Cats, Dogs, Puppies and Kittens
There’s a thumb-rule about the Chennai weather, it gets “hot-hotter-hottest.” I disagree!!!
What’s a thumb-rule any good for if it doesn’t work on any try??? The weather is anything but hot, at most it gets a little warm, with the humidity levels way beyond my level of comprehension. But the frequent visits of cats and dogs…puppies and kittens sometime all throughout the day is quite a respite. Although it’s really cruel if you have to sit inside the building when the soft pitter patter of rain on the classroom window beckon to you…playing with your imagination…enticing you with those patterns that they draw out on the panes.
Listening to dido, looking at the green leaves outside….dancing and swaying in the slight breeze….the tiny droplets of water glistening like diamonds in the sun, it feels as if there’s not a care in the world. *sigh….then google returns the results for my search on “background scores in movies adapted from books” and my flights of fantasy come crashing down to my computer screen. But I’m not going to be cast down….I will defy the laws of human concentration and attention….I Will Multi-task !!!
It’s my eleventh day (21st July) in Chennai…and life has been quite kind. I’m in a hostel, with four others, and I haven’t messed up (yet). I’ve gotten lost at least two times, but managed to reach the destination on time (kudos to me). I’ve traveled in the most crowded of Chennai buses, hanging on with two fingers. I’ve had the most scintillating conversation with complete strangers in those buses. You know, I’ve always heard of those famous political discussions on Kolkata buses where the people keep on changing but the flow of conversation never stops….i finally had the opportunity to experience it. It’s amazing how friendly people can be when there are several reports on the channels about communal violence…man killing man….man killing men, and here I am, a north Indian bong having completely scintillating conversations with people from the South, most of the time trying to guess what the other person is saying…considering I don’t know how to speak the local language. But then, when have language constraints been a hindrance to my vocal chords….they just blast off whenever they want to. ;)
Coming back from a programme one day, it started raining so hard that the streets out here immediately transformed into huge rivulets of water. The water clogging problem is so much here that within minutes there was knee deep water on both sides. Now yours truly was trying to come back in the bus, and adventurous that she is…she came back to the apartment changing two buses, walking (read wading) through knee-deep mucky-disgusting-not to be thought about water, and completely drenched. I could have taken an auto, but then it’s remarkable how I found the whole experience quite charming. It made me relate to the people here, it made me feel like a person who’s from Chennai, instead of an alien, who’s here for just a visit.
The weather here is more unpredictable than Delhi. I mean one day it’s as hot as the Saharan desert in the afternoon, and it suddenly starts raining cats and dogs in the evening, while on other days when I carry an umbrella, all I’d be treated to is a couple of puppies and kittens falling sparsely here and there.
But you know what the weirdest part is…I think I actually like the city. I’m still IN LOVE with Delhi though…don’t ever get me wrong on that.
Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Saturday, July 2, 2005
Looking out…
The monsoon’s started in Delhi, and somehow when it rains…it seems as if every natural colour is automatically enhanced and is ten times more beautiful. The skies…when you can take a peek seem bluer, the trees look greener, the white clouds look whiter and the grey ones look…well…grayer. The kind that will envelope all around you, making you feel either very secure-warm, or adventurous-alive, with all your nerve ends tingling with an expectation of what unknown thing might happen next.
Usually, we’re all so busy thinking about the next event in our lives, grumbling about it, planning about it that we rarely have the time or the inclination to sit back, and look at how our lives have turned out, but somehow for me, when it rains, life suddenly turns into a fiction book, that you read…but somewhat don’t relate to. Especially, when you’re sitting in a bus, in the window seat looking out at the rest of the world. The occasional drop of rain caressing your face, giving that momentous exhilarating relief from the humid climate. The wind hitting your face telling you that time is going fast by, while you sit in one place. Well…not really, you are moving with the bus, but then you don’t have to really exert yourself to reach to your destination, the bus does that work for you. You can just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Looking around me, I see so many different faces, with so many different expressions. A man shouting at someone on his phone, a guy telling his friend about the admission procedures in Gargi (it made me want to interrupt and give a few pointers myself), a couple talking the silly love-talk, while the friend shifts uneasily because she feels unwanted and intrusive; an elderly couple enjoying the silence that has come after years of staying together formulating an unspoken language…or maybe they’re just estranged, and have nothing to talk about. It’s time such as these, when I get extremely bored that I take up a person and imagine what is going on in his or her life, why they’re where they are, how their life must be- outside the bus. But not today! Today I was more interested in the window looking out.
The soft pitter-patter of rain drops on the window glass, the wind blowing through my hair usually sends me to trips to far away lands, sometimes nostalgia strikes hard, or sometimes the imagination takes hold of the reigns. Today it was a sense of wonder and amazement at the world and people around me, especially those whom I didn’t know. Looking out of the window, whiling my time thinking about the guy riding the cycle next to the bus, while I had the luxury of being driven home. What kind of a life did he have? Does he have a wife…any kids? What if it started pouring right now, and he had to go to some important or formal place, and he reaches there drenched? Will the people understand his plight, after all it’s not his fault that he got caught in the rain, or maybe it is…after all he might be cheating someone, and needed to get somewhere fast so that he’s not caught, and this is nature’s way of punishing him!!!
The bus turns towards the Nizamuddin Bridge, and on the left side, there’s a whole bunch of jhuggies. People would have such interesting but difficult times living in jhuggies...wouldn’t they? Especially in the monsoon, when their thatched roofs aren’t able to stop the water from entering their small rooms (if they can be called rooms). Maybe many of them have a good place to live in the village, but they wanted to shift to the metropolitan to earn more money. They got these jhuggies instead. But then a dish antenna catches my eye. I look further to see that dish antennas are dappled all over the different jhuggies, and it seems weird that these very people who can’t seem to afford a proper place to stay, should have their individual dish antenna. It makes me smile, as I remember, that these people are probably counted in the below poverty line population, not getting their daily 2100 calorie intake, but they seem to have enough money to have satellite TV connections. God! Even I don’t have a satellite TV connection, and I’m supposed to be in the higher or at least middle-income group.
Soon the areas clear to form the vast expanse of green with puddles of water, that was supposed to be the Yamuna river. Next to my bus, a truck passes by with a horse atop its rear. The sight makes me smile. A horse is supposed to be a beast of burden isn’t it!!! It’s a white horse, all decked up…probably going for some marriage, where it’ll be the steed of the groom. This makes me think of the groom and his bride. How the marriage will be, with friends and family coming over? Or maybe it’s going to be a simple affair. Does the couple really want to get married? Is it a love marriage or an arranged one, or simply a marriage of convenience?
I’m now crossing the Akshardham Temple. I’ve always waned to come here, but never got the time. In fact, I wanted to walk down from my house to the temple and walk back. In the right kind of weather, with slight breeze and lots of clouds, the walk would be just wonderful. I make a mental note once again to one day follow through with my plan. The Temple construction seems to be going pretty fast. But somehow the temple doesn’t seem all that inviting anymore. In comparison to wild growth of trees earlier, the beautifully designed lawns and gardens seems mechanical. The lines on the temple look like a 3-D construction out of a computer program. Probably it is just that. But aren’t temples supposed to have souls. This one doesn’t seem to have one. There are too many straight lines and 900 angles, no realistic curves-no flaws. And I return my gaze to trees on the side of the road. Looking at those trees, newly adorned with their clean green leaves shining bright, it just seemed to me as if each tree had a particular personality of it’s own. One was scary and contorted, one seemed to be somewhat motherly, two of them reminded me of my friend and myself – conspiring with each other and living in their own private world, a little away from the rest, one had a kite stuck in its boughs, and I was reminded of the time when I once tried to fly kites and filed miserably, thereby tearing almost a dozen kites. The funny part was that they weren’t even mine, and I didn’t even ask their owner before taking. The poor guy got the shock of his life when he opened the cupboard to find all of his precious kites broken and torn.
I’ve reached my stop now. I get down, my reverie broken. Reality steps in, as I mingle with the tens and thousands, thinking about the next thing that I plan to do. Looking around, I see a girl standing in her balcony, looking somewhat bored...observing all the passersby. Our eyes connect, each acknowledging the other’s existence on this planet, and I turn my gaze back to the road ahead, wondering what kind of a life will she imagine for me. I smile as I walk on, and hope that it’s a little more interesting than the one I’m going back to.
Usually, we’re all so busy thinking about the next event in our lives, grumbling about it, planning about it that we rarely have the time or the inclination to sit back, and look at how our lives have turned out, but somehow for me, when it rains, life suddenly turns into a fiction book, that you read…but somewhat don’t relate to. Especially, when you’re sitting in a bus, in the window seat looking out at the rest of the world. The occasional drop of rain caressing your face, giving that momentous exhilarating relief from the humid climate. The wind hitting your face telling you that time is going fast by, while you sit in one place. Well…not really, you are moving with the bus, but then you don’t have to really exert yourself to reach to your destination, the bus does that work for you. You can just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Looking around me, I see so many different faces, with so many different expressions. A man shouting at someone on his phone, a guy telling his friend about the admission procedures in Gargi (it made me want to interrupt and give a few pointers myself), a couple talking the silly love-talk, while the friend shifts uneasily because she feels unwanted and intrusive; an elderly couple enjoying the silence that has come after years of staying together formulating an unspoken language…or maybe they’re just estranged, and have nothing to talk about. It’s time such as these, when I get extremely bored that I take up a person and imagine what is going on in his or her life, why they’re where they are, how their life must be- outside the bus. But not today! Today I was more interested in the window looking out.
The soft pitter-patter of rain drops on the window glass, the wind blowing through my hair usually sends me to trips to far away lands, sometimes nostalgia strikes hard, or sometimes the imagination takes hold of the reigns. Today it was a sense of wonder and amazement at the world and people around me, especially those whom I didn’t know. Looking out of the window, whiling my time thinking about the guy riding the cycle next to the bus, while I had the luxury of being driven home. What kind of a life did he have? Does he have a wife…any kids? What if it started pouring right now, and he had to go to some important or formal place, and he reaches there drenched? Will the people understand his plight, after all it’s not his fault that he got caught in the rain, or maybe it is…after all he might be cheating someone, and needed to get somewhere fast so that he’s not caught, and this is nature’s way of punishing him!!!
The bus turns towards the Nizamuddin Bridge, and on the left side, there’s a whole bunch of jhuggies. People would have such interesting but difficult times living in jhuggies...wouldn’t they? Especially in the monsoon, when their thatched roofs aren’t able to stop the water from entering their small rooms (if they can be called rooms). Maybe many of them have a good place to live in the village, but they wanted to shift to the metropolitan to earn more money. They got these jhuggies instead. But then a dish antenna catches my eye. I look further to see that dish antennas are dappled all over the different jhuggies, and it seems weird that these very people who can’t seem to afford a proper place to stay, should have their individual dish antenna. It makes me smile, as I remember, that these people are probably counted in the below poverty line population, not getting their daily 2100 calorie intake, but they seem to have enough money to have satellite TV connections. God! Even I don’t have a satellite TV connection, and I’m supposed to be in the higher or at least middle-income group.
Soon the areas clear to form the vast expanse of green with puddles of water, that was supposed to be the Yamuna river. Next to my bus, a truck passes by with a horse atop its rear. The sight makes me smile. A horse is supposed to be a beast of burden isn’t it!!! It’s a white horse, all decked up…probably going for some marriage, where it’ll be the steed of the groom. This makes me think of the groom and his bride. How the marriage will be, with friends and family coming over? Or maybe it’s going to be a simple affair. Does the couple really want to get married? Is it a love marriage or an arranged one, or simply a marriage of convenience?
I’m now crossing the Akshardham Temple. I’ve always waned to come here, but never got the time. In fact, I wanted to walk down from my house to the temple and walk back. In the right kind of weather, with slight breeze and lots of clouds, the walk would be just wonderful. I make a mental note once again to one day follow through with my plan. The Temple construction seems to be going pretty fast. But somehow the temple doesn’t seem all that inviting anymore. In comparison to wild growth of trees earlier, the beautifully designed lawns and gardens seems mechanical. The lines on the temple look like a 3-D construction out of a computer program. Probably it is just that. But aren’t temples supposed to have souls. This one doesn’t seem to have one. There are too many straight lines and 900 angles, no realistic curves-no flaws. And I return my gaze to trees on the side of the road. Looking at those trees, newly adorned with their clean green leaves shining bright, it just seemed to me as if each tree had a particular personality of it’s own. One was scary and contorted, one seemed to be somewhat motherly, two of them reminded me of my friend and myself – conspiring with each other and living in their own private world, a little away from the rest, one had a kite stuck in its boughs, and I was reminded of the time when I once tried to fly kites and filed miserably, thereby tearing almost a dozen kites. The funny part was that they weren’t even mine, and I didn’t even ask their owner before taking. The poor guy got the shock of his life when he opened the cupboard to find all of his precious kites broken and torn.
I’ve reached my stop now. I get down, my reverie broken. Reality steps in, as I mingle with the tens and thousands, thinking about the next thing that I plan to do. Looking around, I see a girl standing in her balcony, looking somewhat bored...observing all the passersby. Our eyes connect, each acknowledging the other’s existence on this planet, and I turn my gaze back to the road ahead, wondering what kind of a life will she imagine for me. I smile as I walk on, and hope that it’s a little more interesting than the one I’m going back to.
Sunday, September 5, 2004
Futile Pursuit !!!
it's really odd how all of a sudden i'm enjoying all the girlie stuff like shopping and trying to make myself look good...that is...at least to the best of my abilities. it's like, all the years that i spent trying 'not to be a girl' have gone into a huge waste. i mean seriosly, i spent around 10 years of my life trying to convince myself and the world around me to believe that i'm really a boy, who was put into a woman's mould by mistake or because of some stupid reason.
i even had a story to go along with it. the story was: God was making a boy, when his wife bellowed to him to come and have his lunch. she did such a good job of it, and God was so excessively pleased with her culinary skills, that when he got back to work, he completely forgot that he was making a boy, considering that he hadn't given final shape to the outer layer, he decided at that moment to make a woman...and dedicate this piece of work to his wife. and so....I was made, moulded, conjuctured, created...call it what you will.
come to think of it, it's probably for the best....coz in that case i would've turned out to be gay (since i am attracted to the male species), and that would've made matters worse. not to mention the fact that my father would've probably sent me to some mental institution for being gay. HE considers it to be an abnormal state of mind rather than a hormonal oreintation that a homo sapien is born with.
but the question now arises, why did i ever want to be a boy in the first place? i mean face it...being a boy doesn't really have a lot of perks....sure...you're given more freedom, you can get away with having sex without thinking too much about the consequences(AIDS apart), don't have to be too bothered about the way you look (the grungy look with stubbles, unkept hair and the whole i don't care a damn abt how i look persona is quite hot with the ladies these days), you can party around and your parents allow you to coz ''you're a boy"....but then on the other hand....being a girl means that you're not expected to be the sole earner and source of money in the family...thereby allowing you to do pretty much whatever u want as far as the acedemics and your job is concerned, if you don't want to do anything...being a girl gives you the right to pretty much live off someone else's money...first your dad and then your hubby (save me.....the women's lib org is out to get me...help!!! *grin grin*), you have a vast choice of apparel...from menswear to exclusive women's wear....there's a no-hold-barred situation..........hmmmm.............unn..........aaaaaaaaa........hmmmmmmm.....well okay..probably being a guy does score many points........then why am i trying to un-learn all the stuff and trying to get in touch with my feminine side???
I must be mad.....there can be no other explanation....
i even had a story to go along with it. the story was: God was making a boy, when his wife bellowed to him to come and have his lunch. she did such a good job of it, and God was so excessively pleased with her culinary skills, that when he got back to work, he completely forgot that he was making a boy, considering that he hadn't given final shape to the outer layer, he decided at that moment to make a woman...and dedicate this piece of work to his wife. and so....I was made, moulded, conjuctured, created...call it what you will.
come to think of it, it's probably for the best....coz in that case i would've turned out to be gay (since i am attracted to the male species), and that would've made matters worse. not to mention the fact that my father would've probably sent me to some mental institution for being gay. HE considers it to be an abnormal state of mind rather than a hormonal oreintation that a homo sapien is born with.
but the question now arises, why did i ever want to be a boy in the first place? i mean face it...being a boy doesn't really have a lot of perks....sure...you're given more freedom, you can get away with having sex without thinking too much about the consequences(AIDS apart), don't have to be too bothered about the way you look (the grungy look with stubbles, unkept hair and the whole i don't care a damn abt how i look persona is quite hot with the ladies these days), you can party around and your parents allow you to coz ''you're a boy"....but then on the other hand....being a girl means that you're not expected to be the sole earner and source of money in the family...thereby allowing you to do pretty much whatever u want as far as the acedemics and your job is concerned, if you don't want to do anything...being a girl gives you the right to pretty much live off someone else's money...first your dad and then your hubby (save me.....the women's lib org is out to get me...help!!! *grin grin*), you have a vast choice of apparel...from menswear to exclusive women's wear....there's a no-hold-barred situation..........hmmmm.............unn..........aaaaaaaaa........hmmmmmmm.....well okay..probably being a guy does score many points........then why am i trying to un-learn all the stuff and trying to get in touch with my feminine side???
I must be mad.....there can be no other explanation....
Sunday, May 9, 2004
Million Dollar moments of my life
1. Once when i was around 4 or 5 years old, and my parents were performing on stage...i went around telling anyone and everyone in the audience that my mother and my father are on stage - performing. Irrespective of whether i knew them or not.
2. In third grade, after absconding for three days, i returned to school, whence i had the following conversation with my class teacher.
Teacher: Why didn't you come to school?
Me: I was ill...
Teacher: What happened?
Me: .....I had Cancer...
Teacher: (with complete composure) Are alright now?
Me: ...Yes ma'am.
And life continued the same as usual. I never realized my faux pas till at least 5 years later.
3. Once alone at home, two gentlemen arrived at the gate, claiming that they knew my dad. I had no clue as to whether or not they were saying the truth or not, but the most hospitable person that existed on the face of the planet that i am....i let let them in. Served them water and biscuits, and was in the process of taking out some more delicacies from the topmost shelf of the kitchen (and i was somewhere around 4 ft at the time) when my parents came home.
I am now proud to say that my judgment of character held out to be completely correct, as they did in fact turn out to be my father's friends (albeit he took some time to recognize them...but he came around later)
4. Once I got lost in a mall, and this was when i was 3 years old. Having no clue about what to do, or where to look for my parents, i went to to main gate of the mall, and struck a pose with all the mannequins that were positioned there...hoping that no one other than my parents would be able to make out that i was a member of the homo sepian clan and not a plastic doll.
Thereby, having started my sporadic modelling career at the tender age of 3.
5. My teacher once called me from school, and she was sounding extremely groggy. Now it's important to mention that this was a teacher of whom i was terrified. I, like the brilliant person that i am, didn't even give my next words a second thought and bravely asked her, "Have you JUST gotten up from bed...it's so late?" Now SHE very politely informed me that she was already in school. But standing firm on my ground (I must be given extra points for being resolute and determined in my task) very condescendingly asked her, "Really...what time did you get up?"
Now this was the time that I realized what i had done, but considering that there was no turning back, i received her answer of "6:30am" very politely....but later tried to justify my actions by informing her that i actually thought that she was my friend and not my teacher. I don't think she believed me, thus explaining the very poor showing of my internal assessment marks that semester.
6. In another encounter with the Teacher's kind, i slept off in Math class in the sixth grade. Please note that this teacher was extremely stern, to put it euphemistically. Now, as if this wasn't enough, i got up with a start and then had the temerity to ask her to repeat whatever she had taught just then, because i didn't understand.
Needless to say, i was taught the rest of the lesson in my Vice-principal's room.
7. I have been always taught to be respectful to my elders, and think of my teachers only as second to my mom. I am proud to say that i once stuck my tongue out at my chemistry IIT tutor, in the class 12th coaching classes.
8. I once spent almost an entire day wearing my shirt inside-out. I was college.....the rest is history!
9. I once mailed my college classmate's ex-girlfriend, whom i did not know at all, asking her...."why did he shout at you on phone, one and a half years back?" I even had an online chat with her on the subject, and spent half an hour trying to convince her why she should answer my question. Of course, she thought i was a freak, and refused to answer my question.
What really puzzles me though, is why am i still on her messenger list???
10. My classmate's boyfriend (currently ex-boyfriend) once called me up at 12 at night....threatening me, and telling me that he will make sure that my life is made a living hell. And a couple of other things. Now this person is extremely scary to look at, not to mention that i ought to have taken the threats seriously......what I did was: laughed and banged the phone down.
This is one experience that i wouldn't trade for the world.
11. My 5 Seconds of fame: My Television debut...and that too on national television: Sleeping restlessly with a snoring husband, and playing the part of a disgruntled wife.
12. I managed to set off the office fire alarm, not once, but twice, on a single day. How? you ask. Well, very simple actually, I was making popcorn in the microwave. The packet said up to 1-2 mins, and I dutifully set the timer for 2 mins exact, coz who wants the seeds right? Turns out, it was 30 seconds too much. Office smoke detectors certainly do not appreciate burnt and blackened butter popcorn! Nor do they like that the employees should have have such food, because once the guard had switched off the alarm, I opened the popcorn bag in order to salvage whatever little of the popcorn that was left, only to have the fire alarm blaring again. The guard gave up and promptly "ordered" me to dump the bag.
13. I mentioned an idea for a brilliant story on funny Indian road signs to a person at a party, only to find out a couple of moments later that he had authored a book on the same topic the same year... and "we" had even reviewed it!
2. In third grade, after absconding for three days, i returned to school, whence i had the following conversation with my class teacher.
Teacher: Why didn't you come to school?
Me: I was ill...
Teacher: What happened?
Me: .....I had Cancer...
Teacher: (with complete composure) Are alright now?
Me: ...Yes ma'am.
And life continued the same as usual. I never realized my faux pas till at least 5 years later.
3. Once alone at home, two gentlemen arrived at the gate, claiming that they knew my dad. I had no clue as to whether or not they were saying the truth or not, but the most hospitable person that existed on the face of the planet that i am....i let let them in. Served them water and biscuits, and was in the process of taking out some more delicacies from the topmost shelf of the kitchen (and i was somewhere around 4 ft at the time) when my parents came home.
I am now proud to say that my judgment of character held out to be completely correct, as they did in fact turn out to be my father's friends (albeit he took some time to recognize them...but he came around later)
4. Once I got lost in a mall, and this was when i was 3 years old. Having no clue about what to do, or where to look for my parents, i went to to main gate of the mall, and struck a pose with all the mannequins that were positioned there...hoping that no one other than my parents would be able to make out that i was a member of the homo sepian clan and not a plastic doll.
Thereby, having started my sporadic modelling career at the tender age of 3.
5. My teacher once called me from school, and she was sounding extremely groggy. Now it's important to mention that this was a teacher of whom i was terrified. I, like the brilliant person that i am, didn't even give my next words a second thought and bravely asked her, "Have you JUST gotten up from bed...it's so late?" Now SHE very politely informed me that she was already in school. But standing firm on my ground (I must be given extra points for being resolute and determined in my task) very condescendingly asked her, "Really...what time did you get up?"
Now this was the time that I realized what i had done, but considering that there was no turning back, i received her answer of "6:30am" very politely....but later tried to justify my actions by informing her that i actually thought that she was my friend and not my teacher. I don't think she believed me, thus explaining the very poor showing of my internal assessment marks that semester.
6. In another encounter with the Teacher's kind, i slept off in Math class in the sixth grade. Please note that this teacher was extremely stern, to put it euphemistically. Now, as if this wasn't enough, i got up with a start and then had the temerity to ask her to repeat whatever she had taught just then, because i didn't understand.
Needless to say, i was taught the rest of the lesson in my Vice-principal's room.
7. I have been always taught to be respectful to my elders, and think of my teachers only as second to my mom. I am proud to say that i once stuck my tongue out at my chemistry IIT tutor, in the class 12th coaching classes.
8. I once spent almost an entire day wearing my shirt inside-out. I was college.....the rest is history!
9. I once mailed my college classmate's ex-girlfriend, whom i did not know at all, asking her...."why did he shout at you on phone, one and a half years back?" I even had an online chat with her on the subject, and spent half an hour trying to convince her why she should answer my question. Of course, she thought i was a freak, and refused to answer my question.
What really puzzles me though, is why am i still on her messenger list???
10. My classmate's boyfriend (currently ex-boyfriend) once called me up at 12 at night....threatening me, and telling me that he will make sure that my life is made a living hell. And a couple of other things. Now this person is extremely scary to look at, not to mention that i ought to have taken the threats seriously......what I did was: laughed and banged the phone down.
This is one experience that i wouldn't trade for the world.
11. My 5 Seconds of fame: My Television debut...and that too on national television: Sleeping restlessly with a snoring husband, and playing the part of a disgruntled wife.
12. I managed to set off the office fire alarm, not once, but twice, on a single day. How? you ask. Well, very simple actually, I was making popcorn in the microwave. The packet said up to 1-2 mins, and I dutifully set the timer for 2 mins exact, coz who wants the seeds right? Turns out, it was 30 seconds too much. Office smoke detectors certainly do not appreciate burnt and blackened butter popcorn! Nor do they like that the employees should have have such food, because once the guard had switched off the alarm, I opened the popcorn bag in order to salvage whatever little of the popcorn that was left, only to have the fire alarm blaring again. The guard gave up and promptly "ordered" me to dump the bag.
13. I mentioned an idea for a brilliant story on funny Indian road signs to a person at a party, only to find out a couple of moments later that he had authored a book on the same topic the same year... and "we" had even reviewed it!
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