Friday, April 27, 2012

Mile High Drama

Just yesterday, I flew in to Kolkata from Bombay to attend a wedding in the family. I'll be staying here for the next ten days, and for all the people who've never been to Kolkata, let me tell you everything here, I repeat, everything, is an adventure (to put it mildly). And it starts right from the plane ride.

This was the first time in the sixteen years of my life, that I had flown without my father, who usually handles everything throughout our vacations, especially flights, tickets and all that, and all we have to do is stand in queues and get our bags checked. So, I was determined to be the responsible one this time. No more yelling at how uncooperative and irresponsible I was. But no. Everything absolutely had to go wrong in this flight.

The process was relatively smooth till we boarded the aircraft. However, the moment we stepped onto it, EVERYTHING WENT WRONG. The passengers took ages to put their bags in the overhand compartment and settle down. So obviously, we had to wait for a good fifteen minutes with heavy bags in our hands till we could actually sit. When we did sit, my sister insisted that I unload weird things from her bagpack like pencils, glitter pens, a sketchpad, and sunglasses. God know why I couldn't have done it after the flight took off. The man in front of me decided to recline his seat all the way back, till the thing almost touched my nose.

And the babies. There were four kids on the tiny, cramped flight, and all of them decided to cry at the same time. And I hate babies. The funny thing is, that the more they saw the other babies cry, the harder they cried themselves. It was a disaster. And the flight hadn't even taken off.
The only bright side was that there was a seriously hot steward in the aircraft. If only he would at least look at me... *sigh*

This lady who sat diagonally across my aisle seat, was the mother of the most annoying baby. She was travelling alone with her daughter, and by the looks of it, did not know what to do with the wailing kid at all. Apparently her idea of good parenting was changing her kid's clothes every hour (in full view of the other passengers). She then decided to feed her kid some rice and dal, from an old school tiffin box, and of course, spilled that shit all over the place.

I decided by then that it was too much for me to take, and promptly went off to sleep. I was woken by some yelling from the other passengers, one of whom was demanding: "IT IS MY RIGHT TO HAVE SERVICE! STOP TAKING SO LONG TO GIVE ME FOOD! MY WIFE IS HUNGRY AND I JUST WANT TO EAT!!" Hot Steward was being yelled at, poor guy.

Then the Weird Plane Lady (the clueless one, with the kid), inspired, also started yelling at Hot Steward, screaming "WE PAID SO MUCH MONY TO COME ON THIS FLIGHT, AND YOU CAN'T GIVE US A DECENT BOTTLE OF WATER?! I SHOULD HAVE FLOWN MY KINGFISHER ONLY. JET IS NOTHING COMPARED TO KINGFISHER." And of course, the kids were still crying.

At that point, I started having this weirdass fantasy where I stood up and got out into the aisle and in a very clear, loud voice said:

"Can I have your attention please? Thank you. You, sir, (pointing at the old passenger who was screaming at Hot Steward) need to stop yelling. If you are hungry, then you and your wife should just suck it up. Breaking news, we're all hungry, but we were smart enough to eat something before boarding the flight. And you, Weird Plane Lady, why don't you just shut your baby the fuck up, for heaven's sake? And clean up the mess that you made on the floor, huh? Who throws around styrofoam cups on a plane? And did you really expect better service than what you're getting? You paid 3000 bucks for the ticket. They're not going to give you A-List celebrity status. And that, baby of yours, SHUT IT THE FUCK UP. In fact, all of you baby people, if you don't manage to shut those whiny, annoying creatures in the next thirty seconds, I will physically hurl all four of them out of the window. What kind of dipshit parents don't know how to quiet down their own child? I can do MUCH better, believe me, I've done it with my sister, and I don't even like kids! And to all the other noisy people, this is a three hour flight, that's landing half an hour early, so just go off to sleep or something, but don't complain like whiny 3 year olds!"

After which, I walked away in a huff, to get myself a glass of water, and Hot Steward, so impressed by how great a speaker I am, came initiate me as the newest member of the mile high club. (Sorry, raging hormones and all that.)

That's not what happened though. What did happen, was the kids continued to cry, the passengers continued yelling at Hot Steward, and not even really loud dubstep would drown out their complaints. By the time Hot Steward did come to my place, half an hour had passed. But I wasn't complaining. On the inside, I was screaming: Finally, he'll look at you! And he'll ask you what you want to eat!! My mom had different plans though, and before I could do, or say anything she ordered us three chicken sandwiches, paid him some money and shooed him away. Of course, I was heartbroken. Hot Steward still hadn't looked at me. But, suddenly, he did a double take and started to speak to me. You can only imagine what I felt like when he said, "Ma'am, I think you have something on your face." I pawed at my cheek, only to discover that apparently while I was asleep, my sister had drawn all over my face. Houses, horses, men, women, even Harry Potter. I wanted to jump out of the plane, and die.

At that point, I decided to give up, and to save myself for another day, another Hot Steward.

After we touched ground, we had to of course collect our suitcases, which took another forty minutes, and can probably occupy another blog post. Oh well.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

The List 2.0

A while back, I posted my shitty, Twilighty version of The List, and I thought, let's be a little bit more narcissistic and inflict the opinions of a now 16 year old me. Oh joy.


  1. NOT GAY. I know, it sounds quite, obvious, but if you're one of those dudes who want an arm candy until they come out of the closet and admit to having a long time crush on your best friend, forget it. Man up, and tell your really orthodox parents. Maybe they won't disown you.
  2. NOT A PURITAN. Whatever you do, please don't say: 'I'm saving myself for marriage.' That's a straight no from me.
  3. SEXY. Face. Hair. Teeth. Legs. ASS. ABS. Eyes. You can't really blame me... all women are into sexy guys.
  4. SMART. If you're strictly a short term fling, I couldn't give a single shit about what your IQ. But I have a just about a one month threshold for ignorance, so read up. (Thumbs up to hot nerds!)
  5. MILEY AND JUSTIN HATER. This isn't asking for much. It's not like a demanding you to listen to the exact same songs that I do, but if catch you humming Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, Rebecca Black or manybe even ONe Direction, I will demand that you kill yourself. Ok too dramatic - I'll just dump you.
  6. FUNNY. Everybody like funny people, right? So please don't be like my dad and crack only two jokes a year (and they're both differential equation jokes!). Feel free to belt out the really sad jokes, I LOVE those ones.
  7. HYGIENIC. I know boys, you don't like to shower, shave or change your underwear ever. I symapthize. Being a lazy person I can understand how horrible it is to trudge into the bathroom day in and day out when you could just lie around and watch TV. But I still do it. Besides, I can't stand bad breath. Hell, nobody can.
  8. SMELLS GOOD. This is an extension of the previous point, but it is SO important, that it deserves a point of it's own. You know how in the Axe ads the women run around the guy who has the deo on? I have a similar but much milder reaction. So if you smell good, I might spontaneously jump you. I know, I'M SO WEIRD.
  9. NO WEIRD ADDICTIONS. No gambling, smoking, alcoholism, drug addiction or any such shit.
  10. SELF RESPECT. I have enough insecurities for 20 people. I probably can't deal with any more.
  11. NOT SAPPY. This should have come in earlier, probably. If you're melodramatic, and sappy about love, pain, or in any remote way emo about it, you honestly don't stand a chance. We have to deal with too much drama already.
  12. GOOD SWIMMER. Swimming = Sexy. Moreover, I love swimming and splashing around in the water, so what fun is it if your'e sunbathing on the deck?
  13. GOOD DANCER. Dancing is also = Sexy. If you can dance well, I may marry you. OK, lie. I most definitely won't marry you just because you can dance.
  14. GOOD COOK. If you can cook well, this time, no joke, I WILL probably marry you. Besides, it's not like you have a choice, I'm not the kind that goes amd makes sandwiches just because her boyfriend is hungry.
  15. ATTRACTIVE VOICE. A good, manly and deep voice is a BIG turn on for most women, including myself. By the way, Liam Neeson, if you are reading this, I love you.
  16. TALL. Pretty self explanatory.
  17. WELL SPOKEN. I'm very pedantic especially when it comes to English grammar, so if you can't pronounce or spell things well, or don't know what pedantic means... Bye bye.
  18. NOT DOMINATING. I'm a girl who likes my freedom, and the last thing I need or want is more authority in my life... So don't tell me what to do. Really.
  19. FUN, FLIRTY, CHARMING. I know this goes against my previous statement where I said that I think shy, nervous nerds are cute, but really I also like the bold, flirty people who know just what to say. Yeah, the smart-mouths.
  20. RICH. I deliberately put this is the end because I couldn't care less, but being rich is an upside. Free shopping!
  21. GOOD WITH KIDS. When I say good with kids, i mostly mean patient, because dealing with me is most of the time like dealing with a sulky kid. Or so I've been told.
  22. NO JEWELLERY. I think jewellery on a man looks really gay. Those leather and bead things around the neck, rings on pinkie fingers, earrings, weird piercings, all of it. I hate them. Although what I am fine with dog tags, eyebrow piercings (maybe), because they look really hot on some people. And wedding rings. I think they're really sexy. (Although what are the odds that I'll have you wear one... ever?)
I know. I'm picky. Unfortunate, no? No wonder I'm single and rapidly putting on weight... It's all that ice cream. So tell me what you thought of the list, and hopefully post yours in the comment section. And I promise, no more weird lists. I think.

Also, what do you think of my new layout? Just emphasizing the fact that I'm a bookworm. Again.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

The List

In 2009, I decided to make The List, with the help of a close friend of mine. This list contains all the character traits my boyfriend should or should not have. Mind you this was written when I was thirteen, and a complete romantic at heart. I didn’t believe in one night stands, and read Twilight over fifteen times. Enough said. Feel free to laugh your ass off about how na├»ve I was.

  1. He should NEVER EVER cheat on me. I’d rather he dump me for another girl than ‘do stuff’ behind my back. So, fidelity is the BIGGEST ELEMENT. No fidelity, no boyfriend. Period.
  2. He should care for me a lot
  3. I should be able to see through him, and see his soul. He should be good on the inside and the outside.
  4. WE MUST have an honest relationship. I believe that trust is the basis of a relationship, whether it’s romantic, familial, or even between friends.
  5. WE MUST have an honest relationship. I believe that trust is the basis of a relationship, whether it’s romantic, familial, or even between friends.
  6. He should be smart, and funny.
  7. He should be nice – as in polite to my friends and family, supportive and encouraging. He must always have love to give me (like an unending supply of love). He should make me happy.
  8. He must be strong, mentally and preferably also physically. If he senses that there is something I am, or for that matter anyone else is doing wrong, he must have the courage and strength to come right up, and stop me/ them.
  9. He must know his limits. This can be interpreted in several ways, so will not elaborate.

    Here’s the shallow stuff:

  10. He should be cute.
  11. He should have a great body.  He should have one of those complete lifeguard kind of physiques. I could kill for that.
  12. He MUST smell good.
  13. Preferably not blonde, Because I have a thing against blondes.
  14. This could TOTALLY be scratched out, in fact its’ probably not even a valid issue, but having a rich guy as a significant other can’t hurt.
  15. Totally scratchable again, but he should  British. That ACCENT!! *Swoon* [A/N: Yes. I wrote swoon. FML]
  16. OMG I totally forgot. HE should have an attractive sounding name. And nothing like Ganesh, or Jasvindar or Mohommad or any thing like that. But I guess that Get’s covered because he’s BRITISH.
  17. He should be good in (EMBARASSING!!!) bed. Fun and sexy and intense boyfriends don’t kill do they?! 


Needless to say, my expectations for a boyfriend right now, is almost COMPLETELY different. Hopefully I’ll be able to complete the current version of The List and post it within a few days. I’m going to 12th grade soon (TOMORROW!!), so I’ll probably be busy with my school, and my SAT classes, and my Maths classes, and my Chemistry classes, and my Physics classes, and my IIT classes. I know… Sucks to be me. Once again, FML.

Sorry about the bitching. (LIE. I’m not sorry at all). I’d like to thank Vini… Congratulations! You’re probably the ONLY person who read my recent updates. Other people, (if any) IF you’ve made it all the way down here, COMMENT. I don’t mind hate mails either. Yes, I’m that desperate. Ok enough ranting, now quickly spread the word of how awesome my blog is.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012


Every day, right from the minute that I wake up in the morning, to the minute that I fall off to sleep, I have to make decisions. Most are minor ones, like wondering which toothpaste I should use today, or whether or not I should bunk the next math class, but also, I have to come across harder decisions, that may or may not end up affecting the career I choose, and the kind of life that I will lead. Decisions like when I should give me SATs, hell, even whether or not I should give my SAT. Which universities I should apply to. Ivy League, or IIT?

If I were to believe what people like Steve Jobs say, I can simply relax, sit back and trust that one day when I look back, I will be able to see all the dots connect. Of course, there’s always that nagging doubt, what if the dots don’t connect. Even if they do, what if they connect in a bad way?

My parents and teachers keep telling me that I’m very lucky, having so many options at hand. I can choose between various career options, when they had only three: Medicine, Engineering, or starvation. These days even being a hair stylist can be lucrative. I can choose between hundreds, no thousands of TV channels, even. They only had Doordarshan, that too only on Sunday nights. But when I think about it, I’m not sure if the ‘millions of options’ thing has worked out for me very well. In fact, I’m not even sure that I like it very much. Somehow, I keep thinking, that my parents will still make the decisions for me, even though I know that I want to be able to make my life altering decisions by myself. It’s terrifying, because I can see that my safety net, is slowly slipping away.

I still hope, that one morning, I’ll wake up, and it’ll all be clear to me. I’ll know which subject I want to study, I’ll know exactly when and how many times I want to give my SATs. Who knows, maybe I’ll even find out whether or not which clothes to wear to a party. But till then, I guess I’ll just have to remain terrified about the decisions that I’m making. The only thing that makes it easier for me, is knowing that even though I have to make these choices, I’m not the only one.

Hi, sorry if I really bored whoever is still reading. Next time, I promise that I will post a short story that will hopefully keep you more entertained. Thanks for reading!


Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Crazy Toothless Bastard


Our Chemistry teacher droned on and on about atomic hybridization.  Half the class was asleep. I was drifting in and out myself.

“You there! Last bench!” He suddenly screamed but I was vaguely aware of that. Then I felt sharp jabs in my ribs. All of a sudden I was a hundred percent awake, and I realized that the sharp jabs were made by my friend Saniya, sitting next to me. I looked up and saw my teacher staring angrily at me. Shit. He’d caught me sleeping in class again. I thought to myself.  Oh shit.

“What did I just say?” He demanded.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know, you crazy bastard.” I murmured under my breath.  Thankfully Crazy Bastard’s hearing wasn’t too good.

“What did you just say?” He yelled, walking towards me.

Panicking I looked at the black board. It was wiped clean. Clearing my throat, I wondered what I would tell him. And suddenly I saw someone wave at me from behind him. It was Vidhi. Then she held up her notebook which said COVALENT BOND in bold letters.

I coughed. “Covalent bond, sir. You were talking about covalent bonds.”

For some reason this seemed to put MY teacher into a worse mood. “WHICH WORLD DO YOU LIVE IN? WE DID COVALENT BONDS LAST SEMESTER!”

What the fuck?  I looked back at Vidhi who was currently laughing her ass off. Then she held up a fresh page which said “LOL”. Bitch.

“Get out of my class!” He screamed.

Don’t get your panties in a wad, you crazy bastard. I almost walked out of class, relieved to finally escape the tedium of sitting through Chemistry class.

“Wait!” I heard from behind me.  Now what? “I’m giving you a last chance. I catch you so much as blinking for a bit too long in my class; you really are going to be out of class. Take your seat.”

I stomped back reluctantly. Naturally, my friends continued laughing their asses off, while I was being publicly humiliated. Awesome.

I sat back down on my seat, next to Saniya who’d started to tear up now, she’d been laughing so hard. Honestly, I couldn’t find a single thing funny about the situation.

After Crazy Bastard had finally cooled off, he gave us a lecture about how a disciplined will ensure a happy, successful life. And some of us pretended that we gave a shit. The rest just went back to sleep.

During the next ten minutes of the class, I thought about Sherlock Holmes, the movies, the TV shows. Then I thought about Jude Law for another twenty minutes. I was snapped out of my reverie by an urgent whisper.
It was Sonika, sitting two rows ahead of me.

“Keep quiet I’m trying to concentrate.” She frowned at Arvind, who had a huge smirk on his face.
Fifteen seconds later: “Sonika!” Arvind whispered. “Guess what you get when you cross a sheep and a kangaroo?”

“Shut up.” She replied.

“A wooly jumper!” And then he laughed at his own joke.

And a little while later, again. “Guess what happens if you cross a–“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Sonika yelled. The entire class turned to her. Including Crazy Bastard.
He slowly walked up to her and calmly said, “If you do not wish to attend my class, then please, by all means, walk out.”

“But, sir I was not–“

“No Ms. Singh. Please do us all a favour, and walk out.”

“But sir–“


And then the bell rang. Crazy Bastard gave Sonika a long, hard, stare, turned around and started to walk out of the class. Then a miracle happened.

He tripped on the doorjamb and fell face-first. When he got up and tried to muster as much dignity as he could, he suddenly put his hand to his mouth. There was blood. He’d lost a front tooth.

Crazy Bastard was now Crazy Toothless Bastard.

I'm Back!

I haven't written in my blog for almost three years now, I suppose, and all of a sudden I've decided to come back! (Yes, bad news, I'm going to inflict my opinions on the world yet again...). I can promise you that my writing won't be as stupid as before, but then again, it just might get worse.

I know that not many people are probably reading this, but whoever is, I hope you enjoy my posts.

Quick update, I've moved from 9th std, gone to the 10th, then passed on to 11th from my posh, catering-exclusively-to-rich-kids private school, to a very ordinary government school. So let me warn you, I WILL bitch about that transition. A lot.

Happy Reading!

P.S: Hoping that your brain doesn't protest at the sight of my new blog posts.

Friday, October 9, 2009

My Latest Obsession

I've been spending an awful lot of time on Facebook. Not to chat, or to do anything else, but to use a facebook application. (FV - hint, hint, hint! Still don't get it? Read on)

Everyday, in class, it is very common that people have this kind of conversation:

A: Oh shit! Oh my God! I can't believe I forgot!

B (frantically): What?! What did you forget?

A: My strawberries!

B: Your what?

A: S-T-R-A-W-B-E...

B: I know strawberries. But what about it?

A: My three rows of strawberries, I planted them last night in my farm-

B: Lalalalal! I don't want to hear. Lalalala.

Oh yeah its this bad. (STILL didn't get it? Fine. I'll tell you.)

For all the clever always - facebooking people, you're right. Its Farmville. (Still have no idea? Check this out). It's so crazy, that my sister finds it very thrilling to choose the seeds I want to grow and harvest my crops. *cough - cough - So does my mom- cough - cough*. *cough - cough - I - think - cough - cough*

My dream farm!

 I know, you'll have to play the game to understand what I'm saying.But seriously, this is what I've been doing all day. I'm going to Delhi for a vacation. I know. I can't help but not play this extremely addictive game. Are you crazy? There is no way I won't be. I will find a way, by hook or crook!

So, I told my best friend in Delhi to get ready to face a major FarmVille addict, and to keep her computer on even at 3 am. Oh, yeah, its this addictive. Manav (the guy mentioned in the earlier post) plants a whole field of rice at 7am, goes home at lunch, harvests his strawberries, and when he finally goes HOME, he harvests his pumpkins and milks his cows. Then an hour later he harvests his rice, and just before going off to sleep, he sows his bell peppers. Oh, he's not the only one who does, that everyone in our class does it. Yeah, they do. No, really don't roll your eyes. I'm not exaggerating. Even a little.

Why? Whaddaya mean why? 

Fine. I'll tell you why. Check it out yourself. You'll be amazed at how true I am.