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. :)

Tree of Wisdom

So it was one of those ordinary days when I hadn't done anything out-of-the-ordinary. Just sitting on my behind, whiling away time, wondering if tomorrow will be any different. Since it was an exceptionally breezy day, I took a walk in the yard around my house. My niece joins me and soon we were this happy duo sitting on a stone, singing nursery rhymes and pointing out funny looking clouds. My mom and sister were trying to pick ripe guavas from the guava tree nearby.
Now since the day my hormones acted up, I knew that my being the tallest in the family is going to bring me absolutely no good in future. It didn't. It brought me a slouch. It brought me the embarrassment of being the only head sticking out above the others in family portraits. It gave me the rare privilege of being called up in case a "thotti"(a stick used to pick fruits and stuff from trees) was unavailable. So I had to put an end to my perfect evening setting and prance around the guava tree trying to reach the ones on the higher branches. Then, I don't know if it was my sister or my mom, whoever it is who has been secretly plotting a revenge scheme for the past few days (probably for finishing all the chocolate biscuits in the house. In my defense, that extra few inches of height always makes me a little extra bit hungry always), figured that if I could climb up a little, I'd have better reach to the riper guavas. Okay first of all, the last time I climbed a tree was some 20 million years ago. And secondly, I was wearing a skirt, which is definitely not tree-climbing friendly. And thirdly, the tree was infested with huge red ants. In any case, mom and sister persuaded me. And also because my niece was looking on in awe. So in an attempt to impress a 3 year old, I mount up the first branch.
It wasn't too bad. I soon had both my legs off the ground.
Good start.

The trick is to find the right branches to grab on to so as to pull yourself higher. A little shaky but progressing well. I put my feet up on a higher branch and slipped slight. That's when I yelled at the top of my voice "Oh my god, I'm going to die!"
My audience who up until then were shouting up directions burst into laughter. Not very encouraging when I'm engaging in a life-or-death activity here. Anyhow, I proceed higher and with an occasional ant in my mouth and branch poking my ear, I picked my first guava. I waited for an applause. I got none. 
Instead my mom hoisted up a stick and told me to pick one on the edgier branches. Seriously, did she think I was training to be a trapezes artist? More shakiness. I managed to pull down a few more guavas. After a couple of minutes of them shouting up simply un-do-able instructions and me shrieking that I was Definitely going to die now, we decided it was enough. Mom told me to slide down a branch like Tarzan does in that cartoon. I looked at it and well, it certainly did look pretty slide-y. Nope, no way, I'm not out of my mind. I'm not a 2D character. I tried to move slowly but steadily.

Suddenly I have no idea what happen. It was a blur of green and WHAM! I was on the ground floor sitting pillions on the lowest branch. My leg hurt like it was broken into a billion pieces. I bet it was. I let out a yelp. I was helped out of the branch. I am so never climbing bloody trees again in my life. I wanted to keep a straight face in front of my niece. I wasn't very successful. I howled and cried and made faces and cringed and soon lay in bed like an invalid. Okay so maybe the leg wasn't broken. Wasn't sprained even. I mean, I took such a great fall, it could have atleast sprained a little. All I had was a few measly scratches on my left ankle and a tiny cut on my foot. Blah.
But being the drama queen that I am, I moaned and groaned and cringed whenever someone even looked at it. The last time I got to put up such a moan-fest was in college when I hurt my finger with a razor while searching for a razor in my bag. It was a bit bloodier then. Cried buckets. My roommates came up with the biggest cloth band-aid possible. Called my folks at home and cried and exaggerated and all. And just like they did  today, they laughed at me then too. I live with a bunch of hyenas. And I remember holding it up and waving it at every random person who walked by me. A few were quite offended I think because it was my middle finger that I had hurt.

Anyhow, back to now. As I sat there looking at my injured foot, I kept thinking how on earth do little kids do it? Get hurt like this on a regular basis. Because it really did sting. How on earth did I  do it when I was younger? Maybe your pain hormones or whatever grows as your grow older. Oh well, it isn't every day you fall from a tree and hurt your foot. Not when your 26 atleast. So I hobbled all the way over to the computer balancing on my niece's shoulder (who was, by the way the only one who is treating me like the injured soul that I am) and blogged about it.  Even as I was falling the second thought (the first was of course that I'm going to die now.) was that this would make a great tweet/status message/blog post. That doesn't make me pathetic, does it? Well, a little I guess. My last words before death would probably be Somebody..please...take...a..picture...and...post it...on...FB..... :-/
My mom told me that this fall was probably God's way of telling me I'm too old for this shit now. He's probably sitting up there with His head in His hands going "How many times do we have to go through this?"
Um.. whoops?

Guess Where I Found Zen?



"Everyone needs to find their Zen. What do I mean by that? Zen means peace, meditation, calmness. We are conditioned to stressing and forboding and worrying, it's human nature. It's difficult for us as humans, to focus on the moment and find peace or even want it, but we do however, need peace in our lives."

Everyone has their own ways to zen.

Ross to Phoebe :

No, no don't!
 Stop cleansing my aura!
No, just leave my aura alone, okay

Of cleansing their auras. I love how Phoebe from F*R*I*E*N*D*S does it by.. well.. literally plucking out the yuckies from your aura. But for the saner lot, it's mostly yoga or music or a walk or whatever. I’ve always wondered what my aura-cleansing technique is. Well not just an aura cleanser.. but also a stress-busting, depression-dissolving, life-mending technique.

I used to sing to ease my worries. No, not just randomly sing.. I would take the pains to listen to a song and write down the lyrics.. even though I could just get it off the Internet. I like to write it down myself cos a) this usually happens in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep and I’m too lazy to turn on the computer again and b) when you write down the lyrics, you can write them down exactly how you hear it if you don’t understand what the actual words are. I don't know how thats better. But it is.

Like the song Survivor by Destiny’s Child. I swear, it goes “I’m a survivor, I’m not go-giver, I’m a bus driver, Imma work harder!”, which sounds all wrong and probably is wrong but it cracks me up so I never really tried to find out the real lyrics.

Anyway, singing usually used to work for me until my nose kept getting blocked all the time and I literally lose my breath after half the song and also its no fun when you have to sing it like “Ibha surbhiber, Ibha bhus drivher”.. It doesn’t really make you feel like a survivor.. or a bus driver for that matter.

So after that, I couldn’t figure out what to do to get rid of all those bad/sad feelings.Until I tried gardening.

It was awesome. Everytime you bring that shovel down on the hard ground, you feel like your cracking through the brains of all your murky problems in life. And when I come across a worm- forgive me all animal right-ist and worm lovers – but I squish it. And I feel better. So there I was, digging and squishing, digging and digging more than I needed to dig. With more aggression that I’ve ever felt in my life. Once I was done, I was proud of myself and resolved that this was going to be my solution to dark days forever. I'd found my zen in the mud and dirt. Everything was great until the next morning when I woke up and found that my arms had temporarily stopped function. Well okay, that’s an over-exaggeration. They did function. Except every time they tried to function, it felt like everyone of those tiny worms I squished the day before had cloned themselves to infinity and had magically made their way inside my body to bite into each inch of the little muscle that I had somewhere between all those bones. Apparently worms have got someone looking out for them too.

I had to figure out another way to unwind before I drove myself insane. I thought of yoga which seemed like the obvious way to go. But I didn’t wanna cause further damage than I had already caused. Everytime I tried yoga in the past, I’d require atleast two days of bed rest atleast until I figure out that I’m bending or twisting in the wrong direction.

That is when I came across this awesome cooking blog. I’m not gonna give you the link b'cos I found it and its mine. And you can’t have it...... It’s mine.

I’m very possessive about my blog finds. I “found” the 1000awesomethings blog and a month later, there was an article about it in the Reader’s Digest. Sure, the blog had atleast a bazillion visitors already… but I found it. :-/

So anyway, the cooking blog.. the secret cooking blog was amazing. I started to make something everyday. And wonder of wonders, everything was.. well.. sorta edible. Well ok, it wasn’t repulsive either! I mean, I was actually good at it and got better everyday. Every afternoon, I’d browse the blog and figure out what I want to make, jot down the recipe and get crackin’. It was awesome, apart from an occasional hard-as-coconut-shells biscuits, everything else was scrummilicious. I was in bliss. It went on great until one day I had my heart set on making Banana bread. I don’t even like bananas, but it just seemed like a cool thing to make! And it was simple as hell too! I went to the store and got extra butter and eggs and everything and was all excited to make it. So in the afternoon, I go to the kitchen to make my much-awaited Banana bread. I lay out all my ingredients until I notice one tiny little thing was missing. We were out of bananas.

I swear, it was like my world was falling apart! I just had to had to make it that day itself! I mean, how can we not have bananas!? We always have bananas! My house literally grew on banana trees! I have never been that terribly upset. I was literally in tears. It was like I just missed out on winning the Nobel Prize. After spending hours, mourning on my bed, I considered trying to make something else. But figured, what’s the point? When you’re looking for lemonade, life just hands you one rotten lemon after another(we were out of lemons too :-( )

I listened to sad songs, sat around in the dark and cried my eyes out. After a while, I wasn’t sure if it was about the bananas (or the lemon) anymore. With the little light coming in through the window and tears flowing down my cheeks, somehow it crossed my mind that this would make a great photograph. All artsy and stuff. Still sniffing and sobbing, but without hesitation, I picked up my phone and clicked a picture of myself... only to find that I looked positively ghastly. It made me cry even more and curse stupid actors in movies who look positively angelic while they cry. Bloody nonsense. Oh, why.. why is everything in my life going so wrong! Where the hell is my goddamn zen! Self pity, self pity and more self-pity. Ugh.

Anyhow, crying always makes me want to pee. I don’t know what the connection is. You’re losing liquid…and somehow that makes you want to lose more liquid. Anyway, I stepped into the bathroom. The bathroom was really dirty from all the mud from the garden and just murk in general. I gestured to the empty room and said to myself “This…this is my life….A big disgusting mess...” Silence.

Without a moment’s thought, I grabbed a sponge and some floor cleaner. Down on all fours, I started scrubbing. After I was done, I looked down and still wasn’t satisfied. So I grabbed hold of every single bathroom-cleaning equipment lying around including an old toothbrush of mine and did it again. This time I gave it my all, which means between the tiles and near the clogged drain. By the time I was on the last tile, I was surprised when I realised that I was actually grinning. I’ve cleaned up the “big disgusting mess”. Ok fine so maybe my life hadn't magically cleaned itself up too. But I realized that if I could clean up this great big mess, well, then no mess is too big for me!

No mess is too big for me.  That's my current aura-cleaning methodology now. I'm on my way to Zen. And to think.. of all the places, I looked.. I found mine in the bathroom. :-)

Stupid Cupid

I know a lotta unhappy single people. Ok no I don't. Only unhappy single person I know is me. Apparently the whole entire rest of the world is busy hooking up. So anyways, I came up with a list of reasons why its so fantabulously awesome being single. Now, I know lotta un-single people are gonna read this and have a problem with it. Well, screw you. I'm gona say all sorta rubbish if its gona make me feel better. You go cry bout it to your girl/guy while I cry bout it to.. um.. well my computer. Wow, now that does not make me look like a geek at all!

10 reasons to stay single

1. You're saner. Notice how people in love just seem to lose it? I mean up until the day before it happens, they're all normal. The very next day they're stressing over questions to which the answer seems pretty darn simple to you..Lose the guy/girl! As a single person, you do not forget that PDA is gross. You do not forget that "mushy fwd messages" are not an appropriate status message. You do not forget that colour-coding your clothes with anyone is lame.

2. You get to play the field. The most obvious reason of them all. And even if your not even in the field and have no intention of playing, you still have the option. (unless you're a geek who complains to her computer) which is quite a relief. Its like having a whole lotta apples instead of one big pineapple. Besides if some of the apples rot, you have still more apple. If the pineapple rot, you think you can throw it out, but u can't. You're stuck with the pineapple, the spikes and everything. And sometimes pineapples tend to make your tongue itch. Ever notice that? Um, I mean the actual pineapples. Lost track of the metaphor.

3.You don't have to dress to impress. I mean, I know not a lotta people do it, but i happen to know a few couple who wears only exactly what the other person wants them to wear. Everyday. Which I think is completely and utterly ridiculous. Same goes with changing hairdos and piercings and moreon. When people are done asking parents for permission, they find themselves a new permission-giver. Then again, these kindsa couples are not that common any more, but they do still exist just for the sole purpose of making me gag.

4. I can choose not to pick up the phone and not be given the third degree for it. Nobody spends a sleepless night if I forget to call back after I promised I would (well not a lotta people) or if I fall asleep while speaking to them. I do not require special talktime schemes and free messages or lovey dovey fwd messages. I don't have to call a certain somebody first on New Year's or Valentines Day or Christmas or when England wins the World Cup. I can just randomly punch numbers. I don't have to send Good Night and Good Morning messages (I wouldnt even if I had to) I don't have to explain why my phone was busy or switched off or why I took so long to pick up. I don't need to depend on any certain sumbody's call or message to make me happy or turn my day better. I can choose whoever I want to make me smile.

5. I don't have to worry about waxing.

6. I don't have to pretend to laugh at unfunny things.No such thing like even if noone elses laughs, I'm supposed to laugh. No such obligation. I don't have to like things I don't have to like. Like cricket or action movies or v-necks.

7. I don't have to think bout any special somebody when I hear any song or movie or book. I can just hear the song or watch the movie or read the book without distractions.

8. I get to use public transport and not the backseat of some ratty old bike or car, Or worse, walk!

9. I get to go shopping and walk past the men's wear section without thinking "Oh, so and so would look so nice in this". I get to spend all my money on me!

10. I don't have to wait for just one person to tell me I'm beautiful or gorgeous. I can just put up an awesome profile pic up and get like a bazillion comments And likes.

And one more..

11. Movies with tragic endings where the hero and heroine don't end up together makes me happy. Its realistic.. or so I like to think.

And ok one more thing. What's the deal with cupid? Is it a kid or a midget or a what? And if it's a lil kid then how can he be setting people up? I mean he's just a kid. Aren't girls and lovey stuff supposed to be ''yucky'' to him? If its a midget, then who wants to be set up by a dude in a diaper?? And I doubt if he's had much of a personal life to start with thanks to the diaper and insanely red cheeks.

So I end on a happy note. Singledom is to be cherished. Singledom is a gift from God. Singledom ROCKS!

Ready. Get Set. View!

Bird watching, whale watching, solar eclipse viewing, tv viewing and bride-viewing. Ugh.
Bride-viewing. Ugh.

Honestly though, I never really had a problem with the whole process. I thought it was something that everyone just has to go through and it was rather fun when my sisters had to do it. But seriously.. bride-viewing.. ugh..I'm sorry everytime I say the word it makes me wanna say ugh cos it is...just UGH!

Viewing it seems. Like a bride.. is a view.. and why is it bride viewing? The bride "views" the groom too! Why not groom-viewing? Ugh. Ok maybe it the viewing bit that gets to me. Viewing. Yeesh... I just checked the thesaurus to see if there is a better term... apparently it could only get a lot worse. It could be bride-observation or bride-scrutiny or bride-analysis (You gotta admit this one sounds kinda cool though) or bride-inspection. 

Yuck. No matter what you call it, the whole damn process will remain as yucky as ever. For those who are not familiar with the grand process, you could either google it... or I could just tell you since you've been kind enough to read bout it this far without having a clue what I'm talking bout. Bride viewing is when a random guy's mum n dad decides to meet up with a random girl's mom n dad for tea or whateva and talk to each other for say half hour and let the random guy and girl talk for maybe 10 minutes as a result of which they are expected to fall head over heels in love with each other and want to marry each other immediately. 

But the guy falling in love with the girl will be unaccounted for if the mom and dad does not fall in love with the girl first, based on her looks, the number of ornaments she is (read - been forced to) wearing, her posture, her voice, her teeth, her skin colour, her size (now I could be referring to any size..including shoe size), the way she ties her hair, if she's smudged her kohl, the way she makes small talk and the way she smiles and smiles until her cheeks fall off. After which the guy's mom n dad has to fall in love with the girl's mom and dad. And the house. And the furniture. And the car.  And the servant. And more. You would sooo not have found a defnition this apt if you had googled. :-)

So anyways, I kinda thought that it was gonna be fun. I mean if you think of it, you get to check out a random guy head to toe without even having to step out of the house and with your parents permission. How bizzare is that!?

Except the closer you get to actually experiencing it, the more you realise that this is a bad bad idea.
The first guy who came to see me... well I didnt even give the poor guy a chance. I told my dad that I don't think I like the guy right after I read his biodata and saw his picture which I believe he took right after or right before he threw up. I also dug up stuff from Facebook and Orkut about the poor lad that could help me justify why exactly I don't like him. Even then my dad was under the impression that if I "just speak to the guy, I will change my mind" and fall hopelessly in love with him. I didn't think so but whatever. Decided to humor him.

The only thing I was worried bout was everyone making a big huge deal out of it and getting all nervous. I was hardly nervous or excited about it. I was totally and entirely tensed about my driver's license test the next day though. This seemed like a cakewalk compared to that.

 
Things were all good until the relatives show up. I forgot to mention that for these kinda "ceremonies" more often than not, relatives and friends are invited to witness the grand event all and to bug you until you  wanna run off and join a monastery. 

So until then everyone was minding their own business and I was playing with my nephew and the chickens n all. The relatives bug me into changing my clothes and getting ready although it would be hours until the "viewers" would show up. I didn't argue. I went and changed into "very" decent girl clothes and totally did everything they wanted me to and tried my best to turn me into someone I'm not. One of my relatives wanted me to slap on a coupla layers of foundation. That really pissed me off. I mean say I get married to this dude. And the day after I'm married he sees me without the 10 layers of foundation, I wouldn't want him to die of heart failure. I mean in this setting, I'm really not gonna get married to a guy who loves me for my personality or shit. Mite as well marry a guy who likes me for what I truely and honestly look like atleast. So yeah anyway, I swallow my frustration and ignore everything else they have to say.

Anyway to cut the long story short, the guy shows up. And I was busy playing with the chicken. Mom announces their arrival and suddenly I have this incredible urge to laugh uncontrollably. I reaally hoped I wouldn't go stand in front of them and have a giggling fit. Maybe it was then that the ridiculousness of it all sank in. 

I sneak a peek and see the guy who looks up and sees me at the same time. In a normal situation I would've totally gone all la-la-la at this point since I loooove filmy moments like this. Right then it just made my stomach ache. Not in a good way either. I was forbidden from going out there and meeting them until I'm called out. So I'm sitting there in my room, texting my friends and waiting and waiting cos I was really hungry and my folks had got all these goodies and snacks for when these people show up. My sis comes in and tells me that they're eating now. Oh goody now I can go. No not yet, says Sis. Ugh.

 
So I'm waiting and waiting. They finish eating and they still havent called me out. Now I was like oh good, maybe they all forgot all about me and why they came and now they'll just leave and this nightmare will be over! And thats when Mum comes in with the same smug smile she had when she once caught me checking out guys from the window in my room, before I could even deny what I was doing. I'm not sure why she had that smile on now. Anyhow, I step out with a broad fake smile. I totally rock at fake smiles. You can never ever tell when I'm faking it. Its an art that I've perfected. So I'm fake smiling at all these people and I totally check the guy out. 

And the first impression that I have of him is that he's the kinda guy you see in buses. Not the touchy-feely jerks. The kinds that sit in the last seat and stare at you until you get off the bus. I had a feeling I might've even seen this fellow in a bus somewhere. And he was staring at me right then. Yikes.

 
The mom and aunt and whoever that was makes small talk. I smile and talk, smile and talk. I felt like I was acting out the part of decent prospective bride in some B-grade movie.

And as much as I hated all of it and wanted to kill everyone for making me do it, I was obliged to behave. Too complicated to explain why.

 
There were these awkward silences where noone would say anything. They'd just have these huge toothy smiles and they'd all be staring at me. You have nooo idea how freaky that is. You look at them and they're just smiling and staring. Like in psycho movies! So I look at the guy. Who looks away whenever I look at him. Hello! What was with this dude?! He looked extremely uncomfortable and was totally fake laughing too. Well, it sounded fake. And he kept laughing at things that weren't funny at all! I hate having to do that. Smiling is ok. I really can't laugh at unfunny things unless its done/said by a really really Really cute guy. But even that has limits.

Hmm, anyway everything depended on the 5 minutes that I get to talk to him personally. I had even prepared a list of things I could ask him (few of which were totally vetoed by mum). I had the whole thing planned in my head. Either I prove to mum and dad that this guy is totally unmarry-able or I find something or the other to make him seem irresistable. Anything could happen in those 5 minutes.

 
Dad utters the sacred words : Maybe we should let the two of them speak privately.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Guy (looking bewildered) :  I don't have anything to say!
Me (in my head) :  You've got to bloody kidding me! How the %$*& am I gonna fall madly and crazily in love with you if you don't let me talk to you! Should I say that I wanna talk? Would that be breaking the "decency" code? Do I really want to talk to this guy anyway? Why prolong this process? The sooner they leave, the sooner I can eat.

So I say nothing. Blah. Who cares.

I look at the food sadly. It was all almost over. :-(
I sadly look over at the little boy who came along with these people. He was kicking a ball towards my nephew. *sigh* I could kick way better than that. I wanted to go play with them. Damned bride-viewing nonsense. I look at the guy again who looks away again. Ugh.

When they all finally got up to leave, one of the women who came along with them held my hand and said goodbye. And she wouldn't let go! She was smiling and staring and smiling and not letting go! I freaked! I thought she wanted to take me home right then itself! Yeah sure like I'd go home with the guy who doesn't even wanna talk to me. I really couldnt understand it though. Why didn't he wanna talk to me? And why did he have to look so appalled at the idea of it? I hardly look intimidating. I couldn't even intimidate a lil baby! What was that guy's problem anyway?! Stupid guy missed the conversation of a lifetime. Oh well, his loss.

Before he left he once again did the whole filmy thing and turned around and glanced one last time and stuff. Very filmy. Yeah, can't speak to me but puts up all this filmy shit. Yeah. Okay.Whatever.
Anyhow, that ended and turns out nobody liked anybody very much and that was my narrow escape.
I still think that the custom sucks but its actually fun to think of now. And its given me something to write about.

 
Few more people came to see me after that. But it was all awfully dull. My sister figured I should just give in and marry some guy to put an end to these visits. Yeah, the ultimate reason to get married! I'm sure 'll figure out another way out of this. I've got time until my next bride-viewing session, don't I? Ugh!

Interviewobia!

                               Ever wonder what Hell is gonna be like? I personally think Hell is gonna be different for different people. For me its gonna be this room with a chair in it and and a big scary man waiting, armed with an endless list of questions for an interview that lasts for an eternity. As in job-interview.. not celebrity interview(well not yet atleast). And you know wat? Those interviewers could be in their version of Hell as well...Cos trust me... If you're ever given the opportunity to interview me... turn around and run for your life. Its gonna hurt you more than its gonna hurt me.. Hurt or rather make you wanna kill yourself.

When I begin an interview, its almost like my brains stop functioning and the only words in my vocabulary are "ummm" and "what?".I suck so bad that I might as well  go dye my hair blond and get a boob-job done. (I've nothing against that sections of people in the society personally. I've never even met one actually. I'm just quoting somebody.)
I've always been supremely bad at anything that involved questions and answers being spoken aloud. I tell people "I knew the answer to that but I just got so nervous and I forgot it." Thats not really true. Yes, I get nervous but most of the time I have nooo clue what the answer is either. I mean, I prepare so hard most of the time and work out specific answers. Like if I've memorized A,B,C and the interviewer goes "Sooooo, what comes after B?", I would toootally freak out and sing him the ummm song. I sometimes wish I could just say "I dunno".. but someone once told me never admit to not knowing anythin during an interview. Which is a pity cos that would've been my reply to pretty much aall the questions - Why do you want to work in advertising? I dunno. What sort of a renumeration do you expect?  I dunno. Do you prefer design or copy? I dunno. Cos seriously and honestly I don't know! They should have something like an open test where they ask the questions and then give you like a week or a month to come up with the answers. I could've googled aall the questions then and come up with wonderful answers. Sometimes life feels so meaningless and empty without Google.
I always flunked vivas in college. I got a zero for a Hindi spoken test once and I thought it was hilarious at that point. But its kinda pathetic now when you think of it. And one time this viva lady inturrupted me while I was giving her an answer to her question and said -"My dear child, you're not making mistakes.. you're making blunders!" And I just gave her a beeg toothy smile, cos I had noo idea what she meant, just like I had noo idea what her question was and no idea what on earth I was goin on about. I mean, wasn't blunders and mistakes the same? Huh?
The reason I was unemployed for sooo long was whenever I applied some place and they called back to set a date for an interview and I chickened out and ran for cover. I can't help it! Its a disease!! Or is it? Ok, Google break!

Ok so maybe there is'nt exactly an interview phobia but maybe its somthing like a cross between Phronemophia (Fear of Thinking) and Ophthalmophobia (Fear of being Stared at) and Lalophobia (Fear of Speaking). So my point being, its really not something I can help.
            I figured maybe if I were to do a phone interview, I would fare much better since I wouldn't have to see the big scary question man. So I went through a phone interview recently and sadly enough it wasnt any better... if not worse.
 I messed up right from the beginning.
He goes - Hello.
I go Hello.
He- I'm so n so calling from so n so company for that interview we scheduled this morning.
Me- Oh.. Helloooow (The hello normal people usually reserve for pretty lil girls or babies)
Ugh.
The guy was totally sweet. He probably actually figured I've been transplanted with a 6 year old's brain so he spoke to me appropriately. I applaud his patience. I mean I concluded by the end of the conversation that this was a man with a wife and young children cos there is noo way he could've put up with thaaat much bullshit for thaat long. He kept asking me stuff like he aaactually expected me to know the answer. I mean they were simple questions. And I would've been able to have given him essay answers to them had he given me say coupla hours or days to think about it. Poor guy wanted me to answer em soo bad. At one point it went like this.. This is the hypothetically version k. Say he had asked me somthing like "Ok what is green-eyed and goes meow?"
I went like ummmm...ummmmm..ummm for a good 5 minutes. And then finally went kaa...
He was like yeaaaah...yeaaahh?
Me - Kaaa...umm..
Him - Kaaaa...?What comes after kaaa... Come on now, you can do it.
Me - Ummm...
Him- Do you want to think about it for a while?
Me- Yes!
Him - Ok, tell me when you want me to prompt you.
Me - Okay......Hmmmm.........(silence)........ummmm....(silence)......well......(silence)......
Him - Do you want me to prompt you now? (Its almost like he's begging me to put him outta his misery)
Me - Umm.. okay.

Him - The first part is correct. Its also has a tail and rhymes with Mat!

Me - Ummmmmmmmmmmmm....... Kaa...at?

Him- YESSSS! (trust me, he wouldn't know such joy even as his son graduates from college)

But he's a daredevil this guy. He actually goes and asks me a 2nd question. I almost felt sorry for him.
So this is to all the interviewers I've encountered at some stage of my life... on behalf of the bright-eyed unspeakably dumb female who sat in front of you and made you Hate your job, I'm sorry. But it really is a disease!

How did the damn chicken do it???

This is it. Its now or never.
Sweat is dripping down my face. I clutch the end of my dupatta. Close my eyes and send a silent prayer upwards. I bite my lips. Worry lines form on my forehead. People are staring. I can tell. I can feel their eyes on me. They're laughing. I can hear it in my head. I look right. I look left. My leg inches forward. And then jerks backwards. I do this a coupla times. It feels like a stupid dance step now. I look at the man next to me give me a weird look and cross the goddamn road without a care in the world.
I mean how.. how do people do that? Cross that obstacle of death just like that like they're walking from their bedroom to the kitchen? I mean its an open trap. Its like running through fire. Like jumping put the window and hoping to land safely... I need help. I can't cross roads. :-(
I am gona have to sue my kindergarten teachers. They made it seem so simple. Just look right. Left. and Walk... uh like yeah right!! Its more like Look left..right.. then left right left right left right frantically till you feel you head spinning. Then venture onwards and then change your mind. Then step backwards then try again..and again and again and again. Maybe you'll make it on your 20th attempt.
And when this is whole road-crossing-step-dance is going on, I feel that the whole world is looking at me. Not just when I'm giving myself motivational you-can-do-this-have-faith-in-yourself talks. Just generally when I'm standing there looking stupid when the rest millions of people have already crossed. They're probably not looking cos they probably don't have That much time to waste.
 I think the joke should've gone "How did the chicken cross the road?" Because I sure as hell don't care why he did it.
The one thing that I totally respect the teachers for teaching us regarding road crossing is to hold someones hands.. I mean my dad still grabs my hand when we're crossing roads. I totally give him the "oh pfft please,dad.. Do I look 5 to you?" expression and snorts, but still subtly tighten my grip at the same time.
             But I totally detest guys or people who go "Hmm, why do all girls make such a huge deal bout crossing roads?" Ok that statement was totaaally uncalled for.. by many of you. Just cos I'm a road-crossing-dummy does not mean that you can generalize. You've already tagged the "bad driver" tag on women (which btw is sooo not true either. My driving is getting great each passing day. And I've only crashed once! No biggie!)
                 You know what I looove though. Bridges. I think they should put em everywhere.. Or have like a lil button which when pressed has like a tiny yellow bridge( I dunno why yellow) unfold from underground and assemble automatically whenever needed.. Ooorr.. Those walk, don't walk lil red and green men would be fine too.. Easier since its already been invented. I'm not too sure bout how I feel bout the zebra crossing thingies. I mean I like the fact that if someone hits you when you are at a zebra, you get lotta money n all.. Dunno if its worth it..Hmm..
I've had a coupla experiences while crossing roads. Especially in those roads that are actually not roads but a football ground parading around as a road. I mean those things where 500 roads meet. How, on earth does one cross that thing? I'd probably close my eyes and run screaming at the top of my voice, all the way to the other end. I admire how people talk on the phone while crossing the road. I mean talk bout multi-tasking. I can't even walk and drink water at the same time. Let alone defy death and enquire about..whatever I'm enquiring bout on the phone, at the same time.
Its amazing how dogs do it. In my life-time I've never seen even one dog get hit by a vehicle when crossing roads. I'm sure they do. But most of the time they make such narrow escapes. Its like they're trained. They should have like a Road-Crossing class as a secondary subject in Driving schools. Where you learn in not so busy roads and then graduate to medium busy and then finally to something like a highway or something, which is where I think I'm gonna die someday.
While I think of a way to put that idea across to my driving school officials, you take care of yourself when you're crossing the roads. Its actually no laughing matter. Pedestrian fatalities have increased by 20 percent, from 105 in 2005 to 126 in 2006. Well, thats in Ontario, Canada. I googled and this is all I could find in short notice. But you get the message. Be sure to look right.. and left.. and right left right left right left right left right... You'll get used to the dizziness after some time.

Job vs Marriage vs Ostrich Theory

You know, I just realised a lil earlier today that I'm turning 24 this year. 24! Thats like well a grown-up's age. I remember being a kid and having uncles who are 24. Shucks! I'm an uncle! Well, no an aunt technically. Actually no I became an aunt when i was...ok even before i was born. My cousins got kids older than me. Ok but why am I explaining this? What was I saying? Oh yeah, I'm like all old now! If u go back a few posts in my blog u'll see one bout why being 21 sucks. Now this is like 3 years later. And I actually had to count from 21 to 24 to see how many years. Ugh, old age sucks!

So this is probably the age around when most of my uncles n aunts got jobs and stuff. And I'm supposed to go out and get meself one of those things. A job. Me. Working.

Its not like I've never thought of it. I've thought of it a lot. I've always seen myself as this successful career woman who wears her hair in a bun (straighten hair) and wears grey suits and pencil skirts and stockings and heels, swinging a briefcase. Oooh and square glasses. And a cappachino in hand. Okay, so maybe I just had the outfit all planned out, not my life.

And I had this vision where I would drive up into my old school/college in my Audi, and all the other girls who were mean to me or smarter than me or prettier than me or just plain made my life miserable back then would be fat housewives with screaming brats (no offence to housewives here).

But you know what? I don't think thats happening. Cos I'm probably gonna get into being a fat housewife even before I get a job. Ha!

Yeah,my great big career-woman dreams down the drain. But you know what? The big working life sounds awesome but scares me shitless. I mean, Working...is so much different from Studying. You can always scrape thru somehow in the end in case of education. You kinda know what your getting into. Cos you've been doing just that for so many years. But work. I know nothing bout it! And I have to do it alone! No mommy and daddy to pull you outta crap. No friends to shoulder the blame or let you sneak a peek at their answers.

A coupla months ago, I thought I wanted to get married. I was like Hey! That sounds like fun! Maybe I should give that a shot!

But that was before, I started THINKING straight. And now everyone is all worked up about it and I'm like What Have I Started! I'm not ready to get married!! I mite be 24 but my mind is stuck at 4! Marriage is scarier than work! Its permanent! And you can always quit a job. But marriage..yeah well i guess you could technically quit..but not in my family..any talk of quitting, they send you for counselling.

So I've been walking around like a wet dog a lot recently and people have been asking me why. So now you know. I hate this point I'm at right now. I would give anything to go back just a coupla years and when it comes back to this point again, rewind again (No not back to high school. I can't put myself thru that torture again.Yeesh!)

So maybe I hate change. Maybe I can't adapt to it. Maybe I can't take risks. Atleast on my own. Maybe I should do what the ostriches do. The Ostrich Theory. Stick my head in a hole on the ground until danger passes. Right, so if anybody needs me for anything, you know where I'll be. Waiting, with my head in the mud, for my life to make sense again.

p.s- when I tried to type "job" as a tag for this post, it sorta automatically clicked into "jobless" from a previous post. I tried to turn it into "job" a coupla times but then I realised..uh hello, the damn thing is right. I'm not job...I'm jobLess! Face it! The computer knows better!