Thursday, December 25, 2008

Tis the season to be jolly. But i am not. Though I am trying very hard. I am listening to happy songs. Talking to happy people. But nothing seems to help...

Friday, December 12, 2008

Observations of a bored mind

I was on my way to office, when this thought struck me. Like the title suggests, its a boring thought. But I decided to indulge my bored mind. And here goes:

The people in my world can be divided into four categories:
a) Those i like talking to in person
b) Those i like talking to over the phone
c) Those i like chatting with online
d) None of the above

There are some who come under two of the a,b,c categories but only one who comes under a,b and c.

The only grouse i have against him is that he doesn't read this blog of mine until i coax, cajole and threaten him in that order.

Saturday, November 29, 2008


A friend asked me yesterday what i felt about the weather.

"Dampening," I replied.

It has been raining continuously for almost a week. Cyclone Nisha has been blowing so strong that at home, i can actually hear the wind howl like an angry banshee.

Yesterday was my day off and I had not much to do. Amma has gone to Rajasthan for a wedding and the boys had gone out so there was nobody to entertain me at home. I sat in the balcony for a long while, just looking at the sheets of rain pouring down, drenching all and sundry.

It was then that i got thinking of the weather again. It was so wild, passionate and romantic. Why did i call it dampening then?

Maybe it's because this is the kind of weather you would like to share with someone. And that someone is so far away.

Saturday, November 08, 2008

He Haw

His ringtone is "Washing powder Nirma"
He eats rice with sugar
He used to drink milk from the feeding bottle even when he was 10
He wears my strawberry slippers
He even tries on my chandelier earrings sometimes
He sniffs food before he eats it
He wears baby pink t-shirts
No prizes for guessing who he is...

Monday, October 27, 2008

Of pyrotechnics, ass scratching and billet-doux

It's that time of the year again when the product of the blood and sweat of little children toiling it out in a factory in faraway Sivakasi go up in the air and, a loud bang and a fine display of pyrotechnics later,'s all over.

I could now do two things - either ramble on about how the meaning of Diwali has changed for me since i was a little girl hiding behind papa while the big boys burst bombs to the big lazy, semi-cynical girl that is now typing out this blog OR blog about how difficult it has become for me to write post the 99th post.

Well, technically I could do more than two things. I could also, as dear brother Shanky puts it, "Scratch my ass and stop pontificating about life". Or, I could, as amma keeps telling me - "Learn to cook and and get married soon".

But I instead choose to talk about the first love letter, or billet-doux as the French put it, addreseed to me.

It was in second grade. We had just moved from an obscure village in Andhra Pradesh called Dommeru to a not-so-obscure town, again in Andhra Pradesh, called Tadepalligudem. I was, yet again, the new girl in class. In those days, I was extremely shy. I wouldn't talk unless addressed to, and even then, only in a combination of umms, aahs and other such monosyllables.

So it was one of those days when the assigned subject teacher was absent and a substitute teacher had taken over. I was sitting in one of the last rows in the left side corner of the room and busy doing the work assigned, when the person sitting next to me passed me a crumpled piece of paper. I ironed it out to see what was on it. The writings on that seemingly innocuous paper made me turn a violent shade of beetroot.

'143' it said, along with a pencil sketch of a girl with two pony tails, which, I safely assume, was me. (143= I love you, in Indian second grade lingo). The sender had even scrawled out his signature at the end.

The rest of the story, as we say, was proverbial history. Teacher walks up to Little Shilpa and notices the not-so-innocuous piece of paper. Teacher hauls up boy who had scrawled signature in the said paper. Boy confesses after severe interrogation. Boy taken to Principal and caned. Little Shilpa mortified by entire incident. 20 years later Little Shilpa grows into Big Shilpa and on a very boring Diwali evening, blogs about the incident, wondering if Boy still remembers her name because try as she may, she does not remember his.

Monday, September 15, 2008

99 going on 100

Yes, this is my 99th post and as u must know by now, i hate round numbers. They are over-used. So we shall celebrate our 99th post instead and also our 101st.
But first things first...All stand up and sing...
Happy 99th post to you...
Happy 99th post to you...
Happy 99th post dear lookwhosback
Happy 99th post to you...

And on this joyous occasion, I dedicate this post to someone very dear to me. We shall reveal her name later but for now she shall be called the girl with those eyes. Yes, those eyes that once you look at them, you are so riveted that you don't want to look away. And that smile that lingers on those lips. That smile that you know is waiting to burst into a full 32-teeth grin but instead chooses to remain just a mysterious smile... That voice... That voice that sounds like the dark stormy night..Only thing, it's neither dark, nor stormy. But you know what i mean...

Anyway, she is a total darling...warm-hearted and all. And her name is Lakshmi.

Thank god for small golti mercies

There is a certain joy in watching telugu movies that is inexplicable. I am in the process of watching one. Why process? That's because I hardly seem to find the time or inclination to finish watching a movie in one sitting these days. Either indolence or the rites of passage overpower me and I am forced to memorise the number of minutes i have watched so i can start watching afresh from that point the next time.
So this movie i am watching has superstar Krishna's son Mahesh Babu in it. Or must i say Mahesh? I heard from sources close to the actor that he prefers if his last name were given a miss.
Anyhow, coming back to the movie. It was allegedly a superhit back in Golti land. And i am not surprised. It's one of those predictable movies whose only saving grace is the style element added to it. Everything about the movie is stylish. Or pseudo-stylish. The entry of the hero, heroine, villian, side-kicks... Then there are the songs that are rip-offs of popular English rap numbers. The fight sequence is my favourite. Especially the part where hundreds of moustached men are on a truck waving their swords at nobody in particular.
My only regret is that Mahesh Babu has not inherited his father's dancing skills. What joy it would have been watching him dance otherwise.
Golti movies weren't much fun when i was in Golti land. They all seemed banal fare back then. It was only when i moved to Chennai that i began appreciating them. Ah... Those lazy Sunday afternoons when i would curl up on Appa's lap and the two of us would tune in to Gemini TV or Teja TV and watch an old Brahmanandam comedy. Or all the movies during the festivals that would put us in a dilemma as to which one to pick and we would end up watching bits of all of them. Or those Saturday mornings when Teja TV would play dubbings of English movies like Titanic and Independence Day. Brother and i would usually be in splits while those poor drowning men and women would shout "Kaapadandi, kaapadandi" (help, help)
Ah..Thanks god for small golti mercies

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Happiness is... dreaming about a kermit-green watch that you used to wear every day when you were 10.

Reality is.. Waking up and realising it wasn't kermit-green but actually silver finish. And that some days, you didn't wear the watch because someone told you something which went - "I don't like being governed by time". Later, you realised it was foolish to stop wearing a watch just cos something someone said sounded so cool. SO back went the watch onto your wrist

Hunger is.. when you can hear the rumble in you stomach. Even after you just had 5 parathas. You cannot order in because they don't start delivering before 7. You go complain to a friend about the hunger and he offers you oregon seasoning from Dominoes. And you gladly accept, rip the packet apart and start licking the seasoning from your palm.

Boredom is... when you have nothing better to do, so you post random posts such as the above.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

That hand....

She looked up from her terminal. She saw a hand on the glass. Instantly, she knew it was his. She followed the movement of the hand. It slid across the glass. It tapped on the glass. A gentle tap, followed by slight drumming. She was sitting a long way away but she could almost hear the noise. It was unhurried. Just like everything else about him.

Someone called out her name and she looked away. By the time she turned back, the hand was gone.And so was he. But the sound of the drumming and the gentle tapping kept ringing in her ears. That night...And every night after that...

Sunday, August 10, 2008

fireworks in the skies

i saw fireworks today...
i had gone to the terrace with nidhi..or rather, i dragged nidhi onto the terrace..we traversed through cement and stone to reach our destination. chennai looks beautiful from the terrace.. bright neon signboards light up the skyline. Apollo hospitals has the brightest signboard. anyhow, i was just taking in the sights when suddenly i saw something to my left..i turned to see what it was..and chennai..out of the blue..
i wondered what it could be...was a baby born to rich parents who had been waiting a long while...did India win a medal in the Olympics...did something happen in the Sri Lanka test...i could have been any of these or something totally bizarre like a cracker shop catching fire..
anyhow, all i can say is that the sight greatly pleased much so i came down and told half a dozen ppl that i saw fireworks, only to get passive responses...
that made me wonder again...where has the sense of wonder gone? since when did we stop enjoying simple pleasures...since when did we stop smelling the roses...
why am i telling u all this? because i don't want u to stop smelling the roses...or the daffodils...or even those flowers that don't have a strong fragrance..jus pick them up anyway and smell them for they smell a little wild.. a smell that reminds u of the forests...
so go...go up to the terrace..and watch the fireworks light up the dark night

Saturday, August 02, 2008

First love

He was my first love. I say was not because he is no more but because our love is no more. Love, they say, is forever. I used to think so too. But i realised along the way that nothing is forever. It all comes to an end. Only the way it comes to an end differs. Sometimes it all comes crashing down in an instant. In other times, it slowly fades until there is nothing left. Ours ended the second way. I tried to fight it. So did he. Maybe we didn't try hard enough. Or maybe things were just not meant to be.

Anyway, I digress. So we fell in love. It was magical. We met through a common acquaintance whom we both never bothered to keep in touch with. It all started with the proverbial 'hey'. We lived in different worlds. He was philosophical. I was practical. He was a dreamer. I was one too. But we dreamed of different things. Somewhere along the way our dreams crossed paths. We would talk for hours together. About life, and love. About books, music and movies. About why elephants don't fly. About raindrops that carry messages. About sinful nights in dark, dense jungles. We would sing songs to each other. We would dance with each other. We would lie under the open skies, look at the stars and dream. Sometimes when he couldn't see the constellations i was seeing. We were sleeping under different skies you see. But we survived the distance. Or we thought we did.

Slowly, it all started fading away. It was so slow we hardly noticed - until it was too late. We started fighting over petty things. And then over bigger things. We got tired of each other, and of our squabbles. It wasn't a cute-little lover's tiff any more. It was just two grouchy people with differences that could never be resolved. The conversation died. We both stopped dreaming. And that's when it all ended. Almost as abruptly as it began. Boom! One day we both woke up and realised it was over. I called him up. One last time. I told him what i felt. He agreed. And that was the end.

Do I still love him? I often wonder about that. Maybe its true - love IS forever. In a sense, I'll never stop loving him. He will always be the guy of many firsts. But we both know it's over. And we both know there is nothing we can do about it. It was good while it lasted. And I savour every moment of it. Even the petty squabbles.

First love....sigh...

Saturday, July 05, 2008

How the eff can you think of a title when you have nothing worthy to blog about

I type out words and then erase them. And then type out some more words and delete them again. This has been happening for the past 23 minutes. So I consult one of my multiple personalities who moonlights as a medical student and she diagnoses me with blogger’s block. She says it is a common ailment among my ilk and that it has no known cure. She says it stays for 30 days if treated and for a month if left untreated.

I decide to take charge and treat myself. I rack my brains for something to write about. The only thing that seems to strike me is work. But then I refrain. I have heard too many stories about people being fired for blogging about work.

So reader(s), I request you for a topic to blog on. Or else I will be forced to write on my disgustingly dear brother shanky. Yet again.

Monday, May 12, 2008

In pursuit of the elusive knight-in-shining-armour

So as i had promised in the earlier post, here is my list of requirements that Prince Charming must fulfil before he wins the tanned hand of his princess..

1. Must know how to cook. Not just maggi and boiled egg but lasagna and shrimp salad as well. I promise to dutifully do the dishes.

2. Must preferably be the second son of his parents. Here is how the funda works. the first son, will get married to a homely girl and take care of the parents while the second son will get married to un-homely me and take care of my parents.. Such a dutiful daughter ain't i..

3. Must know how to write well. Poetic writing is an onus. The reason, I love receiving love-notes and it would suck if the guy didn't know how to write.

4. Must earn handsomely so that i can retire after a while and get started on my magnum opus.

5. Must like to travel. Must not ask me to pack and unpack for him.

6. Must be intelligent, good looking and have a good sense of humour. (I know this is trite, but it is necessary). Must be between a -1 + 4 years range of age.

7. Must have read as much as i, if not more.

8. Must be a Brahmin (Now don't go about pointing casteist fingers at me. I am adding this clause for grandma's sake). I don't mind anyone as long as he is a Hindu by birth. If he is a believer of the Flying Spaghetti Monster then even better.

9. Must be willing to get married when and where i choose. I have already chosen where. The dream wedding shall be in an idyllic village in Kerala where my forefathers come from. It shall be a small affair. I don't like spending on weddings. I would rather save up for my honeymoon to Greece.

Lets leave it at 9 clauses for now for i have an intense distaste for round figures. I shall update the list if i think up of something else.

I warmly extend an open invite for proposals from anyone who fits the bill.
Shilpa Krishnan

Sunday, May 11, 2008

The Big Fat South Indian Wedding

Warning: Interminably long post ahead.

Unlike the more popular North Indian weddings that have been made famous by Bollywood, there exist a little less melodramatic but equally important South Indian weddings.

I have just played witness to an authentic Tam-Bram wedding and during one of my several ruminations during the wedding, i realised that it is time someone popularised the South Indian Wedding as well. I decided to take the onus on to my slender shoulders and below is the chronicles of a Pallakad Iyer wedding.

The ceremonies began on Friday morning. I am related to the groom who is the Pallakad Iyer. The girl is a Kannadiga. They met while working in Satyam and the rest, shall we say, is proverbial history. My cousin, the groom, refused to divulge the intimate details of the proposal so i shall leave that to the readers imagination.

Anyhow, on Friday morning 10 of us trooped into a Qualis and headed for the brides house. It was the day of the haldi ceremony. This is a Kannadiga ritual where haldi (turmeric) is applied on the faces of the bride, groom and guests. I applied a big dollop of haldi on my cousins nose, much to his consternation. Then there was the bangle ceremony which is quite self-explanatory.

My mother had composed quite a few songs for the occasion. Yup, amma is a Javed Akhtar in the making. So the songs had funny lyrics like, "Tumhare honge bacche, milenge humko laddoo" and suchlike.

The next day, we went to the wedding hall at an ungodly hour in the morning for some puja. I spent the afternoon chatting up with a cousin of mine. We exchanged life stories and much more. The evening was the traditional reception where the groom and the bride are made to stand on the stage and shake hands and smile at all the guests. Considering that i had slept only for only four hours the previous night, i slept through most of the reception and missed the much-sought-after photo session.

The wedding was on Sunday morning. Dressed in my pretty-pink saree, i went about looking for some eye candy but it was an exercise in futility. Good looking girls there were many but guys, hardly any.

Our weddings have a nice custom called i-dont-know-what where the bride and the groom try to garland each other whilst the other is lifted by his uncle to prevent the garlanding. Later they are made to sit on a swing and songs are sung. Then there is the tying of the three knots and some other puja.

The wedding is then officially done with. We played antakshari in the afternoon and thanks to the fact that i conducted the show, our side won. At home began the best part of the entire show, the unwrapping of the gifts. Most of the gifts were quite good. But one abset minded uncle gifted a piece that was actually a return gift from a wedding held a week ago. He had unfortunately forgotten to remove the incriminating label.

Tomorrow, there is another function for married women but as i am leaving by tonights train, i shall miss it The wedding has been fun. The aunts and uncles and cousins and grandmas were good company. Thankoo all for making this a wonderful one week.

BTW, i have also begun the hunt for a suitable groom. The next post shall be about my list of requirements from the perfect man...

Till then, Good bye and good luck

The Big Fat Indian Convocation

This has been a long overdue post..The last few days have been a whirlwind.

Anyhow, let me proudly announce that i am now a postgraduate. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, i have graduated. I shall upload the pics a little later..laziness wins for now.

The convocation was much fun. I had the duty of tying sarees for half the girls hostel. The family then arrived. And was it a big group or what. Eleven of them, a cricket team in themselves - wielding cameras instead of bats and balls. Pictures were taken in various poses and against various backgrounds. Robes were worn and so were caps with tassels. There was clapping and whistling and hooting..There was food and apple juice. There was laughter and tears.. I cried ocean loads and so did many others. Richy apparently hugged the pillars at the hostel.

Vinodh Mehta, the editor of Outlook, was the chief guest. His speech was a tad too long but quite interesting. I liked his closing lines the best - "News is what someone somewhere doesn't want published."

Amma had bought sweets for all my professors and had written personal letters to them. It was much appreciated by the profs. Wish she had done all this in the beginning of sem, i might have gained some brownie points.

Anyhow, the convocation ended. After some tearful hugs and kisses and promises to keep in touch, we headed to our hometowns. I have some of the fondest memories of IIJNM. It has been an year of laughter, tears and a lot of learning. I have made some really good friends. And found some really inspiring teachers. I owe a lot to this institute and one day, i hope to make it proud.

IIJNM, i shall miss you.

Friday, May 09, 2008

Sunny side up

So my dear friend Sunny (not Sunil Gavaskar) has been pestering me to write a post about him so i thought i would oblige.

Now Sunny aka Sandeep Pampati and i have had a hate-love relationship. We used to hate each other in the beginning of our acquaintance. It was only after i moved out of Hyderabad that we started being civil to each other. We were neighbors and classmates but we rarely exchanged a word or two. I still remember him sending his brother to borrow my english workbooks. Such was the mutual animosity.

But then time flies and people change and so did we. I got his id thru my yahoo school group and added him cos i wanted his brothers id. Turns out, I rarely chat with his brother these days but exchange a word or two woth him almost every few hours. Such are the powers of the internet.

He has asked me to sing praises of him so i shall begin by saying that there is nothing praiseworthy about him. :D

Heh. Well, he is quite a funny guy. He is the guy i call up when i need a shoulder to cry on. Or when i need a good laugh. He loves to make fun of me. He gets fooled quite easy. Once Archi and i fooled him saying that my marriage was fixed. He actually fell for it. That when i was just 19 years old!!

We have had the most absurd of chat conversations. We have exchanged life stories. We have raved. And we have ranted. We have been through thick and thin, tall and long and we have survived it all.

Sunny, you have really made my life more sunny. Thanks for being there for me.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Arbit stuff

So g-man tagged me....and here goes...

1. each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.
2. people who are tagged, write a blog post about their own 8 random things, and post these rules.
3. at the end of your post you need to tag 8 people and include their names. don’t forget to leave them a comment and tell them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
4. if you fail to do this within eight hours, you will not reach third series or attain your most precious goals for at least two more lifetimes.

and here we go...

1. I am terrified of riding cycles...even pillion on a two-wheeler is a little scary...I met with an accident the first time i cycled on a main road so the fear is ingrained i guess.. and the first time i rode a tvs, i dashed into a croton plant and broke it..amma was much upset

2. I once ran away from home...for seven whole days...the story is a whole new blog post in itself

3. i intend to write an autobiography of myself sometime soon...

4. i plan to live on the streets for sometime

5. i once tried killing myself...actually more than once...but as you can see it, i failed..

6. I am certified clinically insane

7. i don't like round digits and multiples of five... i prefer the numbers in between like 46 and 72

8. i had much fun typing out this post and i hope that it shall generate much, i have become fat as a cabbage now

I tag Gayatri, Dielle, Juggy, Sniggy, Debasis, Itika, Sameer, Vaishnavi

Sunday, April 13, 2008

The countdown begins

The madness has begun. And i am playing the silent spectator.

Yes folks, I am referring to the madness at the eleventh hour thirty fourth minute twenty sixth second of the Times of India launch. The first half of the day seemed a little dull. But that was because i was sitting in the reporters desk and they had already finished all their work. Later on, I moved over to the page makers' desk and that was where all the excitement was. People were running hither-tither discussing which stories go where and which pictures to use.

For the most part, I watched. And laughed. But not out loud for i didn't fancy getting fired in the first week of work. The insides of my head echoed with my guffaws but on the outside, i maintained a nonchalant expression. I was not laughing at the poor souls, mind you, but at the madness that enveloped them.

An hour and a half more to go before the dreaded deadline. I just wonder whether any order will be able to squeeze its way through this mass of chaos.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Of craponomic and nose picking

My uncle had come home today. The conversation, as is the norm these days, was about my job. Among the many questions he asked me, one of them was - What are you specialising in?

Now, I pride myslef in being a Jack-of-all-trades. Specialisation has never held much allure to me. So when the question was posed, i drew a blank. The uncle, who is one of the most focussed beings i have ever come across, was aghast. He always thought of me as a highly focussed sensible girl. Little did he realise that i was someone who enjoyed writing about crap (literally) rather than the intricracies of Tamil Nadu politics.

So anyway, the question stuck on my mind and hanunted me throughout my hour-long bus ride to the office. This is not the first time I have heard about the specialisation craze. One of my professors at college keeps ranting about how we must leave our jobs after an year or two and go specialise - in anything, even anthropology.

Now imagine spending some of the best years of your life studying something like that. Sheesh.

Someone once told me that man is by nature, polygamous. I agree. One woman is not enough to satiate man's insatiable appetite. Similarly, one subject is not enough to engage man's attention for a lifetime. At the risk of sounding trite, Variety is indeed the spice of life.

So here's a word of advise for all you Jacks out there. The next time someone asks you what you are specialsing in, politely ask them to Please f*** off.

But then again, if they were awarding doctorates in Craponomics, I would galdly jump into the wagon.

p.s. talkin about specialisation brings me to the topic of absurd research. To compete with the Nobels, some smart-asses have come out with the Ig Nobel awards. Here's a gem from the website:

Chittaranjan Andrade and B.S. Srihari of the National Institute of Mental Health and Neurosciences, Bangalore, India, for their probing medical discovery that nose picking is a common activity among adolescents. [REFERENCE: "A Preliminary Survey of Rhinotillexomania in an Adolescent Sample," Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, vol. 62, no. 6, June 2001, pp. 426-31.]

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Tag it

Still at office with nothing much to do except watch other work. I have noticed that people get very conscious if you watch them at work and tend to goof up a lot. So i let them have their peace and quiet anc came back to my system.
Picked up this tag from g-man's blog. so here goes:

JOdha Akbar. Oh no. I actually went to watch "The lives of others" and walked off midway not because it was a bad movie but cos i had a fight with one of my friends. We ahve patche dup by the way

Bel Canto - Ann Patchett
Anne of Avonlea - L.M.Montgomery. I first read Anne of Greeen Gables as a child and loved it. Decided to finsih the series even though i m not 12 anymore.



rain...wet earth

sound of silence


am i late for college??

American corner


buy a house by the sea


eeks no

depends on teh magnitude of the storm

yet to get one


spend more time reading


jet black

Bhilai, kanpur, Sandila, Lucknow, Vizag, Dommeru, tadepalligudem, Hyderabad, Chennai, Bangalore


amazing sense of humour

a suitcase and a bucket and dust


evening person

sunny side up

my bed

peach pie

Chocolate, butterscotch and pista...

Farty tales

Warning: Not to be read if food has been consumed in the past 2 hours. Possibility of inducing vommiting sensation.

So I am still at work. And i have nothing to do. So i decided to indulge in some more blogging.

Thankfully work allows u to use gmail so i keep chatting half the time.
I was just chatting with a colleague/friend who quite liked my article on the new gas. So i decided to enlighten him a little more on the fine art of farting.

Now mine is a family where the dinner time discussions usually are about post-dinner activities such as shitting and farting. My brother is quite obsessed with the two of them and my father openly encourages his interests much to my mother's distress. So this other day the bhai was narrating this particular incident during a sumptuous lunch of vethakozhambu and vazhathandu sabzi.

Now I have two bhais. the one related to me by blood is Shankar and the other is my cousin Prashanth. Shankar is the original prankster and makes life terrible for Prashanth and I. So this one day he hurriedly calls Prashanth to the loo saying that there is a big insect in the toilet. Prashanth runs behind him and lifts the seat only to find pieces of Shankar's shit floating in the pot. EEKS..That's how disgusting my brother is.

And then of course is the famous sloka (on the different types of farts) that my brother is always narrating. The sloka has been passed on from my graun aunt to my father and from him to my brother. It describes the four kinds of farts. here is how it goes:

Dam dam damarugma natham
Pee pee madyamam
Kaschi pischi maha ghoram
Nishabdam pranasankatam

I guess the sloka is quite self-explanatory. My brother has categorised each of us into one of the above four slots and he is a master of all four of them.
Enough of farty tales for now. Will keep you posted on any updates.

Next Change

I can't belive that i have actually started working. It seems just yesterday that i went to school for the first time. My mother still keeps recounting that day to me. We were living in Vizag in those days. Being the goody-goody girl that i was in those days, I was visibly excited about entering the divine portals of learning.
So i wear my new uniform, tie bright red ribbons on my hair and get ready for my ABCD's. I enter school all smiling. And then i see the rest of my classmates weeping buckets. Its a miracle the classroom was not flooded.
So i see these tiny tots in tears and in a few nanoseconds, i am competing with the loudest of them in a wailing competition.
First day at office was quite different though. No tears were shed - crocodile or otherwise. This is the pre-launch week at Times of India, Chennai and so there is quite a buzz in the office.

Yesterday was the first day.
Consumed yummy jalebis for lunch at Dhaba Express.
That was not all that was had. The rest cannot be named for fear that the family might check on the blog ocassionally.
A report on a press release was written and liked by the boss.
An attempt was made to look busy and do nothing.
The above attempt was successful.

Gotat go, someone's shouting out for me

Saturday, March 29, 2008

It's been a while

Statutory warning: Do not read this post unless you happen to like the sensation that comes out of hitting your head 483 times on a cement wall of 22cms thickness.

It's been a long long while since i last visited my blog. And much guilt comes.

The greatest paradox of my life must be that i am in journalism school and still, face a dearth of topics to write on. Why is that? Is it because i want to write only the very best that i overlook other topics that could make for good reading? Is it because I am so bogged down with writing assignments that writing for pleasure seems no longer pleasurable? I don't know what the reasons are, but i know this much - if i stop writing now, i will never become a good writer.

So i solemnly swear on the Bhagavad Gita/Bible/Qoran that i shall write more often, even if it be utter rubbish. And what better way to start than with random rantings.

* The last 10 days have been a weird mix. some of the best, followed by some of the laziest. I must have made umpteen resolutions to myself to get out of this rut but all i seem to be doing these days is sleeping and eating.

* I don't know why but the skin on my fingers is peeling off. Some say it's vitamin C deficiency. I think it's nature's way of telling me to stop my fingers from wasting away. I hope that typing out this blog shall prove to be the cure

* Writing can be therapeutic.

* I think this is the forst time i spelt therapeutic right.

* wow! i did it twice in a row...without looking it up on

* which, by the way, is one of my favourite sites

* talking about favourite sites, please to check out

* i immensely dislike it when people play loud music in public places. it happens a lot in our lab.

* i have this feeling that the blog is getting boring, but again,who cares!

* actually i do care. but i am too lazy to rewrite this entire thing.

* I am horrible at public speaking.

* and now, i am tired. so i shall go back to the hostel while you break your heads over having wasted five minutes of your life over this piece of crocodile shit.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Aaja ban karle

Hey all, This is another article that came recently in the new indian express. do read and comment please. much distressed i am because of the paucity of comments.

So now that the U.P. and Punjab governments have objected to lines from songs the movie Aaja Nach Le, many other movies are being passed under the scanner for objectionable scenes and lines. Most of these are old movies that have already disappeared from the scene of the box office.

First off, we have the blockbuster hit Titanic. Critics to the movie have expressed deep hurt that though the movie circles around an iceberg in the deep Atlantic, several sea animals have been blatantly ignored and have not been included in the plot. The against-everything environmentalists have expressed their condemnation against the director saying that a polar bear would have made a better hero than Leonardo di Caprio and that a dolphin could have very well played the female lead. Moreover, a walrus could have played the villain.

Next in line was the movie Jurassic Park. The Society of Paleontologists has expressed their deep hurt when they saw their entire profession being turned into a farce. “How could dinosaurs and man exist at the same point in history?” asks a completely bewildered paleontologist.

Meanwhile, moving on to Bollywood, there have been quite a few Hindi movies that gave come under the scanner as well. For starters, there is the evergreen hit Sholay. Several women’s right activists have objected to the line “Kitne aadmi the Kaalia?” and they feel that Gabbar Singh should have enquired about the women at Ramgarh as well.

The censor board is also looking to ban the Suraj Barjatiya joint family drama/romance/action/murder mystery movie Hum Aapke Hain Kaun. The grounds for banning this movie are that the movie blatantly promoted joint families with hordes of kids while India was promoting the “Hum do humare do” campaign.
Meanwhile, the blockbuster Kajol-Shahrukh-Karan Johar starrer Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge was banned for promoting the very thing that is banned under section 356. That which should not be named.

The Aamir Khan starrer Lagaan was also banned as it showed partiality only to one sport, that too to a sport that was not the national sport. Chak De India, meanwhile, was praised highly for promoting hockey among the masses. There are talks that the title song might soon replace Jana Gana Mana as the national anthem.

Apparently all future movie productions will now have to undergo a private screening with the CUT (Censoring for Useless Things) Board. The board has been formed only to keep a check on such movies. Very soon, the government is planning to unprivatise the film sector and start making movies only on the national sport, national bird, national animal etc.