I understand how scissors can beat paper, and I get how rock can beat scissors, but there’s no fucking way paper can beat rock. Is paper supposed to magically wrap around rock and leave it immobile? Why the hell can’t paper do this to scissors? Screw scissors, why can’t paper do this with people? Why aren’t sheets of college ruled notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they take notes in class? I’ll tell you why, because paper can’t beat anybody. When I play rock paper scissors, I always choose rock. Then when somebody claims to have beaten me with their paper I can punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, oh shit, I’m sorry, I thought paper would protect you, you asshole! - Anonymous.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

I've done nothing at all this week ... And it feels Awesome! Laz(zzz)y O.o

"I'm far too lazy to come up with some 'deep' hipster quote to accompany this entry, but I'll inform you that my nose is really itchy."

It is officially very very cold. Winter cold. Fog. Dew drops. Windy. Rainy. Mufflers. Jackets. Hoodies. Pullovers. Yes, very very very cold. Because of the generous Rain Gods this year, well... Winters are actually winters where the Sun hides away for a looooong time.

And hence, my so-called lazy escapades get fueled.

Waking up late, lying stuffed in the blue blankets, calling for a hot coffee, reading the morning "Garfield-betweenFriends" news, surfing facebook via phone etc.; mum thinks it is being Lazy.
I'm not lazy. I just don't have anything to do... that I like.

Notes. Studying. Exams. Writing. Practicing. Making the bed. Erm, WORK THAT I LIKE?! ?! ?! No. O.o

All I want to do is sleep, eat, loll about.. diddle-daddle.. linger.. boondoggle ..goof off and bum around. That is not being lazy. Call it procrastinating, but lazy? noooo.

The thing is I really need to gear up and start working on anything. Working and doing things that need to be done.
Why the sudden epiphany ...?

Today: Noon: Living room.
Mrs. ABC: Oh, and where is your daughter? How is she doing?
Mum "Mother": She is good. Just on a very tight schedule of not getting anything done.

I heard it. Oh my god! She really said it. Laid a 'personal fact' about her own daughter's life to an almost-stranger. *face-palm*

Therefore, I've decided to work, whatever work I get at home. Yes. I've the Power to out-do the so-called Laziness. I'll come out as a hero.

I really ought to do something!

But... you know, I'm already in my night jammies.

I guess, on some random level, It Is Awesome ! 'cause doing nothing has made me happy with not a care in the world - even the fact that I have an exam tomorrow for which I haven't studied a word - nothing. Nil. Zilch. So, here I'm cherishing the nothing-ness as long as it lasts. It will last a while now... zzzz

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Nothing is permanent.

How Terrible it is to Love Something That Death can Touch.

It is 1996. I'm 5 years old. I'm wearing a pink polka-dotted frock and my two pig-tails look cute. I'm at my Grandfather's place, from the maternal side. I call him Nanusa. He is thin. He has a smile on his face. Because of me. We're in the garden watching the birds flying all around. I tell him I want a bird too. He gets a bird-cage, puts some food-grains in it and leaves it hanging on a tree branch with the small cage door open. A bird flies in. He rushes towards the bird-cage and quickly locks the little door. "See those big black spots on the bird? It's a Papa Sparrow", he tells me. Papa Sparrow starts thrashing his wings on the bars of the cage. A feather falls. He now also has a small cut on his weak body. I look at Nanusa. We let the Papa Sparrow out and it flies away to other sparrows. Probably, Mamma and Kid Sparrow.

2010: It has been two years now. Two almost years since this wonderful man left us. A simple man. His smile still etched in my memories. The last time I had met him, I wish I'd have a chance to hug him. Hug him tight and tell him I really loved him, wanted to spend more time with him, sit in the garden to watch some more birds fly around, go to the junk-food corner and eat those pani-puri ... I wish I hadn't grown up because after "growing-up" it was all about the time-we-never-have.

The loss is now seeping in me. After two years. I miss him and the thought of not being able to meet him again is unbearable. Loss of feeling. Loss of expression. A plain loss.

You left too soon.
... rest in peace Nanusa.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010




Monday, November 1, 2010

would I like to start over...?

Monsters exist. They live inside ordinary people. 
And sometimes, they win.

Year 2009

The college year had begun. We took our first steps uneasily, yet the confidence remained. Everyone around me was upset, as school had come to an end. But not me. I love change. If the school life was over I couldn't care less because the excitement of the hyped college life was awaiting.

Just like everyone else we collected our mandatory forms, cards etc, while the seniors eyed us top to bottom. Some passed us smiles, some threw cold looks probably to show they owned the jungle we had just stepped in. That too did not bother anyone. We were already a close-knit group, a huge circle of friends whom nobody dared rag. Yes, we believed (still do) we were (are) too good and strong for any of them.

The only addition in friends was a girl who had shifted to our city due to her parents. Imagine her plight, from a popular film capital metropolitan to the city of pink, royalty, customs... still a little behind the years.

However, we gelled well. Once all of us got talking there were no city barriers left. It was like we knew her since child-hood. Why you may ask? She talked. She talked a LOT! There was never a story that came to an end as she got reminded of other stories and jumped to them.

We had a great time together. The parties, sleepovers, class-bunks, popularity (ah, that's another story). But as far as I know. College did start with a bang. A bang of lots of talking and lots of dancing.

Then came the sad stories from her. About her life, a few incidents in her previous city, a few horrible incidents with her boyfriend, the reasons behind her smoke-addiction. She cried. So did my other friend. I din't. I couldn't. Tears never come to me. I think there is some wiring gone wrong in my body. Yes, that must be it. And emotional closeness is the point where I start drifting away. Another wiring gone wrong.

After that, I'd always know what was happening, from the abusive phone calls of her boyfriend to the lets-get-back-together phone calls of her boyfriend. Well, she was a mess. Fortunately, she had friends here. But on the closeness front just one friend who was my best friend too (hence, I knew all her stories).

The incident: One particular day, after all of us had left, she was hanging out alone with my cousin brother. The next day, one of us got a call from her expressing feelings about my cousin and the fact that they shared a moment. The cousin was already dating one other friend at that time. He was asked about the incident and he confronted that a 'something' did happen but not as she told it.
The blame game. Again she was confronted with this story and her narration changed. So did his later. The strange part; their stories kept changing again and again. In the end we sided with my cousin's story as it sounded more realistic and we knew him since a very long time. It was only natural. And he is a good person.

Now us and her, are just on the glance-talking-basis. We pass each other in corridors mostly ignoring, sometimes passing half-a-smile. The thing is that even today, there is a part of me that cannot be sure about who was right and who was not. No matter how sure I'm about my cousin and how fond of him I am, I cannot manage to know.

Did we do a wrong thing. Impulsive thing. Was the monster playing tricks on her or us.

I would never know.