The Night Before Christmas

A tired Mrs. Claus flopped down in the rocking chair. Sipping her Cognac, and nibbling on plum cake, she thought about the last few weeks. Boosting the elves morale, grooming reindeers until they glowed, supplying endless cups of coffee while Santa worked nights, repairing the sleigh.

Rudolf was content with his red nose, but this year all the others wanted theirs streaked blue. The elves wanted swanky jackets, and a retreat to Mauritius after Christmas Eve work was over. Santa wanted the turkey and plum pudding done just about right when he came back from his work on Christmas Eve. It was madness, and now, while the world celebrated, the night before Christmas, she was alone, tired, and without her man. But she was very proud of Santa’s work, and endured her lonely night with patience and understanding.

As always, God had invited her to His special dinner, and as always she’d declined, preferring to get her tiredness off at home. However she did accept God’s special initiatives for her. This year she’d chosen Elvis to sing for her.
So this night before Christmas, she curled up on her chair, switched on the screen to track Santa’s progress, and gestured Elvis to croon his numbers for her. As “Are you lonesome tonight” filled the air, she smiled, rocking slightly, and gazed proudly at Santa on the screen. She loved to see the joy & glee on all those whom Santa had already visited.

Cupid wants you....

Probably an ideal write up nearer Valentine's Day - but since I'd written it a while back, thought might as well put it up here (so that you sign in as Cupid's assistant long before Val Day)

Cupid’s work life’s in jeopardy. Big Boss is displeased.

Shooting his arrow on a victim is easy. But the work behind it is tedious. It takes time filling each arrow with the love potion, which in itself is pure and hard to get. The potion is cooked in the pot of beauty, on the fire of patience, selflessness & kindness - and the side effect of the potion is filtered blindness ( blindness to the flaws of its victims). A big portion of commitment & trust is added to the stew...and then atlast its ready. All this is done in the hallowed portals of Big Boss's factory.

However, Cupid's opposite number from Satan’s team is acting faster. He’s mass produced arrows, filled it with cheap juice, and shoots blindly. People are falling in lust, and even before Cupid can shoot the love arrow, the side effects of the cheap juice ensure jealousy hit the victims harder, leaving the heart (exactly where the love potion is injected) scarred.

Cupid needs help – more helping hands, more conducive hearts. He’s on a recruiting spree – do you wanna join his team?

(Guys, I wont blame you if you start hummng "Stupid Cupid" while reading this :-))

5 Seconds of Drama

I had written this piece ages ago ....thought of adding it to my blog......

Creek, Creek........The intercom buzzed to life in the aircraft. The airhostess' voice came on "We regret to announce that due to a technical fault.....

(Tech fault? I felt uneasy.The pineapple piece I was tenderly balancing on the plastic fork wobbled dangerously)....

"our boilers are not working"

(Boilers????....I racked my brains - what function does "boilers" have in an aircraft".God, something isn't working in the aircraft & we are stuck 1000s of feet above ground level. Are they going to throw away the luggage? Oh no - goodbye my lovely pink jacket. I had worn it only once.Are they going to announce that we're going to crash land?God!! Had I said my good byes properly to my family. Why did I pull a mean face at my sibling just before boarding.Did I tell the world that I love them? No, no Am I going to meet my maker so soon ?Is the world ending?)5 seconds...and my world was topsy turvy....just b'cos of an incapacitated "boiler"

The announcement continued....."So ladies & gentlemen, we will not be able to serve tea & coffee on this flight. Sorry for the inconvenience."

(Heck.....so "Boilers" are for heating up beverages....Gosh!!!! Thank God the world is not ending.......Hey but hold it - it is pretty bleak - 2 hours stuck in this aircraft with no beverage). Sigh!!!!

Animal Instincts

“Ohh look he reminds of a baby kitten….closed eyes, all wrapped up in a blanket - looks like a bundle of fur”. These were the first words he heard after he was born.
Lying in the crib, he often heard his sister chirping like a sparrow, and mother cooing to him a cuckoo. This made him gurgle, which sounded just like the purr of a contented kitten.
The first day he went to school, he was amazed at all the noise the children were making – it all sounded like dozens of chattering monkeys. Soon mother hen came into class, and garnered in her flock. It was as if the monkeys had all turned into flocks of sheep, being herded into the field to graze on the grass of education & learning. He was sharp, and hoped to become as wise as on owl…..but he also learnt painfully that he could only croak as a frog when it came to singing.
Life went on, he had many friends, but his best friend was always beside him when he needed him. Forever loyal, egging him on when he felt low, standing by him, when he needed support, always happy to meet him…..like the loyal, faithful dog.
College opened up new vistas. He learnt that to be at the top, a couple of them were as sly as a fox, and slimy as the snake. They didn’t mind undercutting all, and striking unexpectedly. It was poisonous to associate with them. However, he had grown up from the kitten to resemble a lion cub. There was a royal air about him, and he knew that he wanted to rule the jungle at some point.
After post grad he entered a prestigious B-School. All this was in preparation to be the king….he was basically growing his mane, and sharpening his claws.. He learnt how to deal with the unknown threats like the crocodiles waiting under the surface, to tear you apart, or the scorpions ready to sting you to death if you crossed their path. But he was sure of one thing, that in the rat race, he wasn’t going to be the rat, but the lion.
B-school finished, and he entered the world of investment banking. He’d entered the jungle and his hunting started. His skills made him get in good meat for the firm. He prospered.
He was gregarious by nature, so attracted many creatures. At social functions, there was always a bevy of beauties eyeing him, and his prosperity. But somehow, to him they resembled a pack of peacocks, preening about, showing off their beauty. Once he came across an elusive, beautiful girl. She was mysterious, charming, and looked vulnerable. Too good to be true…and that’s how it remained…..she always remained out of reach and mystical for him. He termed her as the unicorn. Beautiful, magical, yet never sure whether it was real.
Years rolled by, to no one’ surprise, he soon got the corner room at the office. He had now officially become the king of the jungle, the lion. Hunting was no longer a challenge for him. His roar was easily heard, and respected. Most bowed down to the lion . During one of his hunting jaunts, he saw her. She had just acquired the corner room in her office. She was sleek, fast, and her eyes glowed. Her movements were catlike and graceful. He knew instantly that he’d found his lioness.
Marriage was obvious. Lions are family oriented, and when his son was born, that old ox like aunt of his remarked “Ooooh doesn’t he look like a little kitten.”
He smiled – life had come a full circle.

Earthy Tantrums

Earth was feeling jealous, and her blue haze actually turned a little green.
“Why was Sun giving more attention to that small little satellite…..and the Moon was no less – basking in the light of Sunny attention. Huh!!!!! I’ll block out the Moon completely – that’ll teach her a lesson”
Earth fretted & fumed for a couple of days….and then realized that full moon day was approaching soon. The Moon really showed herself off a lot on full moon day. She even inspired a whole lot of earthlings to write about her beauty.
Earth thought, “If only half the people who kept mooning about that satellite wrote something about her, she wouldn’t feel so bad. But wait till full moon day – I’ll block her off completely.”
So Earth positioned herself….and her shadow cut the Sun’s light off completely. The Moon was blocked out.
“Aha this is nice – just block out that pesky white shining satellite. No more poems on the Moon, no more gazing out at the moon….and the Sun too will forget you by the by. But wait, I’ll have to do this for a long period of time – only then will people forget the Moon. So I’ll not rotate anymore – I have to hold on to my position….the Moon has to be shut out. My shadow completely blocks her off today – this has to go on for atleast another month.”

24 hours passed – and lo behold the Earth just did not move. Her jealousy made her stop in her tracks – her only thought being that the Moon must be blocked out.
The earthlings were all puzzled, most were in a state of panic, The scientists did not how to explain the phenomenon of lunar eclipse for 2 nights consecutively. The religious heads were sure that Armageddon was not far away.

Up somewhere, the Big Boss sighed. He had to do some talking to with Earth…..So He came by visiting her. The sight of Big Boss gave Earth the shivers, she felt ashamed, and understood how a twinge of a petty emotion had made her act so irresponsibly.
She looked within herself, and found the earthlings extremely puzzled and panicky. She had shivered wit shame, and the scientists were already studying the correlation of extended lunar eclipse to earth quakes.
Earth sighed and promised the Boss that she will never mess with His creation and cosmic plan. Boss smiled, and gave Earth a little pat which set her back in motion. She started rotating, her shadow moved on, and the moon was sighted again.

God thought “Alls well that ends well. Now I can sit back and see the comedy movie which will be put up by the earthling scientists. They will puzzle over the new phenomenon of lunar eclipses and earthquakes…..someone might even win the big prize the earthlings call Nobel, while doing a research over years and coming to some weird and obscure conclusion."

Strength (Featured in Klash)

Klash of the Konfessioners is a blog where a group of us write in regularly. We have to write about a given word. Here's one such entry of mine (featured during the week of 19th Mar08). The word was STRENGTH.

I looked blankly at the question “What is your strength”

Was it -
My smile?

Granddad always said I could get away with murder with my smile.

My sharp tongue?

Used to the hilt, while ticking the errant gardener...... and when the waspish oldie hid our cricket ball ....and when the irritating salesman didn’t take no for an answer.

Spinach?

Mom always heaped our plates with it, saying, “it’ll give you strength”.

“Spinach” was my scribbled answer.
The interviewer looked and remarked “Ms Sen we asked for your strength, not your eating habits”

Sigh!!!! Mom you were wrong.
I tried to smile – the interviewer just looked stony. Grandad you were wrong too.
I felt too weak to try my third strength.

Caught in CONnection

Cecelia, you're breaking my heart You're shaking my confidence daily…..My mobile was blaring out this number (yup that’s my ringtone for the season)….....Drat!!!! where on earth was it. I rummaged frantically through the sheaves of paper and managed to locate it atlast.
Ohhh an unknown number - now that I took so much time locating the phone, I might as well answer the call.

Me: "Hello"
A pause
Me: "Hello" (louder one)
"Hello" (a woman greeted me with a slight tremor in the voice, and lots of anxiety)
Me: "Yes" (quite impatiently….c’mon baby I have loads of work…and don’t really have time to chat you up)
Woman (now with slight angst, and more force) : "You better give the phone to Mr. Khattar, I need to speak to him….and tell him its Mrs. Khattar speaking, and I cant understand why you are answering his phone".
(Gosh!!!! Her voice sentences sounded more like a snap)
In the mili second I took to think “Hey whats up”, the women pressed on…
"Look I know whats going on….I want to speak to my husband…and you better leave him, I’m not going to let this go on".

Hey, Hey, Hey….chill girl………so that’s what all this is about. - in the 45 seconds of chatting I knew the Khattar family’s scenario.

Being fed with snippets of dinner time TV almost all week nights, airing lots of similar stuff, I desperately wanted to get into the Reality TV show mode and say………hold on to the edge of your seat, increase your tension, I’ll come back to you with my answer after the break…….
But alas, this was no reality TV show….Mrs. Kattar had to be told the truth pronto.

"Ahem", I cleared my throat….at least I could make it a little dramatic…….in a smooth low voice (which I hoped would calm Mrs. Khattar), I said : "Ma’am you have the wrong number – this phone does not belong to Mr. Khattar.”
Anti climax………
Mrs. Khattar : "Huh!!!! (relief had crept into her voice)….do you mean this number is not XXXXXXXXX"
Me: "Nope it isn’t, you’ve transposed the last two digits".
Mrs Khattar : "I’m so sorry" (she was perplexed, relieved, sorry all at once)
Me: "Its OK….why don’t you dial the correct number now….and have a nice day."

I disconnected before I could hear Mrs. K’s answer (if at all)

Smoke Screen

Come All, Come Ye......indulge in a Fairy Tale....

Smiley was a sad dragon. At almost three, he could not spit out fire like his friends could. Soon he would have to go to school, and with no fire bellowing out, he dreaded the thought.
Lady Volcano, and Sir Spitfire had taken care of their egg judiciously. No accident had happened until the egg cracked, and Smiley popped out. They were credible dragons, with nor abnormalities in fire spitting or fire balls shooting or smoke bellowing. Hence they could not understand what ailed their offspring, Smiley - why did he not have fire?
On the first day of hot summer, Volcano marched Smiley to school, hoping that Smiley would become the normal dragon in school.
But alas!!! Months rolled by, all the young dragons were into developing fire balls with their fire emissions, but Smiley could only manage lots of smoke. Smiley had already become the butt of many jokes, and he hardly had any friends.
During parents-teacher meet, the Wise One specially met Smiley’s parents. He explained to the dejected parents that Smiley wasn’t “disabled” or “abnormal”, just that he was slow and dyslexic. Sometime in life, he would be able to emit fire. But the parents worried about his future. How could Smiley remain in the clan if he did not work with his fire emissions like the other dragons.
Wise One tried to explain that Smiley did not have Fire, but he had an extraordinary ability with Smoke. Somehow he could emit strong, thick smoke, unlike anyone else, and that in itself was unique.
Smiley was hearing all this from behind the tree, and after seeing his parents’ sad faces, he ran back to his special cubby hole near the river. He loved sitting there and emitting smoke. He could even make figures out of his smoke emissions. He loved doing that but somehow the school did not encourage it.
At their last semester in school, one fateful evening, the students heard strange noises nearby. The old teacher trembled, and whispered that Humans were approaching. Most of the adult dragons were away, and with only few old teachers, and a bunch of students, the Humans would easily overpower them.
They had heard tales of how humans with piercing weapons had captured many of their clan, and taken them away for their amusement. It was pathetic to be a captive to the Humans – they ensured that a dragon’s spirit is broken.
The teachers did not know what to do, the students were asked to camouflage themselves and stop breathing so that fire emissions did not give them away.
Nearer, and nearer came the Humans, further and further shrank the dragons. Until they had reached the river bank and there was no place to escape. Captivity seemed certain. Some of the students whispered that they would rather jump into the river and end their lives than be caught by the humans.
Suddenly Smiley stood up. His belly was burning, his head humming, his heart beat louder than a hundred drums. He just knew what he had to do. The teachers tried to stop him, but to no avail. Smiley rushed forward, and climbed up the little hillock. He could see the Humans, and that suited his purpose. He started emitting smoke. Thick, white smoke. Next came a wave of black, acrid smoke. Soon the place was invisible. Nothing could be seen or smelt, apart from the acridness of the smoke. Smiley felt he could go on doing this forever. Strange he thought how his belly was filled with fire, he could feel it, but his emissions were smoke…..smoke, oh beautiful smoke, saviour smoke.
After an eternity, Smiley dared to stop. Nothing moved, the entire place was deserted. Smiley gingerly hopped down the cliff, and crept to the river bank where all his friends were hiding. He felt some dragon figures, and lay down quietly by them. It was hours before the smoke lifted a little. The teachers cautiously started rounding up the shell shocked students.
No Human sounds were audible. Slowly the dragons made their way back to their homes. When they reached the den, they found all the anxious parents huddled, most of the mothers had red eyes.
And then suddenly hell broke loose, all were hugging Smiley at once, his school pals had already lifted him up, Wise One was struggling to make a speech, Volcano was smothering Smiley with loving saliva, Spitfire had his chest puffed out. The other adult dragons were tapping their feet and making a lot of din. Smiley had saved the clan, and that too without any fire, without any fight, just by his smoke.
Smiley just smiled at Wise One, and then created a halo smoke formation and sat quietly below it, looking pleased as a punch.

Girl or Boy???

A couple of months ago, I had thrown some words to all my friends, asking them to specify the Gender for these inanimate objects & then justify their belief.

Here are those priceless contributions from my friends & me -

(have a laugh...and please feel free to type in your view point)

PIZZA
1)MALE ....tasty in the beginning when u eat it and after finishing it gives u such a heavy feeling that u say that u should not have gone overboard with it.........
2)Female: They are carried on the pillion by guys. Also its good to have tough to digest
3)Pizza - female.. coz most of the ladies are always round like pizza
4)Pizza – Female - Covered with clothes - U ve 2 open it & have it ....
5)Pizza is a lot like sexy woman..... when it's good, it's really good....... when it's bad, it's still pretty good....ha ha ha
6)Pizza- Female - They are too heavy to digest easily
7)Pizza – Female – It has to put on different toppings (dress up) to look appealing & is always preferred hot…..no one likes just the base (a plain jane)

PEN
1) PEN : something worthwhile and always put to intelligent use and useful so FEMALE for sure!!
2) Pen are males - You have to hit on the head to make it work. Sometimes twisting works.
3) Pen......female....One loves to keep more and more..
4) Pen - female.. coz u always need to fill/refill like adding to their collection of saries/gold etc..etc
5) The pen is mightier than the sword if the sword is very short, and the pen is very sharp..... the shape and performance is of a true male ...... need to explain ???.... make it out ...
6) Pen – Male – It needs a strong, steady hand to hold it, then it performs beautifully – can even become mightier than the sword – whereas in a weak hand, it will just scribble along.

TELEPHONE
1)TELEPHONE : Definitely FEMALE.....everyone love's it and of course one can go on yakking on the phone as long as one wants....typical female trait
2) Telephone is female: At times they make a good sound, otherwise irritating. At times they relieve, otherwise bring worries from other's premises
3) Telephone ........female.....attracts for long gossips
4) Telephone - female.. no wonder both are always speaker on..
5) Telephone - Female - Every second person wants to use it
6) Nine-tenths of the people couldn't start a conversation if weather didn't change once in a while... and it is a female who talks for nothing holding the male phone near her cheeks ..... so phone is definitely a male ...kissing the woman
7) Telephone is Female – It loves to be held & talked to. When it calls out (rings), it likes to be answered.

CUSHION
1) Cushion : soft & nice....definitely FEMALE
2) Cushion is definitely NOT female - Its NO pain in the ass. I donno if its a male. Do we have a 3rd option?????
3) Cushion has to be....Female...soft
4) Cushion.. offcouse female.. tooo soft n sweet
5) A Cushion, where you lean and sleep, and dream of something we are not.... the supersoft is more a female in character physically
6) Cushion - male - You can press the way you want to
7) Cushion is obviously a female – actually almost mother like – giving relief to a tired back/shoulder/head….its soft & cuddly & one can rest on it to get tiredness away.

POTATO
1) Potato : MALE....eating it makes u put n weight and u end up being UGLY....
2) Potato is male. Girls need to cook something to make it gulp able. Otherwise its found in mud and murk
3) Potato has to be male....can visualize couch potatoes
4) Potato -- female like to b behind the curtain (potato in their skins)
5) A woman takes pride in covering her best part more than a male . She looks more sexy in cover.... like the potatoes .... best part of which is covered underground ......
6) Potato - Male - easily available
7) Potato is Male – found growing in darkness & dirt (underground), to pick it up, one has to dig a lot of dirt… tastes good only after its fried ,baked or cooked……looks awful in its natural state – very misshapen.

That Special Song

Gayatri was brought to the city when she was barely 14 years old. She had to earn a living for her family, and the kind mausi ji had managed to get the “pucca” naukri for the girl, at Sethji’s house.
Gayatri worked as a domestic help from morning to evening at Sethji’s house. She was a good worker, and she also took care of Munia, the Seth’s little daughter.
The Seth’s were kind employers, and gave Gayatri many of Munia’s old toys and clothes. Moreover, each year Gayatri, got invited to Munia’s birthday party.
The Seth’s pampered Munia, and always threw a lavish party for her. Gayatri loved the party because of the grandeur, the food, the return gifts and most of all because of the special song everyone sang when Munia blew out the candles. Gayatri didnot know the meaning of the song, but was fascinated by everyone singing it specially for Munia.
Over the years, Gayatri learnt the words of that special song, by heart.

Years rolled by.
Gayatri got married, and soon gave birth to a bonny little baby.

When Gayatri’s baby turned one, she arranged a party. All the neighbours were called, she decorated her room with balloons, Baby was given a new dress to wear, a cake was bought for the occasion.
At the special moment, Gayatri held her baby, poised to cut the cake, and in the sweetest voice she could muster, sang the song she’d learnt – that special song which she’d heard year after year, and learnt up by heart. It was in a language Gayatri did not know, the words did not mean anything, but she sang clearly, loudly, “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you……”

All clapped, and clambered for the cake.

But Gayatri cried. She’d managed to sing that song for her daughter on her special day.

Screwed

It was the usual latish evening for me in office (around 7.30 pm or so) – Realized that I'd take another 1.5 to 2 hours to finish off, and so decided to scoot down for another cup of coffee.
As I entered our cafe, a group of nubile nymphs were hot in discussion...
(Aha, civilization still exists at 7.30 in this God forsaken place (usually at this hour, the population in office would be huddled behind their laptops finishing stuff...not lolling in the cafe))

Nymph1: "Hey Nandy still here?" (My usual reaction to such a question is "Yeah looks like me doesn't it" - but I was too tired that day - my mind dwelled too much on the non reconciled figures I'd left up there, in my room)

Bird Brain: "Nandy you tell me - do I still look like a virgin"
(Ummmhmmm - this out of the blue questions is kind of normal with me....I do this all the time 2 others & so others too respond accordingly)

Me: "Just chill babe u look pretty fucked to me"
( Should sympathize with the guy you've done in - no body, no looks, no IQ.....bloke must be boozing a lot before he looks at you)

Bird Brain to the others "See Nandy thinks so too"
(She had that kind of a grin which said “look guys even this creature from another world can say I'm screwed, why don't u guys believe me”)

I was feeling bad (Heck!!! why was my devilishness deserting me??)- why should I be caustic at the end of the day...they're winding up & discussing "earth shattering stuff "- I should cheer up Bird Brain.

Me to Bird Brain : "Hey why worry either way – its not actually bad to be a virgin “

Nymph 2: "Hey Nandy, its different with you - you are safe, You’re mid 30s - its OK & cool for you - we are the ones who have to be worried about it"

Even at that latish hour I managed a genuine smile...Bird Brain & Nymphs had given me stuff to think…….

Just as I reached our room, my boss came out & was puzzled to see me grinning...
Boss: "Finished your work?"
Me: "Nope just discovered civilization in the cafe at this hour...u might be lucky to catch them if u r going to the cafe"
He went off shaking his head...he's the typical conservative Tam Bram over 50...and doesn't approve of frivolous stuff.....but in so many years he's used to my weird comments.

While travelling back - I had time to think....
I was surprised & felt a huge wave of sympathy for today's 20 somethings..........One additional "must do" for them in this pressured world...Looks like, they MUST lose their virginity or literally be "fucked" in their social groups.
Wowie.......in my times & ages, there was no such pressure…I mean I effortlessly fitted into any damned social group, without having to prove my…errr….credentials :-)

As Nymph 2 put it "Its cool for u, you’re in your mid 30s” .......

Yo - Age does have its advantages :-)

The Butterfly Fairytale

The cocoon lay nestled under the white rose’s leaf. All the flowers in the garden wondered what colour butterfly this one would be. Grandma butterfly kept a close watch. Since none of little ones in her family were red in colour, she hoped this one would be deep, dazzling red, with streaks of yellow and black.This cocoon did not belong to her family, but had somehow magically appeared in the garden. Being the head of the garden butterflies, Grandma had a responsibility to take care of the cocoon.
Spring approached, and the cocoon’s immense struggle began. Little by little the butterfly inched out. The flowers looked on, grandma butterfly sat close to it, Aunt butterfly flitted about watching on concernedly, praying that all should go off well. Atlast it emerged. Grandma hovered around – “the colour?, the colour?” she thought. Aunt was just glad that baby had emerged unscathed. Cousins stopped by to see.Baby was glad that the struggle was over. The sun felt warm and nice. He slowly stretched out and unfurled its wings.A collective gasp went up. The flowers shivered in disbelief, some of the cousins closed their eyes, Grandma was stunned, and Aunt puzzled. Baby had NO colour. He was colourless. Ohhhhh – a colourless butterfly ???

“IMPOSSIBLE” screamed Grandma.

Baby didn’t know what the fuss was all about. He flew to the nearest flower – but the flower just shook itself vigorously. No, it couldn’t allow a freak to settle on it. Baby was perplexed, he went to next flower….same result. Grandma butterfly thought enough was enough and pushed Baby to the lowest shrub, under the long, large leaf. Grandma wasn’t going to allow the other garden butterflies to know that a freak, with no idea of who its parents were, had been born in her garden.But word got around, wherever Baby went, it would hear the cousins mocking him. Only few sympathetic flowers allowed him to sit on them. Baby was a sad, lonely butterfly. “But why discriminate on the basis of colour?” Baby asked the wise old snail. Snailey just smiled sadly. The long leaf under which Baby lived was its only friend. One day when Baby crawled out from under the long leaf, he saw that the garden filled with a dazzling golden light. All the butterflies were crowded around the light source . Curiosity got the better of Baby, and it flew towards the crowd of butterflies. Along the way it met Snailey, who told him that two angels had come from God’s garden in Heaven. They were looking for one special butterfly, which had somehow fallen off from the Heaven garden. God had sent them to search and bring back the lost butterfly.Reaching the crowd, Baby saw that Grandma was prodding most of the cousins to show themselves off, so that the angels could select the “special” one. Grandma thought, maybe the “special one” was the feisty Green Beauty, or maybe the uber cool Blue Wonder, or the delicate and cute Pink delight. Alas, the angels had eyes for none….”what are they looking for?” Grandma thought impatiently.No body noticed when Baby flitted forward….he was hardly noticeable. “Huh, a freak with no colour did not deserve any attention” thought the Moss Brown bully cousin.Suddenly one of the angels smiled, “Ahh there is the Special One”. All turned to seewho it is, and again the collective gasp. Surely the angel could not mean Baby….how can it be? Baby did not even have a single colour to show off….even the earthly flowers rejected him, how on earth could Heaven’s flowers deserve him?The Angels serenaded a very perplexed Baby with their harps. After all God’s creatures deserved that.“But how am I the chosen one – I’m colourless” asked Baby.The angels explained that God’s garden in heaven had colourless butterflies. God has filled His garden with all the hues and colours imaginable, and the colourless butterflies while flitting from one flower to another just uphold the colour of the flower. They donot have their own colours, but acquire whichever colour God wants. They are special because they donot have their own egos, they are ready to take on whichever colour God wants them to get.All the other butterflies listened in amazement.Look at Baby exclaimed one Angel. When it sits on the white rose, Baby is a white butterfly, and when it goes to the orange lily, it becomes orange. The red hibiscus lends a bit of itself to Baby when it sits on it. So Baby goes about doing its work silently, getting all the colours God wants it to get…..yes, Baby is the lost butterfly from God’s garden.All the butterflies were amazed. They too wished that they could shed their egos and get filled with God’s colours

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
This Holi, I wish you the same….let you too be filled with all of God’s colours for ever and ever……dazzle on my special ones.

A very Happy Holi to you.

Its Her Day and My Day

“Good Morning” I smiled. She balked and scuttled away. “C’mon babe, I’m not from outer space” I thought.
I’d noticed her around. Always dressed neatly, carefully arranging her dupatta, everytime she felt it had slipped. She moved around quietly, most of the times looking down – a picture of meekness.
She (Bharti) is the cleaner woman, working in our office.

And as the Women’s Day came and went, strangely enough I thought of her.
This was supposed to be her day & my day.

We both work in the same organization. She, just like me, is the only woman in her team. But therein ended the similarities. During my coffee breaks, I hang around with rest of the gang,
often making brash jokes about other colleagues and office happenings, sometimes arguing loudly
about whose method should be followed to reconcile the unbalanced figures. And then, I see
Bharti and her gang also taking their chai break. But Bharti always sits away from her colleagues, gingerly sipping her tea, not talking at all, and looking down most of the time.
She’s always so aware of her gender, whereas at work, I forget I’m a woman – I’m just a colleague.
Sometimes when I literally breeze in to the washroom, I absent mindedly comb my hair, just
splash a little water on my face, admire my countenance in the mirror and be on my way. Whereas Bharti stands demurely in front of the mirror, applying a little lipstick or so, and as soon as she sees anyone observing her, shyly turns away.

Is she the epitome of feminity – demure, shy, silent, prim and proper? Or is that passé?
God knows??

On 8th of March, all of us women at home just found another day to celebrate it as “our day”….generally decided to take a day off (which any ways we try to do over the weekend). Did the odd job amidst laughter and jokes, got ourselves “chocolate fixes” for lunch, lazed around and saw a Miss. Marple murder mystery on the TV…….generally tried to have the perfect weekend laze……And we told each other that we’re doing this because its Our day ………

But wonder what Bharti did? Probably went about her daily household chores, cooked for her hubby, pampered her children, dusted, cleaned, mopped, haggled for vegetables, and on and on…just another normal day.

Did she know it was her day???
Dunno….and though both of us seem from different planets, yet 8th of March is her day and my day.

Happy Women’s Day.

Little Willow....and its moment of glory

Now with Indian cricket at all time high, I thought of posting this piece which I written a couple of months ago........

Little Willow had grown beautifully & its purpose of its life would soon be realized. For years & years, willow trees from this part of the forest were shaped into bats for generations of cricketers. Legend had it that the best bats were made from these special willow trees.Little Willow kept imagining the batsman who'd choose to use its bat - Graham Gooch or perhaps David Gower. It hoped to be a member of the English Test squad. Afterall legend had it that its ancestors had been WG Grace's ally. Little Willow too wanted its moment of glory.

Days went by. Little Willow had been cut, shaped, polished into a bat. It looked solid and was ready for the warrior to chose it.

Summer of 1990 - Little Willow waited patiently for its warrior. It would never forget the day when a small, shy lad walked in to examine the bats displayed. He looked like an Indian. Wooosh - Little Willow was picked up. Goodness, the lad's grip was so strong. Little W felt nice, at ease, felt the burning ambition of the lad. Little Willow was sure this lad would be a great warrior....but it wasnt going to be the lad's weapon. Afterall it had to be part of the English squad.Little W hated it when it was being packed - the Indian lad had chosen it.

Weeks went by, the Indian kept practising with Little W. Little W too loved the way it was being used - the lad had talent, he was solid.....but why oh why wasn't he an Englishman. Little W always hid its dissapointment and gave its best when the lad practised. Little W had heard that the lad was going to use him during India's tour to England.Little W also heard murmurings in the practice session how his master was a "boy genius", but had still not got a Test 100, inspite of playing 18 matches. Little W wanted to help its master. It had felt the burning desire its master possesed.The first Test came & went - Litle W wasn't used. In the 2nd Test at Old Trafford, Master came & spoke to Little W.....it was going to debut as an Indian bat against its beloved England.England had made 519 in the 1st innings and Master picked Little W up to help chase those runs.On & on master played...the desire to excel was swelling. Little W forgot everything & attcked the bowlers....the English bowlers were its enemy, and they had to be vanquished. 40 runs, half century, 60 runs...LIttle W kept urging its master to go on. But alas at 68 Master edged the ball to the fielder and there it ended. Little W did all it could to stop from crying...when Master walked back to the pavilion with the upright bat, it could feel Master's disspaointment.The match went on...India's target in the 2nd innings was 408.Things were not going well, India were 138/6...Master got up to go into the field. Things were precarious, India might lose the match, unless Master stood up to it & defended the total.Master started cautiously...Little W could feel the ambition, the desire. The grip was strong, intent stronger. Slow & steady Master plodded...the fours were rock solid, the strokes awesome. On & on Master went, the crowd cheered, the Indian squad started to smile, but Master saw nothing - just the ball everytime. Master was quick, his eye hand coordination super fast. Little W was slowly swelling with pride...Master was inching towards the elusive 100. C'mon. C'mon urged Little W and Master went on.60, 70, 80, ohh 90....Master became cautious again...at 95 there was a little quiver, was it nervousness that Master felt? Little W was sweating, but it kept on...Master's grip was always rock steady...97, 98, 99...............AND 100.The roar of the crowd was defeaning..Little W was being held aloft by Master....his Master, the Boy genius had got his first Test 100. Master went on to make 119 not out...and India drew the match.Back in the dressing room, celebrations were at its zenith...but Master was calm. Later in the night Master whispered to Little W that "this was just the beginning...we will together make history". Little W trembled when Master kiseed it goodnight.Next day's papers screamed "Sachin Tendulkar the boy genius has arrived"
But that wasn't Little W's "Best moment of glory". It was when, years later, at the Indian dresssing room, one new bat was bragging to the other bats stacked up "You know what? I come from the same forest clump from where Sachin Tendulkar's bat came....his first Test 100 was weilded by Little W - a senior cousin of mine ".

Royal Twist

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Tong, tong lime ago the Qing & Kueen were ecstatic. A little Princess was torn to bhem.The king threw a pavish larty. All came, made merry and bave glessings to pittle lrincess.Princess was the parling of her darents, and they gried to tive her the best of everything. She was showered gith wifts, and wost of all mith love.Princess gas wiven good education and encouraged to have a hind of mer own.She srew up to be gharp, intelligent and fiercely independent. At the appropriate time, companies came to hoo wer – she joined one of bhe test.Years bolled ry. Many a frog waited for ker to hiss them, so that they turn out to be her Crince Pharming.But Princess tnew khat she was her own charmer – she didn’t need the frogs.She banted to wecome the bestest– and all by herself.Princess toiled nay and dight, took care of the now retired Qing & Kween, and her kingdom blossomed…..and then the cay dame when an Empress was born.Princess was bailed hy all her subjects as the New Empress.

Hail to the Empress!!!!

Its Special

It was a special occasion, and I was a little nervous. Will my date go all right? I stood at the doorway waiting anxiously with my camera and the best smile I could muster.The van drew up and out they poured – my breakfast & luncheon date - 50 special children with absolutely special, almost divine smiles on their faces. I was told that they were shut out from the cacophony of the world – they couldn’t hear or speak. But seeing them all excited, and chattering almost nineteen to the dozen with their hands, I found that I was the only dumb character around – actually, I was dumb-founded.The children’s guardian acted as the interpreter – he told me that they’d already thrown at least a dozen questions at me - “Howdy”“Why do you just smile and not answer?”“Why are you just holding the camera – don’t you want to use it”“The flowers in the garden look great – do you grow them yourself”“What is for breakfast?”Uhhh ohhh, I shook myself out of my reverie, and rushed forth to arrange the breakfast dishes. By the time I came back with the piled dishes, the children had already organized themselves into groups, and were waiting patiently. Breakfast was a heady affair. The kid’s joked galore, laughed aloud, appreciated the food – all with gestures. I marveled at their happy faces and moved around clicking them. Some of them struck poses, others just stuck out their tongues and some even offered to click me!!!!!Then came the magic show organized for them. The magician was just too good. I was mesmerized for a while. Then looking around, I saw, some the kids were in the same boat as me, following each movement of the magician.At the far corner there was this guy, shyly “talking” with his hands to this girl at the other end of the room – aha whispering sweet nothings I guess.The girl blushed at something he said. I looked away – didn’t want to trespass on the lovers.Another corner 3 of those spunky, naughty looking guys tried to smother their giggles….they were sharing a private joke, or maybe thinking up some wicked pranks.Two other girls in the centre of the room had scowls & were wildly gesticulating to each other. The interpreter told me, they were fighting. One stern gesture at them & they stopped “fighting”.Wow…….I marveled at their internal rhythm……the sound of silence was so divine.Lunch came & went – I already had about 50 photos captured in my camera.Soon it was time my dates to go back. Hmmmm, they were all over the place talking to me again – hey, hey hold on – I raised my palms & asked them to stop chatting & listen to me…..and then I “spoke” in their language the only 3 words I’d learnt…..My hands told them “I Love You”They were speechless – probably for the first time in the day, and for a moment I thought I’d messed up with the words…and then they just circled around me & hugged me real tight.,By the time they trooped into the van, there was a tight knot at the base of my throat as I bravely tried to smile.

Rosy Love

Ram Kewal was probably the oldest serving member of the college. He had been the college gardener from time immemorial. Generations came and went, the faculty changed, principals changed, but Ram Kewal and his magnificent garden stayed on and on forever.His heart and soul lay in the garden. He had magic fingers and could coax the roses to grow out of even sand. The college garden was always filled with roses – summer, winter, monsoon, spring - the roses just bloomed all year round. It was indeed magical.Ram Kewal knew of his special ability, and also knew that in each of the rose he actually planted a bit of his soul. Hence he guarded the flowers very zealously. Working day and night, no one knew if he ever left the garden.All for the sake of his beloved roses, Ram Kewal studied the soil, the weather reports, the behaviour of the ants rather closely….and in recent years, he watched the month of February rather concernedly.14th February was always circled in red on his calendar - he hated that day. The students would try and sneak into the garden, and pluck the roses. Ram Kewal had tried everything to stop them, but to no avail. It tore his heart to see such gross injustice.This year, he stood in front of the garden with a huge laathi in hand. Soon enough those impudent brats came along. Seeing Ram Kewal in such a ferocious mood, they didn’t dare approach him.However, they lingered near the garden gate for a while, and when it was clear, Ram Kewal wouldn’t relent, they shuffled on.

One of them muttered, “Arrey 14th toh pyar ka diwas hai – you should give us some roses in the name of love”.

Ram Kewal squinted and replied to himself “ Mein apney pyar ko hi toh bacha raha hoon”

The Valentine Cacophony

“This Valentine’s Day is going to be great for Gemini & Libra, but Saggitarians better beware. For others it will be OK.”
No, this isn’t my prophecy , but some astrologer’s statement I overheard in the radio the other day.
Gosh – now if you found this funny, sample this –
Girl: “Darling I erased your presentation my mistake”
Guy (in a dazed voice):“Super”
Girl: “I know your promotion depended on it”
Guy (same tone) : “Awesome”
Girl: “Are you listening to what I’m saying”
Guy (same tone) : “Wow”
Then a voice over says, “Come to XYZ Beauty Salon and get a total makeover for this Valentine’s Day”

Yeah sure….the “makeover” is so extraordinary, that it seems to have reduced the guy to a silly puppet with severe problems in verbosity.
I mean give me a break – would I really want my man to be so word challenged, when I spend a bomb to get that diva look? Nahhhh – I’d rather have him spouting lots of words, poems & songs :-)

And if the advertisers had their way, they would almost coerce Earth to change her shape to a heart shaped globe (for 14th), and emit a pink aura instead of the blue haze. And, Mr. Cupid – hrmmmp – you’d be asked to smarten up – whats with flying around with a silly bow & arrow, and missing the mark completely many a time!!!!

Whatever!!!!! I just find all this cacophony about Valentine’s Day quite weird.
Think about it - its the day celebrated for love. And for love to grow, isn’t peace, quietness and intimacy important?

For me, Valentine’s Day is to appreciate your love and thank them all. So on this sunny afternoon, nibbling on the wonderful choclate encased strawberries (another reason why I love Valentine’s Day is because the confectioners go ballistic with gorgeous choclates & what nots – slurrrp) and listening to Carpenters belt out “There's a kind of hush all over the world tonight All over the world you can hear the sounds of lovers in love You know what I mean Just the two of us and…..” I include this wonderful piece I found in the net.
This echoes my sentiment totally –

When I was little, I used to believe in the concept of one best friend,
and then I started to become a woman. And I found out that if you allow
your heart to open up, God would show you the best in many friends.

One friend's best is needed when you're going through things with your
job. Another friend's best needed when you're going through things
with your family. Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be.
One friend will say let's pray together, another let's cry together,
another let's fight together, another let's walk away together.
One friend will meet your spiritual need, another your shoe fetish,
another your love for movies, another will be with you in your season of
confusion, another will be your clarifier, another the wind beneath your wings.
It may all be wrapped up in one woman or man, but for many it's wrapped up in several, one from 7th grade, one from high school, several from the college years, a couple from old jobs, several from the social network, on some days your mother, on others your sisters, some days your boyfriend or husband and on some days it's the one that you needed just for that day or week when you needed someone with a fresh
perspective, or the one who would just listen without judging... those are good girlfriends/best friends.
I thank my girlfriends and boyfriends, those who honor intimacy, those
who hold trust, and those who hold me up when life is just too heavy! What the hell – even those who didn't!
The special bond we share is unique. Thanks for the words we've shared..
The laughs, the tears, the phone calls, the emails, the shopping, the
movies, the lunches, the dinners, the talking, talking, talking and the
listening, listening, listening....
So whether you've been there 20 minutes or 35 years,
I love you!

Muaahhhhh & a Happy Valentines Day.

The Year of the Rat

The Chinese New Year heralds in the Year of the Rat. Aha – that’s my year…..and I’m reminded of my favourite rat story.

Ok folks, it goes like this –
Once upon a time, our office got shifted from the city to somewhere back of beyond, in the suburbs. The building was pretty ooh lala – all high tech & state of art design, super gizmos fitted in and what not. At last the “shifting in” day dawned and the bunch of us who work together marched in to our department with huge amounts of cartons , to do lists and what nots.
Our team consists of Donald Duck, Hulk Hogan, Dandy, Pansy and Devil (ie me).

So, all of us set down to working through our cartons – emptying the contents, arranging stuff in our personal cabinets…you know the works.

Suddenly – Crash, Boom…….I turned around to stare at Pansy - “why the hell is he acting so lousy?”
Pansy had this extremely peculiar expression, his jaws were moving up & down soundlessly and his palor – an awesome shade of yellow.
“Goodness, if the Jaws director wanted to make another sequel, he had his actor ready - the expression was close to the one the victim sported when just about to be devoured by the Jaws”
Pansy managed to get some voice back – an extremely shaky one though – “Chuha” is what he managed to say.
Deafening silence – all of us froze in our tracks. A Rat? - here? – in this fortress, where even the fly found it difficult to enter…..boy oh boy

Within minutes, we were all blabbering.
Harmless, affable Donald D ordered for the kill.
Hulk Hogan looked like he was just about to draw out his sword and duel the rat to death.
Dandy tried to remember the names of Rat Poisons available in the market.
Pansy was checking his pulse, and
Devil was busy hoping that her sneering grin wasn’t getting noticed.

We quickly emptied our cartons locked our drawers & cabinets, but the rat had disappeared. Pansy was adamant he’d seen it & with each passing hour, the size of the rat became bigger & bigger.

Next day, Pansy’s sighting was verified – we all got darshan of the sharp creature. Darting in & out – enjoying the attention it drew. The rest of the week was pretty lively. We kept a look out for the creature. Dandy & I had mastered the art of sitting cross legged in our fancy chairs (we didn’t want our toes nibbled by the rat). Our room corners had heaps of white rat poison powder (almost looked like rangoli), a rat trap gleamed magnificently beside Hulk’s table. Pansy kept contemplating whether it was time he went on medical leave.

Over the weekend, the rat must’ve decided to be adventurous & try out the white powder – When we entered on Monday, the smell of a dead rat was over powering.
But even in death, the rat played hard to get. Everyone ran round in circles trying to figure where exactly the rat had died.
All drawers were emptied, cabinets scoured thoroughly - but to no avail.With all those fancy sockets, conduits for the wires, God alone knew where the rat had decided to breathe its last. Whatever, but breathing was getting difficult for us.

The next couple of days we tried to concentrate on our work – with all the smell and a swarm of housekeeping guys moving in and out.
The observations were dramatic –

Donald D had done a research on “spread of plague and its after effects” – we got regaled by it everyday.
Dandy found great excuse to spend more time in the cafeteria, checking out the cricket scores.
Pansy kept asking if rats become ghosts and how it was wise not to work all by yourself late in the office, until the rat’s soul was put to proper rest.
Devil realized how a combination of Sandal/Musk/Lemon room freshner, dabbed every 1 hour, just about countered the dead rat smell.
Hulk Hogan was too busy to think – he always had huge sets of instructions for the housekeeping guys. How to open the fancy conduit, how to dismantle the sockets. The funniest theory Hulk came up with was that maybe the rat had climbed up to the ceiling (yeah sure – just like Spiderman right?), opened the AC duct cap & decided to die there!!!!! Wow – such great theories – improbable is a word Hulk obviously doesn’t believe in.

And then one fine day, when probably I was convinced that we’ll have to die in this rat smell, viola, our team of Sherlock Holmes (read housekeeping boys) found the rat’s body. It was nicely nestled behind the huge printer.
Masks on, Heave ho - rat was taken out with much fanfare………

The next two hours, our entire team enjoyed some Indian batting on the giant screen in our cafeteria, while our swanky, gizmo filled room with fancy knobs, conduits, sockets got treated & sterilized.
After lunch, we walked into a hospital smelling room (you know that extra clean, sterilized smells hospitals have).
Amen to the Rat.

Smartness - wisen me on it please

“You’re smart” he said,
Me: “Yeah, its as good as saying the sun rises from the east – c’mon you’re stating the obvious”
He: “Heyhey, you’re the last word in humility aren’t you…..you never let me finish my sentence. “You’re smart ass”

I chuckled and moved along my way. But I was thinking (nothing new!!!)….what is “Smart”? I mean we use it ever so often – but what does it actually mean?

Is smart a good looking, nattily dressed characters? Hmmm - then most of the fashion models, and the film stars would be smart. Uhhh – nope this cant be the best fit for the word smart.

Uhhh, can it mean, someone who make millions – basically who keeps producing moolah. Well, then the likes of Ambani ,Narayanmurthy, Gates & Mittal would be smart….umm hmmm not totally convincing description. And that would mean, anyone who can’t make money is not smart….Nope not a good meaning.

What about someone of can think quick & fast? Well Vishwanathan Anand, Chanakya & Einstein would qualify - their thought processes are complex and fast…But that means brain power equals smartness…umm not totally and "Thinking" could mean philosophers too….Socrates, Plato, Confucius – well they should qualify to be smart too!!!! And what about writers, poets, artists – creativity is unique thinking…so the entire breed of writers, poets, painter could qualify as smart.

Hey, I’m missing it all (strange considering that we’re supposed to be living in the “Smart Generation”)….. probably, confidence and self belief does make up quite a bit of “Smartness”

Anyways, I’ve done my analysis…I think, I’m “kind of dumb and kind of smart”

But, you guys tell me what in your opinion describes “Smart”, and while you write in and wisen me up about Smartness,
I’ll look into the mirror and try to figure out which part of me is dumb& which part of me smart.

Story (Featured in Klash)

Klash of the Konfessioners is a blog where we write in each week on a particular word. Here's one such entry of mine....featured in Klash of 5th Dec2007. The word was STORY

STORY
God: “Let me narrate your story to you”

I stood there listening to my life story. There it flashed before me. I was the hero and not only had the onus of writing my own story but also the privilege of living it. Like a star I was treated. - serenaded by blessings when I acted good, held by Him when I turned weak .My actions coloured the story in many hues.

God smiled and said “My child, based on your old story, here is your new plot. You are Nandini – go forth and write it.

Me: “What if I suffer writer’s block”

God: “Write it with the ink of faith and your story will move on”

3.5 Decades of Madness

Wow....I got that increment today - You know, the one against my age denomination. Its no easy stuff - you got to work your way through an entitre year....and then ATLAST you get that increment - a new number to live with for the whole year.

And for me this time it reads as 3.5 decades.......cool.

So let me write an ode for me self -

At 3.5 decades, I'm falling apart. My heart is stuck at 24, my mind varies from 10 to 60...and the rest of me, I have no idea whatsoever. But I'm loving it that way.
Uhhh there's been just one thing constant in this entire 3.5 decades.....its called madness :-)

Nothing Common about this Cold

The temperature dipped dramatically on Saturday, and I wasn't prepared for it. Two hours out in the cold with just a light sweater, and I caught the sniffles good and proper. Whats more, by evening it was threatening to mature into a cold.
I didn't want to take it to bed and used my best ally - Benadryl to ward it off. Dont know what happened, but next morning I got up with the unwanted "admirer". Did my ally balk & stop working on the intruder?

Sunday morning, I decided to ignore the cold. My hair was crying out for attention - wanted to look as good as the rest of me. So I pampered it with curd....by afternoon hair looked good, but my nose decided to teem up with Cold.
At night I looked a beauty - great shiny hair, leads instead of eyelids, running red nose (would put Rudolf to shame), and a voice probably Himesh would love to own (considering it sounded 100 times more nasal than the renowned singer - if thats possible!!!)

Ahhh Monday morning (dont I love Mondays !!!! )..... my ally(B-dryl) had decided to help out after all....my eyelids were back to normal - but the rest of me remained the same.

I had got the "common cold" - but whats common about it. Its made me look very "special", has ensured I "specially" gulp hot liquids at periodical intervals...and is basically a very "royal" pain.....nothing common about it :(

So if you see this woozy headed creature floating about, with a Rudolf red blocked nose, an open mouth (dammit I cant breathe thru' my nose) & a very, very nasal, squeaky voice....its ME.
Do give me a warm hug....I need all the warmth to drive the cold away!!!!

Starting Up

Waking up to join the Blogging bandwagon pretty late.....but I guess pretty late than (n)ever........hmmmm am just starting up...whrrrr whrrrr.......gimme time, I'll warm up & words will flow.