1) I love to clean my house... I honestly think I am a reincarnation of some Kantabai or Kamlibai. I hate dirty rooms and really get irritated when I see untidy people. Unfortunately, I am surrounded by them 24X7 and there is nothing I can do about it. Cleaning your cupboard, doing your bedding and washing utensils are some of the best de-stressors. They actually help you tidy up the brain. But yes... I have never tried my cleaning antics in the toilets... I leave that for other people. So, on a really good day if I am doing nothing I take a cloth and begin dusting....Gosh, what a de-stressor??
2) I love drinking coffee... During my exams I had this bad habit of having four mugs of coffee daily. One even before brushing my teeth, second after brushing my teeth. The other post lunch and one more post dinner. It honestly never kept me awake but i always felt it did wonders to my brain. Yes but i am not an addict, I quit coffee many a times only to return to it when I am really depressed or think that my brain needs some more greasing.
3) I think men who flirt are really uncool... Well, my friends think they are CHARMINGGGGGGGG... well, they might just be. But a man should try the next best thing to woo a women. Its another thing that men have always thought twice before flirting with me coz of my don't-bother-too-hard attitude. The thing is that its rare that a man uses his intelligence prowess to make a woman go weak in her knees...wonder why? And even if they do, they are not better than the ones who flirt. GOSH!! I think i hate men.
4) I am generally grumpy...Ok! I know it is a very bad habit, but i frown more often than i smile. I get up with a frown, i sleep with a frown, i work with a frown and blah blah blah! Its another thing that I think i look great when i smile and people often tell me to do that...since it makes me look more pleasant. Yes and whenever I do manage to smile I am framed for life and then I happily put up these pictures on Orkut, Facebook and on chat rooms as my display picture. Ahaan!! but the one on my blog is not at all deceptive. Note: Look at the picture carefully...its the grumpy me. Keep Smiling and try hard to keep making me smile :)))
5) I love chocolates but will never buy them... This is a big problem with stingy people like me...oops i forgot to mention how stingy i am...probably it will mention it in the next pointer. My favourite is Galaxy...hmmmmmmmm...man that chocolate makes me go tizzy...don't get it in India though. It would be over my dead body if i had to part with my chocolates...sometimes I do...but only for my brothers. Yes, but i wont go all the way to buy myself a chocolate. All the chocolates i have eaten till date have been gifted...however, I do buy myself Rs 5 worth Dairy Milk or Five star chocolates at times. Oh! I forgot, I also have this fettish for five star...if I remember when I was in school I would distribute big bars of five star chocolates to my classmates. I think I shifted to toffee distribution just when i felt that my classmates were expecting a lil too much.
6) I am really stingy... This word is an understatement. In college i did not go beyond a Rs 4 vadapav and now while i earn I think 10 times before buying something. And even if I do buy something I crib about how much money I possibly spent simply buying it when there were better options. Same goes to eating, I dont think i could possibly spend much on food. I know how guilty i feel if my bill exceed Rs 200....yeah i know I am bad at this.
7) I love my family and have a best friend called Tess...I know everyone gives the same old jazz. But i cannot live without dad, mom and my naughty lil brothers. We all fight and we fight really bad at times...but in the end we are just one big family. And though the "I-love-my-family-thing" stands on the top of my priority list, i thought i should include it somewhere in the end so that it does not bore people.
MY best friend TESS: Yes, this was the only place where i never mentioned her. If a person knows me, she/he has to know Tess. Not that its a must and all...its just that she loves poking in everytime. So, if I get a friend callin me after ages, the first or for that matter the last think they ask me is, "Oh! So how is Tess?" Ok guys, I know she has these cute lil name TESS and all...and I know that you know that she is my best friend...but did I ever ask you to mention her name so often. Won't deny that she is adorable...like an older sister, who tries hard to make me smile, showers me with chocolates and also reminds me that I need a Prince Charming in my life...but blah blah...sometimes she just goes overboard and tries to drill names of some guys into my head. She is crazy, I tell you and she makes me feel like a dim wit at times coz she is really good with men and words...I am not...even if I am...i refuse to entertain it when unecessary. But Tess I really love you and you are like family to me
8) I never had a fling and have had only 3 crushes till date... ;( Ok I am not indulging in Name Droping...it wouldn't interest you anyway, until and unless you are assuming that you among the three...don't bother....these 3 guys dont know head or tail of my blog. I know its sad to have only had 3 crushes but its very rare for me to like someone. I have had my set of infatuations like "Oh my God!! that guy is really hot" but couldn't really categorise them as crushes.
I had my last crush like two years ago and the one before that five years ago and the other like seven years ago. Blaah...they all reside in different cities today... and thats just about it....I really dont care about these crush feelings anymore. And until and unless you still feel you are among the three...you are happy to feel so...no harm
9) I make my expressions clear with the eye...If i can't look at you in the eye and talk to you then there is something terribly wrong with you. Either, I think you are just too boring or that you are just making me feel very uncomfortable for reasons I do not know.
If I look at you in the eye and talk to you, like a proper stare, then I really hate you from the core of my heart. If I look at you casually, then you don't have to bother...you are my loving friend and I really love you.
10) I inadvertently use a lot of pink daily: Honestly, I am not a pink person and neither do I feel that it looks good on dark skin. My favourite colours are "black and white"...possibly cause that is the story of my life at present. But, yes getting back to the point.... I have a lot of pink... pink soap, pink shampoo, pink towel, pink scrunchie, pink homewear, pink perfume (Colour ME - Milton and Loyd).... also my room walls are painted in pale pink. Pink... tooooo much :)
11) I've had several pet names: The most popular being Baby Darling. Till I was eight everyone called me with the name...later, when I was no longer fit for one I got names following "their love" and "my size" .... like janu, jaan, jaanu, janey, jen, moti, battu, batati (potato)....
12) My close circle of friends: I have a group of close friends... who i remember in both my happy and sad times and I love them all to the core. Yes, I have had my share of misunderstandings and fights with them, but the fact is that they bring a smile on my face. Most of us don't talk often, but when we do, its like a house on fire...List goes (using initials for some or their nicknames)....Tesso, Nish, HZ, Sharine, Deba, Nads, Bless, Sania, Yash, Misbah, Sobs, Andy, Lisa... (basically all of em know a lot abt me)
13) I weighed 92kgs when I was 15: I thought i should keep it as a big secret for a long time. But now things are so different that I feel that I rather flaunt my once-obese-self. It just makes for an interesting read, considering the fact that I still say i didn't do a thing to loose all that baby fat.
14) I can't keep secrets about my personal life: Yeah its a truth... I can't keep secrets, half the world knows everything about me and all my stupid secrets, probably this is why I am writing such a blog too... Ahaa...but except for my best friend everyone knows the half-truth.
15) I love comments... whether good or bad... I just love getting feedback about everything in my life. So you know what you have to do next :)
Keep smiling and keep dreaming
JANE BORGES
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Monday, 26 January 2009
The Tea Couple
“Few animals make a living the way I do. I stand outside my balcony, seeing my small world begin and end everyday right in front of my eyes,” Srinath reasoned with his wife Shradha, who constantly grumbled about his inactivity.
The couple had been living on the third floor of the D’Cunha Mansion for 35 years.
Srinath, a 68-year-old retired Army official spent most of his time in his balcony staring blankly at the society compound. His excitement tripled when he saw young children from D’Cunha come down to play.
He’d ask them to play games and offer to keep score. Srinath loved badminton and volley, so in order to get the children play his favourite sport he would also announce a prize for the winning team. The winning participants would be showered with candies, biscuits and Swiss chocolates that his son would send for him from the U.K. This, however, did not go well with Shradha.
Forty years ago, the couple had married amid strong resistance from the family. Shradha was a Marwari from Rajasthan and six-years-older than Srinath, a Tamilian from a family of academicians. Srinath was only eighteen and was pursuing an engineering degree in Bombay when he met Shradha, his classmate and best friend Shrimanker’s sister. She would teasingly call him Sri.
Little did Shradha know that the tea serving business at Shrimanker’s study table where Sri came to study daily would soon evolve into love?
They were young and passionate about their feelings. All they had to do was run because blessings from family were next to impossible.
Forty years later, Sri was still playing the runaway groom while Shradha at 74, saw old age catching up really soon. “You should stop wasting your time and money on those children?” she would say. “You get up at 7 am and directly go to the balcony with a pen and paper, anxiously waiting to keep score, whereas, the kids only come at 5 in the evening. Spend some time with me instead,” Shradha protested.
However, he found solace in earth. The brown of the compound soothed his unoccupied mind. Everyday as he saw Shradha leave to buy vegetables from the market, he would scream from the balcony, “Buy four packets of Parle G biscuits and if possible get few Melody chocolates too.” Shradha was tired and fed up. Her only son Dinesh lived continents away and even Shrimanker, had stopped frequenting her place because he found it difficult to walk up the building stairs.
One day, agitated with her husband’s worrisome behaviour, Shradha, while serving tea to him in the balcony, asked, “When will you die Sri? I’ve had enough of you” He looked at her and smiled, “Whenever you say dear? I have always listened to you.” Adding, “You wanted me to run, I did, you wanted me to marry you, I did, now, if you want me to die, I will.”
Shradha, laughed saying, “It is not that easy…trust me.” Sri who was eating his breakfast, a bowl of upama while rocking on his balcony chair, simply said, “You have a bad memory, Shradu.”
Shradha did not understand, however, feeling guilty of having asked him such a question, she let it all run down as a joke.
That evening Srinath did not stand outside to watch the kids play. The children played half-heartedly, throwing occasional glances at the balcony, expecting Srinath Uncle to shower them with goodies. As it grew darker, their hopes for sweeteners also melted away and the dust laden compound grew silent again.
Srinath had decided to be with his wife that day. The old couple spent hours together on bed reminiscing their early days of married life, their struggle for acceptance by family, Srinath’s sudden decision to join the Army and the last of his successes in the Bangladesh war of 1971. “It all seems like yesterday, I miss those times, I miss the real you. That strong Sri who would give me everything I wanted without second thoughts,” Shradha whispered in his ear. Srinath smiled again saying, “I am still the same man…see I am spending so much time with you now, I won’t deny you anything.” Then, he shared a secret that he had locked within himself for years. “You know… you make amazing tea, it has magic. I still cannot forget that ginger tea you would make for Shrimankar and me when I used to come to collect notes. Your tea and your wishes go hand in hand,” he said sheepishly like a 16-year-old who was revealing his first crush.
Shradha blushed. Probably, he had finally realised how badly she wanted him now. I have finally got my Sri back…she thought. They had spent the whole day just lying beside each other, not knowing how time had flied.
The next day, when Shradha got up, she wasn’t surprised when she did not find him on bed. Seeing him lie asleep on the rocking chair again…she felt disappointed and moved to the kitchen to make him the ginger tea he spoke about the last night.
Unfortunately, his lips never moved to sip it again. She tried waking him up but failed. Her senses went dry when she realised that Sri had only obliged to her request. She brushed on her memory…that she had forgotten and... Your tea and your wishes go hand in hand…is all that she could remember.
It was over a cup of tea that she had told him that she wanted to marry him. It was over tea that she had asked him if he was ready to run away with her and it was over tea that she asked him when he would die. He couldn’t have possibly refused…
Epilogue
A month after Srinath’s death, Shradha Rajan rocked in the same chair, sipping a cup of tea. A pen and paper, a packet of biscuits and melody chocolates lay beside the tea kettle. Now, she keeps score...
The couple had been living on the third floor of the D’Cunha Mansion for 35 years.
Srinath, a 68-year-old retired Army official spent most of his time in his balcony staring blankly at the society compound. His excitement tripled when he saw young children from D’Cunha come down to play.
He’d ask them to play games and offer to keep score. Srinath loved badminton and volley, so in order to get the children play his favourite sport he would also announce a prize for the winning team. The winning participants would be showered with candies, biscuits and Swiss chocolates that his son would send for him from the U.K. This, however, did not go well with Shradha.
Forty years ago, the couple had married amid strong resistance from the family. Shradha was a Marwari from Rajasthan and six-years-older than Srinath, a Tamilian from a family of academicians. Srinath was only eighteen and was pursuing an engineering degree in Bombay when he met Shradha, his classmate and best friend Shrimanker’s sister. She would teasingly call him Sri.
Little did Shradha know that the tea serving business at Shrimanker’s study table where Sri came to study daily would soon evolve into love?
They were young and passionate about their feelings. All they had to do was run because blessings from family were next to impossible.
Forty years later, Sri was still playing the runaway groom while Shradha at 74, saw old age catching up really soon. “You should stop wasting your time and money on those children?” she would say. “You get up at 7 am and directly go to the balcony with a pen and paper, anxiously waiting to keep score, whereas, the kids only come at 5 in the evening. Spend some time with me instead,” Shradha protested.
However, he found solace in earth. The brown of the compound soothed his unoccupied mind. Everyday as he saw Shradha leave to buy vegetables from the market, he would scream from the balcony, “Buy four packets of Parle G biscuits and if possible get few Melody chocolates too.” Shradha was tired and fed up. Her only son Dinesh lived continents away and even Shrimanker, had stopped frequenting her place because he found it difficult to walk up the building stairs.
One day, agitated with her husband’s worrisome behaviour, Shradha, while serving tea to him in the balcony, asked, “When will you die Sri? I’ve had enough of you” He looked at her and smiled, “Whenever you say dear? I have always listened to you.” Adding, “You wanted me to run, I did, you wanted me to marry you, I did, now, if you want me to die, I will.”
Shradha, laughed saying, “It is not that easy…trust me.” Sri who was eating his breakfast, a bowl of upama while rocking on his balcony chair, simply said, “You have a bad memory, Shradu.”
Shradha did not understand, however, feeling guilty of having asked him such a question, she let it all run down as a joke.
That evening Srinath did not stand outside to watch the kids play. The children played half-heartedly, throwing occasional glances at the balcony, expecting Srinath Uncle to shower them with goodies. As it grew darker, their hopes for sweeteners also melted away and the dust laden compound grew silent again.
Srinath had decided to be with his wife that day. The old couple spent hours together on bed reminiscing their early days of married life, their struggle for acceptance by family, Srinath’s sudden decision to join the Army and the last of his successes in the Bangladesh war of 1971. “It all seems like yesterday, I miss those times, I miss the real you. That strong Sri who would give me everything I wanted without second thoughts,” Shradha whispered in his ear. Srinath smiled again saying, “I am still the same man…see I am spending so much time with you now, I won’t deny you anything.” Then, he shared a secret that he had locked within himself for years. “You know… you make amazing tea, it has magic. I still cannot forget that ginger tea you would make for Shrimankar and me when I used to come to collect notes. Your tea and your wishes go hand in hand,” he said sheepishly like a 16-year-old who was revealing his first crush.
Shradha blushed. Probably, he had finally realised how badly she wanted him now. I have finally got my Sri back…she thought. They had spent the whole day just lying beside each other, not knowing how time had flied.
The next day, when Shradha got up, she wasn’t surprised when she did not find him on bed. Seeing him lie asleep on the rocking chair again…she felt disappointed and moved to the kitchen to make him the ginger tea he spoke about the last night.
Unfortunately, his lips never moved to sip it again. She tried waking him up but failed. Her senses went dry when she realised that Sri had only obliged to her request. She brushed on her memory…that she had forgotten and... Your tea and your wishes go hand in hand…is all that she could remember.
It was over a cup of tea that she had told him that she wanted to marry him. It was over tea that she had asked him if he was ready to run away with her and it was over tea that she asked him when he would die. He couldn’t have possibly refused…
Epilogue
A month after Srinath’s death, Shradha Rajan rocked in the same chair, sipping a cup of tea. A pen and paper, a packet of biscuits and melody chocolates lay beside the tea kettle. Now, she keeps score...
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
DON'T BUILD INDIA ON SPECULATIONS
Every time we Indians create history, the world shifts their eye-view towards us. Sometimes, even before we make history we win adulation. For instance, A.R. Rahman's recent win at the Golden Globe's for the background score in Danny Boyle's film Slumdog Millionaire has only led to rumors on "Rahman to be first-Indian to win an Oscar." I call this "speculative history…" a history that is written even before it occurs. It is interesting to learn how we Indians live on speculations. We predict our tomorrow and if our predictions don't hit the right key, we also evade it as soon as possible. A week back, my cousin laughed at me while I was watching the Jaago Re campaign online. (Jaago Re campaign is an attempt to get the youth apply for election cards so that they can vote in the forthcoming elections.) I asked why and he confidently said…our vote won't make a difference. Well…there goes another speculation. Honestly, I have learnt few lessons the hard way and one of the greatest I have learnt is to keep no room for speculation because it is just another approach to being lax. A speculation is like a coil…the harder you press (more the speculation) the greater will be the force with which it will recoil. Media reports revealed how the 26/11 terror attacks could have been avoided if not for the lax attitude of the government towards coastal security…again government speculation of such Intelligence reports being fake proved fatal. As the country is on the brim of another Republic Day celebration, it is our duty as youth to push for greater accountability in governance. If we ourselves live speculative lives how can we look forward? The Republic Day is the celebration of the birthday of India's Bible, "Our Constitution." The Constitution comprises the rights we enjoy, our fundamental duties and obligations as citizens of the Nation. If we don't abide by it and consider its guidelines as a constitutional joke, we are in a way committing a sin against the National Order. If you go to think about it, just like the Catholic Bible our Constitution helps make better and civilized citizens…but unfortunately we never take it seriously.
Interestingly, a recent media report highlights an effort by Fight Back— a Mumbai based movement in this direction. The movement which has registered 50-schools in India will get students read the fundamental rights enshrined in our Constitution during the Republic Day celebrations. Its important for us to go-ahead and take the plunge…so while we love networking on Facebook, Hi5, Orkut, it would do no harm to at least read about campaigns like Jaago Re and Fight-back. Even if our effort makes a small difference…we can proudly say we tried. So log on to www.jaagore.com or www.fight-back.net and see how you can help.The Republic Day is not just another National holiday it is about making a difference. Don't ponder and speculate and you will find the answer to everything including world peace…. Happy Republic and World Peace Day!!! Jai Ho… as Rahman put it in his award winning composition.
Sunday, 30 November 2008
A WORLD OF RECONCILIATIONS
When I am angry, disgruntled and struggling to make a point and “a restrictive word count, speech time or listening capacities” snub my views, I feel my efforts to opine are all worthless. As a journalist, I sense the tremendous responsibility I hold when a shocker hits headlines, all eyes turn to you…all of a sudden people begin to make sense of the news you supply, which otherwise they’d simply prefer to pay no heed to.
November 26, 2008 is one such day, well-etched in my memory. It was a chaotic, unpalatable and hurtful night of misfortunes. Three top cops martyred, over 175 butchered by “frozen in the head lunatics,” failure of intelligence, commandos battling to calm a city that was suddenly suffering from dysfunctional normality and unwanted political drama. All this in three nights…yes, it probably appears to be a script from some Hollywood ‘A’ rated action movie….but you’re sadly mistaken. This is reality; this is the “great Indian dream”, a nightmare that keeps interrupting our peaceful life…for which solutions cannot be found through hypnosis. “Relive this painful dream and thank your stars if you come out alive,” is all we get in reconciliation. “Ah!! I am safe, nothing happened to me this time,” we sigh, when terror strikes. Is that all that is left of us…are we just waiting to be slaughtered by a bunch of lunatics…who in the name of religion, keep crushing us time and again. “Oh!” we again sigh, “thank God, its not one of us…they were not Hindus, not Christians,” so another reconciliation. Good, our religious hypocrisy always gets the better of us.
Politicos also indulge in similar mud-slinging. The opposition pin points failure of the government, the ruling party tries to be apathetic and speaks about compensations to families and there is some bantering, blame game and wasteful media coverage (word space and air time) offered in platter to them. So, while our commandos struggle to secure hostages and nab terrorists holed up in the locales, our politician fly down from their well-protected hubs to grab some media attention and speak about all they should not. So, attention is diverted, the police tries to bodyguard our dear friends who we once voted for, instead of securing the terror stricken place. Though, I must admit, the one anti-north ridden politician made me proud this time… he refused to come out of his haven, he did not ramble…however there were smses being passed…only goes to show how much we missed him during this time of crisis. Where was he? Probably his attention seeking tactics slipped when he saw Indian soldiers battling through thick and thin…on land he claimed owned by the marathi manoos…I have a strong feeling that he is ashamed. But, well…it is just a feeling. Some people never choose to learn. But if his silence has worked in our stride…then I am glad.
So, now, as I wish to write no more and feel exhausted, dispirited and cheated by the “spirit of Mumbai” jingle, that keeps jingling from foolish mouths…this angry self, says adieu, we need to get back to work, I have another day to look forward to, another news report to cover and may be some better news to bring to you. Uh!!! Is this is another reconciliation? Probably, yes.
November 26, 2008 is one such day, well-etched in my memory. It was a chaotic, unpalatable and hurtful night of misfortunes. Three top cops martyred, over 175 butchered by “frozen in the head lunatics,” failure of intelligence, commandos battling to calm a city that was suddenly suffering from dysfunctional normality and unwanted political drama. All this in three nights…yes, it probably appears to be a script from some Hollywood ‘A’ rated action movie….but you’re sadly mistaken. This is reality; this is the “great Indian dream”, a nightmare that keeps interrupting our peaceful life…for which solutions cannot be found through hypnosis. “Relive this painful dream and thank your stars if you come out alive,” is all we get in reconciliation. “Ah!! I am safe, nothing happened to me this time,” we sigh, when terror strikes. Is that all that is left of us…are we just waiting to be slaughtered by a bunch of lunatics…who in the name of religion, keep crushing us time and again. “Oh!” we again sigh, “thank God, its not one of us…they were not Hindus, not Christians,” so another reconciliation. Good, our religious hypocrisy always gets the better of us.
Politicos also indulge in similar mud-slinging. The opposition pin points failure of the government, the ruling party tries to be apathetic and speaks about compensations to families and there is some bantering, blame game and wasteful media coverage (word space and air time) offered in platter to them. So, while our commandos struggle to secure hostages and nab terrorists holed up in the locales, our politician fly down from their well-protected hubs to grab some media attention and speak about all they should not. So, attention is diverted, the police tries to bodyguard our dear friends who we once voted for, instead of securing the terror stricken place. Though, I must admit, the one anti-north ridden politician made me proud this time… he refused to come out of his haven, he did not ramble…however there were smses being passed…only goes to show how much we missed him during this time of crisis. Where was he? Probably his attention seeking tactics slipped when he saw Indian soldiers battling through thick and thin…on land he claimed owned by the marathi manoos…I have a strong feeling that he is ashamed. But, well…it is just a feeling. Some people never choose to learn. But if his silence has worked in our stride…then I am glad.
So, now, as I wish to write no more and feel exhausted, dispirited and cheated by the “spirit of Mumbai” jingle, that keeps jingling from foolish mouths…this angry self, says adieu, we need to get back to work, I have another day to look forward to, another news report to cover and may be some better news to bring to you. Uh!!! Is this is another reconciliation? Probably, yes.
Friday, 28 November 2008
Change!!!! we have...
The implausible is said to have taken place last week. Once victims of slavery and racism today hold the seat of power. The secret is simple—Yes we can and the well-worded belief — the Change we need, the two main slogans of Barack Obama's campaign. Obama's victory however was no mean task. The U.S may have been progressive when it came to technology; money but feminism and racism are still core issues that strike at the heart of America. However, the change that the U.S is celebrating is less about power and more about having its first "black" President. It's surprising though that India is celebrating this change, in fact, one of my dear friends was telling me about the need for an Obama in India. Hey wait a second…Obama hasn't even started executing his duties. In India we witnessed change decades ago. In a country where Hindu-Muslim riots are forever persistent, and where Muslims are a minority (blacks are a minority in America) we had our first Muslim President Dr Zakir Husain in 1967. India is the same country where the British Raj and reformers struggled for women emancipation, but hey…we had our first women Prime Minister Mrs Indira Gandhi in 1966 (A women President in America is still to see the light of day). Well, if you are still not convinced, India also had its first Dalit President, Dr A.P.J Kalam in 2002 (Dalits were once considered untouchables). So as a passing food for thought to my dear friend who wanted an Obama in India and to all my readers…I think we have always had more to celebrate than America.
Change we made in every decade after ever since we got Independence…unfortunately we chose to ignore.
Change we made in every decade after ever since we got Independence…unfortunately we chose to ignore.
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