Defeat in the Land of Rimbos

I went to this Sobo bakery the other day to pick up a couple of things for home. This place is classy, quaint and perfect for a date. No such luck in my case though. I went there with my dad and my brother. The place was empty except for two couples. Funny how somebody sitting up there wanted to rub it in?

I went to this Sobo bakery the other day to pick up a couple of things from home. Ah the sight and smell of the cocoa beans. That place is perfect I tell you. Date kind of perfect. No such luck in my case though.

While prying and eavesdropping are generally on the top of my priority list, I was too busy picking out brownies to observe who was sitting around me. Five minutes later, a friend of mine pats me on the back. How could I have not noticed her all that while? Did I tell you I love their brownies enough to get a tattoo on me that says that?

cute guy sitting on the corner table did actually manage to get my attention for a second or two. I hadn’t bothered to observe who he was with. Ends up he up was there with that friend of mine, let’s call her Snitch (rhyming with another word we’re all familiar with). At this point I thought, He who lives upstairs is but a cruel man.

You know what I hate the most about morning lectures? The fact that I am forced to run out of the house without so much as taking a bath (things you’re not supposed to tell anyone). On the days I don’t wash my hair, it sort of resembles a beehive. And if I were to leave it open, you’d fear bees would come buzzing out and attack you any minute. So I had tied it up in what I’d call a sorry excuse for a bun and paraded around in my oversized glasses. On top of that I was wearing my mum’s kurta that basically hung loosely over me. That too over a peasant skirt. Yea, I do that sometimes. Partly because I live to make nonsensical combinations like that, but mostly because pulling on skinny jeans in the morning is way too much of an effort. So when she stood in front of me looking all nice and pretty with her makeup and perfectly set hair, I could actually hear his cruel laughter ringing in my ears.

Now let’s go into flashback mode.

Snitch and Kay used to be very good friends. Back then she was just an oversized sidekick with no dressing sense. Kay of course, was quite the opposite. She was the girl with the cool clothes, a gang of friends who adored her and indefinable thing going on with this boy we shall refer to as Loser (makes the L sign). All of this made Snitch a jealous little cow. Dear Hindu gods, do not wage a war against me.

So seeing Snitch there with her arm candy, lead to a serious case of dumpey-ness. For god’s sake, I was wishing my life was like the girl, who spent all her time trying to be like me. It took my quarter life crisis to a whole new level.

hich brings me to the question, what is so attractive about Rimbos (raven haired bimbos) anyway? Their lack of intelligence, personality or both? Oh wait! Their well endowed twin assets more than make up for it, don’t they?

In the Land of Rimbos, I accept defeat. I’m going to pull my sweatpants on, dig into a bowl of ice-cream, chic-flick style and watch movies back to back. On days like these men like of Rajat Kapoor, Abhay Deol and Rahul Bose give hope. Atleast, there are a few desi items who refuse to pick silicone over substance.

Quarter life crisis and sexy-sexy (non-existent) boyfriends!

My pumpkin pies!

I think Quarter life crisis has struck me bad! While it's obviously one of the worst things to happen, a teeny tiny part of me, loves how filmy it makes my life sound. Well, Chic-flickish to be precise. So grab a bowl of popcorn and listen to me rant rather dramatically about why the feeling of dumpey-ness has been shamelessly following me around.

Well, I used to think I was the 'girl with the plan'. I'm suddenly not so sure anymore. If I don't spend the rest of my life writing, my soul will die and disintegrate. But if I spend my entire life only writing and nothing else, then my self worth with die and disentegrate. I will wake up every morning, feeling like a useless, worthless, potato of a person who has done nothing. Achieved nothing! So I have a long list of other things that I simply have to do. But the list is so long that I don't know how I'm going to do all of it. If I pay more attention to one, I'll feel like I'm neglecting the other. If I try to do the thing I'm neglecting, there will be some fifty other things biting me slowly at the back of my head leading to a serious cause of mental explosion. And if I try to do justice to all of them, my entire being will die and disintegrate. All that and more before I'm old enough to suffer from mid-life crisis!

Omg! This system! So much pressure! I don't even know what PG program I am going to do next year. Or which Universities I should be looking at. Should I even be doing a PG program next year or should I jump to join the first company that offers me an amazing job? Should I work and then study? Study and then work? Or should I work, study and handle being a bag-wali side by side?

What about money? Will I make enough to live the life of a splurgina? Will I find happiness in whatever I do? Will I be healthy at the same time? Or will I find a desk job that swells me to the size of a char bacho wali ma? Will I find a hot-as-hell boyfriend? Will I move in with him or get married right away? Will I find a sexy-sexy husband or will I have to depend on my folks to hook me up with a rich balding guy who'll throw a lavish wedding in return for pressing his feet for the rest of my life and running towards him with a glass of water everytime he screams Lajo-Lajo(or whatever shady name he'll come up with) ?

So as of now, I basically feel like the dumpey protagonist, who is sitting on an arm chair wearing pink sweatpants, stuffing herself with her 48th bowl of chocolate ice-cream and listening to some very melancholy music, worrying herself sick about how and when and where and if and but , everything will fall into place.

But but but, since it is a chick-flick, everything has to get sorted out no? So let's say the gorgeous actress will wake up to find a swanky pink car in her garage, an appointment letter from Vogue sitting by her bedside and drop dead gorgeous boy, who has climbed in through the window to confess his undying love for her. The two of them will break into song and dance. The heavens will bring forth rain in the hot Summer. Everybody will live happily ever after!


And that my dear friends is the end of my story.
So long!
More wishful thinking later :D

Of Nostalgia and the rains

On most days, I feel like I'm pretty strong.
But on days like these, I marvel at how I manage to fool myself.

All I want to do right now, is curl into a big arm chair with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, so I can have you sit next to me and talk about all the things I love, while watch that rain go pitter-patter from my window sill.

Funny thing this nostalgia.
It makes the most disconnected souls crave for familiarity and for love.

How to feel less dumpy 101

Dear ______(Insert favourite dessert here),
   Since, it's a Sunday afternoon and I don't particularly have any brunches or wine and cheese parties to attend. Detoxification and all that. Or the fact that I *never* get invited to one of those. I am going to sit here and share some very important gyaan with you. A dear friend of mine mailed me about about how she felt down in the dumps. Now, I am almost always trying to make my life sounds as awesome as I can possibly can. But I must admit, this dump-ey feeling hasn't spared me either. So before I reply to her mail, I dedicate this post to everybody who has absolutely worthless. Presenting how to feel less dump-ey 101.

Rule no #1. Chocolate is the God of foods. Depression always leads to emotional eating. Which leads to a not so attractive belly. Which further leads finding, a not attractive at all boy-frand! So find that piece of heaven. Preferable a dark chocolate one. You know, lesser calories and all of that. And promise yourself that one bar is *all* it takes.

Rule no #2. Yeh Rishtaaa kya kehlaaaa-taa hai! Heard that before? Vaguely? Indian soaps are the bestest no? Plop into the sofa, give your grandmommy company and prepare to be thoroughly entertained. When the the lead actress, acts( I use the term very loosely) oh-so-dramatic and voices her opinion on how she worries about women who don't wear sindhoors and mangal sutras, your problem will seem trivial!

Rule no #3. Open your eyes to technicoloured dreams. And this how I subtly do the PR for my blog. Ok fine, that was a shady one! Getting back to anti-dumpey-ness. Colours are therapeutic. They are mood uplifters. They are make the world as beautiful as it is. So that pair of cream shorts and grey sweatshirt goes where it belongs. The wastebin! Find the prettiest, most colourful dress. Match it with a super dhinchak pair of ballerinas. Watch that grin becoming bigger and bigger. I'm not sure guys should try this though. Govinda look alikes are not my type. Or anybody's type for that matter.

Rule no#4. Sales, freebies and discounts. The thrill of paying less for the same amount of stuff. Priceless! Go to the nearest mall, ask the salesperson, 'discount kis par milega' and voila! Happiness has been found.

Rule no#5. Google is God. My awesome friend Shreya from 'Such a Cow' has a thing for this Australian cricketers. I wont tell you his name because I'm frankly too cool to remember. But she googles his name every now and then to check out hot pictures, the world wide web has to offer. And when she is tired of leching at his images, she starts googling random phirangs. That girl, I tell you! Anyway, since sweat-soaked sportsmen are not my type, I urge to search images of Rajat Kapoor instead. *hearts skips a beat* Ain't I dramatic?

Rule no#6. It's time to be booty-ful. While Google is the God of pictures, Youtube is the God of videos. When I feel dumpey, I type two magical words- belly and dance. What follows is an hour long session of mirror entertainment. The sort that would earn me coins and coins in dollars and pounds. So I suggest you you google your favourite dance form and move to the awesome beats. If you are just not as gifted as I am, ganpati-visarjan dance videos are plenty. There is hope for everybody in this world.

Rule no#7. K-ay is awesome. Well everybody on blogspot seems to be talking about how awesome they are. I do not want to be left out in this race. I'd like to leave you with perhaps the most important rule. Keep visiting my blog every now and then. The gyaan you will find here will help you counteract all your grumpiness and dumpiness!


Until, cheesy lines continue to be the source of my inspiration!

xoxo

Like strands of silver hair

I was an awkward kid, hiding behind these oversized Harry Potter glasses, when it was cool to wear tiny rimless frames. When I hit puberty, I finally convinced my parents to let me wear contact lenses on a regular basis.

Every school has labels. I don’t particularly remember being the cool kid, until I bid farewell to that hideous obstructive piece of eyewear that sat on the top of my nose. The day I embraced contacts, I saw this sudden transformation in my personality. I felt as if I was finally comfortable with who I was. Or so I thought.

My glasses then started playing hide and seek with the outside world. On the rare occasions, that I wore my glasses outside of the four walls of my house, I was restless and uncomfortable. It was like going back to being the little girl I so despised.

And then a little while ago another transformation came about. I found my soul-glasses just when I had given up. A gorgeous pair of black and blue wayfarers. I felt unusually drawn towards them to the extent that my contacts started to take a back seat in my life. Nowadays, when I am forced to embrace them again, I find myself ill at ease. I suppose I grew out of glasses just to grow fond of them again.

And why is any of this relevant? Because, I see this as an ultimate acceptance of who I am. Like an old woman who sports her silver strands as sign of the wisdom she has collected over the ages, I am going to sport these insanely quirky glasses, like they are an integral part of me.

Victory

While some people have their fairy tale endings, others wait endlessly for their perfect someone to come along. And then there are those of us who hold onto the wrong person because we convince ourselves that they are the epitome of perfection.


It’s been a year since I let you step in. It’s been a year since I let you step out. It’s amazing how I found the strength to do the one thing I never thought I would.

But my greatest strength lies in the fact that when I picture perfection, I don’t see you in the frame anymore. Nor do I hold onto the illusion that someday who will step back into my life to help me find that perfection I yearn for.

May be I have finally grown up. I suppose you have too. I always thought our paths would intersect someday. But time has made us grow further apart. May be we were never meant to be on the same road.