Of Cheeni Kum, Crosswords and Cross Words

What’s the connection between Cheeni Kum, crosswords and crosswords? To explain I must first list out certain trends/observations

My 80plus neighbour suddenly grows his hair, pierces his ear and starts wearing a ponytail
My forty plus friend start writing that Life Begins at Forty
Another Forty plus friend wears short skirts and starts pubbing
My dad competes with me in sms typing speed even though he has to use a magnifying glass over his mobile phone when he types
My Dad calls me in the middle of the night to ask me how to send an emoticon on sms..

Though this sample data is small, it is large enough in my life for me to draw one major conclusion. “CHEENI KUM”

Quoting a great man I know Cheeni Kum as a movie is not only impressive because of its cast, music, dialogue etc., but because it gives hope to millions of Baby Boomers (BBs) that love can happen to you at any age. And what’s more, you can be old, but nothing stops you from being “cool” at the same time. A very interesting perspective.


But, whether love happens or not, I can see that BBs of current day are certainly a cool lot. While a majority of oldies sulk and go for long walks and resort to Gandhian austerity like our man Paresh Rawal, there is this swanky intellectual minority who embrace their age in style, sporting streaked hair styles and bermuda shorts. So what if the wife presdeceases/leaves him, this uber cool baby boomer makes the most of his second chance. The trend I see when I look up obituaries is that people anyway live up to a ripe old distinguished age. So what do you do when you get described as ripe, wise, distinguished etc.? Cash in on the ripeness and enjoy the company of girls who enjoy the wisdom and experience of older men.

One would think these BBs would be averse to technology. But I see that they are far more at ease with the gizmos of today if only to send forwards and sweet nothings to girls half their age. Why, my dad completes the daily crossword by sending bulk sms to all his girlfriends. His daughter being his most favourite girlfriend gets all jealous if his other girlfriends solve the clue faster and father and daughter exchange some cross words.

Today’s paper says that geriatrics are allowed to snack and theorizes on metabolism and the effect on their overall well being and blah. But I say that a Cheeni Kum allows them better things. It comes as a breath of fresh air if only to put hope in the heart and dance in the step of all our charming BBs. Can there be a better antidote for age?

Loosen up Noveau Riche(NR) !

It is wonderful to be rich. Noveau or not. Yet there is a marked difference in the attitude of parvenus towards their wealth and their possessions. You can easily tell they are NRs if you observe them closely.

Some dead giveaways –

You would find them splurging on a Rs one lac home theater system and on getting back home, trying to a reuse a disposable plate.
You can tell they are NR if the plastic wrapping on their car seats stays intact even when their car isnt’ new anymore.
In an ice-cream shop you would see them asking for extra disposable plates and spoons. A little extra doesn’t hurt you see?
When a big bunch of relatives land up for a long stay at his house the typical NR suffers anxiety pangs about imagined horrors.
Imagined horrors turn real when one of the relatives leaves the air conditioning on for hours together.
When someone places their dirty feet on the plush upholstery or their oily heads on the walls, bloody tears make their way into the corners of their eyes
And if the brat in the pack accidentally breaks the crystal vase, NRs suffer a mild heart attack.

Such is the plight of the NR whose coolness and poise is a façade. Beneath his chill demeanour is a bizarre insecurity about the future. He holds on to his newly acquired things as if a Cinderella curfew would suddenly turn them into pumpkins and mice one day.

In contrast, check out the attitude of the people I stayed with in Dubai.

Over a dozen guests staying with them at the same time with brats of all sizes making a mess of their place.
When we went shopping in their BMW or Merck, we gorged on Panipuri and popcorn with little worry about what we spilt on the expensively upholstered seats.
Guests were given free access to their wardrobes, accessories and perfumes.
Unlimited number of ISD calls were made from their phones
A hairstylist was arranged for every one of their guests to do their hair on the day the hostess celebrated her birthday.
Fresh bottles of evian replaced empty ones in the guest rooms every few hours.


Did they bat an eyelid for any of the above? Not at all? After all the mess we made out of their house, they urged us to stay on for a few more days and bade us farewell with gifts of gold. Frankinscence and myrhh was already offered in their palace:). What can I put this all down to?
Magnanimity?
Bigheartedness?
Love of the human race however dirty they made their carpets and mercks?
Absolute detachment over their possessions?
Magnificent Acting?

Most of the above. But above all, I realized that this level of tolerance and generosity could be attributed mainly to the security and comfort brought by “Old Money”.

Old money has given them the sheer confidence that the money is here to stay. That the money keeps growing even as they keep giving. And even if the money does leave them at some point, it would leave them richer by attitude, generosity and the joy of giving. Such is its power.

Yet there is hope for parvenus. We can never become “old money’ed” people. But we can certainly learn to share, give and love the act of giving. Learn detachment. Learn that by letting go, we are freeing ourselves. Learn that nothing is eternal, everything ephemeral.

Learn not to sweat the small stuff. Learn to loosen up !!

Elementary Tatvamasi

How do you teach a six year old where to find God? Don’t bother. She will teach you instead. From where does the rain fall to How many buckets of water are there in the ocean to Why do we grow old, the curious questions of my six year old have been especially trying on my grey cells. Yet, I’ve tried hard to provide answers that convince her almost always.

But last night, all ingenuity evaded me when she asked if she could marry Lord Krishna. I was stumped. “But Krishna is God baby”, I offered by way of a clever explanation to what’s impossible to explain. She didn’t give up. “As he is God, I guess I have to die and go to heaven to meet him”, she said.

I corrected her that she didn’t have to do that because God is everywhere and one doesn’t have to go to heaven to find him.

That seemed to make a little more sense to her. Nodding in agreement my six year old daughter declared simply “ Cool. Then I know what to do. I will look into my heart and find him.” ( elementary my dear Krithika!!!)

A weighty statement of ecstatic enlightenement “Aham Brahmasmi” stated with absolute conviction.

I marveled at the truth of the statement while reflecting that such innocence and knowledge is only possible in children. When we grow up, we tend to lose this realization and seek solace in religion and Godmen. We search for the truth in vain and remain tired hungry souls. We pray, we meditate, but doubt lurks in the murky depths of our soul. We need to be reminded of “Tatvamasi - The best place you can find God is within yourself”

My daughter’s simple truth has opened my eyes.

As for opening my heart to find God, that’s a different matter.

Moment of Truth

The deepest ocean
The darkest night
The largest heart
The longest tunnel
The hottest volcano
The swiftest wind
The fiercest storm
Cannot match the intensity
Of that blinding moment
Harbinger of light
On the dark night of the soul.
A moment,
Of truth,
Of joy,
Of peace,
Of abandon,
Of innocence,
Of harmony,
Of promise,
Of oneness,
Of sweet perfection.
I see you God.
Please stop time.

My Quit India Movement

I am a patriotic Indian and will do anything short of dying for my country. But this post is about my Quit India Movement-- My first step to quit India, to visit a foreign land, just for a vacation. Just to prove a point!

I am not your archetypal drooler who is enamoured by everything foreign. I am aware and appreciate the beauty of my country. But at some point it got to me, that in all my 31 years on Planet Earth, I hadn’t once traveled out of India to a foreign land. How does it matter, one might say! But, for someone who made her passport ten years ago and has waited patiently for a stamping till it came up for renewal-- it does matter a great deal!

I envied the lucky ones who were sent on all-expenses paid trips to exotic lands while I slogged to win sales contests only to fall slightly short of the target for Mauritius getting Mont Blancs instead (I have quite a collection of them, incidentally). Aim for the moon and you will reach the stars, they said. I did. Aimed for Mauritius and got Mont Blancs.

Why did I not attempt to take a foreign vacation? Maybe I wanted it come easy to me. Maybe I waited to see in what manner it would happen to me, if I didn’t make a conscious attempt to break the jinx.

I waited. And waited. Before I knew it my passport came up for renewal. That’s when then nightmares began. The same horrifying nightmare every night—A scene of me at the passport office patiently waiting my turn, when a condescending clerk would gently take me aside to advise, “Don’t bother with renewal, my child. India is such a beautiful country. Bharath Mata Ki Jai etc”. He seemed so real. So eerily prophetic.

Moved by my pain, my dad took my horoscope to a renowned astrologer. He hoped as I did, that the astrologer would give a placebo response that would put hope in my heart and a date in my mind. But alas! It was not to be.

The astrologer, after a long hard look at my horoscope-- took off his glasses in an exaggerated gesture. A sure, ominous sign that bad news would follow. “Don’t worry”, he said, “ Your daughter would have the world at her feet in as short a while as possible.” Translated, it meant, “So what if your daughter doesn’t go abroad, she will rock in India”.

At that instant, I realized that an emergency caesarean procedure was in order. There was nothing “normal” about my first foreign trip. I acted fast. I couldn’t let the prophecy of the darned astrologer come true.

I planned a Dubai trip with my family in a tearing hurry. My nightmares didn’t stop though. The face of the passport office clerk was getting clearer. I could even distinguish his features. He had an aquiline nose and long eyelashes. Disgusting combination. What’s more, the astrologer had somehow wormed his way into the scene, with an “I-told-u-so” expression pasted on his face.

I swore to prove them wrong and prayed fervently that I could. The tickets were booked. My visa came, albeit with some struggle. The D_day approached. I packed mindlessly. It didn’t matter what I wore. Quit India mattered.

I still had 6 hours to go for the flight. My nightmares became daymares. Anything could go wrong. Murphy tied for number one position alongwith astrologer and clerk on my hate list.

Finally, after what seemed like(and was) a lifetime wait, I stood at the emigration counter for the first ever stamping in my passport. When the stamping did happen, it was too rapid. A tad too fast, that my weak heart struggled to cope. I wanted to prolong the moment. All at once I could see a million white doves breaking free, wings flapping. Some angels in white frocks waving their wands saying tata to me ( blame it on Bharathiraja). Some trumpets blowed signaling my victory. I looked out breathlessly and caught the eye of my brother standing on the other side, beaming with joy. He waved out and made a thumbs-up sign. Later on, he assured me that he saw the angels and doves too. Sweet brother.

I went on to Dubai and had a fantastic time.

I am now “Foreign Returned”. Finally qualified to tell many an aspiring foreign traveler “Going abroad is no big deal. Bharath Mata Ki Jai!”

I have earned this privilege.
-----------------------------------------

P.S: My sincere thanks to the passport office clerk of my nightmares and the astrologer whose steadfast support made my Quit India Movement successful.

Ulysses and I

Kalavum Katru Mara means "Learn to steal and forget it". Not to be taken literally of course, the saying appeals to one’s passion to learn, discover and experience..

I have tried learning …
Carnatic
Hindustani
Violin
Bharatnatyam
Kuchipudi
Salsa
Veena
Drums
Tailoring
Sketching
I am a master of none of the above.
To be brutally honest, I have to admit that I have not achieved more than a minimal level of proficiency in any of these.

Then, why learn? Why Be a Jack of All Trades?

Why try something new all the time? I am mystified.


I have written a post earlier called “Perspirational Genius” which was an exalted perspective of my lack of mastery and my love of genius. I would love to discover a single streak of genius that will keep me focused on one of the above.

Will I then be at peace?

Maybe not!

Perhaps like Ulysses I am “always roaming with a hungry heart”, yearning to travel and discover what lies beyond. A few days of dullness or apathy is a pause. A dead-end. My voyage has no boundaries.
I need to hurry.
I need to run.
I need to move on.

E-Squares

Writing something about nothing is an art practiced by few. I have nick named the practitioners “Edhukeduthaalum Ezhuthaalars(E-squares). To the E-squares, a smell from the kitchen, a sneeze, a morning or simply just being, are causes to write.

I picture them breaking out into a sweat with palms itching every two hours if they don’t write about what’s on their mind. Blogging is the biggest miracle to happen to them as they can write and instantly get an audience too.

I am writing this because I am an E-Square too. But a Eppovaavadhu Ezhuthaalar!
This means I write only when I feel dizzily pregnant with ideas getting all restless and laden with guilt.

Obviously I am extremely jealous of the other kind of E-Squares. Because for every one word I write, they write ten thousand.

But watch out for me! I ain’t giving up. I intend teaming up with the other kind of E-Square so I feel the rush more often and perhaps one day create my magnum opus too!

An Innocent Primrose Morning

I open my eyes at dawn
A serene rosy dawn
A lovely silken dawn

Take a deep breath
Feel its beauty
How wonderful to be alive

Right next to me
A little primrose bud
Sways and stretches
Wriggles a little
Did I hear it coo?

I move closer to it
Keen to smell it
Feel its breath on me
Press my lips to its tiny forehead
Kissing it. Smiling.
Willing it to smile back

Open your eyes little primrose!
Light up my rosy morning!
Blossom ever so sweetly and lazily.
And love me as I love you!

With a gentle shudder
It opens a cute reluctant little eye.
Winks at me
Tentative, yet titillating
Oh come on, baby primrose!
Wake up my sunshine
And make my day.

One last lazy stretch
Then I behold its dancing eyes
And a guileless wondrous smile

My beautiful baby princess
My little primrose
Blossoms awake.
Joyous as ever
To greet
Another innocent morning!

Property Plus and Sevai Saturdays

It is Saturday. A day of the week I look forward to for multiple reasons. Start of the weekend is probably the last of the reasons, as to me, everyday is weekend and life itself a never-ending weekend. My Saturdays are special because they start with this absolutely super filter coffee that my mom makes. Here’s an excerpt of our conversation over coffee:

Amma: Yes Baby. I am ready. Why don’t we trot out to Ratna café for some Idli Vada

I: Po Ma. Vera Velai Illai

Amma: How about Besant Nagar Sevai kadai which you’ve been threatening to take me for over a year now?

I: Amma, please, I don’t feel like driving now

Amma: (Opens fridge with a sigh to plan menu for the day) Ey.. Beans carrot irukku di, un super pulao sappitu rombha naal aachu. Panni Kuden..”

I: Maska will get u nowhere mom. I am not making anything.

All this while I have been only partially paying attention to what she said because I have The Hindu Property Plus in hand and am busy underlining interesting finds to start my tele-calling exercise. “Amma. Listen -Penthouse in Valmiki Nagar .Price negotiable", I call out.
Shall we go see it? replies Amma(Pupils dilate. Drooling begins) She reacts like this because she instantly goes down memory lane to the time when, walking hand in hand with my Dad in some posh locale , the two of them used to check out the houses they passed and remark “Damn-Good-This-House. Dash-Good-That-House” - alternatingly in a silly sing-song way and get back home feeling as if they’ve lived royally in every one of those palatial bungalows.

My tele-calling and tele-apartment-shopping stops after half an hour or after hearing a few over a crore kind of prices(whichever is earlier). At this point Appa joins me to discuss shooting real estate prices and our dropping share prices (if you are thinking, ‘wow, she must be loaded”, then I’ve achieved the desired reaction.).

My friends are amused as to why I chase after penthouses et all I have no intention of buying. The same reason men chase women they have no intention of marrying I suppose.

But on deeper introspection and analysis of symptoms, I have diagnosed that this is a dreaded congenital disorder affecting Dr.TNB’s clan. It cannot be cured ever, because we will always want that one room more and keep sighing and singing “damn good this house, dash good that house” today and every Saturday.

P.S: I am live blogging this today and its great fun. Amma has resigned to the fact that this is just another Saturday. She’s made the most delicious Pongal and Gothsu and served me at the PC as I work on my blog. As usual she started out by asking me for sevai(idiappam) and ended up doing me sevai(service). Love you Mom. Can’t wait for next Saturday.

Forty-Plus Friendships

None of my friends (and a few close relatives who are more of friends) over forty years of age like to be addressed as a forty-plus friend. Don’t know why the truth bothers them so much. ( I am ok with being thirty plus) . To me their forty plus wisdom, maturity and intensity make them even better as friends. Their sanity and stability juxtaposed with my lack of both makes it a balanced and super friendship.

I am not always insane though. The sane me surfaces whenever I have to bail the Forties out of their mood swings and mid-life crises.

I only wish these adorable forties knew how precious and wonderful they are and took care of their health. Because, they have an incredibly selfish younger friend who wants them around and active when she goes through her mid-life crisis.

Is that too much to ask? ( maybe I should advance MY crisis by a decade!!!!)

POnzzzzzzzzziyizzzzzzzn Selzzzzzzzzzzzvzzzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanzzzzzzzzz

My grandma is one of the faithful readers of my blog. I love writing for her.Even if she has to be given a printout and explained the context everytime I post something. Even if she feels i should be writing for The Hindu or I am wasting my time. Even if, after reading my ramblings, she always comes up with"Ellam Seri. Thamizh le ezhudina evalo jora irukkum?"

She urges me to read thamizh novels so I can improve my vocabulary and start writing in thamizh.

I want to. I really want to. But there is a problem. Within 5 minutes of focussed thamizh book-reading, I fall asleep. Instant sedative.

But you know how grandmas' voices can be. Keeps taunting one like an asareeri.
To delight Patty and improve my sense of self worth, I picked up a couple of thamizh books from a friend who also gifted me Ponniyin Selvan in the hope that I would one day graduate to reading literature.

After toiling through the 2 lovely books for over 2 months, I have graduated to Ponniyin Selvan today. z z z z z z z z z z z z z zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

My yellow STUNNER

I drive a yellow car. Just bought it a couple of weeks ago. When I chose yellow, I did it spontaneously because I just love the colour. Also, I have pretty much done the rounds on all the other colours in my previous cars. So why not a yellow?

My yellow car is obviously a stunner. A stunner usually invokes only two types of reactions from the observer. Either a WOW or an ARGGHHH. Only, the wow my yellow stunner invokes may actually mean “ARGGH. How could she do this?” These observers don’t know that I am adept at figuring out whether their wow is a wow or an arrgghh. Maybe they do. That’s why they suffix the “WOW” with.. “I mean…TOO MUCH..COOL” etc. ( relax I know what you are trying to tell me). Some people get gutsy enough to ask me “ How come you chose yellow? Your daughter must lovvve it”. (Hey the mother loves it even more!) Some others actually tease me outright on my choice.

As you can see I am having a good time making out who’s honest and who’s not. But no offense. People have their views as they get to see the yellow more, not I sitting in the drivers seat.

But my yellow stunner becoming such a hot topic of debate drove me to do some research on effects of colours on people and colour connotations. My research tells me that inherently, people are afraid to be stunning, daring and different. They would rather blend.

On yellow I found that cheerful sunny yellow is an attention getter. While it is considered an optimistic color, people lose their tempers more often in yellow rooms, and babies will cry more. It is the most difficult color for the eye to take in, so it can be overpowering if overused. Yellow enhances concentration, hence its use for legal pads. It also speeds metabolism.

So by corollary, if people honk louder at me in traffic, it is my yellow working its magic on them. I didn’t break no rules!

But, who cares about psychobabble. Cheers to my yellow stunner!

OPEN SESAME!

Nobody opens doors for me. And I’m not talking about the doors of opportunity. I am talking about simple manual elevator doors.

When you take the elevator alongwith your friend/colleague (any equal in terms of physical ability) you would expect that, when the lift stops, your companion volunteers to open the door just as you do. Eventually, one of you moves faster than the other and the door gets opened.

In this whole process, there is no discomfort even if you ended up opening the door, because the other person came forward or at least made a polite gesture.

But here’s what happens in my case. When the elevator stops, my companion(gender no bar, salesmen no bar) invariably suffers a momentary paralysis attack and goes into complete stupor. I am expecting this moment because I am almost always exploited on this aspect. So I try and outwit that person. Pretend to be in stupor too.

Stupor versus stupor. Tick. Tick. Tick.Tick. TICK TICK WHAMMM! That's my panic attack propelling me stronger than the force of gravity in the direction of the door. Out shoots my hand to open it.

I LOSE.

Stupor doesn’t work for me. So I get creative and try other tactics. I fiddle with my cellphone or my watch at that precise moment to keep my hand from rushing to the door. Once I even tried a mosquito-bite-on-my-foot excuse to bend down and get the companion to open. Sometimes this works, but only partly. Which means: the companion opens door, steps out and BINGO-stupor strikes him again. He walks out in comatose condition and gets away without waiting to help me close the door behind us.

The extra polite recorded voice from inside the lift that beckons me to “PLEASE CLOSE THE DOOR” sounds to me like a saucy “Ha! Lost again? Face it. You are a born DOOR-OPENER. Go on now. Close it”.

I WILL. DAMN IT#$$%%^^&^$#@@!$%^^&&#$%^^^&*


These days I take the stairs leaving companion to fend for himself.

“Sado-masochistic” you say. But “Companion go to hell”, say I.

(The elevator takes you there faster). HE HE HE!

My first TV commercial

I modelled for Dinakaran newspaper. The commercial will be aired on Sun TV starting tomorrow, everyday till the end of the World Cup series.

After a two year compering stint with Jaya TV, doing a TV commercial was a totally different, yet BORING experience. 16 hours of shooting for a 40 seconds commercial(in which I appear for 15 seconds) vis-à-vis one hour of shooting for a half an hour program as anchor. Big difference.

What I did find exciting though was that I got to dub my own voice.

Also I met several interesting people who wanted to give an arm and a leg for that 15 second appearance. And some gifted children who stole the show by being absolute pros belting out numerous variations in expression that the director wanted.

AWESOME DEAD!

The Lake Superior State University(LSSU) recently banished the word “awesome” from its dictionary. This is part of its whimsical idea to do away with overused, misused and abused words.
As someone who takes the English language seriously, this announcement intrigued me. And as I meditated seriously on the disastrous consequences and the lethal impact of such an announcement on the world at large, my dad met an unassuming medical representative at his clinic. Enthused to promote his product, the salesman used the very same banished adjective in a different avataar. He said, ” Saar, You should try the combination of rabeperzole and domperidone for the patient. It is simBLY AAVISOME ”

AAVISOME BORN!

P.S They also banished blog and all forms of the word blog. But who cares anyway? Let’s banish LSSU. What say???

My new look blog

Got so tired of the dreary black background in my blog, I got rid of it. I even renamed it to go with how I feel every moment of my life. Welcome to Life is Beautiful, my new and improved sunny happy blog. Hope you like it and hope your life is as beautiful as mine!

A Lesson in Love

Last night, I had my first full-blown argument with my mother-in-law. A misunderstanding on a trivial household issue caused us both a lot of pain. Of course, I felt she was wrong and she the other way. In a battle of two gargantuan egos, how does one find resolution? We kept arguing . As I tried reiterating my point of view, she closed her ears and shut me out, driving me up the wall in fury. What could I do but leave the room in sheer frustration.

I couldn’t sleep a wink all night. How could she refuse to even listen to my reasoning? What had I done that was so wrong?

Mothers in Law! DOWN DOWN, I kept chanting.

That didn’t do me any good. What do I do? Should I call up my mother and ask her for help ? Bad Idea. As I would probably get a lecture and feel even worse. I had to solve this myself.
I did not want a petty issue to cause a big rift between us.

Morning came and I left home early (while MIL was still asleep) to drop my daughter off at school. On returning I couldn’t bring myself to take the stairs to my home as I still hadn’t found a solution to last night’s issue. My ego instructed me to ignore her completely and get back at her for shutting me out. But my mom and grandmom’s sternest lecture face kept popping up to warn me it wasn’t the right approach.

Undaunted I reached my home and opened the door to find her sitting right in front of me in the living room.

The picture of this lonely old lady sitting by herself and waiting to be loved shook me back to my senses. I was ashamed of myself.How terrible of me to have wanted to get back at her.

I quietly walked up, put my arms around her and hugged her tight. Amidst buckets of tears we both apologized and made up.

And all it took was a little love and a Jaadu Ki Jhapi!

SMS your way to the Guinness

“The razor toothed piranhas of the genera serasalmus and pygocentrus are the most ferocious fresh water fish in the world. In reality they seldom attack a human.” That was the message given for the fastest messaging (SMS) contest. A Singaporean typed that out in 41.52 seconds and made it to the Guinness book of world records. I took 2 minutes. Try out.

Menfolk...read only if you can handle it....

Q: What is the difference between men and puppies?
A: Puppies grow up.

Q: Why do men always have a stupid look on their faces?
A: Because they are...

Q: What do men have in common with ceramic tiles?
A: Fix them properly once and you can walk all over them forever.

Q: If you drop a man and a brick out of a plane, which one would hit the ground first?
A: Who cares?????.....

Q: What did God say after he created man?
A: I can do better than this! And then he created woman!!!.

Q: What's the difference between an intelligent man & a UFO ?
A: I don't know, I've never seen either.

Q: What are two reasons why men don't mind their own business?
A: i) no mind ii) no business

Q: Why did Moses wander in the desert for 40 years?
A: Because even back then men wouldn't ask for directions ..

Q: What is the difference between men and pigs?
A: Pigs don't turn into men when they drink...

Q: What makes men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
A: The same urge that makes dogs chase vehicles they have no intention of driving.

Q: What do you do with a man who thinks he's God's gift?
A: Exchange him!!

Q: Why do men like smart women?
A: Opposites attract.

Poem on me

Vidya, one of my closest friends, wrote this lovely poem on me and made my Diwali extra special.
------------------------
Krithika...

You are the light of Diwali,
you glow.. you spread warmth..
there's a fire in you (always)

You are the "pattasu" yourself
you are - a perennial "sound box"
your laughter is a 100-wala
your personality (the person) is a live-bomb ticking always
You, Krithika are a 365 day diwali to people around you (who I envy).
To you, all 365 days are Diwali.
--------------------------------
Hurrrayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!! I got a poem on me!!
Vidya, have I told you lately that you are the CUTESSSSSTTTTTT?

So you think I am showing off eh?
Hey..Its MY blog.