I don't like weighing scales.
If ever there was a contraption whose mere sight was enough to make me teeter on the icy brink of deep blue funk, it is that. Over the years, I've come up against many of their kind. From the uncertain pappa-gimme-a-1rupee-coin-no?-i-want-to-check-my-weight weighing scales to the heck-you-ARE-overweight ones lounging about at a doctor's.
The one I hate however, is in my gym. A friday evening, after a gruelling workout, when I step onto the offending machine, it says 53.2. I had the best weekend ever. I come back on Monday and it reads 55.8. Sigh. I don't starve myself (anymore) but I'm not that gutsy an eater either. Fishy is what is written all over that WS and all in all, I'm thoroughly justified in looking at the thing askance when I step into the AC environs which house it.
Today was no different. Workout wise I mean. After an hour's 'am-sooooooooo-dead' exercising, I gathered myself and started to crawl out of the place. I tried not to look at the weighing scale which had mysteriously appeared (it wasn't there when I walked in) at the entrance. But a gaggle of giggling girls had that machine at their mercy and its hard to ignore a gaggle of giggling girls at any rate. So I stepped into the circle. One girl said, 'I don't trust this scale an inch. I showed my weight as 53 one day, and the very next, 58'. I had company.
Wait time. My turn now. Weight time. 0.1kg. I get down, hit the thing and again, it shows 0.1 kg. Now I know that that's not possible. And yet, I think I'm beginning to like this thingy. I feel light-headed. Happy. I think ... I'm floating. Zero gravity, here I come.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
వివాహ భోజనంబు... I think not!
N: Once you come here, we must invite people home.
V: Gulp. Am I to cook?
N: Ummm...yeah.
V: But I can't cook! I mean ... I can't cook for too many people. I mean ... its not that I don't want to ... I mean ... I can't! I'll burn everything! Or undercook it. I'll put too much salt or too less of it ... I caaaaaaaaaaan't! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! (Running away flailing arms.)
N: Oh relax! We'll order it from the desi restaurant around the corner, and pass it off as yours.
V: Chee. That reminds me of a too-hep-for-household-bahu who picks up the phone to order stuff off a menu when family members come home. I don't like characters like that.
N: Ok, first of all ... there aren't any family members coming. And second of all, you aren't hep.
V: Great. I burn food annnnnnnnnd am not hep.
Cookery classes, me thinks.
V: Gulp. Am I to cook?
N: Ummm...yeah.
V: But I can't cook! I mean ... I can't cook for too many people. I mean ... its not that I don't want to ... I mean ... I can't! I'll burn everything! Or undercook it. I'll put too much salt or too less of it ... I caaaaaaaaaaan't! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! (Running away flailing arms.)
N: Oh relax! We'll order it from the desi restaurant around the corner, and pass it off as yours.
V: Chee. That reminds me of a too-hep-for-household-bahu who picks up the phone to order stuff off a menu when family members come home. I don't like characters like that.
N: Ok, first of all ... there aren't any family members coming. And second of all, you aren't hep.
V: Great. I burn food annnnnnnnnd am not hep.
Cookery classes, me thinks.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Of cals and chocs :)
'Twas a funny evening that I found myself in. I generally like to head for my session at the gym by 4.45 PM. 'Coz with the gym, the ol' FCFS rule rules. 15 minutes later. I'm all set to give a pricey treadmill some wear for its value. I turn the knob and ... oops. The gym door is locked. Another lady comes in. She's a regular. Hell or high water, she comes as sure as Rani Mukherji's films flop. :D. Ok... that was rude. As sure as the sun rises in the east. There ... better. I think.
Anyway, the regular comes in, all set to do her set of pumpin' and ohohoho - locked. Soon there's another lady joining us. And another. And into our motley group, walk in three assorted gentlemen, none of whom have the all-too-important key to unlock the door to our dreams (of looking toned and fit and what not .. you know!).
Before we know it, there's a crowd milling around impatiently heartily cursing
a. the instructor who bloody well should've been here by now
b. the security guard who wore an expressionless face and a spare key that unfortunately could not be spared until the instructor had arrived.
The clock strikes 5.20 PM ... 20 minutes ... that would have meant nearly 100 calories at least. All lost. In the meanwhile, the girls are swapping stories on how a couple of guys almost came to blows. Here's a story that did the rounds. Chap A had apparently 'booked' his slot on the treadmill (which means, he asks the girl using it "How much longer? Oh k ... I'm after you" and then rushes to grind his muscles on some other heartless contraption) and a second one B, not choosing to utilize his time elsewhere just hangs on to the treadmill, billowing great waves of "That's enough ... gerroff now willya?". Obviously, there came a point, when the girl does get off the t.mill, B jumps at the opp. A comes fuming and starts arguing ... then A and B get together and fire away at the girl. Sigh. People.
Anyway, amidst all this, the key-chap (no pun intended), comes in, unlocks the door. And here a mini-race takes place. Everybody scrambles (pretending to amble along casually of course:D ) to get the best machine, me included. Ahh ... all's well that ends well and I came away with 300 calories burnt.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I treated myself to a milk chocolate later to celebrate that. Guess some things never change eh? :D
Anyway, the regular comes in, all set to do her set of pumpin' and ohohoho - locked. Soon there's another lady joining us. And another. And into our motley group, walk in three assorted gentlemen, none of whom have the all-too-important key to unlock the door to our dreams (of looking toned and fit and what not .. you know!).
Before we know it, there's a crowd milling around impatiently heartily cursing
a. the instructor who bloody well should've been here by now
b. the security guard who wore an expressionless face and a spare key that unfortunately could not be spared until the instructor had arrived.
The clock strikes 5.20 PM ... 20 minutes ... that would have meant nearly 100 calories at least. All lost. In the meanwhile, the girls are swapping stories on how a couple of guys almost came to blows. Here's a story that did the rounds. Chap A had apparently 'booked' his slot on the treadmill (which means, he asks the girl using it "How much longer? Oh k ... I'm after you" and then rushes to grind his muscles on some other heartless contraption) and a second one B, not choosing to utilize his time elsewhere just hangs on to the treadmill, billowing great waves of "That's enough ... gerroff now willya?". Obviously, there came a point, when the girl does get off the t.mill, B jumps at the opp. A comes fuming and starts arguing ... then A and B get together and fire away at the girl. Sigh. People.
Anyway, amidst all this, the key-chap (no pun intended), comes in, unlocks the door. And here a mini-race takes place. Everybody scrambles (pretending to amble along casually of course:D ) to get the best machine, me included. Ahh ... all's well that ends well and I came away with 300 calories burnt.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I treated myself to a milk chocolate later to celebrate that. Guess some things never change eh? :D
Sunday, September 14, 2008
A l'll bit o' this and a l'll bit o' that ...
Today, being Ganesh nimarjan, I was looking at the many processions of our Tusker Lord. Riding royally, he came in varied shapes and sizes and hues accompanied by that high-inspiring teen-maar beat that is our usual harbinger ... 'The Ganesh Idol's coming ... its coming ... come out of your homes people!' I always feel like running out and doing a nifty step or two with those colourful people out there. In the end though, I generally do it on me veranda when no one's looking. Or at least, when I think no one's looking. Hmmm ... after my marriage (oh blush blush and drawing patterns on the ground with right big toe) this december(oh did I tell you that I'm getting married? No? I'm getting married:D), I don't know when I'd be seeing another Ganesh immersion procession sitting on that granite stool in front of my house. Oh wow... when it hits you finally, it hits you hard, doesn't it?
How does a girl who has spent her entire lifetime (till then) living with her parents in her comfortable cozy home, suddenly put her stuff together and walk out? Oh sigh. I wish I had stayed in a hostel atleast sometime. I would've got used to staying away from mom's (slurp!) food and dad's wry humour then. I've been in this house of mine since a good 15 years and practically know everyone in the colony. But you gotta move on. Dammit. You've Always got to move on.
I saw Ashta Chamma the other day. Its this new telugu movie and by jove! It is Good. The cast is fresh and they deliver. Period. The script is tight, the dialogues funny and the audience a satisfied lot. :) Two words. Go watch.
My veena teacher, it struck me today, is really progressive person. Despite having studied formally only till a single-digited standard, she's manages herself pretty darned well. She called me up today in the evening, asking if I could come and rig this electronic system for her. She tried doing it on her own ... all of her 65+ years, but well... couldn't. The system still didn't work when I left her, but what shone through her was her penchant for activity. She's an active Brahmakumari and does have her own sweet world to dwell in. I've never known her t0 compromise on anything she doesn't believe in. She lives alone, but I don't think I could categorize her as 'lonely'. Her husband recently passed away ... her children are in different parts of the world, but she is content. Yes, as J.Herriot's Yorkshire Dalemen would put it ... "She's a strong 'un" alright.
Finally, the blasts. Delhi rocks again and this time, it ain't a compliment. Sometimes, I wish a bloody deluge would come, sink the entire world and be on its way. No life. No problem. But I guess we must just keep fighting. For how long? No idea. But just keep going ... just keep going. I hate to think of the family of those 20+ people who've been killed. Of the many others who've been injured. In an instant, their lives must've changed. Poor people. The thought in my head is, till now ... these things happened to 'others'. Now though, it seems different. A shadow seems to be creeping on the land. But what do we do?
How does a girl who has spent her entire lifetime (till then) living with her parents in her comfortable cozy home, suddenly put her stuff together and walk out? Oh sigh. I wish I had stayed in a hostel atleast sometime. I would've got used to staying away from mom's (slurp!) food and dad's wry humour then. I've been in this house of mine since a good 15 years and practically know everyone in the colony. But you gotta move on. Dammit. You've Always got to move on.
I saw Ashta Chamma the other day. Its this new telugu movie and by jove! It is Good. The cast is fresh and they deliver. Period. The script is tight, the dialogues funny and the audience a satisfied lot. :) Two words. Go watch.
My veena teacher, it struck me today, is really progressive person. Despite having studied formally only till a single-digited standard, she's manages herself pretty darned well. She called me up today in the evening, asking if I could come and rig this electronic system for her. She tried doing it on her own ... all of her 65+ years, but well... couldn't. The system still didn't work when I left her, but what shone through her was her penchant for activity. She's an active Brahmakumari and does have her own sweet world to dwell in. I've never known her t0 compromise on anything she doesn't believe in. She lives alone, but I don't think I could categorize her as 'lonely'. Her husband recently passed away ... her children are in different parts of the world, but she is content. Yes, as J.Herriot's Yorkshire Dalemen would put it ... "She's a strong 'un" alright.
Finally, the blasts. Delhi rocks again and this time, it ain't a compliment. Sometimes, I wish a bloody deluge would come, sink the entire world and be on its way. No life. No problem. But I guess we must just keep fighting. For how long? No idea. But just keep going ... just keep going. I hate to think of the family of those 20+ people who've been killed. Of the many others who've been injured. In an instant, their lives must've changed. Poor people. The thought in my head is, till now ... these things happened to 'others'. Now though, it seems different. A shadow seems to be creeping on the land. But what do we do?
Friday, September 12, 2008
ఎందఱో మహానుభావులు ...... కాని ఎక్కడున్నారో? :)
Q1. Can you play the saxophone? Can you drum up a nifty beat? Oh heck! Are you gooooooood at any stringed or wind or percussion instrument?
Q2. Are you from Hyd?
If your answer to the above Qs is 'Err... yes.', then please! could you let me know ... 'coz we need a jazz-or-classical-bhara musician asap!
Thanks!
PS : And for those who cannot read telugu ... the title said ... "There are many great personalities (out there) ... but where are they?!?!?!"
Do let the info flow in!
Q2. Are you from Hyd?
If your answer to the above Qs is 'Err... yes.', then please! could you let me know ... 'coz we need a jazz-or-classical-bhara musician asap!
Thanks!
PS : And for those who cannot read telugu ... the title said ... "There are many great personalities (out there) ... but where are they?!?!?!"
Do let the info flow in!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Dance ... me ... musings ...
I've never posted a writeup exclusively dedicated to dance. With all the declarations that I make about dance being my passion ... I thought it was high time I did. So here goes.
Imagine a pot. Now imagine its surface riddled with a thousand holes. Now imagine a really really Really bright light. Now imagine the thousand holed-pot placed mouth down on this brilliant source of light. What do you see? Light shoots forth from the pot. The light does not belong to the vessel. But it illumines it. Now imagine the holes melting away ... unable to take the heat of the rays. Soon the body of the pot is gone. And there is only ... light. That, my friends is dance... to me.
It rises from within you and fills you and then seeps out of you. And soon ... it becomes you. Dance to me is a way of life. It lights up my heart, mind and soul. And if I keep on with it, it'll erase the difference between the three. It takes me to a blessed place from where I have no wish to return. But I do. Sigh. I think its heaven. But it seems more than that. Cannot describe the feeling. Is this what they call Brahman? But those who taste Brahman loose their interest in everything otherwise right? That's what the scriptures say. Then how could I've felt That, when I'm clearly still amongst the mundane? Hmmm.
I feel energy ooze out of me when I dance. But I feel like I'm being restricted in this body ... in this cage of flesh and bone. I want to soar ... I want to fly ... I want ... to dance. When I portray the rasa-leela, I am Krishna ... I am Radha. When I dance to the celestial Jagadaanandakaaraka, I am Rama ... I am Sita ... I am Thyagaraja. For when I dance ... I... am.
I exist when I dance. I simply get along when I'm not. To dance is to live ... to breathe. To be. I do not want to away from this wonderful art O Rama ... be kind to me O Blue Hued One ... and let this art practiced by Nataraja himself be a part of me. Let it seep into me ... let it rule me. I do not want accolades, I do not want applause from a crowd. I wish to dance in front of Thee ... You are my audience ... You are my Guru. You are my Nattuvanar ... You... are me.
Am I allowed to speak like this? They say only the Enlightened ones are supposed to speak of God and Themselves as One. And whatever light is within me, sure needs a spark-plug replacement sometimes :). Every mudra is a mantra to me and it pains me when someone doesn't do it right. But then again ... what is right? What is wrong? Only my perspective is the veil that separates the two.
Is he who teaches us dance the Guru? Or is it Dance itself that shows us the way? Is the Guru the Giver or the Given? Again ... hmmm. I think dance is way of bhakti. Of wanting to worship He who created You, through movements of your body. It is the most profound and the most powerful representation of joy because your entire body responds to the call of the Divine. Gaurang, Meera, Ramakrishna Paramahamsa ... all the Greats danced in ecstacy.
And I want to do the same. I want to dance for me. Because it is me.
Imagine a pot. Now imagine its surface riddled with a thousand holes. Now imagine a really really Really bright light. Now imagine the thousand holed-pot placed mouth down on this brilliant source of light. What do you see? Light shoots forth from the pot. The light does not belong to the vessel. But it illumines it. Now imagine the holes melting away ... unable to take the heat of the rays. Soon the body of the pot is gone. And there is only ... light. That, my friends is dance... to me.
It rises from within you and fills you and then seeps out of you. And soon ... it becomes you. Dance to me is a way of life. It lights up my heart, mind and soul. And if I keep on with it, it'll erase the difference between the three. It takes me to a blessed place from where I have no wish to return. But I do. Sigh. I think its heaven. But it seems more than that. Cannot describe the feeling. Is this what they call Brahman? But those who taste Brahman loose their interest in everything otherwise right? That's what the scriptures say. Then how could I've felt That, when I'm clearly still amongst the mundane? Hmmm.
I feel energy ooze out of me when I dance. But I feel like I'm being restricted in this body ... in this cage of flesh and bone. I want to soar ... I want to fly ... I want ... to dance. When I portray the rasa-leela, I am Krishna ... I am Radha. When I dance to the celestial Jagadaanandakaaraka, I am Rama ... I am Sita ... I am Thyagaraja. For when I dance ... I... am.
I exist when I dance. I simply get along when I'm not. To dance is to live ... to breathe. To be. I do not want to away from this wonderful art O Rama ... be kind to me O Blue Hued One ... and let this art practiced by Nataraja himself be a part of me. Let it seep into me ... let it rule me. I do not want accolades, I do not want applause from a crowd. I wish to dance in front of Thee ... You are my audience ... You are my Guru. You are my Nattuvanar ... You... are me.
Am I allowed to speak like this? They say only the Enlightened ones are supposed to speak of God and Themselves as One. And whatever light is within me, sure needs a spark-plug replacement sometimes :). Every mudra is a mantra to me and it pains me when someone doesn't do it right. But then again ... what is right? What is wrong? Only my perspective is the veil that separates the two.
Is he who teaches us dance the Guru? Or is it Dance itself that shows us the way? Is the Guru the Giver or the Given? Again ... hmmm. I think dance is way of bhakti. Of wanting to worship He who created You, through movements of your body. It is the most profound and the most powerful representation of joy because your entire body responds to the call of the Divine. Gaurang, Meera, Ramakrishna Paramahamsa ... all the Greats danced in ecstacy.
And I want to do the same. I want to dance for me. Because it is me.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The sun is out now.........
These are blue days for me. I've had a fallout with special someone and I don't think things are going to get back to normal in a hurry. On the bright side, my days at my company are numbered and boy! Am I glad to be getting out of it. You see ... I'm getting married this december :).
When I was young, probably in my 6th or 7th standard, the word marriage belonged my 'Never-ever-ever-ever-ever-mention-that-word-in-front-of-me' book. And if an aunt or an uncle happened to say that I'd be getting married some day, I'd scoff at them and retort "I'm never going to marry." Oh and this would be followed by a good deal of general foot stomping and raging and raving. Chuckles. And now ... !
Coming back to my favourite event of the year, December is going to be one heck of a special month for me :) ... haven't started shopping yet though. But the blue prints have come out and the wheels are beginning to move. The invitee lists are out(whoever comments on this post would also recieve an invitation :D) , the menu has been decided ... the hall's been booked... but lots left to do!
No ... there's no need to be blue. 'Coz the sun's out and everything seems bright and beautiful:).
When I was young, probably in my 6th or 7th standard, the word marriage belonged my 'Never-ever-ever-ever-ever-mention-that-word-in-front-of-me' book. And if an aunt or an uncle happened to say that I'd be getting married some day, I'd scoff at them and retort "I'm never going to marry." Oh and this would be followed by a good deal of general foot stomping and raging and raving. Chuckles. And now ... !
Coming back to my favourite event of the year, December is going to be one heck of a special month for me :) ... haven't started shopping yet though. But the blue prints have come out and the wheels are beginning to move. The invitee lists are out(whoever comments on this post would also recieve an invitation :D) , the menu has been decided ... the hall's been booked... but lots left to do!
No ... there's no need to be blue. 'Coz the sun's out and everything seems bright and beautiful:).
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