F R I E N D S

People say that girls make the best-est friends, whether it is as sisters, somebody you share your bus seat with, your friend from the breakfast table or your cubicle mate. You will always find a girl around you with whom you can share something with, even if it is the big bore that you keep coming across in the washroom. A small smile and an understanding starts brewing. No wonder there are words like soul-sisters whereas there is nothing like a soul-brother. Each girl is like a package. She is like ‘Bertie’s Every Flavor Beans’. She can be the flavor you want her to be. She will laugh and cry with you. If she is your best friend she will even make fun of you, but unlike the way a guy does it, it will be in private. She will be very careful with what she says lest she hurts your sentiments as she tackles the wild side of you. She will be there to lend you an ear. And she will actually listen. :) Men don’t. They only make sure that you don’t brood over it, but they generally do not have the patience to hear you out. (Hasn’t happened with me, but I know a lot of women who will swear by it) She will conspire with you and she will keep your secrets. Once in a while out of spite she will also be a bitch and do the back stabbing thing. But most girls do come back straight alright once they have had their go for all the mental reasons that only they can think of. She will giggle and guffaw with you over silly things. And she will be the drama queen to have things her way.

I am all smiles now.

I cannot half believe it that I could have ever said this. Bought up like a guy and with guys has always made me think that boys make the most wonderful friends. They will stand by you as brothers, friends, body-guards (remembering how many guys have been beaten and had their shirts torn off), pretense-boyfriends, advisors and what not. Maybe that is why I am so tom-boyish and not the girly-girl. Being brought up with guys, kind of makes you tough. You learn to scrape your knees and elbows and learn nothing of shyness and grace. You learn to keep your tears in check. 1) Because men won’t let you cry. Nobody knows how to make fun of a bout of tears the way a guy does. 2) It becomes a matter of self-respect to cry in front of a guy. You have to be as tough as they are. They will play the fool to make you laugh. And they will teach you obscene language so that you never get ragged. They are the ones who will come back to you even after a fall out. They will apologize if they know that you are the stubborn one. If you are a tom, they will forget that you are a girl. You will be let in to all their secrets and included in all their groups. You will be amazed to find yourself walking arm-in-arm and arm-over-shoulders with them. They are the ones who will go out of the way to do anything for you, the ones that will say “Anything for you Ma’am” and you will be left wondering since when did you start getting addressed with a feminine tag. They will be the first ones to notice whether you got your threading done or not, with the insensitiveness to point out what the lady at the parlour missed. They will be the ones to tell you that the other guys are going to ogle at you in a particular attire. They will not mind when you don’t use eyeliner, but they will be curious enough to know why not. They would like it if you would wear a skirt because it is a reminder of sorts that they are hanging around with a girl, but they will curse and damn the same skirt if it makes you sit unnaturally with your legs on one side on a bike. A different species they are!

Pride Personified

He is like a story book character. He would probably be a villain, if the book was mine.

I have never seen a prouder face before. I don’t know him; yet. The only interaction that has happened is exchange, no not exchange, of me wishing him good morning. A squarish face, with a prominent jaw-line. Tanned skin, unkempt wavy hair. Tall, probably 6ft., he holds himself to his full height, without any of the anomalies/glitches that tall people have; like hunching from their shoulders or bending from the waist or looking down and walking. The gravity doesn’t seem to affect his stance.

He looks at things around him with a lazy interest, giving the impression that he may be drowsy. But his mind is keen, absorbing everything that is being discussed. He isn’t a part of the discussion, but he is very much there. Those lips part, to mock at us; his objects of entertainment. He doesn’t smile the semi-circular - lips turned up kind of smile. It’s a crooked, lopsided kind of grin. A mirthful laughter that makes you realize that his features are set in a dour kind of way. Nose; sharp, pointed and dead center, the nostrils a little flared when he laughs.

His aplomb is such, that if he were to sit at his desk with his legs on the table, that would look like the normal decorum. What he wears, or what he does is what would become the trend for the people around him.

His pride is his quintessence. I have never felt it so strongly in anybody else.

Runs down in the 'Jeans':

Jeans have remained the ‘in’ thing for centuries, ranging from the bell bottomed or flared jeans to the skin/slim fit jeans and cigarette pants that one sees these days. They are like the LBD. They never ever go out of fashion.

Only that, jeans have become more scandalous now than fashionable. Remember Mr. Obama’s ‘Mom Jeans’ that caused a scandal last year. But, thank God, they were ATLEAST in the right place. That seems to be a rarity now, with people letting their jeans run down.

Me (sniggering a little, nodding towards the staircase): “Bye! All the best! Don’t worry too much about your viva, you will do well. And, tell that classmate of yours to pull his pants up; putting his undies on display isn’t going to fetch him any extra marks.”

Sis (in an exasperated tone): “Di! Stop staring at the wrong places.”
Me: “That guy is going up the stairs. He is the only person I can see up ahead of you. And more than anything else I find his fat bottom and drop down jeans obstructing most part of my vision frame. ”

*Sis rolls her eyes and walks away to her exam*

I suppose you have read/heard this before – wearing tight jeans can lead to impotency. And the counter part? Wearing sagging jeans impedes your walking abilities. What is the fun of having to drag your feet along? Or putting your bum out and walking in a very ape like manner, trying to prevent the jeans slipping off and revealing ‘the other half’ of your anyway half covered bottom?

Weird is the way the dressing sense is going. Flashing of inner-wear and cleavages is the in thing. And it is not only the men and their “Jockey” showing through. I find more and more women creeping into this category too. “Flaunt it if you have got it”. Is that the common motto for all cleavages? :S These girls really need to get a grip. But irrespective of sex/age I think that nobody likes to see such sites in offices, malls or even in clubs.

Do you know how G-strings came into existence? They were designed by a granny who was shocked to discover that her grand-daughters had given up wearing underwear because its band would show up while their low waist jeans would go down!

‘Jockey‘ by far has become the most popular inner-wear brand. A brand that people love to show off. *rolls eyes* With the trend that men today follow, I wonder if the sales of RED Jockeys went higher this Valentine season. *Chokes*

Jeans facts also reveal that people, especially women, those of a little plus size, buy jeans which are a size or two smaller and make it a target to fit into them. :O I blame LEE for this. Coming up with their ‘skinny – not for the masses’ jeans. All the mass (pun intended) did try to fit in there. The skinny, the slim, the big, the fat and the obese, everybody wanted to fit into it. I admit, I wanted to get into them too when I had not shed my baby fat. Now I hate them completely.

Also, I am still to understand what is the fun of wearing torn jeans. You may want to call me stuck-up with the old fashion, but I really don’t think that gaping holes at the knees or anywhere else for that matter look very fashionable. Agreed that it is in sync with the workman attire that jeans were originally designed for, but now that denims are part of chic fashion, don’t you think torn jeans are passé?

Jeans did make a lot of other things popular though, like:
- Tattoos just above your lumbar vertebrae. Quoting:
“You are closer than you should be, if you can read this” (in minute writing)
“Dekho magar pyaar se…”
- The jockey brand
- G-strings
- Tummy tops
- Piercing

I swear I have a personal itch to try pulling one of those sagging baggy pants down and see what it results in. I think that there will be a day when I will really try it on somebody. Maybe on a day when I am in one of my devil-may-care-moods. Watch out people!

Chomp. Gnaw. Slurp. Scratch. Burp.

Oh yes, I am finicky!

Chomp. Gnaw. Slurp. Scratch. (I mean the spoon scratching the plate here, dirty mind!) Burp.

Aarrrggghhh!! I hate those sounds. I am a sucker for good table manners and I find it disgusting to share the same table when people act like uncivilized cavemen while eating. There are better ways of relishing good food than being pompous about it.

1) The cattle-men:

The first commandment is to keep your mouth closed while chewing. Don’t go through the Open-chomp-close-chomp-open routine. I don’t see much difference between that and the cows chewing on their fodder. Open-gnaw-slap the jaws together-open-gnaw. Do that in my presence and I am sure to recommend you as the next Orbit-star-the-Jersey-cow!!

2) The doggie-ish:

The soup, tea, coffee, the dal, the rasam or any other liquid that you take in, is to be sipped, not slurped. Kindly, leave the lapping sounds for the other long tongued animals.

3) The cannibal types:

Non-vegetarian food is more difficult to handle than vegetarian food, especially when it has bones. Also, not every meat is easy to tear using a fork and a knife. Certain dishes do require the explicit use of hands and teeth. But, (yes the big butt of all matters) when it comes to basic table manners, one must make sure one doesn’t resemble a cannibal tearing into flesh. It may be a trying experience, but do try to take small bites instead of looking like a person who hasn’t been fed from ages. The animal in your hands is dead, and it isn’t going to run away anywhere! Keep up the patience!

And please, I beg, don’t dump the bones back into the food that you are still to consume. Transfer it neatly into another plate. Thank you!

4) Yes we know that you loved the meal and it would be a better idea to let the cook know so, than proving it by trying to eat the last grain of rice on your plate. For goodness sake, eat till the last grain if you must, but don’t make that screeching scratching noise with the fork and spoon. We aren’t starting to play banshees here yet!

5) I am trying hard here, not to type cast anyone. But, this is a habit that I have seen prevalent more in the south than in the north of India.

South Indians love eating anything, everything and food of any consistency with their hands, be it a chutney, a pickle, vegetables, salads, curries, rice, sambhar and rasam. Most people learn to eat that with a little bit of genetically handed down help.

Trust me, eating with hands is fun. It gives you a very homely feeling.
But making balls of rice and tossing them in your mouth or licking the dripping rasam up your elbow (yuck!) or dragging the food all over the plate while mixing it and then putting all your fingers in the mouth with the food, or to lick your palm clean are not sights that are fun watching.

6) Buuurrrrrppppp! An age old method to let the cook know that the food was excellent and the diner’s stomach walls are under strain and are threatening to burst. The burping days are passé now. If you cant really keep that smelly burp bottled up inside you, learn to hold a napkin up to your mouth when you do so. Letting everybody around you know that your stomach is going to be overworking itself during digestion are not the the most charming manners.

If you think that all these sounds must necessarily accompany good food, then please keep them confined to the privacy of your home. Don’t be a public embarrassment, atleast to the people you are sharing the table with.

Strange start to a new year...

31st December

Hello people! How did the welcoming-the- New Year ceremonies go?

New years’ this year was different. No party hopping. No dancing. No dining out. I am bored of the routine. I wanted to do something different for a change.

So, we whipped up a gourmet Continental dinner and watched a movie. Let me tell you this, watching a movie at my place is a different experience in itself. Lounging on the sofa or sprawling on the carpet, hugging your legs to your chest, a fluffy blanket to huddle into, the movie being projected on the wall from a projector, backed up by a 2500W speakers. Sounds strange for a person who isn’t a movie buff, eh? Don’t start wondering what we were doing watching a movie on the projector. We don’t have a TV at home. And which movie did we see? The exorcist.

I have seen movies of all genres in the past – action, romantic, thrillers, chick-flicks, fantasies, fiction, sci-fi, inspired-by-true-stories and the emotional atyachars. Everything, save the horror movies. Honestly speaking, horror serials used to scare me real bad and I would spend sleepless nights for days in rows. So I quit watching them, and have never watched a horror serial or a movie since then. Remember I said I wanted to do something different this New Year’s eve. So, horror it was this time.

More than the movie, what made an impression on my mind was what the director had to say about it. He said that everybody who has seen this movie has gone back with his beliefs reinforced, be it in the devil or in the god. But, where there is god, there is also a devil.

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1st January

We found a bat in my parent’s room. Yes, I am talking of the ugly, rat-faced, leathery mammal. Flapping its wings around and zooming across the room, over my parent’s heads at 5.30 pm in the evening. It hid itself in the slits of the split-AC, turning itself into a small ball.
An omen of something horrific? Or are horror movies just getting to my head?

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2nd January

Time: 10 pm. My entire family is sitting in the living room, talking. And we get on the subjects of night animals, from jackals, foxes, bats to me. Why me? Well… my granny swears she saw one of us (my sis or me) on the phone at 3.15 am, sitting by my grand-pa’s feet, talking on the phone some 10 days back. She says it was me; she could make that out from the hair.

And if hair was the deciding factor between my sis and me, then nobody can make a mistake of recognizing which of us it was. She has got silken, long, straight tresses that are half way down her back and is generally tied up. And I on the other hand have a wild fluffy mane of curly hair which is generally left loose. There isn’t even a 1 in a 100 chance of being mistaken there. :-/

I suppose my granny was hallucinating. I venturing out of my bed at night sounds impossible. A sleeping Shivani has a striking resemblance of a dead man inside a coffin. I sleep that straight. The unnatural position of lying straight on your back comes the most naturally to me.

I don’t know what to say. I am baffled….