'appy nooo earrr!

No, I'm not drunk. But have a nice one anyway.

2008, compared to the average year, may be described as humongously crappy. From Jan to December, June to... well, December. A few nice things happened of course. I became a graduate. I got into... well... a pretty cool institute for my M.A. (big grin). I've met some VERY nice people who I hope will remain in my life till--oh, ok, I won't be greedy, just till I'm 120 or so. But despite all this, I'm saying goodbye to the year with great relief and hoping I don't have to live through one like it for--again, being very restrained, 100-odd years.

I'm really tempted to write something philosophical about how life goes in unexpected ways but enough already!

Have a ball!

(Or a bat... Or even a hockey puck for that matter.)

At the end of the day

Everything goes. It's not depressing, nor cynical, nor greatly philosophical. It's like the wind, the ocean, the million stars.

It just is.

Homecoming...

Home coming is sweet, with bittersweet tinges to add to the interesting experience that it is. When home is a whole city, your joys multiply till you are overwhelmed. You can breathe in and wallow in all that is familiar, those things that were so easy to take for granted but are now so precious. The curl of your mother's hair, your sister's silent creeping-out-of-bed early in the morning so as not to wake you. The silence of the night, comfortable and unchanged since when you were thirteen. The feel of the floor, hard and reassuring, beneath your back. The sofas that echo with the assurance of a hundred memories. The tiny bathroom that remembers the yowls that you called singing, your conversations with the taps, your tears that the shower couldn't drown, your secret phone calls.

Of course, the little bittersweet tinges are there to make sure the sweetness doesn't become nauseating. Those people you miss, whom some part of your illogically expects to find, just aren't there. The little changes that you hardly notice in the beginning make you realise that home is not the static place in your head but is changing, has move on beyond the day you left. That roll-top desk has moved into your room. Your childhood dolls smile down at you from the shelf where they're newly on display. That particular road has a few extra ruts and a whole flyover looms in that familiar horizon.  And you must relearn home, rediscover it so that it's exactly what it was to you: completely familiar.

And then you must leave again.

a slice of time

Riding on the bus on a cold winter evening... The sun has set and it is dark outside. You surprisingly have a seat all to yourself. A jacket keeps you warm and toasty while soft, guitary music plays on your headphones. You slide to the closed window and look out... The world is rushing by in a series of silhouettes lit up in flashes by lights from warm homes and warm windows. You feel a moment of peace and satisfaction as you sit there in the dimly lit bus. With your fellow passengers all around you, the sense of simultaneous comfort and aloneness is heightened, like you're in your own cozy bubble among a million bubbles.

The song ends as your ride ends and you walk smiling towards something like home.

Emptying My Brain

The next time someone tells me that Tamil is a difficult language to learn, I'll thank them and feel flattered. After all, I must be pretty smart seeing that I learned most of this "difficult" language by the time I was four!

How do some people talk literally for hours on the phone?! My roommate holds a Master's Degree in this and just listening to her yak at all times of the day and night exhausts me. Imagine holding a phone to your ear ALL the time. Or talking for hours to someone whose facial expressions you cannot see. Creepy.

It's strange to think that no matter what opinion I express, someone somewhere at some time disagrees with/disapproves of/violently opposes every word. So why this obsession with political correctness and being agreeable?

I feel all weird and eerie if I think about the world getting wiped out suddenly tomorrow. No one would know. There wouldn't even be a question of caring. Even the most self-centred people would not (be able to) give a damn. And even if we whip up a frenzy about the world ending today, when it does, well, all in vain, eh?

I'm sometimes freakishly possessive. I feel like people, books, movies, even SMELLS belong enclusively to me. Hmm. Weird. And creepy again.

We, as a species, are all morbidly (if unconsciously) obsessed with death and yet seem experts at ignoring this fact. Born astride the grave indeed. Existentialists rock!

Vina nooru kanaavum nooru, vidai solladi...

What is aliens are all around us but we have no clue cos we don't have the right kind of senses to... sense them? It might explain a lot of unexplained phenomena. An alien could be reading this right now and pointing at me and laughing. And now reading <--- that and frowning. And reading <--- that and... ok, this can go on forever. I'll stop.

Brain transplants would be, like, todally coo-uhl!

Would I be a wimp if I wanted to wear gloves already? Freaking frozen fingers!

A dimly lit room seems pitch dark as soon as your enter it and in just half a minute you wonder how you ever thought it was dark. I'm sure there's a deep and significant metaphor in there but too lazy to look for it now.

Why is it so hard to stop looking for approval, either peer or societal or parental or familial or whatever-al, even when you know in your head it's stupid and you must be who you are?

Darn mosquitos!

There's something strangely fair in the fact that life isn't fair, you know?

Life is absurd. The sheer absurdity of the fact that I'm sitting here and pressing down on these weird protrusions that in turn produce some weirdly shaped marks on a weird-looking flat surface which stand for some chemical impulses in my head is absurd enough. Add to that the fact that you are looking at these weird-shaped marks and they stand for something in your head which may or may not be what it stood for in my head. Uh.

It's past midnight. No wonder I'm treading the thin line between randomness and sheer nonsense. G'night then.

P.S.: Brain nice and empty now! :)

Waning Lyrical...

(... As opposed to waxing, get it? Sigh. I must stop explaining my jokes.) You may ignore this if you a like. Just a little parody for my amusement...

I've just eaten my fill and
I'm ravanous
I've just woken and
I'm already sleepy

every hour I'm away seems
like a second.
the minute I return
stretches for hours

your eyes are like endless pools of warm honey
but really, closer to molten lava in hell
your voice is dark and smooth like chocolate
or rather like a blackboard when nails rake it.

serious symptoms of an illness, you'd think
but my love, these are symptoms
of the long-awaited cure:
I'm falling out of love!

appa

Why would I miss you? You are in my every word, every action. Your blood flows through my veins. I quite literally carry half of you in me. One of the only two privileged people in the world to do so, in fact. Everything I am today somehow leads back to you. Those words of wisdom that you gave me always guide me--perhaps because you so rarely gave them and when you did, they were always so honest and something I could see you live by everyday. Moments of laughter, anger and so much else are saved in my mind, forever frozen, like a photograph, only much more real. The way you would shake your leg while reading the morning paper. The way you would just look out the window, lost in thoughts. The way you would muss the hair at the back of your head. The way you would give me your little finger back when I was small enough to reach up for it. The way you would demand I vacate your bed when you returned home from the office on sleepy Saturday afternoons.

So much of you lives on in me: your love for photography, your kadi jokes, your forgiving ways, your generosity! How can I ever have these without always having you with me? Is it any wonder that I often think you're just a phone call away? It's not so strange, then, that I still picture you as being "there", when I think of family and home. Yet, I still feel you here, with me. I believe you're here with me. Always. So why would I miss you?

Why do I miss you?

Things That Were Created Exclusively to Drive Me, yes, ME Absolutely NUTS!

--Cooling off in the middle of a darn good temper tantrum!

Come on, we all love a good temper tantrum once in a way. Ok, why the blank look and raised eyebrow? You don't?! Well, I do! And let me tell you, there is nothing worse that working yourself up to a good sulk or outright tantrum and then realizing you've stopped being angry with whatever or whoever it is that gifted you with just that mood. You just feel so... betrayed and let down by yourself, but not enough to inspire another sulk. It's like being offered a whole bar of chocolate all to yourself and then, when you're halfway through it, being told that's all you can have. Oh, the cruelty of it!

Sulk Rating: 8 FF*

-- Morning People!

Ye gods! These creatures actually believe in such concepts as "Early to bed and early to rise", "Humans are not nocturnal creatures", "Breakfast at 7 am" and even "11 o'clock is nearly afternoon", for crying out loud! I mean, come on! I go to bed early and rise early too--in the morning and evening respectively! Breakfast at 7? Brunch all the way. And 11 a.m. is the time you crack one eye open and decide to set an alarm to wake you in an hour! And humans, NOT nocturnal? Then how exactly would you explain the reason for the stars and the moon to exist other than to light up our nights?! Hello? Go read up your science. Sheesh.

Ok, having to put up with these creatures' quaint ideas is bad enough. But to endure their cheerfulness when you're forced to rise before noon and rummaging about the room (if you share one with them) when you can sleep in, it's just tooooo much I say!

Sulk Rating: 8.5 FF

--The bus starting just before you get off!

This happens more and more to me these days. I, of course, am always the LAST person to get down at any given stop and the drivers take perverse pleasure in starting the bus when I'm one foot on and one foot off. As a result of which, I step down and have to do an ungainly little dance to the amusement of everyone (including the people in the bus, people on the streets, the snoozing street dog and the lamp-posts.) Foooh! (The sound of steam coming out of my ears)

Sulk Rating: 6.5 FF

(And while on the topic...)

--Having to travel half an hour to get to a place that's ten minutes away.

Yes, you read that right. Bizarre, right? Well, apparently the Delhi Transport Corporation and its sister private concerns have managed to bend the laws of time and space. Remember the straight-line-shortest-distance-between-two-points rule? Apparently, there is another law of the universe that overrules this--There can be no direct bus from the abode of this blogger to her university. Therefore, to get to the university, I am obliged to hop two buses--which are timed in just such way that if one arrives on time, I'm sure to have to wait at least 15 minutes for the other and if the first arrives late, I JUST miss the other. Sigh. The relatively low Sulk Rating for this is owing to the fact that I actually enjoy bus travel. Go figure.

Sulk Rating: 4.67 FF

--Finding that thing you were looking for for so long! [For for? :D ]

Ok, you might be puzzled by that. But what your forgetting is that, according to the Holy Murphy's Laws (which sometimes seem more verifiable and relevant than Newton's), this can only mean that you'd given up looking for that thing only a few days/minutes ago and bought (or married!) something else... Ah, the look on one's face then in priceless.

Rating: 8 FF

--ZITS!

Zits are not as innocent as they seem. They have a secret cult for they are all from the invisible 9th planet, Elp-mip. (Pluto, apparently, is not a planet but actually just a huge, infected acne.) This cult has its sinister rules and rituals. Rule No. 1 is... (No, it's not "Never talk about the Zit Cult") Always appear when least expected, i.e., when the Host is heaving a sigh of relief at their clear skin and laughing at "those pimply, awkward adoloscent days". Rule No. 2: Appear in an area most likely to be accidentally scratched or most tempting to scratch. Rule No. 3: Itch. Itch more. Itch like crazy. Then refuse to leave.

Rating: 8.9 FF

--Poor punctuation

Enough said. (And no, learning all about descriptive-not-prescriptive grammar has not changed this is me!)

Rating: 9.98 FF

____________________

*All values in the standard Frowney Face (Metric) Scale of Ten. For conversion, (these calculations must be done on paper only!) to Grumpy Face scale, add 5968, multiply by 4.943608, divide the result by 94, strike the whole thing out and write the original FF value, this time replacing 'FF' with 'GF'. (Calculations suggested by the Gunther & Ames' Moody Society of Cranks)

The "Moment"

Falling in love...

I think the experience has been so publicized and romanticized by everything from poems to movies to novels to endless discussions that we often forget or never realise that falling in love is something so... full of freedom.

I don't mean falling in love sets you free. I mean falling in love itself defies any fetters and is open to everything. Why is falling in love immediately associated with a member of the opposite (or same) sex? Admitted, it's also often the case that we say "I fell in love with that song/painting/poem!" But I believe falling in love can go even beyond that--you can fall in love with a moment or a person in a particular moment, after which you may not be in love with them. You can fall in love with a certain emotion or a particular piece of stone or... anything! You can fall in love with a person who may or may not even exist, as in the case of this poem (which I've fallen in love with.)

And that moment is as beautiful and memorable as falling in love with a person is. Every time you recall the moment, you feel the warmth and the sheer thrill all over again. Would it be too weird if I said that there is a certain almost... sexual satisfaction in it? The moment doesn't happen a lot but it does take your breath away when it does, cliche as that sounds!

Why so serious?

It's now that time of the year when I spread some cheer... In the following blog entry, I will radiate optimism and goodwill, enough to put Murphy to shame. So here we go... stuff people won't tell you but I, your best friend, cheerfully reveal... Enjoy!

The fact is:

That thing you’re waiting for so desperately? It’s never going to happen. And even if it does, it’ll never be as great as you imagined it would be.

At the end of the day, everyone is a loser. You might feel good, clever… on top of the world sometime or the other. But you truly are a loser when it’s all said and done. But don’t worry, you have lots of company. As I said, EVERYONE is a loser.

Love doesn’t last. You have to keep renewing it and sometimes you don’t feel like it so it slips away then and may never come back. That’s why humans look for it… because we seem addicted to the futility of it.

You will stub your toe. Again and again and again. Each time it will be the same I-can’t-even-swear kind of agony.

Things keep changing… The bad may change to the good, yes, but don’t fool yourself. The bad’s going to come back and bite you in your behind.

Bad things definitely happen to good people. So unless you can’t help being “good”, why try?

Every time you finally forget that tune that’s stuck in your head, someone is going to hum it. Killing that person, unfortunately, will not change the fact that it’s stuck in your head once again.

You WILL do that one thing you swore you’d never do. What’s more, you’ll enjoy it and then hate yourself for it.

Fairy tales have magic, and happy endings, for a reason—to distinguish them from reality. Take the hint.

There. I'm done... Take a moment and remember to...






SMILE!

You Really KNOW You're Missing Home When...

You keep wrinkling your nose and sniffing beacuse clean air seems... wrong... somehow!

You think fondly of fights involving aruvals and kattais

You salivate at the thought of mom's pavakka which you thought you'd never touch with a stick... (Hmm, on second thought... pavakka? Ok even I'm not that desperate... yet.)

The name of a shop written in Tamil gets you as ecited as the know-it-all kid in class when he wants to answer a tough one.

You suddenly realise that the shower, not the wheel, was the greatest human invention--and the bucket, probably the most cursed!

The beach--which you visited maybe once a year back home--is suddenly the one thing that could set right every problem in your life.

You miss those chatty, know-it-all auto karans who routinely and shamelessly try to rip you off.

You watch the crappiest Tamil movies and songs in the history of mankind just so you can hear the language.

You actually honest-to-goodness DREAM of the Coovum!

You mouth the most galeejana Tamil words in your head cos you're afraid you'll forget them!

A Little Amusement...

Blog comments...


...and laptops




And finally, just cuteness...



Courtesy xkcd.com (check it out, it has some brilliant stuff)

A Glitch in the Brain

I always get a strange, surreal feeling when I think that the whole of my past is just memory. Every moment of pain, wonder, joy, confusion, every crush, every unforgettable feeling of knee-knocking fear, every betterfly in my stomach, every stubbed toe is now not even real or verifiable. Those moments are just grooves in a soft, easily squishable brain, folds in my cerebrum. That friend who betrayed me and who I haven't spoken to in more than a year may as well be a ghost. She exists as I saw her only in my memory. My uncle, grandmother, aunt, grandfather... even my father... are all just memories now. From a child's impressions of popcorn and poppins to a young woman's helplessness at pain suffered, these people, once easily hugged and spoken to, are just memories now.

My life so far could've been a wasteland--I'd never know if all that I've felt is real or the drug-induced hallucinations of a crazed mind. And tomorrow, my life so far could just be wiped out by a careless blow to the head and then where would I be? Where would you be?

Does this sound like pseudo-Matrix-existentialist crap? Well, once I hit the "Publish" button, how can I even be sure I wrote it?

Random Experiences...

Moving to a new city, starting a whole new kind of life, etc., often causes the profoundest, most moving thoughts and experiences. You look back your old life, amazed at the new experiences open to you... you look with wonder at the suddenly wide horizon even as your heart swells with...

Haha, excuse me a minute. I'm laughing too hard to keep that up. Lemme tell you some of the things I've learned, said, thought and wondered about since moving into JNU:

--On the first day, after class, I went to the warden's house where I'd left my luggage, to move into the hostel. Oh, hi doggie. Er... didn't notice you there... Aw, you're a cutie pie, aren't you? Coochie coochie... Hmm your tail isn't wagging. Oh...kay... I'll just ring this bell here and wait for the warden to open the doo--oops! Ok, ok, calm down, no need to stand right next to me and bark at me. Er... nice doggie? Ok... not so nice doggie... Ok, STOP! HAAALP!

At the end of this internal monologue, the warden's son comes and opens the door. He's gaping at me and goes "You just came in? And the dog didn't DO anything to you?" I'm shaken, and feeling all alone, scared in the I-want-my-mommy way and all I can do is chuckle nervously and say, "Er, no... As you can see by the lack of missing chunks of flesh on my legs, he didn't, in fact, take a bite out of me, as he wanted to. And you seem shocked and even... disappointed?... that he didn't."

Ok, I'll admit I stopped at "Er, no," but I swear I wanted to say the rest. And he keeps asking the same question every few minutes. And no, in case your interested, he wasn't cute enough to make such a question more palatable. But he'd just had some kinda minor operation so I couldn't pound on him either. sigh. Moving on...

--Hmm ok... Can't I just give in my own, decent looking passport-sized photo for a buss-pass? All right, fine then. I'll just sit here on this dirty chair and smile at the weird looking web cam... Ah, it's done... Ok, I can wait, it's just a buss pass. La la la la... Hmm hmm hmm... Tralala--AAAARGH! No! That monster in the photo can't be me... Nooooooooooooooooo....

But, as in most of the difficult and life-changing experiences we go through, I had to accept that it was, indeed, me, and now I'm stuck with this wonderful little thing that's going to take me all over Delhi. And NO, I'M NOT SCANNING IT AND PUTTING IT UP HERE SO YOU CAN POINT AND LAUGH!

--Ah, lunch! I could dig into some roti-and-subzi, some dhaal-and-chaval now! Ah, bring it on... Now, what is that thing? Hmmm... Looks familiar! Why, it looks like a--COCKROACH!!

Suddenly, I wasn't so hungry any more...

--Ah, after a long and difficult day of walking about, it's good to kick back and relax alone in my lovely, dark, quiet room. Zzzzz... huh? wha--? Where's that barking coming from? Ooooh-kaaaay...

Sigh. Yes. I had, indeed, been alotted the room just above the warden's house and ole fluffy, my fuzzy, furry, furious feline friend was going to be my constant companion if not in full physical form, at least in voice. (Yes, yes, I know dogs are canine, not feline. But I had a nice "f" alliteration going there [You could even say I was "effing" hehe]. Plus, you know dogs hate cats and this was my sneaky, insulting, degrading revenge on ole Fluffy. Yes, I'm really that pathetic.) Perhaps I could hang outside the balcony on moonlit nights and go "Fluffy, fluffy, wherefore art thou so un-Fluffy?" (For the record, his name's really not Fluffy. That's just my pet-name for him, after his cheerful disposition [Haha, "pet"name, get it? He's a pet so... Ok, you get it.])

Ah, more adventures later. A whole lot to say about clothes turning moldy while waiting for me to wash them, walking about in a campus bigger than a small British colony and getting utterly lost, etc. What fun.

Poyittu Varen...

Leaving chennai. Will be back only in December.

Time only for a quick goodbye.

Bye then.

Fun Things (and Not-so-fun things) I've Learned In Recent Times

So yes, the summer has been upon us for a couple of months and, unfortunately, as summers tend to be, I have started LEARNING things. Sigh. An unfortunate side-effect of being utterly vetti I guess. It's most disappointing. I never went about arbitrarily LEARNING things when I was in college! Why should I now, when the days should be spent in decadent wastefulness? Sigh again. Anyway, here are these great lessons:

- Celebrity Crushes Are Fun!
Beside the garden variety everyday crush, which is often painful and almost always embarrassing, there is the Special Realm of the Celebrity Crush (hmm, what's with the capitals, you ask? No idea!) Now, the thing about the CC is the ridiculous ease of accessibility to the object of your interest/affection/desire/lust (ha!). One google search for certain strangely attractive cricketers and there are about a million pictures to go ga-ga over. One foray of television channels and there's Hrithik Roshan, bulging muscles, yummy eyes, cute extra digit et al! Now, a few heart aches could be caused by little factors such as... "Oh no, (dramatic hand-to-forehead) Christian Bale is married!" or "Damn that Deepika Padkone, trying to steal my guy!" or "Ah, if only my lowe wasn't straight..." But overall, your friends tease you and you grin along, safe in the knowledge that you'll never get caught in THAT trap, at least!

- It's Possible to Do a Lot of Nothing
Now this might sound like something Garfield would make up, but it's true! You can pretend to read... while doing nothing. You can pretend to watch television... while doing nothing. You can pretend to be online, doing important things... while doing nothing. Well, you get the drift! It's a glorious feeling when you look back at a long day of doing nothing. In fact, I plan to write a book about it, Doing and Nothingness. I'm sure it'll be more popular and... "experienceable" than Sartre's similar ramblings.

- The Sad Truth about People
It's a sad truth that people have an endless capacity to deceive themselves. Some (no links here, sorry :P) would even sink into melodrama and self-pity rather than admit that they might have done something wrong or work at a compromise. Ah, well, it takes all sorts of nuts to make a fruitcake.

- The Happy Truth About People
You know there's always another side to the grass but both the less green and the greener sides can be on your own lawn! Ok, ok, I'll stop talking in metaphors before you throw something at me. It's just that the happy truth about people is that PEOPLE CAN BE WONDERFUL! Sure, we're all full of faults and no way is anybody perfect but still, there are people who will understand you and respect you for what you are and bother to stick with you even when you're being a total loser or completely lame :D That's what makes the fruitcake sweet, after all! (Ok, I promise, no more cliched metaphors!)

- Being a Girl is Fun
Yes, yes, we all know it's a hard world to be a woman in. Men constantly come up with trivial complaints about how difficult life is for men but it's obviously just men being men. It's often the case that women wish they were men but at the end of the day, I realise it's fun to be a girl! I mean, womes are so comfy in fun sleepovers where previously mentioned objects of interest/affection/desire/lust are drooled over, fashion, world affairs and everything else are discussed, clothes and weird hairstyles are tried out, crazy pictures are taken and hysterical laughter goes on for several minutes over nothing. Now, not being a man, I can't imagine what male sleepovers (sorry, is that an oxymoron? Let's call it something more MANLY... Hmm, ok BOOZE PARTY!) are like but I doubt there's any of the emotional sharing that women do. Wow, I'm being so sexist. It rocks! :D So yeah, go, girlpower!

- Coo-coo-cooking!
Ah yes, I have leanred rudimentary skills at the kitchen. Never thought the day would come when the old family joke about me having to marry a chef could be shelved. Well, I still wouldn't go THAT far but I've learned some basics. Such as how to make scrambled eggs (ahem, the broken eggs and the weird smell in the kitchen will NOT be mentioned, atomic!) and chapati and dosa and rava idli! So yes, I might survive on my own, provided there are convenient Spencer's Dailies in every corner to buy bread, idli/dosa mav and eggs from. Hehe.

Oh, there's more but all this writing really is getting in the way of my "doing nothing" campaign. So it's bye-bye for now :)

Hairy story

I don't usually upload videos but I thought this was worth making an exception :)

AtTAGed!

I have been tagged. Sob. Grumble. No, no, no!

Hehe, actually, I'm secretly pleased about the fact that I've been tagged... I've always wanted to be but never have :( The above is the kind of reaction that other people seem to have when tagged so I'm just trying to be all blase. But otherwise I'm happy as a clam! (Hmm... are clams really that happy? Do they just not get depressed? Even with the global warming and the water pollution n all? I see another post forming here so I'll close this paranthesis [I've been notorious for them from my very first blog post :P])

Ok... Where was I? Happy as a clam... So, thanks atomic, crazybugga!

First, the rules:
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
- Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
- Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

Hmmmm... There's not much people don't already know about me but here goes:

1) I'm an obsessive punctuation freak... It's a serious illness that could be fatal if allowed to develop. Wouldn't be surprised if I have to seek medical attention soon, especially due to rising blood pressure cause by reading badly punctuated blog posts (hint, hint) :D

2) I can eat any kinda food... And I mean ANY kind... I'm not even averse to trying frogs or snails or even... gasp... tomatoes! A serious foodie.

3) I like knowing how things work... Languages, machines, people, whatever.

4) I wear a belt with jeans. The stupid jean-makers seem to be incapable of making pants that fit me. Either too loose or too tight. Waaah.

5) I catch a cold overnight, every night of every week of every month of every year. These colds generally disappear in the morning about 20 minutes after waking up.

6) I love buying books... Not just reading them but BUYING them, holding them, smelling them. They can be in any state... First hand, second hand, crumbling and falling apart, pirated... It's such a rush to buy them, somehow.

Five People You Will Meet in Hell (aka...)

Driving on Chennai roads is an interesting... experience, to say the very least. Forget the roads (which your back never really forgets) and the pollution (which your lungs never forget) or even the congestion (which your vehicle never forgets). There is a whole different aspect of driving in Singara Chennai (named so by someone with a healthy sense of irony, methinks) that is more fascinating... I am, of course, talking about the fellow travellers... Who else but humans could leave such a mark?!

Driving in Chennai, you will meet certain standard "stock" drivers whom I have neatly classified. Unless otherwise specified, these "types" extend to both genders and across all age-groups. I have used the masculine pronoun for convenience:

1. The Overtaker: We've all heard of the Undertaker, of course. This type of driver, the Overtaker, is equally lethal. And would probably fit right into the profession of the undertaker, so eager does he seem to send people on their way to the hereafter. The Overtaker's M.O. involves sneaking up on people unawares, (he has perfected this art to such... perfection that he doesn't even appear in the rear-view mirror of the Overtakee) then out of nowhere, zip past the overtakee as close as possible, preferably with a (very loud) horn honking in the ear of the poor unsuspecting victim who will promptly jump, swerve, swear or lose balance--or do all of these simultaneously. The Overtaker takes pleasure in these very actions and his helmet probably muffles a chilling, Psycho-like laugh as he zooms away.

2. The Tortoise: The name Tortoise, I believe, sufficiently describes the nature of this driver. As may be expected, the Tortoise is the anti-thesis of the Overtaker. The Tortoise typically drives/rides a large and ungainly vehicle, and seems to believe that it is best driven at 10 kmph and in the middle of the road. While the Undertaker hones his skill into an art, the Tortoise decides to make his skill a science. Thus, through Tortoisology, this type of driver drives in a careful, precise way that ensures that the road is blocked in just such a way that no other driver can overtake him, reducing the traffic to a speed that is similar to the Tortoise's. The Tortoise is truly brilliant for he frustrates not just fellow drivers, but pedestrian'\s too, who cannot cross the road because the Tortoise has reached that level of acceleration that is completely un-judgeable. And without a means to predict when the Tortoise will pass, the pedestrian is left stranded on one side of the road--forever!

3. The Hunk:
3. The Hunk: This, I'm afraid, in a gender-specific and age-specific type of driver. The Hunk is most often young, male and rather desperate when it comes to members of the opposite sex. The Hunk thinks himself to be more than averagely endowed in the looks and attraction department. (It is also to be noted that the Hunk is typically delusional) The motives of the Hunk are simple: Impress the Babe (more on that later) or any other female driver and show off superior driving skills of self. Due to the extremely eclectic driving style of the Hunk, it is difficult to pin down one Modus Operandi. There are, however, various styles or moves. There is, first of all, the standard Swerve-and-Swoop. To execute this, the Hunk generally speeds up, takes several complicated looking (also lame-looking, but he doesn't know it) swerves and zigzags around other vehicles, swoops down on the object of his hunkiness and calls out some witty (read: equally lame) remark and zooms off. The Hunk believes that the effect of this maneuver is dual: scare the chick, impress the chick. Unfortunately for the Hunk, this just pisses off the "chick". Another move I will discuss is the classic Fast 'n' Slow. When the Hunk spots an eligible female driver (who is driving confidently and faster than him), he speeds up and zoom pasts her. Then he slows down till she catches up and overtakes him and then zooms past again. This can go on for quite a while. Poor dumb Hunk. I myself have been at the receiving end of the ole Fast 'n' Slow and had the indescribable pleasure of seeing the Hunk being stopped in the middle of a Fast Cycle by a cop and screwed over.

4. The Babe: Another gender- and age- specific one. The Babe is the female counter-part to the Hunk. Her driving sense and skills just about equal to that of the Hunk. She has her own theories about what the various parts of the vehicle are and what the road rules mean. The rear view mirror becomes, simply, a mirror in the hands of the Babe. The stop signal is a time to touch up the make up, readjust the clothes and paint the nails (if the signal is, say, Nandanam, she'll have enough time for said nails to dry and begin chipping). The Babe, however, is mostly harmless in comparison to the Hunk. Her most lethal weapon is the long-winded preparation to driving which goes something like: Open boot of the scooter, take out bottle of sunblock. Spread generous dollops on every inch of exposed skin, take out gloves, jacket, dupatta and begin to cover the self as if a blizzard's been predicted ("Oh, I don't want to get all tan!"). The Dupatta ritual is one of the most mystical aspects of the Babe's routine--a twist, a turn, a flip, a tuck and suddenly only the eyes stare out of the face hidden by the dupatta. Then comes the last, much lamented step: Wear helmet ("Dammit, do I have to?! It ruins my freshly washed, coloured, straightened hair!") and drive away.

5. The Stickler: The Stickler, aka the Nitpicker, is a truly wondrous and indecipherable species of drivers. The Stickler actually believes in and follows the road rules. The Stickler can read various road signs. The Stickler actually passed the driving test fair and square without bribing various officials. The Stickler carries all his papers with him all the time. The Stickler makes sure his vandi is spic-and-span though it might be 20 years old. The Stickler puts up his hand when he's at the head of the signal to show that he's stopped. The Stickler stops at the stop line. The Stickler wore a helmet before it was made compulsory. The Stickler never allows his petrol indicator to touch the red line. The Stickler is often middle-aged. The Stickler is an endangered species. Save the Stickler!

Well, there you go. These are some of the chief races of drivers. There are other categories like The Spitter, Dopey, The Nervous Fumbler, The Honker, Foul Mouth etc. Certain groups like The Autodriver can have whole posts, if not books, written on them. But you would be considered a seasoned Chennai-ite and driver if you have encountered and survived these five basic groups.

Happy Bumping Along!

Two Thousand WHAT?!

Now, wait just a minute... How the heck did this happen?! One minute it's New Year's Day 2007 and suddenly it's 2008. Sheesh.

So anyway...

Here I go with my usual profound remarks about the new year that will gloriously mark this special moment in time... The "days of our lives", if you will ;) Well, this time it's rather short, pithy and while I don't know if it may be considered an actual REMARK, it holds profound philosophy... So listen carefully:


PPPPFFFFFRRRRRRT!

Ah. I see from the rather puzzled look on your face that you're cautiously wondering "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" Ahem. You know. Look deeper. Such great thoughts cannot be explained but only expressed and experienced. Ok, ok, FINE. The old "figure-it-out-yourself" cop out isn't gonna work on you. That was an expression of the rip that is created in the fabric of time as we move from one great epoch to anoth-- Ok, ok, fine, you can stop looking sceptical. That was just me sticking out my tongue at the world, blowing a raspberry at it.

So yeah, that's my profound remark for the beginning of this year:

PPPPFFFFFRRRRRRT!

Hey but if you think about it, it actually DOES sound like the sound of God's snore--cos he's bored with us humans and has fallen asleep--

Hey, hey hey! THAT'S NOT NICE! At least throw tomatoes that are not rotten so that I can... you know... make a meal of it. And, er, could you substitute the smelly eggs with some fried fish? Really, I'm not being very particular. It can even be not so fresh. *drools* Thanks a bunch. ;)

'APPPPPPPY NOOOOOO EEEEAAAARRRR!

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Ahem. Some post-scriptitious (hey I just made up a fake word!) remarks...

I know this was a rather sad attempt at a blog post, but in my defence, my blog and Miss Perfection (you can read about her elsewhere {haha, now you'll have to comb through my blog [and comment]}) were literally SCREAMING at me to update and well... this is the product. So don't blame me. You can continue the rotten tomato throwing at THEM (I'll still have the fish though :D Thanks...)

Oh, and the Zzzzz... label was new cos I realised I don't have any labels beginning with Z... In fact, that's my new year's resolution... To come up with a label for every alphabet (wow, I just made up a fake resolution!)