MellowDrama

as i sit here picking up greeting card ideas to be sent to the aam-junta with love from the administration i wonder what happened to the family routine of sending greeting cards on diwali, or on new year. when we were young it was a ritual that was very important as it gave us a vent for trying our cursives in the newest ways. papa would get us samples to choose from. we would debate about the last theme we had selected them on. some were chosen for the wordings that they carried, some for an appealing picture and some for a cause. there were friends to be remembered and relatives too. a boss here and an aquaintence there. they all needed to be sent the season's greetings and their new year to be heralded in that awesome manner that the card conveyed. we even kept a huge brown plastic bag to keep our favourite cards. some were birthday greetings, some were given by sentimental friends, some we made at home to wish ma-pa anniversary, some we traded with cousins. the bag would come i

saw this 8-9 month old kid at the hospital where we had been taking chunna for nebulizing her with anti-allergic stuff. the kids' hospital, probably the only one of its kind in Chd, is horribly expensive, but thats another story. this one is about the funny faces the baby was pulling. the poor kid must have been suffering from the regular cough and cold- the bane of the season and his parents had brought her for her medicine. the poor kid lurched at the hose that brought in the medicine frm the atomiser in an attempt to take a bite off it. she seemed quite hungry. may be her food had been rationed. when her mother took the pipe away from her, she began to first make small whimpering noises and then suddenly shifted a gear or two up and started howling. she contorted her face to depict her anguish and let out a long long wail again. chunna felt it her responsibility to teach the kid to suck in the medicated air and tell her time and again 'no cry baby no cry'.the benefit of

Statement: why do you argue so much? A: I don’t Honest Answer: Because all you say doesn’t make sense to me and I don’t give you all that credit to just take your word. Statement: You are always so stubborn. You just don’t listen A: No I am not. HA: I also wonder about it sometimes but it seems to be a manufacturing defect about which it seems I can’t do anything Statement: You don’t pay enough attention when you are being told something A: Because if I pay attention, then my brain will start suggesting counter points and then I will start to argue and then you will say that I don’t listen but just argue, so it is better that I don’t listen at all HA: That is an honest answer Statement: Things you say or do are beyond my comprehension A: that is because half of the time you haven’t listened to what I was saying and so you don’t have ample facts to ruminate upon and then comprehend. The rest of the time you are concerned about the right way ie your way to accomplish a task HA: Again

i am beginning to forget how to write. or to be precise how to blog. when i remember my sulekha blogs i woner what was it that i used to write about. where did i think of all the topics. i am reminded of a blog entry that i wrote after seeing an old old man licking an orange lolly in the delhi heat and thoroughly enjoying it. today when i have time and when i want to write about something topics elude me.i look at the blogs around me. some are flourishing, gathering comments, becoming discussion leaders, trend setters of sorts. i dont want ot be all that but i want to infuse some life into my blog. is this an indication of the fact that i dont think. i no longer think? no i would nt say that. i think that i think but i think very deep down inside. so much so that now even i dnt hear myself thinking. my voice is drowned in the drone of my complaints. complaints about not having this and that. not getting this and that. not having enough time. not having the life that i wanted.

someone had posted a status message on facebook which read 'in the novel called marriage the hero dies in the first chapter' or something like this. this bugged me no end. why are men so convinced that they are the martyrs in the holy matrimony. they do not have to do dihes, cook, wash clothes, take responsibility for putting things in order and their designated places, do the beds, clean and dust the house, have a word with the maids an other help and raise the kids. All they ever do is tell you the doer how to do the stuff. even if they do something around the house, it is not for the family but a favour to you. they spend most of their time out of doors and yet when they walk in you are supposed to drop everything that you are doing and rush to their side an dfan them. ask them how their day was, dnt bother with yours- you must have been busy with the routine. cuddle the baby for exactly 5 minutes after which the poor thing will get irritated with all the coochie-cooing and

Watched Wanted on DVD this weekend. Produced by Boney Kapoor, directed by PrabhuDeva and starring Salman Khan and just that. anyone else on the screen did not matter. they were just there to get beaten to pulp, get their head banged on railing/poles/walls/tables/anything in sight. it is an out and out an action flick. The movie is a remake of a Telugu film Pokir, which was also made in Tamil and was directed by Prabhu Deva. The movie is a treat for salman khan fans for the obvious reasons that this gets him doing what he is best at i.e. action and dance but this review is about the fact that wanted is such a treat for those who can tolerate some blood and nasty action (goons being thrown off the train)because of the screenplay, quick dialogues and the exact amount of attitude that Salman Khan as Radhe- an undercover cop- needs to show off. he also plays deadpan lover delivering clever lines penned by Shiraz Ahmed. it has the feel of those 90's movies that made you want to stand up

spent a night at a resort in Nahan. the journey was so awesome, the spiral hill ride with a dense forest on both sides of the road. as we had started from chandigarh quite late in the day, when we entered HP from Kala Amb in Haryana's Ambala district, fog had started to descend. mist enveloped everything lending an aura of mystery. by the time we reached our hotel a slight chill had crept in the air. we changed and then got to the business of filling up our empty tummies. as navratras had set in and i had monika (a big relegious fanatic) for company i could not even dare suggest experimentation so we ordered the tomato soup- the only variant available on the menu. it turned out to be a good choice because the somewhat-sweet-and-somewhat-spicy thick broth tasted heavenly. made of the local produce it had a certain authenticity that is not very common on restaurant menus. i went for another bowl of the soup and skipped the dinner which in any case was not worthy fare. the night sky w