After an explicitly “short” hiatus I return back with a thought that might disturb many of us when we read, bringing back memories of the worst days of our lives. The ignominy of having to get hit on your arm till abrasions appeared on it just because you screamed out across the assembly hall the name of your best friend and you were just five years old. A five year old who didn’t know how loud her voice should have been when she was playing with her friend just on her way to the class!
Years back a shocking controversy had appeared about a teacher locking up a student who had barely reached a “double digit age” in her car in Dubai and the child died of asphyxiation after being locked up in a car which had no glasses rolled down for hours. How much can the small lungs of a child’s take up carbon dioxide was aware to everybody else other than that woman. Of course if she was a tad saner, patient, prudent and a caring person all that was required were words of caution accompanied with a soothing touch and stern voice to keep the child a lamb in the class!
Corporal punishment shouldn’t alone be banished from the decorum of school teaching. A patient person should only think of being a teacher, just like a compassionate human thinking of being a doctor. Teaching is the best profession in this world as far as my convictions are concerned. No adult is going to remember a teacher for the words of scorns that pricked her/his thoughts like thorns! All the teachers out there, never a consider child worthless and make it a subject of your incessant verbal and physical torture just because he/she does not possess the caliber academically. Remember Johnny Depp was a school dropout at 13 and well I needn’t continue with who Johnny Depp is today right :)
I have had the luck of having a few teachers who were gems of people and a few many more who were worser than rotten eggs! No offense to the latter since they have brought about nil effects on me and my ability to solve mental maths with their blade edged wooden scale tactics on my tiny pink hands which did turn redder just to add to the woes of an even more sensitive mother of mine. All that comes to my face is a smile partly of pity and partly of ridicule when I think about them. And those days. And now..
Parents and teachers are the creators, the moulders of an adults perception of the world, his/her life, his/her thoughts about living here and having to deal with this enormous task and emerge out a survivor. No amount of comparison is going to help a child become a better human being tomorrow. It definitely hasn’t helped me, for a while it just gave me a rather unhealthy competitive spirit which I find if anything futile today! If a child is taught to deal with his/her problems in their own way instead of asking them to adopt the techniques used by another child especially when it comes to studying, if she/he is assisted properly in this mammoth task of having to fit in the proper crowd with helping hands and loving words, there is no amount that the person would thank you later on. I am indebted to those who have instiled in me that I am a winner even if I’d score a C in my term exams.
Teachers shape one. Ones interest in subjects be it history, language, science, music and the highly intimidating mathematics, a teacher is one of the very vital people who can guide you to your choice destination in life. And no form of insult or squidging a pen between the developing knuckles of a child is going to make an individual reach the spot faster. All that it helps achieving velocity is in the construction of the pile of frustration that can be induced in the adult as a consequence of the trauma that was once attained because of an ill tempered teacher.
I take this opportunity through my blog to thank all my teachers (no doubt, especially the angels among them) and also reproach through my thoughts the ones that ridiculed me and hit me till I thought I was a loser until my ever growing confidence and faith creeped in..
“ We are beautiful in every single way, as words cant bring us down”(courtesy:Christina Aguilera) .. Neither can flogs.
To every adult out there, remember every child does carry the sting and the kisses you give them in their heart on an equal measure. They are the adults with a better and bigger conscience than us...
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Kitchen "Kursed"
For all these days of not exercising my grey cells to pen down a few words or to even think about a topic to ponder over ( or for that matter to even attempt reading anything remotely interesting!) I am glad to know today at least that I have one great woe of mine to share with you all. I don’t know how many women share this with me because my revelation hereby is not going to find me a great number of female allegiances as far as the woe of cooking is considered.
Yes friends, I apparently belong to that category of women (gawk at me or not!) who particularly do not take immense self pride in saying that “ I know how to cook Chicken biriyani and Paneer Mutter Masala and Chocolate truffle pudding all within a matter of two hours!” (My dad has a reputation of doing the same though, precisely speaking, a bigger number of dishes within the same time span!) because firstly I don’t know how to cook all the aforementioned and many more items and secondly why waste energy, time and sweat for a party when these can be readily ordered as takeaways from a nearby restaurant!
As far as my culinary skills are concerned I can quip up things more than just for my survival but I vehemently yet unwarily turn a blind eye towards actually crushing ginger and garlic in a mortar and just add plain “apna” readymade ginger garlic paste. Well of course the former does tingle the taste buds better than the latter but really why do I want to feel relaxed eating my own chicken curry when I have already perspired a litre in the furnace called kitchen in the heat of the Indian summer, when I can treat myself royally to Chicken Ghee Roast from a deli and pamper myself like a baby.
But I have always and still dream of having my own food show someday, a food travelogue combining the two most fulfilling entities of human life: food and travel. I don’t watch Nigella Lawson and Curtis Stone without a tad of envy , I find Bourdain a little too adventurous for my taste, and Kelly’s Chinese cooking is, erm well, a little complicated for my brains. My green aura doesn’t even spare Kairali’s Lakshmi Nair! The colors, the textures, the cacophony of tastes that could have probably melted into my palate had I been blessed with immense patience and culinary intelligence never forget to drift me into the hedonistic world of FOOD!
Lets say I am a wannabe Epicurean. A wannabe who is too lazy and clumsy and shallow to try to enter the kitchen. The only shows that I would probably stop on while surfing the television (which I rarely watch nowadays) are cookery shows but when my mother orders and sometimes requests(which almost borders reprimanding and later on imploring) to help her in the kitchen, all that I end up doing are: a) wash the dishes and b)sit on the cabinet comfortably and gossip with my poor mother who has to manage grinding, frying, washing and gossiping simultaneously making her Superman’s Twin Sister!
They say , the dominant gene of either parents definitely gets transmitted to their offspring as far as Mendel’s rules of genetics goes by. Even Mendel will go Mental seeing how I have connivingly disproved his theory as far as the disposition of my “cooking genes” are concerned. Both my parents and to an extent my brother are excellent chefs. They quip up the most innovative and lip smacking dishes in just hours. My brother has a special knack of making a continental dish out of, lets say, even biscuits and chocolate powder which makes me look like a fat and frustrated middle aged sister!
Today evening my friend narrated out the recipe of Paneer chilly over phone and as she ranted and raved on enthusiastically about how thick every piece of onion chopped should be I was dreaming away as to how I would write about it! Silly as it sounds, I replied back with an impish grin, “You are so talented!” At the end of the conversation I only remembered that Paneer chilly was supposed to have paneer diced as cubes in it (Or is it!) Another friend of mine who talks about preparing Idlis and dosas in Australia for breakfast, almost has me on the verge of tears, when I come to a self realization that I am a loser for a woman.
Then, I shake up from the ego smashing rut and muster my guts up and tell myself, that I am going to take over the reins from Lawson and mesmerize everyone with my food and charms ( provided if I have any by then!) and be The Queen of Food , someday… And then I think about having to patiently wait and stir onions till they are fried crisp golden brown over a hot stove till my hunger is suppressed with the smell of a materializing dish and physical fatigue and immediately I thank God for home deliveries with all my heart as I thank Him for electricity and anaesthesia.
P.S: Don’t stop visiting my place hereon. You shall never leave hungry. What are restaurants for anyways ;)
Yes friends, I apparently belong to that category of women (gawk at me or not!) who particularly do not take immense self pride in saying that “ I know how to cook Chicken biriyani and Paneer Mutter Masala and Chocolate truffle pudding all within a matter of two hours!” (My dad has a reputation of doing the same though, precisely speaking, a bigger number of dishes within the same time span!) because firstly I don’t know how to cook all the aforementioned and many more items and secondly why waste energy, time and sweat for a party when these can be readily ordered as takeaways from a nearby restaurant!
As far as my culinary skills are concerned I can quip up things more than just for my survival but I vehemently yet unwarily turn a blind eye towards actually crushing ginger and garlic in a mortar and just add plain “apna” readymade ginger garlic paste. Well of course the former does tingle the taste buds better than the latter but really why do I want to feel relaxed eating my own chicken curry when I have already perspired a litre in the furnace called kitchen in the heat of the Indian summer, when I can treat myself royally to Chicken Ghee Roast from a deli and pamper myself like a baby.
But I have always and still dream of having my own food show someday, a food travelogue combining the two most fulfilling entities of human life: food and travel. I don’t watch Nigella Lawson and Curtis Stone without a tad of envy , I find Bourdain a little too adventurous for my taste, and Kelly’s Chinese cooking is, erm well, a little complicated for my brains. My green aura doesn’t even spare Kairali’s Lakshmi Nair! The colors, the textures, the cacophony of tastes that could have probably melted into my palate had I been blessed with immense patience and culinary intelligence never forget to drift me into the hedonistic world of FOOD!
Lets say I am a wannabe Epicurean. A wannabe who is too lazy and clumsy and shallow to try to enter the kitchen. The only shows that I would probably stop on while surfing the television (which I rarely watch nowadays) are cookery shows but when my mother orders and sometimes requests(which almost borders reprimanding and later on imploring) to help her in the kitchen, all that I end up doing are: a) wash the dishes and b)sit on the cabinet comfortably and gossip with my poor mother who has to manage grinding, frying, washing and gossiping simultaneously making her Superman’s Twin Sister!
They say , the dominant gene of either parents definitely gets transmitted to their offspring as far as Mendel’s rules of genetics goes by. Even Mendel will go Mental seeing how I have connivingly disproved his theory as far as the disposition of my “cooking genes” are concerned. Both my parents and to an extent my brother are excellent chefs. They quip up the most innovative and lip smacking dishes in just hours. My brother has a special knack of making a continental dish out of, lets say, even biscuits and chocolate powder which makes me look like a fat and frustrated middle aged sister!
Today evening my friend narrated out the recipe of Paneer chilly over phone and as she ranted and raved on enthusiastically about how thick every piece of onion chopped should be I was dreaming away as to how I would write about it! Silly as it sounds, I replied back with an impish grin, “You are so talented!” At the end of the conversation I only remembered that Paneer chilly was supposed to have paneer diced as cubes in it (Or is it!) Another friend of mine who talks about preparing Idlis and dosas in Australia for breakfast, almost has me on the verge of tears, when I come to a self realization that I am a loser for a woman.
Then, I shake up from the ego smashing rut and muster my guts up and tell myself, that I am going to take over the reins from Lawson and mesmerize everyone with my food and charms ( provided if I have any by then!) and be The Queen of Food , someday… And then I think about having to patiently wait and stir onions till they are fried crisp golden brown over a hot stove till my hunger is suppressed with the smell of a materializing dish and physical fatigue and immediately I thank God for home deliveries with all my heart as I thank Him for electricity and anaesthesia.
P.S: Don’t stop visiting my place hereon. You shall never leave hungry. What are restaurants for anyways ;)
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
And now I see many eyes lighting up.. Many smiles widening.. Heat flushing out from cheeks (and in some cases paling of the same too)…
A.J has forever and will also be forever famous for its DJ than anything else(by the way our institution is supposed to produce doctors for souls unaware).. I don’t mind being a martyr for my words but then who cares, am not a puritan myself and am inevitably undisguising all our selves hereby. Having been lost in the rhythms of the “inadvertently” oft repeated music (I bet Bhool Bhulaiyya’s Hare Ram is still being played by overenthusiastic DJs in AJ ) myself too, in ALL of them, I have no right whatsoever to preach against these once in a while let-out for every frustrated soul called doctors!
But herewith, I would feel my blog incomplete without ever mentioning about the one( well people its just a figure of speech, apparently three or four every year) event, every medico(kittens and lions), every till –then-highly-revered doc, every attender, every live wire lecturer, every student from another college besides AJ wait for… The AJ Ball (as one of our professor had ridiculously put it once, reminding me of Pride and Prejudice ballroom scenes in Surgery clinics).
Of course, of course, this post would would be nothing but INCOMPLETE if the clash between The Dental and The Medicos of Kuntikana on every DJ night ( leading to either party being called MC’s , BC’s, MF’s and a plethora of other “honourable” words), is not reminded with a tad of pity, the extent of which can only be imagined, with what once, the Dentals even inviting the cats and dogs of Mangalore to attend their “Highly Priced and Exclusive DJ night” except the withering souls of AJ Medicos (sigh). That night we leaned against the grills of our window listening to the blast and the hysterical screams coming from a distance (seemingly near which was made infinite) like Shah Jahan looking at Taj Mahal after being imprisoned by Aurangazeb.
Anyways, we do get our fair share always ( maybe more after the unlucky ones like us left the college) but to all those who were& are In Da Club/House, here is to you, the memories of people who are always encountered in the luring dungeons of a club.
The Elegant Eleven of AJ ki DJ.
1) Let me start on a good note. These are the ones who are timid on the dance floor but gracefully flexible on stage. Disclaimer: these do not involve the self proclaimed official invertebrates of AJ. They might just move their hands a little here and there maybe a little hip swaying but all the more concentrated on maintaining their regal poise on an otherwise chaotic dance floor. I call them The Royal Challengers of AJ (punch me in your mind if it sounds cheesy).
2) These set of people are the exact opposite to the ones mentioned above. Nature always blesses the audience by not making these kinds attempt to venture dancing on stage. So they unleash their piled up wrath on the floor and ravish the place like Godzillas. I have had a poor friend of mine get hit on her head by a notorious dancer, otherwise “reserved” pal leading to a purple mark the next day on January 1 2009, on the former’s temple (ouch!) These are the kinds who irritate every single dancer out there by constantly extending their hands and legs in wayward motions like a possessed clock and hit people repeatedly even if the latter are screaming in pain. The Excuse: Partttaaayyy. Lets get it all rolling! Roll, but not on others faces and derriers and limbs please! These truly are The Daredevils of AJ.
3) The next set of people are the ones exceptionally good on dance floor but not necessarily that well versed on stage, in some cases. It’s a pleasure to watch these charged souls on floor and get inspired. These don’t hit another, Thank God for that! They are in their own world, grooving to the music in their own way, swaying their hips ( that’s girls, not boys!) and quite unwarily luring another ( that’s for boys, not girls!). They dance as if nobody is watching them. The Chargers of AJ’s DJ.
4) The next set is the Hilarious one of the lot.“The Hysterionics”. They dance as if they are in a bathtub with a hair dryer switched on. Or for desi standards, with the heater coil on in the shower. They seem apparently normal but once they start dancing, even if they look like Sharmila Tagore or John Cusack, people run away to get diazepam for them. Their style of dancing: erratically vibrating bodies, jittering jaws, rolled up eyes which makes them look like they are about to collapse on the other but on the contrary makes the one dancing with them run around for help. They want to get somewhere and someone with their controversial moooves but their situation is as unstable as that of Cochin’s( or is it Gujarat’s) embryonic Rendezvous team.
5) The Royals of AJ. This group is not a group as in a group. The group has been mentioned here because these kind of individuals collectively put together can after all be a group. Erm.. Forgive me. These individuals are the “stealers” of the show. Psychophants often hype about their fluid- Jackson-like movements and hail them as the best dancer AJ has ever seen. And once they start dancing, even if its fisherman’s dance, they are cheered because the ones cheering them are challenged. They dance in the repetitive mode. They are cheered also for the repeated moves. Repetitively. Aaahh too many repetitions. Getting a brainfreeze!
6) The Grouper Troopers. No matter what, these people will never dance alone or with anybody else, save their own customized group of friends. They create their own DJ Family and make boundaries linking hands together, like animals creating their territories except that they don’t pee around their group. Of course the girl groups are pardonable in the lot since they don’t want a dope to intrude and grope them. But what about the ones where an entire batch consecrates themselves into this groupism on floor. As if the worlds going to end right after their dance and there would be no tomorrow for them with their “family”! Music knows no bounds, guys. So does the limitations of these people. Music is the only element that brings the world together people. When will you all rise and shine?!
7) The Doppergangers. This can include the dopes, the drunks, and the wannabes who cannot sustain either. They are under the impression that clubbing is synonymous with rave parties! They mess around shaking the rest of the clan’s integrity. They are also, needless to say, The Strippers most of the time. They cannot dance with a shirt on. Its against their law. They go around threatening ” to kiss the gals” and sometimes the guys if their dope induced vision is too clouded! These guys have an aversion towards peace and bump onto every girl and jump on every guy who tries to be “the hero” . Verdict: They are totally not cool, if that’s what they think they are.
8) These are the haughtiest on the planet of AJ and DJ. They come flashed up in their heels and cocktail dresses, gleaming belts and gelled up hair, pert noses and lifted chins and when it comes to dancing they’ll wiggle their bums, resign to fatigue and the lack of quality of music (we know you don’t belong to the McCartneys) and sit around in a corner dismissing the ones who are enjoying. Ironically, these are also the people who have a self induced Madonna and Timberlake in them. But they are always a big failure when it comes to displaying their steps. The Kuntikana KnightRiders is what they deserve!
9) The spectators of the night. The observers. The silent ones. Every gathering, every family, every group of friends, every classroom will have such notoriously observant ones. They are the holders of secrets of that night. They sit back and observe who is dancing with whom, who is making out with whom, who is slapping whom, who is oggling whom and the ilk and pass verdicts in their mind (sometimes voice it out too with a dragging tone, only to humiliate the subject of their talk). They comprise of the shy ones, the clever ones (who are under the illusion that their brains will fly away with the gusto of the party), the occasionally tired ones( these don’t preside as much though) , the ones who want to dance but are certain to break a bone if they dare to attempt so and optimistically speaking, the Mary Poppins who are just too happy to see you enjoying to the hilt. I christen them, The Shadows ( if you have a penchant for beautiful words feel free to use The Silhouettes)
10) These group of people wait for the right regional song to play, to display their legs wide apart, butt jutting out steps. They seem to be doing balle balle and the rooster or Snake dance but apparently get the two fused up. They scream and pout and get their tongues out when Jeene mera Dil Lutteya and Manmadha Raasa are on air. The rest of the crowd better part their ways for them or else the next foot to be thumped by these mercilessly enthused people would be yours. They are the attention cravers of the lot but for some reason I prefer calling them The Bloopers ( you know precisely why).
11)These are nevertheless not the least ever, just because they are the last. Save the best for last is what I staunchly believe in, even when it comes to food. These are our erstwhile professors, some who come to enjoy( don’t mind these people at all), some who come in the name of enjoyment but are actually undercover agents in disguise for the Central Bureau of Casualty , some who are not as clever to disguise and appear as the aforementioned yet come to protect a certain outwardly naïve group of girls, some who come to vent out their frustrated souls with a certain vengeance in every possible ways. I pity myself fully aware of the fact that tomorrow I too might turn out to be like them. Since they are almost fading away, I am uninspired to give a name for this group.
I would like to quote what I had read once, as an after thought to my post.
“ We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”
As Ogden Nash says, This is still a hope hopen for AJ ke DJ!
A.J has forever and will also be forever famous for its DJ than anything else(by the way our institution is supposed to produce doctors for souls unaware).. I don’t mind being a martyr for my words but then who cares, am not a puritan myself and am inevitably undisguising all our selves hereby. Having been lost in the rhythms of the “inadvertently” oft repeated music (I bet Bhool Bhulaiyya’s Hare Ram is still being played by overenthusiastic DJs in AJ ) myself too, in ALL of them, I have no right whatsoever to preach against these once in a while let-out for every frustrated soul called doctors!
But herewith, I would feel my blog incomplete without ever mentioning about the one( well people its just a figure of speech, apparently three or four every year) event, every medico(kittens and lions), every till –then-highly-revered doc, every attender, every live wire lecturer, every student from another college besides AJ wait for… The AJ Ball (as one of our professor had ridiculously put it once, reminding me of Pride and Prejudice ballroom scenes in Surgery clinics).
Of course, of course, this post would would be nothing but INCOMPLETE if the clash between The Dental and The Medicos of Kuntikana on every DJ night ( leading to either party being called MC’s , BC’s, MF’s and a plethora of other “honourable” words), is not reminded with a tad of pity, the extent of which can only be imagined, with what once, the Dentals even inviting the cats and dogs of Mangalore to attend their “Highly Priced and Exclusive DJ night” except the withering souls of AJ Medicos (sigh). That night we leaned against the grills of our window listening to the blast and the hysterical screams coming from a distance (seemingly near which was made infinite) like Shah Jahan looking at Taj Mahal after being imprisoned by Aurangazeb.
Anyways, we do get our fair share always ( maybe more after the unlucky ones like us left the college) but to all those who were& are In Da Club/House, here is to you, the memories of people who are always encountered in the luring dungeons of a club.
The Elegant Eleven of AJ ki DJ.
1) Let me start on a good note. These are the ones who are timid on the dance floor but gracefully flexible on stage. Disclaimer: these do not involve the self proclaimed official invertebrates of AJ. They might just move their hands a little here and there maybe a little hip swaying but all the more concentrated on maintaining their regal poise on an otherwise chaotic dance floor. I call them The Royal Challengers of AJ (punch me in your mind if it sounds cheesy).
2) These set of people are the exact opposite to the ones mentioned above. Nature always blesses the audience by not making these kinds attempt to venture dancing on stage. So they unleash their piled up wrath on the floor and ravish the place like Godzillas. I have had a poor friend of mine get hit on her head by a notorious dancer, otherwise “reserved” pal leading to a purple mark the next day on January 1 2009, on the former’s temple (ouch!) These are the kinds who irritate every single dancer out there by constantly extending their hands and legs in wayward motions like a possessed clock and hit people repeatedly even if the latter are screaming in pain. The Excuse: Partttaaayyy. Lets get it all rolling! Roll, but not on others faces and derriers and limbs please! These truly are The Daredevils of AJ.
3) The next set of people are the ones exceptionally good on dance floor but not necessarily that well versed on stage, in some cases. It’s a pleasure to watch these charged souls on floor and get inspired. These don’t hit another, Thank God for that! They are in their own world, grooving to the music in their own way, swaying their hips ( that’s girls, not boys!) and quite unwarily luring another ( that’s for boys, not girls!). They dance as if nobody is watching them. The Chargers of AJ’s DJ.
4) The next set is the Hilarious one of the lot.“The Hysterionics”. They dance as if they are in a bathtub with a hair dryer switched on. Or for desi standards, with the heater coil on in the shower. They seem apparently normal but once they start dancing, even if they look like Sharmila Tagore or John Cusack, people run away to get diazepam for them. Their style of dancing: erratically vibrating bodies, jittering jaws, rolled up eyes which makes them look like they are about to collapse on the other but on the contrary makes the one dancing with them run around for help. They want to get somewhere and someone with their controversial moooves but their situation is as unstable as that of Cochin’s( or is it Gujarat’s) embryonic Rendezvous team.
5) The Royals of AJ. This group is not a group as in a group. The group has been mentioned here because these kind of individuals collectively put together can after all be a group. Erm.. Forgive me. These individuals are the “stealers” of the show. Psychophants often hype about their fluid- Jackson-like movements and hail them as the best dancer AJ has ever seen. And once they start dancing, even if its fisherman’s dance, they are cheered because the ones cheering them are challenged. They dance in the repetitive mode. They are cheered also for the repeated moves. Repetitively. Aaahh too many repetitions. Getting a brainfreeze!
6) The Grouper Troopers. No matter what, these people will never dance alone or with anybody else, save their own customized group of friends. They create their own DJ Family and make boundaries linking hands together, like animals creating their territories except that they don’t pee around their group. Of course the girl groups are pardonable in the lot since they don’t want a dope to intrude and grope them. But what about the ones where an entire batch consecrates themselves into this groupism on floor. As if the worlds going to end right after their dance and there would be no tomorrow for them with their “family”! Music knows no bounds, guys. So does the limitations of these people. Music is the only element that brings the world together people. When will you all rise and shine?!
7) The Doppergangers. This can include the dopes, the drunks, and the wannabes who cannot sustain either. They are under the impression that clubbing is synonymous with rave parties! They mess around shaking the rest of the clan’s integrity. They are also, needless to say, The Strippers most of the time. They cannot dance with a shirt on. Its against their law. They go around threatening ” to kiss the gals” and sometimes the guys if their dope induced vision is too clouded! These guys have an aversion towards peace and bump onto every girl and jump on every guy who tries to be “the hero” . Verdict: They are totally not cool, if that’s what they think they are.
8) These are the haughtiest on the planet of AJ and DJ. They come flashed up in their heels and cocktail dresses, gleaming belts and gelled up hair, pert noses and lifted chins and when it comes to dancing they’ll wiggle their bums, resign to fatigue and the lack of quality of music (we know you don’t belong to the McCartneys) and sit around in a corner dismissing the ones who are enjoying. Ironically, these are also the people who have a self induced Madonna and Timberlake in them. But they are always a big failure when it comes to displaying their steps. The Kuntikana KnightRiders is what they deserve!
9) The spectators of the night. The observers. The silent ones. Every gathering, every family, every group of friends, every classroom will have such notoriously observant ones. They are the holders of secrets of that night. They sit back and observe who is dancing with whom, who is making out with whom, who is slapping whom, who is oggling whom and the ilk and pass verdicts in their mind (sometimes voice it out too with a dragging tone, only to humiliate the subject of their talk). They comprise of the shy ones, the clever ones (who are under the illusion that their brains will fly away with the gusto of the party), the occasionally tired ones( these don’t preside as much though) , the ones who want to dance but are certain to break a bone if they dare to attempt so and optimistically speaking, the Mary Poppins who are just too happy to see you enjoying to the hilt. I christen them, The Shadows ( if you have a penchant for beautiful words feel free to use The Silhouettes)
10) These group of people wait for the right regional song to play, to display their legs wide apart, butt jutting out steps. They seem to be doing balle balle and the rooster or Snake dance but apparently get the two fused up. They scream and pout and get their tongues out when Jeene mera Dil Lutteya and Manmadha Raasa are on air. The rest of the crowd better part their ways for them or else the next foot to be thumped by these mercilessly enthused people would be yours. They are the attention cravers of the lot but for some reason I prefer calling them The Bloopers ( you know precisely why).
11)These are nevertheless not the least ever, just because they are the last. Save the best for last is what I staunchly believe in, even when it comes to food. These are our erstwhile professors, some who come to enjoy( don’t mind these people at all), some who come in the name of enjoyment but are actually undercover agents in disguise for the Central Bureau of Casualty , some who are not as clever to disguise and appear as the aforementioned yet come to protect a certain outwardly naïve group of girls, some who come to vent out their frustrated souls with a certain vengeance in every possible ways. I pity myself fully aware of the fact that tomorrow I too might turn out to be like them. Since they are almost fading away, I am uninspired to give a name for this group.
I would like to quote what I had read once, as an after thought to my post.
“ We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”
As Ogden Nash says, This is still a hope hopen for AJ ke DJ!
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Menagerie...
No love is everlasting than that of a true friend’s….
And this true friend could be anyone. From my mother to God to a friend in a distant country to friends with whom I have grown up and cherished my rights and wrongs with, to teachers, to siblings( my brother once authoritatively claimed that He is the best I could get)and to pets, I know that the Love in Friendship is the only kind of love that would journey with me to my pyre. And am truly blessed to have, if not a big number , but some very few Gems in my life.
Friends are like pillows. The more you have the merrier you are. But only one or two would be your princess pillows. The only ones on whom you rest your head whether it’s a shadowed day, a migraine or a state of pure bliss and lightness or when you just want to sleep in the bus.
I always tell, I have a rather colorful variety of acquaintances, which sometimes does make my actual friends doubt about my sense of discretion on people and thereby often astounding them. And the subjects are:
a)people who talk to me and vice versa because either of us are bored, to even think {unavailability of more interesting ones could also pass lol)
b)people who I talk to because I don’t want to hurt their fragile selves with my silence.
c) people who I listen to because they are an inevitable source of entertainment with their taunting and reckless display of vanity which would have otherwise camouflaged an innate, imposing, insecure nature.
d) people who I am with because I don’t have to necessarily speak to them and be comfortable with our silence.
e) people who are with me because they don’t want to hurt me by ditching me!
f) people( this is indicating the “stronger” sex) who talk to me because they are talking to Me and people whom I talk to because I am talking to “Them”.
g) people who were my supposedly great friends once upon a time but on who and me, ingratitude, pride, envy, possessiveness, misunderstandings, expectations, callousness and an all too soon feeling of purposelessness has descended in the relationship thereby rendering it a memory worth deleting from the rusting recesses of brains and peeling chambers of heart (yet are following me on twitter!)
h) people with no sense of commonness whatsoever between us, from another land across the seas who make me feel great for who I am.
i) people from another land, another generation who I talk to because they feel great when they talk to me.
j)people who I talk to because I remember these shadows in tuition classes and class rooms somewhere in my distant past ( this is the group who rarely exchange a hi and bye with me yet are on my FB “friends” list)
k) novices who were “ always there” in the vicinity but became much more visible when a good length of separable distance came between us making me regret my narrow sense of vision and judgement and maybe the lose of good times we could have had together , till then.
l)people who I maintain connections with, for the sake of revival of good old times and for the blooming sense of nostalgia our conversations could bring to a perennially dazed state of my mind,
m)people who had committed the mistake of betrayal only to regret it and water the almost wilted plant of friendship later on( to not much avail,though) and last but never the least,
n) people who I talk to, not because they want me in their lives, or because a similar effort has been made from their side but because I wouldn’t want to lose them for who they are to me and to the world.
I thank all these people for making me who I am, irrespective of how good my encounters with them were or are. If it was good the memories are worth remembering and if it was bad the experience was worth having , to learn a lesson in life.
Honestly, my reticence and introversion have led me to lose many a fanciful and influential relations especially with the senior crowd, often diverting their opinions about me from amicable to arrogance and on this, contrarily, I honour myself. For being me and not stooping down to the level of a trying-hard-almost-getting-there-tart.
But I also do regret sometimes when I have bullied people with my words and disposition, shamefully dating back to my childhood onwards. Forgive me, for to err is human and to forgive (from your part) would definitely be worth considering Divine ;) Destruction is easier than construction, after all.
People like me,of course, would need a networking site with separate categories for friends and acquaintances, whereby the number of acquaintaces would be in three digits and that of friends in a humble single digit. Anyways, I console myself, as books and friends should be few but good, lol.
To end,I love my friends for who they are. Even if they don’t measure upto the norms of sensibility set by a seemingly straight society. We laugh together, we sigh together, we sing together , we make up after a fight together with an arrogant “Ok Sorry man” and…… of course we choose to fly together, against the currents of times. All because we belong to the same flock.
The best mirror ,is after all, a good friend. :)
And this true friend could be anyone. From my mother to God to a friend in a distant country to friends with whom I have grown up and cherished my rights and wrongs with, to teachers, to siblings( my brother once authoritatively claimed that He is the best I could get)and to pets, I know that the Love in Friendship is the only kind of love that would journey with me to my pyre. And am truly blessed to have, if not a big number , but some very few Gems in my life.
Friends are like pillows. The more you have the merrier you are. But only one or two would be your princess pillows. The only ones on whom you rest your head whether it’s a shadowed day, a migraine or a state of pure bliss and lightness or when you just want to sleep in the bus.
I always tell, I have a rather colorful variety of acquaintances, which sometimes does make my actual friends doubt about my sense of discretion on people and thereby often astounding them. And the subjects are:
a)people who talk to me and vice versa because either of us are bored, to even think {unavailability of more interesting ones could also pass lol)
b)people who I talk to because I don’t want to hurt their fragile selves with my silence.
c) people who I listen to because they are an inevitable source of entertainment with their taunting and reckless display of vanity which would have otherwise camouflaged an innate, imposing, insecure nature.
d) people who I am with because I don’t have to necessarily speak to them and be comfortable with our silence.
e) people who are with me because they don’t want to hurt me by ditching me!
f) people( this is indicating the “stronger” sex) who talk to me because they are talking to Me and people whom I talk to because I am talking to “Them”.
g) people who were my supposedly great friends once upon a time but on who and me, ingratitude, pride, envy, possessiveness, misunderstandings, expectations, callousness and an all too soon feeling of purposelessness has descended in the relationship thereby rendering it a memory worth deleting from the rusting recesses of brains and peeling chambers of heart (yet are following me on twitter!)
h) people with no sense of commonness whatsoever between us, from another land across the seas who make me feel great for who I am.
i) people from another land, another generation who I talk to because they feel great when they talk to me.
j)people who I talk to because I remember these shadows in tuition classes and class rooms somewhere in my distant past ( this is the group who rarely exchange a hi and bye with me yet are on my FB “friends” list)
k) novices who were “ always there” in the vicinity but became much more visible when a good length of separable distance came between us making me regret my narrow sense of vision and judgement and maybe the lose of good times we could have had together , till then.
l)people who I maintain connections with, for the sake of revival of good old times and for the blooming sense of nostalgia our conversations could bring to a perennially dazed state of my mind,
m)people who had committed the mistake of betrayal only to regret it and water the almost wilted plant of friendship later on( to not much avail,though) and last but never the least,
n) people who I talk to, not because they want me in their lives, or because a similar effort has been made from their side but because I wouldn’t want to lose them for who they are to me and to the world.
I thank all these people for making me who I am, irrespective of how good my encounters with them were or are. If it was good the memories are worth remembering and if it was bad the experience was worth having , to learn a lesson in life.
Honestly, my reticence and introversion have led me to lose many a fanciful and influential relations especially with the senior crowd, often diverting their opinions about me from amicable to arrogance and on this, contrarily, I honour myself. For being me and not stooping down to the level of a trying-hard-almost-getting-there-tart.
But I also do regret sometimes when I have bullied people with my words and disposition, shamefully dating back to my childhood onwards. Forgive me, for to err is human and to forgive (from your part) would definitely be worth considering Divine ;) Destruction is easier than construction, after all.
People like me,of course, would need a networking site with separate categories for friends and acquaintances, whereby the number of acquaintaces would be in three digits and that of friends in a humble single digit. Anyways, I console myself, as books and friends should be few but good, lol.
To end,I love my friends for who they are. Even if they don’t measure upto the norms of sensibility set by a seemingly straight society. We laugh together, we sigh together, we sing together , we make up after a fight together with an arrogant “Ok Sorry man” and…… of course we choose to fly together, against the currents of times. All because we belong to the same flock.
The best mirror ,is after all, a good friend. :)
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