Why the bad guy is good for you

Last Saturday -as is my weekend routine - was spent watching movies. I half-heartedly went to watch Rowdy Rathore with someone I hadn’t met for five years and, quite unexpectedly, it turned out to be a ridiculously hilarious evening. What I learned: never say never.

I got home with the intention of pulling an all-nighter. Having heard so much praise about it, when I finally got the download from a colleague, I couldn’t wait even a day more to watch Bridget Jones’ Diary. Also, the colleague has given me a covetable collection of rom-coms to last a good whole month. God bless her.

I started the movie with a lot of expectations from it; and it didn’t disappoint. You just can’t get enough of her and so I stayed up till six a.m. to finish the second part too. I cannot say I like Bridget as much as I like Rebecca (from the second movie). Rebecca is sexy, tall and a super smart lawyer. Mark didn’t hook up with Rebecca not because he loved Bridget but because Rebecca did. If she was straight, you’d have known that Mark Darcy is no saint. Am I the only one who thinks that Mark Darcy is too perfect to be real? Okay, I LOVE how he loves Bridget (especially his “high regard” for her “wobbly bits”) but in this world, there is no Mark Darcy.

We’re more likely to be floored by a Daniel Cleaver first. I think every girl has a Daniel Cleaver in her life; someone who is so charming that he sweeps you off your feet, so sexy that your knees turn to jelly and so shameless that you hate his guts. But in a way, as much as you hate to admit it, Cleaver was good for you. Where Mark is happy with “just as you are”, Cleaver gnaws at your brain, breaks your heart and you strive to improve your life simply as a way to get back at him. Notice how she got fitter and found a better job after dumping him? It’s like a whole new improved life; the sweet smell of vengeance. She needed Daniel Cleaver: to realize the worth of Mark Darcy. And to realize her own worth too.

We become who we are not only by the choices we make but also by the choices circumstances make for us. If that ladyboy hadn’t interrupted them in Thailand, then Bridget would have most definitely slept with Cleaver and her life would have turned out to be very, very different. I am glad they were interrupted.

Because Mark literally traversed the ends of the world to rescue her J

Forever believing in miracles and a sucker for happy endings,

Signing off,

Wannabe Wayfarer.

Before I die.. (under construction)

 

Skydiving in Spain

I always wanted to try a free fall from a really high ground. A cliff, or a tall building. Then I saw Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Thenceforth, skydiving is the most certain thing on my list. Being dropped from an airplane, 15000 ft. above ground, with nothing but a parachute! Just floating in the air, almost as if flying!

 

Visit Hogwarts, Hogsmeade & Diagon Alley

Because I wish I studied in Hogwarts. And spent my weekends in Hogsmeade. And that I could go to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, get my wand from Olivander, buy Bertie Bott’s every flavored beans, chocolate frogs, and sit at The Three Broomsticks with a butterbeer to finish my Charms or Potions essay with a self-correct quill.



See the midnight sun in Norway

Midnight sun, literally, is a midnight sun seen during summers near the Arctic Circle, where the sun doesn’t set all day.

And, Norway, I’ve heard, is the most beautiful place to be =)

Record a song in my voice

Not saying I have a singer’s voice. But, I like to sing and I like being complimented about my voice. I want to hear my singing voice, to know if it is actually worth listening to. I don’t know what I’ll do with it, but I would like to record one song, professionally.

Learn a dance form

Okay, I cannot dance. I look stupid when I attempt. I can’t learn because, well, I’m embarrassed that I’ll look even stupider trying. But, in secret, I want to learn how to dance. I envy graceful dancers. So, anyone taking private lessons please let me know.

Live in a boathouse

This is more of a honeymoon wishlist item, of course. Waking up in a boat. Sigh.

Well, that's all the things I could think of right now. I shall keep adding to it. Any suggestions? 

- Wannabe Wayfarer.

A page from my Diary

Chennai Office, 1.00 pm.

So after my wonderful trip to Vaishnodevi temple, I flew to Chennai for two weeks, then Bombay last week and flew back here (yes, AGAIN) for continuation of what we label work. Right now, that’s where I am, sitting alone, typing this out in a chilly conference room at the client’s office; wearing a sweater when the temperature outside is 340C. Last night, however, was hot, dirty and sweaty. From afternoon to midnight, I was counting engines, wheel rims, cylinders, slider frames, axles, valves, tube tires, and even nuts and bolts. I was at an unpronounceable remote plant location at the Tamil Nadu-Andhra Pradesh border conducting Physical Verification of our client’s stock. Blah.

On the hour long return journey from the warehouse to the hotel we’re staying at, sandwiched on the backseat between my team member and a client representative, I received plenty of calls from Bombay. All day too, my phone has been flooded with calls and messages.Today is my birthday. 2^nd April. I have completed nineteen years on this planet and I have no vision, aim or plan for my future. A big thank you to all who wish me well!

Listening to: Make It Up As You Go! – Plain White T’s

 

Hotel Room, 10.00 pm – Post Dinner

Birthday made bright thanks to memories of the advance celebrations in Bombay last week (especially the scrumptious chocolate cake baked by a sexy Saraf and lovely thoughtful gifts from everyone), surprise cake by work team here, and these precious dedications:

#1 (wishes to remain unnamed)

Birthday - just another day for you and me, right? Nothing more, nothing less; except probably the tiny birthday cake and a little bit of attention here and there. But, who wants that anyway... I kept the same attitude till now. And I am not sure if I am going to, willing to or succumb to changing that attitude to "OMG, IT’S MY BIRTHDAY MONTH! YAYIEE" either. Nevertheless, it’s a special day. Today is special because someone came into the world only to change mine for the better. Guess what? That’s a good enough reason for you and me to celebrate.

You are Dear, Harshika Gupta, and you should know that. Never contemplate on how much you have positively contributed to my life because despite the physical distance, trust me - YOU TOP MY LIST. Being with you - real time or just spiritually is just unbelievable. Sometimes I wonder how you can make all my whining, unrealistic love life and ridiculous ambitions seem so normal. Even about being independent, you know... I don't think I'd feel so free if you wouldn't keep reminding me of it.

A mere 'thank you' won't suffice for the strength that you give me. But you must know that I am very lucky and grateful to God to have let me sensed this unbound, unconditional and permanent friendship with Harshika Gupta.

I Love You. Oh! And yea, Happy Birthday. May you have a million reasons to smile and a trillion reasons to laugh! (My April calendar says "A smile is a laugh that bursts", cool na?) Yours, Guess who

#2 (my favorite Shetty)

Dear Harshika,
I find having pen pals amusing. Considering FaceBook doesn't allow that anymore, why would anyone write mails and letters when you can chat and whatspp(darn technology). I know you have too much work to write letters to me. But I declare you my pen pal. I will keep you updated about my (and others) life when you are away whether you like it or not.
Anyway, here's a poem I wrote for this awesome occasion of your birthday. It's called YOU.(Genius me)
Hope you like it!!

You.

The craziness, the lovesickness
Made me think I was the only one
Then I realized you were there too
To share in the fun.

You have some wiring wrong
Considering the things you say and do.
You say the funniest and darnest things
And I actually believe you.

I need to learn to love like you
With all your heart and soul
You do what you want and
Don't always follow the rules.

Every friend has a place
A season that he brings
You are the friend that
Always resembles the spring.

I wish that you soon figure out
What it is that you want to do
It doesn't really matter to me
Coz whatever it is you'd be true.

And that's your share of sappiness
For the friend you have been to me
And I pray for only happiness
From the heavens to shower on thee.

Happy Birthday, Harshika Gupta!!! :D

Ps. Tried to say the above in poetry but nothing really rhymes with Gupta! :(

- Trupthi.

 How lucky am I :)

Feeling blessed,

Wannabe Wayfarer.

Wonder Years

Precariously balancing on the edge of the aluminum ladder, after several unsuccessful tries with a long stick, I pulled myself up and wiggled into the duct-like passage. Came out disheveled, but finally pulled out the bag that’s been on my mind longer than I care to admit. It was heavy and I was as excited as I am when I have unending dessert options! Dragged my colossal haul to a corner of the house and settled amidst the comforting memories.

That was at 12 in the afternoon. Fast forward to 5 in the evening, my brother and I are laughing our stomachs hollow (me, quite literally on an empty stomach) at a super scary baby picture of me. No kidding. I was a scary baby. Eyes too big for the face, and add to that hideously frilly frocks and dresses. It’s like a china doll from those scary movies is unblinkingly staring at you. I have the potential to scare the bejesus out of somebody. I’m glad; some talent. If I was a scary baby, I haven’t seen any kid cuter than my brother. I swear. I’m saying this impartially. Maybe even a little reluctantly. He’s a born poser, like my mother and has got the math-whiz brains of my father. Me? I’m considering the possibility that I was adopted.

There were a zillion more photos – of my parents’ wedding (me absent), mom’s first karvachauth (me absent), playschool, all our vacations, trips to temples, chirstmas parties, holi, Diwali, birthday parties – of all the cousins, raksha bandhan, everything before 2000 and a little up to 2003. Since I’ve been pretty much jobless having taken unnecessary leave from work for inconsequential exams, I thought that instead of wasting yet another day on sleeping and eating on my laptop, I’d look through these photographs.

Irrespective of the bag-full of photos, I remember very little of pre-teen me - just a few incidents. Individually, they might not make sense but put together, there is fluidity (eh, critics?) in the awesome tale of my childhood. Here, I shall try to be as chronological as possible in my reminiscence of those few far and in between childhood memories:

I remember journeying from one make-believe city at the right of the sofa set using a threadbare ottoman to reach the other end where my mum waited to spoon-feed rajma chawal to me. The self-made game was to reach her without putting my feet on the floor. I don’t think she understood that; or cared. She hates spoon feeding. She would get irritable and hurl expletives only like a Punjabi mother can. She only spoon-fed me because the rest of her sisters-in-law did their children. The perks of a joint-family lifestyle, I tell you!

When my kid brother was born, I remember holding that tiny little thing and saying, “He is so pink!” Later, I also suggested that he be named Mickey Mouse when all the elders congregated in the “sitting-room” to jot down baby names. I remember stealthily creeping into the room together with my cousins where he was peacefully asleep and pulling the crib net off so he would wake up – something mom had specifically warned us against. I remember feeling terribly guilty about that; worrying all the while whether mosquitoes were hovering around my tiny brother because of us.

I love my cousins. I’ve grown up playing lagori, Simon says, red letter, land-water, hide-and-seek, treasure hunt and what-not with them. I am extremely lucky to have not just one, but three loving brothers and five beautiful sisters.

My eldest brother, he’s an angel. Once, aggressive me bit him; not like a tiny kid’s peck, but a piranha’s bite. A deafening scream; and then I ran. Ran for my life. Expecting him to chase me and pay me back in stones. Panting, I hid in our garden, the farthest I could get from him. Hours passed, he never followed. I thought he’s gone a step further – complained to mom; or worse, to badimamma. All day, I was so scared, waiting for the blow that never came. He forgave me. Just like that. That was just the beginning of his unending generosity to me. My brothers are my 3 a.m. friends. I trust them with my life.

As a kid, I think I would look up to my elder sisters; I still do. So probably whatever they said was gospel truth to me back then. My sister fooled me into believing that the best part of the bread was the sides. She always fed me the brown sides of all her sandwiches because she disliked them. And guess what, eventually, I developed a taste and now the sides ARE the best part of the bread to me; in fact I actually dislike white bread.

I was barely four when we shifted out. I didn’t understand much of what was happening or why and I thought shifting meant a bad thing. Our first separate place, albeit temporary, was quite far from my joint-family home. When badepapa dropped me at the depressing apartment and was about to leave, I hugged him, cried uncontrollably and just wouldn’t let go of him. I couldn’t believe he was leaving us. He told me not to be silly and that he would come the next day to pick me up for school. After a lot of tugging, I was forced to let go. Unless I’m mistaken, badepapa had tears in his eyes too. He left hurriedly. He did come over the next day; and the day after that. My heart slowly healed; my maternal uncle had come to stay with us for a while and so I didn’t have to miss badepapa all the time. Mom forced me to go out and play with my “friends” in the building. I hated them; the bitches were nothing like my sisters.

Of course, as time passed, things got better; I made a few friends and even started paying attention to school. But my best friends remain my cousins. I still cherish my every visit to them – discussing books and movies with my two beautiful younger sisters, seeking work and college advice from my benevolent and patient brothers, teasing, taunting, laughing at each other, and the unparalleled motherly love of my badimammas and chachi. Family - I didn’t realize it was so important to me till I finished this post.

I could go on, but I have to start packing for my trip to vaishnodevi with badepapa and badimamma :)

See you soon,
Wannabe Wayfarer.

My Induction (to Social Networking)

Like the blogosphere, I’m new to twitter. And thinking to myself, why didn’t I join this earlier? Sometimes, however, constant re-tweets - from celebs and regulars alike - endorsing other users or funny quote handles, seeking more followers, etc. gets really annoying. And, it’s creepy (also a little curious, I admit) when some porn star follows you on twitter the very first day you join. But I’m new. I’m beginning to learn to block, trend and sieve only that what interests me. Notwithstanding, Twitter, like Wordpress and Blogspot, is abundant with interesting stuff. So many amazingly talented people in the world! I’m intimidated, and inspired. This week was a complete data overload on my tiny brain. I have been introduced to a dozen of refreshing blogs and this blog-reading is pretty addictive, I must say. So obsessed was I that I did not study a word for my B.Com exam (not that I would have anyway but it’s nice to have something else to blame that on instead of just my lack of interest). But, by midnight tonight, brain server crashed. Everything I read became one unending string of incomprehensible letters and similar sounding words and ideas. My eye capillaries are on the verge of bursting too, probably. So I think I’m going to take it slow now. Back off a little. Maybe study for these exams.

The highlight of my three-day presence on Twitter – http://55words.blogspot.in/2012/03/theme-10-skyscrapers.html (I'm @hersheyka) Okay, it’s not a big deal but, I’m vain that way.

I have a few people to thank for supporting and orchestrating my presence here. You're reading this post. Thank you :)

Signing off,

Wannabe Wayfarer.

(Side Note to my one regular not-so-anonymous follower who religiously marks my every post “indifferent”: Still a wannabe I be. xD)