Fullon Bakwaas

Chicken Soup for the Dying Blog’s Soul....

2011-03-26T19:41:00.004+05:30

3 stories. No connection. Just a small stab at a huge writers block J

Age 8:

Chotu Shanu rushed down the stairs. At a distance she could see all her chintar pintar friends engrossed in a game of Catch and Cook. Screaming, all ran helter skelter trying to avoid getting out. Her little eyes searched for her best friend Anagha. A quick scan revealed that Anagha was standing on top of the water tank looking around at everyone running about. Shanu understood Anagha’s plight. She was stuck on the water tank all by herself and could be caught by the denner any moment now. She needs my help, Shanu realised.

“Tu ghabru nakos, me yete” yelled Shanu and climbed up the water tank. Anagha looked at her with happy eyes, came rushing to her and with one mild stroke touched her hand and shouted “OUT”

Age 12:

Shanu felt pretty as she walked towards the playground. Her new jeans and new shoes shone in the summer sun. Out in the distance, she saw her crush standing with his buddies. 4 years older and several inches taller, he was the best batsman in her school cricket team.

Everyone knew about her crush. A teacher had caught her doodling his name in her Maths book and had shown it to the whole class. News spread like wild fire and now everytime her path crossed his, she heard whispers and snickers.

Today was no different. People snickered and whispered as she walked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his buddies push him towards her. Her heart raced as she saw him approaching. The wind blew his silky hair and he looked absolutely yummilicious.

As he crossed her path, he stopped and looked right into her eyes. And with his beautiful lips whispered ‘I think tera zip khula hai’

Age 16:

Shanu hated kids right from bachpan. They were irritating, cranky and pissed/ shat at the drop of a hat. She avoided holding them till they were potty trained. Potty trained kids were easier to handle and they didn’t wet your clothes every 15 minutes.

Adi was 2 and roly poly. He had gorgeous curls and a beautiful, round dusky face. And most importantly, he was potty trained.

Shanu watched as he played with the toys and sipped milk from his little bottle.

Tired from all the running around and playing, he looked at her with sleepy eyes and smiled. A slight nod and he came rushing to her and sat in her lap. As he ate the mashed bananas she was feeding him, he turned to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. Her heart melted. No more hating bacchas, she decided. Spotting an unexplored toy, he dashed off to play but not before he adorned her lap with a batch of fresh puke.

Abhi ke liye itna hi….I shall be back soon. With something funny and original. I promise.

I will be back soon :)

2011-03-19T21:17:00.000+05:30

I promise :)

A true story - Dimply tales

2010-10-24T14:54:00.003+05:30

As a child, I was fascinated with dimples (I still am). My best friend Ekta had the deepest dimples in the whole wide world and the whole school swooned whenever she smiled. When she was chosen to play the little princess in our school play ‘Princess and the frog’, I was convinced that the non existence of dimples stood between me and super stardom.

I spent many a nights sitting in front of the mirror with pencils stuck in my cheeks, hoping that they leave behind dimples. I tried smiling by sucking my cheeks in, I tried poking fingers into my cheeks when smiling, I tried praying to God and asking for dimples but nothing seemed to work.

A trip to my native place revealed that my maternal grandmom had dimples that put Ekta’s dimples to shame. My badi mami too had a faint dimple on her right cheek. How, I wondered, did I manage to skip the dimple gene when everyone around me seemed to be blessed by them? My mom who was pakkaued by my dimple fetish chose to ignore my questions while my granny and mami encouraged me by letting me poke my little finger into their cheeks when they smiled.

It was then that I realised that the dimples were a result of missing teeth. While my granny had no teeth at all, my mami had a wisdom tooth removed, leading to the formation of those gorgeous dimples. That summer I pestered my mom to let me get dental extractions so that I could get a couple of dimples, but my mom just didn’t want a pretty daughter (*sobs*)

Not the one to give up easily, I kept looking for ways that would get me my prized dimples. Hope came in the way of Asha aunty, my mom’s best friend. Asha aunty had an unnatural dimple which was formed when she fell on a pointy rock as a child. Her dimple was different. It didn’t come up when she smiled. It was always there. That was the best, most awesomest dimple ever. That dimple could kick Ekta’s dimple’s butt like a million times.

And I wanted it.

After several unsuccessful attempts at finding a pointy rock, I had a brainwave. Picking up a pair of scissors, I marched into my room and with all the precision my trembling hands could manage, I snipped a tiny cut into my right cheek. The fountain of blood that started pouring out freaked me and I went running back to mom who took me to the doctor. That week was filled with loads of shoutings from the elders and wide eyed stares of respect from my cousins. Inspite of the pain, I slept soundly, proud that I finally had the perfect dimple.

Epilogue: The dimple (or to be really honest, the tiny dent) stayed on my cheek for nearly 2 years before finally fading away. This is my brother’s favourite dinner time story, the one he usually narrates to embarrass me. I, on the other hand, keep praying for some miracle which will get me that coveted dimple.

Call me Sugar!!

2010-10-03T11:50:00.001+05:30

It all started with the birth of my oldest cousin K. My mom was barely 15 when K , her first niece, was born. Horrified by the thought of being called Aatye (aunt) at such a tender age, she tutored K to call her Didi. Time passed, K grew up and so did my mom. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, all my cousins born after K referred to mom as Didi.

Living in an age where kids start calling you aunty the minute you start working, I found this Didi business hard to digest.

The last straw came last week when my youngest cousin D, came to visit us. And true to tradition, she called my mom Didi and me Akka (older sister). Her incessant chatter sprinkled with an overdose of Didi brought out the devil residing within me. "If you call my mom Didi, shouldnt I start calling you Maasi?" I asked with a grin. The colour draining out of the tiny face told me that I had struck a chord.

D now calls my mom Aatye and serves as an example for anyone who dares to call my mom and me Didi in the same breath. :P

My experiments with Make Up :)

2010-10-03T01:49:00.009+05:30

How long does it take for some childhood trauma to wear off? Can you just brush aside the mortifyingly embarassing incidents into some dark corner of your brain and never look at them again? Apparantly not! And these tiny incidents emerge everyday, making living a normal life close to impossible.
This is one such incident which kinda explains why Shanu can never dress up like a girl and why the very thought of make up makes her break into hysterical sobs!!

Chotu Shanu pushed open the door to her newly married chachi's room. Naayi chachi was the cynosure of all eyes, with her kohl laden eyes, mehndi adorned hands, spreading a dreamy Ponds talcum talc fragnance wherever she went. Shanu's annual village trip this time was filled with visits from the village elders lining up to shower blessings and praises on the nayi chachi. Nachi, as Shanu fondly called her Nayi chachi, was beauty personified. Shanu too wanted to look pretty, so that her bhaiyya's friend Govind (who was her first crush) would stop calling her undir (rat).

Nachi's room was like any other bride's room, filled with powders and lipsticks and creams and concoctions meant to make her look pretty. Shanu, who had never even seen a lipstick before, was blinded by the sheer choice she suddenly seemed to have. She picked up every cream she could find, rubbed it on her face and followed it with a generous helping of talcum powder and lipstick.

Feeling extremely pretty and pleased with herself, she bounced off to play with bhaiyya, Govind and his other friends. On her way to the playground, she was greeted with a lot of admiring glances, some subtle smiles and some loud laughs but she attributed them all to her new found beauty. Walking towards the ground, she saw Govind leaning agaisnt the wall lost in conversation with her bhaiyya and his friends. As she approached closer, Govind looked at her. He stared for what seemed like an eternity and then burst out laughing. Bhaiyya didnt stare, he just picked her up and dropped her off in front of mom.

Shanu has no clue how hilarious she looked that day but she is pretty sure she looked a lot like this.

She was banned from using cosmetics till she turned 18. College didnt see her using anything apart from sunscreen either. And now that her mom is convinced that her daughter needs a heavy does of makeup to look anything close to presentable, Shanu cant bring herself to use any cosmetics at all.

P.S: I saw this movie when I was in school and cried my heart out during this scene. Could it be because it was so close to real life?? This scene still gives me goosebumps.

P.P.S: I have alwayz believed that God gave us all our qualities in little pots before we were born..This is how my share of blog writing skills look like...

My pot has developed a crack somewhere and now all my talent is leaking away..the pot is almost empty. That could be the reason for such dimwitted posts. My follower count decreased from 115 to 110 after my last post and has increased from 110 to 123 since I stopped blogging...which again indicates that my posts are detrimental to my follower count :P

P.P.P.S: Both pics are a result of my experiments with MS Paint....nice na? :)

Punti Learns to Drive....

2010-08-18T22:54:00.005+05:30

A couple of weeks ago, Punti tried learning how to drive again. As it was nearly a year and a half since she had last touched the steering wheel, my dad suggested she take driving lessons from a professional. So Vishnu Kaka (VK) started teaching her how to drive. After a week of going round and round our complex, VK suggested taking the car out on the road.

As she would to take the car out early in the morning, it was decided that she would drop Sid to work before taking a U turn and heading back home. All was hunky dory till the time she dropped him in front of his office. As they moved towards the main road, the car was suddenly filled with a foul smell. This, in a car which had the windows rolled up and the AC on full blast.

Punti eyed VK with suspicion who suddenly stops singing his favorite Bhojpuri song and stares straight ahead. Unable to do anything but smile and bear it, poor Punti manages to get the car home. 'Jaane de baba, buddha hai...peth kharab hoga' my dad says when she comes to him complaining about VK's antics. "Hume toh kabhi yeah problem nahi hua VK ke saath" I teased. 'Are you sure it was VK'. Punti left in a huff and I burst out laughing.

The desire to learn burning strong inside her, she turned up again the next day hoping VK's stomach was back to normal. But the same thing happened. And this continued for 2 days in a row. It seemed as if VK would wait for Sid to get off before dropping a bomb in the car. Finally, she could take it no longer and decided to stop learning from VK.

This intrigued the jasoos in me because I have known VK for years now and have never come across this problem. Yes, he does tend to sing in his besura awaaz but that is something that can be rectified by playing the radio on full volume. I needed to get to the bottom of this (this extremely gross pun was completely unintended).

So, I decided to accompany Punti on her morning drive. After loads of pestering she finally agreed. We dropped Sid off at work and right on cue the car was filled with an extremely foul smell.While I tried holding my breath and rolled the windows down, Punti looked at me with watering eyes. She was trying to hold her breath too and by the looks of it she was on the verge of killing herself. VK continued staring straight ahead.

Unable to make sense, I stared out of the window when it struck me. We were driving past a huge garbage dump. I asked Punti to pullover and checked the dashboard. And there was the reason staring right at me. Punti, stupid Punti, had turned on the incoming car vent (not sure what the technical term is) which would cause the foul air to come gushing in. The only explanation why the car would start smelling on that particular stretch was that we were driving too early in the morning for any other pollutants to make their way in.

I am sure you must have assumed that being the sweet girl that I am, I told Punti what the issue was. Hah! You are so wrong. I didnt.

Punti still thinks VK is the reason for the foul smell while VK thinks Punti suffers from IBS. I told her that VK thinks she is the reason for the foul smell in the car. She is so embarrassed she hasn't been able to face him.

Punti is back to her driving lessons now but without VK. Which suits me just fine because he is now free to drop me to work again :)

P.S:

"Huh? What is this ****? Do people even read the stuff you write?" she asked me when I showed her my first blog.

"You creative types, write ***** and pretend that all is fine in the name of creative liberty. Please try and write something that makes sense for a change"

Needless to say, I took her advice and started a new blog - Fullon Bakwaas.

Punti is one of my closest cousins but she doesn't know about this blog. She loves making fun of people around her, but cannot take a joke sportingly. If she ever finds out that I write about her, I am sure all hell will break loose. She might even start her own blog, dedicated to Shanu bashing (which I think is fab - love the idea of having a blog dedicated to me!!)

I realised that my drafts have many more Punti stories to share, but noone really knows who the real Punti is.

She has lived with us for the last 2 years and I cherish the times we spend together chatting the night away. But, there are times when I wish I can block her out of my life just like I have blocked her on gtalk. But unfortunately, life isnt that simple.

PPS: And neither is blogging - none of my fav bloggers are blogging anymore but thankfully none of them are blaming writers block for it either. The simple - I am bored/Have no time - sounds so much better and modest!!

Project Tillu....

2010-07-13T23:36:00.004+05:30

Meenu gets up with a sudden jerk and ends up spilling water all over her desk.

"Hello, watz your problem?" I yell as the water drips over me.

"Sorry yaar, dekh na"

I turn around in time to see Tillu walking away.

Tillu is the only eye candy in our otherwise barren office. So starved are we for any kind of male cuteness that the slightly mandus, lost in his own world Tillu seems like Adonis to us. Tillu/Tilly/Tuktuk is a pseudo name for the adorable guy who works with the team that sits next to my cubicle.

With the news of Chimpu being married and my heart break spreading like wild fire, Meenu did not want to take any chances. She had done a fair bit of research (on FB and Orkut) and had come to the conclusion that Tillu was single and desperate to mingle. But, he was also a geek and terribly shy.

That meant joh bhi karma tha hume hi karna tha….

Anu became our watchdog and 3 short coughs were used to signal his arrival. Everytime Tillu passed by, our cubicle was filled with a frenzy of activity with everyone trying to get a look at Meenu’s cutie pie. When weeks of just watching him pass by did not yield any results and Meenu’s sighs refused to let us work, Mano decided to take charge.

Mano was the only one in our group who had managed to date the guy she fancied. After my Chimpu debacle, I had lost all credibility in match making circles. The girls who would come flocking to me for dating advice had now started going to Mano. I had to redeem myself. I ~~pleaded~~ demanded to be made a part of Project Tillu.

The plan was simple. Anu was to signal us with her 3 coughs and we were to call out Meenu’s name when he passed our cubicle. This, explained Mano, will make him aware of Meenu’s existence. After a week of chanting Meenu’s name, the best amongst us was to be given a lead role. With a dialogue.

Determined to be the one with the dialogue, I ensured my voice was the first Tillu heard as soon as Anu signalled his arrival and the last voice he heard when he passed our bay. Sure enough, my efforts paid off and I was chosen to deliver a crucial line the following week.

With Tillu’s attention grabbed, it was now time to reel the fish in.

Location: Cafeteria

The plan was simple. Meenu was instructed to wear her prettiest outfit. We took the table right behind where Tillu was sitting. As soon as he moved towards the counter, Meenu was supposed to overtake him and my job was to walk behind Tillu and call out to Meenu so that she could turn dheere se, filmi ishtyle.

The setting was perfect. We had the table behind Tillu. Meenu looked ravishing. I had practised my dialogue a number of times..I had to walk behind Tillu and shout out “Meenu, palat, palat” and Meenu and her slow motion palatna would do the rest.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Tillu got up and walked towards the counter. Meenu got up and overtook him in a jiffy. A few seconds later, I got up. As we walked in a single file, Meenu, Tillu and I, Anu coughed. My signal to say the dialogue I had so painstakingly mastered over the weekend. I suddenly realised Tillu was walking faster than I had anticipated. I had to practically run to keep up with him. Just as I got closer to him to deliver the crucial dialogue, I tripped. My hand jerked and I accidentally slapped him on his butt.

Tillu froze. And turned dheere se. Looked at me and gave me a weird, sly smile. And walked back to the counter.

Needless to say, Project Tillu was a flop. Tillu has been dropped from the cutie list. Meenu has now found another crush who they call Mahi but I have no clue who he is. Mano now gives me lessons in how to walk without tripping or slapping people’s butts.

As for Tillu, for some unfathomable reason, I now find him walking ahead of me wherever I go. :P

I want a heart....

2010-07-11T22:24:00.003+05:30

I want a heart..this doesnt look anything like a heart..

Wat? This is a perfect heart. See how it curves here and tapers down...look at the shading..I think its just perfect....

It isnt..I dont like it. I want another one..

Kidhar se laun another one..Heart factory kholi hai kya maine..

I DONT CARE..I AM NOT TAKING THIS TO SCHOOL!!

As Shreya, my 7 year old neighbor, stomped off without her thermocol heart project, the great truth dawned on me....

Isnt this what all of us are looking for...the perfect heart?? ;)

BOOO........

2010-06-26T23:39:00.005+05:30

I dont believe in ghost stories, I honestly dont.

I am the guy you see laughing @ a good ghost story when everyone around is squirming with fear. So, it came as no surprise to my friends when I told them that I was taking the Aarey road when going home after a late night party.

Aarey road is long and winding, covered with greenery. Legend says that this place was a robbers paradise where lonely travellers were robbed and murdered. Stories of murder victims being dumped in this remote area are well known. It is believed that these spirits still continue to haunt this area. Infact, this stretch of road in Mumbai is believed to be so haunted that no one is allowed to take it after 11 in the night to upto 5 in the morning. But, bribing the guard works and you do get a few people who come here looking for adventure, hoping to get spooked. I, on the other hand, prefer taking this route because it cuts my travel time by nearly 40 mins.

So there I was, cruising away on my bike when I notice an elderly man on an antique scooter phut phutting away in front of me. In no time, I zipped ahead of him. A few minutes later, I saw the man and his scooter again, riding ahead of me as if I had never overtaken him. Surprised, I zipped ahead again, but this time I managed to take in the make of the scooter and what the man was wearing. A few minutes later, when I saw him ahead of me again, I knew something was wrong. I hadn't seen him overtake me (there was no way his old Bajaj could have overtaken me anyways) and there are no shortcuts as the road is flanked by a lake on both sides. Intrigued, I overtook him and turned to take a quick look at his face. What happened next, I do not remember, but I woke up at home the next morning with no memory at all of how I got there.

I had to go back. I had to. I couldn't let a weirdo with an antique scooter knock me unconscious. Plus, I couldn't stand all the jokes my friends were now cracking at my expense.

Gathering a few friends, I decided to go back the next night. No, I wasn't scared. I just didn't want to take a chance. I mean there could be robbers and stuff and I didn't want to get mugged now, did I?

We took our bikes and parked right in the middle of the road where I had seen the weirdo the previous night. It was a clear night with the half moon throwing pleasant light. The crickets chirped and a light breeze carried with it, the sounds of the night. Flanked by the lake, the road looked breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful. As we waited for the weirdo to materialise, we indulged in friendly banter.

Suddenly, we heard a rustling sound coming from the lake. The hair on the back of my neck started tingling and there was a sudden chill in the air. Turning back, we saw what seemed like a figure running towards us at top speed. Running on water!!

Screaming as loudly as our lungs let us, we got on to our bikes and got the hell out of there. Atleast the rest did.

My bike refused to start. It was almost as if some weird force was keeping it glued to the spot. I felt ~~someone~~ something breathing down my neck. And then the inevitable happened.

I fainted.

Nothing untoward hasn't happened after that apart from the unexplained knocks I hear on my door at times. Or the weird voices and languages that my room mate says I speak in. Or the way Browny whines at times. I am in perfect shape but avoid taking the Aarey road. No, I am not scared. The roads have become too slippery in the rains and its too foggy in winters. I still enjoy a good ghost story but haven't really attended any late night parties in a while now. Work commitments.

And ya, I ~~still~~ ~~don’t~~ believe in ghost stories.

This is a true story. I tried telling it in third person par maaza nahi aa raha tha...thght the 1st person account did justice. So ya, this story isnt abt me..its abt a guy I know :)

One Good turn......

2010-06-20T21:49:00.005+05:30

Bachpan se we have been taught "Achai ka phal humesha acha hota hai" (One good turn begets another) but I am not really sure this saying holds true anymore......

A couple of days ago, M (a pleasantly plump friend) and I were travelling to Chembur by BEST. While I blabbered on, M decided to eat the motichur ka ladoos her mom had packed for her. That day was one of those rare occasions when I wasn't in the mood for Motichur ka ladoos. So while M munched happily, I kept her entertained with my bakwaas. Spotting an elderly man in the next row staring at her, she asked me if she should offer him a ladoo. "Uncle bhuke lag rahe hain" she said. As I nodded my approval, she reached out and offered him a ladoo. The guy refused and in his booming voice said "Nahi nahi, agar main yeah ladoo khaunga toh main bhi tumhare tarah mota ho jaaunga...Apna size dekho aur apni friend se kuch seekho..thoda patla hone ki koshish karo" Stunned, M didn't know how to respond. We got down a couple of stops later, but not before I had given the guy a piece of my mind.

Travelling to Vashi by bus, I was standing for nearly an hour. When I finally got a seat, I gratefully gave my poor tired legs some rest. A couple of minutes later, a lady got in with an infant in her arms and a toddler by her side. Trying to balance herself and the child, she tried removing the bus fare from her purse. I looked around. There were people who were sitting for the last one hour but not one moved a muscle. No one offered her a seat. My tired legs complained. "You dont need to give up your seat" they told me and I succumbed. (High heels in a BEST bus - bad combination). Suddenly the bus gave a jerk and the lady lost her balance. She crashed against a rod but managed to save the child from getting hurt. And yet no one moved. Ignoring my feet, I got up and offered her my seat. She sat down gratefully and the infant and the toddler found a cozy place to sit - their mom's lap. I did not get another seat for the next 1 hour and I reached Vashi with sore feet.

On a train ride to Dadar, I saw a pair of twins barely 3-4 years old, jostling for place in the crowded compartment. The babies couldn't stand for a minute without being stamped on by someone. I got up and offered them my seat. Out of nowhere, their mom came scrambling by, asked the kids to get up and sat down. The kids were left jostling for space again.

If they say, a good turn begets another..I have yet to see that happen. These 3 incidents in the last one week have left me questioning my beliefs. And this is not just about offering food to strangers or giving up my seat in crowded public transport.

I often wonder if there is any point being nice and kind to anyone especially when you dont seem to get any kindness from anyone around you. If good karma attracts good things into your life, shouldn't bad karma attract bad things? If yes, how come some of the meanest and nastiest people I know, are also the most successful and happy people I have seen? If there are no shortcuts to success, how come there are people who have taken shortcuts and are still successful. Why does life seem so freaking unfair at times that it threatens to destroy every iota of goodness in you?

I know everything turns out fine in the end, but what if the end comes too late? What if by the time things turn fine, I no longer care?

Fullon Frustrations on Fullon Bakwaas!!

Love in the times of the Internet....................

2010-05-31T01:58:00.006+05:30

I spent my days in junior college, waiting for his glimpse. He was the college stud with his SRK hairstyle and lean mean physique. I joined the events committee for my college fest just so that I could be around him. My first and only words to him in those 2 years were "I think that umbrella is broken", the response to which was just a stare and a careless nod. I gave up my internship with Citibank to join him at McKinsey (but couldn't join that either coz my parents refused to let me go to Gurgaon). I was truly, madly, deeply smitten by him for 3 long years.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he is balding and has a pot belly.

I have pakkaued everyone on Fullon Bakwaas talking about him. I have given him weird nicknames and have blushed every time some one took his name. I have behaved @ work like a teenager with a crush. I have gone blank during presentations whenever he has walked into the room and have taken on projects just to be around him. On my first concall, unnerved by his presence, I have blurted out the same sentence multiple times, before he played the knight in a sparkling new suit and pressed the mute button (phone ka). I have whistled at him when I saw him at the mall (completely co-incidental) and have gone blank when he asked me what my plans for new year's were. I have saved the one official email where he wrote Dear Shanu, instead of the customary Hi Shanu. I was truly, madly, deeply smitten by him for 12 whole months.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he is married and his wife is expecting their first baby in December.

I first saw him singing at Not Just Jazz by the Bay. His silky voice levitated me to a completely different world. He was my type..tall, dark and handsome. With the face of an angel and a beautiful sexy voice, he was every girl's dream come true. I met him again at my friend's daughter's christening (six degrees of separation, anyone?) and boy, was he a delight to talk to. We danced the waltz and the jive, and I was truly, madly, deeply smitten by him. For 2 whole weeks.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he is gay.

We have been in a committed blogger relationship for close to 6 months. He has professed his undying love for me a zillion times in the comments section of Fullon. He writes poems for me, he helps me fix my blog templates. He is my ultimate Mako man.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he proclaims himself to be single. And flirts with PYTs.

Facebook has been responsible for single handedly ruining my crush life. I now Google/Facebook all my crushes before I get smitten. I have been crushless (No, its not a word, I just made that one up) for the last 1 month.

Thank you Facebook, I owe you one. (Not)

Ahh..such a bitch..

2010-05-20T19:55:00.009+05:30

Life is such a bitch isnt it? But I aint talking about life here....for a change ;)

Have you ever come across guys who will hit on you even when you are looking like crap? I mean, come on guys..these are days when I cant stand to look at myself in the mirror and you choose this day to marofy "Will you friendship with me " wala dialogue!!

Not that, choosing any other day is gonna improve their chances anyway ;o)

Have you come across people who are so full of themselves that they think every one around them should dance to their tunes? People who think they can walk all over you only because you value the relationship and wont ask them to shut up? People who brand anyone who cannot jhelofy their nakhras as snobs when they themselves are intolerable? People who stop talking to you the day you decide to show them what air-headed morons they are??

Have you come across people you regretted being friends with? Do you regret sharing your deepest, darkest secrets with them? Does that make you feel vulnerable now? And yet, you would never take them back if even if they begged you?

Have you ever noticed that your hair and skin look fab when you are doing nothing and sitting at home? That the hair cut which looked so fab when the stylist cut it yesterday.. doesn't really look all that great today? And yet, you go back religiously every 3 months, hoping that this time you might end up looking like Priyanka Chopra?

Have you ever been compared to someone who looks breathtakingly gorgeous? Have you felt embarrassed by the comparison? Have you then had someone say, "Naah, I think (your name) looks way better"? Has that made you jump up and down with joy dil me while you maintain a straight face and say "Chal haan, kuch bhi kya"?

Have you ever bought something for a friend? And then realized that itz so awesome that you wanna keep it for yourself? Have you then hastily bought something else and packed it off ? ;)

Have you ever bought something from a restaurant and passed it off as your own cooking?

Have you ever wanted to nap in the middle of the day and regretted all those bachpan ke days when you refused to sleep? Do you wanna go back in time and nap all you can?

Have you ever written a blog post and then realized that it wont make any sense to anyone? That the title looks out of place? Have you still gone ahead and posted it because some how it makes perfect sense to you?

P.S: Been super busy @ work. But that hasn't stopped me from reading your blogs, commenting on them and following the ones that I loved.

P.P.S: I am enabling comment moderation. Have had some really weird people commenting on my posts lately ;)

One year later....

2010-05-16T14:36:00.008+05:30

My bloggie turned 1 a few days ago..and I completely forgot to wish it! I was never this forgetful..guess age is finally catching up ;)

This last year has been full of learnings..I have realised that blogsville is really a chotu version of the big bad world we live in...I have met many bloggers, shared laughs with some and befriended a few..just like we meet many people in the big bad world, connect to some and befriend a few.

Blogging gave me an outlet to vent out my craziness, it gave me online friends (something I had never done before), it made me realise that not everyone we meet online is a stalker..there are cute, adorable people out there too....it made me realise that harmless flirting is fun..and that these conversation make for great laughs when you have nothing better to do...

It made me realise I could stick to something without getting bored...it gave me something to look forward to every morning..checking comments every hour became an obsession :)

It gave me a peek into the lives of others...it showed me people who were not afraid to talk about their life, their insecurities, their fears....people who shared their happiness with me and as they did their deepest darkest secrets.

It taught me that most bloggers who hide behind the cloak of anonymity are pretty chilled out..they are fun and they are smart..but like everything else in life..there are exceptions here too....its all about holding on to the good experiences and letting the bad ones go...

Today, I wish to thank everyone who has made my time here truly enjoyable...and helped me stick to blogging for so long...I always refine what I write..but not this time... I wanted to write dilse and not let my dimaag interfere....

I want to repost something that is very close to my heart..I wrote this for my friend when she got engaged and I still think this is my best post till date..

Princess Jaijaishubhlaxmi (Lets call her P.J shall we...the name is too long) was ecstatic. She was to marry Prince Ishwar Jaykumar Unnikrishnan (PIJU for short...watz with all these south Indian names!!) in 3 weeks. The palace was being cleaned and preparations were on in full swing..and why not..it was the first wedding the palace was witnessing in 25 years.

Flashback:

Princess Jaijaishubhlaxmi's beauty was talked about in all kingdoms far and wide. Legend has it that her smile could light a thousand lamps (much like the HappydentWhite ads ) Many valiant princes had tried to win her hand but in vain. P.J didn’t feel the connection with any one.

One fine summer afternoon P.J was strolling in the royal gardens with her friends F, R and S. These girls were courtiers in His Majesty's court. They were best friends and shared everything. They would meet by the lake during smoke breaks ( F, R and S who weren’t born to privilege like PJ worked during the day and partied during the nite. PJ on the other hand spent her days rejecting guys and her nites partying with her gal gang) and talk about the latest suitor to bite the dirt. But today something was different.

P.J seemed quite impressed with the latest suitor who had come her way. They had exchanged a few P-mails and she seemed quite smitten by him.

PJ: I think PIJU is the one (giggles)

S: But you haven’t even met him, how could you be so sure?

F: (staring at his oil painting) Ohh hez soo cute...!!

R: Ohh I dunno..I dont really like his pose..I mean which guy would wanna pose like that for a pic?

PJ: Ohh cmon you guys...hez cute...hez intelligent....He lives in UK (Uttar Karnataka).. You know how much I love UK!!

And right then the girls knew....PIJU was gonna become their Jiju.

At the palace (Flashpresent):

The preparations were on in full swing. PJs lustrous hair was being oiled and combed. Bottles of Livon (a gift from the British) were being emptied to ensure not one hair was out of place. PJ looked at herself in the mirror and was pleased. She had never looked so gorgeous..... PIJUs love was surely making her glow. She smiled at that thought. Par yeah kya...???? Only 900 lamps lit up!!

PJ: Ohh no Mom, my smile doesn’t have that Jadoo anymore :(

Maharani Mom (MaM): Ohh no..we will now have to manually light those 100 lamps. Do you have any idea how expensive kerosene is now a days??

Maharaja Dad (MaD): Aare bacche koi nahi...don’t u worry!!

Lets get your teeth cleaned. I know a really great daanth-vaidh (dentist). He will get your teeth shining in no time.

At the Daanth-Vaidh's clinic :

PJ: Ohh please!! Ohh please!! get my teeth all shining again.

Daanth-Vaidh: Of course your majesty.

PJ: Aaaaachhhhoooooo!!

Daanth-Vaidh: OHH NOOOO!!

Back at the palace (Still flashing present):

MaM: Ohh no PJ...what happened to your tooth. Your mouth looks like the gateway to our kingdom!!

PJ: What do I do now....I cant believe PIJU will see me like this.

MaM: Aaare beta its ok....PIJU has 3 extra teeth and U have 1 less. Balance out ho jaaayega!!

MaD:Beta let this be a test of PIJU's love for you. Dekhte hain who he loves more...You or your tooth.

RF:I think u still look good....Trust me 968.75 lamps are more than enough to light up any palace

F:ROFLHAO...You look soo funny!

S: IDEA !!!

Flash Foward:Wedding Day

S,R and F come running in...Baraat aa gayi, Baraat aa gayi (giggles)

PJ smiles shyly at PIJU and PIJU is smitten all over again.

PJ gets married and becomes PJIJU (Princess Jaijaishubhlaxmi Ishwar Jaykumar Unnikrishnan) and they live happily ever after.

P.S:I know the questions on your mind "What about her lost tooth ?" "What brilliant idea did S come up with?"

Well its simple....it turned out PIJU did love PJ more than her tooth…so he happily donated one of his own....This ladies and gentlemen was the first and only tooth transplant in the history of mankind!!

Truly a (tooth) fairytale

PS:All pictures used are copyrighted by Disney and their respective owners. I do not own them. If this infringes any copyright laws please let me know and the pics will come down asap.

I am sure not many of you have read this post...I hope you enjoy it and love it the way I do :)

Mere haathon main Jadoo hai ;)

2010-05-04T13:53:00.005+05:30

Studying his reflection in the mirror, Sid shook his head "No this isn't the way I wanted it...Try again"

"Ohh come on, I need to get ready too" I wailed

A baby face and puppy dog eyes later, I was plugging in the hair dryer again.

In the 6 months since we moved here, I hadnt seen my mom grin so widely. Chatting and laughing with her new found walking group, my mom looked 20 years younger.

As the name suggests, her walking group goes on morning and evening walks together and spends a few afternoons at each other's house, chating, joking and gossiping. Today, it was mom's turn to play host and the aunty log were treated to a wide range of south indian fare from idli to dosa to mendu wada. Munching on an idli, Mehta aunty stared at Sid and me (we were playing waiters, getting lemonade and chutney and sambhar), turned to my mom and said, "Toh aap bahu kab laa rahe ho?"

My mom smiled, "Bahu? Abhi toh hum jamai layenge..Pehle Shanu ke haath peele karne hain" I had half a mind to drop the tray and run off pretending to be shy like some 70s ka heroine but with my T-shirt and shorts, I wasnt really dressed as the demure girl. "Lekin Shanu toh abhi choti hai..aapka beta toh kafi bada hai...uski shaadi nahi karoge kya?"

My mom nearly chocked on her dosa "Nahi nahi, Sid toh Shanu se ek saal chota hai"

Sid burst out into loud sobs while I did a little jig. I have alwayz had people tell me I dont look my age but trust me, nothing beats the feeling that you get when you are called younger than your younger sibling. I now know, how my mom must have felt when my doctor jokingly told me that I look like my mom's older sister (I hope he was joking though).

While I danced to Sid's tuneful sobs and the aunty log clapped, a sinister plan was taking shape in Sid's brain (he can multitask quite well).

"See, this is the way I want it. Dont you remember how it looked when I came home that day?? Try again."

That evening, he decided to get himself a brand new look. He came back home with his hair cut into spikes. The thing with a great haircut is, that it can do wonders to your face. Take away years, make your eyes look bigger, your nose smaller..it can unveil a whole new you. And that is what the haircut did to him. It made him look younger. While the haircut brought with it loads of compliments for Sid, it also brought truckloads of problems for me. For you see, he cant spike his hair himself.

"C'mon ya Sid, this is looking perfect. I need to get ready too. I cant go out looking like this." I complained

Puppy dog eyes and I am back to the styling gel.

5 attempts later, his hair is finally styled the way he wants it and I am able to run a comb through my unstyled hair.

I have spent the whole of last week, spiking his hair. Me thinks, me could open a salon and spike hair for a fee.

While this week gave Sid a whole new look, it also gave me an insight into my own hidden talents. I have realised that I have a flair for hairstyling and dont really need any formal training. I have now decided to pursue hairstyling and have convinced my cousin to lend me her tresses for practising my skills. If all goes well, she will have a great hairstyle to flaunt by the end of this week. But ek se mera kya hoga? I need to keep practicing...So if you are looking for a free makeover, write to me and watch your life transform because mere dost..mere haathon main jadoo hai :)

Googling Memories...

2010-03-27T01:05:00.004+05:30

8:45 pm Andheri Local

"Hey, You are Shanu right? From ****** school at Andheri? Remember me?? I am Eliza."

I gave her a broad smile while my mind started hunting through the various names I had stored under the School section in my brain. Its in times like these, that you wish life was like Google..Bas enter the name and you have all the information you need about the person right from her date of birth to how she looks to details of why you are no longer in touch.

Searching….Eliza….Eliza..

Std III

The window seat in the class was her favorite. It allowed her to stare out at the traffic going by and on rainy days splashed drops of cold water on her. Chotu Shanu went to school in a time when the classrooms weren’t air conditioned like they are now..it was the rickety old fan that tried its best to keep the kids cool but failed miserably.

Her neighbor, a long black haired girl nudged her and they giggled. Eliza was her best friend. They shared their tiffins in the recess and played together during PT.

Eliza wasn’t like the other girls in her class. Some things about her were different..like her pretty grey eyes and her long hair..and the million lice that called it their home. The lice would jump around merrily while Shanu watched in fascination. It was like a little kingdom on her friend’s head. A couple of huge ones were called King and Queen while the chotu motus were the servants.

While Shanu played with Eliza and her lice, Shanu’s mommy spent a fortune buying Medicare to get rid of the lice that Shanu merrily brought home with her everyday. A million shampoos and 3 complaint letters to Medicare (to complain about the poor quality of their products) later, her mom gave up. Finally, it was time for the schools to close for summer and the lice finally left Shanu’s head in peace.

“You don’t remember me?? We were bench partners in Std III after which I moved to Canada. We were together again in Std IX remember?”

Searching….Eliza….Eliza..Std IX

Std IX

Shanu looked at the new girl who walked up to her in the canteen..she didn’t look like she was new here. The girl squealed “Shanu, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me!! I am Eliza..we were in the same class in Std III”

Shanu gave her a broad smile while her brain started hunting through the various names she had stored under Std III.

Searching….Eliza….Eliza..

“Uff, this heat is making my hair all ichy and irritating the lice in my hair.” She said.

Shanu, who no longer found lice and their kingdom fascinating, suddenly remembered Eliza and the bottles of Medicare. Medicare smelled yucky..no way was she spending another school year using Medicare to shampoo her hair. No, she was way too cool for that.

That year, the school was buzzing with gossip about the not so new girl Eliza with the mini Lice kingdom in her head, who would remove her socks the minute she entered the class and folded her skirt an inch above the mandatory length. All this in an effort to fit in..and yet nothing was done about the lice and the havoc it played in the life of her bench partner that year.

Search ended…486897 memories found

I beamed “Ahh Eliza, of course I remember you” I said, while I stared at her in surprise. Her beautiful hair framed her heart shaped face and her grey eyes twinkled when she smiled.

I quietly moved from the seat next to her to the seat opposite. It was a great ride back home that day… with loads of catching up and trading loads of gossip about all our ex school mates. I reached home, Medicare in hand, pleasant and happy memories rekindled and most importantly, with the old, not so pleasant ones deleted. :)

Mood :o(

2010-03-24T18:56:00.006+05:30

Date: 20.3.2010

Status: 98 Followers

Mood:

Date : 21.3.2010

Status: 99 Followers

Mood:

Date: 22.3.2010

Status: 98 Followers

Mood:

Date: 23.3.2010

Status: 98 Followers

Mood:

Date: 24.3.2010

Status: 97 Followers

Mood:

Have my recent posts been so pathetic that people have now started unfollowing me?? Was the reducing comment count, a beginning of the end??

Tadap tadap ke iss dil se aah nikalti rahi

Hume sazadi bakwaas ki, aisa kya gunha kiya
Ki number of comments gir gaye, haan gir gaye,
Saath lekar kar gaye, kuch followers bhi :o(

P.S: This is not a pathetic plea for enticing new followers. I hope this post doesn't get me sympathy followers..that would be worse than having no followers at all!!

The Thing called Love....

2010-03-10T21:56:00.008+05:30

PDAs disgust me and an overdose of mushiness makes me wanna throw up. Rounds of light hearted banter, loads of teasing and listening to the same stories a million times later , realization dawns..

Love makes people do weird things.......

I stood in the overcrowded bus waiting for someone to offer me a seat. Two love birds sat on the seat in front of me coochie cooing away to glory. Suddenly the girl sneezed. Rescued her hand out of her boyfriend's clutches, wiped the snot off her face and thrust the hand back into her boyfriend's hand. I managed to stifle a laugh when realization dawned...

Love makes me (and definitely the people in love ) sick...

Surrounded by friends who cry at movies, I pride myself in the fact that I dont lose control over my emotions that easily. Bored out of my mind with nothing productive to do, I bought my first romantic novel 'PS. I love you', and cried through the whole book, when realization dawned..

Love makes my heart melt....

I listened unbelievingly when they spoke of how love made their world go round. I tutted disapprovingly, when they tried to steal secret glances at the object of their affection, wondering why they had to behave like lunatics. Then Chimpu walked into my life and realization dawned...

Love makes me go weak in my knees....

I watched as you fought with him and called him names. And I watched as you made up. I listened to you calling him Chikdipie and he calling you Chikdipoo. I watched as he called your HUGE behind small and as you called his cigarette smoke stained smile intoxicating. I watched as you laughed at his sad jokes and realization dawned....

Love makes people in love go blind but the people around them see things clearly :P

My friend called me all excited at 2 in the morning. He asked me out...he asked me out, she yelled.
Duh, when a guy calls you at 11 every night and talks to you about nothing at all till the wee hours of the morning, it is very very evident that he likes you and might ask you out. But is it worth spoiling my beauty sleep? I think not.

But yes, as a understanding and supportive friend I heard her jibber jabber for an hour before realization
dawned...

Love makes me sleepy.... :P

P.S: Chimpu is a product of my imagination...just like everything else on this blog....this note is addressed to everyone who wants to know who Chimpu is...

A summery tale.....

2010-03-04T21:46:00.006+05:30

Little Shanu was never the sporty types. Eating, reading and watching TV was all she did during her summer, Diwali and Christmas vacations. The more she lazed around, the paler and rounder she got. On the rare occasions that she ventured out, she was affectionately called Potli (bundle) by the kids in her locality. Little Shanu didn't care. She was happy being round and pale as long as she could laze around.

Shanu's mommy was worried. She never wanted a pale milky child. She craved for some hint of brown, some hint of red in Shanu's cheeks. She tried pestering Shanu to go out and play. But Shanu was a stubborn child. She refused to go out and play in the sun. Its too hot to play Ma, she wailed. Worried, her mom called Shanu's nani for help.

"Dont worry, Main hoon na" Nani smiled and presented Shanu with a bright pink cycle the next day.

The cycle was the most beautiful thing Shanu had ever laid her eyes on. It had a tiny flower basket with a Barbie doll picture. The handles had shiny festoons, while the tyres had shiny beads. Shanu was thrilled. The summer heat didn't seem to bother her anymore and she pulled her cycle out onto the road. The trainer wheels made riding the cycle easy and within no time she was zipping around the complex. Shanu started spending hours out in the sun whizzing by on her cycle. She turned a beautiful shade of brown, mommy was happy and the complex found a new cycling champion.

All good things come to an end and so did this summer vacation. As Shanu pulled her cycle out for one last spin that day, she eyed the long winding road that she didnt dare take all those days. The uphill road was extremely steep and Little Shanu was scared. But she decided to take her chance that day.

As she pedaled uphill, sweat pouring down her face, she realized why this road was never used by the other kids in the locality. The ride uphill was very tiring and the top seemed to be nowhere in sight. But ride downhill promised to be exhilarating and little Shanu pedaled on. By the time she reached the top she was completely exhausted.

The ride downhill was something she had never experienced. The steepness of the road ensured that she didnt have to pedal at all. The wind swept her hair as she swooshed down the road. She felt like a Bollywood heroine with her hair blowing gracefully behind her and the sun kissing her cheeks.The speed thrilled her and she went into a trance.

Her reverie was broken by cries of "Aaga baya sambhal..kuthe bagtes". (Watch where you are going!). By the time Shanu convinced her herself that she wasnt Aishwarya Rai, it was too late. She saw a lady carrying a pot of water standing a couple of yards away shouting herself hoarse.

Shanu panicked.

She started shouting back "Utha samorun utha" (Move aside).

The lady was in no mood to budge. Ignoring the obvious danger, she decided this was the perfect time to give Shanu cycling lessons. "Brake maar na pori" she screamed back.

Shanu drew a blank.

Brake? Pedal? Handle? Woh kya hota hai??

The lady's horrified expression was the last thing Shanu saw, before the cycle came to a screeching halt.

By lodging itself between the poor lady's legs!!

Shanu's mommy's wish of a red cheek wali daughter was finally fulfilled and it wasn't just embarrassment that caused Shanu's cheeks to turn scarlet that day ;)

Any wonder then, that Shanu doesn't cycle anymore??

Any one missed me….??

2010-02-28T13:32:00.006+05:30

I have been MIA from my blog for close to a month now. Not that anyone noticed :(

Everyday I would open my mailbox hoping to find emails asking me where I was….why wasnt I posting...emails telling me how my writing was missed and how they would do anything to see me post again. But Afsoos!! No one noticed my absence, no one missed my bakwaas...no emails..not even a comment :(

This is enough for any self respecting blogger to mend her ways and stop bloggin bakwaas. Infact, it did occur to me, that I could start writing poems (I am pretty good at rhyming, you can check out the creative gems strewn around in my and Bluntu's comment section) or I could start writing dark gory stuff (I have tried that once) or I could write ~~fairy tales~~ vampire tales (love Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer)..but then that puts the people around me at risk. With no place to vent out all the bakwaas energy I have, I tend to torture people around me with my bakwaas stories. I am single mouthedly responsible for my mom losing nearly half her hair, for P losing her hearing and for R suffering a concussion (she banged her head on the wall in frustration).

So, in favor of everyone I love and adore, I decided to go a youth festival organised by the local church, where I could diffuse some of my energy around. All youngsters were invited to be a part of this fun filled weekend where we were stayed in make shift camps and learned to cook, sing and dance. Volunteering for those 2 days made me overcome some of my greatest fears..stage fright and fear of babies..and gave me a amazing set of new friends. I emerged out of this experience a better, more confident person...or so I thought. It was at an outing with these newly found friends last week that terror struck.

There we were enjoying a noisy, fun filled dinner when our laughter caught the attention of a really cute baby on the table behind us. My friends started coochie cooing the baby and filled with newly found bravado, I joined in. The mom was more than delighted to pack the kid off to our table while she cosied up with her husband. My friends started feeding the kiddo cheesy pasta while I sat at a distance, smiling and waving at intervals.

Big Mistake.

One jhalak of my smile and the child was smitten. Waving a fork, he struggled to get into my arms. A child with cheesy pasta stuck to a fork didn’t really look like good news to me and I tried my best to avoid getting close to him. His beady eyes filled with tears and he threatened to bawl any minute.

"Oh come on, he is only a kid....kya kar lega woh" my new found friends chided.

I now know what they mean by peer pressure..it sure makes you do weird things.

Unwillingly, I took the kiddo in my arms.

He smiled an angelic smile.

And poked the fork right into my hair.

A fork filled with kiddie drool and cheesy pasta stuck in my beautifully blow dried hair. His smile turned to giggles and yes, my ~~friends,~~ ~~colleagues,~~ acquaintances joined in too. I am now known as Cheesy head in my new found circle.

So I am back to with my bakwaas to Fullon, the only place where no one laughs at me, where I can share my most embarrassing stories without feeling embarrassed.

Its a place I miss even though it doesn’t miss me, its a place where I can be me. Where people accept me for the Bakwaas I shell out, where no one expects me to change and write serious writer type posts.

This is my 51st post. Still have another guest post to go. But the guest is a ghost. He comes online late at nights when poor little me is fast asleep. Plus, he is too caught up at work and has no time to write a post. The ghost who works!!

So I decided to give Mr Ghost a break and post the 51st myself.

Ghostie, you are now azaad to write whenever you have the time. Thanks for being an amazing friend.

You rock :)

Broken Toe Nails, A Sprained neck and The 49th post

2010-02-04T23:00:00.003+05:30

~~Its been 6 months since I started my blogging journey~~ Typical

~~Wow my 49th post, I never thought I would reach this far~~ Boring

~~I am choked with emotions as I write my 49th post~~ 49 th post hai, Booker winning speech nahi

Umm..lets try writing something in third person....

What started as a way to ward off boredom has now become an integral part of Shanu's life.

Shanu the drama queen obviously wants some drama..48 posts..8 months of blogging and yet she cant come up with a dhansu 49th post.

The last couple of weeks haven’t been very kind to her.. Attention seeker

Playing bridesmaid at her best friend’s wedding ended with Shanu nursing a broken toe nail which still mars the beauty of her pretty feet...A lady dressed to kill (with her razor sharp stilettos) ~~poked~~ ~~crushed~~ stamped on Shanu's toe. Its been 2 weeks now and yet the poor toe refuses to heal.

A rickshaw trip to Thane for her friend's mehndi ended with Shanu nursing a sore neck...The rickwala (obviously a Schumacher fan with his fake Ferrari jacket ) was someone who treated speed breakers as a device to check if his rick could fly. Me thinks, if need be, he will even manage to fly across a half built flyover like Sandra Bullock in Speed….Now if only he were half as cute as Keanu :)

Her weekly trips to the doctor give her ample opportunity to come up with something creative, something brilliant, something befitting of a 49th post but yet when she decides to write, she ends up with nothing...

Fullon Bakwaas was the only high point in her otherwise non happening life..Her bakwaas found a new target and made life bearable for the people around her....Striking friendships was never on her mind.. and yet she managed to 'make fraaandship' with many amazing bloggers...She wrote some good posts and some really bad ones but yet her blogger friends never failed to light up her blog with their amazing comments. Thank you Ashley, Mindey, Bluntu, Riddhi for being such amazing sports...my comment section wouldn't be half as interesting without you guys..

She reads amazing posts by some of her friends and wonders why cant she come up with something half as good..Check out the blogs I follow..They are all wow!

As she writes this she knows that although this post will go down in history as a super pakkau post, her friends and their comments will ensure that anyone who comes here for a laugh doesn’t leave without one.

Coming up with something dhansu for her 50th and 51st post fills her with dread.... but being super intelligent she decides to do what she does best…Delegate ;)

She gives fullon emotional torture to 2 of the greatest bloggers on Bloggerville and convinces them to write guest posts for Fullon :)

So keep your eyes peeled for some Not so Bakwaas (read brilliant) stuff coming your way on Fullon Bakwaas in the next couple of weeks.

To My Dearest Chimpu....With Love

2010-01-24T00:11:00.008+05:30

I still remember the day,

When destiny threw me in your way,

The way you smiled, the way you helped me pick my book,

Oh your innocence and your grace,

You mesmerized me with just one look.

Your chashme wala chehra,

You roaming around dooba soch main gehra,

Your face became my memory ka permanent part,

But I dont think my clumsiness made an impression to last.

Trips to the cafeteria are but a reason to look at you,

I now time all your trips to the loo,

The way you walk with your laptop,

It makes my heart flutter and my dhadkan stop,

On the bus ride home, I take tere bajuwala seat

But you sit unaware and sway to your Ipod ka beat.

Do you know I travel 4 additional stops just to be with you?

To grab your attention, every week I wear something new.

I know you love chocolates, I know you are allergic to nuts,

You treat me as a friend but you dont notice my new haircut.

I know you read Paulo Coelho, I know your music ka taste,

You know nothing about me, all my efforts are a waste.

You blog about the love of your life, who I know isnt me,

You call her cutie but I am way better..Oh why cant you see?

With my black eyes and lovely tresses,

I look like Chandni ki Sridevi!

The whiff of your perfume makes me turn your way,

I see you choochie cooing to someone, asking her out on Valentine's day :(

My diary is filled with dates too....

But the difference is - I have dates only for you :(

This poem is dedicated to my Chimpu bhola bhala..

Woh kaisa hai re mandus, uske dimag par laga hai tala!

My first attempt at poetry now hangs in a limbo,

I dunno how to end this..Man! I am such a dumbo!

I know this poem wasn't very khaas..

Cmon wat else do you expect..Remember you are on Fullon Bakwaas!

Not Just Bakwaas.....

2010-01-06T23:17:00.002+05:30

This isnt the normal fictional stuff that I usually blog about. Something has been bothering me for the last few days and what better place to vent it out than my dear Fullon.

A girl I work with has been having a lot of problems with her husband who mistreats her and beats her up nearly every alternate day. Unable to bear the torture anymore, she poured her heart out to me last week. Her husband is extremely well placed and has a lot of political connections. She told me that she wished to separate from her husband and needed my help (!) He has threatened to take their 1 year old daughter away from her if she files for a divorce.

Now, I am not a lawyer and I cant boast of being mature enough to handle issues of this nature. But desperate as she was for a helping hand and a sympathetic ear, she asked me to help her out.

When I mentioned this to my mother, she obviously freaked out. Trying to help people has landed me in trouble in the past. And anyone with political connections is enough to scare the wits out of her(or out of anyone for that matter). She strictly asked me to keep out of this.

Facing the girl, looking at her bruises and watching her cry her heart out everyday, isnt a easy task. I caved in.

I contacted Woman welfare groups and tried getting legal aid so that she could separate from her husband and retain custody of her child.

All this while, she would come to me and tell me how dangerous her husband is and how he could stoop to any levels to get his way. Infact, her parents are so scared of thier son-in-law that they have distanced themselves from the whole scene and have left their daughter to her fate. Honestly, it would freak me out everytime she would mention her husband's political connections and the various ways in which he had tortured her and her parents. But call it my bravado or my stupidity, I continued to contact agencies which I thought would get her out of this.

2 days ago, I sent her an email from my official id with details of all agencies she could contact to seek legal aid. Now this email had my full name in addition to the place I work at and my cell number.

Imagine my horror when I found out that she had forwarded that email to him (to intimidate him) without bothering to delete the mail chain. Which means that her politically well placed husband now has my name, my number and obviously knows where I work. I am freaking out imagining what the repercussions of this could be if he is indeed as dangerous as she made him out to be.

I havent told anyone at home about this as it might end up scaring everyone and this isnt something I wanna involve my family in.

I do not know why I have blogged about this, but in my current state of mind couldn't think of anything else.

Opps...I did it again....

2009-12-30T22:43:00.006+05:30

"Beta yeah 84 ka bus stop kidhar hai"

A hundred people standing in queue for the bus and the dear old lady had to choose me to ask this question. My annual pilgrimage just done, I refused to open my bad karma account so soon. I studiously ignored the lady. The girl in front of me looked at me with accusing eyes. I didnt care. Why dont u answer her Miss Accusing Eyes, my eyes accused her back. The lady mesmerised by my innocent looks decided to stand next to me with hopeful eyes. I continued to ignore her. Miss Accusing Eyes could take it no more. She turned to Lady Hopeful Eyes and pointed her to the right direction. The lady seemed like she needed to hear it from me. She looked at me, waiting for my approval. I nodded. Smiling, she left.

For anyone who has read this blog for any length of time, it will come as no surprise that I absolutely suck at directions. Yet, blessed with the innocent, bhola bhala type chehra that I have, I usually get picked by absolute strangers to ask directions to places I have no clue about. On the rare occasions that I travel by train I am asked 'Aur kitne stations ke baad XXXXXX aayega beta' to which I usually respond with a blank stare hoping the lady next to me comes to my rescue before I blurt something out.

Because I suffer from the compulsive answering syndrome.

It doesn't matter if I know the way or not, it doesn't matter if I have never travelled by the Central line before, it doesn't matter if I know whether the dish is vegetarian or not, if I am asked a question, I have to answer it. All the annual pilgrimage trips that my mom plans for me have to do with my compulsive answering problem. She thinks I annually accrue a lifetime worth of bad karma by making staunch veggies eat non vegetarian fare and on other occasions sending people off in directions completely opposite to the one they are supposed to take.

Like yesterday, when a guy asked me which way Malad station was. Being new to the area, I had absolutely no clue. And yet, I pointed him to a completely random direction whilst my mom looked on in horror. An earful of "Why cant you just say I dont know" and " Parmeshwara, when will this girl learn" later, I ran towards the way I pointed, found the guy and pointed him in the correct direction.

Or like at my friend Fari's wedding. Just as I was about to taste a starter, a totally random lady comes up to me and asks me "Beta, yeah veg hai kya?" I quickly take a mouthful and blink at her while chewing slowly hoping she gets disgusted and scoots off. No. She doesn't. She finds it fascinating and decides to wait till I finish eating.

2 mouthfuls of the starter and 5 thoughtful minutes later, I come to the conclusion that it indeed is vegetarian dish made of paneer. I confidently nod and decide to move around and try out something else. 3 starters and a couple of main courses later I realize that in addition to directional dyslexia and the compulsive answering syndrome, I also suffer from pannerchickitisis ie the inability to differentiate between paneer and chicken.

After misguiding 3 strangers this week and turning 5 staunch veggies into non vegetarians @ Fari's wedding (who comes to a Muslim wedding hoping to eat vegetarian khana anywayz), I have decided that I need another quick pilgrimage before the year ends :(

You now know what I am doing this New Year's eve :(

My cute pizza delivery guy.....

2009-12-26T01:07:00.006+05:30

Hmm...So, I ordered a pizza today.

No big deal I know.

And I was disappointed...yet again.

You know, how they have really cute/hot guys delivering pizzas in ads.

Every time I order a pizza, I wait in anticipation for this...........

But I am alwayz greeted with this...

Oh Santa...U know what I want for Christmas now...A really cute pizza delivery guy ;)

I am planning to order Pizza for New Year's eve too.....

Come on...Work your magic..and make this New Year's Eve magical ;)

Season's greetings....

2009-12-23T21:02:00.007+05:30

Shanu wishes all the readers of Fullon Bakwaas

A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year :)

Award ko Award hi rehne do koi naam na do......

2009-12-20T13:10:00.008+05:30

May 2009

Its my first month in Bloggerville. Every blog I go, I find infested with the Honest Blogger award. Being a newbie, I look at all those who get this award with envy and admiration (99% envy and 1% admiration). The award needed one to write 20 secrets about themselves. Hopeful, I started hording 20 secrets to unleash on the world but unfortunately, I never got this award and Bloggerville was spared the torture.

Cut to Dec 2009

One of my first friends on Blogger, golu molu Bluntu gives me a Nameless Award.....Given our history and the kind of comments I leave on his blog..I was kinda expecting the Shameless Award..but main khush hoon.. Nameless ho ya Shameless, award toh award hota hai boss :) and plus it carries with it a directive to write 7 secrets about yourself. For someone who has had 20 secrets ready to be spilled for ages now, choosing only 7 is very very difficult.

Lekin yeah kya? My dushman and competitor (she stole ATMM away from me and now is behind my Bluntu ) decides to award me too. Which is super duper awesome because I now get to write 14 secrets about myself...I am just hoping that some1 else tags me before I post this phir mere 2o ke 20 points aa jaayenge and I shall include 1 additional point for good luck ;)

Toh yeah lo..karlo sach ka samna :P

1) I wasnt very keen to protect my anon status. Infact, most of the bloggers who I befriended in the initial days know my real name. I honestly never thought of it as a big deal. But talking to 2 of my closest friends in Bloggerville, both anon bloggers, has made me conscious of my anon status. And no, I still don't know what their real name is, while they know everything about me. Do I regret it? Sometimes yes. But most of times No, because they are the reason why I have stuck to blogging for so long. Nahi toh main kab ki bore ho gayi hoti.

2)I am scared of lifts. I prefer taking the stairs than being enclosed in that box and trust it to take me to the right floor. On days that I have to take the lift alone, I loudly chant prayers all the way up, to ward off any ghosts that might choose to sneak up on me. But on most days I prefer taking the stairs to and from my 7 th floor apartment. Ya, I am scared of ghosts too.

3)I am also scared of babies. Wanna know why? Read this.

4)I absolutely hate surprise parties. All my friends know it. And they dare not throw a surprise party for me. Ever.

5)I am allergic to sea water. I cannot survive a trip to the beach without developing a red rash. And yet, I take long walks on the beach and want to own a sea facing home some day. Its my way of telling my stupid sensitive skin..I am the one in charge :P

6)Blessed wit the gift of gab, I can talk anyone into anything and make it seem like it was their idea in the first place. :p

7)I wanted dimples all my life. Infact, I tried pushing holes in my cheeks with pencils when younger. I would sit in front of the mirror for hours, push 2 pencils into my cheeks and smile hoping that my face will learn to stay that way.

8) I hate dressing up. No matter what the occasion I land up there in my jeans and Tshirt. My mom has now taken up the responsibility of getting me to dress like a girl. I wish her luck ;)

9) I am extremely clumsy. I keep tripping over my own feet. On the rare days that I wear a salwar, I trip over the dupatta. If I hit Sid and try to run away, chances are I will bang into the door and fall down, and he wouldn't have to lift a finger. The rail station, the playground, my office, the doctor's clinic, the library....there isnt a place where I haven't fallen and left my mark.

10)I have 3 wishes ready just in case a genie pops up and says to me "Your wish is my command". Bas ab genie milne ki der hai.

I know I have 4 more secrets to unleash. But after editing and re-editing, I have reached the conclusion that Bloggerville is better off not knowing them. Secondly, I am feeling lazy :P

Now the best part, passing on the award. I know most of the bloggers I wanted to pass it on to have already been tagged. But I will still tag/award them because I am stubborn :P

I tag/award:

Ashley: Meri Dost aur meri Dushman

Mindey: Some1 who is very capable of doing tags in comment boxes

Bluntu: Mera Pyaar..Shalimar

Riddhi: Some one who can blabber without any rhyme or reason

Meow: One of my first blogger friends

Spikey: Want to wake him up from the blogging slumber

G3: Meri gavwali

Ice ice baby: The queen of all randomness :)

Tarun: Never seen him do a tag before

Dhanya: Love the way she writes, Simple and sweet

Orange: I can identify with most of her posts

And anyone and everyone who wants to take up this tag/award..Enjoy :)

Tweeting good deeds......

2009-12-11T22:53:00.007+05:30

I have always been the helpful types. Helping ladies with their heavy grocery bags, helping cute kiddos with their homework to offering my seat to the elderly on the train are things I do all the time (yea and you thought of me as a spoilt brat). But there was one good deed which had always eluded me..Helping an old lady cross the road.

A tweet by a friend which went something like this "Helped an old lady cross the road...she smiled & gave me a chocolate..much like the way my grandmom used to...life is all about these small beautiful moments...." jagofied again the purana daba hua armaan of helping old ladies cross the road. The chocolate had nothing to do with it. I hate chocolates. Infact, a few days ago a rickwala who got senti looking at my bhola bhala chehra, stopped the rick, and bought me a chocolate. Which I took because I didnt wanna offend him. I later fed it to Sid and I am glad to say it wasn't drugged.

Back to the point.

I sat back and tried to analyse why I have never been able to help anyone cross the road. And I arrived at the reason in no time. The rickwala.

My blog has been the silent witness of my love for the rickwala.The dashboard littered with rickwala drafts bears testimony to the fact that there was nothing more that I would want on a rainy day than a dry curtain wali rickshaw. And inspite of the love that oozed out of my every pore, I had been betrayed. By my very own rickwala. My ricking ways had prevented me from crossing the road. Toh kissi aur ko road cross karaneka sawal hi nahi uthatha.

So last week I decided to walk for 10 mins before taking the rick to work. Agar meri kismet main kissi ko rasta cross karana likha hoga toh woh inn 10 mins main mereko mil jaayega. And find her I did.

There she was standing, looking at the rush hour traffic with wary eyes. She looked at me and beamed. Wrong timing. I was late for work. Very late. I was torn between the long time desire to help someone cross and the desire to reach work on time for a change. Me, being me, wanted to have my cake and eat it too. So I decided to help the lady cross the road and then rush back to work.

I smiled and asked her if she needed to cross the road. She nodded meekly. I held her hand and started motioning her across the road (Kya karneka..I was late). I held up one valiant hand against the traffic hoping the cars and buses would heed my isharas and slow down. But naah..they didnt seem to be in the mood to slow down. No zebra crossing or traffic signal in the vicinity ensured that I would have to wait for a break in the seamless traffic. Secondly, getting the lady over the divider seemed like a task in itself.

And I honestly, didnt have the time. It was a choice between helping her cross the road and keeping my job. And in these times of recession we all know what wins hands down. Yup, my job did.

I flagged a rick down and while I was getting in, I was struck with a brilliant idea. I asked the rickwala to take a U turn so that I could drop the lady on the other side. The lady who was quite impressed with my hosiyari nodded happily.

Yet again, the rickwala had come to my rescue. My faith in the rickwalas of the world restored, I happily tweeted about my good deed:

"Helped an old lady cross the road in a rick..how brilliant am I :)"

Bhelpuri

2009-11-28T22:47:00.004+05:30

This week has been a mixed bag of emotions. Just like Bhelpuri. Kuch khatta kuch mitha.

I give you here...a glimpse into a week in Shanu's life :)

Horror

The pics from my colleagues wedding have been uploaded on Facebook and I am looking OH SO HORRIBLE.

And the pics are out there open to comments and snickers :(

Note to self: Avoid weddings when depressed. Depressed faces make for horrid pictures.

Flattery

Me: Ohh its thanksgiving week. So what are you thankful for?

He: You :)

Surprise

He comes waltzing in, gives me one look and starts grinning

He: "Why have you put on weight sweetheart??"

Screech.............!! The whole world suddenly comes to a standstill.

Me:Who me? Not at all!!

He: Of course you have put on weight. You now have chubby cheeks.

Pointing to my friends "Havent these girls told you??"

Me:(Looking at my friends accusingly) Wow seriously? I have put on weight kya?? Umm…that’s like a compliment. I have been trying to put on weight for ages now!!

He: Yeh raag tu kissi aur ko de...a few more inches and you end up like me (Pats his ample belly)

Me: Uhhh ohhh

Psst: This is a different He ;)

Excitement

Me(over SMS): So how was it?

She: They have decided the date. 15th December!!

Whoo hooo....My best friend is getting married in 2 weeks :)

Awww

On chat

He: Sorry again, that I wasnt there when you needed me :(

Me: Please dont say sorry. I just didnt wanna bother u wit my probems

He: Please dont say that. Thats not fair. See, that's why I said I am sorry. You should not even think twice if you need to call me.

Me: I wont. Promise.

Embarrassment

Suryaprakash ek watermelon juice dijiye

Suryaprakash!!

Suryaprakash looks at me and looks away

Suryaprakash ek watermelon juice dijiye na

Suryaprakash continues to studiously ignore me.

Irritated, I ask him..Kyun Suryaprakash, aap mujhe kyun ignore kar rahe ho?

Kyunki madamji, mera naam Suryaprakash nahi Manjeet hai!

Happiness

He (giving me a tight hug): I was just leaving when I realised that I cant leave without meeting you.

Me: :)

My First Rant

2009-11-22T21:19:00.002+05:30

Darkness grips me..pulls me down..I swirl around in circles..try to break free...I try pushing..I try to kick..I try screaming...but darkness wins.

As I am engulfed, I wonder..where I am..how did I get here...how do I get out....

I look for answers but find only questions........

I look for familiarity but find only strangers.........

I look for peace but end up with turmoil........

I hate being me but I dont want to be someone else......

I am a bundle of contradictions.........

There..Finally I have lost my mind.

Never in my wildest dreams had I thought that my beloved Fullon Bakwaas would have to go through the horror of having a depressing post.

My state of mind is reflected in my writings and unfortunately I am unable to come up with anything bright and sunny.

To the person viewing it from outside, my life seems perfect. It seems so to me too, most of the times.

But something is wrong. The darkness keeps popping up time and again and disappears as quickly as it comes..but this time..it hasnt..It is here to stay.

Someone I absolutely adore, once told me that nothing in life is constant...and neither is this darkness I am sure. Yes, there will be light..eventually.

So till that time..dont be surprised to find this blog filled with anything but bakwaas.

Out of Order

2009-11-07T14:51:00.003+05:30

She had stopped wearing kajal. She didnt want the compliments her large kajal adorned eyes attracted. She had stopped smiling, wary of the compliments her smile would bring on. She was wary of compliments, she was wary of letting her guard down. She was scared of getting hurt.

Nothing seemed real anymore. No one seemed genuine.

"Lift out of Order"

She looked at the watchman with questioning eyes. 'Maintenance ke liye band hai bibijee...1 hafta nahi chalega" came the reply.

She nodded. Her mom was right when she had asked her not to take the 7th floor flat. "What if the lift stops working or there is a fire..how will you manage to get down" she had argued. But she loved heights. None of her mom's persuasion had worked. “Hmmpt..ziddhi hai apne dad ki tarah” her mom had grumbled.

Another imperfection in her imperfect world.

Not so long ago, she loved taking the stairs. She thought of it as the exercise she desperately needed. The full-length mirrors on each floor made the climb up pleasurable. She could see the way her face slowly turned red as she climbed up floor by floor.

But things were different now. The break up had changed everything.

All she wanted to do now, was to take the elevator to her flat, lie on the bed and cry. It had been 6 months now and she still wasn’t over him. The phone calls that went unanswered and the emails that weren’t replied to, only added to her grief. The climb up reminded her of the numerous times they had raced up these stairs, he always slowing down to let her win. Breathless, opening the door would seem like a chore. The view from the top, with a coffee cup on a lazy morning while the rains poured, the sweet nothings, the giggles, the smiles, the hugs, all seemed like a lifetime from the past.

3 years of togetherness, now nothing.

By the time she turned up towards the fourth floor she was already breathless. She clutched her sides and rummaged through her bag for a bottle of water..it was then that she saw him.

Sprawled across the floor in his 4th floor apartment, he was busy reading a book. His curly mop of hair was unkempt and he seemed oblivious to the world. A half eaten pizza was strewen near his feet. She couldn’t stop staring at him. She had never seen something so beautiful, so perfect. He felt her eyes on him and looked up. And smiled.

Ooohhhh..a dimply smile. And beautiful brown eyes.

“Hi, My name is Rahul."

“Hi, You new here?”

“Yea, just moved in a couple of weeks ago. I wasn’t told the lift here needs to be closed for maintenance. Doesn’t happen anywhere else.” He rolled his eyes

“Yea, we are kinda used to climbing the stairs now” She shrugged

“Thank God, I live on the 4^th floor. Sorry about the mess though. I am a writer. You will find me sprawled across on the floor all day. I hope for your sake, that you don’t have to take the stairs everyday.” He laughed.

She nodded and continued climbing.

It was weird how easy it was talking to him. She wasn’t the type to talk to random guys. But there was something about him that wasn’t random. Like she knew him from somewhere. He seemed so likeable, so friendly.

Back home, the phone rang. A couple of ‘yes’ and ‘hmms’ and ‘I will be there in 15 mins’ later, she hung up.

As she dressed, her mind wandered. She could have sworn that the guy who seemed so real a while ago was all but a fragment of her imagination. He was too good to be true, too perfect. She shook her head but his dimply smile refused to leave. You will find me sprawled across on the floor all day his words rang in her head. Suddenly, the climb down the stairs didn’t seem that bad.

She smiled at the mirror as she applied kajal to her big beautiful eyes.

Close Encounters of the Canine kind

2009-10-27T12:10:00.007+05:30

"Bhhaiya, rickshaw thoda aage lo na" she said, her voice shivering.

The rickwala smiled at her through pan stained teeth.

"Kyun hass rahe ho bhaiyya...rickshaw thoda aage lo na" she pleaded

The rickwala seemed to be enjoying her plight.

She turned to her right. Looked straight into his eyes. He growled.

"Please bhaiyya" The rickwala kept smiling and started conversing in sign language with the rickwala next to him.

She shifted as far left as she could and closed her eyes.

Flash back

Dumb little Shanu and Smart Little Punti walked hand in hand to the grocery store. The chore was simple. Get a kilo of sugar and a packet of biscuits. Shanu trusted Punti with all her little heart. She looked up to her. She was after all, her older cousin. They had loads in common including their love for Jim Jam biscuits and hatred for all kinds of creepy crawlies.

As they skipped towards the store, they saw a pack of dogs coming their way. Dumb Shanu was a fattu. She was scared of dogs. Smart Punti on the other hand was scared of nothing. She was after all bigger (and smarter) than Shanu. She was sure if need be, she could outrun Shanu any day.

Dumb Shanu looked at Smart Punti. Punti gave her a 'Main Hoon na' smile. The air was thick with tension as the pack of dogs stared at the two tiny girls in skirts and pony tails. Punti quickly assessed the situation. Woh 5 hain aur hum do....bahut nainsafi hai. She had made her decision. In a move so quick that it belied her thin frame, she pushed Shanu towards the dogs and started running.Dumb Shanu was well...dumbstruck. The dogs were dumbstruck too. While Shanu stands rooted to ground, unable to move partly due to fear and partly due to her dumbness and lack of reflexes, the dogs make a dumber choice. They decide to chase Punti!!

And Shanu makes the dumbest choice (no surprises there)....she decides to chase the dogs, who are chasing Punti!!

So the sleepy village witnessed something it hadn't witnessed in all the 150 years of its existence...a tiny girl in balloon skirt and pony tail being chased by a pack of dogs, being chased by a tinier girl in an A line skirt (yea, she was fashion conscious even as a kid).

Punti was right. She was fast. She went through the gate of their house and did the next unthinkable thing. She closed the gate.

And Shanu was stuck outside the gate with a pack of very angry dogs. Everything seemed to stop for a split second. The dogs exchanged glances. "How dumb can she be" they seemed to ask themselves. The leader looked at her. Nazron se nararein mili. And then realization dawned on Shanu.

'Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh' she screamed as she started running in the opposite direction, the dogs now snapping at her heels.

The horns blaring woke her up with a jolt. If it wasn't for her dad who happened to pass that way, she would have ended up as dog food that day.

A look to her right revealed that the car was still next to her. Browny, thats what his name tag said, was still staring at her. He seemed ready to pounce. A head peeked out from behind Browny. She looked at him with pleading eyes. He smiled. And right on cue the lights turned green.

The rickwala turned towards her and smiled "Kya memsaheb, aap ek kutte se darte ho"

Sigh, if only he knew.

Screeching Silences

2009-10-21T22:49:00.003+05:30

I try to close my eyes but a sudden splot of red wakes me up with a jolt. Its been nearly a week now, they say.

But to me, time is standing still. There are a million things I want to say, there are a million things I want to hear, but all I can manage out of my throat is silence.

My friends, my colleagues keep visiting me. My mother keeps crying.

Somewhere, I can hear constant cries of 'Tai pani dya na,Tai pani dya na'. I try to blank out the source of this cry, the image of the woman who has been so brutally burnt, but I am unable to. Why cant someone just feed her some water, I want to cry out. But I cant. I cant seem to find my voice.

I hear footsteps. That must be the nurse. It is time for my sleeping pills.

"No, please no, I don't want to sleep" I want to scream. But all that escapes my throat is a gurgle.

I am running.

I have to get to the train.

There is no time left. I can see the train moving away. I run as fast as my tired legs carry me.

Manage to catch it in the nick of time.

I get into the relatively empty train. The last local out of Churchgate.

I stand at the footboard enjoying the breeze and see him. Tall and handsome, with his laptop bag..cooing sweet nothings on the phone. He finishes his conversation and looks up at me. I smile. He nods.

That is the only communication we have. Too sleepy to have a decent conversation.

The cool breeze threatens to put me to sleep. He seems to be dozing off too.

I decide to move away from the footboard and call out to him to move away.

And then it happens. He leans too far out. I move towards him to hold him from falling off.

A loud crunch and itz over.

His head hits the lamppost and splatters me with bits of his brain.

I scream.

And faint.

'Kya hua..kyun chilla raha hai...baaki patients so raha hai'...I hear a voice say.

My mom strokes my hair, tears spilling out of her eyes. She tries to say something but chokes. I want to wipe her tears. I want to tell her its going to be alright. But I cant feel my fingers. I cant find my hands.

'Tai pani dya na,Tai pani dya na' I hear a voice say as I drift into darkness again.

Psst: This post is dedicated to Mindey (As the Mind Meanders ) for pushing me to write a dark post.

For encouraging me and motivating me.

So if u hate this post, you know who to aim the brickbats at...but if you love it..please aim the wah wahs at me ;)

Sid Speaks....

2009-10-11T13:22:00.011+05:30

I have been pestered by my sis to write this. Its not fair. I mean no matter how lazy she is feeling, she cant hold my Playstation ransom and expect me to write for her stupid blog! But like all younger brothers, I am helpless. She is bigger (she stands tall at 6'3 and weighs 250 kgs) and stronger than I am. One false move and she will push me and sit on me..yeah you now know how tortured I am. Anyhoo,(I absolutely hate this word. I have asked her to stop using it, but she seems to think it makes her sound cool. Ha, if only it were that easy!) now that I have an opportunity to have my say, I shall leave no stone unturned in bringing to you the real Shanu (She is very touchy about maintaining her anon blogger status! But knowing her, I am sure most of you already know her real name!).

Hah, he is soo wrong. Ne1 who knows my real name..say Aiy!

I have always looked up to my sis..I mean everyone does..given her awesome height. She could have been a model but her weight and her blue hair comes in the way of that. Yeah, blue hair. Someone told her blue makes her look thin. So there she went and colored her hair blue. To be honest, it has worked in her favor. She has been signed on by Ashthvinayak films to promote their new movie Blue.

Smug Smile

For everyone, who was waiting for her update on the hottie..dont worry, Sid is here. Karan, like all her previous crushes is married. I kinda have a sneaky feeling that her crushes promptly run and get married as soon as they know that she likes them. I mean its better than being crushed by her any day!**evil grin**

Hmmpt, I know most of my crushes are either married, engaged or gay..but it has nothing to do with my weight…or does it?

I am very successful today in my chosen field. It is all thanks to my dear sis. If it wasnt for her I would never have known about 'Survival of the fittest'. From hogging my dinner down so that I could get a piece of dessert to running up the stairs while she chooses to wait for the elevator so that I could be the first one to switch on the PC (we have a rule..the one who switches on the PC first can use it for as long as he/she wishes. Although to be honest, with her being first or second didnt make a difference..one push and the desktop would be hers to use while I would be left nursing a sore head. The lappy has thankfully changed that, because she cant get used to the tiny keys. Sensitive keys..Bah! Her giant fingers end up pressing 2 keys at once and the touchpad shivers whenever she comes close!) to agreeing to everything she says to avoid being crushed...she has taught me the laws of the corporate jungle right from the day I was born!

My sis is the most forgetful person you will come across and clumsy to the core. Trust me its a deadly combination which causes me a lot of embarrassment!Like yesterday, when we were coming back from a shopping trip. Taking the escalator on our way down, she started screaming at the top of her lungs. I turned around to see her struggling with one foot on the escalator and the other on the top step. She had forgotten to place her other foot on the escalator! Trust me..a 6'3, 250 kg blue haired girl doing the unintentional split is not a scene you shall see everyday. I was left blushing red while she kinda enjoyed the attention that stopping the escalator and "rescuing" her had attracted!

Any kinda publicity is good publicity I say!

Shopping with her is something that has to be experienced to be understood. I have watched with amazement as she alwayz chooses clothes in the smallest size available and then comes back cribbing that they dont follow international standards while marking sizes here! When she chooses stuff for me..its always either a L or an XL!! I end up looking like a scarecrow but have no guts to refuse her when she decides to gift me something. Although I have to say that her taste in clothes is impeccable. I end up turning heads wherever I go and so does she :)

Yeah I do :) I have people coming up to me asking me to pose for pictures too :)

I wanna share a lot more..but she is obviously gonna read this before posting it. She wants me to mention that her comments will be in pink. I am planning to start a blog soon so that I can share my sorrows with you. You can visit me on www.squishedforlife.blogspot.com. Hope to see you guys there. Tc.

Hah….Sid should have known better..if I were in a mood to comment on the stuff he has written I would have written a post myself..so will post this as is…with a sprinkling of my thoughts so that my blogger friends don’t miss me too much :)

Psst: My monkeys seem to have disappeared..why why why..can sum1 help me solve this mystery??

Psst psst: Yay..the monkeys are back :)

Psst psst psst: Haan yaar, its all a joke..Sid dare not write nethin on my blog...I will squish him!

Dont look now..I am changing!

2009-10-04T20:12:00.003+05:30

Hmm..if u are reading this..you obviously havent paid heed to my warning. Gande bacche!

But now that you are here, let me know what you think of my new template.

Be brutally honest. No sugar coating please. I like it that way!

Based on a True Story (3)

2009-09-29T18:47:00.007+05:30

***Queen of my house****

My friends have always maintained that I am too pampered. Not doing household work doesn't make one pampered I have tried reasoning. But overcome by envy, they have refused to see sense. So when I got an opportunity to redeem myself, I decided to plunge head first. I had to after all, show that I am not as pampered as I am made out to be.

My friends came over for a sleepover this weekend.Going out for a late night walk, Watching Twilight and gossiping to our heart's content were all a part of the agenda. Doing household work wasn't. But as fate would have it, my mom had to go out for some work. No harm done. We still had the bai who would come in and finish all the cleaning and swabbing I was told. But as soon as mom left, Manisha (our bai) calls to tell me that she cant come in to work as her husband has hurt himself in a drunken fight.

So what are you planning to do now? Priya asked me

Go watch Whats your rashee..thatz the plan remember? I answered

My answer was greeted by 3 pairs of accusing eyes.

And who will do all the household work?

Umm..I guess mom will. Once she is back.

More silence and loads of glaring.

Umm..OK. What do you guys wanna do about it then?

We? We arent going to do anything. You will have to do the cleaning, the sweeping and the washing Miss Pampered.

Haah Big deal. I can do it in no time. We can go for the movie after that.

(Cleaning, sweeping and washing..I have seen Manisha do it a million times..how difficult can it be)

Inspite of their initial nakras, my friends decided to help me with the work. They say that I am pampered and spoilt but that doesn't stop them from pampering me and spoiling me rotten.

One took the sweeping, the other took the cleaning and I was given the task of washing clothes.

I mean how difficult is it? Put the clothes in the machine, put in the powder and start the machine. Done dana done.

Anyhoo, while I finished loading the machine, I couldnt find the washing powder. How could I, when I had never checked to see where the powder was kept. After searching high and low, I finally found it hiding behind the kitchen sink. Heaving a sigh of relief, I generously poured 3 spoons of powder into the machine, set the timer and bounded off..trying to find something else to do.

While the clothes took care of themselves, I decided to cook food. I mean how difficult is it to make roti and sabzi. I have seen my mom do it a million times.

My friends had by then decided to test my round roti making skills and me delegated the task of making the dough and the rotis. Making the dough was simple..making the rotis wasnt. My rotis were of all shapes and sizes other than round. After several attempts I got a brain wave. All my rotis after that were perfectly round. How did I manage that? Simple. Roll out the dough in any shape you want and then use a sharp edged plate to cut the rotis into perfect circles. Hoon na main genius types!

Rotis and sabzi done, I decided to turn my attention to the clothes that had by now been washed clean by the washing machine.But yeah kya? The clothes didn't feel clean and smelled weird too. Must be the new powder I thought. I put up the clothes for drying and glanced at my friends. Whoz pampered now?

My mom came home to a clean house and a gleaming daughter.

Epilogue: My mom later revealed that the clothes smelled weird because I had used washing powder meant for washing utensils. Some clothes had to be rewashed and some had to be thrown away.

My friend Rose ended up with a upset stomach and had to spend the next 2 days off work.

Manisha had to spend twice as much time as she usually takes to wash utensils as she was burdened with the additional task of scrapping off the burnt remnants of the aloo sabzi.

My mom has asked me never ever to help her again. :-)

Read True story (1) here

Read True Story (2) here

Moving On....

2009-09-23T22:14:00.003+05:30

I have been gayab from my little bloggie for days now. I haven’t been able to visit your blogs either. Where I have been able to visit your blogs, I haven’t been able to comment..and before people start pointing out the stupid shayari that I have been unleashing on Choco’s blog let me rephrase..I haven’t been able to comment responsibly on posts. And that is because I am moving house.

For me this week has been a week of new learnings. Moving house has actually brought me closer to myself. One ligament tear and a couple of pulled muscles later, I have realised that I aint as strong as I pretend to be..both emotionally and physically.

Nostalgia grips me by the throat and I find myself missing random stuff like the lanes that I passed through everyday for the last 18 years of my life or the pack of dogs who mysteriously transformed into a rock band every night introducing me to various genres of music. I now know where Himeshbhai gets his inspiration from.

Moving houses has also thought me a lot of things.

Like the back of the bed isn’t a good place to hide your marksheets, because sooner or later you get caught. My mom found a stack of my standard 11 marksheets crumpled up behind my bed. While I had managed to respectfully pass out of college (with distinction..just in case anyone is getting any ideas ) she couldnt resist looking at my marks and sniggering.

Or that my cupboard has enough clothes to fill up 3 cartons and yet I end up wearing my favourite few again and again. Pareto’s principle anyone?

Moving house has finally helped me learn how to use my lappy. I have been sticking to my faithful desktop while poor lappy sat all covered with dust. Delayed delivery pf the PC table and my total addiction to the net has made sure that I learn how to use the lappy. The keys are still too sensitive for my taste and the mouse too complicated to use..but yet here I am writing a whole post while the lappy beeps screaming for a recharge.

These few days have also helped the people in my new building experience my hidden talents. Like my power over rickwalas. Every morning I have a queue waiting for me eager to drive me to my destination.Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, I attract rickwalas to my doorstep. Or like my awesome driving skills. 6 days into the new house and I have managed to dent one of my neighbors cars. The good thing is that the chap has a great sense of humor and a car that is already majorly dented by his sister. Bad news is that he is HOT.

Now I have never been the type to believe in love at first sight. One look at him and I was ready to toss away my life long beliefs. He is Adonis reincarnated with the most amazing dimples I have ever seen. I have honestly never cared about how I look and there I was that day in the most kachara halat you can ever imagine..with my hair tied up in a high pony and dressed in my tracks and sweatshirt, definitely a far cry from how I would have wanted to be when I first met him. Anyhoo, dad has invited him for the grah pravesh pooja where I shall dazzle him all dressed in my traditional glory.

I have also realised that I am not as health conscious as I pretend to be. I never eat without washing my hands. And roadside stuff is a big time no-no (I know most of you are going...is she crazy..yeah I am..I am cleanliness obsessed just like my fav Monica). But the last week was spent buying stuff from the roadside sandwich wala and eating in a house full of boxes and a LOT of dirt. Cleanliness and hygiene went flying out of the window and I discovered my love for dirt laden roadside food.

I have also realised that I am not clumsy as I had always claimed to be. 1 dinner set and 2 broken cups later..I now know I am clumsier. But that thankfully has got me off the kitchen duty.

I still have loads of boxes to unpack and stuff to buy and loads of stuff to learn about myself.

I shall be back soon..with loads of bakwaas and hopefully some pics of the flower rangoli I am planning to make on Dasshera.

They Walk Among Us!

2009-09-14T21:15:00.006+05:30

Millionaire Contestant Makes Worst Use Of Lifelines Ever

Idaho resident Kathy Evans brought humiliation to her friends and family Tuesday when she set a new standard for stupidity with her appearance on the popular TV show, 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.'

It seems that Evans, a 32-year-old wife and mother of two, got stuck on the first question, and proceeded to make what fans of the show are dubbing 'the absolute worst use of lifelines ever.'
After being introduced to the show's host Meredith Vieira, Evans assured her that she was ready to play, whereupon she was posed with an extremely easy $100 question.
The question was: 'Which of the following is the largest?'
A) A Peanut B) An Elephant C) The Moon D) Hey, who you calling large?
Immediately Mrs. Evans was struck with an all consuming panic as she realized that this was a question to which she did not readily know the answer.
'Hmm, oh boy, that's a toughie,' said Evans, as Vieira did her level best to hide her disbelief and disgust.

'I mean, I'm sure I've heard of some of these things before, but I have no idea how large they would be.'
Evans made the decision to use the first of her three lifelines, the 50/50. Answers A and D were removed,leaving her to decide which was bigger, an elephant or the moon. However, faced with an incredibly easy question, Evans still remained unsure.
'Oh! It removed the two I was leaning towards!' exclaimed Evans. 'Darn. I think I better phone a friend.'
Using the second of her two lifelines on the first question, Mrs. Evans asked to be connected with her friend Betsy, who is an office assistant.
'Hi Betsy! How are you? This is Kathy! I'm on TV!' said Evans, wasting the first seven seconds of her call.

'Ok, I got an important question. Which of the following is the largest? B, an elephant, or C, the moon.
15 seconds hun.'
Betsy quickly replied that the answer was C, the moon. Evans proceeded to argue with her friend for the remaining ten seconds.
'Come on Betsy, are you sure?' said Evans. 'How sure are you? Duh, that can't be it.'
To everyone's astonishment, the moronic Evans declined to take her friend's advice and pick 'The Moon.

''I just don't know if I can trust Betsy. She's not all that bright. So I think I'd like to ask the audience,' said Evans.
Asked to vote on the correct answer, the audience returned 98% in favor of answer C, 'The Moon.'

Having used up all her lifelines, Evans then made the dumbest choice of her life.
'Wow, seems like everybody is against what I'm thinking,' said the too-stupid-to-live Evans. 'But you know, sometimes you just got to go with your gut. So, let's see. For which is larger, an elephant or the moon,

I'm going to have to go with B, an elephant. Final answer.'
Evans sat before the dumbfounded audience, the only one waiting with bated breath, and was told that she was wrong, and that the answer was in fact, C, 'The Moon.'

Caution...they walk among us!

This one is actually better! (No comments needed!)

Caution... They Walk Among Us!
*********************************************
Some guy bought a new fridge for his house. To get rid of his old fridge, he put it in his front yard and hung a sign on it saying: 'Free to good home. You want it, you take it.' For three days the fridge sat there without even one person looking twice at it. He eventually decided that people were too un-trusting of this deal.

It looked too good to be true, so he changed the sign to read: 'Fridge for sale $50.'
The next day someone stole it!

Yeah... They Walk Among Us!

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

* One day I was walking down the beach with some friends when someone shouted....

'Look at that dead bird!' Someone looked up at the sky and said...'where?'

Caution... They Walk Among Us!

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While looking at a house, my brother asked the estate agent which direction was north because, he explained, he didn't want the sun waking him up every morning. She asked, 'Does the sun rise in the north?' When my brother explained that the sun rises in the east, and has for sometime, she shook her head and said, 'Oh, I don't keep up with that stuff'

Hmmm... They Walk Among Us!

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My colleague and I were eating our lunch in our cafeteria, when we overheard one of the administrative assistants talking about the sunburn she got on her weekend drive to the beach. She drove down in a convertible, but 'didn't think she'd get sunburned because the car was moving'.

They Walk Among Us!

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My sister has a lifesaving tool in her car it's designed to cut through a seat belt ifshe gets trapped. She keeps it in the trunk.

Haan... They Walk Among Us!

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I was hanging out with a friend when we saw a woman with a nose ring attached to an earring by a chain. My friend said, 'Wouldn't the chain rip out every time she turned her head?' I had to explain that a person's nose and ear remain the same distance apart no matter which way the head is turned...

Ohh... They Walk Among Us!

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I couldn't find my luggage at the airport baggage area. So I went to the lost luggage office and told the woman there that my bags never showed up. She smiled and told me not to worry because she was a trained professional and I was in good hands.

'Now,' she asked me, 'Has your plane arrived yet?'...
(I work with professionals like this.)

Yep... They Walk Among Us!

Psst: Yes, this is copy pasted from an email :)

Wake up Shanu!!

2009-09-09T23:06:00.006+05:30

I have been reporting to work late for the last 2 days. My sleep-deprived eyes are swollen and I keep dozing off at my desk. I have become the butt of jokes ranging from subtle hinting ones to plain crass ones. This is the 3^rd night in a row and it doesn’t look like it gonna be any different. Because, Kallu jisne mere raaton ki neend udha li hai is still around.

My nights are spent playing ‘Who blinks first’ with Kallu and days are spent trying to dress while averting his constant gaze. He seems to be smitten by me because he is near the computer when I am chatting and as soon as I get ready for bed...there he is waiting for me.

I still remember the day when I first saw him. My heart skipped a beat and tried not to gasp. He held my gaze without batting an eyelid. I tried sleeping but couldn’t get his image out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes I could see his face.

When I didn’t see him around last night, my eyes kept searching for him. Although I couldn’t see him, I knew he was somewhere, looking at me. I assumed he must have gone for a midnight snack and I was right. He was back in no time smacking his lips and staring at me with those beady eyes.

I disliked creepy crawlies before Kallu came into my life but he has made me change my point of view. Now, I hate them.

Usually my father does the honors of driving the unwanted elements away. But he is away on a business trip. And as my brother derives sadistic pleasure from watching my ever-growing dark circles, I have no other alternative but to pray that Kallu – the lizard finds a better home….soon!

Psst: Kallu is reading over my shoulder as I write this. He is a huge black lizard who has currently made the wall near my bed his abode. He (don’t ask me how I know it’s a he…I just do) is the biggest, fattest, blackest lizard I have ever laid my eyes on.

Psst psst: I guess he took offence because I called him fat. I haven’t seen him for the last 2 hours. Believe it or not I actually miss him. I better rush off to bed before I start looking for him. I can’t survive another day on just 4 hours of sleep.

Psst psst psst: I know that the title has no connection to the post. But I couldnt come up with anything else :(

Bacche Mann ke Sacche!!

2009-09-01T22:51:00.005+05:30

Not so long ago, kids and I shared a love hate relationship. They loved me and I umm…I liked them ;) Abhi who bhi kya kare…mere jadoo (magic and not broom) se bade bade nahi bacch paye toh yeh bacche kya cheez hain!

It all changed one day when along came Polly opps I mean Nidhi who I met on my way to Shirdi. Nidhi is a typical talkative girl flaunting 2 tiny pony tails. Having a talkative child in the long bus journey can be amusing at first but then starts to get on your nerves what with their continuous yelling and blabbering.

Nidhi’s parents like all pakkaued parents let her run rampant on the co-passengers whilst they enjoyed some quality time together. (I honestly do not understand parents like them. Restaurants, bus, movie theatres you see these specimens everywhere. They let their children loose on the other patrons caring a damn about their child’s incessant yelling, crying and running around. Hello..wanna spend some quality time with your spouse?? Go to the garden and let your child play there. If not, please make sure that the child sits in one place and does not run about hiding under peoples chairs)

The child went around the bus peeking under seats and accepting biscuits and singing Jack and Jill to anyone who was willing to listen. As she approached my seat, I smiled at her and decided to plug on my Ipod least she decides to recite Jack and Jill for me. But kya na..I had completely forgotten the power of my Close up smile. One smile and Nidhi was hooked. She decided to recite to all nursery rhymes that she had learned while I chose to ignore her by listening to my Ipod. She then did something totally unexpected. She started crying. And there just like that I was crowned the vamp in this story.

Pakkaued of all the accusing glances that I got, I decided to clap for little Nidhi. Bas kya tha…. I was again crowned heroine with the kiddo smiling with all her 3 toothed glory.

Her parents apparently tired from all the coochi cooing decided to drag their child back to the seat while I thanked my lucky stars and went back to my Ipod. And then what Nidhi did next, made me fall in love with her. She yelled “I love you Didi” with all the might she could muster. Now, I am used to kids falling in love with me and one more shikar of my famous smile didn’t really move me. It was her second sentence that took my heart away. She turned to my younger brother who was sitting next to me and yelled in a louder voice “I love you Uncle”

Uncle!! My brother is a year younger to me. And she called him uncle and decided to call me Didi!! It was then that I knew that all the money I had spent on Santoor soaps wasn’t a waste after all. Kyunki sach main meri twacha se meri umar ka pata hi nahi chalta.

And so it continued throughout the journey..Uncle Uncle and Didi Didi. My giggles at the word Uncle encouraged her and she would yell louder. My poor brother didn’t know where to hide.

And that’s how my love hate relationship turned into a love love one J