Some more Pumbaastic updates :)

It’s been long since I wrote this about him; and boy, has he changed!

• He is now a year and 5 months, almost; a grown(p)up but he refuses to acknowledge that. He still is (and looks like he always will be) a kid.
• He devours bananas. He takes—one at a time—from a bunch that’s kept on the fruit tray below the dining table, goes to his snack bar, peels it, eats it and leaves the skin there. The first time I saw this happening, I gaped.
• He eats dates, most carefully. He devours it like it’s the last morsel of food he’ll ever get—and then he slowly lowers his head and rolls out his tongue, from which will roll out a spotless date seed.
• He is no longer the aviyal-loving, curd-loving, give-me-anything-home-made-and-I-shall-eat sweet little thing. He has preferences. :-/
• There are days when he just decides he does not want to eat on his own. So he’ll look at his plate, walk around, look at one of us, walk around…generally letting us know “I’m hungry, but I am not going to eat by myself”. When one of us (mostly mom or me, no one else falls for these ) take it bit by bit and feed him like feeding a little kid, he finishes every morsel of food on his plate
• When in one of his moods, he hunts out every single piece of chicken/beef/fish from the rice-meat mix we give him and leaves every grain of rice there!
• He does NOT appreciate Pedigree or anything similar for more than a day (or two, max!) at a time.
• The ONE thing he cannot stay away from, and drools till there’s a sea around him, is “the cake”! He cannot even control himself from jumping up and biting it right off your hand (without hurting you of course!) It always amazes us, his greed for cakes
• He understands every.single.thing we say about/to him. How he responds/obeys, is totally dependent on his mood though
• The one command he obeys unconditionally is “Stay”. For every other command, he obeys or ignores based on the presence or absence of food in the commander’s hands
• When we ask him where his “toy” is, he scrambles all over the house like mad till he finds it. After that, he expects us to play with him till he tires out. And if we try to ignore him, he catches hold of our legs (one paw across a leg, holding it close to his head so we wont move!) and makes sure we say “OK, let’s play!”
• Every time he comes with the toy to play, if we tell him “I have work, Pumbaa. I’ve to cook/eat/clean up. I’ll play with you after that”, he puts the toy down and lies beside it, following our every move. The moment that particular work is done, he comes to us with the toy, almost asking “You’re done now. Can we play?”
• We have different names for his toys, and he identifies each one when we ask for a specific one by name! [Yes, I know some kids who can do that ]
• He is in love! With pretty little “Twinkle”, a Beagle that stays in our neighbourhood. Well, I’m in love with her too! But this is like serious love! The minute she reaches close to our gate, she starts pulling on her leash and makes sure there’s a stop at our gate. As for Pumbaa, whatever he is doing right then, he ditches it all, and bounds down the stairs. Then there’s much kissing and licking and pawing from two sides of a gate. It’s the cutest sight. Really. And when Twinkle is led away and looks back forlornly, her owners promise to bring her the next day, and she lets out one tiny woof and goes off. Replay happens next day evening
• He gets extremely jealous if he sees any of us hugging/kissing someone other than him. Suraj hugs me, he jumps at Suraj. My brother hugs me, he jumps at my brother. My brother hugs my mother, he jumps at my brother. I hug my mother, he jumps at my mother OK…looks like my mom and I are his alone!
• There are times when Suraj leashes him to our living room door (for too much mischief), and he lies down there patiently. Till he sees that I’ve sat down beside Suraj on the couch. He can no longer sleep, but he would still lie there, watching us all the time. I would then slowly lean on to Suraj…and Pumbaa would invariably sit up straight and let out pathetic whines. And then Suraj would put his arm around me and hold me close—and Pumbaa would be on his feet, whining, barking, pulling at his leash and being generally pissed off till we both say “OK…we won’t touch”. He then becomes quiet, and sits, but not quite happily, till I go pet him. He then goes off to sleep till I sit near Suraj the next time
• He thinks anyone except Amma is allowed to scold him. Amma, however, is his playmate. No matter what he does how, she is NOT supposed to scold. He sulks like mad if she does
• He sniffs our backsides all the time I read somewhere that that’s how dogs collect data/information about people. Why he has to collect data on the same people every time they get up from their seats, beats me! There are times we have to stand pressed to the wall and say “No, Pumbaa. No!” and he gives us a forlorn look and backs off. Not for long, though. He has even learnt to do it discreetly. The embarrassment, however, is when he sniffs and then blows his nose loudly and forcefully, shaking his head, like he just inhaled some hydrogen sulphide!

That’s all for now. Waiting for him to finish off his 2-month vacation, to come back and give me fodder for more updates For certain people who “turn to mush seeing his pics”, here are some of the more recent pics on his very own page. Scroll right to down

Faceoff!

I deleted my Facebook account a week back. Ok, that’s a lie. I only ‘de-activated’ it, I didn’t delete it. I promised Facebook that “This is temporary. I’d be back”, before I hit ‘Confirm’. Plenty of people asked me why I did it.

-  “What ARE you saying!? Why?” I’m saying I deleted my FB account. Why not?
-  The plain old “Whaaaat!?”. What whaaaat?
-  A more concerned “What happened? All OK?” Nothing, why do you ask? All OK.
-  And a shock-inducing “why on earth did u delete ur FB account????….did u delete it or jus deactivated it ???.. seriously??? ..y did u delete it??…anybody offended u or something??…” Why on earth do you use so many punctuation marks?????!!!!!!
-  Someone also gave me the “:-o”, and did not even wait to see my own “:-o” in response.

I deleted Orkut one fine morning, and did not miss it at all! No one questioned me, no one even realized. I guess ALL of them were too busy on Facebook to notice. However, in this case, I did absentmindedly type “faceb” on a new tab right after opening Gmail a couple of times, each time going ‘Oooops’ before I closed the said tab. Well, it had become a habit, I suppose. Open Mozilla, type in gmail.com, open new tab, type in facebook.com, open new tab…

Anyway, nothing happened. I only deactivated it. No one offended me. I just decided I should de-addict myself and stay away for a while. It was not adding ANY value whatsoever. The ones I was ‘really’ in touch with was available on Gtalk, all the time. I did not have to ‘connect with them’ on a public platform and have interesting conversations just anyone could ‘Like’, comment on or ‘Share’. And well, I began feeling a bit sick about telling the whole world what I “did” with whom during any part of the day or night.

Plus, a couple of things did make me feel ‘ugh’ in general.

- Random people sending me friend requests.

o Hey-I’m-your-friend’s-friend-and-i-love-the-comments-you-leave-on-his/her-pages-so-let’s-be-friends
o I-have-this-urge-to-send-friend-requests-to-any-profile-that-has-a-girl’s-name-and-picture
o I-just-sent-you-a-request-but-maybe-you-did-not-see-it-so-I’ll-leave-you-a-message-as-well-so you’ll-remember-to-accept

- Blatant ‘ownership’ drives for old jokes, not-so-famous sayings, philosophical thoughts and the like…

o Type it down in own words and pretend it is something the person just came up with while having pasta and kanjivellam
o Type in one of my own pjs and post it as a quote (!!) followed by a hyphen and that person’s name! (No, I did not feel flattered at all.)
o Basically, too much Ctrl C + Ctrl V without giving credits where they are due.

- People questioning me on why I took them off my friend list (the options I can offer are):

o We’re not really “friends”
o Because, after the first “Hi. Good to find you on FB…”, we’ve never commented on or ‘Share’d or ‘Like’d each other’s pics/updates,
or even had a chat ever
o Because I like figuring out who my ‘friends’ really are, and keeping just them
o You did not do anything to me (and I really don’t want you to, either)
o No, you didn’t hurt/offend me; if you did, I wouldn’t stop at just ‘unfriend’ing you

- General fatigue from all the fakeness overload.

o You don’t talk to me if we meet in person;
o You don’t ever make the mistake of getting in touch with me;
o You subtly say or do things to let me (or people you know will convey it to me) know that you really don’t like me.
o BUT you ‘Like’ my pics, updates, comments and even “wish there was a ‘Love’ option over ‘Like’. Phew.

- Updates that end up spamming my wall some of which could go like:

o “Having tea out on my balcony before I have a 45 minute bath, put on my Sunday best and head out for lunch at ___ restaurant with (spouse), meet X, Y and Z for tea and party till midnight at K’s place. Life is sooo good. What are you doing today?” Is “trying to unfriend you without you getting to know” a suitable response?
o Heavenly breakfast — with ABC DEF; Awesome lunch. Full tummy, empty wallet — with ABC DEF; Dinner couldn’t have been better — with ABC DEF; Off to bed – with ABC DEF (Will you update again in a couple of hours? Should I wait? )
o Must buy a new bulb for the kitchen (hmmm…how about one for the brain as well?); About to change the bulb in the kitchen (should I pray for you? or for the bulb, perhaps?); Changed the bulb in kitchen. (Hooray, big round of applause, people!)

- Having to worry about who all in the friend list will tell who all that is NOT in the list, about what I update about what, when, who, why—and then be held responsible for hurt feelings, broken hearts, blame games and the likes. (Dang. Where is the ‘delete account’ option?)

So why did I not just delete the account? Well, silly it will sound…but that’s for Pumbaa’s sake To keep all the awesome comments he got on his photo album in my account. I really did not want to delete them forever. What if, later in life, he asks me what people had to say about his days as a pup? So, till I’m back to FB-ing, I shall badmouth the various kinds of FB users and pretend to be the enlightened one who is above them all

P.S.: This whole post materialized after a conversation with a certain someone to whom I said — Hey, I deleted my FB account two days back…so would you be a darling and post this there, saying “Dedicated just for me, by Priya Nayar. She thinks too much of Spiderman love can do this to me verrrrry soon.”? ’

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Now most of you know who fired multiple questions at me, with an overload of punctuation marks

when life throws lemons at you…

I haven’t been blogging for quite a while now; life got on to a roller coaster (which has happened before) but got derailed this time (which has never happened before) No major casualties, but definitely left a few bruises will stay for quite a while.

Too many changes happened. Some were planned, some were expected (but hoped not to happen) and some just took me by utter surprise.

I don’t take too kindly to that kind of utter surprise. Sudden changes in decisions, plans, dreams, life, so on and so forth, do not really fall in my list of “I love”s. I am the kind that actually needs time to accept a change and adapt to it well. Even an unplanned movie plan can put me in turmoil. I’m not kidding, it really can. Ask Suraj, if you need evidence As someone who absolutely LOVES giving surprises, the poor thing has to think a million times before he can give me one (and finally, he always decides not to).

I always need time to prepare myself to major changes: like job changes, relocations, letting people come into and go from my life…

So, when life suddenly throws lemons at me, my first instinct is to duck under the table, rather than make some lemonade out of them.

To start with, I had to quit a job I liked because of certain people and reasons. Then a relocation was briefly considered, which I finally decided will NOT happen. Then my parents relocated back to Trivandrum (and took Pumbaa with them for a while). And then we decided to move houses, which further depressed me, for I’m quite comfortable in the house we live in, and is totally in love with Koramangala (I now totally understand what she meant when she wrote this. And then a few other things happened, which I really do not want to talk about here. So basically, life’s not been too good so far. I don’t think I like 2012 too much 2011 was fun and generally stress-free.

The good things: I’m still in the same house; I’ve got myself a new job (which also gave me a laptop, though I still miss my T410…but well, it serves the purpose well enough); I’m still in my ‘initial days’ at work, making me generally jobless and helping me get back to my blog; I participated in a Blogstar competition at work, and both my posts got featured in the top 15 of a total of 56 posts (yay!!) ; I’m back to my travel-by-volvo days, and enjoying it much; I am back in charge of the kitchen, since the senior chef ran off to Trivandrum forever…and I’ve held on for a month and half now, without eating out most days like we used to before the parents came to B’lore (makes me pretty proud of myself ); I’m back to gardening and talking to my plants and making sure they’re happy—which is actually because of Pumbaa’s absence (he used to make sure he got all my time and attention).

So yes, there are a few good things that make me happy; but the bad ones are quite phenomenal, and damn depressing. I try to push them to the bottom of the pile, but well, they keep coming up for air every now and then. Basically, am not very good company now So, be happy none of you are we-talk-daily friends with me

I’ve been reading all your posts, ‘liked’ some of them and just quietly left without making my presence known on some others. While it makes me happy to know happiness is happening to many of you out there, I’m also quite frustrated that I’m not in the frame of mind/life to be able to be blissfully happy that way.

While we are at it, I’d like to thank my brother, Hobbes, and Vimmuuu (without knowing at all that I’m in no mood to tolerate his nonsense), for making me laugh like mad in some of my down-in-the-dumps moments and making me momentarily forget that I’m dodging lemons.

Life, I tell you! Sigh.

I miss you…

…so very much.

I wish I never let you go. I wish I’d held on to my selfishness and held on to you stronger. I also wish I had not got so attached to you. Well, you gave me no option, did you, but to love you so much, so deeply, so genuinely…you being you?

It is heart breaking to go home now. There is no one waiting for me, no hugs, no wet kisses, no show of emotions that lets me know that I’d been missed, and it’s great to have me home. There is nothing you left behind, for me to hold on to when I miss you like crazy; all I have now are some photographs of those happy days, which I go over every single day, remembering those precise moments, those days of pure joy—and love.

Everything I do now—right from when I wake up in the morning, to when I go to bed—I wonder what you’d have done if you were here…how you’d have reacted…how I may have done it differently, just for you…how much happier I’d have been, having you, knowing you’re there, every moment.

A full day at home is so unbelievably depressing. I have no one to talk to for hours together; no one to just sit with in silence and feel absolutely content; no one to take a walk with on a nice evening; no one to share my cookie with; no one to pester and generally have some fun with; no one to drive me mad and then make me laugh; no one to hug and cry my heart out when I’m depressed; no one to look at me calmly and let me know it’ll be OK; no one that is YOU.

Why, oh why, did I let you go? What was I thinking? I never knew anyone could bring such meaning into my life, mean so much to me, and then just drive off one morning breaking my heart into a million pieces…and leaving me to deal with a difficult life all by myself.

Please come back. I’m so in love with you, I can’t bear to not have you by my side. Can’t live without seeing you everyday…hugging you every moment I can, telling you how much I love you, and just how glad I am that I have you in my life. And right now, I really need you with me. Really, really. Come back…

Pumbaa, please come back. I miss you…so very much, Chakkare

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Edited to add (after I realised people are worried about what happened to Pumbaa): He is totally fine, vacationing with my parents, in Trivandrum…and will be back only by end of March. Been over a month since he left And while we’re at it, I miss my parents too

dogs go to the market…twice in three days

For the uninitiated, “patti chanthakku poyapole” is a popular saying in the Malayalam language (which literally translates to “like the dog went to the market”). It means that you go all the way to someplace with great expectations, only to return empty-handed or not having met your goal.

Like how my brother and I went to Nandi Hills two days back, and how we went to the Jawaharlal Nehru Planetarium today. Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

dogs go to the market…take 1

Going to Nandi Hills has been an almost-5-year-plan for me. After many many plans and postponed plans and I-think-it’ll-never-happen moments, my brother and I finally set off to Nandi Hills. Gross miscalculation of time, I must say

We left home by about 3 (it’ll only take an hour-and-half to reach there, we thought) and cruised along on the Pulsar. Come 4.30, no sign of Nandi Hills Come 5, we see it all covered in fog at a great distance away. And slowly, it kept coming nearer and nearer. Finally, at 5.50pm, we reached the ticket counter. And the guy there, rather pissed off with us, said, “Hathu nimisha, ashtte. Bega banni.“

What the %$#@!!! I thought they closed at 6.30. Baaaaaaah. My brother did not understand a thing, and while I translated it, he was furious that the guy almost ‘barked’ at us We quickly walked in, quickly walked out, had a hot cup of chai and reached back home at 8.20pm.

So much for going to Nandi Hills!

Well, if it’s any solace (for my brother, that is), this is my brother’s 3rd trip…and he’s making good progress. The first time, by the time he reached the foot of Nandi Hills, it was so dark, he didn’t bother going any further. The second time, he did not even get t see the guy at the ticket counter (who had left for the day), and this last time, he managed to get in. Hopefully, the next time, we’ll go muchhhhh earlier. It’s 6 o clock a bit toooo soon these days!

dogs go to the market…take 2

So, like most of the plans the brother and I make, going to the planetarium was another long-pending one. We set off early this time, by about 11.20am to reach there in time for the 12.30pm show. Roughly 8kms, ample time! So I suggest a route, my brother suggests another one…and we go along the one he suggested. Halfway there, he turns around to ask me “Why did I come this way?” Baaaah! And we go round and round, miss most of the correct roads and finally do reach the planetarium (after having travelled over 12-14 kms ) — in good time, still. We reach there by about 12.10!! Awesome. Or so, we thought.

We parked the bike and rushed to the entrance. The guard there said the tickets had to be bought from the counter near the gate. So we rushed back to the gate…and the guard there said “No tickets. All full. Next show at 4.30. Half hour munche banni. Ticket sigathe.”

We walked a bit more around in circles, scrutinised the surroundings and realised that the Priyadarshini (everything’s in a name, you see ) Planetarium at Thiruvananthapuram is way, way, WAY better And no, this is not the case of the kittaatha munthiri pulikkum*, I swear. You have to go to both these places to know the difference. Allellum oru postil randu malayalam pazhamchollukal paadilla**

So there! Dogs go to the market…twice in three days I have a feeling we saw a smirk on Pumbaa’s face both times we came back from the market

Many more markets to go to…Skandagiri, Mekedattu, Shivanasamudra and Majuli (where we plan to go do the ‘ho ho ho’ tribal dance and learn mask-making ).

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*The Malayalam version of the sour grapes saying.
**Even otherwise, in the same post, two Malayalam sayings won’t sing can’t be used.

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Oh, by the way… Merry Christmas, folks

the mobile phone and me…

…don’t really get along too well.

I don’t like talking on the phone much…and if you have a problem with that, I’m sorry I can’t help you. Well, perhaps I can (by attending your call), but I don’t plan to   I guess I owe many people this explanation (though very few of these people read this blog ; the other option is to text them all. And they may call back. Uh oh…)

I really am not avoiding you, okay? I’m just avoiding your call. Ouch — no, I’m just avoiding having to talk on the phone. Leave me a text message, leave me an offline chat, leave me a mail. I’ll respond, almost instantly, unless i’m sleeping, or unless the phone is like hidden under the cushion, pushed int here by the naughty lil’ Pumbaa. But if I see an SMS, I WILL respond; I cannot guarantee that about a missed call you leave me I just don’t like the mobile phone much.

Not that I hate it or don’t use it. Just that I don’t use it for what it is meant. A mobile phone, for me, is essentially just a replacement for Gmail chat I am a person of few words…I talk very little even face-to-face and I generally prefer “talking” to someone through “chat”or “sms”. And on chat/sms, I can go on for hours together

You wont believe it, but I ALWAYS rely on a text message to communicate with someone, before having to actually call that person up. Including emergency situations like being on a busy highway, at the signal, and wondering if we must turn left or right to reach that person’s house And when I’m blasted for being so dumb, I dial the number, press “Call” and instantly stick the phone to Suraj’s ear (or whoever else is driving)!

There is just ONE person (yes, person) with whom I can actually talk non-stop, for hours. And that is Pumbaa Well, he can’t talk back, and one of us has to do that. So, I happily do it

There are very few people with whom I can talk non-stop, for hours, on the phone. One of them is Amma. The other is my brother. Then there are a couple of close friends. Recently, after a rather long conversation (if I may call it that), Hobbes asked me if I were “the same girl who hates talking on the phone?” Well, that did leave me mumbling for a bit.

And I can’t tell you just how many times I’ve got into trouble with Suraj for never picking up his calls. Well, how will I know he’s calling when the phone is (eternally) on silent mode? [Who puts it on silent mode? Uh...I do.] Even before getting married, this was a constant problem. I guess it was the ONLY reason for our quarrels. He would call, I wouldn’t pick up. He’d call 10 more times. Then he would try my mom’s number, but I’d be at the aunt’s place. Then he’d call the aunt’s number — but by then, I’d have run back home (having realised that the phone has been abandoned somewhere, undoubtedly on silent mode, and that Suraj would be trying to get through to me). Finally, he would get through to me and blast me. I would silently hear him out, ask him if he’s done, and then hang up and go my way.

Except with Amma and my brother, I think I switch to listening-mode with most others And happily too. I’m better at listening than talking. Some people make it tough, because most of the ones who matter knows me well enough to continue doing the talking without much expectations Unless I’m completely comfortable with the person on the other side, even being on listening-mode is a pain. So, avoiding calls is the easiest thing to do.

I really don’t know why I talk so little — in general, and on the phone. There is one friend who calls me a chatterbox (really!), but well, I admit that I talk a LOT to him; well, I used to. To others, I think it is mainly because I keep thinking whatever I have to say or talk about will not be of much interest to the listener. Seriously I don’t know why I think so, but I do. I don’t say a lot of things, thinking it won’t be of any interest to that person, only to listen to something very similar coming from the other end And well, by then, whatever I could have said would have become stale Well, I get into one of my PJ moods when some of my brother’s friends call…and I go on yap yapping for hours, till they hang up on me, threatening to kill me next time they see me.

So, basically, for me, a mobile phone is essentially just a replacement for Gmail chat And Winamp! I use it to text, and I use it to listen to my favourite music tracks. That is about it.

My first one was a Sony Ericsson w810i. I bought it because it came with the cutest, tiniest pair of external speakers (which incidentally wasn’t working, and I still have not used!). I loaded all my music into it, and was always plugged to my phone through earphones. An incoming call in the middle of a favourite song would piss me off — and I’d just disconnect the call! Yes, I used to be that bad. I was sooooo attached to that phone that despite being gifted a 160GB iPod, I refused to part with the walkman phone. I did not use the iPod for almost a year! I used this for over 4 years (it looks MIGHTY sad now, considering the number of times it has gone bouncing down the stairs, into rain puddles, on to the road, blah blah!) It served me verrrrry well, though

Finally, Suraj convinced me that I baaadly needed a new phone I refused to exchange my w810. I would always want it, I said.

I bought the Sony Ericsson Xperia w8. Again, for the music. I HATED the fact that it was touchscreen! Texting someone became an ordeal. I actually began calling people! Bah. And then I got used to the touchpad, and now my phone is back to being a walkman, and a Gmail chat alternative And I like the fact that I can access Gmail chat also on it That’s about the ONLY reason I appreciate a smart phone now. It is quite smart Well, the w810i was smart too, but I wasn’t smart enough those days

Poor thing, Suraj. New phone and all that, but it too has the silent mode thingy in-built! Oh well, I’m still the same, I guess. I still do not pick up calls Living in the same house makes it a little easier for him, I suppose. [And it does not help that he calls to remind me to do the many chores he assigns to me every morning, which I promptly forget Listen, if I forget it, perhaps I really do not want to do those ]

I still remember, how when we went to Coorg over a year back, there was no mobile connectivity at the homestay we stayed at. Was I thrilled! It was a real stress buster. No one called, no one texted, no one could contact me at all. Absolute “Yay” it was!! (Not that I’m always getting calls/text messages, but still) I was at peace, while Suraj freaked out.

So why am I blabbering about all this now? Because recently, a couple of old college friends ganged up against me (okay, I’m exaggerating, but it was akin to ganging up alright. Bah!) for not keeping in touch. Well, I’m ALWAYS online — and none of you are! If you’re all always available on phone, why not give me a call? Er er…I mean, send me an sms Anyway, after explaining myself and brilliantly emerging as the innocent angel that I am, I’ve decided to give the single “ring-ring”s in loving remembrance henceforth

However, all said and done, I have to say: the mobile phone and me…don’t really get along too well. And I might even forget about the ring-ring agreement after a while. You are always in my mind, just believe that Was I any different at all when we met last weekend?

Edited to add: Yay!! I’m not alone. She may be my soul sister I could easily have written this post!!

True friends are hard to come by!

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart… Oh, that’s a song.  Not how I meant to start this.

But well, it’s amazing alright. How the best of people always have the best of friends Like how Calvin has Hobbes; Asterix has Obelix; Tintin has Snowy; the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. have each other; and well, Boban has Moli.

I think the best of the lot is Calvin and Hobbes.

And if I be Calvin, I’ve found my Hobbes [Or vice-versa, if my ‘Hobbes’ doesn’t like being a tiger *But for now, you’ll have to make do with being Hobbes. The other option would be to make you Richard Parker, who coincidentally is again a tiger. I think Hobbes is much cuter, nicer and definitely more fun to be with*]

I’m very, very, VERY choosy when it comes to friends—especially the kind that can be ‘Hobbes’. And this one was, well, totally unexpected. Someone I definitely did not see myself ever getting so close to or being such great friends with!

The time I first met Hobbes, I never thought we’d ever strike a chord. Hobbes seemed a very serious, withdrawn person. The kind that is so withdrawn, they barely look up at you when you’re being introduced to them and quickly nod before going back to their work. Uh uh…definitely not the kind who would be friends with someone goofy like me So well, I maintained a distance, and was always just courteous and polite.

I liked Hobbes, but that was about it. In the meantime, I also heard bits of conversation here and there of Hobbes being this serious person; people seemed to be quite scared of Hobbes, and I saw very few people being comfortable and carefree around Hobbes—cementing my impression of Hobbes as someone who could not easily be “friended”. Well, that impression lasted about a week.

Till I first heard Hobbes laugh. It was a loud, clear, right-from-the heart guffaw. Yes, a guffaw. You have to hear it to know what I mean Despite not knowing what the joke was or who it was shared with, I found myself looking up and smiling at Hobbes. Well, to be precise, at the back of Hobbes’ head! And that was when I figured Hobbes out: in an instant. And I liked Hobbes a lot more then

Only someone that’s completely genuine, sincere, adorable and so full of humour can ever laugh like that. Seriously. Laughter—especially the kind that emanated from Hobbes that day, and many, many times after that—is something that will give away a person’s character immediately: it can tell you who is fake, who is real Hobbes was definitely very, very real! I figured I could be myself, goofy and well, just me. The only question was if Hobbes wanted that. Hehe.

You need to know the nuances of laughter to be able to figure people out When I shared that piece of insight once, Hobbes said “I refuse to laugh like that from now on!” Well, the damage was done already, my dear Hobbes once told me “Not everyone retorts to me the way you do. You picked my sense of humour too fast. And I’m not like this to everyone either. I appear serious, proud and very quiet. It’s a facade…kind of a protection that I put around myself.” Well, I’m glad I broke through the facade, and damaged your “aura” (which I still insist on never having noticed ). I now have a friend for life—and an awesome one at that

When I look back now, I still cannot believe Hobbes and I became friends. I would never have believed it if someone had told me then that Hobbes and I would become such friends someday. I would’ve scoffed, I suppose But well, we did become friends…though very, very, very gradually.

With Jaya, my best friend—an alter ego, maybe I should say—it took just about 5 minutes for us to bond and become friends for life. Was I not so choosy then, you ask? Well, is it tough to like yourself in 5 minutes? Anyway, I thought a friend as valuable as that would never come by a second time. I was wrong. I guess 2 really is a good number for me

Hobbes is perhaps one other person who is equally choosy about friends. I guess we have both had enough experiences that hold us back, make us take our time to fully understand another person before going from ‘just friends’ to ‘great friends’. And now, I can say without a moment’s hesitation that Hobbes is a “great” friend to have.

I’ve seen Hobbes in good times and bad—and I have immeasurable respect for the way Hobbes wades through it all.

Hobbes’ sense of humour and quick wit, for one. It can leave you laughing uncontrollably till you end up gasping for air at times…OR leave you so stunned, you wouldn’t know whether to laugh or just gawk. Spontaneity at its best. Certain conclusions and one-liners Hobbes comes up with are…well…bloody hilarious. Something you just do not expect from a person who appears “serious, proud and very quiet”.

There are times when Hobbes gets washed over by a wave of depression…and I pretend not to understand that and keep insisting that Hobbes smile at least “half a smile” *Hobbes, I really do understand when you’re in the dumps, but there is nothing I can do to help you at such times. Apart from telling you to smile! Apart from listening and saying “Hmmm”*

There are times when I am pissed off with something and I go crib to Hobbes—knowing very well that my problems are nothing compared to Hobbes’. But well, me being me, I still crib I could go on and on and on and on, and Hobbes would patiently listen. There would be nothing Hobbes will have to say, to help me, but listen Hobbes will. No questions asked, no judgements made. And all this, while I am just making a mountain out of a miniscule mole hill.

When it comes to a fault, Hobbes does not see if there’s friendship or enmity. If Hobbes has to blast, Hobbes will blast. Despite being such close friends, I’ve been blasted too (which surprised a few people because we were supposed to be ‘friends’; now who blasts friends, huh?). Well, I do. Hobbes does, too. What are friends for, if they can’t correct you when you’re wrong? If there’s credit to be given, Hobbes gives it generously—again, irrespective of friendship or enmity. I think that’s a fabulous quality: to be able to separate life from work

If you are a friend, Hobbes will perhaps die for you. Well, not literally, of course. But if you want Hobbes to do something for you, Hobbes will do it, despite perhaps not liking it at all. It always surprises me, because I would never do that! I’ve kidded about certain things, and Hobbes always agreed to do it, even after admitting it may not be the best thing to do. Maybe one should NOT be so fiercely loyal to friends. You never know how loyal your ‘friend’ is to you. *Note the point, Hobbes *

There are times when Hobbes deserves a kick—for judging people wrongly, for making the wrong ‘friends’, for trusting the wrong people (repeatedly, at that), for helping the ones who do not deserve to be helped…and in all this process, getting hurt. But well, can’t be helped…because Hobbes is Hobbes. I like that *No matter what the other person is or does, you have to be you, Hobbes *.

Yes, now that I think about it, I really like that! People come and go, some even walk over Hobbes, leaving bruises…but the next time they need help, Hobbes does not think twice before helping (and most probably getting hurt again). Though I’ve blasted Hobbes for that many times, I think that’s amazing. *Remain so, just stop expecting any gratitude, whatsoever. And I still will blast you the next time you do that * In Hobbes’ own words, “You fool me once – you are clever; You fool me twice – I am stupid; Hobbes is not stupid; wow, I like that line”.  I do too

Of course, Hobbes has faults. Well, who doesn’t (except me!), right? Hobbes frets too much about the past; is too perfect and orderly (yes, that’s a fault!); goes into a shell and refuses to talk about it if something upsets Hobbes; does not appreciate telegrams (!); is not a great fan of Calvin & Hobbes despite being christened Hobbes (!!); thinks an i10 is better than a Punto (bah); aaaaaand walks way too fast Saddest of all, Hobbes does not forgive the mistakes made by self (if they can be called ‘mistakes’, which I personally don’t think is what those are; I think everything is a lesson, a learning, an experience…it makes you one bit stronger, one bit wiser). *You need to get over them, Hobbes. I know it is easier said than done, but you have to. Otherwise, you won’t really get time to make new mistakes What’s life without mistakes, to crib over and learn from?*

There are times Hobbes can be absolutely morbid, absolutely mind-numbing and absolutely shocking. I have fallen off my chair quite often at certain things Hobbes said. I’ve laughed sooooo much that I’ve gone so red in the face, making Hobbes all alarmed that something might happen to me.

I’ve also gaped in awe at certain other things. Like the courage, the perseverance, the patience, the sense, the logic. Most importantly, the pure will to survive and succeed.

The most amazing thing, however, is the way Hobbes can get up or down to any age level Right from 5 to 50 We are capable of being two kids fighting over who is better than the other…and can, in the blink of an eye, be two very mature adults, having a serious discussion on life’s complexities

We have long conversations and longer spells of comfortable silences. I read somewhere “The best kind of friend is one with whom you sit on a bench, saying nothing and when you get up and go, you feel as if you had the best conversation of your life!” Oh, I believe that to the last word now

*Hobbes, I’m immensely grateful to you for the companionship you gave during some real bad times; for listening to all my cribbing like it was the most important thing at that moment; for guiding me on when I needed directions; for the many, many coffee breaks and walks; for the many deals; for some real impressive pep talks; for the umpteen laughs; for all the mentorship; for cheering me up when I was depressed; for making September 2011 a bearable ordeal; for correcting me when I was wrong; for being a true friend all the time. And most importantly, for being the delight that you are…for being you.*

Friendship is a rather strange thing. It is not about going out together and ‘having fun’ all the time; it’s not about having weekend trips together; it is not about lavishing gifts on them; it’s not about sitting around a table together and secretly wondering if you have everything your friend has. Most importantly, it’s NOT about being supportive even when your ‘friend’ is obviously wrong: that’s being the goody-goody, I’m-there-for-you-whatever-you-do Samaritan. Friends don’t let each other tread the wrong path.

Friendship is definitely about being there for each other, through good times and bad. But more importantly, it’s about being a critic and a guide. Goof around, have fun, call each other names, pull each other’s legs, land a surprise, lend a shoulder. But when your friend is wrong, have the courage to point it out, help the person correct the wrong and get back into the right. Be an unconditional friend, but be a valuable one first. That’s when you’re a true friend.

Which is why…

Guess with Hobbes, I just got damn lucky

.

P.S.: Hobbes, here’s wishing you a fantastic new beginning that remains fantastic till the end. What you leave behind, is definitely something that is best left behind

P.S. of P.S.: I’m not to be held responsible if being known as “Hobbes” does further damage to your “aura”

P.S. of P.S. of P.S.: I still insist: there is no aura

Yay!

My blog is recovering from 50,036 hits since 13 June 2008! Bah, folks. So you go ahead and see the “since 13 June 2008!” part? Now whose fault is that? Yours! If you all had kept crazily clicking on my blog every other day, I’d have reached this milestone a loooong time back Oh, so I have to write as frequently as well? Hmmm…whatever.

Well, honestly, it does not matter to me. And I noticed it only because a friend pointed it out (snickering, saying “valla vidhavum athrem oppicheduthu” — literally translates to “finally you managed to reach that much”). Yes, such friends I have. Sigh.

So well, I’ve seen people posting such milestones. And for want of anything else to write about, here it is.

Yay! 

Days of disorientation…

…have been on for a long while now and they don’t seem to come to an end! And I don’t like it one bit. One bit!

And unlike others, when I vanish from my blog, nobody cares. Nobody calls up. Mail do not flood my inbox asking me if I’m alright, where I am, why there are no posts… Nothing, none of that. That depresses me. Nobody cares   Ah well, Scribby did ask. She cares…and I now love her for that!

I missed a lot many of your posts, but most of them, I read. Some I “like”d, some I just read, smiled and closed off. No favouritism there Just too lazy to “log in to WP to ‘Like’”

It’s been almost 2-and-a-half months since I blogged last. Not because I had nothing to blog about — in fact, a lot happened over the last 2 months and 10 days. It’s just that I’d been wallowing in depression and disorientation, I’ve not been able to make myself log in here and crib write about it, or about anything at all, for that matter.

• Celebrated Onam well, minus the pookkalams like last time. Pumbaa had his first ever Onam Sadya — and drooled all over the place while I made him pose…and slurped and gulped it all down in a jiffy!
  

  Pumbaa Nayar Thomas' very first Onam Sadya

  • I quit IBM. I put in my papers early September, and I went into depression. Well, it was my decision, but I had really liked working there. There was something comforting about that place, the team, the work… Learnt a lot, went through a lot, lost some “friends”. Gained some real awesome ones   — the only thing I’ll miss so very terribly for a looooooong time! So well, though it was my decision, I do regret it at times. But things did change drastically recently (which may also have fuelled my decision to leave; certain people and their principles did not agree with me, though quitting a company because of that may sound an immature act. Well, you need to be there to know it, so don’t judge me yet ). And for the record, she also quit on the same day   And like I told a manager, I referred her there, and when I left, I took her along
• I went on a team trip from office early October, to Pondicherry. Was it awesome!!! We left on a Friday late night and reached back Sunday night — after having a ton of fun. I loooooooooooooooved the beach time. The bunch of us walked into a private beach on a sizzling afternoon, around 2, and stayed on till about close to 6. It was splendid. And the Sunday morning walk…it was bliss. Thanks for that, Binoy   I don’t think I’d have gone on that walk alone — and if you hadn’t come up with that idea, it’d have been a loss! Thanks for the trip too. I owe you a whole post for being such a great friend
  

  The beach was all ours! -- at Pondicherry

• Pumbaa turned one (Happy Birthday, Pumbaa!) on October 10. We celebrated his birthday, decorated the house, bought him a load of gifts and made him a special “beef biriyani” birthday cake The grandma painstakingly carved out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” from carrots, because Pumbaa loves carrots He downed it all. It was pure neglect and sacrilege on my part not to have posted at least that. Paaavam Pumbaa I even posted the pics on FB quite late! Here’s a pic. More here.
  

  Happy Birthday, Pumbaaaaaaa

• I went for a “Nostalgia Night” at Resource Communications, the one place I had ALWAYS loved working in, and the one place I’d love to work in, any day   It was on a Friday night, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it. But I managed to, thanks to Suraj. It was perhaps one of the BEST decisions I’ve taken. It was awesome being back there, meeting all those people, walking around in that awesome place. Thanks for hosting it, Jayadev and Chicku! You people rock!
  

  After a night of Resource...ful memories!

• It was my birthday too, recently. Well, no grand gifts this time, but got a FABULOUS cake — of Calvin & Hobbes. It was sooooo superbly done! I wanted a cardigan, so while Suraj took me shopping, the brother, father and mother decked up the terrace, set the cake and balloons and waited for me to come back! It was awesome
  

  The god-awesome Calvin&Hobbes Cake

• Hate being at home, in a state of indecision and confusion. Hate taking it on others, so trying not to talk about it much. Would love to enjoy it as a vacation, but there’s work keeping me occupied and worries keeping me in a perpetual state of disturbance.
• Love the weather. Bought a cardigan (finally!) and promptly lost it the very next day at the bank — and didn’t realise it until after 4 days. Bah to me, seriously! Ugh!
• Want to get back to blogging — like I used to. Wonder what’s stopping me
• The only place I want to go to, to live in, EVER is Goa. There! I’ve said it, put it down in writing. Goa, Goa, Goa. Not Kochi, not anywhere else
• The parents have decided to relocate back to Trivandrum. We’ll miss them   They’ll miss Pumbaa   Pumbaa’ll miss them
• Vimmuuu relocated to Kochi, and likes it better than Trivandrum. Bah to you, pseudo spidey! I don’t like you anymore

Okay! I’m done for now. I wonder when I’ll be back — both, to being myself, and to my blog. Too much time, is sometime, very little! Sigh!

Have the stars come down?

There’s a lovely, mesmerizing, sprawling estate. That’s where she lives, all alone, by herself. This estate has the tallest trees she has ever seen, and they’re all so close together, creating a dense forest-like atmosphere. The sprawling bungalow stands proudly somewhere in the centre of the estate, covered on all sides by these tall tress at a radius of about 100 metres. Within these 100 metres, sway hordes of beautiful flowers, croton plants, and some certain lavendar flower bearing trees.

It’s slowly getting dark outside, and the colours fade away politely to bring in the pitch black of the impending night. She puts away the book she’s reading, gets off her rocking chair and switches on the porch light. The feeble incandescence barely lights up the steps that lead down to the courtyard.

As she gets back to her rocking chair and takes the book in her hands once again, she realises she’s hungry — she hasn’t had a morsel since breakfast. So engrossing has the book been. She drops the book back on the chair and walks in.

The bungalow is a huge one. Most rooms in the bungalow are not used — yet, she opens all the huge, grill-less, open windows very morning, closes them before sunset. Today, however, she’s been caught up in the fast-paced pages of the book. That was a mistake. But it’s too early to realise that.

She walks into the kitchen and stands there for a moment, relishing the cool breeze that floated in uninvited. She fixes herself a nice, warm, yummy dinner. As she inhales the aromas of the various spices, it invigorates her, making her feel ecstatic.

That’s when the power suddenly goes out, leaving her in a kitchen lit only by the low flame of the stove — and as she looks out through the kitchen window, she sees only pitch black. And it looks like the stars have come down. As her eyes adjust to the moonlight, she freezes. For, what glitters like stars are glinting pairs of eyes — of many black panthers making their way stealthily towards the bungalow.

As the blood in her veins slows down its mad rush, she grabs at the windows, swing them close. She runs from room to room, swinging them all shut. And as she goes from the rooms facing east, to west to south, she realises the glittering pairs of eyes are covering the distance quickly, all around. The bungalow is surrounded by them!

As she closes the last but one window and turns to close the last one on the opposite wall, she sees lithe paws springing off the window sill, landing sexily on the room’s granite floor. 16 extended, sharp nails click on the cool granite.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

I’m a person of very few dreams. I dream rarely — yes, really RARELY. And when I do have dreams, they’re extremely vivid, of undeniable details…sometimes extremely shocking.

Some are so real, I wonder if I was actually dreaming. there are incidents I’ve believed have really happened, only to later realise it was but a mere fragment of my imagination at work while I’m dozing! And these realizations strike when I discuss those incidents with other people who were with me “then” in the dream, and they look at me blankly, saying “What? When?”.

Of all such dreams, the one that has given me shivers every time is the one with the estate and the bungalow! This is a recurring dream, one I’ve dreamt at least 15 times, and I’m NOT exaggerating! I’ve had the same dream that many times, and it was always the same setting, the same time, the same bungalow, the same glinting eyes *trembles*. And every time, at that same moment, when 16 extended, sharp nails click on the cool granite, I wake up, heart thudding away, super-glad to find that I’m in my safe bed, on the road-side house in far-away Trivandrum or Bangalore (yes, I’ve had this dream while I was in Trivandrum, and after I came over here).

I do hope my dreams don’t come true! Shudder!