Thinking out loud

So, apparently I almost killed a guy today...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 15:47:00 +0000

"Guess who’s back... Back again...

TT’s back... run away*..."

* By the end of this post, you’d be pretty convinced this is how it should be
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The hellos my bloggies!!...

This blogger’s block seems to have taken a pretty nasty toll on me... and the internship is not helping the creative drought. And how's my life, you ask??... well, the past two months have been pretty much the same, save one super fun party, which involved a wee-bit of vodka and truck-loads of bullcrap (courtesy... of course... yours truly)...

Anytwaddle... turns out the driving lessons I took few months back (... erm, remember the soooper fun manager??... yeah) were pretty futile ‘cause I’m positive I’ve forgotten what little drivin’ I’d learnt, and the late nights in office ultimately lead to Dad suggesting that I get a scooty, at least till the time I properly learn to drive a car (read: stop being a threat to public life and property...)

Also, I figured since I’d done some cycling as a kid (and had not managed to injure anyone or anything in the process...) I’d manage a scooty decently. Plus, every single person in my office drives a two- wheeler with ease, so why not?

(I’d of course forgotten the crucial detail that every person is not an epic klutz like me)...

So, the parents and I went scooty shopping today... and ended up purchasing an aqua (yeah, aqua... and I paid freakin’ 2.5 grand extra ‘cause it’s an exotic-sounding-colour or something to that effect...) Scooty Pep. Which is awesome, ‘cause I’d always wanted a Pep ever since it was launched back when I was in 10th grade or something.

All said and done, the salesman offered we take a test ride before buying the thing... and my Dad offered to ride it (... and he looked pretty hilarious riding an aqua scooty at that) It was all good till the sales guy asked me if I wanted to give it a shot. And obviously, whatever little brain cells I had left decided to die out on me at that very instant, and I immediately took it like a five year old who’s being offered sour candy. And started the damn thing without having any fucking clue about the brakes, accelerator or gears (... actually, I still got no clue whether the thing has gears in the first place...) So, a little bit of tweaking here and twisting there, and before I know it.... my innocent- looking aqua scooty flew outta my control like a freakin’ bull at a Spanish bull-fight.

So there I was, screaming and freaking the bat crap outta myself, and before I could swerve the damn thing, it went and hit a guy who was standing nearby and supposedly enjoying my comical attempts at riding the bike.

Oooooops....

like super-duper oops.

So now this guy starts yelling as to how I am Lucifer’s retarded twin, and how his wife and children would die of starvation because I nearly handicapped him. I obviously stood there like a ten-year old caught cheating on a Math test, while my Dad offered to get some medical help. Thus, Mom and I ended up waiting for over two hours at the showroom, while Dad took this guy to get an X-Ray done.

And all the while I kept thinking that I’d probably get arrested for attempted murder... which was highly uncool because my weapon of attack was a scooty which looked like it belonged to an oversized Malibu Barbie... and my grandkids would think I was some kinda douchebag for not being jailed for far cooler reasons... like throwing knives at men wearing bell-bottoms or something.

Anyhoo, Dad turned up after a few hours with “fatally injured” guy who, as it turned out, received nothing but a couple of scratches and a slight swelling on his right leg. A little talk and a couple of grands solved the matter, and I stood there thoroughly embarrassed while the victim of my assault kept repeating to every onlooker how I tried to attack him with my weapon of mass-destruction.

Given the awesomeness of this fiasco, I’ve realised that I probably shouldn’t be driving my newly-acquired scooty for at least a month without adult supervision, lest I end up causing any more harm to human lives...

*Sigh*

Courtesy Google....

PS: Dad says my name should totally go in the Guiness records for being the only possible human absolutely capable of murdering people with a scooter. Awesome.

Because every girl has had a post featuring 'Twilight'...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 06:39:00 +0000

Hello my bloggie friends! Well, in case you’ve been wondering if I’d fallen off the face of the blogosphere (... and I’m assuming that you HAVE been wondering)... well I’d like to tell you that I had (and still kinda continue to have...) a very bad case of blogger’s block. Blame it on the office dearie, because internships have the awesome ability to suck the life out of you.

So what brings up this post? Well, because this Monday I was online, chatting with an old friend (yes, from back in those days when I had a slight remnant of a life...) and she couldn’t stop gushing over... the new ‘Eclipse’ trailer she’d seen...

...Uh Oh

... and I was hoping the whole ‘Twilght’ fiasco was finally buried after that insane hullaballoo around the ‘New Moon’ sequel. But of course I was wrong... there are two more disastrous movies and even more disastrous estrogen-filled squeals of “Edward Bite Me!!” (ummm... Excuse me?!) left...

OK, now with all due respect to all my sorority sisters who “lurvee” the series... seriously, WTF?! I mean I do not understand the whole hype... and I have read the series... yes, the ENTIRE freaking fur-and-fang saga... and I want my money back, NOW!

I mean what kind of a freak, self- centered and egotistic character is Bella Swan?! Obviously she is disinterested in all normal ‘human’ people who are extremely friendly and helpful to her on her first day of school and shrugs most of them off, because naturally she is attracted to the freaky golden- eyed “pretty boy” who treats her like a door mat... naturally. And then “pretty boy” turns out to be a vampire (“oh my”) who glitters” like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface” in all his manly glory when exposed to sunlight... its like, “Oh my, look I got my own personal human disco ball!” (YAY! ... not)...

Besides Robert Pattison is not hot... he’s just absurd. In every sense of the word. And that shirtless scene in the ‘New Moon’ trailer.... traumatizing.

(And if I may point out, who in their right mind describes a guy as “shatteringly beautiful”, “gorgeous” and “angelic”...??? Anymore of that and I would have turned homosexual.)

And obviously the vampire falls in love with the weirdo and watches her sleep every night... “Ooooh Edward, how romantic!!”... that’s not romantic, that’s plain creepy... call the cops.

And in a “tragic” twist, ’beautiful’, ‘angelic’ ice-cold, rock- solid vampire leaves our I-only-date-mythical-creatures-because-humans-are-so-passé damsel “for her own good”. So Miss Freak-Creature-Magnet finds a shoulder to cry on in the form of a werewolf... how clever. And obviously Mr. Ice Cold Rock has a competitor in Mr. 108 Degrees F. And for the record, Taylor Lautner is not hot either... and as (oh-so-awesome!) Lilu put it in one of her posts... he looks like a llama.

(Courtesy Google... and yeah, the llama is cute)

And she tediously keeps swinging between both men for the length and breadth of two books (...with special appearance from what seems like at Italian Vampire Mafia gang) before marrying the vamp. At 18. Yeah. And then ends up having freak honeymoon sex with him, during which process he bites off pillows, tears off bed-posts and bruises her black- and- blue... erm yeah, cute, romantic teenage saga all right.

But naturally Meyer wasn’t done with her freak show-and-tell... enter half-vamp-half-human-completely-satanic baby, which grows at the speed of light, tries to eat its way out of its mother’s womb, breaks her spine and causes her to crave for blood... which, by the way, she sips coolly like it’s Bloody Mary. Honestly, I think the book should be banned in public interest, because the whole description can totally put any female off pregnancy.

And then there’s glorified paedophilia, with Bella’s almost-but-never ex-boyfriend falling in love with her kid. Ouch.

I fail to grasp how absolutely anybody over the age of seven could like the book... oh, wait, when I was seven I liked Cinderella... which is two hundred times better because (a) it had pretty gowns (b) it had Prince Charming (yeah "Charming", not "Sparkling") and (c) it had good shoes .

It’s a wonder how a story which has the depth of a cereal bowl and the emotional range of an amoeba has managed to garner so much female adulation. Or maybe, there’s some mass ‘Twilight’ brainwashing being conducted somewhere and one day we will all fall victims to it .

(*Yikes*)

(Courtesy www.webcomicoverlook.com)

Cheers!

PS: This post is courtesy Anurag Mohan... who suggested I blog about it when I kept ranting on the absurdity of the whole thing on Gtalk... So, you know whom to blame if you hate this piece *evil chuckle*

PPS: I know I used the word “freak” a lot... well, nothing describes it better.

PPPS: All you ‘Twilight’ crazy females... I have nothing against you. If you love the series, you surely (*hopefully*) must have your reasons for the same. But if you start fawning over the whole thing in front of me for too long or try to convince me why it totally should be my Bible for love... I may have to kill you.

Because sometimes, murder is totally justified...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 15:43:00 +0000

You know how sometimes people can be so amazingly thick headed, you feel like banging your head against the wall, or hoping that the person in front of you would spontaneously combust… only so that the yapping would cease?! Well, yeah something similar happened this morning (at fucking six in the morning… to be precise) when I went for my driving lessons…

The Manager: Hi… so you got your address proof?

Me: Yeah, you asked for the letter from office right? Got it…

Frowning Manager: Well, that’s only supportive documents, I’d need the main documents first

Me (frowning back): Well, you obviously didn’t tell me that before

(Yeah, like before I paid your friggin’ fees…)

Manager (sounding like he’s talking to a two- year old): Yes, but these are only supporting documents, I need the main documents.

Me (sighing... loudly): Yes, well I got that the first time… Anyways what documents?

Manager (looking smug… and I got no clue why): You know, all the main documents…

Me (dubious expression): ????

Mom (almost laughing out loud): Yeah well… What documents?!

Manager: You know, ration card or passport or driving license, ownership documents

Me: I don’t have those stuff

Manager (sounding kinda exasperated): You got a passport?

Me: Expired a year a back… reapplied.

Manager: A ration card?

Me: No

(Who the fuck actually has a ration card these days anyways…???!!!)

Manager: Your permanent address is?

Me: Mumbai

Manager: OK, so those house documents in your name?

Me: No

(Yeah, because they bought the place when I was friggin’ seventeen… Besides I won’t be able to afford a shack in Mumbai even if I sold all my clothes, belongings… or organs)

Mom (tired expression): There has to be a solution right?

Manager (and by now I’m positive he’s on drugs): You got a driver’s license?

Me (too speechless to say anything): ………….

Mom (giving one of her scare-you-shitless-to-death expressions): No… that’s why she plans on taking driving lessons.

Manager: OK, but I’m just telling you what documents the RTO requires

Mom (trying to maintain composure): Yeah, well… she doesn’t have those, you got another way out?

Manager (smiling… like, wtf?!): I understand, but I’m just telling you what the RTO requires.

Me (already plotting murder in my head): Yeah, well… I don’t have a passport, or ration card or driver’s ID (note the emphasis)

Manager (thoughtful expression): You doing CA right? They give you an ID?

Me (praying this thing would end soon): Yeah, but that’s for internship… and it’s got no address on it

(Positively drugged, obviously deaf) Manager: Alright, but do they give you an ID?

Me, Mom: NO.

Mom (and by now I’d already snapped his head off his neck… In my head): Is there a way out?

Manager (and I’m sure he’s deriving some sort of sadistic pleasure through this entire ordeal): Well, I’m just trying to make you understand that the RTO requires a passport or ration card or legal documents.

Me [Aside*]: #!$#$%^$%^%^%$@@%$^$%$!!!... OK, Mister… one more time, and I’d personally shove all your ‘legal documents’ up your uptight arse.

{*Shakespearean effect… Because I’m from ICSE/ISC, and I refuse to let go of the pedigree}

Mom (and by now I’m sure she’d totally help me kill him): OK now, you got a solution or not?

Sadistic-hedonistic-incarnation-of-Lucifer-of-a-Manager: Yes, but I’m just trying to explain…

Me (ready to stab him with my pen): Ok, look… I don’t have a passport. I don’t have a ration card. I don’t have house documents in my name. (And I fucking don’t have the patience for this anymore…)
Is. There. A. Way. Out

Manager (sudden flash of enlightenment): You can apply for a Post office Identity Card. That should do it.

Me, Mom (silent prayer): Thanks.

Manager (because obviously he wasn’t done yet): You got birth proof? Like a birth certificate?

Me (thankful that this shouldn’t be an issue): Yeah, sure

Manager: So, it’s got your birth date on it right? And does it have your name?

Me (______): Like obviously, what do you expec-

Mom: Umm, maybe we should start with the lessons now.

Well, some days… you just know you’re going to have a great day ahead.

By the way, Mom said the Mumbai RTO barely asked for all such documents when she got her license made… Reason #57899 why Mumbai is a way better place.

(Courtesy... as usual... google)

PS: The car… which they gonna use to teach me how to drive… has no rear view mirror. And the seat belt is stuck, so you can’t use it. How the hell is this place “Government Recognised”?? Anyways, in case I die during one of my lessons, I’m leaving everything to C.R.Y.

And I want that Manager electrocuted.

Cheers!

This post is totally pointless, shockingly random, absolutely baseless and serves no purpose... OK, what’s new??

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 17:25:00 +0000

Yes, yes... I know I’ve not posted for almost two weeks and you guys missed me a lot

[Insignificant honest voice in head: Umm, NO! You know very well no one gives a rat’s arse to this space

Much more significant Ego: Oh shut up! I know all you guys out there totally love me]

What?! The voices in your head never talk to you? How the hell do you function without that?? You, my friend, need medical attention... ASAP

So, what’s new in my ~~excruciatingly boring~~ existence you ask? Well, the office took us to Bangalore last weekend for a training program... and it was FUN! Whoever said office people are boring... wait till they are high. And yeah, we got a special invite at Mac Donald’s there to visit their kitchen, which obviously we did (since we never say no to anything that is free and borders on lame-O) and even made a couple of burgers there... Be jealous, be very jealous.

Also I spent most of the past few days fretting over turning twenty six months from now.... WHAT??!! It’s freaky alright... On the inside, I’m still a five year old dog (Long story... long story)

Apart from that... work’s been good (i.e. not much...). My past week labour mainly involved taking out dozens of print outs... during which I’ve come to realise that the warmth of a freshly printed paper is really very comforting... Oh, now don’t roll those eyes, it’s called finding joy in the little things in life (yeah, I’m pathetic like that).

On to some real news now... Topeka the capital of Kansas has been renamed Google by the mayor for a whole month. Reason? Google's planning to build its broadband networks in a limited number of communities. It's calling upon city leaders and others to nominate their hometowns for inclusion. After all the nominations have been received, Google will select a handful of places best suited for its experiment.

Topeka's mayor, obviously, very badly wants his city to be one of those places. Well, weirdly this isn’t the first time Kansas has been trying to get the limelight through a name change. Back in ’98 (yeah, yeah when we were tiny little children oblivious to the mayhem out there...) Topeka changed its name to “ToPikachu” as a part of a city- wide promotion for the launch of the Pokémon franchise....

And you think Bengaluru is funny? Fancy saying, “Oh me? I’m from ToPikachu...”

Don’t ask me why this piece of trivia was part of this post... are you seriously still trying to decipher some deep hidden meaning in all this mess? Guess what, it ain’t there...

And to add more blog fodder... I just happened to see an advertisement on television while typing this post... Shahid Kapur endorsed a new fairness cream... Yikes!!!

Seriously. What. The hell. Iswrongwithpeopleoutthere????

This whole metro sexual, beautification-for-men thing is kinda blowing out of proportion. I knew it... Mr. “Angelic” Edward Cullen was a seriously bad influence on society... Damn you Sparkly! (OK, maybe the two aren’t entirely related... but whatever, anything that goes wrong with the male population, it’s always Twilight to blame... period.)

AND to top it all... I’ve got “Sexy Bitch” by Akon stuck like a leech in my brain for the past two days.... and I'm hating it!!

FYI... the lyrics are...

"I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful... Damn girl... Damn you'se a sexy bitch... A sexy bitch... Damn you're a sexy bitch"

(Irony, in life, is sometimes beautiful... here its plain atrocious)

URRRGGHHHH!!!

Whatever happened to good music?? Oh wait, it died with Flo Rida's apple bottom jeans...

So now you know who is to be blamed for this horrid piece of writing...

Anytwaddle... I'll sign off here... hopefully will be back next time with some actual stuff to write on. Till next time then!

PS: I just happened to read the post all over again... It so should have stayed in the 'Drafts' folder... Sorry for wasting your time

I'm positive there's absolute vacuum inside my skull... Oh wait, you already know that , don't you??

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 16:38:00 +0000

Note: The following post has no point (as usual)... and will be a total waste of your time... but you are jobless anyways, so go on... have a dekko:
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So, today was the last day of my first week in my new office.... and I have to tell you guys that I feel absolutely...

Dumb.

No. Seriously. D-U-M-B.

And, young... as in not the “18 till I die” young... rather the I-feel-like-a-toddler-who-just-pooped-in-her-pants young.

Alright, technically I probably am the youngest, at the tender- sweet age of nineteen. Everyone else’s got to be at least twenty two. But the age ain’t the point... the point is the brains.

People in my office... interns, executives alike... are smart. Like, shit smart. Like, super-duper shit smart. Like, super- duper uber shit... oh well, you get the point.

This in turn makes me feel like a bonehead.

(Yeah something like that... though Homer is way cooler *sigh*... Courtesy Google)

How I managed to get into one of the “100 Best Companies to Work For”, I don’t know. Maybe the interviewers were drugged or high when they met me. Or probably the guy who forwarded my resume to the HR put a gun to their head or something. The whole ‘deserving candidate’ rant sounds kinda insane. I feel so inane... I’m positive that it was a stroke of sheer luck (... I love you Fortuna) that I managed to score in 10th, 12th and somehow, even my CA- Inter (Oh, didn’t I mention that before?? I cleared it... Wooohooooo! Yeah, despite the whole “actually bad exams” rant... which again means that everyone thinks I feign the whole “I’m gonna flunk” soliloquy... *sigh*)

Back at work, every single person keeps shouting words like ‘section 10A’, ‘downstream investments’ and ‘arm’s length price’ like everyday ‘hi’, ‘hello’ ~~and ‘fuck’~~. And of course, I don’t get most of stuff... nor do I understand any of their tax-related jokes (“oh, now you are being unfair... that’s not at arm’s length... HAHAHAHA !”... What??!!)

I’m positive I know nothing about the Income Tax Act, how I got a 67 in my tax paper (oh, I didn’t tell you that either?? Double-Wooohooooo!!... ) is a sixty-four-thousand-dollar question (‘cause “million- dollar” is so passé...)

Of course the Einstein- clones are actually damn, damn nice people... so I actually fessed up to a guy that I am clueless about everything ‘cause ~~my brain cells died out on me~~ I’m from an auditing background. So he gave me quite a lot of stuff to read... and I’ve promised him (... and myself) that I’ll do some sincere studying (...don’t snort, I really will... hopefully). By the way, that’s all I did this week... read through stuff ‘cause I was too ~~demented~~ new to be given any substantial task... and all the LCD- staring from 9 am to 7 pm means my eyeballs feel like desiccated prunes.

Obviously I had the supreme job of “pretending to be busy” to ensure that people don’t smirk at me... though I am positive no one bought it. So, I would furrow my eyebrows in full concentration when the Partner (read: Boss Almighty) would pass by, acting as if I totally understood all the Latin, Hebrew, Zulu and Swahili that was flooding the monitor in front of me.

Honestly, I was so jobless... I Googled random stuff like cannibalism, holocaust and Paul Rudd (one word... 'Therapy')

Also, like most in the South, people here are amazing at English... not the everyday I-am-so-Yankee English we use... the proper ~~1800s~~ English... so, when it comes to everyday conversation lingo, you hear stuff like ‘cooled my heels’ ... and ‘quaint’ ...and ‘succinct’... and ‘surmise’...and ‘fuck, I’m royally screwed’... oh wait, that was me.

Anyhow, I hope I’d manage to learn some stuff so that they don’t kick me out in the first month itself (yeah, yeah... maybe I am paranoid).

By the way, Dad was in Bombay for the past couple of days, and apparently he spotted my doppelganger at the airport there... he said she was like my ditto in every goddamn way, albeit slightly older. He, apparently, was so fascinated that he stared at the female for almost an hour (smooth Dad... very smooth).

*Sigh*... I knew the world was one big Ekta Kapoor soap opera... and yet we keep abusing the poor ~~bitch~~ female.

Cheers!

V- Day flashbacks...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 11:13:00 +0000

It’s Valentine’s Day!!! And I’m jumping around like a starry-eyed, love struck 15- year old...

Not.

Seriously, I can’t stand all the hoopla surrounding Feb 14th. I mean... alright, a day for celebrating love is nice and all of that (... and why not, when there’s ‘Wiggle Your Toe Day’ and ‘Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbor's Porch Day’.... and even ‘Just Because Day’...just because)... But the absolute overdose of soooper mushy cards, gifts and balloons (... like, seriously) kinda ruins it for me. Not to mention, most gift shops in town look like there has been a gigantic cotton candy explosion. And if you are in India, there’s enough ~~moron~~ moral policing on the streets to make you wish you had stayed at home instead.

(Couldn't stop smirking over this one... Courtesy: www.weheartit.com)

Anyhow, I was clearing out the loft a week back (one of those rare occasions when I help out around the house...) when I found a really tattered ‘Johnny Bravo’ poster inside one of my old colouring books (... my Super Jumbo, Special Edition Disney Poster Colouring Book at that... *smug look*...). And it took me a very long walk down memory lane to figure exactly how I got my hands on it.

Turns out it was my "valentine" gift from my best friend back in 5th standard... a chubby guy I loved to call ‘Tubby’(inspiration: 'The Little Lulu Show' ). And weirdly enough, I managed to remember the conversation of that day pretty well:

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(Sitting on the swings in the garden near our building...)

Me: You know, it’s Valentine’s Day today

He: Haan... Natasha said so in school today. Why do people talk about it so much?

Me: It’s the day when a boy tells a girl he likes her.

He: I like you... you never pull my cheeks

Me: I like you too... you buy me pepsicola*

(One of those frozen popsicles they sold in plastic tubes... you’ve never had one?! Such a waste of life... tsk, tsk)

He: (sheepishly...) So, now what?

Me: umm... boy gives girl a gift, I guess. My sister got one

He: umm... ok, what do you want?

Me: You can give me your Hot Wheels Gas Station playset.

(yeah I’m classy and subtle like that)

He: No, I can’t give you that... (Ponders, ponders, and ponders)... Wait here

(and I guess he was gone pretty long, because I was sitting there and getting miffed about missing out on the 3 o’clock Roadrunner Show... )

He: (...panting, as he comes running back) Here, take this

(it was the Johnny Bravo poster, from the previous week’s Newshouse edition ...)

Me: (gleefully...) You giving me this!

He: Yeah, well... you did say you never got last week’s issue... and you like Bravo na?

Me: Ya! Thanks... by the way, Roadrunner’s on... you want to see?

He: I find Wile stupid... but ok

(and we walked into the sunset... or rather the building elevator)

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*Sigh*. Does anybody else here miss all those glorious days of innocence? I know I do... can't help smiling everytime I look at that poster now (... not to mention, Mr. Bravo is as handsome as ever, right Momma?)

Now, without wasting any more of your time, here's wishing all you ~~sickeningly~~ lovey- dovey people a Happy Valentine's Day!

And for all the single/ cynical ones, a 'ROFL' version of That's Amore

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie

That's amore.

When an eel bites your hand and that's not what you planned

That's a moray.

When our habits are strange and our customs deranged

That's our mores.

When your horse munches straw and the bales total four

That's some more hay.

When Othello's poor wife, she gets stabbed with a knife

That's a Moor, eh?

When a Japanese knight used a sword in a fight

That's Sa...mur...ai.

(Courtesy: http://www.humormatters.com)

Till next time then, need to get back to my true love... soya nuggets.

(What?!)

A proud Indian... am I??

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 11:22:00 +0000

Standard 9th... Civics class. I am sitting at the back of the classroom, head lolling off to one side. Lectures on the Indian Constitution are a very, very bad idea... especially after lunch break. As I struggle to maintain minimal levels of consciousness (while words like ‘secular’, ‘democracy’ and ‘citizen rights’ fly right over my head...) the guy sitting on the seat behind me grumbles under his breath, “Why the fuck do they even bother to teach us this shit... none of the secular-democratic bullcrap holds true when it comes to Indian politics anyways.” “Seriously...,” I snort... and go back to my semi- comatose state...

*****************************************************************

I was watching the 12 o’clock news this afternoon, when this whole episode came back to me. One of the main headlines (yeah, you guessed it... ‘Breaking News’) was that Shiv Sainiks in Kandivili (... in Mumbai) and in Aurangabad were holding violent protests against the screening of the latest Shah Rukh-I-open-my arms-so-wide-the -whole-world-can-run-into-them- Khan movie, My Name Is Khan.

(Courtesy: Google)

Reason?

SRK apparently voiced his opinion that Pakistani Cricket players should not be prevented from playing in the (overly hyped) Indian Premier League

Yeah, I know what you are thinking... What the hell did he exactly say that offended a political party so much??

But apparently the Shiv Sena is so deeply offended by this that they have resorted to vandalising public properties and even suggested that SRK should go to Pakistan and stay there (umm, hello??...the guy is like one of the most popular Indian icons abroad... and pays all those crores of rupees in tax which ~~goes into your pockets~~ is used for public expenditure... and has those molten caramel eyes *sorry, couldn’t help it* ).

Mumbai has been witnessing regular political turmoil off late, owing to issues of regionalism and communalism. Why should it be “Mumbai for Maharashtrians”? I’m a Bengali, and I’ve stayed for years in the city, and love the place. Why is my right to live and work in Mumbai any less than that of a Marathi? Of course one can talk about excessive migration and that a city cannot accommodate population beyond a point. But that’s more to do with unbalanced regional development, how are tirades against communities a solution?

But why one city... it’s the same with many parts of the country. Several states have been so wrought by communal politics that it has hampered their economic development (...example, West Bengal). Aren’t there like a dozen or more issues more important than umm... excuse me, but what’s your mothertongue?

It sometimes seems ironical that India is the largest democracy in the world. Fascistic, parochial and communist ideologies are more prevalent here than the whole ‘social, secular, democratic’ spiel contained in the Preamble. Is street violence and intimidation the sign of a republic? The only place where the whole ‘of the people, for the people, by the people’ concept seems applicable these days are the ever-so-loved reality shows (public voting, SMS’s et al). As for elections, I really don’t see what impact they have at grass-root levels; it’s the same old story year after year.

(Courtesy: www.dnaindia.com/cartoons)

I wonder how far the ever-growing economy of this country is gonna go, supported by a decadent political system. I wonder if we’ll ever overcome these regional, religious and communal divides. I wonder whether I will feel the same sense of frustration thirty years from now, that I feel today... or will it be worse?

PS : Does anyone else hate the word ‘Hindutva’ as much as I do??

One of those posts where I go on ranting, for the greater good... not.

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 10:35:00 +0000

The other day I happened to be shopping at this mall in the city, when I happened to notice two girls sifting through clothes at the neighbouring FCUK section (... and for the last time, it’s not the fabled four- letter word written jumbled up... it’s French Connection UK). Anyhoo... one of the two was your quintessential “ modern city- girl”, skinny denims, racer backs and so much make- up that the bright store lights made her face shine (...which, weirdly reminded me of a certain shimmery Mr. Cullen... sheesh!). The other was her much more conservative, nerdy counterpart. Most likely relatives... poles apart to be friends (or maybe friends, what do I care?). I happened to chance upon this conversation they were having (because obviously Beauty Queen was so loud the people in the next store probably heard her...)

Beauty Queen (holding up what looked like a shred of cloth) : I think I’m going to buy this, my boyfriend thinks I look good in blue.

Plain Jane : Isn’t it a bit too... open?

Beauty Queen: Hmm yeah, but I think it brings out my features . *I. Wanted. To. Barf*

Plain Jane: It’s nice that Aunty let’s you wear such things. My mother would kill me.

Beauty Queen: I just need matching chappals . You not taking anything?

Plain Jane: No. Mom said I have all the stuff that I need. Besides I’m not supposed to be distracted from my studies. In fact, Mom’s thinking of finding out about IIT coaching centres

And they blabbered some more. Beauty Queen, about her chappals... and Plain Jane, about her recent, supposedly poor, grades. And the point is? These girls were no older than 13, give or take a few years .

This whole episode got me thinking (silent look of wonder... oh, shut up!) about how much different the kids (... or teens) these days are from what we used to be. When I was thirteen, I’m sure I never gave a rat’s arse to what I would be wearing at which time of the day, nor did I care (or know... for that matter) about IITs or MITs or whatever.

The above incident is a good example because it more or less describes kids these days... Team Plain Jane and Team Beauty Queen (for the boys, let’s make it Team Dexter and Team Wannabe Jocks ).

I don’t know about all you people out there, but childhood for me meant kiddy games, Cartoon Network, scraping my knees, Enid Blytons and decent grades in school.

But kids these days are a completely different scenario. I’ve not even turned twenty, and yet I see kids these days and feel like a 40-year old. Girls no older than 12 or 13 roaming around in noodle- straps and hot pants, with poker straight hair and eye- shadow. Dress. Your. Age.

The daughter of a close family friend once insisted that she wanted to see a movie. So she, in all of her seventh grade glory, sat there smacking her over- glossed lips and carefully putting on eye- liner, while eighteen year old me just stood grimacing besides her urging her to get over with it else we’ll miss the goddamn movie. (And honestly... feeling absurdly inferior as I’m still quiet incapable of putting on eye- liner... I’m sure I’d blind myself in the process).

My five- year old cousin wears Reeboks to kindergarten... which cost around 1500 bucks and are smaller than my palms (of course, because Bata and Liberty are so passé...) and says ‘Yo!” instead of “Hi”. My other cousin has dated more females up till 10th standard than all my guy friends combined and puts so much gel in his hair, it stands up like a freaking porcupine’s needles.

And then of course there’s the great tussle for GPAs and Percentages (i.e. Team Plain Jane and Team Dexter). I once overheard one of my mom’s friends tell her how worried she is with her son’s recent grades. He got only 90% in 9th... which was two percent less than his previous results. Of course owing to this grave situation, he came fourth in his batch that year. Catastrophic.

In my school back in Bombay, a kid once told me she went for tuitions straight from school for almost four hours each day, because she had her 4.5 GPA to maintain (out of 5 that is...). Humph! How about an hour of running around and games to ensure you are not obese at 15?

Down here in the South, coaching classes for IIT starts as early as 8th standard... honestly, what the hell do you teach?...

I mean, I don’t know about everybody, but my parents never cared much for my grades (my Dad, at one point of time, did not even know which year I was in... but that of course, is a totally different story)... and I’d like to think I turned out pretty well (OK now, don’t snort...)

Maybe I’m just way too old school to grasp the ‘young adults’ of today... *sigh*

But for once, I might actually be glad that my childhood’s done... if I was a part of this kiddy crowd, I’d probably burn out from excessive competition... or, like I said... blind myself in the process of a beautification experiment.

Cheers!

Love Harder...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 07:16:00 +0000

This is something that totally touched my heart... I do not know how this post is going to help the cause, and I also do not know if any of those anonymous people who visit my blog are going to care about this... but I would like to give it a sincere shot.

OK, so Lilu here is one of my favourite bloggers, she's sassy and hilarious and has the most awesomely funny B (read her stuff, and you will know what I mean...). So, she and a bunch of other bloggers from the 20SB bloggers community started this site to help their friend Brandy, who writes brilliant by the way, and their efforts completely blew me away... So without further ado...

******************************************************************
From livitluvit.com :

The quandry: We feel terrible. Just horrible. And oh so helpless… if only there was something we could DO for them.

The answer: Ummmm. Did you forget that WE ARE THE INTERNET?!?!!??! And also, Yes We Can!!!

The result: Brandy and your Hot Awesome Dude… this one’s for you. Love, The Internet.

Please feel free to repost this video, the information below, or all of the above! We. Are. The Internet!!!!!!!!!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our Plea:

Our friend Brandy is a brilliant writer, a wonderful teacher, and a generous friend. And she is in love with a man who has just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.

We are raising money for the Multiple Myeloma Research Fund in his name. For the price of a cinnamon dolce latte, half-caf, hold the whip, you can be part of an effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.

http://www.loveharder.org/

Every dollar brings us a dollar closer to a cure. And every donation brings a sliver of hope to a girl who needs all the hope she can get.Love Harder,

LiLu

What You Can Do:

Give. Be part of a worldwide effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide. Every dollar helps.

Pass it on. Forward this story to five people. Share this blog post. Become our fan on Facebook.

Love harder. Life is short, love is unbending, and no one knows what could happen next. Tell someone you love them today.

DONATE: http://www.loveharder.org/
CONTACT: theloveharderfund@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: http://facebook.loveharder.org/
MORE INFO: http://www.themmrf.org/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

visit : Love Harder.

**************************************************************

Please do not be skeptical and let your brain discard it as just-another-charity. Also, do not think that why the Indian community should care about an American foundation or a bunch of people across the globe whom you have never met. Show some love, some humanity... you do not need to compulsorily donate (of course it'll be lovely if you do!!!)... pass the word, to your friends in India and those abroad. This effort stands testimony to the power of the net and blogging communities across the globe... be a part of it (however small or incongruos it may be).

Pink pajama woes or, living on my own...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 22:38:00 +0000

I know it’s been a week since my last post, well I just had a pretty jam- packed schedule for the past few days... juggling the paparazzi, meetings with important foreign delegates... all this while trying to save the world... can be pretty tiresome for a nineteen year old.

Ok, not exactly...

Alright, alright... so I spent the past few days on the couch eating potato chips and black olives (yes, I have a weakness for black olives... no, that does not make me strange) while watching some weird sci-fi Josh Hartnett movie, in which aliens start taking over a school, on re-run. OK, I know it sounds idiotic, but it’s Josh Hartnett, why should I bother about the script (duh...). Bet you didn’t even know I was gone.

So, my Mom’s gone to Calcutta (I find “Kolkata” strange... and obviously you have tagged me as a wannabe British snob) for around fifteen days, which leaves the house to me and Dad. And since Dad is at office throughout the day, technically it leaves the house to me (which is why it is a miracle that the place has not been burned down to ashes already).
And, as most of my friends know, I know nothing about household chores. In fact, I’m so useless, you probably will not be able to differentiate me from a piece of furniture lying around the house, except that I breathe, eat and locomote. Thus, Mom was very apprehensive of leaving me alone, but I convinced her that she needed the vacation more than anybody I know (which is true, being a Mom is a tough job... especially if your kid is me).

Now that she’s gone, in order to survive the day I figured that I needed to learn some basic stuff... like how to turn on the burner (yeah, I’m that primitive). And of course the fact that I don’t like fire doesn’t help. Hell, I cannot even light a match (no exaggeration. Believe). Anyways, I managed to figure that one out, that too without burning myself. But I still decided to stick with the microwave (it is the greatest invention... ever), which obviously solved the greatest dilemma of my life...

How to make a cup of tea.

Being a compulsive tea- addict, I absolutely cannot function without it... of course the one I make is not as good as mom’s, but what more could I expect out of microwave and tea bags (the second greatest invention ever)... although I’m yet to figure out why it foams when I add milk, I have a feeling it’s not normal...

I have also learned how to survive on Maggi (chicken flavoured... strictly). Now, I’m probably one of those very few who absolutely hate the 2-minute wonder noodles, it does funny things to my stomach. But when you are starving and there is no generous, loving mother to cook up a wonder, you tend to like anything edible (by the way, I microwave Maggi too... don’t ask me how, and don’t try it... tastes like muck).

Also, I’m totally convinced that my vacuum cleaner is possessed... and the fact that it tried to eat up my Costing notes and my Superman T- shirt (yes, I have a Superman T- shirt...) proves the same. And yeah, the washing machine hates me... totally. I mean, why do they call it an IFB fully- automatic if there are so many manual adjustments? OK, to my credit, I managed the settings part pretty well... but what I obviously wasn’t forewarned about was the ‘separating your whites from your colours’ bit. So, I put in my red socks with my white pajamas... and voila! I am now the not-so-proud owner of a pair of bright pink pajamas that look like they belong to a grossly over-sized, seriously obese Barbie (why me? why me?!).

On a different note (or is it the same note...?!) we are definitely running out of frozen food, and since my culinary skills are restricted to muck- flavoured Maggi, Dad’s going to have to start cooking soon. Which is not all that bad a deal, I guess. I mean, alright, Dad can make really yummy food. Yummy as in full of oil and rich in spices. Of course, the taste buds love it, but it has the absolute capacity of speeding up your heart’s arterial blockages by twenty times. But that’s better than take-aways. Which makes me really want to point out that Domino’s desperately needs to re- vamp their menu... I probably could recite it by rote now. And by re-vamp I don’t mean introducing a stupid chocolate cake... it’s a pizza place, not a pastry shop. Irrelevant? I know.

So, basically that’s how my past week has been... a full- fledged war with household appliances and an appetite gone haywire. By the way, I’m straying from topic here (“what topic”, you say?) but I decided to let you all have an insight into the pure genius that I am. I was having this conversation with a friend... say ‘Mr. Mariner’... few hours back, and the fellow is pretty excited about this trip to Goa with his friends... which is natural, given he lives in a pseudo- concentration camp.

Mr. Mariner: What do I say to a nude girl on a beach in order to strike up a conversation?

Genius me: “I like what you are wearing”

Sheer genius. I’m the queen of pick- up lines. You don’t think it’s funny? Too bad, your sense of humour is just not as demented as ours... work on it.

And this is probably the point when you are banging your keyboard, frustrated that you cannot reach out and strangulate me... which is exactly why I love the virtual world. Honestly, I don’t even know why it’s a part of this post... well, I don’t even know why I’m publishing this post... maybe I’m nearing what they call compulsive blogger syndrome.

Anyhow, I’ll end it here (did I hear a ‘thank you’?) and continue with my ongoing battle for survival. Be back when I find more tripe (... did I just use the word tripe...?) to post on.

“C’ya... wouldn’t wanna be ya” *sing-song voice*

PS : I want Mommy!!!!!!

Random, totally pointless observations... because I have nothing better to do

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 21:30:00 +0000

OK, so people who have known me know that I've changed cities, homes, schools, ~~prisons~~... quite a lot. And we... I mean, my family and I... are pretty good at dealing with the whole process. Infact, we probably would have been Darwin's favourite specie for studying adaptability. Although, this time around the change hasn't been as good for me, mainly because I've moved from Bombay (...a city I lurrrrveeee!) all the way down (...literally, or rather geographically) to Chennai, and there's no school, or college, or office (for now...) to keep me busy. Which also sort of explains the frequent posting. And I ~~wanna take my bags and get the hell out of here~~ would like to think I'm coping with this place rather well.

Like most new places, this city has it's own quirks. Of course there's the whole craze for Kollywood movies (...some of which are pretty entertaining, by the way... no, seriously). But, apart from that... this place has a few characteristics of it's own...

Firstly :    People here love their temples. And by love, I mean are compulsively obsessed, in a weird, ungodly (...forgive the irony) way. I mean, OK I'm not exactly a "God person" (which probably indicates I'll go to hell, never attain salvation and be reborn as a dung beetle...) but I do respect people's beliefs and their religion. Here however, people go to temples on weekends the way every other person goes on holiday trips to hill stations, beaches or resorts. And there are thousands of pujas, festivals and religious occasions (...most of which I can't pronounce or understand).

Secondly :    There are no high- rise buildings. Alright, maybe a few having eight storeys, but those are the very rare, very new ones. My head's probably gonna spin the day I return to my 12th floor ~~pigeon hole~~ apartment in Bombay. Here, most normal Bombay high- rises would probably be looked upon as people (in other parts) look at the Petronas Towers (...or the Burj, since that's the new, in thing).

Thirdly :    Men on the streets here aren't the most civilised of people. I mean, it's a different thing if guys are checking out girls (...after all, we do it too) or give an appreciative glance (...hell, that's even an ego boost). No, men here stare. And by staring I mean the eyes-popping-out-of-their-sockets, I-can-see-right-through-you-with-my-superhuman-X-ray-vision sort of stare. They give ogling a whole new definition. And if you are a 'North Indian' (...which means anything above the southern peninsula) and are slightly fair, even the women stare (as if the men weren't disturbing enough), sometimes so hard that you feel that they are gonna burn you like an ant under a magnifying glass. Which brings me to my next point...

Fourthly (yes it's a tad bit long... bear with me) :    What's with the whole complexion thing anyways?! It's like racism in reverse. The other day my dad's assistant visited our place, and actually praised me by saying, "Oh, she's so fair!" (yikes...) And to top it all, she was surprised that 'north Indians' like R. Madhavan, 'cause apparently he's too dark to be liked. DUH!!!!!! I love Madhavan.. loved him since I was like in 5th grade (anyone seen 'Ghar Jamai'?? Just me?? Oh, Ok)... he was never too dark for me,...  hell, he's not even dark!!!

  (Dear Madhavan...if you ever read this... which is highly unlikely... please know that I find you "oh, so cute", and since we now live in the same city, we can even meet up! *talk about high hopes*).

Anyways, so what is the big deal with fairness?! And for clarification's sake, I'm not even fair... my complexion is more like an over- cooked chapati (minus the dark spots... for complete lack of a better comparison). Why is fair lovely?? (Pathetic attempt at puns, I know...) I thought Hale Berry, ~~Naomi Campbell,~~ Tyra Banks et al were considered hot and classy. And Will Smith's like shit, sooooo freaking awesome!! And don't give me the 'in my shoes' or some other such idiom (it is an idiom, right?... or a proverb?...or a phrase? Why do I care?)... a person is dark, so what? . Deal with it... fairness creams don't work and an absurd inferiority complex will not help... besides, what happened to the "it's the attitude that counts" thought? Unless of course, if you want to go the Michael Jackson way (... rest in peace) and opt for the complete plastic surgery, de- pigmentation...whatever, whatever thingy... which needs affordability ( i.e. lot's of money to waste), guts (LOTS of it) and absurd reasoning (to want such a procedure). Anyways, this actually seems to be the case with the entire country I guess. (Dear SRK... you were such a cool celeb... and then you endorsed a fairness cream :| )

Fifthly (last one...promise!) :  Now, I believe in simple living and high thinking (though I actually don't have high thoughts...) but every person needs to follow certain etiquettes being a part of society which (how much ever you may want to) one cannot denounce. And one of those unspoken codes of conduct is... you do not adjust your lungi on the street. Neither do you convert it into a mini skirt in public. Period.

(Courtesy Google, and if you are the guy in the photo... behave!)

*** End of list***
( a silent sigh of relief rushes over the crowd... Wait, what crowd? Hardly 3 people read this thing)

PS : Just because I live in Chennai does not mean I survive on idlis and dosas. It's a metropolitan, not a tribal village (??!!) You get awesome food in this place (my weight stands testimony...)
PPS : Stop asking me if I've learned any Tamil (oh sorry, Tamizh)... it's only been like a month and a half since I moved here, for heaven's sake! And it's a very, very complicated language. And I have figured that my linguistic skills aren't great either... 8 years in Bombay, and I like know 3 words in Marathi. And it's a major surprise that I can speak any Bengali... my kids are probably gonna learn some weird, hybrid language as their mother tongue... yes, I have issues.
PPPS : No, I have not met A.R Rahman. So, like what if we are in the same city?! His guards will probably shoot me anyways, thinking of me as a potential stalker if I like try to barge in his house. Besides, John Abraham and I have been in the same city for years, did we ever meet...erm, NO! :(
PPPPS : I miss Mumbai Mirror!!!!! And Bombay Times!!!! And hindi FM stations!!!! (OK, I barely listened to FM... but I still miss it!!!!)

Cheers!! :)

In the name of awareness...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 15:05:00 +0000

Yeah, yeah, I know I've probably posted more this week than I had in the past one year (a direct outcome of joblessness)... but if I used to think that I'm losing my brains, I have realised today that I'm not alone. The entire world is going bollocks!

If you cannot make sense of my sudden rantings, check out your Facebook updates (well, that's what got me started...). As a part of some weird technique of promoting breast cancer awareness, girls are putting the colour of the bra they are wearing as their status updates. I mean...EXCUSE ME?! What sort of weird, sleazy, half- brained concept is this? How is mentioning the colour of your lingerie helping in spreading breast cancer awareness? Especially since these are followed by a 'winky' emoticon., i.e. ;). Well, all they seem to be promoting now are tongue-in-cheek comments from other girls, like, "ooh, how sexy!!" (...duh) and providing guys with their five seconds of fascination (that is if you actually get it, in the first place...). And yeah, it's got nothing to do with 'conservatism'... but if this is some sort of mock attempt to revive the women's revolution of the 60s, it's a really, amazingly, lame one. As it seems, most girls putting up these updates aren't even remotely concerned with the awareness part of it, they mostly seem to be following it like a brand new fad *raised eyebrows*.

Whether the intention behind all this is "involving the youth" or something on the same line, I don't know... to me it seems like promoting mockery instead of awareness, I'm sure there are more "innovative" ideas than this, if you are really serious about the whole thing. Of course, you can say that I'm old school, or just completely missing the point... but this whole thing seems plain ridiculous to me. Call me oh-so-boring... that I sound like your aunt, but having personally known a few women who have battled the disease, I sort of understand the graveness of the issue.

Anyways, since I've already let out all the pent up steam, I'm just going break it off here and let the world continue with it's novel ideas ---------- lame way to end a post? That's what happens when you break off in between and spend an hour on the phone talking crap (not that I don't enjoy it)...kills your literary prowess (and if you think I don't have any, don't burst the bubble...). Hopefully there won't be any new insanity cropping up to compel me to post again for at least a couple of days, because I really need to get off this thing and study!

The 'Idiot Box' ??... An understatement

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 14:03:00 +0000

“I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.”
- Groucho Marx

What makes me write this? Well, because I just spent an entire afternoon watching... or rather trying to watch something on the television, and ended up being completely frustrated (and more bored than I was before I switched it on). While the Indian film industry is showing signs of progress (finally...) over the past few years, with newer and more innovative concepts (of course, you still have your frequent 'duds')... the television industry, on the other hand, is definitely going down the drain (and the filthiest one at that...).

What basically started with Ekta Kapoor, has become a plague with (it seems...) most production houses and creative teams which produce (or rather, vomit out...) these 'daily soaps'. I do not want to sound like one of those ultra- feminists (and I don't really advocate them either...), but the image of the Indian woman today is of someone who is strong, independent and educated, and not someone whose ultimate aim in life seems to be to get married at twenty, mass- produce children and squabble over the dinner menu. And, specially since these shows cater to a largely female population, the fact that they seem to promote oppression and submissiveness is a downright insult to the audience. And not to mention the psychological impact it has, especially since viewers in India are often incapable of differentiating between fiction and reality ( so much so, that SRK leaving his "wife" in a movie becomes a national debate and a character being killed off in a soap signals a two- day mourning... *sheesh*). It's basically promoting 'idiocy', camouflaging it as 'entertainment'. Even shows which are supposedly targetted at the youth audience seems to be promoting nothing else but "puppy love" and rosy , pseudo- Riverdale environments (well, honestly Archies was way more fun than all of these programs put together). The line between light- hearted entertainment and absolute stupidity seems to be blurring... fast.

And if only the stupidity ended with these daily soaps... nah, seems like it's just the beginning. What takes it to it's pinacle are the 'Reality Shows' (*flourish and claps*... urghhhh!). Alright, so a few shows are acceptable, even fun to watch I guess... but there seems to be a a new show cropping up every hour, so much so that now, we have a whole section of actors aka the reality tv stars (yeah, right...). And it does not stick to singing, dancing and performing... it extends to cheap theatrics, unwanted dramatization and sleazy verbal abuses in every language possibly known to man. It went as high (or as low...) as choosing brides and bridegrooms on national television and TV stars trying to raise other people's babies (help me...) for their 15 minutes of fame (read : cheap publicity). So basically, you have a mockery on the institution of marriage, parenthood and even the pilgrim destinations (yes, there is one on that too). More than the content, the makers of these shows seem to be relying on manipulative tactics and blackmailing the audience. And they don't seem to be providing any 'platform' (they love this word...) for budding talents either. Winners of earlier shows are just seen circulating in other shows, withouth any of the supposed career- highs they were promised. So what if you win a contest... erm,what next? These shortcuts to fame lead them nowhere (and now I sound like your every- day philosopher, right?....).

So please Mr. Creative Head and Mr. Writer, try and think of (yes, think of...) of some substantial content next time you plan to telecast a show on TV, the Indian audience is, I am sure, not the pack of nit- wits you might consider it to be. And yeah, please tell me how to locate my look- alike, 'cause you guys seem to be finding one for every person with absolute ease.

...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 12:03:00 +0000

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd ..

- Lines 207–210 of the poem 'Eloisa to Abelard' by Alexander Pope

... just happened to watch the movie 'Eternal Sunshine Of A Spotless Mind' today (brilliant movie by the way)... and am totally in love with the above lines, so thought of putting it down...

Cheers!

Resurrection of a dead blog...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 09:32:00 +0000

OK, so I have not posted anything in this space for a while now... though I figure no one is really complaining. Anyways, my exams just got over (my CA IPCC, to be precise)... and it was actually horrible. Why the emphasis on 'actually'?... Well 'cause most of my friends say I love feigning that my exams were bad, and then end up scoring high grades... Not intentional though, it's a childhood problem... the supposed feigning, not the grades, I mean. Anyways, so given my horrid exams (Yes, actually horrid exams), a viral fever bordering on dengue and my 'psychological state' (at least mom loves calling it that... chuck), the past two months weren't exactly great.

Anyways, that phase is over (hopefully...) and I decided to take a well- deserved (or so I'd like to think...) break. So I bought a few novels and went shopping with Kavitha in the past few days. I'm mostly jobless these days, reading novels or watching crap movies. I'd promised mom I'd head to the gym for a few days, but I'm not really that great at keeping promises, especially those which involved physical exertion (or any form of locomotion, for that matter). So here I am piling on the kilos and wasting away precious time rather happily. Actually, my dad thinks the weight gain might work in my favour given the South Indian preference for 'healthy women'... Oh yeah, I'm shifting to Chennai this Sunday...which is both nice and depressing in a way. Nice because a change of city implied a fresh start in some sense... new people, new places (with non- pronounceable names...if I might add). Depressing because, though I know shifting places is probably something that has been imprinted in my genetic make-up by now, I liked Mumbai... I had friends here, and there was a sense of familiarity... I was even beginning to recognise streets and routes, not having to entirely depend upon the auto wallahs as usual and hoping they'd know the way (did I ever mention my sense of direction, ability to locate addresses and cross streets amidst heavy traffic bordered on zero?...no wait, it's actually negative). I had probably even mustered the courage, on the days I was late or without a pass, to attempt squeezing myself into the second class ladies compartments at Kurla or Dadar without fearing it was definitely the last few moments of my life or feeling physically assaulted (and not run for a cab, as I usually did). Besides, given the things I'd heard about Chennai (pre-conceived notions... i hope) I'm worried about feeling like a fish out of water. Anyways, hopefully I'd be out of that place in a couple of years.

Also, I've started reading the 'Twilight' series... yeah, I know I'm probably the last hormonally sane female on this planet to start with it, every woman around me has already read the books...at least twice. So, I finished 'Twilight' today (the first of the series), and honestly... contrary to most other girls around me... I didn't really find the need to go gushing about it like an estrogen- charged thirteen year old. OK, the book is decent, worthy of a read (this, of course, if you are a girl... and like teenage romance novels at some level)... but seriously I fail to grasp what the hue and cry is all about. And yes, I too have been brought up on a healthy diet of Nancy Drews, Sweet Valleys, Princess Diaries, Shopaholics and the likes, so hopefully my lack of exposure to 'teen literature' isn't the issue here. Basically this female named Bella falls for this vegetarian vampire named Edward... OK, vampires are nice, maybe even appealing to a certain level (albeit the blood- sucking of course), but what's with the "ideal guy" theory? (that's what most of my girlfriends think)... I mean I don't know about ideals, but I wouldn't really prefer a guy with golden eyes (freaky), ivory skin that glitters (excuse me?!...) in the sun and body temperatures below 0 degrees. And I don't really fancy a guy being described as "irresistibly beautiful" or "angelic". I guess I still continue to have faith in the human male population. Maybe it's not the description in the book, it's probably Pattison's face from the movie which keeps popping up. Oh yeah, that's one more issue...what's so great about that actor? He looks freaky to me honestly, I'd probably run a mile away from him if he stood in front of me... why is everyone falling on their faces at the mere mention of his name? (Whatever happened to the Clooneys, Pitts, Kutchers and Damons of this world?) I also think his facial contours are kinda weird. Given that it is a work of fiction, (or rather fantasy...) I'd rather opt for the Harry Potter series any day (Yes, I'll never outgrow that stuff). I don't know, but nothing in the book seemed extraordinary if one cared to have any previous knowledge of vampire folklore (try Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'). Anyhow, I'm going to start on the second one now (New Moon)...let's see if there's a gradual change of opinion. One thing though, I do like the book- covers... makes for pretty shelf decoration.

Also, I read up '2 States' by Chetan Bhagat...stereotypical in a way... but funny and sarcastic enough to be thoroughly enjoyable. Though I must admit, it did nothing to subside my apprehensions about Chennai. I know I'm comparing two completely different genres but, on a general basis, I think I preferred this love story over the damsel and glittering vampire one.
I guess I'm finally running out of crap to write, so I'll close it here. Also, I'm going to go and gush all over the new handbag I just bought... love it... but I think it looks a tad bit too sophisticated on my hopelessly clumsy self ...*sigh*

First job!!...OK, not exactly...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 17:39:00 +0000

Hello to one and all who bother to stop by and read all the crap I post here (and you know i love you for that...). News of the day: I got into a firm for my articleship, so I'm going to join from the first of August. The firm's Ford, Rhodes, Park & Co. (yeah, atleast the name sounds nice...) and my Principal (that's the guy who's going to be my mentor...ummm, the one who'll teach me my job) seemed like a good old guy (I was going to address him as 'Uncle' in my interview...shit, shit). Plus I'll get a monthly stipend ("salary" is too sophisticated a word) of 2500 bucks!...OK, so a friend said that's what they might pay us...come to think of it, I never got that piece of information confirmed (and now come to think of it, they never mentioned the money till date...ummm...er...shit...). Well, most people have already told me that for the first few months, articles at a firm are nothing better than qualified peons, but it's kind of a nice feeling... like you are really doing something worthwhile.

So basically, life is going to be super- hectic from now onwards...juggling college, office and classes together. Ahhh, whatever. Also, our Business Development teacher thinks articleship is "child labour" and that we are losing our childhood and innocence ...oh my! *gags*

By the way, I still haven't been able to find the time to catch up on "The Dark Knight" (I know, I should dig up a grave and bury myself alive...guess what, I hadn't had the time to do that either). Plan to see it soon. And why can't football season start sooner!!!

Anyways, there you are, another chapter in my ever- boring existence...till next time then!

Of old photos and old memories...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 10:24:00 +0000

So, its been raining continuosly since morning... or for that matter, the last 3 days... and honestly, I'm not a huge monsoon fan, and I totally despise getting drenched in the rains... a walk after a downpour is nice though, when its clean and fresh. Anyways, since I had nothing to do this morning (and that is a welcome change by the way) , I decided to take out my Grandpa's dusty old suitcase and look through the several photo albums I keep there. Its something I do every few months...dig out all the old photos and look through each one of them, trying to recollect the different occasions... it kind of feels like a walk down memory lane, and its a great way to kill straight three or four odd hours. There are all sorts of albums... childhood, camps, picnics, schools, vacations, weddings... and oddly, even a set of funeral photos (funny, to think someone was actually busy snapping away during such a sad occasion... I never look through those, by the way) . Some of my closest relatives are pretty old now... and its a strange feeling seeing them all young and smiling in those pictures taken long ago... its like they've aged all of a sudden... like I'd never expected them to grow old (and to think I feel stupid when those aunts exclaim on how big I've become) . But, there are some photos which are definitely more precious than others.

Like the candid one above... its one of my all time favourite photos... that's my Grandmother and me... I usually look at it a good 10 minutes before taking out another. Its not probably the best quality wise...the light's bad (guess what...my Dad clicked it), and its slightly off colour...fading in parts...and my Grandmother (I used to call her 'Bhalo maa"...which means "good mother" in bengali...wasn't a big fan of my own mom as a kid, I guess) was probably in one of her most dishevelled early morning states. Most people say I was darn cute as a kid... I just think I had a huge, funny- shaped head (Dad agrees, said it was shaped like a big egg when I was born, and it was bluish... encouraging) . Basically, this photo stands as proof that my Bhalo maa is responsible for my addiction to tea. She used to dunk her biscuits (the classic Britannia Marie) into her tea and give me small pieces... which is what she's doing in the photo... I naturally loved the "tea- flavoured" biscuits (its obviously seen there) ! Gradually, as I grew up, I progressed from "tea- dunked" biscuits to sips and small cups of tea to... well, a compulsory dosage of a nice big mug (yeah mug) of Chai atleast twice a day. I guess its these small things which make you miss a loved one more than anything else... by the way, mom tells me that as a kid, the dining table used to be my favourite spot... I used to sit on it all day... don't think I can manage that now without wrecking the damn thing. And yeah, I still dip biscuits into my tea before eating them..plain, salted, cream- filled, crackers, cookies... you name it, I dunk it!

Anyways gotta go now... my evening cuppa awaits me.

The DOUBLE!!...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Thu, 22 May 2008 10:29:00 +0000

I am sure I died ten times over this morning (well 12:15 am is this morning, technically)...at least my heart stopped like a zillion times. After a mind- numbing final Manchester United emerged as the triumphant kings of Europe, winning their third UCL cup and making it a double this season along with the Premier League victory. To say that it was a dramatic event would be robbing it of its true intensity...it was just the kind of match you have to see live...no matter how many times you see the replay, if you've not lived the moment, it goes futile (though I admit I saw the penalty shootout like 3 times today...and involuntarily shuddered each time). I'm not going to do an in-depth analysis of the match, I'm too new a football fan for that I guess...just some random thoughts.

Back to topic : I was pretty much off my head from the start...Ronaldo's header (and its Cristiano...not 'Ch'ristiano, you wannabe fan) in the 26th minute managed to calm my nerves a bit but Lampard's goal followed by a second half dominated by Chelsea got even my mom's blood pressure soaring. The cable operator sure received a lot of cuss words on my behalf when the transmission was cut off in between, but the Ten Sports is not exactly known for its excellent transmission (turns out it wasn't the operator's fault after all...poor guy). But it came just in time for the 2nd half of ET. As for the penalties, honestly when Ronaldo's was saved by Cech, I had almost given up. Was about to actually switch off the TV, when Terry (Mr. Chelsea himself) missed. When VDS ("Won" Der Sar...as someone rightly said) made that wining save, I was initially stupefied...a part of me actually thought we'd lost...but we'd managed to beat Chelsea in their (so- called) homeland!!! OK, the Fate Sisters played a big, BIG part. After it was all done and dusted, I was still feeling nervous...like the everything would suddenly go horribly wrong!...Credits to Chelsea for putting up a good show... although it was atrocious on the part of the players to gang up on the referee each time he gave them a foul intending to beat the crap out of him (and the referee was not exactly a Chelsea fave)...well, Drogba and Makalele pissed me till no end... guess Drogba finally saw "red" for that slap (tap, flick...whatever) on Vidic (with due respect to his skills as a player...I think its high time he realises he is too late for a nomination in BAFTA or the Oscars this year)...and OK, this has nothing to do with the game ,but I wish he'd stop sticking his tongue out and thumping his chest as if he is Tarzan's retarded twin each time he scores a goal...its plain eye-sore. Sad way to finish his last match for Chelsea (and I'm dying to say this...serves him right!). Seeing Terry cry made my mom sad though ("Aww!...poor guy must be feeling really down...I hope his elbow is not hurting")...it didn't evoke any such response from me though (try jumped gleefully).

Grant was obviously upset (well, you can't say his facial expressions looked any different from the usual) and despite being not-so-media friendly (try : B-O-R-I-N-G) and making absurd comments left, right and centre, I think he deserves due credit for taking Chelsea to a level that the 'Special One' could not manage (and he was a pretty good looking 'Special One' at that...anyone misses his post- match interviews?). Whether he stays or not next season, well I really couldn't care less. Also, I think Andy Gray is as anti- United as you can get, stating dumb statistics when we are anyways going ballistic in our homes. But, in the end, all that really counts is United's victory. Felt great to see Sir Bobby Charlton lead the team for the presentation. What a fitting tribute to the Busby Babes, 50 years after the Munich tragedy!

Glory, Glory Man United!!!

Afterthought : I now think Grant's grouchy look suits him just fine, him smiling happily isn't exactly a pretty picture...got a horrible set of teeth that fellow, could use an orthodontist. I also think Anderson can give Michael Jackson stiff competition, his "victory-jig" was awesome. And those Star Sports "pundits" need to do serious groundwork...freaking me out with silly predictions. By the way, Dad returned this evening stating that we had double reasons to celebrate...the second apparently being my Boards result (ummm...what? there's only one possible "double" reason now).

- Cheers!

...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 19:10:00 +0000

Homer: Marge? Since I'm not talking to Lisa, would you please ask her to pass me the syrup?
Marge: Dear, please pass your father the syrup, Lisa.
Lisa: Bart, tell Dad I will only pass the syrup if it won't be used on any meat product.
Bart: You dunkin' your sausages in that syrup homeboy?
Homer: Marge, tell Bart I just want to drink a nice glass of syrup like I do every morning.
Marge: Tell him yourself, you're ignoring Lisa, not Bart.
Homer: Bart, thank your mother for pointing that out.
Marge: Homer, you're not not-talking to me and secondly I heard what you said.
Homer: Lisa, tell your mother to get off my case.
Bart: Uhhh, dad, Lisa's the one you're not talking to.
Homer: Bart, go to your room.

Pretty much talks about the present school systems...dead on.

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 19:02:00 +0000

My "amazing" High school days...

noreply@blogger.com (Krittika) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 08:08:00 +0000

Hullo...so like this is my first attempt at blogging...pretty lame beginning right... I just finished High school and am "supposedly" looking forward to my college days...dont know whats the big hue and cry about college anyways...getting a new dress for college, a new hairstyle, new shoes...new this, new that...phew!. Anyways, so the last days of 12th were supposed to be really emotional...and honestly...they were not. They were dull, boring, irritating...and we had a Bio board exam on the last day,so that did not help much. So, to celebrate this so-called emotional moment we girls went out for pizza (innovative right?)...just four of us actually...and the fact that every waiter @ Pizza Hut stared @ us as if we were Martians just added to the fun (yeah right...).

These two years of ISC were fun...i guess...i mean i made few real good friends...the girls of my class were really nice...not the hanky-panky types...big relief...and it helps at times being a new kid, people think its tough...but its actually easier...you dont hav to worry about not being in the same class as your friend, or worse, being in the same class as your arch enemy...you dont have to think about dealing with someone who slapped you in 5th standard and who now sits next to you and stuff like that...and if you are a blabbermouth like me, talking to people is not really an issue...(and if you've changed schools as randomly as i have...u kind of enjoy the process)...apart frm that, ISC sci could very well serve as a launch pad for engineering...i mean IIT can really recruit guys from school for ad camaigns ,"join IIT...you'll attain salvation"...i dont know if all the obsessions are truly justified...how can 5 or 6 institutes decide the fate of 5 lakh students??...i for one dont really get it...but i guess it happens to everyone @ such times...you either end up worshipping these institutes or just end up hating their existence. 12th for me was...well, boring...not really what you think about it as a kid, being the seniormost batch and things like that...i dont think most of us had that kinda influence on the juniors...though the teachers managed to remind us of our "seniority" each time, like its our fault we passed out 11th and are in 12th (id say it was a little miracle in itself...passing Phy in 11th)...but there were few good times...like Sports Day was fun...yes, that despite the parrot- green costumes, with capris so tight you'd think they would tear if u so much as breathe (our teachers hav fantastic fashion sense...VOGUE should felicitate them)...but yeah we had a good time...CONFLUENCE, that was the theme...it looked like confusion rather on the grounds...but yeah in all, it was quite a break from the monotony of everyday classes, so good enough. You must hav guessed by now that ISC was mostly uneventful...except for chem lab that is...where people set the basins on fire(how?)...and the alcohol containing test tube ignites like some crazy fire show...and where you learn different colour changes...really helpful for kiddie birthdays...and inhale weird fumes, almost certain you''d not survive the day and wishing you'd written your will earlier...i loved the lab for all this!!

There were not many events actually...there was the Youth Fest though...no,it only sounds ultra hip or whatever,....where my friends danced to Lavni...yup...for the folk dance thing...and our house won...it was damn cute actually...once you get over the initial shock of a Lavni dance (and no i wont mention the song)...or if you are like me and completely unaware of its history or, umm...social status. But it managed to score brownie points alright...mainly because everybody in the audience had loads of fun during the song (you bet)...complete with the hooting and clapping (:P)...i dont remember the other folk dances, and i'm not sure many people do either...the western dance was good, the rest, i dont recollect...i guess it was fun, because like i said..the school doesnt have many events...so any event is a nice way of breaking the everyday monotony. Oh yeah, our teachers did propose a trip to...Great Escape *flourish and claps*....a water park (ooooh!)...we gave a good response though, 5 people actually wanted to go (out of 160 odd)...besides that, you know the usual 12th standard drill...study, study, study....gosh! I mean i'd really began to lose my nerves...for eg, everytime i got a foul odour, i actually used to think i had an overactive schneidarian membrane...talk about applying knowledge to practical life. Yes, and we had the Lamp Lighting ceremony...where each teacher lit a lamp fr a 10th/12th student, wishing them good luck for the exams and life...quite touchy...and my mom loved the lamp ("good for Diwali, wish we had another")...and the ex- Principal (and current director of education or something) gave a customary speech...by the end of it i had tears in my eyes...no, not out of emotions, but sheer agonizing boredom...it went on and on and on....a neverending saga...

We got our farewell on 4th...dont know if i'd go....no i am not an insensitive wart, its just that not too many people turn up....everyone is usually too busy with entrances and stuff (sporting no?)...i wish they'd come though...i guess high school's like a lollipop, it sucks till its over (i do have very deep thoughts...)...anyways guess i wrote a lot of junk in my very first post...well i'll continue boring any one who bothers to read this with further posts. cya