New Year's Eve

To most of the people, it means welcoming the new year in style. Parties, dinners, get together, something, anything. Song, dance, drink, laugh and generally make merry. And yet, to some, it is totally different. No, don't worry, I am not going to talk about the downtrodden class and how miserable their lives are. Here are a few of the observations made on new year's eve, that I found amusing:

The chicken shops: I don't know what is the relation between chicken and new year! Every little shop selling meat is teeming with people! And when I say "little" I mean the ones titled KentAcky fried chicken. No kidding, every time I pass that sign, I chuckle.

The Bakeries: All the Iyengar bakeries, fake or genuine are making big business today. The name Iyengar bakery in itself is ironic because usually most of these bakeries serve delicacies with egg as an ingredient, which is not to be consumed by them. There are little extensions of the shop, covered by shamiana(tent) selling cakes in every imaginable colour. I don't mean to be condescending, but they really looked anything but edible! I think I even spotted a bright green one shaped like a guitar. Rock On? :)

The loners: Near every shop, or any other commercial establishment, there will be one guy, just this one guy. Either seated or leaning against a pole or a wall. Smoking or just doing nothing. Age no bar, class no bar. I spotted a kind of good looking guy and I also saw a guy who looked like the police department in 11 nations are looking for him. But the guy is there, without fail.

The funnily dressed: nah, this isn't going to be a tirade against the badly dressed or a lecture on fashion consciousness or dressing etiquette's. By "funnily dressed", I mean the ones who dress in a way that does not suit the occasion. Confused? Take the example of this family - mother, dressed in fake silk, adorned with jewels, daughter, pre teens, dressed in something bright and new, with an old scarf over the head. It's cold you see. The father takes the prize though. He is dressed in the Sabarimala pilgrim clothes, all black. Where are they heading to? The local mall, of course.

These are your normal people, trying to make a big day out of something, which actually does not bear too much significance in their mundane lives. But these are also the people, who make the most of it.

Astral Projections!

Even I don't know what the title means, I found the term being used by a blogger and just decided that I had to use it somewhere! But one thing I do know is, applying the general rules of etymology, the word is connected to astrology,stars, constellations, the whole deal. Which brings me to the point of this post.

Did you happen to catch the smiley? "The what?", you may ask and maybe rightly so. Well I won't go into the technicalities of it but a few days back Mars, Venus and our Moon decided to show off a little in the sky and went ahead and formed a smiley-the two planets being the eyes and our over glamourised satellite being the lips/grin/smile. I didn't even know about it till people told me. "look at the sky!" came one message.

This message came at a time when I was returning to my cubicle after my aerobics class. For those of you who haven't been through this torture session, let me tell you, it is, well, torturous! That day in particular I remember being really, and I mean, really exhausted after the workout (quick digression for mental note: dedicate a post to aerobics classes) and here I get a message asking me to move a part of my body. Making sure it wasn't sent by my sadistic instructor, I looked up. First, up ahead. Then, to the right. To the left. Nothing. The only part left to check was overhead and behind. Since I feel a little tipsy when I am tired, I was scared that I might trip over and fall if I try to do so while walking, so I decided to sneak a peek when I change the direction of my path. And then I looked.

No, this isn't the part where I go "it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen". Yeah, it was nice, actually, it was pretty amusing. I am quite sure I stood there for a good two seconds extra, chuckling to myself, thinking how silly the sky looked. But I am the kind of person who gets amused by the weighing scale they use in the courier office, so I won't read too much into this experience. But it was better than the others:

The Meteor Shower: This topic makes my blood boil. Take a 13-14 year old girl, addiction to television, easily excitable and an overhyped phenomenon. What do you get? Major disappointment! I stayed up almost the whole night, during winter, craning my tender neck upwards towards east, west, north, south, every direction possible, hoping to catch "one of the most spectacular display of nature's fireworks" in the sky and what do I get? One shooting star, which, now that I think about it and analyse that situation, could have been a figment of my imagination or hallucination, owing to exhaustion! The next day the sheepish news reporters admit that it was more prominent and visible over certain areas of Taiwan and China. Well thank you 哑的 驴!

Solar Eclipse: Contrary to what they show in television series like Heroes, it doesn't envelope the whole sky and look like a beautiful diamond ring, straight out of Dubai's finest jewelry store! OK, it does happen, but only if you happen to live in Greenland or Alaska or the Moon! Other places, you get superstitious elders who ask you to bathe(or is it not bathe?) on that day, super excited adults dragging their kids to the local planetarium for the "once in a lifetime experience", weird glasses made of colored, transparent cellophane paper and contraptions which would make the cave man wonder if he committed a mistake by inventing the wheel. And of course the people from Doordarshan, who drone on in such a manner that it would put hardcore insomniacs to sleep! If they are to be believed, witnessing a partial (percentage ranging from 5-15, max. I think) solar eclipse is a greater achievement than Deve Gowda not sleeping in the parliament. Umm..kinda lost my train of thoughts there.

The point is, next time anyone gets all enthusiastic about any kind of event or phenomenon related to any heavnly body in the sky, I'll ask them to take a pic, maybe record a few words, take a video, and mail it to me.

As I see it

Happiness isn't just the ability to smile through hardships, it is also the ability to hide the effort

Sorrow isn't just crying over a loss, it is also the wish to not think about it, to avoid the tears

Sacrifice isn't just giving up something you love for someone you love, it is also the act of never letting them know

Anger isn't just yelling and throwing things around, it is also the feeling of helplessness that accompanies it

Ego isn't just the inability to admit you were wrong, it is also the stubborn belief that you were right

Faith isn't just the act of holding on, it is also the strength to let go

Distance isn't just the barrier in between, it is also the gaps you had failed to see

Fear isn't just the shadow that scares you in the dark, it is also your own image that makes the shadow

Truth isn't just what everyone wants to speak, it is also what no one wants to hear

Jealousy isn't just wanting what the other has, it is also wanting to destroy what cannot be yours

Love isn't just about giving up your whole self, it is also about accepting the other

Friendship isn't just about saying what you would do, it is also about doing what you don't say

Character isn't just what you show yourself to be, it is also what others see you as

Situation: Cynical

I would be so freaking rich if I had a nickel everytime:

1. Someone did a quick hand maneuver on spotting a temple/church/any other place of worship while passing it by.

2. Someone said sorry and did the quick hand-to-forehead maneuver on mistakenly hitting me/ kicking me/ their foot coming in contact with any single cell of my body.

3. Someone said the F word. For the record, I don't.

4. Someone asked me "How are you?", said "Sorry" and "Thank You" and not mean it. Not in the same order, Einstein!

5. Someone gave me a fake smile. OK, sometimes even I am guilty of it.

6. Someone expressed surprise at me being a twin. Yeah, it's a little different, but really? That fascinating eh?

7. Someone joked about one twin feeling the pain when the other is hurt. Yup, so original. Har Har.

8. Someone asked me "what platform do you work on?". Seriously, you have no idea how irritating it is to answer that question. Unless you want to recruit me, do you really care?

9. Someone asked me if I know so and so person in my company. Dear Uncle/Aunty, there are at least 90,000 other employees! Providing their nickname, height, colour and weight does not help in any way either!

10. Someone commented on my smile. Don't get me wrong, I love all the attention. You can keep talking about it. No complaints. I am just making a list to get rich, you know. Don't mind.

11. Some ignorant half-desi-who-thinks-he-knows-my-country makes some random, derogatory comment which is lapped up by the media. Dude(yeah, I said "dude"), if you don't live here and do nothing to improve the situation, you don't get to talk. Comprehende?

12. Someone(Indian resident) sent me the Obama vs Bush pics. I am waiting for the honeymoon period to get over. We'll see how much you like this man after that.

13. Someone gave me gyan on the reasons of the collapse of Lehmann Brothers and the current economic crisis. I have access to Wikipedia too, you know.

14. I meet a hypocrite. If you are so concerned about child labour, pay for your maid's child's education, don't preach. We have Miss India's for that.

15. A Hollywood star flaunts their United Colours of Benetton adopted child. Get your house in order first, you rehab regular, now married, now divorced, now happy, now gay freak.

First time!

They say that the first impression is the last impression. OK, that was just to give a nice, serious start to the post. My problem with first impressions is this- it turns out that it isn't the first at all! Confused? It means that whenever I meet new people, they tell me something about me which is a little, er, bordering on creepy. So I am not exactly a stranger to them! This post can be best explained with the use of examples:

I:Year 2006; Company training
My friend, who was in the adjacent class, a class with only guys, wanted to get a little "info" about a girl in my class. Don't raise your eyebrows as yet, I can vouch for his harmlessness and the girl in question wasn't exactly a stranger. They studied in the same school, but he wasn't sure. So noble old me volunteered to help out. Now, it so happened that I barely knew the girl's name(we were a class of 80 plus girls) but wondering how tough could it be to talk to another one of the same species, went upto her:

Me: Hi, did you by any chance study in *bleep* school in Ranchi?
Stranger classmate: Yeah! How did you know?
Me: My friend, *bleep*, he told me. *Good words about my friend, introduction etc.*
SC: Oh ok, that's nice. Such a small world!
Me: Yeah. Oh by the way, silly me. I never introduced myself. I am Karuna. *sheepish grin*
SC: I know. *smug, suggestive smile*

II: Late 2006; Company provided room in the hostel
I had got "pity hostel". It's a long story, and an old one at that but for the time being, just know that I had got hostel for a limited period-one month. So here I was, huffing and puffing, dragging my luggage up three floors, lifting it one at a time(had it been a public place, one item would have disappeared by the time I got another). I did not know who my roommate would be and I did not care. To me people aren't a problem, if I can live with this mixture of species, specimen and subjects(of research) known as my family, I can live with anyone. There she was, sitting on her bed, chewing on an apple, amused by my state.

New roomie: Hi, are you moving in here?
Me(*gasp*): yeah, I shall be living here for a month.
NR: Ok, which batch?
Me: *details* What about you?
NR: *details* Which branch in college?
Me: *details* And you?
NR: *details* Aren't you from *college name*?
Me: Yeah! How did you know that? Have we met before?
NR: No, I have seen you on Orkut. *smug, suggestive smile*

III: Flashback time over, year 2008, month of October
It was my best friend's birthday. Everyone was busy so instead of a grand treat, we decided to have ice cream at the parlour known for its fantastic flavours. Of course, now that they know that we are getting addicted to it, the thugs have increased the prices to such an extent that paying for research to grow such ice cream trees would be cheaper! I seem to have got distracted, back to the point! The company involved all of her classmates from college, most of whom I knew just by name, and yours truly. Again, no people problem, so I did not expect to feel out of place and had no hesitation in tagging along. We were supposed to pick up one of her friends on the way.

Best Friend: Sorry I kept you waiting
Best Friend's Friend: No problem, I didn't have to wait that long
BF: *banter*
BFF: *banter* *banter*
Me: *wisecrack*
BF, BFF: ha ha
Me: oh I don't think we have been officially introduced before or met. Hi, I am Karuna.
BFF: that's ok, I know. We have never met but I have seen you a lot in college. *smug,suggestive smile*

Now my problem is this, all three times, the other person involved was a girl! Why are girls keeping a tab on me? Why is it that everytime I introduce myself, I am greeted with that smug smile? Why can't I be anonymous, for a change?

Yeah right. Weird as it may be, I have to admit, it's flattering to learn that people you barely or don't even know, know at least something about you. Famous or infamous, that, is a different point to ponder over, altogether!

Picture Pefect

Nothing like a good vacation to beat the..err..blues? I am slightly apprehensive about using that term because, well, I don't usually have them. Workwise, life isn't hectic at all and yes, maybe the traffic woes do suck in all my energy and the long distance traveling get on my nereves from time to time but hey, you can't have it all, can you?

I had been away for a social obligation, also known as "family function" and decided that if I were to travel outside the city anyway, why not pull in some extra days of leave and convert it into a vacation. There was another reason for it but I failed miserably in that so let's not bring it up here.

My trip covered Udupi, Sringeri, Horanadu and Kudremukh. I won't convert this into a travelogue so more information, if needed, can be found on many good blogs and websites, but not here. Talking of travelogues, I really like them and would definitely do them one fine day, but when I am more prepared with facts, figures, anecdotes and passion.

All this traveling made me think about the one concept that may not hold much relevance these days - picture postcards. Actually, do you ever remember using them? The only time I bought them was when in dire need of good pictures for a Holiday Home Work project or some assignment for the House bulletin board. OK, maybe once or twice my parents were forced to buy the ones sold outside places of interest where we went as tourists. But even then, it was just the lure of the glossy finish. I had no clue then what you are supposed to do with them and I have no clue now.

Sure, I know that when you visit a place you buy postcards of that place and mail(old school) them to your friends, relatives and well wishers. But..umm..why? That is my question. Is it a direct "haha!we are here and you are not" rubbing it in action? Or a more cruel "you might never be able to afford coming here, so here is how it looks" pity gesture? So does that mean the list of people you mailed it to comprised of the same list of people you despised? Olden days, olden times. I guess we shall never know.

PS: I think if I search long and hard enough, I can find an old book of these picture postcards. The keywords are "hard enough". Yeah right.

Festivities!

It is that time of the year again. OK, so maybe us Indians don't have a single "festive season" like Christmas in many parts of the world, but so what? I think these nine days, known as Navratri(translation nav-nine ratri-night), can be classified as one. This time of the year reminds me of my childhood for many reasons.

The autumn break during school days was always cleverly timed to coincide with these days. The autumn break followed the Half Yearly Exam, if I am not mistaken. So you did not even have the "stress"(heh) of having to deal with studies for an examination that mattered a lot in terms of weightage, towards the calculation of the final marks and rank in class. My god, talking about all these things makes me feel so old! These concepts seem so alien now and the time when they occurred, ancient.

Next in line in this assortment of memories is the Durga Puja. No, I am not a Bengali. It goes like this- the Residents Association in the colony where I lived as a kid had a good number of Bengalis. More importantly, there was a good sized park in our neighbourhood. Combine these two factors and voila! you get a pandal (tent) filled with smoke, Bengalis in their best dhotis, sarees(as the case may be), a big idol of Kali Ma(another name for Goddess Durga) killing Mahishasura(who, according to mythology, could not be killed by man, mortal or immortal), skits, magic shows and other wonderful things usually associated with a carnival. Now the most important part of it, at least to us kids, was the collection of toys that were sold outside the park. Mind you, these weren't anything close to what was usually sold in the local shops. They were based on the prevalent theme i.e. bow and arrow(made of plastic or cardboard), sword(either fluorescent coloured plastic ones or thick cardboard covered with shiny paper), mace(usually my weapon of choice), masks(weirdest looking animals and one of a clown) and so on and so forth.

If the toys weren't distracting enough, there was food. Now that I think about it, I can't really recollect what all items were sold inside the park but I do remember that you did not need too much money to have a mouth full of assorted goodies. Actually, you did not even need parents. Collect a little amount(and by "little", I mean it) of money from your parents, join the kids in the neighbourhood(age ranging from tiny tots to early teens), the older ones incharge of the younglings. Or so the parents thought. But the arrangement worked perfectly. Once the difficult tasks like crossing the road and walking in the darkness were crossed, the group broke up into smaller ones, each going in a different direction, based on their likes and dislikes.

The next memory, in stark contrast to above, is Gollu. A familiar term to Tamilians, it is the tradition of arranging dolls in the house during the nine days of Navratri. Don't ask me what it signifies, it did not matter. As kids, we used to hop from one house to another, of course belonging to friends and family members. The incentive was the prasad(offering in the form of food) usually distributed by the lady of the family. The catch and the rather boring part- you had to earn it. How? By singing a song. Not just any song but devotional songs. When you are in school, devotional songs are surprisingly never short in number. So sing we did. After a couple of years, we had a routine. We knew which songs were to be sung(clue: stick to songs dedicated to a Goddess) and in which order(start with Lord Ganesha).

And what about home? Well, the significant ritual observed at home is the Saraswati Puja. If Diwali is for parents then Navratri is for kids. You see Goddess Lakshmi(wealth and prosperity) is worshipped on Diwali but Goddess Saraswati(knowledge) reigns supreme during Navratri. We were supposed to keep one text book each in the puja room, which was to be removed only after the end of this phase. Which meant that you could not touch these books during these ten days. Could a student be any happier? One funny recollection that comes to mind is that every year, without fail, the mathematics text book held a prominent, permanent position in the pile of books.

Simpler times. You grow up, beliefs change. Traditions and rituals? Some remain, some don't.

Tailor made

Species name: Tailors

Physical Attributes: measuring tape around the neck, pair of scissors in hand, senior members usually sport a pair of went-out-of-style-in-the-70s spectacles

Characteristic features: *sigh* And thus begins the story.

Why is it that everything associated with women in this world is cursed, one way or the other? Melodrama aside, think about it. I won't get into the dirty details but just focus my energy at one of them. Every woman has a different shape, and by every, I mean it. OK agreed, largely classified you have the usual small, medium and large. Sounds like you are ordering soft drink from the ridiculously over priced multiplexes, but never mind that. So anyone who wants a piece of garment to not look like the tent used at the cheaply organised festivals and functions, goes to a tailor.

You can imagine then what percentage makes up for these kind of people(women) and what onus of responsibility lies on the class of people who tailor to these needs. They know it. They know it very well. And that is exactly what gives them the air, the arrogance, the superior look about them.

A few questions that women everywhere face regarding tailors:

a.) Why are (most of the)women's clothes tailors men?
Ans: You really think a woman will want to make another look good, consciously? Come on, let's be honest. A man on the other hand would know just which part to enhance by his skills with the needle and thread and which ones to hide. It is taken for granted that he will do all that is possible and more. Inner beauty-shinner beauty, it's what outside that people pay attention to!

b.) Women are so paranoid about even sharing a seat with a stranger but totally at ease when another touches them all over, for measurements?
Ans: It's the dignity that is associated with the profession, there is no other reason for it. No other reason that I can think of, actually. Also, any respectable tailor will automatically assume a poker face expression when taking the measurements, implying "look lady, I am just doing my job here, no hanky panky intended". The body language says it clearly. Agreed, what goes on in his mind is anyone's guess but that applies for each and every man, doesn't it?

QnA aside, let's dig into the problem now. These tailors misuse their powers, grossly. Show me one tailor who has delivered the goods(err..don't know what other word to use for it) on time and I will show you Paris Hilton reading The Economist. It just does not happen! There is an unwritten rule that every one follows-leave a buffer of at least five days when you give something for stitching, call the tailor one day before the garment is due, haggle over the due date, tell him how urgently it is required, make frequent trips to the shop and on the 5th day(after the due date), collect your garment. Repeat the procedure all over again, every time.

Besides this, I now have a new problem. My tailor refuses to stitch my clothes..err..tight. Look I am not the kind of person who wears clothes that look like they will burst any moment but a girl's got to flaunt a little, right? No one wants to see a granny at *insert age here*! But the guy refuses to budge! The conversations at the tailoring shop makes the other customers grin and me, cringe in embarrassment!

Tailor: *measurement in cms*
Me: Tighter
Tailor: *tightens it by 0.487 micro cms*
Me: Tighter!
Tailor: *fatherly look; "girls these days"*
Me: Fine, enough

My woes never end.

Wine and whine

Another year. As I was telling one friend, I am now officially un-young. OK so there may not be such a word but old doesn't suit me either. So as of now, there is a new word, whether you like it or not. Un-young. Someone who is not old, someone who still doesn't have gray hair but who cant boast of youthful energy like the good old times. Someone who climbs two flights of stairs and starts huffing and puffing. No wait, even the so called kids do that nowadays. Disqualify that point then.

I haven't been around since the past couple of weeks, if you hadn't noticed by the way. It wasn't intentional, I like scribbling here. The problem was, there was too much to scribble. There was so much negativity that I was afraid that I might spew too much venom and regret it later on. I do that sometimes. But I have good will power(*patting myself*). Hence the decision to abstain till the phase passes.

Well it did pass. Now that I try to recollect it, I don't know who or what upset me so much. I just remember being extremely cranky and hot headed for sometime. Oh there were the farewells of course. I hate to see good people go, really. Maybe it was a combination of who and what. Huh. I confused myself! Anyway, I am in the mood for some light hearted banter and observation so I present to you, the one thing that has impressed me a great deal lately-chivalry!

I won't dig up some lame Wiki entry to describe or define what chivalry is. If you don't know it already, please be "proactive"(ugh) enough to find out by yourself. My opinion about chivalry? We need it! See I am all for women's liberation, upliftment, feminism and all those things associated with ugly hags and lesbians. But to say that to walk shoulder to shoulder with men you need to let go and sacrifice these small privileges is akin to saying you need to give up chicken to eat beef! Doesn't make sense? Exactly!

And tell me something, how tough is it? How tough is it to keep the door open for the lady with you(irrespective of her relation with you, don't be partial towards/against partners/friends)? How tough is it to give way to the lady, even though both of you reached the threshold at the same time? How tough is it to make sure the lady is on her way home before you start for yours? How tough is it to not hurl abuses when in the presence of the fairer sex? OK, I give you the last one. People who appear to wash their tongues everyday with shit are not used to controlling their language. That's understandable. But you can make an effort, can't you?

Why should you? What do you stand to gain? There there, not everything in life is about loss and gain. Hmm..actually it is. So I shall tell you what you gain. You gain respect of women who think like me. You gain admiration, you gain the much needed second look. What second look? You know, the one where the girl looks at a guy with a weird expression on her face, judging him from top to bottom, thinking to herself "Hunh, not bad. Who would have thought he could be so considerate. Maybe.." . That look! Think about it. You have nothing to lose.

Meanwhile, it's getting a little chilly. Can you get me a blanket, please?

Multifaceted

This post is regarding a very fascinating and interesting conversation I had with my friend yesterday. Don't worry, I don't plan to paste it here, but perhaps elaborate on it a bit.

Have you ever wondered how many faces you have? Broadly classified, there are two - the professional and the personal. Some of us have a huge difference between these two while a very fine line separates it for the rest. But difference, there is. Going further into it though, there are many more. For example, let us take the professional face. Do you behave the same way with your colleagues as well as with your boss?

The personal front is much more interesting. I don't know about you, but in my personal life there are only two types of people - family and friends. Sure, there are a few friends who are like family and there are a couple of family members who would easily transcend into the friends zone. But you see, it still leaves me with just two zones. One would assume that one's behaviour with people in these zones is uniform. Ah, that is where one is wrong.

Let me start with family. Do you behave, act, talk or respond in the same manner when with your parents and when with your siblings? I don't. There is the difference in age which acts as the factor, there is the difference in maturity(debatable), there is the difference in topics under discussion(or argument, as the case may be), there is the difference in opinion, there is the difference in tolerance(very important) and of course there is the difference in the respect accorded. Basically, there are lots of differences.

You still with me? OK, good. Now comes the part and realisation which takes people by surprise. The faces you wear when with your friends. I would not say that my behaviour or nature is totally different for each friend but I would say that it is not exactly the same for each one of them. It all depends on how and where the friendship started, what drove the two to come together, why are they(we?) still friends, what role each plays in it and so many more. For instance, I am a kid when with a couple of them, replete with talking nonsense, calling names, acting stupid etc. But with others, you wouldn't be wrong if you were to call me "aunt KB". The funny part is, both of these character traits define me equally well, there is no artificiality when I display one, there is no forced nature when I display the other.

It's probably because that what is needed and sometimes, that is what is expected. You act the way you do because you know it will be accepted, you know you will not be judged for it. Sometimes though, you act the way you should. Those who need to be protected, will be fiercely so. This is not a usual occurrence, as most of the people I am(or like to be) with are strong; emotionally/mentally. But for the couple of sweethearts who aren't, I take the role of the Dominator. On the other hand, people who know me well would vouch for it that I am not the kind of person who can be dominated. Surprise, I can be when I want to be. As I said before, a lot depends on the dynamics and requirement of the relation.

A lot is required for any relationship to work but a lot more is required to sustain it. It is easy to give up but much more difficult to give in. On one hand you cannot and should not diverge from your true nature but on the other you have to compromise. Life sure is complicated.

PS: Going through the draft, I do not know if it made any sense.

Do you remember?

Well first for some good old gloating and a few updates. The gloating part - I have a weird memory. No, that's not something to be proud of and it isn't my point. What is so strange about my memory? You see, ask me what I was wearing on the day I joined my first company and I will tell you exactly. Ask me the first time I was slapped by my class teacher (which was in 3rd standard by the way) and I will even recollect the exact reason why and her name. Oh and that was one of the only three, ever. Ask me who I sat with first when I entered college and what she was wearing, ask me the reason I fought with my best friend in class four, ask me which dress I was wearing for my uncle's marriage in 1997, ask me anything. Well, anything not relevant, and I will remember.

Don't ask me dates. Don't ask me which day or date I was asked out for the first time in life(6th standard), don't ask me what my total in 10th/12th standard was, don't ask me to remember any phone remember other than my own, don't ask me the date I had my first major accident, don't even ask me my university seat number. OK, I lied about the USN. I think they expect dodos like me to be omnipresent and hence make them quite easy to recollect. Or maybe because I have used it at least 30 times(the figure is more, don't ask me by how much), counting all the exams, that it is carved in my memory for a very long time to come(never say forever, ever).

So on one hand there are the insignificant details and on the other, things that may and should matter to most people. I remember the ones that are irrelevant, that probably are stored in the archives section in most people's brains, to be dug up only when required, which includes family gatherings, school/college reunions, accompanied by an "ohhh..yeah..I think I faintly remember that" or "what lies! You are concocting your own stories", depending on the situation being for or against you, respectively.

But, ladies and gentlemen, inspite of this handicap, one thing I do pride in is remembering birthdays. I think I should put a disclaimer there because even that comes with "conditions apply" but given the number of people I have come to know over the years, I think I am doing pretty well for myself and for others. The "for others" is a clever part I put in there, did you notice? No? Never mind. It's because I have been entrusted(sometimes I take it upon myself) the responsibility of remembering them. I send mails to other friends, I ping them, in short I do everything a Short(pun intended) Messaging Service reminder usually does.

Pretty neat, eh? That's what you think. When you have such a record, you cannot screw up. One birthday you forget, and boom, all hell breaks loose. "How could you forget?". And it has the ripple effect. Blame the reminder service. Shoot the messenger. Nevertheless I wouldn't stop doing it, I wouldn't stop taking the responsibility. I like the appreciation that comes when I remember and remind, I like the gratitude that my friends express. I am the puppy that will continue to jump for a treat, even after you have slapped it mildly on the nose for chewing up the sofa. Quite pathetic, but that's me.

In the "updates" section, I met a friend recently after a long time and he made me believe in what I had always known to be true. All you need is someone who'll listen to you. It was a good day.

PS: I digress a lot, don't I?

Too late too soon

What if one day you turn into that which you portray to be? Wouldn't that be an ideal situation?

Apparently not. All throughout my as yet short life I have seen those who have been emotionally weak being taken advantage of. I knew it then as I know now, that I wouldn't be one of them. I wouldn't be the one to be seen crying, I wouldn't be the one being taken for granted and I most definitely won't be the one emotionally blackmailed. Being a girl, it was as easy as a rabbit trying to pass of as a porcupine.

How do you do it? You hide your weaknesses. You cringe not in public. You put on a brave face and you pretend that it did not matter. You learn to laugh at yourself, you trivialise things that may seem important. You mislead people into believing your priorities lie elsewhere. Most importantly, you do not put on display your armour, because with it, so will the chinks be displayed. Slowly over time, you start winning.

People start getting convinced that you are not to be thrown around. They think twice before launching those wisecracks. They hold back and they warn others. Word gets around and you are smiling. This is what you wanted. You may be the evil one for those people but you are content with the fact that not all of them think that way. You had assumed that there were a few who see through you. A few who know why you are doing this. You are doing this because you are scared. You have had reasons to be scared. Some of the fears may be unjustified, but aren't most of them anyway?

Then one day it hits you. There is no difference between the two. The two images, the two persona's, the two different people you thought you were. It hits you because they told you so. They told you things that you thought were meant to be looked and observed by strangers. Your guard is seen as indifference, the shell which you created over the years seen as insensitivity.

At first you are offended but then you see what they do. It isn't their fault. It is you. The ways that you made others follow, you forgot to follow yourself. You had expectations. Never have expectations. You started asking questions. Questions are never good, especially when you don't like the answers. Maybe it's good to be the villain. Everyone loves heroes, but what good would he be without the villain. I shall not change. Let me stick to at least one thing I had promised myself.

I could have not posted this or I could have posted this on the top. But I choose to hide it here. Everyone wins.

Full Circle

Ever wondered what are the different stages that lead to someone turning from a stranger into your friend?

Stranger: You see someone, you know someone through someone else, you hear about someone. You form opinions and you form impressions. You don't want to confirm either of those, as you don't care, right? You meet strangers everyday, you encounter strangers everywhere. Some you remember, most you forget. You have never spoken, you have never chatted. You know each other as entities, you know each other as individuals. You don't even know the name.

Acquaintance: You start recongnising a face or few faces. You acknowledge someone's presence. There is eye contact, there is a pause in the swift glancing phase that is reserved for strangers. You are introduced or after seeing someone at the same place, having common friends, real or online, you reach out to make contact. There is that hesitation, there is that formality. You are reserved, you wonder how much you should open up. You are anxious, yet you are pleasantly nervous. A new person, a new experience, a new character. A new colour added to the already vivid palette. An exciting phase, a fascinating turn. A time of discoveries, a period of revelations. You either stop or you go ahead. There is no middle path, there is no "friendly acquaintance". If you find the comfort zone, you give it the green signal.

Friend: What makes a friend, well, a friend? If you would believe all the sappy Archie's and Hallmarks cards and other products, it's the differences, it's the similarities. If you ask me, I don't know. Each friend of mine is so totally different from another, I surprise myself by their sheer presence around me. But this isn't about me. How does an acquaintance become a friend? Just by being around? Is that really being a friend? Sometimes, yes. You get used to someone's constant presence that you don't think about or realise when that person becomes a friend. At other times, it isn't so simple. There are people for whom it matters. It matters who comes close and who doesn't. There are people who will not let the wall down unless they are sure it is worth it. There are people who will still maintain distance, who will still draw boundaries, who will still put on their masks and who will still pretend. There are such people.

Acquaintance: Why am I back to it? Because this is about the circle. The circle of friendship. And a circle has to come back to where it started from. You make so many friends. You make friends as a kid, well as a kid that's all you know. Other than to make faces. Make faces and make friends. Make friends and make decisions, that is when you are all grown up. Decisions which help you personally, decisions that help you professionally. Decisions that you would still stand by, not because you believe in them, but because your ego tells you so. Decisions, that, you come to realise, are isolating you. You have too much on your hands now. You opted for them, but that doesn't change anything, it still is too much. You decide to unload. Yet another decision. You unload, and how. You keep a few, a few that you choose for reasons of your own. Not because they "complete you", not because they have "got your back". Just because you wouldn't know what to do without them and that scares you. The not so lucky rest? You blame it on the changing lives, the changing priorities, the changing lifestyle, the changing choices. You blame it on everything but yourself. From friends to acquaintances.

Strangers: As opposed to the stranger to acquaintance phase, which can be ridiculously long, this is the fastest amongst all. The moment you decide to dethrone the chosen few, it's all downhill from there. You can blame distance, physical or emotional. You are right when you blame the distance. Have you ever tried enlarging a hole in a cloth? This is exactly how it works. It does not matter how the hole got there in the first place. It can be an accident or it can be intentional, subconciously intentional. All that matter is that there is a hole. A hole which lures you, entices you to enlarge it. And you do it, you give in. Every time, little by little, till it is so big that it gapes at you, obvious that it is now irreparable. That is when you know, that is your cue. You don't regret it and given a choice you would do it all over again but for now, you know it's time to move on.

A quaint tense

The success of Orkut in India has confirmed what all of us already knew - we like gossip, we like to be informed about people we barely know and we absolutely love showing off through photographs. Of course, now Google has gone ahead and introduced the concept of privacy and locked accounts, which is why there has been a drastic reduction in the number of logins and users. Facebook may be the bomb in US and other countries but ask the new users and they will tell you that it is way too complicated and yes, private!

Personally I like both. I am still loyal to Orkut but I love the privacy options offered by Facebook. No matter how many conspiracy theories I am fed, I will continue to trust Google and all of the services it comes up with. To me Google is like the neighbourhood departmental store. New, fancy, posh supermarkets and hypermarkets may come and go but they can never be the same as the one single shop, known by many names - provisions, departmental store, Ganesh store etc where you can get anything and everything, from pencils to shaving blades, under the sun and a single trustworthy roof.

What is the agenda of this post and why am I rambling on and on about Orkut? As usual, building the foundation for what is to come. If the number of "friends" on this very active social networking site was a measure of popularity, every loser with unlimited access to the internet and a passion for new "fraindship" would be a celebrity in his own right. But obviously that is not the case. We (used to?)add people just on the basis of the most trivial things. Heck, sometimes I don't even remember the full name and/or details of the person whose profile pic (real or fake) pops up on the right side. From juniors/seniors in college to those we left behind way back, during our school days.

Batch mates/seniors/juniors from school. Yes, that's where I wanted to get to. We might have kept track of the lives of our friends and many may still be in touch with those, but not acquaintances. College days most of us still remember, if not vividly. Now school days, those are days everyone claims to want to relive. I don't know how many of us actually mean it or whether we say it just to sound very wise and all grown up, but let's move on.

I will confess straight out. I don't like it, I don't like it at all. Till recently, I had the comfort and pleasure of imagining people I did not like or get along with to be doing not so good in life. Well now my mirage has been spoilt, my hopes have been shattered! People who can barely talk clean are jet setting all around the world, people who struggled to get through school are pursuing their masters degree.

Is it wrong for me to wish bad luck on those I may not like based on more often than not frivolous reasons? You bet! Is it possible that these very people have changed for the better over the years and deserve all that they have achieved? Maybe. Does this logic make me feel any better and consider life as being fair? Hell no!

PS: My blog went through an identity crisis and after much soul searching and theme searching reverted to the original one. Why mess with something that works, eh?

Southern Spice

The ire and angst in this post is directed at just one category of people - actresses down here in South India. I should have timed this well and perhaps written it near Women's day way ahead in March, but bleh, I didn't. First the description of these people, characteristics which describe one, skills which describe all.

Vital statistics: If you are waiting for something like 36-24-36, I am guessing you are either a Martian or you have never seen any movie and/or the actress. They come in all sizes, even size zero. The only difference here is, size 0 is preceded by double digits. Deprived perverts that they are, the cameraman, at the behest of the director of course, never fails to zoom in on the assets, top-down shot, more often than not in the introduction shot. Now I don't know if that's the reason why these women refuse to slim down. Didn't get my point? Here's why - the wider you are, the farther the camera has to go or rather more out of focus the cameraman has to go. This saves the woman her modesty and at the same time the cost of a trainer and gym fee. Clever, eh? There are two words that aptly describe these healthy women - thunder thighs.

The irritating voice: Who in this messed up world came up with the thought/idea/plan that a shrill voice is the trait of a sexy/sweet/anything/ideal woman? I may have a possible explanation or reason behind it. Let's break it down first.

a.) Who dubs for these females?
- Not them, of course! Shooting for so many days, trying to hunt for a rich enough businessman to marry, keeping the date at all those eat outs, all these take time dear friends. An actress, no matter how good her manager, which in most cases is another horizontally challenged woman-her mother, just does not have the time to lend her voice to the movie. So there are these two women(I have no concrete evidence to support my theory, it's just a guess) who can be Pooja, Shwetha, Manasa, Pushpa, Tony(err..), all in a day! Since their "skills" aren't world class, why would they be here in that case, all they manage to do is come up with this one nasal voice, the voice that is suited for Jerry(of Tom n Jerry fame) or that irritating anchor who comes on Headlines Today! On second thoughts, perhaps it's one single guy giving all those voices. Hmm..one single(for obvious reasons), twisted guy. That makes more sense!

b.) Chauvinism: This is a theory the feminist in me has come out with. I tried to think on the lines of a typical MCP, in most cases, most men. Who needs to be saved, protected, cared for? Women, of course! Wouldn't a woman who has a normal voice not seem feminine enough? Well if she can shout loudly and make herself heard(figuratively and literally) instead of shrieking and waiting to be rescued, she can as well protect herself and that would mean not needing a man. Oh gosh! No no, we need the shrill voices! Man has always been the hunter and he shall always take care of the weaker beings.

Import: When you import something of high quality, it makes sense. But when you import refuse from your brother from another mother, Bollywood, it beats all logic. It is not just a one time occurrence. It has been happening since decades! If you are an actress in Hindi movies, rather an upcoming actress, and you and your career have failed to capture the imagination of the audience, don't lose heart. Pack your bags, grab those cans of butter, ghee, fat inducing products and head down south. The fairer you are and more alienated from this land of the lungis, the higher your chances and prospective rate of success. You don't have to bother about your diction, vocabulary,everything is forgiven, as long as you flash that smile, not talk about "western" concepts like sex and learn one single line of each language, to be spoken at premieres and press gatherings.

Costumes: I have actually watched a couple of interviews of contemporary actresses and let me tell you this, it's not their fault. They may not dress like divas, but they surely don't wear anything close to the ghastly costumes that they are handed out during the shooting of the movie. The same cannot be said about the yesteryear actresses. I don't think a few years back there was even a concept of designers. If I am not mistaken, the late 80s and early 90s were the Dark Ages for the fashion industry. Unluckily, the southern film industry(Kannada in particular) still seems to be under its grasp. Garish colours, mismatched clothes, too short, too long, too loose, too fit. Stylish? Not from any angle. The situation is the worst when the girl has to be depicted as a rural character. Show me one rural woman/girl who dresses like that and I will show you a cow with four horns!

The only argument I could think of, in their defense, is that if the chariot continues to run smoothly, why would anyone in their right mind poke a stick into the wheel, just for change, just to make things seem "better"? Nobody likes change, except perhaps a baby in need of fresh diapers. And that's the way the cookie crumbles.

What's with the..

What's with the number of vegetables that are running amuck? I miss the days when there were three primary vegetables -tomato, potato and onion. How does it concern me? Oh well, I was discussing with my teammates during one of our tea breaks about the adulteration in the ketchup/ sauce. For those of you who aren't aware of it, the tomato sauce that you get in the local bakeries and/or food courts is adulterated with the pulp-juice mish-mash of a certain vegetable called "ghia"(Hindi). Among the five of us present there, three (including yours truly) can speak and understand Hindi quite well, so there was no problem. Or so I thought. The trouble started when one remarked "what is Ghia known as in English?". For the record, I still don’t know the answer. The answers, or rather the guesses, ranged from gourd to even pumpkin! Did you also know that there are at least three different “relatives” of the simple pumpkin? Those who know me know this fact well that I am really bad at describing colors. Now you can add vegetables to the list. To me, everything has a parent and the rest of the vegetables just fall in the extended family. And out of those families, anyone who is not part of the beans family is most welcome. Beans. Huh. Why would anyone in their right mind want to eat them?

What’s with the tradition of wearing the red and cream/white bangles for 180 days(?) after marriage? To make this clear, I respect traditions. If it weren’t for traditions, there wouldn’t be much of a difference between you and me! It would be a very boring place and even more boring would be functions and festivals. So there, that was my disclaimer. My problem is with this one particular tradition which is followed with great gusto at my workplace. First the basics – you don’t have to be a fashionista to know that bangles and western wear don’t go along. Yes, I am not blind to the emerging trends which can be summarized in one word – porridge, where anything can be mixed with everything. But ladies, a bangle can go with jeans, it may even look nice. A pair of bangles, maybe. A few of them, OK, you are pushing it a bit but we’ll let it pass. Two dozens of bangles, looking as ethnic and traditional as can be with jeans or western formals? NO! Nobody is forcing you to forget your “culture” and abstain from wearing them. Yes, we know that you want to flaunt your newly acquired change in status. But why torture the aesthetic sense of passers by, strangers as they may be? Wear the traditional Indian attire for the duration that you are to wear those bangles. There is no shame in wearing salwar kameez/chudidar kurta on a “casual” Friday! If you are proud enough of your regionality to be able to wear those many number of bangles, be proud enough of your nationality to wear appropriate and matching clothes with them!

What’s with the celebrities’ blogs? I have been meaning to talk about this for quite some time. I am all for the spread of this medium and all that jazz but come on, we all know the truth. They aren’t blogging because they want to express their creativity/ write a journal/ connect to/ make money(like they need it!). They are writing for all the wrong reasons. One is in it because he was paid by the particular website, for promotional purposes, obviously. The other one just wants to demean his colleagues. Yet another wants to get back at his detractors. What I want to see is how long will they keep it up. From the signs, it appears to be a fad to them. Cash in, drag it, sign out. Fair enough, everyone is entitled to a piece of the pie. The visitors’ comments are, as in many cases, much more precious than the original article itself. Most common amongst them – the fan and the moocher. One is here out of awe and admiration, the other just wants to spread the word and perhaps divert a little traffic and attention for his interest.

I think these three should do for today. I have a few more to rattle off, but some other time. One question that may arise after you read this – what is it to you? “Let people be”? Of course, let them be. But I damn well am entitled to my opinion, aren’t I!

Weekday journal

It is quite unlike me to update this blog on a weekday. Don't ask me why I am doing it. Maybe it's that nagging little urge which I have come to call as the blogger's itch. Eh, don't get wrong ideas, all I was referring to was the want or rather the need to express.

I had set out last Sunday to write one, but as "circumstances" would have it, it never saw the light of the day. Those circumstances include me trying to figure out good proxies to use for Orkut, Twitter, Facebook and any other social networking site which guarantees some good entertainment by sneaking a peek into the artificial online lives of friends and acquaintances alike. My fruits of labour(oh, what heavy words) were mixed in their sweetness. I did figure out everything, with a little help of course, but as a result lost the draft I was composing to upload. So there, that's the excuse I came up with.

Coming to the reason why I was so desperate to find proxies - I was working last Sunday. OK, I lied a little bit, I was in office on Sunday. I barely have work on weekdays and you expect me to actually put in efforts on a Sunday? Ha!

I don't know how many of you have gone through it, but it's the worst feeling in the world! The campus was deserted, and this, in a place which is teeming with people on a regular day! Where you would expect to see at least a bunch of people, you see emptiness. From the parking lot to the food court, nothing! Will Smith from I am Legend and that weird guy from 28 days Later, I empathise with you. At least they had zombies to have fun with, I had just the hum of my computer.

The day was doomed from the start itself. I step out of my bus and land into the empty depot of my company and *snap* goes my footwear. Wardrobe malfunctions of other kinds may be glamorous but when you are in the middle of a big empty space and are just about to cover a whole lot distance more, with no cobbler for miles around, you know you are in trouble. Just to set the record straight, I am not one of those girls(women?) who wear slippers that look like they are made from hay and have heels that can put the daintiest of ladders to shame. I go for sturdiness, I go for comfort(if only men came with such specifications..ahem..never mind!).

Dragging one foot and marching with the other, I walked on. In front of me was the monster that there was no chance I could overcome in my present state - the skyway. Imagine 50 stairs up, 10 feet walk and 50 steps down. Now imagine covering this distance with the disadvantage of having only one functional shoe. Not a pretty sight, not a pretty sight at all!

While I stood at the bottom of the staircase, the security guard left his place and came to me, wondering what the lonely soul was upto. I didn't see him grab his gun or walkie-talkie, so I assume he deemed me harmless enough. One look and he knew what he was dealing with. Being a local citizen and of course, a girl, I didn't have to do much to win his sympathy. A pro that he was, he shot off directions to me and protected my footwear while I went to get the equipment.

Not following what I said? Well, I left my footwear under his care, went barefoot to the local shop(second from the right, according to Mr. Knowledgeable), purchased super glue and safety pins( just in case) and returned to fix it. If I wasn't already impressed and humbled by his gesture and common sense, he went on to guess where I was from i.e. my native place. Oh well, I guess my accent and use of words gave it away, but still, you have got to give the guy some credit!

So captain presence of mind saved the day and cinderella went in search of her prince charming to the dark, lonely castle. They lived happily ever after? Come on, let's be real, shall we? Ate too much of blogspace(and perhaps your brain) already, so let's just close this chapter here. The End.

My Principles

I have set out to explain in this blog, more to myself than others, the reasons behind why I am the way I am(no need to call those lawyers Eminem, I am not sabotaging your song).

I am a girl in my quarterly-twenties(?) who has lots of friends, who loves to have a good time(hold on, this isn't the "about me" section) and yet who stays clear of alcoholic drinks and cigarettes. It is a well known fact among my friends, and for which sometimes I am teased, that smoking is the biggest turn off to me. I would rather go out with a person who picks his nose in public than someone who smokes! The smell makes me sick and the sight of someone smoking, even more so.

I have lost count of the number of times new acquaintances and old friends have expressed surprised that I don't drink. That may be attributed to two facts - a.) I act high and stupid even in the absence of alcohol and b.) I don't come across as the "type" who wouldn't drink. My abstention from drinking originated from a personal reason but you know how it works, people change, opinions change, principles get altered, if not abandoned. Yet, I have stuck to mine. Strange but true.

Next on the list is my inability, actually my reluctance, to lie. Sure, I can whip up amazing excuses in nanoseconds and deliver them with a poker straight face. But the guilt that accompanies it feels like the devil wrenching my heart out. A case in example, and which used to occur ever so frequently, were the reasons I used to give after an unplanned leave, to my manager.

I have been labeled loud mouth and many other adjectives that seem more colourful in the local languages. I would rather not speak than lie. Maybe that's the reason why people who don't know me too well, label me as the silent, docile kind of person. It amuses me no end! I don't believe in diplomacy, in my opinion it is something only diplomats should practice. This has never landed me in trouble because I also happen to be a practical person. I may have my values/principles, if that's what you can call them, but I am not foolish(conditions apply).

All of this has got nothing to do with my family or my upbringing. We aren't a bunch of Gandhians who wouldn't wear anything other than khadi or not touch any foreign products. The only reason I can think of is the one belief that, well, even I can't explain. Atheism. Don't ask me why or don't ask me how. All I know is that I have been a non believer for a very long time, with no recollection of when it happened. Ok, too dramatic.

But according to me, that's the one piece of thread that holds all the other beads together. You have a God you believe in, one you know will protect you. To me, it's all me. I am answerable only to me. If or when something goes wrong, I have no one to blame, no one to pray to. No one is responsible for the consequences of my actions, but me. That puts me in a position of power, with respect to my life, but that also puts me in a position of responsibility.

Simply put, my non-belief is the reason behind my beliefs.

Average Jane

This was a thought planted in my mind by a friend, in one of our numerous lunch discussions, about nothing. He claims that he is the most average guy you can find. Well there's news for you my friend, I make the "A" in average seem extraordinary! Here's why

- Looks: Let's start with the most basic, shallow means used to judge another person. What? Don't give me the holier than thou "I don't judge people and neither should you" look! All of us are judgmental, you know it. I come in the not so attractive that men swoon when I pass by and yet not so ugly that kids start wailing in my presence by the mere sight of me category. Not gorgeous yet not hideous. Let's see, so what would that make me? Oh yes, average!

- Academics: It may be too late to talk about academics now but bear with me, I am trying to make a point. Agreed that as a kid I used to do well in studies, but that doesn't count right? I mean how difficult is it to score well in the lower grades? I feel bad for those parents, students who don't! Don't give me the Ishan Awasthi syndrome as an excuse, dyslexia isn't an epidemic. So barring that initial spark of excellence, I have remained an average student throughout my academic life. Never too brilliant, never too dumb to fail.

- Athletics: Been there, done that, that's about it. I enthusiastically took part in each and every sport offered by my school, from plain old sprinting to kho kho to softball(baseball bat, soft ball, the works). There was a time when I was one of the fastest in running but that again was thanks to luck and timing - I was one of the tallest girls in my age category. Hard to believe but true. More of that later. So in sports and/or athletics - average.

- Height and weight: I may have ranted about being short and how the cruel world does not understand or sympathise with my woes or me before, but if truth be told, I am of the average Indian female height. No, honestly. Females, ok this term seems derogatory to a few, so let me use women, who are a couple or more inches taller than me are referred to as being tall and those on the lower side of the scale as short(duhh). That leaves me as, you guessed it, average!

Coming to an issue most women are sensitive about, my weight. No, I am not revealing how much it is. Just that if and when you or anyone else for that matter looks at me for the first time and later is asked for an opinion regarding my build, the common response is "medium". Not "big", not "fat", not "skinny", not "thin" and most definitely not as a part of sign language using both hands, but "normal". It maybe a politically incorrect way of classifying people, but hey, what are you gonna do about it.

- "Talents": Note the use of double quotation marks. I can sing, but I am no nightingale(cuckoo, yes). I can carry a tune, I can sing along when music is being played and I can probably do better than most people in karaoke bars. But don't expect my notes to shatter glass(for either reason). High notes make me go squeaky and low notes make me sound like Amitabh Bachhan(not a good thing).

I can dance, but I am no happy(gay?) feet. I have taken part in most of the dance performances held in school and few during college but I am sure no one in the audience has ever pointed at me and remarked how exceptional my talent is(or asked for my autograph, for that matter). Maybe if I were to have continued my bharatnatyam classes, things would have been different. But don't blame me, blame my young teacher who went to pursue her higher studies in Goa.

- Employment: All the talk till now was more to do with my past. Now this, my dear readers, is about my present. I am currently employed by a company that took 128 other from my batch in engineering, from my college alone. The company that recruited and trained at least one thousand others during the same period as me, and this is just the statistics for one particular training location. The company that has at least >insert really high figure here< others with the same designation as me - software engineer. The company where I am not an identity, but a number.

Average Jane? Yes Sir, that's me!

PS: My self esteem and ego are arch enemies, they are constantly in battle.

Final Destination

If you aren't aware of it already, I am a big(actually small..eh..bad one) movie buff. If there is a movie which can be watched without death being an eventuality due to its poor quality, I will watch it.

That brings me to the reason why I set about typing this post. The recent one was Final Destination 3. Ok, don't roll your eyes as yet, I know I am three years too late. So what? You really expected me to go watch it in a theater? High hopes(I like that song..ok, focus!)!

The first part was good, the sequel wasn't, yada yada, we all know that. But that's not it. My problem is with the main protagonist in this series. First to set somethings clear -

a.)I don't believe in fate/karma/fortune, the works.
b.)Death to me is end of life, no more, no less. It is similar to the concept of darkness, which is but the lack of light. Similarly, death is the lack of life.
c.)I don't think American teenagers can think so logically. More on this later.

Now that we have established my beliefs or rather the lack of them, let's proceed(give me a chalk piece and my teacher role is achieved). The plot revolves around cheating death. The girl has visions, escapes her death, also rescuing a couple of her friends in the process and cheats it yet again by reading the signs i.e. deciphering the photographs she took.

a.)She is an American teenager. Call me racist but I really don't think solving puzzles is their forte. Had they shown a dorky Indian kid helping them out, I might have bought it.
b.)Gothic influenced kid having a dark side to him, the prick being totally unattractive, could there be any more stereotypes?
c.)Taking it to a personal level, if I discover death is out to get me, I wouldn't sit and fret over how to cheat it. Hey it's the mighty grim reaper we are talking about here. Millions of years of experience versus 23 not so boast worthy years. Can I be so arrogant to think I can win? I would rather finish up my final to do list and pray that the end isn't too painful or embarrassing.

A parting thought-does death grant final wishes? I am sure Johnny Depp wouldn't mind. Oh wait, I think it's Genie I am confusing it with. Never mind.

Burst of inactivity

Did the title make any sense? Or did I just use an oxymoron(I personally love these things)?

Well, been a while since I stepped my virtual foot here. Reasons were galore, ranging from something as lame as laziness, forgetfulness(sometimes I forget I need to update this) to my weekend being taken up by traveling yet again to (ahem) me being busy creating complications in my own life(I don't need any enemies, my foolishness takes up all my time and strength).

So let me think, what updates(ech..I am sounding more and more techie-ish, inspite of barely "working"!)? Ok, I got it. Let me limit this one to tales and recollections of my trip to my native town. I have a love for long narrations(as if you didn't know this already), so I shall stick to points or "data points", as my manager would say(ugh! I need to control myself!).

a.) I love the journey part. Hard as it may seem to believe, I love traveling(you would have never guessed, eh?). Sarcasm aside, the best part(ok, one of the best parts) about it is the ride around western ghats. Till recently, we used to travel by bus, at night, which limited the opportunities to spot beautiful scenery. But thanks to the man who badly needs nose,ear hair trimmers, our current railways minister, now there's a train to it. The train, being new, was spic and span(believe it!) and the route must have been decided by a nature lover(let's not get to the point that the tracks would have been laid out by cutting trees).

Screw the points/bullets idea, I want to blabber. The funny part about this train journey was the nature of our companions in the compartment. Picturise this - four of us from my family, who speak a mixture of Tulu, Kannada, English and Hindi(not necessarily in the same order), switching between them as and when we please. Two purohits, who made sure their caste and line of work was obvious from their attire and who, for some strange reason, were spoken to only in English by the obviously confused Ticket Checker. Many number of nuns, traveling together, who, of course, were attired in their religious garb. For a moment I almost felt like I was in some cheesy scene from a Karan Johar/Subhash Ghai movie. The lack of any irritating background music lay down my fears.

Now comes the tragic bit. I did not have my trusted aide, my digital camera, by my side. The hills outside, with their lush green foliage(it had rained well recently) seemed to mock me at my failure to capture them. All I had was a 2MP cellphone camera(*sigh*). In all of three days, I took just 80 or more pics!

For those of you who haven't lived in/been to coastal areas during summer time, let me tell you this, baby it's hot! By hot I don't just mean sunny, but hot and humid. You sweat so much that you wonder whether there are secret minute taps fitted on the whole of your body. You want to bathe so many times that a buffalo gets inferiority complex. More than a single layer of clothing seems like a punishment/medieval torture(I seriously sympathise with the women who wear saree). I think you get my point.

There were several high points(not referring to getting drunk or climbing up western ghats..duhh) and low points of this trip. High points - everything was so unplanned and all three days, except that one day when we attended the pooja we came for, were spent on beaches. The fact that people refuse to believe I have been working for the past (almost) two years now and still inquire which course I am studying(saves me the cost of anti wrinkle creams and/or plastic surgery). The miracle called growing up, which my cousins are undergoing. Those half ticket beings are much more tolerable now and less whack worthy.

Low points..hmm..let me think. Oh yes, the close call with burns. Point to remember- however uncomfortable or inappropriate a pair of footwear may seem , do not leave them behind thinking you will collect them later. Being the curious, impatient climber that I am, I circled almost half of St Mary's Island barefoot, hopping, jumping while climbing the rocks, sometimes immediately plunging them into the water, to safeguard my tender feet. At the end of it my feet turned a shade of pink matched only by the colour of Paris Hilton's lipstick. I was just hoping desperately that I don't end up with blisters.

I seem to have exceeded my self imposed length of the post. Let me bring this to an end by stating that no matter how much I love that temple town and its culture, one thing I have hated and will continue to do so is the disgusting, retch worthy smell of fish, fresh or dried out in the sun. Yuck!

How I wish..

How I wish I was a dumb girl. Seriously, not kidding here. By dumb, I don't mean retarded, that would have been cruel and sad, both for me and my family. By dumb I mean thick headed, you know, low IQ, "I don't get it" type.

Life is so rosy to such people. Even if it's not, they always make it, somehow. They imagine and live in a world which is so different from the one we currently occupy(and are in the process of defiling), that every day may seem so fresh and beautiful and every experience, something to cherish.

Childhood would be a piece of cake. Just smile, be sweet and not fail. What else could your parents expect from you. No matter how much a parent dreams for their child, in their heart they know the true potential too. So they would know you are not the "doctor material" and not even try to force you into academics. "Oh well, as long as she is polite to the guests, we shouldn't worry too much", I have seen such content parents with my very own eyes.

Teenage? Don't even get me started counting the no. of advantages such girls have. You don't even have to be gorgeous or super hot. Know how to manage to look relatively OK and you have it. They are so much in love with the idea of love, that getting hold of "Mr. Perfect" is as easy as playing hopscotch(I miss that game sometimes).

A few guys here and there, a few switches later, and you are into adulthood. Since you never exactly excelled in studies, no one expects you to do anything on your own, be capable of earning a livinghood or make a name for yourself in the cut throat, competitive world of what we (sometimes wrongly) refer to as professionals. In case Mr. Perfect found himself another Ms. Perfect, your parents are ready with a groom, someone(anyone actually) who has enough bank balance to keep you happy for the rest of your life. You wouldn't know what is right for you and in any case you wouldn't sweat over it, after all, as long as he keeps you dolled up, life should be a bed of roses right?

No career to worry about, no pressures and most importantly, no decisions to make, personal or professional. Just leave it for someone else to do, someone more reliable than you, someone who knows what is best, someone who would weigh the pros and cons, someone who would lose their sleep over it, not you.

Oh yes, that would have been fine, quite fine.

Fake conversations

Can a conversation be fake? You bet it can be! It happens all around us, all the time. Each one of us would have taken part in it at some point of time. The matter is, it would have been necessary, say at a professional level or dealing with an acquaintance. But ever had it with someone you were friends with, or at least you thought so?

Moving on, here are a few ways to determine when it is being faked:

Hello : Oh yeah, you can spot it right at this stage. It comes with much effort, since your number would have displayed for sometime in the other person's mobile, while the person would have been wondering whether to pick it up or not. There is a slight strain in the voice, as if this simple greeting wasn't intentional and was out of habit or forced rather than choice.

When topics run out: I have never believed in "preparing" for a telephonic conversation. If you are at ease with the person on the other end, the conversation should flow. Right? So the easiest give away is when you discover yourself hunting for topics to prolong the conversation. Why wouldn't you just rather end it? You would usually, but sometimes you just want to hang on, hoping that it's just a matter of time before the ease sets back in. It doesn't.

The pregnant pauses - The most difficult parts to deal with. After a well scripted QnA session which keeps moving back and forth like two amateurs' table tennis match, come these breaks in the conversation. You expect the blow to finally fall,something on the terms of "Let's stop pretending, I am not interested in talking to you anymore" , but alas, social creatures that we are, the charade continues.

The end - melodramatic choice of words, as usual? Not this time. I actually mean the end of the call. The mere artificiality of "let's catch up sometime" or "take care" makes me cringe. Catch what? If talking for five minutes came across as such a torture, you really expect me to believe that it will be much better in person. When the lies will be even more apparent, the shifty eyes, the "so..what else?" more pathetic than ever before.

Maybe it was a hint to me. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe I need to shut up.

What goes up, must come down

I was just checking my Facebook account from office, when I came across an album. Nothing particularly peculiar about it, just the fact that looking at it made me nostalgic. What it also triggered was guilt, at not having replied to a friend of mine, who had messaged on friday night(yeah, my guilt trips are badly scheduled).

I messaged her, partly lying, partly honest about the reason I did not reply. She called back. For no fault of hers, she is still in college, she is my junior, used to be my batchmate once. Anyway, she was in the computer lab when she called. I could hear noise in the background and wondering since when did my lecturers become so lenient, I asked her what the commotion was about. The department fest.

Skipping the insignificant details, I miss it. I say "it" on purpose. I don't miss college. Why don't I miss what others claim to be the best 4 years of their lives? Simple, those weren't the best 4 years of my life. I was an insecure person with too many fears within me. Maybe a few of them are still there, but I have learned to deal with them(or so I hope).

Coming back to the point, I miss the fest. More than anything, I miss being a part of something which lead somewhere. To be more precise, I miss the sense of purpose. We knew our target, we knew our deadline. Yeah I know, being a software engineer, targets and deadlines shouldn't be something I lack. But honestly, these things are mere jargons thrown around in this industry. Let me explain. Fest vs. work - the goals, the results, the "fruits of our labour", so to speak, were more visible and desirable in the past. Here, as serious as they may make it sound, it all boils down to some clerical job(no offence meant to them) that will most probably not affect even a single person on the client's side.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't a "I hate my work" cribbola(did I just invent a word?) post. Rest assured, the day that feeling sinks in, I shall put in my papers. I have never believed in doing something I hate, not even for money(hehe..money? make that *peanuts).

I miss the organisation part, starting from scratch, with nothing but leftover posters designed by our seniors, the contacts they used for sponsors, our lecturers making it clear that attendance was still important and will not be dealt with lightly, our HoD stating in no unclear terms that the onus of responsibility rested completely on our shoulders. Translation - you screw this one up, I am gonna screw your future. Lovable, isn't he?

The conceptualisation of mere ideas into something more concrete. Joking with lecturers who, till recently, we would just exchange pleasantries with. The ego clashes, oh yes, the ego clashes. Nothing prepares you more for the "adult world" than having clashes over real, serious issues with someone you are friends with. Tact, diplomacy may work with strangers, at the end of the day it's conviction and faith in your methods that can persuade the other person. When nothing works, try emotional blackmail(*grin* just kidding).

The evenings extending into nights as the day approaches. More fights, more tempers flying, more calls for tolerance and patience. The flurry of excitement, making sure everything is in place at the last moment. Of course, it never is. What can go wrong, will go wrong..? Finally, when it all ends. The great sense of relief. The accompanying sense of regret that it is over. What took months to plan and execute, over in a matter of couple of days.

The sense of rush.

Midnight trek!

For those of you who have not tried it, trekking is hard but great fun! Ok, I am not a professional at it and this was my second trek(the first one was a piece of cake compared to this), but I loved it! Actually more than the trekking, I think I love the concept of night trekking. The advantages are several - the weather is cooler, you won't realise it initially as you will be sweating so much but it beats trekking under the sun any day!

It's more adventurous! So what if we were carrying torches(ratio wasn't 1:1, more like one torch for 5 people which was actually more than enough), the fact that you are barely aware of what lies beyond five or six more steps it thrilling!

The biggest clincher - moonlight. No artificial lights, no street lamps, darkness all around with only moonlight to guide you. I wish it were full moon but it was close enough last night(for all purposes, I am telling others the moon was full!). Once your eyes get adapted to the faint yet strong enough rays, any other source of light seems to cause strain to the eyes. So much so that in almost all the pics my friends can barely keep their eyes open due to the "harsh" lights of the camera. These are the same friends who otherwise freeze in their places and pose perfectly whenever there is a camera around or even the mention of it!

Now the mini travelogue. I say "mini" because given my love for details and unnecessary blabber, if I write a full fledged one, it might cross more than ten pages. Who has the patience for that right?(I prove my point again, by digressing from the topic)

The place is called Skandagiri Hills and is around 70 km from Bangalore. We reached there by midnight and after dilly dallying around, started the trek around 1 am in the morning. It took us more than two-two and a half hours to reach the peak. One of the main reasons was the no. of breaks we took. People take breaks in between the trek, we trek in between breaks. It was a hard climb and the difficulty gradually increased with the altitude. Couple of my friends(girls, sheesh!) had to be really pushed to finish it. Eventually all of us did make it to the top but not before people swearing that this would be the last trek in their life(drama queens!)!

A few mistakes we committed, out of which the major one was not taking sufficient water along with us. Everyone assumed there would be shops near the foot of the hills and even otherwise 3 litres for 14 people would be sufficient. Don't look at me like that, I tried and I failed to drive logic into them. I think I can distinctly remember having just two sips of water throughout the trek.

The best part was obviously reaching the peak, shit tired but really jubilant. We nearly froze to death but that's another story(we did have jackets but other "practiced" trekkers present on the peak were well equipped with blankets, shawls etc.). There were angels present on the peak, in the form of a few locals selling hot tea(sugar water, but beggars can't be choosers) and freshly prepared omelet!

The whole purpose of the trip - the sunrise and being "above the clouds" was disappointing, to put it mildly. It wasn't too great and there were no clouds below us, so to speak. But as someone rightly said - "what matters is the journey, not the destination"(did I jumble up the words?). Anyway, you get my point.

I wish I could keep writing, describing each and every (in)significant detail, but I think I should stop. A few parting notes:
1. I think my throat is so parched that there are cracks formed, similar to those on the ground in severe drought affected areas. It pains every time I swallow.
2. You are never too fit. For all my days spent in the gym, I still was panting like a dog all the way up(gulped Glucon D once,was sucking on Poppins, all measures to keep my energy level up). Although I discovered that I am way fitter than most of my friends present there(*yay*).
3. Err..this one is weird. Exhaustion and high altitude gives me a high. I was literally and figuratively high! I couldn't stop giggling, when we were sitting on the peak waiting for sunrise! I would giggle for no reason and when asked why, I would giggle and reply that I had no clue! Heh, I always knew I am a goner but not to this extent.

Master of none

It's that time of the year again! Actually, not really. Anyway, before I distract myself and my thought process starts drifting off in a totally different direction, let me get straight to the point.

Why is the whole world and their step cousin so intent on becoming managers? Every Sawyer, Tracy and Potter(I am planning to get copyrights for the usage of this term) seems to be writing this exam and that exam, which eventually leads to the holy grail of all people frustrated with their current line of work - MBA.

Trust me, the day I am asked to step into the recruitment process for an MBA school(of course, I will have to be a manager myself to achieve that, but let's come to that later) the first question(which I am sure many people ask even now) would be "Why?" but the difference lies in the fact that I will give it a personal touch, adding "..and don't give me bullshit" because I have read the countless "how to answer questions effectively" nonsense a thousand times over, heard (if not read) my friends' applications and let me tell you this, if someone actually believes that shit, they better believe that I am Mother Teresa reincarnated!

Yes, I know the actual reason, extra degree equals extra money. Simple, right? Wrong! Now you don't realise what repercussions this has on lazy souls like me who are quite satisfied with their incompetent lives! Case in point:

Nosy stranger: "So which stream of engineering are you studying?"(a different topic for another blog altogether)
Me: "Umm..Actually I am working for Infosys."
NS: "Oh wow. How many years over?"
Me: "I'll be completing my second year soon."
NS: "Good good. So planning to get married(another topic right here) or further studies? MBA?"*stupid grin*
ME: "Heh heh..yeah..hmm..I think my mom is calling me. Excuse me!"

It's either marriage or MBA! Can you believe that! Thanks to the scores of stupid, incompetent colleges offering these courses, MBA degree has now become as common as BE or BTech! Which in turn means there are more incompetent managers being turned out with each passing day who one way or another find their way into our already miserable lives. What is my rue with managers? Kindly skip to my first post on this blog, you will know!

Other than the moolah reason mentioned already, is there any other reason why people are pursuing this degree? I don't think so. Which is pathetic as they will be back to where they started, doing a job they never had passion for, they never liked, in the first place. MBA isn't the answer to all problems, it isn't the key to all of life's mysterious locks. If that is what you intend to seek, pursue a spiritual path, not an MBA.

Away since..

Ok, today I am determined. No more slacking, no more procrastination! When was the last time I updated this piece here? Damn, it has been long! What can I say? I have been busy, yes, but that's not the excuse I should use.

Honestly, I really don't know what kept me away. There are a couple of drafts pending but I guess I don't have it in me to finish them. There are even a couple of topics(?)/subjects i wanted to express my opinion on, but somehow, for some reason, it ain't coming through. When I started this, I had promised myself one thing over all others - honesty. No political correctness, no diplomacy, no mincing words. Well, not like I speak like Miss India in real life, world peace and mother teresa thrown into every possible bit of conversation, but it's a well known fact that expressing oneself online or through the printed word(in this case, the typed word) is way easier than in real conversations.

Maybe that's the reason I did not want to write. I was afraid of what I might discover. You see, once my fingers make contact with the keyboard, it's all involuntary from there. Sometimes I surprise myself with what I have written. "Oh, am I really that narrow minded?", "hey, stop being so bitchy", "did I just say that?", you get the drift.

What's been happening in my life? Oh nothing drastic as such. It's the same old routine, with a few surprises thrown in here and there. Surprises in terms of? Hmm..me. I will not divulge any details, but if you really want to know, it can be summed up in three words - "Never say never". Forgive me for talking in weird crpyto-supposedly profound-but actually lamo-lingo! There are some things, some thoughts, certain ideas which I don't plan to confront. Escapism has worked wonders for me all my life and I plan to stick to it for the rest of it too.

So consider this as a comeback post of sorts. If I completed this in (*checks time*)..err..let's just say "so fast", it means I am back, back to being my normal self(I hear you snickering!). My mind is already working overtime to decide what to talk(blabber?) about next.

As the bull Arnie once said - I'll be back.

Alone but not lonely

A fresh, new experience. An experience which taught me a few things. First, the background.

I was supposed to go shopping with my friend on Friday afternoon. Rain gods played havoc as usual and apparently it was raining cats and dogs where he stays. Well, what was I to do? If a girl has made up her mind to go shopping, shopping it is that she must do! I thought about it long and hard over some deliciously sinful cheese burst pizza(if gluttony is a sin, I have a reservation in hell) and reached a conclusion, I shall go alone.

I have gone window shopping all by myself before, but that was more out of compulsion than choice. When you have friends who nonchalantly claim that 1:30 means 2:00, you end up planning accordingly, planning your chores and some small work before they finally decide to turn up.

So here I was, sitting in my bus,on my way home, still considering and weighing my options. I must confess, I did try to pull in another friend but she usually takes at least half a day to get ready so that was out of the question. Oh and by the way, my bus does not go through the destination I intended to target. After much thought, I decided to take the plunge(err..melodramatic choice of words), quite literally. The bus stopped at a signal and off I jumped(hopped?). I knew it to be "somewhere close" to where I was headed to, but being Ms. No Sense of Direction, walked off in the wrong direction, all the while chatting up my friend on the phone.

A few minutes and a few unknown, unseen landmarks later, I reached the conclusion that I was lost. I mean of course I knew I was still in Bangalore and that too in a good locality to get lost in, what with some educational institutions nearby and posh flats in the vicinity, plus the fact that it was broad daylight! But still, one must accept when one is lost. So I stop in my tracks, retrace my steps to where I alighted from my company bus and do the most sensible thing for someone in my position - look confident and hail an auto.

After a pretty much nondescript ride and a shopping experience later, here are my few points of gyaan on the whole subject of shopping alone:

No pressure - there is absolutely no peer pressure when you go shopping by yourself. You don't care if you are reaching for the cheaper articles, or if the trend is out of fashion yet you like it, or someone suggest a color so ghastly you wouldn't let even your worst enemies wear it. Best part about it - the absence of the dressing room trauma. Before you start getting ideas, give your imagination some rest. I am referring to the whole process of trying out something and displaying it one by one to your friends as well as the aunties, uncles and kids near the dressing room. Oh and not to forget the "guards", who sometimes give you such looks that you know how good the item of clothing looks on you.

Independence - yes, as unlikely as it may seem, it gives you a sense of great accomplishment and independence. How? Simple. You are not depending on anyone for transportation, for starters. You are not depending on anyone for suggestions. It's all you. You are not depending on anyone for decisions. It's your money, your time. Spend it as you want. You are not depending on anyone, in case you want to leave. Since it's just you, you can leave and/or go someplace else, whenever you want and not wait for the other person's opinion(approval?).

I did buy a couple of things I had been hunting for, since long. As soon I was done, since there was no "socialising" involved, walked a bit since the weather was beautiful(and I was..err..kinda lost..again)and headed for home. Family was surprised to see me home so early and even more so when they realised where I had been(the shopping bags in my hand gave it away) and I think my mother was a little offended that I didn't ask her to come, given that I went alone. But as I told her, I was alone, but not lonely.

Get Shorty

This post is triggered by a comment from someone who met me for the first time - "you are smaller than I thought". For the record, I am all of 5 feet 2(and a half, if you don't mind) inches. That's quite bad, yes? Well no, considering how my mom is shorter than me. Everytime one of those "why me?" moments strike me, I just look at her or go stand next to her and comfort myself with the selfish thought that things could have been much worse.

My problem lay in the fact that I shot up too early. While the rest of my class still looked like they were in kindergarten, yours truly was the tallest in her class(*sigh* those were the days). My brother, who now towers more than half a foot over me, used to be shorter than me! The local bus conductors never used to believe than I am younger than 12 years of age and hence refused to part with a "half ticket", insisting on the full fare. My future looked bright(and tall?) and I was happy thinking that I had taken to my dad's side in matters of height. Little did naive old me know of the cruel trick nature had to play.

In case you didn't know, it's a cruel world out there for short people. Let me start the griping with the public transport system. I travel daily to office in the company bus, which is owned and leased by the government transport department. The buses have bars above to hold on to. Guess what, I barely reach it. So all I can do while walking down the aisle just before the bus stops and when the driver applies those oh so soft brakes, is to break my fall using the support of other seats. If and when my hands are full, I pray.

Then there are the new buses where there is a support or an extension which is to help out vertically challenged people like me. Now I am not sure which Einstein was consulted for the design but I ask you this, what is the use of such a support if it is not fixed! Instead of flying freely, now you have the choice of flying till a certain range, is that it?!

Seats are next on my list. The more comfortable the place/mode of transport is, the longer their seats will be, hence more difficult with stubby legged people like me! Tall people have legspace problem, I have hanging legs problem. My feet don't touch the ground and when they do, they fail to make contact with the leg rest provided. Solution? Sitting cross legged. Ensuing problem? Not exactly a dignified solution.

I can go on and on, but something(I think the time) tells me I should stop. Maybe in the coming years they will have customised products and facilities for short yet not dwarves or disabled people. Till that day, I have my heels to help me out.

Singleton

It's tough being single. Don't get me wrong, I love being single. Being fiercely independent, I can see no other arrangement which suits me better. But the one main flipside of being single is turning down guys. It's easy if he gets the hint when you are subtle, but if he's "one of those", chances are that the situation will get only awkward and the only way out is to be rude and direct. It's alright by me, I am as bluntly honest as can be, but I do feel bad for the other person and sometimes, get reprimanded by my friends for being too cruel.

Through this post, I take it upon myself to educate the guys out there as to how to approach a girl, or more importantly, how not to:

• Flattery- It may work with some women, but judging largely from mine and my friends' experiences, use it sparingly. Unless the girl you are going for is a bimbo, chances are that your praises might come across as mockery or sarcasm.
• Do your homework - The biggest mistake, and I really mean biggest mistake is to ask out a teetotaler for a date in a pub. Goes to show how dispensable she is to you that you did not even bother to find out her tastes and lifestyle preferences. If coffee seems too cliched and juvenile, make it at least a movie or lunch at a decent, not so expensive restaurant.
• Don't pretend - Most important point; never pretend to be someone you are not. It doesn't matter that you come across as boring or plain, at least you are being yourself. Once you start pretending, there's no going back. In any case, if you intend to get serious with her, she will one day get to know the true you(by the way, what may seem as "boring" to few, may comes across as "stable" to others). Sincerity works best. Be comfortable with your identity, it will show.
• Bottoms up approach and not the other way round - *sigh* software terms. Start building it up from scratch. Do not expect a relative stranger to say yes for a date just because you think you handled yourself "smoothly" in the messenger conversation. While we are on it - messenger? Is that the best you could do?! Let her get comfortable and acquainted with you, only then go for the hit(sheesh! I sound like a guy!).
• First impression - like it or not, it goes a long way in forming opinions about a person. If you managed to psyche her out with your mannerisms the first time you met her or were introduced to her (your state of inebriation is irrelevant), chances are that even if you are the reincarnation of Mother Teresa, she will be very skeptical about you. Lesson to be learned - be civil in strangers' presence, more so if they don't know you but you might want to know them.

Ok, I think that should do for the time being. I know it's hard enough for guys to gather up the courage to ask someone out but trust me, put a little thought into it and it shouldn't be that tough.

PS: I feel like an agony aunt now.