Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Laugh lines

A long long time ago, I blogged about things that sound right in my head but don't seem to make much sense when said out loud.

Lately, I've been compiling (in my head) things that probably sounded right in other people's heads but made me laugh hysterically when they were uttered. And they have kinda stayed with me to make me laugh every time I remember them. Here are some of the gems:

My little cousin when he had gajar ka halwa for the first time:
"Isme toh sirf gajar hi gajar hai! Halwa kahan hai??"
("This only has carrot! Where is the halwa??")

A friend when he saw me wearing these bangles:
"Bahut gusse mein thi kya, Sayesha?"
("Were you very angry, Sayesha?")

My Dad when he heard music on earphones for the first time:
(Pointing to his forehead): "Hey, the earphones are in my ears but how come the music is here??"

Friend in uni who had a Govinda-type dress sense:
"Whats wrong with a pink shirt, green pants and grey shoes?"

My friend when I was playing some instrumental Bollywood numbers on my computer:
"Why are you playing Indian restaurant music?"

Classmate in uni looking up at the sky after a nightout:
"Look! The moon is over... "

My classmate about a very good-looking lecturer:
"I think he thinks I think he's gay..."

My friend suddenly peering at my face while we're on the train:
"You don't look as cheerful when you're not wearing earrings..."

Mom when I was teaching her to use the computer and asked her to try:
"What if it explodes?"

Dad over the phone about how some virus got to his email:
"I could not email you last week because the IT guy said there are some worms in my inbox. He is trying to take them out."

My cousin when I asked him when he's getting married:
"I'm not sure. Sid (another cousin, younger than me) said it should be this year but he may have been talking about himself."

Mom when she saw a cricketer do the spit-on-ball action:
"Chhee chhee! Why can't the umpire hold a small katori with water for these guys to use??"

Mom during yet another cricket match:
"Why can't they give the umpire a stool to sit on? Poor guy must be so tired standing there in the sun all day!"

Friend to a very surprised me just as I stepped out of the toilet of his house (while a cricket match was going on):
"Andar ja waapas! Aur wahin reh! Match khatam hone tak baahar mat nikal! Tu andar rehti hai toh Laxman chauka maarta hai!"
("Go back in and stay there! Don't come out till the match is over! When you're in there, Laxman hits fours!")

Dad while watching a cricket match with me:
"What does he mean 'no ball'?? There is a ball! I can see it!"

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Dell-wale CPU le jayenge

So my new monitor blanks out again. I call Dell Tech Support again and they make me open up the CPU and fiddle around. It looks like the problem is not with my monitor. Could be the video card or something else. Dell is gonna take my CPU away for testing.

I was telling a friend of mine about the computer when I cracked the Dell-wale joke in the title of this post.

And ever since my mind's been full of other similar, possible (bad) jokes.

Dell Toh Pagal Hai
They gave me a new monitor when the problem was not even with the monitor

Dell Hai Ki Maanta Nahin
The tech support guy refuses to believe me when I say that the video card is not loosely connected

Dell Ka Rishta
Two-year warranty

Dell Maange More
When they demand answers to more funny questions they ask.
He - "Is the monitor connected to the power socket?"
Me (thought bubble) - "No, I'm crazy. I am expecting my monitor to work without connecting the power."

Dell Se
What the sticker on their delivery box should say

Hum Dell De Chuke Sanam
After they take my monitor away

Dell Chahta Hai
When they wanted me to monitor the monitor for another day

Koi Mere Dell Mein Hai
When the monitor would spookily blank out on me

Dell Pardesi Ho Gaya
When they sent my old monitor to Malaysia for testing

Dell Kya Kare
When the tech support guy was clueless

Dell Ne Phir Yaad Kiya
When they called to ask when they could deliver the new monitor

Dell Hai Tumhara
When I realised the comp is still under warranty

Hum Aapke Dell Mein Rehte Hain
What my video card is saying right now

Koi Mere Dell Se Poochhe
When my comp is trying to tell me what is wrong using weird error messages

Hamara Dell Aapke Paas Hai
When I call and remind them about my monitor

Dell Deke Dekho
Suggestion by tech support guy

Dell Ka Kya Kasoor
Tech support guy blaming me? :/

Dell Ke Jharokhe Mein
'Windows' error?

Inability to blog

Got any more? ;)

Friday, January 27, 2006

So are you traditional?

So a colleague broke her shoe at work. Someone offered her superglue to hold it in place till she got home. She applied the glue and asked, "Do I have to hold it down till the glue sets?"

Someone suggested, "Naah! Just place a dictionary on it for a while."

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Place a dictionary on a shoe??? What a horrifying suggestion! That too, coming from an Indian?? And just as suddenly, I realised, I had judged her. What I think is horrifying may not be to someone else. Perhaps, to her, the book was just a heavy object to press the shoe down. To me, a book is a sacred object which should not be brought in contact with any kind of footwear. That’s how I have been brought up. That’s what tradition tells me.

And this triggered me to think about tradition.

About the things we do for tradition's sake.

About the things we refuse to do for tradition’s sake.

About the things we don't mind doing for tradition's sake.

Sometimes I get really confused about tradition. And about the reasons why I stick to some traditions and dismiss the rest as hogwash. Some traditions are crystal clear. There is a very clear rationale behind them. Some are not. So I tried to list down why we follow certain traditions and why we don't (and won't) follow others.

1. Sometimes we follow some traditions without questioning. We may be trying to make someone happy, or we may believe in them ourselves, or we may believe that bad things will happen to us if we don't follow them. I touch wood whenever I say good things because I’m scared of them going away.

My mom prays to God every day. My Dad does not pray but I think he’s a believer. But I don't worship any idols. I don't pray to any God. Perhaps living by myself has given me a 'No one can help you if you don’t help yourself’ attitude? Perhaps I think that it's selfish of me to expect God to grant my wishes just because I took out five minutes of my time to pray to him? Perhaps I won't like myself not thanking God every single day for the things he has given me, but only praying to him when I want stuff, or when I want Him to get me out of trouble? Perhaps I have reached the stage where I don't do things unless the rationale is clear in my head. I can't seem to sort this out, not till I figure out what my stand on God is, whether I believe in His existence or not. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I try not to dismiss people's religious beliefs just because I don't believe in them. And yes, I would go to a temple just because someone who matters wants me to. I may not know what exactly to do there, but I will follow instructions and not question.

2. Then there are traditions we don't follow. Because they don't make sense to us. There is no rationale behind them. My grandma once told me that in olden days, in her mother's village, the daughters-in-law had to wash the feet of her mother-in-law in a bowl of water, and then drink that water as a mark of respect. Horrifying, isn’t it? I don’t know if they still do it in some villages, but of course we wouldn't do it, would we?? There is just no rationale to it. And this is why I won’t change my surname after I get married till I see the rationale behind it. And I won’t wear sindoor or a mangalsutra when I’m wearing western clothes. I’ve seen people wear the combo and I don’t think it looks good. I will not blindly follow traditions. If it does not make sense to me, I won't do it.

3. Then there are traditions we follow due to habit. In my tradition, if your foot accidentally touches a book or the body of another person, it's considered disrespectful. You're supposed to ask for forgiveness by touching your forehead and then your chest, and by muttering the word "Vishnu". I was taught to do this since the time I was a little girl. And now it's an automatic response, something that has stayed with me in spite of my seven and a half years of not being in India. In public, I don't say "Vishnu" aloud, but I do say it in my head. Even in a crowded bus, if I step on someone's toes, I do that action, but in a fraction of a second, so quickly that no one even notices. And once in a while, I think about why I do that. If I don't do the action and say the word, does it mean I'm disrespectful? No, I do respect books and people. So do I really need to have an action to prove my respect? No. There is no rationale behind it. But I guess it's a habit I can't get rid of. And since it does not harm me in any way or make my life difficult, or get in the way of convenience, so I don't mind following it.

4. Then, there are traditions we follow, but we don't know why. We're always trying to figure out, but we can't. In our head, tradition is having a duel with rationality, and we end up confused. I have a friend who's been trying for years to figure out why he is a vegetarian. Is it because his parents are? Is it because he finds killing animals for food a sin? He would very much like to have the shrimp-paste based tom yum soup, but he can't. He’s had non-veg food once or twice, by mistake. So you can’t use the dharm-bhrasht (“corruption of religion” by eating meat) argument here. But yes, there are so many things like this that we are not sure about, so we choose to take the safe route of following tradition meanwhile, as we try and clear our head.

5. Finally, there are traditions we follow because we like them. I like to wear Indian clothes on Independence Day. I like to do rangoli on Diwali. I buy cheongsam tops to wear during Chinese New year. I like to do henna on my hands because it looks so pretty. I would wear a sari at an Indian wedding because it looks gorgeous. Another great example I remember is going to the Birla temple when Dad was posted in Hyderabad. I have never quite seen a temple as amazing as the Birla temple. And I would go there again and again, not to worship, but to just soak in the beauty of the place.

Looks like I have not yet figured out my stand on tradition. So in the end, the question “Are you traditional?” often has me stumped.

Perhaps some questions really have no answer.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Honey, I'm home!

These days, everyone seems making lists. ROS, Prad and I made our ‘perfect partner’ lists. Sahil made a 'what I would do for my wife' list.

So I decided to wash my hands in the flowing Ganges (Sheesh that was such a bad Chapaat-type joke, I know!) and make another list. Having lived my single life with a bunch of different kinds of flatmates - both guys and girls, I’m actually looking forward to the day when I wouldn’t be sharing a house with random people, but actually living in my 'home' with the one I love.

So here it is -- a list of characteristics that my dream house would have, and how I would make it ‘home’.

  • There will be two huge bean bags in the living room in front of the TV screen (the biggest LCD screen they have in the market in the year that I get married) where my guy and I will chill and watch movies and ‘Friends’ and ‘Scrubs’ and ‘That 70s show’ and ‘Goodness Gracious Me’ and ‘SATC’ (ok he can skip this one!) with huge packets of sour cream and onion potato chips, nachos and super-hot dip.
  • Our bed will not have girly bedcovers. We will both pick and decide on the colour so he doesn't feel like I've taken over. (Actually I would have taken over, but he shouldn't feel it.) There would be no posters on the bedroom walls.
  • I will need a separate room for my shoes. I will have about a hundred shoes (yes, I'm reasonable) and my (hopefully geeky) husband will program the shoe room such that all I will need to do is flash a dress in front of a little sensor on the door of the shoe room, and the reader will match it to the shoes. A little monitor will display a photograph of the shoes, and I will press 'yes' on the touch screen menu. A flap will open and the shoes will be presented to me by a very polite mechanical arm. If I choose 'no' on the menu, it will show me the next best match, and so on.
  • There will be a huge guestroom with an attached bathroom for parents/in-laws/guests. I will have one of those mobile wooden mandir thingies, so that if my parents or in-laws visit for long vacations (anything less than a month is unacceptable to me), they don't have to give up on any of their usual routines just because I'm not religious.
  • There should be a gym near our house. We will go there together and he will give me tips on how to tone my arms without getting the Women's Wrestling Federation look. Or there could be a treadmill at home hooked to the TV, with a dynamo that would run the TV. The TV will go off if insufficient energy is generated so we will both have to work out really hard if we wanna watch something while we work out.
  • My guy will be the ruler of the TV remote. He can watch his game or race or whatever he wants. Whenever. I will subscribe to at least one Hindi channel, even though I doubt I'll have time to watch it.
  • There will be a huge cabinet with all my Bollywood DVDs arranged alphabetically. I will lend my movies to friends and my digital library system (designed by you-guesssed-it!) will record who borrowed what. And yes, there will be due dates.
  • There will be a recreation room which will house a karaoke system, a musical keyboard, video games (if my guy is into them), a Pictionary set, badminton racquets, and other such stuff. There will be a shelf in a corner with all the photo albums from pre-digital-camera days.
  • A bathtub is such a luxury. I want a really big one, really HUGE, in fact, big enough for two people (don’t read too much into it now, this is a family blog).
  • I'll have my favourite flowers - pink and white gerberas - in glass vases all over the house.
  • No pets, please. Pets shed hair, they pee and poop all over the place. And they die too soon, leaving you heart-broken. Also, if I have pets, I can't execute my grand biannual travel plans.
  • Hopefully, I will have a little lawn in front of my house with a fence, which I will paint myself. But if I have to live in a condominium, I'd at least like to have a couple of plants around the house. I will grow my own herbs like coriander and mint, and perhaps a chilli plant too. My Dad, the guy with the greenest fingers in the whole world, will give me tips on my little garden.
  • The kitchen will be huge. My guy will not interfere with the dishes when I am cooking them. I promise not to interfere in his cooking either. If he wants to cook, that is. Dinner, when at home, will always look fancy (complete with garnishing) and will be accompanied by water served in wine glasses, not ordinary ones. After dinner, we will do the dishes together. And oh, I will buy that 86-piece cutlery set I saw last year, to use when I invite friends over for dinner.
  • I will obviously have more clothes than him and hence will get the bigger closet. I will also get the huge dressing table with all my girly stuff. One of the drawers will have a stack of stupid girly magazines, which I will flip thru as I soak my feet during my monthly pedicure.
  • I will do rangoli in the house every Diwali. He'd better like it!
  • The beach should be within walking distance, where I will go and sulk after fighting with my guy.
  • The couches in the living room should be very comfortable because poor guy's gonna have to sleep there when I drive him outta the room after a fight. He should wake up with a kiss from me, not a neck sprain or a backache, you see.
  • We will only have one car because I won't (read 'can't') drive. My guy will have to drop me to work.
  • I need a separate computer for my blogging(if I'm still blogging then!) and a desk to write books for children. These can be housed in a mini-library filled with my guy's (geeky?) books. We will not talk in the library but quietly do our work instead. So if I absolutely have to sulk and I’m too tired to go to the beach, I will go and sit in the library. If my guy follows me and tries to manao me, I will just point at the sign on the wall that says ‘Please maintain silence in the library.’
  • If he wants to have a boys' night, he needn't worry about me. I'll find ways to make myself scarce. And I'll help the poor thing clear up the place the next morning.
  • If our coming-back-from-work timings are going to be different, there should be a way of indicating to the person who comes in later, that the other half is already in the house. Some kinda sign somewhere, that says the moment you turn in the keys and enter, "Honey, I'm home."
Well, I may have gone overboard with a lot of stuff, but I do believe there's a lot of executable stuff in there. And we will do it together.

Perhaps he will have a list too. I need to look at that. :)

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Me, myself and Ian

So after my first semester results were out, I sent the following email to my boss and the editors in my team.

Dear team,

Thank you for your support and co-operation in my first semester. I managed to get one A and two Bs. The annoying nerd in me is not too thrilled with the grades, but the editor swamped by work and cross-country travelling is quite proud of herself.

My classes have started for this semester, so I will be going off to NTU at 4 pm again on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Do keep the timing in mind when you place stuff in my in-tray or if you want to schedule meetings where you need me to be present.

Thanks again!

My editor Banana sent me an email congratulating me on my grades. I sent her a note of thanks, but not before the cheekier side of me had gotten the better of me and added the words "Ian thinks that should have been 2 As and a B." She thought I was talking about some lecturer or classmate, but I wasn't.

I was talking about Ian = Inner annoying nerd.

In my school days, I was quite the nerd, but a somewhat fun one I think. In uni, being a nerd was 'uncool'. Not studying was cool. And so I tossed Ian into a box, locked the box and tossed the key in the Nanyang Lake. But Ian with his Houdini-like skills managed to escape three years later and presented himself to me, angry, dishevelled and in desperate need of a bath.

And now he's back in the groove.

Last Friday, when my monitor blacked out on me, Ian did a little victory dance when he saw me type the words on my blogpost, "Instead, over the weekend, I will utilise my computer time to indulge in the very interesting activity of doing homework."

"And you should get up really early and go to the library and do your Media Law homework. The library is open from 8:30 am to 12:30 pm."

"What?? I get up at six every day! I'm not gonna get up early on a Saturday, Ian!"

"But you must you must! You have to do better this semester!"

"I did very well last semester, Ian! Considering that the full-timers pull the grades of the part-timers down, I think I did good."

"That's nonsense. Who said the full-timers pull the grades of the part-timers down??"

"The lecturers did! They told us that the part-timers must work extra hard because we have to juggle work with studies and we don't have enough time for assignments and term papers and homework as the full-timers!"

"Whatever! We will prove your lecturers wrong! Go to bed now, I'll wake you up early morning tomorrow."

And he did. He woke me up at 7 am and I had to trudge my way to the library to do my Media Law homework for the week.

Today, in the Media Law class, my lecturer praised me. "Excellent analysis, Sayesha." He remarked.

"See see?" Ian had materialised out of nowhere and was nudging me.

"Offo! Yeah, okay fine. Thanks." I said grudgingly.

"You could say that a bit more dil se..." He sulked.

"Okay, don't create a scene here. I thank you baba. Dil se. Khush?"

"Khush!" He said happily. (Sheesh, he's exactly like me in some ways! Sulks and then immediately forgets everything and cheers up.)

I guess Ian's gonna keep me company for two more semesters. He's gonna push me to the limits, but he's gonna get me results. So yes, sometimes I'm thankful for his presence (and I said that because he's reading this over my shoulder.)

I think that on some levels, we all need an Ian.

To show us what we are capable of, to push us in what we know is the right direction. To rescue us from our laziest, most complacent side.

I think we all have it in us.

Do you have an Ian?

Monday, January 23, 2006

Different and indifferent?

In DDLJ, Raj asks Simran's Dad, "Ek baat bataiye babuji, yahan ke kabootaron aur London ke kabootaron mein aapko koi fark lagta hai?"

("Tell me something. Do you find any difference between the pigeons here and the pigeons in London?")

The reply comes, "Fark toh hai. Yahan ke kabootar mujhe jaante hain, pehchante hain. Yeh meri hi mitti ke hain. Wahan ke toh kabootar bhi paraye hi hain."

("Of course there is a difference. The pigeons here know me, recognise me. They're of my own soil. In London, even the pigeons are not my own.")

The other morning, as I stepped out to enjoy a brilliant Saturday morning, I saw a bunch of pigeons having breakfast near one of the housing blocks. I suddenly remembered the pigeons in India and my experience with them when I was a kid. When I'd go close to them, they would all fly away with a big phurrrrrrrrrrrr! And I'd be absolutely delighted. It had been a long time since I had interrupted a group of pigeons. The last pigeon breakfast party I had gatecrashed into had been in India. Years ago.

So I walked over to say 'hello'.

To my utter shock, they completely ignored me and continued eating nonchalantly. Whatever happened to "Atithi devo bhava?" or rather "Atithi's comin' to get us, fly for your life!"??

Oh wait, these were not hindustani pigeons. They wouldn't understand Sanskrit.

So I waited around, hoping they would notice me soon. Soon I was standing right in the middle of the group, and yet, the buggers were still there, hogging away, not even looking up once. (For a moment they actually made me doubt if I was a ghost or something.) In my head I was singing "Kabootar ja ja ja!" or rather "Kabootar ud ud ud!" but to no avail. My sudden moves (which included a ridiculous form of tap dancing too) also made no difference to them.

No reaction. No phurrrrrrrrr. No phurrrrrrr??!!

Finally I gave up and walked away.

Sigh... Fark toh hai...

Sunday, January 22, 2006

My top ten

Some time ago, I read an article, in which the writer was talking about good-looking women being ogled at on the roads.

She said, "Do you know what is worse than being ogled at? Not being ogled at."

Funny and unfortunately true at times.

Now why am I saying this? Well, long story.

My good friend ROS knows I'll kick her ass if she tags me on any post. I'd rather not be tagged than be tagged and not be able to respect it. Someone tags you because they want to know something about you. And if it's too much pressure for you to blog on pre-determined topics, I say don't get tagged.

And that's why people generally don't tag me. Because I give them hazaar gaalis (a thousand abuses) if I see myself in their tag list.

So when I saw ROS and her list of 8 qualities in her perfect lover, I went through the list of people she had tagged, and sure enough, my name wasn't there.

Now here's the surprising part.

I have to admit I was slightly disappointed not to see my name there. (I guess I'm like the Bollywood heroine who says, when the hero takes her in his arms, "Chhodo na, Chintu aa jayega." And when he lets her go, she says in a disappointed tone, "Chhod diya?")

Anyway, what goes around, comes around. So here I am, tagged by Pradyot who was tagged by ROS for the same post that ROS did not tag me for. Hah!

Ok, first things first. I don't quite like the sound of the word 'lover' (it kinda creeps me out) so I'm just gonna avoid its usage. I assume that for this tag, when we talk 'lover', we're talking the kind you would wanna spend your life with. Cos if not, it will clash with the points in my earlier post on attached singlehood.

So here it is, my list.
I have left out the obvious characteristics most girls would want in a guy, e.g. intelligent, caring, sensitive, understanding, must-accept-me-as-I-am, etc. I have tried to squeeze my very high expectations into 10 points (Sorry Prad, they wouldn't fit into 8!)

  • I love to travel. It would be good if he did too. I need at least two vacations a year. (Yes, I'm the kind who'd rather spend her sad salary on holidays than on Gucci and Prada and blah). So if he doesn't want me to take off without him (which I will, if he's not the travelling type) he'd better be the travelling type.
  • I love to cook. And I believe I do a good job at it. Readers who've had my cooking, care to validate? (A blog friend recently remarked that I don't come across as the kind who can cook well. 'Hmmmph!' is all I have to say to him.) It would be good if he was fond of food and not the 'anything goes' kind. I would want to experiment with food and he would be the guinea pig, so he'd better give me constructive criticism. Thankfully, so far none of my new recipes have been disasters.
  • I am a health freak. I would definitely wanna marry someone who's active and just as big a health freak as I am. Smoking is an absolute no-no. The ideal case would be a tall guy with a good body who can pull off (both figuratively and literally) a black shirt with style and confidence. Sometimes gymming alone can get a bit boring, and it would be nice to have his company there. Laziness is an absolute no-no. He should always wanna do something, though chilling at home once in a while can also be a good idea.
  • Like I said before, I can't live without the Internet. So I'd prefer a geek (a 'fun geek' though, they're the fastest growing breed right now) who should be able to fix my computer. Other geeky talents are most welcome. I know a guy who wrote an application for me to easily rename tags of my MP3 files. I was very impressed. Yeah, I'm talking that kinda stuff. Little surprises, involving things I can't do myself.
  • Independence and individuality are very important to me. Like I've always said in my 'now-made-famous-by-ROS' hinglish sher:

    Naye rishte banane ke liye puraane rishte nahin todte
    Ek couple banne ke liye apni individuality nahin chhodte

    Wah wah!

    ("You dont sever off old ties to form new bonds. You don't let go of your individuality to be a couple.")

    (Wow. Wow.)

    He should be totally into me, but he should have other friends he can hang out with too. I don't want us to stick to each other all the time, or to only watch movies that both agree on. I don't want to be one of a couple that wakes up one fine day and realises they don't have any friends. And oh, I will not change my surname after marriage.
  • A sense of humour is mandatory. I mean, c'mon, he has to live his entire life with my crazy self. It would just be better if he finds my stupid jokes funny. Most of the time, I'm kinda whacko nuts, I do things on impulse, and he should not try and control that aspect of me, or curb my wild side.
  • Music is something I can't live without. So if he's gonna have a problem with my music, I don't think I can live with him. Well, I can try, but not if he's completely tone-deaf. (A guy who can sing Hindi songs and play the guitar at the same time would be ideal, but that can be compromised against other traits.)
  • He should be someone who has opinions on things, and who can keep a conversation alive. He should be able to easily talk to my friends and family, and make them at ease. Hopefully he will be able to make them (and me!) laugh too. Our comfort level should be such that even our silences are not awkward, but kinda assuring.
  • I take my job damn seriously. He should do too. It's not just something I do to earn money. It defines me. My job makes a large part of who I am, and I shall not have anyone belittle its value to me.
  • He should be able to keep up with me, keep up the spark - the zing thing - intact in our lives. Life with me will not be a smooth straight line, it will be a crazy roller-coaster ride. And he's gotta live it up with me. A bit naughty and mischievous, he should always be upto something. Little surprises, little joys. Things that catch me off guard. I can't stand the laid-back "She's-married-to-me-where-can-she-go-now?" types. (Oh, believe me I so can go!) At the end of my tiring day, I should just want to melt in his arms and feel like I belong there. He should give me that kind of goosebumpy vibes.
So that's my list.

And nope, I'm not tagging anyone. :)

Friday, January 20, 2006

Machine language

This post is dedicated to all the wonderful geeks of the world who make my online life worth living. You guys rock. One of these days, I may just decide to marry one of you guys.

Sayeshaz idol auditions are on! Hurry!

Since my blackout, there’s been lots of singing going on around me. Everyone seems to wanna try their hand (err... okay fine, voice) at music. After the successful debut by my ailing body, immortalising Shaan's ‘Seep mein moti’ song, yesterday the monitor of my home PC broke into song. It sang to me:

Jo tumko ho pasand wohi baat kahenge
Tum din ko agar raat kaho, raat kahenge

And as usual, here's the pathetic attempt at translation (though the cheekier side of me would have wanted to insert the phrase 'call it a night' somewhere! ;)

"I will only say the things that you would like to hear. If you refer to 'day' as 'night', I will call it 'night' too."

In honour of the grand phenomenon of 'din' suddenly becoming 'raat' for me during random train rides, it looks like my loyal monitor decided to give me company in the sudden din-->raat transitions too. The damn thing blacked out on me. Now that’s true love. Total 'Tum din ko agar raat kaho, raat kahenge' stuff. Thanks a lot dude. My illness may not kill me, but no Internet at home surely will!

Not to mention that unless a good-looking geek is quickly dispatched by Tech Support to rescue this dainty damsel in Dell distress, I may not be able to blog over the weekend.

Instead, over the weekend, I will utilise my computer time to indulge in the very interesting activity of doing homework.

How exciting. :/

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Body language

So on my way to work, I was happily standing in the train when I realised I wasn't vertical anymore. Someone picked me up, someone else picked up my bag and uni notes, and someone deposited me on a seat.

Looked like this year's
annual blackout had decided to give me an early surpise. If my life was a newspaper, I can see the headlines 'Annual blackout becomes biannual event'.

So I went to the company doc (the one who is known for giving a medical certificate to my colleague with the words "She is suffering from tired.") and as usual, he was lost. What is it with me and my ailments? Why are all docs lost when it comes to me? He examined my blood pressure and asked me to go to back to him 'if it happened again'. What the..??!! So I was supposed to wait around and actually hope for another blackout to 'happen again' so I could know what was wrong with me??

Back at work, I bumped into a colleague from another department. She looked sadder and quieter than when I'd last seen her. Thinner too, but the 'sadder and quieter' part was more evident. Not knowing what to say, I said, "Hey, have you lost weight or something?"

"16 kgs in 6 months." She said with a straight face.

"What?? How??"


"Diet? Purely diet?"

"Purely diet."

"No exercise?"

"No exercise."

I swear I almost had another blackout there, just listening to that.

I have always believed that no matter how plain-looking you think you are, if you get yourself a killer body, you can look fabulous. I also believe that there are many ways to get hold of that. And depriving yourself of food will get you not a killer body, but a dead body instead.

I believe that our body is continuously trying to talk to us, telling us things, giving us signals. When we're going through an emotional trauma, our body is usually the first to show signs of revolt. But how many of us really sit down to listen to it? I usually don't. I try and sort out what's bugging my heart and mind first, conveniently neglecting the body in the process. Even though I go to the gym regularly, I forget to have my meals, I forget to drink water, I get like four hours of sleep a night... and the story goes on.

But it's all wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And my body's started to yell at me now. Cos I wasn't listening earlier. Like Javed Jaffrey famously says in Salaam|Namaste, "The ghosts of the kicks not listening to the talks!"

Can you hear your body talking to you? In fact, it's not talking anymore, it's singing, in the hope that music is more attention-grabbing than mere spoken words. It's singing Shaan's song from the movie 'Moksha'.

Seep mein moti hai lekin, koi chunta hi nahin
Baat ek kehni hai humko, koi sunta hi nahin...

"There's a pearl in the shell, but no one bothers to pick it up. I have something to say, but no one bothers to listen to me."

Let's think about it. Put all the office problems, family problems, partner/spouse problems aside first. And now count. Count the number of glasses of water you drink in a day. Is it 8-10? Count the number of servings of fruits (and vegetables too, darn) you have in a day. Count the number of hours you sleep each night. Is it 7-8? (if it is any more than that, get outta my face, you lucky bloke!)

'Good health' is usually at the top in my list of 'most important things in life'. Without good health, we really have nothing. We can't enjoy anything at all. Food, friends, love, family... nothing.

I have to start taking better care of my health, I have to start treating my body better. I have to resume taking my folic acid tablets (the excuse that "taking tablets every day makes me a sick person" is just not good enough). I have to choose the red pill -- start eating the damn apples (that I have to because I can't take iron tablets to address my anaemia). Perhaps bananas too. (Or perhaps not. Yuck I hate bananas!)

In the last few days, my weight dropped by 2 kgs. My height dropped by 2 inches. (Ok fine, my height did not drop, I just stopped wearing my heels for a while, for fear of more blackout induced falls.)

And when you're ill, you also affect others around you. You look sad and frail and miserable. You send out negative vibes. When I'm sad, the vibes I send out can knock down a whole building. I'm not kidding you!

A wise old man once told me, "All the nonsense that you young people are eating these days... it will all come back to you in old age." And I really started thinking of the nonsense that we senselessly eat, and not in moderation. The sugar, the oil, the MSG. I hate the fact that there is no msg-free food around my company (recently, a colleague broke the horrifying news that it's not just chinese food that is msg-laden, some of the malay and indian food have it too!)


Sometimes, I feel that because I am away from home, and working in such a fast-paced deadline-oriented industry, I can't afford to fall sick. This week at work is a very crucial one, and even though many times I wanted to take medical leave and go see MY doctor (versus someone who asks me to 'come back if it happens again') and get that damn blood test done, I could not desert my project, my editor, and the crazy crisis we're currently struggling with. My work has the top place in my list of 'thing to take really seriously in life'. And so I have been dragging myself to work.

Even if my body wants to give away, I think my spirit keeps me going. And I've come to realise that perhaps that's not a thing to be proud of all the time. Running my body purely on enthusiasm and passion for my work, instead of physical energy is not a good thing to do all the time.

I know I have no desire to live till 80, or 60 for that matter. I wanna die early (50 would be nice, thank you), but I wanna die healthy and happy.

So all you guys here, wanna take a health pledge with me? Since we know that the mental health of people at Sayeshaz is quite a hopeless case, let's take better care of our physical health at least. Lose that paunch, flatten that tummy, get rid of that flab, get into the right BMI range, build those abs and biceps, quit smoking, tone those legs and arms, control that coke, bring down the eat-outs. Let's get going!

Listen to your body. The poor thing has been singing that sad little song for a long time now.

May the gym be with you.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Picking up the pieces

There are many reasons why we may like a certain poem a lot.

Perhaps it tells our own story. Perhaps it makes us wish we had written it instead. Perhaps it gives us hope. Perhaps it inspires us. Perhaps it speaks to us.

And sometimes, if we're lucky enough, we find that one poem that puts all these reasons together. The ultimate poem. The most beautiful. The most meaningful. The most memorable. That one poem that stays with us forever. That one poem that we remember all our lives.

Years and years ago, perhaps 15 years ago, my mother used to read this tiny Reader's Digest-sized Hindi magazine called 'Sarita'. I used to read it too, mainly to help my Hindi. I concentrated only on the Bollywood section (yeah yeah, I started young!) but one day something caught my eye. The magazine had a little section that featured poems sent in by amateur poets.

And that's where I spotted the simplest yet the most beautiful poem I'd ever read.

Today for some reason, the poem came back to me.

I don't remember the poet's name but I think this is how it went:

Main nirantar
toot toot kar
phir phir judne wali
woh chattaan hoon...
jo jitni baar toot-ti hai
judne se pehle
utni hi baar
apne bheetar
kuchh naya samet leti hai...
Tum mujhe baar baar todte ho
aur main phir phir judti hoon...

And here's my sad attempt to translate it for the non-Hindi-speaking readers. Compared to the original, this sucks bigtime, but it's the best I can do.

I'm that rock
the one that breaks again and again
and then puts itself together
every time it breaks...
and each time
before putting itself together
it takes in something new...
You break me again and again
and I put myself together
again and again...

Monday, January 16, 2006

A simple tale of a dimple

So it was one of my colleague's last day in the company on Friday. She was going around the whole office taking pictures with all of us.

Now here's the thing about me having my picture taken.

I always have the exact same reaction.

Step 1 - The moment the flash goes off, I get all fidgety, jump up and down and go, "SHOW ME!! SHOW ME!!"

Step 2 - I look at the photo, examine myself first, and then the others in the photo.

Step 3 - If I like myself in it, I say, "Email it to me, okay? Don't forget!" And I send a million reminder sms messages to the hapless person who took the photo but hasn't found time to email it yet.

Step 4 - If I hate myself in it, irrespective of how good the others look, I hold the camera gently, put on my most seductive/sweetest (depending on whether it's a guy or a girl) smile and whisper, "So which one's the 'delete' button?"

Step 5 - If Step 4 doesn't work, I bring the roof down. "Gosh, I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it! Delete it!!!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!" And I sulk until the photo is finally deleted.

Back to my story. So after my colleague set the timer, ran to pose with us, and the flash went off, I immediately went, "SHOW ME!! SHOW ME!!"

I looked at the photo. What was that??? I looked again. There it was!

The third colleague in the photo asked, "So how is it?"

"Oh my gawddd!" I exclaimed.


"I HAVE A FREAKIN' DIMPLE???" I exclaimed.

Both of them started laughing uncontrollably.

I was amazed. For 25 freakin' years no one told me I had a dimple???? And how had I missed it, man? I guess because however whacko-nuts I am, I don't smile at myself in the mirror. (Actually, sometimes I do... hehe!) But how did I miss it in all the photos?? And dearest family and friends of mine, how come you guys never told me??? :O

All my life, I had wanted a dimple.
Not the Preity Zinta's in-your-face kinds (ok ok chill now, guys, don't shoot me down!), but the 'subtly-appears-only-when-you-smile' kind. I had even thought of putting it down in my next life's must-have list.

But there it was. In this very life. The dimple I'd always wanted.

I'm still reeling from the surprise.

Just when you think you know yourself fully, a dimple slaps you on the cheek.

Lesson learnt -- What you'd always wanted was with you all this while, you just did not notice it.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Nick of time

Yesterday, my secondary school Chemistry teacher sent me a 'Happy New Year' sms. I decided to save his number under the nickname we had for him in school.

And that brought back memories.

You know how when you're in school, you have that one teacher who's like your friend? He knows who has a crush on whom in the class, he knows who are the 'couples' in the class, he talks to you about the guy/girl you secretly like, he gossips with you, he gets you out of trouble. In short, he's teacher and friend rolled into one.

My Chemistry teacher was like that. My best friend R (ah the days of childhood when we had that one person we used to use the term 'best friend' for!) and I would hang out in the Chemistry lab during recess, or during the Games class when it was too hot to play, and help him prepare and refill the chemicals in the jars. He only trusted R and me with his precious chemicals, because the guys used to interchange the solutions in the jars (dangerous, I know!) Like there was this guy who poured out all the sulphuric acid and refilled the bottle with water, and so our salt analysis experiments did not work and our teacher went nuts. So R and I would help him with the chemicals and carry on with our noisy chatter.

"You know Sir, Phytoplankton can be so khadoos at times! Do you know he had a surprise test this morning?? Offo!" I'd say as I poured the acetone.

And he'd ask, "Ok wait wait! Which one is Phytoplanton now?"

"Offo Sir, you keep forgetting everything! You should make a list of the nicknames we have given all the teachers so our conversations would be smoother."

"Sayesha, R, tell me something."


"What's my nickname?"

"Yours?? Yours??" We fumbled for words. We did have a nick for him, but we were not gonna tell him!

"Yeah, I'm sure you guys have one for me. Is it 'Suphuric acid' or something like that?" He grinned.

"Uhhh... that's the bell. We have to go, Sir. BYEEEE!"

"Hey... wait wait... what about my nickname?"

"That was close! Phew!" R said to me.

"I think he's gonna have sleepless nights thinking about what his nickname is!" I said.

It was true. He was really curious, and he wouldn't give up. He caught us again. He sent for us in one of the free lessons (when a teacher is absent, and a replacement is sent to just keep the class quiet, but you can do anything you want).

"Darn!" R and I said.

"Hello, Sayesha. Hello, R!" He greeted us.

"Hello, Sir."

"Look what I've got for you!" He pulled out two Kit-Kats from his desk drawer.

"Sheesh, R! I knew we should not have told me that we are easily bribed with Kit Kat! We should have never told him the inside stuff!"

"Look, I'm your friend, aren't I? I think you can tell me my own nickname!" Emotional blackmail at its best.

R and I had a hurried conversation in whispers.

"Argh! Now what do we do? Should we tell him?"

"But he's gonna get all upset!"

"But he wants to know!"

"Ok fine!"

"Sir, your nickname is Chemu (pronounced kay-moo)." We broke the news to him.


"Yeah, chemu."

"That's it???"

"Yeah...You don't like it?"

"Chemu? Chemu?? How come the others have such long and fancy nicknames like Monocotyledon, Bhartrihari and Phytoplankton? Mine is just Chemu? Chemu???" He looked distraught.

"Sorry, Sir..." We hung our heads.

"Hmmm... okay.. it's okay... go now..." He looked heart-broken.

We scurried out of the lab.

After this, every time we saw him, he gave us that look of utter disappointment. As if we had let him down. R and I stopped going to the lab to help with the chemicals.

Sheesh. One good friendship down the drain just because the nickname was too disappointing.


Since we're on the topic of nicknames, I am gonna heed to American Pie's suggestion of listing down nicknames that people have given me.

Nickname: Bhai
Given by: My gang in school
The story behind the nick:
Ok fine, I ran a gang in school. It was awesome. I felt so powerful and majestic when all the guys in my class called me 'Bhai'.
(The girls could not be bothered. But they did wonder why I was so happy about being addressed as 'Bhai'. Hmmmph! Bimbos!)

"Bhai, help me with this question!"
"Bhai, can I have a bite of your lunch?"
"Bhai, the 12th std guys seem to have a problem with us."

Nickname: Queen
Given by: My grandma
The story behind the nick:
My grandma named me 'queen' cos... well, I suppose she thinks I rule! Hahaha! She has a nickname for each of her 15 grandchildren. She pronounces mine as 'ku-in' which I find rather cute.

Nickname: Jhatakmani
Given by: Ultra-creative pundit who prepared my janam patri
The story behind the nick:
STOP LAUGHING. NOW. Now this one's interesting. Apparently, this is my janam patri name. Yeah, apparently everyone has a janam patri name given to you by the pundit who prepares your janam patri. And the names are usually horrendous. So stop laughing and go find out yours. You'll laugh more!

This was the only thing my Mom would disclose about my janam patri. She refuses to let me look at it, because apparently it states the date and time of my death.

So when my cousin Sid (yeah, the same evil one) found out about my name, he was thrilled beyond words to have a weapon which he could use to bug the hell outta me anytime.

"Jhatakmani ke jhatakne se lagte hain jhatke!" he'd say on the lines of Hera Pheri's "Khadag Singh ke khadakne se khadakti hain khidkiyan!"

"Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not kill." I had to repeat to myself several times.

Nickname: Man-eater
Given by: Guys in my class
The story behind the nick:
The teachers figured that the only way they could control and discipline the hyperactive Sayesha was to make her the class monitor. And during the free lessons, I was supposed to walk around the class and ensure that everyone was quiet and working. And they had to say things like "Monitor, may I go to the toilet?" I think I made a fierce monitor because the guys used to say, "Man-eater, may I go to the toilet?"

Nickname: Sash
Given by: Can't remember who came up with it but ROS, Harshi, Chints and Vikram use it.
The story behind the nick:
Simple story, short for Sayesha.

Nickname: Sasha
Given by: Fao et al
The story behind the nick:
Same as above

Nickname: Mayawati Mangeshkar
Given by: American Pie
The story behind the nick:
This dude loves to give people nicknames, especially those with alliteration. I know the Mangeshkar part is because I sing (I mean, I used to), but I can't remember what the Mayawati is for. Perhaps he can enlighten us? :)

Nickname: Jharkhandi Jhansi
Given by: Who else? American Pie again!
The story behind the nick:
It's obvious, isn't it?

Nickname: Pink
Given by: My good friend The Sinnerman
The story behind the nick:
I went to Kuala Lumpur on a trip with him, and he thought I wore too much pink. He even made me hold a pink stuffed toy and pink candy floss outside a pink shop called 'Girls' (Sayesha rolls her eyes!) and pose for pictures! The things you have to do to amuse a friend who's going away to a whole other country! Sheesh! He even had my number saved on his phone as 'Pink'. Now every time I see anything overly pink, I miss him. :(

Nickname: Sandy horse
Given by: My ex-boss who was trying to find the Chinese transliteration of my name
The story behind the nick:
Apparently, the Chinese transliteration of my name has the words horse, mud and sand. In fact, there was this time, I used to sign off as 'Horse on the beach' or 'Sandy horse' in my emails to her.

Nickname: Princess
Given by: My good friend Starbreez
The story behind the nick:
The name Sayesha means princess of hearts/attained by great desire. She has even linked me on her blog as 'The Princess'.

Nickname: CS (Cruel Sayesha)
Given by:
Ze Exaggeratorr (also known as 'Chapaat')
The story behind the nick:
He likes to call me CS, because he feels I'm cruel cos I always give him a chapaat every time I visit his blog. I even renamed him Ze Chapaat.

ps: I had my revenge by telling him that his girlfriend would be called chapaati. Hah!

Nickname: Kuku
Given by: Dad
The story behind the nick:
Dad's the only one who calls me by this nick. He has a similar one for my sis as well. When some of my friends heard him calling me that, they were tickled pink. "Cuckoo? That's so apt, Sayesha! You ARE a bit cuckoo!" Hmmph! It's Kuku dammit!

I think that's all the nicks I have for now. Will update if I remember any more.

What's your nickname for me? :)

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Let’s break up, shall we?

Recently, a friend of mine and his girlfriend of many many years broke up. Out of the blue. And for a moment, it looked like they had no reason to break up. They loved each other very much, wanted the same things from life, were absolutely compatible, everyone around them thought that they were the perfect couple, their families had given their approval, they were gonna get married, there were no problems anywhere, when suddenly poof! They were not a couple anymore. They had decided to take a year off each other to figure out what was it that they really wanted from themselves. For themselves.

At times, it looked like they broke up for the heck of it. Yes, I was guilty of judging them too. But after mulling over it and going over the explanations, I think I finally get it.

I can safely say that it’s the most positive break-up I have ever witnessed. It was not one of those heart-breaking tragic breakups where either one or both involved stay in bed for days with a box of tissue and a tub of icecream. They continue to hang out the way they used to, they continue to be the best of friends. They just don’t know yet if they want to marry each other.

And it made me wonder -- whom do we want to end up with? Someone who makes us happy. Someone whom we can make happy. Someone who brings so many positive vibes into our life that it makes us want to make ourselves more worthy of them. Someone whose mere thoughts can bring a smile to our faces and make us feel fortunate that we have them in our lives.

However, sometimes, when you’ve been together for too long, you fail to see these things. The “togetherness” overpowers everything to a degree that you can’t see why you’re together in the first place. And that’s when you need to take a step back and really look at yourself and the other person. Is it really love that you guys share, or just the comfort of stability, history, of not wanting to risk anything else ‘cos you’ve ‘invested’ so much in the relationship?

As I had mentioned in one of my earlier posts, in DCH, when Rohit asks Shalini, “We love each other, that's why we're getting married. Isn't it, Shalini?"

And Akash says, "You should ask yourselves this question, not each other."

Maybe we should all ask ourselves. Do the Dil Chahta Hai test, close our eyes and really try and see whom we wanna be with. And know it before we get married. If there's a wee bit of a doubt, I'd say don't get married. Even if you can't be with guy Y, don't marry guy X because you can't be with guy Y. That's a bad reason to marry anyone, besides it being unfair to everyone involved. You’re better off not being married at all than being in a marriage of compromise or convenience.

The fear of being ‘trapped’ in the decision because everyone around us expects us to act in a certain way is very real. For all we know, we could be wanting to get married to the person we have been with for years and years, but as individuals, we want to be able to choose to get married and not take marriage as a natural progression of things.

Don’t marry someone because you have spent years together. Marry because you want to spend the rest of the years together.

Long courtships can become stable straight line graphs. Sometimes, a relationship is so stable that the stability actually works against it. It becomes stagnant and predictable. After all, girls will be girls. Every girl wants to be proposed to, wants to be surprised with the ring and the question. She needs to be asked, she needs to have the option to actually make a decision. Otherwise you’re just trudging along the straight line graph that goes on and on till you slam into a wall called marriage. A girl should not be pressured into a ‘As if I can say no now’ kinda ‘Yes’. She needs to have that freedom to actually consider the proposal and give her decision. Just as a guy should not do a ‘Like I can propose to someone else’ kind of proposal. He needs that freedom to think about whether she’s the one he really wants to propose to.

So maybe it’s good to break up for a while. To go your separate ways and sort out the ‘what ifs’ of life that we’ve been guilty of thinking about. What if I was with that guy I’d felt a real connection with? What if I was with the girl I broke up with? What if I was with that guy who never proposed? What if I’d been brave enough to ask that guy out whom I liked years ago? What if that girl did not have to move out of the country then? What if I did not have to leave the country then? What if there was something between him and me that both of us failed to recognise?

Marriage is the ultimate commitment. And we should not enter it with any ‘What ifs’. Before making the ultimate commitment, we’d better sort out everything within ourselves once and for all, so that they don’t interfere with the rest of our lives, and help us make a clear decision. In Salaam Namaste, Nick tells Ambar “You should give us a chance now, because years later, when you wake up next to a fat guy, you should not regret not giving us a chance.”

It’s so true. If you’re going to marry fat guy, you’d better be sure that either you give Nick and yourself a chance, or know for sure that you don’t even want to give Nick and yourself a chance. So that years later, you either wake up with Nick, or with fat guy (with the thought that you did give Nick and yourself a chance, and decided to be with fat guy) with no regrets. You need to have that control over the decision you made, and then stand by it. We wouldn’t want to put ourselves in a position where one fine day we wake up and say, “Why didn’t I do that?” We must be able to say, “I chose not to do that. I had the option, but I chose not to take it. And now I will stand by what I decided.”

‘I have no option’ is not an option. You always have an option. It just depends on how bad you want it.

So I say rip off that sticker off your forehead that says, “I’m SO taken!” Break up, take a dose of the single life, give yourself time that is fully yours. Think about yourself. Be a bit selfish. It can be quite a revelation.

And sometimes, such induced break-ups can also show us whether we really love that person. Sometimes we’re so close to a person that we don’t realise their importance, we take them for granted, we forget how special they are. That’s when we need to step back and see if we miss what we had, or whether we feel like we’re finally breathing. And that’s when we will know what we want to do. That’s when we will have the real option.

Of course, you may choose to end up with the same person you had the induced break up with, but at least you would have experienced the feeling of not having them in your life. You’d have known and understood all the reasons why you chose to be with them. And perhaps that’s when it’s time to make a fresh new start, renew your relationship, fall in love all over again. Bring it all back, the flutter of the heart, the glow on the face, the joyous aura, every beautiful thing you feel when you’re newly in love.

And when all doubts have left your mind, and you know for sure that that’s the person you want to choose to spend the rest of your life with, what are you waiting for?

Surprise her. Pop the question.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Syllabus covered!

Blogging and blog-reading is like a unique university module. There is a syllabus, but it's different for each student. There are valuable lessons blogging and blog-reading has in store for each student. Basically, whatever the student ends up learning constitutes his/her syllabus. (So the syllabus is actually released at the end of the course!)

Here's a list of valuable lessons I covered in my 'Blogging and blog-reading 101' syllabus for 2005.

  • Just when you think life can't get better, you discover blogging and blog-reading.
  • A blog can bring you a lot of joys you never thought you could have.
  • When you start blogging about stuff, simple incidents are not so simple anymore. Every little thing has a meaning, an implication, a lesson.
  • Your blog evolves with every post. Just like you do.
  • Blogging and blog-reading can become an addiction, with its own withdrawal symptoms.
  • A single post written by someone can change your life.
  • Your friends can serve as the greatest motivation to keep the blog going. Thanks, Sinnerman, for your inspiring words "There's so much more you can do with your blog, Sayesha!" when I was writing meaningless posts like "I got up, went to work, came back, slept." Thanks, A and R, for telling me over dinner at that hawker centre in Siglap that night, "Sayesha, you should never ever stop blogging!"
  • Your closest friends stop commenting on your blog after a while. But they're still reading. It's either that they feel lost in the crowd or they think "Apni hi Sayesha hai yaar, iske blog par kya comment karna." ("She's our own Sayesha. What's there to comment on her blog?")
  • You can really connect with someone on blogsphere. And if that breaks, it hurts real bad. It's heart-breaking actually.
  • Sometimes blog friends seem to become more significant than your other friends.
  • It's through blogging that we can really see how hypocritical and imperfect we are
  • People can get really bitchy on the blogsphere.
  • One nasty comment can ruin your entire day. But only if you allow it to.
  • Every stranger on the Internet is not a creep.
  • There are creeps on the Internet though.
  • Don't let bludgers (those who have grudges against you or your blog) bug you. Bludgers are buggers who bludgeon your blog. (Wah, cool tongue-twister, eh?)
  • I know a bludger who dislikes me thoroughly, but my statcounter tells me she comes back every day. I wonder why.
  • Commentators do not have to agree with everything the blogger says. You can have a huge argument with a commentator, but if it's done in a mature way, you can end up being friends without any grudges of the old fight.
  • Sometimes, creating an 'anonymous-no-comment-no-profile blog' can help you cope with stuff that your 'normal' blog can't. (Yes, yes, I had created one some time ago to cope with some personal stuff. Don't ask. I killed it recently. It was making me more miserable. I'm so done with feeling miserable. I don't need it anymore.)
  • Sometimes you may have a lot of comments on the post, but something just doesn't feel right till that one person comments.
  • One can get insanely jealous to see their loyal commentator on the blog of someone they don't like very much.
  • Some comments can get to your head. Others can make you cry.
  • The thought of not having a single comment on a post is scary.
  • A note about certain commentators -- if you shoot yourself down, they love you. If you love yourself, they shoot you down.
  • Your profile picture can become your identity. Like a little brand logo of your own.
  • You can fall in love with a complete stranger because of that one post he/she wrote.
  • Blogging helps one to accept criticism better, not to hold grudges and to judge people less.
  • Your blog can make you some really amazing friends.
Now let's see how much of the 2006 syllabus I can cover.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Celebrations at Sayeshaz

Hey you,

Remember why today, the 10th of January, is so special?

Maybe you forgot. But I am a girl. And girls generally don't forget these kind of things. Today is our anniversary.

We have completed a year of togetherness. It has not exactly been smooth sailing. We have been through laughter, tears, frustration, anger, hopelessness, anguish, and what not, but we made it.

Frankly speaking, I had not really thought we'd get here. I thought we'd give up midway somewhere. But we didn't. And I'm glad.

My experience of life with you has been a very beautiful one. It has brought about wonderful changes in my life. Through you, I have met wonderful people who have
now become very important parts of my life. The insane amounts of time we have spent together has often made me wonder if I was ignoring others in my life to be with you.

Through you, I have discovered myself. Seen my best side. Seen my worst side. Learnt to handle insane amounts of happiness without going crazy. Learnt to cope with maddening grief.

And I have emerged stronger and happier out of it.

Today is a day of celebration.

A year of togetherness.

My blog and I.


And today's the day to wonder -- how did I get started on blogging?

A year ago, I remember two of my friends discussing their blogs. I got curious, it sounded like quite the "in" thing to do.

"Hey, what's a blog?" I asked.

"Errr... it's like... it's an online journal kinda thingie."

"Online journal? If it's a journal, why is it online?"

"Err... people just like to write stuff online I guess..."

"But if it's online, other people will read it!"

"Err... yeah, that's the point."

"But why??"

"Err... I dunno! That's how it works!"

"Oh.. so what do you write?"

"Errr... stuff..."

"What kinda stuff?"

"Err... anything you like! Get a blogspot account, Sayesha! Then you'll know!"

And I went and got myself a blogspot account. (The last time I had gotten myself something just because someone had told me to, was when I'd opened an orkut account. Then I got some really weird messages such as "I am wanting to do friendship with you. If you are also wanting, mail me at blah blah.") I realised I was "not wanting to have an orkut account anymore". I shut it down and vowed never to open any account without being sure of why I wanted it.

And yet, there it was, my blogspot account.

I stared at my profile without a clue. No idea what a blog was. No idea what to write. Not a single thought in my head.

Finally on 10th January 2005, I came up with my very insightful first post. It took me a while to think and write it, but I think it expressed my thoughts very well. You must read that post, I really like it. It's very dil se.

The whole of January 2005, I struggled at writing blog posts. Frankly speaking, I don't like any of my January posts. Actually I wanted to delete the entire month of January, but I decided against it because I am not ashamed of those posts. I just think that they suck bigtime. In fact, I have a disclaimer for archive readers. Come to think of it, why would I wanna put readers through the torture when I myself can't read them again?! :O

So in celebration of my anniversary, out of my 240 posts to date, here
are the posts written in 2005 that are closest to my heart, classified by the type of drinks served at Sayeshaz:


Sayesha on the rocks -- Thoughts, theories and fundas

The unbalanced equation

The new perfect

May I have a word with you?



My TCTSTFTS theory

Of sole mate and soulmates


Of comments and commentators

It's not you, it's me

My thumb-drive theory

All in a moment's work

Who's reading your blog?

Just like that

The moment

Tequila shots - Gulp it, enjoy it, forget it!

The unfair sex

Things will work out in the end

How many uncles does Lily have?

Dear editor

Indecent proposal

Detox diet

The Grand Hyatt knows what I did last summer

A case of borderline obesity

A tale of kindies

Sleeping with a stranger

Baby's day out. Sayesha freaks out.


No control

Too close for comfort

What was that again?

Sayesha Neat - The real stuff

Welcome to Sayeshaz!

Gimme a single reason

The Sayesha kind of love

Red roses -- from a gal to a guy

Don't kill me before I die

My andekha anjana

An open letter

Things that sound right in my head

An apology

What's your formula?

Just bossing around

A tight slap and a tight hug for you

My little space

Split personality? Me?

Crappy jobs I've had

Things that make my life worth living

The real Sayesha

Old wine - Tales of childhood

Growing up in India

Conversations with grandma

But I wanna make it rain

Bringing up Mom and Dad

Mom vs Hyderabadi shop owner

Home for dinner

Gang wars

The perfect example

:) and yet :(

Dehleez ke diye

Manaofying 101 lessons by Dad

Mera kuchh saaman

The untold tales

Of cars and Sayesha

All grown up

Pardon the long list, but as I was making it, I realised that this blog is all about my heart and the feelings in it.

And everything here is close to my heart :)