A photographic memory

Sayesha is writing a thesis.

Wait, that makes me sound like a nerd.

Let me rephrase that.

Dissertation. Sayesha is writing a dissertation. On Bollywood.

"Sayesha is writing a dissertation on Bollywood."

Ah, that sounds much better.

So yesterday, I went for my second meeting with my supervisor, and he lent me this book 'To be or not to be: Amitabh Bachchan' to use as reference for my dissertation. It's a 4-kg book (yes, I weighed it when I got home retired hurt from lugging it back). And you can kill a man with it.

So during our meeting, he suddenly asked me, "I forgot to ask you this in the first meeting, but why did you pick me to be your supervisor?" And he asked me that very seriously. I knew why he was asking that. To make sure I was not a 'bouncee'. Since he does not teach me any subject, he was wondering if I was one of those whom every other professor in uni had rejected -- the 'bouncees' -- and if after bouncing around, I had resorted to asking random professors if they would agree to supervise me.

I had seen this question coming. But it was a long and weird story why I'd picked him.

"It's a long and weird story, Sir."

"Go on. I'm listening."

"I first met you about six years ago I think. For like five minutes. We met at the Canteen 2 bus stop and you asked me if I was from India. You gave me your card, and told me you had worked as a photojournalist for 'India Today'. You invited me to an Antakshari party you were having at your place. And then my bus came and I left.

And then I never met you after that. I graduated in 2002, and have been working for the last 3 years in the east, far far away from uni.

When I moved to the west 3 weeks ago, during packing and unpacking, I discovered a lot of stuff that I had lost. And found your card amongst it. And since I refuse to do my dissertation on anything but Bollywood, I figured you'd be the perfect supervisor. But I wasn't sure if you were still around as you could have been a visiting professor. After all, it had been so many years. But I looked you up on the uni website and found you. And that's how this came about."

"Stroke of luck, huh?"

"Yeah! To remember all this and find you again six years later at the right time!" I leaned back in the chair, beaming with pride at my fantastic memory.

"Five." He looked at me and smiled mysteriously.

"I'm sorry?"

"Five years, Sayesha. Not six."

"Huh?"

"I met you at the Canteen 2 bus stop in 2000. It's been five years. You had longer hair and you were not as thin as you are now."

My jaw dropped. It literally dropped.

"You remember me? From that one brief meeting five years ago?? How???"

"I'm a photographer, Sayesha." He smiled.

Baby's day out. Sayesha freaks out.

I am freaking out.

Suddenly there are babies everywhere. First, Munnu posts that he wants a baby. I discover that there are three pregnant women in my class. One of my designers just gave birth. One of my ex-colleagues announces she is pregnant. One of my groupmates for my school assignment is five months pregnant. The other has a five-month-old baby.

Every night, after class, as I travel with them in the bus and then in the train, all they talk about is babies. All the time. At first, I really freaked out with all the baby talk 'cos I could not understand or identify with what they were talking about. But soon I got used to it. I realised that the lives of these two women revolve around their babies, and that's all they can think of. All the time. And I told myself that I should try and understand that.

So I actually started making an effort to talk to them about their babies, in spite of my limited knowledge of babies, which pretty much translates to "So cute!" But that, as I learnt, is just 'Babies 101'. There's a lot more to it. And as I spoke to them about their babies, I realised I wasn't freaking out as much.

Today, I asked the pregnant one, "So are you gonna knit one of those tiny little pair of woollen socks for your baby?" Before she could answer, I went "But hey, Singapore's so hot! Your baby wouldn't need them! Maybe you should just buy the finger-less glove things!"

"Finger-less glove things! HAHAHAHA!" She laughed. (Gosh! Pregnant women laugh at everything, don't they? Must be the hormones.)

She told me she was taking the next semester off to look after the baby. So I said, "Wow. You're gonna be sittin' at home next sem?? Maybe you can help to type out my thesis. I'll pay you!"

"Haha! 5 bucks per word." She said.

"What??? Are you trying to get a lifetime supply of diapers for your baby or what? Why don't you get them embroidered with 'Proudly sponsored by Sayesha'?"

"HAHAHAHA!" Pregnant woman laughed again. I was beginning to get slightly embarrassed now.

"You know what, Sayesha?" She paused and looked at me seriously.

"What?" I paused and looked at her seriously.

"You'll make a hilarious mother!" She smiled.

And that's when I freaked out.

And I think I had this exact same expression.

Things will work out in the end

10 reasons why I laugh to myself as I work out in the gym

1. People do not frequent it too much on weekends. So on Saturday and Sunday mornings, it's like my personal kheti in the gym. I get the keys, I unlock the gym, switch on the lights and the AC, put on the TV/radio, work out, switch off the lights and the AC, lock the gym and return the keys to the security guard. I feel like I own the place. Muahaha!

2. The security guard David who always says, "Enjoy your workout, lady scholar!" as he hands me the keys. (Yeah, he interrogated and dug out my entire history on Day 1.)

3. The 2-year-old toddler in the baby care centre next door who insists on working out. So his Dad brings him and deposits him on the exercise cycle. The kid's legs don't even reach the pedals! So he kinda cycles in air, and that's such a comical sight I can't even begin to describe it.

4. The dude who comes to the gym, strips off his T-shirt, looks at himself in the mirror (from a few angles) and leaves.

5. The Takeshi Kaneshiro look-alike Japanese guy and his friend who always come to the gym together and do weights together, reminding me of some girls who always go to the ladies' in pairs.

6. The sign on one of the treadmills that says "Threadmill out of order". Now I am thinking broken-down-cotton-factory.

7. The dude who makes weird sounds when he lifts weights, "Aaahhh!!", "Ohhhh!!" inviting strange looks from people around him.

8. They usually put the TV on mute and the radio is always blasting, so the first time I went to the gym, for a minute I was really disoriented to see Channel News Asia newsreaders "lip-synching'" to 'It's getting hot in here so take off all your clothes.' (Maybe that's how 'Naked News' came about.)

9. The Indian dude who was watching me as I keyed in my age on the exercise cycle. Damn! I should have keyed in '56' and freaked him out.

10. And the one who makes me laugh the most. The Indian girl on the second "threadmill", trying to drown out the sounds of 'I will survive' from the radio by head-banging to 'Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam' blasting on the ipod.

That's me.

Blessed is she who can laugh at herself. For she'll never run out of material.

Sayesha's in love

Sayesha lost her heart last night.

And her voice too.

At the A. R. Rahman concert.

Have you ever been so overwhelmed by a person's talent that you feel privileged to just be in the same room as that person? Today I felt like that. Unlike many people I know, I will not refer to Rahman as God because I still haven't figured out my stand on the concept of God yet. But for now, to me, he is talent personified.

So there I was, dressed in my salwar kameez, complete with bindi (I jump at such occasions when I can wear Indian and not feel over-dressed), not only in the same 'room' as Rahman, but also close enough to see him and the others very clearly, thanks to my friend A who got us some really amazing seats. Best 82 bucks I have spent this entire year. Add to it the delightful company of friends -- Max on my left and Starbreez on my right -- and hey, life rocks. The evening could not get better. Max with his funny quips now and then (he almost threw a shoe at the annoying MCs whom I'll describe later!). And Starbreez with her insatiable appetite for Indian movies and music. (We all need someone to talk about whom or what we love. And sometimes I feel so thankful for having her in my life.)

Now, about the two really annoying MCs. If their nonsensical blabbering (about how the black-eyed-peas had almost caused the roof to crash down, and how we were not cheering as hard) was not enough, they invited the finalists of some superstar contest to sing on stage before Rahman could be put on stage. Twelve of them. One by one. Aaarghhh! It was so annoying. We were there to listen to Rahman, dammit! I think the audience made quite a statement when huge numbers (including us) just walked out. To get drinks because we were getting so impatient, and the twelve seemed to be taking their own sweet time. Bumped into a lot of people from uni outside who had also stepped out to get away from the trauma.

Finally, the ordeal was over, we went in and Rahman made his entry. And wow. No, actually I mean WOW. No, I mean WOW!!!!

When I think back, the total amount of talent on the stage last night was enough to bring the entire stadium crashing down. Rahman, Hariharan, Chitra, Sadhna Sargam, Madhushree, Udit Narayan, Kailash Kher, Karthik, and of course, the incredibly talented musicians, including the unbelievable drummer Sivamani.

As the Indoor Stadium filled with the beautiful sounds of Rahman's music, you could see that every song they sang was from the heart. And many of these songs have a very special place in my heart.

When they sang 'Ishq bina' I was reminded of uni days. My friend A and I had sung it during one of the performances of our uni's Indian band. It was been a huge success. So it was a very special feeling that we were both sitting in the same row, listening to the live and original version of the song we had sung in uni years ago.

Hariharan, Sadhna Sargam and Chitra did a piece called 'Unplugged' where they sang songs with their own little modifications. It was sheer magic. The control that Hariharan has over his voice is enough to make one go dizzy. And Chitra's voice... there was something divine about it. Something you cannot describe, yet something you cannot ignore. And Sadhna Sargam. Her voice is like the sound of water flowing. So incredibly pure that it leaves you craving for more.

I sang along with every song they sang. As for the ones in tamil I did not know, I sang the hindi version. Till the incessant singing caused me to lose my voice. And now I sound like a talking frog. But I have no regrets.

I was just waiting for Sadhna Sargam to sing 'Snehidane'. She did. And I sang along. (Yes, I love the song so much I mugged up the full lyrics, even though I don't understand a single word of it!! I need to get someone to help me with the pronunciation before I can sing it for people.)

I believe that some of the songs originally done in tamil just don't sound right when sung in hindi. I can never equate 'Snehidane' to 'Chupke se' or 'Vaseegara' to 'Zara zara'. Yes, both versions sound good, but there is something in the original one that cannot be found in the second version. You can tell something is not right.

The audience was equally divided into tamil and hindi speaking people. So every time the singers would perform a hindi song, there would be shouts from the audience, "Tamil song!" and when they'd do a tamil song, the others would shout, "Hindi song!" But irrespective of the language they performed in, I enjoyed myself immensely. It really is true -- music is the language of languages.

Udit and Madhushree sang 'Hum hain is pal yahan' from 'Kisna', totally taking me by surprise. You see, I love that song, but I have never heard anyone giving it great reviews. So this was like a personal surprise for me. And I thought of the lines at the beginning of the song (the real meaning of which I've lately begun to understand):

Kabhi kabhi hum ek doosre ko khokar bhi toh
pyaar ko ooncha darza dete hain...
Juda rehkar pyaar ki oonchainyon ko praapt karte hain...
Har pyaar milan toh nahin
Judaai bhi toh ek pyaar hai...

("Sometimes, we honour love by losing each other. By being apart, we attain the highest levels of love. Being together is not the only kind of love. Being away from each other is also a kind of love.")

Speaking of love, is it me or is the Karthik guy incredibly sexy?? I did not even know of his existence before the concert, but there was something about him that made me look only at him whenever he was on stage. Yes yes, he was wearing a black shirt and all that, and I know that does something to me, but I think this was more than that. It was probably the attitude he had when he was singing. His expressions, his body language. "Starbreez, I think I have a huge crush on him!" I whispered my confession. As he sang on, and they showed close-ups of his face on the three screens behind, I shivered and shrunk back into my seat to stop myself from gushing like a 13-year-old in love.

Kailash Kher. I had no idea he was so short. But the little man, dressed in a very strange costume (white dhoti with pink motifs, a sleeveless satin blue top, and a red shawl) sure packed a punch. The rustic and earthy quality of his voice adds a certain character to his songs that no one else can.

There are some moments in life when you are so happy that you are sad. And in that moment, I missed certain people in my life very badly. People who are special. People whom I love. People who are not around me. People who should have been with me. Sitting next to me, losing themselves in the divine music I was losing myself in.

I was privileged to be part of that wonder. I got goosebumps. I hugged myself in delight.

I think I have fallen in love.

With music.

All over again.

Manaofying 101 lessons by Dad

I think my earliest 'How to manaofy a furious loved one' lessons came from Dad.

When I was a kid, many of my friends in school were Dad's bank clients' children. So I would often accompany him to hang out with my friends whenever he went to meet the clients. They would often serve us mithai and pepsi, neither of which Dad was allowed to take, because of strict orders from his doctor. Sometimes he would refuse the sweets, but he wouldn't say 'no' to the pepsi.

And I would go home and tell on him. Maybe on some levels, I believed that grown-ups were not supposed to make "mistakes" and I was thrilled to have "caught one".

"Mom, pata hai kya? Dad had one full bottle of pepsi at Agarwal Uncle's house today!"

"What??" She charged at him. "After all my efforts to keep your blood sugar in control, you have to go out and have pepsi??"

Dad smiled sheepishly at first. But oh boy, was Mom furious.

"I did not ask for it. They offered it to me..." He tried a meek argument.

"And you accepted it? A full bottle??" She was still fuming.

And then it happened.

He broke into song.

"Sabko maloom hai main sharaabi nahin
Phir bhi koi pilaaye toh main kya karoon?"

("Everyone knows I'm not an alcoholic.
But if they offer me alcohol, what can I do?")

Now there's three reasons why seeing him break into that particular Pankaj Udhas number was so hilarious.

1. My Dad sings like... well, how do I put this diplomatically? Well, let's just say he sings the way I drive. There is not a single musical bone in his body. Really. Really.

2. My Dad's Hindi is like... well, ummm... let's just say it's like... my Hebrew.

3. My Dad is a teetotaller.

Guess that was too much for Mom.

Phir kya hona tha? Kudi hansi toh phansi. :)

Mera kuchh saamaan...

Dad used to say, "The things you lose during one transfer -- you find during the next." So true.

Dad also used to say, "And the boxes you don't open after one transfer, you will never open after the next. It probably means you don't need that stuff. Throw it."

I found such a box when I was packing to move from the east to the west. I was amazed to discover it. It had stayed unopened for three whole years in my old place. What could it contain?

I remembered Dad's words. Then I opened it so I could decide whether it was safe to throw it. And at once, my childhood, teenage and university life hit me.

There they were. Smiling at me. Making me smile.

Cards from guys in school who had a crush on me.

Cards I'd bought but given to no one.

Cutesy stickers.

Love letters belonging to friends who had placed them in my safe hands lest someone in their family discovered it.

Poems I had written.

Yellowed books.

Little gifts from people I love and people who love me.

Looks like Sayesha had found her 'memories box'.

And nope, I wasn't gonna throw it. No way.

Here are some of the things that I found in the box:

A gift from my dear friend Jeff. This was years ago. Now he's happily married. And I'm so thankful that we're still as close as we used to be. Jeff, if you're reading, remember this? :)




















My first keyboard. I think I was ten or so. Check out how tiny it is. It's practically four times smaller than my current one.




















Another gift from a friend who used to say that I am a lot like Phoebe Buffay from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (Ok Tarzan, you can stop grinning now.)

















A farewell gift given to me by a very close friend when I was leaving India seven years ago. It says, "When you meet a stranger, make friends. Do remember, your friends were strangers when you first met them." (I'd blogged about this earlier.)




















My engineering calculator from my first year at uni. Gosh the things they make. 'Engineering calculator' it seems.




















My first (and last) walkman. Haven't seen one of these in years!




















An audio cassette. Oh man! An audio cassette!!! Ghulam Ali and Asha Bhosle at their classic best!

What masterpieces...

Dard jab teri ataa hai toh gila kisse karein
Hijr jab tuney diya hai toh mila kisse karein

Karoon na yaad magar, kis tarah bhulaaun usey
Ghazal bahana karoon aur gungunaaun usey

Phir saawan rut ki pawan chali
Tum yaad aaye, tum yaad aaye




















A gift my 7-year-old tuition kid gave me on Teacher's Day. It says, "Teacher, you're a precious work of art." (I think I'm gonna cry.)




















I'd gone to meet the Indian cricketers when they came to Singapore in 1998 (or was it 1999?). Rahul Dravid signed an autograph for me. Oh man. What a man.
















And Nikhil Chopra. And this was more special than the Dravid thing. Why? I bumped into Nikhil Chopra on the streets a day after I got his autograph. And to my absolute delight, he called out my name and said, "Hi, remember me? We met yesterday?" Whoa. Celebrity ho toh aisa!




















A diary of quotes that my sis and I had compiled. Typical ones she wrote:

"Be a girl with a great big smile
Try and be jolly all the while
If things go wrong, never look blue
Smile and say, "Oh, I'll get through."

Typical ones I wrote:

"Britain produces cashewnuts
Spain produces them too
But India took a long time
to produce a nut like you!"




















A diary of hindi/urdu poems I wrote. Promise not to laugh and I will actually reproduce a few lines below (before you judge me or laugh at me, just remember that I was 15 when I wrote this!)

Ajnabi, tum ajnabi hi rehna...
Raahein tumhari jud jaayein humaari raahon se
Par tum na humse judna
Gar ho yeh pata peechhe hain khade hum
Toh bhi na kabhi tum mudna
Dil ki baat kabhi na kehna
Ajnabi tum ajnabi hi rehna

Aankhon mein dekhkar, na aankhon se kabhi bolna
Bas yun hi baat karna
Na muskurakar dekhna, na hi jaankar kabhi
Tum mulaqaat karna
Dard-e-dil ko yun hi sehna
Anjabi tum ajnabi hi rehna....

























Books from my Enid Blyton collection. I grew up reading about the ham and bacon and sausages in the yummy meals the characters had. (They were always eating, weren't they?) When I finally had the chance to taste these things, I went "Yuck!" But the books will always be amongst the best of my childhood memories. (My Dad confiscated my entire 'The naughtiest girl in the school' series and put it in my 'bachpan box'. He has one 'bachpan box' each for my sis and me. My first toy, my first drawing, my first milk bottle, my first comic book, they're all in there. And he's so possessive about the stuff! I had to literally beg to get these three from him!)



















A painting I made when I was a kid. I made it so I could show it to my sister and she could say that she liked it. Back then, that's all I wanted to paint. Whatever sis would like. To me, praise from her was real praise.

























My autograph book. Gosh, do kids still do this?? Look how tattered it is!



















Sigh...

Duniya mein hum saare...
yaadon ke hain maare...
kuch khushiyan thode gham...
yeh humse, inse hum...

Yaadein...

The unbalanced equation

When I was in school, I loved to balance chemical equations. But I wasn't always good at it. In fact, in the beginning, I was pretty bad.

My chemistry teacher adored me and would not settle for anything less than making me master everything he knew. And that included balancing chemical reactions.

"Sorry Sir, I can't seem to balance this one." I would cry out in despair.

"Sayesha, you're not trying hard enough!"

"But I can't balance this one, Sir!"

"Yes, you can!"

"Sir, look, it is almost balanced."

"There's no 'almost balanced' in a chemical reaction." He would glare. "It should balance exactly."

"Maybe there's something wrong, Sir. This one can't be balanced."

"It can always be balanced. Always. Understand?"

"But Sir, this one's way off!"

"Don't give me excuses. And don't be afraid of experimenting. Don't limit the number of moles you think can be added to balance it."

"I've done the best I could. Can't I just do the best I can, Sir?"

"There's no 'best I can do'. It's always exact, Sayesha. Always exact."

With time and his incredible patience and reprimands, one fine day I became the champ of balancing equations. I had figured out that there was always a trick to doing it. And it was always possible.

In chemistry, yes.

In life, no.

No matter how much you try, sometimes it just doesn't balance.

The person you miss may not miss you as much.

The person you love may not love you as much.

You may not mean as much to the person as he does to you.

And there's no way you can balance the equation. No matter how many moles you add to your side, no matter how hard you try, the equation does not balance.

Because you cannot add or subtract moles on the other side.

You can only try and do the best you can with your side of the equation.

Because this is real life. And in real life, equations do not always balance. Because they don't have to. We just do the best we can.

And that's okay.

Isn't it, Sir?

Do aur do ka jod hamesha chaar kahan hota hai...
Soch samajh waalon ko thodi nadaani de maula...

("Two and two don't always add up to four...
Lord, give the wise ones some naivety...")

I got at-tagged!

Virdi praji has tagged me, and one should always amuse kids. Anyway, he'll start crying if I don't respond, so here are my lists:

Seven things I plan to do before I die
1. Learn seven languages.
2. See India. Like, really see India.
3. Meet all the people who frequent my blog.
4. Write a book (I have written a few for kids, I wanna write one for grown-ups).
5. Pull off a sexy chiffon saree.
6. Take my parents around the world.
7. Live each day fully.

Seven things I can do
1. Multi-task
2. Work out in the gym while listening to real oldies like 'Mausam hai aashiqana' from 'Pakeezah'
3. Remember full lyrics of songs I like (the current database in my head is HUGE)
4. Write instant poetry on demand
5. Cook
6. Do rangoli and henna
7. Channel negativity around me into positive energy

Seven things I can't do
1. Survive a day without hindi music
2. Drive well... err... correction -- drive
3. Figure out Orchard Road
4. Not buy any new shoes for six months
5. Survive without the Internet
6. Donate blood ('cos of my disorder)
7. Talk on the mobile phone for a long time (I feel something heating up inside my head)

Seven things I say the most
1. All right, man!
2. What the...?!
3. Oh noooooooooooooooooo!
4. No problem.
5. Oh my God!
6. OK lah!
7. Hahahaha! :D

(Of course there are certain things I say a lot to certain people only. Which I refuse to disclose here.)

Seven things I say the most on my blog
1. You wish!
2. Dream on, dude!
3. But I get all comments in my gmail!
4. Thanks, man! :)
5. Yeay!
6. Oye Virdi ke bache ke baap!
7. Hahahaha! :D

Seven things that attract me to the opposite sex
1. Has wit (hence implying intelligence and a sense of humour)
2. Is tall
3. Totally gets me
4. A li'l bit of arrogance
5. Reads my mind with one look
6. Looks irresistible in a black shirt
7. Can play the guitar

Seven celebrity crushes (including characters in movies)
1. Shah Rukh Khan in the 'Aur pass' and the 'Tumhe kuch nahin hota?' scenes from DTPH (brrr... goosebumps again...!)
2. Chow Yun Fatt in 'Anna and the King' (the way he looks at Jodie Foster, knowing fully well he can't be with her... whoa!)
3. John Abraham in Jism
4. Himesh Reshammiya (the way he sings the four words 'Gum hua hosh hai' in the song 'Aapki kashish', gosh, he sounds incredibly sexy)
5. Jude Law
6. Sonu Nigam
7. Hugh Jackman in 'Kate and Leopold'

Seven people I want to tag
No way, man! Am not taggin' anyone. It's a lot of pressure on the 'tag-ee' as I discovered. Those who wanna make their lists, kindly self-tag yourself.

Gimme a single reason!

My ideal relationship status?

Attached yet single.

Sounds like an impossible concept? Well, hear me out first.

The world is full of people looking yearningly at the other side. Single people yearn to be attached. Attached people think singlehood rocks. But is there a middle path? Sounds too good to be true? But I believe there is.

There is a certain way I live my life. I like to live it that way, and a guy is not a good enough reason for me to change it. If the guy thinks I'm worth it, he's got to understand that.

And that to me, is singlehood.

I know this girl who's a lot like me. Guards her independence with absolute ferocity. She thought she depended on no one. Till the day she suddenly found that she did. She needed help with some big stuff. And when her boyfriend could not help (no fault of his though, long story) she suddenly realised that maybe she wasn't so independent after all. First she got angry with him, and then at herself for being unfair to him. And for being so helpless. And she hated that feeling. Well, she did not break up with him, but 'broke away' instead.

Now she's happy as hell. Lives her own life. Meets him once in a while. Loves him a lot. But she's as 'single' as can be. And deliriously happy.

And that's my kinda singlehood.

To be known as me and not someone's somebody. To not have to answer to anyone or to ask for permission for anything. Or to explain what I'm doing with my life or whom I'm meeting and where I'm going. That makes me feel like a million bucks.

And that to me, is singlehood.

I had a list of things in my head that define what I expect from this state of 'attached singlehood'. And finally, the list is ready for public viewing.

Here it is, boy:

• I think the whole Valentine's Day concept kinda sucks. I may not buy you anything or expect you to buy me anything. So don't panic.

• If I point at a girl on the road and say, "Hey, that's one hot babe!" don't assume that I'm testing you and look away. Check her out for heaven's sake. And no, you don't have to say "But you're hotter!" to me. Duh, if I'm pointing her out, she's obviously hotter than me. Otherwise I'd be pointing at myself.
  

• I'll point out hot guys on the road too. You have the option of not looking.
  

• If you wanna hang out with the boys on Friday night, do so. Don't come and "ask me for permission". It's okay, really. (As long as you keep that beer belly under control.)

• If we have a fight and I get angry, don't manaofy me just because I am the girl. If I think over it, and figure that it was my fault, I'll come manaofy you.

• I will spend 50% of my income on stuff that you will not ask me about. Although you may see most of it in the shoe racks, but once in a while I may be saving up to buy you something big. So rule of thumb -- don't ask.

• I want a beach holiday every year. I'd like you to come with me, but if you can't for some reason, don't stop me from going.

• Give you my email password?? Are you freakin' crazy? Have I ever asked you for yours?

• You don't have to pay every time we eat out. I prefer to go dutch. (But feel free to pamper me with a little kit kat now and then.)

• Don’t give me bouquets when we’re out. I think it's extremely silly to walk around with a guy, holding a bouquet.

• Do not buy me freakin’ expensive gifts. I’d be more than happy to just have a 2-dollar pair of earrings.

• I am a big girl and I can take care of myself. Don’t baby me all the time. (Once in a while wouldn’t hurt though.)

• I refuse to wear a pendant with a photo of us together. Don’t even think about it.
  

• I will not open letters addressed to you. And you won't open mine.

• I will not take you shoe-shopping. You will not take me to a gaming shop. We will only shop together if we’re buying stuff for each other, and want the other person to pick the stuff himself/herself.

• I will do crazy things like not open an umbrella in torrential rain, play with a stranger’s baby in the train, buy a bottle of 100plus at twice the price from the old man’s shop downstairs just because he looks really bored, go to a 24-hour coffee shop at 4 in the morning and eat street food, wake up one fine day and go get a tattoo. If you disapprove, stay away.

• I don’t watch war movies. If you want to go for one, just go by yourself. I know you really want to watch it. Don’t cancel just because I don’t want to go.

• I’ll be happy if you open doors for me, but I won’t be angry if you don’t.

• I will open doors for you.

• When we're eating out, do not dig into my food as soon as it arrives. I don't like others taking the first bite of my food. And that holds for you too. You can have a sip of my drink, but that's it. One sip. If you like it so much, get your own!

• It's okay if you forget our anniversary. But you dare forget my birthday.
  

• I will continue to buy pink gerberas for myself. Please don't take it as a hint or an insult.

• If you wanna shave your head to support the cancer society, go ahead and do it by all means. Don't ask me if you should. It's your head, man. (Jus don't be seen in public with me till your hair grows back.)
  

• I will tell you which of your shirts I hate, and I will threaten to burn them. But I won't actually do it. They are your shirts. You burn them yourself.

• On some days, I am gonna be all girl. I'm gonna get a manicure and pedicure, and probably even put on a hideous facial mask and walk around. If you can't take it, just leave. I won't mind. Really.

• You can tell me if I get fat. It's okay, I won't shut myself in and cry. (I need someone to tell me such things so I can work out like mad.)

• I don't want romantic candlelight dinner dates all the time. Sometimes I want to go on roller-blading, hiking, ice-skating, canoing, cycling dates. If you have no time or inclination, it's okay. I'll go with my other friends. Or on my own.

• I have a wild side. Don't curb it. (I promise to behave when your parents are around.)

• Understand that you're not the only person I love. I love a lot of people. I just love you in a different way.
  

• I will never change my surname. Ever.

• Ask me to marry you if and only if you're very very sure that you can handle my 'singlehood'.
  

Because I intend to stay single all my life.

And a boyfriend/husband will never get in the way of my singlehood.

Hopelessly addicted to you

Sayesha is shocked at herself.

No, she's horrified.

No, shocked.

Ok, whatever is more extreme.

In order to cope with drooping eyelids at work (which were a result of the crazy lifestyle I'd been having over the last two months) I'd started drinking tea. Every day.

Now I'm the fiercely independent kind. The one who strongly believes that you should never be dependent on anything -- living or non-living -- to the point that you can't do without him/her/it. And though I knew that people do get addicted to tea, for some weird reason, I was sure it wouldn't work in the same way for me. Overconfidence, I suppose. I thought I could just consciously tell myself not to get addicted and it would work. And if it didn't, I would convince myself that I wasn't addicted, and that it's only a passing phase. And that would work.

So today, when I finally woke up after a good night's sleep, I decided not to have tea.

And I freaked out.

The uneasy feeling I harboured the entire day is indescribable. And it wasn't just a physical thing. It was nagging me in the head. At first, I tried to speculate what it was. Was I ill? Was I homesick? Was I missing someone? There definitely was something goin' on. Something was amiss, something was not right. There was a crushing feeling in my heart, and a shiver in my spine. I was feeling cold. COLD. I made a mug of horlicks for myself, but that just felt like a rebound.

And suddenly it struck me -- perhaps I was addicted to tea! I was quite horrified at the thought that a tiny cup of dull brown liquid had seeped into the spaces of my new lifestyle and made such a place for itself. That too, without my knowledge!

Sometimes, someone or something becomes an integral part of our day, our life, without us even realising it. And because we don't realise it, we think we will be able to easily handle the absence of the person or the thing once it's gone. But we only realise the seriousness of the thing when withdrawal symptoms kick in.

Gosh, am I addicted? That's a scary thought. I don't want to be addicted to anything or anybody.

So today I decided that I'm gonna back off. And I did good. Even though I had access to the tea trolley three times in the day, I did not have tea.

Tea is not something I intend to have a long term relationship with, and so this has to stop now before anyone gets hurt. I am strong enough to stop. I will stop having it because I refuse to let any person or thing control my life. And addiction of any kind, is never good.

And while all these thoughts flew around in my head, I couldn't help but wonder about something kinda related.

What's worse? To be addicted to a thing or a person?

Heaven save you if it's a person you're addicted to.