No more Mr. Nice Guy

Chicken Little recently said "Being nice is extremely under-rated and rare. And outdated".

Yet it a 'nice guy' that every mother wants for her daughter; every sibling for their sister and every person for their friend. A nice guy is what every grandparent blesses their grand kids with and every girl hopes for when she is 10! Then why is it, that the minute she turns 18, she does an about turn and looks for everything except nice in the man she seeks?!

Save a handful, I find that I do not approve of the guys my bestfriends/friends/acquaintances are dating. Not because these guys aren't 'well-settled' or good-looking (my friends are pretty wise to those!), but because (I feel) they don't treat these girls the way they should be!

Every girl I know, has gone for a guy who is dashing, plays slightly hard to get, is flirty and has 'attitude'. Put 'em together and what have you got? Your mother's nightmare!

These otherwise smart and sucessful young ladies are blind to the fact that these guys are the ones most likely to break their heart and the least likely to help them build the home they dreamt of when they were 10 - which, lets face it, is what every girl still wants!

The truth being, these nice guys do exist. I have met them, even befriended a few of them. And while doing so, I realise that is highly unlikely that they will ever get the attention of the kind of girls who deserve them simply because they will not take the risk! These boys will probably end up marrying some lucky girl who their mommy picks out for them!

That is not to say, all hope is lost. Break-throughs have happened in the past and are quite likely to happen again! And if that does happen to you, I paraphrase the second part of what Chicken Little said and advise you: "Hold on to that one."

Bigger picture, people! Please.

The recent incident in Mangalore left us all shocked, but I fail to understand why, really. We should've seen it coming and we deserved this in more ways than one.

We are all busy cribbing about how this is not democracy anymore and we should have the freedom to do what we want to and how it could've been any of us! That is exactly why we are concerned, you see! Those guys didn't have to pick Mangalore, they could've picked a pub in Chennai (yeah, right!) when my friends and I are hanging out there. They could've picked a pub in B'lore when my sister's hanging out there. This is something which affects us - the upper middle class - directly, which is why there is so much publicity over it!

The journalists - they frequent pubs too; Or their friends/girlfriends/wives/daughters/sisters do! And it scares them to think that they kit and kin could be subjected to such a thing! Hence they make sure it's brought to limelight and pester the CM about it and urge the people to rise in action, etc.. Basically, they're scared. And the pub owners(influential people, all of them) are scared as well. What if the women stop coming? What if ladies nights don't happen anymore. How exactly are they gonna manage the ratio?

The act itself is something which should be condemned, no doubt, but don't you see? The Ram Sena people were just the stupider of the lot. They picked the wrong people to mess with! If they had tortured some poor villagers in some remote part of the country, they wouldn't have gotten more than 5 seconds of T.V time and their acts would've gone unnoticed.

As I said, we deserved this, since we failed to notice the girls who are not allowed to go to school in J&K (they will be killed, no less), and were busy worrying about not being able to go to a pub! We compromised on the rights of those not fortunate enough to be born to parents rich enough or living in the right cities, and in a way told these guys, 'go ahead, we won't stop you yet..' and now we pay for it, albeit meagerly.

Sure the Karnataka police can lock up 10 people and claim they've 'taken action' against them, but we aren't really a free democratic country until everyone is able to practice their right!

As cute as it gets.

Got my first intro to 55 from Pseudo here.

Anyway, decided to write one myself. A '55' is a story which is written in less than 55 words. So here goes:

Her mind wandered as usual. She smiles to herself as she thinks of the previous evening. Dinner was perfect. Her phone suddenly vibrates. She checks it under the desk. A message - 'Stop thinking of me and concentrate on class :-) '. She couldn't help grinning as she continued copying down what was on the board.

Oh, I know that's so-cute-it-makes-you-puke-ish and who-does-that-anyway-ish, but hey, it's my first attempt, so be nice, okay?
Oh and you guys should try a 55 as well!

I'm a... WHAT?

Scene one(Temashek hall, NUS - my room): Aquila's gtalking and I'm sipping the Raspberry Vodka I split with her. The vodka's getting to me, I guess. I turn to her and go, "doesn't all this feel nice and grown-up. Sitting in a different country, chatting with your best friend and drinking pink-colour alcohol? Like your childhood dream?" She turns back and smiles.
Half and hour later:
Aquila: Do you still feel on top of the world?
Me: No!

Scene 2 (Fruit shop, Anna Nagar): I'm meeting two of my school friends - Banu and Archana - after four years. We haven't met or spoken since school, but we used to be pretty close then. I called them on an impulse and we decided to meet.
Archana: So, what you planning to do next?
Me: PhD, hopefully.
Banu: But won't that take a long time?
Me: 5 years, if I'm luck (yes, I think of Mike Slakenerny and smile!)
Archana: So, when you planning to get married??
Me: M-M-mmarried?
Banu: Yeah..
Me: After that I guess.. Why? When you guys planning to get married?
Archana: In another year or two I guess.. They're looking out.
Me: Looking out??? But that's so... grown up!

Scene 3 (I'm having a messaging conversation with a 'friend*'). Friend sends me a message "... so, we suspected my girlfriend was pregnant and I had to got her a test.."
Me: ??????????????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

* I'm obviously not gonna tell you who I'm talking about, so don't even bother asking!


Scene 4 (Bakkiya's house): We're sipping juice and listening to her describe labour pains and how great it is (yeah, you heard me right the first time)! Sug is listening. Soumya and I look at each other. Um, but this is what adults - older women talk about! Not.. not us!!!

Scene 5 (On the phone): A friend is telling me about his taxes and arrears. I go "Ha, ha, you have arrears". I hear a frown which conveys 'grow up already'. I try to cover up with "It sounds so.. you know.. grown up. It's what parents do!!". It does!

Scene 6 (Suganya's wedding): Some dude goes "I welcome Mr.Allen and Mrs. Suganya Princess". Mrs???????

Scene 7 (In the car): Archana goes "do you know we are over age for all sports training camps in the city? Everyone tells us 'we'll let you know if we start a senior batch!'" We are??

Scene 8 (last night, outside my gate): We're returning from Soumya's sister's wedding. Divvya (for those of you who don't know, Divvya is my oldest friend. We've been 'best-friends' since 2nd standard) was dropping me home. It was around 11.30 in the night. I was the last one to be dropped, as usual (It's because I live the closest to her place. Plus I'm good with directions). I had to keep going 'turn left, go right, go straight' since Deena's house.
Finally we entered my colony. I said "you're supposed to know this place.. you grew up here!!"
She goes "yeah, I know"
But to irritate her I continued "take a right here".
"I know"
"Left"
"I know"
"Go straight."
I get a glare.
(At my road) "Turn right"
"Hello? I know!!!!"
"First house on the left."
"Oh, apadingala (Is that so)?? I didn't know.."

We both laughed as I got out of the car and she waited till I got into the house before leaving - like her dad and granddad used to do the many times they dropped me over the past 15 years. I thought of 15 years ago when I actually didn't know her house and went searching for it with my maid on Diwali day. She came back home with me that day and it's been 15 years since then. But it seems like just yesterday. Not that I mind the drop-you-off-post-11-and-make-sure-you're-in-before-i-take-off thing. It kinda feels nice.
(Who am I kidding?)
It feels real good and all.. well, grown up.

Maybe, just maybe, being grown up isn't so bad after all! :-)

Juno

I have no idea why I decided to watch the movie when I was bored and depressed after having screwed up my viva, but I'm glad I did! It really did cheer me up.

The story is about a 16 year old girl, Juno(named after the Greek goddess), who gets pregnant but decides not to get it aborted and gives it up for adoption instead. Period.

The best part of the movie is how light a serious subject is treated. Though, I think, a few parts are a little unrealistic. For example, the parent's reaction when she tells them. I can't imagine any parent taking it so well!

The movie, of course, has a happy ending. Juno seems to have no trouble at all coming back to her normal life (!!!!!) and playing in a band. Her acting, I must say, was terrific. Clueless, very teenagey and yet mature.

But my favorite part of the movie - apart from the lingo (it's the kinda stuff you can listen to for days) - is the background score. Good stuff. If anyone knows where I can get the soundtracks, please let me know. It's not avaiable on the LAN.

Definately a movie I would recommend.

Just another day..

She enters the room, eyes glinting with anger and.. and something else - could you call it hatred?

Her friend asks her to "relax".

"How can I?", she yells back, even as she knew she soon would. She knew that the next day, not only would she relax, but she would even be comfortable with the thought; a thought which made her quiver with rage; a thought which made her want to choke him with her bare hands. She knew that within a mere 24 hours, she would've gotten used to it.. Grudgingly, she would've accepted it as a part of the unfairness of life.

"Which him?", her friend asks her.

Which him, indeed!

Suddenly she realises (strange, how the thought hadn't occurred to her before) that all her current trouble could be attributed to guys!
The one who denied her her constitutional right to freedom of speech; the one who rejected her proposal because he didn't want to lose power; the one who threatened to destroy her world because she reported the truth like it was; the one who reduced her friend to tears everyday - they were all men!

"Is this what they call sexual discrimination?", she wonders aloud.

Oh, there were guys being affected by it as well.. but somehow she couldn't help feeling that she felt the impact more! maybe because she couldn't help believing the best of everyone - she couldn't help trusting..

"Don't worry about it", her friend tells her, "another year or so, and you needn't have anything to do with them ever again!"

She nods her head, though deep down she doesn't agree. She doesn't like what happened to her. She doesn't like the idea of being suppressed by people just because they feel threatened. She doesn't like being told what to do, what to write, what to say.. She wants to fight it, but doesn't know how! She thinks it's unfair, but sees no solution. She feels helpless.

She knows, deep down, that these people need to be taught to be fair. Yet, she nods her head. She knows she won't do the "teaching".

"I don't have the time", she tells herself.
After all, there are assignments to be submitted, tests to be written, records to be drawn, projects to be done..

She sighs..

She knows by next week all this will be forgotten and they - the people who inflicted all this pain - will be forgiven. Forgiven without heir their knowledge for something they did not know they did! Free to continue doing what they've been doing all along - making people's lives miserable, if only for a day!

Gimme red!

Ask any girl - any Indian girl, I mean.. She'll tell you about the magic that is mehendi (a.k.a maridani).

You usually get it done before a big event - a wedding, birthday, diwali, maybe.. even a cousin's engagement is excuse enough. Or during the holidays when you're jobless and have nothing better to do..

If you are lucky, you get to watch as the leaves are grounded and made into a nice paste (don't add too much water - it'll run; not too less, either - it won't flow; add a little lemon - it'll make your hand redder) and made into cute cones with the bottoms cut.

You watch as your mom/sister/neighbour/friend races patterns on your palm. The paste feels cool against your skin. You tell then to change the pattern here(you don't like mangoes), you ask them to draw some leaves just here.. But in the end it doesn't matter, because the design is so intricate that you find it hard to make out the original pattern..

You strech your hand out for an hour - two hours. You can't hold anything - can't read a book - can't use the mouse - cant study(!!!!:-)) - can't eat.. So you sit and watch tv. Or sleep - unless of course, your mom is very particular about mehendi stains on the covers.

Once every half an hour, you squeeze lemon over your palm to stop it from drying too fast, but it dries anyway and little pieces of the mehendi fall off and you try to peek at it from the sides to see how red it has become. You imagine it becoming really red and you picture you showing it off to all your friends who will "ooh" and "aah" over it. You wonder if it'll go with the dress you're gonna wear the next day (No jeans and tee for a week! Stick to the indian wear!)

Finally, it's time to take it off. You, of course, aren't supposed to use water. You scrub it off, dirtying the floor, but who cares! Your hand now has pretty red patterns on it!

Of course, you find it hard to eat for the rest of the week considering the smell takes off the flavour of anything your bring near the nose, but that's a small price to pay!

On Crying

Well, I'd like to dedicate this post to a certain person (and no, it's not who you think it is), but i shall refrain.

I think I was in the 5th standard when I saw Anisha trying not to cry. She had just been told off for some reason or the other, and I remember she standing over her lunch bag, looking up at the ceiling 'furiously blinking back the tears'. I guess it was then that i first got an inkling that maybe it wasn't so cool to cry. Over the years, a general annoyance towards people who cry too easily deepened that idea.

As I grew up, i tried my best not to cry in a hurry. Not in public at any rate. Well, maybe an occasional movie or two, but in general, the tears were reserved for the dead of the night and my teddy bear. Which is why, the fact that I cried a year ago made big news and invited a lot of unpleasant comments.

To be honest, i was ashamed of myself. My friends, of course, hugged me, and consoled me and did the usual 'come on da, don't take such things seriously'. Which was very sweet of them. But I guess what i really needed was the 'oh, it's okay to cry.. proves you're human after all'. You see, after having spent 18 years beleiving that it's wrong to let your feelings be known in public, i had done the unthinkable! I had actually cried. So what i needed was to be told that it's okay to cry.

Another thing which puzzles me is how guys are so eager to accuse girls of using 'tears as a weapon'. Is it because they feel guilty in some way? In that case, they shouldn't. I guess there are girls who do use tears as a weapon. But ultimately, girls(or even guys) cry because they feel helpless. They've reached a point where they don't know what to do. They feel helpless but they have to do something to let out their anger/frustration/sorrow/joy so they cry.

That does explain why one who cries is frowed upon and considered weak. For isn't it weak to feel helpless? Isn't it weak to give up and say 'there is nothing more i can do'? But isn't it also inhumane to never feel so?

Sale

I saw a hoarding yesterdayfor pantaloons which proclaimed "End of season sale - 70%off". Inviting, definately. But it did lead me to wonder what they meant by "end of season" in Chennai. Chennai has only one season - HOT.

And if you wanna argue that no, there was 'rainy', 'pleasant', i guess, then 'rainy' starts sometime mid-june and ends in the begining of december. So what the hell did they mean by "end of season sale"?!

Mind you, i'm not complaining.

Of Bikes and Fairies

So once again, my mind wanders as I sit in class. Instead of stopping it, this time I actually ure it to run as far away as possible. A screechy voice shouting “thus we prove this equation” brings me back to reality. I glance at the blackboard and shudder. All I could see are Greek symbols. I sigh and pull a paper close to me. Just as I’m positioned to copy down what is written on the board, the girl next to me whispers “I’m bored.. Write me something. I’ll take down the notes”.
Glad that I can do something else, I begin ‘this piece’..

So the next question: What do I write on? For a long time, I’ve been wanting to write my observation of guys – men, as they prefer being called. Boys – if you ask me. Babies – will be closer to the truth.

Don’t get me wrong - I have nothing against babies. I love them and I cannot imagine a world without them. Even when they’re being whiny, they have a certain charm and are utterly lovable. They need to be pampered, hugged, coaxed and loved and yet be treated as if they are all grown up. It is a challenge and we women love a good challenge, so we take it up with glee!

But you have to give it to them – each man (boy) is different and unique. Of course, who have more men who would be willing to discuss the torque (term understood by them as ‘power’ ;-) ) of the latest harley Davidson rather that explain to me the difference between a nymph and an elf, but that does not mean that the latter type does not exist! Of course, you have the rare (very, very rare) exception where you’ll find a man who can discuss the details of the bike to the last nut, knows what torque means and can explain the difference between different mythical creatures, but such men, I repeat, are rare..

Guys, when you come down to it, aren’t all that hard to understand – not as hard as girls, at any rate. They’re like Ferro Rocher – hard and full of peanuts on the outside (colloquial pun intended), soft and creamy on the inside and a nut right at the centre!

Of course the thickness of the outer shell varies from guy to guy – some have it waffer thin, and others hae it as hard as coconut. But remember, it is always a shell. Based on this, they can broadly be categorised thus:

First are the set of guys who allow anyone at all to break through – any family member or friend. This kind is boring and we shall say no more about them. May they rest in peace.

Second are the ones who allow only members of the same sex to break through. They are usually distrustful of the women around. They will learn one day.

The third are those who disrust anyone new. They trust only their family and their old friends. These are the sensible ones.

The fourth – and my favorite – kind are those who pick and choose . They ones who allows a best friend, maybe – or a girlfriend (both are hand picked). The remarkable thing about this kind are that they’re emotionally very very strong.
There are other differences of course, such as whether they are straight or not, party animal or bookworn (or both), sensitive or hard hearted, stubborn or ..- there’s no ‘or’, actually, top dog or door mat, Robert Ludlum or Charles Dickens, humble or proud (strangely, there is both), atheist or theist (weird observation: more men believe, or are willing to believe in God than women), orthodox or broad minded, etc.. But such differences are there in women as well, so I will not dwell on it, but conclude in the hope that the bell will ring soon..