Thursday, December 22, 2011

Pyara Phatka


Ye maarmik gaatha hai uss ladki ki jise har holiday par apne pyare furniture ki dusting karni padti hai. Pathakon se anurodh hai ki iss dukh bhari gaatha ko padhkar we royein nahi!

( This is the heart-wrenching story of the girl who has to dust the immense beloved furniture on holidays, no matter what. Readers are requested not to cry after reading this sad story!)

Phatke! Mere pyare phatke!
Tu meri nazron mein khatke
Mere har weekend ki har subah
Tujh par he aakar hai atke!

Sardi kadake ki ho ya garmi sakht
Ya chahe ho pareeksha ka waqt
Mere hath mein phir bhi latke
Tu hamesha, o mere pyare phatke!

Ek pyari lazy holiday ki subah ka maza
Tujhe dekhte he khaye jhatke
Aur itne sare bhari bharkam furniture se
Mere gale ne kai sookhe ghoont hain gatke!

Sahastra saalon (years) ka sisila ye
Ki maine aur kuch na seekha siwa tere, phatke!
Perfect-Woman-Crash-Course mein hum kaise badhein aage
jab hum tum sada saath he satkein!

Par tu toh sala mast maula hai
Kamine tujhe kya fark padta hai
Mere dard...meri taqleef ko dekhkar
Tu harami BC khushi se matke!

Lekin aisa bhi aega ek din
Jab tere kardungi main tukde!
Aur sojaungi rajai taankar
Chahe furniture bane kachde ke dabbe!


Until later, Cuidate!


Vote for me now!

Monday, November 7, 2011

The Waltz


Disheartened, disillusioned, dis-anchored
Until you gathered me up in your arms
And started a slow dance, my very first
And yours too, I guess, waltzing together
Moving slowly, at peace, soaking in the warmth
Requiring no music
The rhythm set listening to your heartbeat
Engulfed in love abound
And then came the realization:
My roots are with you...

Vote for me now!

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Atulya Aaaenn

On a fine lazy Saturday morning (the kids in my clan regard waking up at 12 noon fit enough for a suryanamskar),two clan-kids , me and my brother, sat in a Rectangle Bed Conference. Matters of prime importance were scheduled to be discussed. Acting as representatives of two immensely proud nations, serious diplomacy was required to negotiate ways around each other’s iron-bound foreign policies. This is the conversation that took place.

Me: “Greetings, gentleman! It’s a fine morning indeed. Hope you have had a hearty breakfast.”
Brother: “Greetings, gentlewoman! Nay, sadly breakfast has eluded me this morning. Mother refuses to serve me nourishment before I brush my teeth. Tyranny rules.”
Me: “True, true…very sad indeed. Do not lose heart, though. Swadisht hawa khaiye!
Brother: “Dhanyawaad,bahut tasty hai! What is our agenda for today, pray?”
Me: “Yes, I was getting to that. Ranndeep Hooda in Saheb Biwi Aur Gangster… did you know he is from our Haryana?”
Brother: “Oh, is he?”
Me: “Yes, sir, very much. Hooda comes from Haryana. Also, Haryana has a Chief Minister called Hooda. But he happens to be a different Hooda, mysteriously. And surely you must be aware of H.U.D.A?”
Brother: “H.U.D.A??”
Me: “Your ten year old life breeds much ignorance, sir. H.U.D.A stands for Haryana Urban Development Authority.”
Brother: “Oh! LOL :D”
Me: “Abbe hass kyu raha hai?”
Brother: “Hahaha Hudda :D”
Me: “Yes. So?”
Brother: “Haryana ka Hudda, toh Punjab ka Pudda :D Hahaha :D”
Me: “LOL :D Nice, nice, very nice.”

*Mutual laughter continues for some time*

Me: “Tamil Nadu ka Tudda :D” (Ignoring Nadu)
Brother: “Mahahaha :D Too good :’D”

*More laughter*

Brother: “Karnataka ka Kudda!! J&K ka kya hoga? Jkudda?”
Me: “Nahi re.Judda-Kudda!”
Brother: “Yes! :D Aur Jharkhand ka Judda :D LOL :D”
Me: “LOL”
Brother: “West Bengal ka Budda :’D” (Ignoring West)

*Me laughing and brother rolling around roaring clutching his tummy*

Me: “You are too good, gentleman. My nation is proud to have relations with your distinguished country.”
Brother: “The feelings are mutual, gentlewoman! Hang on, tum kaun desh se aayi?”
Me: “Phhrrr (with pride)”
Brother: “Huh?”
Me: “Phhrrr.”
Brother: “Phrr?”
Me: “No. Phhrrr. Your lower lip must vibrate over your tongue. Try again.”
Brother: “Phhhhr.”
Me: “You are pathetic. Thara desh kunsa se?”
Brother: “Aaaenn (with pride)”
Me: “Aein?”
Brother: “Aaaenn.Cow ki tarah muh banao aur naak se bolo.”
Me: “Aeeen?”
Brother: “Bekar!”

Brother: “Aaaenn! Incredible Aaaenn!”
Me: “Hahaha”
Brother: “Atulya Aaaenn!
Me: “Mahahah”

*Brother laughing and me rolling around roaring clutching my stomach*

Me: *burp*
Brother: “Ye kya tha?”
Me: “Ye mommy ke desh ka naam hai. Ye ek aisa desh hai jiska naam har baar alag tareeke se pronounce kiya jata hai.”
Brother: “LMAO :D”
Me: “Acha bata, khana khane ke baad log kya karte hain?”
Brother: “Kya?”
Me: “Mommy ke desh ka naam lete hain :D”

*Both rolling around roaring clutching their stomachs while Mother watches with eyebrow raised in disgust*

Pagal hain mere gharwale!

Untill later, Cuidate!


Vote for me now!

Thursday, July 28, 2011

How To Kill A Mocking Bird

Vellapanti amidst a lot of work drives crazy people (such as me) to do crazy things (such as this). Vellapanti amidst a lot of work drives crazy people (such as me) to do incessant talking (such as this) about crazy topics (such as the Mocking Bird) for a crazy number of times (such as such as) when the focus should have been on something very crazily different (such as browsing books) absorbed in a crazy mood (such as temporary goodbyes). Hating goodbyes amidst other things drives crazy people (such as me) wonder about crazy things (such as asymptotes, for no obvious reason) and freeze in one facial expression (such as sulking). Awesomeness amidst sulking drives crazy people (such as me) to be fascinated by crazy creatures (such as the Mocking Bird), and awesomeness amidst sulking when coupled with vellapanti amidst a lot of work drives crazy people (such as me) to be awed by crazy features (such as gmail smileys) and hold a dramatic English court conversation between two emoticon characters (such as the Evil Princess and the Monkey King) about magical invincible crazy creatures (such as the Mocking Bird) instead of doing the 'a lot of work' that had to be done (such as writing a full fledged technical report) that has a deadline (such as a few hours).

If you understood what I blabbered above, this is how I spent my morning instead of doing my work, simply because I was so fascinated with the smileys and, well, the Mocking Bird :p Please, do not judge me!



Saturday, July 9, 2011

Applications Invited

Applications invited for the illustrious post of Boyfriend with Benefits * (hereafter shall be referred to as BB) of the amazing, enchanting, sensual, charming, smart, witty, humorous, mesmerizing, attractive, intelligent, pretty, ingenious, innovative, creative, stunning (yes, all this refers to one person) and awesome author of The25thHour.

* Benefits implies the benefit of the author of The25thHour, as opposed to the benefit of the elected Boyfriend

A. Eligibility
1) The applicant must be male, heterosexual and above 19 years of age by 1st October 2011.
2) Applicant must be employed in some way or the other, viz, studying or working.

Selection shall be done on merit basis according to the criteria enlisted in section C. Special consideration shall be given to ameer baap ki bigadi hui aulaad.

B. How to Apply
Interested candidates must apply via e-mail. The mail must contain the serial numbers of the criterion they satisfy. A full body photograph, with sparse clothing, must be attached. Further correspondence shall be made based on the performance of the candidate as determined by the selection process. The decision of the author is final and irrevocable. Any form of objection to the final decision shall be heavily penalized. (No boys....don't think handcuffs and whips! ;P) **

** thoughtful suggestion courtesy my dear friend, Nidhi Joshi :D

C. Method of Selection
Candidates clearing the cut off score of 60% of the total points shall be considered. The score of each candidate will be determined by the criteria enlisted below. Weightage of each criteria is stated against it.

1) Candidate must be obscenely rich, the more obscene the better. He must lavish me with presents of books, clothes, footwear, junk accessories, aesthetic accessories, expensive dinners, dates at posh places, etc. (15 points)
2) Must carry my bags, books and any other load that I happen to have at that time. (3 points)
3) Must be adept at making French...braids. (5 points)
4) Must have an immense interest in earrings. (4 points)
5) Must adore gol gappe and milkshakes. Noncompliance in either is intolerable. (2 points)
6) Must worship me in my non-groomed, ugly self. (15 points)
7) Must agree with whatever I say, must obey whatever I command, must provide whatever I demand. (3 points)
8) Must follow me like a slave, and must have the expression of a love-sick puppy on his face at all times. (2 points)
9) Must know how to drive, must own a car, must be available to chauffeur me anywhere I need to go, at all times. (20 points)
10) Must like Calvin & Hobbes. (10 points)
11) Must fall for it when I pretend to sulk, and must appreciate my efforts at making a baby face. (10 points)
12) Must consider it an honour to bring me ice candies. (5 points)
13) Must bring me flowers. Must not bring me flowers. (0 points)
14) Must bring me chocolates. Must bring me chocolates. (5 points)
15) Must be sexy, HOT, ravishing. (15 points)
NOTE:- It doesn't matter even if the candidate has a potato for a face. In all fairness, hotness evaluation will be done from toes to neck for all candidates.
16) Must pay my phone bills. (30 points)
17) Must pamper me. A lot. (30 points)
18) Must carry an umbrella. (10 points)
19) Must proclaim daily, "Archika, I am your greatest fan; you are the goddess of my destiny and fortune. I am your servant! Command me, my lady!". After this, must let his tongue hang out for a better effect. (12 points)
NOTE:- Every woman likes to be complimented, you know.
20) Must lie at my feet sometimes, to boost my vanity. I DESERVE IT!! (20 points)
21) Must know how to cook, clean and tend. (15 points)
22) Must know how to fight skillfully. (15 points)
NOTE:- The great author of The25thHour tends to boast herself into certain situations where you might be left alone to deal with a few meanies. All the best.
23) Must be a good masseur. (5 points)
24) Must dance well. All dance forms included. Good entertainment is expected of BB. This includes jokes, mimicry, making a fool of himself, etc. (10 points)
25) Must be blind towards other women. Must have HOT friends. (20 points)

(LIST SHALL BE UPDATED FROM TIME TO TIME. APPLICANTS ARE, THEREFORE, REQUIRED TO KEEP CHECKING)

D. Fees
No application fees is required. All money extraction shall be done during the period of the contract. Contract renewal will be done on a quarterly basis, depending on the performance of BB. Lootegi tumhari jeb aise, shareer se khoon choosta hai leech jaise. Wuhahaha! ;->

E. Important
Drop your queries in the 'Comments' section.

***GOOD LUCK***
Vote for me now!

Monday, June 27, 2011

Muck And Sharvari

A story I wrote some years back, which I am posting thanks to Mehr's urges.

Sharvari was a beautiful child. At the age of eight she had everything going for her. Loving parents, adoring teachers, seven best friends, dozens of toys, a yellow bicycle (yellow was her favourite colour), cute dresses, posters of power-puff girls and Muck, who was the world’s best puppy. There you go; we have all the ingredients to make a happy eight-year-old. Sugar and spice, and everything nice (without the chemical X).

Sharvari was five when Muck had been given to her. Oh, that moment when she saw him for the very first time, she can never ever forget it. A golden carpet of fur, eyes the colour of chocolate milk. He had a wet nose that was very soft. When she had touched his nose she had squealed, “Eewh! Poor baby, you’ve got cold”, and when she had measured him with her six-inch ruler, she had exclaimed, “Mom, look, he is as tall as my roo-laar!”

Five minutes later, she was a wiser child. Mum had explained it all to her. “No child, Muck does not have cold at all. All dogs have wet noses.”

“Why” she asked.

“Um, that’s because, well, dogs just love their noses. And so they keep ’em wet so that it shines and is clean all the time.”

“Ohhh! But why is he so small? He isn’t even bigger than my roo-laar.”

“Oh child. Muck is a puppy, a baby. He’ll grow tall as he grows older.”

So no longer worried, Sharvari set about being friends with him. And so strong was their bond that they ended up being the best of friends. Inseparable, they were like peas in a pod. On the door of Sharvari’s room, “Sharvari” was inscribed in big, elegant handwriting. And beneath it you could spot in innocent childish letters the words “and Muck”. That’s not all, Sharvari had also drawn a trophy with her crayons next to Muck’s name. And the trophy proudly proclaimed “World’s best puppy”. Sharvari’s parents were really cool too. They did not raise a hell when they saw the beautiful teak door stained with crayons and markers. They had rather smiled with joy. “Look, how beautifully she writes!” they had gushed.

Both started growing, together beautifully and beautifully together.

Then one day Sharvari died. In a bomb blast.

She had gone to the main market with a friend to get candies. Mum and dad were home. And Muck was busy digging in the backyard. Sharvari had gone never to return again. The only consolation that Sharvari’s parents had was that their dear, dear child had died with sweets in her mouth.

As soon as they had seen the news on TV, Sharvari’s parents had rushed like a storm to the deceased place. Frantically searching, tears blinding their eyes, throats going sour from shouting. An hour passed, no sign of their daughter. After another two hours, outside the burnt toy shop, Sharvari’s father caught a glance of a red shoe. Yes, it did belong to Sharvari. A great wave of sorrow passed over the father. The unspeakable had come true. The shoe was filled by a tiny plump leg, there was but no accompanying body. A shriek escaped him, and the mother was alarmed. She followed his gaze and she saw what she was praying so hard not to see. Her child in front of her, lying there all alone in pieces on the dirty ground, while she was still there, alive and complete, breathing shamelessly and showing all signs of life.

She broke down. Tears of such intensity that you would have never seen before. Both husband and wife, clinging on to each other, letting the sorrow of their heart wash over them.

After a while that seemed like an eternity, they held themselves together and went over to where their daughter lay. They found the rest of the body some thirty feet from the shoe.

The face all covered with precious blood. And she was wearing the t-shirt that featured Buttercup on it, her favourite of all three power-puff girls. One small hand was holding the lollipop that was still in her mouth. In the other hand, the parents found clutched, a packet of colourful candies and an anniversary card. It was their anniversary tomorrow, which they would now on have to celebrate without their daughter.

For the parents, the world had fallen apart. As far as Muck, he just didn’t know what was going on. On the first day that the terrible news had come, Muck saw the parent’s crying inconsolably all day long. Unlike other deaths, there were no visitors offering sympathy for this insignificant death, because they themselves had suffered great irreparable losses.

Muck could sense a very sad wave throughout the house. So strong, he could almost touch it. And Muck was very worried. He was longing to play with Sharvari. It had been so long and she was not back yet. Maybe she’d been sleeping over at some friend’s. Thinking so, he consoled himself and waited.

On the second day, he was almost running out of patience. It was like he would just burst with anxiety. Usually Sharvari would come running early morning whenever she would sleep over. But today was different. No running Sharvari, and now no newspaper boy to chase after. His wet soft nose could sniff that something was wrong.

By afternoon, he had no more strength to wait any longer. He did not even eat his food. He promised himself, he would throw Sharvari a lot of attitude when she would come back.

In the evening he went over to the main gate and sat there. Waiting for Sharvari so that they could go to the park to play, just like every day. But today was different.

When it was half past seven, he went inside “their” room and brought Sharvari’s school bag in his mouth to the dining table, so that “they” could do homework together, just like everyday. But today was different.

On the third day, he realized that Sharvari had gone, gone forever. To an eternal pajama party that would never end. And finally he realized that the great wave of sorrow that was flowing throughout the house, seeping into the chairs and the chocolate milk, and the tables and the cycles, and the things that breathed and the things that did not, that great wave that was seeping into everything, it was actually the wave of death. He could finally see it; it was of the colour red.

On the seventh day, Muck too died. Out of starvation. I did not tell you before, but he was in the habit of eating only when Sharvari would give him food. No matter how hard the parents would try, they could not get him to eat. And the days that had remained to him, he had spent sitting besides Sharvari’s bed because it had still held her smell.

He was buried next to a pieced-out Sharvari.

The word Sharvari means night. Sharvari, true to her name, had been lost in the darkness of the pitch black night. Muck means dirt. Muck too had been reduced to a pile of dirt. Like mud, after being swept away by a cruel broom, seeming like it had never been there at all.

( It’s a tribute to all those who lost their loved ones and themselves too in sudden explosions of inhumanity, thanks to those who do not realize that God isn’t pleased.)

Untill later, Cuidate!

Vote for me now!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Getting Better With Time

The Summer of 2003...




And then, the summer of 2011...



Posted by Picasa
Untill later, Cuidate!


Vote for me now! Blogomania 2012 presented by watchkart.com - India"s leading online store

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Daffodils

For you, who admires it :)

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden Daffodils;
Beside the Lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-
A Poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.

- William Wordsworth

Monday, May 9, 2011

Soulmate

She was gloomy; "I miss you a lot", she pleaded
He smiled; "I love you even more", he conceded
"It is too difficult, my patience runs out"
"You keep me going, my love, don't back down"
"I am not as strong, I try my best"
"You are my support, the source of my strength"
"I do not know how to express my love"
"I read it in your eyes, my love"
"I miss your voice, your sound in my ears"
"To you my loving whispers the wind bears"
"Why stay away, look at the world with me"
"Your beautiful eyes will tell me all that has to be"
She said, "Come, my love, sit for a while with me"
"I will stand and watch your back", said he
"In a crowd I stand, and yet all alone"
"Feel my hand clasp yours, I'm your very own"
"Your face lingers in my eyes, why pain me so"
"You live in my heart, the same pain pulls me low"
"Rains remind me of you, like the boon of a seer"
"The raindrop resting on your lips is my elixir"
"It is so painful, for you my heart winces"
"Together we'll pull this off, my princess"
"I want you back, please, back right now"
"A little while more, and then to you my eternity I vow"

"You're far and yet so near...
I can wait forever, what are a few years"
"You are always around to renew me
You are my rock," said she

"All that it takes to be yours;
You are my soulmate", said he.


Vote for me now!

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mehendi Wahi Jo Piya Mann Bhaaye...

Susheel bharatiya naari...



Some time later...


And finally...Naaahh!




Untill later, Cuidate!
Vote for me now!

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Cooking Up A Storm

Fascinating is the word! Savoury, delightful, arousing....! Mere haath ka khana...simply mesmerizing! Finger lickin' just not good enough! I'm such an enormous success in culinary arts that even a raw ingredient blessed enough to be merely touched by me accidentally is regarded to be a coveted memento in the world of food lovers! People are crazy I tell you :') Can you believe it, I'm so loved that they rush to give me Michelin stars even for a Maggi boiled by me :D (even though I don't run any place!) But then, they are justified :) For I add my special touch to every single thing I prepare, putting all my heart into it, slicing each vegetable with care and precision, sprinkling just the right amount of herbs and spices, tossing and baking, coating and frying, leaving my mark on every creation and never failing to innovate :)

So much so that, I have been dubbed the Nigella Lawson of my circle! :D Even in family get-togethers, I'm the one in demand when stomachs grumble. Bored of the same old food, want something new? Then Archika is the one for you. I guess the sole most important reason contributing to my popularity is that I can take the simplest and the most humble of ingredients and turn them into a delicacy :) Akhir, jaadu haathon mein hota hai ;)

Not just this, I am so amazing and great that you'd be blown away by the blast of brilliant light that I emit. My kid brother begs me to cook! Hahaha :D (Mom gets a tad bit jealous though, but then, the happiness that I see on my baby brother's face as he delights himself with the yummy food brings tears of satisfaction to my eyes and flush me with motherly pleasure :') ) My dad never stops praising me, and my mom is proud to have a genius for a pupil.

Well, keeping these unimportant little things aside, let us move on to the cake incident of a few days back. Given what an expert I am in the kitchen, I set about baking a cake, a new challenge. Even before the batter had been prepared, the delicious smell could be felt floating about. The furniture swayed about with joy in anticipation of what was to come, the walls barely managed to hold themselves back and the plants literally grew greener because of the enchanting aroma. (Dear readers, please wipe off the thread of drool hanging from your mouth. How much ever you might be lusting for the above-mentioned cake, that saliva is disgusting.) When the batter had been prepared, it was time to bake. But there was a minor problem. I could not locate a glass dish in my vicinity (this ailment is called partial specific blindness, where the sufferer turns blind specifically to the object being looked for, even if it is dangled near their nose; and the partial blindness continues unless the object has been looked for successfully by younger brother/sister or parent). So, not allowing myself to be defeated by a glass dish, I decided to go ahead with...a plastic bowl. Now the thing is, my brilliance is marred by a lack of experience. And so, when I set the cake in the oven, this is what happened in 1 minute and 37 seconds...


Yes...it melted :p Thankfully I noticed within that time that the bowl was deforming, god alone knows what would have happened in 50 minutes :p

Well, my mom then finally gave me a glass dish, and I did complete the cake. Only it was burnt :p It was later thrown away, barely touched :p (It was as hard and crunchy and crispy as a biscuit, maybe that's what I should have said it was...well, another time!)

But my love for cooking continues. Everytime I even step into the kitchen, I message Corazon "I made something! Yay XD". Initially, he would say, "Oh nice! Was it very tasty?" Over time, he has learnt to ask "Was it edible??" :p

That's not all. My dedication to become a great cook can be illustrated by the fact that ever since the vacations after the Xth Boards began, my dadi took it upon herself to introduce me to the kitchen, and we started off with chapattis. After three years and the combined efforts of mommy and dadi, this is what I make even today:


Notice the burnt and the raw patches adjacent to each other. Gives a nice contrast :D But then, at least it is perfectly round :p Dadi and mom shake their heads in exasperation. "Shadi kaise hogi" is what they say :p Growing up, I have noticed that they are more concerned about my future in-laws that don't even exist than anything else :p Women, I tell you! And to chidko jale pe namak, my baby brother takes a lot of interest in the kitchen and rolls out amazing paranthas. He is ten, I am eighteen :p

Sometimes, mommy thinks aloud to herself "kash archi ladka hoti aur anshu (my brother) ladki hota". I can't help but agree. The worst thing is, she can't accept the fact that I'm a total loser in the kitchen like I accepted it a long time back. Gosh, what to say of her nagging persistence to teach me "at least something"? Fascinating is the word :p
Vote for me now!

Thursday, March 10, 2011

I Know You Are There

In the yellow fields of mustard that lie before my eyes
I see men working hard, their heads echoing with their children’s cries.
But when I see them smile with each sway of breeze, in the midst of their plights
I know you are there.

In those very fields, the ripe saplings dance to the song of the breeze
The shallow waters ripple and the naked children sneeze.
But when frenzied young girls run along, their dupattas fluttering with ease
I know you are there.

On a red hot day, when the fiery flames shoot down to the soil
I see a mazdoor with a sad face, a result of his sorrow and his toil.
And yet, when the tar-black clouds cool down his blood’s boil
I know you are there.

In a beautiful snow-laden valley, which is torn by war
Where a soldier is hated, where he is upon scorned.
But when he is dying, and I hear your name on his lips being born
I know you are there.

A small little girl, just three years old
In her small little hands she clutches you, it is you she holds.
And when I see the love for you that the little girl beholds
I know you are there.

You are there all around, in the skies and the grounds
In the flattering smiles, and in all the angry growls.
In the dirt of the streets, in the glitter of the cars
Yes, you are there, in the tinkling of a child’s candy jars.
In the hopes of the youth, yes you are there.
In the merriment of the Yule, yes you are there.
You are there in the faith in everything good.
You are there in the sweet music of the wooden flute.
Even in the tears of failure, yes you are there.
Even in those hearts filled with anguish and fears, yes you are there.
You are there in the excitement and hope of a new birth.
You are there in the smell of the first rain-soaked earth.
And whenever I open my heart and peer
My love, my passion, my India
I know you are there.


Vote for me now! Blogomania 2011 sponsored by CommonFloor.com - India’s Leading portal to find apartments for sale and apartments for rent

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Skyshop Advertising

Friends, fans and followers!

Main bahut garib aur udas hu! Mujhe khane ko bhi nahi milta hai! High-end brands ke showroom meri khali pocket ko neecha dikhate hai! Rikshawale muje rolls-royce owners jaise lagte hai! Janpath mera ekmatra sahara hai! Yummy street food khate logo ko dekh kar meri aankhien nam ho jati hain!

Phir maine Blogomania ke baare mein suna!

Blogomania ke cash prize ke hope ne meri zindagi badal di! Mujme nayi ummeed aur asha ki kiran jagayi!

Blogomania ko pakar meri zindagi ne ek naya mod liya hai (lol)! Ab muje duniya ka koi darr nahi! Main naye atmavishwas ke sath aage badh sakti hu! Muje zarurat hai, toh bas apke kimti vote ki! Muje vote kijiye aur ME-THE-GREATEST-BLOGGER-EVER (lol) ko vijayi banaeye!
Apka pyar aur sahyog mere liye mahatvapurn hai!

Alright guys, I just realized I ended up mixing a netaji's speech and the skyshop drama together, sorry for that :p Anyway, please vote for the following posts (including this one, just for being such a stupid appeal) :-

1) Sometimes... (March)
2) Maestro Me (February)
3) The Joy Of Anticipation (December)
4) When DOS And I Talked (November)
5) The Valleys In Between (August)
6) Mere Hamsafar (July)

At the end of each blog post, you will find a link Vote for me now! along with an advertisement line. Click on the link which will you take you to the BOLGOMANIA COGNIZANCE page. The only catch is that you will have to register with with them if you haven't already. You can find the register button on the top right corner of the COGNIZANCE page :) Registered users can log in directly from the BLOGOMANIA page and vote easily :) Simple! :)

So guys please gear up and help me finish in the top 3! Here are some statistics for all you fact-freaks :p
1) With a single post entry, your-favourite (me :p) managed to secure a user-rating of 3.77 on a scale of 5.00 and 20th rank among 140 bloggers.
2) Today with the release of 5 more posts into the competition the user-rating jumped to 4.1 (at the first check) and the rank to 11th in just 14 minutes! Yay! :D

Please help me round up in the top three! HECK I WANT THAT MONEY REALLY BAD!!! lol :D It's all about money, people :p Or is it?? No, it's actually all about knowing if one is really worth all the praise and admiration :) Thank you :D I know you jerks adore me :P :D

UPDATE: COMPETITION CLOSES 10TH MARCH, THURSDAY. GO PEOPLE VOTE!! YAY!!

Vote for me now! Blogomania 2011 sponsored by CommonFloor.com - India’s Leading portal to find apartments for sale and apartments for rent

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Sometimes...

Sometimes you're lost in times gone by
You're standing right there as the world passes by
You want to race back to what once was
Time never waits; you're still fighting for a pause
The moment was too sweet but it cannot be relived
Precious times wait ahead, bygones cannot be retrieved
Sometimes someone's memories keep me submerged
When all the wonders of the world are just not enough

Sometimes you've lost all feelings and sensation
When you no longer are, but just a spectator
When experiences merely happen, and not lived through
And what you really see is not percieved to be true
For you are there elsewhere, in a world of your own
With the ones who are missing; the ones present, a lore
Sometime's someone's one whisper has the power to summon
When all the vivacity of the world is just not enough

Sometimes somewhere you're struck by what you see
Lovers sometimes, or huge groups of old friends filled with glee
You are surprised and disgusted by the emotion rising in you
Jealousy abound, you wish that that could be you
Jealousy becomes hatred, those people you scorn
You are shocked by the change, happy past is now a thorn
Sometimes that yearning sends tremors to the core
And you feel that nothing else could have hurt more

Sometimes you're so happy, the bounty of joy
The King of the world, fate your toy
Everything seems perfect and you're at bliss
And no happiness ever could give you a miss
You're content, not wanting, not wishing
But not peaceful, you realize something's missing
Sometimes someone's one little smile makes up
When the entire world's laughter is not enough

Sometimes...entire hours of being together simply don't do
And sometimes, just a little promise of the future pulls me through


Vote for me now! Blogomania 2011 sponsored by CommonFloor.com - India’s Leading portal to find apartments for sale and apartments for rent

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Maestro Me

Let me begin with a description of my musical abilities. I am exquisite! My vocals can be used as an alarm clock to wake up the deepest of sleepers. There is no difference between my high pitch and my low pitch notes, since I don't like to differentiate and make the other scales of notes feel bad. My appreciation of live band performances goes as far as acknowleding, "Aha! It is some tune after all!" I can skip concerts and not feel guilty (my very own bathroom concerts are so amazing, you see :p). The only person I can sing in chorus with is my dad, we are so amazing that others think we are horrible; people are so constrained in their praise, I tell you :p They can't even appreciate the new lyrics we fill the old Hindi songs with to go with the situation... :( I have never touched a single instrument in my life, simply because my inbuilt, god-gifted musical ability is complete in itself. I am so great that I don't care to remember songs by their titles, giving them names of my own...and still expecting people to understand. For instance, when Corazon once asked me if I had heard 'You Belong With Me' by Taylor Swift, I shook my head even though I had heard it. Crazy? Maybe...that song went by the name 'Sneakers' in my head, how was I expected to recognise?? :p

So moving on, a friend of mine, let's call her Friend, needed to buy herself a guitar. Friend was running on a deadline and she truly-madly-deeply (I mean desperately :p How much I love music! Song lyrics swim in my head all the time!) needed somebody to go with her. After asking four or five people who could genuinely not go with her, she finally came to ask me. Poor thing :p

Friend: "Hey Archika! Wassup?"
Me: "..sky?..."
Friend: "Haha! I'm gonna get a guitar!"
Me: "Wow that's cool! Toh muje thodi na Nobel Prize mil gaya."
Friend: "Tu bhi kamal karti hai. Come along?"
Me: "No"
Friend: "Please??"
Me: "No"
Friend: "Pleeaaassee???"
Me: "NO"
Friend: "Pleeeaaaaaassssssseeeee????"
Me: "NO NO-NO NO NO NO!"

If you were to talk to Corazon and Mehr about me, they would tell you how painfully obstinate I can be. Nahi matlab nahi, bas, discussion khatm :p But if you were to prod them just a little more, they would also tell you how greedy and selfish I can be. Sigh, the curse of my life :p

I don't know how did she know about this weakness of mine, but Friend used it against me.

Friend: "Alright, I'll give you something in return. Will you come?"
Me: "Hmm..like what?"
Friend: "...Butterscotch shake from Keventer's?"
Me: "TWO."
Friend: "Huh, fine!"
Me: "I'm not done yet, you will have to get me a paneer kulcha too. And an orange ice lolly. And an auto ride, no rickshaw."
Friend: "GOD! It's December and you still want an icecream! Okay :p Anything else your highness :p"
Me: "One last thing, I want to be the first one to strum your guitar, shubh shuruwat :D NOW LET'S GO DUDETTE! :D"

Friend was as good as her word, I got all the treats that had been promised XD But she never let me touch her guitar again after that one time :p Why, you ask? Well, I did not wait to reach our destination and zipped out the tambura from its bag in the auto itself...and started singing while making awesome noise with the guitar-"Give me some sunshine/ give me some rain/ give me another chance I wanna grow up once again/ LA LA LALA OUWWA OUWWA TUMSE HAI TUMSE PYAR/ OUWWA OUWWA MANO NA MERE YAAR AAAAA....."

The driver and Friend were shocked to listen to this sangam of two awesome songs by the awesome me. Dind't I tell you, people are so constrained in their praise :(

I had started this story with the theme of 'while my guitar gently weeps'...but when the driver said, "Madam rehne do, policewale pakad lenge" I had no choice but to change it to 'while my guitar SCREECHES and WAILS' :p

Untill later, Cuidate!

Vote for me now!

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Ladification - II

( -continued)

That was how it was untill school, but college life brought a deadly shock.

There was this cousin of mine, let's call her Don, who I was particularly fond of. Though we saw each other annually, we were great buddies :) To this day we hold the record of not a single fight ensuing between us. As I child, I literally idolised Don. She wasn't a girl at all! (I meant, not a girl in her ways and mannerisms :p). Her playmates were her elder brother's friends; all the girls in the society envied and hated her; the only girlfriends she had were the teenagers who always danced on her finger tips; she could fight with and put down almost anyone; everybody at school knew her. What was their not to love about Don? :D Me and Don had many adventures toghether, beautiful memories, and timeless moments :) She was what I aspired to be...

And now imagine how crushed I was when I discovered that my idol had been ladified :'( On a particular visit after college had begun, Don showed me a perfect walk in heels. Her wardrobe had the most chic of stuff to the very stylish and traditional wear. She had a few "cute" watches; one of her ankles was adorned with the despicable thin wire with trinkets that girls are so fond of wearing; her earing collection was larger than mine (okay, this doesn't count :p It always was :p Infact, she was the one I stole from :p); her bag, I'm sorry, her handbag, was filled with the many cosmetic tubes that are still so alien to me; she had those cute and funky chappals; a few bracelets; a heart shaped pendant (eeewhhh! heart shaped! though its classy, still... :p), blah blah, blah blah and blah.

She even did a repeat of the Zahira episode with me :p My Don, my own gunda Don, was persuading me to go for threading (I'm so sick of all these naggings now) :p The four days that we were toghether all she talked about was stuff like this :-/ She kept telling me of her plans of having more ear-piercings, how her parlour appointments had been delayed, how the boys in college were going crazy about her. She even wanted to know of my opinion on whether she should have her hair rebonded (for the uninitiated, it's a treatment in which your dog-like hair is magically transformed to Pantene hair :p). Seriously, am I the one to ask all this about? Does she not know me yet? :-/ And for the record, her hair is already perfectly straight and silky smooth (alliteration!) :p

But the rudest shock of the ordeal was when we were (she, basically) getting ready to go out. Don settled herself in front of the mirror, whipped out a tiny kaajal-stick, and deftly lined her eyes with the black paste of coal.

I could only watch with my mouth wide open with shock and disbelief. I spent the rest of that evening in silence, as a mark of remembrance to the brave warrior in the battle against Ladification that Don had once been... :p

Untill later, Cuidate!

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Ladification - I

Hulloh lovely readers! Muah, muah. I know how much you guys must have missed me. But you know how busy I usually am, don't you? :) Just wrapped up a photoshoot for Vogue and Maxim...I don't like to brag but the photographs are simply AMAZING! :) And had to really dodge Gudda..Rohit Bal you know, the poor guy wanted me to be the show stopper for his next collection. But I am so exhausted from overwork that I simply have to have a vacation with my Russian millionaire friend on his million dollar yatch. Its going to be so wonderful :D Ting-tong (door bell). Uh-oh...I wonder who's there...hmm, a package..oh no, another letter written in blood from one of my many anonymous admirers! It's all very sweet but these guys are really weird and silly haha :D

Bwahahahahaha! Snorting laughter! Laugh your as**s out! Isn't that the most incredible and funny thing I have EVER said!!! :D :p

The truth is, I belong to the privileged class of those few people who are utterly unbothered about their appearance. Every strand of hair on my head curling in contradicting directions, nails filled with cowdung, bringing up blackheads like my babies, perpetually covered with a microfilm of dust; that is just describing the days when I appear a tad bit "better" :p On my so-called bad-days (all days), I closely resemble Nakusha... :p When I wash my hair, I look like this:


And then like this:


Yeah right, keep up the goofy smile :p I remain unaffected. I will most often than not be the proud tomboy amongst a sea of pruned and groomed girls. The only thing I believe God created for comfort are a pair of jeans. Heels? Devil's creation. Cosmetics? Oh please, I'd rather save the Chinese from dragons while hanging from a cliff over boiling lava. Bracelets, pendents, accessories, what are they for? These things happily eluded me until the time for...hold your breath...LADIFICATION!!!

Let me elaborate.

Ladification # noun # verb: to ladify/ ladified/ ladifying. # adverb: ladily. # adjective: lady-like.

Definition: Ladification is the gradual and brutal process/ritual in which young innocent tomboyish girls are forced to change their ways in order to become a lady in their appearance, manners and conduct. Ladification is generally brought about abruptly, the irony lying in the fact that the victim is expected to adopt the changes as soon and as graciously as possible. The primary agents of ladification include peers (girls who started waxing their legs as soon as they grew out of diapers), friendly neighbourhood aunties (the ones that look like juicy cooked turkeys, the only difference is real turkeys don't apply deep magenta lipstick), relatives ("haye ni marjani, ab toh college mein aagayi hai, kam se kam ab toh ladkiyo jaise kapde pehen"), male classmates ("Dude, look at her legs and look at her legs"), etc.

Examples: 1) "Mrs. X's daughter is a teen now, it's high time we ladified her."

2) "Did you see Mrs. X's niece? She carries herself so ladily."

3) "You are right, her daughter is a junglee in comparison, nothing lady-like about her."

(Mrs. X in the above examples might be my mother :p)

So, though I knew about this cruel, highly prevelant practice, I never really had anything to worry about. Simply because I can be utterly stupid and absent-minded as and when it suits me :) For instance, in ninth standard, when Zahira came to show me her newly waxed legs, I just couldn't figure out what she was trying to show me. And no, I wasn't trying to be stupid, I really couldn't figure out what the big deal was. Not wanting to disappoint her eager face, I finally blurted out, "Wow...Zahira...you, er, look...um...FAIR!!!" Correct, that's what I said, that her legs looked 'fair' :p But she was a very sweet girl, she understood I had failed to notice, and kindly told me about waxing (that was how I became acquainted with the word and the procedure). And when she suggested me to undergo the same 'thing', I was horrified.

Zahira: "...so that's what it's all about. Don't I look nice? Why don't you get it done?"

Me: "Yeah, you look very pretty. But I really don't want to..."

Zahira: "Why? It'll be great! You must!"

Me:"No...I'm scared..."

Zahira:"Scared? Of your mum? C'mon!"

Me:"No idiot, I'm scared of the idea of a woman pulling hair out of my skin, and all that for the hair to grow back again! Now just SHUT UP!"

We reconciled soon :p

But the result of that incident was that the first time she had her brows threaded, the first time she had a facial, the first time she straightened her hair, the first time she bleached, the first time she strutted in heels, and the other first-times-that-are, she did not come up running to me eager with anticipation. It would be me who would finally notice when half the day had gone by and say to her, "Zahira, you look different, it's nice!" She would then smile, and then explain to me what was different. The truth is, I did need those explanations, because I never managed to figure out on my own what was different, other than the fact that something was different :p

That was how it was untill school, but college life brought a deadly shock.

(-to be continued)

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...