I was randomly flicking through the pages of my Ultimate You book which, believe me, I've found after an incredibly long time, and my eyes fell upon the date,18th August, and guess what? That's right! Today is the World Bad Poetry day. So, Guest (The Anime enthusiast, remember?) and I decided to spare some 3 and a half minutes and pen down an atrocious poem. What we did was write down 10 lines each( very secretively of course) and placed them alternatively, much like what Meera and I had done with one of our previous posts, Travel, Not so Quintessential Existentialism, And Coffee. Only, we actually knew each others' lines back then and the post actually made sense. This one? Not so much.
Well, I guess it's easy to figure out which line belongs to whom. ;D
#FunPost ( And trust me, I NEVER use Hashtags, but this is a special occasion).
Cheerio,
Ami-chan ( Because I evolved from Amethyst. Like Pokemon.)
It's been so long since I updated the blog. Anyway, here's something worth applying for - A lucky draw!
twoChois' 13th Book Review Luck draw begins! And it's a book for beginners and intermediate learners of Korean.
About the book
Title: 2000 Essential Korean words for Beginners.
Authors : Ahn Seol-hee, Min Jin-young, Kim Min-sung
Book page : 504 pages ; Supplement : MP3 CD
For more information about the Lucky draw, go here.
So.. It’s Valentine’s Day. Love is in the air. ‘Tis the
season of luuurve. Time for those mushy
lines, those red roses, red balloons, red velvet sponges.
Little did that 3rd century saint know, that a thousand
years later his birthday would be looked forward to by couples to ‘officially’
shower each other with unconditional love (whatever THAT’s supposed to mean),
buy each other presents and get drunk and make out like love-struck teenagers.
It’s cute, though. In a
so-superficial-that-one-has-to-learn-to-ignore-the-artificialness-of-it-all-and-go-with-the-flow
way. Which, coming to think of it, isn’t all that bad. I mean, it’s un-cerebral to
actually look forward to one particular day in a year to show how much you love
someone; but if you look at it with a broader perspective, it’s a tried and
tested formula to renew a relationship of that much talked about ‘oomph’.
Over the years, it has come to be a tradition to observe; an
occasion to channel your attention, thoughtfulness, and creativity into making
this one day special for that special someone, letting them know how much they
mean to you, and how wrong your life would’ve been without them, yada yada. For
example, couples who’ve been together for a considerably long amount of time
may need to reignite that not-exactly-overrated spark in a relationship. And
when better than an internationally renowned, widely accepted day to do so?
But what annoys me is that people take this ‘License to be mushy
for a day’ thing a tad too far and do crazy, majorly insane things, push their
luck and ruin it for themselves instead. The trick, I think, is to be subtle.
Keep it simple- for, nowhere is it stipulated that in order to be romantic, you
need to go all out and order three hundred red roses and fifty canary cages and
a boat ride thrown in for good measure. Keeping the drama to a minimum doesn’t reek
of desperateness, and when the day’s over, you have your dignity intact. You
ask someone out, there’re two possible outcomes- they either say yes, or they
say no, and in the case of the latter, you move on and not brood. Okay, maybe
you could brood a little, but that’s not to be overdone either.
Of late, with the flourish of social networking sites and
various phone apps, there has been a paradigm shift on love. People go about
posting hearts on each others’ walls; twelve year olds declare themselves to be
‘forever’ relationships, the word ‘love’ is indiscriminately being used
everywhere- so much so, that it sometimes makes me want to cry.
I am no cynic. But it is deeply disconcerting when someone
claims to be in love KNOWING they aren’t. Just to get some extra ‘ooh’s and
‘aah’s. It is a pure, sacred emotion,
NOT to be used as a cover for some cheap two week fling, not to be tainted, but
respected for what it is, because when misrepresented, it can cause a lot of
crazy misunderstandings. The people
concerned -gender irrespective- can be lulled into a false sense of security
and they’ll land on their backside. By the time it is all over, they’d’ve
spiralled into an abyss of darkness so scary, so deep, it would've caused more
damage than they signed up for. Surely they’d’ve assessed that there’d be some
butt-hurt involved, yeah? *exhales* Man, I feel like an evil minx now. xD
Anyway. The point is, stick to what you believe in. If you’re into that mushy
poetry and over the top sky-writing and floating candles, go all in. If it
makes you happy, that is. And for those who like to keep the theatrics to the
minimum, a quiet night with dinner and music may be the perfect thing for you.
Now, coming to the single ladies- this is a brilliant day
for you. :D Clear your schedules, stock up on that comfort food, and put on
your best PJs, ‘cause there’s going to be some major chick-flicks and Castle
marathons all day. <3 Now WHAT could be better than that?! Hahaa.
Oh. And the single
boys who’ve nothing better to do can watch the match or something. Nothing on?
You can join us in our chick-flick marathon. Not too into rom-coms? Take a
hike! ;D
This was the topic my beloved Amethyst asked me to write on.
And I thought, why not. If I can write about kidnappings,
child marriage, train stations, and smuggled tortoises, then why not about a
multi-billion dollar food industry? Bring.it.on.
The term junk-food, according to Wikipedia, was coined circa
1972, and it means food that is low in nutrition and packed with saturated fats
and carbohydrates.
Food that the likes of Adam Ritchie lurve, and food that the
upper-middle-class-I’m-too-vegan-for-my-shoes- kitty-party-type DIKHNEE aunties
abhor.
We see tonnes of write-ups on the subject, most of them on
the not-so-positive note. Often along the lines of ‘city kids giving in to the
fast-food trap’ or ‘seven year old suffers cardiac arrest due to obesity’.
I know, there is a plethora of words to choose from, to describe
the trend- the picking up something for dinner while heading home ‘cause you’re
too tired to rustle up a decent nutritious meal after an exhausting day at work
trend. Unhealthy, probably being the most direct.
But. Have we stopped for a minute and thought about the
light-hearted-ness of it all? I am by no means, advocating the practice of gluttonously
devouring un-godly amounts of fat and meat and carbs at un-godly hours, of
course.. But the culture that has come
to be, with modern fast-food at the center of the table. Quite literally.
Imagine. What would your average rave party be like, with pot roast and
Yorkshire pudding and roast turkey? I, for one, imagine Jeeves standing at the
doors and butler-ing around all my teenage friends, much to their mortification.
Or your glitzy glammy all-girl sleepover, for
that matter, with ginger tea and masala dosa for dinner? They’re not completely
crazy ideas, coming to think of it, but those
affairs wouldn’t just be the same without the usual kegs of beer and
finger food and ketchup spilling on the carpet and wraps and pizza and coke and
tubs of ice cream now, would they? Or imagine, waking up in the middle of the
night and craving for a mid-night snack. What would your mind immediately think
of? Ahot cup o’ noodles, or to go through an elaborate (not to mention painful)
heating up the tava, rubbing an onion on, and ladling out dosa batter on the
griddle? At 2 am in the morning, huh? Oh, let’s not even get started on the
chutney. *Shudder*
My, my. I pride my planet on its ability to have become a
melting pot of traditions (Pardon the bluntness), cultures (pardon the
reverberation), flavours, dimensions, cheeses, herbs, and wines. *drooool* An alternate universe would’ve been trauma,
given the times we live in. Tantrum-y
teens missing their burgers and
root beer, torturous toddlers wanting their lollies, uptight yippees without
their diet cokes and Subways.. Ugh. One post apocalypse sight it would’ve been.
So folks, thank your stars and take a generous bite off that fritter, for, we
live in hard times when happiness is got with the execution of a man who
doesn’t know half of us exist, so we will have to make do with the little
pleasures life throws our way- like that oh-so-yummy mayonnaise and lettuce
sandwich, or that de-freakin’-licious vada pav you just polished off. Stop
being a pig and stop cribbing about how you’re ‘letting go of yourself’.
So work out, eat right, and pig out at regular intervals.
Remember, little pleasures. Don’t fuss about how your skin’ll have a breakout
or how you aren’t going to fit into last birthday’s jeans.
<PLAY ME!
Okay, so I've watched so many Korean dramas and I thought I should make a list of my top 15 dramas till now. I'll review one drama in each post.
“I… am someone who knows the power of Twitter. Go home and ask your your daughter about the power of Twitter. All it takes is a single post. And also, drop the habit of making others kneel. Their knees will hurt. Don’t be like this…" – Jae Hee
Note: This is a spoiler-free zone.
My initial reactions were when I saw the lead cast: Omo! Shi Yoon's in it! Flower Boy next door introduced me to him. The female lead looks really old. They probably won't look good with each other. I know it's a horrible reason, but it was this that put me off from watching this drama for so long.
After I started watching the drama: This shit is awesome! :O Why haven't I watched this drama before?! The leads are perfect for each other! And Shi Yoon's character is so different from that of FBND; so mature! I love the female lead...yadda yadda.
And I ended up watching the entire drama in one go.
Review: I thought it would be another light-hearted, baseless drama but that wasn't the case even though the beginning of this drama was a little slow. What I loved about this drama was its extremely original story-line and it's non-cliche-ness. It's a drama about a young but tough female police officer, Cha Bong Soon who suffers from depression but is in denial of that fact. The synopsis isn't lying when it says that she is a peculiar woman who defies the rigid social hierarchy and rails against it. As fate has it, she meets our male lead, Seo Jae Hee who happens to be the son of a multi-millionaire but whom she mistakenly thinks is a part time job worker who delivers things to people. Then, later on she sees him working as a parking attendant while on duty and initially believes to be so until a little later in the drama when she finds out his true identity and trust me when I say she isn't very pleased with her findings.
But it's too late. She's already in love with him. x-D
So, slowly the romance between the two characters develops and they have to overcome so many misunderstandings and face so many obstacles including the usual evil, bitchy and obsessive second female lead(Park Hwa Young) that Asian Korean dramas are so famous for and of course, she's in luuuurve with the male lead( and has a sob story of her own). I could never sympathize with her and never got around liking her anyway. She deserved what she got but I did feel sorry for her son.
Park Hwa Young's son.
“You are beautiful. So beautiful that I just want to run off with you." – Jae Hee
The kisses in this drama by the way, are awesome! xD
-
-
-
- Rated R
*I can be cute when I want to* - Bong Soon
Other characters I really liked:
Park Tae Hwa: He's the psychologist(doctor). Oh my god, he was just way too amusing! The way he talks, the way he analyzes things in his own weird-funny way and most of all, the way he gets Cha Bong Soon to admit her problems on her own!
Kim Dal: She's the step-sister of Cha Bong Soon and even though I really disliked her initially for being so vain and money-minded AND for messing up Bong Soon and Jae Hee's relationship, I figured she wasn't all that bad. She got really caring towards the end and tried to make amends at least. Also, I loved the cute chemistry between her and Park Tae Hwa.
Jo Ma Roo: He's the most adorable character, ever! :3 He is such a sweet, endearing and caring person and it would have been so awesome if he had a romance of his own too. He followed Bong Soon like a lost puppy calling her 누나( Noona) . Ha! He's too naive and silly to be a police officer though! <3 Here's a funny scene of him.
I can't give write much without giving out any spoilers, so I'll end here. BUT what matters most is that they had a HAPPY ENDING after all the angst and drama. :D
I wonder why
they call it the writer’s block. It’s not like a part of your brain’s being clogged
with last night’s pasta or anything. You’re just being plain lazy. And when
your friend living 701 kilometers away asks you to write something, even the
most mundane things, like that frayed piece of thread from my skirt hanging
below my ankle right now, seems extraordinarily interesting. Anyway, coming to
the point. The article. Amethyst’s been bugging me day in, and day out, to do
something productive. Before I could think of a witty retort, as to why I am
unable to produce an article so interesting, so engaging that she’ll begin
respecting me more, she flies off to some Godforsaken place filled with tigers,
‘faaaaaar from civilization’, as she puts it. Meanwhile, I’m fighting the urge
to stop eating all the baked goodies I’m making for this new-year’s get
together. Bingeing, they call it. I can’t explain why, but no amount of sugar
rush seems to help these days.
THE HUNGER GAMES REVIEW: 'In the ruins of a place once known as North America lies the nation of Panem, a shining Capitol surrounded by twelve outlying districts.Each year, the districts are forced by the Capitol to send one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to participate in the Hunger Games, a brutal and terrifying fight to the death – televised for all of Panem to see.
Survival is second nature for sixteen-year-old Katniss Everdeen, who struggles to feed her mother and younger sister by secretly hunting and gathering beyond the fences of District 12. When Katniss steps in to take the place of her sister in the Hunger Games, she knows it may be her death sentence. If she is to survive, she must weigh survival against humanity and life against love.' I gotta tell you, I did have apprehensions about the Hunger Games in the beginning. Come on! Don't tell me you didn't think it was about FOOD!( I realized what it was later on, thankfully). I first learnt about the Hunger Games from my friend. She gave me a brief description of the story and quite honestly, it didn't sound all that appealing. It was still the time when I was obsessing over Percy Jackson, Harry Potter and Naruto and I didn't want to leave the shiny, happy, sparkly worlds of Greek Mythology, Hogwarts and ninjas to a barbaric, depressing, dystopia. Hell, I didn't even know the meaning of the word until The Hunger Games. So, what did I do? I ignored my friend's suggestion and went back to my darling Wimpy Kid. Then my sister ordered the Hunger Games trilogy (I still suspect it was for the cover) online, ergo, I actually had to give it a try whether I liked it or not. So, on the morning of the first day of my Dussehra break, I started reading the Hunger Games.
I started reading...
And reading....
AND Reading......
Finally...
OH MY FREAKING GOD! I LOVE IT! SUZANNE COLLINS IS GENIUS! ASABHFFBEKJFBEKFB....ABUSER OF CAPSLOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No, really. I loved every, infinitesimal second of it. I finished the first book in a day and the rest of the trilogy during the remaining part of the vacation and then spent the next two consecutive nights thinking about what would happen in Catching Fire and Mockingjay. The Hunger Games is one of those rare breeds of books whose story line is so gripping that it is simply un-put-down-able. You cannot stop reading it until you finish and even after you finish, you can't stop thinking about it. The characters and the character development is such a pleasure to read, the plot is simply superb and the writing style (although I had a few qualms about the first person-present tense in the beginning, not being very used to it) is simple and blunt, yet has an elegance to it. I, for one, found the division of the story into three parts to be apt and perfect with a cliffhanger at the end of every book(excluding the last one of course). The Hunger Games is part suspense, part adventure, part philosophy and even part romance. It's the whole freaking package! The plot- The plot was so unique, so original and so...well, shocking. The continuous twists and Katniss' fight for survival made the book not boring for even a second. The descriptions were so visual, it was almost like a screenplay. I could picture everything that Suzanne described most vividly. ... Well, most of them anyway.
Most of all, I loved Katniss' way of thinking. Her blunt, surly way of looking at things was far better than being stuck in Bella's sappy head in Twilight any day( Excuse me for comparing THG and Twilight. I know they're in completely different leagues). War and the fights in general weren't described as sleek or smooth or sexy but were explained vividly and properly, like how they would happen in real life. The Hunger Games was ugly, blunt, bloody, brutal, barbaric and so very real. It was funny how sometimes, major shocking news was delivered so obtusely (for example, the aftermath of the Games in both 'Hunger Games" and "Catching Fire".) while Suzanne Collins paid so much attention to the minute details like contrasting the food in the Capitol to those in the Seam. WARNING: The rest of the review contains some major spoilers if you still haven't read the book(s). If you don't want your reading experience to be spoiled, beware. You've been warned. Turn away while you still can. The Characters- Katniss is an inspiration. Period. She is badass, independent, strong, fierce and deadly and is what every girl should aim to be. She is a survivor (literally) and *spoiler alert* Rue's death bringing her human side out was beautiful. Katniss is so amazing that she makes people fall in love with her without even trying( And NO! She isn't a Mary Sue). Okay, so the Hunger Games has a love triangle. So what? That isn't the central dilemma anyway.
Now, about the next main character. Peeta Mellark. I absolutely loved Peeta. There's just something about him and his unconditional love and his kindness that is so endearing unlike all those other jealous, masochistic, arrogant male leads that are all the rage nowadays( 50 Shades of Shit Grey, anyone?). I really liked how Katniss and Peeta's relationship developed over the books.
Anywaaay, most of the other main characters came out in the later books but all of the characters left a deep impression on me. I fell in love with Finnick, Cinna and Boggs. Like everybody else, some of the character deaths were so shocking that I had to reread to make sure it wasn't a misprint. Then I proceeded to cry like a baby and didn't touch the book for a few hours out of spite. *Spoiler Alert* Finnick's death killed me. Killed me.
On a more serious note, the Hunger Games is nothing but Suzanne Collin's take on the violence in wars mixed with reality shows in a brutal, harsh, futuristic world( aka Dystopia). The Hunger Games made me cry, made me laugh, made me marvel in its epic-ness but it also made me think about the violence, war and destruction in today's world and how we might be leading our world into an even worse future. We need change and we need it now. And the Hunger Games not only imparts this message but arouses it.
So that's that. My review of The Hunger Games (which my sister has been badgering me to write for a week). I rate the Hunger Games 5/5 and I encourage anybody out there who has had stupid, precursory assumptions like mine, to get rid of them and pick up their copy of TheHunger Games immediately. And believe me, when you finally put it down, you won't think the same way.
And like Effie Trinket says, 'May the odds be ever in your favor.'
Thanks for sticking with me for so long and sorry if I spoiled anything but really....
Finally, after watching The Hunger Games, there is something I desperately want to do. THIS--->
"Doing nothing is very hard to do. You never know when you're finished."
-Leslie Nielsen.
Here's the proof of our retarded-ness. We were simply lying around jobless doing nothing(while we should've been studying with sobriety) when we suddenly came up with the idea of putting our madness on paper. Or in this case, in print.
Short stories, as far as they go, are self-sufficient. They don't seem deficient of anything, whatever be the genre. Be it an ominous Roald Dahl, or a warm and humorous R.K. Narayan. Here's a concoction of Amethyst's and Meera's ever so conflicting take on life, with a dash of randomness. To back up this piece we came up with, is a little story on how the story( Article?) came into existence:
A bored Amethyst pings an ever so lost Meera, who, obvously, is drowning her sullen cynicism in a pot of -yes- coffee. And just then.. when we were on the verge of a genius breakthrough-cum-pulitzer-winning-marvel, Meera's internet goes kaput. Just like that. Enough to send Meera into raging fumes.
For, after over a blooming (strictly metaphorical, and a little sarcastic, even) month of what can only be called writer's block, and a serious case of the Lazy Bum, we decided to muster up every last ounce of our will power, creativity and sanity, channeling it into what one can only call a productive piece of thought provoking, yet brainless literature, bordering in on existential nihilism.
To sum it up, this entire piece was what we had as a 'conversation' on Skype( The different coloured sentences indicating Meera's and Amethyst's views) . Ah, if only we could insert our never ending remarks as well, it would have been perfect. No fretting though. Sit back and enjoy. =D
Travelling can be a pain sometimes.But I still like
travelling. The reason being, as sickening as it could get, there're always new
things to see. And new people to meet.
One day, when I was on a train to Palette
Town (oh yeah), I saw this incredible sight. There was a person near a lamp post wearing a T-Shirt that read 'I can give a headache to an aspirin' and holding out a torch.And that sight- of the man holding the torch set off a chain of thoughts in my mind; one of the reasons I absolutely cherish travelling.
Knowing different
cultures, meeting different people and looking at life from a different
perspective. And then.. I thought. What would life be, if there was monotony-
with no natural selection to divide society!How boring and uninteresting it would be if we
all had the same thoughts, did the same things and liked the same kind of
people; hell, human kind wouldn't even have developed with no originality or
creativity.
Monotony, like
self-pity- I realize- is only the next worse thing in the world.You know
exactly what will happen when because you can easily read your peers' minds and
in the process you don't look forward to future or living life at all. Life,
much like a chick-flick, is a sugar-coated whodunit.And life somehow is
related to travel it seems - an average human living up to the age of 80, it
seems, would have at least travelled 108,131 miles(may or may not be true).
One thing that could make the world a happier place, is
coffee.. That, however, does not in any way 'reduce' one's life expectancy-
only fills the world with energized people, leaving them happier. And the other
being travel - sometimes when we absolutely need to get away from our lives and
reality, travelling allows us to have a
sense of escapism just like books and movies; we involve ourselves in other
peoples' lives and their stories and forget our problems for a while.
Coffee, much like travel, is a getaway for many- it creates
that much needed illusion of inter-dimensional travel, freeing one of their
worries, albeit temporary.But then again if we really wanted to 'travel'
inter-dimensionally and soar in the air, we could always do psychedelics - a
euphemistic term for drugs.
Having said that, we don't really see a workaholic couple
doping themselves every morning at the breakfast table, before kissing each
other goodbye for the day and running off to work.So, coffee in a way, wins I suppose and
like someone once said - 'Happiness is a cup of coffee and a really good book'. So go make some nice, hot coffee and head to the nearest library.
So, moral of the story, you ask? Go make some nice coffee, and head to the nearest library( It accounts for travel, no?). And if possible, on the way, try to meet some weird and eccentric people who can prove their originality to you( Preferably wearing a T-shirt that reads ' Come say Hi to me, you suckers!).
Song Credits: Cruel and beautiful world - By Group Love
I type up whatever’s on my mind in my phone whenever I’m
bored, angry, happy, mildly/depressed or tired. Okay, I’m kidding about the
‘tired’ part; I don’t feel like getting up to even go to the bathroom, let
alone type something in my phone when I’m tired. Most of the ‘notes’ were
written in the comfort of my room, but there are some others which were written
randomly when I was out in the public. I start typing something and fiddling
with my phone just so I don’t seem jobless and awkward whenever I go out alone
without any friends or family.
So, Meera has been bugging me to write an article even
though I kept insisting that half my brain cells were dead and the other half
lacked any sort of inspiration. She even blackmailed me saying that she would
go incognito on me if I didn’t think of something…anything to write before
midnight( Okay, maybe not midnight, but she did force me to start writing this).
So, I kept thinking and thinking and thinking. Nothing struck my mind. I drank
some apple juice and thought some more. Nothing. I even trusted Meera and took
a sip of Glen Deveron Whisky and nearly spat the entire thing out. All while
she was devouring the taste of her supposedly amazing home-made wine. And
still, nothing. I was almost coming to the conclusion that my brain cells were
really dying when Meera sends me these messages on facebook:
“You have the talent of playing with words (My minds thinks:
Stop trying to flatter me. This will not work with me). Implement it ( AN: I
don’t want to). Pronto ( AN: Oh, whatever!)”. And then I’m about to brush away
her words when she sends me another message, “I’m logging out”. I’m like,
‘WHAAAAAAT?! That’s rude’. And then
immediately a light bulb goes off in my mind. Evil laughter echoes inside my
head and I can almost imagine my wicked alter ego rolling up her sleeves and
rubbing her palms. I’m going to cheat. I’ll just type up all the notes that
I’ve been writing during the past few months in my phone, here.
So, here they are. Five of the unending and most recent notes
from my phone.
Note Un:
Date: 26.09.2012
Time: 9:17pm
I’m so pissed right now, I could kill someone. Literally.
Meera has been bugging me to write an article. “You don’t
need an inspiration to write an article. You think I’m in the mood to write
one? Yet, I’m still writing something!” she says.
So, me being the dramaholic, I suggest writing an article
about my favourite Korean, Japanese and Taiwanese dramas to which she grunts in an unattractive, totally
unfeminine way and says ‘No’. The reason? 'She' isn’t interested in them.
What did she expect anyway?! Apparently, she wants me to
write about my life in the past year. According to me, the past two years were
probably the worst and the most unproductive years of my life. Meera begs to
differ though. “You met me! We became such amazing friends! How could you be so
cruel as to say that?! We met X,Y,Z, Alpha, Beta, Gamma…” -.- Yeah, she started
mentioning the names of all the people I met the past two years.
I wish the earth could open up now. T.T
Note Deux:
Date: 09.10.12
Time: 7:27am
Oh shit! There’s a spider spinning its web here. Aaaaaah! So
creepy! I want to scream! x.x
Okay, maybe not scream. But it still is ‘Eeeew’ and *insert
girly high pitched scream*.
I had a strangely creepy dream last night. No…nightmare
would be the correct term. It was so weird! And scary. I was in this abandoned
warehouse which never ceased to stop spinning(And it didn’t look like I was in
India). Why was it even spinning?! And somehow, the warehouse had ‘my’
bookshelf inside it. I wonder who took the time to transfer it there. -___-‘’
And then, I see Kurt Cobain. He comes and tells me, “You are
a product of a brainwashed society”. And then, I don’t say anything. Not
because I don’t want to, but because I can’t; because I couldn’t control my own
stupid dream. And also, because I act
like a downright loser in all my dreams. T.T
He says, “Why’re you at my house?” without looking at me.
And in my mind, I’m like…YOUR HOUSE?! And then I look around ‘his’ house which
has an uncanny resemblance to the interiors of my previous house (except the
lighting’s really dark). B| *Suspicious*
While I’m at it, he invites me to have a cup of coffee with
him and starts playing his guitar. And I still wonder how the song ‘Smells like
teen spirit’ started playing in the background. Now that I think about it, it
reminds me of the whole Narnia setup where Mr.Tumnus leads Lucy to the cave
which he calls his home. He even offers her something to drink (Milk, was it?).
What more, he even plays his flute! Oh Zeus! My dream’s a cheap rip off of
Chronicles of Narnia. T.T
I apologize wholeheartedly, Mr. C. S Lewis.
Anyway, so I listen to him playing the song. And then
suddenly there’s an earthquake. Yes! AN EARTHQUAKE! All I see next is a huge crowd
and debris and Kurt Cobain in all his Zombie glory.
…
Wait, what? Zombie?! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES. The next thing I
know, he’s chasing me. I hear his voice screaming, “You killed me”. Though I
have no idea how I killed him, I feel guilty.
So, I run. And
panicking, I tripped on a stone. And then Kurt Cobain came up behind me and
went, “Mwuahahahaha!” with an evil glint in his eye and ate me up. The End.
…
Okay, that didn’t happen. How cliché do you expect me to
get? -__-
I didn’t trip over a stone. I kept running and running in
circles. Kurt Cobain disappeared and the entire landscape changed.
The next thing I know, I’m in my LST class giving a mock
test. ~.~
I blame the book ‘Five Flavors of Dumb’ by Antony John for
the appearance of the amazing Kurt Cobain in my so called nightmare. And as far as
the ‘Mock Test’ goes…I blame my fate.
Note Trois:
Date: 03. 10. 2012
Time: 7:36pm
Operation: Kill their elephant posterior sized Ego.
Yosh! *determined expression*For this to be successful, I
need to go into my super-ninja stealth mode. I need to maintain my poker face.
I need to control my tongue. I shouldn’t get riled up easily. And most of all,
I need to put up an Oscar winning performance.
I should make sure that they can see that they aren’t
getting to me. That’s the best way to deflate their…EGO. I feel so sleepy.
*shakes head*
10 Minutes Later:
The ‘Silent Treatment’ isn’t working with them! What the Hades!
*Eye Twitch* I guess, I’ll have to try the ‘Polite Treatment’ then. *Anime
tears* *Sigh* I knew this would happen!
15 Minutes Later:
I GIVE UP!
Note Quatre:
Date: 6. 10. 2012
Time: 10.56pm
I’m not in a very good mood. I can almost feel the steam
coming out of my ears. Why does everything become my fault?! Huh? Huh?! HUH!?
Guess why mother dear was scolding me this morning for. Oh, guess it, you! Did
you guess something like ‘Oh, she probably talked back to her mother in a
bitchy attitude’ or ‘I’m sure she was
skipping classes and getting bad grades’ or even, ‘Did she not go home last
night?!’.
Sorry to disappoint you, but NO! She scolded me because…oh,
you’ll love it…because I didn’t wake up with the help of an alarm clock and
instead with the help of my own personal, human alarm aka My Granny.
Unbelievable!
In my mind I’m all like-
But of course, I say nothing. This is how the whole episode
went:
Me: *Sitting on the couch sipping my ambrosial apple juice*
Mum: *Starts shouting at me for no apparent reason* Why
can’t you ever wake up with the help of an alarm?!
Me: …
Mum:*In her murderous rage* How many times have I told you
to put an alarm?! Why are you so obstinate?! Don’t you know that I’m always
looking out for you?
Me: …
Mum: *To my Granny* Don’t wake up her up again. She’ll just
miss her classes. Big deal! *Turns to me* You’re incorrigible.
Me: …
Mom: *Starts shouting at my sister* And YOU! Are you trying
to follow in your sister’s footsteps? Are you trying to imitate her? Do you
think it’s something to be proud of? Are you-
Me: *Slips away surreptitiously*
FML.
But, I think I handled the whole situation well. Don’t you?
I’ve been reading this Wattpad novel titled ‘Faking It’…it’s
alright. I mean, though it has perfect Grammar and all this eloquent English
with size-able words, I feel like there’s something missing. I still don’t get
the feeling that the writer of the said novel is a non amateur. The language
somehow seems forced and fake. But the story-line caught my eye, so I think I’ll
just continue reading it. Not only that, the main leads are interesting;
different from the typical Mary Sue-ish female lead and a masochist,
‘I’m-too-arrogant-for-my-own-good’ male lead stories that I’ve been coming
across on Wattpad and elsewhere lately.
I’m not going to be elaborating the story further(It's still on-going). Read it
for yourself if you want to. If not, then…I don’t care?
Caution: It contains 'unpristine' language, Homosexuality(
Homophobes might find it a tad bit repulsive but they’ll get over it), Drama(
Not much, but there still is some. A story just can’t proceed without a tint of
our beloved and probably over-rated ‘American’ High School drama, can it? *wink
wink*) and of course, Betrayals ( With Queen B*tches, Nerds, Emos and Jocks).
Note Cinq:
Date: 28.01.2012
Time: 1.47am
“You’re a good liar, so at-least do the right thing”. This
quote by Japanese fictionist Osamu Dazai had me pondering for a little more
than 8 seconds which is unusual considering how I don’t give much attention to
quotes like ‘these’. Quotes like ‘these’ as in quotes which don’t relate to me
directly. And by that I don’t mean that I have never lied; because, I have. A
little too many times.
But that’s beside the point. I came across this quote while
watching the Japanese movie ‘How to become myself’. And quite honestly, this
movie really touched me. Inspired me to an extent, even. There were so many
circumstances and incidents in the movie that are dangerously close to reality.
This isn’t a fantasy tale with happy endings and prince charmings and perhaps
that’s why it was more effective. It portrayed life unaltered.
If someone asked me to rate the movie out of a 10, I’d
probably give it a 7. And if they asked the re-watch value, it would most
definitely be a 3 but that’s because this is one of those ‘One-time-watch’
movies. The story, though undoubtedly realistic, is predictable. And also, no
one would want to watch a movie about the harsh realities of life over and over
again.
This movie didn’t make my heart race and go all ‘fan-girl’
mode nor did it make me cry. It was plain, realistic and had a very slow pace
it as well. However, it gave me a heart-warming feeling and left me satisfied
with the lead character’s self realization towards the end of the movie. I just
had to smile contently when she said, “I’m going to live my life in my own way
from now on”.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife" -Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice.
It’s 4:30am on a Wednesday morning, and I’m sitting on a
marble bench in the Bangalore Railway station, awaiting my 5 o’ clock train to
Mysore- that’s where I moved to in June.. There’s not much action happening
today, strangely enough. There’re two dogs fighting over a piece of stale
bread, and the sky looks.. well, pink with clouds. I go to LST in Bangalore. It’s like a
prep-school for Law School entrances. Not many know about this, for almost all
of India thinks there’re only two professions one can write entrance exams for.
Need I even mention which two?
So my weekly schedule is like this: Leave to Bangalore on
Fridays/Saturdays (depending on my class schedules), attend my LSTs, and travel
back home on Monday mornings. The rest of the week? I learn music, pottery,
baking, and well. I write. That’s one of the plus points of taking a gap year.
Not sticking to a rigid routine, detesting mundane schooldays with revision
tests and face Monday morning blues. Normally, people take a sabbatical from
degree courses, or even work. But it’s not an uncommon trend these days for
students to drop a year and use this time to decide what they want to do with
their life- doctor, engineer, designer, singer, zoo-keeper.. you get the gist,
right? (I’m not saying that’s what I’m doing, but.)
Anyway, back to what I was saying. Here I am, listening to
Lata Mangeshkar on my walkman (I prefer that to the i-Pod), when this 20
something guy in blue chequered shorts walks by and asks if the seat beside me
is taken. I shake my head sideways, and go back to listening to music. And then the announcer (The South Western
Railways make sure their speakers are tuned to blare into your ears, no matter
how loud your mp3 player is and believe me, mine was LOUD.) says: ‘Chennai to Bangalore train Madras Express is expected to arrive on
Platform one, in forty five minutes. We apologise for the delay.’ Or something
to that effect. Yeah. That is exactly what a person- who hasn’t slept in almost
three days, has been in three states in the past 24 hours, and has been treated
like Harry Potter when she returned to her native place after 13 years (I’ll
get to that later) – would want to hear. Cheers to life.
******
Two days ago....
After tossing and turning in bed for what seemed like an
eternity- I can’t get myself to fall asleep in that super soft, springy
mattress- I finally decide to get up, when my six year old cousin Oviya crawls
into bed beside me and blares ‘Waka waka
heeey heeeyyy!!!’ into my ears. Hello, migraine! *Note to self. Make more coffee today* Clearly, the kid doesn’t
inherit her mother’s taste in music. My LST had this Symposium on Law as a
career, the attendance to which was mandatory. And I tell you, it was worth every
sniffle I endured for having stepped out in the biting Bangalore morning cold.
The event lasts until two thirty, after which I grab a quick bite with my
friends, and scoot to the nearest bus stop. I get home in the next hour, and
drag out my maid- to teach me to ride the bicycle (Yeah- I wasn’t an out
doorsey kid. Sue me.), and return after an hour, brandishing the nice, deep
gash I managed to give myself, having fallen off the Ladybird.
Soon, I find myself in the hospital, getting a dressing on my
left palm (I find it hard to believe one’s palm can bleed SO much in so less
time). As I walk back home, my phone rings. The phone call, which practically
beckoned my doom. My maternal grandma’s brother-in-law had died. I knew what to
do. Call a truckload of relatives and make the announcement.
The next thing I know, I’m sitting on a train, at five in
the morning the following day, with a heavily dressed palm, looking like Spud the scarecrow, having swallowed
an analgesic- to keep the pain at bay (the doctor forgot to mention it had the
side effects of a horse tranquilizer), with my entire family in tow.
Ambur. That’s the
name of my native village. This is the first time I’m going there in 13 years,
and there’s a reason I’ve kept away for so long. I just don’t belong there! At
the risk of sounding like a thankless person. Three hours later, I find myself
hugging the inconsolable Radha Ma, wife of the deceased man. Soon, people walk
up to me, asking me if I was Meera, Mala’s daughter. As I nod in confusion, I
spotted the one man I dreaded seeing the most. My 24 year old country bumpkin
of a 47th cousin (no offence, Raja), is walking towards me. I try
hiding. Too late. He’s already holding my hand. “There’s my wife! How much I
missed you! Where did you go off all these years? What happened to your hand,
kannamma?!” Wife? What wife? “I am so glad you are finally here! Promise
you won’t leave me again!!” Wait. What?
******
“So you’ve just
arrived from Chennai?” Blue Chequered Shorts asks me. “No, I’m heading to
Mysore, the train’s supposedly late” “Yeah.. It isn’t usually this late. I
guess there was some kind of time adjustment
issue.” Oh really? I thought it was recovering from a severe hangover from the
previous night’s cocktail party in the diesel shed.
I can’t help being a
little grouchy. Given what I had to endure in the last twenty four hours.
“What’re you doing, travelling all by yourself this early in the day?” he asks.
I tell him why, and he says “Oh! That is so cool! I like travelling myself.. So
what, you’ll climb on to a berth and sleep once you get into the train?” Yay. A
talker. Just what I need. I hope he doesn’t
whip out a hanky with chloroform and tranquilize me. I nod with a watery smile.
“I’m Mohan.” He says, extending his hand. Sigh. “Meera” I
say. We shake hands. And that, is how, the
most interesting, and unforgettable one
hour long conversation in the history of train stations started. Contrary to
what I thought, not all strangers who come
and sit beside you at 4:30 in the morning at a deserted railway platform
are serial killers. (Later I find out, some of them are perverts, and sick in
the head.) Truthfully, I had a pretty
good time. We talk about why snails are considered a delicacy in some
countries, the city’s night life, and even premarital coitus(!). He at some
point even asked me if I had a boy friend. And strangely, I didn’t find it
offensive. I’m considering giving my
nickname( Miss Prudy Pants) a break. So
I ignore the unusual course the conversation takes and just talk. About dating,
work, college, travel, life, and how ‘the closest food gets to being vegetarian
in Malaysia is beef’. He then says: ‘Do you fantasize about stuff?’ Oh yeah.
Why didn’t I see that coming? Of course. He’s a (pardon my
language) sleazeball. I should’ve seen
it when he asked me about my relationship status. I walk away. As fast as possible, and as far
as possible. I can hear him in the back ground- ‘Wait! At least give me your
number!’ Dirt bag.
*****
“What. Do. You. Meeeeean. He’s my husband?” I ask my grandfather, who tries very hard not
to burst into another fit of laughter. I have to remind him we’re at a funeral.
He solemnly replies ‘It means, you’re married to him, Putta.’ I look around,
only to realize everybody else in the immediate family is trying to contain
their laughter as well. What is so funny, I ask him. I’m hoping against hope
that this isn’t the part where they tell me now that I’m eighteen, my true
identity- that of the heiress to the family business (leather goods?) can be
only fulfilled if I marry the great grandson of my great grandpa’s business partner.
You know, like in those 80s movies.
As it turns out, I got the great grandpa part right.
Apparently, some 80 years ago, our great grand fathers had pledged my
generation to be united in holy matrimony( yuck!) And since my granddad and
grandma moved out of the village as soon as they got married, no one from my
family knew about the nuptials. MY (eww) nuptials. I apparently had a premeditated, arranged,
suicide inducing marriage. I wasn’t even there at my own marriage! To some guy
I haven’t even spoken to (I’ve only heard that he’s a smothering love struck
puppy. And that he was when he was five, he got hitched to some girl he hasn’t
seen ever since. Only NOW do I know that
that girl is ME!!).
There’s this line
Katy Scarlett O’Hara says in Gone With The Wind- 'I can't think about that right now. I'll think about it tomorrow.'That is exactly what I
said to myself and the next thing I know, I am stuffing my face. I then excuse
myself from the lunch table, and run up the mountain and into the forest, Yeah.
The forest. My mind is completely blank, and all I could hear was my ‘husband’,
running after me, saying ‘wait, love. I’ll come with you’. I give him a death
glare and he freezes in his footsteps. I continue running, I don’t look back. I
run past the garden, all the way across the highway, and into the woods. The afternoon sun is long gone by now, and the
sky is completely covered in clouds. I stop to catch my breath after a
staggering twenty five minutes (for me, that is a LOT.) and that, is when I smell the air.
It smelled like mud.
You know, when you water your plants, the dust settles and there’s this
heavenly aroma that enters your nostrils? If this were a mediocre novel, the author
would describe the sky as ‘ominous looking, the air heavy and so crisp that it
could be cut with a butter knife’. Even
in that horrid situation of mine, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. At
myself, actually. At how awesome and arrogant I was with my ways. How always, I
crack the most ridiculous- and funniest of jokes when there’s no one around. Does
this make me sound like a narcissist? I don’t mind. After all, I do love
myself. As I sit there, giggling like a
psychotic fool, I don’t care anymore. I realize there’s nothing to think about.
Scarlett, I’m sorry, but I’m not thinking. It’s
just a stupid Panchayat marriage. It’s not like it’s legal or something.
Or at least that’s what I was told when lunch was happening. Raju, was looking
at me as though his eye balls were about to fall out of their sockets, and every
time I prepared to spit out a mouthful at his face, I told myself. ‘Meera, this
is a funeral. Keep calm. Keep calm’ and
that, was how I finished my plate of putrid goo (khichdi). I am awakened from
my filmy picture of my not so filmy (more like pandemonium filled) life, because it starts raining. The heavens
sure do have the most perfect timing. No sarcasm. I love the rain. And when I
decide, to finally come to my senses, I look at my watch, and that, is what
makes me run downhill like a lunatic, laughing, thankful that nobody’s around
to put me in a straitjacket. After all,
tomorrow’s another day, eh? Married or not married, that’s another question
altogether. Song Credits: Hey Jude- The Beatles
Ambur. That’s the
name of my native village. This is the first time I’m going there in 13 years,
and there’s a reason I’ve kept away for so long. I just don’t belong there! At
the risk of sounding like a thankless person. Three hours later, I find myself
hugging the inconsolable Radha Ma, wife of the deceased man. 
