*Sigh*

One of my very close friends passed away about 20 days ago. I have been wanting to blog about it. On some days, I haven't been in the right frame of mind and on others, I have begun to write but never found the right words.
A couple of days ago, Avanti would have turned 21. Her family decided to publish a book with messages from her friends. I finally got myself to contribute, after having lived in denial for way too long. Here's a bit of what I have to convey:

Dearest Avanti,
Yesterday was your birthday. You would have turned 21, and I can't begin to imagine how excited you'd have been with the whole deal of crossing the 20-threshold! I thought a lot about you yesterday and the only thoughts that filled me up were of us having a whale of a time together. I guess that's what you did with everyone around you. That's what you did with the world. You pumped in so much energy and life that no moment in your company would seem pensive. You always had so much to say, so much to listen, so much to contribute. I remember one instance when you told me about meeting one of your uncles, who was breathing his final moments. I can recollect how you were shaken up about the prospect of death -- about cessation of life. You couldn't fathom how somebody could just stop living. Today, I can't believe that someone as alive as you could stop living. As hard as I try to find logic and reason behind the way things went, I fail. But, I have come to terms with reality, because that's what you'd want me to do. I would be lying if I said that I miss you, because I miss you a lot. And always will. But it's your memories that live with me and always will.

Yours,
Mini

My Tattoo

The latest and probably the only excitement in my life right now is my new tattoo. After a lot of contemplation, opposition and persuasion, I finally got it done last month. Have been a little busy lately so haven't had the time to blog about it. But yeah following were the tiresome steps involved in getting my dear little tattoo etched on my lower tummy:
1. Being sure about the tattoo (took about a month)
2. Narrowing down on the design (2 minutes, i had a dream about the tattoo. So that made this aspect easier. I let my subconscious mind rule over my conscious)
3. Getting a nod from important friends (1 day)
4. Persuading my parents (never really happened)
5. Arranging for the money (1 month)
6. Getting the tattoo etched (1 hour)
7. Feeling good about the tattoo (Ever since)

Ah yes, I still feel proud of the tattoo and hope it remains so for the rest of my life. Now, a little about what the tattoo looks like and what it means.
The tattoo is an image of myself. It's me, through my eyes. It's a little girl sitting all alone on a rock. She's looking into the blue sea. She has two young, yet strong, wings. She is undecided about plunging into the water and exploring the world under water or taking a flight to catch a glimpse from above the rest of the world. She's been thinking forever. She is 'happy-sad' about being indecisive. Happy because she can just sit forever and cherish this moment before making a choice and sad about having to make the choice.

Cool na?

Discard

This is something I wrote for the anchor space in the Edit Page of DNA. That's the newspaper I work for. The piece had to be a funny life experience. Having had many such, I just picked the most recent and wrote all about it. The editor discarded it calling it too "risque". The piece had been feeling lonely, lying in the 'Sent items' folder of my gmail for over a month. And also my blog had been feeling a little lonely for some time. So I thought of helping two lonely subjects. Here you go...

Wilson College Nature Club trips have marked a major high in my college life. The tiring climbs, sore bodies, parched throats and obsessive environmentalism compensated by fresh breaths of air at mountaintops, blinding fog, greenness and much more…

I am not sure of having learnt the finer nuances of nature conservation, but if there’s one aspect of being in natural surroundings that I have mastered, it’s beckoning nature’s calls in the open. Yes, more often than not, when tents are pitched on remote green plateaus, one can only see trees and rocks as makeshift curtains while attending nature’s calls.

On one of these trips, I was in northeast India with a few friends, returning to Gangtok in a van after a failed attempt to reach Nathula pass on the Indo-Chinese border. One of the most common problems encountered at altitudes above 10,000 ft is high altitude sickness, something that could even turn fatal. To ward off the adverse effects of the illness, the best one can do is sip water at regular intervals. And that’s exactly what I had been doing after already having experienced some dizziness on the downhill trip.

I have always believed that I have been cursed with an extremely small and non-elastic bladder, which always lets me down. With my shortcoming, it is only natural that I had the urge to relieve myself at an interval of 20 minutes. After a couple of halts, the driver grew impatient with my demands and pretended as though he was short of hearing whenever I pleaded with him.

To my delight, we got stuck in a traffic jam in the ghats with a few uninhabited shops in the vicinity. I took the opportunity, hopped out of the van and began scouting for a good shelter to do my business. I looked around. There my van was, last in the beeline of many vehicles. A few trees dotting the spot. Nah, too far away. I saw the rear tyre of my van. It seemed too alluring. I could just squat there, nobody would have an inkling of what I was up to. And, it wouldn’t even take me a minute. So I looked right, left, right again, and go.

I was enjoying the growing emptiness within me, and vroom. The damn traffic jam decided to clear. There I was, exposed to the world in front of me – mostly my friends who had got off to stretch a few muscles and a few strangers. A few moments of silence and shock prevailed before I zipped myself up with a job half done. And what followed through the trip and still does is insurmountable embarrassment.

Fruit Skins

Last night I was at Parel station with a colleague, MV heading home after an extremely boring day at work. Both of us were so bored that we had a headache owing to boredom and general absence of interesting events during the day.
So we stood there at the station. Staring at things. I stared at the peeled-oranges on sale, the mucky-looking ragada of the ragada-patties and men and women at the platform. Finally, I stared at the weighing machine on the platform. The typical ones that you and I step onto, while we are 3 or 5 or even older.
And MV and I looked at the four 60 watt bulbs and the hundreds of zero watt colourful bulbs. All of them flicker in harmony. One goes off, the other goes on. Another goes on and yet another goes off. They all make for a very psychedelic view. Look at them for a few minutes at a stretch and you'll transcend to another space and time! Fascinating without doubt.
But what's equally, if not more exciting, is the response each ticket carries along with your weight. MV said I should weigh my bag. Yeah, weird and silly, but what would cheap thrills do if we weren't around? So, we did weigh my bag. The card read 2.5 kg and carried a lame prediction, something to do with business interest. Business interest of my black and white striped bag with loads of crap in it. What got us rolling in laughter was a cautionary message at the top of the card, "DO NOT THROW FRUIT SKINS (yes, skins) AT RANDOM." Hilarious.
I was left speechless for a while and even when I write about it now, I am at a loss of words! I would love to meet the person thinking of these social messages and writing them with such great finesse! If anyone knows of any such person, do get back to me.

P.S.: Meanwhile, I will weigh my new bag tonight at the weighing machine and check what it's prospects at business are!

Busy and liking it

I have been a little busy for a few days watching inter school football games, reviewing them, finding new talent, chatting up with coaches trying to find who is the one player in their team who turned the match in their favour or against. Ah well, it has all been very exciting sitting in the "press box", something that least resembles a box. It is more like an enclosure for the poor and humble!
What I like about my job is that I have fun just going places and watching sports. And then being able to comment on it is just a privilege! I have for the first time in my life, begun liking my job. And that's a good sign, isn't it? I know it is. That's that then.

P.S.: After all that bragging about regular blogging, I have taken a hiatus from it because of busy-ness *hangs face in shame*

Alarming Regularity

It just struck me recently, about three-and-a-half minutes back, that I have been posting on my blog more often these days. I don't know whether it's because I have more time or because I have many more things to post about. Whatever it is, I like the feeling and shall continue for however long I keep the steam going.
There's one reason I like Sundays -- if I am lucky, I get to read really good features in newspapers. Some of them make me think hard, some make me rationalise my thoughts against the writers', some make me laugh, even out loud, and there are always a few that leave a dirty feeling in the gut. And I say to myself, "Why are people paid to do this?"
Today, my day was made by two really well-written features -- one by Jug Suraiya, one of my favourite columnists and another by a Pakistani journalist Moni Mohsin. Jug Suraiya spoke of the glory of the Beatles and Mohsin wrote of the usage of English in everyday Pakistani life.
Hmmm..so that's that.
I'll wait for the day when someone posts on their blog of me having made their day!
*dreams on*
*colleague asks to get back to work*
Good bye

Yet another wedding

Weddings are meant to be full of fun, frolic, dance, music, songs and a zestful circle of friends and relatives to make all of it possible.
Tomorrow is my uncle's wedding. But it lacks much of what goes into weddings. My grand pa's demise earlier this month has put a dampener of sorts on all preparations. The mood is still glum. Nobody is really keen on dressing up for the wedding, nobody's keen on looking good, nobody's even keen on setting up a great venue. By the looks of it, the wedding will just be a formality. Tie the knot, have meals and head home.
However, I really hope people cheer up by tomorrow. It's the only day of my uncle's life that would see him go through the wedding vows, the only day that will ensure that he enters another phase of his life, the only day when he publicly declares his married life.
I hope for the best. Hope for all the fun and frolic, song and dance. For, there's no way the day will return, once it's gone by.