A true story - Dimply tales

As a child, I was fascinated with dimples (I still am). My best friend Ekta had the deepest dimples in the whole wide world and the whole school swooned whenever she smiled. When she was chosen to play the little princess in our school play ‘Princess and the frog’, I was convinced that the non existence of dimples stood between me and super stardom.

I spent many a nights sitting in front of the mirror with pencils stuck in my cheeks, hoping that they leave behind dimples. I tried smiling by sucking my cheeks in, I tried poking fingers into my cheeks when smiling, I tried praying to God and asking for dimples but nothing seemed to work.

A trip to my native place revealed that my maternal grandmom had dimples that put Ekta’s dimples to shame. My badi mami too had a faint dimple on her right cheek. How, I wondered, did I manage to skip the dimple gene when everyone around me seemed to be blessed by them? My mom who was pakkaued by my dimple fetish chose to ignore my questions while my granny and mami encouraged me by letting me poke my little finger into their cheeks when they smiled.

It was then that I realised that the dimples were a result of missing teeth. While my granny had no teeth at all, my mami had a wisdom tooth removed, leading to the formation of those gorgeous dimples. That summer I pestered my mom to let me get dental extractions so that I could get a couple of dimples, but my mom just didn’t want a pretty daughter (*sobs*)

Not the one to give up easily, I kept looking for ways that would get me my prized dimples. Hope came in the way of Asha aunty, my mom’s best friend. Asha aunty had an unnatural dimple which was formed when she fell on a pointy rock as a child. Her dimple was different. It didn’t come up when she smiled. It was always there. That was the best, most awesomest dimple ever. That dimple could kick Ekta’s dimple’s butt like a million times.

And I wanted it.

After several unsuccessful attempts at finding a pointy rock, I had a brainwave. Picking up a pair of scissors, I marched into my room and with all the precision my trembling hands could manage, I snipped a tiny cut into my right cheek. The fountain of blood that started pouring out freaked me and I went running back to mom who took me to the doctor. That week was filled with loads of shoutings from the elders and wide eyed stares of respect from my cousins. Inspite of the pain, I slept soundly, proud that I finally had the perfect dimple.

Epilogue: The dimple (or to be really honest, the tiny dent) stayed on my cheek for nearly 2 years before finally fading away. This is my brother’s favourite dinner time story, the one he usually narrates to embarrass me. I, on the other hand, keep praying for some miracle which will get me that coveted dimple.

Call me Sugar!!

It all started with the birth of my oldest cousin K. My mom was barely 15 when K , her first niece, was born. Horrified by the thought of being called Aatye (aunt) at such a tender age, she tutored K to call her Didi. Time passed, K grew up and so did my mom. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, all my cousins born after K referred to mom as Didi.

Living in an age where kids start calling you aunty the minute you start working, I found this Didi business hard to digest.

The last straw came last week when my youngest cousin D, came to visit us. And true to tradition, she called my mom Didi and me Akka (older sister). Her incessant chatter sprinkled with an overdose of Didi brought out the devil residing within me. "If you call my mom Didi, shouldnt I start calling you Maasi?" I asked with a grin. The colour draining out of the tiny face told me that I had struck a chord.

D now calls my mom Aatye and serves as an example for anyone who dares to call my mom and me Didi in the same breath. :P

My experiments with Make Up :)

How long does it take for some childhood trauma to wear off? Can you just brush aside the mortifyingly embarassing incidents into some dark corner of your brain and never look at them again? Apparantly not! And these tiny incidents emerge everyday, making living a normal life close to impossible.

This is one such incident which kinda explains why Shanu can never dress up like a girl and why the very thought of make up makes her break into hysterical sobs!!

Chotu Shanu pushed open the door to her newly married chachi's room. Naayi chachi was the cynosure of all eyes, with her kohl laden eyes, mehndi adorned hands, spreading a dreamy Ponds talcum talc fragnance wherever she went. Shanu's annual village trip this time was filled with visits from the village elders lining up to shower blessings and praises on the nayi chachi. Nachi, as Shanu fondly called her Nayi chachi, was beauty personified. Shanu too wanted to look pretty, so that her bhaiyya's friend Govind (who was her first crush) would stop calling her undir (rat).

Nachi's room was like any other bride's room, filled with powders and lipsticks and creams and concoctions meant to make her look pretty. Shanu, who had never even seen a lipstick before, was blinded by the sheer choice she suddenly seemed to have. She picked up every cream she could find, rubbed it on her face and followed it with a generous helping of talcum powder and lipstick.

Feeling extremely pretty and pleased with herself, she bounced off to play with bhaiyya, Govind and his other friends. On her way to the playground, she was greeted with a lot of admiring glances, some subtle smiles and some loud laughs but she attributed them all to her new found beauty. Walking towards the ground, she saw Govind leaning agaisnt the wall lost in conversation with her bhaiyya and his friends. As she approached closer, Govind looked at her. He stared for what seemed like an eternity and then burst out laughing. Bhaiyya didnt stare, he just picked her up and dropped her off in front of mom.

Shanu has no clue how hilarious she looked that day but she is pretty sure she looked a lot like this.

She was banned from using cosmetics till she turned 18. College didnt see her using anything apart from sunscreen either. And now that her mom is convinced that her daughter needs a heavy does of makeup to look anything close to presentable, Shanu cant bring herself to use any cosmetics at all.

P.S: I saw this movie when I was in school and cried my heart out during this scene. Could it be because it was so close to real life?? This scene still gives me goosebumps.

P.P.S: I have alwayz believed that God gave us all our qualities in little pots before we were born..This is how my share of blog writing skills look like...

My pot has developed a crack somewhere and now all my talent is leaking away..the pot is almost empty. That could be the reason for such dimwitted posts. My follower count decreased from 115 to 110 after my last post and has increased from 110 to 123 since I stopped blogging...which again indicates that my posts are detrimental to my follower count :P

P.P.P.S: Both pics are a result of my experiments with MS Paint....nice na? :)

Punti Learns to Drive....

A couple of weeks ago, Punti tried learning how to drive again. As it was nearly a year and a half since she had last touched the steering wheel, my dad suggested she take driving lessons from a professional. So Vishnu Kaka (VK) started teaching her how to drive. After a week of going round and round our complex, VK suggested taking the car out on the road.

As she would to take the car out early in the morning, it was decided that she would drop Sid to work before taking a U turn and heading back home. All was hunky dory till the time she dropped him in front of his office. As they moved towards the main road, the car was suddenly filled with a foul smell. This, in a car which had the windows rolled up and the AC on full blast.

Punti eyed VK with suspicion who suddenly stops singing his favorite Bhojpuri song and stares straight ahead. Unable to do anything but smile and bear it, poor Punti manages to get the car home. 'Jaane de baba, buddha hai...peth kharab hoga' my dad says when she comes to him complaining about VK's antics. "Hume toh kabhi yeah problem nahi hua VK ke saath" I teased. 'Are you sure it was VK'. Punti left in a huff and I burst out laughing.

The desire to learn burning strong inside her, she turned up again the next day hoping VK's stomach was back to normal. But the same thing happened. And this continued for 2 days in a row. It seemed as if VK would wait for Sid to get off before dropping a bomb in the car. Finally, she could take it no longer and decided to stop learning from VK.

This intrigued the jasoos in me because I have known VK for years now and have never come across this problem. Yes, he does tend to sing in his besura awaaz but that is something that can be rectified by playing the radio on full volume. I needed to get to the bottom of this (this extremely gross pun was completely unintended).

So, I decided to accompany Punti on her morning drive. After loads of pestering she finally agreed. We dropped Sid off at work and right on cue the car was filled with an extremely foul smell.While I tried holding my breath and rolled the windows down, Punti looked at me with watering eyes. She was trying to hold her breath too and by the looks of it she was on the verge of killing herself. VK continued staring straight ahead.

Unable to make sense, I stared out of the window when it struck me. We were driving past a huge garbage dump. I asked Punti to pullover and checked the dashboard. And there was the reason staring right at me. Punti, stupid Punti, had turned on the incoming car vent (not sure what the technical term is) which would cause the foul air to come gushing in. The only explanation why the car would start smelling on that particular stretch was that we were driving too early in the morning for any other pollutants to make their way in.

I am sure you must have assumed that being the sweet girl that I am, I told Punti what the issue was. Hah! You are so wrong. I didnt.

Punti still thinks VK is the reason for the foul smell while VK thinks Punti suffers from IBS. I told her that VK thinks she is the reason for the foul smell in the car. She is so embarrassed she hasn't been able to face him.

Punti is back to her driving lessons now but without VK. Which suits me just fine because he is now free to drop me to work again :)

P.S:

"Huh? What is this ****? Do people even read the stuff you write?" she asked me when I showed her my first blog.

"You creative types, write ***** and pretend that all is fine in the name of creative liberty. Please try and write something that makes sense for a change"

Needless to say, I took her advice and started a new blog - Fullon Bakwaas.

Punti is one of my closest cousins but she doesn't know about this blog. She loves making fun of people around her, but cannot take a joke sportingly. If she ever finds out that I write about her, I am sure all hell will break loose. She might even start her own blog, dedicated to Shanu bashing (which I think is fab - love the idea of having a blog dedicated to me!!)

I realised that my drafts have many more Punti stories to share, but noone really knows who the real Punti is.

She has lived with us for the last 2 years and I cherish the times we spend together chatting the night away. But, there are times when I wish I can block her out of my life just like I have blocked her on gtalk. But unfortunately, life isnt that simple.

PPS: And neither is blogging - none of my fav bloggers are blogging anymore but thankfully none of them are blaming writers block for it either. The simple - I am bored/Have no time - sounds so much better and modest!!

Project Tillu....

Meenu gets up with a sudden jerk and ends up spilling water all over her desk.

"Hello, watz your problem?" I yell as the water drips over me.

"Sorry yaar, dekh na"

I turn around in time to see Tillu walking away.

Tillu is the only eye candy in our otherwise barren office. So starved are we for any kind of male cuteness that the slightly mandus, lost in his own world Tillu seems like Adonis to us. Tillu/Tilly/Tuktuk is a pseudo name for the adorable guy who works with the team that sits next to my cubicle.

With the news of Chimpu being married and my heart break spreading like wild fire, Meenu did not want to take any chances. She had done a fair bit of research (on FB and Orkut) and had come to the conclusion that Tillu was single and desperate to mingle. But, he was also a geek and terribly shy.

That meant joh bhi karma tha hume hi karna tha….

Anu became our watchdog and 3 short coughs were used to signal his arrival. Everytime Tillu passed by, our cubicle was filled with a frenzy of activity with everyone trying to get a look at Meenu’s cutie pie. When weeks of just watching him pass by did not yield any results and Meenu’s sighs refused to let us work, Mano decided to take charge.

Mano was the only one in our group who had managed to date the guy she fancied. After my Chimpu debacle, I had lost all credibility in match making circles. The girls who would come flocking to me for dating advice had now started going to Mano. I had to redeem myself. I pleaded demanded to be made a part of Project Tillu.

The plan was simple. Anu was to signal us with her 3 coughs and we were to call out Meenu’s name when he passed our cubicle. This, explained Mano, will make him aware of Meenu’s existence. After a week of chanting Meenu’s name, the best amongst us was to be given a lead role. With a dialogue.

Determined to be the one with the dialogue, I ensured my voice was the first Tillu heard as soon as Anu signalled his arrival and the last voice he heard when he passed our bay. Sure enough, my efforts paid off and I was chosen to deliver a crucial line the following week.

With Tillu’s attention grabbed, it was now time to reel the fish in.

Location: Cafeteria

The plan was simple. Meenu was instructed to wear her prettiest outfit. We took the table right behind where Tillu was sitting. As soon as he moved towards the counter, Meenu was supposed to overtake him and my job was to walk behind Tillu and call out to Meenu so that she could turn dheere se, filmi ishtyle.

The setting was perfect. We had the table behind Tillu. Meenu looked ravishing. I had practised my dialogue a number of times..I had to walk behind Tillu and shout out “Meenu, palat, palat” and Meenu and her slow motion palatna would do the rest.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Tillu got up and walked towards the counter. Meenu got up and overtook him in a jiffy. A few seconds later, I got up. As we walked in a single file, Meenu, Tillu and I, Anu coughed. My signal to say the dialogue I had so painstakingly mastered over the weekend. I suddenly realised Tillu was walking faster than I had anticipated. I had to practically run to keep up with him. Just as I got closer to him to deliver the crucial dialogue, I tripped. My hand jerked and I accidentally slapped him on his butt.

Tillu froze. And turned dheere se. Looked at me and gave me a weird, sly smile. And walked back to the counter.

Needless to say, Project Tillu was a flop. Tillu has been dropped from the cutie list. Meenu has now found another crush who they call Mahi but I have no clue who he is. Mano now gives me lessons in how to walk without tripping or slapping people’s butts.

As for Tillu, for some unfathomable reason, I now find him walking ahead of me wherever I go. :P

I want a heart....

I want a heart..this doesnt look anything like a heart..

Wat? This is a perfect heart. See how it curves here and tapers down...look at the shading..I think its just perfect....

It isnt..I dont like it. I want another one..

Kidhar se laun another one..Heart factory kholi hai kya maine..

I DONT CARE..I AM NOT TAKING THIS TO SCHOOL!!

As Shreya, my 7 year old neighbor, stomped off without her thermocol heart project, the great truth dawned on me....

Isnt this what all of us are looking for...the perfect heart?? ;)

BOOO........

I dont believe in ghost stories, I honestly dont.

I am the guy you see laughing @ a good ghost story when everyone around is squirming with fear. So, it came as no surprise to my friends when I told them that I was taking the Aarey road when going home after a late night party.

Aarey road is long and winding, covered with greenery. Legend says that this place was a robbers paradise where lonely travellers were robbed and murdered. Stories of murder victims being dumped in this remote area are well known. It is believed that these spirits still continue to haunt this area. Infact, this stretch of road in Mumbai is believed to be so haunted that no one is allowed to take it after 11 in the night to upto 5 in the morning. But, bribing the guard works and you do get a few people who come here looking for adventure, hoping to get spooked. I, on the other hand, prefer taking this route because it cuts my travel time by nearly 40 mins.

So there I was, cruising away on my bike when I notice an elderly man on an antique scooter phut phutting away in front of me. In no time, I zipped ahead of him. A few minutes later, I saw the man and his scooter again, riding ahead of me as if I had never overtaken him. Surprised, I zipped ahead again, but this time I managed to take in the make of the scooter and what the man was wearing. A few minutes later, when I saw him ahead of me again, I knew something was wrong. I hadn't seen him overtake me (there was no way his old Bajaj could have overtaken me anyways) and there are no shortcuts as the road is flanked by a lake on both sides. Intrigued, I overtook him and turned to take a quick look at his face. What happened next, I do not remember, but I woke up at home the next morning with no memory at all of how I got there.

I had to go back. I had to. I couldn't let a weirdo with an antique scooter knock me unconscious. Plus, I couldn't stand all the jokes my friends were now cracking at my expense.

Gathering a few friends, I decided to go back the next night. No, I wasn't scared. I just didn't want to take a chance. I mean there could be robbers and stuff and I didn't want to get mugged now, did I?

We took our bikes and parked right in the middle of the road where I had seen the weirdo the previous night. It was a clear night with the half moon throwing pleasant light. The crickets chirped and a light breeze carried with it, the sounds of the night. Flanked by the lake, the road looked breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful. As we waited for the weirdo to materialise, we indulged in friendly banter.

Suddenly, we heard a rustling sound coming from the lake. The hair on the back of my neck started tingling and there was a sudden chill in the air. Turning back, we saw what seemed like a figure running towards us at top speed. Running on water!!

Screaming as loudly as our lungs let us, we got on to our bikes and got the hell out of there. Atleast the rest did.

My bike refused to start. It was almost as if some weird force was keeping it glued to the spot. I felt someone something breathing down my neck. And then the inevitable happened.

I fainted.

Nothing untoward hasn't happened after that apart from the unexplained knocks I hear on my door at times. Or the weird voices and languages that my room mate says I speak in. Or the way Browny whines at times. I am in perfect shape but avoid taking the Aarey road. No, I am not scared. The roads have become too slippery in the rains and its too foggy in winters. I still enjoy a good ghost story but haven't really attended any late night parties in a while now. Work commitments.

And ya, I still don’t believe in ghost stories.

This is a true story. I tried telling it in third person par maaza nahi aa raha tha...thght the 1st person account did justice. So ya, this story isnt abt me..its abt a guy I know :)

One Good turn......

Bachpan se we have been taught "Achai ka phal humesha acha hota hai" (One good turn begets another) but I am not really sure this saying holds true anymore......

• A couple of days ago, M (a pleasantly plump friend) and I were travelling to Chembur by BEST. While I blabbered on, M decided to eat the motichur ka ladoos her mom had packed for her. That day was one of those rare occasions when I wasn't in the mood for Motichur ka ladoos. So while M munched happily, I kept her entertained with my bakwaas. Spotting an elderly man in the next row staring at her, she asked me if she should offer him a ladoo. "Uncle bhuke lag rahe hain" she said. As I nodded my approval, she reached out and offered him a ladoo. The guy refused and in his booming voice said "Nahi nahi, agar main yeah ladoo khaunga toh main bhi tumhare tarah mota ho jaaunga...Apna size dekho aur apni friend se kuch seekho..thoda patla hone ki koshish karo" Stunned, M didn't know how to respond. We got down a couple of stops later, but not before I had given the guy a piece of my mind.

• Travelling to Vashi by bus, I was standing for nearly an hour. When I finally got a seat, I gratefully gave my poor tired legs some rest. A couple of minutes later, a lady got in with an infant in her arms and a toddler by her side. Trying to balance herself and the child, she tried removing the bus fare from her purse. I looked around. There were people who were sitting for the last one hour but not one moved a muscle. No one offered her a seat. My tired legs complained. "You dont need to give up your seat" they told me and I succumbed. (High heels in a BEST bus - bad combination). Suddenly the bus gave a jerk and the lady lost her balance. She crashed against a rod but managed to save the child from getting hurt. And yet no one moved. Ignoring my feet, I got up and offered her my seat. She sat down gratefully and the infant and the toddler found a cozy place to sit - their mom's lap. I did not get another seat for the next 1 hour and I reached Vashi with sore feet.

• On a train ride to Dadar, I saw a pair of twins barely 3-4 years old, jostling for place in the crowded compartment. The babies couldn't stand for a minute without being stamped on by someone. I got up and offered them my seat. Out of nowhere, their mom came scrambling by, asked the kids to get up and sat down. The kids were left jostling for space again.

If they say, a good turn begets another..I have yet to see that happen. These 3 incidents in the last one week have left me questioning my beliefs. And this is not just about offering food to strangers or giving up my seat in crowded public transport.

I often wonder if there is any point being nice and kind to anyone especially when you dont seem to get any kindness from anyone around you. If good karma attracts good things into your life, shouldn't bad karma attract bad things? If yes, how come some of the meanest and nastiest people I know, are also the most successful and happy people I have seen? If there are no shortcuts to success, how come there are people who have taken shortcuts and are still successful. Why does life seem so freaking unfair at times that it threatens to destroy every iota of goodness in you?

I know everything turns out fine in the end, but what if the end comes too late? What if by the time things turn fine, I no longer care?

Fullon Frustrations on Fullon Bakwaas!!

Love in the times of the Internet....................

I spent my days in junior college, waiting for his glimpse. He was the college stud with his SRK hairstyle and lean mean physique. I joined the events committee for my college fest just so that I could be around him. My first and only words to him in those 2 years were "I think that umbrella is broken", the response to which was just a stare and a careless nod. I gave up my internship with Citibank to join him at McKinsey (but couldn't join that either coz my parents refused to let me go to Gurgaon). I was truly, madly, deeply smitten by him for 3 long years.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he is balding and has a pot belly.

I have pakkaued everyone on Fullon Bakwaas talking about him. I have given him weird nicknames and have blushed every time some one took his name. I have behaved @ work like a teenager with a crush. I have gone blank during presentations whenever he has walked into the room and have taken on projects just to be around him. On my first concall, unnerved by his presence, I have blurted out the same sentence multiple times, before he played the knight in a sparkling new suit and pressed the mute button (phone ka). I have whistled at him when I saw him at the mall (completely co-incidental) and have gone blank when he asked me what my plans for new year's were. I have saved the one official email where he wrote Dear Shanu, instead of the customary Hi Shanu. I was truly, madly, deeply smitten by him for 12 whole months.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he is married and his wife is expecting their first baby in December.

I first saw him singing at Not Just Jazz by the Bay. His silky voice levitated me to a completely different world. He was my type..tall, dark and handsome. With the face of an angel and a beautiful sexy voice, he was every girl's dream come true. I met him again at my friend's daughter's christening (six degrees of separation, anyone?) and boy, was he a delight to talk to. We danced the waltz and the jive, and I was truly, madly, deeply smitten by him. For 2 whole weeks.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he is gay.

We have been in a committed blogger relationship for close to 6 months. He has professed his undying love for me a zillion times in the comments section of Fullon. He writes poems for me, he helps me fix my blog templates. He is my ultimate Mako man.

Thanks to Facebook, I now know that he proclaims himself to be single. And flirts with PYTs.

Facebook has been responsible for single handedly ruining my crush life. I now Google/Facebook all my crushes before I get smitten. I have been crushless (No, its not a word, I just made that one up) for the last 1 month.

Thank you Facebook, I owe you one. (Not)

Ahh..such a bitch..

Life is such a bitch isnt it? But I aint talking about life here....for a change ;)

Have you ever come across guys who will hit on you even when you are looking like crap? I mean, come on guys..these are days when I cant stand to look at myself in the mirror and you choose this day to marofy "Will you friendship with me " wala dialogue!!

Not that, choosing any other day is gonna improve their chances anyway ;o)

Have you come across people who are so full of themselves that they think every one around them should dance to their tunes? People who think they can walk all over you only because you value the relationship and wont ask them to shut up? People who brand anyone who cannot jhelofy their nakhras as snobs when they themselves are intolerable? People who stop talking to you the day you decide to show them what air-headed morons they are??

Have you come across people you regretted being friends with? Do you regret sharing your deepest, darkest secrets with them? Does that make you feel vulnerable now? And yet, you would never take them back if even if they begged you?

Have you ever noticed that your hair and skin look fab when you are doing nothing and sitting at home? That the hair cut which looked so fab when the stylist cut it yesterday.. doesn't really look all that great today? And yet, you go back religiously every 3 months, hoping that this time you might end up looking like Priyanka Chopra?

Have you ever been compared to someone who looks breathtakingly gorgeous? Have you felt embarrassed by the comparison? Have you then had someone say, "Naah, I think (your name) looks way better"? Has that made you jump up and down with joy dil me while you maintain a straight face and say "Chal haan, kuch bhi kya"?

Have you ever bought something for a friend? And then realized that itz so awesome that you wanna keep it for yourself? Have you then hastily bought something else and packed it off ? ;)

Have you ever bought something from a restaurant and passed it off as your own cooking?

Have you ever wanted to nap in the middle of the day and regretted all those bachpan ke days when you refused to sleep? Do you wanna go back in time and nap all you can?

Have you ever written a blog post and then realized that it wont make any sense to anyone? That the title looks out of place? Have you still gone ahead and posted it because some how it makes perfect sense to you?

P.S: Been super busy @ work. But that hasn't stopped me from reading your blogs, commenting on them and following the ones that I loved.

P.P.S: I am enabling comment moderation. Have had some really weird people commenting on my posts lately ;)

One year later....

My bloggie turned 1 a few days ago..and I completely forgot to wish it! I was never this forgetful..guess age is finally catching up ;)

This last year has been full of learnings..I have realised that blogsville is really a chotu version of the big bad world we live in...I have met many bloggers, shared laughs with some and befriended a few..just like we meet many people in the big bad world, connect to some and befriend a few.

Blogging gave me an outlet to vent out my craziness, it gave me online friends (something I had never done before), it made me realise that not everyone we meet online is a stalker..there are cute, adorable people out there too....it made me realise that harmless flirting is fun..and that these conversation make for great laughs when you have nothing better to do...

It made me realise I could stick to something without getting bored...it gave me something to look forward to every morning..checking comments every hour became an obsession :)

It gave me a peek into the lives of others...it showed me people who were not afraid to talk about their life, their insecurities, their fears....people who shared their happiness with me and as they did their deepest darkest secrets.

It taught me that most bloggers who hide behind the cloak of anonymity are pretty chilled out..they are fun and they are smart..but like everything else in life..there are exceptions here too....its all about holding on to the good experiences and letting the bad ones go...

Today, I wish to thank everyone who has made my time here truly enjoyable...and helped me stick to blogging for so long...I always refine what I write..but not this time... I wanted to write dilse and not let my dimaag interfere....

I want to repost something that is very close to my heart..I wrote this for my friend when she got engaged and I still think this is my best post till date..

Princess Jaijaishubhlaxmi (Lets call her P.J shall we...the name is too long) was ecstatic. She was to marry Prince Ishwar Jaykumar Unnikrishnan (PIJU for short...watz with all these south Indian names!!) in 3 weeks. The palace was being cleaned and preparations were on in full swing..and why not..it was the first wedding the palace was witnessing in 25 years.

Flashback:

Princess Jaijaishubhlaxmi's beauty was talked about in all kingdoms far and wide. Legend has it that her smile could light a thousand lamps (much like the HappydentWhite ads ) Many valiant princes had tried to win her hand but in vain. P.J didn’t feel the connection with any one.

One fine summer afternoon P.J was strolling in the royal gardens with her friends F, R and S. These girls were courtiers in His Majesty's court. They were best friends and shared everything. They would meet by the lake during smoke breaks ( F, R and S who weren’t born to privilege like PJ worked during the day and partied during the nite. PJ on the other hand spent her days rejecting guys and her nites partying with her gal gang) and talk about the latest suitor to bite the dirt. But today something was different.

P.J seemed quite impressed with the latest suitor who had come her way. They had exchanged a few P-mails and she seemed quite smitten by him.

PJ: I think PIJU is the one (giggles)

S: But you haven’t even met him, how could you be so sure?

F: (staring at his oil painting) Ohh hez soo cute...!!

R: Ohh I dunno..I dont really like his pose..I mean which guy would wanna pose like that for a pic?

PJ: Ohh cmon you guys...hez cute...hez intelligent....He lives in UK (Uttar Karnataka).. You know how much I love UK!!

And right then the girls knew....PIJU was gonna become their Jiju.

At the palace (Flashpresent):

The preparations were on in full swing. PJs lustrous hair was being oiled and combed. Bottles of Livon (a gift from the British) were being emptied to ensure not one hair was out of place. PJ looked at herself in the mirror and was pleased. She had never looked so gorgeous..... PIJUs love was surely making her glow. She smiled at that thought. Par yeah kya...???? Only 900 lamps lit up!!

PJ: Ohh no Mom, my smile doesn’t have that Jadoo anymore :(

Maharani Mom (MaM): Ohh no..we will now have to manually light those 100 lamps. Do you have any idea how expensive kerosene is now a days??

Maharaja Dad (MaD): Aare bacche koi nahi...don’t u worry!!

Lets get your teeth cleaned. I know a really great daanth-vaidh (dentist). He will get your teeth shining in no time.

At the Daanth-Vaidh's clinic :

PJ: Ohh please!! Ohh please!! get my teeth all shining again.

Daanth-Vaidh: Of course your majesty.

PJ: Aaaaachhhhoooooo!!

Daanth-Vaidh: OHH NOOOO!!

Back at the palace (Still flashing present):

MaM: Ohh no PJ...what happened to your tooth. Your mouth looks like the gateway to our kingdom!!

PJ: What do I do now....I cant believe PIJU will see me like this.

MaM: Aaare beta its ok....PIJU has 3 extra teeth and U have 1 less. Balance out ho jaaayega!!

MaD:Beta let this be a test of PIJU's love for you. Dekhte hain who he loves more...You or your tooth.

RF:I think u still look good....Trust me 968.75 lamps are more than enough to light up any palace

F:ROFLHAO...You look soo funny!

S: IDEA !!!

Flash Foward:Wedding Day

S,R and F come running in...Baraat aa gayi, Baraat aa gayi (giggles)

PJ smiles shyly at PIJU and PIJU is smitten all over again.

PJ gets married and becomes PJIJU (Princess Jaijaishubhlaxmi Ishwar Jaykumar Unnikrishnan) and they live happily ever after.

P.S:I know the questions on your mind "What about her lost tooth ?" "What brilliant idea did S come up with?"

Well its simple....it turned out PIJU did love PJ more than her tooth…so he happily donated one of his own....This ladies and gentlemen was the first and only tooth transplant in the history of mankind!!

Truly a (tooth) fairytale

PS:All pictures used are copyrighted by Disney and their respective owners. I do not own them. If this infringes any copyright laws please let me know and the pics will come down asap.

I am sure not many of you have read this post...I hope you enjoy it and love it the way I do :)

Mere haathon main Jadoo hai ;)

Studying his reflection in the mirror, Sid shook his head "No this isn't the way I wanted it...Try again"

"Ohh come on, I need to get ready too" I wailed

A baby face and puppy dog eyes later, I was plugging in the hair dryer again.

In the 6 months since we moved here, I hadnt seen my mom grin so widely. Chatting and laughing with her new found walking group, my mom looked 20 years younger.

As the name suggests, her walking group goes on morning and evening walks together and spends a few afternoons at each other's house, chating, joking and gossiping. Today, it was mom's turn to play host and the aunty log were treated to a wide range of south indian fare from idli to dosa to mendu wada. Munching on an idli, Mehta aunty stared at Sid and me (we were playing waiters, getting lemonade and chutney and sambhar), turned to my mom and said, "Toh aap bahu kab laa rahe ho?"

My mom smiled, "Bahu? Abhi toh hum jamai layenge..Pehle Shanu ke haath peele karne hain" I had half a mind to drop the tray and run off pretending to be shy like some 70s ka heroine but with my T-shirt and shorts, I wasnt really dressed as the demure girl. "Lekin Shanu toh abhi choti hai..aapka beta toh kafi bada hai...uski shaadi nahi karoge kya?"

My mom nearly chocked on her dosa "Nahi nahi, Sid toh Shanu se ek saal chota hai"

Sid burst out into loud sobs while I did a little jig. I have alwayz had people tell me I dont look my age but trust me, nothing beats the feeling that you get when you are called younger than your younger sibling. I now know, how my mom must have felt when my doctor jokingly told me that I look like my mom's older sister (I hope he was joking though).

While I danced to Sid's tuneful sobs and the aunty log clapped, a sinister plan was taking shape in Sid's brain (he can multitask quite well).

"See, this is the way I want it. Dont you remember how it looked when I came home that day?? Try again."

That evening, he decided to get himself a brand new look. He came back home with his hair cut into spikes. The thing with a great haircut is, that it can do wonders to your face. Take away years, make your eyes look bigger, your nose smaller..it can unveil a whole new you. And that is what the haircut did to him. It made him look younger. While the haircut brought with it loads of compliments for Sid, it also brought truckloads of problems for me. For you see, he cant spike his hair himself.

"C'mon ya Sid, this is looking perfect. I need to get ready too. I cant go out looking like this." I complained

Puppy dog eyes and I am back to the styling gel.

5 attempts later, his hair is finally styled the way he wants it and I am able to run a comb through my unstyled hair.

I have spent the whole of last week, spiking his hair. Me thinks, me could open a salon and spike hair for a fee.

While this week gave Sid a whole new look, it also gave me an insight into my own hidden talents. I have realised that I have a flair for hairstyling and dont really need any formal training. I have now decided to pursue hairstyling and have convinced my cousin to lend me her tresses for practising my skills. If all goes well, she will have a great hairstyle to flaunt by the end of this week. But ek se mera kya hoga? I need to keep practicing...So if you are looking for a free makeover, write to me and watch your life transform because mere dost..mere haathon main jadoo hai :)

Googling Memories...

8:45 pm Andheri Local

"Hey, You are Shanu right? From ****** school at Andheri? Remember me?? I am Eliza."

I gave her a broad smile while my mind started hunting through the various names I had stored under the School section in my brain. Its in times like these, that you wish life was like Google..Bas enter the name and you have all the information you need about the person right from her date of birth to how she looks to details of why you are no longer in touch.

Searching….Eliza….Eliza..

Std III

The window seat in the class was her favorite. It allowed her to stare out at the traffic going by and on rainy days splashed drops of cold water on her. Chotu Shanu went to school in a time when the classrooms weren’t air conditioned like they are now..it was the rickety old fan that tried its best to keep the kids cool but failed miserably.

Her neighbor, a long black haired girl nudged her and they giggled. Eliza was her best friend. They shared their tiffins in the recess and played together during PT.

Eliza wasn’t like the other girls in her class. Some things about her were different..like her pretty grey eyes and her long hair..and the million lice that called it their home. The lice would jump around merrily while Shanu watched in fascination. It was like a little kingdom on her friend’s head. A couple of huge ones were called King and Queen while the chotu motus were the servants.

While Shanu played with Eliza and her lice, Shanu’s mommy spent a fortune buying Medicare to get rid of the lice that Shanu merrily brought home with her everyday. A million shampoos and 3 complaint letters to Medicare (to complain about the poor quality of their products) later, her mom gave up. Finally, it was time for the schools to close for summer and the lice finally left Shanu’s head in peace.

“You don’t remember me?? We were bench partners in Std III after which I moved to Canada. We were together again in Std IX remember?”

Searching….Eliza….Eliza..Std IX

Std IX

Shanu looked at the new girl who walked up to her in the canteen..she didn’t look like she was new here. The girl squealed “Shanu, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me!! I am Eliza..we were in the same class in Std III”

Shanu gave her a broad smile while her brain started hunting through the various names she had stored under Std III.

Searching….Eliza….Eliza..

“Uff, this heat is making my hair all ichy and irritating the lice in my hair.” She said.

Shanu, who no longer found lice and their kingdom fascinating, suddenly remembered Eliza and the bottles of Medicare. Medicare smelled yucky..no way was she spending another school year using Medicare to shampoo her hair. No, she was way too cool for that.

That year, the school was buzzing with gossip about the not so new girl Eliza with the mini Lice kingdom in her head, who would remove her socks the minute she entered the class and folded her skirt an inch above the mandatory length. All this in an effort to fit in..and yet nothing was done about the lice and the havoc it played in the life of her bench partner that year.

Search ended…486897 memories found

I beamed “Ahh Eliza, of course I remember you” I said, while I stared at her in surprise. Her beautiful hair framed her heart shaped face and her grey eyes twinkled when she smiled.

I quietly moved from the seat next to her to the seat opposite. It was a great ride back home that day… with loads of catching up and trading loads of gossip about all our ex school mates. I reached home, Medicare in hand, pleasant and happy memories rekindled and most importantly, with the old, not so pleasant ones deleted. :)