Its been very, very long since I have blogged and I deserve a slap, totally.
And I deserve an even tighter slap for what comes next-
Witness this conversation,
Me (watching someone opening the their lunch box): You're having your food now? Its eleven-thirty, my food is finished at eight in the morning!
Girl #1: I know, I'm really hungry, I haven't had anything since morning.
Girl #2: Me too, except Jili's cheese toast.
Girl #3: I usually eat early in the morning, but today I didn't.
Me: Yes, because I asked for a statement from everyone in the class.
Which, sadly, is what you get when there are only six guys, and the rest all girls, in your class.
Now this,
Random Girl: You know, in a village in India, there's a tradition in which new borns, little babies are made to bathe in boiling, hot milk.
Me (horrified, more so because I had just read Six Graves to Munich, and its SCARY): How sad! Think of all the poor babies.
Ess: How sad! Think of all the milk wasted.
Now this is one guy who I would like, to be in my class.
See the difference?
Showing posts with label Easily Amused. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Easily Amused. Show all posts
For lack of a better post
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Pass yaa fail?
My dad sent me this text:
" I failed in some subjects in exam, but my friend passed in all. Now, he is an engineer in Microsoft and I am the owner of Microsoft."- Bill Gates
So I texted back: Does that mean I'm allowed to fail?
Dad: If you want to fail, be sure to turn out like Bill gates.
Ronaldo is SEXY.
Here are a few random facts about my knowledge of football:
- I possess none.
- But I'm freakishly excited about today's Argentina v/s Germany.
- I'm supporting Argentina, mainly because their coach is Maradona, and the name Maradona sounds SO cool. I wish my name was Maradona. Also, because yesterday was Ritika's birthday and she invited all her German Exchange friends and all they talked about was their stupid German Exchange for the whole FIVE hours and I'm starting to get just a LITTLE bit irritated of Germany.
- Its saddening that Portugal got out so early, poor Ronaldo.
- Ronaldo's expression in Shakira's Waka Waka at 2: 09 is INSANE. REALLY.
- Waving Flag is so much better than Waka Waka.
- Though I like the thing that Shakira wears in her hair in the video.
- Kerala is the second-most-football-crazy state in India. When I went there this summer, there were all these slogans painted on the walls, like 'Argentina Fan Club' and stuff, which aren't there anywhere else.
- The most-football-crazy state in India is West Bengal, but I guess everyone knows that.
- Also, I've finally decided I'll support Real Madrid and Manchester United because of Ronaldo&Kaka and Rooney respectively.
Here are a few random facts about Kerala:
- There are just TOO many trees, I'm sorry. They're taking the phrase 'Go Green' way too seriously.
- They have huge, airy houses (flat culture doesn't exist there) with even bigger ceilings. Guess what the view is from the balcony? OF TREES.
- Beaches and Sea is the awesomest thing EVER. Delhi should have a beach. I don't think I can ever get tired of looking at the vast, endless expanse of sea/ocean. Its beautiful.
- Black soil we read about in Geography? Yeah, its REALLY black.
- The golden sand in Calicut was coarser than the black sand in Kovalam.
- Everyone there eats directly using their hands, so each restaurant has a separate area that says 'WASH'.
- Most restaurants don't serve mineral water. They boil the tap water and mix a herb in it which turns the water slightly red. I didn't pretend to be a vampire at all.
- Keralites, or maybe south Indians in general, I dunno, shake their head in a funny way. Like Noddy does, only 360 degrees instead of his up and down. But the problem is, you can't tell whether its a yes or a no.
- Everyone there has a smile on their face and goes around grinning all the time at everyone. I wish people in Delhi were like that. Here, people hurl abuses at you for no reason.
- HORRIBLE clothes.
- NO HOT GUYS. Outrageous, really.
- There is a British and Indian name for a lot of places, like Cochin and Kochi. Thiruvananthpuram and Trivandrum.
- Beaches are so crowded.
- Waves are POWERFUL!
- In movies, they show the hero and the heroine are having the time of their life at the beach. But they always skip out the part where they should feel so ICKY after going to the beach because sand is everywhere. Movies lack any kind of practicality, really.
- Their biggest movie star there is Mohan Lal.
- Fort Kochi is not actually a fort, its old Kochi.
- And its AMAZING! They have all these cool streets like Princess Street, Rose Street and there are a lot of homestays there which are fickin expensive, even more so than Taj.
- The wind at Kanyakumari's shore is SOOOOOOO strong that I could swear my feet got lifted up in the air for just a second.
- Everyone there goes around wearing hats and sunglasses because the sunlight is so strong.
- I couldn't find one McDonald's in the whole of Kerala.
- Kochi airport is gooooooood.
- There was stuff like Ratatouille (yes, like in the movie!!), lobster and steak in the daily menu.
- Kerala has great spices, apparently.
- Lighthouses are cute.
- India's coastline's view from air is awesome.
- Shells are cute too.
- They also eat a different kinda rice, which are fatter in structure and bad in taste but more nutritious.
- EVERYONE WEARS A DHOTI. Not pretty. Though I wore it once too. :D
- In spite of, or because of, all that, Kerala IS extremely beautiful.
Ghost in the Pink Fur Coat
January 9th, around 7:30 Pm
We're all in Rita Aunty's balcony.
We're playing Hide and Seek.
We're waiting for the 'seekers'.
Suddenly, the door in her balcony, adjacent to the Cycling Machine, which opens into the house...creaks open. Slowly. We all freeze. I remain very still. A figure steps out, hooded.
Its very dark and I can't see who it is.
But one thing drives the fear out of my mind.
The figure's wearing a pink fur coat. Its definitely not a ghost. Ghosts don't wear pink fur coats.
Its Rita Aunty. Dressed for her evening walk.
I can recognize her coat anywhere, anytime.
But I'm again scared. What if she gets mad finding the four of us in her house without her permission? What if she bans us from playing in that area? She didn't know we were here. Yet.
And suddenly,
There's a quick tick and the balcony is illuminated, all sign of darkness gone.
There's light all around- to reveal four not-so-small-people crouching behind chairs and Cycling Machines in her balcony.
"Arre!", she exclaims loudly, very, very astonished, as she took a step back. Even after her exclamation, we all remain hiding, hoping against hope that it wasn't us that she saw.
It was.
But none of us move an inch. She stands there, shocked to the core, unable to move. My hand flies to my mouth so the sound of laughter is muffled. I'm about to tip the Cycling Machine over, I'm laughing so hard. But I don't want her to hear.
One Minute Later (during which, all four of us are trying to cover our laughter, STILL CROUCHING, HIDDEN, while she's plain shocked, speechless)
"Wha-wha-what...?", she finally manages. I can understand. There have been a lot of thefts lately. And crouching there in her balcony, I bet we didn't look any less than thieves.
"Playing Hide and Seek, Aunty! Hide and Seek?", Nishant calls out jovially.
We all come out. She gapes at us.
"Sorry, "I say.
"No, no, its perfectly alright, I was just very surprised..." Understatement of the year.
She walks back inside, all thoughts of evening walk forgotten.
We somehow stumble out of there, and as soon as we're out of her earshot, burst into laughter.
Oh yes. Saturday, we were out playing in the biting cold and this happened.
Bonjour India!
I was lucky enough to be a part of the twelve student group who were sent to the FIRC- French Information Research Centre. (Thanks Daggu :))
Little did I know, as I climbed into the twelve seater minivan, that I'd learn something entirely different than what was expected.
We were there to witness a story narration by a professional French Storyteller. Now, I've never met a storyteller. I didn't even know that a profession like that even existed. Telling stories for a living? My kind of thing!
As we walked inside the gates, I saw the chairs and tables covered in clean, white linen and multi-colored satin bows on them. There was a round table and chairs around it. I've always, always, always, wanted to sit at round tables covered with white linen. And there should be a champagne glass in front of me. I've seen those only at weddings, and somehow, that mood isn't created. But those chairs around the tables? For me? Yay!
And then I saw around twenty-five little French kids, all dressed as if they were out for a picnic. There were other schools too, but they naturally caught my attention. They, as I found out later, were the kids from Lycee Francaise, which is a French school for children from classes sixth to eighth. The event was pretty formal and they were running around, playing and I immediately smiled, seeing what they were doing. We stood, as we were a little early, looking around, and surprisingly, they approached us. First came the boys, and alomst all of them had golden hair (not blonde) and the Zac Efron hairstyle which I totally LOVE! This one:
Only less weirder. So I couldn't stop staring at them. I was too nervous too actually talk to them so I let the others talk.
1.
And then, behind me, this group of French girls come and say, "Quelle est votre classe?" Which is your class? I look nervously at Shubhra. " Dixième," she tells me. I repeat.
We look at each other for a while...a little more broken French.
"Je t'aime ta jupe, " I like your skirt, I tell one girl.
"Merci, merci", she says happily.
Then they go back. We roamed around for a bit, as we were early.
2.
And then I noticed something- there was French Jazz music playing in the background. And the little French kids, they started dancing! Just like that.
There were many people there, all of them older, and they didn't care. They started dancing, doing weird, funny little actions.
Just like that.
I couldn't take my eyes off them. Would I dance with all those people looking at me? No. Why?
3.
Finally, we took our seats, and this French boy turns around and looks at me. "Bonjour," I say. He grins and holds up two fingers, the victory sign. These kids were COOL.
The event started and whenever anybody on the stage said Bonjour, just as a form of greeting, all those French kids would shout Bonjour back.
The group-song competition started...first up was our school and the name of the song was announced.
4.
And surprisingly, all the French kids started hooting and giggling. "Whats so funny?" I asked them in French. One of them said managed to squeeze in between giggles,"Sarkozy...Carla Bruni."
I couldn't make anything of this answer until later I came to know that that song was dedicated to Nicholas Sarkozy by Carla Bruni.
Those kids were giggling.
5.
Our team was singing, it was a slow, romantic, melodious song. Everybody was listening quietly. And one of the French kids, he started clapping. Slowly, with the beat, holding up his hands. He looked at us and gestured to us to do the same. Clap for our team.
There were students there in the age group of fifteen to eighteen years. There were college students and post-graduates. There were teachers and adults.
And here is this twelve year old foreigner telling us to clap, cheer for our own team while everyone listened quietly. Obviously, when the song ended, we did cheer. But that was different. Cheering for a stranger, and sincerely, is much, much different.
6.
It was the French kids' turn then. They ran to the stage, pushing each other. All of them wanted to be in front. As I looked at them, I saw myself. I. Group song. Pushing. Laughing. Not caring that we're on the stage.
They sang enthusiastically, tapping their feet on the ground, almost jumping. After the song ended, they clapped for themselves, and one of them even jumped off the stage and fell face down on the grass. I couldn't stop laughing. (No, he did it intentionally!)
7.
Another school's turn. They became very excited when the heard they would be singing Champs-Elysees, a popular French song. They sang along to every word, encouraging everyone to join in.
Then was the time for story narration.
8.
One of them, Clarisse was the name, would be narrating a story. They cheered for her, and they cheered good. "Clarisse! Clarisse!", they yelled, clapping their hands. "Relaxe! Relaxe..." they kept saying...and it was so refreshing. When everybody sat on their seats, prim and proper, these children were jumping up and down, supporting their friend.
She narrated the story beautifully, avec action et al.
Then came, Muriel, the professional French story-teller. Muriel here, had vivid, red, curly hair and she wore a so many beads and necklaces and bangles. But the way that woman narrated a story- awesome. She mostly narrated folktales. She traveled all over the world and collected folktales from different cultures. What inspired her to choose a profession like that, somebody asked.
Because, she said smiling wickedly, when I was twenty, I was much in love with a guy who loved stories.
She was fifty seven now.
She told us mostly folktales, about devils and angels and heaven and hell. About how the city of Los Angeles was built and why people say 'Uh-hun.'
"Its all about," she said, "finding the right story for the right person at the right moment."
9.
The French kids were the perfect listeners. They gasped and 'oohed' and 'aahed' at the right time and every once in a while, they'd raise their hands and go, "Madame! Madame!" and ask questions. Even in the middle of the story. And nobody minded.
Then there was a play, La Petite Chaperon Rouge. The Little Red Riding Hood.
"Thank you everyone for coming. Now you can all proceed to have lunch, we have chocolate croissants and hot chocolate and sandwiches waiting for you."
And the French kids exclaimed and ran towards the food.
And at that moment, right then, I wanted to be one of them.
I had to be one of them.
I had to.
They were so...carefree, unrestricted.
So unaffected, it was amazing.
I wanted to be able to go upto older, intimidating (?) strange teenagers and talk to them casually.
I wanted to to dance on French Jazz, not caring that a group of snotty teenagers were staring at me.
I wanted to make the 'V' sign AND look cool.
I wanted to hoot after hearing the Bruni-Sarkozy song.
I wanted to cheer for my team, absolutely not caring what anyone thought of my screams.
I wanted to jump and laugh on stage and not feel conscious.
I wanted to jump off from the stage, rock-star style.
I wanted to yell my friend's name among a meeting of serious, sophisticated people.
I wanted to jump because there was hot chocolate for lunch.
I wanted all that.
Because they were happy people. The real happy.
And I'd settle for NOTHING less.
Where has the heart gone? Where has the spontaneity of actions gone?
Nevertheless,
*raises empty wine glass*
To the French Spirit!
Love,
Srishti
P.S. There's a chilly nip, or rather, Christmas in the air. Bring on the warmth, whatever may be the source. ;)
The Human Aspect
In times of a crisis, different people react in different ways. During these times, many people overlook the little things. The small details which escape the eye. Or the small details which makes your will for survival stronger.
I like to call it 'The Human Aspect'. The Human element.
26/11
I saw a very excellent documentary on Discovery, Surviving Mumbai yesterday. And noted down these small details.
The gunmen rounded up some guests in the hotel and this woman, she was wearing a black evening dress. When they were rounded up, she quickly wrapped a black pashmina around her.
To appear as a 'conservative, middle-aged woman' to the Muslim gunmen. I think that was very quick thinking on her part. Or it could've earned her the gunmen's wrath.
This guy, he's hiding in a room in The Oberoi or the Taj (I forgot which one). He looks outside the window and there is a house in front of the hotel. He can view the inside of the house and he sees a man...brushing his teeth. The hotel in front of him is burning down, and he's carrying on brushing his teeth. Like nothing's happening.
A woman remarked that the terrorists wanted to wash their hands or something, but they couldn't open the taps. They could open-fire among a crowd but couldn't open a tap. "But when you have a gun." she said. "Everything is possible. Isn't that interesting?"
The staff of the Taj hotel were extremely helpful. They sealed the guests inside the Chambers and themselves remained outside and led the terrorists away from the Chambers. This guy who worked in the Taj had the chance of getting out and getting home to his wife and children, who lived just three blocks away. But he decided to stay and help. He died two days later. Vir Sanghvi wrote an article a while back, praising the dedication of the staff at Taj towards its guests even in such a crisis.
Anjali Pollack said, "When the doors finally opened and light spread out, a commando walked in. And I swear, at that moment...he looked nothing less than Brad Pitt to me."
I have a book which recounts the experiences of women detained at Concentration Camps during world war2.
One woman wrote that there was this other woman in the camp, who used her very limited ration of margarine to smear on her face, instead of spreading it on the bread. And they were given very little food.
There were a group of French women, who went inside the gas chambers in Auschwitz singing Marseilles.
In the camps, everything was so filthy and dirty, you couldn't clean up properly. Women's heads were shaved off and sparse little hair grew on them. But once, these girls encountered a French man who was exiting from the same door as them. He held the door open for them and said, "Apres vous, madame." Which means, after you, ma'am. That little gesture made them feel a bit more woman again.
My stupid keyboard's given out and on screen keyboard is not fun.
More later.
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