Saturday, March 01, 2008
i wanna write too...
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???
Thursday, October 11, 2007
bugged!!!!!
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.
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.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
gimme a reason!!!
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!!!
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!!!
Monday, June 11, 2007
Chevittithara house, Thaikkattukara P.O, Aluva-683106
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.
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.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
insane again
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
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
Monday, June 04, 2007
Chevittithara house, Thaikkattukara P.O, Aluva-683106
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.
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.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
insane!!!
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.
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.
Monday, May 14, 2007
when Aphrodite got it all wrong
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.
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.
Friday, May 11, 2007
i am an INDIAN too
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.
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.
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