Why I Miss Orkut.

CASE I

"woww....so sweeeet profile....oopss ur wondering that who is this?welll u dont know mee & aslo i,i just came & saw ur profile,mere maaan ne kaha ki tumeh ek msg karu baaaas meine kiya,isake alawa kuch nahi,i swear...i know this is bad manners for that i m heartlyy soorrryyy...anywasys telll mekaise ho?hows mummy papa & all?tumhe freee time to nahi milta hoga that i know,fir bhi agar time mile to ek msg jarur karna...reat all is fine here,chalo im have to go now,give my regards to mummmy papa,byeee shwetaaaaaaa.."

He is frendly (sic), reads fictions (sic), sections pertaining to movies and music consist of the ultimate, DDLJ. 'Very right-conservative' political views, prefers 'minimal fashion'. What he probably thought 'right' and 'minimal' mean on here is up for discussion. The sicness.

Ah man. Rest all is fine there, so reassuring. I'm off to give mummy papa the dude's regards.

CASE II

"HI !!!

TO YOU 

BY SAM"

To Sir, With Love. Need I say more?

CASE III

hi shweta, i m viral from vashi, i like u r profile and interested to know u further if u like my profile accept me and hope to see you sooner online or something... take care..

Ahha! What 'something' are we talking about, me love?

CASE IV

kehne ki ho dil main koi baath mujhse kaho koi pal ho din ho ya ho raath mujhse kaho koi mushkil koi pareshani aaye tumhe lage kuch teek halaath mujhse kaho koi ho tammanna ya ho koi aarzoo rehna kabhi na bekhraar MAIN HOOO NAAAAAAAAA ---- HIIII 2 EVERY LETS WISH SHAHRUKH A VERY HAPPY N PROPEROUS HAPPYY BIRTHDAY

Aise integrated community efforts aur kahaan?

CASE V

In response to a "Who the hell are you?" scrap, which was sent in response to a "make friendship with me gul" scrap, I get -

i m a boy studing in tenth staying in vashi anything else

C'mon now, you don't really need me to put in a concluding wall of text for this post... :D

Wake Up!

But only to smell the roses. Make that cinnamon for those of you with refined tastes.

That my father thought it was a waste of time didn’t matter. That he would’ve preferred a Govinda flick with double entendres that he thought only he could comprehend is a different, laughable matter altogether. That my mother is the coolest thing ever and liked it too says volumes about her awesomeness. That my sister missed catching a different “cute guy” on the screen every other minute was irrelevant. Yeah, she’s in that phase… no dope on me, nope.

Getting back to the point, I loved the movie! And that is why you will get a bit by bit review that hopefully, will NOT include the story, dialogues and picturisation. Yep, I’m bullshitting you.

Since it’s a review, it will obviously include MY opinions, my sentiments, my POV. So don’t go looking for generalizations and politically correct “IMO”s. You want a view, you shell out 150 + travel charges. Simple as that. And now that that’s clear... :P

Since beating around the bush to tell you it’s a review post took three whole paragraphs, I’ll do what I can to keep the actual review short. Sum it up for you in 7 words –

Light – No pakaoing you with stooopid jackassery or “Ma ki mamta” bhashans. For a change, no one gets married, shot at or conks off.

Fast – Props to the director and screenplay chappies. Also the scriptwriter. Normal, believable, everyday stuff yet stuff I aww-ed over just the same.

Real – Relatable. From the occasional brat to the kid out to prove out a point, it was all stuff I could relate to. Made me happy, made me watch, made me happy. 

Voltage – For me, personally *wink*, it was one of those charge-you-up-and-make-you-wanna-DO-something! films. I’m not talking “inspiring” like Gandhi-Lincoln type ka inspiring. Not the idealist activism sorta charge either, though I’m sure it could manage that… yeah I’m loyal man, back ‘em to the hilt. Like Taare Zameen Par was the creative + idealist DO something, Rang De Basanti was more idealistic... the creative DO something kicked in only on seeing the graffiti. Par atleast today, it was the sort of voltage that reminded me of all the chota mota projects I had in mind for my Dad’s perennially on-loan camera, my wall-and-door décor, pending articles, gifts et al. I am erupting with ideas! Most likely the sort I’ll forget by 8 am, but fuck it, someone has to hand me a pencil.

Happy – Yeah, good ol’ Bollywood. Much as it may differ from a typical Bollywood masala flick, fact remains happy endings have got to happen. They were made for the emosunal janta of India, dammit! So yeah, you’re 10 minutes into the movie and you already know he’ll reunite with his family, get together with his new pal, get the job of his dreams, ya da ya da ya da. Cool. Now stuff it and predict outfit colours scenewise and in silence. 

Ooh yeah, I’m mean in the middle of the night…

One last thing, the apartment! All light, fresh, happy looking and totally inhabitable - you could believe the characters were the ones who put it all together. Doesn't get better than that. What bets the crew and all worked on it too? 

Another last thing, don’t EVER let pesky li’l pests stop you from sitting through the title track / spesal song/ bloopers they show as the credits roll. People don’t seem to understand that’s part of the screening time they’ve paid up for… so you stay back. Enjoy it! Aur kuch nahi toh usher ko zyaada time AC ka fayda hoga…

So yeah, my take - Go Watch. I say you wont miss the popcorn. =)

Us, Them & The Rest

The simple, sadahran group. Not simpletons, mind you. Everyone's capable of being bitchy, that's only human, so we're not talking dudh ke dhule. Not airheads either. Not even simple when I speak of how they dress. They have their share of fashionistas walking in looking like Africa, Iceland and China on different days of the week. Something I find difficult to relate to, but okay. 

The manifestation of the suburban's definition of "a typical bunch of townies". Which again makes things difficult for me to comprehend. They just happen to live elsewhere. Most of them don't even hail from "town"! Someone hoping to get rid of this discussion would probably say they belong to a different "culture". That must be it. I dunno.

-

A class of 60. Rough segregation in the first 3 weeks. Come midterm, most can be found sticking to their "groups" like glue, tailing them to the canteen, the multiplex and the loo. More about the loo groups in another post :| New entrants trickle in, take the total to 65. The modus operandi remains the same, only smoother and quicker.

So what happens when you are, for all intents and purposes, through with the first sem? By which time every kid has handed in a multitude of projects, eaten in all the cafes and eateries around, collectively bitched about certain someones. Well, by then, everyone knows exactly who they're gonna sit with, eat with, work with, hang out with, and not to forget, bitch with. Fair enough, maybe, but it bothers me.

Now I'm not a proponent of the we-are-one-class-and-we-move-together philosophy. That's meant for loo groups. It's not even like I'm left without a bunch of people to be with and hence resent the grouping and fragmentation. But still...

When its chocolate day, some choose to hand out multiples within their groups, while others choose to include people they don't particularly like but because they've decided to be objective they dump packs of Munch on classmates they think are good looking. 

When its a birthday being celebrated, one group goes all out as they party, head down the wine and fine dine route. They're "crazy". The other group chooses to keep it simple (there's that word again!) but manage to have just as much fun, if not more. They haunt Chowpatty and its chatais for a good few hours; go ga ga over the 'mini giant wheel' and Columbus' boat; gobble up cheesy pizzas and neon blue butterscotch golas; share bottles of soap bubbles with kids whose first reaction to new people is to beg.

I ain't out to judge or comment. Not my place to. Can hardly be when I'm not a part of either group with blinkers on tight, other possibilities be damned! I like people from both groups well enough. Guess I'll continue to watch, find it amusing and document. Suits me fine.

Try A Mush Pack Today

• I've been writing poems late at night and hiding them from my family and friends because I was embarrassed. Today I showed some to my mom who was an english major and editor. I have never seen my mother cry because she was so proud of me. I am now going to college and majoring in English too. MLIG

• Today my 22 year old brother hugged me. He's autistic, that's the first time he's ever hugged me in all of my 14 years on earth. MLIG

• Tomorrow I leave for college. Tonight when I said goodnight and goodbye to my sisters, my eight year old sis handed me a letter that said: "Even though we have a lot of fights, I still love you." I will miss her (and all my family) so much. They make my life G.

• Today, I skipped going to my boyfriend's cottage with a bunch of people to go to my aunt's 50th birthday party. She cried because she was so happy I was there. It was so worth it. MLIG

• I am sitting in my very last class at an Ivy League University. Thanks to the miracle of financial aid, I will be the first member of my family to graduate from college. I did it! MyLifeIsG!!!!!!!!!

• Two years ago, I lost my entire left leg in a car accident. While I was in hospital I wrote a list of everything I thought an amputation would stop me doing. Today, I am over halfway through completing everything on that list. Tomorrow, I start surfing lessons. MLIG

• Today, I paid for a soldier's lunch, who just returned from Iraq. She said, "You didn't have to do that" and I said, "Neither did you." She started crying, and so did I. MLIG.

• Today is my 17th birthday. As I went to blow out the candles, I realized that I couldn't think of anything to wish for. I have everything I've ever wanted. I give my wish to you. MLIG

• Today was the day I was going to kill myself. My best friends knew about this and whilst I was heading to the bridge they all texted me; saying how much they loved me and if I jump, they jump. I did a u-turn and went to all their houses and watched tears stream down each of their faces in pure joy. They saved my life. I love them with all my heart. MLIG :]

I'm in a sappy mood, so excuse me if the mush was too much for you to bear. 

Chanced upon a site called www.mylifeisg.com  this afternoon. That's My Life Is Great. Read awhile. Conclusion? Even as FML was entertaining and makes for solid resounding laughs, it's MLIG that really made my day.

It's amazing how we can smile for another. Sad how we so often choose not to.

Not trying to be preachy, but hey, look up someone who's happy the next time you feel down! =)

Anything You Want, Girl.

How how HOW do people write up articles that are wanted, even adopted?

I'm expected to hand in a few articles - I definitely want to - I sat with a superior (er, only in jest, world... then again, maybe not) to 'brainstorm', threw up a few ideas and then... forgot. I forgot what I came up with. And what I recall isn't working out :| 

Am I expected to give in 250 words of SmartArseShweta? Funny Gal variant? That's beyond me. I can turn in one line a week, upper limit.

Any serious requests, I'll do my best, slog my butt off for them, I promise. Any specifics, I can phir bhi try. "Write about whatever"? NOOO!!

My Mother Is On Facebook.

Silence. The deafening variety.

She's on Facebook, she's on my list on friends, she's everywhere!

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my mother to bits and would live my life for her. I have this theory that living your life for someone/something must be infinitely tougher than giving it up for that particular whoever/whatever, but that's for another time, another post.

And she didn't track me down, sneak up on me, put on a "yo, imma hot dude, add me yu sexii chica!" disguise (that would never -wont ever- work, don't get funny ideas anyone...) and then do an India TV "parda faash!" gig at dinner one night. Au contraire, I'm the one who got her off VSNL and introduced her to Gmail and Facebook and my humble blog - I'm your modern-day saintly proponent of clicks and codes. I'm glad she's open minded and eager to learn the ropes on here, to see how these work best for her. I'm glad that it has given her an opportunity to reconnect with classmates, neighbours and friends from the years past. I'm glad she's being progressive about it and not giving me some "too old, too busy, and who cares anyway" concoction. 

I'm glad, glad, GLAD. Proud. I truly am. Come to think of it, I probably sound like a proud mum. Anyway, I think she's wayy cool.

But okay, picture this. Fictional situations all (so Ma, don't freak out.. nevertheless, CPR on hold guys!). Only for the sake of point making, ye get? So, for whatever reason, you upload on Facebook some pics of you and a bunch of friends downing criss-cross drinks or trying out some random grassy thing or in general playing the stupid/dangerous/perverted fool. Surprise surprise, your mom gains access to them! Oh and in case it hasn't crossed your mind yet, you're underage. HOW WILL YOU FEEL? I dunno know how you'll feel but boss, those pics will self destruct. Poof! And if that doesn't happen in time, haha, someone's gonna get hurt real bad tonight... 

Milder version of the same - you're flirting with whoever, and I'm talking serious flirting. The responses make you happy in the heart and mushy in the mind. And out of nowhere, Momma puts in an appearance. Potential poof situation. Not ideal, see? That's what I'm getting at. Virtual privacy ka popat.

Then again, this works both ways. Anytime she decides to crib about me, bitch or rant, I'll get those flashy red notifications. She decides to blog-rant, I can read. Random conversations with friends, I get updates, the inside scoop. 

We could go in for a cordial understanding that the other's profile is not to be looked at, updates to be ignored, but who am I kidding? We're sneaky pigs in that regard - do pardon the language, bas grasp the implication. And it'd get too boring, too soon. Guess we'll let things remain.

I'll just have to remember to flirt in private ;)

** This also holds good for college profs. Detected one on Facebook the other day. This might just turn into a series of "Who's On Facebook?" posts. :|

Paper For Seats?

WHAAAT is this thing females have about leaving the toilet seat down? :X 

A little tap works wonders. One word. Gravity. When you lift it up you're fighting gravity. Tap and the thing will whoosh-whack-bump its way down.  Easy peasy, innit?

I don't know where this is coming from. Perhaps I'm just turning into a reverse feminist, if that makes any sense. But boss, when something bothers you all day long, you bloody well hammer keyboards about it.  Life's a series of buttons being pushed anyway. 

And anyway, why does the toilet seat in particular get to decide a guy's standing on Le Scale de Chivalrie? Toilet paper would be a better option, no? Something like this -

Roll and guy dono laapata? Nevermind... that's why the women's mags advise against monogrammed ones anyway. Unless they're Gucci dahlings! Chanel? Pooh, you're better off without them.

Roll of toilet paper still to be seen? He isn't a petty thief. Then again, maybe it's just the CCTV thrill/scare you gave him earlier.

Roll seen in place? He cares.

Ripped but diagonally? Oh just them big, clumsy fingers...

Razor sharp, horizontal line? Keeper! 

Unused? Get the noose ready, he's putting your needs before everything else! Alternatively, he could be slid off the list clearing the bottom margin some. The trick is to decide on either funda and stick with it. 

See, that's all there is to it. 

Oh and that line about life being a series of buttons being pushed was profound. And original. You just don't know kitna... :P

Untitled. Suspense much?

It is sad when you can almost see your life following a book/movie ka storyline, eh? Matlab, scene by scene, thought by thought.. sad hai yaar. Yes, I've said that already. Get an idea of how sad that it? :| Ha yes, different lives-different stories, circumstances and all.. but still.  

On a nava note, I've realised that asking for a mixed tub of popcorn - a tub of mixed popcorn- is a bad idea.. they mix in everything except what you asked for. Tomcheese thing icky. Ask for caramel, sweet and straight. 

Ramble ramble. I need to delete this effing blog. And then go grab a pillow from Fame and hide my face in it. Those pillows were good..

Spot On.

Massive, Massive, Massive.

The mere mention of Chate’s Coaching Classes is invariably accompanied by some ugly allegations. Old news. Also stuff I don’t need to go into. But a recent experience proved beyond doubt the (ab)sense of ethics when it comes to the man running the show at Chate’s Vashi branch. 

I accept that there is little point in ranting and raging on a blog that is probably read by 5 people a week, if I’m lucky. But when I left the coaching centre, I was convinced that a blazing write-up for a news daily, in The Twin City Times if it came to that, would be next on my agenda. I rather liked the idea of involving the MNS youth wing, until it dawned on me that I’m a north Indian and Chate dear is definitely not. Back to the article - I told myself that being a BMM student would only help my case and screw up his. Also, a copy of the article would have to be slid under the door to the office. The write-up that formed itself in my mind as I walked away was, at the very least, the equivalent of a watermelon sized stink bomb escorted by two baseball bats for some physical impact. 

Par kya hota hai na, your face goes from a furious red to a peaceful tan, you age by a day, you realize you have lesser time left to waste now than you did yesterday and so you calm down… which is why this will go up as a blog outburst and remain one. I’m writing to feel good about having let it out. That does not mean another is obliged to read. Read forth if you don’t mind a long winded post about something that may not be of concern to you. If you do mind, I suggest you head to FML. 

So. I was there with an acquaintance of a few hours to complete a task. Do drop the “task-who?” queries. We were sent out to earn some money. Given - 3 hours, a combined capital investment amount of Rs.20, a cellphone as a team bonus and our oh-so-marketable baarvi paas skills. Down to our last hour, we felt like cavemen who had just figured out what to do with fire. After all, we had our modest but hard-earned pay stuffed deep inside the deepest pockets. During the course of the afternoon, we’d met some entrepreneurs some of who who genuinely wanted to help and did – them we were grateful to; some who found that Sundays didn’t translate to a day with spare work lying around – I’ll leave it to you to work that out; and then some blessed souls who as good as slammed the front door in our faces and then tried to spray some Baygon through the cracks in the wood just in case. Nevertheless, I was feeling, and do pardon the sad but fitting OSO reference, “like the KING of the WORLD!”

Chate’s, right. We walked in, briefed the boss there and were subsequently given some records to fill in, phone calls to make. All conversations started with this totally sadau “Hello, I’m calling from Chate classes” intro (NOT my dream job : | ) and went somewhat like this –
                   “Aapka beta aaj class kyu nahi aaya?”-“Bai.. ho ka? Nighaalla hota toh.. mee tabadtop yete! Tumhi thaamba!”-“Naahi, raahu dya.. ushir aalla asel. Mark nahi kiya hoga. Sorry.”

So we spend an hour learning new panic words in Marathi, systematically penning absentee records right down to the excuse. All while the lady employed to do this stuff quizzes us about our future job expectations and what we would do if a new co-worker happened to delete all our work and the boss “took the newbie’s side”. Would we resign because the boss had no confidence in us or would we stay on to prove a point? I’m serious. I left out the quotes and commas because they can be a pain more often than not, but those were her exact words. I know, I know, the things we do… Anyway, so an hour goes by, we work, then get up to see the boss so we may reap due monetary benefits. Here you’ll say we should have decided on a certain amount beforehand. Hah. Keep saying. Mr. Ghosh, showrunner extraordinaire, decided to disappear instead. Then over the stoopid Tata Indicom his voice made its crackly crinkly way to reach us. We get told there was no “commitment on his part as such” and we have no right to demand payment. We were begging for work, he felt sorry for us, so he gave us some shitty calls to make. No contract, remember? Yeah, right. Dickhead. 

And that led to a firing. Self to Showman. Derived tremendous satisfaction from it too. And it was this dignified firing that told him exactly what I thought of him. Ah, I was so proud of myself! Incidentally, so was the acquaintance of a few hours. He was also taken aback. Net result – he stopped hitting on me. Mera time 200% vasool. :D

I for one did not get the point of basically cheating two 17 year olds. For what, I can’t understand. Say there isn’t anything for us to do and we’ll go dude! Deceive why? I didn’t type out 900+ words to complain about having lost out on 50 odd rupees. Far from that. I probably ought to take the blame for having walked into an establishment like Chate’s and then expecting fair play. I don’t know. It’s just that the whole incident had me so mad!!

My point is this – Even in the absence of a lawyer, a contract drawn out on stamp paper and two witnesses, we need to get around to honouring agreements. Just plain ol’ staying true to our word types. Be it going out to play with a kid sister, meeting a pal on time or something we actually consider ‘major’. 

This may even sound preachy. But after a thousand words and a mind mad at that man all over again, I don’t really care.