Looking Up

Life is looking up,
At the sky, the moon, the clouds, the crows,
As the sun smiles down on her.

A Good Day

Today has been a good day. After a long time, I have been smiling to myself and walking around with a feeling of everything's-gonna-be-all-right. My theme song for the day? Living on a Prayer

This has been a long, never-ending January with more than its share of stress, confusion, boredom, insecurity, unhappiness, and more of their ilk. Everytime I looked at the calendar, February seemed light years away. But it is finally within kissing distance. Yay!

Things are looking up again. Nothing bothers me as much as stagnancy. I am glad to be on the move once more. I like change. I like novelty. And my new haircut seems to have given rise to a new me :)

Good haircuts tend to do that. They make you feel lighter (maybe because a load has been shed from your fragile/not-so-fragile skull) and righter. Sometime last year, a cute, I-think-gay guy with a cool near-the-lip diamond stud called Shane gave me the most wonderful haircut. I felt like a girl Jon Bon Jovi for weeks after that. Today's haircut is nothing compared to that, but I look less Tarzan-like and more Walt-Disney's-Little-Mermaid-like. And I'm happy :)

I got THE CALL that had me on tenterhooks for the last 3 weeks. Now I'm relieved and heaving many sighs of relief.

Have eaten 2 lunches today. Am full and contented as a result. Nothing like a full stomach.

It rained this afternoon, and the world (Kolkata, at least) has become wonderful again. There is a nip in the air and a whiff of change in the breeze. The slushy streets that make me want to get my feet mucked up. The tree leaves are still shedding the little drops of sky that surprised them this afternoon. I went out in the rain this afternoon. I shoved my umbrella in my bag and let the pitter-patter raindrops tell their knock-knock jokes on my head. Life has been lovely since :)

My Fairy Tale Life

I'd like to live a fairy tale. Once upon a time I'd ride a unicorn to Neverland and hook up with Peter Pan. I'd trade in a donut for Captain Hook's hook-hand and get a pet cat for Tinkerbelle. Then, I'd drop in at Nottingham for a vacation, bonk the Sheriff on the head, rob the rich to feed poor me, and grab a dance with Friar Tuck. If I've enough poor box money saved up, I'd hitch a ride on Dumbo's back and whoosh over to the Jungles of India and sing "Look for the bear necessities" with Baloo and Bagheera right till happily ever after arrives.

But picture abhi baaki hai mere dost:

While I'm living my fairy tale I'd like to meet the following:
-Johnny Depp
-Shahrukh Khan
-Santa Claus
-G.B.Shaw
-The Cheshire Cat

While I'm living my fairy tale I'd like to visit the following:
-The Leaning Tower of Pisa
-Disneyland
-The Bermuda Triangle
-Greece
-Pluto, back when it was a planet

While I'm living my fairy tale I'd like to do the following:
-A pirate
-Play the guitar in a concert
-Turn into Madonna
-Fly on butterfly wings
-Fall off a hammock

Once all that is done, the happily ever after to my fairy tale will gleefully stroll in.

Flip Flop Flop Flip

I have been doing so many mental flipflops over this last one month that I am fed up of myself. Thankfully, I don't trouble everybody else with these one-day-this, one-day-that thoughts of mine, or they too would get fed up of me!

:D

And now I am temporarily happy again. Or at least hopeful. Life is not all that shabby y'know :)

I'd like

a new life and different weather. Be a worm in a coconut on a sunny beach maybe.

Books I Hate. Books I Love.

Finally finished reading "A House for Mr. Biswas"; all 623 pages of it. Few novels have tortured me as much as this one. Don't get me wrong. I whooshed through the first 400 pages of it. But going ahead after that seemed so pointless. The same people entering, leaving, entering, leaving again and again and again. Mr. Biswas going from non-house to non-house to non-house to yet another non-house and finally finding a house he can call his own, but dying soon after. Such is life. Pointless. Personally, I don't think life is pointless, but the latter part of the book seemed a lot like that. Maybe I'm just stupid and don't get critically acclaimed books. I like a good story that makes me smile, laugh, cry, and this voluminous work by Nobel-prize-winning Naipaul makes me do nothing of the sort... or to be fair, not enough of the sort considering its size.

However, I recently read a wonderful book which I couldn't finish fast enough, and once I completed it, all I wanted to do was go back to the beginning and start all over again. Every page was a joy. Every character was real despite the eccentricities, the foibles, the drama, and the non-drama, or maybe because of it all. The novel was "Chowringhee" by Shankar, translated from the Bengali version by Arunava Sinha. The novel follows the life of a male hotel receptionist from the day he enters the gates of the Shahjahan Hotel on Chowringhee till the night that the hotel management finds no more use for him.

It is the story of the hotel and the people who are affected by it. Careers are begun; business deals made and unmade; hearts join only to be broken; conspiracies, lies, jealousies emerge from behind the color-co-ordinated curtains and take their place beside friendship, family, love, and respect. Tragedies are but a part of life within the Shahjahan, but people go on believing and hoping. Moments of doubt burst on to the stage periodically, but disappear with the last strains of the cabaret.

Set in the Calcutta of the 1950s, the people, the incidents, the ideas could make themselves at home in the Kolkata of the 2000s. People come and people go but the Shahjahan lives on to welcome future generations of hotel goers who come as guests or visitors but leave behind invisible imprints that can never be washed away by the laundry department. And even after you've turned the last page, you find yourself wishing there were a few pages more. You too have long ceased being a visitor and have become part of the Shahjahan.

What's Your Inner Gender?

This is what I have always suspected. And it's true :|

Your Inner Gender is Male

You are rational, matter of fact, and quite dominant. You like to get things done, without any emotional messiness. You truly don't understand most women. And you definitely feel more comfortable around men. No doubt about it. You're a guy - at least on the inside.

What's Your Inner Gender?

What Kind of Monster Are You?

I took the quiz and was super-pleased with the results. They are a vindication of all that I have felt over the years. Here they come:

You Are an Alien

You're so strange, people occasionally wonder if you're from another world. You don't try to be different, but you see most things from a very unique, very offbeat perspective. Brilliant to the point of genius, you definitely have some advanced intelligence going on. No matter what circles you travel in, you always feel like a stranger. And it's a feeling you've learned to like. Your greatest power: Your superhuman brain Your greatest weakness: Your lack of empathy - you just don't get humans You play well with: Zombies

What Kind of Monster Are You?

New "New Year's Resolution"

I am making a new "New Year's Resolution": I shall blog everyday. There may be a line more today, a line less tomorrow, a few paragraphs extra next week, but the plan is to become a daily blogger.

Let's see how long this one lasts.

Just a Few Questions:

Is the poplar a popular tree?
Do the winners of wet t-shirt contests win t-shirts?
Do toads believe that they are better looking than frogs?
Why are squirrels always in a rush?
Why am I so unphotogenic?

Sugar on My Bread

My dog Sugar wakes up at 5 every morning and goes bonkers on a regular basis. While my other two dogs lie around stretching and peering through still-sleepy eyes, Sugar is already on the run, racing at top speed from bedroom to dining&drawing room to second bedroom back to dining&drawing room to first bedroom and back again. This carries on for awhile with Sugar doing the Licky-Licky exercise where she pokes her cold, wet nose inside blankets and covers, finds a face and goes lick-lick-lick, till the face hiding under the blankets and covers tries (in vain) to push Sugar away. This only acts as a further spur to Her Great Lickiness, and the lick-lick-lick continues till the victim (yours truly) decides enough is enough and shouts in a voice dripping with annoyance and helpless irritation: SUGAR!!! GO AWAY!

She generally does go away with her tail between her legs after encountering such an outburst, but by the next day she is back once again, her tail moving like a helicopter's propellor as she focusses on the Licky-Licky exercise to awaken the world (read: ME).

First Post for the Year

I just got an Airtel message telling me that it is Hrithik Roshan's birthday tomorrow, so if I want to wish him, Airtel will be happy to pass on my birthday wishes. All balderwash and blabberwocky!

And thus I begin my first post of the new year.

2008 did not arrive on time for me. I spent my 31st moping around and feeling sorry for myself. 1st Jan, 2008, I had a hangover from all that depression. I didn't want the new year to arrive just yet. I wasn't exactly ready. All I wanted was to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich and live in a make-believe world of comfort and security. But Depression does not last long with me. Neither of us like each other, and the gloominess had already overstayed its welcome in my life by a week. The fears remained, but they moved off into the locked attic of my mind with only a threat to resurface later. I could live with that, and by 2nd Jan, 2008, I felt better, lighter, happier. My new year arrived a day late, but it did arrive. Indian Standard Time you see.

I went out on 31st afternoon. Met up with a friend. Shreya. She's supposed to be my soulmate by birth according to this gigantic horoscope book that Ma got as a present a few years back. None of my boyfriends/crushes/almost-boyfriends featured on my list of soulmates. Anyway, Shreya and I went to the Cha-bar at the Oxford bookstore on Park Street. We drank tea, grumbled about our unfocussed, meandering lives, got depressed, envied the stability in other people's lives, got even more depressed, stared at some weirdly dressed people, got really depressed, toyed with the idea of travel journalism, planned a shoestring-budget trip, got happier, and departed on a smilier note with a Happy New Year in advance. Then I came home and moped. Sigh. Such is life.

My new year's resolution is to chat (not necessarily and preferably not online) with at least one new person every day. I know that isn't going to happen, but it's the 9th today, and I've already managed three. Pretty good by my own unsocial standards.

I bought a new diary by the way. That is one of the reasons why I have not been blogging like a maniac. Instead, I've been rambling for 4 pages at a time in my new-found possession.

Speaking of possessions, I also bought a sweater after grumbling that I'm broke (I'm not really... but that's hush-hush information) and pretending to shiver in the cold (irrespective of what Kolkatans claim, this winter was not all that cold! I managed through it with a windcheater and a shawl. And I never wore both at the same time.) The sad thing is that winter '07-'08 is on its way out, and my chic new sweater is going to have to rough it out in the cupboard for at least another 12 months. What a pity :(

My littlest sister just got 7 whacks from me for emptying a whole bottle of chocolate milk on to my mattress. She didn't drop it by mistake. She opened the bottle, turned it over, and emptied every last drop. Now she's punished and staring at the wall. Between you and me, she doesn't look sorry at all. In fact, she's standing there and grinning her happiest smile at me. All this, after 7 whacks!

My best friend's brother is pushing her to get engaged to her boyfriend this year. He's probably just bored that all his friends have got married already. She's the closest he can bully about marriage now.

My own first cousin is getting married in Feb to a guy she has been dating for 8 years. I went over to her place to check out her trousseau, and even though I did nothing but look as she opened trunks and suitcases of clothes, cosmetics, toiletries, gifts, and the like, it was very tiring. I was yawning like a sleep-deprived hippopotamus even before thirty minutes had passed. I dread dressing up. It seems like such a waste of time. At my wedding I'm wearing pajamas. The groom and guests can dress up however they like (Disclaimer: Nudity and obscenity will not be approved of).

My ex-bf is also getting married in Feb. But given that he has given so many versions of his wedding already, nobody is sure as to whether or not he is actually getting married. I'd like to go to the wedding, but I don't think I'll get an invite unless I ask. And I'm not about to ask.

Given that this is wedding season, and there is one in my family, wedding issues are bound to come up in this space. But do not construe my wedding talk to mean that I'm desperate to get married. I'm not; if for no other reason than the idea of having to get all dressed up with silk, satin, and face/war paint. I'm such a bum sometimes.