Sickness Blue

Its been four months since i arrived in this City. And its my second fever in as much months. I think Cities make me burning hot. :P

Honestly, the cities have a way of attaching itself on you. Make you so crazy about it, even with all its imperfections. It grows on you slowly, and one day you realize that you don't want to go back, even though you hate the place and the people here.

Its like a sexy mistress, seductive; you know its not good, you know more times than not it is not so fond of you, you know you will have much more peace and understanding from the good old hometown where everyone knows you. But you cant leave. You live for its better moments, even though it is far and fewer in between. Its like a really bad addiction.

I know i am not the first to feel this tug o' war. I like living here, but there are moments when i miss my smalltown life like mad.

Especially when i am sick. And lonely. Fever is not some deathbed scene for me. But it makes me want my home and family with an intensity that is quite fierce.

Things i miss from Home- especially when i am down with fever.

• Amma- Whenever i am sick, she gets on like an overprotective orangutan mom. She checks on often, and sometimes scolds me for being a careless baby to get the disease, which makes me crazy. I miss the scolding. Even though in the past few days she has called like fifty times, i miss her random checks and poor-baby pats and hugs.
• Mom's chukku kaapi- Chukku is ginger and kaapi is, of course, coffee. Its a dreadful spicy drink, after drinking which you will run and mouth some sugar to cool your tongue. Mom feeds us that hourly while ill. We think she is being rather sadistic. But it makes the fever go away in like, a day. Here also i make something that tastes like that. How ever i try, its not as awful and it not as effective either. Sigh.
• My Bed- Which rather hard, with a me-shaped dent right in the middle, but its the place where i get maximum rest and sleep.
• My room- The one thing i hate and love in my city room is the pouring sunlight. Some days it makes my days brighter. But the fever photo-phobia makes my eyes crave my room with a huge mango tree right near the windows which makes it virtually dark at noon.
• My dog, who knows when i am sick and in companionship comes and lies down on my feel. Which is rather painful, but i like it anyway.
• Dad who runs after me with a paracetamol, which is something i abhor. His belief in modern medicines in something i didn't inherit from him.

Taking care of yourself is something you need to learn sooner or later. But it doesn't mean that you stop wishing someone would do it for you at your most vulnerable.

PS: The one thing i love most about the city is also the family. Them and their over-intrusive, overprotective, overbearing ways are a few hundred kilometers away. Aw, shucks.

Puppy Love.

As you know, I am in a city now. Actually working here. Here the life is nice and i've made a few friends as well. One of them is a very beautiful and very nice girl from Brazil, named Barbara. Since the first day, I knew that she is brilliant and hard working, but the following incident brought to me something entirely different to my focus.

One day, in the afternoon, I was approaching the workplace and I saw this big commotion at the corner outside the clinic. I went and saw a very teary Barbara, and I was truly bewildered. What would make this seemingly strong and empowered woman cry?
I went to enquire more and I saw that she was clutching a very little and very sick stray puppy. Not to mention ugly.
She explained to me that she found him in a ditch and she just couldn't abandon him. He didn't seem to have any sibling or parents. A truely lonely soul left to die. She picked him and brought him to the clinic, where truly the raising of a dog was one thing that can get you fired. I thought of explaining this to her, but left that idea then and there.
Barbara went and brought some pedigree dog food puppies. But this puppy was even smaller for that. He hadn't weaned yet. She gave someone some money to get the dog milk daily. She said she couldn't take the dog to her homeland but wanted to do something for him as long as she was here. In a matter of days, the dog got better and was playing and prancing and doing all sorts of mischievous stuff a healthy and happy puppy is supposed to do.
In all of this happy-happy story, something was not right and someone was in a very difficult position.
Me.
Of course I am a dog lover and I wanted the best for the dog. But the problem was, if the office(a short walk away) found out that the place was harbouring and fugitive puppy, it was going to be my head under the axe (not a pretty picture.).
So I was pro adoption. Actually it was the only solution to the whole issue. Someone has to give the puppy another home. And fast.
We'd place the dog near the dog everyday evening so that some kid would take a fancy and take him in. Days passed. There were days when some boy would say he'll ask his parents and then we wont see the tail of him. We were getting a bit desperate.

Finally, yesterday a kid said if he can come a little after 4 after asking someone at home and take the dog. We shouted a very relieved "YES!". I had to leave shortly and didn't hear what happened then.

Today afternoon, like always, around 3, I said I am going to play with the dog. But then someone told me, "a boy yesterday took the dog home, you didn't hear?".
I was ecstatic. "Did anyone tell Barbara?"
"We didn't."
I ran off and told her the happy news.
"YAY!" She jumped in joy clapping hands, and swear to god, so did i. :-)
Finally, a happy ending! To all party concerned.
To the unnamed dog- Hello buddy, where ever you are, stay happy and healthy. I hope you have a loving family now, and a funny name too. And never forget Barbara, because angels work in mysterious ways.

Look who is back and talking!

Ah, In case anyone is wondering, I am not dead (one of the things i KNOW about Internet is, no one misses you. That's a maudlin thought and i am too perky to be moody now).

Well, as you last know, i was in some sort of eating disorder control thingy last time we met. It was not pretty folks! I survived on just juices(twice daily) for nine whole days! There were days i thought i would go ka-razy and there were nights i dreamed of indulging in nothing but the finest cuisine. Now, i am truly back and is refraining from over indulgence. Most of the time. Oops. :|

And when i came back home after the, my bro says the modem has died and went up on a crack of thunder. Really monsoon? The best you could do was the modem? Now don't take it out on the computer please. So thats the delay in the blogging.

You remember the story i was talking about writing? Well, i sent it last month. Now fingers crossed!! You too do it na? Okay, now uncross it. :P I am having some crazy thoughts like, Did it reach them?(it was sent via email, not snail) or was my font readable (it was calibri, one of my fav) and such bullshit. Its my first time na? Allowed hai.

So, what you think of Yoga? This being the some health related day and all(see, i watch news! while playing on mobile) i wanted to know what you think. My friend Pallavi just started Yoga. And i am doing it these days. You have any experience? Hearsay? Let me know. I will let you know how it goes for me. :)

And a promise.

I'LL BE BACK. SOON. *shwarzenn-whatsthatdude style*

Rehab

I am the kind of person who, if i were living in a country any less morally uptight that India, would have done some really shitty things and ended up in a rehab. And not the cool kind the Hollywood things go to. And since i live in the morally uptight India, i am not a alcohol/drug/anything addict. Yet i manage to go to a rehab.

Why?

Food.

To cut the story short, i am obese and before i make some really shameful Guinness record like 'the youngest person to die of heart attack'(Oh wait, some stupid 10 year old kid already got that. F***) I checked myself(more like my family and extended family forced me to) into a facility that will monitor my diet and hopefully make me a better eater. Damn, a better NON-eater.

Basically its just eating some fruits from time to time and a lot of water. And i think i am doing pretty well. Even though i occasionally have dreams of masala chicken and chocolate cookies.

So all you pretty people, watch what you eat and stay healthy while i curb my insane love for edible things.

Politricks

The summer is damn hot. But you know what is hotter? Politics. The elections are upon us, and as the child of two local political parents, life is hell. Some snippets off it:

*****

Mom: Molu, make some lemonade.

Me:Yes ma. *scrawling*

Mom: Molu, some tea. 2 suger-less.

Me:*scrawling* Yes amma.

Mom: Can we get some lunch order in short notice?

Me:*scrawling* I was working at a Tea-shop, i will be making as much tea and lemonades, and they will be paying me to do so.

Mom: *scrawling*

*****

Mom is really into baseless slander, as they do in politics.

Mom: The opposition candidate is a Prof at a college. He can get a decent income by just working. He is doing politics only because he get more from it.

Me: Ma, you are a retired govt employee. With handsome pension. If you work in politics, does it mean that you get some cash from there?

Mom: *ANGRY* You don't know anything! For all i know, you will go and vote for him.

Me: *hiding*

*****

Mom: *after a day of running around and getting home at dusk* Where is the soap in the bathroom?

Me:In the bathroom outside. Dad took it.

Mom: Get it for me na?

Me: Now? Am watching cricket!

Mom: Am so tired, i cant walk that much.

Me: *getting up* its only 10 steps!

Mom: *after bath* *on call* Yes Jaya, we need to arrange that room by tonight.

Mom:Un huh. I know. I am coming too. Lets get some help and arrange all the chairs.

Me: :O You cant go to bathroom outside! and you are going to arrange chairs? *scrawling*

*****

Dad: I joined politics for your Mom.

Mom: ...'s destruction.

Dad:I am leaving the party.

Mom: I dont think i will be that lucky.

Dad: I dont think i am coming to the meeting tonight.

Mom: That is because i am getting a seat in stage and you are sitting in audience.

Dad:I am not jealous!

Me and Bro: Yes, you are!

*****

Bro: Ma, rocky likes your candidate.

Mom: Gr8! How so?

Bro: Your election symbol is the palm na? He did pasted his own on that poster of the candidate.

Mom: :-/

*****

It had been crazy mayhem. With mom and dad being too busy and house getting cluttered with Request sheets and posters and a lot of men i wish i would never have to see again.

But in their old age(mom and dad are 60) i think its the feeling of being wanted and the thrill of doing something is what keeps them so energetic and happy. And as long as they are happy, i am happy too.

Though i am still not decided on whom to vote.

Don't tell mom!

Race of Life

Do you ever feel like you are in a race you don't know about and the time is running out? You have to make a move, you have to make choices, you have to think, everyone is getting way ahead of you but you don't know what the hell you need to do to stay away and/or alive?

I am in such a race. I don't know if i want to be in it. I am almost sure i don't want to be. I don't know when it started and when i fell so behind. But nonetheless i am in and i am losing.

Time is such an important factor in a crowd that doesn't believe in late bloomers or last laughers. You finished the race? Are you checking the milestones? Yes? You win. No? You suck.

And i suck big time.

I was always late growing up. I learned to take care of myself when i was 16 or something. That too barely. Considering i was living in a boarding, it created some pretty nasty episodes. I still am not an expert in it. I arrive for anything and everything late. I am a perpetual and professional late comer.

Does anyone get that? No. I am always asked, "where in the race are you?". I say "i haven't begun," and i get, "aw, poor girl! get going."

Come on!

May i won't ever run. May be i don't want to run. May be i am too scared and lazy to run.

But the race is on and until you reach the milestone, or die trying, you are nothing but a big freak.

Why I hate MFPA

You haven't heard of MFPA?

Mouth and Foot Painting Artists? Well, apparently, this is a group of handicapped people who paints with their mouth and foot. And thus, this association provides them a monthly salary and all and then they live happily ever after.

How is it any concern of mine, you ask? Good question darling.

This year they sent me a few of their paintings in card form. Its free. I can use it as greeting cards and sent it to whom ever i please. Awesome, right? Total win-win!

Wrong.

The catch is that, i have to send them money for it if i want to. IF I WANT TO. Like i am the salazar slytherin who doesn't take pity on the poor peoplewho don't have hand and foot. See, if i were more practical, i would've avoided this and put the whole thing behind me in a flash. But i bet they didn't had that in mind when they chose me to slaughter.

The thing is, unlike the MFPA guys, i don't earn much money. I don't even have regular income. I am, like any other practitioner, trying to establish a practice, and there are days when i earn a lot. And there are days when i don't. I like think that my life is like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's. You know that story.

So the thing is, when people send me abso-fucking-lutely beautiful cards, i pay for them. I have to. And i even though they kinda dragged me into the middle of this, i am going to.

What i want is, i want you all to go to their website.

MFPA

Join their newsletter program or just buy a few paintings. Its gorgeous and you are helping someone.

If you want to help more people, you can send ME money. *batting lashes*

Just drop a line and i am so going to get in touch. I take checks or credit cards or free food. :P

And these are some cards they sent me.

Khandaani Baatein

You know, i never write much about the family. So i thought I'll remedy that today.

More than that, mom went over to my uncle's to see her mom, so i am missing her so so much. All the times when we are together, we are cross with each other. She doesn't like my laid back attitude, my state of singledom and you name it, she hates it. Sometimes i wonder if she ever loved me. But then there are times like this, where i miss her and wish that she was here, if only to scold me. And since she is gone, house work falls on the shoulders of moi, which is terrible. :P

******

I hate our mixer grinder. I am almost sure that it has a thing for me. Bad thing.

One of the first tips of kitchen the mixer taught me was never to grind anything hot. It was a very painful lesson.

The thing is, when ever i go to grind coconut, which is often if you are a keralite, the second i turn the key, the coconut start flying all over the place. I personally have no problem with flying coconut grind, but i hate cleaning.

******

In our house, there is two decks of cards. We play often, mostly rummy and recently poker too. I made the chips with some cardboard paper and Aqqui(the bro) hates them. He says it doesn't have much panache. Hmmph.

Our dad is a master player. However inebriated he is, i am almost sure that he knows whats in all our hands.

Mom plays for fun. She never leaves a game, even though her hand is hopeless.

I am an exceptional shuffler, which amazes most people. Even though i am well versed at cards, they hate me. Or why would they conspire to form unimaginative pairings en-route to me?

Then there is Aqqui. The black sheep. For long my parents were afraid to teach him this, for the fear of corrupting him. Then when they became sure that he is as boring as a sack of potatoes, they taught him. His famous rummy comments range from "I have a hand full of royals, with no relation between them," to "J is for Jackie? i thought that was Joker."

But he has exceptional luck and he remains the only one to have a hand-rummy on the house, which he proceeded to present while downing the 13th card. Get it?

But we all owe him serious cash. Which he is never going to get.

******

The dog is gay, i think. One day, someone brought a bitch in heat to do the nasty and Rocky almost killed her. He started barking like he saw the ghost and after an attempted attack, the owner took her to some other guy in need.

I think we should try bringing home a man-dog. What you think?

******

Mom makes this gorgeous mango pickles.

Great huh?

Too bad, none of us like mango pickles.

My friends, my brother's friends, neighbors... everyone go gaga over it and we are like 'meh' and this pisses her off.

And the next year, she makes more pickles.

******

My uncle is craaazy.

Seriously.

There are cases of mental illness in dad's family, which mom points out every time they argue. But uncle is mom's brother, and a very prominent doctor too. And i think dad should point to him some time. The guy has some serious issues behaviorally.

He once said my brother needed a better dressing. My brother. Who wont wear gold if it was not branded. :-/

He once smacked me on the shoulder at a wedding. Hard.

I smacked him right back.

It was painful!

May be i shouldn't criticize him much. What say?

******

My Grandma is weird. And almost 90.

Mom recently teased her, saying 'may be you should marry'.

Grandma said, 'Yeah, i can talk to and listen to someone."

She cant hear if a bomb went off near her ear.

******

If you read it so far, i applaud you.

I know it has been a boring post.

But i miss mom and the whole managing home thing is driving me crazy.

I am never getting married. Ever.

Need to sleep now if i want to wake up and finish work at a decent hour.

FML!

The Prodigal Friend

Sometimes in life you make the stupidest decisions, and implement them without thinking about it.

You just feel hurt and you want to hurt someone so bad.

In the end its not only them that suffers, but you do too.

A few months ago, in a fit of jealous rage, you ostracize your best friend.

Not Di, the other best friend.

You just wanted him to feel what its like being avoided.

You should have given him some space or just talked to him about it.

Then again, you are not known for making the perfect decisions.

Then comes the slow burning reminders.

If you shared your life, your whole life with someone over a few years, its natural that everyday brings something that reminds you of them.

The Christmas with out a drunken mate.

An IPL auction.

Advices you terribly seek from no one but him.

Gossips you itch to share.

A movie he was urging you to see. (Inception)

Songs, habits, smoking.

You want to take back the deed.

But sometimes you want something so bad, doesn't mean its possible.

Your hands itch to make a step.

But you don't.

Like they say, pride comes before pain.

But you know, when it grows too much, you have to bite the bullet and face the consequences.

Good or bad or incredibly ugly.

Finally, you cant take it anymore.

Whats the worse?

He wont talk to you. How is that worse from the current situation?

An sms.

No reply.

Okay, that's settled then.

You can sigh and move on.

Damn.

48 hours.

Sorry Miss. Smalltown girl, replying late.

Oh god.

You cant stop grinning.

Yahoo Messenger.

Old times.

Gossips.

I was ready to go on bended knees.

Thank god he is no meanie.

I would really look weird on my knees before the computer.

Nothing is changed.

Or everything is, for the better.

Na, nothing is changed, for better or worse.

Thank God.

And after 10 days, on 11-1-11, you feel like its a New Year

PS: Ooh, and he is fat now! That's like a dedicated new year gift.

Rudra, don't dump me over this now :-/

'Ear me out!

I am not pretty when i get sick. In fact, its quite a terror. I get needy, greedy and bloody irritating when something disturbs the aww-so-amazing functioning of my body.

And usually i am very healthy too. No fevers, with or without fancy names. No wonky lab reports. No allergies. All systems functioning well.

Then i woke up yesterday.

And the whole room started spinning.

I closed my eyes and tried to turn. And then it spun some more. It stopped.

I thought I'd skipped the dinner. No i hadn't. And i am not that delicate.

I stood up and then the spinning restarted. I was never a fan of theme park rides. Now you can imagine how i feel about this. It freaked me out. I went downstairs, feeling slightly nauseous. Add to that a slight temperature and sweating.

Then once i settled and fixed my head on a pillow, the world righted itself and i could start thinking what went wrong. Especially, where.

I remembered all the times i had asked patients, was the room spinning or were you spinning kinda questions. They will mostly make are-you-crazy eyes at you. But when it happens to you, thank god for your basic knowledge, you notice.

I don't like medical terms in blog. Still, you know what this means? Positional Vertigo.

Basically my ear is screwed. (I am leaving the technicalities here.)

You know what irked me? The Ear part. Of all the parts of my body to go and do something weird, the ear had to do it. I, who never ever ever got admitted in a hospital as a child, except one time for finishing a bottle of 500 grams of Boost in one day and getting quite a digestive tract cleaning, both ways, is an epitome of health. So i am convinced that one day i will get some awe-worthy disease, like Blood cancer(my childhood ambition, yes i watched films a lot) and die a very theatrical death making every eyes wet. And no where in this huge production i can find a role for an ear. But there it goes, literally and figuratively toppling my entire world. I want to take a nailgun and gun this thing down, which may not be an ideal situation. And i will never hear the end of it (Haha!).

And you know what this means? Doctor. I hate doctors. I don't trust them. And now i hate my ear too. :(

So I skipped the doc, I sat at home and had a lecture on causes of vertigo from mom. Being lazy and disrespecting her. Yess Mom. You are lucky i cant shake my head in denial.

Mosbied.

I've been watching How I Met Your Mother for a long time now. Bro introduced me to the funny-but-relateable gang last year and i'd been curious. Nay, more than that. I love it.
Off all of them, Barney was always my guy. The womaniser. His magnanimous quotes and cute similis, I could always relate to him. The most depraved but yet the most child at heart. I am that in my gang. Though compared to the lion that is Barney am like this rat. A lab one at that.
Oh, am going off track here. So back to Mosby. I didnt liked the guy much. He is just a minor loser. Yeah. Concentrate on that word. LOSER.
Now imagine my dismay when I realised my life, mostly and sadly is like his.
This so going to be a sorrow train ride. Step out if you dont want the tea in my pity party.
I was watching the show in tv, season four, episode second last or third, I guess. Ted lost his job. He dont have any. Well, nice. I'll see him at this club of ours, for the unemployed super awesome freaks. He is trying self employment and working from home. Like me too. Yay! Without any success too. Yeah.
Then there is the romantic side of the guy. He waits for this amazing thing to sweep in and make him feel complete. Get in the damn line. And also he doesn't know what he is looking for, and is according to me, really lazy. Pretty lame that line is, eh?
Well, there is the fact that he lives in new-freakin-york and me in a place only some in tax department knows.
Anyway in major fronts, i've been been as lame and unmotivated as ted has been, in dealing with the clusterfuck that is also my life. But I know Ted's life will get better soon. He'll meet the Mother, have kids with her (meh) and live in this beautiful home. I only hope mine gets half as good. :-)

The Cat

I don't want to come out as an animal hater when i say i hate cats. But i guess wanting wring the neck of one and to throw one by its tails does not make me much nice too. (I swear i am better with dogs. Or anything that flies or walks on four legs. I hate fish. They are for eating.) I don't know where i get these cat hurting urges. Mom says its from the time one scratched me when i was 8. (Guess its dead now and i am not. Ha, you cat-bitch!)

So far this had been a non issue. I have known and liked people who in fact(to the horror!) owned cats. I made fun of them, insulted them and always told the cat is not cute. (No wonder some never keep in touch.) But, my closest ones are also not big fans of the four legged selfish masterminds who wants to take over the world. Especially in my family. While me and my bro do like the big ones, (tigers are not cats, damnit!) we always voted for dogs to be adopted and not cats. Thus we had Rocky, our GSD, not a monster named chucky or leo.( Damn i love the name Leo. Next dog. Period.)

I should have known that this domestic bliss would have a short life.

During the world cup, it happened.

Imagine the ugliest, unhealthiest cat you can image. Thats what happened.

At first when it trotted around the kitchen, we all thought it will die in 3 days maximum. Mom took pity on the monster and gave it a fair share of Rocky's milk. I was horrified to find it comfortably drinking milk near the firewood out back. Along with me, dad too registered his opposition to this new animal.

I should never have forgotten that the one thing me and mom share is our sovereign contempt for anything other family members think or want. Thus mom, also the queen bee and sole ruler of our home decided to keep the monster kitty. And named it SAKUMI. For the world cup mascot. Jeezus freaking Christ!

All these time, i thought either it will die, or we will chase it out of home. Or Rocky will do the job. We were shocked to find that his smelling is pretty lame for one of the-most-used-dog-breed-in-police. He knows mom is harboring hostage, he sniffs for it and never ever went close to its hiding. Shameless doggie! Now there goes my plans of him joining CIA! Hmmph

And once it had established rapport with mom, (mom calls, it purrs. How disgusting!) it turned on me. I knew it would. One day i discovered that my room smelled of urine. And later of poop. I found cat shit in two different places and one on a cloth, which i dont own now. Of the whole house and backyard and all, the monster had to shit in my room. My room!

Consider this as a statutory warning. Cats are evil. They select their opponents, the plan the attack in minute detail and they carry that out with precision. They are watching us. I even doubt this cat is a reincarnation of you-know-which-cat. To my everlasting dread, its getting healthy now. And fearless as it roams the hall and sits on the window sill.

Any way, i am forced to lock my door and windows now.

I am safe.

Until the Cat forges the key.

The Organised Mess that is also known as my life

Long time, no post about moi, the queen of this page (At least).

• Am going at this in bullet points because i think it will look in order and that would be the only thing orderly in my whole frikking life now. Its a terrible mess which got rundown by a train. Or looks like it.
• Onam was nice as usual, Family and Food. Two things i like and is not good for me. I discovered that cooking criticisms really really hurt me. And i swear it was not THAT bad. :|
• Did i mentioned i am jobless now? Sigh. I feel awful about you, who is reading all this crap and is feeling awful about me. But yes, unemployed. It really does suck.
• I am reading some Gay romance novels now, which i tell you, is rather nice too. Except the steam scenes, which i can live without. Does reading it makes me Queer-ish? I swear if were a man, i would be gay. Since i find men rather interesting and not women(even if those men are doing things to each other) i think i do come under the straight group. The majority. How boring!
• So, why in pop culture Gay men are depicted hunky, in fashion, nice and chatty and Lesbians are depicted aggressive, negative and rather bitchy? Why why why?
• I, along with my best friend Rudeboy, think that i am really partial to gay men. This would be explained by my love for Neil Patrick Harris, Chris Colfer and Matt Bomer. This also means i watch too much TV and read too much gossips.
• I really hope this post does not turn out to be one on my sexual orientation. Which i am not sure yet ;)
• All things aside i think i am drunk. A teeny bit. This will excuse anything i might have said.

Adios Amigos!

Am back!

Times were bad. Really bad.
Its all over now. Hopefully. :-)
And yo! Your friendly neighborhood smalltown_girl is back :-)
Wait for the usual me.
See you then!

AAAARRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!

Thats life.

Now.

When i can say more, i will spill.

or it will be a permanent move or shutting up.

Because i cant lie in blog.

Doctor.. Doctor!!

Imagine you are going to visit a doctor. A cloud of different emotions hang over your head. You are afraid, hopeful, excited, calculating...

Then you go inside and what you see there?

Yes.. the doctor is Sleepy Sleeperson.

How you feel now?

Well, let me introduce my Vice.

Sleep.. which eludes me at night, has no problems appearing spontaneously in day time. Short visits. When i am inactive. These facepalm situations make maximum appearance during my work. Imagine me, doctor, with minimum patients, bored shit in afternoons, not to mention after a heavenly and heavy lunch, in summer heat, with rhythmic sound of fan... ideal situation to breed sleep, you see.

Usually life is cool. I get up when a patient tries open the door or my pharmacist calls me to inform an arrival. Or the attender brings the case sheet. I wake up and other than a clueless smile and bright eyes, nothing is amiss. That is Usual.

Then there is unusual. The attender is late. The patient is not patient(LOL) and opens my door without any formalities. The pharmacist is rapidly trying to call me...

And what can be the final nail on my coffin? Yes, me myself, in one of those mindless, deep, dream laden sleep. In which i cant hear the door, or the patient's clearance of throat, or even the phone, which is right near my ear.

Like this afternoon.

I am thinking if there were drool in the scene. Which would have been the icing on the cake. And truly, i cant even remember it.

I scrambled up.. got my wits together.. Lied that i had a headache.. Then went on with the consultation.

I will never blame her if she is not buying that medicine.

[PS: Looking back on that image, the resemblance in uncanny.]

A Class Act

When i was 12 and in my boarding school, one day the District Collector came for an annual day. He talked about his visit to the school he studied in and how proud he was when he stood before his old teachers and the new kids. I was enchanted by that. I then and there vowed to myself that one day i will go to teach in my school. And it will be awesome.

Years passed and i entered medicine after the school. Now, in my college, i understood coming back to teach is not at all novel. I have seen some of my teachers working at college and still being treated as students by those who taught them. They are laden with works cant protest for the respect and all that. And through out the years i found out that i have no aptitude for teaching. In fact i hated being in front of people who might snicker behind my back and make up names for me. Scary indeed. So i gave my dream a rest happily and went on with my cool-dudette-in-town attitude.

So, one of these days while at work, dad called me and said i have to attend a meeting in my school on saturday(7 march). I said ok, as this was my primary school before the boarding and very near my home. Then when i got home, he told me the kids are doing a camp and they need a doctor to give a class on Health and Hygiene. And he accepted on my behalf.

To be honest, i shook to my knees. I? Taking a class? I can barely stand on a stage with no one in audience. [ Confession: On a stage before a crowd is my most hated place in the entire universe. I am good at making fun of people on stage from audience though. :P]

So, i prepared a little note( to talk to 12 year olds :|) and i went there with mom. For moral support. Now, mom was a teacher in near by school and she is well known there. The problem is, this makes me well known too. And all my neighborhood kids study there. If i screw up, people are going to talk about it for ages.

So, after introduction of being an alumni, i took the stage. They were 60 kids. I said Hi. Then i just did it. I chucked my serious class plans and notes and asked them to tell me what they know on each topic. I tried to make it as interactive as possible and even cracked few jokes.

INSIGHTS INTO THE NEW AGE KIDS:

• They are wicked smart. They know everything. They know stuff even you dont know. And even if they dont know, they dont hesitate to guess.
• They are outspoken. I dont remember seeing one shy kid. They all raise hands together and if i say anyone, they all say it.
• The attention span of them are something to be desired. Its approximately 1 min 25 seconds. Then they revert and chat with someone or look out of the window. And if you arw not used to this, you feel like pulling your hair out.
• They know how to create noise pollution. And i respect my teachers for carrying on irrespective of all the rackets we made. I could barely concentrate.
• They watch TV. A lot. And relate everything to ads. For example, i was asking about washing hands often and one boy shouted 'DETTOL HAND WASH!' :|
• There are still all those "types". The one who sleeps after 15 mins. The note taker. The staring-into-board one. The one who asks pointless questions. The group of girls to giggles.

All together it was really fun for me. It was like talking to a group of kids like their elder sister and joking. Then i asked them if they had any questions. It was a scary moment. They can ask any million questions they know and i have no clue about. My perfect bubble can break any second. Then, after few question (which were rather easy. phew!) the coordinator came and rescued me. Which was followed by some hearty words of praises by him and a loud thaaannkyyyoouuuu... by the kids. How embarrassing :D. Then all my teachers came to me and reintroduced themselves. Some consulted me for ailments. And after tea i said bye and came home.

After coming home it dawned on me that it was one of my dreams i lived back there. I was proud and i was awesome. Exactly as i wanted to be. Life can really give you things you want and never expect.

So, dear life, now lets see all the other things i wished up on. And make it this awesome. :)

Birthday, again. :-/

So it was yesterday.

The dreaded day. My Birthday.

Someone wise once said-

"Every birthday after college is a sad reminder of getting older, unless you get drunk and wake up next to a beautiful/handsome stranger."

Hmm. After loads of wishes from everyone, a cake, a mommy's kiss, a very nice song(haappy buddddday tooo youuu...") and some photos, i am 27.

Frikkin 27.

How can anyone celebrate 27? Its practically 30.

I cant even think about 30.

On the verge of apoplexy, i want to thank Rudra, for everything that he is, Pallavi, for that overseas call that was awesome, Di and Sony, chetan and adi, and My family, for the cake (It was so delicious, i almost forgot that i am getting old!).

So, wishing for smiles and happiness and friendships and love... and something extra.

Pic: Birthday in yahoo. Small favors. The Picaso inspiring pic is by Rudra.

In the life of a 5 rupee note.

He was old and tired..

Restlessly passed on and on from one hand to other for years.

The officer, the chai guy, shop cashier, fish walla...

The years started showing its might on him..

Battered and torn inside out..

People who used to pass him in earnest slowed down.

Looked at him with doubt before accepting him.

And one day, quite expectedly, he was unaccepted.

Just like that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So I am stuck with a 5 Rupee note.

I think i got it when i was dreaming and not actually seeing the change the guy gave me.

The next time i had a use of 5 rs, that is on my work to home journey, i took it out and gave. Innocently.

Sadly the recipient was not an idiot like me.

"Arre, yeh note nahin chlega!"

"What? Oh! Sorry!"

And just like that it got stuck with me.

Just like that.

Its not that i am THAT impoverished.

But seeing this useless piece of crap every time i open my purse is rather annoying.

Its like they say- dead money.

Except that this one is really dead.

Or really close.

So today, when i returned from work, i took it out.

Deposited in the box where i put useless stuff which i cant throw away.

Along with my last unburned letter from A.

And the chocolate wrapper someone gave me.

I am at peace.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ah this box is great.

Not so cozy as the AC locker.

But good.

The chocolate wrapper looks seriously out of date.

Still its nice.

I am at peace.

HELP!!

STRUCK DOWN BY SERIOUS BLOGGER'S BLOCK.

:(

(Me searching Internet for "ideas for blogging" and "blog memes" are a good indication na.)

SO drop in any ideas i might use. :)

Danks!