... I'm back.
After weeks of back-breaking work, tension, project meetings, interviews, lows more than highs, confidence-threatening situations, I can't say I've come out unscathed. Life is tough! Glad as I am that I'm able to take it all in pretty well, I wish I could go a step higher and be calmer, and not think of unnecessary things and situations. I find myself worrying sick sometimes, until I just shake myself up and say that when some things aren't in your hands, there's no point worrying yourself over them.

Unceremonious rants with my friends and parents when I contradict myself to the greatest extents possible ('I'm scared I'll be disappointed, but I know there's no point in being scared that I'll be disappointed; it's not in my hands, but yeah, it is in my hands considering I should try to not to let this affect me' - that's just a sample!) just show how foggy my mind is at the moment. Well, at the end of such monologues I just end up laughing wondering how I could get this crazy!

I keep thinking of all that I told my interviewer - that I'm optimistic, and never let difficulties bog me down - and wow, how much this helps in putting me back on track! At the end of it all, hope wins. As I wait with bated breath for something that could make or mar my confidence, I also desperately try by the side to make sure whatever happens, I don't lose hope or the trust in myself. After all, who knows me more than I do; somebody's judgment should have no effect!

I know, again, it's one of those senseless posts - I just wanted to vent everything running in my mind right now. I should be feeling much better by the end of this week, or by the end of the day, rather. Let's see what future holds in store for me. After all, everything happens for a reason - and the reason will be good!

P.S.: Thanks all, for still seeing what I'm up to..this is the longest ever break I've taken from blogging, and I can see what it's done to me - I missed it dearly!

Never sleep at odd hours, always says mom. Alas, for how much heed we pay to those simple, yet numerous things mothers keep saying!
1:36 am on early Friday morning, here I am, typing a blog post. A cup of hot, steaming Milo sitting on my desk, my table lamp on, soft songs playing in the background, ‘Life of Pi’ open and spread on its front, and a drawing block which just plainly stares back at me.
Waking up after a weirdo three-hour-headache-prompted-funny sleep, I have lost orientation. My music had been on all through my sleep, and I wonder how many times the songs played in a loop. Interesting.

I am suddenly full of energy and enthusiasm, to do what, I don’t know. I walk out of my room to make Milo, and I find people in the TV room studying. I am inspired even more, and I rush back and take up my drawing block to think of ideas. New ideas, supposed-to-be-creative ads for a portfolio to be shown to people who could possibly employ me for the next 6 months. Bah, nothing. After all, creativity begins with a blank paper and pencil.
I am wide awake, in the mood for everything from taking a walk in the lovely orange-hue filled campus, or simply sitting in the bus stop and staring at the rich, creamy moon – she is just beautiful!

Totally random, I know.. but excuse me for the fact that I woke up just ten minutes ago and am still wondering if it is Saturday instead of Friday. Dreamy, disoriented, and bursting with enthusiasm which will probably go unheeded and unused.
Never sleep at odd hours, they say.

.... it's been 20 years!!! :)

Mrinalini finished unwrapping all the presents her friends and cousins had given her. They ranged from dolls to clothes to make-up accessories. The usual stuff given to girls. God, she thought, why can’t people think of different things to give a girl who’s just turned 21?

21, the number suddenly flashed across her mind. Twenty-one, she said aloud. I’m 21. The age when one is a proper adult. When one can vote, in many countries around the world. ‘Pennin thirumana vayadhu,’ (a girl’s right marriage age) according to autorickshaws in Chennai. An all important age, when the girl suddenly gives way to a lady with her new dreams, goals and life.

Then it struck her. I’m 21, so I can now ask them, she thought.
She slept that night thinking of how she will phrase the whole thing and tell her parents.
The next morning, she woke up at 6 30, giving her enough time to get ready well ahead of time for the college bus to come. She went to the kitchen to get her coffee and entered the living room.

Appa was sitting with The Hindu in one hand and steaming hot coffee in the other. An AIR morning kutcheri was playing in the background. Amma was muttering Aditya Hridayam under her breath. Her younger brother Nakul was busy practising for his math exam the next day.
Mrinalini quickly gulped down her coffee and cleared her throat.
‘Appa, amma, I want to ask you something.’

Appa looked up from his newspaper. Amma came out of the kitchen, ladle in hand. Her lips still kept moving in silent prayer.
‘I have given this a lot of thought,’ began Mrinalini, ‘almost five years, to be exact…’ and her eyes darted to her mother, whose mind she could precisely read. She would be fervently praying that it was not about some guy whom Mrinalini claimed she was in love with, whom she would want to marry. As her mother’s eyes widened, Mrinalini began again.
‘No amma, there is no guy, don’t worry.’
Her mother was visibly relieved. She shook her head and wiped her brow with the edge of her saree pallu, giving a ‘girls-these-days’ look.

‘Appa, remember, on my 16th birthday, I had asked you to start giving me pocket money?’
Her father stared back at her.
‘Hmm.. what about it now?’
‘And you had said that you would give me a substantial amount when I’m a grown up girl?’
Her father continued looking at her, expressionless.
‘Now that I am 21, I want that substantial amount of money.’

Her father removed his glasses and put them on the table, vigorously rubbing his eyes to take off the strain.
‘What do you want to do with the money?’ he asked her.
Mrinalini braced herself. This was it. She took a deep breath.
‘I am going to invest it. With Aditya, my classmate, you do remember him, don’t you? He is planning to start a consultancy firm. He is willing to start it with me in partnership. You know, I can really put into use whatever I have learnt. With a little money from you and his parents, we can apply for a bank loan for entrepreneurial businesses, and start up. You do not know, but we have most of the plans ready. The required capital has been calculated, we have contacts, the building to have our office (Aditya’s cousin has arranged it)… almost everything is arranged, appa. I can take half the amount you’ll give as a loan, and we can repay it with interest, as you wish. It’s now up to you to keep your promise.’
She breathed again, having spoken so much in one breath.

Amma stared at Mrinalini, open-mouthed. Appa rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Nakul had put down his pen and books and eagerly studied the situation – it seemed extremely interesting.
Appa spoke.
‘Hmm.. how much do you need?’
Mrinalini cleared her throat and loudly announced: ‘4 lakhs, appa.’

Appa looked at her, then at Nakul, and finally at his wife.
All the three burst out laughing, Nakul clutching his stomach and rolling on the floor, dropping his books in the process.
Amma put her hand to her mouth and continued to laugh in her ladylike manner. Appa, on the other hand, had put his paper down and was heartily laughing, his hands occasionally rising up, as if thanking God for the ability to laugh things out.
After what seemed ages, with Mrinalini staring at her family members laughing in maniacal proportions, appa spoke again.
‘Child,’ he said, ‘go inside and take a bath. You don’t have much time left before the college bus comes.’
He wiped tears off his eyes and still quietly chuckled.
Amma went back to the kitchen, quite relieved.
Nakul went back to his work, after a few short but some of the most entertaining moments in his life.
Mrinalini went back to her room and sat on her bed, brooding.
Damn, she thought. 21 isn’t a great age when people start respecting you, after all.

P.S.: Slightly inspired by the fact that my dear friend turns 21 today. Happy Birthday, I.!! Don't know what you've been wanting so much in life, girl, but hope you get everything you want this year!
P.P.S.: Here it comes. Don't know how much you enjoyed it or how good it is, but I tremendously enjoyed writing it, spending so much time on a story after a long time.

Ever felt so bored that you just opened a tin of Milo and started eating spoonfuls of plain, raw, fatty and oh-so-delicious Milo? That's just where I am - I am not interested in knowing how blogs have altered the way journalism functions, because the guy (or woman) who's written it has an awfully unreadable language that makes my eyes smart after a few minutes.

Guess this is another of those posts which might not make sense.. I just wanted to type something and here I am! With Rahman's goosebump-causing 'Dil Se Re....' in the background, it feels great to even open Blogger and type a post.. it's been that long! Life is just feverishly busy, and I find myself hugging my cushion and nodding off to sleep at every given opportunity. And worse, I dream in those ten or fifteen minutes of sleep I catch! They're funny and give me great entertainment ;), but it's irritating that my mind is so preoccupied with work. I'm scared I'm becoming a workaholic!

The few things that keep me going are the walks at night with friends, the few episodes of Grey's Anatomy I manage to steal in from time to time (which are now getting predictable and boring, by the way!!), good food that I come across extremely rarely, and music, God be blessed for it!

It's been ages since I read blogs of other people (I'm really sorry!) or even switched off my computer. The poor thing is forever on, ready to bear the brunt of my work, day and night.
The funny thing is it feels important to be busy, because this way, I manage things much better! But even then, nothing can match the comfort of laziness, the comfort of knowing nothing would go wrong if you sleep for an extra couple of hours when it's raining. Boy, I miss those times, those early weeks of the semester! I think it will be ages before I get back such a comfort again... but of course, it's all part of life - and guess I'm coping well!

Some weekend, some day, I'll write a story I've been wanting to write for a long time. Right now, I just wish there was something that could quickly note down the words forming in my head so later I can put them all together and form the story in actual black and white. I wish! Ha!

Yeah, crossroads?? Am I at this stage in life where everything one does seems important, leading somewhere? So many things I'm happy about, the same things which torment me and give me headaches almost all day; which confuse me. I'm trying to feel all busy and nice (yeah, being busy somehow keeps me cheerful!), but I'm hurriedly reaching my break point, I guess. I hope things go fine. I hope I'm confident enough to keep swimming where the tides take me - after all, how much is in my hands?
Don't wonder what I'm trying to say - that's just what the post is supposed to be - ambiguous! I'll get back real soon with what's happening!

Tanya boarded the train at Tampines. Her stop, Clementi, was a good hour and a half away. It was just her fifth day at work, in her six month internship, and she was tired of it already. The guys at work were nice to be with and all that, but she just couldn’t along with their sickening sense of humour or understand what they wanted her to do. And it was just Tuesday. She had another 3 days of torture to stand before the weekend.

The train was quite empty, surprisingly, for it was 7 in the evening, and this was the rush hour when hordes of people left office for home. More people started coming in soon, though, and in five minutes, the compartment started filling in with dozens of people, who spread themselves out in various parts of the compartment. Tanya sat on, reading ‘Sophie’s choice’.

She gradually noticed a pair of eyes constantly on her. She quietly looked up and saw that they belonged to a middle aged Indian man, who refused to take his eyes off her even when she looked at him.
Tanya sighed. These men, these Indian men, who stared at every Indian girl like she had jumped right off Mars. Or like she had been bred in a lab in some secret underground city and let free on Earth.
She went back to reading. The train stopped at Paya Lebar. An elderly man walked into the compartment and stood near Tanya. She got up and offered the man the seat. Mistake.

The man was furious, like she had insulted him by offering a seat. The worse part was he was yelling in Chinese, and she couldn’t follow a word. He pointed at her, then turned to other people in the compartment and yelled at them too. Everyone in the compartment looked at the old man, and then at her. Most of them stiffened in tension because of the commotion the old man was making. Maybe he was swearing aloud in Chinese, she thought.

In the meantime, another woman had come and occupied the seat where Tanya had been sitting. Curse my luck, thought Tanya, for now the Indian man in the corner could see her more properly. The idiot, she thought, he still didn’t have the sense to stop looking.
In a few minutes, the man came and stood next to her. Tanya got irritated, and tense. She moved a few steps left, so there would be more distance between him and her.

Just a few more stops, she told herself. He was still staring. She silently swore to herself that she would stamp his foot hard as she left that he would never try to stare at any other Indian woman again.
It was one minute to Clementi. Tanya slowly edged her way out of the crowd and reached the place where the man was standing. She crept into the tiny vacant space near him and waited for the opportune moment when the station would loom into view.
It happened soon enough. Tanya quietly lifted her right leg and drove into hard into his foot.

For once in her life, she was extremely glad she was wearing pointed heels. She heard a yelp of pain. Now that would teach him a lesson. She pressed her heel harder into his foot and then the train doors opened.
She got out and turned, murmuring ‘Idiot’.

And got a rude shock. The Indian man’s left foot was bleeding and everyone had noticed. Some even pointed to Tanya standing in the station platform, looking at the extreme damage her heel had done. One man even made a move to pull her back in.
Tanya fled the place at once, her heart thumping with fear. When she reached the exit and had climbed down into the road, she paused.
Well, the lesson’s been given, she thought, and headed back to hostel.