The Storyteller in Me

I have been told by a lot of people that I am a good narrator of stories. No, no not reading out of  The Arabian Nights. Stories about daily life. Things people can relate to. But people can relate to anything. I mean, come on! There is that variety of people who can relate to goblins, wizards, half-giants, bowtruckles and unicorns (read Harry Potter fans). Now, now. Make no mistake, I am a Harry Potter fan through and through. In fact, I was in full support of my brother moving into a cupboard just short of his 11th birthday. But still.. we’ll leave those people alone for now. My stories are about everyday life. Things that happen to muggles.

Actually, what the hell! Yes it’s true. Sometimes my stories ARE about my chance encounters with blast ended skrewts. There, I said it.

Well, it’s not really a talent. The story telling I mean, not tackling blast ended skrewts. In fact, it just comes out of paying too much attention to detail. And out of being cursed blessed with the addition of drama in everyday incidents of my life.

Really, you can’t not tell people when you catch a cute guy checking you out. Except in my case , he was just staring at my mascara that had spread on half of my face. Or well, when your sandals break just before you are going out. Well, I also superglued my fingers together while trying to fix my sandals. Oh and because of that the fingerprint scanner could not recognize my fingerprints anymore and I was locked in the hostel.

You see what I mean?

But it’s okay you know. Having a drama life has its upside. I never run out of stuff to talk about. And people tell me I’ll be an awesome grandmother!

Grandmother?! :O

Killing me softly

Sometimes, the strangest thing is what keeps on disturbing the constant momentum of your life and you simply don’t know it.

I am super drowsy from my medicine as I write this. You see, I haven’t been sleeping well in a while. And I kept on thinking it’s because i am stressed and I work way too hard. I tried to find out why I was always so tired, why I just had to stop every few hundred meters when I was running even though my legs weren’t tired, why I always woke up feeling terrible, why I had stopped enjoying little things like the smell of coffee.

All this would make me feel horrible, really. My perpetual throat ache, head ache, ear ache and all the other aches made me feel old. I was only days away from declaring myself a nutcase.

And then I found out. It’s because my stupid, sensitive nose is ALWAYS blocked. I took medicines, my nose is clear and I zonked out for the afternoon. The whole of it. That was the best sleep I had in a year.

Phew. What a relief!

Next time you are being punched in the face with problems, stop and observe, and don’t give up. It could just be blocked sinuses.

Because brick walls are there for a reason…

…they are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They are there to stop the other people.

Lamok Iturhs: April Fool’s

When your desk is supposed to say this:

But you come back one fine day and see this:

You know who’s responsible for it.

Then everyone laugh their heads off. And you don’t feel angry because it’s a harmless April Fool’s prank.. oh and because you are excited about playing Foosball later!

(psst: Lamok Iturhs is actually my name spelt backwards, in case you didn’t get it)

The Ghost of the Holidays Past

When I was seven we spent our winter vacation in Delhi. We hadn’t moved to Delhi then, so we only visited the city to meet my cousins. It used to be a new adventure everytime, the new accent, new games to learn, new places to visit and watching people who behaved very differently from those back home. 

One particular night, my uncle decided to take us to this market place we had never seen before. My brother and I put on our best clothes and off we went to see this new place. I can’t remember exactly where it was. Either South ex, or Def Col, I really can’t remember. But that was the first time I ever saw an Archies Gallery. My brother and I stared at those lights and beautiful gifts, toys, and the cards like two village idiots. We didn’t dare, however, to touch the items on display. “If you break anything, we’ll send you to these people to wash their dishes forever.” we had been warned.

Everything was so different. The shopkeeper was not a bearded man chewing paan and wearing a lungi, like back home. He was a smart young man who spoke good English. The shop was a full of glitter and there were decorations everywhere.

We saw a crowd outside and ran to see what was happening. There were kids mostly. All happy, flocking around a fat, old man in red. “We should move to this city!”, I whispered to my brother. “Why?” He whispered back.

“Don’t you see? The real Santa Claus lives HERE!”

After that I was assured that the Santa who came to our school last week was actually Sister Angela. (He did look too thin. And the beard fell off at one point.)

We came back home, with the candy that Santa Claus had given us, after shouting at us for not queueing up properly. What did we care? We had met the REAL Santa. That was all that mattered.

That was my first experience with Christmas. Commercial and pretend, but still. This year I experienced real Christmas. Celebrations with friends who celebrate it for the meaning. A fabulous dinner, with lots of jokes and stories flying around the table. Rerun of a movie which i have watched at least thrice before. And LOTS of people. Yes. Suddenly i don’t feel terrible about spending the holidays away from home.

Can you…?

AAAAArrrrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

That felt good.

Phew.

Main Khush Hoon Aaj Khaamakha

So, I almost broke into a dance on the overhead bridge while I was on my way to school today. And I smiled to myself the whole day. I almost gave a hug to a random stranger on the road while I hummed a tune to no particular melody. I giggled while I talked on the phone and sent smses to wrong people. I pretended to study in the library and read a novel instead. I walked with a bounce in my step and smiled at myself in the mirror inside the lift. So when the lift door opened, I was smiling ear-to-ear at a stranger who stared at me. I didn’t stop smiling. I am happy today.

You know why?

Bas… Aive hi :)

E-X-H-A-U-S-T-E-D … and a few other emotions

So.. week 5.. what has been happening?

a LOT actually.

I have started referring to dance rehearsals, discrete fourier transforms, year end dinner preparations, microcontrollers, exchange day and quizzes as my newfound emotions. But I am having fun, nevertheless.

Or rather, i was having fun, until a couple of days ago when I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like someone had hit me on my head. I don’t remember much but I remember taking the thermometer out of the drawer and putting it into my mouth.

And I remember the reading. It said 40 degrees celsius.

And I remember thinking I was going to die.

And there were medicines.

But I didn’t die. I called in sick the next day. I never skip lectures, or work, or anything for that matter. I don’t remember doing that for a really long time. Not even when I was still in school. Yes, I was one of those irritating, nerdy, “Full-Attendance-prize-winners-every-year”. (Don’t snigger. I am still proud of it.)

So I took medicines for a couple of days but I wasn’t getting well. Yesterday, I got shouted at by a friend for not finishing my vegetables and drinking coke and having sauce while I have a fever. We all called him a “saas” for doing that. What followed was a tyranny of laughter, and a pointless conversation and more laughter.

Today my fever is gone. Like magically.

Guess I got the correct dose of the medicine I needed. :)

Week One: Fried Brain

After trying to get things back in order during week zero, I was looking forward to school starting asap. First week is always fun. Everyone is back from home, fresh and ready for the semester. The air is filled with the usual gossip about who lost weight and who didn’t, who went places and who chilled at home. Everyone has gotten their sleep, and everyone is talking about partying.

Everything is ‘the usual’. The usual people, the usual chaos, the usual lazyness and the usual excitement to see everyone again. The usual ‘catching up’ lunches and dinners, the usual who-changed-hair-style discussions. The usual happy faces. The usual freshmen and the usual seniors on the prowl for freshmen. Good days, sigh.

In the midst of ‘the usual’ things happening, I stagger into the lecture theatre with tired, sleep-deprived eyes. My friends think I need therapy. But when you wake up at 4am to work on a proposal, reach office at 9, go for a project briefing at 10, try to figure out the fourth groupmate for the 6 credit project course, get back for a meeting at 12, grab a quick bite at 1, rush to the post office at 2, fix up a dance rehearsal for 6 pm, and come back to office to a brand new email that says ‘meeting at 9 pm today’, there’s no way you can react. Because your brain is fried.