Letters

Faded black ink
On off-white sheets
The faint smell of nostalgia lingers
On these unsent letters

Transformed
To a time submenrged
Underneath a barrage of memories

I dust the reel
Melancholy is forgotten
Bits and pieces join together
I'm lost in the images

The sound of catalysis echoes
It got the better of you then
It got the better of me now

We created magic together
Until time got the better of us somehow

Bubbles

There is a whole lot of darkness. And a little bit of light.
You can feel the wind blowing, when you stand on a height.
It brings a little bit of cheer. And a little bit of melancholy.
Together they live in my heart and challenge the very idea of harmony.
I'm singing songs. The happy and tragic sort.
I'm blowing bubbles. I'm bursting thoughts.
They are the same colour and somehow they look like different colours to me.
O ye, conflicting emotions, are you going to be the death of me?

The Queen of Cups

I wake up.
To the smell of cinnamon incense.
I spread the cards before me.
They tell me a story.
A new one everyday.
Some dark, some strange, some fascinating.
I think I'm love.
With the world they build around me.
I anticipate the manifestation.
The fulfillment of the dream.
The Queen of Cups, she looks at me pensively.

There is a cupcake inside my cookie

[Statutory Warning: The picture and title have absolutely nothing to do with the story]

I walk into the kitchen to see a big box of cookies lying on the table.
No, no. *Big* box of *big* cookies.
Giant size bites of happiness.
I almost felt like the chocolate chips on top were forming a face. :)
One that kept grinning at me excessively and idiotically.

I knew it that very moment.
The only place these cookies would look a little more delightful then they already do, was inside my stomach.
And for the first time in my life, I was taken over by feeling so strange that I'm not even sure it happened.
As soon as I had a couple of bites, I realized the cookies were almost too sweet for my tastebuds.
And all I could have was one.
ONE COOKIE.
I have never ever been repelled by sugar before. Ever ever ever.
Is it just me or is world actually actually taking somersaults?

Anyhooooow, I've recently learned the meaning of the word M.I.A.
Missing in action, for those dimmer than I am.
And I honestly think it's such a cool word that I'm going to disappear from blogspot every now and then just so I can come back and say: I'm so sorry! I've been MIA.

Now coming back to real reasons for why this post is being written.
The exams are coming closer.
The University ones.
Gaaaaaaaaaaah. *Makes a face*
And obviously all this time, while I was jobless I never had the urge to write
Not once.
Not twice.
Now that I know I'm supposed to be buring myself inside a pile of books until they form a fortress around me, I'm taken over by that irresistible urge to turn my stupid little thoughts into words.
Obviously there is a major dysfunction in the way I was made. *Dramatic sigh*
Why else would I ignore my blog when I have nothing to do and embrace it like my long lost husband when there are million things to do?

But, I have to admit.
Goddess of Nonsense Mrs Doodling Irrelevant Thoughts
Mrs = misses.
Get eeeeet?

I'd like act *Smug Muffin* and take full credit for that SofunnyIcouldLaughingandNeverRecover (or not) joke.
But the tragic truth is, that joke will never be mine.
One of my very awesome friend came up with it.
Also, what exactly does that say about my company?

Another friend of mine makes it a point to use '>.<' this emoticon every time he talks to me.
Emoticons are inspired by real life emotions.
However, our emotions are inspired by emoticons.
We've practising '>.<' look ever since.
The world must slow down it's suomersaults.
In case you're wondering what you're doing on the blog of a twelve year old, I thought I should make it a point to mention to you that I'm actually twenty.
Yes, two with a zero.
Wait, what? You would have never guessed?
Yeah, me neither.

I promise the next time I'm going to try to make some sense of what I say and sound very cool and twenty-ish.

*Doodles hearts*

Goodbye, cupcakes!

There are people.
Lots of them.
Some old. And so many new.
Drastically different from each other.
Adorable in so many ways.

Then why do I feel the winds of emptiness are closing in on me.
I'm not sure what I'm seeking.
I'm not sure why it hasn't found me yet.
Perhaps, I'll just bury my nose in a book and escape reality for a bit.

Miksang and the fine art of Photography

I have no hope, do I?
1.40 a.m . and here I am blogging.
What was I doing through the rest of the day?
Never mind.

I'm doing a photography course in college which I very excited about.
Creative people need newer outlets, right?
So I draw the curtians, pull the blanket and switch off the light.
My mind wanders.
The song from Coke's ad plays in my head. Aaj ki raat, koi aane ko hai.
The song somehow makes sense to me. Don't ask me to explain.
An image of the scarlet pleated pants I saw at Zara flash before my eyes. I should have just bought them, no?
They were fucking gorgeous.
I hear my brother singing somehwere in the background. I didn't know bathroom singers come alive at this time. Some of us are trying to sleep people!
Then I start to think of the jeggings I bought. I can't wait for it to be tomorrow. Only and only so I can wear them and walk around and take pictures.
And suddenly, I am wide awake.
Damn you, Miksang. You're the real cause of my insomnia.

Our assignment involves taking pictures with the unconscious mind.
On most days, my conscious mind is only half awake.
Having said that, I feel like Miksang was created for people like me.

The assignment is due tomorrow and I know I should have taken pictures a long time ago, but it's been a busy, busy week.
So I'm going to step out early in the morning and walk around places in this city I love the most.
The very thought of it makes me love the world a little more.

Until then, you treat your eyes to previously taken pictures that now qualify as Miksang.

Can you guess which one is my favourite?

The butterfly haze

It’s 1.17 a.m. Looks like sleep has deluded me.I’m sleepy, but I’m awake.Like my mind refuses to go to sleep.

I must stop having dark chocolate. It sends sleep flying out of my window. It is times like these that I do the randomest of things.

There are a few beer bottles left over from new years. I’ve been pouring it on my hair ever since. Just before I take bath. It does wonders for my hair, I tell you.

It seemed like such a waste, though. To let my hair drink all of it. I decided I’m going to drink it instead.

I love my alcohol, but when it comes to beer, the mere taste of it makes me want to hurl. I've always wanted to know what the big deal about this golden-brown liquid is, anyway. I closed my eyes and gulped a few sips down.

Alcohol bottles sitting at the back of my closet usually spell trouble. And I’m not the usual sharabi ladki who sneaks bottles in and drinks them at inappropriate hours. It’s a little hard to get rid of these bottles, though. New years left me with a bunch of good memories. Funny, I haven't spoken about it at all.

I like playing hostess. I just get a little worried about calling a bunch of people who have never seen each other, even on Facebook. What’s a host got to do if the guests won’t talk? I wish I was an awkward moment breaker. But in most cases I end up being the creator. I can be socially retarded like that.

As it ends up I’m just one among a lot of other socially awkward beings. I’m not saying all of my friends are like that, I’m just saying I have a few of my kind around. What happens when you put them in one room? You have a party you’re going to remember for a while.

While I’d like to believe I did make a good host, I have random memories of jumping around the house in a pair of grey stockings and yellow bunny rabbit ears. Having friends like these also means you’re allowed to wear whatever the hell you want.

In the bargain, I shamelessly forgot to order food. Or make some for that matter. We survived on Saloni’s pizzas and Avanti’s nutella sandwich.

Sugar rush is an awesome thing I tell you. Especially, if it hits you when you’re already high on alcohol. I was dancing to Sheila ki Jawani at 12 am. Item dancing. The spastic version. The sort when alcohol hits you and your limbs decide to go on a break.

There were conversations. Some emotional, some meaningful and some nonsensical and some downright hilarious. Apparently, there was singing as well. Right before I randomly fell asleep. Will you judge me if I tell you I sang ‘saat samundar par’?

Awesomeness that we are, Shreya and I party crashed as well. In the dead of the night. But we left as soon as we realised a) they were too old for us b) the aunties had too much cellulite on their thighs c) The music they were playing made it seem as if they were welcoming 2006. We slipped out quietly. Coke glasses in our hands. Her's ‘neat’. Mine ‘spiked’.

After all the little adventures, I finally properly fell asleep at 5 am, only to wake up to a happy-yappy me.

It’s going to be a good year. Don't you think so? *grins*

Frayed Dreams

Another set of dreams,
I seamlessly spin.
With smoke, dust and smoke,
They fade into a night so grim.

I seek the light.
I chase the day.
I begin to wonder,
If I'm running or running away?

As the dust and smoke,
Start to fade away,
I live in wonder and amazement,
Are all hopes meant to fray?

A little birdie named Item

Much too much awesomeness. Much 'two' much.
The new year is here with its shine and sparkle, and let's just say, I'm very excited.
It's graduation taaaaayme.
Two months, baby.

Am I happy?
<refer to the above>
Do I have no other feelings?
<refer to the line below>

I have too much love in my heart for this city.
Well, it has given me a lot.
Yes, it's cheesy mode for now.
But the bird must fly out of her nests to explore other nests and meet other birds and eat other worms.
It is time.

So, I'm going to go on a University googling spree.
I've already spoken to a few people, who have provided me with very sane advice on which Unis to apply to.
May be I will go abroad, may be I won't.
I suddenly have the urge to stay in India for a bit.
Before I find saxy husband and fly off to a land far, far away.

Too much daydreaminess for now.
You know, I'm going to miss college.
I never thought I'd say that.
Stupid KC made me fall in love.

Anyhow, I'm very excited for Grad-day, eventhough it is far-far away.
Sexy black robes and even sexier dresses underneath.
It will be uber-awesome.
I'm telling you.

Happy 2011, y'all!

Kitschy dreams

If there is something I hate more than people who wear grey and cream together, is being absolutely jobless. Staring into space. Changing channels on the television. Refreshing my Facebook page again and again. It makes me feel like a married aunty whose sits around waiting for her husband to get back from work. And I don’t have a husband also. You see where this is going?

So a while ago, when Wastey tells me there is work opportunity for the two of us, I put on my prettiest shoes and run towards my new workplace in slow motion. Instant love connection happened. And I’ve been running to work and college and back to work ever since. While I do miss randomly hanging out after college, I could not be happier.

Working here also makes me feel a little Konkona SenSharma in Wake Up Sid. I always envisioned that kind of life for myself. Living independently and writing about things I love the most. I’m graduating in six months. May be that life is not so far away.

Speaking of Wake Up Sid and husband, I almost fell in love with Ranbir Kapoor every time he stepped out with his camera.

Then again, there are a lot of things about the movie that made me fall in love. Remember Konkona’s off-white kurta with the little camels all over it? I liked it so much I painted my very own version of that kurta. Except, I replaced the camels with ‘banjaaran’. I love being gypsy-ish like that.

I love how the entire movie had such a kitschy feel to it. Right from her bedroom to the Mumbai Beat office. My office looks a little bit like, with random colours splashed all over the place. May be that’s another reason I love coming here as much as I do.

P.S. Did I tell you, I went to Chor Bazaar to do a story? ^_^

_______________________________________________________________________________

My brother and I talk sometimes. He does most of the talking. I pretend to listen for a while and then give that ‘are you suffering from verbal diarrhea look?’

A few weeks ago, he came running into my room saying he had to rush. I gave him the most disgruntled look ever, followed by a very long lecture. Reason? He was wearing a pair checkered shorts and a striped t-shirt. Just because they had the same colours, he thought it was socially acceptable to step out like that. What is a girl supposed to do when she sees such blasphemy being committed before her own eyes? He left me with no choice.

Yesterday we were walking home and he was telling me about how he thinks he is having a ‘hukka phase’. He was looking at me for some sort of sane advice. Stuff like stop destroying your lungs or I’m going to tell mommy.

Instead I look at him with a straight face. ‘Suit Yourself’. Those were my words of advice.

‘Tell me something! Scream at me!’

‘You can do whatever you want as long as you’re not doing in a pair of checkered shorts and striped tee.’

It was my brother’s turn to look at me absolutely straight faced.

The Airport: Scene 1

Airports and I, we share a love hate relationship. Every time I touch the airport, I’m filled with a strange rush of excitement and anticipation. When you think of the surprises that lie ahead, it’s hard not to love the place for what it offers.

For a girl who has grown up on a steady diet of rom-coms, I firmly believe airports are the best place to kickstart your love story. Have a good look at my profile. Favourite movies? When Harry met Sally, A Lot like Love and Hum Tum. And that is just as much as I love airports. Not to mention, 68.4373% (Yes, I made the figure up) of these romcoms end with one of the actors confessing their undying love for the other, at the airport, minutes before departure.

What do I hate about airports? Three things. The checking, the checking and the checking. How did I forget the long lines? For a person who hates standing in a line when there are five people ahead, waiting for thirty of them to move, is a real task. On top of that parents insist on travelling with their little kids, who insist on crying for no particular reason. They make me hate the world so much. Even more when they stand behind me, grabbing my ass at regular intervals.

Don’t get me started on my own parents. Their worst fear is being trapped in a foreign country with no Indian food to sustain them. Vegetarian food to be precise. So while we’re waiting in the line, they start having in depth conversations about the different ready to make MTR packets and lolas (Sindhi pancakes) they have carried. All of this happens very loudly, by the way, while I stand there wondering why the ground won’t open to swallow me up.

This time round, I’m travelling without my folks and my excitement is contagious. The times I have travelled without them, there has always been a friend. Let me tell you about this friend of mine. Her parents compete with mine in the paranoia department. When we were fifteen and travelling without them for the first time, they insisted on informing the airport staff so they’d look after us. I’m not going to divulge the details of what followed, for my own sake.

I’m the kind of person, who continues to sit whilst the train arrives, and gets up once everybody else has alighted. Coming early to the airport, in my opinion, is one the most pointless things in the world. This time round, I’m so excited, I’ll probably insist on reaching five hours in advance.

The thought of browsing through duty free shops and bookstores in my pretty sailor striped ballerinas and black high waist skirt seems rather exhilarating. Have I told you about my new Zara bag? Let’s just say she is stylish and fabulous. I can’t wait to walk around the airport with her. And then sit by the pretty little airport cafe sipping lattes. For as long as time will permit me.

(To be continued.........)

Mislaid tracks

Empty impending silences.
Long pauses.
Blank spaces.
White paper.
Mislaid tracks.

A pen in my hand.
I write the story,
Of the path ahead.
I lose the parchment.
Where am I going?

Monicaaaa, oh my darling!

Goddess of Nonsense. She loves you. No reaaally.
Why else would she be writing this post one day before her board exams?
It seems weirdly incomplete to go write this paper without blogging before hand.
I need you guys to wish me all the love and luck, yea?
And I'll will send each one of you homemade brownies.
With a personalized heart shaped thank you letter.
And, no! None of you will die after you consume them.

Anyway, speaking of the exams, I'm surprisingly calm about them.
Jumpy calm.
The sort that makes me want to sing, 'Monicaaaaaaa, my darling' in the middle of my paper.
I swear, when I was writing my prelim paper, every time an answer I knew well would be asked, my head would automatically start playing this song.
Now, I'm just hoping my paper is *filled* with Monica moments.

When I found out what my centre is, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
I'm going back to my junior college to the exams.
<Insert more yay-ness here>

I'm getting daydreamy again.
Nine days, and then I will be free to do all the little nonsense I've been aching to for weeks now.
*Grins at the thought of Diwali vacations*
There is *so* much that needs to be done.
I'm going to start with making lists.

You make a list of the kinds of brownies you want.
Baking lessons are sitting comfortable somewhere on the list!

The box.

Anger
Lust
Sorrow
Disgust

Castaway.
In a box
Full of your memories.

In the deep recesses
Of the attic,
They lie with the sundries.

Inexplicable.
Then why do I feel
So emotionally insane?

If I throw away
The little boxes,
Will the memories remain?

Sell your soul for favourite quotes!

You know those shady love stories where you chase somebody for sooooo long and realise when you're taking saat pheras around the fire that you are actually in love with your best friend, who's cat also treats you like a part of the family. Yes *that* friend who's been around for so long that you can't even remember what life was like without him. And then you turn around one-eighty degrees, make a dramatic exit from your own wedding, red saree flowing, strands of hair flying, gold jewellery clanking, while the band-baja wala suddenly stops playing the shehnai. All the people stand up and look at you pretending to be surprised while they're actually wondering, 'Omg does the bride's exit mean, we get absolutely no free food?'

But that is not the point of this story. What happens is that right after the bride goes running out she gets into the first cab she finds and tells the cabbie to take her to the airport/ bus stop/ station where her best friend (secretly her lover) is leaving for a fake trip to Ghaziabad/ Ambala/ Tiruchirapalli to set up a papad factory. Just when the train arrives he sees her running dramatically towards him. He throws his bag and runs towards her in slow motion. In the next scene they're siting by the same fire, with the same pandit, the same psychobabble, and the same red saree (What a cheapskate the director is). The only different thing is that, there are no guests in this wedding. They already ate free food at the previous one. So they're basically not invited. 

Aye! Shady guests are trying to get crash this blog post again! Getting to the point.The favourite quotes section on Facebook has always been around, looking at me lovingly, affectionately and patiently, while I shamelessly ignored it and flirted with every other application there was. Now that I have rediscovered it's awesomeness, I'm taking this relationship to a whole new level.

I may sound uber cool as I throw phrases like 'a whole new level', but truth be told it is just another phrase for stalkerishness. Let me explain a typical conversation between me and my friend Parinita, from Improper Conduct (we have just entered into an It's complicated relationship on FB, btw).

Me: <Psychobabble at it's best>

Pari: HAHAHA!

Me: Favourite quotes? ^_^

Didn't get eeeet? Haw :O Let me explain.

Basically for every funny thing I say, I torture her to put it up in her favourite quotes section.

Currently, the success rate is 2 to 1,00,000. Yes, that funny and thaaaaat stalkerish I am.

Anywaaaaaay, so we're both walking to the station today and we're making a list of tacky things to do on my birthday (next blog post that =D ), so I suggest that we sit on the footpath and take shots. Every shot should be followed by a very tacky secret. Then I go on to explain with an example.

Me: Saaaay, when I was ten or something, I thought Suniel Shetty was hot. For a day.

Pari: Hahahahaha! Don't tell anyone my tacky secret.

Me: What? What? What?

Pari: When I was a kid, I thought Jitendra was hot! (And I laugh as I type this!)

Me: If and when I find you an item, I will ask him to dress in all white and ask you out! I will also get him to play a tacky Jitendra film song in the background!

When I told her about my very tacky secret, part of me was relieved because I finally got it out. Another part of me regretted it deeply. For once, *she* screamed 'favourite quotes!' and I wasn't sure if I wanted the world to know this about me. On the other hand, with my new found commitment to the favourite quotes section, it seemed stupid to let this opportunity go to waste. I was torn.

I decided to put my love interest first. Who cares what the world thinks when he is by my side? The quote must go up!

I was super worried she would change her mind by the time she got home. So I took control of the situation.

Enter: Reverse Psychology.

Me: You *cannot* put this up!

Pari: I *so* can!

Me: Pari, I will *die* of embarassment.

Pari: Yea, that is the point!!

Me: No, Pari, No!

Pari: Yes! Yes! Yes!

My plan worked like magic. By the time I came home, there I was, smiling back at me from her favourite quotes. That didn't make any sense, no? Well, as long as you know what I'm trying to say, you grammar whore!

Aaaaanyway, the point is, I am made of awesome and there is no denying that.

To explain this further, I'd like to cite another example.

I was talking to Pranav from For The Wine, yesterday and we were discussing our college festival and all the drama that comes with it.

Me: And N was telling me that M thinks, the fest is her pitajee ka property!

P: Haha! Yes, I've hearing the same thing over and over again.

Me: I was very offended when I heard that.

P: Ouch. Why?

Me: Chauvinism has sunk to every level! Why can't the fest be Matajee ka property?!

P: Hahahahahaha!

Me: Favourite quotes!

And awesomeness that he is, actually went and put my quote up there! Two three tear drops came rolling down my eyes.

Anywaaay, speaking of coolness, awesomeness, (insert 4-5 synonyms here), Parinita and I decided to tell you only half the truth! We conveniently changed some of our quotes to make them a little cooler than they sounded then.

Pari: Wait that didn't sound right!

Me: Oh yea!

Pari: (thinking deeply)

Me: Here's an idea.

Pari: Say say say!

Me: Let's rig our favourite quotes!

Pari: Hahaha! I'm not putting that up but!

Mental Spam

Instability
Emptiness
Dark shadows

Written, unwritten verses
Spoken, unspoken words

Spam,
It feels like mental spam,
These obsessive destructive thoughts.

Dark shadows of the past
Loom in the present

You're gone.
But when I wake up every morning,
Why does this room still smell of you?

I wish upon a star

I'm happy and daydreamy.
Happy, lost and daydreamy.
Daydreamy, lost and happy.

I have an Indian Regional Journalism paper tomorrow that involves learning a lot of dates, names and statistics.
It wouldn't have been so hard, if I had paid attention.
But sadness makes me daydreamy. Happiness makes makes me daydreamy. Sitting in class makes me daydreamy.
Rainbows, butterflies and balloons.

Also, thinking about my birthday makes me very daydreamy.
It's just around the corner and I'm a little more excited than I should be.
Turning twenty should make me sane, right?
It seems to be having the reverse effect on me.

What am I doing on my birthday?
Ummm... putting on a really tiny dress, having a little more than ten shots and dancing on the top of a table in a random bar?
Yeah, right.
My birthday had to plonk itself right in the middle of prelims and boards.
Foooooo!
Which basically means, there are no plans.

I suppose I could wake up and do every random thing that crosses my head.
Thank god for retarded friends?
Fes!
I'm going to let them figure, while dig into brownies and chocolate cake.
And a tiny word of advice, no tacky gifts from Dombivali, ok? *makes a dirty face*

I've been thinking about what I really want for my birthday.
For starters, a pair of very pretty and ridiculously expensive pair of Zara Heels should suffice.
I'm always stalking people to take pictures for my blog.
It would be so nice to have an awesome camera myself.
Not to mention, photography skills.
May be I'll get one of those fancy cameras myself.

I also want to wake up every morning like I'm on sugar rush.
Realise another one of those dreams, I see through the day.
I want to make place for new things. New people.
Ask everything that has no place here, to go find a new home.

"Do I know? Yes, I do.
I won't say it. Why won't you?"

Nonsense. Goddess of Nonsense.

One day before my prelim paper, I bury my notes, hide all of my books and swallow my biting conscience. Why? So I could entertain all seventy five of you. And another 25 odd followers who stalk my blog regularly, but refuse to follow. I decide to spend the 57.23 good minutes of my evening writing a blogpost, and I have absolutely no comments! Zero. Zilch. Shunya. Have you been hit by a bus? Better still, *run over*? Well, if you haven't, I hope you do! All seventy five of you! Grrrrr.

Anyway. There is yet another paper tomorrow and I'm giving into the temptation. Damn you blogspot! I'm going to sue you if I don't do well.

Looks like I forgot to mention Facebook? Oh.my.GOD. One notification after another. One pointless conversation after another. Aaaa! Mental spam.

On top of that, something very amusing I read on Facebook struck me during the paper. Mental giggle fest I went on. That was right before mental giggle fest #2, which happened as a result of a friend mentioning something else that happened on Facebook. All that, while I'm trying to remember answers that I didn't study. Why? Ummm because I was on Facebook.

But for a good two hours yesterday Facebook evaded me. That's when Gtalk stepped in. It's so much better to talk without worrying about the person on the other end dying for a minute or two ever now and then. Apparently, matchmaking is my exam stressbuster. I've been trying very hard to set one of my friends up. Who you may ask? Well, lets call him Champu Scooterwala, a.k.a log mujhe pyaar se Scoooooter bulate hai.

Me: I want to keeeeeeeeel somebody!

Scooter: Who ser?

Me: Well, for starters I could kill you.

Scooter: But, if you kill me what will happen to 'the plan'? (the plan being me setting him up with another friend)

Me: It's a dead plan! You killed it a looooong time ago. You will die a virgin! I promise you.

S: Why sir? :( (yes, he refers to me as sir. He's is very cool like that)

Me: Because you haven't asked her out yet!

S: I will. Give me exactly two weeks, sir.

Me: TWO WEEKS? Omg you need more time?

S: Uh you want to me to ask her out now?

Me: THAT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE A BAD IDEA!

S: But sir! Build up hona chahiya na!

Me: I'LL CREATE THE BUILD UP?

S: No sir! I will.

Me: WHEN?AFTER TWO YEARS?

S: No no! Today!

Me: LIAR!

S: I promise!

Me: Kalank!

S: Arrey! I said na, todaaaay.

Me: Thoooooo!

Very happening life I have.

Anyway, I'm going to go study now.

P.S. I'm going to marry the owner of Theobroma and then have an extramarital affair with owner of Cafe Moshe. Wheeeeeeee!

Post IV blues.

It's been too long, sir. Waaaaay too long. And what better time that the day before your prelims, to revisit? It's been eventful. It's been uneventful. It's been many things.

Funny, I haven't spoken about the trip at all. With my whole anti-college phase going on, I didn't think I'd be happy sitting in a train with 120 people, who I have to try very hard not to slap. Yes, I sometimes feel I'm cooler than a lot of people. Deal with it.
You know what I like the most about these college trips? They're absolutely random. You're packing your bag, calling all of your friends, making mental notes about what you're going to do. And then bam! The trip happens. And everything goes against your little plan. Sometimes it's just disastrous. But most of the time it's turns out to be surprisingly awesome.

I'm walking towards the hotel lobby from the gardens. There is a little lake on the way, with very noisy ducks inside. They were on sugar rush, I suppose (or whatever they get high on) and kept me distracted for a while. Good thing I didn't notice the empty swing that kept uniformly moving until I was almost out of the darkness. What is so strange about an empty swing moving in the darkness? Well, creepy to say the least, especially if the one next to it, isn't moving at all. Also, I should tell you this. There was no wind. Not even a bit.
I wanted to scream, but I ran instead. Adrenaline rush. All the way till I reached my room. Surely, I couldn't have imagined it. I go around telling the story. Ghost stories never fail to fascinate, no? At two a.m. in the morning, eight of us, in the middle of a 'tales of the Satan' session decide, nothing could possibly make this more fun than going ghost hunting at the hour of the Satan. What follows is a lot of screaming, nail biting, false alarms and panic attacks on the way to the scene of errr...horror.
The next day we discovered that the swing continues to move for atleast fifteen minutes after the swinger(what are they called) gets off the swing. But that night, we were so caught up in the frenzy, we lost every bit of our reasoning. And I'm so glad we did. We had one heck of an adventurous night.

Nothing beats drunks nights though. One minute you're in your room having shots and woo-ing like a mad woman and the next minute, you are... Okay, what happened next minute? Why won't somebody tell me? Actually you'd rather not. I don't want in detailed stories of how I embarrased myself. Let's just say two boys weren't enough to drag me back to my room. It took fours of them, a girl and a very awkward conversation in the lift. Oh btw, I was asleep when this happened. So I am in complete denial about all of this.
Clearly they couln't decide who was worse? A very annoying, shrill, shrieky, woman who kept wooooo-ing at random intervals, said way too many things, most of which made no sense at all, and embarrased a lot of other people by telling them who she wanted to set them up with (I am a matchmaker when I'm drunk). Also, I fell asleep on a random bench, somehwere along the way, with my hair all over my face. A lot of people mistook me for a ghost. Six and half shots of vodka. Two and a half shots of gin. Apparently, there is a lot alcohol can make you do.

And then I bonded with nice people, crashed random parties, spoke to a lot of people I had never spoken to before. I also danced around in circles like a mad woman on DJ night and scandalised every onlooker.

And I had decided none of this when I was packing.

I had my low-days and 'I want to kill somebody now' moments. I also, had my 'why did I come for this stupid trip?' moments.

But almost a month after the trip is over, the sweet aftertaste is all that remains.

Jassi Jaisi koi nahin

It's a bright yellow Sunday morning, I'm so giggly, you'll think I'm in one of those Juhi Chawla- Ravina Tandon type movies and a very hairy Sunny Deol/ Anil Kapoor has climbed up my window with love note in one hand and shady red roses in the other. 

But the truth is, Anil Kapoor or no Anil Kapoor, life must go on. Other replacements have been found. And I spend my days showering my affection upon them.

Apparently, sugar can do to me, what alcohol cannot. While most people are ready to take their clothes off after a few shots, I look at them wide eyed, feeling more sane and sober than I ever did, wondering what the hell my body is made of. On the other hand, when I'm high on sugar, the above mentioned giggly-ness happens. Jokes that are otherwise too sidey to be cracked in public are suddenly out in the open. The random urge to break into song and dance takes over. The urge to sing must be resisted as it is hazardous to the mental and physical health of those around. Dance however, can happen in public. In any case, when it is inappropriate to dance in public, I just go to the Ladies room. I actually used to do that in my previous workplace when I was brimming with giggly-ness. Pinky promise. And whatever you do, don't tell this anyone.

So back to my story. Affection is currently being showered upon five grain biscuits. They make my morning coffee so awesome, that I'm on sugar rush all day.

Coming back to tacky movie scenes, I'm having one heck of a movie marathon next weekend with Nautanki, Cow and other such losers. Be jealous ya'll! While you sit in the company of your tables and chairs watching Rajnikant and Govinda movies, I have friends who came out to me about their love for such nonsense. Now that we have formed a tacky movie club, we will never be alone in our endeavors.

I am also going for a play today. I bought these very awesome hippie pants the other day, straight fit with a  bandhini print. While my mum believes that it looks like I have wrapped my legs in a gift wrapping paper, I am convinced these are one of the coolest pants I have ever had. So cool that they have inspired me to go for the play. Today I'm going to wear my glasses, carry a jhola, sip chai, throw fancy words around and discuss the play like I'm some psuedo intellectual. Split personality I have no?

Glasses remind me, the other day I was walking down the street, and these two idiots start poking each others ribs and giggling. Then one of the says 'Jassi jaisi koi nahin'. Such a dirty look I gave him, I swear to god, he peed in his pants.

Then yesterday, I was standing at the bus stop and suddenly it decided to rain. You know it could have waited another five minutes. I would have reached home by then. But no! Since I'm usually too lazy to carry an umbrella, I pulled a newspaper out and kept it on top of my head. Firstly it prevented my hair from getting wet, secondly it made me look all smart and intellectual.

Apparently, a girl with a newspaper on her head is even more amusing than a girl with very huge glasses. All these shady people would stop in front of me for a second, stare with their eyes wide open and try not to giggle. How to live in a city with idiots like these?

Good news is, super awesome cat-eye glasses have found their way into my life. *burst into a very awesome dance routine* Apparently, my mum seems to agree with those who believe in these glasses are absolutely weird and is convinced her daughter will have to resort to shaadi.com if she continues to walk around like that. So while most people hide their lovers/ diaries/ stash of 'pron' from their mothers, I have been hiding my superawesome glasses, lest she gets a heart attack and loses hope even on shaadi.com.

That's all for today sexy people!

I'm going to go fix myself some equally sugary lunch.

Hugs and flying kisses for y'all!