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

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 :)

I promise :)

A true story - Dimply tales

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!!

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