Three’s never a crowd!

After quite a long time (4 and a half months, for sure), I called up one of my closest friends — to know that she was 4 months pregnant!! So much for being “close friends”!!!

And after the inital whats and whaats and whaaats, I let out one string of abuses her way for not letting me know. And with that ever cheeky that-don’t-impress-me-much tone, she tells me, “Oh! I thought I’ll just give you all a surprise!” Apparently, in all that excitement and tests and waiting-for-the-confirmation delays, she forgot to call us. Then she thought about it a month later…by then she was sure she’d get killed for not having told us friends. And then, she thought ‘what the heck, let the baby come out…and i’ll let them know”. The ass! Hehe…she was quite sure then, that we wouldn’t be meeting till the baby’s out

I’ve been friends with this mad girl since my 9th grade…and it’s always been the ‘heights of fun’ when the two of us, along with the third musketeer, joined together! All 3 of us are “younger sister” to some super brothers…and while we both have 1, she has 3!! Which explains her escalated level of madness!

We’ve stayed cooped up in her smelly bedroom from morn till night, pretending to study…while all we ever did was read novels and eat and make endless phone calls and eat and sleep and eat and gossip and eat and…oh, you get the picture, right? We’ve walked from her house, all the way to mine (some good 8-9kms) in the scorching sun, chattering away on about everything. We’ve spent hours together discussing loves, crushes and heartbreaks.

We’ve travelled all over Trivandrum for no reason at all (as a result of talking animatedly and boarding any damn bus without looking at the name board!!)…in fact, once we sat right in front of the conductor’s seat in the bus and refused to take a ticket Just before getting off the bus, when the conductor asked us for the ticket, she actually told him “Oh, innu ticket edukkan oru moodilla” (Oh, we didn’t have the mood to get a ticket today!)

We’ve bunked our classes to join a third class’ PT hour {two of us were in the same class n this mad one was in another; so, while the every class had just one PT hour a week, we had one everyday…almost }and play in the hot sun (guess we were the only 3 girls the PT master didn’t hate )! We’ve always wanted to be in the same class (precisely why the teachers conspired and always made sure at least one among us was separated from the gang during class hours) that she’s hidden under our bench, only to be discovered and thrown out by the teacher!

Edited to add this after this memory suddenly came back: We’ve lurked around after school hours, waiting for all the teachers to leave, then gone behind the school building and tried to understand what’s the ‘cool’ factor about smoking After a puff each and volleys of coughing fits and teary eyes, we ran off into the girls’ loo when we heard our PT master demanding who the smoker was (he saw smoke, apparently!) A poor 7th grade boy got caught and interrogated [they did the spell smell-check on him, but he came off clean ], but no one ever figured out!

We’ve bunked school to attend the “La Fest” (an inter-school fest conducted by Loyola School in Trivandrum, every year), in spite of being warned against it by our class teacher–and then disappointed her by bringing her leave letters signed by our parents that actually said “Was unable to attend class since I wanted to attend La Fest”, instead of a cooked up “fever” story

Long story short, we’ve been the perfect ‘undisciplined gang of girls’ at school (and SO NOT proud about it now ) By the time we passed out of school, we ‘grew up’ and vowed we’ll become better people. All that took to make us better people was to get the 3 of us going in 3 different ways

We still get back to being the ‘undisciplined gang of girls’ whenever we meet (though we pretend to be civilised). All of us were mad enough on the other’s wedding and instead of gifts, presented the ‘bridegroom’ with condolence messages (through the bride of course! who wants to give away the disaster that’s in store )!?

I can’t believe she’s going to be a mom! I can only pity the poor baby that’s on its way (am done pitying the husband by now ). Love you girl! Can’t wait to see you!

How to lose about 300 people in a matter of minutes.

Yea…you read that right: not pounds/kgs, but people!

I had had a long day at work yesterday, and had asked the husband to come all the way to my office and pick me up! The princess that I am, I refused to go home in an auto/bus. I had to have my chauffeur! Fed up of work — or rather, the lack of it — at a good-for-nothing office, he was already in a bad mood. Having to drive that extra mile amidst unrelenting traffic, and then, waiting for me outside my office forever (to which he’s become accustomed) did very little to cheer him up!

Which is when the thought of food came in—always the catalyst for a cheerful time!  So we went to a much-hyped Mallu restaurant near our place in Koramangala, Bangalore. Bad food, pathetic service, big-time delay and a high price tag. Did nothing but drive the husband deeper into the dumps!

A pack of VCDs had arrived earlier the evening (a few classic Mallu movies the husband had ordered from Moser Baer over the Internet), and i thought, “what better than a good movie to cheer up my movie freak”

So we reach home, settle down and decide to watch a movie — when he starts groping around in his pockets, beneath the cushions, under the sofa…and asks, “Where’s my mobile”?

The husband, when assured that the mobile is safe, usually does not budge from the sofa once seated, unless it’s a life threatening situation (like my heading for the TV with a hockey stick, maybe). But now, he’s up and about, searching for his mobile in all possible places a Sony Ericsson K710i can fit.
We call to his number from my phone and it says “The Airtel customer you’re trying to reach is currently out of reach…”. Momentary solace, hoping its way under the thick cushions of the sofa. Until I say that I’d heard a ‘thud’ when we turned the corner right after leaving the restaurant.

And then, pandemonium. Quick call to the restaurant: negative. Quick trip to the restaurant: negative. Not-so-quick survey of the entire lane: negative. Mobile lost: positive! And that was it. He seemed to have lost all interest in life (I wonder where I fit in ).

So, here’s how you lose about 300 people in a matter of minutes! Simple. Lose your mobile phone!

Am sure the husband won’t be empathetic to my ‘simple’ analysis. He had to learn it the hard way, poor thing The thought of having lost about 250 odd contacts, many photographs and close to a million “I love you” messages I’d sent seemed to paralyse him   How many contacts have I lost? How will I get back all those numbers?

And I say, “Call Airtel CC and  block your SIM. Ask them if we can get your mobile traced…isn’t there some IMEI number we can use?” The number is duly blocked and he promised to issue a duplicate SIM immediately, but the smart CC guy says the ‘Trace your lost phone with the IMEI number’ service is not available in India!

More depression and irritation. “Suraj, the sun” had set for a while [Perhaps this is what a baby goes through on Day 1: the world knows its identity, but the poor baby knows none!]

Which then made me wonder how much we all rely on that little gadget called a mobile phone (“we” does not include me; i rather believe mobile phones should be left wherever you please…and allow it to ring till it dies)

We no longer remember the phone numbers like we used to (of course, it’s much tougher to keep track of 8 digits compared to those cute 5-digit numbers ); we no longer jot down numbers on quaint, alphabetical diaries; we no longer rush from our seat to attend that call on the phone resting on that antique corner stool (we’d rather the mobile phone rush to us: it’s ‘mobile’ for a reason!); we no longer scribble our loved one’s birthdays on our wall calendar; we no longer have use for that round little thing lovingly called an ‘alarm clock’; in fact, we’re in a stage where we wish everything could be located with a “missed call” !

Biting nails when boredom strikes are a thing of the past: it’s the mobile phone we play with.

Reading random magazines at the dentist is passé: why that, when we have games on our mobile phone?

Receiving no calls for one full continuous hour could only be because the battery has run out; not because you’re indispensible

Owning a mobile is mandatory for anyone who wants to fall in love.

Etiquettes matter only at meetings and at the table; whoever said mobile phones come with a set of etiquettes? (Of course, I got a thick free etiquette book; but I sold it along with a stack of old newspapers! ) If you are the proud owner of a mobile phone, the following are OK:

• Letting it ring insistently with that irritating ringtone (while you grope for it in the darkness) at the theatre
• Talking on it while in a flight (endangering other passengers as well) unless the pilot threatens to jump out with his parachute
• Fiddling with the “End” button, only to change your mind, accept the call and brawl into it with a “In a meeting; will call back later… Oh, that! Man, that was funny…hehhehehe…ooops…in a meeting; will call back later!”
• Waking up people from their sleep to say “Oh…did I wake you up? Sorry, didn’t notice the time… So, how’s life?”
• Talking animatedly on the mobile phone while crossing the road, and getting (not just oneself) others too into danger
• Talking loudly (not to mention the loud ringing) in libraries, hospitals, air-conditioned public vehicles and everywhere else!
  ………..
• And a dozen other irritating stuff!

For someone who’s damn careless and absented about all things, and mobile phones especially, I’ve never lost one: so, I don’t know the agony of losing it. In fact, on those days that I forget to carry it along to work, I experience a particular sense of peace and calm — of not having to attend calls, respond to messages and ensure it’s not misplaced

I wonder how we (rest of the world excluding me) lived when the mobile phones didn’t exist! It’s a ‘maaranam’ (evil) we can’t live without, now!

Any special mobile stories, folks?

was it your birthday or mine?

Were they your dreams or mine?
Were they your wishes or mine?
Were they your smiles or mine?
Were they your hopes or mine?
Were they your moments or mine?

I wonder if you remember these words…they were on a birthday card you sent me all the way from Mumbai on my 16th birthday. Guess that was my first birthday following your departure to Mumbai (well, b4 that, I had had only one birthday after we became friends…but still). That was one card I really really loved… and I could only smile, thinking to myself “I wonder how we manage to find a card that says just what we both feel.”

Years have passed since; dozens of cards, letters and phone calls have travelled to-and-fro…then we upgraded from “writing” to e-mailing. And then, just as suddenly as your dad got transferred to Mumbai, he was transferred back. But alas! you never came; instead, you called me over — and i gleefully agreed. We again set off on a train together…having decided to stay together, study together…and never separate again.

Years have passed. You’re married, I’m married. We’re living our separate lives. So much of our time’s taken away by life: that we seldom talk to, write to or think of one another. A chat yesterday, a call today, a mail tomorrow… That’s all that remains of our relation now. We had some of the best times of our lives: discussing crushes and loves and heartbreakes; exchanging books, movies and songs; terrorising a certain math teacher and walking out of her class; getting cursed by another and succeeding, in spite of everything; driving a few people mad and some others up trees…

Years have passed, situations have changed…our lives have turned on its own different wheels…but i guess the one thing that’s never changed over the past 12 years is our relationship…a certain feeling of ‘being there’, no matter the gaps in talks and memories.

I hope you have a sexy birthday, get drowned amidst gifts, happiness and love…and write a totally moving piece for (and about) me on my special day

HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY WOMAN!
They say time and tide waits for none; but girl, time always stands still for a woman of thirty! (Ooops, did I just say it out loud? )

back to school

Just before sleep took over by about 11.45 yesterday night, I got up from in front of the TV and walked into the comp room — to sign out from gmail: instead, I saw a mail from a very close friend with a subject line “:)”. Now, with this guy, you can expect just about anything. So, I fight my sleep and sit down to read it though (it’s long too). I expected to fall off the chair any instant. But oh my! the mail made me smile so wide, I thought it’d tear my mouth through

It was a letter of ‘memories’: an unexpected reminder of the good times. I wonder what made him write to me. He began with the line “There is nothing more exciting and soothening than the letters from an old friend… I thought: so who am I going to write to today? And I could think of none other than you.“  I am touched. I’d love to lie to you all by saying I was one of the best of his friends then; someone who influenced his life so well…blah blah… But no. I don’t have a clue why he could think of no one else…and I couldn’t care less…

Because the mail was about memories of school…of that age of innocence when you say/do/act like there’s not a care in the world; that age when all one wants is to get out of school-life and get into a job; that age when (like now too) Fridays are welcomed whole-heartedly, but boredom settles by Saturday mid (unlike now!!); that age where one does all sorts of mischief (and think parents don’t realise); that age when everything was just so nice…

Oh! The minute I finished reading it, I told myself “I must blog about this”. Instead, I sent him a reply with a “Lon-mail-ahead alert” Truly one of my longest mails ever — with all that I could remember; sad enough, because we were classmates right from Std 7, but I barely even noticed him till Std 10: even after that, we were only quite formal with each other. It wasn’t until 3-4- years back that we got in touch again and became fast friends. So, to have received such a mail from him, reminding me of those days was a real surprise — and a wonderful one at that!

I’m not quite sure he’ll survive through my reply he’ll either stop using the Internet, or we’ll continue this by pulling in more friends. Oooh…I am so damn elated (and excited at that prospect) right now. A million thanks for taking me on a trip back memory-lane, MC. You’re the best!!

Wanna go back to that age…all the way back to school.

I wonder what…

I wonder what it takes to convince someone to take care of their health (the loss, finally, is theirs, isn’t it?).

I wonder what it takes to make someone shed their negativity and shift to positive paths.

I wonder what it takes to make two people love each other (in spite of years of its absence).

I wonder what it takes to stop someone you love from being that one person you dread to have to live with.

I wonder what it means, to live your life for someone else forever, and never be valued for what you are.

I wonder what it takes to make people realise that God is in your minds, actions and thoughts; and not in how well you display and talk about it.

I wonder what it takes to convert a non-believer (and I don’t mean just the belief in God) to become a believer.

I wonder what it takes to make people look at the bigger picture than at the pixels!

I wonder what it takes to imbibe a sense of ‘togetherness’ in someone.

I wonder what it means to not be loved, but be expected to slave.

I wonder what it takes to make someone shed their ego and arrogance (even after suffering for it multiple times).

I wonder what it takes to make someone you love walk WITH you (and not lead, follow or tread).

I wonder what it takes to make someone accept everyone else as idividuals with their own lives.

I wonder what it means when you finally give up on someone:
     is that the end of real love?
     is it the beginning of disinterested acceptance?
     is it a sacrifice of your own interests as well?

I really do wonder…

Has to be the weirdest tag ever!

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
“Damn! Nalla kani…which means the day’s gonna be bad!”

2. How much cash do you have in your wallet right now?
Rs 2.50…and an electricity bill for 500!

3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
Bore…that’s what tags are!

4. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
I always delete miss calls from my phone…(I get those more than calls because I’m never near my ‘mobile’ phone)

5. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
Kill Bill

6. What are you wearing right now?
T-shirt and skirt.

7. Do you label yourself?
Oh yea…am my favourite

8. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently own?
Nike

9. Bright or Dark Room?
Medium

10. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
Happy (she just found a job!)

11. What does your watch look like?
Duh! It looks like a watch!

12. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Sleeping

13.What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
“Haha i didnt even enquire. Wait by even ill let you know whether i’ve done it”

14. What’s a word that you say a lot?
LOL

15. Who told you he/she loved you last?(please exclude spouse , family, children)
An anonymous sms! don’t know who the sender is!

16. Last furry thing you touched?
My hair…when I went to Chennai, my usually smooth hair became furry!! I  blame the coastal climate!

17. Favourite age you have been so far?
7 and 8 — at Guruvayur!

18.  What was the last thing you said to someone?
“Njaan Facebook-il UNO kalikkuaa” (means, I’m playing UNO on Facebook)

19. The last song you listened to?
Ikhtara — from Wake Up Sid!

20. Where did you live in 1987?
Thiruvananthapuram (was too young to venture out alone — I was 3.)

21. Are you jealous of anyone?
Naah!

22. Is anyone jealous of you?
Of course! Who wouldn’t be? I’m the most perfect anyone can be

23. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
Bindi, dress and watch

24. What’s your favourite town/city?
Thiruvananthapuram!

25. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
Last July — to my dad and mom — just saying I love them a looooot and that they’re the best parents ever.

26. Can you change the oil on a car?
Depends on where the oil is

27. Your first love/big crush: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
first big crush: is in the USA (currently in india on vacation);
first love: am not quite sure which that was; think i should play safe and say I’m married to him

28. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
Nope! But it will, soon! Am gonna pierce my nose

29. What is your current desktop picture?
Me n the husband

30. Have you been burnt by love?
Yep — whenever I cook for the husband!

And here goes: Verbivore, Ramya, Vimmu, Mahak and Smita

P.S.: Edited after Reema commented: You’re tagged too, girl!

just a tumbler of water

It isn’t often you feel like a potential murderer. Well, today seems to be one of those strangely different, out-of-the-ordinary days!

When I read murder stories, I always marvel (in the most negative way) at the ease with which people plan to and successfully murder someone; similarly with movies. But in those cases, there’s always the consolation that it’s not for real. The shock is when such reports come in the news! And I just sit around wondering “How can a person ‘kill’ someone!?” And for someone like me who refuses to kill even an ant, it’s the biggest mystery. So, when today, I was the one scheming and planning, the shock knew no boundaries!

It’s been sometime now, that I have been contemplating on a murder. And every passing day makes me more and more determined to commit this one. I know it takes one hell of a stone-heart to even think of something like this — but I’m sure I want to do it — yes, you read it right: I want to do it.

So, now you must be wondering why the hell I’m writing about in a public forum. I do not intent to murder and act like a saint. I am totally willing to accept the consequences. I’m doing this only because my object of ‘affection’ here does not deserve to live. If I allow it to, I’ll be responsible for the wreck of two other lives. The love that existed all along will be forgotten: slowly, but steadily. And a day will come when these two lives will be totally dispensable for the other. I cannot allow for that. Better that this one dies.

I opened a Google window and started typing “how to murder a” and immediately the following options popped up:

• how to murder a man (it’s not a man I want to murder)
• how to murder and get away with it (not my intention; you wouldn’t be reading this if it were!)
• how to murder a millionaire (why’d anyone wanna kill a millionaire unless you are due to receive all he’s got!?)
• how to murder a rich uncle (if he has no kids and loves you the most, fine; else, isn’t it more sensible to be his fav nephew/niece?)
• how to murder a and not get caught (again, i repeat, not my intention!)

Well, the option I was looking for was clearly not available. I discussed with a few close friends
– and finally decided that it should be a death-by-water! After all, most people wish to have a sip of water before they die!

Now I know how easy it is to kill. All it takes is some amount of hatred, some amount of despair and a huge amount of determination and reckless disregard for all value — monetary, moral and emotional! In my case, I’ll need just one more thing: a tumbler of water.

Once I’m done, and this post is crawled over by the search engine, Google will add one more item to its current list of “how to murder a”. It’ll have an option for “how to murder a television”!

Onam’s here again…

Yet another Onam’s here — and this year I don’t get to celebrate it at all (for one year, we’re off all celebrations ‘coz granny passed away). My first Onam after marriage and there it goes down the drain! Hmmm.

All these years, when we ‘had’ Onam to celebrate, it never was a big deal for me. I used to love getting all decked up in the Kerala traditional wear, have all the relative buzzing around, have that sumptuous sadya…but well, Onam was always just another festival. But somehow, this year, seeing everyone else celebrate makes me feel weird — and guilty for letting poor Onam never get that importance and high-office!

And to add to all that, the husband is totally down with fever — high temperature and body pain and all that. And I am also sneezing my way to the same condition. I read somewhere that if you sneeze too hard, you can fracture a rib; if you try to suppress a sneeze, you can rupture a blood vessel in your head or neck and die. Surprisingly, I’m still alive, and my ribs are in perfect order Hope it remains so for at least another week — because my parents are coming tomorrow! Yey! The only thing I can say about continuous sneezing is that it makes you look like a drunk, sleep-deprived Chinese! (The red eyes, small and squinted)

Anyway, yesterday a friend popped up on chat and asked whether I had a bath in the morning and went to the temple after that. Well, when I told her Onam had no religious connections, she asked me why, then, Mahabali roams around with a “kuri” on his forehead. I told her it was the then Devas‘ and Asuras‘ version of our modern bindi

Well, Onam really has no ‘religious’ aspect about it. It is the day the Asura King Mahabali comes up from the underworld ‘Pathalam‘, to visit his beloved Kerala and the ‘citizens’ there — a once-a-year allowance granted by Lord Vishnu . The day when all of Kerala is dressed at its best, is laden after a good harvest and awaits a grand year ahead. (The story behind all this will give enough material for 3 posts!!)

Onam, therefore, is significant in two ways…
One, it is the commemoration of the community at large and celebration of past history, the Mahabali legend; and two, it is the celebration of the harvest, tied with the memory of the golden age of prosperity. Onam is the time when Kerala is all set to welcome back its favourite King for a day of feast and enjoyment. After the monsoon drenches this beautiful state for almost all of the Karkidakam (the Malayali’s ‘dark’ month — when nothing inauspicious is taken up), Chingam walks in,bringing with it spring and auspiciousness. Chingam signals harvest, which is celebrated in the form of Onam!

This sense of joy, prosperity and merrymaking is celebrated traditionally with folk games, family get-togethers and lots of sadya.

The best part of Onam has always been the Onakkodi. People gift one-another and wear new clothes during Onam. ‘Vastra’ (dress) also stands for ‘heart’. So, new dresses signifies the ‘renewal’ of the heart with new thoughts, cleansing it of all bad memories!

Atham pathinu ponnonam… Onam celebrations start on the day Atham (the Malayalam star) falls — 10 days before Thiruvonam (another Malayalam star). A huge circle made on the courtyard, coated with cowdung (to keep the flowers in place), is beautifully decorated with flowers and called ‘Onapookkalam’. In most houses, this is done with great mastery and ends up being a beautiful work of art!

On Thiruvonam, before Mahabali comes for his yearly visit, houses are cleaned and decorated with flowers and traditional lamps. A beautifully enchanting display of fireworks and lighting turns the state capital, Thiruvananthapuram, into something of a fairyland!

Sumptuous sadyas are spread on the greenest of all plantain leaves. The sadya is an important part of Onam — its the yearly feast even the poorest person in the state doesn’t wish to miss. “Kaanam vittum Onam unnanam“, they say. It means that to have a share of the Onasadya, one should be willing to sell even the bare necessity he owns! The sadya is a full course meal, served strictly in the following order: 3 pickles (ginger, lime and mango), a thoran, a kitchadi, avial and koottucurry on one side of the leaf; on the other, banana chips, banana pieces dipped in jaggery, a small banana, pappads, rice and parippu. Then follows sambar, a milk-payasam with boli, a jaggery payasam with banana, and finally, a bit more rice with pulissery, rasam and then buttermilk! (The sadya varies from district to district in kerala; this is the Thiruvananthapuram style and I know only of this!)

Different parts of Kerala celebrate Onam in their own different ways: Athachamayam (a cultural procession in the royal town of Tripunithura); the Thrikkakarayappan further north; Kathakali dancers in gorgeous costumes enacting the legends in Valluvanad;. an impressive procession of elephants adorned with their nettipattoms in Thrissur, where masked dancers perform the colorful Kummattikali; the famous Aranmula Vallam Kali in Aranmula; Pulikali (Kaduvakali) all over the state..everyone has one’s own concept of Onam! And, these are but a few of the various traditional activities that are enjoyed during Onam.

The swing, one most important part of Onam, is enjoyed by everyone:  decked in their best, they sing Onappaattukal, swinging to and fro from high branches.

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Oh! Good ol’d Onam. I miss it sooooo much this year…and when a friend send me a pic he clicked of the lit-up roads in Thiruvananthapuram, I saw nostalgia run across the room and take a huge leap on to me! Sigh!

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Happy Onam, everyone! Have a great day today…and a graaaand year ahead — while I head off to sneeze in piece peace!

Image courtesy: Google Images. In the spirit of Onam, forgive my borrowing your images; if you do not like it being posted here, put in a word; they shall be promptly removed

“Light; it plays an incredible game of hide-and-seek with us.”

“Light; it plays an incredible game of hide-and-seek with us.
The earliest memory of my childhood happens to be a very happy one – sitting on my grandfather’s lap, listening to stories of our mythology, of demons and gods, of good and evil and walking down with him to the library to catch up on the adventures of Mickey Mouse.”

And as I first read these words sometime in the middle of a busy mid-2008 afternoon, I was awed! Awed by the author’s ability to play with words. Nikhil; he plays an incredible game with words!

When the story ended as abruptly as it had begun, after scrolling down just 4 or 5 pages, I was left in a confused state of mind. I was lost — I knew I just had to read the full story.  When I pestered him, he told me that was the full story; he’d written that to send in for some short-story-writing competition, he said.

Now, almost a year later, when I clicked that nice little “Download” button on his blog, all excited to be reading his new book, I saw myself reading those same words…and wondering where I had read them before. To have been able to read what led to and what followed those words was one of the best things to happen.

After I read it, I told him that “Simran” had left me all confused…and a bit torn apart. Confused, because such serious and mind-numbing words were from a guy whose posts are always a slapstick, humourous entertainer. Torn apart, because one could almost see and feel Nihal’s agony and loss.

“Simran” is a beautiful story that cajoles you lovingly to go forth and get yourself right in the midst of that fierce battle between emotions and logic; mind and heart. It’s the story of a passionately intense relation between the protagonist, Nihal, and the mysterious Simran. From life, love and passion, to hurt, anger, hate and death, Nihal travels through an entire spectrum of emotional turmoil — while Simran becomes the testimony for all that.

Definitely an ‘unputdownable’ work of art! And rightly so, because you live, love, get hurt and hate along with Nihal and Simran. When a reader empathises with a character, it’s undoubtedly the result of a  brilliant author’s incredible penmanship!

Well done, Nikhil! Look forward to the next one!

the day I almost thought my last thought!

August 14: The day I almost thought my last thought! The day I thought about a lot of things in such a rush, for fear of never being able to think about anything, anymore! The day I thought I was dying. Gosh, I guess I’ll never forget this day!

August 13: Went out with my brother to Garuda Mall, Bangalore. Walked around for a looong time…in and out of shops, without buying anything, driving the sales-people crazy, until I got myself a sprained muscle on my left shoulder. The pain kept bothering me, but I gave no heed. Cooked dinner, made idly batter for the next day (one helluva job, I tell you!), saw part of some incorrigible movie, quarreled with the husband for some silly reason (I blame the pain for the irritation) and went off to sleep.

August 14 (again!?): Woke up with the pain again. Made breakfast, by the end of which I realised I couldn’t adjust myself to a lot of positions, thanks to the pain that sent me buckling every now and then! Had loads of office work, which I managed to (grossly uncomfortably) complete by 4.30. Meanwhile, I checked the Internet for symptoms of appendicitis, kidney stone, tumor and what not. The only disease I didn’t check for was swine flu, thanks to the half dozen mails that keep pouring in everyday on the subject.

I was in pain — breathing in and out, sneezing (mere thoughts of sneezing, even), burping, laughing, walking, lying, sitting, standing, crying, yawning…just about everything I’ve learnt to do in life hurt like hell!! Till about 5.00, I managed to sit around with my brother, trying to laugh at myself and my antics, without moving my belly. Then I retreated to my room, decided to lie down. And oh God…in the next 10 minutes, the pain shot up so bad, I hardly had any voice. My brother, right in the next room, couldn’t hear me whimpering, crying out in pain, calling out for mom!

In the next hour, the husband, back from office, came in with my brother to see me in tears, writhing on the bed. And of all the things in the world, he asks to no one in particular “Is she really in pain or is she just trying to pull my leg?”  I’d been pitying myself for almost an hour, taking in the sad fact that I would be alone and in pain when I die…with no one to even share my will and last wishes…when he asks if I were pulling his leg! Bah! (Well, in his defense, I must admit that when I called him up, asking him to come home fast, I was laughing and trying to keep the pain at bay.)

Anyway, the next 2 hours flew by. I was almost carried to the car, taken to a hospital (where I managed to crawl up the stairs and settle myself, screaming and moaning and whimpering) which turned out to be just for preganant women, turned out, again carried to the car, rushed to another hospital, given an injection and sent for an ultrasound abdomen scanning. Turns out, it was just a plain old muscle spasm. Anyway, the doctors doubted a possible infection in the kidney and prescribed a urine test. After 4 full glasses of water, hopeless PJs, incessant laughter (which still hurt, by the way) and relief over being “alive”, we left the hospital, leaving the receptionist and her colleague laughing over my adamant bladder that refused to refill itself.

There’s slight pain, still. A deep breath / or a sharp one before a sneeze, still hurts. But it feels great to be alive! It feels great to not be in pain! It feels great to be able to blog about it…and laugh about the pathetic condition I had been in yesterday! The husband says I’m like a car with perpetual ‘patch work’ — it’s either backpain, or memory loss, or headache, or some sort of problem! Health seems to be the only blessing I was never endowed with in abundance by God!

But whatever! Yey! I am alive

P.S.: My idea of adopting a child has been reinforced since yesterday’s incident I just cannot take any pain.