Some Thoughts

I must confess, rains are my darlings! There is nothing like a good natural rain-soak, to drive the blues away. Countless Hindi movie directors subscribe to my view. Haven't we all seen the protagonists getting drenched in the rain, in the most poignant moments of the story line, or the amorous couple getting sensual, just to make the most of this weather. For me, it's the sight of lush greenery during this season, that does the trick. Even the regular dusty parks begin to look bountiful in nature's beauty, thanks to a shower or two.There is nothing more therapeutic than quietly observing the tiny rain droplet delicately sliding along the leaf, only to make a plop sound in the puddle right below the plant or admiring the waxy texture of a glistening rain soaked rose. Cloudy and windy days, the fragrance of wet soil and the sound of a puddle being ripped apart by the tyres of a vehicle, cheer the kid in me. The joy of making paper boats and making them float in a makes...

You know you have become a big city boy when the roads no longer appear like meandering snakes and feel disappointed if a certain venue is not distant enough for a car ride. When you miss the hustle and bustle even in a charmingly calm environment of a hill station, when you feel drawn to the mystique of every coffee shop and have all the time in the world to savour it's ambience, concept and of course- the menu- on a shoestring budget though! When you judge and evaluate a market with the omnipresent brands, showrooms, roadside stalls, hawkers and the perennial parking problem. When discovering each and every monument within a city becomes a passion and the where-to-meet-this-time dilemma always has a new answer. When reminiscences about good times always include a popular landmark of the city and when every memorable or disastrous date finds itself unfolding within the comfort of an air conditioned mall, restaurant or for that matter-the very metro station. When the ease of reach...

Am X, mind you , not XYZ. And no, am not an anonymous person with ulterior motives. Am simply X, the twenty fourth alphabet . Few alphabets have enjoyed the relentless pursuit and notoriety associated with something mysterious and unfathomable as I have. My journey begun in the Maths class in general and Algebra in specific. That was one roller-coaster ride. Just about any unknown quantity or value was given to me,including the number of bananas in second standard to the area of the minuscule space, sandwiched between two gigantic triangles in senior school. I was turned and twisted to form temporary associations with frivolous numbers which would ditch me at the last moment to give me a random value, followed by a heartwarming sigh from the students, glad at being able to throw me out of their way to score that perfect ninety plus score. I felt like a patient being taken to the operation theatre and various surgeries ranging from addition to division and differentiation to integration...

January has gone and here comes my favorite, February. Not associated with the year beginning formalities, liberated from all the useless resolutions and giving everyone a chance to love, yet again, February is the new year for me. The ambivalent feeling of entering a new year replete with all the hype and hoopla is slightly unnerving for a gentle soul who likes to take things as slow and and sweet as they can get. Ding! The clock stuck 12 and there you go- bizarre hugs, haywire cheers and half baked wishes. Really how can you call January the beginning of a new year when it begins on such a tawdry note. Like a bureaucrat handling all the official festivities, January solemnly receives all the new year cards and wishes only to give way to February, my sweetheart. Ah! How I love this casual month. The receding chill, the feeling of finally settling into a new year(yet again!) and serenading nature's bounty, February is a sensible friend who never goes overboard. Subtle and unde...

Some facts first. 1. I am not a die-hard Karan Johar fan. 2. I like people with threaded and tweaked eyebrows. 3. Phoebe Buffay is the woman of my dreams. So, what do you do on a Sunday evening, when you have had enough of movies,dining out sessions and the very sight of a mobile phone, reminds you of a girlfriend who is constantly haranguing you about the anniversary details of her beloved aunt? My pick-the TV remote.And when all you get to see is a couple of scheming and plotting women, with layers of pancake make-up,in bungalows fit enough to be a football stadium, lets face it- a glossy set, with a metropolitan look and comfortable couch with mugs of steaming coffee, having bimbettes as guests does make you want to thank God for making Karan Johar, the voluble, effervescent and not the least effusive , quintessential metrosexual with coiffured hair. Now, I do judge a book by it's cover but not to offend the age-old perceptions, I did watch an episode and this is what I did-lau...