Ram and Lord Ram

One of my friends was seeing a guy named Ram and hadn’t told her parents about it yet.  When her birthday arrived, among the other gifts we had purchased for her, there was also a medium-sized painting of Lord Ram that we got to amuse her.  When we went to her place to surprise her, we had to show our merchandise to her excited parents first.

On seeing the picture of Lord Ram, the mom gushed, “Wow, you knew she loved Ram, eh?”

We looked at each other, innocent smiles plastered on our faces.  Oh we got to know very recently, aunty, very recently.  

A night to remember

There was a point in my life when I was addicted to watching movies.  I had just finished with my exams, and my brother had 2 TB of movies in his system so there was no stopping me.  After office, the routine was simple: change clothes, don’t bother with washing up, run up to my brother’s room, switch off the lights and watch movies. 

One such evening, I started watching 'Life as we know it' at 6.  The movie left me feeling good and I thought I would watch another one, '17 again'.  This was hilarious.  My brother came in and stood beside my, arms akimbo.  “I’m gonna sleep.”

“Permission granted,” I snickered and started with another movie.  'Another Cinderella story'  

Because he was tired, I escaped unhurt – soon he was snoring on the bed beside me. 

Then another.  'A walk to remember.'  Good one.

'Just married.'  Pretty good.

'What happened in Vegas.'  Super funny. 

Just as the movie was winding up, my brother’s phone rang.  I knew he received calls all the time, but this late?  I wondered.  He woke up groggily and looked at his mobile. 

“Who’s calling you at this hour da?  Girlfriend?”  I asked, with my eyes still on the screen.

“That was the alarm.  Its 6’o clock in the morning.”

Fun in CA classrooms (yes you read that right)

One line all guys love to say: “We will never understand what’s going on in the head of a girl.”  True.  But I suppose girls should be allowed to say the same about guys too.  Here’s why.

Chartered accountancy classes can turn out to be painful sessions of sleep-inducing lectures/brain-wracking (or wrecking) theories to some who are not so into it.  And when you have to attend these classes from 6.15 in the morning, then attend articleship and then come again at 6.15 in the evening, on a daily basis, you could simply go for a big toss. 

That is why my gang in class decided we would entertain ourselves as much as we could, in and out.  One of our friends, Minu* is conservative to the point that she wouldn’t lift her head when a guy crossed her.  Being the rowdy gang that the rest of us were, we started to tease her with another guy from our class.  And you know how the ritual goes – every time he walked by, he received a good serving of chants from us – Minu! Minu!

 In our free time, while we grabbed a quick breakfast before the next class, or while we sat scratching out feet from the mosquitoes before the start of class, our topic of discussion would be Minu and Jai*.  We got his profile through the sources we had, we talked about how everything matched- same religion, same caste and perfectly-matching age and height.  When he caught onto what we were doing, he seemed to be interested in Minu too.  Minu of course rolled her eyes every time or swatted at us like we were swatting those mosquitoes. .

This went on till one fine day, I got caught into a bet where I had to walk up to Jai and give him Minu’s book.  And you know how it gets during times like this – you don’t even have time to think!

Imagine my shock and embarrassment when I received an accusing “What’s all this nonsense?” from him when I went and deposited the book!    

  Of course!  What else did I expect!  This is the price I paid for being a big-mouth.

Blundering bridesmaid

I was the bridesmaid for one of my best friends’ wedding.  The mass was to begin at four in the evening and the whole day we were at the bride’s room in a hotel, trying to help the make-up people with decking up my friend.  The weather was beautiful outside, there was a slight drizzle as we all got into the car that would take us to the bridegroom who was waiting at the church.  On getting there, the other bridesmaid Viola* and I carefully held the edges of the bride’s flowing gown and led her to the entrance of the church. 

Des*, the groom stood there with his folks, with a bouquet of flowers, grinning from ear to ear.  He waved an excited hi to us.  Trying to make small talk, I giggled, “Aren’t you supposed to be crying?”

His smile faltered a bit.  The elders raised their eyebrows.   And Viola did a 90-degree with her face at me.  “Juhi?”

“What!  No, I meant, his last day of freedom…he’s getting married…” I laughed nervously, realizing even as I spoke that I probably ought to keep my mouth zipped for the rest of the day.        

*names changed to protect privacy                                          

A big mouth and a bigger head

The boss was out of station and we helped ourselves to hearty servings of chitchat the whole day.  Starting from relating the movie of one of our clients, we went on to talk about Kollywood and why Bollywood was better than Kollywod and why Hollywood was better than both.  Miss. Know-it-all (me) spoke in staunch support of Hollywood. 

“You know what I love about Hollywood?  They don’t have to make heroes do heroics.  Have you watched ‘John Tucker must die’?  No?  ‘What happened in Vegas’?  No?  Oh, come now, at least …(blah)…(blah)… (blah)” 

While packing our bags for the day, a friend fished out some fancy-looking key chains bearing the face of a teenage celebrity from her bag and held them up.  “Anyone wants Hannah Montana key chains?” she asked.

“Sure!  I love Hannah Montana and her TV series!” I declared chirpily and went to take a look.  And then I exclaimed, “Hey this is Miley Cyrus!”

Everyone gawked at me.  “Hannah Montana is Miley Cyrus.”

(I don’t intend adding any more lines because I obviously have my shamefaced head in my palms.)

Free biryani, anyone?

I taka care of the English choir in my church and we usually meet on Saturday evenings for practice.  To these inconsequential and no-guy sessions, I usually wear the first tee and jeans that I lay my eyes on when I open my wardrobe.  Usually they turn out to be the most crumpled or the most faded and I wouldn’t care much, either. 

On one such day, in addition to the crumpled tee-faded jeans combo, I also had my hair loose and unbrushed since I had just taken a hair wash. 

After practice, a choir member who was also a good friend, Gina (name changed to protect privacy), took my hand and said, "How about a plate of hot mutton biryani now?" she asked. 

My stomach growled in anticipation even as my mouth was beginning to form a modest "No thanks" for an answer.

"Come with me," she said and I climbed onto her Honda Activa. 

"But where are you taking me?"

"Oh, to a place very close by.  I just want you to give me company for this wedding reception I gotta attend."

My eyeballs popped out.  "What!!  Gin, stop the bike right now!"

She laughed merrily.  "Mutton biryani, Juhi!!"

"To hell with Mutton Biryani!!" I roared.  "I'll get you one from this hotel here!  Stop the bike!"

Oh like hell she listened to me.  If she did stop the bike, I wouldn't be writing this piece, would I?

So she rode on, with me wailing all the way.  I didn't look decent enough to go to someone's house, and here I was attending a wedding reception! 

So we reached.  And in we went, with me cowering behind the traitor-friend all the while.  Gina met her parents who were already there.   They were talking to a lady animatedly. 

"Hi aunty!  How are you," Gina called. 

"I'm good, dear!  How are you?" the lady said and turned to look at me.  I flashed a confident smile at her. 

"You are from our church, aren't you?" she enquired sweetly.

"Yes, yes," I nodded.  Good, I thought, I am not an impostor.  "My name is Juhi."

"Oh.  Well, well, you have biryani waiting upstairs, why don't you go eat?"

"Sure," we said and moved on. 

Gina looked at me with a wink.  "That," she said, "was the groom's mom".

So that's how it ended.  Oh, nothing major, you know.  Just that, the groom's mother knew me.  And she also knew that she certainly hadn't invited me.    

Blues and Jupiters and Irelands

"Hey Blue!  Been long; so how are you doing?"

Silence.

"Oh come now, you knew how busy I was with my exams, didn’t you?  I honestly couldn’t get back to you earlier."

No response.

"Sigh!  Alright, I promise I would write to you every day from now on.  Happy?"

I can almost feel Blue grinning!

Would you call me eccentric if I told you Blue was my diary? 

 The self listens to us better than anyone else in this world - I realized this four years ago when I had a huge fight with my mom on why my room looked like it had been hit by a tornado.  After I locked myself in (with a loud bang of the door), my eyes started leaking and I pulled out an empty notepad and pen.  I felt like hurling the bedside lamp against the wall; and I wrote that down.  I felt like smashing the family photo on the wall to smithereens ; and I wrote that down.  I felt I had every right to make my room even messier by dumping the contents of my wardrobe onto the floor; and I wrote that down too. 

I wouldn’t exactly say I felt calmer in a magical second, but it seemed like the notepad smirked at me.  Well, I smirked right back.

Ever since, he has become my best friend and I called him 'Blue'.  Blue listened to everything I had to say- he had seen me at my dumbest, yuckiest, angriest and happiest.  When I told him I went out with friends and watched movies the whole day, he didn’t remind me that the exams were round the corner.  He simply made me realize that myself when I got around to the end of my letter to him. 

And when that year ended, I decided to rechristen him with a new name.  Thus, 'Jupiter' was born!  Jupiter was an elder brother of sorts who always kept admonishing me.  And then there was 'Sippy', a sister, a couple of years younger to me, who never stopped giggling.  'Nova' remained a good friend of mine.  And then there was 'Ireland', named so because I so badly wanted to emigrate to (still want to, in fact) Ireland.  Now year 2011 is coming to a close and its time for rechristening again! 

My diaries - they are almost like beings that I gave birth to...my creation and I feel bonded to them in some deep, carnal way.  They help me unwind.   They have been the best companions I have ever had.  And best of all, they make great treasures for posterity - I can almost imagine myself forty years later, laughing at the memories captured fresh in active voice. 

Four huge tomes they have consumed till date, and these are safely tucked under old unused t-shirts in my closet.  And I am praying this blog is not going to trigger a hunting expedition within my family.