Bolty

                               

Today I said goodbye to my dog, Bolt who we fondly called Bolty. We had to give him away to another family. He spent just four short years with us, but what eventful four years they were.

I still remember the day he came into our lives. He was just a few months old I think, bit large for his age. He scampered about the place sniffing new smells and licking new hands. The kids went nuts over his beautiful black and white fur. I admit, I was a bit weary of touching him. 

I'd always loved the idea of having a dog, but when it happen for real, I was a bit scared. I'd stood at the doorway and extended my arms as far as it could and stroked his back with a finger. And he responded by wagging his tail. Its one of the nicest feelings, a dog wagging his tail because of you.

Slowly, I got over my fear and soon I was spending every waking hour with him. Brushing his hair, using his special powder on him. One time I even put a bit of my dad's lavender talc powder on him.I loved his big soulful beautiful eyes, the colour of honey. The way he would just stare right back at you when you spoke to him, which I did a lot. 

My nephew decided to name him Bolt because he was in that phase where he'd binge watch the cartoon Bolt sixteen billion times a day. So, Bolt it was. Except, it was only later that we realised that Bolty wasn't a "he". Bolt was actually a female dog. But I'd gotten used to call her a "boy" that I refused to acknowledge the sex change. I hope he didn't end up having gender-issues. 

Bolty grew to love us and soon began bringing us his little "presents". Many a time, we opened the front door in the morning and was greeted by the sight of a dead crow or rat at our doorstep. He managed to get pretty much all our chickens too, much to my mom's dismay. But Bolty did manage to prove his strengths soon enough. 

One of the times that I was most proud of him was when he spotted a cobra and barked madly right at its face, preventing it from coming any closer towards our house. I'd never seen him so brave and ferocious before. His nose could've almost touched the snake. After a while, he stopped and sat right there, his eyes on the snake, growling everytime it hissed back at him. I don't know how long he sat there like that, but we knew this dog knew what he was doing. 

Then one morning, there was no Bolty at our doorstep. My dad hunted all over the place for him. We could hear him howling but couldn't figure out where he was. Turns out he had jumped into the well. And had been swimming around trying to keep himself afloat for hours. It took a few hours and lot of effort, but we found a guy who could go down the well and rescue Bolty. 

A group of men lowered this guy into the well using a rope and he was trying to jostle Bolty into a huge basket. I remember watching with bated breath and calling out the frightened dog's to reassure him that he'd soon be safe. He got into the basket once but scampered so hard that he fell into the water again. After a bit of a struggle, the dog was back in the basket and the men were pulling him up. I remember wrapping my arms around him the minute his feet hit the ground. He was shivering and could hardly walk straight. After trying to dry him as much as I could, I slowly led to a spot with good sunlight and let him dry off. 

The rest of the day, we lavished him with eggs and milk and all sorts of goodies, while drying him off with my sister's hairdryer. It took many days to recover from the shock of it all, but soon he was back to running around like crazy and trying to knock me off my feet by jumping onto me. I love that he still remembered.

Pretty soon, Bolty had grown up and had a lot male friends visiting at night. My dad was not pleased, so he'd lock the gates and drive away any stray dog that dared to enter. This one dog would stand at the gate and howl away. It was utterly romantic. And I'm pretty sure that that Romeo had something to do with the litter of puppies Bolty gave birth to a few months later. 

I remember waking up one morning and hearing the news. Bolty was lying in a cozy spot with her tiny little puppies scattered all around her, some on top of each other. I had never seen such tiny puppies up close. Nine of them. Bolty looked tired as ever.

There was a look in her eyes, that seemed to say "Please get me the hell out of here." I didn't understand then, why she looked like that, but now as a mother of a child, I totally get it. One human baby suckling away all night and day is Nothing compared to Nine puppies fighting and struggling and crying all together to get their share of their mom's milk. Poor Bolty. She would take any opportunity to leave her kids alone and just laze around for a bit. 

After this my life got into a bit of a whirlwind. Between marriage and moving and pregnancy, I did not really get to spend a lot of time with Bolty. But everytime, I come back home, he'd recognize me and jump around me like crazy. 

Towards the end, the time I got to spend with him reduced even more, having a baby to care for. Bolty too produced a new batch of puppies. And this time, having gone through the experience myself, I was in total awe of him. 

So today morning, when my mom told me that his new owners arrived and took him away, I couldn't believe I didn't get to say goodbye. My dad then told me that they are still waiting for their car at the gate, I dropped everything, took hold of my baby and ran to the gate. And he was there on leash, with a stranger, looking confused and scared. 

I caressed his head and scratched his ear and rubbed his chin over and over as though trying to make up for the time I'd neglected him. I held onto his face and looked into his eyes and said a silent goodbye as tears started pooling in my eyes. I gave him a final pat on his back and walked away because I couldn't watch him getting into the car and being driven away. I couldn't stop my tears as I walked back into the house. My baby looked at my face curiously. And just like that, Bolty was gone.

The night feels silent now. On most nights, after his random rounds and digging, Bolty used to come and settle down right outside my bedroom window. Some days he'd make an awful racket and I'd get mad at him, but I was still relieved he was there. I had felt safe. And in spite of all the times I'd been too busy to make time for him and been a lousy friend, he still sat there... for me, protecting me. I so love that about him.

I hope his new owners treat him well. And I hope he is happy there. I wonder if he'll miss us. I miss him already.  We'll probably never have a dog again, but then I don't think he can be replaced. I hope someday that my child will get to experience all this with a dog of her own. A dog as wonderful and loyal as my Bolty. 

Thank you, Bolty, for letting me experience unconditional love. For making me feel safe and for being my friend. 

The P Word

I haven't blogged in the longest time. That is because I won the lottery and so decided to travel the world. I'm writing this from a tree house in South Nambisia. Ok, no that's a lie. I didn't win the lottery. I'm writing this from the foot of my bed, at home. I haven't blogged because I got pregnant and had a baby. Surprise!!!!!! Well for the readers who aren't my friends or family who didn't know about it. That is if I do have readers who aren't my friends or family.

This is sort of part 1 of my whole pregnancy-baby series. I've run out of people who wants to listen to me go on and on about the whole thing so I'm just going to force you all to read it here.

Pregnancy, for me, was wonderful. I did have a tiny bit of throwing up and bloating and all the icky factors going on. But, for the most of it, it was pretty nice.

Here is a bunch of stuff I liked and didn't like so much about being pregnant.

Food 

 I came, I saw, I ate... And then I ate some more. I ate more than I had ever eaten in my whole life. I like to think I maintained a nice balance between healthy and not-so-healthy food. ( H (my Husband) is probably going "Yeah, right!" ). H did try to keep me off junk though as hard as he could. But he wasn't very successful, though.

"Are you telling me I can't have a chocolate doughnut? Me, the woman who is carrying life within me, the life of your child, who I have to push out of me. All by myself. One chocolate doughnut?"

It wasn't like I was eating like some sort of unstoppable monster, but this one time we went out with some people and I ended up eating off my plate, H's plate and everyone else's plate.  I don't think they minded, though. I had my baby take the bait for me.

Once when I had finished a pack of Kitkat,
H says: You finished the whole thing???
Me: No, I gave you two and I ate two."
H: Uhhh, it was a pack of five.
Me: Uhhh, the baby ate one, duh!
Which is technically not true. Baby had two, I just had one.

I stopped watching MasterChef or reading any books or watching any movie that had any association with food, because it literally pained me to read about food that I have no access to. I may or may not have cried looking at a picture of a cupcake.

Belly: I loved my belly. My big round belly, which was so so big around the end that people would just get uncomfortable looking at me. I loved it. While some people choose to hide it, I loved to flaunt it. 

Sure, there were some days where I felt like a big huge whale, especially when I once took a good 5 mins trying to get up from bed, trying to roll myself out.I also got stuck on a swing once and had to wait till somebody could come and pull me out. But on the other days, I felt beautiful. Like I had never felt before. 

I haven't done a lot of things in my life that are mindblowing and that takes a lot of responsibility. But this, growing a human life inside me was one of the hugest and scariest thing I had taken up. And it made me proud. And it makes me feel beautiful.

Plus, I love maternity clothes! I don't know why I haven't been wearing them my whole life. Super comfortable and really cute too.

Mood Swings - I had some really bad mood swings. My first trimester was filled with paranoia and fear and a lot of bitchiness, especially towards H (Sorry!). 

The second trimester was more mellow and less like a deranged person. It was more of random bouts of crying and laughing, so basically pretty much like how I used to be before I got pregnant. 

This one time though, I was showing H this really dumb, not-even-that-funny meme that someone sent me, and I just couldn't stop laughing. H laughed along with me for a while and then stopped and just sat there waiting for me to stop. Except I couldn't. I was going on and on that I literally couldn't breathe. And that scared me and so I started crying before I had even stopped laughing. Poor H. I don't think he had any idea what was going on but he managed pretty well.

Life within me 

There is literally no way to describe how it feels when the baby kicks. Like someone inside you poking their fingers or toes on your insides, so hard that you can see it from the outside. Freaky.As.Shit. 

I once described it like aliens and said it looked like how it would if you had a snake under your blanket, and then felt really guilty about having compared my baby to aliens and snakes.

 It's precious, it makes you feel wonderful, it actually is when I felt certain that ok yes, there is definitely a baby inside me, these guys aren't like pulling a prank on me or something. 

I have so many videos of my tummy moving that I send to my folks until they're like "you really don't have to send us a hundred 20-minute videos of your tummy everyday! We get it!" 

You're so happy and emotional at each kick.. And then, the baby discovers your bladder. And thinks "ooh look, a trampoline!!" And literally bounces on it so hard that you feel that you'll probably be giving birth to your bladder first. Bladder kicks and backbone kicks are Not fun.

Niceness  - I love how everyone is so nice to you when you're pregnant. My dad didn't yell at me even once during the whole nine months. H put up with me and all my nonsense cravings and mood swings and didn't say anything even when I annoyed the hell out of him. 

I got pampered like hell. I think the only two times a girl really gets pampered by everyone is when she's about to get married and when she's about to pop a baby. Everyone is like oh Don't stand too long, sit, lie down, relax, eat whatever you like, sleep, smile and listen to music. Things that I'm really good at doing!

What's in a name? - I Hated picking baby names. It was by far the most stressful thing during those months. It is so much easier when you're looking for names for your friends' kids. But when its your own, nothing is good enough. I would absolutely love a name one day and then it would make me want to throw up two days later. 

I must've gone over a thousand names, read through name books and browsed baby name websites. I started paying close attention to the credits that roll out at the end of movies, scanning for nice names. 

I made my cousins and nieces and nephew list out the names of all the kids in their classes. I even had a dream once where I have the baby and then we name her a particular name. And for a while we decided on that name because it seemed like a sign, me dreaming about it and all. And then that name made me sick after a while too. 

I also had a weird habit of typing out a name I like on Facebook search and seeing if the people with that name look like nice people or not. We finally managed to pick one boy name and one girl name, after picking many many chits. And I'd randomly call out those names when I go out for my walks. In my happy voice and my angry voice. We finally ended up naming the baby the first name my husband had ever suggested.

And that's all for the first part of this preggy-baby series. Pregnancy was actually quite nice. I really wouldn't mind being pregnant again if someone else would do the delivering the baby part for me. There was nothing "fun" about that part. But more on that next time!

Greedy Pop

Growing up, I was what you'd classify as one among the "awkward" girls. I wasn't in the popular group. I wasn't in the bad girls group. I wasn't in the brainy kids group. I wasn't in the athletic kids group. I was just that - awkwardly stuck between the many many cliques. Even today when people from my school adds me on Facebook, especially if they belonged to any of the above groups, I'm so completely wonderstuck that they actually recognize and remember me. When all this while I thought I'd been invisible.

I wasn't a loner or anything. I did have my group of friends. Every year a different group. Mostly just kids who sit next to me. And their friends. When those kids get shuffled and put into different classes the next year, the walls between us causes us to drift apart. My sisters were part of these really big gang of girls. And they'd tell me the kind of fun they'd have. Though I'd never craved to be a part of a big group, I'd always wondered what it'd be like. And what I'd be like if I were in a big group like that.

I got my chance during one lunch break in 4rth or 5th grade. I was on my way back from canteen. And on my way I passed by one of the biggest gangs of my class. I think it consisted of ten girls or so. All beautiful, popular and/or brainy. One of them beckons me. I walk up to her and is immediately surrounded by the whole gang. She looks at the chicken sandwich (or atleast I think it was a chicken sandwich) in my hand. 

"You want to join our group?" she asked.

Just like that. Do I want to join? I looked at her like I didn't understand what she was saying.

"You want to join or what?" 

In the distance, I can see my two friends waiting. And I'm torn. My mind was whirring.
This is my break. My big opportunity to get into the big gang of popular girls. My folks would be so proud. (Yes, they actually would've been. My dad always wanted me to hang out with the bright and brainy kids so that I get influenced or whatever). My whole life could change with this one minute.What about my friends? Oh, I can still be friends with them and still be in this group. They'd understand!  I should just say yes. Yes, yes, YES!

"Yes", I said timidly.

"What? We can't hear you. Speak loudly."

"Yes!"

"Okay, good. So she is now part of our group now, okay?"

She takes a candy bar. Hobby, I think.

"Here, take this." she said holding it out.

I'm hesitant. 

"No, its okay. I don't want. Thanks"

"Arey, just take it, yaar. We're all friends now."

I'm still a bit reluctant, but I manage to reach out and take the chocolate.

And regretted it a second later. The minute the chocolate was in my hand, all the girls who had been standing around watching the whole exchange started chanting at the top of their voices.

"GREEDY POP, GREEDY POP, GREEDY POP, GREEDY POP"

Okay, Don't ask me what a greedy "pop" is. But I was terrified. And so damn humiliated. I let go of the chocolate and ran away as fast as I could. Not stopping to look back while they continued to chant and laugh at me. I don't remember where I ran to. I remember crying. I remember vowing to get revenge and all that. But I don't think anything happen. Everybody forgot about it and so did I. I never really thought much about it after that. Just a stupid little incident.

It was only after I had grown up, I realised that I had an aversion towards gangs. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have had small groups of friends too. But I've never gone up and tried to become part of an already established gang of friends again. I'd make friends with a person, but when I realise they're part of a group, I'd slowly move away from them, rather than be forced to join in. When introduced to a group of people, I get nervous and fidgety and anxious. And like I want to run away as far as I could as fast as I can. Which is stupid, because its not like they're going to suddenly start yelling greedy pop, greedy pop or anything.  I somehow expect them to pull the rug from underneath me at any moment.
I don't know what the point of this post was. I just suddenly remembered this incident couple of days ago. I had always dreamt of one day becoming rich and famous and driving to my old school in a huge fancy Porshe in front of all those girls and screaming Greedy Pop in their faces. But then here I am unemployed and old with a life that is going nowhere. And most of those girls have got amazing careers and are married with kids and, this is the worst part, have gotten incredibly hot over the years. Ugh. I wish my life was an American teen movie.
But then life goes on. I don't think I hold a grudge against them anymore. In one way or the other, they helped me become the person I am today. And while its not the best person imaginable, its not too bad either. I may not have the dream life that I dreamt of. But I am pretty happy what I've got. I married a fantastic guy, I have a few close good friends and an amazing family. And this blog that all you awesome-sauce people read! I wouldn't trade all that in for anything. Not even a shiny Porshe. :)

So Yesterday

A couple of days ago "What I miss the most" was trending on Twitter. And I went on tweeting-rage that day. Here are a few things that I Miss the Most.

VHS Tapes - The excitement while going to the video rental store. The search for the perfect Thrusday evening movie(I grew up in the Middle East, where the weekend used to be on Friday). The squeal of happiness when you find that the one that you've been waiting for is in today. The restlessness as you pop it into the player and listen to the whir as it rewinds. Winding the tape with a pencil when the player gets stuck. Sticking the magnetic tape with cellotape when it breaks due to overuse (my Alladin tape)

Getting my hair cut in the barber shop - They do a neat job and they do not bug you with unwanted advice. They do not tell you how a clean-up could solve all your problems in life. They do not tell you obvious things about yourself ("hey, you're graying. hey, you have pimples, hey, you have crap hair") And they do that cool thing with an electric razor on the back of your head. Awesome it is.

Dungarees -  I wore dungarees to school on my 14th birthday. I looked like a complete idiot. But dungarees were undeniably cool during those days. Not to mention comfortable.

Highlighter pens - I used this pen a lot, mostly to show people who bothered to look through my books that I've read all this. Though I really wouldn't have. I like how it would brighten up the pages of my boring Chemistry or Physics book.

My bunk bed - I bagged the top bunk before my sister could. I broke the bed in a couple months and had to share bottom bunk with sister. :(

White Ink bubbles - My desk at school used to be filled with white ink bubbles. If you haven't tried making white ink bubbles, you should. There is something very soothing about it.  Not sure if it had anything to do with its smells.

Bicycles - I don't understand why people don't ride cycles too much after they've grown up. I mean you don't need a license to drive it. And its way better exercise than sitting on a scooty or a bike. And how can you ever feel sad when you're riding a cycle?

The way Barbie smells - Go to a shop. Pick up a Barbie. Smell her. She smells heavenly. Try not to get thrown out of the shop in case people think you're a pervert.

The Titanic Craze - All the boys were sporting the Jack Dawson hairstyle. The girls all had fake 10 Dhs version of the Blue Diamond. And everyone around the corner was going "I'm the king of the world" and doing the classic Titanic pose. I had a Titanic phonebook, a Titanic t-shirt, a Titanic notebook and a box of clipping of anything related to Leonardo DiCaprio. It was nice to be manically obsessed with something.

Enid Bylton books - This I miss the most. I had this huuuuuge collection of Enid Bylton books which I used to read over and over again. Fairy tales, mysteries, school stories...had them all. I remember going to book fairs and coming home with tonnes of books. And just gobbling up the words all night long. I'd finish reading all the books by morning. How I longed to grow up and write books just like she did. My dad sold all my books when I was away at college. So now I don't have even a single book to mark my childhood. Someday I hope to buy them all again. If not for my child, then for myself. Those books, they were the most magical things of my childhood days.


Photo albums - No, not the ones on Facebook or Picasa. The real actual ones. The ones that you pile around when your friends come to visit. And the ones from which some guy who has a crush on you flicks a pic or two when you're not looking. The plastic ones that the studio gives with the developed photos and the negatives. They almost always have a real corny pic on the cover. I miss the feel of an album. I miss putting pics in frames and on pin boards.

Pen-pals - I never had one. But my sister did. And it was so cool. Getting an actual letter from a person living in a weird exotic country far away (okay, so maybe her pen-pal lived in the street next to ours or something, but still) I did have quite a few online-pals. Back before Facebook and Twitter was around to spoil all the mystery one could evoke about themselves. Long, long emails. I think my first email friend was a 14 year old Australian girl called Amber. Sure, "Amber" could also have been a 44 year old Indian uncle with a hairy chest and a vest with holes in it. Still, the not-knowing was splendid enough. At one phase of my life, I had more online friends than real-life friends. Now I have more imaginary friends than real-life friends.

Ink pens - The whole process of filling ink into the pen the night before school, after you're done "keeping your timetable" (that's arranging your books according to the periods the next day. Cos a bunch of jumbled out of order books would mean absolute chaos.) I couldn't figure out how to do it for the longest time. My sister had to show me. But that feeling of accomplishment when I finally nailed it! Awesome. I also miss ink cartridges, the ones with a tiny silver ball in it. Me and whole bunch of girls in school had a collection of those tiny silver balls. I also had a broken pencil points collection. Now I collect tweets. :-/

Old phones - The one with the holes that you have to stick a finger in and twirl. I used to love twirling all the numbers starting from 0 upto 9, for no apparent reason. I love the tiny ringy sound it makes. I miss the heaviness of the receiver. *sigh*

I can hear a lot of my younger readers going, wow, you are like super ultra old aren't you? (You know who you are, don't you) Yes, yes I'm old and ancient and whatever. But hey, I'm still here aren't I? So in a sense I get the best of both worlds. And also, while you write a post 15 years from now about the good ol' days of Facebook and Ipads, my great grandkids will come and tell you that you're old. So there. :P
I could go on and on and on. Don't get me wrong. I'm not like stuck in the past or anything. I'm cool with all the new things too. But just sometimes, I wish I could sneak back into the past, just for a day or two, and wallow in the simplicity of things and come back and update my Facebook status about it. :)

Tell me, what are the things that you miss the most?

Nothing Happen Today. Good Night.

            I was going through a bunch on my old stuff some time back. I've got these cardboard boxes full of "junk" as my mom and dad likes to call it. But I like to call it my "Treasure Chest Of Memorabilia" (ok, no, I don't. I just call it my stuff. This sounded fancier. And I wasn't even sure what memorabilia meant.. or how its spelt .Google to the rescue as always.)

Anyway so this treasure chest which might just look like an ordinary suitcase from the outside, is filled with years of valuable and one-in-a-million memories. Bits of scrap paper passed around in class, movie tickets, wrapping paper with tag on, letters and cards, flowers that has been dried between pages of books, locks of hair (no, im not a psycho), stones from a memorable place and other things that mite cause you to rethink my sanity level. Among all these, I found a couple of diaries. Now who hasn't written a diary once atleast once in a lifetime. They're so wonderful and personal, especially when you start writing so young. To me as a kid, it a whole new playground. I didn't have to use my best handwriting. I didn't have to stay between the lines. I could use pens with ink that are not blue or black. I could doodle right in the middle of the book if I wanted. And I could stop writing whenever I wanted. My first diary was introduced to me by an aunt, who wanted to encourage us kids to write. It was this lil black leather book with a flap so that you can button it shut. I wrote unfailingly for weeks. Some of my entries, as I read it now.. are hilarious : 

September 7^th Wednesday 1994

Today in the I had a very BIG headace. At home alsaso my dad brought the termomiter. I was having 100.

Um.. ok so not hilarious,maybe. Just plain dumb. For a 9 year old anyway. I'm guessing the headache affected my sentence formation.. And my spellings.. thank god you can't see my handwriting. :-/

January 23 Sunday 1994

Today in school I did not have 4 peread. I am so happy today because I don't have tuion.

July 12 Tuesday 1994

Today I went to ice scat. I could not scat. But I enjoyed it. I am sleepy. Good night. Bye.

I said good night, bye, sometimes Good evening and occasionally, love ya, to my diary. I know…  :-/

After a while the posts got shorter and shorter : 

June 18 Saturday 1994

Dear Diary, Nothing happen today. Good night.

June 19 Sunday 1994

Dear Diary, Nothing happen today also. Good night.

About a month of this and then I got even lazier and started to resort to using ,, ,, in every day's column. As in "same-as-above". Apparently nothing happen to me for the rest of the year.

But then again when a new year dawns, I'd again start off on the crisp pages (which smells yummy by the way) of a fresh new diary. 

Once in my teens, I realized diaries are kinda kiddish and that I should move on to the grown-up version of diaries - the journal.

 I'm not sure what the difference is, but I was a major Babysitter's Club fan then, and the kids in that book always wrote in journals, which simultaneously (crap, I cannot spell simultaneously.. without spell check that is.) was considered to be a cool thing to do.

See the journal on the floor? See it? So cool!

 I figure the only difference is that diaries are meant to be written at night before bed and journals you can whip em up whenever you want and bitch bout life in it. Which was pretty much all I did in my journal. Complain bout my parents. Complain bout how I look. Complain about my best friends. Complain bout how much I had to study and how utterly useless algebra is. With an occasional random post about a new crush or two. :-)

May 16^th 1999 (excerpts)

….. except for one who is drop-dead gorgeous. Well, he's not that cute but then he is really cute. But I think he's some sort of fuddy-duddy (I'm not making this up. I did use the words "fuddy-duddy". I mean how cool was I!)

……….When a girl next to me said the words "fall in love" to someone she was talking to, I looked up at the same time he was looking at me. I know its silly and doesn't mean anything my heart was pounding so bad that time. I think I'm a silly jerk. He doesn't have a nice accent and he hardly ever laughs. Geek. But he looks nice when he smiles……

…..I really really wanna talk to him but I don't have the guts. What am I gonna say anyway? I heard he's a boring conversationalist…….

Ahhhh to be 13 again! 

Note : To know how that story ended.. clickety click here!

I stuck to that journal throughout my teenage years. It wasn't much to look at. It was a notebook with a picture of a bunch of animals on the cover. And it says P.M.S deluxe. Lol! I just noticed that now. I bought it from the store in front of my house for 7 bucks. Eventually I punched a hole through all the pages so that I could slip a lock through it. For ensured privacy. Expect I lost the key one day and had to rip it open anyway. The last post I've written in it is where I'm stressing bout passing 12^th grade and college and life in India.

Do I seem 18 now? ( I asked the 192 paged book) I think the way I write is different (not my handwriting). Or maybe I'm just trying too hard…

What's that even supposed to mean?

Once in college, I didn't do much journal or diary writing because college hostels are one place where girls just get a kick outta reading other people's diaries. In fact, when I was a kid, I used to jump at every chance to read my sister's diary. Except it didn't have anything earth-shattering in it. On the first page of her diary, she'd write – Do Not Open and do this drawing of the danger sign which actually just looked like a peanut on top of an X. On page two, she'd personally address me and say something like "You know its bad manners to read other people's diaries so PUT IT DOWN", which is sooo the wrongest thing to say to a jobless kid with a level of curiosity that could've killed a whole street of cats. But seriously, her diaries were boring. So in college, when eventually I did start writing, it was more or less for an audience. I'd write it so that others would like it if they read it. It would be humorous and charming with tit-bits of interesting trivia once in a while.

So today I hit a mosquito with my bare hands and then I swear I heard a crackling sound. I felt bad about it for a bit, but alas! (yes, alas) the deed had been done. I had crushed the poor thing's endoskeleton..Which as I know is just like human skeletons but on the outside. Yaawn, Off to bed, then. Tomorrow is gonna be another jam-packed day! (uh, yeah right!)

Sometimes I'd force my roommate to write about me in their diary then read it out loud to me. I think she tore out those pages about me after I went to sleep. :-/

Once I discovered blogging, I haven't really felt the need to write a diary. Most of my innermost thoughts and feelings, I usually blog about it. Or its my Facebook status. Ten years ago, I'd have tore someone's eyes out if they so much as hovered near my diary and read about my days where Nothing Happen today again. Now I'm just putting it all up on the web.. for public display.. of billions and thousands of people (ok, so not that many, I don't get that many hits on my blog :-( )

I started a diary last year though. But I stick to one-liners now. 

Day 1 - I got my driver's license today! Yay!

Day 2 - I almost run over someone today. Bummer!

Day 3 - I got my first pay-check. Yay!

Day 4 - I got fired today. Bummer!

After a while, I think I'll probably just shorten it to emoticons.  

Day 1

:-)

Day 2

:-(

Day 3

:-/

Day 4

?;0-(0''!~

Don't ask.

Through My Rose-Colored Glasses

Remember a time when we used to pick on the kid in class who wore glasses? Well, I don't cos I was that kid. I never got what the big deal was anyway. I always wanted to get glasses. I even lied to the ophthalmologist, pretending I could'nt read the white-light board. That was okay, cos I was headed for short-sightedness sooner or later cos of all the reading under the blanket/table with a torchlight and sitting too close to the computer. But then I was psyched when I got my first pair when I was bout 9 or 10. Was those cheap plasticy ones that you could throw down a building and it would'nt break (yes, I've tried that). As much as I loved how grown up and important I looked with em on, I could'nt quite get used to something stuck on my face. So I kept leaving it around. And losing it. I must've lost around 4 to 5 pairs like that.

Then I got these super huge ones black round ones, the damn thing was bigger than my face. It got me my nickname -Dilton. And I was kinda cool with that. And I was slowly getting used to the alien object perched on my nose.In fact, I was getting so used to it that I had them on all the time...even while bathing! And sometimes while sleeping. So I had to throw that one away cos of all the wear and tear it underwent. I don't remember a few pairs I had in between.

Later I had these funky blue ones. Like Elton John's. No...not quite,no. I think those were my last pair. No, I did'nt magically regain my sight after that. I moved up to contact lenses.

Now these lil suckers can be tricky at first. I sure was'nt comfortable with having to poke my eyeball with my finger. So I had to let my experienced sister do it for me for the first coupla weeks. Each eye took bout half an hour. I applaud my sister's patience. Though I do think she tried to poke my eyeball out intentionally a coupla times.

I hated the whole washing and cleaning and added responsibility that comes with contacts and the way I constantly pushed an invisible specs up the bridge of my nose, every five minutes. But I got sorta grew into it. Now I'm a total pro at contacts. Now I can put em on with my eyes closed...well...no..not really..its an expression..you get what I mean! Oh, I got a better one. Now I can put em on in the dark or even when I'm really really drunk.

So halfway through college, I was in a phase where I would'nt be caught dead wearing my glasses inside the campus. One time, I even ran outta contacts and I had to go someplace and I refused to step out wearing my glasses so I just held on to my friend so that she could lead the way and told her to inform me if anyone I know smiles at me from a distance. And my dear friend pointed out to a lotta random strangers every now and then and told me to smile. And I did. Not the decent small smile. The big huge gums and teeth and everythin beaaaming smile. I have no idea why I smiled like that. Maybe I was having a really good day or something. So yeah ha ha funny funny. Geez.

Then I got these ULTRA-COOL (well, at the point they were) square-shaped black frame glasses. And I could'nt stop wearing them! It totally gave me the mature look (15 years later and I was still depending on my glasses to make me look mature) Not the nerdy mature, the attitude-mature look. Although one of my friends did tell me I look like Johnny Bravo's mom. Hmm...

How I lost those glasses...I don't like to remember that story. I was in the bathroom, on the pot. I sneezed. It dropped off my face and fell in there. As much as I loved those glasses, I wasn't about to go in there. So I flushed. :-(

The one after that broke one of its legs so I stuck it on with cello-tape and used it for about a month.

And then my current one. Which was cool when I got em, but its sooo common that it makes me sick. But I use em 24/7. And I'm beyond caring how I look nowadays. So its all good.

Besides, everyone wears glasses nowadays! Even if they don't need it! I mean why do people get em for a power of 0.2 in one eye! Yeesh. Thats a disgrace to the near-sighted community. Few of my friends have got 4 or 5 pairs. Like accessories. To go with their clothes. I mean, is that like normal these days? Is everyone doin that? Should I go spectacle shopping now? Are they selling frames like for 10 bucks now?

I'm not into the whole laser or was it lasik (wait,was'nt that the first dog on space or something?) surgery thingy. Not that I would'nt enjoy having laser beamy things shot into my eyes. I just happen to love the fact that I can't see everything! I know thats weird. But there are so many things on earth I would rather not just see. Like dirt,muck, pollution, dirt, ickiness, gooey gross things, hairy men, war and stuff. I can just take off my glasses and slip into blessed blurriness. You can't ever do that if you have healthy eyes. Sure, I mite bump into people or walk into a glass door or go raving mad when I misplace my glasses, but for me the benefits list run longer. So cherish your glasses, I say!

Rainy Memories

I was having a miserable day the other day, travelling in a rickety bus from home to college, sweating like a pig...U know the whole thing bout how horses pespire, men sweat n women glow? That, my dear ladies n gentleman, is utter crap..unless i've got horse genes in me.It like a bloody dam exploded on top of my head..it's not a pretty sight i tell u..and not just on the top of my head...on the weirdest, unmentionable places too...its all trickle trickle trickle..

So anyway..I'm sitting there, miserable over having gone to all the trouble to take 2 hour bath to be back to my stinking self in just 10 mins..and suddenly..Heaven smiles at me..The piercing sun rays sorta withdraws abruptly like a girl who remembers she has'nt waxed her legs n draws em underneath her long skirt..There is a clap of thunder and then bliss...just pure bliss.. ok i admit, I'm a rain-a-holic...can't help it...some of the bestestest memories in my life have been made when the skies were crying...

I remember bein 5 or 6 years old and me and my sisters running outside the house as soon as the rains start, pausing at the door only a second to take in the heavenly smell of fresh wet ground...My mum and dad had pulled up chairs to sit at the doorway n watch us play...My dad never really forbade us from playing in the rain..

I dunno why i remember this..I sorta remember it in black n white..like an old photo from an album..its a good photo..

Whenever our cousins get together for the hols during the rainy season..we have atleast one rain dance session..So all the kids ranging from age 20-24 to 5-6 would be dancing around for all we're worth, drenched to the core until the mothers put an end to it...

An uncle once told me if i try hard enough, i can walk between the rain drops n not get wet at all...I spend half my childhood tryin to achieve that..ok ok so maybe I still do.. :-)

I experienced a hail storm for the first time in 4rth grade..But I was petrified...I missed pretty much the whole thing as I was crouched under the sofa until it ended. Thought pieces of the sky where falling down.

Another black n white photo moment is when in the 6th or 7th grade and me n my sister were trying to go to sleep in our room.We had this balcony with a huuge glass door.It starts raining and the thunder claps were loud and damn scary..I remember hugging my sister tight, telling her that the world is gonna end and we're all gonna die.Mom n Dad suddenly enters the room and gets into our bed(not sure why, maybe they were scared too)..suddenly it did'nt feel like the world was gonna end...suddenly the fierce lightning looked mesmirizing.We fell asleep together, watching the dancing lights..

10th grade- lunch break.We go out to the playground n see the kindergarten kids obediently standing underneath the foyer watching the rain.We're like "what the..." and barge outside and jump into every possible puddle.The lil kids laugh at first and then slowly one by one, they follow our lead.Their moms would probably have killed us if they had known we were responsibly for any cold/cough/fever their lil tyke manages to catch, but we were'nt about let them waste their childhood standing underneath the foyer.

I remember that my 12th board exams began on a rainy day...My classmates n I were on a bus going to the exam centre...One girl looks out of the window and says -" Hmm it's raining..Did u know that if you look up at the sky when its raining and say a prayer,whatever u pray for will happen?"

All of us where in the midst of tension and revision, so we just scoffed at her theory..But as soon as we stepped out of the bus, I saw pretty much all the girls, faces directed skyward, eyes shut firmly in concentration, hands clasped together, praying for all they're worth...including me.. :-)

I remember sitting on the rooftop of my grandma's house on a rainy day, crying over a fight with a friend and at the same time, pretending to read a book.

I remember seeing, for the first time (i'm not an avid watcher of Animal Planet) two dogs...um...gettin it on... on a rainy day. And calling them shameless creatures.. "I mean seriously, get a room!"

1st year of college...The rain is falling rite in through the huge window.. the veranda in our hostel room is flooded...As in the floors were getting wet but we treat it like a national disaster..."My books are gettin soaked! Save my books!" " Forget her books, get the food outta there!!" We spend all afternoon saving our precious possessions.

2nd year in college...Its nite time..Its raining pretty bad.My roommates and I fill our coffee mugs with ice cold sickly sweet ice tea and sneak into the forbidden terrace.Sitting in the pouring rain, we chat and drink our tea as if we're totally oblivious to the storm around us.One of us start dancing and pretty soon we're all dancing.One of us suddenly lies down flat on the floor.We follow.If u have'nt tried this, I'm tellin u pleaaaase do..Its like one of the most amazing feelings ever...can't even start to explain it..

I remember making a pact with a friend.We promised to think of each other whenever it rains.We'd give each other missed calls whenever it rained.Which was kinda silly cos sometimes it rained like 6 billion times a day....The friend is long gone..so is the friendship..the pact is also forgotten..but..

I met a special someone on a rainy day.

I realise that the special someone is not so special after all on another rainy day.

One day,I decide to move on. And its raining again.

I remember doing our journalism internship during the rainy month...running to various locations to collect stories all in the rain..walking through the highway, vehicles roaring past us, all the time the rain just kept beating down on us..Made it seem all the more filmy!

This is probably my favoritest memory of rain - the eve of my eldest sister's wedding. Its raining bad.Me n my middle sister watch the rain for a while then look at each other, grin and run outside.The place is covered with relatives and guests. Dejected, we go back into the house.

"The terrace!!" and then we run upstairs.The bride-to-be is sitting on her bed looking at her mehendi. She watches as we run into the terrace. I pop a cd in the cd player and pretty soon we're dancing our ass off. My eldest sister is watchin us with longing eyes.We're like "Don't u dare! Its ur wedding tomo..you can't afford to get sick!But we can...nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah!"

She holds back for one more sec and then "To hell with it!I'm coming too!" And joins us. So that was it. The three of us..dancing about like idiots..knowing that tomorrow things'll change..responsibilties will come up..we'll turn into wifes and mothers.I dunno if my sisters remember this incident as well as i do.For me, it was this bitter-sweet experience..

Ok i know this post is not like the rest.And it mite even seem boring to some of yall..I wrote this one for me..I don't wanna wake up one day and not remember all this.If i do, I can always read this and go "ohh yeaaaah...i remember now..."

There are many many more incidents like this..some that i cannot put up here..without askin the other people involved in the episode..

So thats my story bout the rain.I've danced in the rain,laughed in the rain, cried in the rain, sang my heart out in the rain, made a billion memories in the rain..