The Kat and the mouse

So last weekend, Katrina Kaif scared the hell out of me.

I was at this shop buying hindi DVDs when I saw a section of oldies. I bent down to take a look at the bottom-most shelf and when I got up I sensed someone standing right behind me, breathing down my neck.

I quickly turned around and my heart literally stopped beating for a second.

With utter fear.

There she was, Katrina Kaif, within inches of me, looking impossibly gorgeous as usual, staring straight at me with those green eyes and that half-smile.

Now here's the problem with making six-feet cardboard cutouts. Cardboard cutouts should either be very small or very big. It should be apparent at the very first glance that they are, indeed nothing but cardboard cutouts. Making them about the same size as an average human being just makes them so much more scary because they're the same size as you, they're not even three-dimensional, and they're lookin' at you with steely eyes. Just like Katrina was looking at me. I could almost sense her disapproval when she saw the DVD of Sadhna's 'Mera saya' in my hands instead of her 'Maine Pyar Kyun Kiya?'

It was as if she'd suddenly popped out of nowhere. I almost stumbled and fell.

I quickly recovered, and just like any normal human being, I looked around furtively to check if anyone had seen the mighty Sayesha frightened off by a mere cardboard cutout.

Nope, no one was looking at me. Phew.

But she still was. :-/

The drinking problem

For those who've been asking me about the status of my survey, here's a quick update - 146 down, ideally 154 more to go, but realistically speaking, and considering that my subscription ends on 6th Aug, I'll be happy to reach any 200+ figure. So if you live outside Singapore, watched Krrish and yet committed the horrible crime of not taking my survey, please save my life by clicking here now.

New post begins here:
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What do you do when a tall athletic guy collapses at your doorstep in fultu Devdas style? And just like Devdas, this guy too had a drinking problem. There was one slight difference though - Devdas drank too much, this dude did not drink enough.

Water, that is.

So instead of looking for Paro, he was looking for Pani.

Yup, my temporary flat-mate (yes yes the now-very-popular -in-blogsphere pictionary dude) was at the door, badly dehydrated after a cricket game. After surviving a panic attack which lasted a few seconds, I rushed to the mini-mart in my condominium minutes before it closed and bought some isotonic drinks for him. But he couldn't hold it down. Now if there's one thing Doordarshan has taught me, it's how to make the Oral Rehydration Solution (ORS). I made the solution, but he couldn't stomach that either. Then we tried plain water.

Ok, if a guy is unable to drink even plain water, he has to be rushed to the hospital.

I called for an ambulance. The lady at the other end of the phone said, "There's a fee, you know."

"Yes yes I know. Can you send the ambulance quick?"

"It's 80 dollars."

"Okay."

"80 dollars in cash on arrival."

WHAT THE..??!! In CASH?? On ARRIVAL???

Sheesh. I'd asked for an ambulance, not pizza! I don't have 80 bucks in cash on me at any point in time!

I pilfered both our wallets, and managed to put together 70 dollars and 35 cents. I decided to borrow the rest from my other flat-mates.

The lady on the phone said she'd call me after checking the availability of an ambulance. Before she could call me back, I had called for a cab. But even the called cab was taking so long! We waited and waited at the lift lobby and by a stroke of good luck, an available cab was passing by. I flagged it and we were at the hospital in ten minutes flat. (I'd remembered to cancel the ambulance and the other cab.)

Registration was faster than expected, and I was pleasantly surprised. But then they put him in a bed and told me that the doc would be there soon. 'Soon' soon became about half an hour. I was getting angry - did they even realise he was DEHYDRATED?? His face even looked different. I was quite freaked out. So I marched to the nurse and said, "He is dehydrated. The more he waits for the doc, the more dehydrated he's gonna get. Can you give him something to rehydrate him till the doc gets here??" Now I'm a girl who's pleasant as long she gets to sleep at 10pm. 11 at most. I'm not a pleasant girl if found awake at 2 am. The nurse took the hint and within minutes the doc was there.

So he was put on a bottle of IV drip. As I watched them poke the needle into his vein, I remembered my Mom's words. She used to say that if she saw anyone on IV drip, she'd immediately collapse and need two of 'em herself. Luckily the trait is not hereditary.

The doc said that he'd be re-assessing the situation once the first bottle of drip was over. I was asked to wait outside along with the bunch of other worried people. There weren't too many of them, and soon I got really bored. The Germany-Portugal match was going on, and I started watching that. I still can't believe I was watching that. Luckily, better entertainment soon arrived in the form of a baby who apparently had such an urgent sms to send to someone that he kept reaching out for his mother's mobile phone. Watching him relentlessly struggle for the phone made the half-hour go by very quickly.

After a while, I started to feel really cold. Luckily I'd changed into jeans before leaving the house. If I'd still been in my home shorts, I'd have frozen to death right there. I guess when you're worried, you feel colder. I wondered if I could ask the nurse for a blanket. But I was afraid of being reprimanded with a "This is a hospital, miss, not an airline!"

I wanted to call/sms some friends, but it was too late in the night, and people would either be partying or sleeping. So I decided not to disturb anyone. Except a friend whom I'd called earlier to get the number for calling the ambulance.

So I was sitting on the couch, the cute baby was gone, there was no way I was gonna watch the game, I was exhausted and really hungry, and finding nothing better to do, I dozed off. Suddenly I was woken up by an angel who had brought with her bottles of 100 plus, cookies, mouth-freshening mints (thanks to the advice of another friend, in case I had to stay in the hospital till morning. It's so heart-warming when people think of such little details), candy and Hershey's white chocolate with choc chips. As I spoke to her sipping my hot milo and eating the white chocolate, I finally felt warm and calm.

A little while later, we went in to see how the dude was doing. It is a hilarious sight when a guy who could not even stomach plain water a few hours ago, opens his eyes and says, "I want pav bhaji." I'd have laughed my lungs out if it wasn't a hospital.

Unfortunately for the pav-bhaji craving guy, the doc ordered only clear liquids on the first day, and simple mushy food on the second, and no spicy food for three days. Torture, huh?

Finally, he was ready to be taken home. I wanted him to get well as soon as possible so I could start my scolding session on how badly he had freaked me out by not drinking water during a game under the hot sun.

And then I remembered how little water I drink.

How little water we all drink! I think I'm having another panic attack. Go drink a glass of water right after reading this post, all the while chanting:

Here is a little something
That I hope will make you think
Water water everywhere
Why the hell don't we drink? :-/

We gotta take better care of ourselves. Really.

We owe it to those who will rush us to hospital if we don't.

Picture this

So I have started playing a little game of pictionary with my friend Viv. The most amazing thing about pictionary (or dumb charades) is that you laugh so much that it doesn't matter who wins or loses.

Of course, we can't play a real game with just two people. So we just take turns to draw and guess. Ok I have no idea how the game works. All I know is that it never fails to entertain me. Especially when you're playing against a guy who is notorious for finding the most convoluted and long-winded way of drawing the simplest of the words. But then you know how it is in pictionary - there are two basic rules. One, you always feel you could have drawn it better than your partner. Two, your opponents always get the easier words.

So my 'partner/opponent' has picked his word and has started drawing. I'm on full alert. He's broken the word into two parts and I am trying to guess the first part. He draws what looks like a radio and some waves coming out of it.

"Radio? Waves? Sound waves? Frequency? Radio station?" I try.

He points at the waves furiously, and I go "Music? RJ? Songs? English songs? Hindi songs? Transmission?"

He makes a frustrated sound, and starts to draw a thermometer with a downward pointing arrow.

"Thermometer? Low temperature? Cold? Cool?" I'm trying hard, you can tell.

He nods vigorously and asks me to combine both the drawings and guess.

"Errrr... cool radio station?? Cool RJ?"

He looks frustrated. I am laughing my ass off.

"Your drawing sucks man. Is this even a radio in the first place?"

He shakes his head.

"Ohhhh!!! It's not??! Then what the hell is it?? A cooler??? Air cooler? Air conditioner?"

He nods vigorously.

"Air conditioner?"

Vigorous nodding.

Then he asks me to break up the word. Finally I get to 'con' and he nods.

"WHAT?? You drew such a loooooooong word and all you wanted was a measly 'con'?" I can't stop laughing.

He motions to me to be patient as he still has the second part to draw.

He draws a movie camera and a headless guy with waves on his abdomen.

"Ghost movie?" I'm thinking.

"What the hell is that?? There's no head! And what are the waves?? Are they supposed to be his abs or something?" I ask.

Vigorous nodding.

"Abs?? Really?? Headless guy with abs posing for the camera??" By now I'm laughing so hard I have to actually hold a pillow against my stomach.

He starts to draw the American flag.

"American? American headless guy with abs?"

Vigorous nodding and pointing to the camera.

"American movie actor? American hunky movie actor??"

Vigorous nodding.

"Arnie?"

He shakes his head.

"Uhhh... Brad Pitt? No, can't be that... Brad Pitt is not really a hunky hunk..."

But he's nodding like crazy.

"It is Brad Pitt?? Oh my goodness!"

Vigorous nodding, followed by the drawing of a girl next to him.

"Brad Pitt... girl... umm... oh Angelina Jolie! So much drama for Angelina Jolie... you could have just drawn..."

He shakes his head and draws the backward arrow which in our secret pictionary language means 'past tense'.

"Achha... Jennifer Aniston?"

Vigorous nodding, followed by the drawing of another guy with a moustache next to the girl.

"Uhh.. what's happening?? Jennifer Aniston... guy... Jeez, don't tell me that's Vince Vaughn?!"

Vigorous nodding.

"Vince Vaughn???"

He asks me to remove the last part.

"Vince???"

Vigorous nodding, followed by gesture to join it all together. By now I have forgotten what the first part was. Oh yeah, the damn air conditioner that looks like a radio.


"Con... vince? Convince??"

He lets out a huge sigh.

"It's 'convince'?????" I cannot believe it.

"Yeah!"

"So much drama for a little word like 'convince'?? You actually had to use Hollywood gossip?? You are a dhakkan!" More crazy laughter.

"Oh yeah, and what would you have drawn to show 'convince'???" he demands.

I'm stumped but quickly recover.

"I dunno... maybe a 'convict' first... you know... a guy dressed in prison clothes..."

"And after that?" He asks.

"I'd have thought of something... something better than a radio, a headless hunk and a thermometer!" I crack up again.

"Well, you guessed the word, didn't you??" He sulks.

"That's because I rock! Hmmmph! And by the way, Vince Vaughn doesn't even have a moustache!!!!!!" :-/

Tic-Tag-Toe

Swapnil and American Pi have tagged me. Now I'm kinda notorious for not taking up tags, so I have decided to get to this one immediately :)

I am thinking...
about what I am thinking.

I said...
"I have my share of troubles in life too. I just like to make a bigger deal of the happy stuff."
(Thanks Balu, for reminding me that I'd said this. Gosh, that was ages ago. Luckily for me, it still holds true.)

I want...
India and Pakistan to merge and become one peaceful country, form the greatest cricket team ever and kick everyone's ass in the game.

I wish...
for less cynicism around me.

I miss...
the Cambodia days - the best holiday of my life so far.

I hear...
in my head, silly jokes cracked by friends long ago and the crazy laughter that surrounded them

I wonder...
how my life would have been if I hadn't accepted the scholarship and come to Singapore.

I regret...
trying to justify myself to MACs instead of just ignoring them.

I am...
me. Just me.

I dance...
only when the music is right.

I sing...
all the time. If not aloud, then in my head.

I cry...
while watching hindi movies.

I am not...
you. And sometimes I wish you realised that too.

I write...
because sometimes it's easier to write than talk.

I confuse...
myself at times, wondering why I blog.

I need...
more holidays in a year.

I should...
never stop working out.

I finish...
off more pani puris than I should.

In an attempt to revive certain blogs which my friends appear to have abandoned, I hereby tag Sinnerman, Princesse and Oxymoron. :)

I know what you're searching for

Ipanema Gal was right. I actually intended to keep the previous post on for a month till I got my 300 responses.

Well, looks like it's not as easy a task for people who suffer from OCB. Obsessive Compulsive Blogging. So here I am, back to posting. But not without the following little note though:

They say a cat has 9 lives. Well, I have 300, out of which 92 have been saved so far by very kind souls. If you wanna save one of my other 208 lives, please please take my Krrish survey now! :p

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New post begins here:

One of the reasons why we come up with blog nicks, some of which become more widely used by our friends than our actual names, is the fear of being googled out by those you don't wanna be googled out by. Sometimes I wonder if I am being ultra-paranoid -- are people out there so jobless that they're really keying in my name on google?

Nope, they're not. They're actually looking for more interesting things.

And may I just proudly proclaim that I know some of it. Muahahahaha! :D

How?

With the help of a wonderful tool called Statcounter. Some time ago, a friend told me about statcounter, and I thought it would be interesting to see who pops by my blog. I found out quite a bit, that my blog is mostly frequented by people from USA, followed by India, Singapore and then the UK. There has been a sudden spike in loads from Malaysia which I believe has been single-handedly created by my friend Duhita. There has also been an increase in hits from Canada (hola to all you new people!). Hong Kong remains stable at four, two of which are from two banks. Lalit sends a regular Hi across from Denmark, and so does Kathy from Japan. Korea and Germany are seen bobbing up their heads now and then, and occasionally, there's a holler from Oman (Hi, Kini!).

But the most interesting info that Statcounter has supplied me so far has been google searches. When people search for something on google, and land at Sayeshaz, I can actually see what they were looking for. Some of it is the usual stuff I keep blabbering about, like hindi movies and songs and ghazals, and some of it is so sleazy it makes me wonder when I wrote about it. But then I guess the comments are also taken into account. So if we're discussing a large collection of sexy shoes, so many that even Jayalalitha can't match up, some dude searching for 'sexy Jayalalitha' actually lands up at the bar. And goes away shaking his head.

That, by the way, was a real life example.

So I decided to compile a few of the things that people are searching for on google, that makes them land on my blog. These have been compiled over the last one week or so.

Category 1 - The Bollywood stuff

• Shaan's wife
• lyrics of tu hi meri shab hai
• koi sehri babu
• Ahista ahista ghazal
• Ghazals of Jagjit Singh and Ghulam Ali
• Urdu shayari jo N se shuru ho
• Kabhi khamosh baithoge lyrics
• Miley sur mera tumhara
• Do aur do ka jod hamesha lyrics
• Shaan autograph
• Bollywood filim
  
• Shaan gum sum ho
• bombay boys javed jaffrey
• raveena tandon
• Shaan concert
• Tu jahan jahan chalega
• zamana deewana DVD cover
  
• song ya ali
• SHreya Ghoshal can't sing
• zayed khan rocky
• KK tadap tadap
  

Category 2 - The general stuff

• working men hostel Chandigarh
• how to write farewell card
• no control toilets
• Dumb charades
• What to write on a farewell card
• Who's your angel?
• Ankhein hai ki batatein
• Humjoli herbal
• Diwali party themes
• Zombie in your head
• dont regret anything because at one point it was exactly wat u wanted
• reviews usha sewing machine
• guys in glasses
• dosa recipe
• magnet keeper
• happening pics
• rapidex speaking courses
  
• dog frodo
• tamil words translate to malayalam
  
• wisdom teeth jokes
• Paradise Biryani
• safari my night is your day
  
• Men rubber bands
• penicillin bum
  
• slang meaning of bhidu
• Bombay cafe singapore
• gangs in Singapore
  
• need to pee bursting
  

Category 3 - The weird/sleazy stuff

• Jayalalitha sexy
• Boyzillian
• married women phone number who is intrested in one night stand in delhi
• contact numbers of fun loving kerala women who like to talk
• aarti agarwal drinking with her boyfriend
• sexy free girls hot hot
• Hot NRI chick
• Chennai aunties looking for sex
• Ganda dimag
• hot Singaporean chicks
• Bollywood heroines hot scenes
• sexy hot live active
  
• crossdress sari
• nude girls in zym (sic)
  
• sacha pyar sex
• nri chicks on yahoo
  
• plz i want to chat with sexy american girls and i want to make ID there
• orkut girls
• hot gal and guy picture
  
• Delhi girl looking for fun
• Free sexy Deshmukh

So how did you land at Sayeshaz? If you googled your way here, what were you searching for? :)

Just a li'l Krrish

In a world of dissertation supervisors that breathe down your neck and are always suspicious that you're not working hard enough, I feel fortunate to have a great supervisor who trusts me.

Typical conversations between my dissertation supervisor (DS) and me go somewhat like this:

Sayesha - Hello, Sir!
DS - Hello, Sayesha! So how was your US trip?
Sayesha - It was fabulous!
DS - Great. I'm glad you had fun.
Sayesha - Yes, sir. About the dissertation...
DS - Good good. So are you planning to move to the US anytime?
Sayesha - I haven't really decided... will consider... need to submit my dissertation first, get my Master's degree...
DS - Of course of course. So what have you been doing then?? Watched Krrish?
Sayesha - No sir, not yet.
DS - WHAT? Really?? You haven't watched Krrish? I don't believe you. When will you watch it??
Sayesha - I will I will, sir. Soon.
DS - You have to watch it before you draft the survey, you know. It's important.
Sayesha - Yes, sir.
DS - So when do you intend to watch it?
Sayesha - This weekend, pakka.
DS - Okie, you'd better do it soon. I presume you're gonna watch it a few times?
Sayesha - I don't know yet, sir. But most probably yes.
DS - Great!

I suppose this is the advantage of doing a dissertation on 'Krrish and its effect on Singapore tourism'.

Of course, the disadvantage is that much as I want to, I can't write a post reviewing Krrish. It seems that may interfere with the results of the survey that I have to conduct -- at the speed of light no less. I gotta get 300 responses to my survey within a month. Yes yes 300. They broke the news to me only recently. I'm trying to recover from it.

300 responses is not an easy task. The last time I did a survey project, I got 74 and I was over the moon with joy. But I'm very freaked out at the thought of 300 responses.

Ahem... So here's your chance to win yourself some brownie points, punya tokens, good karma, phokat ka daru, etc. If you've watched Krrish and live outside Singapore, spare 2 minutes of your time and contribute a precious 0.033% towards my dissertation.

Take my Krrish survey now and HALP save a life. :O

(You may copy+paste http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.asp?u=929972331223 if you're sending it to friends. Thanks a TON!)

The art of quitting and vice versa

For the first half of my life so far, I was my elder sister's baby sister. For the second half, she was my baby sister. She is a good three inches shorter than me, and looks at least ten years younger than her age. And that's not the only reason why I look at her in the same way that I look at baby Aish.

But there was a time, when I could never reach up to her. Literally and otherwise. She was my goddess - tall(er), beautiful, talented, elegant. And I was the shorty, not-beautiful- but-ok-fine- if-you-insist-cute, hyperactive little puppy dog that followed her heels everywhere.

So recently, I was going through my annual ritual of looking through photos sent to me by family and friends and deleting the ones where I think I look terrible, when I saw something in the background of a photo. It was a family photo taken when Dad was posted at Hyderabad. The little thing in the background was a painting that my sister had made years and years and years ago. I cropped it out and decided to blog about it.

My sister had always been into art. When I was six and she was ten, she used to go to this lady in our neighbourhood to learn art. Sometimes, I'd tag along with her and watch them paint, fascinated. When they were working on this particular one (I think the original was a photograph in a calendar or something), I was speechless with wonder and admiration for my sister. I'd imagine myself walking along the path that led to the house on the left - I preferred it to the one on the right. Soon, looking at my interest, and concerned that the painting-wali-aunty (that's what I used to call her) probably didn't like having a non-student hanging around, Mom and Dad enrolled me in the art class too.

I was fine for the first two days, but soon my hyperactive side got the better of me. I found a new canvas, a more interesting one - my art teacher's little son's face. Surprisingly, she did not complain till the day I graduated from water colours to oil colours. (It's very difficult to remove oil colours from your face - gotta use turpentine oil and stuff). She politely told my Mom, "I think Sayesha is too active for something like art. Art needs patience. Your elder daughter has it. But Sayesha... maybe not..." So I was taken off the class. Not that I minded. I'd been getting quite bored of my 'canvas'.

During winter, my sister and I would sit on the terrace in the kachi dhoop and make new year cards for our relatives. I remember drawing particularly ugly versions of what I referred to as Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.

One day, I tagged along with my Dad and sis to a painting competition she was participating in. They also had a competition for the 6-10 age category, and I begged my Dad to let me enter. He agreed.

As soon as the competition started, I went to one of the organisers, tugged at his trousers and said, "Excuse-me-uncle-I-can't-sit-here-I-need-to-sit-with-my-sister."

"But you're in another category. You need to sit with the rest of the 6-10 year olds."

"No-I-need-to-sit-with-my-sister." I insisted.

"I can't let your elder sister help you, my dear. You're in a different category!"

"No-I-don't-need-help-from-her-I-only-need-colours-we-only-have -one-set-of-colours-you-see."

"Uhh... why didn't you bring your own colours?"

"Because-I-didn't-come-here-to-take-part-my-sister-has-an -extra-pencil-but-no-extra-colouring-set."

He looked at me in distress, had a word with another organiser, and finally let me sit with my sister. Boy, I freaked out quite a few of the participants when they saw someone my size seriously working away on her painting in the 'older kids' category.

The best part was that both of us won a prize in our respective categories. She was in the top three and I came home with a consolation prize. (Why the hell do they call that anyway? It sounds really sad - like "There there, don't cry. Okay fine, you can have this prize.")

Mom and Dad got me my own set of water colours, and I would participate in every single art competition with my sister after that. Sometimes she won, sometimes I did, and sometimes neither did. Whenever neither of us won, I'd go to the display where they put the winning paintings, and go, "Bah! Yours was so much better! Even mine should have beat this nonsense."

We grew up, I leaned away from art, and got into music. I would sketch now and then, but my sister continued to make paintings. Relatives would request for her paintings and proudly hang them on their walls. And I would stare at them in awe and think, "Yeh wala inko kyun de diya? Hamare ghar mein kyun nahin laga?" ("Why did you give this one to them? Why isn't this hung in our house?")

Then I came to Singapore and lost touch with art. When I was in uni, I tried my hand at making paintings using MSPaint and Photoshop, but gave up soon after, in pursuit of other things such as trying to get out of uni as fast as possible.















Rose in bitmap - US$100000000000000





















Hibiscus in photoshop - SOLD

My sister too got busy in her new life and new job in the US. It appeared that both of us had given up something we loved.

I often feel that we're too willing to give up things we love. We quit at the slightest sign. I myself have lost touch with so many things I like to do, and from the looks of it, I don't see myself getting back in touch with them before next year. I have work, my master's course to finish, my dissertation to write, and I wanna take up Tamil classes. There is really no time or place for art (or singing for that matter) in my life as of now.

And I wondered if it was the same with my sis.

So this time, when I went to New Jersey, my bro-in-law showed me paintings that my sister had recently made. It made me so happy to know that she had not given up. But I had. I still have my old sketches stuck on my notice board at work, to remind me of the old days, but I don't sketch or paint anymore. I have quit. Perhaps I just did not love it enough. Because I believe that if you really love doing something, you will take out time to do it.

And it doesn't matter whether people ignore, praise or criticise it, you should never give up doing what you love. You should never think of quitting till the day you stop loving it.

I'm so glad that even though I lost touch with art, my sister did not.

She was better at it anyway.

Not just better, to me my elder "baby sister" was and will always be the best at it.

The one and only

Contrary to popular belief, my musical world does not revolve around Shaan.

There are many many singers I simply adore. I'd listen to any unknown-unheard -of song just because one of these people sang it.

And then there are the singers I can't stand. And I refuse to listen to songs sung by them. But sometimes, the singers I don't like, sing that one song, which strikes a chord.

So I decided to make a list of such songs and singers.

I don't really like - Nitin Mukesh
I really like - So gaya yeh jahan
The song conveys the restlessness of youth in a very convincing way. And the tune is so simple that anyone can sing it, bringing it closer to music lovers who themselves don't sing.

I don't really like - Vinod Rathod
I really like - Sundara sundara
The beats, the music, the tune, I like everything about it.

I don't really like - Sapna Mukherjee
I really like - Sundara sundara
Same as above

I don't really like - Sagarika
I really like - Maa
This is one of the songs that can bring tears to my eyes. Once upon a time, I used to listen to it every day before starting work.

I don't really like - Adnan Sami
I really like - Pyaar hai
He and Asha Bhosle create magic with the song. Beautiful!

I don't really like - Annamika
I really like - Nindra
The song has such a zing about it - it's infectious.

I don't really like - Kumar Sanu
I really like - Jab koi baat bigad jaaye (and oh, 'Tere dar par sanam' too!)
Never before had the "I know you'll be there for me" feeling been conveyed so beautifully and convincingly.
As for Tere dar par sanam, it's my all time favourite hindi song ever!

I don't really like - Amit Kumar
I really like - Bade achhe lagte hain
The simplicity of the lyrics overshadow every other element of the song.

I don't really like - Bhupinder
I really like - Kisi nazar ko tera intzaar aaj bhi hai
One of my all time favourite movie ghazals. I still remember every minute of the picturisation.

I don't really like - Anuradha Paudwal
I really like - Tum hi hamaari ho manzil, my love
In spite of the English words in a hindi song (a phenomenon I dislike rather intensely), there's something very charming about this cute little song.

I don't really like - Jaspinder Narula
I really like - Taare hain barati
I love the rustic feel of the song, especially the beginning. And the beautiful colours in the picturisation too.

I don't really like - Shabbir Kumar
I really like - Jab hum jawaan honge
I grew up singing this in school for my friends. It's very very close to my heart.

I don't really like - Anu Malik
I really like - Dhuan
He doesn't sound too bad... and the song has a really cool tune and amazing beats (hope they're original though). Besides, the video rocked. It was about a princess who ran away from home with her tiny pet tortoise.

Okie doks, I'm off to listen to my playlist of the day.

The aftermat(c)h

So I watched the football match last night.

It was a lose-lose-lose situation.

Before you think that I'm embarking upon a detailed analysis of how and why England lost, let me assure you that my limited knowledge of how the game works ensures that no such thing is gonna happen in this post.

Well the lose-lose-lose situation is because of the following:

1. England lost the match.
2. My flatmates lost money.
3. I lost interest in football forever and ever.

Yeah, I have lost all the little interest I had in the game. Simply after watching one game.

You might say that I don't get it.

I agree with you fully. Yup, I don't get it.

I don't get how 22 guys (one of which is a strapping 6 and a half feet tall) can run around like crazy all over the field after a ball for two whole hours and all they can come up with is a miserable 0-0 score? You mixed the flour, eggs and sugar in front of me. You put the mixture in the oven to bake while I watched. Now what do you mean by "Sorry, there's no cake"?? I want my cake, hello? I came here for the cake!

At least in cricket, even if you don't run for two hours, a wide selection of wide balls, no balls, fours and sixers will ensure a nice little positive number on the scoreboard. I think I'll just go back to watching cricket.

And what's with the whole concept of 'heading the ball'? I mean, doesn't it like damage the brain cells? Who came up with that concept anyway? Was it that one fine day, during a match, a coach yelled at one of the players, "Use your head, dimwit!" and they just thought that he meant literally?

I wonder if the dimwittedness is because of the heading or the heading is because of the dimwittedness. It's a chicken and egg problem. Maybe it's all the heading the players do that makes them so disoriented that when they get hit in the stomach by a player of the other team, they clutch their eye and wince in pain. Perhaps they need a lesson in Body Parts 101. Someone needs to explain to them why the scene from Munnabhai where he holds up an x-ray of the skull and declares, "Lympho sarcoma of the intestine!" is so funny. Seriously, what's with all that drama? I don't remember seeing much of this injury-faking in cricket, except of course by the-one-who-shall-not-be-named-by-Sayesha for fear of getting lynched by the entire state of West Bengal.

I was told that if nothing works, I could always motivate myself to watch the game because of the tall dashing manly hunks. Ricardo (or was it Ronaldo?) chose that particular moment to unleash his whiney voice upon unsuspecting female fans who'd never heard him speak before. And then David Beckham burst into tears. 'Nuff said.

But yes, I did learn a few things other than the rules. Contrary to my belief that Kaka was someone's uncle, it turns out it's just his nickname. His real name is probably something else, this is actually his ghar ka naam. I can't wait for the day when India plays the World Cup, represented by our very own gharelu team of the talented Pappu, Munna, Chintu, Happy, Lallu, Bunty, Chiku, Pintu, Bablu, Golu and Chunnu.

Disclaimer:
The rather naive and silly opinions expressed here belong solely to the author. If you do not agree with them, it's fine. Do not make a fool of yourself by trying to convince her about how great the game is. Otherwise she may just roll up a newspaper and thwack you on the head.

THWACK!

Oh, I'm sorry, did that hurt your knee?

I'm game

I know it's weird to talk about cricket when the World Cup football is going on.

Which is why I'm gonna do it.

Besides, I'll get to football in a few paragraphs.

Since I was a kid, the only game I have ever been obsessed with has been cricket. I have never had any interest whatsoever in watching football. Or any other sport for that matter. My closest association with sports was going to my sister's school for her annual sports day and watching her in awe as she took the winner's spot in many many sporting events. Though both of us were considered all rounders, but we had our own things. Yup, nerdy behaviour, music and tomboyishness were my thing. Sports, art and elegance were hers.

She was my sports idol. So much that even when it came to watching sports on TV, I followed what she followed and liked what she liked. When she watched Wimbledon, I'd watch Wimbledon. One fine day, she woke up and started to follow badminton. I took suit immediately. Though I did wonder at many points in my childhood, why she couldn't make up her mind about one sport, stick to it, and stop confusing me.

Maybe that's why I don't like football. Cos my sister never followed it.

Cricket, of course, is different. Like they say, it's not a sport in India. It's a religion. Pre-natal knowledge and interest in cricket is something every Indian has. I still remember the India-Pakistan matches that my sister and I used to watch when we were kids. Mom would pop in and out of the kitchen wearing her maroon and beige apron and holding a spatula every time we screamed.

"Kya hua kya hua?? Sachin hit a six? Sachin hit a four? Sachin got out?"

These are the only things she'd ask. For her, once Sachin got out, the match was over. She'd disappear into the kitchen and not come out, even if we screamed. She'd only come out when it was time to peel the two crazy sisters off the TV screen and serve us food.

India-Pakistan matches had a special significance for me. When you are in love with almost every player in the Indian team and have a crush on almost every player in the Pakistani team, watching an India-Pakistan match can cause quite a turmoil in the mind and the heart. But of course, like they say - true love always crushes the crushes. :D

I remember this particular neighbourhood next to ours, which had a lot of Pakistan fans. They would save firecrackers from Diwali for the India-Pakistan cricket matches and light them whenever Pakistan won. Sometimes the matches would go on till late, and Dad would promptly issue his "Go to bed. NOW." orders to my sis and me, and we'd go to sleep, knowing that if we manage uninterrupted sleep, we would know the next morning that India had won. But if we were woken up by loud "Kaboooom" sounds in the middle of the night, Pakistan would have won. So we would wish for a peaceful night, so we could celebrate the next day.

Whenever I'd go to my grandma's place in the summer holidays, I'd whack sixers with the plastic bat and ball that my little cousin and I played with. We had a rule - if you hit a sixer, you have to find the ball. If you can find it, it's considered a sixer. Otherwise, you're out.

I graduated to gully cricket soon, and sometimes upon vigorous begging, the bhaiyas in the neighbourhood would let me field. But every time I'd ask to bat, they'd say, "Paagal hai kya? Ladkiyan batting nahin karti!" ("Are you crazy?? Girls don't bat!") It took me a few years before they finally gave up and allowed me to bat.

I don't know what happened over the years, but I feel like I'm not a cricket fanatic anymore. Maybe it's the fact that cricket is not so big in Singapore. It's not the same as in India. To me, the heart of cricket is in gully cricket, in the electronics showrooms with the crowd of people outside watching the match, in the common TV set that hangs from a tree in some village in India with the villagers gaping at it, in the radio sets we used to smuggle to school just so we could keep track of the score, in the furious calls to friends, "Did you see that??? Kambli was SO not out! That @#$%&*^% umpire..." and "OMG, I am crazy about Shahid Afridi, but I want him to get out for a duck in the next five minutes."

It makes me sad that I don't feel that spirit anymore, or the fire that I had within me whenever a cricket match was on. A few years ago, I took leave from office to watch a cricket match. My colleagues still find it amusing. But that's been about it. I've pretty much been out of touch ever since. Earlier, I would watch matches that India was playing. I couldn't be bothered with the other countries. But these days, even if India's playing, I only find out when I see the results in the newspaper the next morning (if they bother to publish cricket news). Sigh...

In the past few days, I have been swamped with football talk from colleagues, flatmates and friends, and a slight interest is creeping in. I recently also found out that a football game is only like 2 hours long (yes yes, I did not know, laugh at me all you want). So if I could stay glued to the television for an entire day, watching people throw 300 balls, many of which do not even find their way to the bat, I can surely watch a bunch of guys in shorts running around on a field trying to get to a bigger ball for 2 hours. Just to see what the big deal is really.

Luckily for me, I will start off on a great note. My good friend Bananapen has invited me to her beautiful new house to watch tonight's game on her beautiful new (and may I add, HUGE) TV screen. And I will stay up with a bunch of football fanatics (who will explain things to me) and watch the game from 11 pm to 1 am. And if it is as addictive as people make it out to be, I will come back home and watch the 3 am to 5 am game. Even though I have no idea who is playing the second one.

I think I'm game. Finally.