GIBBERISH!!!

i wanna write too...

2008-03-01T13:04:00.002+05:30

i love people who blog. people who write. i used to blog. i used to write. i dont blog anymore. i dont write anymore. do i love myself anymore???

bugged!!!!!

2007-10-11T20:32:00.000+05:30

I am bugged. And my post is going to clearly reflect my mood. So my kind precious readers keep away. This is just an exercise to bring the bugged me back to the normal sweet me that I otherwise am.

I want to live life, real big, with my little joys and my little sorrows. I want to wear my smiley badge to work everyday. I want to go for every other book fair. I want to watch every other movie. I want to go window shopping at every other handicraft mela. I want to fly high, to my gran’s place and tell her i miss her loads. I want to eat pani puri from every other thela. I want to learn music( Hindustani). I want buy a TATA 207 DI and go driving across the country. I want to tell all those people who love me “I love you too”, sorry I never express it. I want to do masters in journalism. I want to write what I please and win a pulitzer. But life my dear, is all about doing engineering.

2007-09-02T23:06:00.000+05:30

pretence kills me
hypocrisy kills me
sugar coated words kill me
somebody around keep me alive

gimme a reason!!!

2007-08-19T22:17:00.000+05:30

When people you love chumma leave,
When people you love chumma stab you from behind,
When people you love chumma walk all over you like you were some bloody shit,
Gimme a reason!!! A reason to love!!!

When everything you believed in chumma crumbles down,
When everybody whom you believed in chumma let you down
Gimme a reason!! A reason to believe!!!

Chevittithara house, Thaikkattukara P.O, Aluva-683106

2007-06-11T19:45:00.000+05:30

readers who missed the prologue please click
here.

This post is dedicated to uppappa, the author’s grandfather, who with very few words and more of his life taught the adipoli kids many a lesson.

Chapter 2: how the adipoli kids when to madrasa, fought and got coconut buns

Every summer began with the adipoli kids coming down to the chevittithara house, their wonderful uppappa getting them a new slate and three new pencils each and velyuma getting them a new hijab [head scarf]. This year was special for the hijabs were blue with yellow printed flowers. The adipoli kids were more than happy with every other girl wearing black or white hijabs. With promises to learn well, be good kids, and do velyuma proud the adipoli kids ran off to the madrasa. They looked around. Couple of new faces. They couldn’t spot any osama-bin-laden-in-the-making though. Nazreen the pavam’s eyes instantly fell on the guy next to the door. One look and she loved him. Nooruddin mullah walked in. the kids scurried around for their places. The adipoli kids had not forgotten their promises yet. They sat on the fast bench. Nazreen was elated to find her guy-next-to-the-door sitting beside her. “assalamu allaikkum mullah”, the kids stood up to greet their teacher. The mullah responded, “wa allaikkum assalam kids. Sit down. Today is the first day of your vacation religious cum value education classes.” The mullah looked at the adipoli kids, “I hope all of you will be good kids. Have you brought your Quran? Today we will learn chapter one Surat Al Fatiha. You may write down on your slates what you feel is important………” five minutes of lecture was done and the adipoli kids had already forgotten their promises. Azeera had started to catch a few ‘z’s. Achu was giggling at the mullah’s calicut accent while nazreen was trying hard to strike a conversation with her guy-next-to-the-door. One hour later the mullah hit the gong and announced, “ you will have a ten minute recess break now. After 3 days, depending on your performance, I will appoint a class leader. It’s his duty to ring the bell, and open the madrasa” .this sent the class into higher levels of excitement. Hitting the gong was indeed the most prestigious task though it meant coming to the madrasa early and leaving it late. Mullah looked at the adipoli kids and continued, “silence!! I will be asking you questions after the break”. Azeera looked at achu and nazreen “I am done. I haven’t heard a word”. Nazreen’s guy-next-to-the-door patted her and showed her his slate. “I will help you girls” was written across it. “Thank u. but how will you do it? And btw what is your name.” he wrote, “Noufal. And I will write down the Surat. You can learn it soon. Its easy.” Achu assured him, “its ok to talk during recess time.” Noufal wrote, “I am dumb”. That left the adipoli kids dumbstruck staying silent was next to impossible. Noufal wrote the surat. The kids mugged it up. They survived the volley of questions.

Days went by. The adipoli kids never forgot the good deed. Hamid, azeera’s worst enemy, was made the class leader. While everybody else played leaving noufal out, the adipoli kids- who otherwise believed in the ‘waste no moment play every second’ dictum -sat with noufal. Nazreen even picked up some sign language. As noufal lived near the thaikkattukura co-operative milk dairy, a territory unknown to the adipoli kids, their brief meetings with him got over at 11 when the mullah let the kids free.

Noufal had not been coming to the madrasa for the past four days. They were already missing him. So one fine day the kids after madrasa, hungry stomachs and all , went around looking for noufal’s house. an hour and more of efforts and the search party succeeded. The adipoli kids questioned noufal, “why aren’t you coming”. Noufal ran in leaving the kids bewildered at the door. He brought his slate and wrote, “my amma said don’t go. Hamid and firoze, on my way back from the madrasa, punches me when I don’t reply.
The adipoli kids felt bad. Next day the kids led by achu the rebel questioned hamid. He replied, “nee podi!!” [ author’s tip to the non malli: the above line translates to “you go”. ‘Podi’ is the feminine term while ‘poda’ is the masculine one. ‘Podo’ however can be used for both guys and girls. Though ‘podi is largely accepted, it is treated as a disrespectful term in some homes, the chevittithara house being one of them.] Azeera’s blood boiled. What followed next was some pushing, pummeling and some blood. The mullah had to separate the warring factions. Both sides were sent home.

Uppappa was called for and reprimanded for “bring up girls badly”. That night uppappa called for the adipoli kids. The entire family was all ready to pounce on the innocent brats. Reclining on his easy chair with the 75 cm long cane in his hands uppappa asked azeera, the eldest of the three, “why did you fight?”. Pat came the reply, “they bully noufal chumma because he can’t talk”. Uppappa got up. Patted azeera’s back and asked them to follow him. With cries of “aren’t you punishing the kids” following them they walked into Mohammed haji’s son’s shop. They were given three coconut buns.

The kids went to madrasa next day apologized to mullah not because they were wrong but because uppappa meant the world to them. After some talking to noufal’s amma by the mullah noufal joined classes again. He was still teased for moving around with three girls but all the same he was happy. Hamid was stripped of his leader ka post. The kids learned well, topped the class and did velyuma proud. Promises kept.

insane again

2007-06-10T20:35:00.000+05:30

A leading retail business company with the largest number of outlets in south India sells vegetables at a cheaper rate offering the customer never-seen-before-in-aluva shopping experience by
1. letting the customer pick up as little as 51.5grams of any vegetable. Their high funda calculations and weighing balances ensure that u pay precisely only for the 51.5 grams. Not a paisa extra.
2. each vegetable no matter how small the quantity is packed in separate plastic covers. Mom says that makes them stay fresh for a longer time
One moment please. Thought1: more plastic in my colony
Thought2: joseph appappan, the octogenarian vegetable vendor next door-who still gifts me a parle mango bite everytime I buy something- is suddenly out of business.

The recent bachchan controversy brought to my knowledge a rather interesting fact. In maharashtra only farmers can buy farmland. With the real estate business thriving and concrete structures fast replacing paddy fields, kerala would do better with such aruling.
One more moment. Thought3: my aluva stays perpetually green.
Thought4: the highly qualified yet unemployed malli who often finds it below his dignity is forced to go back to farming. He would do well with the rains we get.

For the records I am neither a green peace activist nor medha patkar’s daughter

Chevittithara house, Thaikkattukara P.O, Aluva-683106

2007-06-04T20:46:00.000+05:30

Starting today a whole new series on Summer.True stories garnished with some salt and pepper.

PROLOGUE
Summers in kerala [ until the protagonists grew old enough to go to professional colleges] meant heat, hols, paddy fields, Moosakutty’s mango tree, Tijo chetan’s football and my “adipoli” cousins.[ readers please do not rack your brains as to why our football donor was named thus.Kindly refer the meanderthal man’s blog.]Summers in thaikkattukara meant heat, hols, paddy fields and the “thalipoli” kids of Chevittithara house. Summers in chevittithara house meant heat, hols, paddy fields and the 75 cm long cane bought from aluva by their grandfather aka uppappa to tame the “thalipoli” kids.
Azeera, Nazreen, and Achu. Three wonderfully boisterous cousins christened “thalipoli” girls by the peace loving homo sapiens of the locality. Pretty funny huh!!! Considering the fact that they called themselves the “adipoli” kids. [wait!!! The author requests the non malli reader to kindly take that perplexed look off the face. Adipoli kids= cool kids. Thalipoli girls= brats]

Chapter 1: How Azeera Azeez saw a snake, shrieked and got fever.
Moosa kutty’s mango tree renders its invaluable services by overlooking the fields, by having a physique strong enough to carry the weight of the adipoli kids, by giving kannan the guy-goat enough leaves and by satisfying the palate of the adipoli kids with juice-trickling-down-mangoes. The nice adipoli kids never forgot to thank heavens for Moosakutty. He was indeed a great guy. For only great guys own orchards where the adpoli kids can run around. Only great guys plant, water and pamper mango trees for the adipoli kids.

after a hard day’s work, as usual, the adipoli kids settled down on Moosakutty’s mango tree to grin, giggle, gossip and to chart out the next day’s tasks.[ the author agrees to the fact that playing football and ‘sat’, pulling ammu the cow’s tail, hogging rice with ‘chaala’ curry, mimicking Nooruddin mullah’s calicut accent, behind his back,at the madrasa , fighting for weaver bird’s nests, catching fish in the nearby stream and running around in the paddy fields can all be beyond doubt classified as hard work.]. pelting kutti little stones into the adjacent paddy field, nazreen complained, “ i hate going to madrasa or school, why cant we chumma sit like this forever on Moosakutty’s tree. The more cleverer achu replied, “we would get wet when it rains and what do we do when the mango seasons ends”. nazreen replied, “yeah you right”. Far away from all this conversation, in her own candy world, on the highest branch sat the lovely azeera staring at the paddy fields. The sun going down like Tijo chetan’s basketball thrown down by the 6 foot long ‘totti’. [The author wishes to clarify at this point that totti means long stick used to pluck mangoes. Any resemblance to the italian football player is purely coincidental. The adipoli kids cannot be held responsible for consequences of any kind. legal proceedings what so ever can be settled only within the jurisdiction of chevittithara house courts.]. Something glistening caught the eye of the lovely kid. She stared through her thick ‘soda’ glasses. Yup that was a snake. An anaconda if the lovely kid was not mistaken. SSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKK!!!
SSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAMMMMMM!!!
As the other two adipoli kids stared azeera scampered down the tree, ran and hid behind velyuma’s [grandmom’s] saree. All in a fraction of second. All that remained was screeeeaaaaammmm!!!!! Bawl!!!ngheee!!!!. a worried velyuma held her in bear hug as the lovely kid cried, “velyuma don’t go to fields there is an anaconda out there”. Velyuma explained, “ its just a ‘neerkoli’, a harmless water snake, don’t worry da”. Azeera sobbed, “ no am sure it’s an anaconda”.[ how velyuma managed to comfort azeera is beyond the knowledge of the author]
Azeera was taken to Dr Naser and treated for fever the next day.

insane!!!

2007-05-26T17:00:00.000+05:30

Ladies and gentlemen I am bored. I have got absolutely nothing to do . and I am undergoing the I-am –suddenly-good –for-nothing syndrome. I am stuck at home with nothing other than my comp, my kitten, loadsa gud food, a comfortable bean bag and a P G Wodehouse for company. The fact that I am a peace loving animal who gets homesick every other day prompted me not to opt for a project. Don’t you ever mention iit roorkee to me. but now I am in a fix. Every single dude I know is doing a project/ training. It somehow doesn’t make sense to me go do something just to put it on my resume because I know I am a technically challenged person naah technically impaired would be a better word. I somehow don’t like the fact that I am doing engineering. I can’t find any emotions or beauty in any of the subjects I learn. Btw I am one of the most emotional persons you can ever find. This is supposed to imply that I cry after every other movie, that a good book can sent me into spells of silence for real long time, that I can’t put up with heart string tugging events in a relationship. I wish I had taken up journalism or even law. So much of emotions. So many stories that deserve the light. That reminds me I was ever hardly ever good at anything. Smiling and goofing around in school made sure that teachers never said a bad word about you during the parent teacher meetings. So all my life my parents believed I was a good kid. And I believed it too. With less of efforts and more of luck I managed to get into NITW. I still wonder why I am there. Juniors, neighbours look up to you with sense of awe when they hear NITW. I don’t get it. Someone more deserving should have been there. Getting back to parents, being the eldest in the family my parents tell my sis “look at azeera and learn. She did us proud”. Ya so my parents like everybody else expects me to get a great job. Settle down and have two kids probably. Can’t blame them for it. Ya I need a nice paying job and ask them to retire and chumma sit at home. How long will they keep slogging so that you can go have shawarmas every other day. Sometimes I just want to rip the world apart and do something different. To change things that makes the world so cruel. My sis who loves animals puts it right, “ the world would have been so good if the cats and dogs roamed around like humans at least they don’t kill each other chumma.” I don’t get it either why should people kill each other just because they got two roads to reach god. Why two ppl who love each other shouldn’t marry just because they are from a different religion, forget religion even different sub castes why should people to starve to death when I get to eat shawarmas every other day? . Sometimes you wonder is god blind. Why does he let so much of hungama happen in his name? but then WHAT is the difference I want to bring about is million dollar question. The word difference kills me too. Every tom dick and harry talks about making one. How many of us actually bother to bring it about.
I would love to quit it all and do a course on journalism and write what I please. But then pragmatism stops me. the world would call me nuts. My parents wouldn’t be so proud. My juniors wouldn’t look up anymore. But then what is this life if you live for what others think and not what you do. I still don’t know why I am writing this. I had a level headed conversation with mom the other day. She had an alternative option for journalism and emotions and people’s stories. Civil Services. She is right. But the question is do I have it in me to work so hard. I still don’t know where I am headed.. I always went where life took me, I dream big but never put in that extra effort to change the course. Silicon jungle, the movie, puts it beautifully “pakiya is born. Pakiya did well in school. Pakiya got into IIT. Pakiya got a management job. Pakiya earned. Pakiya spent. Pakiya died.” But azeera my dear, wants to be different naah take the offbeat road

PS: This post is not for anybody to read. My blog. My frustration .My space. I write what I please.

when Aphrodite got it all wrong

2007-05-14T18:09:00.000+05:30

The Hyderabad times quiz “How Romantic Are You?”
Please mark the option closest to your answer

1. Your idea of a perfect dinner date
A. candle light dinner at restaurant
B. dinner cooked by you with love and some wine
C. pan pizza at your favorite pizza hut outlet

2. The perfect gift
A. flowers
B. perfume
C. music cd

3. The perfect “I miss you” signal
A. missed call
B. make a call, tell him/ her how much you miss him
C. sms

4. The perfect holiday
A. hills
B. beach
C. amusement park

5. Your turn ons
A. candlelight
B. public display of affection
C. thunderstorms
Maximum As: you epitomize everything romantic
Maximum Bs: romantic however desperate too
Maximum Cs: you need help.

Heights of joblessness coupled with frustration prompted me to take the above quiz on a Thursday evening. To know the cause of my frustration readers kindly refer footnote1. Some quiz to determine how good I was at the art of falling in love. The results were equally disappointing I scored maximum Cs. Aphrodite did a poor job. I NEED HELP.
But wait I can explain myself and my choice of answers.
1. (C) pan pizza at my favourite pizza hut.
I just don’t get it. How can u sit with a guy in candlelight dude! You can’t see him properly, forget that what about lack of visibility of food. Someone remember I wear glasses. Now food cooked with love by me. That for sure would be my last date. It would definitely have loads of love and yeah loads of salt too. Pan pizza at pizza hut is the best idea babe, I love their balloons and never dying enthu of the place. I would have loved to choose (D) dinner at nanking. Nothing can beat the pleasure of staring at busy roads and cute guys who pass by ;). Someone, guess it was William Henry Davies, said it right, “What is this life if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare”
2 (C) music cd
Flowers wither away. They don’t last beyond a week my dear. And about perfume, you never get the right one, waise I do take my bath .Music CDs!!! Anytime. The re-writable ones preferably
3 (C) sms
I hate missed calls. Which dictionary in the world says missed calls= I miss you. It could very well mean, “I am bugged so let me bug you”. Ringing up. Impossible I hardly ever have the balance. SMS is the way to use your mobile especially considering the fact that airtel charges me a meager 25 paisa for a national sms. No, you don’t have to show me your teeth. I aint lending you my phone.
4 (C) the amusement park
Undoubtedly the best place for some fun, thrills and entertainment. I wouldn’t mind the other two options either. I chumma love holidaying ra!!
5 (C) thunderstorms
Candlelight!!!! Not again, told you once right. I wear glasses. PDA!!! Why should someone kissing somebody else turn me on?. I would rather have my bf give me a French one. Thunderstorms. Now that is something exciting. Hey Times, do I have an option for sarcasm or a decent sense of humour!!

I am disappointed. Pragmatic, sensible, simple ( and I am modest too!!) everything I that thought I was is suddenly replaced with “I NEED HELP”!!!!
I am single. I am bothered.
1. with friends back home asking, “What!! You are still single!!!” [ okay, I dint know it was a crime]. “ Az you have to find a guy yourself. You never can trust arranged marriages to work”
2. With a certain senior of mine popularly known by the name of a flightless bird asking me every now and then “mole, you still not married!!”. Refer footnote2 for the reason of the statement. [For the ignorant, mole is not a rodent; neither does it translate to spy. Mole means daughter in Malayalam. ]
3. I stand tall at five feet and a little less than half an inch. Finding a guy with compatible height is an impossible task. I am told to look at 8th grade kids!!!
4. With my 80 something granma reminding me and my mom every now and then, “pothu pole valuthaayi annittum oru adukala paniyum ariyilla, kurachu naal kazhiyumbol ketichu veedanulathaa”. The statement in quotes literarily translates to, “you have grown as big as a guy buffalo and you still don’t know to do anything in the kitchen, you have to get married in some time”. I dint know buffaloes knew how to cook. Waise, she should have called me an eruma right . [ for the non malli, eruma= girl buffalo, pothu= guy buffalo]
5. Topping all the above reasons. I aint romantic. I need help!!

A little of thinking over and yeah I am back to the sensible me again. I aint romantic. Big deal!!. I am still single. Bigger deal!!. But I am independent. Yippee!! I got the freedom to look at any cute, tall dark/ fair handsome guy. [Readers kindly note I am strictly against apartheid.]. I don’t have to be bothered about finding a guy, running around a tree with him and then go through the painful process of telling my parents why all of a sudden he means more to me than they who brought me up all my life. I am a free bird. Yahoo!!! [Not the internet services company. I meant yahoo as in yippee]

Foot note1: I have my engineering graphics lab on Thursday. No matter how well I do my chart the prof manages to give me 5 on 10, and tell me, “you will get a C grade. you are an ammai!! You are supposed to draw neat”. Someone please talk about gender equality. Btw ammai doesn’t mean mom. It is the telugu word for girl and yeah profs don’t lie. I did get a C

Footnote2: Muslim malayali girls especially if you have your roots in the Malabar region get married very early. I should have had two kids by now.

PS1:with due respect, I don’t belong to the age of the meanderthal man. I can’t afford to deviate in my posts. Hence the footnotes :D
PS2: thankfully I don’t remember the rest of the questions of the quiz

Disclaimer: this is not as an advertisement towards my “I am single” status.

i am an INDIAN too

2007-05-11T10:07:00.000+05:30

1.The police verification for my passport.
Police man: “what’s your name?”
Me: “Azeera Aromal Azeez”
Police man: “Muslim?”
Me : “yes”
Policeman gives me a look that says, “You look like a hamas suicide bomber”.
Policeman : “what’s your father’s name?”
Me : “Assankhan Abdul Azeez”
Policeman: “what??”
Me: “Assankhan Abdul Azeez”
I get yet another look that says, “Sounds like Osama bin laden.”
Policeman: “which state?”
Me: “kerala”
The Policeman pastes my photo, takes my thumb impression and lets me go.
I am seriously starting to doubt if I look like Mullah Omar’s daughter.

2. My cousin in Delhi is planning to change her son’s school. Her reason: her 7 year old is teased in school coz his dad carries a mullah beard.

I love inzamam ul haq. But I love the Indian cricket team too. I am a Muslim, a non burkha wearing one. But I am an Indian too.

My supermen-2

2007-05-02T23:01:00.002+05:30

people the world deserve to know..................

My cousin got married two years ago to a “nice, “homely”, loving” woman who takes great care of her husband and in-laws. I never attended the wedding as it was one day before my kerala CET exams. An officer with the police department he was always the less favorite, not so easily approachable cousin who neither took me out nor bought me chocolates. The two above mentioned reasons coupled with a total I-am-not-interested attitude towards family gossip made sure that I remained ignorant regarding the bride’s whereabouts. It was lately that I got to know that this new member of our family came from real poor living conditions. A fatherless girl, her siblings include a Down syndrome affected brother and three younger sisters. It was not a love marriage. He chose to give her a life coz “ I am an enforcer of the law, I deserve no right to accept dowry and violate it. Waise this way I will for sure be there in God’s good books.” During a recent family get together, the older worldly wise gentle men advised him, “Its time you start saving. Keep an eye on the future and make wise investments”. My cousin replied, “ I don’t mean any offense but at the moment I have to make sure that three young girls get married.” Today this cousin of mine is a proud father of a sweet little baby girl and my biggest awe inspiring figure. Ikka, you rock.
Thought3: I believe in angels. Something good in everything I see.

My Supermen

2007-04-26T20:46:00.000+05:30

people the world deserve to know..................

I met an amazing auto “saaru” the other day. [Refer my previous posts for the meaning and etymology of the word. Sigh!!! You will go through my blog at least that way.] I went about bargaining and managed to lower the auto fare from Rs. five to four. [not that I want to beat uncle scrooge but then one more rupee and I can get a milkybar choo:)]. Me and my friend being the lone passengers in the auto, this guy tried to engage us in a conversation. We dint pay much heed taking it to be human tendency to flirt around with two very beautiful girls ;). As we laughed at an inside joke he said, “ when you laugh, laugh with the world. When you cry keep it to yourself”. The ‘gulti’ accent free english and the intelligence in the thought, both of which the ignorant me didn’t expect in a ‘saaru’, forced us to stop and listen. As the conversation progressed mere curiosity made us ask him his educational qualification. “ I did my graduation in industrial management, got a job in PWD. I know driving an auto may not seem dignified enough, but then this way I am able to take care of my family better.” We got down in front of the college, paid him Rs five. A small guru dakshina for a big lesson in life.
Thought1. Dignity of labour does exist. Your value education books weren’t lying.

Last summer, we climbed up the hills of munnar yet again [ why don’t parents ever get bored of the place] to beat the heat. On our way back dad, who is head our heels in love with cars [ try banging the door of ours hard] and loves to cover miles with mama happily playing the navigator, took the less taken road to come down the hills promising us breathtaking scenery. With hair pin curves it was indeed any driver’s pleasure. Half way through our journey a guy waved us to stop the car. As me and my sister looked out with curiosity and suspicion, for we could neither find an official check post nor any marvel of nature, Shajahan asked my dad on which gear he was driving the car. My dad like every other driver who took the route replied, “Third”. Shajahan smiled, “people tend to drive at 3rd and 4th gears applying brakes very frequently. As the road is very steep this causes the brakes to get heated up and leads to brake failure. Driving this way saves fuel, but then will prove costly for your life. So switch to second gear and drive slowly, applying brakes less frequently”. We looked around to realize that this guy was actually stopping every vehicle and asking them to do this. A completely voluntary task where he was being paid nothing. Overwhelmed with gratitude as dad gave him 500 bucks with the thorough knowledge that any money paid wouldn’t be enough for this noble gesture, shajahan said, “ I was a mechanic at kottayam. I once saw an accident happen on this route, someone had to do this so I chose to climb up the hill”
Thought2: altruism is not about donating Rs 5.1 million towards charity.

CHEERS!!!!!!!

2007-03-30T19:19:00.000+05:30

a tribute to the below mentioned people

DISCLAIMER: the below written article is not for general reading .This has been written exclusively for the below mentioned people. the author expresses her sincere heartfelt apologies to all her readers and fans for the immense disappointment caused.

To the ice-cream that had to melt for 15 minutes coz you couldn’t have any of it
To every iced tea of mine you took a sip off
To every blog entry that you bothered to go through
To every time you screamed ‘chidinge’. [ I still not sure what it means]
To the ice cream I still owe you. CHEERS!!!!
Sreejith cheta, I am not gonna miss you. But my iced tea in Nescafe will.

To the immense relief I get on seeing someone with compatible height
To the 10000 word assignment that you gave, you cancelled but kozhi made me write
To the fact that you chose to be a fan of mine on orkut on my birthday
To that new "kung-fu champ" look of yours [ had i known that it would grow into such a big vrithikedu, i would have never said it looked good ;)]
To the match that India lost to Bangladesh.CHEERS!!!!
Maxlin cheta, no feelings. But what do I do for inspiration. I mean, how do I convince myself that even I can ride a two wheeler

To kutti pishachu
To my ignorance that I did not know how to expand PINCODE during RP
To my negligence that I lost the topics for floor crossing minutes before it was to start[ I still managed not to get screamed at].
To brush-in-the-mouth-painting-the-wall-task in amazing race. CHEERS!!!!
Raja cheta, the kutti is still at NITW. But what do I do without the pishachu ;-)

To the kalipaatum that you managed to adichumaatal
To that raised eyebrow and “engotta’ question every time I see you on the road
To the ability to hear it as “hi da” whenever I said “hi cheta”
To that "what happened to my sweet little juni?illness?" sms.
To the ice cream you bought sreejith chetan. CHEERS!!!!
Sivan cheta, what do i tell the kids at the convent.

To every time you kaliyaakal me becoz of my Malayalam
To the million dollar question I get every now and then, “Is that guy with long hair on the bike your senior??”
To the wonderment we juniors get on seeing you eat. CHEERS!!!!
Jayaram cheta, nitw already misses your neeti valarthiya mudi.

To the "your senior looked so cute" statement after the bhangra dance
To the " kunthavum pidichu kondu engotta?" question after my survey labs
To the fact that you were my most harmless senior during RP. CHEERS!!!
Kesav cheta, what will the girls in cse do. Where else do they look for a cuter senior.

To the awe inspiring person you have been
To that typical nadatham, nikkunna style of yours
To the typical achaayan you are.
To my pedi swapnam during RP.CHEERS!!!
Robert cheta, kerala state will never have a better achaayan [don't be bothered abt the competition my batchmates give you ;)]

To the LH ki dons
To the immense fun we had
To the patient ear you guys lend( sho samathikkanam, "how do you manage to put up with my kathi")
To the times I cried
1. my first room session (coz i was missing home)
2. my golden night( coz i was missing my RP)
3. your farewell ( coz i was already missing you guys)
To everything you have been. CHEERS!!!
Chechis,love you loads

PS: pavam nescafe it for sure will have a tough time coping up with your absence

10 things I am definitely proud of

2007-02-21T17:19:00.000+05:30

1.My height
Vertically challenged that i am, i epitomise the fact that " sweet things definitely come in small packages"

2.My smile
Warm, genuine and worth a million dollars. I manage to show " 64 teeth in one go"

3.My haircut
The IN thing in fashion world, i spent 120 bucks for a hair cut that makes me" look like hutch puppie's twin" with my hair open.

4.My Voice
Husky, "sexy" and different. I possess the unique ability to " sound like a guy over the phone"

5,My music skills
" Would beat norah jones at the grammys". they said it rite, I ROCK

7.My math
you just can't beat me at it. Oops!! did i just count six on my fingers??

8.My sense of humour
Goofy, campy and clever. I am the " queen of PJs"

9.My friends
Wonderful, wise and wacky . My biggest asset and the bestest assortment you can possibly come across.

10.My family
Supportive, caring and the best ever. Love you loads

Footnote:
I know the article is sweet. Told you anything small is.

Toenote:
you gotta know me well to appreciate the article. Sincere heartfelt apologies to all those fans who haven't met me yet.

Nailnote:
For the ignorant, anything within quotes are utterances by great men and women

THE FUNNY WEEK

2006-12-14T19:15:00.000+05:30

.......................................................A Peep into life@NITW

Exams at NITW is a 6 day long twice a semester affair. Affair would be an understatement. Rather, it’s a celebration. A celebration of sleepless nights, body odour, bits of paper, coffee and some studies.

Bringing before you a not to be missed vivid picture of life@nitw. With all its different hues.

Beating calligraphy experts the world over. Students at NITW flourish in the art of scribbling down important details from the text book in small bits of papers. These bits referred to as chits can be carried inside the examination hall as long as you are sure you won’t get caught. Engraving (read it as art of writing on the desk) and tattooing (the act of jotting down answers on one’s body) are other artistic skills that students here possess. Farsightedness is another innate quality to be seen in the “cream of the society”. For the ignorant soul, farsightedness is the ability to see ahead especially the paper of the person sitting ahead of you.

Andhra Pradesh State Electricity Board suffers heavy loss this one week. Considering the number of fans and lights that continue to work all night, thanks to a phenomenon called NITEOUTS. Niteouts can be defined as the physical process of staying awake all night. The ideal niteout is the condition of staying awake to study, errors due to distraction being nil. However practical realization of the concept shows people doing more of eating, dozing with books open and lights switched on, consuming liters of coffee and once in a while taking time off their TP( Time Pass) sessions to do some studying. The study of this process brings to light a major problem faced by the country today, hunger. The male species at NITW have a reliable solution to this problem, the night cafeteria. Not being so lucky, certain members of the opposite sex cursed to live in dungeons called the ladies hostel [LH] can be seen foraging for food. (Thank Heavens, I have juniors in the LH.) Juniors are younger members of the female species who readily sacrifice their food for their seniors during ragging period.

Entrepreneur, here is thy much wanted break. Business in the campus flourishes this one week. The canteen saaru in the LH, the night cafeteria and one Mr. Srinu of Srinu point does brisk business. These blessed souls do a good amount of social service providing guys@NITW with round the clock supply of cigarettes, coffee, tea and other edibles. The LH saaru does his share too by selling a large amount of lays, Kurkure, Nissin cup noodles and other “very unhealthy stuff”( to quote my mom and the latest issue of her health magazine). By the way, Saaru is the formal term of addressing the mess workers, shop keepers, auto drivers and other members of the work force, used by the students of NITW. The origins of the word can be traced back to the English word sir.

The unshaved, unkempt look is in. stinking pigs( pardon my language) who eat, sleep write exams and do everything else the entire week in the same pair of clothes frequent the college. Thank heavens, they invented the deodorant. But then what do I say about certain male friends of mine who would rather consume the 1.5 % of alcohol then let it go wasted as a chemical component in the deodorant. Hard core feminists can take pride. Women are no where behind. I quote a certain member of the female species at NITW, “ so much to learn for mechanics yaar, I dint take a bath for the past 4 days. don’t tell anyone I went for today’s exam without brushing my teeth.” For further details contact info@POKEMOiNose.com because diplomacy prevents me from naming the heroine. ( remember diplomacy is the new word for “ the act of loving one’s own life”.)

God gets real busy this one week with a long train of requisition forms to be processed, demands to be met, MoUs to be signed, deals to be finalized and bargains to be attended to. Guess he takes niteouts too, else how does he bless the suddenly devout crowd. He sure can’t ignore people like me who all of sudden pray not just the mandatory five times but also agrees to do an extra namaz for a better grade in fluid mechanics. Neither can He can turn a blind eye towards those “god fearing” friends of mine who play devotional music on their cd players or do online poojas. Poor Guy, people asking for 10 pointers when He has to slog hard to get me to work for an “all-pass” result.

Definitely the funny week, life at nitw suddenly has all elements of a family drama. Action, emotion,drama, glamour it has it all. Kyunki mera bhi exams kabhi chalta hai. Would beat Ekta Kapoor at The Indian Telly Awards.

146 and still counting

2006-11-28T22:27:00.000+05:30

I am writing this bcoz
#1. I have run out of topics. They said it right. Engineering definitely leaves you emotionally numb, artistically void and creatively dead.
#2. The biggest source of encouragement for any budding blogger once said, “you can write about me. Its always a nice option”. I was coaxed/ threatened into it.
#3. My blog promises to “cherish lives that touched mine”. This one is touching too many lives.At least the fan count says so. And yeah promises are meant to be kept.
#4. I haven’t posted anything since august 2006. Long time. Public demand stops me from letting my blog rot and die :-D
#5. I got a real sweet testimonial. I owe one in return.
#6. This for sure is one way to get a wider readership base.

Done with the reasons. Getting back to the arduous task of writing a testimonial for a rather tough senior.

A bugs bunny look alike, here is a guy who hops [oops!!! I meant moves around] with a 1000 watt smile 24*7. Bet that helped a lot during the “load shedding” days. [load shedding is the mallu terminology for regular half an hour power cuts that existed in kerala five years back]. A piece of warning for the health conscious, this one is infectious.

A nice gentleman, “modesty is thy name” would describe him the best. A real source of encouragement, this guy actually takes the pain to read through every single blog entry of mine. Better still he is always sweet enough to leave a comment on them that too never expecting one in return. [He for sure got his Sunday school lessons right. “Love thy neighbor’s blog more than thy blog”]. Dedicated, sincere and hardworking. His record with all the clubs he works for definitely show that.

“Ten lie gone wrong can lead to banishment.(5)”. Made sense? Neither did it make any to me. Where else can you find a guy who got bored of solving cryptic crosswords and is instead now into making his own ones than at nitw? Immensely talented this guy simply plays around with alphabets to create wonders. Remember Tony SA BEST YEAH N [that’s to quote his own orkut profile]. Anyways Before I forget, the answer to the above mentioned clue is “exile”.

If there is one thing that this guy fails miserably at, then it is playing senior. Swear, his knees used to buckle up when he saw us juniors. I am not talking about the five feet me but my hefty healthy bhais[ nonNITWian read it again as batch mates from kerala] sure did scare the wits out of him. You sure cant find a senior who turns up for lawn and lake sessions with a 32 teeth and more smile. [ lakes and lawns can be defined as places where juniors can be ragged without the risk of getting caught. Sad!!! Lawns are getting unsafe these days. The watch and ward ‘saarus’ drives out anyone who gets anywhere near the lawn, Even the harmless couples who actually treat the eyes of many a frustrated desperate soul with real life reel shows (u know what I mean). Thank heavens!! They don’t run around the trees.] He actually would come and tell you after a ragging session, “ don’t feel bad, its just a part of your college life”

If pulling legs is one of your favorite sports and getting yours pulled isn’t a bad idea of pastime, then you needn’t go far. Mr. Right is right here. The guy with a huge fan following. 146 and still counting.

Phew!! that was tiring.

Standing tall at 5 ft and a little less than ½ an inch.

2006-08-07T13:11:00.000+05:30

A meeting with friends after a real long time. Everyone was busy discussing “how time got killed during the three month long boring hols”. I proudly declared, “I cleared my driving license test”. Dropped jaw lines, popped out eyes, raised eyebrows and shattering silence. Thank Heavens, one of my good old seniors managed to gather confidence, muster courage and joked, “I know how you cleared the test. You must have stood on the seat to see ahead and jumped down each time you wanted to apply breaks or hit the accelerator. Amidst gales of laughter I tried explaining that I was tall enough to ride a car, that I dint need this ‘jump on the seat, jump down again’ superman act and that I never sit on cushions either. Vain efforts. I was subjected to a volley of questions that included, “what car do you drive”, “don’t you think you are too small for a Honda activa”, “a tricycle is anytime the best vehicle for you”. Phew! I am tired. How long can one get assaulted this badly.

If I remember things rightly or rather if I haven’t grown old enough to forget things, I would say I wasn’t always this short. I stood 13th in assembly line. 13th yaar, TWELVE of my class mates were shorter than me. I don’t intend to be superstitious but now I believe number 13 did its job. Everyone else grew up in life, I moved ahead in life( oops I meant assembly line). First place in the assembly line, cynosure of the principal’s, prefects’,captain’s eyes. One speck of dirt on my shoes and I used to get caught while the guy behind me could easily get away with unpolished shoes. Sigh!! My dukhbari kahaani[ note: my international readers read it as sad story] doesn’t end here

Ragging me in college was easy. All seniors had to do was send me to that 6ft 6inch tall senior of mine. One look from him was enough to intimidate me, to send my heart racing. I am doing my 2nd year Btech today and I giggle at the thought of getting scared of him. My ragging chronicles don’t end here. My bhais [for the non NITWian my batch mates from Kerala ] take more fun in ragging me than our juniors. Every single junior is sent to me tell me on my face that I am short. And all my great friends keep warning me to stay away from my juniors lest I get ragged by them.

Walk into any store, be it a supermarket or my favorite bookstore, somehow or the other everything I need manages to occupy the top shelf. The only advantage being you get a chance to be helped out by one of those tall dark handsome men once in a while :D(the fair ones look good too).
Ok ok I know what is running through your mind, “why in the world is this girl crying when there are an umpteen number of remedies to her little ailment. I know I have a lot of options before me.
1. Eat one of those capsules that help you grow tall. Oops problem again, none of the telebrand shows that advertise the product offer you a “if no considerable increase in height in 2 weeks,you get your money back” policy and even if they do there is no guarantee card that says you would be alive after 2 weeks to claim the money back.
2. Drink Complan everyday. I have been a complan girl all my life and I still am one. No signs of any vertical growth though.
3. Hang from a mango tree everyday. [Now where am I supposed to find a mango tree in the NITW campus?]
4. Heels. The footwear manufacturers make quite a profit out of people like me. But what do I do if platform heels make me feel like I am standing on the stool. Stilettos. Don’t ever dare to mention them to me. They make you trip down at least a 101 times a day and make you look like ‘Mr. wobbly man’ in Enid Blyton’s Noddy. And even if I manage to master the art of walking on stilettos [ I doubt I will ever do] the docs cry foul. Back pain, dislocated spinal cord.

I have lived all my life with names like Thumbelina, little Lilliputian, four footer, small wonder and a number of words in Malayalam that translate to dwarf. But someone once did say that the sweetest of things come in the smallest of packages.Guess that was the reason why I was made small. Here I am, a sweet thing :D ,with big dreams of standing tall in life standing tall at 5 ft and a little less than ½ an inch.

Myriad life

2006-06-26T17:27:00.000+05:30

Was just going through one of my old dairies . found an old poem with the same name as that of my blog which i wrote when i was in my 8th class
*************************************************************************************

As i stood by my window,
Peeping through my heart's window;
In my ear, the cuckoo calls
Before my eyes, the sun rose
The vista painted red,
Down the lane, stood an elm,
Fluttering with myriad birds
Somewhere beyond, a thrush called
I wondered, how beautiful life is
with little things and big joys
and a million hues
The spring was here, joy was here
life is really beautiful
I stood by my window,
Taking a glance through my heart's window,
On my skin, the scorching heat
On my forehead beads of sweat.
Down the lane stood an elm,
with leaves of brown
Somewhere beyond a thrush called.
I wondered, was life really beautiful
With little joys and little sorrows
I was past my youth.
I stood by my window,
Looking thru my hearts window,
On my skin, blew a chill
Down my spine went the chill
Mist on the glass.
Down the lane, stood an elm
With branches bare, auburn leaves flew down.
Life wasn’t that beautiful
With little things, big sorrows,
I was a withered crone
Waiting for an end to come.

reasons to smile :)

2006-06-10T00:13:00.000+05:30

a rather small attempt at fiction

Its a hartal out here in kerala ( some protest against the hike in fuel prices) and i am stuck at home with nothing to do. To top it all its raining and the view from my balcony is a bit too beautiful so cudnt help but turn a bit romantic. PS dont blame me for getting mushy blame the weather

************************************************************************************
She kept staring outside, yet she hardly noticed the beautiful fleeting imagery. The wind ruffled her hair. Her black eyes were moist with tears. Someone’s radio was playing Ricky Martin’s “nobody wants to be lonely” .How true she sighed. A blue battery operated bulb was the only source of light in the train compartment. Everything around her looked so dull and gray

Yet she could see the sparkle of his eyes, she could feel the exuberance, his vivacity. His very presence was the only hue in an otherwise bleak monochrome picture. She was leaving for Bangalore. At Cochin memories still haunted her, no matter how hard she tried to forget them.
She felt oddly thirsty, reached for her bottle of aquafina. As she raised the bottle to her lips, her hands trembled, the bottle crashed. She couldn’t hold the back any longer. Memories came flooding back. Their trip to Europe …the Eiffel tower …the fun they had…the return journey…the plane crash…the smell of burning flesh…chafed skin…the disfigured faces of her family. It all came back in a flash. She could hear the nurse tell her that she was indeed lucky to be alive. Lucky? How? with no one to share this beautiful gift , her life with. She wanted to scream and everything faded just as quickly as they had come.
She felt his eyes over her as they looked at her with compassion She turned and looked at him for the first time. He barely had any hair; his eyebrows were just a thinning line. She felt she was sitting next to one of the aliens from “Taken-Steven Spielberg series”. But his eyes intrigued her
She sat back with a sigh. She looked outside at the passing fields, the grey silhouette of bare trees. The sun had set long ago in the horizon. The sky was just a grey muslin cloth. A jagged tear ripped it apart. A strong flash of lightning startled her. The sky poured down its tears. The first few drops fell on her . A silhouette of those happy days flashed in her brain. Throwing ice balls at her brother…teasing her mother. Everything looked beautiful, perfect. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
The warmth of his hand startled her. The soft loving stroke made her feel wanted, loved. She dabbed her tears with the tissue he extended. And for once in days she felt relieved.
He told her that he was going to the regional cancer center .A second round of chemotherapy was needed. His words shocked her even more his composure and tranquility and his love for life. She realized her cowardice. She cursed herself for despising the creator. As seconds elapsed she felt strong. She smiled.
Little jokes. Small anecdotes. He gave her plenty of reasons to smile. He told her lots over the 12 hour journey. She, who had otherwise forgotten the little good things in life, was now smiling
The train stopped. Her destination was still two stations away. He bid her goodbye. She looked through the window as he moved away. Strangely though something made her get her bags. She found herself getting down. She forgot herself. She clutched his hand. He held it tight and together they moved into the crowd. She knew all her life she was going to find reasons to smile.

FIFA flu

2006-05-29T22:14:00.000+05:30

11 more days to go. And there is just one word that rings in my ear football more football and even more football. Along with the endless number of fevers that monsoon brings along with it in my little Kerala, a new addition. FIFA flu. Once in a four year epidemic.
I can’t understand this hue and cry. Well a more honest statement would be I can’t understand football and hence I don’t understand this passion involved. Ok I can understand if my country is playing, but not this fuss over some Brazil playing against some Italy in some country called Germany.
Even Toyland has been invaded. My little cousin has lost interest in his Gijoes and Mattel cars. All of them suddenly giving way to Zidanes and Rooneys.
My granny’s village, where cable TV is nothing short of a luxury, hasn’t been spared either. I bet hard core jingoists would be shocked. Flags of Brazil and Italy flying high. Wonder how many times you actually get to see an Indian flag flying high. The not to be missed piece of work was a life size cutout of Ronaldo with a bottom tagline that read “BEST WISH TO BRASIL FROM BRASIL FANSE ASOCIATION”. That’s when I learned my life’s lesson that football is one game where the heart overrules the head. Guess that explains the football rogues. Spellings don’t count, all that counts is the passion involved.
Entire blogs are being dedicated towards football and FIFA world cup. People including me are writing about it. Media for a change is forgetting India’s biggest religion, cricket, and its god, Sachin. Football jerseys are the latest in things in the world of fashion. Guess football is actually a phenomenon
I was halfway through this blog entry, when my calling bell rang. A group of young guys, led by my neighbor, all clad in jerseys of their favorite football playing country. All they wanted was a meager donation for their FIFA ( fathima nagar* inter-club football association) cup. For the less knowledgeable mortal souls Fathima nagar is my neighboring colony. Eyes popped out I looked at these guys again. I was told that this cup actually is conducted on the same lines as that of FIFA. Well I wasn’t going to contribute my hard earned pocket money for something as silly as this. But a bit more of coaxing, some threats, and lots of blackmailing from my neighbor and I ended up paying 100 bucks. Hey after all I was a rather nice little girl .
Gosh!! My neighborhood has fallen prey too. And now…..Sniff sniff. Hachoo!!! And now that the air is laden with FIFA flu, surprisingly, I seem to be catching it too. Hachoo!!!

A tryst with aalo ke parathe

2006-05-14T23:35:00.000+05:30

STATUTORY WARNING: refer http://www.indiarasoi.com/aluparatha.html
before u cook. Don’t ever trust azeera for the recipe

As usual dad had caught me sleeping over the morning paper. A Vesuvius all ready to erupt. “Highly irritating to the core”, that is what he called it. I tried explaining that I was more of a nocturnal creature, that I loved working at night, that I prefer to go to bed late and get up late and hence if I am forced to wake up early in the morning I will naturally tend to sleep over the paper. Everything fell on deaf ears I guess coz I was still sent to my mama to help her out rather than doze away.
No surprises again mama was already to assign me my task for the day . “Cook dosa’s for breakfast dear”. Oh my god!! She dint expect me to slog in the kitchen early morning did she. “U must be kidding”. Her face turned all red with anger. I suggested, “how about bread and peanut butter for break fast”, grinned gleefully and lauded the brilliant idea by my rather meager brains that helped me get into NITW. Fumes from her nostrils. A matador bull charged at me. Hey trust me I don’t remember wearing red.
I protested hard only to be subjected to a torture even greater than the guillotine. A frail woman still standing straight at eighty something (I often wonder how), the best mom in law any girl can ask for, walked in. A droning lecture on “101 reasons why girls should learn how to cook” all reasons cited with examples from real life. I learned the stories of Mr. Khan’s wife, Mrs. Kumar’s daughter, Mrs. Sharma’s daughter in law and god only knows who else’s . Excerpts from the lecture ….. “Girls are the light of a family….. has to care for her kids and hubbies ( oops I meant hubby , I am strictly against polygamy you see)…. holds the key to the future.. good girls take good care of their mom in laws ( I bet that was a dig at my mama)…. Fights…. Talaaq…” Man I swear I heard the entire script for an Ekta Kapoor saas bahu serial. I ran to kitchen for refuge, I would rather cook.
A rebel that I am I vowed to let the world know that I was cooking. I clanged the vessels hard, grumbled (loud enough for my neighbors to hear), dropped the spoon every two minutes, mumbled under my breath. Hitler marched in,” don’t test my patience and
You don’t have to keep that face of yours grim when you cook”. Okies gimme a break. I continued with alacrity on my face but reluctance in my heart.
Brain wave… I love aloo ka paratha for that matter anything Punjabi. Eight months of life@warangal , and I was already in love with Punjabi food, the Punjabi dhaba [PD] next to my college, the delivery boy at Kazipet PD (oops I swear I don’t love that guy but he looks cute alright). I loved dealer mehndi, RDB (at least the title song), and Harbhajan Singh…..brain waves again. Why not cook one of my all time favourite dish and also stun my mama with my expert culinary skills.
With all new found vigour and enthu I embarked on the suddenly delightful task of cooking. Peeled potatoes.. chopped onions.. boiled them .. sautéed them with masala… mixed the flour .. made the dough .. rolled them into parathas and fried them. Yippee my first paratha was ready. I called out, “try my paratha it rocks”. Music Lights Action. Mama took her first bite. “Hey azeera how about bread and peanut butter for break fast”.

2006-05-14T01:22:00.000+05:30

first ever blog ....... A million hues to be touched upon