier, had been put through an intensive deliberation about an alternative purpose it could serve before finally breathing its last. I`ve been known to use expired and funny smelling moisturizers as foot creams. I`ve mixed sunscreen and expired hand creams and used them as hair masks before jumping into a chlorinated pool. I`ve also been vain enough to use expired foundation mixed with some eye-shadow or bronzer to air-brush my stretch-marks and cellulite on evenings out that had demanded a short and slinky LBD. The point being I`ve always feared and tried to procrastinate break-ups. Breaking up with things as inconsequential like expired make-up, clothes that don`t fit anymore, shoes that pinch the life out of my feet, hard-backs that have already been bought on the kindle, medicines, vitamins, fancy hangers, used-up stationery .. I can really go on here. <br />
<br />
What looks like clutter to any sane person, look like halo-ed objects revealing a story of their acquisition to me. Before I take anything that has any bit of life in it to the trashcan, I form some sort of emotional connect with it. A dress gifted with a lot of love, an eye-liner that I flicked from my sister, a lipstick that mom and I shared eons ago, a book that has been signed by both of us with a date of its purchase, a pen that Dad might`ve handed me while I filled out some arbit form, a pair of shoes that I bought on sale during a particularly romantic christmas break. I try and subconsciously connect some dots. Never mind the distance between them. It just isn't a part of my DNA to toss away something that has been a part of my relatively short life, in whatever capacity. <br />
<br />
Today as I sat down to clean up my room keeping in mind the final head-back that is 2 months away. I found used-up but fancy moisturizer jars, that I`d kept aside to store ear-studs in, cardboard covers and leaflets of expensive skincare product that were using up my already jam-packed dresser drawer space. I cringed. I sat back and got my head around the sheer number of such ridiculously useless objects and knick-knacks that were crowding my drawers. Hell, I even had a bunch of miniature plastic cars green, blue and pink from last years christmas party favours. I cringed. An overwhelming feeling of disgust rather, to put it mildly. <br />
<br />
The symbolism was hard to miss. Take all you can gather from the world, shit included, and cram it into your perfect little world to make it imperfect and stinky bit by bit. Even the goodness that wants to creep in, if you let it in the first place, becomes tarnished. Where is the space to keep its goodness cling-wrapped amidst all this staleness ! Maa often says 'Jo nei chaiye, jo nei pehenna hai, feeka pad gaya hai usko out kar do'. Now how do I let go of that dreadful feeling that I might 'chaiye' it sometime in the future. What if the feeka thing is destined to bloom some years hence and I rob it of its only chance to do so. The permanency associated with that 'Out' was the scariest thing. Paranoia comes in all colours I say. <br />
<br />
I have always found it difficult to let go. Of relationships, of setbacks,of impulsive material joys and of meaningless friendships and acquaintances. I`ve lost count of the number of days I have wasted moping about long foregone things and closed chapters. Always wondering about that black hole of a 'what if'.My whole being gets riddled with guilt and starts calling itself selfish and beating its own self over the thought of casually dismissing off anything without a painful and long-drawn scrutiny and analysis. No matter how caustic or clingy it might be. Typically Virgo, they say. <br />
<br />
But off late I have found myself relenting a bit. This over-analysis of the future value of a currently useless thing has seen a decline in the past few years. A happy marriage and contentment in a relationship does bring about of a host of other interesting add-ons it seems. Impending motherhood has but strengthened this new feeling of wanting to have fun with minimalism.<br />
This oven is in the mood to be squeaky clean to bake one fluffy bun at a leisurely pace giving it all the nice warmth I can provide without having to deal with any random fritters or leftovers eating away into any of that warmth. <br />
<br />
Now off I go to take the trash out, funny-smelling favourite red lipstick included. <br />
<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
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So yeah, I`m in Rome.<br />
<br />
A full 5 years ago I had traveled here. On a student ID card, a second-class Eurail pass and a backpack that contained more of apples, ready-to-eat food packets and bread than clothes. Clad in skinny jeans and sneakers a bright blue and white polka dotted dress and a red biker jacket - I felt on top of the world when I got down the train at Roma Termini - "I`m in freakin' Caeser`s Rome.. in the history-book Rome..How wow is that !! Another tick off my 'Things to do before I turn 30' list. We were a bunch of 5 which got split into 2 and 3 'coz of some inane tiff and I was stuck with miss hoity-toity who insisted on doing walking tours wearing 4-inch high heels. "Nevermind, Im in freaking Rome !!!", I`d think, "Wait till I put up the pictures and make people back in college jealous. Yeehawwww !!<br />
<br />
And it so happened, every piazza every fountain I got clicked in, all I could think off was that I need to come back here with mom and dad and a guy I love and kiss him thoroughly in fronta these fountains (when mom n dad would be busy admiring the half-naked sculptures rising out of these fountains). I prepped myself up on all the places I`d take my guy to, where we would eat the most delectable gelatos, the alleys we would try and get lost in, the works. I remember having thrown 2 coins into the Trevi fountain - one to get me 'True-Lovee :D' and another to get me back here with that trueee-love. And .... surprise surprise - They came TRUE !! :D <br />
<br />
A carefully planned Italy and Austria trip, with the planning having started way back in mid-December, with weekly To-Do lists as a run-up to this trip - This was going to be my dream trip to Europe with S and I was adamant to make it a trip that he would remember and reminisce about with much fondness. I`d gone to Boots pretty much every alternate day in the whole of last month, picking up stuff we would and wouldn't need :D on this trip. Detailed our itineraries to the hour, planned out outfits, ran that extra mile on the treadmill to look fit and toned and pretty in those outfits, drank enough water to send me scurrying to the loo every half an hour at work (needed that fresh pimple-free skin for the pictures you know !), got my hair cut and styled differently (after what ? growing them out for a year!!), got myself hot-pink sneakers (I know that was dumb.. but heyyy I was going to Eur-freakin-ope !!), bought a nice big-ass hold-me-all tote-bag to carry my world with me (as is my wont! :S), bought travel packs of toiletries and lipsticks in atleast 3 different shades of red and pink, accessories and bling to go with the shoes and outfits and shocking nail-paints in as many shades .... Din`t leave much room for spontaneity did I ?!! <br />
<br />
And then came the signs ...<br />
Not able to apply for an Italian tourist visa = prospect of trouble 'coz of my schengen business visa<br />
A new pope = freaking hordes of pious (and rogue) crowds thronging to Rome<br />
The whole italian marines fiasco 2 weeks before our travel = Strained India-Italy diplomatic ties = More possibility of visa trouble<br />
Both of us down with bad bouts of flu and cough a week before our travel = Irritable travellers ? = Not quite the recipe for a romantic trip is it ?<br />
Parents getting sudden cold feet on the eve of our travel and asking us if we can bypass Italy = Me getting pissed at their unnecessary paranoia :|<br />
<br />
Needless to say, all of these signs could not hold their stead against our grand 'dream trip' plans. I had to get into that Gondola with my guy and float by, under the crumbling Venetian bridges before that quaint city drowns under its many canals.<br />
And so we landed in Rome after buying ourselves new flashy and crazy-expensive Raybans at Heathrow and a fancy layover at Copenhagen. S puts up our itinerary " Copenhagen-> Rome -> Vatican city -> Napoli -> Capri -> Venice -> Vienna -> Salzburg -> Innsbruck -> Linz -> London" on FB, switches off his phone and eases into his seat for the long flight ahead. <br />
<br />
I should've been beside myself with excitement as we waited for our luggage - this was my dream coming true. But all I felt was this strange sudden tiredness and nagging foreboding as we made our way to our peppy youth hostel. I had insisted upon getting the same room and youth hostel as the previous time. Had this strange obsession of wanting to relive Europe like the earlier time - as a backpacker - but this time with my guy walking beside me. We didn't get the room we`d requested for - another hint.We anyways retire for the night and all I could dream of was peering down the Colosseum in S's arms and a life-is-good smile on my face. <br />
<br />
The next day we get to the station only to find that the Colosseum is closed - the only day in the year it is closed, coz of Good Friday. Now this was not going as per my carefully charted out plan...another hint ! The virgo in me is a little annoyed, but quickly recovers and decides that we take on the Vatican today and keep the Colosseum for the next day. So we get to the Vatican and take this really nice guided tour around the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel. By the time we are done and head over to the St. Peters Basilica, it has closed down for the today. Now, I start getting extremely irritated at these out-of-plan things cropping up. But S seems to be enjoying himself, so I compose myself and we set out to discover Rome on foot with a map in hand. The Pantheon too has closed down for the day, but I`m past caring. I`m having fun walking beside S, pointing out nice photo-ops to him. He seems pleased with what his lens is capturing. We reach the Trevi fountain and all my annoyance dissipates at the sight of the beautifully lit up fountain. I whisper out my thanks to the fountain for having kept its promise and happily snuggle against S at the thought of some-wishes-coming-true-afterall. So far so good.... <br />
<br />
We walk back to our hostel from Termini, tired but happy. S is walking a couple of steps ahead of me looking out for an internet cafe. Work mailboxes needed to be checked out and cleared before we head out of Rome the next day. I feel bike lights blinking at me and I notice that a scooterist has climbed onto the pavement and is heading towards us. I think that the poor guy wants to take a shortcut to the next turning and I politely make way for him ...... and the next thing I know ... or feel.. is my handbag .. my trusty new tote getting snatched away from my shoulder by this scooter borne thief and he speeding away. I shout out and run behind him ... S chases after it ... We`re shouting out for help trying to flag down cars/bikes .. anything that would stop and help us .. but there were none. The thief takes a turn at the next crossing and is gone .... Our passports, my phone (a birthday gift from S .. having priceless family pictures and loving texts in it), my wallet and assorted credit cards and a very important PAN card, our exquisite scottish scarves, our new raybans, S`s fave ipod, my carefully picked out makeup, the comb that I always was very touchy about .. hell even that one lip balm I had packed ... ALL GONE ! In that one fraction of a second where I was too polite and unsuspecting to be giving way to a suspicious character who had climbed onto the pavement in those very minutes where I feel behind S and looked vulnerable. I remember mumbling 'this is not happening ... it can`t happen to us' to myself when the robber had disappeared from our sight. I remember ...... how the world around us operated as normal and unbothered as it could as our world seemed to be crumbling around us ... getting robbed of our identity papers in a foreign, unfriendly land ... How the people around us just looked on puffing away on their smokes as we hapless souls tried to calm ourselves .. how cold S's hands felt as my hand shivered in them ... how no car no bike .. hell not even a single person came to our help when we were running on the streets crying out for help.... How we got pushed from one police station to another as no policeman seemed interested in writing down our complaint ... <br />
<br />
This was last Friday ... We`ve run pillar to post in this dirty filthy city, in rain and a hailstorm, trying to get papers made that will re-establish our identities as dignified law-abiding persons and not one of the million refugees-turned-thieves that thrive in every lane in this lawless city .. We now know who our friends are and how at the end of the day it is family and family alone that really gives a damn about you... <br />
<br />
These past few days have taught me how much it means to have S with me .. beside me .. to just look at his face and know that it ain`t the end of the world as long as he`s around ... We wait for the hours to go by ... waiting at times in despair and other times in the hope of something better that tomorrow might reveal.<br />
<br />
They say what doesn`t break you should make you stronger.I don`t really know about the stronger part. What I do know however is that letting go isn`t half as difficult as the thought of having to let go. Even more difficult is coming to terms with the former without being prepared about the possibility of the latter ... <br />
Heavy stuff ?? Well, what else did you expect :)<br />
<br />
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
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</div>So I had another crappy day at office. Which got crappier when it got pitch dark and I was still at work (well, it was just 4 PM but still ! Indians aren`t used to staying in office 'der raat' tak :D).So I go for my I`m-pissed-with-work-with-life-with-everything fix at the mall just to take my mind off sick 'n' styoopid office politics - doesn`t work. Come back home, switch on the radiator, plonk myself in bed, dial S up and off I go - like a kid who is straining against his mom`s grip in a toy store and is suddenly let go. S listens to me , never interrupting, ever generous with well-timed Ohs and aisa kyas and hmmms. While im on this tirade I do get these faint alarms of 'there`s something else I needed to speak with S about .. something important' which get auto-snoozed as I retch and double up over another bout of verbal diarrhoea. At one point I sense that my lips have gone dry and throat is parched so I reluctantly take a break and take a couple of gulps of water and then it strikes me - a much petrified S had got a Root Canal treatment done that evening and a picture of a swollen face nodding 'hmmmms' and 'ohs' flashed in my head making me feel like an absolute dick (that I think I pretty much was in those entire 45 minutes of non-stop ranting about how miserable I am, in this miserable country in this miserable weather in this miserable city with a miserable boss and down with a miserable pre-fever sore throat). Selfish selfish selfish ol' me ! And my darling S - The quintessential 3-am bff :) and ... oh yeah who also happens to be the husband by the way :) It soon is going to be 2 years of being 'Mr. & Mrs. Neogi' and I think by now I pretty much know what the next 20 years of being a missus to this man are going to be like. The types who sit up late in the night lending a patient ear to inconsequential rants about inconsequential things in life. I remember hissing a completely off-track 'why in hell aren`t you a CEO already !' to S to which the reply is an indulgent 'See, I`m this lazy bum who needs to stream and watch Bigg Boss every night and wake up and have tea and marie biscuits in the balcony and play Temple Run while on the pot and watch SaReGaMaPa Bangla with Maa and analyse US Elections with Daddy and look up recipes for Peri-peri chicken and yeah needs to clock in a coupla hours over phone with you.Such a lot to do ! Where do I fit in a CEO into this ! <br />
<br />
Have I landed a keeper or what !! :)) <div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-34513996371845759872012-02-08T05:51:00.000-08:002012-02-08T11:24:58.702-08:00Happy Birthday Princess ! :)Pechun .. pechi .. gudun… Chunkuda … Chingudi .. I have lost count of the various endearments u answer to . What I haven`t lost count of is that you complete 21 years of your life in a few hours from now. Overwhelmed mightily. Protective certainly. Possessive .. but not overtly so. Glad. Worried. Proud. Enormously overcome with love. The emotions do not seem to follow any trend. But they have been piling up within since last night. Watched on T.V. a certain fat-lipped female actor sashay down the red carpet in a powder blue satin gown. I, being me , should’ve made a mental note of how awful/beautiful the colour looked on her. Instead, the brain does a lightning fast memory jolt and replays the memories of a 3-year old you, who had put on a powder-blue and white satin frock of mine. Was probably one of your annual trips to Bhubaneswar as a snooty Bombay kid. You refused to speak in Oriya, were this plump little thing who had the most weird sitting posture, kept asking ‘Mummy hum Orissa kab jayenge’ sitting right there in BBSR and wore all my nice ‘bahar-wala’ frocks which I`d have outgrown but not-fallen-out-of-love with. Mummy and Daddy would pamper you to no end. Maeen and Mamu would fuss around you and Appa (being Appa :P) wanted to hug you and hold you all the time. I did not like you at all. Period. All those people who made up my world had moved on to hovering around you, much to my annoyance. I was so mighty pissed with you. I think I might have punched your favourite stuffed toy black-n-blue. :P <br />
<br />
But then you used to go away and Appa and I would smell your used oil-massage cloth (we used to beg Maeen for one :P) for days afterwards and wail ‘Chunky ki yaad aa rai hai’. I was confused whether to like you ‘cause you were my little sister and I was ‘supposed to louuve you and take care of you’ , or whether to continue being jealous and dislike you for dethroning me from the ‘youngest-in-the-family-hence-needs-to-be-pampered-silly’ position. Then one day you came home looking proudly smug and beaming and announced ‘Pata hai abhi main STANDARD ONE mein hoon …standard one’. I think that was the day I knew I had no option but to love this little imp who thinks she is all grown-up coz she`s in ‘standard 1’ :P. But, along with the love started the worrying and occasional anger as well. Anger, ‘cause we always seemed to like the same things – the same toy, the same chocolate, the same actor, the same dress, that one lap of Dad`s :P (our moms were worried that we would wanna get married to the same guy :P). The worrying ‘cause I thought you were growing up to be a stubborn, short-tempered my-way-or-highway kid. The former was nicely managed – we got 2 sets of toys and chocolates and every dress was made into 3 sizes - for you , me and appa and poor Dad had no option but to seat us on each leg during those long Orissa-bhraman tours. The latter alongwith my childish assumption that single-kids-turn-into-spoilt-brats, was what worried me constantly. What I had failed to notice, was how you shared every chocolate with everyone, irrespective of age, in the family, how your 10-year old self baby-sat every infant perfectly, how you firmly reprimanded Dad when he and Mom would be having the most ridiculous of fights. <br />
<br />
Somewhere along the way we stopped squabbling and became a package deal. It was an understood fact that you would tag along with me , when I went over to my friends place or for swimming classes or for any functions or shows. We became partners-in-crime who had an inexplicable fetish for tasting anything from wild-berries to pickle to cerelac to pepperminty toothpaste. I would hear you giggling under the duvet , when I made those discreet late-night calls while I was flitting in and out of relationships, and would wink back at you knowing that all my wicked secrets were safe with you. You in turn would fill me in about all the puppy-love abounding at your school. I would wake up to your feverish mugging-up of Sanskrit vocab. And would silently mumble a prayer “God, please give her all those marks she wants, so she could snuggle in with me inside the comfy quilt and not need to go for tuitions for this ancient language. Who speaks it any which ways ??”. I loved it when you would hug me tight in your sleep, blissfully unaware that you might wake up next to a strangled/asphyxiated body the next morning ! No holiday or trip used to be complete without having you around. <br />
<br />
You amazed me with the focus you had on academics, with your love for numbers and Mathematics, your disdain for meaningless rules and rituals but above all with your maturity. I could breathe easy if you were aware of the person I was dating. It was as if I was seeking acceptance from someone in the family and who better(or convenient :P) than you. It did worry me when there was this phase when you thought I could do no wrong. I`m way more comfortable now, when you`re aware of all my follies and misgivings. <br />
<br />
I remember having this weird feeling when you went away to Dubai. I was worried sick. You were my little baby , leading a protected sheltered life back home. How could you fly the nest, a mere 16-year old! My maternal instincts went into overdrive. I`d never imagined that you would adjust so beautifully to Hostel life in an alien country that too. I was worried that you might fall into bad company or get involved with some hopeless guy. Probably part of me was praying that you don’t turn out to be as vulnerable as I was when I left home for the first time. I wanted those four years to be the best years of your life. You amazed me yet again when you chose the nicest people as your friends (the dance performance by your friends on your first birthday at the Hostel was probably the sweetest thing ever! God Bless them all). Was I glad or what, when you made it clear that you don’t have the time or inclination for casual flings or loser boyfriends. Wish I was that wise at that age! <br />
<br />
Before I committed myself to Saby, it was important for me that you both shouldn`t just be comfortable with each but like each other genuinely as well and you did ; so beautifully at that - I couldn`t be happier ! Then came my wedding and you made me proud like never before. The way you went around looking into every minute detail of every arrangement, the way you organized the sangeet, the way you took care of the guests, the way you ensured everyone has their plates full during the feast – I was misty-eyed during the ceremony looking at you all grown up and beautiful, running errands ever so gracefully in a saree. You made me proud, so very proud ! I knew at that time, that you had grown up – grown up into this responsible, caring and delightful little girl who has her mind and feet firmly in place. <br />
<br />
Now you have physically moved farther away from me and all of us, but surprisingly I`m not too worried. Protective surely, but very little of the anxiety or worry remains. I`m so glad that you have proved my childhood self so wrong and are nothing like the stubborn , spoilt brat that I had imagined you would grow up to be. You are this beautifully balanced person today who could teach all of us a lesson or two on life. Wonderfully uncomplicated, values in place, humble and responsible to the T and the funnest person to have around. All I wish and pray for is that, you live a full and happy life wherever you are and get to share this life with someone nice and fun who`d treat you like his princess and make you smile when the going gets tough once in a while. Wish life gives us more than just an annual holiday week to spend together, ‘cause I miss you … in more ways than words can explain. You will always remain my soul-sister, my friend, my trusty confidante and my baby – who sleepily opened her eyes and clenched tight the finger of a five year old me and went back to sleep again nestled against my lap ….<br />
See ! you taught me what falling in love was all about … :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-24519150838137264692011-05-06T13:16:00.000-07:002011-05-06T13:31:58.541-07:00:)Was spring-cleaning my old hard-disk drive off the pile of b-school assignments overload, to make some space for movies...and look what I found scribbled in on a notepad file...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I might keep nagging about how u`ve changed ... how things aren`t the way they were in carefree penniless days of books and bliss ... <br />But I know it is my boy .. when the bike goes for a skid and fall, right in the middle of crazy traffic, and the first thing you do is turn around and hold a stunned me and check me out for bruises .. your voice breaking with worry ...<br /><br />And there .... amidst all the honking and screeching and petrol dripping out from our beloved bike lying twisted on the road ...<br /><br />.. I fall in love with you all over again ...."</span><br /><br />This was written way back in late 2007, I guess...<br />I look at the sprawled form lying beside me in deep slumber ... Can`t help but smile .. Have we have come a long way or what !!<br /><br />Tadaaaa.. Time for me to snuggle up next to my boy :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-61441127952445978212011-02-11T11:36:00.000-08:002011-07-28T13:48:18.630-07:00Train to Hyderabad2nd February 2011, 8:20 PM.<br /> The Rajdhani Express chugs off dot on time. One of the few things that get a smile on ur face - Trains running on time. Hubby and I are on our way o Hyderabad to attend our first Maru-Jain wedding, that of a dear friend. The first wedding we are attending after ours (more about my wedding in a later post). Our suitacases are stuffed with blingy ethnic wear which were carefully chosen a few months ago for our own wedding trousseau. Alongwith the whole wedding excitement and the prospect of meeting old common friends, we are actually pretty kicked up about travelling by the Rajdhani. It brings back childhood memories of LTC family vacations way back in the early 90's. All the bank and Central govt. kids would be well aware of the once in 4 years, much-awaited, all-expense-paid-by-Govt./Bank family vacation. <br /><br />Wish all the trains that run in India are converted into Rajdhanis or Shatabdis overnight! Just last week as I bade goodbye to my in-laws aboard the Guwahati Express - I couldnt feel more guilty. At MIL`s insistence we gave in to their request of travelling by train from this end of the country to the north-east - full 3 days by rail. She tried convincing us about how boring air travel is where you can 't chit-chat/gossip with other co-passengers, can`t see the 'scenery', no new friendships are struck and so on and so forth. After countless discussions on this topic we finally conceded defeat and let her have her way. Wish we knew what awaited us..<br />Despite having booked AC 2 tier berths, the compartment let out a foul smell even while we were a coupla meters away from boarding the train. On entering the compartment we were initially confused if we had entered a general or sleeper coach by mistake. The interiors smelt of pee and poo (adult poo that too :S ). The curtains smelt equally bad. The berths creaked at their hinges and the bedsheets and blankets provided were very visibly moth-ravaged. As I hugged her tight my eyes welled up. Don`t know what I was feeling worse about - About me going to miss her or about me subjecting her to this torturous journey of 3 days in that stinky compartment. Couldnt help but nudge hubby to bribe the coach attendant to take care of Maa and Bapi - something I surprisingly don`t feel ashamed of given the circumstances.<br /><br />Fast-forward to the current settings - The rajdhani is everything that it promises to be. The attendants actually smile and say "Welcome Ma`am". Polite and courteous and ever smiling. The soup they serve is unexpectedly tasty and the breadsticks are soft. The air-conditioning is at the perfect temperature, charging points work and the food-tables do not creak while setting them up. The mirror is not cracked and looks freshly cleaned and the floor if not squeaky clean has very minimal dust/litter lying around. The co-passengers are busy doing their own thing - even the kids around seem least interested in creating a ruckus. <br /><br />There are 2 aunties sitting next to us with huge balls of yarn and knitting needles spread out. One of them starts balling up the wool that is wound around her knees as she sits cross-legged on the berth chatting up with the other lady. It makes me smile. Reminds me lazy afternoons when I was a frock-wearing truant little kid who would keep pleading with mom to give me one of the brightly coloured balls of wool lying around to play football with in the playground, as mom and my maamis and neighbourhood aunties sat in our living room with their chai and assortment of biscuits and crackers and exchanged sweater and muffler designs and patterns. These were the days when kitty parties were looked upon as indulgences of housewives who had married rich and had nothing better to do in life other than play cards and flaunt jewellery and brag about foreign trips. The TT just walked by with a smile on his face and made some jovial banter with the ladies "Aap log aaram se khao piyo rest karo .. ye sab sweater bunna baad ke liye rakho ... chalti train mein bunne se aankhen kharab ho jaati hain". The aunties too shyly smiled back "Bore ho rahe hain ji .. bachchon ke liye sweater hi bun lein ... school mein kaam aati hain". Makes me smile again. How much I miss the bright pink and blue pullovers the ladies of our house used to knit for us.I somehow always found these hand-knitted scarves and pullovers way more cosy and pretty than the ones available in the stores.I havn`t really seen anyone in our genrations x,y and zee knit or sew. The slightest of mending needs a quick dash to the local tailor`s shop and as far as woollens are concerned , only the softest of branded cashmeres, at a fancy mall, having an insane price tag will do.Guilty as charged, The last time I did something similar to knitting (the end product was a shoddy mess - something I was mighty ashamed of and my mom was mega proud of :) ) <br /><br /> I find it very selfless ... spending many a lazy afternoon staying up and knitting and poring over cute patterns and designs of flowers and teddy bears to knit into the sweaters ... and then giving away the finished masterpieces with an indulgent smile to a distant relative`s son or a kid in the neighbourhood who would pick one of these up and ask casually "aunty main ye le loon ?".Could I part away with something I had put so much heart into making , a true labour of love , to someone who perhaps did not figure into my scheme of things ? Perhaps not. Nay, most definitely not. Which again makes me rue about the sheer patience that the ladies of our moms generation had.<br /> I mentally doff my hat to this thought and wish I could hop-skip across the country to just give mom a tight hug and a kiss and hop-skip back to reality again. <br /><br />(Just as Im finishing this piece , one of the aunties worriedly looks at me "Beta, khana kha lo ... thandi ho rai hai.. paranthe sakt ho jayengi fir.. khana khake kaam kar lena" and then gives a toothy smile "iske baad icecream bhi denge ... badhiya waali". I promptly put aside my laptop and give her my brightest smile in response and as I make my way to the wash-basin I grin at seeing the trays of the badhiya-waali icecream kept on one of the berths ... the grin becomes wider upon a closer look - 'Barista lavazza Strawberry and Butterscotch' :D :D )<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-68230136351917913192010-07-09T01:31:00.000-07:002010-07-09T02:21:38.896-07:00Hooked and bookedCirca 16th of May, 2010 :<br /><br />... And as I, a bundle of nerves draped in the red-dest of sarees, blurt out my name instead of my gotra and the priest quizzically looks at me - raised eyebrows but chanting uninterrupted ... <br /> I get engaged to Meester :)<br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com?ref=1y0cnr" target="_blank"><img src="http://i26.tinypic.com/1y0cnr.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br /><em>Privacy and anonymity be damned for this once.<br />This one goes out to<br />1) All of you whose faces I don`t recognise and names Im not aware of , who don`t feature in my Facebook or Gtalk lists , but who have been a part of my life spread out in this tiny little space in the big bad virtual world. <br /> (SwB , this one`s for u :) Coz I dunno where to address my invite to you for the D-Day. ) <br /><br />2)Blogger .. which introduced me to Meester before I could even place a face to his name. <br /> </em><br /><br />'THE BIG DAY' falls on the 22nd of November 2010 and " You are Invited " - very warmly at that :)<br /> <br /> - Meester (Byzantine) & Saanjh<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-50568037465778495242010-04-04T14:10:00.000-07:002010-04-21T12:24:37.525-07:00March ..<br /><br />A decade ago this was the month wherein the butterflies in my tummy worked overtime .. the baap of all exams .. Final Exams …The End-All-Be-All Final Exams … Nothing got bigger than that … Brings a smile on my face … reminiscing about it …<br /> <br />This March too had a ring of Finality in it … A decision that did not quite take me by surprise .. but awes me still … each time I realise that it has finally been taken … <br /><br />It has been pretty eventful .. The past coupla months ...<br /><br /> I quit my first job … The cushy 9-6 job that sent me home on business trips … The one that gave me a sooper understanding and cool boss … The one that had me working with colleagues whom I could call friends … The one that gave me buddies with whom I could spill out my naughtiest secrets over rounds of truth-n-dare … <br /><br />A fond surprise farewell just made Goodbyes tougher … a heavy heart and silent nostalgia later , I dawned in a new beginning … In more ways than one … <br /><br />There are these times when something keeps staring at ur face but u refuse to come out of your foolish denial .. these times happened way too many times wimme … each time making me realize the frequency of their occurrence .. an Omen ? I believe so … <br /><br />There are these times too when you get overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of some decisions and prefer to procrastinate rather than taking them head on .. That’s when the 2 towers called parents step in … and as always u can`t help but wonder what would u ever do without them … <br /><br />It is scarily heady ... how things have fallen into place all by themselves … reaffirming my faith in the Great One above and the ones who I owe my everything to … Mom n Dad ... Thank you for hand-holding me through the biggest decision of my life yet … Thank you for making me realize that there couldn`t be a more wonderful thing than to get married to your best friend … Thank you for sitting me down and making me take note of all those hints I had chosen to ignore … Thank you for giving me Saby … Thank you for making Saby – The best friend into Saby – The partner for life. <br /><br /><br />I should have realized it when you stood protectively a few feet away from me … while I was getting ragged by your batchies … <br /><br />I should have realized it when I met your eye each time a drenched and shivering me looked up … As your comrades dunked us hapless souls …<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when you asked me out for our first walk amidst a crazy JLT and I willingly forego-ed a night of dancing and booze for a quiet walk in the woods and intelligent conversation …<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when I landed up at your doorstep balancing books notes and papercups filled with lemon tea at 3 in the night demanding to be tutored ... the night before a finance quiz … <br /><br />I should`ve realized it when we watched our first movie <i>Sweet Home Alabama </i> I guess , and I dozed off , and woke up at dawn to find ... you sleeping in the most uncomfortable of positions on your rickety chair … and your blanket over me … <br /><br />I should`ve realized it when a drunk me puked my guts out and instead of being turned off for life, you ever so gently carried me all the way to my room breaking girls-dorm rules , inviting serious trouble …<br /><br />I should’ve realized it when our crazy foursome had our crazy times and in the midst of all the craziness we stole knowing glances and smiles …<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when I stalked you from one college committee to another and ended up interning at the same organization where you landed your job in …<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when the first call I made, when life gave me my rudest shock , was to you …<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when you held my hand through my lowest lows and hopped skipped with me during the precious few highs …<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when you coached an anxious Mom n Dad over long STD calls, of your own accord, how to use Skype and Gtalk to talk to me when we were different continents apart…<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when each time I backpacked to a new country I made a mental note to come back there again with you …<br /><br />I should`ve realized it when I joined work in the same city as you and in less than a year joined the same organization yet again … <br /><br />I should`ve realised it everytime our eyes found each other across a crowded room ...<br /><br />I should`ve realised it when everytime you hugged me nothing seemed too difficult ...<br /><br />A lot many should-haves later …<br />I realize it every single day when I peek outta my cubicle and flash my brightest smile in the way of a ‘Hi’ and you ‘Good morning’ me and settle down beside me as a co-worker for the next 8 hours …<br /><br />It took me a while… but finally this overwhelmingly happy realization has sunk in …<br />… that I love you Saby … in more ways than one ... and there is no other person in this entire world I could possibly think of spending the rest of my life with …<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-75926505272925409472010-02-11T03:04:00.000-08:002010-02-11T03:16:46.370-08:00Does Madonna ACTUALLY utter <i>Sigmund Freud</i> in her Die Another Day !! Ouchh ... <br /><br />And the censors are <i>tang-karoing</i> poor dear Rakhi Sawant for using 'Kameeni' in another of her ethereally aesthetic videos.<br />Oh Jejus !<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-74638714682145524832010-02-09T10:33:00.000-08:002010-02-10T21:24:32.077-08:00Overwhelmed.<br /><br />That`s what Ive been feeling since the last coupla days.. or rather nights. The cause - a tiny lil 1.5 X 0.75 sq.feet, 4 month old being .. my niece Diya. <br />(Pardon the measurement thingy ..she still has no vital stats to speak of ... Shows great promise of flaunting fab stats a coupla decades down the line though :P ... I know, Im perhaps the most shameless maasi around :D )<br /><br />The first few hours, with her sleeping in my arms, me cooing Akon to her for a <i>Lori</i> (I know Im also the most cracked up Maasi around :( ).. were Blissful ... for the lack of a better word... <br />I transformed into an award-winning sniffer dog for those few hours. Smelling her all over ... that tiny lil wobbly head , her lil hands , that excuse of a neck ... Aaahhh, no Goddamn parisian perfume can even come close to that absolutely pure and beautiful smell of an infant (ofcourse with generous doses of help from Johnsons & Johnsons baby talcum powder) . And I know 87.33% of you would totally agree... The rest 12.67% - U guys are unpardonably ignorant .. <br /><br />Now comes the catch ....<br /><br />We all settle down to go to bed after those happy-family-dines-together-laughs-together-plays-cards-together sessions that Sundays are probably created for.I tuck myself in for a peaceful night`s sleep .. so as to not wake up extra-grumpy for another inevitably gloomy Monday ... .... and there`s a wail ... An ultra high-pitched one at that ... and my cellfone has just beeped 1:30 A.M. <br />I try and ignore ... jam 2 pillows on my ears ... a few minutes pass by .. I gingerly draw the pillows down ... Ahhh .. the <i>sunehra</i> kinda silence that we used to read on posters in school corridors "Silence is golden" ( I guess it also had a picture of a eyes-half-closed golden Buddha as the backdrop) ... A few peaceful moments pass by ... slumber sets in.. ive already conjured up a beautiful lil Excel sheet and have just started colouring it ....... Another ultrasonic wail .... <br /><br /><i>Aiyooooo paapam</i> ... I kick back the <i>Rajai</i> and march to Didi`s room .. hair disheveled to the point of no-repair ... sleep ruined to the point of no-return ... And find Diya .. the lil imp ... wiggling about and letting out inexplicably shrill wails ... Mom has her typical worried and hassled Naani look on ... Didi has her irritated but guilty look on (dunno how she manages that ..and no, she hasnt attended any National School of Drama workshops to master that look) ...And then I do the unthinkable ... I actually VOLUNTEER to hold Diya and put her to sleep .. Now by the looks of it, it doesnt seem remotely life-threatening to elicit such a reaction ... Little did I know what was about to unfold.. <br /><br />2 A.M. ... Im rocking her .. Akon is replaced by Celine Dion .. to no avail .. she keeps kicking about .. flailing her arms .. in general a very happy and wide-awake kid .. <br />the keyword here being "wide-awake" ... <br /><br />3:30 A.M. ... Im still rocking her ... Im back to mixing Akon and Black Eyed Peas and am at my mellifluous best ....<br />Result - Her eyes are as wide as big round brown saucers and shes gurgling away in joy ... and I have serious doubts that she has bid the sleep fairies a very stern Goodbye ... <br /><br />4:15 A.M. .. Now she starts getting cranky ... all her toothless smiles n gurgles have been replaced by her trying to scratch her own face and pulling at her own soft silky mop of hair ... <br />As about me - Had there been a cam around somewhere .. then perhaps the most genuine award-winning photograph captioned "HELPLESS" would have been captured right there right then.<br /><br />5 A.M. ... Now shes crying and howling alternatively and I have absolutely no doubts that any Norah Jones or Shreya Ghoshal could have exercised their vocals chords to any degree of success in calming this wiggly lil creature in my arms. I somehow balance her precariously on one arm and ready her feeding bottle .. This is something I actually should win an award for .. Atleast it would be more credible than a 'Star Performer of the Quarter' award. She finishes off the bottle in what .. 6 minutes flat and flashes this full and content smile at me. Im almost tempted to let out a sigh of relief when I see those eyes again regaining their widest diameter and she kicking about as if Id just fed her a whole can of Red Bull. <br /><br />6:15 A.M. ... Shes playing with my hair ... has drooled all over my shorts and is generally giving another of her lengthy discourses in gurgly gibberish. Im perched on my bed .. crosslegged .. reclined against the wall .. staring at some invisible crack on the ceiling .. My thought trail reads something like this ...<br /><br />Was the ceiling always this disgusting a yellow .... and the fan .. how odd ! Id never noticed the golden thingies carved on its blades .. I should start decoding baby-gibberish .. That would so certainly bag me a Nobel and I could visit Sweden again .. Hopefully in summer .. I wish people would conceive in summer and babies are born in winter ... I could make a roaring business in baby woollens and thermals .. Winter Fashion for Just-borns .. 'The perfect styling for the purrrfect first photograph of your little one'.. On second thoughts, I wish people just don`t conceive at all ... Every couple should be content with just doing it .. not making something out of it u know ! Couples can just adopt .. Why go through the traumatic experience of pregnancy, puking, doc visits, labour , delivery , post-natal care and the baap of all - the extra traumatic sleepless days n nights when the baby makes everything else around you vanish into a black hole. Its just this lil wiggly lil mass of flesh that becomes the center of your universe .. much to ur then-better-now-crabby half`s consternation. All the louuu goes outta the window when the squabble starts about whos gonna change the diapers .. whos gonna ready the milk bottle .. whos gonna put her to sleep ... Heyyy ...wait a sec ! Aren`t I supposed to be rocking a pesky lil one to sleep myself ... And I look down .. <br /><br />And There she is ...<br />Lil ringlets of hair framing that angelic face .. lips half open in a dreamy smile ( Another Bigggg doubt - What do babies dream about baba, that makes them smile away in their sleep), flushed cheeks and tiny lil fingers wrapped around my little finger and her body nuzzled close against me as the first rays of dawn bathe her in their mellow light ...<br />It makes me want to cry a little.<br />I hold her close to me and lie down beside her .. an arm protectively around her .. shielding her from the sunrays , from the early morning chill , from badass mosquitoes who dare not come within a coupla hundred of metres around her. <br /><br />Diya ... Someday when you grow up to become a lovely lil girl ... and then bloom into a lovelier woman ... I want you to know me ... your Maasimaa ...<br />She might be a lil healthily-demented .. might not come across as a sane, sober, dainty female ... might have the most atrociously un-normal way of looking at things and life in general ... but in all of her 24 years of existence there have been and are a very few things she is absolutely sure of ... <br />A couple of those being - that of she loving you to bits ... and that of you, in all your gurgling glory, having changed the way she thought about faith ... about love .. about life ...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-59186171571370238902010-01-31T19:54:00.000-08:002010-01-31T20:23:09.723-08:00Disillusioned. Angry. Weary. Vulnerable. Hurting .... Hopeful<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-61614260303681740122010-01-05T03:06:00.000-08:002010-01-05T22:15:15.670-08:00Checklist : 2010<em>Umm .. lemme just blabber them all out .. </em><br /><br />Get my finances in order.<br /><br />Learn Kannada ... properly this time .<br /><br />At the back of my mind its always gonna be home over money .. how much ever I crib about being <em>kadka</em>.<br /><br />Not pine for something that is clearly out of reach.<br /><br />Get into some kinda exercise routine .. Exhaustion gives you a good night`s sleep .. brooding doesn`t.<br /><br />Not gonna hesitate to text Dad how much I miss him .<br /><br />Take some exclusive me-time out .<br /><br />Get some variety in cooking .. egg-burji doesn`t really qualify as a dish.<br /><br />Vikram Seth and Pamuk and lil chunks of Danielle Steeles and Norah Roberts thrown in. :)<br /><br />Learn to wear eye-liner and not obsess about looking 'made-up' for the next few hours hence.<br /><br />Warm up to the fact that I knowingly fall for the 'darkest' of the 'dark'-er sex .. and I have but myself to blame for it .<br /><br />Grow my hair longer and control the obsessive compulsive urge to colour it blazing red.<br /><br />Cut down on sweets ... just a lil teeny-weeny bit.<br /><br />Drink Less.<br /><br />Sift friends from chaff ..<br /><br />Move over to dresses from jeans ....occasionally.<br /><br />Move on ....<br /><br /><br /><br />Pretty much do-able .. right ?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-61775362240869280822009-12-31T22:53:00.000-08:002009-12-31T22:54:25.057-08:00Whoever said .. it is difficult to Hope against hope .. thou be damned ... <br />It comes as naturally to me as does the thought <br />Of a slothful weekend when my limbs get weary ... <br /><br />Trying not to care .. putting on this air of fake indifference ..<br />Has been sapping me outta the last vestiges of human emotions ..<br />Emotions that I never knew could touch me .. singe me .. <br /><br />This hanging onto every word that is said .. <br />Analysing whether it was an offhanded remark ..<br />or dished out in all seriousness ...<br />Do I put on a knowing smile .. <br />Or do I stick to my lost-puppy look .. So that he would care to explain ..<br /><br />Is all of the above an inherent normal female DNA problem <br />Or do I blame it on malfunctioning neurons ... <br /><br /><br />Have I been asking too many questions ... !!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-82993881135308613172009-11-24T23:23:00.000-08:002009-11-25T00:46:05.911-08:00I envy people who can talk. Talk about themselves.. talk about their past , their future and ofcourse their present in a large measure. I have always found it difficult to talk about myself. Something that has become pretty evident in the past few years. Perhaps coz these few years have made me realize that my life is no one else`s business but mine and a handful of other people`s.<br /> It aint attitude. Its simple honesty.<br />I havn`t been able to fathom why people, who are but gonna live for a predefined number of minutes on this planet, should be subjected to a discourse on my life and my stuff , the contents of which are never gonna have any kinda bearing on how the remaining minutes of their lives are gonna shape up. <br /> Perhaps this might explain my awful networking skills.<br />Forced smiles and conversations... The absence of which would lead to you being branded as unsocial, haughty, arrogant .. rude even. <br /> A trend analysis of my relationships, with everyone who is and has been a part of my life, would throw up a very definitive result - That of they having thrived and flourished over the written word rather than the spoken one. Letters, e-mails, memos, chats (the online typing-dependent ones), diaries and ofcourse this very 'My Space' ... These are the means and modes where I have been able to open up a little about myself without guilt-tripping whether I`ve blabbered out too much too soon. <br /> Im sorry if I don't respond well to "Whats up in Life ?". Im sorry if I dont have a witty repartee to "So howz it been since the last time we caught up?".<br /> But I aint sorry to be fanatically possessive about my memories to blurt them out in casual conversations and be subjected to nonchalant indifferent reactions for the same. <br /><br /><em>(P.S. Yeah , Mood swings .. Too many .. Too often. Hopefully this too shall pass.) </em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-76138174171775005652009-11-20T02:27:00.000-08:002015-03-05T00:38:25.125-08:00Friday RuminationsLotta stuff goin on in my head ... Need to clear it up a bit .. Shall resort to u my faithful blog as a Pen Drive for the time being .. ummm.. on second thoughts u need to gear up into a decently configured Hard-disk to take the onslaught thats gonna hit u .. <br />
<br />
Note : None of the stuff is inter-related or correlated or guilty of any kinda relation existing among them .. So please bear wimme and no .. Im not suffering from temporary dementia :)<br />
<br />
<br />
- Have got this new-found fascination for bangles .. huge wooden ones and delicate glass ones. Love the sound when the latter clink together..has this newly-wed feel to it . Dig the punky hippie look the former imparts. Always knew there`s a rebel and a daddy`s sweet lil girl co-existing within me .. Pray for this harmonious co-existence to prevail .. every single day .<br />
<br />
- How do you explain blowing up 2.5 grand on fancy innerwear while being completely aware of ur hopelessly single status and the obvious foolishness of the impulse buy ! <br />
As they say .. Shit Happens .<br />
As I say .. I make the shit happen .. drag it by its ears n make it happen :|<br />
<br />
- Im riddled with this inexplicable urge to become a Mom .. Someway .. Somehow . Why can`t it be a standalone feature of growing up ? Why does it have to wait for a humongously expensive social showcase of a rite called "Wedding" to happen before it does? Becoming an aunt has filled me with a sweet mellow kind of happiness. Smelling the lil ones head , watching her yawn and smile in sleep has strangely made me aware of the existence of beautiful untarnished goodness on this planet. This tiny being stands for an entity that is all pure n white , no traces of greys .. blacks don`t even feature newhere in the vicinity. Being with her makes me feel responsible and vulnerable at the same time .. makes me feel happy for no particular reason .. makes me aware of that elusive feeling called 'Unconditional Love'... Pray tell me , why should I be deprived of experiencing this purest of all emotions just because Im not wearing a fancy black beaded necklace or a red powder smear on my forehead.<br />
Beats me ... totally !<br />
<br />
- This is for the girls out there. Its a chilly breezy evening on an almost empty stretch of road and ur riding pillion with this person u adore to bits riding right infronta u .. inches away .. nay perhaps centimetres away ... U wanna snuggle up to him and hug him tight but you can`t ... All you wanna do, when he attempts a steep swerve is to close your eyes and hold on to him but it takes the self-restraint of a Lhasa monk to hold yourself back .. <br />
And why ?? <br />
Coz it aint right, coz its aftermath is gonna be awkward , coz it would 'complicate' things ... <br />
A hundred such voices cram your head and there ... that tiny glimmering flame gets extinguished before it could even burn bright .. and there you are left out in the cold .. literally and figuratively .. <br />
Now girls , What do u DO in such trying times ! Wait till he drops u off at ur apartment gate and then flash the most brilliant of fake smiles at him ? <br />
Kindly enlighten me on any other relatively exciting plan of action , if any .. <br />
Preferably without the asterisk mark and the disclaimer in fine print below stating 'Conditions Apply'..<br />
<br />
<br />
"You Never Know what`s round the corner .. follow the rules and you won`t get burned."<br />
<br />
Came across the above somewhere ... Just wanted to know whether there is a corollary somewhere for people who don`t mind getting singed .. <br />
A little heat did no one much harm , did it ?!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-41433504839585410962009-11-04T08:55:00.000-08:002009-11-05T09:15:32.161-08:00Okaay ...<br /><br />Almost a year since I graced 'My Space' with my words..Can already see a mesh of cobwebs obscuring any cursory glance at this space .. Im sure not many of you would`ve taken the pain of clearing through the cobwebs and the inch-thick layer of dust lying around here .. <br /><br />Im very much alive .. dunno whether I can use that cheesy t-shirt tagline "Alive and kicking" though..<br /><br />The last post was written while I was away in France .. Horibbly homesick .. counting the days when Id get back home.Its perhaps the only thing common in life then and life now .. Homesickness.<br /><br />When I`d left for France, Dad`s transfer was imminent and I knew this might be the last time I`d be in my cozy lil forest bungalow-ish Jayanagar home. That last wistful look at my house as I loaded the huge suitcases into the car is gonna be one of the frames in the flashback reel of my life.<br />But then, What goes around .. comes right around. Its been B`lore -> France -> Bhubaneswar and then back to B`lore in this one year. Though it is ever-crowded and ever-bustling Marathalli now instead of old-worldly and quaint Jayanagar, it still is good ol' B'lore.<br /><br />Life has changed and so have I , I believe, in the past 12 months.Though I don`t think there`s been any life-altering earth-shattering change , but still. For starters I can now legally be categorized under the 'employed class' or 'labour class' of the country. ( Yeah, Prof. Joydeep`s Macroeconomics makes much more sense now than the days when it shoud have). <br /><br />Then : I wake up sumtime around noon (post-placement, post- final term days of sheer bliss) and mentally abuse the ceiling fan for emitting the slightest of creaks which broke my sleep this early.Anyways,now that I am awake, I think of grabbing a quick brunch at the mess and then off to Bibhu`s room for a movie/bakar marathon.Idyllic lazy walks and Adda sessions in the evenings and daaru sessions at night well into dawn and then trudge back to my creaky ceiling fan and messy room for a dawn-till-noon nap.<br /><br />Now : I wake up to the alarm screaming its lungs out, sharp at 6:30.Get the house cleaned, cook breakfast for bro, get ready in what.. 4 mins and run to catch the bus, commute along the dustiest grimy-est 20 kms of B'lore and then starts the actual grind. Make reports for the top mgmt. who perhaps don`t even bother to open them, colour some excel sheets, do some number crunching of incomprehensible figures and some fancy analysis, grovel infronta the boss for that one precious day of leave and be subjected to an hour long discourse on how as a manager I should plan my leaves 3 months in advance (Bludy .. I should consult astrological charts to know the actual date when Im supposed to have viral fever !), clock in some overtime and make sure it is noticed by the boss ( Unspoken Corporate Code of Conduct #47 : Never ever leave for the day before your boss does :|) , leave for home (God Bless the faithful Red Volvos), shop for vegetables, reach home all tired and bedraggled but somehow drag yourself to the kitchen to cook ( n when ur cooking for men - my bro in this case, you`d better make it nice .. no kaam chalau stuff would do for this specie whose heart is located inside their stomachs) gulp down the dinner (not daring the taste buds to stay in contact with the food a second longer) and collapse onto ur bed. A few hours hence .. Its just another day ...<br /><br /><br />Few Other things have changed too .. <br /><br />My faithful ancient cellphone finally breathed its last after 7 long years .. Had been wimme right from 12th Std. and bore the brunt of everyone`s sniggers when fancy new cellfones came into the market n suddenly having a cell-fone with a lime-green screen and an inch long antenna became a strict fashion no-no .. I still miss u .. Cellotaped Battery and cracked screen and bright red blinking L.E.D notwithstanding.<br /><br />No more sprinting to early morning classes((dats 9 am :D ) ) in night-suit uppers and worn-out,knee-slashed snug jeans and bathroom slippers.Now I even drop off to sleep in office wear - read : scruffy shirts n trousers or when Im in a rare happy and dressy mood - churidaar-kurtas complete with bindi n bangles :D ( A few more years in Bengaluru n I might sport a gajra soon).<br /><br />Floaters and flats are gettin comfy staying put in the shoe-rack while I mercilessly plod away in heels and strappy shoes...<br /><br />The faithful schoolbag has given way to an assortment of girly totes n clutches.Though I still am bad at co-ordinating them with any outfit...<br /><br />Have started wearing a watch coz apparently looking at your cellfone to check the time isn`t very "Corporate-y" :|..<br /><br />Have learnt how to convincingly dish out harmless white lies (U know .. texting "Mom, Ill have to call u back later .. in a meeting" while watching Love Aaj Kal for the 5th time at PVR :P ) <br /><br />The Black nailpolish and the toerings had to go and so did the ballpen grafitti on my jeans..<br /><br />No more indulging in buying Tantra tees in bulk .. its more of waitin for Wills Lifestyle and Van Heusen Sale now...<br /><br />Kumar Punjabi Dhaba has given way to McD and the likes ... n am I hating it !<br /><br />Can cook a proper 4-course meal for n- number of people with more confidence than I exuded while making those faff-ey Business Ethics presentions..<br /><br />No more walking into anyone`s room for a late-night chitchat .. Gtalk and Skype are Godsends now... <br /><br /><br /><br />Some things still havn`t changed though ...<br /><br /><br />Still love walking in the rain ..<br /><br />Still find it difficult to argue and raise my voice .. even when it is absolutely needed..<br /><br />Still cringe talking about money and pay and the likes ... <br /><br />Still obsess about weight-loss ...<br /><br />Still love feeling the wind against my face on late-night bike rides ...<br /><br />Still get all happy and excited at the prospect of a movie right after office ..<br /><br />Still find it surprising as tears roll down seeing a lonesome mangy lil pup yelping on a busy road ..<br /><br />Still cry myself to sleep when the loneliness gets to me ...<br /><br />Still fall for hopelessly wrong guys ..<br /><br />Still happiest when with a book in hand and lounge playing on the ipod ..<br /><br />Still have the gleam in my eyes on spotting a chocolate irrespective of its size ..<br /><br />Still learning to say NO ...<br /><br />Still pathetic at taking compliments .. <br /><br />Still trying to find my niche .. <br /><br />Still uncertain about what my true calling is ... <br /><br />Still waiting to be truly happy and content ... <br /><br />Still unable to fathom whether love is a myth or a truism ...<br /><br />Still long to nestle between Mom n Dad and watch Hrishikesh Mukherjee movies ...<br /><br />Still not willing to let go despite knowing it is a lost cause ..<br /><br /><br /><br />Still .. very much me .. I guess .. I hope ...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-8860179201468339302008-12-17T17:09:00.000-08:002009-02-09T22:15:58.428-08:00ReminiscenceYeah , I know .. this is my second longest absence from 'My Space...' and that too during a time when I should have blogged diligently and regularly. Perhaps I did not get inspired to pen down all the numerous things that were thrust my way , some all of a sudden .. some others not that sudden ; in a haphazard fashion. I wanted to do justice to these 3 months of my life which I would rather say were more about discovering stuff about my own self rather than discovering the wonders of Europe.<br /><br /> Terming it as a 'dream come true' would perhaps be the greatest lie , coz honestly I hadn`t ever dreamt that I would go backpacking across Europe as a 23 year old , a student and single. This wasn`t to be some teenagery romp across the beaches and mountains with my guy, nor was it meant to be Gondola rides and quiet romantic French dinners with my spouse. To be honest as I was packing my bags for it , back home in chaotic Bangalore , I realised I was the only person among the 12 of us who had no agenda in mind about the next 3 months that lay ahead. One expected it to be a spiritual tour with Vatican and Fatima beckoning him , while for another it was gonna be about French wining and dining and for yet another it was about checking out the female species, from every possible nationality ,up close n personal. Someone wanted to explore the European music scene ,another wanted to check out the soccer and F1 circuit, while yet another wanted to 'do' the sin cities of Amsterdam and Prague. One of the girls wanted to go crazy shopping while another wanted a break from the rigour of an Indian B-school. The rest chanted "I jus wanna travel and travel and travel some more" as their reasons. All I used to do in these meetings, before we embarked upon this, was to hear all of them ramble enthusiastically about how they plan to do their 'thing' once we get there. Later , I would lie down on my bed and try and think of some reason that would excite me about this trip , of some reason that would invigorate me to jump outta bed and start planning and packing. I could find none. A painful and long-drawn break-up did nothing to salvage my already dipping enthusiasm. What made matters worse was the thought that perhaps it was the making of one huge big mistake , an expensive one at that. <br /><br /> After an uneventful flight from Mumbai, As we stopped over at Helsinki to take our connecting flight to Paris , I lost my way in the huge Vanta Airport at Helsinki. All alone and trundling along with a trolley overflowing with luggage, cursing the day when I had made that impulsive decision to opt for this Student Exchange program and having no clue about how I was goin to make it to Paris ... stranded as I was .. I hear my name booming from the Public address system "Sweta Bhoi , FinnAir passenger to Paris" and I see Padhiary running towards me gesturing wildly , I told myself ,amidst the relief coursing through my blood "Abhi khatam nei hua boss" :).<br /><br /> We reach Paris and I make a call back home. It sure felt weird to mouth the words "Hey Dad, Im in Paris now, alls fine".Hell, yeah it did feel so different than the normal "Hey Dad, Ive reached Bhubaneswar, alls good". From this moment onwards started our series of firsts. Our first tryst with trying to ask for directions from the french who are so proudly anti-british that they find it below their dignity to even understand English , let alone speaking it , our first TGV from Paris to Lille.It is midnight when we reach the city that we were to call our home for the next 3 months - Lille. As I step out of Lille Flandres station and feel the chilly breeze tugging at my thin jacket, the realization dawns - I am in France , in Europe .. and this is where I have to make the most of the 3 months that I am to spend here.I glance around at the city that was so clearly in deep slumber and the stunning architecture of the buildings that showed promise of springing to life in the morning.<br /><br /> It sure felt .. different.. to be sharing a house with 8 other people.It wasnt as if I was thrust into a house full of strangers, I knew all of them, infact was pals with most of them. But nevertheless, the whole experience of waking up in the morning n while making a beeline for the loo, bumping into a groggy-eyed, toothbrush-wielding guy who I used to earlier bump into only in classrooms or the mess or at most in the Boys Hostel during overnight assignment n project discussions .. it felt pleasantly weird in the initial few days.It felt kinda homemaker-ish to go shopping for potatoes and ginger-garlic paste with guys with whom I not very long ago used to discuss ERP assignments and Corporate Planning term papers.Yea, It was a Bigg Boss kinda setting and soon the idle bakar and bitching too started off.But, I think I can safely say that my greatest learning from this whole experience has been staying with 8 other people who are as different from the other as chalk and cheese, adjusting along the way with each one`s idiosyncracies and temperaments,grocery shopping, paying bills, cooking, chopping , washing dishes , scrubbing bathtubs and sinks, clearing the trash, vacuuming and mopping the floor, cleaning the toilet.. the works.Learning how to function as one cohesive unit, learning to say 'no' (which I still think I really need to work upon), learning to speak out for oneself and stand by your views.It is now that I realize why all those kids who go abroad at an early age to fend for themselves, return as grounded and quietly-confident individuals.<br /><br /> As my days here in Lille, draw to a close, I have very expectedly switched over to the restrospective mode.As I go for long evening walks and the wintry breeze brushes past me... like flat chalk works its way on a blackboard... I reminisce about my stay in this beautiful lil Lille.The highlights of my trip, I shall be detailing in another post, where I hope to do justice to each little memory that I shall carry close to my heart forever.However I have realised one thing, no matter how many Mills and Boons I read hereon, and vacillate over the hotness quotient of the guys of those many nationalities ; I know my heart would always beat a wee bit faster for a <em>desi</em>. I might mentally salivate over the oozing Italian charm, the quiet Greek intensity, the sharp German intellect or the subdued French passion, but I don`t think there would ever be a bigger turn on than bumping into a nice Indian bloke on a chilly snowy winter evening, at the Grand Place of a quaint little European town,and be greeted by a smiling "Aap bhi India se ho ?" ....<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-29041779221061898222008-10-11T12:26:00.000-07:002008-10-11T12:40:56.794-07:00Airport Blues .. Part IIWe finally reach Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport at 4 am.<br />And spot Padhiary at a distance .. Nah , hes not at a distance anymore .. Wait, why is he running towards us .. ?<br />Padhiary : “Maine tum logon ko bola tha na 3:30 pohoch jane ? Itna late kyun lagaya ? 8 am ko flight hai , agar miss ho gayi to ?!! <br /><br />Introducing ...Padhiary : Touted to be the biggest brand of XIMB. The ultimate motion man … The constant need to have every appendage of his, moving ..be it his mouth .. his feet .. his hands , is as important to him as breathing itself.<br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i36.tinypic.com/2ivcnlx.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />We wheel our stuff inside and report at the check-in counter and come to know that our flight is running an hour late. <Another round of looks of disgust passed around>. Neways, we move ahead , all 6 of us in a line . Suddenly, Pachis who is leading the human train stops abruptly and the rest of us come to a bumpy halt , almost knocking off the person infront with our trolleys .<br /><br />Reason : Spotted – By Pachis .. A gorgeous, smoky-eyed Lebanese woman. We all finish off with our turns of blatant , open-mouthed staring and look back at Jajoo .. And there he is .. All glassy-eyed .. Walking on jelly-ed legs in one direction .. his luggage trolley going off in another .. and a silly , ‘baring-all-your-teeth’ grin pasted on his face.<br /><br />Introducing …. Jajoo : The one of the Kajrare thumkas fame , champion of everything remotely marwari and one of the youngest CFA level 1s of XIMB.<br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i38.tinypic.com/95v1cj.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />Soon we are through with the immigration and security check-ins and reach the waiting lounge with over 3 hours to go before we board our flight. I am ravenous and with much guilt nibble on a cold, leathery sandwich worth Rs. 200 . I see Tapan trying to chew a more leathery burger (worth Rs. 250) and I suddenly don`t feel that guilty anymore. (Bwahahaha .. I know im evil ;) )<br /><br /> Tapan goes to the duty free counters to stock himself up with cigarettes for 3 months. Apparently , one risks bankruptcy if he expects to smoke up on French cigarettes even for a month. And Pachis takes out his uber-cool leather trench coat of a jacket , which sadly is a few sizes too large for his skinny frame.<br /><br />Introducing .. Tapan : Undeclared ‘stud’ of XIMB, the guy who has his own charming way with girls preferably of the firang breed and who was at that t me , dragging himself to his seat (Courtesy : Army-ish Woodlands shoes several sizes too large and too heavy to be adorning his twig-like legs )<br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i33.tinypic.com/x6hbva.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />And …Pachis : The scrawny , skinny guitarist and drummer , a fellow IlluminatiX member , with the most likably weird hindi accent and oh yeah , branded as a “Marwari ke naam pe kalank” by Jajoo ; For God knows what reason.<br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i35.tinypic.com/24o2f0n.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />I promptly doze off, not wanting my already tortured tummy to bother digesting that leathery sandwich . After sometime AD gets really bored and fishes out her camera for an extended photo-session of us tortured and bored-to-death sleepyheads.<br /><br />Introducing .. AD : The unofficial babe of XIMB , almost always turned out in the latest and trendiest in fashion and yeah .. a certified head-turner.<br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i38.tinypic.com/ipvztj.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />I am rudely woken up by an ear-splitting beep-beep. I half-open my eyes and find that the group photosession too is interrupted by this nauseating alarm which seems to have gone off in the entire airport .. Echoing even louder in the relatively uncrowded morning hours at the terminus. People start looking at us suspiciously as though we were some masterminds behind this irritating beep-beep. We give them the looks of fooling-around-Yes- terrorists- No , to no avail. Just as luck would have it, we see a pot-bellied policeman waddling across towards us .<br /><br />Policeman (PM) : “Idhar cigarette nei peene ka”<br />We : “Nei, Piya Sir”<br /><br />PM : “Koi lighter-wighter jalaya kya “<br />We : “ Bilkul nei jalaya Sir”<br /><br />PM : “Kuch to kiya hai tum log. Isiliye alarm baj rela hai”<br />We : We actually lost it, at this level of accusation and enlightened the moron of a policeman that the alarm is ringing throughout the airport and that he had no rights to accuse us without any proof.<br /> < The latter portion was put across in a not-so-nice way , so can`t actually put down the words here.><br /><br /> Afterall MBA students hain .. Kadke hue to kya , hamari bhi koi izzat hai !<br /><br />Mercifully , the highly unnerving alarm stops and I doze off once again (as usual) and the others are back to fooling around. <br /><br />Soon , our boarding is announced. We decide that it was enough of excitement for that morning and that it was time to be achha-bachas. <br />So we queue up pretty docilely and proceed towards the big bird waiting to whisk us away .. saat samundar paar.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-71161772832171130402008-10-11T12:23:00.000-07:002008-10-11T12:26:26.175-07:00Airport Blues ..Part IDate : 24th September 2008<br />Time : 3 am <br />Venue : Mumbai , Gaurav`s place<br /><br /> Jajoo, Tapan, Pachis and yours truly sitting propped up on a huge bed beneath huge fluffy blankets …All quiet. We were exactly 5 hours away from taking off on an adventure trip of sorts .. To France ! We liked to refer it as the “the trip of our lives”. The days and months of planning finally reaching fruition. We all sit tranquil and contemplative … Suddenly the silence is broken .. Jajoo : “Abey , humko Papa ne ye suitcase diya hai .. ekdum mast wala .. apna saara documents and paeesa rakhega hum isme .. isko hum agar apna bada wala bag mein daalke, peeche taang lega .. tab to ye hamara hand baggage ban jayega na ??<br /> The rest 3 of us turn … and look at him with utmost undisguised disgust …<br /><br />Context :<br /> We were going to France for a whole of 3 months ! Yeah , 3 whole months and the total luggage limit allowed by our airlines FinnAir (more about the airlines later ) was a measly 25 kgs !!!<br /><br /> Now , I remember , every time I fly back to college from Bangalore , Im fined for checking in atleast 5 Kgs extra luggage than the permissible limit , which used to be 30 Kgs ! Now the situation works out like this <br /><br />10 days of vacation at home = 35 kgs <br />90 days of winter stay in a cold european country = 25 kgs ??!!!!<br /><br />Bahut nainsaafi hai … !!!<br /><br /> Now , what we 4 were sitting and contemplating were not “French men/women (as the case may be) ke sunehre sapne” ; but rather how the hell are we gonna tow all our numerous pieces of luggage, each of them carrying precious quantities of home food , all the way to France … yeah , including Jajoo`s “mast wala” humongous suitcase (which supposedly should be stuffed into another huge bag of his , and this entire ensemble of his, he plans to flaunt as a backpack in order to pass it off as hand baggage !! For Godsakes …. <br /><br />P.S This should`ve given you an idea about the kinda people we are :) And we were soon to be joined by AD and Padhiary who are extensive case studies in themselves !<br /> France .. Beware .. here we come .<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-8530816280727490942008-09-27T12:02:00.000-07:002008-09-27T12:21:50.496-07:0017th September - Bhubaneswar<br />18th September - Bangalore<br />22nd September - Mumbai <br />24th September - Helsinki <br />24th September - Paris <br />25th September - Lille (France) <br /><br />Reached the destination, which had months of planning behind it.<br />The funniest part is ... it still hasn`t sunk in :)<br /><br />More on it .. in my subsequent posts<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-8494774581959956602008-09-08T15:50:00.000-07:002009-02-26T15:54:08.944-08:00Chanced by the blog of <strong><a href="http://jehomach9.blogspot.com">D</a></strong>, whom I always thought to be annoying and exasperating albeit in a cute way... and discovered a soothing side to him, a side so intricately connected with music , poetry , science and love ... <br /><br />Sitting here in the room of a dear friend <strong>S</strong> , trying to trudge through completing my Corporate Planning assignment , I realise how hasty we are in judging people ... How wrong we are in generalising people into 'good' or 'bad' .. no middle path .. either its all 'black' or all 'white' .. we don`t want to leave any scope for the possibility of traces of greys ... in our hurry to categorise people we dont stop by to scratch beneath the surface .. Why ? Perhaps, we don`t wanna accept that we ever went wrong in our judgement the very first time itself ... <br /><br />S and D are 2 people who have helped me regain my faith in the opposite sex ..the 'dark'er sex ... a little though ... But, enough for the time-being.... One plays Counter Strike like a maniac while the other is a nerd juggling core Marketing and Finance papers with equal aplomb (dats one mean feat; for the uninitiated)... But their passions lie safely ensconced in their loved ones miles away physically ... Both sides slogging away the MBA hours with the alluring vision of a beautiful life ahead ... a life firmly intended to be spent TOGETHER . They make me feel so much better about the fact that such people do exist .. people who don`t tom-tom their emotions, don`t parade their affections .. but feel about them as strongly as one ever could ... People who believe in the beautiful intangible things of life .. Men, who are actually man enough to make their women feel special, cared for immensely and most importantly ... loved unconditionally. <br /><br />Wish HE made more like them ... Wish HE actually has made more like them .. preferably still single :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-37605011025356377052008-08-31T06:09:00.000-07:002008-09-01T09:06:32.665-07:00"At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us. What we should fear and dread instead is that we won't stop loving them, even after they are dead and gone." <br /> Had scoffed at the absolute corniness of the lines above when I had first come across them ... never realized that corny stuff too have the ring of familiarity at times..<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19037978.post-2643730717397270412008-08-27T09:18:00.000-07:002008-08-27T09:19:35.169-07:00Ugliest face of man - Betrayal<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=sweta" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=sweta&s=flame" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=sweta></script>
<br><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Web Counter</font></a></div>Saanjhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16763670752163362162noreply@blogger.com0