If I could travel in time then I’d go back to my thirteen year old self and give her some much needed advice.
If I could travel in time then I’d go back to my thirteen year old self and give her some much needed advice.
It’s a hot, sultry day, I’m sitting droopy eyed watching the wedding crashers with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. The movie keeps rolling, both of them bedding bridesmaid after bridesmaid and it finally leads up to a cliché scene where Owen ends up falling for one of these maidens and tells her that love is finding your counterpoint in another (cue to roll eyes). There’s tons of movies like the wedding crashers out there, all with hapless souls looking for a good shag or that perfect kiss or a romantic rendezvouz or butterflies and tingly feelings and ultimately true love. Somehow it strikes some weird ass cord in me, maybe because apart from my recent Netflix induced rom-com addiction, many of my classmates from school and college are rushing off to be part of the happily married club and here I was still eating ice cream out of the tub, feeling like a loser in the relationship battlefield, completely de-motivated to find my someone, to make an effort to run a brush through my messy mane, handicapped at flirting and too flippant to care about it.
I wasn’t always like this though, I had my fair share of crushes, almost relationships and surprisingly enough an actual one too. It wasn’t some fling or sad affair, it was a long process of best friends turned to something more. I for one got caught up in the multi million dollar industry of sweet nothings, valentines, hand holding and the like, the kind of love which makes you all weak in the knees, him fawning over the princess that you are sort of thing but then reality hit me, HARD. I think I was blinded by my very lovestruck friends, the gazillion rom-coms I’d watched growing up, prosy Shakespeare and trashy novels with buxom ladies and blue eyed men. After that rude awakening, moping about breaking up and a lot of healing chocolate I became sane enough to realise that THAT wasn’t what I was looking for.
But now that Owen’s saying all this stuff… was I wrong? Had I given up on love too soon? I couldn’t brood for long though, I had a date with mom and the vegetable vendor down the street so I reluctantly switched off my only chance at having those lovey dovey mushy Netflix moments and went out with mom. We were still deciding on what curry to cook, when she suddenly did something, she held my hand ( in my family we aren’t very demonstrative so it was rather odd), she looks at me and then tells me that she’s going to miss me when I go off to live own my own and all sorts of weird mother daughter stuff…I sort of zoned out but I recognized a familiar feeling…one that was long gone….one I’d moved on from… the warmth of being loved… and that’s when I realized that I needn’t be sad about being ousted by the happy couples club, that I needn’t wait around for love , that love had always been there in my life…
15 June, 2017
It’s 11.43 a.m. and my mind is doing a run through of the crazies. Here I am, all 23 years of me, finally a graduate, no more college classes to be late to, no more stinky shirts to re-wear inside out, no more laid back semester breaks, all that’s left is a socially awkward and confused me, a lot of painful, possibly forever goodbyes, misgivings about the job I’m about to take up, a lot of pressure from mother goose to settle down with Mr dashing and handsome, and the big gaping hole that my future is. I feel like I’m a contestant on fear factor who’s centre stage all the time, all the monsters under my bed smirking at me and I’m stuck between getting my shit together and fucking things up more.
Trying to come to terms with all these things snowballing towards me all at once is turning out to be a herculean task. Little me, worrying about that test, about random weekday getaways and rushing off to snag that last piece of gooey rum balls from my favourite bakery, keeping the rat out of the room..I remember me having soul crushing debates, arguments and getting frustrated about such mundane things like it was yesterday… Oh wait…it was yesterday (-_-)
What exactly am I supposed to do right now? Go to a new city or stay close to the familiar? Higher studies or slog and study for one of the dozens of exams for those much coveted cushy jobs? Get an apartment? Use my newfound financial independence to spend or save? Start looking for a prince charming on matrimonial sites like a good little girl or look around for one or not marry at all? Sleep with my boyfriend or remain a virgin forever? Go pub hopping on Fridays or stay sober? Decisions, decisions and more decisions, they’re hurtling towards me, the girl who can’t even pick a soup off the menu.
DISCLAIMER: The following decrees are spewed by the mind of a highly unqualified twenty something who has zero knowledge about philosophy and even lesser tact or wisdom to dish out sappy quotes and is totally against self help books and thinks rainy days in her jammies with hot cocoa is what it feels like to be “zen”.
Since I don’t have a fairy Godmother who turns pumpkins into carriages, life sorta continued sucking till I learned these things the hard way and I though hey, why not bug you guys with it and maybe some unhappy soul who is ambling around in this big bad world might actually find it useful but then again since it’s me, it’s advice you probably shouldn’t take…
#1.My first decree to all you humans and non -alike-THOU SHALT BE AWESOME!!
Don’t ever be any less!!
Don’t go down gently!!
To all the haters who tell you to be less weird or less loud or to live by the rules or to be part of the flock…tell all of them to fuck off!!
We struggle with the whole of our being to get through each day, with bad coffee and late passes and F’s on pop quizzes and broken hearts , why make it harder than it already is by trying to fit in? Why be a different you? Why must you listen to the dont’s and the cant’s and the shouldnt’s and all those other frownie words?
Take your life by the reins and charge into the world with your oh so special souls coz you have one freaking life and you have to make it count as the sparkly person you are!! Be proud and awesome!
Be confused, be gay, be a lesbian, be emo, be a blob, be anything and want everything because you deserve nothing less and you are enough for yourself!!
Often I feel that my entire family is like a pack of crazy gypsies, always on the move, we’ve packed and unpacked our stuff so much that some of it just likes to stay in boxes, ready to go whenever that ominous time comes. The proof of how much we go around the country is like duhhed because I’ve been to seven different schools over the span of my very small and seemingly insignificant life. We are wanderers, discovering new places, carving out new niches to fit into, in my case that would be new candy shops and little bookshops by the corner of the street , my mom would smile away to glory at finding the bestest grocer’s near our new homes or the local restaurant which can cook up steamy hot south Indian idlis and puttu which have some sort of semblance to the ones grammy makes ,for papa it was often about making new friends to take along on his morning walks , it also meant conquering little parts of the new kingdom- it was always a battle between me and my sister as to who would get which new room, learning new languages- however funny and foreign they might be we still had to master the rudimentary stuff like yes, no, we won’t give more money than that, how much does it cost and other haggling terms and maybe a few cuss words too along the way, it was also about getting into good schools which meant fidgety waiting rooms and scary makes your knees shake sorta interviews and making new friends who genuinely want to be friends with you not because you’re the new southie in the block,a naïve homework doing oily haired dodo(I’ve met a lot of people who latch on to me to totally use the whole nerd factor, only to realize that I ain’t Ms. smartypants who can do math in her head) but they start hanging out with you because you both have the weird DNA and think of stuff like the fact that star wars is just about the yoda hand thingy (I will get around to watching it…after I die…coz then I have all of eternity) and after all these routine three yearly rituals were done, the rest would just fall into place often as messy as tangled up as a ball of yarn, but, we’ve gotten used to the mess.
Sounds fun right? Every place, a new adventure, exciting but hugely terrifying too, there were days when I was scared of what was out there, when I had no clue what I was looking forward to, the worst part was the arduous task of fitting in or at least trying to fit in, leaving the comfortable shells we’d grown into at the last place we stopped by, only to start over AGAIN. Finding the aforementioned friends wasn’t some stroll in the park, it took a lot of pure dumb luck and I’ve realized after a dozen or so failed lottery attempts and getting drenched on what started out as perfectly sunny days and a whole lifetimes worth of unlucky events that I’m not the chosen kind who trip on four leaf clovers every other day, so often I’d find my unlucky self stuck with a bunch of doddering fools for friends during the first year or so and then I’d eventually find my tribe, the crazy ones, so I guess I was lucky, maybe not going where I wanted to go but ending up where I needed to be.
Helloooo cupcake!! (Yesss I just called you cupcake, yes, it might be a thing from now on or maybe a phase) It’s one of those days when I have a whole pile of work left to do but no amount of coaxing, deadlines of deadlines, badgering or bribing will make me get off my bed and get to it. I feel weighed down, this whole week has been a drag, this whole semester has been loathsome, this whole year has torn apart my New Year resolutions from limb to limb, I did NOT lose five kilos, I did NOT stop procrastinating once and for all, I did NOT write to my best friend… There hasn’t been a skippity-doo-dah in my step of late, but enough is enough, it’s time to get out of that funk and get a hold of that unicorn who is making a run for it seeing the version of me with the un-shed five kilos… Hey you!! Wait up!! Huff -puff-huff-puff… lungs burning…
FINE I don’t need a unicorn but I could sure use something equally whimsical, at least for a day… So I’m going to celebrate and since it’s too late for birthdays and too early for Halloween and Sundays are way too depressing because of the Monday that awaits, I’m going to take a plain Jane Saturday and wish myself a happy anti-mope-essant day, a day where I drag myself out of bed at midnight and twirl around in my shorts (the really loose kinds do twirl… kinda) and oversized tee and messy buns, smelling like a fresh summer day, give myself a pep talk and a hug, coz it’s anti-mope-essant day, the day when I do NOT worry about lists, and other people’s feelings and the finals and the future and mistakes… no way in hell will I sit up at 2 a.m. and be eaten up by worry! Not tonight!! Instead I will do happy things…
Hello. My name is Treasa and I’m a pet killer.
As I sit here writing this, I’m also mourning the loss of my pet kitten, Ace, while staring at the once stinky cage of Muffin, my pet hamster. I think I’m getting a reputation of some sort, but just to clear things up with you, I LOVE animals, I’m so bizarrely obsessed that I sometimes even get attached to ants and leave little pieces of chocolate out for them. I still mourn the loss of Steve and his ant family.
I might not literally be an axe murderer but I definitely cannot seem to stick to one pet, the longest I’ve had one is three months. I’m grateful that I have people to blame this on and that I can give slimy excuses to justify myself or else I would just be a cruel psycho killer.
1. Growing up with a family of animal haters is hard. (Okay, now I’m being mean, they don’t hate animals, they just think that fur-shedding, un-toilet-trained, not walking on two legs sorta creatures belong in the wild and any licking petting or cuddling associated with them is just yuck!) Can’t blame them, my people don’t dig pets… or animals for that matter, unless it’s on fur coats or as buckets of finger licking good chicken.
2. We move A LOT! Seven schools in like my entire life (No I wasn’t kicked out, but, maybe I sometimes wished I was coz it sounds kinda badass right? And also no my dad wasn’t in the military) Anyways, there was a lot of moving from one state of India to another, from one cramped apartment to another. I met countless pandis, malayalis, biharis and the most adorable street dogs, cats, goats, cows, rats even, but, mom and dad refused to budge from their no-pets-allowed-in-this-house wala stand. We just didn’t have the means,the space and mostly the patience to be poop-scooping pet-walking humans.
3. Every living thing I have ever been given the responsibility of, eventually disappears, has to be let go or dies a tragic and weird death. Yea… hurt my reputation as a babysitter in my neighbourhood.
Do these sound like excuses to you? You guys must be like, “if she really wanted one she could have kept one.” It wasn’t for lack of trying okay,as it will soon be made clear from my horrible track record.
This is why we are gonna get married to Punjabis and be happy fat people!
I love Punjabis,their culture,their customs, their Bhangra, [their wholeheartedness] and most importantly, their FOOOOOD!! The word ‘diet’ is quite non-existent in their lives, it’s the land where it’s a sin to serve parathas without rich wholesome butter dripping off the sides, where Lassi (buttermilk) flows in abundance, where ‘B’ stands for Butter Chicken [What’s not to love?]. Now imagine being married to one! It’d mean flavoursome food, every day…
Waking up to Aloo Paratha and pickle and Masala Chai, steaming Chicken Tikka Biriyani for lunch [and a dinner fit for kings with cold lassi with dollops of malai and naan with creamy Butter Chicken]…mmm… my married life would equate to gastronomic heaven and I’d have to switch over to stretchy pants and loose shirts… Now since all of that seems an unlikely possibility, [*sigh*] the only other alternative to satiate our tummy yearnings and the fact that we can’t afford gourmet North Indian food is to frequent Dhabas.
So, today we present to you Ladies, Gentlemen [and everyone in between], the ACTUAL FACTUAL most “authentic” North Indian Dhaba of the city of Kochi, [or atleast to the poor folks here at the Infopark] “Harsh Dhaba”. It’s what the genie gave to Northies stuck in Kerala who yearn for some “dharthi ke andar se aane waala” roti [yea what she said] (I was just quoting from their menu :P) and ladles of buttery paneer! It’s a haven for people like us who love the spice and flavour , quite different from the daily dose of mom’s idlis and upmaas… It’s a ‘khushi bhara’ place for your pocket [Thank the Gods!] as well as your Chicken Tikka cravings.
The very best of what Harsh Dhaba has to offer to the Gastro Gods are:
Aaaaah… Mmmmm… the salivating has been kickstarted automatically even as I sit here after having a really HEAVY onam sadya! THAT is just how good it is! Plentiful amounts of it piled into a bowl,steaming hot, flavoursome with the right amount of spice, laden with succulent pieces of chicken. It’s one of the best biriyanis the city has to offer.