Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Paper n Pen

Those were the days when I could put my thoughts into words only with the help of pen and paper. those were the days when I could take down lecture notes (sans shorthand) as fast as the teacher was talking.

But now, five minutes of writing with a pen and the hands begin to ache - just a lil. continue the effort and the protest becomes prominent. Pause to think of that apt word and the whole thought process goes for a toss. And what's more, the new wave of SMS words read funny on paper.

Any additional thought that pops up calls for arrows going all the way up and down the page or asterixes dotting the work here and there, and numerous prayers that it all makes sense when you read it at a later date.

Today, it's all about computers. Microsoft Word.doc helps put up an excellent, well-laid out, well-planned idea / thought.

Neat, justified, underlined, italicised, and bold. All additional thoughts can be inserted at just the right places; no arrows to follow and loose your way, no asterixes to confound you.

Tch. But why then, do I still miss the pen n paper? And the oh so cute 'PS'?

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

One Big Idiot

Looks like Chetan Bhagat wrote 5 Point Someone and then forgot the story.
(That we did too is another matter entirely)

For if the author is to be believed, then from now on those who have studied in engineering colleges, have fallen in love with professors' daughters, had to deal with nasty profs, tried flicking question papers, etc had better not write about it or make films on it.

Those were the only similarities I could find between the book and the movie 3 Idiots. Oh, and that the professor's son killed himself cos he didn't clear his exams and the prof thought it was an accident. (So next time any of you wanna kill yourselves, here's the deterrent: you'll have to pay royalty to Chetan Bhagat.) I still haven't figured out why the filmmakers have bothered to mention the author's name at all.
And Mr Bhagat wants more credit? Ha!

PS. A supposed Chetan Bhagat die-hard fan insisted: "oh the movie is much better than the book. I watched it thrice."

PPS. The movie rocks.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Top to Toe

I was running out of shampoo.

So my poor father, to whom I assigned the task of getting it, memorised the name of my regular brand and went to this Margin Free store near our house. Not seeing the product anywhere on the shelves Acha walked up to the manager and asked for the shampoo by name.

Garnier Foot balm? No, I don't think we stock that, came the prompt reply.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

How can I

Get my lil imp to brush her teeth?
She used to let me brush her with my finger. Then we bought her a lil green toothbrush, then came the finger brush… but all in vain cos the lil one is absolutely terrified of putting the said objects in her mouth. Huff!

She’ll happily hold it in her hand, watch me brush my teeth with my brush and paste, laugh at the paste frothing in my mouth and gleefully turn to brush her plastic fish! Aargh!

White toothpaste? Blue toothpaste? Pink Barbie Princess toothpaste? Uh-huh… nothing doing. Now looks like even the finger is out cos I dabbed some paste on my fingers and tried to brush her with it. And madam took offence.

Get her to not play with the intercom?
Especially when she walks into the room in full conversation—aah haan; illa; ha ha ha; yeah; ok-ok;sukhamaano and lotsa gibberish—an out and out imitation of her dad or me on the phone?

Get her to stop whacking my lipstick?
And colour not just her lips but her cutsie cheeks and nose too?
She knows it isn’t enough to just rub that stick on her lips, she knows it should make a colour there…
She knows it’s not enough to put the deo bottle under her arm and look at her mom go ‘pshhh’ she knows it has to be opened and then the magic happens…

Make her stop throwing pens and pencils in a rage?
Well, can’t blame the lil one here… not when she’s been given pens that have run out of ink and pencils with broken nibs. Obviously, the great artist in the making will get into a fit if expected to make invisible ‘creations’. Especially when all around her, others are doodling on newspapers solving sudoku, crosswords and other puzzles.

Encourage a peaceful bath time?
First we fight to get into the bathroom. But one look at the water-filled tub and madam is inside. Then comes the tug-of-war for the mug. (I’m too lazy to get another one). Next is shampooing her hair. Water anywhere near the head is taboo. And last, getting her to stop playing with the water, finish her bath and get out of the bathroom.

Oops. Almost forgot the debacle of Pia wanting to and me trying to stop her from: squeezing the bottle of cream, eating/licking the cream, and then both of us applying cream, getting her dressed, combing her hair.

Can I sigh again?

Wednesday, May 6, 2009


My little daughter is growing up -- and so fast!

I don't want her to grow up so fast...
I'm still enjoying her as my lil sweetiepie baby...
I'm still enjoying the patter of her lil feet as it unsteadily yet relentlessly romps the house...
I'm still enjoying holding her teeny-weeny hands in mine...
I'm still enjoying her burying her face into my tummy...
I want more and more of her hugs and kisses...
(come to think of it, I should hug my parents more often)
I'm still enjoying her face lighting up when she spots me...

But growing up she is...
And when I'm out shopping or something, I seem to miss the lil one more than she misses me...
Just yesterday, I went out for more than two hours, came back thinking i'll be smothered by the lil one, but where...

She gave me a huge hi, a hug, a little snuggling and then promptly went off with her aunts and cousins to the park!


Saturday, April 11, 2009

Oye summer, summer oye!!

It's an ad jingle on Disney channel, based on the Oye lucky lucky oye tune and advertising their latest programmes for the summer.

It's quite a catchy tune alright, and no wonder my lil one likes it...

But in this depressingly boiling heat of summer, the words make my already high temperature soar to newer heights. It's only my baby dancing away to glory in front of the TV that makes it worthwhile. Actually, these days, my lil angels' antics make many many things worth the while.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Hair-raising experience

Been giving the lil angel haircuts myself for quite some time now, but this summer the heat has been something terrible and so, though I gave her the usual haircut, I wanted to clear the mop of hair on the very top of her head. The madam sweats like anything and a nasty cold just added to my determination to take her to a parlour and give her a proper haircut.
So after two days of preparing her with nice didi will cut your hair and how smart the angel will look and taking her through the entire procedure of how this nice didi will first wrap a cloth around her, then comb her hair, then use scissors and snip snip snip off her hair and how my munchkin will finally look like a smart girl and a cute girl, we reached the parlour.

First shock: no didi. Uncle will cut baby’s hair. ULP!!!
Well, gotta give it to the lil one, she swallowed her dislike n distrust of uncles in general and allowed herself to be seated and draped. (well, her amma and appu-chacha were right there on either side of her)

Second shock: Uncle sprayed water on her head. (Amma did not warn me of this and I hate water anywhere near my face anyway…) And my, what a howl ensued…

Halfway through the screeching session I lost half my determination and started trying to convince the ‘uncle’ that a patchy job was acceptable if only he would wrap it up.

But Appu and the uncle were in no mood to surrender—so the lil angel wailed and screamed and howled. I’m sure she wanted to thrash about too, but Appu was holding her tight.

And I was ready to cry myself. I felt like such a traitor! I’d promised her only didi would cut her hair, and I didn’t do anything when they said otherwise. And then the guy goes and sprays water. Why oh why did I forget that? Tch.

And to top it all, the munchkin has a nightmare and screams out venda venda (no, no) in pure anguish. So we pat her and hug her and put her back to sleep. Then in the morning we broached the subject delicately, ask her why she cried.
“Uncle”, replies the darling, lips pouting and her face all sad... Gulp…

But one good thing is the lil one has been in a far better mood after the haircut. The heat dissipating at least a little, the mood also seems to have bettered. Whew…??