Finish line

Not that I stayed true to the Blogathon really, but I wouldn’t dare to miss the last day. I was reading all the ‘Phew, we made it!’ posts today and feeling pretty glum because I am not one of them. Because I quit. Damn it. Oh well.

So yesterday’s post, while I understand fell in the ’emo’ zone, which is usually not my comfort zone, was very heartfelt. I understand that involuntarily, I have turned this blog into an, erm, how do I put it nicely, oh well, I will stick to what a comment said, humor, sarcasm, and conversation oriented one. But I have been meaning to do this post for a long time, but never got to it. Then a couple of posts, like this one, and this one, along with the Blogathon’s ‘Must. Post. Today.’ pressure, made me do it.

Which also makes me wonder just how much I avoid controversial discussions and opinions out here. I usually avoid anything very personal too. And everything I feel way too strongly about. Forget doing a post, the moment I set out to voice a strong opinion about something other than irrelevant stuff in even a sentence in the post, I immediately step back, and don’t do it. It just feels safer. Perhaps I worry how I would take confrontation? I think that is it. I avoid conflicts of all sorts in life, and this is my happy place, so I would most definitely not want negativity here.

Plus, despite all my ‘safe’ posting, I have been fortunate enough to be trolled for comments on others’ blogs (where I usually am pretty opinionated). On my own blog too, I have had well meaning people question me for things like saying I had a nice night out with The Dude (Wow! You drink? And dance? What sanskaar!); losing weight post Zo (Wah! What a mother, wah!) , for blogging at all (what do you bloggers intend to get out of this? What change are you bringing about by writing incoherent things that matter to no one just because you have a hang of the English language), oh, and my favorite when I wrote about some Sitcom characters (so what exactly is your point? You’re comparing yourself to a Sitcom character,have you no life?). By the way, I strongly suspect the first troll might have been Alok Nath, and the second Aishwarya Rai. Not sure who the other two could be.

Anyway, the reason I am going on about why I write what I write and why I don’t write what I don’t is very simple. I have to post today, and it is almost 11. And I have to finish a presentation and send it before I sleep tonight. All that pressure, I tell you, all that pressure. Plus, not the best feeling to have on a Friday night, which technically, should be spent with a drink, er, coconut juice and some nice music. But a promise is a promise, even if it is chipped in the middle.

So yes, I struggled, but I almost made it. In any case, this is 28 posts in 31 days and that’s no mean feat. Plus, there are so many of them who did 31 in 31. I doubt there would be any who did 28. So I am unique that way. Yay. It was fun, and man, it was tough. I wonder if I will ever do something as crazy as this again?

I think I know the answer to that one.


Sugar in a plum

Let me tell you a story.

The story of a little brown girl. She was born to her brown amma and appa, who adored her. Her amma truly believed that she was the prettiest child ever. Not unlike any other amma, because all ammas think their children are pretty much destined to grow up into Aishwarya Rais and Hrithik Roshans.

But there was this thing, They lived in this part of the world, where brown was not beautiful. Brown was unfortunate. Who would marry a brown girl? People would pity those who were brown.  But when amma heard things like this, she would shrug it off like it was silliest joke ever, because wasn’t her baby the cutest?

When she was 3, the little brown girl, got a baby sister. Now this baby sister was pink. And white. Now, the neighbours, would sometimes  come to Amma and say, ‘Oh-ho, your little brown girl is so brown! That’s quite sad. Thankfully, your other little girl is all pretty and beautiful. So pink, so white”. Now amma, would never hide this from the little brown girl. She would tell her, pretty much surprised, because she truly believed that both her babies were adorable. ‘What do these people know! Have you seen yourself?’. She would tell the little brown girl, that she was the best. The little brown girl completely believed her amma.

The little brown girl also had an unruly curly mop of hair. Her amma would spend hours oiling, combing, and plaiting this hair. She would tell her how pretty her hair was. How everyone asked what shampoo she used, because the hair was just so nice, so perfect. The little brown girl with her unruly hair pulled into two plaits, would grin, and feel giddy with happiness.

The brown girl went to school. There were all kinds of kids there, brown, black and pink. She stayed all happy, showing off her pretty face (her appa said she had the sharpest features) and her long long hair. One day, a very pink and white girl joined her school. Everyone would talk about how pretty she was. The brown girl felt so too. As luck would have it, the little brown girl soon was best friends with the pink girl. They were inseparable. The brown girl would go home and tell amma about her pretty pink and white friend. And how everyone thought she was beautiful. How come they never said it about her? Amma would tell her that these people who didn’t realise it as yet, would know in some years how really pretty she was. That worked for the little brown girl. And she would go back to feeling all happy about how nice both she and her best friend looked.

Then she grew up some more. She always seemed  to wear the nicest clothes, and being as pretty as she was, with her awesome hair, and brown skin, she went about her life always feeling good about herself. She never bothered about what anyone said about how she looked.  There were times when people would say she was fat, dark, and not pretty. The not-so-little brown girl would talk to her amma about these people, and together, they would wonder what they meant. She was after all, the prettiest. The not-so-little brown girl believed so herself, and as always went about life, feeling on top of the world.

Soon, the brown girl stepped out on her own. There were all kinds of people telling her all kinds of things. There were people telling her ‘Ofcourse, she looked good, brown skin was so in.’ She would roll her eyes and think about how she always knew it, didn’t she hear amma tell her? Then there were times when people didn’t really acknowledge it, and in their case, she would roll eyes at them, their ignorance.  The  brown girl went through each phase, each day, in her life, comfortable in her skin, confident that she looked good. Because she felt so.

Years later, she met a boy, who would tell her all that her amma always said. He said she was the best, the prettiest.  The brown girl and the boy fell in love, and got married. One day, the brown girl, sat back and decided to flip through all her childhood, school, and college photographs. As she scanned through, she saw a different her in each phase. She looked so dark and sweaty in the Sports day picture after all that marching in the sun. But she was grinning like she was a superstar. And Oh My! The picture from the farewell dance for Class 12? What was with that hair! Why was it everywhere! How come no one said anything to her? Someone did, she remembered, but she also remembered brushing it away like it was the lamest thing ever. And her college picnic? What was she wearing? And why was she looking so fat? Was this all really her? How is it that she never realised that she looked bad when she was actually living those days?

The brown girl asked her amma. And her amma was shocked that she would even say such a thing! “You were always pretty! I told you so!” “I wasn’t! Look at me then! I am SO much better now!” She argued. Her amma shrugged like she didn’t get what the brown girl meant. So the brown girl gave up. Amma didn’t understand a thing.

Today, the brown girl is an amma herself. To a little brown girl. Who she truly believes is the prettiest child ever. Not unlike any other amma, because all ammas think their children are pretty much destined to grow up into Aishwarya Rais and Hrithik Roshans.

And all she hopes that she is able to make her little girl feel just as pretty, just as special, as she did herself all her life.

Because truth is, she is.

Food Food

“The next time I see you fill your bottle at the water cooler and then stand right in front of it, to drink that water, and then refill those gulps you just took, I will SLAP you.”

Oh hi. Didn’t quite notice you out there. In case you are wondering, that, right above this, was my thought bubble some 5 minutes ago. No, I didn’t say it. Yes, I mean it. No, I don’t think I have the guts to actually do it. What I would actually do is roll my eyes conspicuously, hoping someone notices, because that girl won’t anyway, she’s drinking water right?

Let’s move on to the nicer things in life now, shall we? Like a very good one, that happened today. So we went to this tiny eating joint right across my workplace. 3 of us did. Of the three, technically, I am on a healthy diet on weekdays. So I tell them I will order healthy, soup perhaps. So we go ahead and order Nachos with cheese, cheesy pasta and one sole paratha (for one of us three, who doesn’t like anything but Indian food. Not me, never me.) Anyway. So like replacing my soup with a cheese overdose was not enough, the guy from the joint came over and said that they were launching pizzas next week, so would we be kind enough to taste a pizza they would serve? And give feedback? For free?

Yuh-huh. We did ofcourse. My friend thought it was because he thought we were ordering way too less and so he felt sorry for us. Which doesn’t make sense but fact of the matter is I had a very very unhealthy meal. Partly free. Totally Yum.

Now that we are talking of food, I guess we should just continue. I am not sure if I have mentioned but I am one of the rare (I think) pure vegetarians turned non vegetarian kinds. As in, till I met The Dude, I was very particular about my Tam-Brahm roots which pretty much do not even allow eggs (though I had always had that). I even had an incident which scarred me for a while. But when I met the Dude, I think it was my introduction to how carnivorous human beings can be. I mean, this guy, he has to have meat to call it a meal. He genuinely feels sad when people spend money on vegetarian food, when some thing meaty is available at the same price. I mean, when I say ‘ I will have Subway Aloo Patty’, you would think he was a 5 year old who was told he would get only spinach for dinner for life. And I am talking about what I am ordering for myself here. He honestly believes that vegetarians are missing out on something big in their life.

So yes, I never felt the need to try non-vegetarian food, and was pretty ok, and actually loved my Baby Corn Manchurian, and veg spring rolls. Still do. The Dude made me try chicken once, but I pretty much wrote it off as Paneer. I know, I can pretty much imagine all the non-vegetarians have a stroke, but that’s the fact. Chicken for me, was Paneer, which I don’t like by the way. Only more chewy, and on top of it with bones in it, which really doesn’t make it better.

Then this one trip to Chennai happened, when The Dude and I met up with a bunch of his friends in Mahabalipuram. We went to a pretty exotic buffet lunch at a nice place, Fisherman’s Cove was it? Will confirm. Anyway. This place had ridiculous junk in the name of vegetarian food. I distinctly remember the hara-bhara kabab, which was neither hara, nor bhara, nor a kabab. More like day old, stale daal wada which I don’t like fresh itself in the first place. Yeah, so at that moment, everyone was talking about how awesome the prawn curry was. I mean, come on, we were in Mahabaleswar, and this was fresh sea food. So, finally, I gave up, and got myself that.

Prawn Curry. There was that day, and there is today. And I don’t think there is any menu where I don’t check for Seafood first. Some people find this weird, theory being Seafood is usually the last thing a vegetarian would like because of its considerably strong scent? But guess, I think I love it no questions asked. I never took to other meats, Chicken I like in some extremely unhealthy forms read KFC, or sausages,  but everything else is still taboo. But Seafood. Ah Seafood. The Dude still thinks Seafood doesn’t really classify as hardcore meat, as it doesn’t ‘fill’ him, but I think that’s the best thing, it is light, yum, and technically, good for you if cooked right. So I am an out and out Seafood person now, much to the delight of The Dude who I guess was worried he would end up having to eat leftover crispy fried vegetables (another thing I love by the way) after every meal for the rest of his life.

So that’s my food story. Our food story actually. This change that I chose to make, honestly added a different dimension to our travel too, one we love, one where we try cuisines from all places we travel to. We still have reservations about a few things I think (I doubt and sincerely hope that The Dude will not want to try Dog, or Alligator, or fried bees, which my bro-in-law did, along with steamed larvae, yes, you are allowed to have a stroke now) but those are far and few in between, and I think the openness to meat in general gives you a huge variety to choose from in other countries.

Also, we are very particular to avoid Indian food whenever we travel. Heck, I don’t order Indian food in any restaurant unless it’s a Dhaba meant for North Indian food, or a Kamat/Udupi restaurant for it’s idli-sambaar-wadas. By the way, yet another thing The Dude and I have exactly the same thought process which basically means he doesn’t have to finish up his steak with the the Navratan Korma I did not finish.

Wow, that was some ramble huh? I don’t think I have written a tenth of the stuff I can when it comes to food. And guess what, all that talk, has made me crazy hungry now. But good girl that I am, there will be no eating until dinner, which is still atleast 2 hours away. Till then, all I can do is wait. And wait for the healthy food back home, that is. For the junk, there are TWO whole days to go. *Gulp*

Koi weekend ko bulao yaar. Please.

Blogathon 2014 Version 2.0

If you took a peek into my head right now to see the thoughts floating around, which I can pick from, make into a post of sorts and publish out here, you will find nothing. Yep, that’s right. However, that in no ways provides an acceptable excuse for having given up on the Blogathon. I mean, you know me, when has the lack having anything to say stopped me from posting? In fact, in most cases, that’s been the prompter if anything.

Not today though. I am struggling. There is this post I wanted to do yesterday, even wrote half of it, but eventually left it midway. Not unlike the Blogathon. I am not proud of the quitting part though, only, I had a vague sensation throughout Saturday, going by the way it was progressing, that I would eventually skip posting. And I did. No attempt even to avoid it. A drifting thought of putting up a picture floated by as I munched through a muchly scrumptious dinner at TGIF, but it melted away like those layers of ice cream in my Mocha mud cake.

Anyhow. Does this mean I am out or something, from this Blogathon thing because I will be very angry. I know I was missing for 3 days  but at the moment I am like totally doing a post right? Or is it like a notice period, where it gets extended by the number of days you take off in between? But it is not notice period, that would mean never returning. Aw. I can’t do that. Especially since I would be hitting the big 10 in a couple of months. Can you imagine this? If I am still blogging next year, I would have blogged for 11 years, which would frigging be 1/3rd of my life. Eep. For two things. I am going to turn 33 in two years time. Eep. Also, man there haven’t been many things that have stuck around for a third of my life now, have there? So this be big, very big. But we are rushing ahead of ourselves right now, because for now it is about the big 10.

Or not, that pretty much dies with the last para. Back to what missing 3 days of posting means. So Saturday I missed because it was an abso-frigging-lutely busy day. BUSY. I was doing something right from when I was up at 9:30 AM I think? Until when I finally crashed at 12. No naps in between. Can you imagine that? And Sunday, to make up for all that I did Saturday, well, I took naps. Yep, pretty much the essence of my Sunday. Plus, this flow break thing is not exactly good. I was like, anyway I missed Saturday, how does one more day hurt? Then on Monday, I thought, God! I missed the whole weekend! And now people are getting angry about it (people did, I swear. They pinged me and asked me what was wrong, and when I told them nothing, they asked me what was wrong with me in that case. I know, mean). So might as well prove it’s not a weekend thing, by bunking on Monday.

And that was pretty much the gist of everything. I know I have totally lost track of what the whole post was about, which was ‘what does missing 3 days of posts mean in terms of the Blogathon’? Am I in or not? Have I lost the game? (Was this a game, Oh My God was it, because this means I am not winning HELP!) Should I be starting from the start? (Haha, fooled ya. You think that’s an option?)

In any case, since this whole thing was started by nice people who just wanted lazy people to get off their asses and post (no sense at all, if anything posting makes me sit on my ass for way longer), I know they won’t chuck me out so unceremoniously (Please, please don’t). So I will ignore the fact that I gave up after TWENTY FOUR days of continuous posting, in sickness and in travel, for absolutely NO reason at all. And just continue like nothing happened.

Or just say, ‘It happens’.

Retrospectively speaking

Its January 19th, and by this time next month, our final term would be over. Thats something really big!! Well, the scary part would still be left, as placements start around 4 days after the term ends… but I choose not to think about them. People have started preparing for the finals, and that really scares the hell outta me!! The worst thing is that every day, I tell myself , that I am going to start reading, but its never consistent and so never really happens. Pretty sad, just hope I dont end up facing the repurcussions of this whole attitude.

Baffled? You should be. That was 9 years ago. Which means I was 22 when I wrote that. Oh My God. I cannot remember the time I was 22. Anyway, because I am out of awesome stuff to say, I thought I should do this series I am going to very originally call ‘Reflections’. Wow. How nice. Apart from the missing apostrophes, and the multiple exclamation marks, I think I sound pretty much the same right? You know the whole, ‘I think I should be doing this but I am doing something else only I don’t know what Oh My God Oh My God Worry Worry Worry Ooh chocolate.’ So the plan is I copy paste the first bit of the post from the day closest to today for each of the 9 Januarys before this that I have been blogging for.

We finally found a video library near our place. Not exactly near near, but around a 15 minute walk one way, and right next to my old college. But seriously, it’s been so worth it, especially since we had been pretty disillusioned by the fact that we were so unable find one before. Which is damn weird considering we stay right in the centre if the city.

We here was me, my flatmate-turned-BFF, and another flatmate. The only thing I can notice in this bit is that fact that my repulsion to punctuation seems to have reduced and don’t see too many red underlined words this time. Phew. I feel better really. Anyway, I do remember very well the Video library I have written about here. The place from where we would pick the mushiest, cheesiest Rom-coms and chick flicks, and drool over the good looking men, and cry over the soppy scenes, while gorging on Subway sandwiches, sitting on a couple of old broken plastic chairs, or the floor in a massive, empty living room. Good times, I have to say.

Ok. Gult movies are officially hilarious. Actually not the movies per say, I haven’t really seen any, but the names of the movies, more importantly, their so called tag lines, are so astoundingly funny! I mean take this for an example: ‘Rakhi – Highly inflammable’.  What does one make out of it? I could think of a few interpretations. 1. It’s a brand of petroleum probably, and the tagline basically is a statutory warning, ‘Rakhi petroleum – Highly inflammable’. Or 2. It’s this lady named Rakhi, who is extremely short tempered, or well, inflammable. That too highly. But no! The poster has the picture of a typical gult hero, with a dozen Rakhi’s tied on his wrist. So ok, we get it, it’s the story of this universal brother, who is by the way highly inflammable. But please, please, could we do something about the title of the film here?

That by the way was me trying to be funny. Sarcastic funny, if you didn’t get it. I remember that I hardly got any comments on this one, and I swear it broke my heart. Sob. But then that was before I understood that if there is one thing people can be very stingy and lazy with in the blog world, it is comments. Yes, I myself am.

Between the last post and this one, I have learnt quite a few things. To begin with, I now know that I am lazy enough to postpone writing a new year post for as long as 21 days till after new years. It is also possible to have around 20 incomplete drafts in your folder, none of which will ever see the light of the day (rather the page on the blog). I also know that it is no use ‘giving myself time’ to decide upon the New Year’s resolutions so that they are more accurate and not impulsive, because the end result will be no resolutions at all, as is the case now.

Ooh, more of me! Things like this and I know I haven’t changed much. But I want to tell this me from 2008 I think, that girl, you’re going to make up for this delayed post in January, by writing a post every day in January. Really. Just wait 6 years! Then this laziness will seem all justified.

What do you get when you combine the following?- Last few days of break before joining new place of work (which by the way are weekdays)- Lil Sis’s visit to the city- Exclusive previews of End of season sales for the club members at all awesome malls in the city. Aw, those were some fun days.

This was right after I and The Dude visited Goa together for the first time. What a trip, what a trip. The only New Year’s Eve we spent at home too. And then shopping with the Lil Sis! Like I already said, good times.

No, I am not reviewing the movie. Oh come on, it released like 5 years ago? But instead, I am going to talk about the one topic which I have mentioned time and again out here, but then this post from S ‘n’ S has forced me to do a full blown post.

To provide some reference to the context, this was my ‘Baby’ post. Everyone was writing about babies, so did I. And this was before Zo was even thought about. Hmm, motherhood does stuff to you.

It’s got to be true love you know,
Nothing else explains the way I feel,
When you’re here, life’s a bed of roses;
And gloom descends, the moment you leave.

My love for Sales. This stands true till today. The good thing about January, perhaps the only good thing, because other than that I can only think Year end reports, preparing new reports for the New Year, working weekends, weight loss resolutions after the holiday binging, and other depressing stuff. Sale shopping remains the highlight of my Januaries.

To be very honest, I was not to keen about reviewing this book. Reading, absolutely keen upon, but reviewing, not so much. Because it is not very often, and in my case, never happened that the author is also a very good friend. And I wasn’t very sure how I would be able to express my honest opinions about something that was my friend’s baby.

This was a toughie. Reading and reviewing my friend’s ‘baby’ as I called it, while I was struggling with my own baby, all of 3 months. Plus, I vividly remember typing this on my rickety College desktop which was then lying at my parents’ place. Knowing what my friend is writing about this time, it might be a while before I review her again.

A day has 24 hours. Before you say that you know it, I will clarify that I am not being a know all who is claiming to spread enlightenment by stating a fact the world knows. I am not. I am just reiterating this to myself because apparently, I did not know this. Actually, a more logical explanation would be that I  knew it, but looks like I did not realize it. Till now, that is. These days however, this basic fact has taken it upon itself to make me aware of it’s importance and inevitability. And the whole “24 hours in a day” rule seem to be too much of a constraint for me to be able to fit my life into it.

Oh my reading cribbing. Nothing’s changed by the way. I still don’t read. But I have definitely gone less harsher when I judge myself for choosing Candy Crush over Khalid Hosseini. Ah well, someday.

Anyway, that’s the post for today. You might think it is a cheat post, but think about it. I sifted through the archives, copied pasted the first paragraph and then added my vishesh tippani also. So technically, it aint a cheat post.

Eh who am I kidding. Cheat post it is. So sue me. No don’t. I know you won’t.

It’s Friday after all.

23 going on Kill me right now

So I was looking at the Visitor statistics for this blog (I do things like that, quite often. Sometimes I wonder when I will grow beyond these material things and move into a more Zen mode, but then I realize I am actually most Zen when I am surrounded with the moh-maya of the world, so there is no point in going beyond all this. Really, this is a real conclusion. Anyway, back to the sentence.), and I noticed that my visitor numbers this month ,are double of my biggest monthly visitor number EVER (I am talking since 2010, when we moved to WordPress), and it is still only the 23rd of January. I mean, how awesome is that?

NOT. So basically, this is what I need to do get my visitor numbers up, huh? This? Write EVERY-effing-DAY? How sadistic can you be boss? God. I know there are other methods by the way, like cutting down the preview of the post on Reader. So people have to click on the link to actually read the post, and they get added to my materialistic visitor count. Na-na-na-na-na-na. But I don’t do that because of the goodness of my heart. Also, because I realised how bad it is for people who have crazy restrictions on internet at work, when I was (am) one of them. One reason I had to let go of some blogs I love by the way, They ticked the “limit preview on Reader” box in their settings.

I am facing a very “In your face!” situation at work right now. So I told somebody yesterday, as serious feedback that there was no point saying you are spending time to come up with ideas, if none of them finally take shape. And today, I have been staring at some material to come up with something (yes, the same thing I was supposed to ‘try again’. God, this daily posting is making this a diary. And you guys know way too much about everything now), and I do have some idea about what I want to do, but I cannot put it on paper. Cannot. And in my own words, there is no point to it till I can. Very bad Karma, I thought we were friends.

I am having my daily Orange right now. I know I already did a post on oranges, so I won’t get into details but I have one basic observation. Isn’t it weird that the variety of orange, which has this greenish, wrinkled peel, and looks quite unappetizing is actually the tastiest, easiest to peel, and has the least amount of that annoying fibrous stuff sticking to it? And that brilliant orange orange, Naarangi or Satrangi, no should be Naarangi, Satrangi doesn’t make sense, looks so nice, but it quite bleh on the inside? I mean, if I were a philosopher, I would be deriving conclusions on inner beauty, and all that glitters is not gold from this astounding piece of information, but since I am not, I will just say what I already did, I find it weird.

So I got back to work, and now I am back to complete this post. I still haven’t found a solution to my ‘how-do-you-get-this-on-paper’ situation. In other good news, I have finished my bottle of water for the day. What was happening was I kept reading about the importance of water, drinking 8 litres of water and all that so much, that I think in an attempt to get into the water drinking mode, I stopped drinking water altogether. Seriously. Not a drop throughout the day at work. So I gave myself an internal goal of a bottle a day. And so far, I have managed this, It’s been four days. And I visit the loo only like 400 times because of this over-intake. Seriously. I don’t want to do a gross input-output ratio but it is most definitely bizarre (lovely word this by the way, ‘Bizarre’).

That being that I should really get back to work again. Not that a brilliant idea struck me just now, but I doubt typing out this kind of a post is going to aid me in that. So for now I will go back to staring at some slides instead. Wow. Whatay life, I must say.

It’s not as bad as I make it sound by the way. A little worse maybe. Oh well.


Disclaimer : The following post contains mildly  angsty, ranty content, and is not suitable for children younger than 5 years (because they won’t get it anyway), and  people who have attained nirvana. Readership discretion is advised.

I am desperately seeking intervention at the moment, in the form of an entry into the Hallowed portals of Hogwarts, even if it is an affiliated branch, because it needs to admit relatively older folks, aka me. It is alright if their certification doesn’t work anywhere, and doesn’t get me an Auror’s position, because all I need is a few spells for personal use.

I know exactly what I need too, by the way.

Wingardium Tissuosa

So this spell basically is for the morons at my work place who think that used tissues in the washrooms need to be placed in a semi-crumpled state on top of the garbage bins. On top, and not inside, forcing me to assume that they in fact think that these tissue are actually some sort of a decorative item which they need to display for the next unassuming person who enters the washroom. This also has a domino effect, because none of the people entering later would in their right minds want to fix this, and this makes them pile their tissues in a similar fashion, so in about an hour, we have a mountain of disgusting used tissues, falling to the floor, to greet whoever comes in.

The spell, is to make these tissues, all of them, fly with an extreme speed, and stuff themselves into the mouth of the first defaulter. If there is more than one, it should distribute the same, equally, or as per the discretion of the spell itself.


This spell is for women who can’t read. No, no, not in general. But women who cannot read the sign which says ‘3 garments only’ at the trial room. Now while this might be mainly for security, it also helps because it doesn’t make sense for one woman to set up home in a Trial room, changing into and out of 20 pairs of clothes in one go. But they do, they still do. And sometimes, they argue with the assistants saying they will keep their bag full of clothes outside the door, and take only 3 in at a time to try. Such amazing explanations make my face into the smiley which is basically the colon followed by a straight line.

As the name suggests, it is the opposite of Reducio (what? You don’t know Reducio? Read Harry Potter.) will make them grow by gigantic proportions so NONE of the clothes they try, buy, or own will EVER fit them. For that matter, the only clothes which will fit them will have to be specifically manufactured for them in a factory set up for them. Then all trial rooms are their’s to rule.

Petrificus Partialus

Ooh, I like this one. Ok, so have you gone to Tea Point for your daily cuppa? Of tea, or coffee, or Bournvita, or even licking sachets of sugar (yes, people do that apparently, and if you read blogs I think everyone should, you should know this person already)? Well, when I go there for my ‘badi chai’, I patiently take a look around to see who is already there, and till each of those person has gotten their chai/coffee/whatever, i don’t even open my mouth. I don’t, really. But there are people, who come from behind, extend their money from over my very annoyed shoulder and ask for what they want. When the guy places a cup on the counter, which could be for anyone, mind you, the menu is not exactly from Kamath Hotel, said person will also say ‘Excuse me’ and proceed to pick the cup from over the even more annoyed shoulder.

What does this spell do? Aaha. So like Petrificus Totalus, this is a partial petrifying curse. It will make the hands of this annoying creature immobile the moment they have paid for their order. So even if it is their tea, and there is no one around, they cannot pick it up, nor can they tell anyone about it. They can talk about anything else but not this. So basically, money’s lost, they look like jack-asses, and no tea. FOREVER (to be read as an evil whisper).

Buttonus Deadus

You gotta love this category of people by the way. Love them. I mean, fine, so all elevators lobbies will have two buttons to call the elevator, up and down. So? Well, you press up, when you want to go up, and down when you want to go down. So? Nothing. Simple right? But no. It might be simple, doesn’t mean it’s a rule right? Come on, it’s fun to press buttons! Come on, what do I do when I am waiting for my elevator, I am bored!

This spell is for the buttons inside the elevator and gets activated as soon as anyone presses both the buttons on the outside. When this person enters, and presses the number of the floor he wants to get to, it will simply not stop. No, it won’t. Too simple a spell you say? Well, it might be simple, doesn’t mean it’s useless right? Right.

Honkus Lobi

I mentioned these people in  a post sometime back. I have been writing too many posts to know when. Anyway. these are the people who mistake the horn on their car or bike to be accelerators. For the vehicle in front of them. Sometimes invisible even. They also assume that people enjoy stopping at signals and not moving, because not everyone wants to get to their destination obviously. And in jams, they think horns are these magic wands which will fix the source of the issue. But horns are not magic wands . These spells are.

So this spell, for every unwarranted beep of a horn, will return the favor with five beeps, inside the ear of the perpetrator, at strategic points of time, the more ill-placed the better, within the next 24 hours. If the said person has been unreasonably annoying, this might also be modified to longer beeps throughout the hour, day, or even week. The end result is hoping for deafness, atleast partial, or more discretion over the use of the horn in future, whichever comes first.

That’s my list for now. It might (will) increase because there will never cease to be people who totally deserve to be jinxed. That would be magic in itself.

So where can I find my application forms?