Announcement of the day

I usually don't announce the additions of any widgets, but leave it to y'all to discover them. However, this time round I suppose I feel the need to do so.

I've added an Article list to the left, right below the Blogs I Read section (which needs a major overhaul!). I'm going to put links to any interesting articles I come across there instead of dedicating one-line entries to them. If I feel the need to add a commentary to any article, I may do so, but I don't see that happening too often, do you?

Of course, this probably means my frequency of posting is going to drop sharply, but you'll just have to swallow the lump forming in your throat and live with it.

Also, I don't think Bloglines or Google Reader will catch updates happening to the list (yes, I do get to know when you use these; yay Statcounter!), so you'll probably just have to check every time you visit.

To start off the list, I've put up two articles. One is fairly outdated, but talks about Ganguly, so you should read it. The second is about a cause very close to my heart, and a person very dear to me - Anuja Gupta of RAHI Foundation and her work against child sexual abuse and incest. Read it, please.

Also, to know more about RAHI Foundation, you could visit their site, or even the Wikipedia entry I created for them. (Yers, I know, I'm very kewl.)

Nothing to say

I've been delaying putting this up because I haven't been able to figure out what to say in it. I've come to conclusion that there is nothing to say, except:

Read this.

Prologue to a Comedy of Errors

I've been reading this blog for a while now, and this post filled me with complete glee.

You see, two years ago, my family was finally leaving for our dream vacation in Europe. Only the thing is, at ten in the night, just as we're about to leave for the airport, we discover my passport is missing. I, of course, promptly went into hysterics (by which I mean, I started giggling and couldn't stop) while the father opened up every piece of luggage that was supposed to go with us (and mind you, my family does not know the meaning of travelling light).

Possible locations for the passport included the photocopy shop I had visited earlier that evening. The father has a penchant for photocopying everything as many times as possible, and for some reason mine was the only one with no copies having been made. So at 2230 hours, the brother and I dash down to the market, where of course, all the shops were closed. Resourceful person that I am, I called up the cell phone that was listed in front of the neighbouring shop, got the photocopy shop's owner's number, and called him up. He, of course, claimed that he had been in the shop at eight when the entire shop had been searched for some person's missing cell phone and no passport had been seen anywhere.

By the time we got home, my dad had searched through pretty much the whole house with no luck. My hysteria was rapidly reaching a peak when, after some discussion, the father announces that the mother and the brother will proceed with the vacation while we shall stay back and see what can be done. I still don't know who was more shocked - me, at the fact that I wasn't going, or the two of them, considering the only thing they knew about the logistics of the entire trip (which I had planned and arranged) was that it would be somewhere in the aforementioned continent.

So anyway, we dropped them to the airport, and spoke to the airlines, who said that two of us could travel later. We came back home, and went to the market again, with a torch this time. So at two in the night, the father and I are searching the market alleys and carpark to see if I had dropped it somewhere by mistake. No such luck, so we came back home and went off to sleep.

I got up at eight in the morning, and the first thing I did was call up the xerox shop, where the chap who picked up the phone very coolly informed me that of course my passport was with them. As I said at the time, may all the Gods shower curses on that owner for being so clueless about what happens in his shop, and zillions of blessings on the chaps who run the shop for keeping my passport safely.

The airline came through as well, and exactly twenty-four hours after the first half of my family, the father and I were on our way to Austria for what was to be the most accident-filled yet best vacation I've had till date. Although I could've done without the big grin and the bright "So it was at the photocopy shop after all, was it?" I got from the airline lady.

And it's not just me who does these things anyway.

Moonlight

I'm utterly fascinated by the moon tonight.

It's a crescent tonight, which is nice by itself, but tonight it's a completely flat crescent. Crescents are usually at an angle, and this is the first time ever I've ever seen it lying flat.

I believe you could see the outline of the hidden part as well tonight, but by the time it was pointed out to me, we'd reached an area where there was too much light and dust to be able to see it.

I'm still fascinated by its position tonight.

I do love the moon.

White Drums

For some reason that I have now forgotten, I found myself on this site today.

Now, I have nothing against the site and I'm sure it's a wonderful initiative which will make great contributions to our society. But take a look at their site header, and I quote:

"White Drums first Indian e-news paper by people."

*sigh* Was that really necessary? I mean, they're asking for it, aren't they?

So tell me... What are other "e-news papers" run by? Elephants?

The problem of choice...

Back in the good old Dark Ages, when I was a kid, if you felt like having a packet of chips, things were very simple. You either got the plain salted wafers, or you got the corrugated ones with masala. I never liked the latter, so for me good old Uncle Chips was just perfect.

Then came the wonderful era of privatisation and globalisation and what-not. Frito-Lays came in and squashed Uncle Chips right out of the market (I think they bought it and then squashed it, but I may be wrong on this one). And quite frankly, the initial offerings of Frito-Lays were nothing to write home about. Really.

Then came their American Onion and Cream flavour (or something of that sort; I can never remember the exact name) which I developed quite a fondness for, and is the flavour I always choose to have even today. They've introduced several other flavours since then, most of which I don't like. And they only came out with those corrugated-style chips, which are never nearly as nice as wafers.

Yesterday, we developed a craving for simple potato wafers. Not asking for much you would think. I headed to the market, but what do you know? Not one shop keeps ordinary wafers. You have onion and cream, tomato, masala, mint, even paneer tikka and chicken barbeque for crying out loud. But ordinary potato wafers are just about impossible to find in the market. Sheesh.

Trials and tribulations...

Some years back, we bought this set of four stools, to be used when we wanted to eat our meals at the kitchen counter. Whenever possible (that is, when one or more members are absent), I like to take two stools to sit on. It's more convenient that way.

My height has been a source of dissatisfaction for me for as long as I can remember. Not just because I can't reach the top shelf anywhere in the world. No, no, that is the least of my concerns. I have people to do that for me. My problem is with my height itself. 5 feet and half an inch. Yep, half an inch. Not 5 feet nothing, not 5 feet one. No, it had to go and get stuck at just half an inch past five feet.

One of my dearest-yet-annoying-est friends is a giant. I stopped tracking her height years ago, but I can safely say she is well over 7 feet. And thin, to boot. Fairness and equity were clearly not a priority for the Creator when He/She was doling out attributes.

And then there is the fact that while I got stuck at this height in my early teens, the guys my age suddenly decided to all shoot up when we hit our late teens. One day I'm talking to someone very comfortably, the next day I'm getting a freakin' crick in my neck.

I have recently discovered the joys of wearing heels. I resisted them for a long time, because I can never quite walk comfortably in them, but I have now figured out what kind of heels suit me and I am therefore happy. I bought a pair of shoes with the heels about one inch high and realised that would have been a very acceptable height for me. You would've never heard any complaints from me with that height. Well, maybe one or two, but not many, believe me. The two-inch heels I bought, on the other hand, are just a tad too much. I need to bend while standing and writing, or while washing my hands. And let's face it, that's an advantage you tall creatures will never have. Hah.

A thought. Or two.

So Narendra Modi and the BJP won in Gujarat. While not that surprised, I was, well, not happy.

I am, however, rather startled by the kind of jubilant reactions I'm seeing even in the Indian blogosphere in reponse to this victory. Modi as the Prime Minister of India? Seriously? Good God. [I'd like to add at this point that I disagree with most of the list in that post. Thank you.]

It almost comes as a relief to read one or two blogs actually expressing discontent at Modi's victory.

Yes, we live in a democracy. I started 2007 by having strong doubts about the Indian population's sanity when Aap ka Suroor became a hit (no, I haven't seen the movie, and no I have no intention of ever seeing it, thank you for asking). I'm ending the year convinced that there's something seriously wrong with our nation and the way we think and behave.

I really need to figure out how to highlight links in my posts.

Gunfire in Gurgaon

Columbine High School. Virginia Tech. You hear about the shootings at these schools and think, Oh my God, that's horrifying. And then you think, oh but this is the US we're talking about. Which in some ways is as scary as the fact that the incident itself.

Now this. In your country. In your city. Granted, you don't know these people or anyone who goes to this school. But you live in the same city as them. And it's as horrifying as any other massacre or shooting that may happen on the other side of the world.

And you've got to wonder, what's happening to the world? Where two 13-year-olds take their father's gun and shoot another boy their age in cold blood?

A thank you note

Occasionally, just occasionally, I get reminded that there are nice people out there in the world.

I'm not particularly known for taking care of my things. It's not really my fault; my belongings have a knack of disappearing into thin air, never to be seen or heard from ever again.

Anyway, so as anyone who knows me would tell you, I don't know the meaning of travelling light. My purses and/or bags are never exactly of the small variety, and despite their size, I usually have my hands full of a whole bunch of things. Most of which I never end up using during the day, but that's besides the point. I might need them, and then what would I do?

So anyway, Friday morning I left home with my purse full of random things, and a plastic bag which had my A4 notepad, class notes dating back to two months or more, sundry xeroxes and print outs (I prefer letting things accumulate instead of sorting out my papers as and when I get them, in case you were wondering). I reached campus, had a cup of tea, and then started wondering why my hands were feeling so empty. The answer? I'd left the packet in the autorickshaw. Running to the gate didn't help matters any; the guy was obviously long gone. So I spent the day giggling hysterically (Freud would give you several excellent reasons for such a reaction - all I can say is I did the same thing when my passport went missing two hours before my flight was due to take me for my dream vacation) and generally wondering what I was going to do.

Saturday morning, my phone and I happened to find each other in the same room at the same time (a miracle, I know; I can't figure out how we managed it) and I saw there were some missed calls from an unknown number. Not particularly bothered, I was on the verge of departing from the room when the phone rang, with the same number flashing. So I pick up, and turns out it's a guy calling from a shop in Shankar Market in good ol' CP whose brother's auto I had left my packet in.

To cut a long story short, the earliest I could get to CP was Monday, and after taking the packet (with everything intact, thank you, although obviously thoroughly searched) I asked the guy how on earth he managed to get my number. Turns out he went through all my papers and managed to find the visiting card of the dermatologist I went to some months back (did I ever tell you how I never sort out my papers but let them all accumulate?). He called her cell, and she gave him the number of the clinic who had my name on their records, who then gave him my number and address.

Who goes to that much of effort in this day and age? All I can say is, I was extremely fortunate that my belongings went into the hands of such a person. I realise this will never ever be read by the person it is intended for, but Alam, wherever you are, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.