Call me Sugar!!

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 :)

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....

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....

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....

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........

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......

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!!