Tech pest

It seems to me that I should have been born in the 17th century. Apart from getting to live the simple life, I would not have had to face the wrath of technology, which has, for some inexplicable reason, decided that I am not worth using it.
Thanks to doting parents, I have everything I could ask for. Computer, laptop, ipod, kinetic, pen drive, mobile, you name it. Due to reasons I cannot understand, they all have decided to abandon me. One by one.

First my kinetic broke down. The fact that it almost never has enough petrol has still not trained it to run on air.

Then I lost my pen drive. In college, to make it worse. Strike two.

THEN, my laptop suddenly decides to die. Just like that. Without prior notice. The details are too painful.

My ipod decides it can’t live without the lappy, so it tries to die. It is revived, but without the videos and half the songs. Putting those in it again requires loads of patience, which I regrettably lack.

Mobile phones are not happy with me and switch on and off as they please.

I think we should have like, a users union, so we can make our appliances give us a month’s notice before going poof. Then, at least I could have saved the pictures. :(

A hundred shades.. which one’s mine?

I finally thought I should throw away the pieces of conversation I’ve saved and stored for so long. They’re meaningless, I thought. Then I took them out, and I opened one. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did. Conversations scribbled on backs of notebooks, pieces of paper, surreptitiously written when the teacher was saying something we weren’t interested in. The beginning of the friendship, the faint hint of there being more to it than that.. all recorded in black and white and hidden away in a file, apart from the recesses of my mind.

I was lying in bed trying to make sense out of a confused jumble of thoughts. And slowly I succeeded. Empathy, forgiveness, letting go, all of the phrases made sense. As I read these scraps a few minutes later, I felt no anger, instead, I was smiling as I remembered. And I marvelled at how a part of me had been revealed to myself, previously unknown, hidden, and maybe even non existent. Its buried now again, hidden and protected, not to be taken out for some time. Healing. But I now know that when it does, it can be as beautiful as the setting sun. And that’s saying something.

I couldn’t throw them away. Not because I had foolish hopes. Those I'd dispelled as I lay thinking about it. But how can you throw away something that makes you smile and sad at the same time, reminds you of what you held dearest, reassures you about your worth, teaches you about love? Everyone should have memories like this, that they cherish for as long as they can, even if it had a sad ending. Now I know how its better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

But, honestly, it wouldn’t hurt to have a happy ending.

“Maybe there are one hundred shades for explaining the truth, a spectrum of light to dark, depending on the vulnerability of those who have to hear it. Things are not always so clear-cut, they are not either black or white, life just isn’t like that.”

--'Hundred Shades of White', Preethi Nair

A wedding in the making

Planning for a wedding ain’t easy. So I’m assuming. Since the planning for the upcoming wedding in our family has just barely started, I can’t say.
The wedding planners, if u can call them that, had come home today. With loads of pictures on colour themes and menus and more confusing colour themes. Of all the weddings I’ve ever been to, I don’t think I’ve ever even noticed the colour themes. But there you have it.

And then the confusion about the bride’s identity. Of course, we know who’s getting married. But my sister’s conspicuous absence requires me to fill in for her. I’ve draped so many saris and lehengas and chosen so many suit pieces that I feel like the bride’s maid of honour. Which, by default, I am, I guess.
The confusion became apparent when one salesman started to say, “Don’t worry, everything is going to be just as you want it..” Before he could go any further, he was interrupted by an uproar, successfully created by me, my mother and my father.
“No no its not my wedding!”
“elder sister, not her…”
“not her”
“haha..”
I think the poor guy actually got scared.
Very funny it was.

Also, the fact that there are three other cousins who have either gotten married or are getting married within six months of each other, spices things up a bit. Four weddings in a half year is not a simple feat, even for our family.

Three love marriages
One arranged match.
People coming from all over India, and more.
Add some sugar, a little salt, pepper, and you have a first class recipe for a chaotic, fun, eventful, unforgettable year.

Ooh, and I get to wear a sari!!

Him that I love - let him be free, even from me.

Now, i forget who said this, but why would I want the person I love to be free from me? Him that I love, let him be just as bound to me as I am to him, thats what i say. Hmm.. I’m not exactly the advocate of selfless love.

A review

The really good things about exams is you realize how much you love your life when they’re not around. And so, as soon as mine got over, I got down to serious business..after all, lazying around is hard work. Saw Runaway bride for the hundredth time, and read Love Story for the thousandth.


The reason I find Love Story such an amazing book, I might even say comforting book, is because unlike other books, it does not question the existence of true love. The book begins and ends, and you never doubt the fact that love, when you find it, is true and everlasting. No frustration about relationships not working out, about right and wrong, misunderstandings, people cheating, and all else that is mundane. It makes you sad, yes, but in a good way. It may be cliched, but it is original for me. You get really involved with the characters and their story and there are a very few books that can do that.

Oliver’s Story, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. I didn’t like the sequel, because it is everything that love story is not. While Love Story is a pure, innocent love story, here it seems like Oliver’s got an agenda in his life. Which is why it lacks the charm that the first book has.

Even so, I don’t think I’ll be taking it on my journey tomorrow. Most idiotic to start crying over a book on a plane.