What makes Sai blog today?

Guilt overflow.
Yeah. Blogging is a better thing to do compare to what I have been doing for the past 2 months. Please don’t excuse me for being late. My conscience hasn’t excused me. She is looking for a hammer to knock some sense into me. I wish she was a little more assertive while telling me to study! Stupid she part of the stupid me!
So it’s usually in my quantitative research methodology class that I sit to blog. A few of my posts forced my fingers on Thursday mornings between 9-11. This teacher, lovingly called ‘Nagini’ (go, read Harry Potter for reference), is dross and snakelike, the meanest bitch, stingiest evaluator, and the best teacher. She starts off the class by quizzing and throwing people out for not being able to answer. I guess I have been the lucky one for not being questioned, for blogging and sleeping soundly and not have been caught. Ha ha ha! *open mouthed* You know the feeling?
So, today was our last class. And for the record, I started this post there. We had a preparatory non-evaluated quiz today. And knowing myself better than anyone else, I decided to turn up my laptop and take down the questions. And needless to guess what else I was doing.
First 13 questions. Blank. My reaction:
Ok, the balloon has officially gone up. I am sitting on a powder keg. 13 is the only one I know.
Question 18:
Ah-oh! I deserve a felicitation for studying hardly. The rest is all Greek to me.
Question 20 – list the key ethical concerns while doing a research: I guess I know 20. Isn’t confidentiality a key of ethical concern? It’s difficult to maintain confidentiality and write about the issues you come across in your research (I’m a social work student). I think. Hurray!
Quant is a cloud on the horizon. Trust me. And this is the only subject I actually kind of like. Lol! Rofl!
My conscience started off with the mental kicking! Now guess what happened! A few students walked in. whoa! Guts man! And she let them in? And repeated a few questions for them. Sometimes actions speak louder than words. I gaped! And guess who walked in with the late comers? A pregnant ginger cat. And Nagini loves animals. She barks with dogs and meows with cats, you know?
Ginger resembles Crucshanks. I was playing with her few months ago. Awwwwwwwwwwwww! Kitty mummy!
Few minutes later, my phone pinged my chichora whistle message tone. And it was her turn to react:
“Woh kya tha?”
Hahahahhahahahaahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Question 23 – What is the level of measurement of the following variables, and is coding required or not.
She dictated many. Like Gender, economic class, monthly income, and…
Shoe size:
Yaar, I don’t have footwear. What’s the point of good clothes? Shirt size:
Madame, you are hitting on touchy subjects. Shift from medium to large. I am bloating!
Weight in kilograms:
Ok, that will do. Around 68KGs.
Height:
There there. I’m consoling myself. I’m 5.5 inches, but my mum is 5.6, my sister 5.9, and my dad 6.1! And they all call me Potti (meaning short in Telugu- my mother tongue).Potti! Potti! *howls*
Subject of study in bachelor’s degree:
English was way better. “Kya hua? Tera vaada? Woh kasam, woh irada.” Social work padhne ka…
Level of satisfaction with the hostel facilities:
Hostel, accustomed. I sleep in a mess!
Nagini:
“now. Answers. Let’s see who’s in how much trouble!”
Poori ki poori pani mein hun ma’am. But suddenly I’ve started liking you. For this quiz, I’ll study.
Couldn’t keep up with the answers. Haven’t studied. I will solve the quiz myself.

Celebrating the awesomeness that is Namrata Rawat!

Okay Naamu. Where do I begin? Now, please don’t holler “beginning”! Because I don’t want to type in my sleep. I am not starting from the day we met. No, not that day when I thought you to be this cute, immature, blabbering little kid. There you go… My first opinion about you! So, you are one of those people who I clicked with, in about half a second. Thank you for being in my interesting companionship, because I got to meet you! I’m glad we are still hanging on together, successfully keeping each other sane for the past two and a half months in our mission of surviving and doing considerably well in TISS. Really. If it weren’t for you, I would have caught on to a hanging electricity wire in the slums of Cheetah Camp! *Dramatic drum roll* But you get the idea, right? Have I ever told you that you are one of my most favourite people in TISS? Because you are! Have I told you lately that I love you? Because I do! You make the world a sassier place. You know you have the licence to criticize me ruthlessly and later pamper me boundlessly because I’m your “kiddo”! Your “suno!” and “koi baat nai” make me strong when everything seems to be going wrong. You are beautiful. As beautiful as some unconventional heroine, simple, intellectual and piquant. Adding a bit of Telewood drama… You are crafted so beautifully by the higher power (Bagwan Ji ne tume kitni fursat se banaya hai!). Hahahahahahhahahahahahahahahhahahaahahahahahahah! You know, sometimes, I picture myself draped in a worn-out blue saree, sitting in a rocker chair, holding a sepia tinted photograph between my wrinkled fingers. Its edges are blurred, colour faded, and somewhat smudged. But you can still make out the faces. The happiness beaming forth from the faces of two young women, holding on to each other, smiling away into the camera that was capturing the moment along with the background of TISS. The photograph is old, but the people in it are still young. It still retains its fragrance and it shall forever. Yeah, it still looks like a girl is hugging her younger brother. No seriously, even in a worn-out blue saree I’d want to carry off that school boy look. I’d still be jealous. Dude! I’m not going to try to be too poetic about our friendship, because what makes it so special and beautiful is the fact that it is so entrenched in the ordinariness of everyday life. And it is fun. And funny. And I hope everlasting, I want to enjoy the rocker chair moment to the fullest. Dude! You are an awesome bitch! I swear by the most beautiful of Enrique’s compositions! So, “baby doll”, moral of this blog post is… sometimes you should thank your mood swings. Because, hadn’t you deactivated your facebook account, this would have just been one of my signature “you mean so much to me” facebook statuses. And I write blog posts only for my all time, most favourite people! Biggest warmest hug! P.s. this should have been a birthday present, but then, the impatient me realised that presents don’t need occasions.

Bold, judge if you must!

“Take your pleasure seriously.” ~ Charles Eames
Isn’t it a beautiful quote? How many of us choose our pleasures over the societal norms? How many of us are confident about what we do? Here’s a list of my pleasures, guilty or otherwise:- Writing. Let the world know about what you think. Because you know you think right, the world can judge.
- Talking, loud and confidently. He doesn’t want to read my blog? He will have to hear me. Even when I’m talking to the walls. He’ll at least get a word.
- Displaying a knack for embarrassing honesty. I’m pretty direct. I don’t play with words to camouflage my instincts. I tell a friend I have to pee when I have to pee. Or when I see sparks flying, I ask if they are dating, while the others pass each other awkward glances.
- Cussing. I like the words “bakchodi”, “chootia”, (Hindi abuses meaning fuck or fucker or something similar.) and “fuck”. They roll off my tongue very enthusiastically. Don’t ask why.
- Recording and replaying my own voice. Don’t you want to know how the world hears you? A glitch in the way we are created, god, why can’t I hear myself the way I actually sound?
- Alcohol. Occasionally. It’s ok to take help to speak your heart out.
- Sex. Who doesn’t want it? Raise your hand! *Counts quickly* Expect nothing more than cruel treatment from me for lying!
- Animals. They are beautiful. Soft. And they can love you unconditionally. And they are better than you, me and the big bad world. I have a picture with a monkey sitting on my shoulder.
- Babies. They are all pink; with teeny-weeny hands and feet and a wide open little mouth, and eyes and a nose. Why do they have to become a part of the big bad world when they grow up?
- Reading. My horizon broadens. I get a better understanding of what the world wants. Like minded people form groups, and many groups make diversity.
- Shopping. The better things you have, the better you look. But save up haan! You can’t keep emptying your dad’s wallet. He has other bills to pay.
- Sarcasm. Use it well and you are cool!
- Laughing. Audrey Hepburn thinks it’s the best calorie burner. I laugh like a braying donkey. It’s kind of cute. And people laugh along.
- Lying in bed all Sunday. You can’t be busy throughout the week. Take a day to cut off from the world. Contemplate. Reflect. Smile to yourself, because there are a few secrets that only you know.
- Facebooking. I send messages to random people when I’m depressed. Always helps in lifting your mood. Because, if the other end of the line is happy, you receive happy smileys. Otherwise, your tongue knows the magic words.
- Professing love. Now, who cares if it’s one sided? The other end can never change the weather at your end.
- Hit on your ex, don’t fear. Who cares if he doesn’t like it? You are never meant to do anything he likes.
- Quilling. The beauty created by exhausted fingers can be overwhelming.
- Gifting people. I do it because I’m creative. I plan best of presents. Be my friend.
- Gossiping. Maybe, someday I’ll learn to not be the bitch I unknowingly am. I self reflect a lot. And it’s always good to be updated.
Dude, my life is mine and yours is yours. I will judge and so will you. I am a part of the big bad world to you, and you to me. Because we all think different. Because there are two sides to a coin. Life is very, very short time duration, just make it worth living. I’m not using clichés for the sake of it; it’s not nice to miss out on things that others are getting to enjoy.
Be human. Not a chicken.

Play along

Life and its games. Hide and seek. High jumps. We’ve just got to play along. Lost or found, win or lose, we’ve just got to play along. A lot of times in life, it happens that we lose something so dear to us. Something that we keep wrapped in the most beautiful feeling, safe in our hearts. But before we realise, the bird has taken flight, and there is nothing we can do about it. Blame the nature for not gifting us with wings. After much weeping and gnashing of teeth, we give up the state of denial and accept defeat. And we move on. No, it’s not a choice, time moves at its pace. And we move along. But some day, suppose you find that same bird, perched on your wall, would you still want it? I’m not sure. I feel undecided. Not after all the tears I poured out after its happy bon voyage. It chose to fly. And stopping it was not in my power. I don’t want it anymore. Even the sight of it makes me cringe. It was not the prettiest. But it was mine. And as my love for it faded, I began to notice its ugliness. I wonder what’s so gravitational about that thing which is so repulsive. I can’t stop gazing at it, and I stop worrying about the cringing. The bird and I and our past are attached with strings. Strings that I desperately want to untangle me off. But the strings are strong. And I invested a lot of my strength tightening them in the past. I jumped as high as I could to hold my beloved back. But I couldn’t reach the height of its flight. I gave up. I lost the high jump tournament. But better late than never, I won the hide and seek. But the variations here are that the game went on for months, and the concealed came out of hiding to the den. Maybe the concealed has a continuation game in mind. Maybe he plans a race this time. But I can play better. Much better. I know how to play games within games. This time, I will lead and he will chase. And I’ll watch him floored by my prowess.

Objectification of beauty

Hey gorgeous! I know the world is gaping at you open mouthed. And you’re enjoying the spotlight. I also happen to know you make attempts to catch eyes. I see the pride in your eyes. Your seeds bear fruits. Your charm compels. Your hair falls perfectly without your trying. Your skin radiates with colour. And your dimples bring smiles. Whatever you do, makes the world explode with a honey dipped, sugar coated awwwwww. But if I do the same, the world shakes its head. Your daintiness makes you more womanly than I am. The world has forgotten about what makes a woman or a man. I know everyone is not a doctor, but how can gender be quantitative? If the world likes you more for that prettier face and more interesting body, then, really, the spotlight will last over you for maybe a decade and a half longer. Till your hair greys. I have a few admirers. My family and my real friends. They love me today, and will forever and a day. And they not only see my eyes, they watch my emotions through them. They don’t notice my teeth or my lips while I smile; they watch it reach my eyes. They may not tell me how pretty I look, but they surely tell me I look smart. They may not find me hot, but I know they think I’m beautiful for the person I am. But the world is blinded by the beauty of the face, not the heart. My world is just the opposite. Rewind... Replay. Years ago, my granddad and I. Me – “Thatha (granddad in Telugu) am I pretty?” Thatha – “My granddaughter is beautiful. Did someone say you are not?” Me – “My features are blunt.” Thatha – “So you like sharp features.” Me – “Do I have at least one sharp feature?” Thatha – “All of them are.” Me – (sulking) “You are lying!” Thatha – “To me you are beautiful. Even the crow adores its chick. And you are beautiful.” Forward a few years... And play. Mum and I. me, all decked up. Pink shirt, pretty bracelets and stunning goggles. Mum – “wow! You are a true beauty.” Me – “Awwwww. Ha-ha.” *blushing* Forward a few more years, to a few months back from today. Play. It was never meant to be forever. But it happened. And it was one of the best things. Over the phone to him. Me – “we are not all that tall. And I like wearing heels. Will you mind if I rise to your height or more in heels?” He – “even if you are 6 feet tall, I won’t mind.” Me – “I’m so fat.” He – “fat is better than malnourished.” Me – “let me know before you come. I’m so ugly.” He – “I know what you mean. So much of pain and money wastage at the parlour just to see me? Just wear decent clothes.” Forward to one hour ago. Play. Moody times. Facebook chat. My bff on the other side. Me – “we all have mood swings. I know I’m stupid at times. And this time it got out of control.” She – “Why don’t you get it? You’re perfect the way you are. I’m just very disappointed in you. I mean you have a blog. A job. And what not. It’s really sad to see someone who is so talented and so stunning and the most amazing person by heart doing such stuff due to insecurities.” I’m the most beautiful person alive. And my beauty isn’t visible to the random passerby.

Hugs and happiness :)

Today deserves a blog post :) I woke up to a tight see-you-soon-hug from my sister Vandy. Today was the last day of school for her. The summer break starts from tomorrow. And she’ll be leaving for home. I walked into the hostel with my mother and knocked on Anuradha’s door. She ran out to give me a hug and we walked upstairs together to my room. We exchanged our farewell presents and shared a quick happy chat. Anu is my favourite junior and in just one year together we’ve become awesome buddies. She is like a sister to me and I jokingly hit on her brother. Do you understand the logic? Or, is there any logic? I ran to give Kranti a hug. I received another loud “I missed you” from her and she walked to my room with me to greet my mum. She took her present and ran for her exam. She and I became chudbuds after she joined the hostel in the second year. It took us time to click, because both of us are amazing talkers and equally poor listeners. Then I went searching for Anushri, Shireen and Shilpi. They were all sitting and chatting away in Shilpi’s room. The moment I walked in, 6 arms grabbed me and incoherent screams made me jump up and down and clap my hands like a happy little kid. “Alright you guys, surprise, follow me” I shouted and rushed out of the room. Anushri is my roommate. A total sweetheart. I love her. We share. We care. We are a family of two living under one roof, inside one door. Shireen is my neighbour. Fun and sassy. And her new haircut is awesome. And we all call her Lassue-Le! And we love her. Shilpi is another amazing buddy of mine. She jokes about marrying my mum and I call her my step dad. After the gift distribution, mama gave me a bye-bye hug. I’ll miss her. In the evening Anushri and I went out to buy tuck for the week. And we bought aalu bhujiya and vegetables - one onion, one lemon, one tomato, and a very few coriander leaves to make bhelpuri. Lol. All the bargaining and minimal shopping we do to save up pocket money. Dad spent hours on rescanning a book that I lost. Gosh I’m careless. A mental hug to him. After a few hours of studying hard, we sat down to eat the bhelpuri readied by Anushri. And we played a silly game of multilingual conversing. Shilpi and Anushri speak Asaamese, Shireen and Adina speak Ladakhi and I speak Telugu. So all of us spoke our own languages and pretended to understand what each other said. And we died laughing when we understood a few words. The best part about living in the hostel is accepting and relating to the Pan-Indianism. Oh I forgot to introduce Adina. She is a very soft spoken person. Sweet and loving. Sisterly. Shireen’s cousin. And she lives in the room opposite to mine. At the end of the day, it’s another day over. And today was a good day. Last few days of graduation, last few days in the hostel. And I’m already missing everyone. Lots and lots and lots of love. <3

cook to eat! :)

 The desire for eating chatni was overwhelming. :) Yummm! :) :) I’m fantastic! <3 You should bribe me to cook some for you, you know? :) :D