Achcham Undu- Achcham Undu!!

Its rarely that I take the initiative to book movie tickets. I do it out of extreme emotion, and ya may be when I'm pmsing. This was one such circumstance too. I was compelled to want to watch a tamil movie. The one running at the hip' multiplex was the title of this post.

Well, I don't usually take the trouble of reading reviews before I watch a movie. I do not like to bias my mind. But really, it's no such fancy thought.

The movie I'd say was good. Very good.

Its cosy and tart, with the perfect humour,that does not make it embarrassing while watching with a male counter part. None of that indecent, sex oriented comedy, that has brought me to loathe tamil cinema, dominated by the prototyped, cliched slapstick humour. This one was good, with a fair dose of romance between the hero and heroine, a married couple settled in New Jersey, with one daughter, a son on the way, a beautiful home and a snazzy convertible.

When they decide to paint their basement, they unknowingly, hire the services of a paedophile painter, who abducts and kills children. Their adorable daughter is his next target. And the movie is centred around his attempt to get her, and their escape. What I also loved about this movie is that they decide to heed their sixth sense, which continuously, sends out warning signals.

Although the story is not gory or bloody or violent, I let out a squeal of fright, some where midway where the scene does get you on the seat's edge.

It culminates, on a good note with the happily ever after end, and some irksome facts about child sex abuse around the world. I appreciate the movie in all earnest, and recommend that every parent and child watch this movie, to come to terms with the real world.

What I did miss, was my dear 'H', who is out of town, and butter popcorn and coke, which I skipped, thanks to the little guilt worm, which has now caught up with me.

Cheers!!!

The Guilt Worm's Appearance

One morning as I lazily strolled into my office complex trying my best to fake repentance for being late yet again, and trying even harder to appear as if in a hurry, I glanced drooling at the attractive display board of a french cafe that seemed to have opened recently. "La Boulangerie" I read aloud, in a fake and probably very incorrect french accent. And so that cafe became a delightful item on my to-do list.

I went there yesterday. A friend and I in fact. And I've been trying to lose weight. Thinking of that, I get the feeling I've been doing that since I was in my mother's womb. No. May be I'm wrong. May be I died fat in my previous birth. I'm still working on it. Mind you.

Ok. Detour. Apologies.

The stuff on display was so inviting. I did not care to think I was never going to achieve the feat of being able to see my

toes, without bending over. So we ordered. Not garishly. Just sensibly. One at a time till we reached satiety. And went right past that. I think I've got a rule in friendship. I only make friends with those who love food. We almost always catch up over food. And we never order diet cokes or salads.

When we finished I felt a little guilt worm tugging at my heart. And so did she (my friend I mean). But it did not matter. There was reason to celebrate ( and when there's no reason, we're eating cos we're depressed. It's a conspiracy if you did not note.)

The worm now has my whole heart in its claws. But i give myself time. Four days. I'm finally settling down. I 'm going to do something about the excess kilograms. And I certainly don't want this to be my dying wish.

The lethargic,loose-ended rabbit!

I've been pampering myself with luxury lately. Lots of time to just settle into the new life I have become acquainted with. At the end of most days, if I try to take stock of what exactly I have accomplished, it would take not considerate effort in arriving at result zilch. Well, hugs to me. I love me.

So prolonged leave from work - physical and professional. The only thing I exert my mind over is the ocassional su-doku in the Hindu. I read, constant mental exercises keep Alzhimer's/Parkinson's at bay. I think thats the only illness I'm saving myself from considering my lethargic lifestyle. I've taken the liberty of being foolish and procrastinating about everything I have to do. Money, exams, work, weight. Damn! the last word of that sentence really hurts now. And the harder it hurts, the lesser I do anything about. Thats my definition of tolerance I think. So even though I know nobody really reads this stuff anymore (boo-hoo!! sob!sob!)I still think its worth spending my early morning on.

I'm hoping this phase is drawing to a close. I think my loose ends are being tied up. Nah! I'm not dying yet. Things are not thaaaat final. I'll still be around. I feel like a rabbit now. And on that note, Amen!!!

Cheers to a brighter tomorrow!

Of Cooking and Cowardly Writing

I'm tempted to start this post by explaining my absence so long. Its a horde of reasons. I read this line somewhere:

...you know its a good blog when you have to pause a second before giving the address to someone you already know because there is stuff in there that you do not really want to share...

So there has been more than one ocassion where I've resisted the urge to just come here and pour my heart out, and fret about all those little mean, ugly and nasty things that happened to me or rave and rant about the little sweet somethings that my life has suddenly become filled with, post marriage.

So call me a coward, if thats what it is, but I just can't get myself to spill that fervent emotion here in this space, like I have done on many an ocassion before.

But all this wrangle apart, I have been doing some good stuff on the home front. And I've tried my culinary talent, much to H's delight. One of my own, original recipes, has been published by a dear blog friend here . Inspired by that, I decided to dish out another creative yummy delight, which made us (H and I) laugh till our stomachs ached, and almost made us go hungry last night. Here is what you should not try:

Never mix mango puree with whole wheat flour and have the mistaken impression that you could possibly dole out a mango paratha. Well that just does not happen. What really happens you will waste nearly 2 juicy, tasty mangoes and half a kilo of wheat flour. But if you really want a good laugh, do something more original.

Had your share of cooking disasters? Leave them here...

Living from the pages

Suddenly last evening I felt like I had grown wings.I had walked out of a book shop with some modest shopping in my hands.I had never loved myself as much before. My act was somehow empowering, enhancing, exciting and such similar superlatives that put me up on a pedestal so high, that even I could not reach me.The whole feeling was oddly romantic, and supremely pleasurable.

I cannot claim to be a voracious reader. But I do justice enough to call reading an interest, and have come so far as to have nutured a palate for such writing that is simple enough to implant in me a bit of the story itself.

I live in a collective of my own worlds, built from silly tales of speaking animals and impressive characters from my favourite stories. I live in the descriptive smells of cauldrons boiling with soup and the verbose narrations of the market place of suburban mumbai.I can hear the sounds when I read - be that Noddy's toy car or the brutal beating cracked down on a wife. My chest explodes with breath, as the words unravel before my eyes.

I see every scene as a page out of a writer's book. As if it was her creation and her painting. As if it took birth in text, in slanted cursive writing on yellowing parchment, that was tied into a bundle with some coir rope and abandoned into a corner to gather sweet smelling dust.And when I see it, murky at first and vivdly later,it all looks so unreal. So evasive.Yet enticing enough to beckon me to live in it. And so I do. Live each scene from my life like a chapter from a story that I did not pen. I feel philosophical in one sense. As if I have just conjured up my own theory of life. And then it runs away- my theory- skimpers away like a rabbit, closes itself like touch-me-not even before I reach it.

Dear Almost-dead-blog:

Dear Almost-dead-blog:

Hi!

My fingers have been itching to post something in here. Ever since I got married. Phew!!!finally!! It was not that difficult. Pretty matter of fact ain't it? Everyone gets married. And so did I.

My thoughts are still hazy. But my emotions are not. And I will let them flow. I won't keep them bottled any more.

Suddenly I feel disjoint,
I feel scattered up in pieces,
Some parts fresh, and some foiled,
I'm finally out of recess.

I don't want to pick up my past,
I will just let it be,
I knew those days would never last,
And sometime I will break free.

And now the time has come,
And you have given me your hand,
With you, I've made my run,
To embark upon your sands.

And you welcome me with warmth,
And that I did not own before,
Suddenly I am swarmed,
And you begin to heal my sores.

It is for this I have waited,
Waited for ever now,
For the winds I have waited,
To come and teach me love.

And though I feel disjoint,
I feel I am born,
And now I find the point,
That I have missed this long.

And you take me in your arms,
And we prepare to fly,
I want to break into a dance,
I love to be your wife.

Random me!

Hot Sunday afternoon, and I feel like a house wife for many reasons. I've washed my clothes and left them on the cloth line in the terrace to dry. I've dusted every piece of furniture at home, and swept and swabbed the house. I've also had my lunch and claimed my few hours to myself. Todays a sunday, I'm 24 and feel this way. I wonder what my sunday will be like when I'm 26-28 and I wonder what will happen with the passing of time. Already my eyes feel sleepy and I'm tempted to doze off when I realised I've been tagged by the wonderful Aarabi. Its been ages since I've done a tag! and so I will not let this pass.

10 random things about me. If anyone cares, read on:

1. I love spot lights. Especially when they're focussed on me. Dance, drama, performing arts- you get the drift. I love them all. And hence I feel jealous of performers at lovely auditoriums such as the Anna Arangam and Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan at Chennai and the Ravindra Kalakshetra and the Chowdiah Memorial Hall at Bangalore. 

2. I love sugary food. Just about anything sugary and vegetarian. I think I'm saying this for the umpteenth time on my blog- that I'm darned sure of dying of renal failure. I don't care!

3. I belong to the sun sign - Leo. I'm proud of that and am so grateful that I narrowly escaped Virgo. I dislike Virgo. I'm not sure I have a reason. But I don't like Virgo. In fact the only thing I wanted my life partner not to be is - Virgo!

4. I want to leave behind traces of my life, when I'm dead and gone. Since I'm Hindu, I probably won't have an epitaph. Instead I'll probably author some books.

5. I'd like to be known as a well read person. academic accomplishment is extremely important to me. I do not associate academic excellence and career growth.

6.I'm religious. I like being that way, and I wonder how many more janmas I'll take to be someone like Andaal or MeeraBai.

7. I think I live life by some principles. Mostly. But sometimes, I don't know what comes over me, I just let it temporarily vanish.

8. Till just a while ago, I'd say I wanted to live just until forty. I don't think I subscribe to that view now. Or do I? I'm confused.

9. I think I love the little pleasures of life. Like watching the traffic go by as I sit by myself at Barista, ordering the deadly - devil's bite, rain pelting down outside. Colourful umbrellas. I think I can spot beauty even in the most mundane, urban setting.

10. I can't let go of people. Even at the railway station, I cry like a baby.

Almost every blogger I know has done this one. So I'm not passing it on. Do it if you feel upto it!