Monthly Archive for January, 2008

The rating game

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In rememberance of some of the silly things that make college life memorable. 

We were a group of twittering first year girls hanging outside our classroom during short break in our very first few months in college. Since the fear of ragging had subsided considerably and we were slowly getting to know the rest of the guys, we girls stood joking and laughing in the corridor as hordes of other first years passed us by.

Although nobody knew how it happened, we found ourselves ogling at the guys passing by; the ones we fancied getting showered with smiles from all around along with nods of pretty girls’ heads. The lesser in the ranks were not given so much as a second glance. One thing led to another and it all avalanched into a rating game. (I have a sneaky feeling that I had a lot to do with spearheading the issue but its all a blur now, thanks to 10 years since then and now)

Soon, the cute guys were being given thumbs up and full points, amidst major giggling, while others were being thumbed down with a sad shake of the head. Thats how we passed 10 minutes of the intended short break. The rated guys were also flashing smiles all around and strutting happily as far as one remembers. It was all a harmless time pass which for once, the girls were taking lead of. And that was that. Or so we believed.

Apparently not all the guys who passed by were freshers like us. There were some seniors too – but – they too didnt look like they minded our silly game and were finding it quite amusing. And that was that. Or so it was believed.

Unfortunately some senior guys, who probably felt left out when they heard the story later on were supposedly startled to actually hear that a group of guys (junior or senior, who cares) were disrespected by a bunch of junior first year girls whose ragging period had hardly gotten over and who should have known better than insult people like that – how dare they!

So after a major overnight brainwashing session by the seniors, a group of angry first year guys (most of whom weren’t even present the previous day) formed a huge crowd on the Rajpath to intercept the girls to teach them a lesson. While they did blast some unfortunate girls passing by early in the morning – including one innocent day scholar who hadnt been one of us – but by the time we reached the crowd, there was a frantic scattering of all the guys as they quickly ran for their life. Puzzled, we looked around and saw the head of security walking cluelessly behind us. And surprisingly enough, that was finally that.

~Championship Point~

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What a match! Jo Wilfried Tsonga was better than superb and I was cheering in his corner when Novak Djokovic upped him (and how) in the finals. I’m having a hard time remaining Federer’s loyal fan with these two fast rising titans on the scene. 

Major disappointment to watch Sania and Bhupathi lose the Mixed Doubles in the finals. Better luck next time. Now all there’s left to watch on tv is Ms Saroj Khan teaching me how to dance like Madhuri Dixit on NDTV’s newest channel Imagine. I know the full song for Ek Do Teen by now :)

Fed Ex ousted!

The Djoker wins in three straight sets. How unbelievable is that. This is too much.

Life

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It really is. Isnt it?

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I dont know whether to be amused or insulted by this one. Or realize that maybe this’s an indication for me to stop taking silly online tests?

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I am not your Auntie

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A painful memory vexed me into writing this post. Please to not gauge my mood or sense of self depreciation by this one post only.

You think you’re respecting me by calling me this name – but I have news for you. I dont need no respect and I dont need anyone reminding me I am getting older by the day: I am not your auntie.

You think by bumping into me or stepping on my toes, you’re doing the right thing by apologizing profusely, therefore calling me this name – but I dont need no apologies and I dont need anyone to put iodised salt on my wounds: I am not your auntie.

You think that if I help you get the right direction or pick up jetsam from your bag, you’d want to thank me by calling me this name – I dont need a fake relationship or an overgrown niece. Therefore, I am definitely not your auntie.

You think since you’re a teenager or someone emaciated enough to look like one, you qualify in calling all and sundry by this name – have I got a newsflash for you: sooner or later you would so understand what I’m talking about and I wait earnestly for that day.

So after evidently bearing the brunt of how it feels like to be on the other side of the early twenties, I take this opportunity to apologise all the people I myself called aunties and uncles while my brain had not fully developed 10 years back. I wish I myself had read something like this way back… I wouldnt have even dreamt of calling my own auntie one.

What I did till now – Part II

Watched Australian Open from morning to midnight. Got a near heart attack when Federer nearly got knocked out by that upstart Tipsarevic, cried along with Baghdatis when he lost… poor thing. Also felt sorry for Roddick and Safin when they both lost. Although my point is – I dont see why the guys bother playing at all when we all know (especially me) that Federer will win the tournament anyway.

Read a lot of books, watched a lot of movies – the usual. Its good to be back to work and blogging respectively.

The rise of a fallen star

Apparently, people are loathe to accept this movie as a brilliant directional debut. I really dont care about all the in-depth scrutiny of how winning a painting competition isnt an everyday occurrence & doesnt happen in real life. I just loved this movie.

I am copy pasting the review I wrote sometime back even though I contradict myself when I said I wont be blogging for a long time. I should really watch what I say (or live upto it) whichever is applicable.

‘Taare Zameen Par’ speaks volumes of Amir Khan’s progress from an actor, and quite a good one at that, to the director who comes through with a movie detailing his astute  observation about the pressure kids today have to face, thanks to their parents forever goading them to get that first place in every field. He reflects on the screen everyday events like a crowd at midday watching – for no reason – a crane busy at work, strict teachers who run the school tighter than a Nazi camp or the kid hiding his fake absent note all rolled and bound by a pink kite string hoping that it would stay buried in the magazine rack forever.

I loved the movie thoroughly even though a supposedly extroverted Nikumbh, with his dramatic entry as a loud showman clown in the movie unexpectedly resumes the role of a teary-eyed, emotional teacher. Or the sheer amount of songs in the movie. I mean, surely the lack of a female lead, thereby reducing the romantic angle scenario would have curbed the song factor. No such luck.

I also thought the appearance of an animated Spaceman Spiff (of Calvin & Hobbes fame) like character showing up while Ishaan day dreams about the answer of 3 X 9 was unsettling for an original movie.

Barring all these, what I did like about the movie was an adept sense of humour that effortlessly seamed the story forward. Ishaan breaking the neighbour’s outdoor flower pots while fleeing home after a fight, his father then packing his bags while the pathetic little boy begs him to stay; only to have the look on his face replaced by one of annoyance when he realizes dad’s only going for an office tour.

Particular touching scenes were those of Ishaan gawking at a labourer buying his son an iced lolly probably remembering his own, strict and inaccessible father. The red flip book was a superb touch to funnily make a point as to how unwanted and lost Ishaan feels in his own family. The paintings were awesome although I cringed a bit when Nikumbh uttered – ‘Such bold use of colour’ while showing Ishaan’s paintings to the headmaster. This standard line of painting discussion is so passé.

Nevertheless, the movie fills you up with a sense of pity for the lonely, misfit of a child. You cannot help but feel a twinge of heart when the boy who was perennially scolded, punished and humiliated ends up not having enough courage to receive praises  unexpectedly. That’s why when he is called on stage to collect his prize, Ishaan hides in
the crowd for he does not want to be the centre of attention.

A note of mention to the crippled boy, Rajan Damodran who always stands first in Ishaan’s new school; he embodied perfection with his angelic face & sweet demeanour. What was evident was the startling contrast of personality and intelligence between the two boys. Yet they manage to be good friends with Ishaan realizing that everyone does not have to be all that perfect.

The movie ends by giving a fuzzy, warm feeling in the heart as you watch Nikumbh’s special bonding with Ishaan. I couldn’t help but notice that Ishaan’s father had for once changed his clothes from his standard formal suits into a casual half sleeved shirt at the end. Could this change also reflect his change of heart that would make him be a better father to his son? I would like to think so.

You may like ‘Taare Zameen Par’ or you may love it, as I did. If you didn’t like it altogether, I can’t possibly imagine why.

On vacation (yet another time)

Holidays seem to be inevitable on my schedule as it has been so for a long time now. Today’s the third day of a two week winter vacation. As usual, I will be doing nothing although this time I am fully equipped with all my novels, Asterixes & DVDs. The only thing I will not be doing is actual work. But then you’d already figured that one out with the vacation bit.

I’m also going to be taking it easy with the blogging. As usual, my dog’s the happiest around. She’s stark, raving mad these days. Doesnt think anything of jumping on you and tugging at those clothes till they rip. What a bitch!

(Deep bow) Until then, as it was said in The Pensieve – So long…Farewell…Auf Wiedersehen…and Good Bye.

New beginnings

I am happy to say that my hangover this year was quite harmless compared to last year’s. I take it this is a sign of me being more suave in handling my drink. I do suffer from patches of amnesia only to have the puzzled look on my face being replaced by one of horror as people recounted all the things that I did/say later on. I shrugged it off saying – I dont live on yesterday while my motto is next week. A very nice Alanis Morissette song, I must say.

I remember a lot of dancing. Of course the music was so loud that I could hardly hear the other person on the phone when I called friends up to wish them at midnight. Naturally, my phone balance had dwindled down to a measly 10 rupees by the next morning. Moral of the story – ditch your phone somewhere next time you’re planning to intoxicate yourself and wont be able to make out whether you’ve been talking for 5 minutes or the last one hour.

I also remember lighting firecrackers sometime around midnight. No idea as to where they came from. Some of us had to get new hair styles the next day because of the bonfire singeing the hairline. Thankfully no one caught on fire. If anyone had, the rescuer would also have been burnt to death although the alcohol would have made sure no one felt the pain too much.

New beginning for a new year. Of course, I wont be recounting all kinds of sordid drunken details henceforth. But it was a nice way to say goodbye to a good year. Now its time to grow up.

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