" Do you know how many call girls I can get with just a phone call?" he asked in exasperated amusement...
" Very many I know" she replied.....
...And she wondered if she would ever dare say the same with such casual confidence?
Even to he who was the love of her life and her closest confidante?
Would any woman dare?.....
So much for women's liberation.....
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Downsizing Jumbo!
Never let go of your sisters, they say. Amen to that.
Where would we be if we didn't have our safe, warm Venusian cocoons to retreat into for that special brand of sisterly love to cope with the highs and lows of life? Probably lolling about on the couch glued to the idiot box with candy wrappers and tubs of ice cream strewn about our feet. Or pounding the payments in search of retail therapy.
As much as I love my women friends, I must confess that there are instances when the male of the species is definitely more effective...Say like when the fat monsters come for a visit and overstay like the proverbial camel!!! Gain a pound and all my male friends descend on me like demons from hell, while my girl friends only soothe my battered ego and sympathise.
No small wonder that I have been fighting a loosing battle against the bulge for as long as I can remember. The rare lean days that came my way were all gone with the wind before it even registered. In vain have I scoured the the earth for suitable diets and practical exercise regimens. And when that failed, I learned to suck in my stomach and hold my breath until I was pink in the face. When people raved about my peaches and cream complexion, I smiled a secret smile and kept counting to 100...
But with age came sluggish metabolism. And before I knew it, I had transformed from voluptuous to jumbo size. The roses in my cheeks disappeared into fleshy folds and I even contemplated whale bone stays and corsets to contain the girth. On the best of days, I looked and felt like a dwarf pachyderm.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. So when the gazillionth square of gooey fudge brownie had found its way to my hips, I decided to recruit the most ruthless of my male friends into Operation Downsize Jumbo.
Venu, my fitness guru from back home, was the first one on board....His fitness blue print and caustic barbs drove the carbs out of the window and, much to my regret, sugar, spice and everything remotely sinful as well. For two whole months, I diligently puffed away on my cycle, turning a deaf ear to the enticing pleas of my favourite foods as they clamoured for attention in the windows of my mind. Sadly, I was never the one for discipline nor abstinence. And ever so slowly, the calories trickled back in until the exercise could no longer combat its effect.
A Diet Controller, I decided, was the need of the hour and who better than my good friend and fitness maniac Anu?? Anu took to his new role with the utmost zeal and relish which, might I add, bordered on sadism. I was required to report in on every morsel that passed through my lips....Consumed only after an in-depth discussion on its protein-carb-fat content. In between meals, I was besieged with messages that threatened dire consequences if I were to succumb to the charms of the grass skirted hula dancing chocolate donuts or the tantalising smells that emanated from the local patisserie.
I should have shed a considerable amount of lubber and probably would have, if it weren't for the fact that the forbidden fruit was indeed unspeakably desirable. " No point fighting the lard. Let us all just remain happily fat" crooned the voices in my head as I watched the retreating back of my Diet Controller. And for sometime, we - me, my fat cells and the voices in my head - were just that....Happily Fat!
But the happy state of affairs was not to last.
Enter R, a very dear friend, who decided that I needed to be taken in hand and pounded into shape...Not because it would make me look good, but because, it was important for me to be healthy. He did prove to be a lot more effective than his predecessors. Probably because there were no pointed barbs, no veiled or direct threats and above all, no extensive bad foods list to adhere to. All R wanted me to do was to exercise and eat in moderation..And this he achieved by gently prodding me into action with his lazy humour - " hey, your lips have gotten fatter in just two days!..." - which inevitably brings on an anxiety attack.
It has been close to 20 days now and I have so far, not fallen off the wagon.
If R goes the way of his predecessors, I shall find myself some happily fat friends with whom I can gorge myself to repulsive corpulence...Just so that the rest of the 'Wanna-Be skinnies' can feel good about themselves.
*Sigh* .....Such Altruism!!!
Where would we be if we didn't have our safe, warm Venusian cocoons to retreat into for that special brand of sisterly love to cope with the highs and lows of life? Probably lolling about on the couch glued to the idiot box with candy wrappers and tubs of ice cream strewn about our feet. Or pounding the payments in search of retail therapy.
As much as I love my women friends, I must confess that there are instances when the male of the species is definitely more effective...Say like when the fat monsters come for a visit and overstay like the proverbial camel!!! Gain a pound and all my male friends descend on me like demons from hell, while my girl friends only soothe my battered ego and sympathise.
No small wonder that I have been fighting a loosing battle against the bulge for as long as I can remember. The rare lean days that came my way were all gone with the wind before it even registered. In vain have I scoured the the earth for suitable diets and practical exercise regimens. And when that failed, I learned to suck in my stomach and hold my breath until I was pink in the face. When people raved about my peaches and cream complexion, I smiled a secret smile and kept counting to 100...
But with age came sluggish metabolism. And before I knew it, I had transformed from voluptuous to jumbo size. The roses in my cheeks disappeared into fleshy folds and I even contemplated whale bone stays and corsets to contain the girth. On the best of days, I looked and felt like a dwarf pachyderm.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. So when the gazillionth square of gooey fudge brownie had found its way to my hips, I decided to recruit the most ruthless of my male friends into Operation Downsize Jumbo.
Venu, my fitness guru from back home, was the first one on board....His fitness blue print and caustic barbs drove the carbs out of the window and, much to my regret, sugar, spice and everything remotely sinful as well. For two whole months, I diligently puffed away on my cycle, turning a deaf ear to the enticing pleas of my favourite foods as they clamoured for attention in the windows of my mind. Sadly, I was never the one for discipline nor abstinence. And ever so slowly, the calories trickled back in until the exercise could no longer combat its effect.
A Diet Controller, I decided, was the need of the hour and who better than my good friend and fitness maniac Anu?? Anu took to his new role with the utmost zeal and relish which, might I add, bordered on sadism. I was required to report in on every morsel that passed through my lips....Consumed only after an in-depth discussion on its protein-carb-fat content. In between meals, I was besieged with messages that threatened dire consequences if I were to succumb to the charms of the grass skirted hula dancing chocolate donuts or the tantalising smells that emanated from the local patisserie.
I should have shed a considerable amount of lubber and probably would have, if it weren't for the fact that the forbidden fruit was indeed unspeakably desirable. " No point fighting the lard. Let us all just remain happily fat" crooned the voices in my head as I watched the retreating back of my Diet Controller. And for sometime, we - me, my fat cells and the voices in my head - were just that....Happily Fat!
But the happy state of affairs was not to last.
Enter R, a very dear friend, who decided that I needed to be taken in hand and pounded into shape...Not because it would make me look good, but because, it was important for me to be healthy. He did prove to be a lot more effective than his predecessors. Probably because there were no pointed barbs, no veiled or direct threats and above all, no extensive bad foods list to adhere to. All R wanted me to do was to exercise and eat in moderation..And this he achieved by gently prodding me into action with his lazy humour - " hey, your lips have gotten fatter in just two days!..." - which inevitably brings on an anxiety attack.
It has been close to 20 days now and I have so far, not fallen off the wagon.
If R goes the way of his predecessors, I shall find myself some happily fat friends with whom I can gorge myself to repulsive corpulence...Just so that the rest of the 'Wanna-Be skinnies' can feel good about themselves.
*Sigh* .....Such Altruism!!!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The Alpha Martians Vs. The Corporate Amazon...
Normally, home truths about humanity dawn on me at the most mundane of moments...When I am lounging about in a blue pool..or ambling along without a care in my heart. However, this time, departing from the routine, enlightenment struck at a corporate meeting....And my discovery? The Alpha Martians.
The Alpha Martians are no near extinct species I chanced to stumble upon. They are everywhere...Airports, Pubs, Theatres, on Trains, Orkut, Face Book...In short, everywhere! They proudly trace their bloodline to Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan or at the very least, to the marauding vikings of yore. And they make no bones about wanting to following in the footsteps of their adventure seeking ancestors, by transforming myriad spaces in the modern world into long forgotten battle grounds. Some do so with great forethought and careful planning while others sally forth fueled by adrenaline alone.
At first glance, they can pass off as mere martians but not for long. For you see, the Hun Gene plays second fiddle to none.
As I discovered this morning when a group of martians transformed before my eyes into Alphas of the whimsical kind. It was with a thumping heart that I walked into the meeting room. Bringing a group of martians around to the Venusian point of view is, without doubt, a herculean task. And one which I do not always relish. It calls for master cunning, strategy and a whole load of snicker bars!!!
My entry into the male bastion was noted with interest mingled with speculation. Eyes gleamed rapaciously..... Not at my comely form as I would have liked to flatter myself, but at the prospect of a fresh conquest and the opportunity to show off the martian mental prowess.
" So we have this exhibition coming up and I think its time we sat down to work out a master plan...You know the litera....."
As I opened the discussion, I could almost hear the testosterone addled brains whirring into action. And I had barely progressed past my first sentence when they pounced upon me like a pack of ebullient puppy dogs on a big juicy bone.
" Oh yeah, you should send me a profile so that I can fill up some paperwork for the event..."
" We should get Cd's......maybe a TV screen where we can play a video..."
Without doubt, the hi decibel ideas which were whizzing all over the room were meant to intimidate...As was the pack attack. But the corporate amazon in me remained unfazed. " As I was saying, we should discuss ideas from which we can create a master plan..set deadlines and work systematically.....we need to identify the literature, products to be displayed, the branding for us and our partners,......"
" Oh, that's all easy....we are in a recession, so obviously there won't be a big budget. You can use the back of our neighbour's stall as a wall, put up posters, use some of the existing furniture to display the products...we can check with our partners if they have knock down kits which we can borrow and integrate into our stall...."
As I gaped in astonishment, the alphas plunged on, unmindful of the lone Venusian ranger in their midst.
Strangely enough, I was reminded of my trysts with the Indian breads, especially the part which requires me to knead the dough into putty. I hate kneading dough!!! The task is sticky, tough and my tussle with the stubborn dough almost always exhausts my muscles and extracts the choicest of cuss words from my lips. And here I was experiencing a similar situation with the alpha martians. The question was how would I pound them into putty? As I pondered over my options, my gaze fell upon a rather senior member of the team who seemed absorbed in his work, oblivious to the raucous discussion around him. The weak link I was so desperately looking for!!
" Listen all of you" My strident tone had the desired effect. Attack is indeed the best form of defence and all the more so when it is unexpected. Conversations stop. A few eyes bulge. " This is not purpose of the meeting. I don't need ideas on execution. I am more interested in the expectations of this group is as well as that of your associates, so that we have an event which satisfies everyone. So I want to know a) what literature to print b) products to be displayed c) what would our partners want to see at the event......"
" Our partners have given us a carte blanche as far as the displays and designs go..."
" But have we asked them for opinions?" The silence spoke volumes. And I went in for the kill. "He..." I waved my hand at the quiet martian " He will tell you how embarrassing a situation your boss is going to have on his hand on the opening day if we were to follow the suggestions just given...and even worse, when he has to explain the pathetic show to your unhappy associates..." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the weak link nod sagaciously. ".....And given the fact that we are in the middle of a recession, there is no saying what the consequences would be..."
As I ended on an ominous note, I could see the Alpha pack flatten their ears in a conciliatory gesture.
" Well, maybe we are not quite ready for the meeting....perhaps we should meet in a days time by when we can collect the information required...."
As I graciously sailed out of the room, I could hear them enthusiastically allocate tasks to one another and then commence arguements about it.....
* big broad grin*
Putty!!!
The Alpha Martians are no near extinct species I chanced to stumble upon. They are everywhere...Airports, Pubs, Theatres, on Trains, Orkut, Face Book...In short, everywhere! They proudly trace their bloodline to Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan or at the very least, to the marauding vikings of yore. And they make no bones about wanting to following in the footsteps of their adventure seeking ancestors, by transforming myriad spaces in the modern world into long forgotten battle grounds. Some do so with great forethought and careful planning while others sally forth fueled by adrenaline alone.
At first glance, they can pass off as mere martians but not for long. For you see, the Hun Gene plays second fiddle to none.
As I discovered this morning when a group of martians transformed before my eyes into Alphas of the whimsical kind. It was with a thumping heart that I walked into the meeting room. Bringing a group of martians around to the Venusian point of view is, without doubt, a herculean task. And one which I do not always relish. It calls for master cunning, strategy and a whole load of snicker bars!!!
My entry into the male bastion was noted with interest mingled with speculation. Eyes gleamed rapaciously..... Not at my comely form as I would have liked to flatter myself, but at the prospect of a fresh conquest and the opportunity to show off the martian mental prowess.
" So we have this exhibition coming up and I think its time we sat down to work out a master plan...You know the litera....."
As I opened the discussion, I could almost hear the testosterone addled brains whirring into action. And I had barely progressed past my first sentence when they pounced upon me like a pack of ebullient puppy dogs on a big juicy bone.
" Oh yeah, you should send me a profile so that I can fill up some paperwork for the event..."
" We should get Cd's......maybe a TV screen where we can play a video..."
Without doubt, the hi decibel ideas which were whizzing all over the room were meant to intimidate...As was the pack attack. But the corporate amazon in me remained unfazed. " As I was saying, we should discuss ideas from which we can create a master plan..set deadlines and work systematically.....we need to identify the literature, products to be displayed, the branding for us and our partners,......"
" Oh, that's all easy....we are in a recession, so obviously there won't be a big budget. You can use the back of our neighbour's stall as a wall, put up posters, use some of the existing furniture to display the products...we can check with our partners if they have knock down kits which we can borrow and integrate into our stall...."
As I gaped in astonishment, the alphas plunged on, unmindful of the lone Venusian ranger in their midst.
Strangely enough, I was reminded of my trysts with the Indian breads, especially the part which requires me to knead the dough into putty. I hate kneading dough!!! The task is sticky, tough and my tussle with the stubborn dough almost always exhausts my muscles and extracts the choicest of cuss words from my lips. And here I was experiencing a similar situation with the alpha martians. The question was how would I pound them into putty? As I pondered over my options, my gaze fell upon a rather senior member of the team who seemed absorbed in his work, oblivious to the raucous discussion around him. The weak link I was so desperately looking for!!
" Listen all of you" My strident tone had the desired effect. Attack is indeed the best form of defence and all the more so when it is unexpected. Conversations stop. A few eyes bulge. " This is not purpose of the meeting. I don't need ideas on execution. I am more interested in the expectations of this group is as well as that of your associates, so that we have an event which satisfies everyone. So I want to know a) what literature to print b) products to be displayed c) what would our partners want to see at the event......"
" Our partners have given us a carte blanche as far as the displays and designs go..."
" But have we asked them for opinions?" The silence spoke volumes. And I went in for the kill. "He..." I waved my hand at the quiet martian " He will tell you how embarrassing a situation your boss is going to have on his hand on the opening day if we were to follow the suggestions just given...and even worse, when he has to explain the pathetic show to your unhappy associates..." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the weak link nod sagaciously. ".....And given the fact that we are in the middle of a recession, there is no saying what the consequences would be..."
As I ended on an ominous note, I could see the Alpha pack flatten their ears in a conciliatory gesture.
" Well, maybe we are not quite ready for the meeting....perhaps we should meet in a days time by when we can collect the information required...."
As I graciously sailed out of the room, I could hear them enthusiastically allocate tasks to one another and then commence arguements about it.....
* big broad grin*
Putty!!!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
In Search Of The Perfect Brows
When it comes to looks, a lot of people have really simple stuff to deal with. Bad hair days. Zits, big and small. Or at worst, a bad hair cut which needs to be camouflaged by hats, scarves or bunched into scrunchies until it grows out in a week or two. I have all of these and as a bonus, problematic eye brows which are the bane of every parlour maid's existence. Oh yes people, I exaggerate not one wee bit. I have unique misfortune of being blessed with sparse, barely visible brows, the strands of which insist on pursuing their own growth paths. And the consequence? Two raggedy moth eaten brows!!!
As a kid, I was so taken by the sight of my father's morning shaves that one fine morning, I decided I just had to try my hand at it. All I had to do was identify a suitable implement and the appropriate test ground. After an hour of serious contemplation, I decided there was only one place to work the tiny needlework scissors through...And sniped a rather interesting maze through my eyebrows.
Sadly, it was not just my family which was traumatised by my bold action....The appalled hair follicles revolted, refusing to rise to the occasion any more. In vain did I plead with the Gods to restore a semblance of a brow on my face. But all my coaxing and cajoling fell on deaf ears....as did the bottles of Castor oil I poured over myself. It seemed that I was stuck with the horrendous moth brows for life!!!
Abandoned by divine forces and the follicles, I turned to the modern day goddess makers, the friendly neighbourhood beautician. Although the prospect of shaping the ragged moth brows was a daunting task for the vast majority, I was, for the most part, fortunate enough to find a fairy god mother like my Zami.
Zami is the chirpy magician who zaps away my wrinkles, chides me for not sleeping enough and prescribes creams for the resultant dark circles but above all, she is the sculptor of my brows. With Zami round the corner, all is always right in my world. So it came as a rude shock when I nonchalantly sauntered into the salon late this morning only to be told that the eye brow fairy was coming in late.
" How late is late?" I desperately asked the proprietress.
" Oh, 11:30 madam....in about an hour....hopefully" The note of doubt in her voice brought me to the verge of hyperventilation. "I can have another girl thread your eye brows" She offered helpfully.
" But you don't understand. I have problematic eyebrows!!!. It would take a miracle to negotiate the cracks and crevices in them"
" Don't worry Madam. Kanaha here is as good, if not better than Zami"
Better than Zami? Impossible.
With narrowed eyes I studied the quivering Kanaha. A bad move, which I realised in retrospect...Long after I agreed to test the mettle of this paragon of threading excellence.
" Ok Kanaha, let's see what you make of my brows. There are lots of gaps and spaces in my brows, so you will need to wipe out the filler and then see how you can make it look full and seamless. And yes, both my eye brows are shaped different, so you will need to decide on a common shape and thread that"
Blank stare. So, I went over the drill once more. Once again a blank stare meets my eye.
And then,instead of rushing for the cotton wool,Kanaha pushed my head down and with a flick of her wrist, whipped out the little reel of thread. Perhaps it was my yelp of surprise, but all at once the menacing fingers stopped and above me, I could blearily make out a raised eyebrow.
" You are not wiping out the brows?..."
" Oh, you used a pencil...I thought it was permanent...OK, OK I take out"
This was far from reassuring...The paragon could barely make out the difference between a permanently inked brow and the painted shrubbery on my forehead !!!
I tried explaining once again " Kanaha, if you look at the brows you will see that both are different...And there are gaps in it...you must thread so that there is a common shape, OK?"
Kanaha peered at my brows, bobbed her head in agreement and set to work. I was congratulating myself on my communication skills when I heard a loud gasp above me. And then, I was unceremoniously yanked back into sitting position.
" Madam, eyebrows are very important. I have taken out extras on your right eyebrow, but for final shape I think you wait for Zami..." I was beginning to visibly hyperventilate....Just a gentle push and I would have tipped over the edge into the dark lands beyond." No Madam don't worry...nothing wrong..I only say Zami know your eyebrows better..So she finish"
And with that, my threader vanished leaving me in the middle of a crowded floor looking like a semi plucked chicken. As I desperately feigned interest in a glossy magazine, I imagined every pair of eyes in the room were trained on my brows....... Time crawled at a snail's pace. And after what seemed like eons, another nervous lissome girl appeared.
" Madam, Zami is not reachable. We don't know if she is coming today...so would you come back tomorrow?"
" Like hell I will!!!...I have one eyebrow semi done and the other one not at all. Surely I cannot look more ridiculous than this!!!.....I am not walking out of here unless I get both done...and they better match"
" er, shall I try?"
" I don't care who tries...I want two matching brows!!!...." I declared mutinously, gripping the arms of my chair to signal my intention of not budging from my seat before the brows were done. And so the lissome girl of unknown name and pedigree set to salvage what was left of my forehead.
To her credit, she would have managed to accomplish her mission if it had not been for a yawning gap in my right brow. The mystery of the gasp was finally unraveled !!!
I raved. And I ranted. Might as well as get myself a bald python to complete the caricature I declared to anyone who would listen.....But there was very little one could do than pick out a suitable brow pencil and brush....
Sometimes, a girl's best friend is her make-up box!!!
As a kid, I was so taken by the sight of my father's morning shaves that one fine morning, I decided I just had to try my hand at it. All I had to do was identify a suitable implement and the appropriate test ground. After an hour of serious contemplation, I decided there was only one place to work the tiny needlework scissors through...And sniped a rather interesting maze through my eyebrows.
Sadly, it was not just my family which was traumatised by my bold action....The appalled hair follicles revolted, refusing to rise to the occasion any more. In vain did I plead with the Gods to restore a semblance of a brow on my face. But all my coaxing and cajoling fell on deaf ears....as did the bottles of Castor oil I poured over myself. It seemed that I was stuck with the horrendous moth brows for life!!!
Abandoned by divine forces and the follicles, I turned to the modern day goddess makers, the friendly neighbourhood beautician. Although the prospect of shaping the ragged moth brows was a daunting task for the vast majority, I was, for the most part, fortunate enough to find a fairy god mother like my Zami.
Zami is the chirpy magician who zaps away my wrinkles, chides me for not sleeping enough and prescribes creams for the resultant dark circles but above all, she is the sculptor of my brows. With Zami round the corner, all is always right in my world. So it came as a rude shock when I nonchalantly sauntered into the salon late this morning only to be told that the eye brow fairy was coming in late.
" How late is late?" I desperately asked the proprietress.
" Oh, 11:30 madam....in about an hour....hopefully" The note of doubt in her voice brought me to the verge of hyperventilation. "I can have another girl thread your eye brows" She offered helpfully.
" But you don't understand. I have problematic eyebrows!!!. It would take a miracle to negotiate the cracks and crevices in them"
" Don't worry Madam. Kanaha here is as good, if not better than Zami"
Better than Zami? Impossible.
With narrowed eyes I studied the quivering Kanaha. A bad move, which I realised in retrospect...Long after I agreed to test the mettle of this paragon of threading excellence.
" Ok Kanaha, let's see what you make of my brows. There are lots of gaps and spaces in my brows, so you will need to wipe out the filler and then see how you can make it look full and seamless. And yes, both my eye brows are shaped different, so you will need to decide on a common shape and thread that"
Blank stare. So, I went over the drill once more. Once again a blank stare meets my eye.
And then,instead of rushing for the cotton wool,Kanaha pushed my head down and with a flick of her wrist, whipped out the little reel of thread. Perhaps it was my yelp of surprise, but all at once the menacing fingers stopped and above me, I could blearily make out a raised eyebrow.
" You are not wiping out the brows?..."
" Oh, you used a pencil...I thought it was permanent...OK, OK I take out"
This was far from reassuring...The paragon could barely make out the difference between a permanently inked brow and the painted shrubbery on my forehead !!!
I tried explaining once again " Kanaha, if you look at the brows you will see that both are different...And there are gaps in it...you must thread so that there is a common shape, OK?"
Kanaha peered at my brows, bobbed her head in agreement and set to work. I was congratulating myself on my communication skills when I heard a loud gasp above me. And then, I was unceremoniously yanked back into sitting position.
" Madam, eyebrows are very important. I have taken out extras on your right eyebrow, but for final shape I think you wait for Zami..." I was beginning to visibly hyperventilate....Just a gentle push and I would have tipped over the edge into the dark lands beyond." No Madam don't worry...nothing wrong..I only say Zami know your eyebrows better..So she finish"
And with that, my threader vanished leaving me in the middle of a crowded floor looking like a semi plucked chicken. As I desperately feigned interest in a glossy magazine, I imagined every pair of eyes in the room were trained on my brows....... Time crawled at a snail's pace. And after what seemed like eons, another nervous lissome girl appeared.
" Madam, Zami is not reachable. We don't know if she is coming today...so would you come back tomorrow?"
" Like hell I will!!!...I have one eyebrow semi done and the other one not at all. Surely I cannot look more ridiculous than this!!!.....I am not walking out of here unless I get both done...and they better match"
" er, shall I try?"
" I don't care who tries...I want two matching brows!!!...." I declared mutinously, gripping the arms of my chair to signal my intention of not budging from my seat before the brows were done. And so the lissome girl of unknown name and pedigree set to salvage what was left of my forehead.
To her credit, she would have managed to accomplish her mission if it had not been for a yawning gap in my right brow. The mystery of the gasp was finally unraveled !!!
I raved. And I ranted. Might as well as get myself a bald python to complete the caricature I declared to anyone who would listen.....But there was very little one could do than pick out a suitable brow pencil and brush....
Sometimes, a girl's best friend is her make-up box!!!
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Broken Dryer...
" Rain Rain Go AWAY
You make my days oh so grey
The pitter patter on my pane
Is driving me quite insane
My toes are wet, my clothes are damp
If you went, who'd give a damn ?
So, Rain Rain GO AWAY!!! "
You make my days oh so grey
The pitter patter on my pane
Is driving me quite insane
My toes are wet, my clothes are damp
If you went, who'd give a damn ?
So, Rain Rain GO AWAY!!! "
As bad as my friend's poetic skills were, I found it hard to repress my mirth at the irony of the situation. Here I was praying for torrential rains to wash away the Diwali crackers while she desperately spouted bad poetry to bring back the scorching Chennai sun.
" V, why don't you just stay indoors with a steaming cuppa and enjoy the cozy weather?"
The withering glance my suggestion earned should have fried it to a crisp, but I was too ebullient to even notice.
"Considering that I am almost running out of clothes, I will have to do just that..Stay indoors downing cuppas after cuppas!!!"
"So, why on earth aren't you using a damn dryer?" I demanded crossly, every fat cell in my body quivering with exasperation.
"Because darling," She purred "WE LIVE IN A BLOOMING DRYER...& NOW IT'S BROKEN!!"
:) :)
Pop Goes The Ear Drums!
" Monday's Diwali" I announced gloomily. Next to me, kitty's face reflects the very same emotion, but with much greater intensity. Only DSK perks up, seemingly oblivious to the misery of his women folk who were huddled together on the couch.
" Maybe the depression in the Bay will hang around for a couple more days. If it continues to pour through the weekend, then not very many are going to venture out to burst firecrackers....Or would they?"
Hope does spring eternal in the feline breast though Ging looked anything but convinced. Her expression spoke volumes about the nasty loud bangers that was going to wreck havoc with our nerves, the acrid smoke which would sear the linings of our nostrils and throats before it encased our lungs in its vice grip and the deluge of store brought boxes of sweets which was coming our way.
Kitty's caustic glance, so pregnant with meaning, vapourised the tantalising glimmer of hope that had dangled before me just minutes ago. Even at my optimistic best, I could not imagine Diwali being a wash-out in Chennai.
As I muttered mutinously to myself about people's selfish ' Oh, I couldn't care less' attitudes, the endangered planet and the trauma that awaited hundreds of orphan animals in the city, another unpleasant truth struck me.... The rains were bound to plaster the cracker debris on to the dusty streets and tarred roads, escalating the city's litter quotient to unprecedented levels for the next couple of days!!!
All at once, a wet weekend did not seem very appealing!
" Well, at least you can crawl under the bed and hide....I can't even do that" I told Ging huffily.
Kitty groomed me a bit to soothe my ruffled fur. It seemed that, for once, she wouldn't mind sharing her hidey space with mommy. We were after all sisters under the skin, united in our dislike of all things loud and offensive to our senses.
" It appears that your wishes may come true..at least in part" Dsk pops his head out of the paper long enough to give us a quick update "The papers report that crackers are not only more expensive this year but they are also in short supply due to the rains..."
Another ray of hope glittered before me....
Who would have guessed that inflation would prove to be an ally in our war against the bangers?
Barely able to supress my glee, I peered out of the window to mumble a few more fervent entreaties to the dark rolling rain clouds....And at that precise moment, the sun chose to smile down on me
*deep sigh*
" Maybe the depression in the Bay will hang around for a couple more days. If it continues to pour through the weekend, then not very many are going to venture out to burst firecrackers....Or would they?"
Hope does spring eternal in the feline breast though Ging looked anything but convinced. Her expression spoke volumes about the nasty loud bangers that was going to wreck havoc with our nerves, the acrid smoke which would sear the linings of our nostrils and throats before it encased our lungs in its vice grip and the deluge of store brought boxes of sweets which was coming our way.
Kitty's caustic glance, so pregnant with meaning, vapourised the tantalising glimmer of hope that had dangled before me just minutes ago. Even at my optimistic best, I could not imagine Diwali being a wash-out in Chennai.
As I muttered mutinously to myself about people's selfish ' Oh, I couldn't care less' attitudes, the endangered planet and the trauma that awaited hundreds of orphan animals in the city, another unpleasant truth struck me.... The rains were bound to plaster the cracker debris on to the dusty streets and tarred roads, escalating the city's litter quotient to unprecedented levels for the next couple of days!!!
All at once, a wet weekend did not seem very appealing!
" Well, at least you can crawl under the bed and hide....I can't even do that" I told Ging huffily.
Kitty groomed me a bit to soothe my ruffled fur. It seemed that, for once, she wouldn't mind sharing her hidey space with mommy. We were after all sisters under the skin, united in our dislike of all things loud and offensive to our senses.
" It appears that your wishes may come true..at least in part" Dsk pops his head out of the paper long enough to give us a quick update "The papers report that crackers are not only more expensive this year but they are also in short supply due to the rains..."
Another ray of hope glittered before me....
Who would have guessed that inflation would prove to be an ally in our war against the bangers?
Barely able to supress my glee, I peered out of the window to mumble a few more fervent entreaties to the dark rolling rain clouds....And at that precise moment, the sun chose to smile down on me
*deep sigh*
Monday, October 20, 2008
Priorities!
Yesterday evening, the Government in Tamil Nadu exploded a Diwali pataka on the unsuspecting electorate....By unveiling its " Use Less, Pay More" policy for power consumption.
In about 2 weeks from now, domestic consumption will necessarily have to be reduced by 20%, failing which families will have to shell out 50% more for every additional unit consumed.
The same holds good for shops, restaurants and other such low tension commercial & industrial users.
Heavy Industries and Software firms are to cut consumption by 40% and also, delink from the grid for the prescribed 4 hours in the evenings.
And the icing on the cake? The state will continue to experience scheduled power cuts as well as those of the unscheduled kind. Of course, hospitals, educational institutions, media houses, telephone exchanges, railway connections, milk processing units are all exempt.
And rightly so.
Also among those who will escape the axe are Embassies, Fertiliser Factories and.......*Gasp* Government Buildings. To think, I actually believed darkness provided the perfect cover for nefarious activities.....
But surprise of surprises!..... Temple festivals are also exempt...
Religion is indeed sustenance for the soul. And community celebrations, fun unlimited.
But since when did it sustain economic development or put food on the tables of the masses?
In about 2 weeks from now, domestic consumption will necessarily have to be reduced by 20%, failing which families will have to shell out 50% more for every additional unit consumed.
The same holds good for shops, restaurants and other such low tension commercial & industrial users.
Heavy Industries and Software firms are to cut consumption by 40% and also, delink from the grid for the prescribed 4 hours in the evenings.
And the icing on the cake? The state will continue to experience scheduled power cuts as well as those of the unscheduled kind. Of course, hospitals, educational institutions, media houses, telephone exchanges, railway connections, milk processing units are all exempt.
And rightly so.
Also among those who will escape the axe are Embassies, Fertiliser Factories and.......*Gasp* Government Buildings. To think, I actually believed darkness provided the perfect cover for nefarious activities.....
But surprise of surprises!..... Temple festivals are also exempt...
Religion is indeed sustenance for the soul. And community celebrations, fun unlimited.
But since when did it sustain economic development or put food on the tables of the masses?
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