The tag game

So, this tag game is doing rounds in the Blogosphere. I saw it in this blog. All we need to do is cross out the things we have done. Just for the sake of some random fun!

So here goes:

1. Graduated high school.
2. Kissed someone.
3. Smoked a cigarette. (Only if hukkah counts)
4. Got so drunk you passed out.
5. Rode every ride at an amusement park.
6. Collected something stupid. ( Casper bars, ice cream sticks,tiles,tazzos)
7. Gone to a rock concert.
8. Helped someone.
9. Gone fishing
10. Watched four movies in one night.
11. Lied to someone.
12. Snorted cocaine.
13. Smoked weed.
14. Failed a subject. (Surprise class test :X)
15. Been in a car accident.
16. Been in a tornado.
17. Watched someone die.
18. Been to a funeral.
19. Burned yourself.
20. Run a marathon.
21. Cried yourself to sleep.
22. Spent over 10,000 bucks in one day.
23. Flown on an aeroplane.
24. Cheated on someone.
25. Been cheated on.
26. Written a 10 page letter.
27. Gone skiing.
28. Been sailing.
29. Cut yourself.
30. Had a best friend.
31. Lost someone you loved.
32. Got into trouble for something you didn’t do.
33. Stolen a book from the library
34. Gone to a different country.
35. Watched the Harry Potter movies. [All of them]
36. Had an online diary.
37. Fired a gun.
38. Gambled in a casino.
39. Been in a school play.
40. Been fired from a job.
41. Taken a lie detector test.
42. Swam with dolphins.
43. Voted for someone on a reality TV show.
44. Written poetry.
45. Read more than 20 books a year.
46. Gone to Europe.
47. Loved someone you shouldn’t have.
48. Used a colouring book over age 12.
49. Had a surgery.
50. Had stitches.
51. Taken a Taxi.
52. Had more than 5 IM conversations going on at once.
53. Been in a fist fight.
54. Suffered any form of abuse.
55. Had a pet.
56. Petted a wild animal. [Lion cubs :)]
57. Had your own credit card & bought something with it.
58. Dyed your hair.
59. Got a tattoo.
60. Had something pierced.
61. Got straight As.
62. Known someone personally with HIV or AIDS.
63. Taken pictures with a webcam.
64. Lost something expensive.
65. Gone to sleep with music on. [ The story of my life!]

P.S : Life's so dull without The Big Bang Theory :(
P.P.S: Univ finals in less than 48 hours *gets tensed*

Book shook

Yes yes, we all know facebook is a phenomenon. Was rather. After a good many attention seeking celebs who's who have thronged Twitter, it can be safely said that the birdie has dethroned the brainchild of a couple of Harvard geeks.
Thankfully, I don't get inundated with twitter requests any longer.What's the point, one asks, in having five degrees of connectivity (viz. phone, in person, facebook, gtalk, orkut-in that order) with the same set of people.None at all, one answers.The list below enumerates five things that i find irritating,rummy, amusing-all at once about facebook.

5. Privacy

When I was a rookie facebooker, I used to have a deal of trouble with the privacy of my virtual world activities. It was about that time I made up this phrase- "On facebook, I fart and everybody knows".I would tell it to anybody who'd listen.It was my finest line of defense against belittling of Orkut. Soon after I was told discovered about the privacy settings. I heaved a sigh of relief that I'd be able to take quizzes like 'Which Disney princess are you?' without being silently smirked at. I wish other people dovetailed this opinion of keep-it-private. But do they? Na-uh. No, I am not complaining but it's hard to keep a straight face at your seemingly drab and simpleton, door-se-hi-hello-college guy, when he passes by saying 'hey', because 18 hours ago you read on news feed that his ideal position would be cowgirl style!

4. Like

The only problem with this feature is that it is a gazillion times cooler than the people who use it.I suspect that most people use 'like' just to use it and not because they actually liked something. Any compulsive facebooker worth his salt wakes up groggy eyed in the mornings and even before he cleans his nictitating membranes or removes plaque from his teeth, he'likes' at least five different stuff on facebook. Don't be taken aback if you ever come across a status message that says- I just peed, and five people 'like' it.

3. The farmers,the dons, the friends and the lovers

There has been one direct consequence of Copenhagen summit. It has given huge impetus to the environment awareness, and as a result more people are planting trees-so what if it's on farmville.As my sarcasm skills are rudimentary I would cut to the chase and say-It's annoying! Ignoring ten farmville requests a day is annoying. Receiving bananas and pineapples every time you go online is annoying. My homepage filled with news feed of people moving up levels in farmville is oh-so-annoying.
If there's anything more annoying it's Mafia wars.I thought we were done with the Corleone family-inspired drama after screen adaptations of The Godfather. But the appetite for crime, it seems, is wolfish.
The good news is that these two are dying their natural deaths. The bad news is that friends and lovers have been ushered in to fill in their shoes. Yes, I'm talking about 'friend of the day', and'lover of the day'. Only if one could respond with publishing the bugger of the day and the nutter of the day respectively.

2. Social Interview, compare friends, and many such random questioning games

Now, hold that frown. Before you ask what do I have against these light-hearted applications, I would take a moment to ask what do these applications have against me? I'm not being..well..what do you call it..standoffish(?) without any reason. I don't mind my close friends answering intimate questions about me, but for people I know formally, answering such questions is not at all in good taste. And I know these secret analysts are the ones with whom I've hardly exchanged a word or two, because my friends have better jobs than pondering over my virginity or giving utterly revolting answers like i don't care much about books!
If you too, my dear reader, belong to this ilk of people who answer random questions about people who're as good as strangers,then pray accept this advice- Please oh please go get a life!

1. Orkutification of facebook

I do not mean it in a pejorative sense. I have a sentimental connection with Orkut, something that facebook can never achieve. I'm merely pointing out that facebook is going the same way as orkut. I'm getting the warning signals. Thrice, I've so far received 'frandship' requests in the garb of 'I want to do friendship with you'. Further still, check out what kind of communities have mushroomed. You'll be able to find a community on 'Na aana is des laado', and on'Agle janam mohe bitiya hi kijo' etc. I'm telling you, it's not looking good.The migration stats are growing by leaps and bounds. I fear...I fear very much that this too shall bite the dust.And when that happens people will drift to the little blue bird's territory. But as I've had enough,count me out.

When I was one and twenty

As twenty-two nears, the poem below becomes clearer.And today when one of my closest friends turns twenty one,I proffer her the same advice as the wise man in the poem below.

By A.E.Housman

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
'Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.'
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
'The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
'Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.'
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.


I feel more than ever as if the words penned above were custom made for me..sigh.

And yet someone would remind me- In hope we live! :)

a quickie

First things first- I can't believe I lasted a year in the blogger world!
An anniversary post was something that I'd planned to write on the fourth day of April, but apparently the bsnl guys chose that very day for their annual dig-meddle-fill spree.Ah, never mind. The blog has turned one, and I'm delighted!


It's unfortunate that my reading and writing moods are mutually exclusive. A good enough reason why the blogging is at a low ebb. I'm reading these days. Extensively.One of those mad drives that people get at times.The appetite at such times is insatiable, and one is rendered helpless in front of the cravings.I'm sticking to my all time favourite, foul-weather friend genre: Crime. I'm a voracious reader of crime novels. And I fail to understand, how can anyone who can read not be!
Oh, how ardently I worship thee,O queen of crime!


For the love of god! Go, get married. You can also consider eloping.And then go into hiding (will be very well received by the hoi polloi of India, can't speak for the media though).Please save us from the dinner time 'breaking news'-nikah se pehle nach le, or something of that effect. This Sania-Shoaib-Ayesha saga has to end.
How revolting and utterly dishonorable it is to provide a front page coverage to the matrimonial controversies of certain celebs/wannabe celebs, while a tragic news of 75 slain CRPF jawans is pushed into the background. Are we as a country more interested in knowing the colour of Sania Mirza's bridal lachchha than mourning the loss of the brave sons of the soil?
I guess we are. And that's just so sad.

Good news for the blog. The dry spell is almost over. Will write often now.
So long!

Little Women

Statutory warning : A painfully long post

If there has been a lapse of over a month between my last post and this one, I have little to blame it on the nonavailability of time. For I have only been moderately busy, and could have always got down to blog if I wanted to. But I didn't. Lack of inspiration can be a vile thing indeed.

So I attribute this sudden whim to blog once again to two extraordinary women- one fictional, another real. I refer to the inspiring and individualistic Josephine March, and the brilliant authoress Louisa May Alcott who created her.

I was a little embarrassed in the beginning to have started reading a book that I ought to have read when I was fourteen or fifteen. I have neither any idea as of why I didn't, nor any memory of being suggested to devour the great work. But having read it now, I think it is better that I discovered this book at one-and-twenty and not in my early teens. Reason being my absolute quixotic temperament back then. I'm not denying that my traits have not changed one bit, and I'm still as quixotic as I was, but with age comes a little pragmatism.

I grew fonder of Jo's character as the story progressed. I couldn't figure out while reading who of the four charming sisters was the main protagonist as the book gave all the four little women equal measures of attention, but couldn't help picking a favorite. Your favorite is the one you can relate to. Now that can be really tricky, you know. Because no two persons are entirely similar, and any girl can find one or more similar characteristic between her and any other female counterpart. So look for a character for whom your heart- celebrates when her efforts are acknowledged as they rightly should have been, mourns when she doesn't get what she wants for it reminds you of some of your own missed buses, defends her flaws for it knows that you have the same ones, seconds her decisions, desperately wishes she must not have the damned fate that looms somewhere around, is relieved to find that the bad spell is over for her. Yes, that's your protagonist! A person after your own foolish heart.

So, yes I rather liked the obstinate yet devoted tomboy, who turned out to be the main protagonist after all, but it was only after I finished the book and researched a bit about it did I come to know that Jo March is often recognized as an extraordinary literary heroine, very much like Elizabeth Bennet of Pride and Prejudice. But unlike Jane Austen who-much to the sentimental joy of her readers- penned a fairytale ending for Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, Louisa May Alcott broke many a hearts when she didn't unite Jo and Laurie-or Teddy as only Jo would call him. Of course she didn't keep her an old maid and brought to her world more happiness than she deserved( in Jo's own words) by getting her married to Prof. Bhaer, whom she tenderly loved. And Laurie after nursing a wounded heart from Jo's blunt refusal, began to ardently love and admire Jo's youngest sister Amy, who subsequently became his wife. Even though the ending was perfectly merry with the comforting presence of a big happy family, I felt felt there was something amiss. With little self-absorption I found what. I discovered that I'd have rather had Jo accept Laurie's proposal, for they were so meant for each other! For backing my feeling I began the research, and by Jove! did the whole world echoed my views or what? For they did, and passionately so! I read how Louisa.M. Alcott was harried with heaps of letters from fans requesting to change her mind about Jo and Laurie, and how she remained perverse about it. But then it was the love, response and demands of her fans that made her script Jo's marriage because originally she was to remain-as I understood-a literary spinster, like herself, as the character itself was loosely based on her.

Now, here is where the good thing about my reading the book at twenty-one instead of fourteen should come into picture. My teenager self would have vehemently protested and would have never understood. I don't claim to understand the reason entirely even now. But the only difference is that I can and I shall try. Both for the sake of perusing a swell piece of literature and because I daresay I need to make some discoveries about myself.

There are two ways of looking at it. Both diametrically opposite.

First: It is utterly selfish of the readers (including myself) to demand an alteration just for giving vent to their own unfulfilled romantic dreams. Deciding every character's fate is entirely the author's prerogative. And say if we leave that aside, isn't there something called platonic relationship? Even as I type this, I can imagine all the cynics of the world unitedly scoffing. Maybe I'm the wrong person to orchestrate this as I never really had a guy as a best friend. But with the experience of having many a close friends and confidants of the opposite sex, I can certainly answer in affirmative . Sometimes you're too good friends to be anything else. This, I vouch for. These things are so to-each-his-own types that a general conclusion is hard to reach, but if I speak for myself, I, even in my most coquettish days have never once flirted with a friend. I can't! And it's amazing how so many people can. Now, if some old friend is reading this and saying-"you hypocritical vixen, you so can!", all I can say is that I never flirt till I fancy, and if I fancy I don't put you in my friend's domain. So if I ever burst into peals of laughter at your codswallop that you called joke, it was probably because I didn't consider you my friend then and was merely flirting in good faith. Apologies.

The point I'm trying to make is that what Jo shared with Laurie had it's roots in the most uncorrupted days of their lives, when playing outdoors was the most important thing in the world. So, if they promenaded arm-in-arm and called each other 'my boy' and 'my girl', it was because the two buddies thought ( although Laurie did in a different way) that they owned each other, like a family.

So why my dear fellow readers of the book, do you take Jo to be stonehearted? I think it was immensely remarkable of her to not have acquiesced to her lovesick friend because she knew she could never love him the way he loved her, which would have been mighty unfair to him. Do you not think that it takes courage to look at a despondent face knowing that it is you who made that face look like that? And excruciating is the pain when it happens to be your pet face. May lord save us all from such agony.

Second: Then we can always see it in a different, though not so unexpected light. The stupendousness of the romantic tragedy. It isn't in the least surprising that by being denied a tangible union sincere love always achieves an eternal one.

Some wishes should remain unfulfilled for the feeling to linger around forever. For that 'idea' of the fulfilled state of wish to always stay alive. Sometimes it is million times better than its granted form. The history is strewn with such plentiful examples that I would make a poor display of my awareness if I attempt to cite a few. The yearning to yearn is passionately strong in us humans from the very incipient stage. Have you not seen how a child yearns for the very toy that is forbidden for her/him? It is psychological, I believe.You're halfway through making a sand castle and the surging tide sweeps it away, and you lament for you think it was to be the best sand castle ever made and nothing could have made you happier.Not pausing to think that it could've been the most hideous one ever made in the history of sand castles, but you wish to believe the opposite. And this cheers me up, as I sense optimism even as we pine away. It is our devout desire to make perfect endings but when we can't, be happier as it is ordained to have something better than a perfect ending. Everlasting existence. If you believe in this you probably can enlighten me more comprehensively and I'd be much obliged. If you don't, what are fan fictions for!

As I was chatting with my friends, while ambling down the road in the precious one hour break this afternoon, we all bitterly agreed on how time flies with miraculous speed. How we're very much into our twenties now and yet feel and behave every bit like carefree sixteen year olds.

But then there's also something I always secretly believed in, and which was wonderfully put into words by the Little women's mother or Marmee- "Children should remain children as long as they could".

I wish I could a little longer. It is ironical how while reading the pen picture of the tomboyish wild girl, a hazy face of a cheerful, messy girl just floated into my mind. Now, if you don't know how Divya Nair was you probably will never understand the irony, but never mind. While our novel's Jo never wanted to grow up, our precious Tayar was the one who made us grow up. I was a little scandalized at such a reflex action of my subconscious mind. Because no two girls have been more dissimilar. Why, she had no proclivity for literature or writing (or academics for that matter), was more ripen up than the whole lot of us, and flirted unabashedly. So totally un-Jo-ish. So, what made me think of her? Hmm..the curly hair could be one, outspoken audacity the other, always monkeying around could be a contributing factor and so could be her on-your-face ruthlessly honest comments. Now, wait! Am I disparaging her? Hell no! She was one of the sweetest persons I'd ever had the fortune to meet and also the vividest of all. The funkiest joker of the class who always kept us in high spirits. And whatever I wrote, I mean it in the most revering way imaginable. For who but she could perpetually rag the fellas, use their slangs on them, and keep us ever entertained. The guys scowled at her, as they always hypocritically do, at girls who can give them a dose of their own medicine. But she couldn't care less, and I loved her for that! She educated us about the facts of life much before and better than our biology textbook did, she taught us swear words so that we'd be able to recognize when somebody spoke them. She taught us that if you have a fervor for playing for the house sports cup or dance for the cultural award, don't let the uneasy days of the month deter you.And most of all she taught us how wonderful it is to laugh together even if it is at your own expense!Oh! what would we do without her. So, can you gauge my shock when I got to know that she was the first birdie to fly out of her nest? Maybe, you can. But you have no idea how near-fainting experience it was to see her coyly standing next to her hubby at their reception stage. Visibly docile, exuding feminine grace. Part astonishing, part revolting. Yes, revolting! Where was my partner in crime with whom I used to have capital times? One with wild mane, silly grin, mallu accent, reckless spirit and dollops of spunk.Who was this saree clad, eyelash-batting, children-loving, dutiful, domesticated belle? It was like watching my childhood dwindle away in front of my eyes. I started framing sentences in my head to say to her as I queued up for going to stage, for I thought I could hardly be able to stutter anything except congratulations to this intimidatingly stranger woman who was strangulating my girlhood. It was best, I thought to let Anu and Vandita to do the talking, I'll just smile, congratulate, give the gift, get snapped, grab a bite and get the hell out of there lest she formally thanks us for coming and requests us to 'please eat'. So as per my on-the-spot plan I smiled, gave the gift, muttered congrats and was ready to get discomfited by her formal smile and thanks, when she teasingly said- " Basu, tune bahot powder lagaya hain" :)

Atta girl! Saved my childhood memories. :)

I sometimes wish I had never reconnected with some of my old friends on social networking sites. Then I'd have forever cherished the sweet imprints that those lovable people left in my wistful eyes, but damn you facebook! You show me what has become of them, and now I don't adore them half as much as I did in some ancient time.

P.S: Phew! Unleashed. Finally. Feels so good :)

MNIB

My name is Basu, and I am not totally impressed.

I anticipated MNIK to be a for sure sob story. I, thus, very carefully folded a handkerchief and kept it inside my purse. Khan always makes me cry. Each movie of his evokes pathos in me every single time I watch it.But surprisingly it wasn't as much of a tearjerker as I expected it to be! Not that I didn't wet my eyes-of course I did! But then I am mawkishly sentimental while watching soppy tales. I cry at almost every movie! But, in this particular movie others didn't cry as much as was expected of them. It was an SRK movie for god's sake, it is imperative to cry!

Anyway, my friends didn't like it much. I did. I'm a die hard SRK fan. I'm a die hard romantic movies fan. I love the surname Khan. Obviously I liked it.

And about Khan, the surname I mean. It can be said that the movie is loosely Khan centered (both the actor and the title). It is shown that circumstances arise when people start getting discomforted by it . But why? I love it! There's so much weight in it. Those who have this last name must be thrilled (or so I expect) to carry such incredible history and lineage with them. Now, I understand that the antagonism for 'Khan', as shown in the movie, has to do with the religion (that bears the brunt of terrorism) and not with anything else. But that's a topic which I refrain from touching now, as it requires a lot of time, blogger space and the right frame of mind.

Movies affect me. More than I think, that is. Every time I watch I watch a new movie, I think about it, in terms of it. I stay wholly/partially immersed in it for at least a week. Maybe that is one of the plausible reasons why I'm so unrealistically filmy in my real life. I daydream a lot about how my life would be (mark the words-'would be', not 'should be') someday. I concoct tales. About how something extraordinary would happen to me, how it would be a bolt from the blue for me, how I would rise to the occasion(it's my movie so I get to be the protagonist, right?). And then I just love weaving these imaginary characters, who always play the roles I chalk out for them, always speak the lines I want them to speak, and always wear clothes that I mentally design for them. Freakish though it might seem, but I usually don't rest till I find the right dialogues, or right introductory plots, or right dressing for my imaginary characters. Even as I type this I'm smiling to myself thinking of how a medico friend of mine would react to all this. I suppose he'd vociferously begin to diagnose my 'condition'. I can actually hear him say-"You might be affected by muggawuggawugga (uff, these medical jargons! unpronounceable i tell you!) neurological disorder". And that would be follwed by citation of hazzaar abstruse theories (not to mention the explanation of each one) that support the claim. Oh, I'm a psycho alright. :)

The nation wide V-day hoopla is finally over. Thank god. No, I'm not being cynical. I deal with facts here. I talked to eight different people yesterday, and couldn't help noticing that they were not half as cheerful as they usually are (and mind you they're all exceptionally jovial people). Status messages of many people only resonated the not-so-high-spirits. It's strange, isn't it? How come a day dedicated to love and happiness ends up making so many feel miserable? If I speak for myself, I get a little put off by the predictable nature of the day. As Oscar Wilde had put it-'Uncertainty is the essence of romance'. Nothing about Valentine's day is entirely uncertain. But that doesn't mean, I don't wallow into the mushy atmosphere of the day :) I read each and every V-day special article in the papers, even the message columns! Most of these messages are silly to the core, and asinine are the nicknames that people resort to for avoiding recognition. To gulabjamun from laddoo, to bakbak from chupchap, to jaadu cute prince from chaku- it's idiocy in print ! However, in this sea of unknown people with fake names and internet-acquired rhyming couplets, there was actually a message that I liked. I don't know who it was for or from, but it was nice-Hmm..now what was it..like an autumn leaf I withered in your arms...oh I wish I could remember it. It wasn't a poetry, but was very beautiful and meaningful.

I should seriously stop posting stuff at nights. My head gets inundated with thoughts/incidents I want to include but I then get all drowsy after a while and decide to make all the left out things into another post someday. That almost never happens; a fresh new day, a million new thoughts!

suitable,indeed!

Neelanjana Basu is violently in love with a suitable boy ;)

Well..that makes me sound like the foolish girl Lydia of Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice'. Ugh!

Maybe I should consider,

Neelanjana Basu has finally laid her hands on a suitable boy ;)

No, no..that would appear unnecessarily bold.

How about, Neelanjana Basu has finally found a suitable boy ;) ?

Umm..but that statement might as well have come out of the larynx of a conservative girl with

marriage-is-the-mission-of-my-life etched upon her forehead.Nayh, I will give it a skip.

Of course I can play the honestly card and simply stick to,

Neelanjana Basu is reading the book- a suitable boy.

But that would eliminate the double meaning from the statement, take away the fun part!

No, I'm not a fan of talking (or even writing for that matter) in third person. I stopped doing it ever since I turned five. I was trying to contemplate an appropriate status message for my facebook account. But then the nature of responses that this status message might have drawn had I most imprudently put it up discouraged me hugely.Hugely.Thankfully. It both amuses and appalls me at the same time- the way most people are unable to put two words of sense together while commenting on status messages. A friend had once put up a status of 'just woke up' .Three people 'liked' it. Worse still, a few went on to type-" hey, me too!"

Anyway, I'm so sick of these networking sites that I'm almost certain now that my days on such highfalutin territories are numbered. One of these days...oh, one of these days for sure..

I'm in a rather acerbic mood at the moment. And this, after having multiple mood swings since morning. Cheerful, when I woke up. Dreamy, when I went for a walk. Hopeful, after having walked several footsteps. Responsible, after father left me a job to get done. Temporarily relieved, after talking to a friend. Despondent, after talking to another. The despondency lingered for the entire afternoon, for it aggravated my grievance. Crying doesn't always lead to catharsis. Lost, while watching the random television programs. Impatient, when the repair person had still not arrived. Anguished, when my mind kept drifting to the reason of my downheartedness. Indignant, at the sheer unfairness of life. Doubtful, of my seemingly cursed fate. Slightly appeased after deciding to go to Crossword. Calm, after being transferred to a fictitious world of fictitious people. Annoyed, after returning to mine. Silent, while dining. Indifferent, while watching a re-run episode of friends. And acerbic now. But I've already written that, haven't I? Not the best of the days. Yes, it was a very unhappy day indeed.

But the few happier moments were the ones that I spent at the bookstore. This is the reason I love that place. It has an uncanny calming effect on me. Not just the books, the bookshop too. So, I picked up a book that I wanted to read for a very long time. I'm barely through one-tenths of A Suitable Boy, and already I'm getting this feeling that there's a distinct possibility that this might

become one of my favorites. I didn't purchase it. I mean, well..I know it is worth seven hundred rupees but of late I've been withdrawing a lot of money from my account and consequently a bit short-handed at the moment. Besides, that place has such a charm that I'd have wanted to sit there and read even if I'd bought it. It is blissful to visit on weekdays. No garrulous people, who after their unrestrained shopping spree at a mall nearby think it to be their moral duty to bring their kids to a 'worthwhile' place as well. Some sights are rather cute. Mommies reading out to their kiddos, or daddies explaining their darlings the meaning of a word or another. But the store attracts a good deal of pretentious crowd as well. They're the ones who bother me. Oh, but never mind those fakers. I don't pay much attention to them as long as I've got a place to sit and read peacefully. As I made my way to a comfy couch, my book clutched in my hand( well..that's not entirely true. It is so bulky that you need both your hands to hold it!) I realized that I was thirsty. I chose to ignore it. After reading a few pages, I read the word 'Ganges' and I felt thirsty again. The more I thought of thirst, the thirstier I got. When it could no longer be ignored, I headed for the cafeteria that is within the store. Now, these are exactly the kind of social situations that I feel awkward to be in. Going to an eating joint all by yourself and that too when all you want is a glass of water. To make the matters more awkward it was totally deserted.

"You don't have to order something only because you want water to go with it. It's perfectly OK to ask for just a glass of water. A lot of people do that, so what?It isn't a crime for god's sake!" I kept reminding myself. But even before these instructions could properly sink in my head, the counter-opinion side of the mind blurted out-" What a cheapskate! How ruthlessly you would shatter his hopes of finally earning some money. If it is deserted in such a beautiful evening, there's no chance he'd have had a single customer during the day". But before a rational conclusion could be reached between opinion and counter-opinion, I found myself saying,

"One cappuccino please".

As he began to brew, I added- " Can I have a glass of water please". Nicely done, thought I.

"Erm..You have to buy a bottle" replied the aproned guy.

"Oooh..kay, gimme one then". (Goddammit! :x)

Yeah, so I ended up paying rupees sixty and two for a sip of water.

I hate it when I'm like this. Too much uptight, too much of what-would-they-think-of-me types. This always coincides with my unhappy mood. I'm so much cooler when I'm happy. Totally unworried, even flaky at times. I love my happier, confident self. Wish I had a control over my mood swings.

A character in the book reminded me of a totally irrelevant person. Not because they bear any resemblance, but because my mind is a wandering freak. There are times when you're reading something particular and you randomly think of a person, to your own surprise. Later, every single time you read that particular thing you would be reminded of that very person who was a random selection of your brain in the first place. I don't know how this stuff works. But it does, at least it does for me. So, this person (not the character, the real one)-I despise him and I don't know why! He's just a random college guy I happen to know by chance. He isn't a friend or classmate or not even an acquaintance. We've never spoken, not even indirectly. And yet every time I see him I'm overcome by a feeling of resentment..for it has to be resentment. And call me a psycho or whatever, I think he reciprocates my cold gesture. There are vibes you can just feel. When someone doesn't like you, you know. Just the way you know when someone does. I've tried, not in vain, to extricate myself from the pool of such negativities. Have been half-successful. Now maybe because I've somehow got myself to believe that bad things would happen to me when this person is around, they actually do! And as a cover-up for my own shortcomings I pass the buck to him and convince myself by saying bitterly " Only because He was there". No, this won't do. Blaming random people for my own faults won't do. Also, I can't afford to prevaricate anymore.

I had to edit the previous line four times, which means I'm quite drowsy.

I hope Ms.Sullen Mood departs for good,

And pray, make haste, if she kindly would.

I hope she sets up her dwelling far far away,

And if she tries to creep back, may she go astray.

:-)