Thursday, November 11, 2010

Life's a Sea of Jelly Fish


People love beaches. It's that place you go when you don't want to feel part of this world anymore or one with it. The horizon meeting the sky, with an awesome setting/rising sun is so super inspirational that great poets and authors alike have written way too much jazz about it. Lovers have romantically sat and canoodled on the sand while watching the sunset. They'll even have a little dip in the water, fool and splash about...when all of a damned sudden, someone's foot and leg is attacked by a jellyfish. This is the part when the unending horizon doesn't exist anymore, the inspired poet in your head dies and you miss the most beautiful sunset ever. At best, you'll have your lover piss on your stung body-part.
(the rest of this post will refer to life as the jellyfish sea...misinterpretations are most welcome)

Tips to Survive the Sea

1. The Jellyfish are All the Bad Stuff that Happens to YOU: They sting. And you wont even know it until later. You must realise,"Life stings" and there's nothing you can do to change it.


2. Move On: Yea, you know the Fastrack slogan...Move On! Life can't help itself. It was created this way. You've just gotta heal and forget about the sting. It'll just happen again anyway. People get stung all the time. Live with it!

3. Get Pissed On/ Piss Away: I'm being theoretically literal now. As icky and disgusting as it is, there is warmth in the gentle piss. Be willing to piss on someone when they get stung. They might hate you at first. And if they don't thank you, don't bother pissing on them again. When someone offers to piss on you when you're stung consider it a good sign of friendship. Such should be the case with every relationship.
(Not to be confused with getting pissed at stuff)
(Update July 15: On a serious note, if you really ever do get stung, head to a clinic. Piss isn't the cure/solution)


4. Avoid Getting Stung: Some people choose to swim about and get stung for no apparent reason (for kicks?). Don't be those people. They see the stinger and do nothing about it. In fact they'll walk straight into it. These are people to avoid. You could risk your own life. If you can't save them, leave them. Nature will do the rest.

5. Get Stung: Contradictory to the above I believe that sometimes you just have to take risks. Expect to be stung for all your life on different occasions. Understand this, there's a difference between slipping on a banana peel by mistake and jumping on it on purpose just to hurt your delicate behind.



Life. Cute, eh?




Summary: Such is the jellyfish life we live. You get stung; you can't go back in time (yet?!). Life's all pretty-like when you're thinking of and looking at it. And then it stings you when you least expect it.


p.s.: Not all of us have a friend to piss on us, sometimes you'll just have be your own hero.

Friday, October 29, 2010

I Was Always This Way

 I had a strange childhood. I'm not sure how to beat around the bush with this so...

I have a few cupboards. Not many. Just for different things, is all. One of them is just for toys and board-games. I began with the board-games side and figured that there was little to get rid of. Being done with that I decided to get on with the toys section. Let me make mention of the fact that this side of the cupboard has pretty much remained untouched for about 12-13 years. I found something that should've worried my mother if she saw it. Something I should've clicked a photo of too if I wasn't so entranced by the sight and in a hurry to get it over with.

Art, yes?
I found Barbie, headless and nekkid. This at first seemed fine, until I see Ken sitting to the right of her just as nekkid with Barbie's head in his lap.If that wasn't enough, centimetres away lay little Kelly, just as unclothed with a little string tied like a noose around her neck. What was really captivating were their happy plastic smiles. I stared at the sight for a while, trying to remember why I might've left them in that (intriguing) condition. Rummaging among other toys I found other dolls. They seemed normal at first. A closer look said that some of their heads (had interesting haircuts and) were exchanged,(all female). One of them even had it's legs removed and had a bad fix-up with chicken wire. It felt like I was in a movie made while on shrooms.

Trying to find reason for my behaviour seemed futile, so I  gave up.

p.s.: I wonder if I tried exchanging Barbie's head with Ken's. If I didn't, I wonder why.

Friday, September 03, 2010

Coded Clothes Does Nothing For Uniformity

While in AC, this had been a long debated issue among students and college councils for the past few (and many more to come) years now. Some would say that there certainly should be a dress code because students tend to wear clothes that would better suit the ramp (or midnight nightcrawler infested streets) and cannot differentiate between normalcy and extremity. Others would say that these are kids who are in their late teens, soon to be reaching majority and should therefore be wise enough to make their own choices. It is still the choice of the college to declare a dress code and if they wish to do so it will always be in the best interest for the college and students as well. Here's how I see it...

In AC, so called fashion is what dominated the campus. The only things not allowed there are capris, obscene T-shirts, low-neck/back, sleeveless, skirts above ankle, etc. (the last one mentioned is for real).
But the problem is that everyone wore the same thing once they saw someone "cool" wearing it regardless of whether it fits their physique or personality even. So the next thing you know, if one chick wears a particular type of t-shirt/ flip-flops/hair band/(your pick) you'll find everyone else wearing the same within three weeks time, or less. Apparently, I am told this is "fashion". And soon enough everyone's wearing the same thing except in a different shade. And that's uniformity for you.

At DC though, they actually make us wear specific uniforms...notice the 's' in 'uniforms', it means we wear multiple uniforms. Everything is tailored for us and fits us just fine. And the best part is that we would all look so neat provided clothes are ironed, clean, fitted and worn properly. Shame we look like shit otherwise.  But wait, this is comparison of a college without uniforms and one with uniforms? There shouldn't be any point. Wrong!

I noticed something when I had a group meeting with ex and current college-mates. Those from AC wore shit they saw off Hill Road (Bandra) and the likes of it. While those from DC wore clothes that somehow defined each of their personalities as being individual without being in the least bit tacky. And it wasn't just the clothes that put them apart, mannerisms and speech (and it's content) too.

So now, I believe that colleges which enforce uniformity in attire and students who follow them tend to subconsciously build a very intriguing and individualistic personality. And colleges which have poor control over students' attire produce mindless-drone grads.


p.s.: The author is spreading cancer with anti-AC topics. Its true!

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Once Upon A Time

Five years ago, I had plenty of time on my hands. I could do just about anything I wanted to for the sole reason that I had all the time in the world to do it. College wouldn't last for more than five to six hours. And that would give me enough time to study and still have time to spare.

As a (hopefully) regular 16 year old I made written memoirs of many things I did.
Now that I've got a nice camera phone I'm going to show you some excerpts of things I did.

I finally found time for the boyfriend.







Apparently, I liked beer and ice-cream.

'03- We won the war against cockroaches.



























My dad would take us to Goa practically every year and each time I'd make a little traveling journal to keep the memories.




I even made a book to teach myself how to write with my left hand...








I had a crush on the first guy on the list below.



















Oh, and my personal favorite, I made a list of regular members of certain Orkut Communities...

Oh look, Creature!

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Little Match Girl


(Click to go to Hans Christian Andersen's original prose)

A little girl,
Was cold as could be;
For it was winter then,
On New Year's Eve. -4

Seated on the street,
Barefooted was she;
Matchboxes in apron,
And nothing to eat. -8

So cold was she,
Feet purple and blue;
To gain a farthing,
Was all she knew. -12

But no one came,
No one stopped;
Not a single matchbox,
That day was bought. -16

How weary she felt,
But she had no money;
And she couldn't go home,
Till she made any. -20

The little girl's hands,
Were numb with cold;
She thought of the matches,
That were to be sold. -24

She decided to light one,
Warmth she did need;
T'was struck on the wall,
And how warm she did feel. -28

It seemed to her,
That there was more;
Of burnished brass,
A very warm stove. -32

She put out her hands,
That they may be warmed;
But before she knew it,
The stove was gone. -36

So she struck another,
Against the wall;
The previous flame,
Seemed so small. -40

Something new she saw,
How candles did gleam;
There was roast goose,
Cake and ice-cream. -44

The roast goose got up,
Lept toward her it seemed;
Then the image faded,
As it would in a dream. -48

So she lit another,
And what did she see?!
She was under the most,
Magnificent Christmas tree. -52

Pretty lights shone,
On the branches of green;
As in the shop windows,
She had before seen. -56

She stretched to feel,
But the match went out;
The Christmas lights rose,
Into the sky above. -60

And now she saw the lights,
As the stars in heaven;
One fell and left behind,
A trail of fire therein. -64

"Someone is just dead!"
The girl did discern.
This from her grandmother,
She did learn. -68

Her grandmother told her,
That when a star falls;
It is to God,
That a soul is called. -72

Only her grandmother,
Had ever truly loved her.
But she was no more,
So she had no other. -76

Another match was lit,
And in the light's lustre;
Stood no other than,
The girl's grandmother. -80

"Grandmother!", cried she,
"Oh, take me with you!"
What if she vanished too?
And that just wouldn't do. -84

She lit another match,
And another and another;
So she wouldn't lose sight,
Of her dear old grandmother. -88

But the grandmother stayed,
So beautiful and tall;
Pain and suffering,
The girl had forgotten all. -92

In grandmother's arms,
The little girl lay;
And there she was,
To forever stay. -96

And when dawn arrived,
The people had said,
"She wanted to warm herself,
But now she is dead." -100

The matches remained
With her on the ground;
Happiness and joy,
In the new year she found. -104

Friday, June 18, 2010

I WIsh I Were an Owl


I wish I were an owl;
Fly by night I could
Beneath the moon and stars,
Through the woody-wood. -4

With pretty shiny eyes,
Shining yellow and bright.
And tiny little ears;
To hear the mice at night. -8

I'd have pretty little feathers;
Warm and brown they'd be,
I'd ruffle them at once,
If a chill I were to feel. -12

As the darkness falls,
Out of my tree I'll be;
A little hole in the bark,
Carved out just for me. -16

I'd sit up on a branch,
When the moon is out;
And with the other owls,
Hoot the night throughout. -20

And when the dawn does break,
I believe it's time to sleep;
And when the stars come shine again,
A-hooting I will be. -24

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Pewter Soldier


My pewter soldier,
Stands by my bed;
Remains perfectly still,
Just above my head. -4

He watches my window,
He watches all night;
Never once taking me
Out of his sight. -8

His eyes are bright;
Wide and alert.
His post as my watcher;
They do assert. -12

He's ever too quiet,
The poor old thing;
I really do wish,
He'd talk and sing. -16

So still he remains,
By night, by day.
Nothing to do;
Nothing to say. -20

If only he'd tell,
His learnings of life;
His stories of love,
Of war and strife. -24

If only he'd choose,
To have himself heard;
I'd listen intently,
To his every word. -28

But decided is he;
So, silent he'll be.
My pewter soldier,
Watching over me. -32

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Mirror



I do not like my mirror.
It certainly has no grace;
I do not like the way it stares,
Right into my face. -4

My eyes show me something;
My mirror, something other.
To differentiate between the two,
Is quite the capital bother. -8

It's quite a distracting thing;
The mirror as we call it.
To have it taken out of my room,
I wouldn't mind the forfeit. -12

Imagine the days without it;
No nonsensical, reflective stare.
Shown only what the eyes can see;
The self can decide what's fair. -16

But alas, there is nothing else,
I couldn't possibly do without!
A little peek into the mirror,
To figure what life's about. -20

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

Phase of Depression


One can never pray for too much:
Nor does anyone pray for too less.
There are those who pray not at all,
And those who pray for the best-4
But tell me what happens when,
Your prayer just doesn't fall true?
And all you do is end up sobbing,
Alone out there in the blue. -8
Who can you count on?
Who do you look up to?
Who will you run to?
Who's going to help you? -12
Who's going to give you,
That much-wanted bliss?
Will it be a god?
Will it be Jesus-16
So are you going to sit there,
And do nothing at all?
Looking so low,
And feeling so small. -20
Whiling away;
The time of today,
As these lines,
Keep fading away. -24

Sunday, May 30, 2010

How I Kill A Cockroach

A cockroach became my muse one night. Here's how it happened.

A little shy of midnight, I was busy chatting away with Aku (unimportant person), when suddenly something tickles my leg. Assuming a stray mosquito, I slapped my calf hard, sure I wouldn't miss the insect. I didn't. But what I realised, was that it was too big for a mosquito. Quickly, I jump off the bed and switch on the lights. And there on the bed, was a cockroach, lying on it's back. I half shrieked, remembering halfway through the shriek that my dad was asleep. I grabbed a chappal and attacked the spot he was lying on. Unbeknowst to me, he slipped under a pillow.


Overjoyed at catching the critter, I try to slide him with the chappal over him off the bed and onto the ground. When the chappal fell I presumed he was under it too. I stepped on the chappal and jumped on it too, whisper-yelling, "die roach die!" hoping to finish him off, for good. I lift the chappal only to find that there's no dead body. Sense kicks in and I figure he'd escaped. So I pounce on the bed and lift the most likely pillow he'd be under. And lo, there he was! Slap again I did. I tried sliding him against the bed again but he escapes, crawling on his little critter legs to the other side of my bed. I follow him the other way round and chappal him down again.

Now I'm a little pissed, so I grab a pair of little scissors and cut off his feelers and two legs. This I did to stop him from escaping each time. I thought he'd be lame by then but he still scurried under another pillow. Once again I chappal him down. I was mad now. I took a pen and stabbed his head sticking out from under the chappal till it wasn't a part of him anymore. Fearing that he may run away headless I stab some more near the torso. By now it decided not to run away anymore. So I scooted it off the bed and slammed the chappal on him and jumped on it this time making very sure it was dead. And sure enough, there was a dead roach body on the floor. I was then truly satisfied with my accomplishment. I left him on the floor, turned off the lights and went back to tell my super-exciting story to Aku.

The End.


p.s.: It was the most exciting night in a long time...really!

Friday, April 09, 2010

Share Not

"Precious notes do not belong in the hands of the unworthy." -Me

At the Saturday Evening Mass a skit is played out by 10 year olds for the congregation:

Kid1: (to Kid2) Hey, could I have your notes?
Kid2: (to Kid1) We'll see about that later. (to Kid3 once Kid1 walks out of scene) I don't want her to get high marks the way we do. Let's not share our notes with her.
Kid3: (to Kid2) I agree, let's not.

The Priest said that the other two students didn't want to give away notes due to selfishness and that...(...the gospel).
But selfishness isn't what it really was.


10 Reasons Why Kid1 Didn't Get Notes:
1. Irregular student.
2. Not really a student.
3. Forgot to ask again later.
4. Kids2&3 don't like Kid1.
5. Gay/Lesbian/Dork/Wimp.
6. Kids2&3 are conceited bitches.
7. Slept with relative of Kid2/3/both.
8. Did something terribly evil to Kid2/3/both.
9. AIDS.
10. Slept with Kids2/3/both sometime in the recent past and was a failure.



P.S.: All above reasons are very valid.