Catching up with an old friend

Chat with old friend who found me using Facebook Friend Finder ….




Old Friend : OMG, so you are a hot shot author now.

Me : (Trying to be modest and underplayed) Yeah, I have a couple of books published

O F : Well, you always wanted to be a doctor

Me : Yeah, didn’t everyone else?  It was a done thing those days ….

O F : What?

Me : Adults would ask, “Beta badhe hokar kya banogey?” and we would chant, Doctor, IAS, IPS, Engineer. 

O F : You always said Doctor

Me : The idea of cutting people open must have sounded like fun to me

O F : So how come you’re not one?

Me : (Trying to wriggle out of admitting that I dropped out in the second month of med school) You wanted to be in IAS, and now you’re in marketing.

O F : Well, it pays better and does not get me posted out of Calcutta.  You can’t take a Bong out of Calcutta

Me : So how’s Didi?

Nice try … but he did not take the bait.

O F : (Still persisting) Never thought you’d be working in corporates and writing novels.

Me : (Uncomfortably)  Erm I work in one corporate only.

O F : And your marriage broke

Me : (Wishing I could strangle him through the computer screen) Yes

O F : You are Ritu Jain from Imphal and from Hindu College aren’t you?

Me : (Scowling) Was.  Now I am Ritu Lalit

O F : (I could sense the avid need to learn more gossip) You have changed so much!  How could you?  He was your big romance, how come?

Taking deep breaths, reminding myself that I once actually liked this bloke, and preaching myself tolerance…

Me : That was then, this is now.  You’re right.  I changed a lot.

O F : Like how?

Me : I got infected by Black Spider venom.  So I have this uncontrollable urge to kill or destroy old loves and old friends.  It is a problem but I am learning how to control it, and to live with it.  

O F : You’re not serious?

Me : Try me

Facebook, I owe you big time.  Haven’t had so much fun in ages 😛

Livin da vida loca


Circle of Life

Oh I simply love the songs of Lion King, remember Circle of Life?  Can anyone who has seen the movie ever forget Simba’s huge eyes as he takes in the world, along with the background score by Elton John?

Sigh …. It reduces me to mush!

Cut to the present.  Circle of Life in the Phoenix Household … Well it turns everyone into anything but mush.

However nice and sweet the parent (autocrat) is, just the parental role has the dumb and hapless subjects (children) … well you can call them prisoners/minions and whatever else you may want to name them, chaffing against authority.  Just being parent, you tread on their corns.

And how.

I was anything but the nice and sweet parent.  I am bossy, snooty and anything but reasonable, unless I get my way.  So there!  Boys, I do admit it, but if you rub it in, I’ll screw your happiness.  I still hold some aces, remember that!


The first thing one got as a New Year gift this year was Accu Check.  For the healthy young readers (Oh how I envy you) it is a home diabetes test kit.  One has to puncture a finger, and put a drop of blood on the test strip and it crunches out a number for you.  That all important number tells you how many sins you can commit with impunity in your diet for the day.

Day 3 of returning home from the hospital.  (Kid#1 is in Dubai.)  (Kid#2 is sitting on the bed watching me trying to puncture myself.)  I suffer no martyr complexes; I do not like injuring myself – even if the cause is as noble as my own health.

Kid#2 : Let me do it

Me : You don’t need to test your damn blood.

Kid#2 : What? Why should I?

Me : (Surprised) Exactly.  So why do you want to do it?

Kid#2 : (Rolls eyes) To you.

Ah, okay.  I hand him the darn kit and show him the finger.

Kid#2 : Stop being rude!

He punctures me and smears a whole lot of blood on the strip.  The machine goes ballistic and crunches out Er: 6 or some such thing.

Kid#2 : Oops we have to do it again.

Me : (Naively) Okay

It was four more stabs to three more fingers later that I realized I was victim here.  The old parent was being subjected to torture.  He was using the damn kit to settle some scores!  Damn, I should have learnt my lesson after he took my damn blackberry away two summers earlier!  Circle of Life  


Kid#2 : What’s for dinner?

Me : I think I should avoid dinner.  Some soup would be great.

Kid#1 : Minchow?  We have Minchow soup.

Me : Ah I love Minchow.  Its tangy.

Kid#2 : Ma can’t have it.

Me: Why?

He mutters something suspiciously like “Because you like it,” as he flees the room.  Yeah yeah, I guess I must have stopped you from gorging on too much cake or eating chocolate before bed sometime in the past.  Circle of Life.

CASE 3 (Yesterday)

Kid#1 : There is nothing tasty to eat at home.

Me : So go out, get something good and don’t bring it home.  It is too tempting.

Kid#1 : (Ignoring that) I am going to bake something.

Me : (Keeping quiet.  If I protest, it will aggravate him to the extent of dishing out a five course meal which I can’t eat.) Mmm, Hmmm

I switch on Anthony Borden.  If I have to suffer, I may as well suffer well.  I try to ignore the sound of batter being mixed, the oven pinging, though the smell of chocolate brownie baking reduces me to a puddle of drool on the floor.

Kid#1 : I love the smell of baking that fills up the house

Me : (wishing that the Crucio curse could be inflicted on people in the muggle world.) Don’t you think the brownie is burning?

(It wasn’t, but I HAD to give back some …

I got a miniscule portion of the cake, which was promptly taken to their rooms in the first floor.  I was left on the ground floor inhaling the smell of freshly baked brownie.

Circle of Life








Doctors, Hospitals and My New Year Eve

And yes this post is simply to cater to my Drama Queen soul, since I spent my new year eve in hospital.

Yeah, I need serious sympathy here.  You all are allowed to have any of these responses.

1. Gasp, OMG Ritu, hope you are well

2. You poor thing

3. You are such a brave person.

And if you join my two sons and DIL in scolding me, blaming me for taking my health for granted and any such response, we will have issues.  I may even go to the extent of not speaking to you any more.

I kid you not, I have been scolded, I have been threatened with dire consequences ad nauseum.  My diet is being monitored.  Entirely unnecessary I assure you.  I am shocked, chastened and entirely scared.

I had some kind of a heart problem.  And I thought it was gas.  I never knew that gas and acidity are signs of an impending heart attack.  Well one lives and learns …

And I got some awesome free ka gyan – on new year eve

1. Heart problem???? Women don’t get it

(Oh yeah? tell my ticker that!  Hello heart, you are female, please realize it and stop acting up.  By the way, isn’t this such a sexist comment?)

2. Doctors lie you know.  How do you know its your ECG report in your file?

(Errr do you love watching conspiracy theory movies?  I love the thought that someone else’s ECG will have a place of honour in my medical files.)

And then my visits to hospitals come with their own highs and lows …

I tell you they are EVENTS!

On 29th  night I had rajmah rice and had a spell of acidity.  I dismissed it because well – if you have beans in the night you deserve it.

The next day I went to work after popping a lot of antacid.  It worsened to the extent that on 31st Kid#2 pronounced that I looked like shit and I needed a doctor.

People who know me will not need to read any more.

I have this perfectly firm belief that I am invincible and I never need a doctor.


So I was bullied, scolded, cajoled and convinced that we were going to the G.P. in the neighbourhood.   Him I can handle.  So I got into the car – and got driven to the hospital.  Kid#2 and I got into a fight.  Especially when we were told the OPD did not function on Sundays and I was to be taken to the emergency.

I cheered up somewhat when I saw the Costa Coffee outlet.  I thought that once we met the doctor, we would get a coffee at Costa and then drive back.  It was new year eve and I looked forward to wearing my cute new dress.

Bas itna sa khwaab …

Of course it did not work out like I planned …

Doctor said ECG

I said no, I want something for acidity

Doctor pulled rank

I dug heels

Suddenly we had two nurses and 3 doctors around me.

Outnumbered, I shut up and submitted for the ECG

Result … I had an impending heart attack and needed an angiogram.

Pouf!  Rebellion vanished.  The son heaved a sigh of relief and signed a bunch of papers for my angiogram.  I looked at him reproachfully, saw the concern in his eyes and suffered pangs of conscience.  He is a good man!  And I am a brat.

So I got wheeled into the angio theatre.

Ever seen Sci Fi movies?  Swear that room was out of one of those sets.  We had this huge machine with humongous pipes branching out of it.  Some of those pipes ended up in monitors that actually wore surgical masks.  And someone gave a command at the machine.

Them monitors dipped, turned and approached me from various different angles.

Surreal …

My ticker quailed.

That was not enough.  They shaved me and then stuck a needle right erm in that neighbourhood.  Not pleasant.  Then some ink was stuck into me through the needle.  The doctor – a chatty pleasant person – set up a running commentary as she explained what she could see.

She and I were watching the same monitor … but she saw a heart

I saw an octopus

She told me my main arteries were clear.

So I did not tell her that what we were looking at was an octopus, not a heart. Why spoil a good thing?

She told me that some stupid capillary in some distant branch was acting up.  It was completely blocked and they would try to clear it with blood thinners.

I perked up.  I was going to get that Costa Coffee …


I must place on record here that I never got it!

What I got was 24 hours in CCU, 24 more hours in a hospital bed and then was sent home

Cest La Vie …

I spent new year eve in CCU 😦

By ten in the night I told kiddo “You go and get drunk or whatever!  I’m going to sleep.”

I mean I was rigged up with drips and monitors that beeped and pinged and such like.  I wasn’t going any where, so someone needed to have fun.  I mean it was new year eve for heaven’s sake!  So why deprive him?

He resisted the urge ( I love him for that ) but eventually gave in, after leaving his number with every nurse in the ward and even scribbling it on a post it and putting it on my bed.

I slept.

The next day I got shifted to a room.  Ahhh bliss (or so I thought!)

Minor hiccup no. 1 : No Times Now.  Such a huge hospital and they dont subscribe to Times Now !!!!! Blasphemy

Minor hiccup no. 2 : Hospital Food

Minor hiccup no. 3 was discovered in the night

I was on a drip and it did unpleasant things to my bladder.  And the nurse would not remove the drip.

I had to get my pajamas changed since I could not control it.

I begged and pleaded but nurses are nurses.  They listen to doctors and not patients.  So it was either live with a leaky bladder or take matters in my own hands

I had a bottle of Aquafina on my bedside.  Every ten minutes I spilled water on the bed and the pajamas and called her.

I kid you not, I kept a close watch on the wall clock.  After every ten minutes I spilled some water and called her.

Finally she removed the drip.  Phew

I had a good night’s sleep.

The next day I got the news that the blood thinners worked and I could go home.

So now I can proudly say that this hospital visit is almost as eventful as the last one, you can read about that one here 





Love Shove and All That Jazz

And yes I am really envious of the number of books authors who write about love sell – hence the title of this post.

I wrote a post long time ago about Monkeys and their abysmally low or absent sense of humour.  It was a short story which was taken by CBSE to publish in their 12th Class English text book.  That was a long time ago, in 2008.

Imagine my utter surprise when today morning I logged on and found this gem of a comment on that blog post  :-

Hey This is hard for me because I have never done anything like this.. but I have a huge crush on you. I have never been able to tell you for reasons which you would quickly identify as obvious if you knew who this was. I’m really attracted to you

I am flattered and I am chuffed up.  Thank you sweetheart for making my day!

But I am a bit hurt too

Just “Hey”?  No darling or sweetheart?  No hugs and kisses?  No link that I can go back to?

What rey?

One does need to go and find out more about someone who has made you so happy.  Its natural.

You say its hard for you, because you’ve never done such a thing.  May be that is the reason you forgot or omitted such vital things.  I forgive you.

The next line has me wanting to be Sherlock Holmes.

Who are you?

The email id you’ve given is fake.  Yes I tried finding out, the IP address is NCR. Are you someone who I know?

This throws up interesting options

1.  You are that man who rings me up after 10 p.m. and assures me, (in that sexy low baritone) that your wife is upstairs asleep.  Sweetheart, you are years younger to me, go dial another number.  I am not interested in the neighbourhood gossip. And if you are expecting me to take our relationship to the next level, you are mistaken.  I won’t.

2.  You are the colleague who talks to my boobs.  They don’t have eyes and ears.  Ahhhh maybe that is why the darlings etc were missing in your romantic missive.  I just asked my boobs and they are miffed too.  Love letter hai to darling etc banta hai.

3. You can not be the sabzi wala who tries to peer down my neckline when I am selecting tomatoes – I don’t think he knows English.

4. You can’t be the petrol pump attendant either – same reason as above

5. The nerdy boy in the computer deptt?  May be … but not so sure.

See what you made me do – all the fervour of a romance being initiated has just gone off like a damp squib.  You really need lessons in how to do the thing properly.

Or are you none of the above?  Just a boy with way too much time on your hands?  Go lock your room watch porn, it will be more productive for you – you can have a nice self-love session.  Just saying 😛

I know our elders used to say “Neki Kar Dariya Mein Daal” (Do a good deed and cast your expectations of a return into the ocean) and internet is a huge dariya (ocean) but this is all about love isnt it?

One does expect a return.

Learn how to do the thing properly.

Signing off now



The Princess of Nonsense

“Oh but she was a tiresome child, I did not mind that at all, but let’s face it dearie, she was huge!”

Sir Mouse cleaned his spectacles and peered at the princess who was fanning herself with a bunch of forget-me-nots.

“And she kept disappearing and leaving only a grin. D’ye know how creepy it is to just have a grin staring at you?” The princess shuddered delicately.

“Erm, I think you are mixing up Alice and the Cheshire Cat.”

She looked apologetically at her long suffering courtier and said, “Sorry Sir Mouse. I am a bit mixed up today. Ever since you told me about a man who leaped out of a bath tub and ran naked in the town yelling something, my nerves are shot.”

“That was Archemedis and he was yelling Eureka. He discovered some formula.”

“Humph, he shouldn’t have lost them in the first place. Careless bloke. He possibly lost his towel too. If you ever take a bath, please check if the water is right. The only reason to leap out of a bath is if the water is hot. Then, in my opinion, you should yell “watersshot watersshot” and not Eureka Eureka.”

Sir Mouse kept his opinion to himself and said “Yes your Majesty”

“Now Sir Mouse, you may go. I am bored with you and the school work. Send me my waiting ladies.”

Sir Mouse gathered his papers and left barely concealing his relief. The wizard had to be given a scold. Those forget-me-nots were not helping. The princess was getting more nonsensical by the minute!

The princess flung the bunch of flowers into the waste paper basket and stomped a petulant foot as she scolded her waiting ladies, “The satin dress is way to tight. I hate scarlet, it makes me look so pale. Go and call all cloth merchants. I need a dress done up in linen and gauze, yes it should be rose colored. I hate these dresses. Go, now!”

The poor women rushed out. She threw the offending dresses after them and slammed the door shut.

A man laughed as he came out from behind the curtains, “Excellently done my love.”

She sighed, smiled naughtily and said, “The things I have to do to just spend some time with you.”

The path of royal love is always devious

Damn you, Cupid

Come Valentine, I start seeing fat cupids everywhere, market places, television ads, newspapers. The world turns pink, with outsized hearts and fat short pink angels and then the world turns mushy or combative – given the Indian context. Our country won’t forget the spoil sports who campaign against Valentine Day. There is no cultural or moral basis to their vendetta, it is just that they don’t have girl friends/can’t afford to celebrate valentines, so they won’t let any one else.

We have Kamadeva in our mythology – the culturally appropriate version of Cupid. I know, I know, he is not the same. If anything, he cuts through the bullshit. He is the God of Sex, and since he is married – to Rati, as per the Muthalik types, he is respectable, perhaps.

But that is not what I want to say. What I want to say is simple. Cupid and the huge pink hearts piss me off. Actually Valentine’s Day pisses me off. Its over done, it is commercial and it is too forced. It is like egging on people to have an affair or a date – just because it is V Day. It is so demanding!

But then, this is just my opinion. I wouldn’t push it on others.

Cupid does not anger me much, those hearts do. They are effin obscene. As the ancients knew – and so do we, the human heart looks like a fist. You can open any science book and check that out.

It definitely does not look like this

There is only one part in the female anatomy that looks vaguely like that. Cant elaborate – this is a family kind of blog. And, well and then the arrow piercing it- does not leave too much to the imagination, does it?

Just saying. Don’t kill me for it!

Even Kamadeva carries a bow and arrow

So people – V Day is not about emotions – its more about fertility, reproduction and the likes. Yup a good session with your partner in bed is more like it

Can we tone down the mush, please? Wouldn’t say stop spending, though. Chocolates, wine and flowers just add to the ambiance, so do perfumed candles.

War Time at Phoenix House

You know what?  When kids grow up, they become adults.  And when boys grow up – they become self absorbed, insensitive, taciturn MEN

(If I could I would enter sad doleful veena music here or even Paul McCartney’s While My Guitar Gently Weeps)

To keep the argument balanced I will add this

You know what? When women reach a certain age they become Drama Queens – totally demanding drama queens!

Phew – that’s a load off my chest

Situation is like this

Elder Son Kid#1 is addicted to the LCD screen.  The fact is that he has at least 800 downloaded movies on a spare hard disk and he is forever downloading more.  He lives on the first floor and I don’t get to see him as often as I want.  Yeah you can argue that if he does not want to come down, I can go up …. but I don’t feel comfortable intruding in his room.  It is too much his and DILs space and I am sensitive about space

DIL is rising up in the pecking order in that damn sweat shop she calls office and she works crazy hours.  I barely meet her.  She leaves before I get out of my room and she comes home when I am asleep.  On weekends she is asleep or out with Kid#1

Kid#2 – to give him credit does spend some time with me – but he has his studies, his friends, his dratted cellphone etc etc.

Damn it!  When kids are small and clingy, we wish they grow up and realize that the umblical cord was cut at birth.  When they grow up and we have all the ME Time that we want, we miss that clingy phase.  May be we forget how to be alone again

Yesterday night, I got the table laid for dinner, sent a message up for the boys to come down for dinner.  Both replied that they were not hungry.

I had two options – Sigh resignedly and eat my damn dinner in solitary splendour and sing this song


Throw a tantrum, freak out, be Drama Queen and then eat my dinner with or without them.

Of course I did the latter.  Both boys came down, we had a fight.  They defended themselves, but (here I am unclear just how this happened) pacified me too.  Damn!

I had my dinner, and so did they – together after a long long time  ~~~ okay I exaggerate – after a few days.

Kid#1 : Chotey, leave it!  She has been normal for a while.  She had to find something to fight about.

Kid#2 : She becomes drama queen after every two days

Damn you, you oafs.  I love you and want you to be with me when I get home.  It isn’t fun when you arent around.  Don’t fly away too fast – I am dangerous when left alone. I may cause global floods or tsunami

DIL stop working so damn hard.

Doctors and Hospitals

When I was young, Mom wanted me to be a doctor.  Mind you this was much before Doogie Howser and other glamour medical types made it cool.  So, since I had a brain, I was enrolled into the medical side in High School.  Close encounters with dissection classes made me wonder …….., I found them gross!  Dont get me wrong, medicine is a noble profession – I am not noble.  I cant get it.  This world is made up in equal parts of the beautiful, the plain, the ugly and the gross.  I infinitely prefer the beautiful.  Plus I am a lazy irresponsible bum.  I dont want to study endlessly, to sacrifice my beauty sleep or have be responsible for someone’s life or death.  I admire these wonderful people, but it is not me.  I admire them, but would love to be away from pain and suffering.  Hospitals house the ill and the saviours.  I’d rather give them a miss.  So when the time came, I said, “Sorry Mom” and picked up English Literature, Keats, Byron and marriage.  Another one of my Great Escapes       😀

Both my kids are Ceasarian ….. one of God’s divine jokes at my expense.  Humph!  But I guess I behaved, because no one complained about the horrible patient I was.  May be my babies made my family forgive me.

Some of the anaesthetic trips are good and happy, some take you into a psychedelic hell.   A few years ago, I had a pretty bad accident, which required surgery.  Kid#1 was barely 20 years old.  Poor child ….. he swears I will be held solely responsible for any kind of hair loss or every grey hair on his young head.  I was wheeled in to my hospital bed, post surgery, with an oxygen mask, totally out of it.  I must have been angry and in pain, because I threw a very bad tantrum.  Oxygen stinks, and I did not want that mask.  I kept pushing it off.  The nurse scolded me and said “Aapka surgery hua hai – yeh lagao” ….., well, I was pissed, and I yanked it off my face and plastered it on hers and said “Tere ko chahiye na, Too hi pehenle”.  I even pulled off the IV.  I have nothing to say in my defense …. except that I was out, and did not know.  Kid#1, Kid#2, Kid#1’s group of friends (which included DIL) were all there at the hospital at that time, and decided I was a brat.  Hmmmmmm, I have not managed to live that down as yet.

With that in mind, DIL and Kid#1 warned me that I better behave this time.  I guess I did, I did not even complain about the sweet corn soup they fed me (even though I told my kids it looked like monkey’s semen – no I have never seen monkey’s semen, dont ask, its just what I thought, so I would not drink it humph!).  I drank the juice, so there!!!!!  😛

I was wheeled out of the OT, and the kids hovered around me asking “Mom, how do you feel?”.  Apparently this anaesthesia was good stuff, and the trip must have taken me to a psychedelic paradise.  As per them, I was tripping and answered with a happy giggle “Awesome”       😀

Well, mind you, I do not remember the last time or this one, so I chose to look at the kids with wide-eyed disbelief whenever they tell me about this.  It is the only way I can cling on to the shreds of my tattered dignity.  Sigh!!!!!

Doctors are another class of people in themselves – so matter of fact and business-like that it gives me the shivers.  When I went to the hospital, I definitely was more interested in meeting my siblings for Bhai Dooj, an awesome dinner with wine and mithai and chocolates – getting admitted was not on the agenda.  My gynae (poor long suffering soul) was surprised to actually see me keep my appointment.  I am the most unwilling patient that walked this earth!  She tried to be gentle (even when I rebelled during the physical exam, its instinctive, I dont do it on purpose) and explained that I had to be operated.  I asked “Can I come in after my dinner with my family?”.  She looks at me and says “Shall I ring up Kid#1?”.  End of discussion ……….

Now a days hospitals are better than malls.  Yes they are.  All major brands are there.  You have  Costa Coffee, Cafe Coffee Day, Moets and Nirulas there.  You even have the most awesome mandir right in the middle of the hospital campus.  Kid#2 wanted us to go to the mandir before the surgery.  So both of us quietly took a small walk the night before the surgery.  I was most impressed by the Shiv Ling and told him it was one of the more impressive phallic symbols I had seen recently.  Totally inappropriate humour but it got us both giggling dementedly – and he hugged me hard, wordlessly.  It felt good, that clingly baby of mine, now so tall and strong, holding me hard and comforting me!!!  Thanks my love, both you and your brother are my strength, my courage, my life   🙂

What’s with hospital food?  Do they instruct the cooks to ensure that things should not be tasty?  Its like reminding people that they are sick and so have to eat this insipid fare Blech!!!!  I should have carried sachets of capsico, chilli flakes and mustard to spice up stuff.  Less said about the liquid diet they put me on – soups that had no character whatsoever, lumpy khichdi.  Whoever saw a light red tomato soup, I ask you?  Moong Dal soup looked like yellow water.  The only things I could face were cornflakes and juice.  I tell you I started dreaming about masala dosas and pizzas!  I need to get a life!  Imagine drooling over food instead of men!!!!!

The plus point is that I must have lost a lot of weight  😀

The power of the cleavage

This is a post my parents would not approve of – but they are not in this plane now.  This is also a post my sons wont approve of – but since I have a history of embarassing them, one more wont hurt them.  I told ya fellas, not to read Ma’s blog.  If you snoop, not my fault.

Women are getting thinner and thinner.  Soon we will be surrounded by girls who closely resemble – no, not their parents, but sketch pens.  I am a Punjaban who lives in Haryana and do like to see curvy women.  I strongly suspect that Kid#1 got floored by my DIL’s natural assets scintillating conversation and intelligence.  I do not understand this obsession for a size zero figure.  Being slim is good, being fit is excellent, but having mosquito bites for a chest is tragic.  Dont blame me, I have been watching Kareena Kapoor and other filmy types this weekend with my generously endowed BFF (best female friend), and we both agreed to the following

1. Men are necessary in one’s life

2. Getting men to behave like pussywhipped morons agree to you or jump when you want them to help you is tough.

3. The best option is to dazzle them with a cleavage show, and voila – problem solved.

When I was in college, I was terribly short of attendance, marriage and baby ensured that.  So I did what any girl in my situation would do – whine.  One of my best male friends was gay, and I am deeply indebted to him for my clothes sense and also for his ability to simplify the opposite sex for me.  Oh he also taught me to be feminine and not the tomboy I was born as.  He got tired of my whining and simply took me aside and tutored me on the womanly art of flirting.  Sebastian, my love, what you taught me has worked for me time and again.  It ranks way up there and is as useful as breathing.

Seb : Girl what you need is a padded push up bra and a low neck Tee

Me : Why

Seb : (with eye roll) You want attendance?

Me : Yeah, I need to pass otherwise my Dad will file case against hubby.  My kid will be having a jailbird for a father.

Seb : Why do you Literature types love drama so much?  Just do what I tell you. Duh!

Me : (doubtfully) Ohkay ….

Seb : What okay … lets go shopping

So we went shopping and picked up a orange Tshirt that my mother would’ve burnt and a black bra to wear under it.  Then he taught me the subtle art of bending just enough to show a bit of cleavage and bra while talking.  When he decided I had got the trick, we went to the attendance clerk, where I pleaded my case leaning over his desk, while Seb and two others added their words to my plea.  I got my attendance and I learnt a valuable lesson. 

I dont think Size zero babes can make such an impact.

I am single ….. Why?!

This is in response to a whole lot of people who want “frandsip” with me on Orkut and also the innumerable times I have had to field questions like “How do you manage ….?, don’t you feel ummmm lonely?”

Yes I want frandsip from all of you perverts who think that I have joined Orkut to indulge in cyber sex or meet at HIV laden places for an orgy.

And yes I can not manage without having your lechy hands all over my middle aged body and helping you get it off in a binge of uprotected sex.

Seriously people get a life.

Okay okay, rant over.

When I was 16, I had wavy hair which I hated, a figure which was very curvy and a face that would give a lot of Bollywood sirens a run for their money (the last is stretching the truth a bit, but what the hell heh.) In my eyes I was hot!!! I had a whole lot of admirers that made me think I was irresistible. Romance meant something those days. Romance meant that the boy would play the guitar and serenade me with Neil Diamond songs, we would share an ice-cream, may be try a little French kissing and a bit of the boob graze. Today romance means someone taking out the garbage, getting me maida even though its raining and helping me fold the laundry, and most importantly managing the accounts. I suck big time at budgeting. That was then and this is now ….., but I digress. Younger kids would be enlisted to deliver notes from admirers to me, and replies were inked into the notes that were returned (after great giggly consultations with other girls). Now that was romance.

Now one gets sleazy frandsip requests on Orkut or wierdos on the chat. Yuch! Where has all the romance gone? Now excuse me while I go to my spam box and delete all the mail that assures me that I can buy Viagra to spice up my love life or get help to enlarge certain non-existing body parts.