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Simple girl with not-so-simple thinking.

Saturday, June 26, 2010


I attended Family Day celebrations hosted by my sis's office. Apart from being really well organized, the awesomely coordinated dance numbers were the icing on the cake; owing to my love for leg shaking. But of course, we had some quick bites ( and a lot of them at that ;) ). I was impressed and comfortably satisfied in the belly.

There were miniature giant wheels ( I know that's an oxymoron but that's exactly what it was!), merry-go-rounds, caricatures, shooting/bouncing/tossing games, pottery making, mehendi, tattoos, clothes, junk jewellery and lots more. I have always been fond of these carnival-sort-of-gatherings. They just transport me back to my childhood were me and sis would be these starry eyed kids glued to the food stalls. Man. Those were the days.

All in all, had a great time as you can see all my thirty-two out there!

(Sis, Me, Deepali Di)

I was walking towards my car at the parking when I saw a fairly elder man carry a tiny little dishevelled thing in his hand with utmost care. He was almost a level before tip-toeing. Curiousity took the better of me and I gave a second peep. Ah, it was his creation at the pottery stall. I think it was an attempt to make something like a pot. It definitely looked more of a flower to me. Nevertheless, what seemed to matter to him is, he CREATED IT!

In those brief few seconds that I noticed this scene, I realized something.
The Sense of Mine. A critical element in all of us. Something that "I" created will be precious to me. No matter how sad or ugly it looks to the outer world. We will have an invisible umbilical cord attached to it.

I remember the time Dad bought our first Sandwich Grill at home, I was in eight grade. I don't remember much around that incidence except for the fact that I had made these grilled sandwiches with just plain cheese filled in them. I remember feeling the Top Chef that day. Or, perhaps Mom Dad just played along (you can always count on them to do that! :) )

I remember my good friend making this painted ceramic bowl. How much she loved it. What I loved is, watching her adore her lil' scribbled color mesh.

Don't we all do that? At least when it is our first time. Just recall...when did you look at your little messy first-time-project and pat your own back in admiration.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


I entered the ladies toilet (okay, let me be polished, lavatory) and let out a scream in disgust. Not only stared back a floater on my face, it looked like its owner had taken a cleopatra bath in there. (A BIG EWW!)

I was almost certain that the lady had taken a shower in there. No exaggeration. But why! Maybe to get the smell off herself. Possible. In utter repulsion I cleaned up the mess and wiped the seat clean with my pinky. Trust me, the least human contact is advisable in such conditions.

What I fail to understand is how do they manage to create this magnificient scenario! It is only a touch of an expert. The other object that crosses all limits of aversion is The Used Tissue. Be it positioned anywhere; floor, half hanging on the bin lid, near the seat proximity; its unacceptable. Now ladies, why can't we drop it where it belongs? and FYI, its none of the above listed places.

Doesnt the poor tissue paper deserve a proper disposal after it has served you to death. Literally.

An ideal treatment for such people would be a Disappearing Tissue paper.
Muahaha. <> Obviously the magic should happen after they are done with their job.
Another wicked solution could be an Itchy Tissue paper. I know its mean but can you disagree, it will help in teaching some valuable lessons!

Nowadays the corporates are cutting down on the abudance of tissue papers in the bathrooms as a cost cutting measure. Jeez, can't even poop in peace. Although this withdrawal of luxury leaves you feeling a little vulnerable it does help in avoiding people mistaking tissue rolls for shower towel substitutes. But, incorrigible human species, we always come up with alternatives. If its not the tissues, then the air blower is victimized. Got the flow(blow)? ;)

DISCLAIMER: Post written with an educational intent.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

OOPS! nooot AGAIN! nooot NOW!

Today was one of those Butter-Finger-Syndrome days.

1. I dropped my toothpaste on my night suit first. (Cursed the toothpaste, it was not my fault).

2. Then dropped the sugar out of the tea cup. (Cursed gravity).

3. Dropped the nuts out of my cereal bowl. ( Ok, maybe my fault).

4. Sprinkled the talc all over the floor. (This one I would actually categorize as a basic problem of watching yourself in the mirror while getting dressed!)

5. Dropped the food at lunch on my dress. (Noticed it little too late to have accused anyone in particular. It had dried and left stains :( ).

6. If that wasn't enough already and just in case, anyone missed the obvious stains on my dress, I dropped my lemonade on the dress again.

Mission accomplished.

I know a lot of you would say, Oh come on! What's the whole fuss about. Big Deal.
But, let me clarify, as a person, being more on the artistic and very cautious side by nature; I would say mostly these things don't happen to me on a regular basis.

On the other hand, I do have people e.g. my brother who has this syndrome exactly few minutes before his office cab's arrival. When things voluntarily fly out of his hands and land in the most inaccessible corner of the room. Unfortunate are the days when he's wearing a light colored shirt. And it gets worse when he knows that I am watching. Things just continue to fall magically and dramatically until he gives up and sends one of them flying out of the room in frustration. (LOL).
I sympathize.

Last few days have been observing hyperactive phenomenon in my grey cells and I had just so much to write. But, right now, I am so tired. Especially, with all that juggling going on between my fingers!

Catch you tomorrow. I promise an amusing trail of thoughts. ;)