Transference

It was love at first sight
She smiled at me
It was the perfect smile
The twinkle in her eyes
The slight tilt of her head
Her soothing perfume
The grace in her walk
The humor in her talk 
She can never be wrong
I am in love with her
I think she is God.

I hardly noticed her
She smiled at me
It was the average smile
The squint in her eyes
The occasional yawn
Her ordinary perfume
The shuffle in her walk
The hurry in her talk
She can never be perfect
I am in love with her
I know she is Human.

The Art of Aping

I was at the Art Institute of Chicago recently to watch the Picasso exhibits.  Apart from being completely blown over by the genius of the artist, something else caught my attention.  The institute was pretty crowded that day, and it was hard to pay attention to any particular face or keep track of anybody.  The crowd was moving along like a stream of water, pausing at every painting briefly.  But there was one little boy who I couldn't help notice.

He had come to see the paintings with his mother and younger sister, and they were standing right next to me.  I figured he must be around eight years old.  He was wearing these Harry Potter glasses and looked rather contemplative.  Very soon I realized that I had an admirer.  This kid was trying to imitate my behavior at the institute.  He paused at a painting for exactly the same amount of time, and focused in exactly the same areas of the painting as I did.  If I read the description of the painting, he would read it too, else ignore it.  He folded his hands when I folded mine, and when I stepped away from a painting, he followed suit, constantly casting glances at me to make sure his imitation was perfect.  His younger sister on the other hand was far too young for Picasso I guess.  She looked bored and kept trying to distract her brother, but in vain.  This went on for a really long time.  I should say I was really amused by his behavior, even feeling proud at some point that this kid was imitating me and not his mother.  :D

But, on my way back home, my amusement turned into serious contemplation.  I was transported back to my childhood days, when I tried very hard to look and behave like an adult.  I don't know if I really wanted to be an adult, but I tried to imitate them nonetheless.  I watched my parents, other grown-ups, even older siblings very carefully.  When our family watched a movie on TV, I would watch my mother every time there was a funny scene, to see if she was laughing.  If she laughed, I would laugh.  If she didn't find it funny, then it wasn't worth laughing.  I tried to chew food the way grown-ups did.  Yes, I thought grown-ups chewed food differently from kids.  I've draped myself in my mom's sari several times and admired myself in the mirror.  I felt really good when I was in the middle of grown-ups having serious conversations, or when the seniors in school knew my name.  I imagined how I'd behave, how I'd eat, how I'd laugh and how I'd talk when I grew up.

And then, I thought about all the times in my adult years, when I've wished I were a child again.  I've wished I could go back to my school days, when life was much simpler, when everything was taken care of, and all I had to do was study and write exams, and wait for the holidays.  Days when I was so young I didn't think so much.  My only biggest worry then was how 1st standard was going to be when compared with kindergarten.  Days when I cried my heart out when my necklace of pink beads broke, spilling the beads onto the earth, and that was the most painful thing that could happen.  I still remember the tightness in my chest.  And then I wondered, if I were to become a kid again, if I were to get that pink necklace back, would I hold onto my dear childhood, not wanting to let go?  Or, will I reach for that sari again?

Paradise

When she was just a girl
She expected the world
But it flew away from her reach so
She ran away in her sleep
And dreamed of paradise
Every time she closed her eyes.*

I wonder sometimes - am I in paradise and having a really bad dream?  Or is this for real and paradise just a dream?  Do such dreams come true?  Or should I just not open my eyes?

*Verses not mine, of course.  Source: Coldplay - Paradise

The magician

She sat at the windowsill, like a splendid painting stirred out of a vision, a vernal poem liberated from the soul, a virgin melody cast into the air, all of youth's beauty distilled into her.  Her long locks lay carelessly about her shoulder.  But her eyes were burning like embers.  The last drop of tear rolled down onto her golden dress, trailed awhile, absorbed into the creases, and lay there to become one with the air.  She stared into space, the golden evening, into everything, and nothing.  Her mind traveled a great distance, to places that she knew not existed, lived days of pain and pleasure, and returned to her, wholly exhausted.  It returned to a hush, to the stillness of the lake on a moonless night, disturbed only by the occasional fall of a dying leaf, or a slight turn of the untiring breeze. 

She was lost in the depths of the unmoving waters, when she heard a gentle tap on her window.  Startled out of her reverie, she looked outside.  She must have been dreaming, she thought, took a deep breath, and returned to staring at eternity.  She was just settling in, when she heard it again.  This time, she knew she wasn't dreaming.  She opened the window and the cold autumn rushed in.  She closed her eyes briefly as the wind whizzed past her.  And then it all began.  Was it the tinkle of tiny bells, or was it the singing of merry blue-jays?  Enchanting music filled the air as she opened her eyes in wonder.  A golden hue surrounded her, and sparkling confetti showered upon her.  She leaped up from the windowsill, her footsteps light and sprightly, treading the room.  She turned around, round and round.  Golden birds flew in, circled around her, as she jumped merrily to reach them.  Fresh green twigs, bedecked with flowers, purple and pink and soothing lavender, floated into her room.  Elegant branches wrapped around her, adorning her with their exotic blossoms.  Ethereal fragrances filled the room, and she laughed with joy, like a little child, innocent pleasure pouring forth.  

Long was she lost in this bliss; her heart filled with delight, as travails of the past ebbed away.  She slowed down, and stopped still.  She closed her eyes and reveled in the marvel around her.  She breathed in the crisp air, she breathed in a force anew.  She opened her eyes and smiled as the magic drifted past her.  She watched it all float away through the window that let it in.  A sudden thought occurred to her and she sprang to the window.  Surely, this was all magic, but where was the magician?!  She ought to find him, she ought to thank him!  She opened the windows wide, and leaned over, looked below, and to the sides.  And as if he had read her thoughts, he swooped down and landed on the ledge below, took her hands in his and said, "Happy to help!"  "Thank you!", she exclaimed, "But who are you?!"  He smiled, came close, and gently whispered something in her ear.  She smiled and waved at him as he swished his cape, and before she knew, he was on his way to the house yonder, at whose window sat a delicate damsel, with flowing tresses and moist eyes.  She turned away from the window as his silky voice echoed in her ear, 'I am batman.'  


P.S. This post is written for a narcissist friend of mine, who has bullied me into writing a post for him. :D

The duel

He lay there defeated,
On the wet grass,
His sword at his feet,
Breathing heavily,
Wounds bleeding afresh,
Head throbbing with pain.

He opened his eyes,
In the darkness of the night,
Shadows cast by the moon,
Behind the purple haze,
Stood his towering assailant,
With a smug look on his face.

Groaning in agony, he sat up,
Studied his victor close, and said,
'You are the same, aren't you?
Our swords have met before,
And I have fought my battles best,
Yet why is it that I never win?'

His stolid opponent smiled,
Sheathed his bloody sword,
Donned his coat and hat,
Turned to depart, but paused,
And said, 'Thanks for the invite,
See you next spring.'

A promise

He came out of his hut, a small hut with thatched roof that stood at one corner of his field.  It was a bright morning, with white fluffy clouds floating above.  He smiled.  Today was the day.  He had worked very hard for it for months.  He was finally going to see some action.  He was finally going to fulfill his promise.

He went back in, helped himself to a hot cup of coffee, had a hearty breakfast and came out.  He looked at his equipment, with great satisfaction. It was lying outside his house just a little away from the pole that supported his roof.  He had done a good job, though he felt that one of the screws could be tightened a little more, so it doesn't jut out so much.  He sought perfection and beauty in everything he did.  He went back into his hut, brought out his toolkit and started working on his wonder device.  He intended to tighten just one screw, but one thing led to another, and he couldn't stop till he was completely satisfied with the look and feel of his creation.  It was already mid afternoon by the time he finished.  He walked back to his hut, quenched his thirst with a glass of cool water from the earthen pot kept just outside the door.  The sun had started its journey downwards to the oceans.  Now seemed like a perfect time to launch his device.  

Two years ago, he was the happiest man on earth, or so he thought.  He had the most loving family - his ever so kind wife and his charming little boy filled him with so much joy that he didn't seem to want anything else in life.  Till one day, his son contracted a deadly illness that even the best of physicians and the costliest of medicines could not cure.  "This is a very rare disease", the doctors had said, "and science hasn't progressed enough to cure this".  In his son's battle against death, death won, leaving him and his wife devastated.  It was not long before his wife passed away unable to bear the loss of their child.  He wandered far and wide, wherever his grief would take him.  He fought hard, he wanted answers.  After a long struggle, the quest ended, the flames subsided.  He had consoled his heart, but came back with a determination, a dogged determination to fulfill a promise.  He sold all his property, gave away his riches to the poor, saved a small piece of fertile land, built a hut in one corner of it, and settled there.

He looked at the sky again, at the white fluffy clouds, drifting slowly with the wind.  His son's voice echoed in his mind, the vision haunted his memories. 

"Daddy!", the kid had exclaimed.  "Do you know what I want for my birthday this year?"

"No, my son.  What do you want for your birthday?"

"Can you take a guess?"

"Mmmm.. Let's see. You want a new set of cars to play with?"

"No daddy. I already have a lot of cars." 

"Shoes with flashing lights?"

"No daddy.  I just decided what I want for my birthday.  I want the clouds!"  The kid sounded ecstatic. He hopped and looked up at the sky, while holding his father's hand as they walked through the lush green paddy fields, glowing in all its prosperity. 

"The clouds, my dear boy?"  His dad was indeed puzzled.

"Yes daddy, the clouds.  I want some clouds for my birthday!  Don't you think it will be nice to hang them outside our house during Christmas?!  Maybe we can put some on the Christmas tree!!  And I will take some to school to show everybody!"  The kid couldn't contain his excitement and his father realized that he was serious.

"But, son.  It is not possible to get the clouds, they are very far away.  Nobody has reached them." 

"You are lying daddy, you told me that aeroplanes go higher than clouds. I have seen them myself."

He realized that wasn't working.  

"Is there something else you want my son?  Daddy is growing old and I am afraid I can't travel to the clouds and bring them back for you."

"But no daddy, I want the clouds. They are so beautiful."  The kid started crying, which sent pain down the father's chest.  How could he let his son cry?

"Okay, I will get you the clouds, but not for this birthday, but maybe two years later.  Is that okay?"

"But why not this birthday?" 

"It will take me a long time to reach the clouds and I want to find the best one for my boy."

"But will you promise me that you will get me the clouds?"

"I promise."  Saying thus, he lifted his son into the air, embraced him close to his chest, and carried him home.  He secretly hoped that his son would forget about the clouds and his promise.  Of course, kids forget and two years is enough time for them to want a different birthday gift.

His kid's enthusiasm and his own promise reverberated in his heart.  That was two years ago, how quickly time flies, he thought, yet not fast enough for him not to feel it.  He laid a hand on his equipment, pressed onto the fixture in the ground, to make sure it was secure.  He took the net in one hand, supporting it with the other.  He pressed a button and the machine came on with a loud whirring sound.  He looked at the sky again, he looked at the clouds, poised himself for the launch and with one sweeping motion, cast his net into the air.  It went flying towards the skies.  As it expanded and traveled higher and higher, he felt it drag him with it, but he kept steady.  The machine spun at an incredible speed and the net reached the clouds.  He saw it trap a few beautiful soft white fluffy clouds inside.  He pressed a lever and the net started retracting.  He pulled at the net, it came closer and closer to him, wrapping tightly around the clouds.  As it neared his field, he noticed that the trapped clouds were getting darker and denser.  And before he knew it, it had started to rain over his paddy field, and the net limply fell on the ground.  He stopped his machine and smiled.

His neighbor who lived several yards away from him had been watching him from his verandah.  In fact, he had been watching this man at work for several months, this quiet man, who remained a mystery to the entire neighborhood.  He walked over to him and said, "You look like a wise man, but were you really hoping to capture the clouds?"  He smiled, but didn't say anything.  "Well, you got rain earlier than usual, so maybe you will get good crop this year!"  To which, he again smiled but replied, "I am going to make some coffee.  Would you like to join me?"

A year passed.  The machine lay outside the hut; it had been worked on, it had new features and looked stronger.  The man stepped out of his hut, examined his wonder device, and looked at the sky.  It was a clear night, the sun had set and the stars were twinkling in a multitude of colors in a distant land.  He laid a hand on his equipment, pressed onto the fixture in the ground, to make sure it was secure.  He took the net in one hand, supporting it with the other.  He pressed a button and the machine came on with a loud whirring sound.  He looked at the sky again, he looked at the stars, poised himself for the launch and with one sweeping motion, cast his net into the air.

He cast a net, a net for the stars that night...

Red red roses

This rose plant stood in a rather unkempt corner of the garden.  He was a strong plant, who gave flowers every season, beautiful and fragrant, red red roses..  The other rose plants envied him, his strength, his beauty and the fabulous roses that he produced.  Yet, he was the unhappiest plant in the whole garden, for none came to pick his beautiful roses.  The flowers bloomed, spread the sweet fragrance throughout the garden, invited the neighbors' envy, waited and wondered, why none came near, and withered away into the earth.  The mighty rose plant never understood why, the priest who stopped by the garden religiously every morning, never dared touch him; the starry-eyed lover who looked admiringly at his roses, never came an inch closer; the little girl who wanted a rose to match her dress, wouldn't lay a finger.  Why, even the gardener watered him from a distance!  

Years passed.  Autumn came.  It came every year, but this time it was different.  Gusts of wind came with mighty force, rattled the earth and shook the roots of the plant.  The mighty rose plant, who broke not a branch all these years, fought a battle much fiercer.  The wind rushed through his leaves, bringing them all down in a sweep.  The rose plant swayed from side to side, struggling to hold on to his roots.  Sometimes the wind twisted his branches.  The rose plant kept fighting, but his branches started to break.  He heard a crack and he heard it fall.  His own branches fell on him.  And then he knew, and then he understood, everything.  His roses were beautiful indeed, but that came with a costly price.  His thorns were longer, stronger and sharper than any he had ever seen, than any he had ever felt.  He felt his own thorns pierce his vein, causing him unbearable pain.  One by one, the branches fell on him, the plant screamed in agony.  The wind wreaked havoc on the garden and finally bid goodbye.  The rose plant looked at himself, at the fresh wounds caused by the thorns, his very own.  So proud had he been, about his glamorous roses, that he had failed to see his thorns.  Overcome with shame, overcome with grief, the rose plant endured the winter in silence.

Months passed.  Spring came.  It came every year, but this time it was different.  The sparrows chirped a little too merrily, and the apple shoots peeked a little too early.  The garden was gay, bright and cheerful.  But something was amiss in a rather unkempt corner of the garden.  There stood a rose plant who had given flowers every season, beautiful and fragrant, red red roses.  But all that was left of him was a dried trunk, with a few dead branches.  The concerned gardener came close, a little closer than he had ever been.  He pulled the broken branches apart to reveal the body of the plant, with veins running dry and scars running deep.  He watered it anyway, with a little more care.  Alas, for it wasn't just the veins that the thorns had pricked.  The rose plant never bloomed again, but sank into the earth to join his untouched flowers, beautiful and fragrant, red red roses.

The vending machine

Some things are unforgettable. There is this vending machine in the building where I work - the vending machine that acts as a savior when I am losing it in lab and really want some sugar down my throat. It was one of those days, one of those long and tiring ones in lab, when I walked down those silent corridors towards the vending machine. On my way down there, I was trying to decide between a bar of snickers and a more healthy option. The first three items from the left are healthier options, says the vending machine, I remember. But very rarely have I risked having the healthier option, I have always been disappointed, either by the taste or the meager quantity. I hadn't made up my mind yet, but I was already in the room. And lo! The machine wasn't there!

Have I arrived at the wrong room? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere lost in my thoughts? I stepped out of the room, looked around. No, I am in the right place. There is even a coke vending machine nearby, where it always used to be. This has to be the room. But now, there was only a dark patch on the floor where the vending machine used to sit. What did they do with it? Didn't they realize that someone was heavily dependent on it? Didn't they see stuff vanishing from there? (Of course, I fed the machine the required number of quarters every time.)

Very disappointed, I went back to lab, unable to focus on work. Why would anybody want to remove the vending machine? Why didn't they leave a note saying when it would be back? Did they move it some place else? Where was it? Will it be back?  I was very very sad. Things don't end here. Worse is when you walk down those corridors again, on another long and tiring day, when there is no other option available for you to get a snack, and you find the same dark patch.

It has been several weeks, perhaps months, I have lost track.  I want to know if the vending machine is back. I want to find out, but I don't want to make that trip down to the little room in the corner. What if it isn't there? I know I cannot handle it. Not again.

Is anybody listening?

Greener pastures

This was a post I had written a long time ago, found it in my drafts today. 

---------

Today was again one of those days when I was wondering if I was on the right career path, rather wondering what my career path was.  I was sitting at a friend’s desk staring at all the cute little things she had on display on her pin board, wondering if I would have enjoyed being in her place, doing her job, instead of being where I am right now.  As I sat there imagining how different my life would have been, this one particular cartoon on the board caught my eye. 

A toothbrush says to his friend, “Mine is the most disrespectful job on earth.” 

“Yeah, right”, goes the friend, who happens to be a roll of toilet-paper! :D

To each his own!

Spring...

I was on a bus.  I saw this girl sitting across from me eating her burger.  I don't know why, but I was studying her.  I could see immense pain in her eyes, brimming with tears.  Those eyes tried to avoid the tears, avoid my gaze.  She shut her eyelids, hoping to engulf those tears.  But the drop trickled down and fell on her arm.  She wiped it away, slightly embarrassed, and looked out through the window.  The bus stopped briefly.  There was a row of tulips by the sidewalk, cheerful red and pink, dancing in the sun.  I saw a smile escape her lips.  It was spring, it will see her through.

Reverie

Inspired by one of my long and lonely waits at the train station...

The wait...

It was a cold night
with a silent breeze
He stood still
Oh will he freeze?

I bent down and
tried to reach
But those walls
I could not breach.

I stared at him
with my eyes wet
Do you have an answer yet?

Discovery

I didn't believe you existed, but they told me you did,

They showed me proof, 'twas was dark and difficult.

I probed and probed, but found only shadows,

That danced with mirth, or stood steady and cold.

I retreated to the dark, and shut myself in,

For I was tired of shadows, I was tired of deceit.

With not a hope and a heavy heart, I stared into the dark,

All of a sudden, with starry eyes, I saw you glow, soft and blue!

My heart swelled with joy, and eyes brimmed with tears,

At last, I had found you, in the darkest of realms!

I captured you clear, and set you deep in my heart,

Yet what the world can see is dark and difficult.

A few days ago, I typed out an e-mail to a friend and just as I hit 'send' on Gmail, this message popped up:GMAIL!!! Stop reading my e-mails!!! This is so scary...

Music

I listened to a friend sing 'Tum Pukar Lo' by Hemant Kumar while playing the guitar at a gathering yesterday.

And then, I came across this today - I had to share it!

"After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own. Music always seems to me to produce that effect. It creates for one a past of which one has been ignorant, and fills one with a sense of sorrows that have been hidden from one's tears. I can fancy a man who led a perfectly commonplace life, hearing by chance some curious piece of music, and suddenly discovering that his soul, without his being conscious of it, had passed through terrible experiences, and known fearful joys, or wild romantic loves, or great renunciations."
I love Oscar Wilde! :)

My shadow

I walked the walk of life,
With my shadow strolling by,
Oh! The splendid walk,
And all the mirth and the talk!

He followed me everywhere,
Often leading me to dare,
So close to me he'd stay,
"I'm all yours", he'd say!

We crossed the mighty hills,
With joyous shrieks and thrills,
We scaled the valleys steep,
And swam the oceans deep!

I wondered day and night,
What I'd do without his might?
"Oh", I said, "My shadow dear!
Will you not come a tad too near?"

"Your shadow I may be,
Yet a spirit stirring free,
I'll walk with you with pride,
But cannot rise by your side."

Saying thus he flew,
Or was it I who withdrew?
Leaving me to wonder,
Was it too grave a blunder?

I was deprived of my shadow,
But left richer by this halo,
'When you try to hold 'em closer,
E'en shadows don't last forever.'

And then....

I looked at the side bright,
There was my shadow in sight,
The one that I held so dear,
Was just a phantom mere!

:)

[Meme]: Untitled

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It is quite a privilege and very flattering indeed to be tagged to a wonderful meme, especially when you consider yourself to possess no talent whatsoever that is required to carry it forward! Borna tagged me to this meme on 'Untitled abstract poetry'. I am sure she is already getting a heart-attack seeing that I have actually done something about it! :P

The first and the last time I wrote a poem that I wasn't ashamed of publishing was when I was in my 6th standard. I wrote a small article titled, 'My best friend' and a poem whose title I don't remember. It certainly wasn't Untitled. :) I don't clearly remember what that poem was all about. I believe it had something to do with nature and trees and colors. I had amazed myself with that poem, I was rather proud of it. I submitted both the entries to my Class Teacher and she seemed very happy. But when the magazine came out, I saw that only my little write-up on my best friend was published and my poem wasn't! :( Sadly, I didn't even keep a copy of the poem for myself. I was very disappointed and consoled myself saying that the poem was probably too good for a 6th grader! :P I like to think that the teacher liked the poem so much that she stole it and gave it to her son when he came to the 6th grade! :D

Somehow that incident dealt a severe blow to my newfound interest and my just-about-budding confidence in poetizing and I never ventured into it again. Thank you Borna for tagging me, and thanks to the world of bloggers for propagating the meme, thus providing me with the opportunity to pick it up again! :)

Here goes my abstraction...

-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----

As I stand by the lake,

Staring
Into the depths of the waters,
Beyond the horizon,
Wondering
What tempest or treat matters,
The spectral boundaries of the unexplored
Seem
Soo far away… 

As I peer into the scope,
Searching
The smallest of scintilla,
Connecting the dots,
Surmising
The theme - the unifying idea,
The secrets locked within those spots unseen
Seem
Soo far away...

As I strain every nerve,

Seeking

To fathom these very depths,

Or spare myself these questions,

Hoping

Therein the answer rests,

The knowledge of life's ways untold

Seems

Soo far away…

-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x----- 

  And needless to say,

When experiments fail day-after-day,

PhD

Seems

Soooooo faaaaaar away. :D

Sorry, I really couldn't help that last bit! :D

I would like to tag Srividya, Srinivas and Sanchit to carry this meme forward. Looking forward to reading your poems! :)

Perspective

An impromptu attempt at sketching something with a pen on a ruled sheet of paper. Possibly the quickest sketch I've ever made - all under the pretext of trying to study.. :PDisclaimer: Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental! :P

Thank you :P

It was just another day. I was returning from lab after a tired but productive day. As I neared my apartment building, I noticed that there was an old man standing by the main door, fiddling with his keys, but certainly not attempting to open the door. He stood a good two foot away from the door and I was skeptical of opening it and letting him in. He certainly seemed like a stranger to me because I have never seen him around before. The building management strictly advises us not to let strangers into the building. Even if inmates claim that they have forgotten their keys or locked themselves out, we are not supposed to play the good Samaritan.

Me being the over-cautious woman, I stood there for a moment or two wondering what I should do. Just then, this guy who was leaving the building left the door open for me to go in. I went in and as I had feared, this old man followed me promptly into the building, uttering a 'Thank you'. I slowed down, pretended as if I was trying to call somebody, and let him go in front of me. I checked at the building front desk and I wasn't surprised to see that the person on duty there was happily playing video games while she was supposed to be keeping an eye on people entering and leaving the building.

So I decided to take over the spying job (a lot of my friends would so totally agree with how good a detective I am. Thank you, thank you! :P). I followed this man to the elevators and saw that he did have the keys to the mail-box, which was sort of relieving. I held the elevator open for him and he entered saying, "Thank you". Now, why am I stressing on the 'Thank you'? Well, I am sure all of you must have heard Barack Obama say 'Thank you'. Remember the talk that he gave in Iraq a while ago? Oh, my goodness! He kept saying 'Thank you' 'Thank you' for a full ten minutes before the audience would stop clapping at his entry onto stage.

It was the exact same 'Thank you' with the exact same voice that my friend was saying. This old man with a graying beard, ear-muffs, a plastic bag in his hand and smelling strongly of, well, alcohol. That explained his unsteady gait and his inability to figure out which key it was that opened the main door. He entered the elevator and stood in a corner. I asked him which floor he would like to go to and when I pressed the button for him, he said the unmistakable Obama 'Thank you' again.

A moment later came the statement, "Thank you. Thank you for your heart!"
My heart?!?! What on earth?! I haven't given my heart to you yet my dear old man! :D

As I exited the elevator, he said, "Thank you! You are a beautiful woman!"

Beautiful woman?!?! No, I am not surprised that he called me beautiful - I know I am! ;) But, I couldn't help let out a small cry of anguish at the kind of men who hit on me these days, for that matter, always! Old men with unsteady gaits and that too, after I-don't-know-how-many pints of beer. Sigh! What has the world come to!

You know it's New Year's when...

You know it's New Year's when... you don't see a single soul online on gchat when you log in at 8 o'clock in the morning...* and these are the kinds of conversation you have over the phone... **

"Aghghghilllaaa... I am sooooo drunk Aghghghillla... You know what I did last night... you won't believe this... I had two tequila shots and some kind of a tea.. forgot what it was.. Ohhh.. Long Island Tea... I have never been soooooo drunk before.. I think I made quite a spectacle of myself in front of my friends... :| And oh yeah.... Happy New Year!!! :D"

"It was sooooo cold last night.. I took my camera and tripod and went out to watch the fireworks.. You won't believe how cold it was... While taking pictures, I had to remove my gloves and my hands were freeeeezing.. Now, I am down with a cold and fever... :("

"You know what.. I thought the party at my cousin's place was last night.. turns out it is tonight.. I just ended up watching 3 idiots and went to bed.. :|"

"I have never bought alcohol myself before.. I went to the store and stood at the wine aisle, rather stupidly staring at all the labels.. After spending half-an-hour at the store, I decided to pick up whatever this decent, my age-looking girl chose.. Late harvest Riesling.. supposed to have a good aroma.. and then I thought, 'Hell...!!! Who wants good aroma at a New Year's bash?!' ...and so picked up the sweet and crisp Riesling, which is supposed to go well with spicy stuff.. ;)"

And this one is the best -
"I lovvvvvvvvvvve you... muuuuuaaaaaaaaaaah.. :-* "
(Mind you... I actually heard that kiss!)
Me: (Slightly blushing) Ahem.. Okaayyy.. Did you have a good time last night?
"Welllllll... ummmmmm.... Nooooooooo!!!!!" :D

Happy New Year everybody!!! Cheers!!! :)

*Yes, if I am awake at 8 o'clock in the morning on New Year's Day logging into gchat and calling people up, you can tell what a sad New Year's Eve I must have had. :(
**My dear friends - Please don't be mad at me for making our conversations public. I have taken great care not to give away your identities. :) So, please return the favour by not revealing your identities through your comments. :P