(A)broadly Speaking - Kalyana Candidate Woes

We have a guest writer today. Bala sheds light on a very important subject, a ground breaking historic disovery. Here goes.

A recent excavation in has shown Caesar sang this version of “Kolaveri di” before his death.Since the song writing was much ahead of its time Shakespeare chose to go with Et tu brut and brutus's speech instead of “kolaveri”. Presenting you Caesar's version of “Kolaveri di”.

Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
rhythm correct
Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
maintain this
why this kolaver...aa di
Distance la four-u guys-u
Having sharp-u knife-u knife-u
are coming closer closer ,im singing in fear-u
Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

The gonna use knife-u
nd pierce-u....et tu brutus -u
if u kill-u..i will die-u
mark will come-u
nd torture with a speech-u
Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

(Brutus sings)
Maama notes eduthukalam
apdiye ivan post-e eduthukalam
pa pa pa kathiya eduthuko pa
paa pa pa
sariya pudi
super mama ready
ready 1 2 3 4 (they all kill Caesar)

Okay mama now tune change-u
en speech-u only english
Romans,country men-u
be paitient-u
not that-u
I loved caeser less-u
but loved rome-u more-u
valiant-u caeser but-u ambitious-u
he wanted rome-u
control as his home-u
so I gave his doom-u..doom-u

This song for rome boys-u
we don't have a choice-u
so this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
so this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di
why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di

The writer is a known waster of time. He also wears a special suit and saves the city, during his spare time. 
Personal note from Soundarya: Please do not dare to try and get his email ID and chat with him. Conversation with him is lethal.

(A)broadly Speaking

Chronicles of Soundarya

Days of our lives

I remember reading a novel by R.K.Narayan - The vendor of Sweets. The protogonist is a typical R.K.Narayan novel hero - one who is content with his life and does not like change. A simple person who is often bewildered by the smallest of changes. A person who loves his routine. A person whose conscience tortures him every time he utters a small lie and whose face automatically detects his mind's consternation and contorts itself into an expression that gives him away.

My mother grew up among such people. She had a simple childhood. She went to school too. She attended college. She had an ambition too - No, she did not want to be a happily married woman at home. She works to this day and has no intention to retire soon.

Where are such people? Where have those days gone?

So many things from my childhood seem so far off now. Playing games out in the open. Paper boats in the puddles on the front yard on rainy days. Playing paandi during lazy afternoons. Pallaankuzhi matches with grandmothers. My favorite game was spreading out all my "soppu saamaan" (play toys) from a big basket and playing with them. Being the only child, I made up my own world and characters.

I remember my mother cultivating the reading habit in me. She used to pick up a book and read at a particular time of the day, everyday. My mother was my only playmate and my heroine. So I started mimicking her. Eventually, even if she did not read, I started reading at that time of the day. I wonder, will there be hard copies of books, say 30 years down the lane? Or will they have become archaic like the gramophone? Will there be simple pleasures like opening a new book and savoring the smell and its feel?

I remember going to Meenakshi amman temple on Sunday mornings with my dad on his cycle. We used to watch ducks in the Vaigai river(Recently, I have, sadly, not been able to see even a slight trickle of water in the location where the "river" once flowed). I wonder whether dads will have time to see their children, what with their multiple tuition classes and coaching classes.

I had never seen a mobile phone in close quarters until my dad got one during my 11th standard. I got mine during my second year at college. Now, my friend's daughter unlocked my touch phone by herself and placed a call to another friend from it. She is in playschool.

My mother often says that her generation got to be children during their childhood and had innocence while growing up. Even a few years ago, we had the luxury of being children atleast until our 10th standard. But now? I am not sure. Maybe, sometime in the future my friend's touch phone-savvy daughter will write a blog about the simple joy of buying her first Macbook pro.

Disclaimer and warning:
1. Please note, I am not old. Also, please note, serious posts like these might follow, in the future. I am a serious management student now :P.
2. If you had thought this post is about Joey or F.R.I.E.N.D.S, I am not sorry I tricked you. That was the intent. Don't be a child, now.

Here to stay

It has been brought to my notice that I have not blogged for quite a while. That is indeed, true. The fact is, I did not want to bore my readers with a travelogue - Chennai to TAMU. I did not want to describe how my apartment looks. I have shared a satisfactory number of Picassa albums with my friends filled with pictures of my apartment and the university.

I could list a whole lot of things that are different here but that is not what I am going to do. That, I am sure, has been done by many bloggers. This post is about what never changed for me even after travelling a considerable distance on the globe(apparently, over the north pole too, according to the animation on the screen in the flight).

Bad hair days - They are here to stay. If you have hair like mine, you are doomed. You can travel over all the oceans on earth and climb the Himalayas but you shall have bad hair days when your hair shall never get set. Especially on days that a professional photograph is going to be taken by your department, for free.

"Oh this is the worst day of my life!" - Looks like I have been forcefully subscribed for one such day per month. Some technical mistake up there in heavan. Nothing I can do about it. The heel in the costliest shoe breaking off on the very first day, forgetting my ID card after delivering a sermon on its importance during an exam, ironing a black coat and ending up with a white patch on it....I am not able to come up with a better explanation for such "events". Whoever is in charge up there, please escalate this issue. I am very much dissatisfied with the way you are rolling out your disastrous designs to production environment.

"Maybe I spent too much :(" - This particular syndrome which attacks me after every purchase in a shop also seems to have taken a particular liking for me. The attacks have increased in frequency. The logic seems to be, the frequency of attacks is directly proportional to the value of the currency used for purchase.

"What do I eat??" - Agreed, this was a "fancy" question back in India, but I still had this confusion. With so many dishes on the menu, I never could choose one that would keep me contented and not make me look over someone else's plate and wish I had ordered that dish instead. In Texas, it is the greatest problem for a vegetarian. There is almost nothing for vegetarians in most restaurants. There is a hidden advantage though - you never spend money. Atleast on food. And my mother got her wish granted - her daughter cooks every day(atleast maggi).

I have also made it abundantly clear to the folks on my friends list in Facebook that I personally think life was more comfortable in India. Agreed, Chennai is hot. But Texas is hotter. In Chennai, I could get an auto and escape the heat. Yes, the Chennai auto with its driver now looks like the shining armour with a substitute knight to me.

You have license??

"Step out of your car madam...You did not obey the traffic signal"

"No, I did...It was green when I crossed the junction..."

"I am saying no, madam..please come out first"

Grumbling internally, I got out of my car. The traffic cop obviously did not know my car AC's psychology. It hates the sun and hot weather. It refuses to work when its hot. Then what is the point, you ask? Well, I am not going to digress from the current topic and explain. My Ac's clock was ticking and I wanted to reach this new restaurant without being soaked in sweat.

A little background on the story - I had my visa interview that day(there, I bragged). The nice consulate lady approved my visa. I was happy and relieved and wanted to spend money to declare my happiness to the world. In this case, the hotel industry. Bala was with me(Good boy he is. Some times.) And yes, he is not Rajnikanth. But you are supposed to know who he is, if you read my blogs. Poke around the blog to find out, if you care.

This traffic cop stops me at around 1 PM under the merciless, blazing Chennai sun. Blistering Barbeque Nation I say!

"Who is this?" - Cop, pointing to Bala.

I internally smiled at the cop's question. If I tell his name, will you know? Do you read our blogs?

Anyways, I said, "Friend".

"You have license?"

"Yes"

"You crossed when the signal was red...Shall we tell your dad?"

"Dude, you dont want to, trust me" - Sound's mind voice.

I smile.

"It will cost you Rs.1500"

This time I laugh. I still dont talk.

A few seconds later.."Ok...give 350 and get the receipt"

"Sound, pay up. He has come down to 350...Lets get outta here" - Bala to Sound.

"Good that the cop cant hear you, Bala. Just keep quite. Else you will be the starter in Kodambakkam middle-of-the-street branch of Barbeque Nation." - Sound's mind voice. I still smile. I do that when I am amused, irritated, sad or angry. Translation for, always.

I look at the cop and still smiling, I ask, "How much should I give sir?"

He must have thought..."So, you are deaf?". Maybe he did think I was deaf. Because now the fine amount was reduced to Rs.100, only without a receipt. I did not need a receipt.

I paid up, got back my license and pulled Bala into the car before he could say anything else. Same side goal putter.

Had it been any other day, I would have stayed there and asked the cop to give me a proper receipt and would have even contested it in court. But, like I said, I got my visa approved that day. I was happy.

Yes yes, I just bragged again. And here is some more of it. I am leaving day after tomorrow and will not blog until I get a laptop, most probably. My last post in India :D

I am loving these "last" senti statements. It is fun.

"Spell"ing mistake

The other day, I tried to cook. That is what I always do - try. I was lazy as usual and my wallet was dried up, which meant I could not order home delivery or fill petrol and drive to a hotel. Why could I not walk to a nearby shop and buy noodles? Good question. Refer to sentence number 2 in this paragraph - "I was lazy as usual".

Small flashback: A few days ago, as part of my mission to bleed my wallet dry, I had decided to "invest" in what looked like a short cut to cooking side dishes - Maggi Bhuna Masala. I read the wordings on the pack and decided that this was the ultimate solution to all my cooking problems.(I am one of those girls who will fall off the radar of elderly couples looking for prospective brides for their sons or nephews. I prefer eating to cooking. I appreciate the effort taken by the cook. I don't like to take the effort myself.) Side dishes? Jujubee...!!!

(Now, we are back to "The other day")

After a lot of excercise to the cauliflower like thing in my head that is commonly referred to as the brain, the poor thing decided that it could take no more. So it said - "Take the idea and enjoy! Jee boom bah! Remember Maggi Bhuna Masala!"

I was excited. I jumped up and took the pack out of the fridge. The pack said that I just needed that masala and some vegetables. I checked the fridge again. Tomatos. I checked above the fridge. Onions. Hmm. That is enough, I thought. I got busy. I cut the "vegetables" and attempted to do whatever the instructions asked me to do. I added a generous helping of Bhuna Masala(more than the quantity specified in the instructions). Finally after a lot of mixing and smoke, I got a feeling of job satisfaction. I turned off the gas and decided to taste my preparation with dosai. Yes, dosai.

Uhm..I am not going to say how it felt to eat it. I can just tell you that it made me rush to the Masala pack to check what on earth it contained. There it was. In a corner. It said the pack was equivalent to 250 grams of onions and tomatoes. #facepalm

Whenever mom cooks, it is as if she says "Abracadabra!" and the food becomes yummy. When I cook, I think I pronounce it wrong. Maybe I say "Avada Kedavra!" and the taste dies.

Good,Bad and Ugly

Good - I am a strict officer when it comes to rules. Rules are meant to be followed, and I follow them(most of the time). Not so long ago, I had Chemical engineering lab exam at college. There was something wrong with the indicator. The batches before mine had "completed" the titration. Actually, they did not. I knew it. They knew it. The professors knew it. I was the only one to report it. The professors gave me time to consult with my friends and threw around hints that I would lose marks if I did not complete it. I repeated the entire experiment and also summarised the procedure 3 times to the grumpy professors. That was not going to change the indicator's mind. Or the professors'. A girl who could not assort to cheating even in a lab exam is not fit to be an engineer, they thought. So they decided to teach me a lesson for "wasting their time". They let me go and retained my marks with them. I let them have it. What if I did not get "S" grade? Mere paas "A" hai.

Bad - My grandmother used to adhere to the rules of "madi" until a few years ago. Nowadays her health condition has restricted her to her bed. The rule was that I could not touch her or lie down on her lap until she lighted the lamps in the pooja room at 6 in the evening. Whenever she tried to forcefeed me, scold me or when she would not let me sample the dough for "arisi appalam", I shamelessy resorted to blackmail - "Thottuduven paatima!" (I'll touch you, granny). It worked like a charm, every single time.

Ugly - I hate it when people quote rules to suit their needs.

Elephant's time

Me: Hi X, I need permission for an hour in the evening (and I quote some valid reason - refer Good).

X(My superior at work): You clock y hours of labour, and we bill the customer. So you will have to work for y hours. Who will cover for you during your absence in case some issue comes up?

Me: I will complete all my work before I leave. ABC will cover for me. You can also call me in case of an emergency. (Mind voice: Last week you said there is no raise since there is no new work coming in. Now you are talking about issues. EKSI)

After 1 hour - X could not come up with any other excuse, so:

X(My superior at work): Ok fine.

Cat's time

X(My superior at work): Soundarya, can you please work this weekend? We need to do blah blah blah...(read boring stuff)

Like I once mentioned, weekend work is tough.

Me: No, I don't think I will be able to... (The ellipsis is a powerful chat strategem for euphimism.)

X(My superior at work): Ok, can you help now, by staying back late?

My mind voice to X: Check your calender, it's Friday. Not fry-your-employee's-day.

Me: I have completed the y hours of labour that I clock, X. Will I be allowed to clock more hours? Will I be given permission to take off for the duration that I will work now?

I continue typing

X(My superior at work): No Soundarya, please carry on, we can manage it on Monday.

Me: Oh ok X, bye!

You want to talk about rules? I can talk rules, walk rules, and now I can laugh rules. Hee Hee! :P

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"Train" of thought

We barge into a psychiatric treatment session. We know its rude, but then, we are rude. We are polite in a way - we don't get in when the doctor mentions a number in the proximity of the patient's age during hypnosis - she is a woman. Now, we don't know her exact age. That is enough.

"...You are now 10 years old...what do you remember?"

(Yes, the doctor looks like Nasser in Anniyan)

"Meena...Meena"

(kutti papa thangachi? la lee laa loo..?)

"Who is Meena?"

"That....She was the mean one"

(Yeah..meena...mean...go on...)

"My deskmate at school in 5th standard. Always crossed the line on the desk. We always had nudging wars at class. One of her two plaits used to always cross the boundary that we drew with a scale and ink pen on our desk.Bah!"

"Go on"

"That is when I decided, I will claim whatever is mine and irritate all the "mean"as in the world. That would be my mission"

"So that is why you had a screaming fight with the lady on the train?"

"Yes. It was my berth. So what if it was only 5 PM? The lower berth was mine. It was my right to lie down whenever I wanted to."

"But that lady had a reserved seat there. People generally take the berth only after 9 PM."

"So what? The berth was mine. And she was mean. I had a mission"

"How do you know she was mean?"

"Oh she confessed. I heard her talking on the phone. She said 'I mean..'..."

(Wow. So, childhood problem. hmm)

Doc breaks into a sweat. We find the exit before she wakes up.

Note: I was reminded of the desk wars at school recently, thanks to a big fight on the train in the AC compartment. It was almost as if somebody had strangled or molested the lady(now in the psychiatrist's chair in my blog post). I furtively watched the proceedings. I never went that that way while getting off the train. No, not even when the wash basin on the other end had a queue. I am paavam, so I actually had nothing to fear. You know what "I mean"? oops!

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The Balanc(e)ing act

"Can he see me behind the door?"

My heart flutters...or rather...beats frantically against my rib cage, in an attempt to jump off and run away from the danger. I try to shake my brain out of its frenzy of unfathomable fear. No use. My mental(!) faculties are frozen, much like the funds for anything that incurs expense, in my office.

I try to summon up atleast vestiges of the "strong independant woman" in me. Apparently she had made her strategic exit long ago. I suspect this was due to the heavy exposure to 24x7 news channels and their incessant stories about how some corrupt XXX got anticipatory bail.

I try to reinforce the prowess of my extremely theist alter ego. I sqeeze my eyes and "let go". Then I remember the moral of the fable I had read when I was in first standard A section - "God helps those who help themselves". Totally unrelated, but I can't help wondering, why would I need God's help if I can help myself?

The idea(no, not the one Bachchan Junior recommends) dawns on me but I am not in a position to shout "Eureka!". HE might hear me. I can hear HIM pacing to and fro.

I frantically open my bag and fish out my mobile. I scroll down my contact list and find the number. I press down my finger on the green call symbol and listen. I hear a voice. God does exist.

But wait. No. no no no no NOOOO!

"Dear customer, please note that your account balance is low. Kindly recharge to enjoy continued service...blah blah blah"

Me - "?@#$% whaaa?...what? Owww!! ok its over...its over"

Au contraire....

"Anbulla vaadikkaiyaalare...."

Me - "HayoooooOOOO!!!"

I am supremely irritated and do the worst. The worst has happened. I feel as strong as Popeye stuffed with Spinach. I open the gate and let it swing as if I am Rajni in ApoorvaRaagangal.

I am ready. I can face HIM. I don't care. I say, "Come on! It is either you or me. I have braces on my teeth. They can rip you apart, you four legged canine! Caamaan talk me!"

Disclaimer: This post is just for fun. If there is any truth in it, it lies in the part about my apprehension about going near dogs and yes, the automated aunty's voice on the telephone. I respect dogs. I love them in pictures.

Father magan

A guy has "the talk" with his dad, after he finishes his studies. His dad finds out that all his son wants to do is flirting. This is just an imaginary conversation between father and son, with lines picked off from Thevar Magan...just for fun.

Note: Some of Sivaji's dialogues have been used for the son. This conversation is not a direct mapping of the movie dialogues like Sivaji's dialogues --> Father Kamal's dialogues --> son.

Father: ama...idu namma oorku prayosanama irkum la...

Son: namakku prayosanama irkum...

Father: seri...idellam epdi inge pannuve? unaku ida pathi lam theryuma?

Son: illa ayya adu namma oorla panra idea ve illa...Chennai Bangalore Hyderabad...madri edathula...like a chain of restaurants...(he is talking about possible locations)

Father: tamizh tamizh...

Son: Anda ithum baingale...idu..

Father: enna da adu? (So this fellow intends to go off and have fun leaving me in this forlorn village? huh!)

Son: ayya kovathula ededo pesureeyale...

Father: ipdi pesi pesiye dan oru kayya kondutu poitainga...

After a pause

Father: Ingaye irappa...naalu perukku edo nalladu seyyappa nu sonnen...apdye enakum oru vela potu kudu...

guy:(horrified) padhaaraadenga ayya...

Father looks at oor makkal - another bunch of guys like his son.

Father: (Realises that his son is definitely not going to include him in his gallivanting spree and gives up) Ida parunga da...inime ivaru dan ungaluku ellam...ivar solra madriye seyyunga...

Father walks away in a huff, accompanied by baritone voices singing the praise of Father's forefathers, in the background, while his son sighs in relief.

You gotta earn it...Mind ittt!

There are ads these days telling us that we need to earn chocolates - just earning enough money to buy them does not suffice anymore. So, a day with Maya akka after a loo-hoo-ngg time - yeah, I did have to "earn" it. I literally did toil in sweat(I drive a Maruti 800, 2004 model...no point in expecting it to keep me cool under Chennai's blazing sun at 12 in the noon near Doraiswamy subway).

Well, I started out cool(AC was working fine when I set out from home) and happy, singing along with the MP3 player in my phone. I felt very grown up, driving to T nagar via the subway(mom never allowed me to take my car there). So, it was a great start to the day. Little did I know that I had some (l)earning to do.

I deftly swished past the traffic near Ashok pillar(adellam chuma jujubee, you see..). After turning right at the Bloo-Pink store junction and reaching Arya Gowda road, I felt I had arrived. I had definitely become a grown up, pukka Chennai citizen. I was going to reach my Mecca - Pothy's junction, on my own.

I had forgotten one thing. Have you seen pictures of the Mecca Masjid? It is this huge building surrounded by a sea of human heads.

Pothy's is similar to it, surrounded by human heads and tops of cars, autos and other vehicles strangulating Chennai's roads.

I was in the line, waiting for my darshan of Pothy's, from 11:30 to 12:30. I could not even give up and turn back home. There was not an inch of space around my car. I was chanting the names of all the Gods that my grandmother has mentioned in her story telling sessions while stuffing breakfast into my mouth during my school days, because my car has this strange habit of stopping and refusing to get started in the very middle of a traffic jam.

The line moved on. I almost expected a counter by the side of the road, reading "Special darshan - Rs.50", for a short route to Mukthi. But alas, nothing of that sort has come up yet. So the traffic snailed on and on. There were 2 lines on the road and whenever the line on my right edged a few inches further, I felt like nudging the car in front of me and saying, "Move it man! Look at that guy on the right, he is going places, and I am stuck with you! Trust me to get tangled with the losing side!", much like pattu mami in edhirneechal..."aduthaathu amboojatha pathela" song).

My feet were smarting with pain and begging to stay away from the clutch and brake pedals. To cut a long traffic line short, I finally made it to Pothy's. I could not resist taking a snap of the shop and, I must say, I did risk my life in the process.

P.S: Don't be deceived by the picture. I was driving slow, and put some space between me and the car in front of me amidst a lot of honking behind me. The road was packed, I say.

At that point, whichever demi-god in heaven is responsible to collect the "earnings" metrics and attest that I am a certified "(l)earner", decided that I could now use the second, third and fourth gears(which, by this time, I was sure both me and my car did not know how to operate any longer). It was a breezy drive(yeah, I had to lower my windows and give up all pretence of driving an air conditioned car) after that.

I reached Maya akka's house. She has a very cute home and I have always had fun with her. Today was no exception. We had great food, and we watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S at home. A perfect weekend. Thanks akka! :)

Oh, what did I (l)earn today? I learned that one must never drive to T nagar on a hot day - always take an auto. And earned a great saturday :)

Girl stuff - Educational material

10 reasons why it sucks to be a girl

1. You cant even plan anything on ur own without mentally addressng questions from family, or worse, boyfriend.

2. There is curfew time for anything n everything. If you are an unmarried girl from a middle class family, not even a single "sanctioned" glimpse of nightlife to you.

3. You cant be alone. You should not be alone. If you are, you are "modern" and you "dont know ur limits".

4. If you say you are not interested in marriage, you are definitely in love with some loafer, who belongs to another caste.

5. If you eat out alone, you have lost ur femininity bcos a) u din attempt cooking (or) b) u are not economic.

6. If you politely refuse a trip to the temple or blurt out that you do not chant slokas at home everyday, even though people know that not all girls chant everyday, admitting to it is acknowledging your sacrilege.

7. You cant repeat a dress within a timeframe of 2 weeks. Even guys notice dat and worse, ask you about it(yes, some obnoxious types do that).

8. You cant wake up in the middle of the night and go out for a walk even in your own garden. not safe. Not safe - you also have to answer a dozen questions.

9. When you are at school, you cant sit, resting your elbows on the table. Wrinkled elbows are looked down upon.

10. You cant go and play after 10th standard. If u r 25, no way, you are mentally ill if you show an interest in casual outdoor games, unless you pay a hefty amount to a sports club(that is investing in your health).

The Commandments of the girl kingdom

1. Thou shall keep in mind that any outting plan with another girl is bound to not happen, 98%. If its an all girls gang thing, 99.5%, its not gonna happen - atleast one of them will drop out.

2. Thou shall keep in mind that if thou art talking to a girl, and she gets a call from a guy(not stalker types), she will cut thy call, 90%. If thy call is waiting, she will ignore the waiting call, if she is talking to a guy.

3. Thou shall keep in mind that thou cant borrow even a safety pin from another girl, if thou does not intend to let her borrow your senti stuff.

4. Thou shall keep in mind that thou cant ever take sides with the person who is right, if both are girls. Thou shall keep in mind that thou can never be frank. Thou shall have an all time ally and stick to her else thou shall b left alone and bitched about by the above-mentioned 2 participants.

5. Thou shall keep in mind that thou must put up with stories about "the" guy even if thou art sick of him as a topic of conversation. Thou just has to. With a smile, with atleast feigned interest. Else, thou shall have no one to talk to.

6. Thou shall keep in mind that "the" guy is thy brother. always. Thou shall put up with the "safe" way of removing thou from the competitors list, even if "he" is not someone thou would even think of saying hello

7. Thou shall keep in mind that thy friend(the girl) can never be wrong. neither can her boyfriend.

8. Thou shall accept the fact that if there is a gang of 3 girls, one will be the apparently reserved but actually kadalai type, one will be the giggly type and the third, thou - will be the silent sufferer type.

9. Thou shall keep in mind that thou can never have more than one girl as thy close friend. if thou cross that limit, thou art doomed to face an "am-possessive-about-you-dont-talk-to-her" melodrama every week.

10. Thou shall keep in mind that if thy friend has a boyfriend or worse, a husband, thou, the "best" friend is the last person on earth she will think abt. But of course, thou art her twin soul and thou shall understand even if she forgot thy existence for a year and calls when she is bored and hangs up the moment her husband is back. She is thy best friend.

11. Thou shall keep in mind that if thou snaps at thy "close" friend for being giggly, thou shall camouflage it with, "I know about you...but those guys might mistake you...I just didn't know how to put it...am sorry". Then she shall give the perfect finishing- "awwww".

12. Thou shall keep in mind that wherever there are girls, there are gangs. Thou shall remember this and stick to thy gang. Thou shall not try to cross over, that is a stupid risk and thou shall be left out of every available gang. Even guys cant talk to thou in such a case.

13. Thou shall keep in mind that thou art out shopping, thou shall read faces. If thy friend likes a dress, thou shall shut thy opinion that it does not suit her, in an iron case in the deepest recesses of thy mind, even if thou does not want to walk with her in that outfit.

14. Thou shall keep in mind that thou has to listen to everything, literally, happening in thy friend's life. Thou shall give the opinion that she wants to hear. detect her state of mind n frame sentence accordingly.

15. Thou shall keep in mind that thou art also expected to share everything, however personal it is and thou shall listen to opinions albeit uncalled for and thou has to suffer follow ups on the supplied free advice.

16. Thou shall keep in mind that thou cant expect much critical help from girls, not unless there is a sudden pang of conscience or she happens to be thy best friend, but thou shall be criticised for not "asking".

17. Thou shall keep in mind that thou shall give "company" for saree wearing days. if thou does not, thou art a traitor.

18. Thou shall keep in mind that thou cant try somebody's hairstyle or dress pattern or slippers or basically anything. If thou does, thou shall endure the comment "that was my style" everytime thou art seen.

19. Thou shall keep in mind that thou can never be just friends with a guy, ever. Thy friends will always speculate a brewing romance.

20. Thou shall keep in mind that thou cant simply talk 2 sentences about a guy suddenly. Thou has a crush on him.

21. Thou shall keep in mind that thou cant be "jus happy". Thou art in love.

Most importantly - Thou shall keep in mind that thou shall never believe a guy. - This commandment is dedicated to Balakumaran, who devilishly slashed off one zero from the amount he promised to pay me per line, if I wrote these commandments.

Disclaimer: The characters and events depicted in this post are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The "Marriagesoon" season

Every year, I dread the onset of the "Marriagesoon" season, but the past 2 - 3 years have taken a heavy toll on my tolerance levels. I shall take the time and pen down an explanation of statement number one, don't worry. This post is all about that.

I shall go about answering the questions I anticipate from the reader, and also talk what I want to, in the guise of "answering" your questions. Note: Did you notice what a novel story telling methodology I propose? Hence proved, I am good.

About the Marriagesoon season - The onset of this season has not been identified exactly, but it usually starts around late October - early November. People start calling you up with starters like "hey there is something big coming up..." "Hi...guess what..."..some folks come to the point, no nonsense "Hi, I am getting married, finally!". There is an unmistakable tone of victory in their voices, be it the brides or the grooms. Well, congrats, I say, from the bottom of my heart.

Now, why do I dread it? Well, to be frank, it is the most amusing experience to listen about the "one", but after a point, the stories become repetitive. Even that is fine, I read the same novel a 100 times, this is no big deal. The difficult part to skirt around is, one is put on the spot sometimes with "opinion" questions like, "what do you think of him/her?". You have to agree with me, that is a precarious position. I always feel like saying, "Does it matter? Are you going to change your decision because of what I say?". But I am the sweet friend, I smile, hum and haw and non-committedly manage to utter general pleasantaries and escape. phew!

I love shopping but its a totally different affair when it comes to shopping with a soon-to-be bride. The doubts and second thoughts are a 1000 times worse. I never know what to do when their "sweetheart" calls them while shopping. I can't stare at her while she is on the phone, that would be rude. I can't move away, she would ask, "why did you just go off? That was rude." or worse, some people extend the phone to me and ask me to talk to my "brother" (sly, I know).

The part that personally affects me the most is, I am so used to being the "official-assistant-of-the-kalyana-ponnu", that I have the almost perfect algorithm to orchestrate a tam-bram wedding, but no, the mamis and mamas are not content with that. They assume that me being in the "right age" gives them the license to refer me as a prospective bride to their numerous relatives/acquaintances. I have exhausted myself, trying to come up with plausible answers to the question - "When are you getting married?"

I don't know about their parents, but I sure am happy that most of my friends are married now. No more weddings in the pipeline for some more time. Thanks for the break folks!

Disclaimer: The characters and events depicted in this post are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Love at first sight

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, which is translation for, I am bored with my job. On one such jobless rambling, my mind revisited the numerous exam halls where I once sat with a tensed mind, many a times. I still remember how I used to rush through spilling out all that I had tried to cram into my head, onto the paper. All the while, my mind used to keep chanting "It'll be over..It'll be over soon" - I know what you are thinking, yes, I was never the one that concentrated on one thing. My hand, meanwhile, used to freeze mid air, if my mind stopped the magic chant, so, I used to let it murmur in the background.

After I finished the ordeal of putting to paper what I had learnt(?), there was this torture of revising answers. I hated it, but you know girls. We always have a love-hate relationship with almost every thing under the sun(even with the sun, apparently - "Oh what a lovely, sunny day!"..."Yuck, I hate sunny days, what a horrible tan!"). I used to quickly glance through all my carefully crafted sentences, which were camouflaged with terms taken off the question, to pass off as answers. I would hopefully look at my watch. The traitor usually threw it in my face that I had about 5 more minutes to spare.

I then had to yield to my conscience's nagging and "check" my answers again. That was where fate played its favourite game. My mind, needless to say, was an ally of fate. What had seemed the only thing that could pass off under the examiner's careful eye, was now portrayed as a bonafide declaration of my stupidity, by my mind. Poor me, I always took the bait. I changed the answer to some seemingly plausible nonsense.

Yes, you guessed it. My first answer was almost always correct. At other times, it would have atleast not invited the comment "Meet me" scrawled across my paper or worse, the teacher taking me aside and talking to me as if I was going through a serious mental crisis.

It is the same with most things in my life. The dress I choose, the dish I order, the bus I take...Second opinions don't seem to work for me. So, if somebody asks me whether I endorse love at first sight, I say, why not? The probability of not going wrong seems to be more :)

Too far, wiki, too far!

Women's day was "celebrated" in my office yesterday. I do not believe in "kondadifying" such specially dedicated "days", but one particular item in the agenda, kindled my interest. It was called "High tea".

Always a big fan of quaint English terminologies, I googled it up. Google told me that Wikipedia knew what the term meant.

Wikipedia said

High tea (also known as meat tea) is an early evening meal, typically eaten between 5pm and 6pm. It is now largely followed by a later lighter evening meal.

High tea would usually consist of cold meats, eggs or fish, cakes and sandwiches.

In its origin, the term “high tea” was used as a way to distinguish it from “low tea” or afternoon tea. The words 'low' and 'high' refer to the tables from which either tea meal was eaten. Low tea was served in a sitting room where low tables (like a coffee table) were placed near sofas or chairs generally. The word high referred to a table, this one in a dining room table, and it would be loaded with substantial dinner dishes - meats, cheese, breads, perhaps the classic shepherd's pie or steak and kidney pie.

P.S: I love it when the literal meaning is the actual meaning, while people try to bring out all sorts of hidden symbology. This tendency must henceforth be called "The Dan Brown Syndrome".

But, Wikipedia, you got it wrong, didn't you? You do not know my HR team's definition of the term. You are not even close. If Ross(F.R.I.E.N.D.S) were around, he would say, "Too far, wiki, too far!"

Why in our event yesterday, most people slipped out clandestinely for tea, when speakers were furiously debating on what was apparently a serious topic.

We paid for our tea, and had to drink it in the corridor or the crowded cafeteria tables - certainly not filled with the mouthwatering(for many) assortment of victuals mentioned in your page.

While sipping our "high tea", me and my friends tried guessing the plausible interpretations of the term. Maybe, the HR people thought that we would slink off to the topmost floor, in an attempt to be as far away from the event as possible - "high" tea. Maybe, they knew we would sigh with relief and exclaim with joy when we finally escaped from the "celebration" and laid our hands on the cup of steaming tea - "Hiiieee Tea!!!"

Who's the Hero?

It is understandable that the yesteryear heroine never recognized her "athan" just because he skipped shaving the stubble on his face, for a bit longer than usual, for a "disguise". It is understandable because, the basic assumption those days was that women were a species unfortunately doomed to possess a vacuous "mel maadi" but, on the bright side, destined for a possible candidature for the next solitary female statue in Chennai beach(albeit requiring them to quickly acquire arsonistic qualities after the demise of their unfaithful husbands).

What amuses me even after so many years of watching Tamil cinema is, why does the so called mean, tricky, treacherous villain never get it? His chief career skill, apart from involving in sleazy activities and roaring out the famous villainous laughter jig is supposed to be his ability to think up almost applaudably intricate plots against the hero. The villain medidates devilments to trouble the hero even when he is with his ladies.

He is almost like Hanuman, with the hero always in his heart, the only difference being, he also wants to shoot an arrow(or in comparatively modern times, a bullet) through the person in his heart. In some movies, the villain is almost like a scorned lover. His eyes turn red, his voice becomes rough and his whole body trembles during a confrontation with the hero. So, is it not right to assume that he would atleast recognise his heartthrob?

Interesting, no? Yet, this is one of the puzzles that are better not delved into(Now, don't ask me what I did all this while - I need something to write about).

We take the personality shifts and the bouts of "selective" amnesia in our politicians(omg, even actors and sportspeople and journalists and....lack of space) with amazing nonchalance. No wonder we pardoned the villain's "chilly" mistake :)