Random Photo Post

One parlour I will avoid.

Eyeballing Kerala

I was in Kerala for a few days doing absolutely nothing and having such a good time I got superstitious.
Here's what I saw, in points (because I can't be bothered to write too much, am still on holiday)

1: It's green. You should see it from the skies.

2: The Left has made it's presence felt. There are unions for everything. Including an All Kerala Mammooty Fans Union.

3: If you cycle past the village school in shorts and a top so long it covers your shorts, be prepared to hear a chorus of "Aiyyyee" which roughly translates to "Chee" which roughly translates to disapproval. From the kids that too.

4: Green. Green. Green. Green. Greenie. Greenug. Greenu. Green!

5: The roadside tea is quite awesome. As is the fish (everywhere- roadside, resort side, any side)

6: When in a temple in Kerala, do not hold hands with members of the opposite sex. As you will be struck by lighting! I swear I was. I can't believe I'm making this sentence. But, I was struck by lighting in a temple.

7: My ayurvedic masseuse (who I had to cycle through an entire village to reach) was called Mini Joy. He he. Quite cute I think.

8: Nothing equals swimming in the rain, in the moonlight under a canopy of coconut trees.

9: A word of warning. If you are late for your flight, try not telling your cab driver about it. He might take it as a personal mission to get you there on time. In the process your heart will make it to your mouth (given the incredibly scary driving). I'm told the driving in Kerala is probably the worst in the world!

10: I loved how the people were warm, welcoming, ever-smiling and helpful. I'm sorry to sound like a bloody foreigner. But something about people in villages and small towns is so genuine. They look happy and content. After the cribby, angry, grouchy crowd in Bombay. It is such a joy to see. Not a Mini Joy, but a big, fat XXL Joy. :)

Mr Wilbur Sargunaraj

Grumpy Party Observations

I went to a party sometime back. This isn't me throwing my social life in your face. Don't worry. I'm simply making yet another earth-shattering observation.

This one (observation) bothered me a LOT. So I have to crib about it. :)

So I was planted next to this Very Pretty Girl at the party. Even on a usual day, it is hard for other women to appreciate Very Pretty Girls. Most women will vehemently deny this. But since I'm good, I'm also honest.

So I sat next to her with an open mind. Since there was no one else next to me. I didn't have a choice.I also decided to be terribly nice to her and ensnare with the old Conversation Skills. At this point I realized I was behaving like a giddy headed BOY. So I played it cool. And flashed one of my own winning smiles. She barely moved a facial muscle. In fact I'm pretty sure her smile was a grimace.

This really upset me. Now i felt like a giddy headed boy with acne.

So i threw in a couple of pretty good jokes. Tittered at them myself. And looked at her for approval. She had turned her grimace into something vague, like a non-committal smile. At this point I feared that she suffered from a severe lack of a sense of humour.

As if to prove me wrong, our Very Pretty Girl turned to the Very Unpleasant Boy next to her and he OBVIOUSLY cracked a joke. She laughed hysterically at this. Throwing back her head and allowing her pretty hair to sway along in rhythm. I was worried she'd sprain it.

Anyway I spent the entire night observing her. As I had nothing else to do. And the nearest converse-able person was four chairs across the room.

I came to realize that all it takes to impress some men is hysterical laughter. At their jokes. The more you laugh at their jokes, the more they realize how utterly gorgeous and disarming you are. How pretty your throat is (when you throw your head back). How soft your hair is (when you sway it on to their shoulder during a particular vigorous laughing movement). How white your teeth are (I don't need to explain this one). How INTELLIGENT you are (to understand that kind of wit!).

I must add that I will never laugh at stupid jokes to charm anyone. Out of great respect for my own sense of humour.And fear of a sprain.

This Will Be A Short Post

Yesterday I went through what every girl goes through at any given time of the year.
I opened my cupboard. Found it full. And thought to myself, "I have nothing to wear."

The Attempt To Be A Good Soul

I know. In my last post I bitched about well-nourished aggressive folks. It didn't go down too well with the masses. (Pun intended). I also claimed to dislike Very Nice People. But I've put all that past me now. And decided to be a Good Soul.

Being a Good Soul can be very damaging. Reputation wise. It can also give you the appearance of a doormat. Overnight. Which is why one must be careful not to publicize the recently acquired halo. Writing a blog about it is okay, because the people who read it are usually not in you immediate vicinity. (And if they do happen to be in it, they usually don't say nice things about you anyway, so they aren't likely to talk about it.)With such clever strategy I plan to now embark on a new, polished little path of rainbows and fluff.

Day 1 will involve avoiding being nasty.

Day 2 will be a more difficult step, smiling even at fake people. (This might make me fake as well, so it is slightly hypocritical, but I intend to smile genuinely, so... ha-ha!)


If these two days go well, I'll think up a plan for the rest of the tiresome week. (Tiresome, said in a glowing, positive way of course).

How To Hook An Auto-driver

I initially intended this post to be about Aggressive Over-weight Women. But the fact that I believe in karma and do not wish to become fat and aggressive at any point in the future. I held back. However, let it be known, that I not only dislike confrontation, I also despise aggression. There is no such thing as healthy aggression. And if you are aggressive with me, I will be just about as nice to you, as I will to some form of infectious eczema.

Now that I have that off my chest. Let me also inform you (pretty uselessly) that I also intended this post to be about Very Nice People. If you are a Very Nice Person, I'm sorry but I don't trust you. Don't take it to heart. It is just my deeply suspicious nature. You may smile at me guilelessly, but I am likely to wonder if there is a joke lurking under that lack of guile. If you are in fact mocking smile-lessly. Sick, right? I'm sorry Very Nice Person. I wish I could love you. But the news, advertising and creepy men across the street, have infected me with suspicion. I can't believe in you. Even if you made me chicken soup for my terrible cold. (Though I'm willing to keep my mind open on that one).

Now that I have passed on my negativity. Let me get to the original purpose of this post. Auto-drivers. If anyone has been to Bangalore or travelled to and from Andheri East..you have all faced rejection, refusal and contempt from the average auto-driver. You hate these guys, but you need them so bad! I feel you, sister, brother, grandmother and random person.

Auto-drivers are a mean race. But once you crack the code to your average auto-driver. You will NEVER face rejection again.

Here are a few steps.

1: Always remember, an auto-driver is a man. Like all men, he fears neediness. Like all men, he probably likes a chase. So, if you need that auto play... Hard To Get.

Whenever you hail an auto, never let the driver see your eyes. Because then he will notice your needy desperation.

Whenever you hail an auto, pretend there is an empty auto lurking really close. This will make you seem like you don't really give a damn. And that my friend, is a terribly attractive place to be in. Auto-drivers just LOVE that forbidden "sawaari".

2: When hard-to-get doesn't work. I recommend brute force.

Plant your bum in the auto. No matter what he says. Don't budge. He can't really topple you out can he?

However, this method is likely to expose you to a barrage of insults. I personally don't care much for it. But it seems to work.

3: If you are an attractive girl. Smile.
If you are not an attractive girl. Don't smile, beg.

That will be all for today. Thank me, when it works. It's good for my karma.

Very Deep Questions

1: Why is it that only a pharmacist can read doctor's prescriptions?

2: How do doctors pass their med exams. With handwriting like that?

3: Is it handwriting like that that makes them pass in the first place?

4: If 40 is the new 30 and 30 is the new 20, then what is the new 20? 10?

5: Why is there a 'g' in Gnu and Gnat?

6: How come whatever you buy goes on sale, the week after you buy it?

7: How can ‘A Slim Chance’ and ‘A Fat Chance’ mean the same thing?

8: How come it rains when I don't have an umbrella and stops IMMEDIATELY after I buy one?

9: How can I think of a tenth one, now that I'm out of questions?

10: OK fine...What is your name?

I'm trying very hard to write a pun-nish headline on quotes and failing (Thank God)

An apology is basically laying the foundation for future offense. And before you imagine, I made this up myself and kiss the ground I walk on. Let me tell you, Ambrose Bierce said this. Not I. If you wish to kiss the ground I walk on in spite of this, inform me beforehand, I'll try and walk in cleaner places.

Should this post have a name?

If you ever had the chance to name a mermaid. (This is a purely hypothetical situation). (Obviously). Would you ever name her Jumbo?

No, right? Mermaids are sleek, pretty things of grace and romantic possibility. And Jumbo is. Well, Jumbo is an elephant. Every mental image screams so. Jumbo cannot be anything graceful or delicate. Jumbo must be large, ungainly, cute even. But not mermaid-like.

Jumbo is elephant cliche. Just like Fluffy is always a white Pomeranian. And Moti is the street dog in Delhi. And Blackie is a doberman. And Lucky is a Singh. And Rahul is Shah Rukh Khan twanging at your heart strings for Rs 300/- only.

It's also very strange that I've noticed a lot of tall men have really long names. As if to announce that the bearer of the name Satyendranath Patnekar is a tall guy. Make no mistake.

And those who have long names always get squished at weddings. No, let me explain. Say Satyendranath Patnekar got married to Aishwariya Bhupalam. (Purely hypothetical people). Their banner, outside the wedding hall would read Satyendranath Patnekar weds Aishwariya Bhupalam. And the last four letters in Patnekar would be squished in really close. So as to come within the banner. "The banner painter can't help it if the bloody name is so LONG!"

Then there are those that inflict a life long joke on their children by naming them oddly. Like there was a girl I didn't know in college but heard was called An Innocent Flower Called Mary. And another girl called Innocent Virgin. Tsk tsk.

This without even talking about nicknames. I find it extremely hard to call people by their nicknames. I feel like I'm impinging on their privacy. Especially cause there are those who liberally create nicknames for you (sweet ones, THEY think), even though they don't know you. Those really make me cringe.

I have a lot more to say. But I'll do this another time. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named demands my attention on an orange window.