tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24373731176503137362024-02-20T08:24:15.479-05:00Full MealsBoss... it is unlimited wonly no?Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-52627450460279790272012-11-05T13:02:00.002-05:002012-11-05T13:02:56.002-05:00A song<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">While shifting to Germany, Amma had just one request: to email her songs sung by me. So since my move I have made it a point to record every little tune for her. Even if it's just a tiny bit recorded during my <i>riyaz,</i> she is happy listening to it. Mothers I tell you! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A couple of months back I found <i>Thode Badmash's (Movie: Saawariya) </i>karaoke. I knew this was Amma's favorite song and couldn't resist recording this for her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This song has always been on my list of songs to share here. I hope you like it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A note before you hit the play button- the recording is hideous. Seriously. The quality is not great at all but my voice is heard (slightly). Despite its flaws I had fun recording.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I would love to hear your thoughts :)</span><br />
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F65506737&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe>
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px !important;" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-87011979438781795292012-06-03T18:42:00.001-04:002012-06-04T03:49:57.437-04:00Untangled<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">Like most kids, I always hated getting a haircut. A pair of scissors snipping away was not something an adorable sweet kid like me preferred. But whatodoo, I had to get them cut. I had long curls. Ha! Now don’t imagine nice, lustrous, beautiful curls; mine were dry, wavy and tough to maintain. I had a mop of hair that made a squirrel jump with joy for having found a home. It is also believed that a certain ‘Baba’ might have got inspired by me. My mom tried various traditional methods to straighten it but in vain. Hairclips got lost sometimes; err well, you know how I like exaggerating. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">In those days, I used to be <i>Raju Salon- For Mens shop’s </i>loyal customer. Appa thought hair styling was not something a 4 year old needed and asked a neighbourhood salon owner, Raju, to cut it short so it wouldn’t grow back too quickly. Alas that never worked. During one such visit, Raju uncle tutted sullenly not believing his eyes, he made me sit on an enormous chair and assured Appa, “Saar, ‘Croff’ maaDidini. Innu yenTu tingLu aaraamagiri saaar” (Sir, for the next 8 months birds wouldn’t mistake it for their nest). He probably meant “Crop” but I am not sure. I also vaguely remember him muttering “devre kaapaaDbeku” (God wonly should help!).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">Amma decided it was time she took me to a woman’s salon for a proper haircut. I was scared to sit on a chair that was not bitten by rats. Everything was new- there was no Raju uncle, no random old man reading newspaper and no random people watching cricket on TV, which was fitted on the wall, at far end of the shop; presumably a Solidaire or a Dyanora TV set. The ‘beauty parlour’ was neat. The kind lady smiled at me, she had a stylish haircut. Very impressive. “Oh what a lovely texture” exclaimed the parlour lady once I was seated. She then asked Amma “are you sure you want her hair to be cut?” Amma thought she was being sarcastic. I looked around feeling smug. After what seemed like a decade the lady said, “Ah there you are!” The result shocked us. It was exactly how Raju uncle styled my hair. Same-to-same. Of course the only difference was the parlour lady charged more than Raju. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">My tress tales continued to amuse my family. It was quite irritating when my class-mates (mostly boys) in high-school made fun of how I always cut my hair short. You see, all girls in my class had long hair. Perhaps boys felt insecure to see a girl with short hair. Who cares! What do they know about maintenance? Anyway, by the time I reached college I decided to let it grow. I used umpteen numbers of hair clips and hair bands to make it sit. Once I started working, I visited salons that charged unimaginable prices for a haircut (Trivia: such salons are very easy to recognize- they do not let you read the tariff card; they use exotic smelling products; they offer a welcome drink; they have glum looking employees; the owner claims to have worked with some celebrity or the other). But these so called professionals were also unsuccessful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">After moving out of India, I thought to myself “*sigh* now there is no hope of finding a decent (not so expensive) salon in this strange land”. But recently I took a big step of visiting a salon. I was hesitant. You too would be skeptical if you noticed “Kill” inscribed as one of the words on the salon’s board. But surprise surprise! It turned out to be just right for me. After so many years, phew! I can finally say that my quest for the right hair stylist has come to an end. I feel elated, really. Now I can visit a cool, bubble-gum chewing, tattooed, blue-green-haired stylist who doesn't talk much, nope no gossiping (unlike parlour aunties) and doesn't suggest expensive hair products either. She truly is a magician! I felt she held a wand and not a pair of scissors in her hands while working.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">After all Raju uncle’s prayers seem to be working.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px !important;" /></a></div>
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</div>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-78754353321025601102012-04-05T19:00:00.000-04:002012-04-05T19:00:31.548-04:00So, what have you been upto?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As always I shall start with my "err let me explain..."<br />
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In November 2011 India witnessed few exhilarating and some run of the mill kind of events; grand prix finally happened, an airline company owned by once-upon-a-time-king-of-good-times faced terrible financial turbulence, solar energy generation reached new heights (no, seriously :p) , the media obsessed over Sachin’s 100th ton, Arnab Goswami continued to yell, not letting any of his guests speak in the newsroom, and of course Bollywood celebrated birth, stretch marks, mommy-hood and baby names. <br />
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Amidst all these proceedings, I too had my share of attention. Well you see I tied the knot in November 2011. And no no... none of my wedding pictures got sold to any of the newspapers or magazines (hmpf). Nonetheless my family and friends pampered me and showered me with all their attention. Trust me, I was indulged big time. Amma cooked one special dish that I liked every day, as the wedding day approached my sister made sure I didn’t forget anything (this space is too less to cover what she listed out for my wedding), and the men in the family were always ready to take me anywhere I wanted to go. And on the D-day my friends took such good care of me, I can’t thank them enough. <br />
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The wedding preparations were always action-packed- right from the wedding card brain-storming sessions, to discussions on food menu. The endless shopping, cooking lessons, shopping (yes, again), tears, laughter, photographs, some more shopping, what?-only-one-week-left-for-the-wedding-realisation, music, dance, last minute shopping… oh I could go on. The need to enjoy every moment became all the more important to me since I was moving out of Bangalore with ‘S’ (the husband). <br />
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So my friends, all in all, that kept me busy from blogging. I hope to be more regular from now on. I re-located to a new place and since then have been busy setting up our new home and I have also been travelling (future blog post alert).<br />
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Since I have more free time now, I am currently catching up on reading and music; I have also been trying my hand at cooking and baking. Don’t you snigger; I did mention ‘trying’ in my sentence. Honestly, I am a lot closer to achieving some success in baking than in cooking. I do make myself useful in the kitchen and amuse ‘S’ with my cooking abilities, or lack thereof. I hope someday I shall master the art… some day. Till then pliss to be checking out this picture collage I made. The baking bug seems to have bitten me and looks like the effect is going to last for a long time. </span><br style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5JmM9DPqvmA/T34e0OlH6QI/AAAAAAAABqQ/vwFHeTSQMco/s1600/bake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5JmM9DPqvmA/T34e0OlH6QI/AAAAAAAABqQ/vwFHeTSQMco/s640/bake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">From left to right: Marble cake (the very first cake I baked), Blueberry muffins, Chocolate & Hazelnut Truffles, and </span></span> <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Chocolate cake.</span><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a></span></div></div>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-70144791125133614792011-12-22T12:55:00.018-05:002011-12-22T16:14:09.655-05:00Don...Don...Don....<div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span></p><span><span><span>As quoted by a world-famous common man who gives motivational speech standing next to a lamp-post near <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malleswaram">Malleshwaram </a>grounds- “time barbeku saar time-u” (translated: what ees the right time, sir, please?), this blog-post too was waiting for the right time. Whatte beautiful wisdom. Profound.</span></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "><span><span><span>Teehee okay I’ll stop my out of context talks. So as I was saying, this post has been waiting to get published for more than a year now. Yes yes I know it isn't surprising, I have a master degree in procrastination. But like Mr.world-famous-lamp-post-man says, time saar time-u.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "><span style="text-align: left; font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "></span></p><span><span><span>Last year, when fellow-blogger-singer <a href="http://vlokam.wordpress.com/">Vimmuuu</a>, and I were generally chatting about songs, singers and AR Rahman (not in that order), he suddenly suggested -"aye why don’t we record a duet?" It got me very excited as I have always wished to record a duet number. Thus, we immediately started hunting for songs and finally, aaj ki raat (movie: Don) seemed like the right choice (I hope you people agree :)). I first sang the female vocalist's lines and mailed it to him. He later recorded his lines and tadah! the song was ready. Well, not quite. Vimmuuu then worked on the post-recording/mixing bit, all techie stuff, and made it sound all professional. Both of us agreed to post the song simultaneously and hence had to wait for the 'right time'. </span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span>So finally the auspicious day has arrived heehee.. Also, Don-2 is all set to release tomorrow. By re-visiting this song, I hope Shankar-Ehsan-Loy (some how land on our blogs) reminisce their Don-1 days and help us live peacefully by not scoring atrocious music (such as Don-2 tracks). Yep now you understand the context.</span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span>Presenting aaj ki raat, for the first time (simultaneously) on two blogs. I hope you have as much fun listening to the track as we did singing it.</span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span>Please do let us know your feedback; brickbats and bouquets are welcome!</span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span>And thank you Vimzy boy :) Hope to sing more such duets with you :)</span></span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "></p></div><div><span><object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="https://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F31352897%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-J6U58&secret_url=true"></param> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="https://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F31352897%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-J6U58&secret_url=true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span>Aaj Ki Raat by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/full_meals">Full_Meals</a></span> </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><div style="text-align: left; "><span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "></span></span></div><span><span><span>p.s. Contact us for birthday parties, ladies kitty parties, anniversaries, naming ceremonies, wedding reception.. what? Really. heehee nah. Just kidding. On the other hand, if your party budget is high then we may re-think *wink wink*</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span><span><span><br />p.p.s. You can read Vimmuuu's post <a href="http://vlokam.wordpress.com/2011/12/22/duet-with-shruthi-aaj-ki-raat-movie-don-hindi-2006/">here</a></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left; "><span><a href="http://vlokam.wordpress.com/2011/12/22/duet-with-shruthi-aaj-ki-raat-movie-don-hindi-2006/" style="font-size: medium; "></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><span><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></span></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-61638720108702225852011-10-24T15:44:00.009-04:002011-10-24T16:29:14.092-04:00Kapaki<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">My 1 year 7 months old niece (aka Puttudu on Full Meals) and I were busy arranging </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toy_block">building blocks</a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> (our favorite game) today. While building a particularly difficult tower we heard crackers being burst. Her eyes widened when she heard 'dham dham'</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />Me: (sounding excited) Yenadu? (translated: What is it?)</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Puttudu: grins and says "dham dham dhamaar"</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Me: yes correct. Thats pataaki. say 'pa'</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Puttudu: 'pa'</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Me: 'taa'</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Puttudu: 'taaaaaa'</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Me: 'ki'</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Puttudu: ki</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Me: Pataaki</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br />Puttudu: Kapaki</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br />and thus began the Kapaki chant. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">This is just the beginning of my deepavali celebration with Puttudu. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">I am loving it!<br /><br />All you lovely people have fun. I wish you a very Happy Deepavali :)<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" style="border: 0pt none ! important; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-6968633960931499602011-01-27T13:29:00.010-05:002011-01-27T13:51:13.331-05:00Kilimanjaro<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>All characters/properties mentioned in this post are NOT fictional; they live and breed among us. If you raise your hand and yell “I know!” while reading this post, then you, my friend, are a victim of corporate drudgery; you have no place but your workspace/desk/2X2 cubicle to rot.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><br /></em>1. Receptionists/front office ladies:<br />Re-cep-tion-ist<br />noun<br /><br />Traits- Age: 23-ish<br />Appearance: Maroon lipstick. Dark blue eyeliner. Straight hair. Purple lens. Sits next to another receptionist. Traits-30-ish. Appearance: Maroon lipstick. Dark blue eyeliner. Straight hair. Purple lens.<br /><br />The spinal cord of any organization.<br />Nah! They are the ‘acting’ owners of your organization. They ‘act’ as though they own the whole dam(n) place. They also own the employees who work there and so naturally own their time as well.<br />Scene 1: Unfortunately you are in a situation where you need to contact your HR *tut tut*. Say, for example, the company’s internal attendance tool was *cough* under maintenance *cough* and now you don’t have the stipulated number of working hours in your kitty *giggle* Oh alright sorry. No giggling. But it is funny ha ha ha..<br /><br />For reasons known only to the HR folks, mortals like us are not allowed to enter their workplace. You have no choice but to seek help from the kind reception lady. You say -“Hi. I need to see the HR-chick-who-wears-the-shortest-of-the-short-skirts-and-is-seen-posing-for-pictures-on- Family-Day-next-to-the-COO”. And the reception lady gives you a “can’t you see I’m busy playing solitaire” look and says ‘please wait’ with a sigh. But then she forgets to inform the HR-chick-who-wears-the-shortest-of-the-short skirts-and-is-seen-posing-for-pictures-on- Family-Day-next-to-the-COO or so you think. Big mistake. You wait for 5-6 minutes. Remind her. She nods or just stares at you. You read Economic Times (spot errors and silently laugh at their editorial team). You remind her, again. She ignores you. You read Bangalore Mirror. 25 minutes and you have had it. You say “I have been waiting for 25 minutes!”. Receptionist lady replies - “I told you no, she is on leave today” and spits (I added the last bit. Too crass no? teehee). And you just look back at her mika-mika blinking your eyes. Well I have a theory, you probably fell asleep while waiting and she came and whispered in your ears or something.<br />“After all a noun in the English dictionary” you might say, but the noun rules your life my friend.<br /><br />2. Stationery folks:<br />Sta-tion-er-y<br />noun<br />Not to be confused with stationary (adj): Not capable of being moved<br />It’s a tad ironical. Really. These folks are perpetually on the move. You don’t find them at the stationery counter when you need them. Yes yes I’m talking about the Chitraguptas’ of our organizations. They keep a tab on our every move. In short they know our life history. We cannot run away without signing that little book of theirs. If we do forget to sign *evil laughter*remember, he/she is THE Chitragupta. We’ll be sent to hell, mark.my.words.<br /><br />Sample this-<br />Employee number 007 –12th August - 1 Notepad (signed-by 007)<br />Employee number 007 - 12th August - 1 red marker (signed-by 007)<br />Employee number 007 - 1st September – 1 Notepad (signed by 007)<br /><br />Look look, in less than a month you have already taken two notepads *gasp*. The stationery <em>bhaiyya</em> will scowl if you go past the counter. Of course you can hardly blame the guy if YOU scribble so much on those flimsy notepads. Scrawl on post-its and stick it on your forehead. DO NOT take another notepad for rest of the fiscal year.<br /><br />3. Room Fresheners:<br />Freshen-er<br />noun<br />Side effects: Claustrophobia. Migraine attack. Slight drowsiness<br /><br />Now, what’s the deal, do tell me housekeeping ladies? Do you and the makers of the awful smelling fresheners (normally rose or jasmine scented) get combined sadistic pleasure by spraying the fragrance all around the floor? Can you imagine the amount of stress we go through while you spray the dreadful substance *shudder*. The thought itself makes my migraine crawl all over my head.<br /><br />4. Jargon:<br />Jar-gon<br />noun<br />Speech or writing having unusual or pretentious vocabulary<br />(I so agree with the ‘pretentious’ bit)<br /><br />Jargon is the key to your survival in any organisation. Years ago, as an innocent fresher, even before I could say ‘sodexo coupon’, I was thrown into a meeting room full of people who looked extremely angry and worried about some client feedback. 40 people kept throwing jargons at each other and all I could think was – “so, err..come again? What was that? Touch base-aa?” *giggle* “Why is it so cold inside this room?” “Why isn’t anyone sitting on the chair?” “And the guy in blue shirt isn’t all that cute, is he?”<br /><br />5. Tea/Coffee at office:<br />Enough said!<br /><br />All you experienced corporate slaves go ahead and add to this list I say.</span>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-20962093231196760432010-10-07T15:05:00.008-04:002010-12-23T01:48:40.668-05:00Let me explain...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, THIS is a blog. THIS is how people type. THIS is how people delete the opening sentence and type again. So this is .. err what was I saying? OK have patience. Time please. Hmmm ... err …. Oh yeah, right, blogging. So after my epic 56th post, I lost my memory. (Anxious readers can relax. I cured myself. I hit my head against an ancient tree next to my house and tadah! here I am, this is me. True story). This is a valid reason for not having blogged, no? Yes yes of course it is. You folks can snort. It’s tough, coming up with reasons and all. People need professional qualification to list valid reasons. But not many people have it, now, do they? *evil laughter*. So all you bloggers out there who find it difficult to come up with reasons, don’t fret, coz The Great (non) blogger Shruthi is here to the rescue.*drum rolls* Presenting *trumpets* Top 5 Deadly reasons for not updating your blog *drum rolls*. The mundane- too much work, need to feed fish, facebook-ing, tweeting, Ikebana classes are passé. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Without further ado, here goes the list: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reason #1: <strong>Amnesia</strong>. Also known as “Main kaun hoon? main kahan hoon? syndrome”- a syndrome, due to which a blogger forgets everything- right from computers, internet, log in id’s to bluetooth, android, google and thus blogging. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reason #2: <strong>Dog ate my blogpost.</strong> This is not my kinda reason, but there are dogs that gobble blogposts. Let me explain, blogger Pulakesi overhears his colleagues gossiping next to the coffee vending machine. Excitement! Harman Baweja! Himesh Reshamiyya! Shashi Tharoor (but of course his life is bollywood-ishly entertaining)! Pulakesi notes it down on a tissue paper. He comes back home. Gunda, his pet dog, finds a tissue paper lying next to Pulakesi’s blackberry. Pulakesi hates Gunda’s drool on his Blackberry. And for poor Gunda it’s a moment of ethical dilemma. Blackberry or tissue paper. tissue paper or blackberry. Gunda decides to keep the flag of his clan high, and eats the blogpost.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reason #3: <strong>Blog Rehab</strong>. So says a blogger- “oh it’s a long story. My shrink thought I was addicted to blogging” *gasp* “hard to believe isn’t it? And he said I needed a break from blogging. *double gasp* I had to get my pocket knife out. Well the scene after that got pretty ugly and I was put in a blog rehab. Now you know why I went missing” *aww*</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reason #4: <strong>Zandu balm</strong>. Blogger comes home after a very tiring day at work. Switches on the idiot box to catch Priyanka Chopra (PC) in hot-pants (only if it’s a male blogger. A female blogger on the other hand might watch it to LOL. Everything about Khatron ke khiladi is hilarious- the way PC sways while anchoring (she THINKS its cool), PC’s perfectly manicured nails, milind soman's beard, tattoed anchor guy, PC looking terrified of snakes/roaches/spiders/ropes). Sorry I digress. So blogger switches on TV and lands on “le zandu balm hui darling tere liye.. Cinema hall hui, darling tere liye” whaaa? Who writes such stuff? Blogger is excited. He *thud*... falls unconscious. 5 weeks. no blogging.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reason #5: <strong>Miscellaneous</strong>- Traffic jam, bank holiday, Lehman collapse, Bangalore rains, dinosaurs and of course CWG. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="border: 0px none; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></span></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-56155825525618638852010-07-24T15:29:00.008-04:002010-07-24T16:59:52.543-04:0056<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"></span>Firstly, thank you all for your suggestions. Helped me, really. My sleep pattern is 'new and improved' *clap clap clap*. Now I feel like those infomercial folks. You know those Sauna belt teleshopping programmes which are dubbed in hindi/kannada/telegu/tamil/gujarati? You have seen them right, how they have a 'before and after' expression? Same to same my expression. Jokes apart, thanks people :)<br /> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">And about the whole profoundness that bothered me (yeah yeah - selfish/selfless) was due to a weird phase that I was going through. Thanks for being so kind and answering my directionless question.<br /> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Moving on, this is my 56th post! whoopeee (1030 odd days & 56 posts? err FINE laugh laugh.. pppffttt). So as I was saying , you can send in gifts, chocolates, pastries, dinner coupons.. oh wait on second thoughts send cornflakes, apples, low cal <span style="font-style: italic;">gajar ka halwa</span>, cucumber, and other such low-fat edible items *snff*<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">and </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95BddG7aweE">this</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> song is dedicated to all you lovelies. Hope you like it :D</span><br /></p><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" style="border: 0pt none ! important; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-63139512202398151792010-06-29T11:32:00.022-04:002010-06-29T14:21:08.790-04:00blah<div style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM-WIDTH: 1pt; BORDER-LEFT: medium none"><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’m not in my best of moods today. So you may exit this page if you feel bored. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and no, I'm not PMSing</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My insomnia has reached new heights – I have started taking tips from my friends who are doctors. One of them, still doing her specialisation (sweetest doctor she’ll make), suggested that I drink warm milk and read a book (for 10 minutes) before I go to bed. She also talked about some acids and chemicals which would result in me dozing, I lost her and became a </span><a href="http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Wrackspurt"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Wrackspurt </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">victim. Anyway my ignorance about chemicals did not discourage me, I did exactly what she asked me to do; but I ended up sleeping only after finishing the book. Then she said – “read work related books”. I did that and got so bored that I had to read another book to get rid of my boredom. And drinking milk didn’t help either, guess I got more energy to stay awake. I don’t know. Tan ki shakti .. mann ki shakti and all</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">People in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bangalore</st1:place></st1:city> have suddenly become very health conscious. I don’t like it much, the awareness I mean. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am confused. The other day I was talking to a dear friend of mine and when we were about to say our “goodbyes/take cares/lets meet and wolf down some steak at Millers 46/return my book/dvd you moron”, my friend all of a sudden made a discerning statement -</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Friend: “Shruthi, you are not selfish” me: “err…” friend: “you are a selfless fool. bye” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">No, I’m not bragging. The label of being selfless is disturbing. It’s not right. I feel like a total dumbass. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Is it good or is it bad to be selfless? If I do a cause and effect analysis will I get a clear picture of all those painful circumstances I have been through because of my dumbassness? Maybe I should do that. Draw a chart and see how it fits.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">Let me open this up for some debate. Which one screws you the most - selfishness or selflessness?</span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none"><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0pt; BORDER-TOP: 0pt; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0pt; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0pt" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></span></p></div>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-17292308092830497642010-06-01T07:44:00.019-04:002010-06-02T00:30:20.522-04:00Love in Shimla - Final<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Love isshtory </strong></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cut to Shimla. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh before that you need to know what happened in Kulu. Well nothing really happened. We saw a plank with 'welcome to Kulu' or suchlike printed and our bus proceeded towards Shimla. Our itinerary read – ‘Reach Kulu’. So we did and left immediately. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As there was no possibility of finding snow in Shimla, our enthusiasm level was low. We reached Shimla sometime in the evening. I was missing River Beas. Shimla looked nice with lights and all but I just couldn’t get over Beas. This made me sulk. We reached hotel and began shifting our luggage. I was about to lift one of the heaviest bags when I had a YashRaj movie moment. A tall guy was walking towards our bus. It was hard to ignore him. He had a charismatic presence. Certain people have that effect. I kept a tight hold on my bag coz, who knows, he could have mugged us. He reached our bus, and a song played inside my head (trivia: I CAN be romantic). He was undeniably the best looking guy I had ever seen, I think (I don’t remember his face now). He looked at us and smiled. You know, one of those lopsided ones; like Milind Soman <sigh> nah I’m just exaggerating. But he did smile, I remember. </sigh></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>Lesson number 10: I think its time we stopped obsessing over Milind Soman. He is old. He looks very old. Passé.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Nineteen year olds’ who are fed on Jane Austen and Mills and Boons can be unreasonably romantic in such occasions. A friend of mine giggled.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He said <em>“hmm hi. Do you need help?”</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I said nothing and pretended to lift my heavy bag. Few of my friends agreed. He picked our bags and walked back to the hotel. We all looked at each other and had only one thought running on our minds. “Is he staying in this hotel?” My friend broke the silence with - “Do you think he is a porter?”. We thought of using the non-existent knife on her for getting us back to reality. He disappeared into the darkness after dumping our luggage in the lobby. Yes. He was gone! Just like that. We couldn’t even thank him. I sulked some more. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Next morning our breakfast table hardly saw us eat and mostly heard us talk about the cute guy. So where was he hiding? What was he doing here in Shimla? Did he own the hotel? Or was he a porter? We didn’t see him that morning. We visited <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mall_Road,_Shimla">mall road</a>, shopped and decided to return to our hotel. The sun had set several minutes ago coz it was surprisingly dark outside. The place looked very nice and you'd think nothing could go wrong. Well well to our luck there was no public transport. We had no choice but to walk. Locals were confident that we would reach our hotel in 20 minutes flat. But they were <strong>so</strong> wrong. It took us an hour to reach, not without some adventure. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There was no proper route to our hotel and we had to ask people for directions, which was not easy as there weren’t many people found on streets. We walked on the main road and saw a board with our hotel's name and directions. Happiness came. Then we had strange men in jeep follow us which made us take a diversion where we met an old lady who volunteered to take us to our hotel. We had to trust her coz we were tourists. Tourists don’t have choice. Stupid tourists.<br /><br />Got back to our hotel, thanked lord of seven hills and the kind old lady. Of course we discussed about the cutie while we walked. By next day we had no hopes of finding him. Probably he was just another tourist. Or he was a figment of our imagination. Our tour operator had arranged a camp fire for us that evening. We all danced (I just moved from left to right). Other tourists were caught looking through their windows with a packet of popcorn. It must have been entertaining.<br /><br />My friends and I unsurprisingly got tired of dancing and decided to click pictures as it was our last day in Shimla. We found a scenic place, a garden with lot of pretty flowers and were posing joyfully when we finally saw him. He looked better than we thought he did and was wearing an exquisite jacket (a big fan of jackets, that’s me). He noticed us and volunteered to click pictures. I just shrugged and looked around for support from swooning; well he was talking to me after all! </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>Lesson Number 11: My experiences with cute guys have been pitiable. I shrug or look away when they talk to me.</em> <a href="http://full-meals.blogspot.com/2009/06/castle-in-air.html"><em>Sample this</em></a><em>. Don’t come to me for advice. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We all sat next to the garden and smiled goofily while he clicked our picture. We thanked him and he asked if we were having fun in Shimla. We replied something incoherent. He then enquired about our stay, my friend’s suspicion about him being a porter was growing stronger. And then he left with a wave. We giggled until Sr. S (our lecturer) spotted us and rolled her eyes. We reached our room and discussed whether his eyes were grayish blue with a tinge of brown or just gray or just blue. I lost track of shades after a while. I liked his eyes, yes, but I liked his corduroy jacket better. I should have asked where he got it from.<br /><br />The following morning we narrated this incident to another friend of ours. Apparently she and her roomies were as romantically stricken by him as we were. With nothing else to do, we spent 15 minutes discussing the possibility of finding him in Bangalore. Whatever. My silent wish of a romantic encounter (a la Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge) almost came true; only mine ended before it could even begin.<br /></span><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="border: 0px none; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-59917283470039232622010-05-11T16:13:00.017-04:002010-05-11T17:14:50.385-04:00Love in Shimla - Part II<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>A tale of back-breaking bus journey, <em>parathas</em> and snow</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A couple of months back I was cleaning my room (a very rare sight) and found a picture that made me nostalgic and I immediately called my friend. The two of us spent an hour reliving our Shimla/Manali moments and agreed that we couldn’t have asked for a better holiday. During the course of our call we remembered an insignificant incident and tadah! that’s how I got the title for my post. Err this was just to give you a background which I now feel is pointless.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Agra was our first destination and our stay was uneventful.<br />Lesson number 6: Do not buy miniature Taj Mahal you find on the streets of Agra. It’s extremely tacky and easily breakable.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After Agra, it was time for us to head to Manali. The moment I got off the bus, I was in love. In love with Manali. For those who haven’t visited this place, please do. It’s a b.e.a.u.t.i.f.u.l place. River Beas, clear blue sky, narrow trails, mountains, street food, and tall trees will leave you enthralled. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We reached Manali after a horrible bus journey. Couldn’t believe our luck or the lack of it when we were made to sit in the last row. And it didn’t help when my friend, who has a spine that’s bendable in all directions and needs constant support while travelling, sat next to me. I am sure all of us have one such friend. These earthly beings invariably find your shoulder to sleep the moment they get inside a car or a bus, eventually occupy a lot space and almost chuck you off your own seat. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Lesson number 7: Sit next to the driver; you can at least enjoy hindi film songs of 90’s. Anuradha Paudwal and Kumar Sanu singing “jaanam jaane jaa.. janam jaane jahaan..” or if you are lucky you get to listen to some of the rare ones too, which have mindboggling lyrics- <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WnfRGO7vkw">“kaisa yeh ladka hai.. baatein hi karta hai.. liar hai liar hai”</a>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Few of us who were awake chatted for sometime and I then fell asleep, not because I was tired but it became extremely difficult for me to laugh while the earthly being slept on my then bony shoulder. Sometime in the morning at round 6 our bus stopped near an old dhabha in Haryana. Our tour operator had arranged caterers who began the job of preparing breakfast for us - bread/butter/jam. Only a loser would have eaten bread when there were hot parathas in sight. We gorged on 10 bucks aloo da paratha with a big dollop of home-made butter.<br />Lesson Number 8: Never share your paratha.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I don’t think I can ever forget the taste. That was the only time I genuinely liked potatoes (exceptions - yummy French fries served in Infinitea and chips bought from local Hot Chips). Finally after a very long journey we reached Manali. Cold wind greeted us and we Bangaloreans were thrilled to get our jackets, sweaters, shawls out. We generally feel happy when we see wool. I could not sleep that night; I lay awake thinking about snow. The next day we left to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rohtang_Pass">Rohtang Pass</a>.<br />Trivia: You may notice, I used to and continue to have irregular sleep pattern. Insomnia is my middle name.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The organisers took advantage of our good nature (read: too lazy to protest) and made us permanently sit in the last row for the rest of the tour. The journey to Rohtang pass was scenic; Beas flowed peacefully and I sat next to the window. Sheer bliss. The blue-green river made my heart skip several beats... err no, in reality the sleepy bus driver kept going tad too close to the milestone. I couldn’t take my eyes off those lovely mountains and the milestone. We reached Rohtang pass. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh! we were ecstatic. It was feet-numbingly and teeth-chatteringly cold. But of course I just had one thing on my mind- snow. We were asked to climb the hill to reach THE place. And so we did. Did we get to see snow? Yes and no. All we saw was d</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">irty brown patch of snow coated here and there. 200 angry college goers were all set to turn murderers. The tour operator’s promise of “snowww.. veryyy slippery also.. you will enjoy” was still ringing in our ears. Dejected we all got back, tried finding a knife in vain and sat in the bus feeling terribly hungry. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Later we hit the streets of Manali and ate mind blowing junk food.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Next post: Part III (the final one, I promise) *grin*</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-20533288099902854172010-04-20T00:24:00.015-04:002010-04-20T01:11:08.626-04:00Glowing insults<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">I hopped over to Health & Glow on Sunday. Yes, I do that sometimes. It’s good to go there once in a while to get insulted. The salesgirls in H&G are taught to be offensive. Like, really offensive. Me thinks they have a section in their training programme that’s called “how to be an efficient rude salesgirl”.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">So, I was scanning some random shelf, when a tiny girl came from nowhere and asked politely, in a nasal tone -“can I help you madam?” to which I replied my standard <strike>eff off</strike> “No. Thank you”. But as expected she was right there fearing I might nick things and run. I then had a moment of flashback about an incident which had taken place few months ago in the very same outlet; here goes my flashback:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">Salesgirl: “Madam, you can try this madam. It improves dryer”. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">A flabbergasted me thought “oh poor H&G! It has started repairing hair dryers?” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-style: italic;">But turned out she meant “dry hair” and thrust a shampoo under my nose. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-style: italic;">Salesgirl: Your hair is very dry madam. this is good madam..</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-style: italic;">“Are you jealous?” I wanted to ask her, instead went home and sulked. I vowed not to get insulted again. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">But I never learn, do I? So here I was, once again, giving H&G more business. So the nasal voiced salesgirl went on and on about everything I picked from shelf. “Madam (nasal tone) this is verrrry nice product madam. We have 0.08% off madam”. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">I was done buying things and was about to leave when she tried one last time:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">Salesgirl: Madam those circles around your eyes madam.. we have this special dark circle remover cream madam.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">That did it! I tuned into a monster and ate her alive </span><span lang="EN-GB">(I mean, I mentally pictured this act).<br /></span><span lang="EN-GB"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB">I merely glared at her and walked away. I CAN snub (it’s tough, however). I grinned while walking towards the billing counter as my eyes caught a bar of chocolate and thought “you little *beep* do you have any idea how hard I work to get these circles around my eyes? Do you work till 3 in the night? and wake up at 7 in the morning? Do you? Eh eh eh?”</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I bought a couple of Bournville chocolate bars thinking, <a href="http://www.bournville.in/html/index.html">“I know I have earned it”. </a></span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="border: 0pt none; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a> </p>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-75804572603024675412010-03-14T16:01:00.015-04:002010-03-14T17:15:37.792-04:00Love in Shimla - Part I<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">En Route</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Did you pack two pairs of socks?” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">“I am not going to carry cold cream. Ami, you do that no?” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">“Whoa! Are those Crocin tablets? Plan to set up a shop there?” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:100%;" ></span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:100%;" >“snowwwwwww (giggle)” </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">These were some random sentences uttered (sometimes even in our dreams) before leaving to Manali and Shimla. The excitement was sky high and the packing list endless. My mom and sister forced me to come up with a list of things to pack, which was a task by itself.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Lesson No.1: Remember a twine rope, safety pins, mosquito repellent and a torch can complete any list.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">So I added all these and much more, packed two bags and set out. My college had organized a trip to Kulu, Manali, Shimla and other must-see-places-if-you-have-gotten-off-at-Delhi-railway-station. I was with my group of friends and other college mates. How many? umm..around 200. Fun aye!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The train in which we traveled (Karnataka Express) had to accommodate 180 manic teenagers and some tweenagers along with some lecturers (yup lecturers. We had to take them along. Rules I believe). Our fellow passengers looked very nervous. They looked intimidated by the sheer racket we all created when we got in. 3 days? No way, they all must have thought. One of them was seen crying next to a stinky wash basin muttering “death.. death.. take me” (note: you know how I love to exaggerate). We found our ‘berths’ and I got a last minute do’s and don’ts from Dad. The train was about to move. I impatiently looked around for my sister. She was stuck in a traffic jam and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to see her for another 20 days. But she made it. Wheeeeeeeeee I said and exchanged hugs and some cash (working sibling=ATM. We younger one’s are so nasty *evil laughter*). After saying our goodbyes we got back to our seats and wondered how to sort the crisis that needed our immediate attention. Few of our friends were in another compartment and we had to move them. So we went around asking our co-passengers:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">“err escuse Mister large man with a frown can you please shift to berth number 43, pliss?” </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Lesson No. 2: Never mess with such people. just smile and offer a packet of Frooti</span>. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">“um sorry, kind lady with a badly behaved child, can you take that fabulous seat number 50 and let our friend sit with us” -so on and so forth.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Even after all our pleadings and drama two of our friends ended up in a different compartment. We didn’t bother much as we had other important issues to tackle. Like dinner, for instance. So we sat down and gobbled yummy curd rice and <i>chutney puDi with chapaatti</i>. We failed to notice that there was a man sitting on the edge of our reserved berth and shouting very loud in a voice that could give Rajdeep Sardesai a run for his money. <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">“Train ko kharida hai kya?”</span> he yelled. We all took a couple of minutes to look away from our food. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Lesson No. 3: Know your priorities while traveling. Food should be your first priority. Always.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">We looked up and gave one of our get-the-hell-out-of-here looks. He was upset that most of the seats were booked before he could. Our world famous get-the-hell-out-of-here look didn’t work; he kept other passengers entertained with his sulk-sulk-blah-blah. We kept ourselves entertained with curd rice and pickle. He left after sometime. We had already decided that none of us would sleep during the journey and planned to stay up the whole night. Yes, stupid teenagers. We kept ourselves awake by talking non-stop (read: bitch*ng session). But I noticed most of my friends were yawning after 11PM. I for one can never sleep while traveling so I didn’t want them to sleep. I asked them to be strong and keep themselves awake. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">They left and slept peacefully.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I kept waking up from time to time, trying my best to read the names of all stations. I was on the middle berth, a difficult spot I would say, but I managed to read 'em all. Or so I thought (they were written in Hindi and my hindi reading capabilities from a distance is err how do I put it, questionable). The train was too slow for my liking and it was ~5 AM. As it was the first time that I had woken up so early in my life I thought of making the best use of it by brushing my teeth and eating some plum cake that we had packed. Hey! you feel hungry while traveling. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The whole freakin train was asleep. How can they all sleep so peacefully I wondered? With nothing much to do after eating plum cake I went back to sleep only to be rudely woken up by eunuchs at around 6 AM. Four or five of them were all around the place - *clap clap clap* “aye hero utho..” *clap clap* “haan ..haan good morning” they wished us. I needed coffee. But they kept clapping. It hurt my head. Somebody please give me coffee, I pleaded silently. For us Bangaloreans waking up to find no coffee is like going to <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Tirupati </span>and not hearing <a style="FONT-STYLE: italic" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suprabhatam">MS’s Suprabhatam</a> or going to <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Tirupati </span>and not standing in queue. More claps followed forcing me to peep through my <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">shawl</span>. One of them caught sight of me peeping, thinking I was a guy (don’t ask me why) tried to wake me up. After s/he found I’m in fact a girl, asked me to go back to sleep. Sweet, no? I murmured ‘coffee?’ sleepily (threw in some sympathy angle muhahahaa. clever me!). “coffee?” s/he asked me with a frown and *clap clap* called the coffee chap (who had just walked into our compartment) and moved ahead to harass a cute guy who was sleeping on the ‘passage-wali’ seat (ahem.. a cute medical student. more on this later)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Lesson number 4: Don’t infuriate eunuchs. Stay calm and smile or act sleepy. They’ll help you. Really.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I thanked the kind eunuch, which went unnoticed, paid Rs.5 to the coffee chap and had my first sip of “Brooo instant coffee”. I immediately felt dizzy. I will never be able to describe the taste of Broooooo. But my fellow coffee lovers may I request you to join me in requesting Indian Railways to ban this dreadful blend of warm water, three spoons of sugar and coffee powder tin’s lid thrown in for the effect. I vowed to drink only Tea for the next 20 days, any day better than Br-ewww.<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Lesson 5: You might have already guessed, yes, say NO to coffee while traveling. It.should.be.banned.<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Rest of the journey was uneventful. Oh yes the cute medical student (no, he is not the protagonist of this story). To be honest I didn’t find him cute, in fact none of us did. Much to our amusement he slept throughout the journey and kept throwing furious glances at us. Well I dont blame him, coz our chatter matched the decibel levels of the train’s engine.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And thus we reached our destination.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, l<span style="font-size:100%;">et me skip the rest of the places we visited and head to Shimla, alright. Or on second thoughts...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">to be continued....<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms" href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0pt; BORDER-TOP: 0pt; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0pt; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0pt; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a></span>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-23661287257555594682010-03-05T13:13:00.017-05:002010-03-05T15:56:58.315-05:00His youngest fanChildren I am back. How is the world treating y’all? You must be wondering what’s going on in my life (err say yes ok)? Apart from my work, my niece keeps me busy. A two month old <i style="FONT-STYLE: italic">bijli paTaaki</i><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"> </span>is my family’s sole source of entertainment. We are yet to name her. Much to her annoyance we continue to call her by different inane names. For all you know she might be thinking “aiyo you folks! get a life and leave me alone. And switch on the fan before you leave.” Ceiling fan is her current obsession.<br />Anyway for the sake of blogging I have decided to name her <em>Puttudu</em> (meaning ‘little one’ in Kannada). That’s what we call her at home too :).<br /><br />Talking about fans, guess who else likes AR Rahman? yes-yes it's my niece. This happened when she was not even a month old and I had to keep a watchful eye while Putttudu slept. [But you know in reality, my role is redundant. My niece wakes up even if I flip a piece of paper; when our dear old BMTC screeches to halt, I get all jumpy and panicky but do nothing]. It was during one such screech-startle-wake-up time, that I discovered she loved music. Yeah I know! <span style="font-family:';">I played <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A<i>ye hairathe ashiqui </i>from Guru </span>and </span>my happiness knew no boundaries when I saw her listening to it with an intense expression. That was not all, we also figured that she listened only to songs composed by AR Rahman. Wheeeee… Can you imagine the kind of joy I felt?<br /><br />Now, the first thing we all do when we wake up is worship ARR. There is an empty photo frame, which I plan to fill with a scanned picture of Rahman's right foot, so everyday we assume there is a picture of his right foot and do "jota" (fold hands and pray). And if you happen to pass Malleshwaram at 6.30 in the morning you can hear groggy voices singing <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">aye hairathe ashiqui jagaa math</span>. I normally sing <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Jaage hai der tak hamein kuch der sone do</span> (to the background music of my alarm clock- rrrrrrrriiiing *snooze* rrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnggg *snooze* rrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiingggggggggggg. Dang!)<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p>.</o:p><br /><o:p></o:p><br /><o:p></o:p>Thanks to ARR and two of his tracks, my niece promptly stops wailing and/or screaming as soon as she recognizes the prelude. For instance, she drinks her dreadfully bitter syrup, without making a fuss, while listening to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i9CQIzOQDA">this song</a> and drifts off to la la land when we play <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeOTYd2mSaE&feature=related">this</a>. She refuses to listen to other music directors. yeyeyey. More power to ARR!<br />When people ask- “oh-ho just like Chikki (short for Chikkamma meaning aunt, meaning me) she will also learn music-aa?” I feel like hugging them but then they add “hope she does not turn out as lazy as her chikki teehee” pffffttt grrr.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Give her a keyboard someone :p</span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/S5FkvSKtPsI/AAAAAAAAA3o/sMuqJjwkP7E/s1600-h/DSCN4977.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445244187961016002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/S5FkvSKtPsI/AAAAAAAAA3o/sMuqJjwkP7E/s320/DSCN4977.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/S5FkvSKtPsI/AAAAAAAAA3o/sMuqJjwkP7E/s1600-h/DSCN4977.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"></p><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/S5FkvSKtPsI/AAAAAAAAA3o/sMuqJjwkP7E/s1600-h/DSCN4977.JPG"></a></p><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"></a></p><p></p><p><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0pt; BORDER-TOP: 0pt; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0pt; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0pt; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a></p>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-53036899314261254882010-02-02T10:22:00.021-05:002010-02-11T23:46:23.972-05:00Tag, Tagger, Taggest!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://sothisishowyoublog.blogspot.com/">Lostworld</a>, my blogger-twin (seriously, we sometimes think alike), has passed on the <strong>Honest Scrap Award</strong> to me. Thanks a ton girl. Dunno about the ‘honest’ part but I am sure I have loads of s'crap’ to write *wink*. </span><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433668768961322386" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 200px; height: 194px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/S2hE9OES3ZI/AAAAAAAAAyk/0tbmvuwU8Qc/s320/honestscrapaward1.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So now, the rules to claim this award are-<br />1.I must thank the person who gave me the award and list their blog and link it (check)<br />2.I must list 10 honest things about myself (err)<br />3.I must put a copy of Honest Scrap logo on my blog (check)<br />4.I must select atleast 7/ 8 other worthy bloggers and list their links (hmm)<br />5.I must notify the bloggers of the award and hopefully they will follow the above three requirements also (OK boss)<br /><br />10 honest things about myself. Hmm..10. ten. T-E-N! hmm.. Lets see how this goes. Aah ok raiyyyyah (Bus conductor style):<br /><br />1). I had a troubled childhood (hard hitting sentence that is! Brilliant start.. bhesh). So as a child I was never able to celebrate my birthday in school. Being born in the month of May (yup summer holidays), I had to go through terrible mental stress. I could never distribute <a href="http://www.lotteindia.com/images/Products/LactoKingNew.jpg">Lacto King </a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">or Eclairs to my class mates. I never wore “color dress” to school. Never had my classmates sing “happy birdday dooo you”. Never did I take my ‘best friend’ around classrooms to distribute chocolates. Never! Sniff… This wish of mine remains unfulfilled. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2). As a child (Yes I want to talk about my childhood. This is my only chance okay). I was saying, as a child I was ultra silent and reserved. My then new neighbor thought my sister was the only daughter to my parents. So much for being a cute, silent and an ‘untroublesome’ kid (pssst my parents wonder if I am the same daughter of theirs. Now they just can’t make me shut up). </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3). I am not fussy about food. I eat anything that is vegetarian. Junk food is preferable. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">4). I love my job. No, I am not being sarcastic. I truly love my job. People think I am crazy to work for a start up. Having worked in two big organizations I have come to realize that size of a firm does not really matter. And... well I want to continue but will stop here heehee :P </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">5). I am not much of a shopping person. My sister dreads shopping with me coz I stress her out. I roll my eyes constantly, tap my left foot, sit in one corner and sulk, you get the drift. Having said that I lose track of time when in a book store. I never use ‘shopping’ and ‘books’ in the same sentence. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6). Music to me is like breathing. Besides, music heals me and keeps me going. It could be anything- stress, stupid fights with family/friends, depression, PMS, heartbreaks... </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">7). I’ll like any place that has a lake and is filled with trees. I can just sit there and do nothing. I might get bored after an hour, but once in a while my mind needs serenity.</span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">8). I sometimes laugh for no reason. And most of the time I can’t control my silly laugh. I all of a sudden remember a funny story or an amusing incident or a silly joke in the middle of a presentation or a meeting and almost die controlling my laughter. I cough to hide it. Pretentious coughs are so obvious. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">9</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">). I can finish a Bourbon biscuit packet in flat 4 minutes. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">10). Life they say needs to be taken with a pinch of salt, well I take it with a slice of lime and Tequila ..muhahahha (honestly I don't know what I am talking about. I guess I'm sleepy. but I am sure that added some flavor to my otherwise boring list)</span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Lost, thanks for tagging me I say. Totally enjoyed writing this post. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tra la la la now I tag:<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://alltheworlds.blogspot.com/">Maanasi </a>– Coz I <strong>have</strong> to tag her if not an ant somewhere will commit suicide.<br /><a href="http://vlokam.wordpress.com/">Vimmuuu </a>– Coz I am sure he’ll have something funny to share.<br /><a href="http://silentlyexpress.wordpress.com/">Ani </a>– Coz even though I know him I feel I don’t. hee confusing no. So let’s hope he’ll clear the confusion </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://kanaguonline.wordpress.com/">Kanagu </a>– Coz it’d be nice to know more about him :)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><a href="http://nothing--ness.blogspot.com/">Poornima </a>- Coz I love what she writes. Hopefully this'll inspire her to write more :)</span></div><div></div><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="border: 0px none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></span></a></div>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-65690682300708494122010-01-06T04:20:00.014-05:002010-01-06T05:42:42.119-05:00Meet my darling<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The best moment in my life was when I saw you. Little arms outstretched; eyes wide open. Your little feet pink and soft. I will never be able to describe the joy I felt when I saw you smile. Words fail me. Your smile made my day. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I had to pinch myself to believe that you were here at last. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Our sweetheart. My niece- welcome to the world. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> have waited for so long to hold you. The ultrasound image of yours was not enough you see :P Yes, I’m greedy that way. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, I eagerly await moments which seem even more exciting. I am eager to take you out for a walk (show you off, in other words), dress you up, re-learn things I have forgotten, eat <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cerelac">Cerelac </a> (err I just wanna give some company) and yeah, spoil you like all aunts do (like all bratty aunts do)! </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I love you.</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-70280891154592332682009-12-30T08:34:00.005-05:002010-02-05T02:13:20.905-05:00year we go again...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This happens to me every year. I’m not kidding.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sometime in November-<br /><em>Friend 1</em>: What ya? What plans for new years eve?<br /><em>Me</em>: Not decided. Will go out probably <em>*grin*</em><br /><em>Friend 1</em>: <em>*smirks*</em><br /><em>Me</em>: pppffftttt<br /><br />End of November-<br /><em>Friend 2</em>: We are all planning to go to Goa. Wanna join?<br /><em>Me</em>: Sure! But hey wait .. hmm err I dunno. I have deadlines to meet at work.. blah blah blah.. <em>*friend 2 rolls her eyes*..</em> I’ll let you know.<br /><em>Friend 2</em>: you’ll never come I know! <em>*snorts*<br /></em><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sometime in December-<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>Friend 1</em>: <em>*still smirking*</em> so, where are you going? The Club-aa? Or some farm house-aa? Or Pub-aa?<br /><em>Me</em>: arrrghhhh! go away<br /><em>Friend 1</em>: <em>*laughing*</em> I know what you'll do on 31st, you'll watch DD1<br />Me: <em>*throws water bottle at him. feels better*</em><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Nearing 31st December-</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">People have nohing else to talk about for the rest of the week. They all ask the same dam(n) question. Cousins, friends, neighbors, the kid who just got out of school, all of them have plans. All, but me! I sulk. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Not that I am sulking now. Or am I? My folks avoid talking to me, exchange sly glances and about-to-laugh expressions.<br />On 31st night after dinner (I tend have dinner earlier than ever) you find me with a book in my left hand and a big bar of chocolate in my right. Seriously, thanks to the great wo/man who invented chocolate. You'd think a person ever lived without it! Bah.. Reminds me of a quote from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peanuts">Peanuts</a>- <em>Lucy Van Pelt says “All you really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt”<br /></em><br />So people who sail in the same boat as mine, bwahahahahah.. have a blast watching Titanic on star movies or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gurdas_Maan">Gurdasmann </a>on DD or reading a nice book or watching a <strike>chick flick</strike></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> feel good movie. Relax. You shall be relaxed throughout the year *guffaws* .Like how we used to study on 31st to maintain that intensity for the rest of the year. hahah silliness I say.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Anyway rest of you, well, you guys have a blast too. Just make sure you are back before the clock strikes 1 if you are a Bangalorean. As if...</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Happy New Year! Have a great year ahead :)</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="border: 0px none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-47657061374638345292009-12-08T12:12:00.000-05:002009-12-08T13:17:22.846-05:00Heppy Heppy Budday<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is for someone very special to me.<br />Someone with whom I have had mindless arguments, senseless pillow fights and silly “I will never talk to you again” moments<br />Someone with whom I have sung songs all day, climbed trees and inherited few atrocious clothes<br />Someone who has been my idol since I can remember</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Someone who makes me laugh till I beg for mercy<br />Someone who is with me always<br />Someone who loves me unconditionally<br />Someone I am possessive of<br />Someone who is beautiful, intelligent, caring, emotional and a cleanfreak<br /><br />This post is for my sister.<br />Happy birthday ‘chinnaaaa’ heh heh :D (sorry that's our family joke, might not be funny at all)</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">lou you ya.. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Of course there is a song dedication. </span><a href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/b4fc451b-1977-48f5-99a4-548874a182b7/anjali-anjali"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This one </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">is for you bebbiee. For all those sleepless nights you (we) spent practicing this track. Those were the days no? ;)</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-24364045474760584822009-11-21T02:01:00.000-05:002009-11-21T05:41:23.248-05:00Random Thoughts - 3<span style="font-size:100%;"><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" name="City" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></o:p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He sat next to an old bedside lamp and spoke in a low tone. Abruptly, he put the receiver back in its place. Banged it, in fact. He tried to recollect his thoughts. What were they about? Something random said a bored voice (a voice that often spoke to him). Random stupid thoughts he said aloud and chuckled. Always nice to dwell on random thoughts isn’t it he asked the voice. The voice grunted.<br /></span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Teehee.. That felt good. Right, the whole paragraph is no way connected to what I am about to post. I just happen to like typing such stuff. So I am back and I thought I’ll just make your lives err.. bright by publishing my thoughts. So, I was thinking -</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >- Is it really November? No seriously! What’s happening to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bangalore</st1:place></st1:city>? November means a slight chill in the air that makes us grab our jackets, sweaters and socks out of our closets (socks yes, only people from Malleshwaram and Cox Town would do that). Not umbrellas. If it wasn’t for Crucie, a cute dog near my office, I wouldn’t even know the current season. The dog promptly wears a sweater during winter you see. Anyway after the initial November-sweater-days the dog now has stopped wearing it and looks gloomy. Climate change is catching up people. Look at poor Crucie.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >-Is it me or is Biggggg Bosssss (I dunno how many g’s and s’s are to be added) the funniest show on earth? Did you see how they now have a romantic angle to the show? That <i>phirang</i> and that who-on-earth-is-he?-oh-a-loser-model guy throw vegetables at each other. hahahahah so funny. And KRK was so amusing. He got thrown out sadly. And have you seen Baccchhaan? hahahaha funny again. OK there’s nothing funny about the show. It’s downright boring. But why do people watch it? Why do I (sometimes) watch it? And if there was a “worlds No.1 cry baby” contest, who do you think would win – Bhaktiyar or a new born baby next to your building?<br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >-All these years, the two of us successfully ignored each others existence- me and the lizard. But unfortunately (I have to come to terms with it) the creepiest living thing to have ever walked this planet has found its way to my room. Two days back I saw you-know-what crawling towards one and the only painting I have. The very next moment I was out to wake my dad up but he was fast asleep. I had no other choice but to go back. Bravo! said my Mom. The thing is she doesn't know that now I live in terror and fear of its return. I feel that it is hiding somewhere in my room. Should I call the armed forces? I don’t know…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- Have you noticed, suddenly </span><a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Headley-probe-NIA-asks-Rahul-Bhatt-not-to-leave-Mumbai/articleshow/5235460.cms"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Rahul Bhatt is famous</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. Poor soul was unseen thanks to the overwhelming presence of his dad and sister. Now he can savor some limelight (though it’s for all the wrong reasons). </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >- Since a month or so I have stopped smirking at driving school cars. I was a heartless two wheeler rider who always looked down upon the “learners”. But since the time I started taking driving lessons, I have newfound respect for these folks. <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">But Bangalore</st1:place></st1:city> traffic is cruel people. I protest!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >-These days I dream about clutch/break/accelerator/indicator and seat adjuster. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">-Before I leave, I want you all to listen to this song composed by a maestro. Ilayaraja! I think you will all agree when I say that he is an amazing musician. Listen </span><a href="http://ww.smashits.com/player/flash/flashplayer.cfm?SongIds=51176"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">to this track</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> from an unknown movie called Shiva. I can’t stop listening to it. And I think this was originally composed in Tamil or Telugu; I’m not sure (whoever has heard the original please please can you let me know the movie?). Hope you like the song :) </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So what have you been thinking? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="border: 0pt none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a></span><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><br /></a></p>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-77819667471404635432009-10-19T07:01:00.002-04:002010-02-11T23:11:06.482-05:00Namma Park<p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Disclaimer: 30% of the post is in Kannada, so kindly adjusht. I have translated in English (literally) for non-kannadigas, aint me sweet?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">There is a park very close to where I stay. Exactly six and a half (6 ½) steps away from my place. Or maybe seven (7). It’s an old one. When I say old, I mean O-L-D. It has always been called “the Park” by all of us. As you can see we aren’t a creative bunch of people. Our lives, I mean the lives of everyone (almost everyone) living in our area, are somehow connected to The Park. You could say that if, God forbid, BBMP decides to demolish the park, the officials are bound to face some angry saree clad aunties/ajjis* and <i style="">panche</i>** clad thathas*** protesting in front of the park with a flask filled with strong coffee right next to them. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I can demonstrate how important The Park is -<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Park tarkaari-yammana hatra hogi kottambri soppu togonD baa”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(Go to that park vegetable seller (female) and get off coriander leaves) </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Or </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“chapli holskobekaa? Banni, ille park hatra obba idaane"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(you wanting hawai chappal fixing? Lets go to our park cobbler)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Or</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“accident-aa? Park yedrugaa?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(all accidents tend to happen near/next to/in front of The Park)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Or</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Lo Mahesha, park hatra hogi Bajji tinnoNa baaro”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(Hi there Mahesha, come lets have hot hot potato bajji’s next to the park).</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">So on and so forth. You get the picture. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">No? I can explain. The above examples don’t really give you a picture of what’s inside the park isn’t it? My bad. Will try again.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">A couple of year’s back this park was not-so-world-famous-in-Malleshwaram. Many people didn’t know about its existence, except of course for the residents of our area. Till recently, my previous firm’s cab drivers wondered if I had visions when I’d ask them to wait near The Park. “Park-aa? Yellide madam?” (you say park? Are you out of your mind?). Once in the cab I would glower at the cab driver thinking how the hell he can miss this lovely park. One day, after thinking exactly for one and half minutes (1 ½ minutes), I knew the answer.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The Park was maintained just like any other <a href="http://www.bmponline.org/">BBMP </a>parks. No maintenance what so ever.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As a little adorable kid I remember coming to the park with my Mom and sister (note: fuzzy memory). Mom would let us play for sometime inside the park, tell us stories and then we’d leave before 6 PM. The Park, after 6 PM would be filled with drunkards and shady men smoking beedis & cigarettes. So like all good kids we would follow mom and once back at home the two of us played war games. Not really. My sister would do her homework and I’d just watch her (I was a toddler and a toddler has a choice not to study).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">After few years the park was given a make over. Workers cleared <i style="">congress giDa</i>**** , shrubs and weeds; put more stone benches and built a path. We were very happy to find a path to walk. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">By then I was a big girl (around 11 years old). Along with my neighbors, I would walk for sometime and exercise (err OK you may laugh. pffftt) and leave before 6 (coz of the said reason). The Park was looked after by a man whose name was prefixed with ‘Lazy bugga’. He moved around the park like a zombie.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Our beloved Park started deteriorating all over again.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The next stage came in early 2000 when they once again cleared <span style="font-style: italic;">gida</span> etc and appointed a new <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">gardner</st1:place></st1:city>. Well it looked alright. We never really bothered going inside. After a couple of years the authorities realized this was going no where (or was it election time?) and came up with an idea to give it a face-lift. They constructed a platform, put up nice bright benches (the stone benches were retained of course, along with crow / pigeon sh*t). The path was widened. No shady men were found loitering around. Most importantly they hired a <b style="">good</b> gardener. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">OK stop! Where am I heading with all this nonsense you might wanna know? Yes, I shall come to that. After the entire make-over (over the years), we now have a very chic park. Aunties, uncles, Ajjis and thathas have a laughing club. Kids are back! Bless them. They play<span style="font-style: italic;"> inside</span> the park. There is one all woman’s group. These women sit and talk about yoga, diabetes, weddings, Obama, Amerikaaa -you can hear conversations such as <i style="">“My son working in US no, so will go there next month to look after grandchildren and this time Subba***** has promised a visit to Niagra falls.. teehee” </i>or <i style="">“Moole mane Radhamma avra magaLa madve gottaaitante? Ade ri same-u, louv marriage-u” (</i>heard corner house Radhamma’s daughter has found handy husband at pInfy matrimonial service?) -and other serious stuff. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The latest addition to this wonderful park is a fountain! Yes *punching air*.. Those of you who wanna visit this tourist destination can contact me. Please take a look at our new ‘amusement’ park. I know the photography isn't praise worthy, ahem, still...<br /></span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/StxH-ytHK4I/AAAAAAAAAjw/eUupZ_8PxL8/s1600-h/Image014.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/StxH-ytHK4I/AAAAAAAAAjw/eUupZ_8PxL8/s320/Image014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394265597771459458" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">(picture courtesy: my sister's Nokia phone).</p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p face="trebuchet ms" style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">*old ladies</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">** white colored sarong worn by men<o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">***old men<o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">****<span style="color:black;"> Parthenium weed</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">*****I am not going to explain</p><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" style="border: 0pt none ! important; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-34096924075396170722009-10-06T15:42:00.002-04:002010-02-11T23:13:32.037-05:00Book = friend<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You know what they say about books - “A good book on your shelf is a friend that turns its back on you and remains a friend”. And this year I got to read some great ‘friends’. I am an absolute fiction buff. I have read some Biographies/Autobiographies/Self help kinda books but not all of them keep me entertained sadly. Someday I plan to have a marathon non-fiction book reading session. Will keep you posted. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For today, I thought of sharing a couple of books that I have read this year. Do bear with me as I am not here to review books, just a few lines about them. I know we still have three months to go before 2010 but it seems like a nice idea to list them now.<br /><br /><strong>Lord of the Rings</strong> by JRR Tolkien: Alright I know I deserve a kick for not having read this before. F-i-n-e, I’ll wait for one. *kick* ..err ok Thanksverymuch! So on the eve of 2009 I found myself drawn into the world of Hobbits. The little people held my attention and there I was travelling through the forest and falling in love with the mysterious Strider. I still have the last part to finish. (I took a long break from LOTR. Time to get back).<br /><br /><strong>The Hungry Tide</strong> by Amitav Ghosh: I had a choice of picking either Sea of Poppies or this and I chose latter. Amitav Ghosh writes bout the tide country, Sunderbans, which is known for Bengal tigers, snakes, crocs and floods. The story takes us through the lives of three central characters, which change along with a tide. I liked reading this.<br /><br /><strong>Collection of stories</strong> by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saki"><strong>Saki</strong></a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saki"> </a>: The book has some of Saki’s best work. They are witty, dark and entertaining. Saki’s sardonic observations about life are delightful to read. A must buy.<br /><br /><strong>The Alphabet Sisters</strong> by Monica McInerney: my first Chick Lit! A relationship tale involving three sisters and their grandmother, Alphabet Sisters is funny and entertaining. At times the pages refuse to move but nonetheless the book has its moments. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Amulet of Samarkhand</strong> by Jonathan Stroud: This is the first book in the Bartimaeous Trilogy. AoS is witty, gripping and exciting (in that order). It’s about Bartimaeous, a sarcastic Djinni and his master Nathaniel, eleven year old Magician, and how their lives collide when Nathaniel decides to seek revenge on the powerful Magician Simon Lovelace. Read to enjoy this roller coaster ride. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><strong>My friend Sancho</strong> by Amit Verma: The only new book (i.e., 2009 published) that I have read this year, My Friend Sancho makes for a good read and has some very funny one liners written by Amit Verma (he blogs at <a href="http://indiauncut.com/">India Uncut</a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">). Do look out for a jealous lizard and it's wisecracks. Nice weekend read.<br /><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Twilight Series</strong> by Stephenie Meyer: Not impressive at all. Twilight is your regular Mills & Boons with a horror twist. 17 year old Bella falls for Edward, a drop dead (literally) dazzling Vampire. Edward is an odd Vampire. He can read people’s mind, play piano and control his thirst. This means he cannot bring himself to drink Bella’s blood. So we don’t get to see any gory stuff. But this is only in the first book (it is a set of four books. yaaawwwnnn); the books which follow have loads of it. When you believe everything is going great in the happy vampire family, there enters another man and so we have a love triangle. When Edward leaves Bella, she falls for another guy who is, hold your breath, a werewolf. You sigh and yell- ‘get a grip girl’. Well I skipped most of the pages.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Edited to add: also read Gone with the wind and Great works of O. Henry (yes, again) </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here are a few other books that I often read to <em>cheer</em> myself up –<br />The Little Nugget, Carry on Jeeves and Piccadilly Jim by PG Wodehouse<br />Yukon Ho, There's Treasure Everywhere – Calvin and Hobbes by Bill-please-give-xerox-copy-of-your-right-foot-Watterson<br />The Best of Roald Dahl<br />Potter by JK Rowling (I re-visit my favorite chapters/one liners/scenes. My sister finds this very amusing).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hope you enjoyed going through my book shelf. Please do leave a comment on the book/s you liked reading. I’ll pick it up if I haven’t read :)<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="border: 0px none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-3460264431619438732009-10-06T15:16:00.000-04:002009-10-07T02:07:25.242-04:00pa-pa-pa-paaaaaaaaaa (that's the sound of a trumpet by the way)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Award time!!!!!!! 'my favorite time'. its so nice to get pampered with all these awards and you lovely bloggies deserve a huge candy store for massaging my blogger-ego :) :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Thank you Aryan’s mom and Swaram, I am so so so happy. Big hug to you both (extra big hug to Aryan :D)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">by <a href="http://aryan-mylife.blogspot.com/">Aryan's mom</a>:</span><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389570123438523378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 136px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/SsuZeNucg_I/AAAAAAAAAjI/_cgXhdi1nvo/s320/One_Lovely_Blog.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">by <a href="http://thesongoflife.wordpress.com/">Swaram</a>:</span><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/SsuZesDyKLI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/0dhP0AChEAA/s1600-h/butterfly_award31.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389570131581085874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 166px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/SsuZesDyKLI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/0dhP0AChEAA/s320/butterfly_award31.png" border="0" /></a> </p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I pass these two awards to <a href="http://personalpresumptions.blogspot.com/">Gazal</a> and <a href="http://praxattack.blogspot.com/">Prax </a> :)</span><br /></p><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a></div>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-9427245896872549402009-09-17T08:45:00.000-04:002009-09-17T09:54:54.667-04:00Feeling hot hot hot<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I haven’t traveled for a while now. I only dream about traveling. I watch shows on Travel & Living and sulk. My travel plans flop the minute I get excited about it <insert>. For this reason I have stopped planning my vacations. But the future does look bright and hope my travel plans don’t bomb like </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Baweja"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Harry Baweja’s </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">next movie. I h.o.p.e!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The last I traveled was to Chennai on an official assignment, that too for a day. I couldn’t really look around the place as there was no time at all. But the good part was I got to eat some yummy food at </span><a href="http://www.saravanabhavan.com/restaurants.php"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Saravanaa Bhavan</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. What a fine place! I thought of getting a Xerox copy of the cook’s feet but they didn’t let me inside the kitchen. Can you believe that? Apart from this minor regret the trip was fun, thanks to my colleagues who were with me. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">*note: dare you say- “official trip but traveling by train-aa?” hmph. I work for a start up. This justification should suffice, no?*</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="trebuchet ms">The train journey turned out to be uneventful, for us. Our fellow passengers felt otherwise. They almost threatened to throw us out as, they thought, we were talking too much. One man after tossing and turning for hours lost his sleep (poor chap, you’d think) and with nothing better to do he kept scowling at us. What nonsense. Another guy threw dirty looks at us every time we burst out laughing (which by the way happened every 2.67 minutes once). We did not feel guilty though. It was only 11 PM; tell me who sleeps so early?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">Talking about sleep it is necessary to tell you that I normally can’t sleep while traveling. And so when everyone went to sleep, I put on my headphones to listen to music. I got bored listening to my own playlist and let my thoughts wander. I remembered the time when I had first traveled to Chennai. <span style="font-size:0;"></span>That was eons ago.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">As kids we never had a choice. We had no decision making power (unlike today’s kids). We were happy with any kinda outing. “Trip-aa?” we’d ask our folks eagerly. The place didn’t matter to us as long as we had company.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">That’s how the first Chennai holiday took place. I remember going to the beach and walking down the street feeling clammy. I remember having tough time sitting inside the van coz there hardly was any place to stretch my leg. I remember going to VGP from Chennai. I remember waiting to come back to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bangalore</st1:place></st1:city>, coz I couldn’t take the heat.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">Technically it was not a vacation. My uncle had some official duty there and with nothing much to do after finishing his work he thought he might as well throw few stupid kids into the water. No, he didn’t do that. He very sweetly asked us (meaning my entire crazy family) to accompany him on his trip. Amidst all the excitement we forgot it was the month of April. Need I say more? We realized it would be extremely hot and for us Bangaloreans any place above 25 degrees Celsius is considered hot. But none of us kids wanted to back out. Well obviously, how can you say no to a sponsored trip? Besides summer holidays were meant for fun. So the thought of beach in Chennai/VGP got us very excited. <span style="font-size:0;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">I don’t recall the rest of the tour, except for the humid climate and as a result the urgency to get back to <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Bangalore</st1:city></st1:place>. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">While we are on the subject of hot places let me also narrate to you about our other expedition to another hot destination. During one such summer vacation we (my family and another friend’s family) traveled to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bijapur,_Karnataka">Bijapur</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aihole">Aihole</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Badami">Badami </a>and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pattadakal">Pattadkal</a>. Summer in North of Karnataka is hot. To put it mildly, we thought of cooking hot BeNNe dosey (Butter dosa) on top of our car. As we didn’t find butter on the highway we decided against it. But seriously, it was burning hot. Coming back to our trip, despite the heat and dad’s friend falling sick we had loads of fun. We all traveled in our Premier Padmini. All of us (eight people including four sweet 'little' kids) were squashed inside the car and we didn’t really mind (more so coz there was no choice). The heat didn’t prevent us from having fun. Between our journey, there was an unexpected stop over at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kudalasangama">Koodalasangama </a>and with no hotels around we took refuge in a small dormitory. I still remember we slept on the floor and found everything exciting -the spookiness of the night, the dim lit room, the whole idea of an adventurous trip and the constant “ssshhh sumne malkoLI” (shut up you crazy little monsters) uttered by our elders. We even made up a song on Kudalasangama. Boy! What fun.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">Now when I look back I don’t understand why most of our summer vacations were spent in places such as these- hot, dry, sultry and humid. Well who cares as long as it made us happy. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">This post, my friends, was a leaf out of my travel journal. I do hope to write some more some other time.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-FAMILY: trebuchet ms">Coming up next: Love in Shimla</p><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0pt; BORDER-TOP: 0pt; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: 0pt; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0pt; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-61612992460704425682009-09-10T15:45:00.000-04:002009-09-10T16:39:02.998-04:00Gracias<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Shraddha and April (two lovely bloggers who run a great show <a href="http://www.theselfloveproject.com/">here</a>) have been extremely sweet and have passed this award to me :)<br />I think this will help me get out of my so called writers block :P<br /><br />Thank you ladies, this did make my day :D</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/SqlYDgtfnMI/AAAAAAAAAiY/fcYQL--qBhE/s1600-h/humane%2Baward_thumb3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 184px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pmL6l830mjs/SqlYDgtfnMI/AAAAAAAAAiY/fcYQL--qBhE/s320/humane%2Baward_thumb3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379928047214369986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I pass this on to:<br /><a href="http://silentlyexpress.wordpress.com/">Aniruddha </a></span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><a href="http://alltheworlds.blogspot.com/">Maanasi</a></span><a href="http://alltheworlds.blogspot.com/"> </a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><a href="http://nothing--ness.blogspot.com/">Poornima</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">p.s. I hope by now you would have noticed my new super cool signature.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cheers</span>,<br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/276/65FE08CADD9F703CA0FBE940485D6BE5.png" style="border: 0pt none ! important; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /></a>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437373117650313736.post-59152878100000201682009-08-20T03:03:00.000-04:002009-10-28T12:11:32.234-04:00Paayaliya<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My friend <a href="http://alltheworlds.blogspot.com/">Maanasi</a>, after listening to my rendition <a href="http://full-meals.blogspot.com/2009/08/attuned.html">here</a>, decided to come up with a video, on YouTube. She worked on it for few hours and voila! here is the first look. She says this is her first attempt, but I don't believe her. Coz it looks very artistic with all the right pictures, matching the mood of this composition</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>.<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The pictures shared in this video are by <a href="http://meghnaiyengar.blogspot.com/">Megi </a>and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/oldmonk_and_a_camera/">Deepak </a>(excellent photographers, both of them. Probably it runs in the family :)) Thank you folks! :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And thank you Maans. You are the best :)</span><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw2LeefqzMHd2IjrJF0LzOIu2jmFzzZ3FGMGO7zgtXrq-dbtKqQvl6LugKSN494pp1wmLi7ayAYvn5c9ZxT' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Shruthihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15195083856125013147noreply@blogger.com27