I confess..

I have a thing for men with:
~ sarcastic natures
~ commitment issues
~ 'a quality' that makes everybody perceive them as gay and
~ careless, rude, self-effacing yet charming demeanours.
(or Chandler Bing, Jane Austen/Bronte Sisters/Georgette Heyer's male characters and Oscar Wilde)

Off late, this has been extended to serial killers based in Miami, Florida.

There, can I have my perfect man now?

#Lesson for today: Yes, mother was perfectly right in being extremely worried about my taste in men.

I’m bored now

After being subjected to the most moronic people possible in my department and the cynical stylings of many close friends, I can declare that our fest is over. O-V-E-R.

Now I can relax, lay waste to all the banners and spare posters and most importantly, start living on diet of something other than chole bature and momos. My sudden sugar and caffeine cravings have subsided. I no longer wake up in cold sweat, having dreamt of goblins eating ice creams on Farooque Shaikh's head. Although, that would have been an apt sight, considering all the money he made us spend. I vow, with all of you regular readers as my witness that when I become famous, I shall not charge educational institutions for a plane ticket. Or at the very least, wear a rather large sun bonnet and be content to sign autographs throughout the flight.

#Lesson for today: Let loose the goblins.

Ze first

Sign of true success in life is,

A Hate Mail.

Ain't it awesome?

Now that I have finally finished gloating, I can proudly say that I am getting hate mails from people in my department. Most of them regarding the fest, taking place soon. The rest, overtly personal and written in some really bad English. Makes me wonder what'll happen to the college magazine. *Wink Wink*.

Im feeling particularly happy as of now and am thinking of breaking my rule about not mentioning names on the blog. I'll take a poll. If three people say yes, I'll post the mail here. As an added bonus, the reply I sent as well. Or if that seems far too bitchy, I could just forward it your email. Now, wouldn't that be fun?

#Lesson for today: If you're used to being a pampered princess at home, don't expect the same shyt from me.

@ 2 weeks

The auditorium curtains need changing and I shall lead the quest for "expensive-curtains-from-SN-that-are-available-at-perfectly-reasonable-prices-elsewhere".

I may not have bought in any sponsorships as such, but I sure am working my ass off when it comes to moral support and thumbs up for all.

I will lose my precious l'il mind in all this publicity and poster business. Especially since I feel lazy.

And when boredom strikes, the devil comes out to play. *Evil Grin*



#Lesson for today: Chardonny Semillion, Yum Yum!

Bad ways to get things done

You know how sometimes you're listening to instructions and then suddenly blank out? You'll be able to run down the whole list except for the most important detail in the end. If it hasn't happened to you, rest assured it will. It's a common phenomenon especially when the mind would much rather ponder upon the mysterious of how rocks end up in the canteen food.

Now, I've heard that some people also have chronic amnesia for a certain type of task. No matter how many times you explain it to them, they'll still manage to fuck it up. Not that it's ever their fault, y'know. Their brains simply can't take all this information and use it. Like the way you're never going to use all that crap you mugged up for the final exams.

Now, let's see somebody combine these two things together and what will you get? In simple terms: Me.

As my department teachers/presidents/the population in general starts to trust me enough with shit loads of work, they realize that I can't do something right beyond three instructions. You'll be lucky I did some part of the third instruction at all. I won't cite chronic amnesia as an excuse. I think it's a mix of the two conditions stated above. I can't help it, I happen to have a very imaginative and restless mind.

#Lesson for today: Someday hopefully, people will start instructing me in pairs. Till then, it's your headache. I'll just smile and go with the (by now forgotten) flow.

Oh department fest o' mine

Department Fest! Department Fest!
What are they doing to you?
Department Fest! Department Fest!
It'ssss not your faultttt!

They keep saying you're the best,
You're obviously not their favourite fest
You make me work my ass off everyday
I could have gotten thinner some other way

Department Fest! Department Fest!
What are they doing to you?
Department Fest! Department Fest!
It'ssss not your faultttt!

#Lesson for today: Im shit tired of this fest work. I should have retired when I was young.

Shimla

As the title of this blog suggests, I like lessons. And not just the ones I’ve learnt under this lemon tree of mine. Shimla, as it turns out is a wonderful place to learn your lessons. Whether they are of the variety of “things one must never attempt during a trek” or what I learnt about being me, it had ‘em all.

To start with, Himachal University looks like a dream lost in the mist. The architecture is brilliant and so is their library. The place is a photographer’s dream come true. Even if we did just spend an hour there, it’s been coming back to me everyday with the aura of a dead lover who will not be forgotten. The staircases are especially ancient looking, with many a couple writing an eternal saga on its steps.

Moving on from the University was hard, but it had to be done. Following that, we decided to take an impromptu trek without informing anybody in the hotel. Absurd as that was, considering my fear of heights and clumsy nature, the feeling of freedom was unmistakable. Even the mushroom we spent some 10 minutes photographing, had an air of carelessness to it. All signs of the uncluttered and beautiful mountain life, said the Father who blessed me and two other friends. We met him in a small, one room church hidden amongst the money registers of Mall Road. Run entirely on donations, the small prayer we attended has changed some part of me forever.

Mall Road was another surprise. In some four years, it’s gone from being a fierce cottage industry case review for the hills to just another brand engulfed market. Not surprisingly, the best time there came from what our guide declared to be “useless parts of the market”. After all, we are the type of kids who’ll never listen to given reason. Lower Bazaar and Indian Coffee House live on in our taste buds. While the wood market presented some unique memories to boot.

So maybe Solan wasn’t at its best but the “tandoori” Manchurian still beats all. More than anything, Shimla was a testament to the stark difference between us and them. We never referred to ourselves as a ‘group’ and we still won’t. We’ve seen that being a group has more pitfalls than love in it and to be honest, we can live without that tag. I believe we were always people who liked each others company and were closer to some over others. We remain till date, the same. No compromises made. And in the small hotel room, we learnt the good, the bad and the value of that.

#Lesson for today: Cheers to the place that taught us so much. With love, to Shimla.

Updates

The battle against the mess that is my room has been temporarily abandoned, on account of me having caught the flu. Not swine, hopefully.

I promise a long and rambling post about travelling soon. Soon being whenever I can sit straight at the laptop for longer than fifteen minutes.

Errant random thoughts.

I'm back from the running away process. I feel much better, catharsis happened in a way. I shall ramble long and hard about Shimla very soon. As of now, I'm recovering from a not-so-swine-flu.

But more than anything right now, thank you God, for leading me to that church. Some miracles happened there in those brief moments.

Muaah! To all. :)

And yet again

I don't come online much these days. I've stopped eating dinner. I drink 4 glasses of water in a sitting and like feeling oddly destructive towards nothing in general. I could do very well with some amnesia right now and ranting here is the only thing that helps.

But by the time I get around to typing something, my anger and frustration has given way to an incessant tiredness of mind. Mother & Father are at it again, after having humiliated me in front of some five hundred people.

I'm going away soon for some respite. I need it. I may not be coming back. But don't worry, I won't leave without a goodbye.

#Lesson for today: Life is shitty.

Soon enough

On the 4^th of August, at precisely 7pm IST, the epic saga of Lemon Girl vs. The Mess In Her Room begins. You shall remain updated regularly.

#Lesson for today: There are very few petrol pumps in South Delhi. Hmmph.

Is there mercy?

The chance is here, I should take it
But I leave it far coz I can't fake it.

Do I need to shout out for mercy
Can't you just come and shoot me?
When very last sensation of pain is near
Then tell me there is nothing to fear.

Inked blotches on the page of life
As if there was something to hide.
Thrills me to be torn apart and then
The serenity of being whole again.

Does life come with pain or happiness
Juxtaposing a smile with sadness.


Yes, I still have a bad toothache. It hurts like all hell put together. And the painkillers have me doped up & hallucinating. Enough to make me write poetry like that. It's vaguely like Alternative Grunge. I don't know the the shit I wrote, but if it makes sense to you then more power to ya! Enjoy and tell me if you get a word.

#Lesson for today: Teeth.Can.Hurt. Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!