Sunday, December 25, 2005

drowning in the bubbly

It’s christmas day. I woke up to the sound of loud carols coming from my living room. I thought I’d put up a post before going to my uncles house for yummy christmas lunch (think roasted chicken, champagne, prawn cocktails, leg of lamb - drool)

I was having a bah-humbug kind of moment yesterday. The 24th of December. I was at the office working on Christmas eve… I was freezing in the air-conditioner, I couldn’t breathe by virtue of mucus, and I was incredibly pissed off (I snapped at the sweet cleaning man, telling him to turn down the damned radio... Ms. Scrooge)

I left office at five thirty and rushed to pick up my top I needed to wear for midnight mass. Then I rushed to try and get my mum the blouse she wanted – it was not there. I ended up coming home empty handed and even more scroogey than I was in the morning.

I reached home at eight and nine was mid-night mass (ironic isn’t it – midnight mass is never at mid-night anymore because of noise rules!)

So I got ready and I looked in the mirror, I looked just fabulous dahling (pardon the lack of modesty) I wore a lime green silk longish top that has a hot pink silk zari belt: it’s one of a kind, black pants and my three and a half inch shoes.

I wore my hair down for a change, and walked with my head high, for a change.

We were right behind at mass. The church parish is growing every month. And they never estimate it correctly, there is inevitably a lack of chairs. We were lucky to get seats, according to Joseph, the usher.
I have realised that the people in my parish cannot sing. The lack of tune is appalling. I really wish, instead of a makeshift choir, they just get a nice CD player. Anyway, after three hours, my heels were getting to me and all I wanted to do was go home.

Home was lit up with christmas lights on the tree and my mum had baked a rum-filled chocolate cake, dad made the coffee and we talked a while.It’s christmas day. And I have no plans. I have not been for a christmas dance in ages. My office secretary, Greta, asked me why I am not going for a dance and told a guy in my office to take me for a dance – he made a face and shrugged it off. (he made a face!)

It’s christmas day and I don’t feel anything. Where is the cheer and joy? Where is the love?

Where is that proverbial warm, fuzzy feeling?

I’ll just wait to drown myself in champagne at my uncles house.

Monday, December 19, 2005

redefining geekyness

Today I think I redefined all forms of geekyness.

This rather hot ex-employee was visiting the office and I wanted nothing more to get full view of him. So I decided to walk by him. But I chickened out and as he caught a glimpse of me, I decided to hide... behind a pillar no doubt. Jeez.

He then walked with one of my co-workers to my desk... as I bravely came out from behind a pillar and began to walk away as if nothing had happened. He called my name (prompted by the coworker) I was stunned. I walked up and we made small talk and then I asked him if he was told by these girls that I was drooling over his picture in the office party album. DUH. The co-worker had not mentioned anything of the sort, and merely told him that he should meet some on the new creative team members who've joined the agency. He mentioned something about being flattered or something like that...

I did not catch it, as I drowning in my own geek.

Anyway, I gave him my card and red-faced moved away from the area. I don't know why I got nervous like that... good looking men don't make me nervous! Normally, I would have handed over my card and said, call me sometime, we'll catch up...

Instead, I felt like a fool. I succeeded in Redefining Geekyness today.

Usually I am much more calm, and sophisticated in situations like this.

But hey, I was caught off guard... unprepared...
I was cornered...
Pillared, if you will...

Who am I kidding?

Friday, December 16, 2005


Today my office gave us a holiday cause we had a party last night. I woke up late and lazed on the bed for a good half hour before moving. I needed to get up to go to my ex-office.
We had to make some voice recording for my friend Sameer, who was in a serious car accident 6months and 7days ago exactly. He was in a coma for 4 months, and now is in a brain injury rehab center.

We met at work. I had to do some stupid brochure for a bank, and he was the designer on the job. We instantly connected and we have been friends for about 3 years now. When I was a trainee, he was the one who asked the main guy to take me on, and extend my training period. We’ve hosted parties together where he was the super cool DJ and we’ve painted the town red. At clubs he was the guy who always danced behind me.

We used to do this thing, we would go to the canteen and I’d get the chai and he would get the Parle G biscuits and we would do the “dip dip”. This happened practically every day at about 4 or 5 in the evening. Every morning I would enter the office, but my bag on the table, switch on my comp and go to Sammy’s table – to take him down for coffee and breakfast.

We’ve spent nights in the office working, playing pool and drinking wine. We’ve done freelance together and created some mind blowing stuff. Sammy is the best graphic designer I know. He is so passionate about his work that we met once in a club and under those UV lights, he got out a A3 sheet of paper to show me a layout he did. And now I am not sure if he will still be able to do all that. Whether he will come out of this, the same Sammy I know and love so much.

We once had this conversation about why we should be together. Cause I know he snores, he knows I tend to judge people too quickly. We both know we are flirts, we both love the same music and have the same friends. We ended up saying that it would ruin the friendship and he thought I was the one girl friend he had… he did not want to jeopardise that. I said ditto.

I remember once he walked into the office in the morning, eyes closed and holding a blue coffee cup and a bottle yelling for me. When I went to him he told me he needed me to put drops in his eyes cause he couldn’t do it himself (he had his contact lenses in the blue coffee cup)

I used to sit next to him while he worked (he liked that- maybe I inspired him) and I used to bug him by asking the same question over and over, to which he would reply ‘no’ all the time – “Sammy, If I die, will you cry?”

One day he said – 'maybe.'

I think of him everyday. Every single day I pray for him. How much can I pray? 6 frikking months and 7 bloody days! I miss him goddamnit! Why the hell is he not ok yet? Why the hell did he go and reach his friend home? Why the hell did no one help him for 45minutes? Why him?
Today we recorded our voices for him, so he remembers us. It was a cruel reality check. He is not well. They say he will take a while to get back to normal. Normal?

Sameer is an awesome guy.
I hope he gets better.

Still praying. Always praying.

p.s: I love you lots sammy.

Sunday, December 11, 2005


The weekend came. And when the weekend comes, I am glad.
This weekend I decided not to do much at all. Instead spend quality time alone, with myself. So I was supposed to go for lunch on Saturday, but I graciously cancelled.

When I am not out socalising with friends that I haven’t met in ages, the weekend becomes my time to pamper myself. This weekend was a “me” weekend.

So I woke up on Sunday morning feeling blah. But instead of wallowing in blah-ness I began my anti-blah ritual. Which transalates to some sort of beauty regime.


I first used this face pack. It is a perfectly natural combination of fruit extracts, papaya, pineapple, lemon and tomato which gently cleanses one’s skin. Then I ran a hot bath.

I took my special shower gel into the bath, it is called Creative Spirit- Romantic. It’s special because I only use it when I am intensly blah. It smells divine. It has rich golden flakes of Tahitian Monoi Oil, that are blended with natural extracts of Orchid and Passionflower. It’s in a transparent bottle, with a light pink shower gel that is flecked with actual gold flakes, that melt on your body.

I washed my hair. With Garnier Fructius Shampoo and Conditioner. It has Vitamine B3 and B6, Fructose and Glucose.

I let it dry naturally, I listened to calming music while I creamed myself with Garnier Body Cocoon moisturizer. Which contains natural fruit oils from olives, apricots, grapes, blackcurrants and avacados.

My hair smells wonderful. My body is in a fruity cocoon.
My mind is calm. My soul is elevated. I feel great.

And tomorrow is Monday.


too much thinking

Its hard to say you love someone, and its hard to say you don’t.

This is a line from a damn nice song called “Drivin with the brakes on” by Del Amitri. I was listening to it and these words kind of grabbed me. What exactly does it mean. I know, most of these lyric writers just need to rhyme. But I am sure there is some truth in it. So I started asking people who were online whether they have ever been in love. I got mixed reactions.

Some people thought I was high. Some volunteered information so matter of factly. And wanted to talk about the time when they were in love. Who she was. What she dis. How long they were together. Others kind of “errm”-ed and “ahhh”-ed their way out of the conversation.

Why is it so hard to tell someone you love them? Why are people so afraid? Whats is soo wrong is telling someone that they are loved? I have noticed that people who have been hurt in love tend to be the ones to say, nahh I never loved him anyway! It takes a strong minded person to admit that they did love the person who hurt them more than anything. Cause the easiest thing to do is just deny it.

How do we know when we are in love? It’s that butterfly thing and the constant thinking about the person thing… but that could quite easily be just infatuation. How long do we take to fall in love? A day, a year, after the first kiss? With all the casual dates that people have – where does love come in?
Have I been in love? Yes I think I have.
Have I been infatuated? Yes most definatly
Did I know the difference at that time? Not all the time.

I think too much.

Too many people have told me that- like it’s a bad thing. It’s only bad when it comsumes you. And you get lost in the web of your thoughts.

Maybe I should stop analysing all the time.

Stop thinking too much.

In conclusion, i quote, the greatest thing we’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return.

Friday, December 09, 2005

insights on love

This a post by a friend. I hope he doesn't mind me using it. But to those of you who don't read his blog, and do read mine, i really think this guys has seen the light.

Boys, just do it!----Tell her you think shes cool. Tell her why you think shes so cool. Smell her hair. Talk to her in movie theatres. Pick her up and pretend youre going to throw her in the river; shell scream and fight you but secretly, shell love it. Hold her hand and skip. Hold her hand and run. Just hold her hand. Pick flowers from other peoples gardens and give them to her. Tell her she looks pretty. Let her pay for stuff if she wants to. Introduce her to your friends as The coolest girl I know. Sit in the park and talk to her. Take her to the library, and playgrounds, and train stations. Tell her dirty jokes. Tell her stupid jokes. Write poems about her. Just walk around with her. Throw pebbles at her window at night. When she starts swearing at you, tell her you love her. Take her to shows of bands shes never heard of. Hold her hand in the mosh pit. Let her fall asleep in your arms. Call her. Call her back if she calls you. Sing to her, no matter how bad you are. Carve your names into a tree. Get her mad, then kiss her. Give her piggy-back rides. Go see her band play even if they really suck, and tell her they were great. Give her space if she needs it. Push her on swings. Stay up with her all night when shes sick. Make up pet names for her, but cool ones, not sappy ones. Teach her guitar. Lend her your cds. Write on her. Make her mixtapes. Write her letters. If she asks you to go to a show with her, go, even if it means a 5 hour train trip. Take her to cool shops, and let her take you to even cooler ones. Listen to all the bands she mentions. Dont tell her that her favorite bands suck. When shes sad, hang out with her or stay on the phone with her, even if shes not saying anything. Buy her ice cream. Let her take all the photos of you she wants. Look into her eyes. Slow dance with her, even if the music is fast. Kiss her in the rain.When you fall in love with her, tell her.

Is there another one like you out there??

bat balls

I recently read a science article about a study done on 334 species of bats, revealed some interesting findings. In species with promiscuous females, males evolved larger testicles and smaller brains. And in species with monogamous females, males evolved smaller testicles and larger brains. This was contrary to what was expected. It was predicted that in species with promiscuous females, the males would have larger brains to avoid being cuckolded.

The large brain in monogamous was also unexpected. Which led the team to believe that “Perhaps monogamy is more neurologically demanding” Also the study showed variability in testicular: body mass ratio. In some species the testicular mass comprised of 8.4% of the bats body mass – this is more than any other mammal.

This article triggered some thoughts. Where in the world do people get the money, energy or the inclination to study bats testicles? Someone in fact posted a comment on this article reflecting my astonishment: So someone actually funded a study of bat testes?

Also, I don’t think that the findings are that surprising. This is because, if a bat has to catch the attention of a promiscuous female, he will have to prove his “manly bat-ness” to be the one that procreates with her. Where as if he is in a monogamous relationship, maintaining large “bat manliness” (trying to get a good phrase) is not of any major concequence.

Another comment stated that gorillas and orangutans have smaller testicles because they are monogamous. And humans are a bit of both therefore they have medium sized “manliness” (yes I am still trying)
One of the funniest comments was: “Hurray for secondary sexual characteristics”
hahahahaha, I agree.
Yet another post quite rightly pointed out that there is no need for a male to think especially when there is a promiscuous female about…. Hmmmm…

This led me to think.
Do monogamous human men have larger brains? I do believe that the a man’s mind is led by his “manliness”, which leads even a large brained monogamous man, to be tempted into promiscuity by this stupid, giant manliness.

What size brain do you need to want to study the size of bats testicles?
Are we humans the only species so obsessed with size?
What is this obsession with large "womanliness" in men?
And if women could see the size of men’s manliness, would we be as obsessed?

Does a bat cheat on his mate? Because of his manliness? They only mentioned the fidelity of the female (or lack there of) but nothing in the article was said about the male.
But I guess if the female is promiscuous, the male is not going to be loyal to her, but rather just enjoy the ride while it lasts, so to speak. The species of bat is segregated on the basis of fidelity- should humans follow suit? Are we already segregated? Can we tell the promiscuous from the monogamous just by looking at each other?

All this from bat balls.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

deck halls boughs holly walls

'Tis the season to be jolly, deck the halls with boughs of holly.

I love this season. The merriment, the songs, the parties, the food and of course the presents.

My mum still ends all the notes on our presents with, Love Santa, even though we see her putting them under the tree. It's fun though to receive a present signed by Santa, even if Santa has my mommy's handwriting!!

My mum also writes cards. Starting from the beginning of the month, she begins to write cards and cards to people she has been sending cards to since forever. The top of the envelope of each card, has the initial S.A.G - It's Saint Anthony's Guide (so that the card reaches safely)

Every 1st December, my mum blasts an LP of Christmas Carols that she has had for ages. It's a Christmas tradition. A very nice one too. Cause every 1st December I wake up happy. In a span of one year, in 1999, both my sisters left for the United States. My mum did not want to put up the tree that year. She did not think there was any point. We did put up a tree eventually, but my mum was sad.

Putting up our Christmas tree is a tradition in itself. We have a 32-year-old silver tree that was hand made. It is still in the original box. It has a stand and each bough needs to be wiped delicately and put into little holes in the stand. Every year, after Christmas, my mum seals the box with wrapping paper. That box has 32 years of wrapping paper on it. It's awesome.

My dad used to have themes every year for the crib. One year he did a space set, like Jesus was born in Mars, with blue light and a rocky surface effect. Kinda unorthodox, but that's what cool about it. The themes have dwindled away now, but my dad is still in charge of doing up the crib.

Every 25th of December we go to my uncles house for lunch. It's awesome. And predictable too. We drink champagne, we talk, my uncles fight (you know how a group of tipsy men can get), we distribute presents, we have lunch at four in the evening, and the uncles and aunts go to sleep while the cousin's talk outside. This happens every year. Although over the years, the family size has shrunk. My sisters have gone, my nana (grandmom), the absolute center of this tradition is not around and uncles, aunts and cousins have moved abroad.

What you should do during Christmas:

Christmas is fun. But it is singularly the loneliest time of the year too. It has inspired the happiest songs, and some of the most heart-wrenching songs. It is a time when lovers come together, and those without lovers sit in the shadows, drowning in the music, bells and light. If you have someone, go for a dance, it is the best thing to do. If you don't get some good friends and sit on someone's terrace. But never ever go to a dance without a partner, it may cause severe depression.

If you have never toasted marshmallows. Do that. Its yummy, but be careful not to eat it immediately, cause you burn your tongue and then the purpose is defeated.

Sing carols. If you don't have the words go to and find them.

Have plum cake, and if you drink soak it with rum and set it aflame and then have it. Hot plum cake with cold vanilla ice cream is da bomb.

Let in the carolers. My dad hates them. He puts off the lights and pretends no one is home when they come around. Not a people person, my dad.

Finally, listen to a really depressing song on Christmas day (I recommend "lonely this Christmas" by K.Mud)

Trust me, if you do not cry just a little, or get choked up, or teary eyed - you're made of stone or are an incredibly good actor.

Seasons Greetings from me to you ;-)

the cat

It’s amazing. This is why I started blogging I think. I love the variety of responses, advice and anecdotes/quotations that each person’s blog trigger. And to all the people who took the time to post a comment, I am truly grateful, Thank you.

So the advice was varied. One person said – don’t wait for it, if you stop looking it will come to you. The other said, don’t wait – but don’t stop either, don’t peg every guy you meet as Mr. Right, but as Mr. Right Now. The third says, just don’t sit around and wait, go and actively look for it, nothing comes by sitting around and pining over things lost – there is a split milk quote that goes something like that...

After all that, it’s now time for my cat theory: you guys asked for it ;-))

Ok, so there is this cat. He loves milk, as most cats’ do. Sometimes, the cat has to venture into the kitchen to get his milk. So the cat sees milk on the stove. The cat goes to the milk but accidentally sits on the flame. Now this cat has been burned in the ass. And instead of watching where he sits the next time, he vows never to sit again.

Wait!! I don’t think there is milk in the story. The milk came from the not crying over spilt milk.

Basically the advice is, don’t be the cat that sat on a stove and vowed never to sit again.
Still not getting it? If you’ve been burned in love, don’t vow never to love again, cause everywhere you sit may not be a stove.

I’m sure where the theory fits in terms of your comments. But basically we all feel the same thing. Expressed in different ways. Which is why this is so much fun. Please don’t stop the comments. You guys make me smile.

Monday, December 05, 2005


I got a comment on my previous post. It was true and very insightful. But I just want to say that the list of things I want in a man, is dare I say it, is just a list. Though I do believe I am doomed when it comes to meeting guys.

Being in three relationships continuously for five years and then suddenly out of the blue, being absolutely alone is not easy. Faced with moments of intense loneliness, one tends to make lists.

My last relationship that lasted for three years was incredible. There was nothing wrong with him. But he went away. And that was it. I have a pattern now. The only men I like are younger than me, with accents and passports to go away – I may or may not ever see them again. And so it goes.

After my last relationship, things went batty. I have met several people, I have gone out on “dates” and came home feeling lonelier than ever. Let me take you through some of these, maybe then those “9 type of boyfriends” comment will make little difference. Cause I think I have seen quite a bit myself.

Mid-year there was a boy. Younger than me. A trainee at my work place. Very hot. He was studying abroad. He went back in two months.

I went for dinner with a guy who could not stop talking about the girls he has “conquered” Then when the bill came, he said “So are you going to get that or should I?”

I went to meet another guy, who I only corresponded with on the internet. I had never seen him. So when I saw a guy standing outside the coffee shop, with side parted hair, high waist pants, a hunch, a uni-brow, a synthetic shirt with an obscenely small pocket on his left man-breast, needless to say I was disappointed.
Stop being shallow, my good little inner voice said. I decided to look beyond (partly because I couldn’t look directly at him) I told him that we could only be friends. And he acted like I was breaking up with him. Fine, he said, there is nothing left to say.

It was a disaster. I have not mailed, called or heard from him again. Good.

Guy four. He needs only a one line descriptor. Hey, I like you, not like that, cause I have a girlfriend, and nothing can ever happen between us, cause I really love my girlfriend and I would die if she left me. But can I feel your boobs?

Guy five. Normal. Nice looking. Successful, older than me (yipppeee) we went out four times. Fifth time I called saying he had to meet me that day.
What do you mean I have to? I don’t have to do anything? You don’t own me!
HUH? Excuse me?
It’s too much. Too much. Listen I think you should back off. I don’t like people. I am not a social being. I like being alone. Everything ends this way. I don’t want people in my life. Some day I will find a girl who understands me.

If he does, I will paint myself blue.

Guy six. Simply, absolutely, completely wonderful. He doesn’t live in this country.
Of course he doesn’t that would be too good to be true.

And so it goes. Wonder what the next one will be like. Waiting.

Sunday, December 04, 2005


Twenty one things (so far) that i want in a man:

1) Taller than me.
2) Get my jokes.
3) Have jokes of your own.
4) Balance out the happy and the sad.
5) Want to know about me more.
6) Want to spend time with me.
7) Know what a book is. I don’t mean only the ones published by Marvel.
8) Know that I want to spend time with you.
9) Know how to cook. Or at least know what a kitchen looks like.
10) Cook for me. What is the use if you don’t?
11) Have the ability to teach me stuff. Not ashamed to learn either.
12) Be passionate.
13) Be even more passionate.
14) Good kisser. Saliva management is a must.
15) Understand my job. Know what I do. Care about what I do.
16) Give me attention. Every girl likes to be complimented. Me the most.
17) Know that to me, heaven is a kiss and a smile.
18) Surprise me.
19) Except if you’re going to break up with me, then gimme hints.
20) Talk to me.
21) Burn your passport :-) Please.

too much phenylethylamine

Love, like all things bound to the universe, is non-existent without some amount of physics and chemistry attached to it. As a scientist cynically pointed out, cupid's arrows would never have been effective if they had not been first dipped in one unromantically named chemical- phenylethylamine.

Nor would the human body's reaction have given us dramas like Romeo and Juliet, if oxytocin did not have its way. Together these two form the chemistry of love.The common symptoms of love, including sweaty palms, shaky knees and general restlessness, are caused by a natural chemical, Phenylethylamine (commonly dubbed the `love molecule'). Its release from the brain can be triggered from deceptively simple actions like the meeting of the eyes or touching of the hands. Heady emotions, racing pulses and heavy breathing results, and all these are (unfortunately) clinically explained as an overdose of this chemical.

The latest discovery is the arrangement of molecules in this chemical, the whole world is excited because now, like the witches of the yore, we can actually concoct love potions. In other words, mankind could be on its way to isolating the chemical compound and making drugs that can induce these reactions in us, in other take the drug, and you fall in love with the next person you see.
Speculations all. In truth, all we know about love is still largely out of our control. For instance, infatuation. This is supposedly the first stage of falling in love, an unbearable attraction towards someone. This attraction causes a virtual explosion of nuerochemicals very similar to adrenalin. Assisted by Phenylethylamine (that speeds up the flow of information between cells), dopamine ( that makes us glow and feel good), and norepinephrine (that stimulates the production of adrenalin), make our world go round, our eyes sparkle and our heart beat faster.
Our entire existence then depends on the sight of the person who triggered these reactions to begin with, and as the addiction to the chemical grows stronger, our attraction becomes greater. At this stage we commit foolish mistakes which are the stuff puppy love stories are made of.
Actually it is these three chemicals that combine to give us what we call infatuation. We feel we are energized, often floating on air...and the reason why people who are just falling in love can talk for hours on end... (the same person becomes boring at a later stage)

We can blame our chemicals for everything.We had a list of attributes ready for matching, but we just end up falling in love with the person who possesses none of is , as they say, chemistry. S
ocial obligations, other relationships, sense and sensibility, all take a back seat; our mind soars with these natural drugs.No wonder, a lover and a madman are said to be alike.Scientists also opine that this `clicking' would be with a person with whom we can identify a parent-child situation. A person who, in our subconscious, will give us back something we feel we lost during our growing up years. For some it is security, for some others, it is warmth, and then others, just a spirit of adventure. This could be the reason why demure, well brought up girls usually fall for wastrels.
This subconscious selection of mate gets our phenylethylamines and other chemicals moving. This period when our brain is awash with the love hormones lasts for different durations in different people, between six months to three years. In most of us, it settles down after that.

For mercurial people, this high is missed and that's the reason why they need another temporary high....another relationship, another chemical fix.

If these love junkies stay married, they will need new relationships to keep their dope, and sometimes, bigger highs. hence bigger risks. In this world of chemical signals, humans are not scientifically considered monogamous; we do not fall under the 3% of the species that are monogamous.

Another interesting chemical is oxytoxin, the `cuddling' chemical. It promotes the need to be physically held, have close contact with he mate and makes both the sexes more caring. It can be released simply by a lover's look, smell or even a fantasy.

So much for the chemistry of infatuation.When infatuation subsides, another chemical takes over, which is responsible for intimate relationships. These chemicals are created by endorphins. They make a relationship steadier, intimate, dependable, warm and a great sharing experience. They do not induce a giddy high, but calmness and stability...(Yawn)

excerpts from an article on