Davie Jones' Diary/Locker!!

2008-12-01T03:39:00.000-08:00

The Buck stops here.

Enough of passing the buck….!

It took a tragedy of huge proportions to truly unite India, sadly though only for a brief while. Hardly had the immediate danger passed, that the ‘blame game’ started. From the opposition who blamed the ruling party, to the ruling party who blamed some of their own, media who blamed the intelligence, who in turn pointed fingers at the Navy… It seems as if India has adopted the mindset “Everyone thought someone else would do it”. And the biggest shirker of responsibility is the Indian populace itself. We are equally culpable.

I don’t mean this in the clichéd sense of ‘we don’t vote for the right people’ and the other trite phrases often used. I mean it in the sense of taking responsibility of the things that happen to us. Have we ever stopped to think just how big a force would be required to protect a sixth of the world’s entire population every minute each day, given that this population doesn’t make matters easy? How many times have we got irritated because security guards at malls were frisking us and checking our bags? Have any of us ever wondered that the perfunctory way in which our bags get checked would also be the way gun-toting strangers’ bags get checked? Do we deem fit to inform authorities when we come across broken metal detectors or do we think someone else will do it? At a much deeper level, how many of us have used ‘shortcuts’ to get our driving licenses and other basic identity proofs? What makes us think that only people like us can duck the system to our advantage?

I am not pontificating here, just thinking of ways in which I can make my life more secure. Without getting into another ‘blame game’ myself, I want us to realize that we cannot always blame ‘others’ for our plight. People might ask what chance we stand against AK-47s and grenedes, but the larger point here is not that. The point is that we, along with the Government, our forces, our media et. al. are equally responsible for creating a country of passive zombies, which provides anonymity as an ideal cover for those who seek it. People over here feel emboldened to carry out any nefarious activities without fear of impunity.

All of us have got into the habit of ‘pop-protests’ wherein we write to papers expressing our solidarity, light candles at the Gateway of India – basically do things that make us feel good but do nothing concrete to actually improve our lot. And sooner or later, even this enthusiasm dies out…

Enough of ducking responsibility… I don’t want to repeat the trauma of those 48 hours and constantly live in the shadow of fear if I can help it. Imagine entrusting my everyday life to ‘others’ who don’t even know of my existence except on paper. I have a few ideas about what I can do, does anyone out there have any suggestions?

The buck stops here.

O SO done, but OK!

2007-11-12T02:05:00.001-08:00

Kudos to SRK, FK, OK and whichever other Ks were there in the film 'Om Shanti Om'! They have managed to pull off a very average idea, script, story…and how!

The film doesn't really contribute anything new to Bollywood in any sense, it only derives its stuff from a score of stories, dialogues, acting styles, dresses that people have grown up with and therefore identify with. Clichés, spoofs, some chronologically incorrect settings, a standard Bollywood plot of the 70s, typical dresses – Farah Khan has used every trick in the trade to make it an out and out Bollywood Masala movie.

It is the typical 3 hour 'time-pass' movie that people go to the hall to enjoy, leaving their minds behind and disbelief suspended. As the heroine puts it beautifully 'Jab tum 50 maale ki building se koodte ho, tab main vishwas karti hoon; jab tum 100 gundon se akele ladte ho, tab main vishwas karti hoon!!!' ('I believe you when you jump off a 50 storied building, I believe you when you fight 100 goons singlehandedly')

However the plot, dialogues and a good performance by debutante Deepika notwithstanding, I don't think anyone else could have pulled off the thing besides SRK. And that is because he has practically the entire industry supporting him. The scale would be grand if nothing else. Take out the 31 stars song, the Filmfare awards scene, guest appearances by practically anyone who's someone in the industry, 'that 70s show' and the much touted 6/8 pack (whatever) of SRK, and you would be left with nothing much to write home about.

So ultimately it boils down to scale, masala, a li'l bit o'everything for everyone, SRK the entertainer, time pass and the quintessentially Bollywood HAPPY ENDING!!

(PS: By the way, possibly the last point is the reason why Saawaria failed, especially as the somber ending might not have gone with the festive Diwali mood)

Food Fantasies - Part 1!!

2007-11-05T09:38:00.001-08:00

Sheets of lasagna covered with Bolognese
Layers of white sauce with oodles of thick cheese
Herbed chicken cooked with a dash of seasoning
These are a few of my favourite things!

Warm, creamy, melted cheese in the fondue pot
Crisp breadsticks, fried potato wedges served hot
Forkfuls of hot wedges with cheese dripping
These are a few of my favourite things!

2007-10-31T04:57:00.000-07:00

The Blogger's eye!

“What is the big deal about blogging?”

I find I have no real answers to this question, frequently posed to me by the uninitiated (a.k.a. non-bloggers)! I am unable to explain to them why exactly a blog works, especially for me.

I could give them the quintessential ‘consumer speak’ answers that I have picked up during the course of my job…

“It’s your public diary”, “It’s your personal space”, “It helps you express yourself”

[er…perhaps it might just help if I mention at this point that part of my job is to understand those poor dissected, partially dehumanized and totally un-individualized souls labeled ‘consumers’ my marketers! The answers mentioned above are some culled out from a research!]

…but, jokes apart, I think somewhere these statements seem to be missing the point.

A blog does all of this, is all of these but somewhere it does something more for me, something which is difficult to explain.

How do I explain that as a person, I am myopic (both literally and metaphorically!), but as a blogger I am vision magnified? That no small incident in my life goes unnoticed?

How do I explain a blog allows me to revel in and review my life at the same time? That while part of me is experiencing the event, part of me is observing it?

How do I explain the fact that at times I become a bystander in my own life? That at times, when I am watching a movie, I am forming a blog entry in my mind rather than an opinion?

How do I explain that a blog introduces an observer in my life who sometimes helps me put things in perspective?

Hmmm…actually not bad, maybe I am getting there. Maybe I could now explain some things to the non-bloggers.

About how, for me, the blog started out as something that helped me express my opinion and has now become something that helps form my opinion.

Yes. That is it.

Ok non-bloggers, if you happen to stray to this site, I have my answers ready!!

Food Fantasies

2007-10-30T21:54:00.001-07:00

Coming soon...

2007-06-03T04:56:00.000-07:00

A Sweet Concoction and a Goulash of Fairy Tales!
For Shreking out loud!

I am extremely proud of myself! Within a span of 24 hours, I saw 2 movies, one of them in the late night show :) . Of course the gold standard in movie watching is watching them back to back - but I don’t really despise my achievement, interspersed as it was with a cheese slobbered pasta session :)

Anyway, coming back to the movies – even as I was watching them, this blog entry was forming in my mind. These were the type of movies that beg to be written about, and so, here I am, hoping to do justice to them (justice as in giving them what they deserve!!).

I always think it is better to start with small doses and so Cheeni Kum it is!

Cheeni Kum: A light-hearted sugar-free (and how!) romance.

One can always expect an advertising professional to advertise his wares well! This is not to say that the final dish was any less delectable as promised by the teasers, but the ingredients mentioned in the trailers gave me a slightly different taste of what the movie was about. Hence I have written out the ingredients afresh, which I think will give a more accurate flavour of the dish!

Ingredients:
2 ½ kgs of sour, acerbic Amitabh Bachchan
2 tbs of Tabu as a sweetener
½ tsp each of an ancient but zesty Zora Sehgal and a precocious young brat frequently seen in television commercials
A slice of Paresh Rawal for the garnishing

Cheeni kum is an out and out Amitabh Bachchan movie without it meaning to be. Even though the movie is about the unusual romance between a 64 year old man and a 34 year old woman, Amitabh Bachchan totally dominates the space with his portrayal of an arrogant, caustic, perfectionist, MCP chef! His tongue is sharp, his manner sarcastic, his concern for people he’s close to coated with brusqueness – and yet, man, it is possible to get bowled over by him! (Yeah, yeah, I know!)

In retrospect, one realizes that the unique concept (for Bollywood at least) not withstanding, the movie is somewhat like an MB. (hold on a second…only in the sense of the arrogant hero and all.J) The first half of the movie is deliciously crisp and fun- at times it is decidedly cheeky without being vulgar, and the chemistry between the lead pair is really good. The second half loses its pace a little, and one isn’t sure whether the hero being older than the heroine’s dad is meant to be portrayed in a comic or a serious light. What seemed a little unnecessary was the ending track of ‘Sexy’ (the little brat who is at least twice as bratty as she should be!).

All in all, the movie is a sharp romance, fresh to one’s jaded palette. Paresh Rawal is just an attempt to add to the list of mavericks associated with the film (including the director) to really label it as ‘DIFFERENT’!!

And yes, move over Abhishek, Amitabh still has a lot of beans left!! (For the uninitiated, till very recently I was a huge Jr. AB fan :D)

Shrek 3: Coming now to the overdose!

Shrek meets Snow White meets Cinderella meets Rupenzel meets Sleeping Beauty meets Peter Pan meets Rumpeltiltskin meets Harry Potter meets LOTR meets King Arthur meets a typical Teen movie…

Gosh! Do you understand the extent of the overdose?

People, who have taken their board examinations, will understand how a culmination of whatever you have learnt feels like! While watching the movie, I felt my entire childhood (and to tell you the truth, adulthood as well, I haven’t really out-grown fantasy!) flash before my eyes – I found myself delving deep inside my mind trying to remember which fairy-tale which character was from. Even for a Shrek fan like me, this movie was a little too much.

Some people might not agree with me (some of my friends actually found it cute), but I definitely feel that in an attempt to make Shrek 3 bigger, better and grander than the first two, Dreamworks has gone overboard. They simply seem to have used all the characters from an overstocked Disney library.

Actually (to temper down my previous outburst, reeling as I was under the impact of the dose) you don’t really mind the movie that much while watching it, but you keep getting this feeling that the movie is trying too hard and that it isn’t half as cute as the first.

Anyway, the end is predictable, with Shrek and Fiona back to their swamp, Arthur safely ensconced as king and everyone living happily ever after (or till the next sequel) except pore ol’ me L

2007-01-20T09:14:00.000-08:00

A City retaliates

Malthus prophesied that "Every phase of unchecked exponential growth... will be followed by a catastrophe or misery, and thus unlimited growth may even directly cause misery and vice."

An ominous thought, but one can't help wondering whether his words held much weight.

Specially when it comes to the city of Mumbai.

Bombay was the city of my vacations. Holidays, sunshine, beaches, laughter, Essel World and loads of fun. It was my getaway during the scorching months of Delhi. It was this 'cool' place where girls could wear anything without the 'sadak-chhaaps' checking them out.

When my vacation would get over, I would go back to Delhi wistfully thinking about this free-spirited city.

Cut to 2006, the city of my vacations becomes the city of my work. Maybe this fact has something to do with my changing perceptions. Not entirely though, my professional life could not change my outlook of the city in such a dramatic manner.

Since I've come to Mumbai, a considerable number of things have happened in the city.

From rain-caused deluges, to bomb blasts to tension caused by certain factions, psychopaths on the prowl, Mumbai has seen just about everything. And the relatively apathetic way in which the people regard all these speaks volumes about how innured they have become. Quite astounding to an outsider, hailing from a city where even a relatively small event can get one a very welcome holiday. In the span of just a year, I have seen more 'happenings' than I have in the rest of my life.

I have started wondering whether the spirit of the city, tired of the claims being made on it by the teeming millions, has begun to get back.

This thought struck me when on a certain 'late day' to office, I happened to pause and look around me, rather than be pushed inexorably in the flow of things. On an average, a person spends about 2 minutes at any railway station, but is too caught up with 'things' to take stock of life around him. Ditto for me - but that day as I was descending the steps, I stopped for an infinitesimal second (I stopped perforce because the stairs were like a jammed, overloaded conveyor belt).

And I shrank in revulsion. I could only see heads around me, and from that height they look like tiny ants crawling about, and ...I was one of them!

Was it any surprise to me, then, that the city was behaving so churlishly? I shudder to think what else this spirit has in store. When I come back late from work, I already find myself glancing over my shoulder just to reassure myself.

I want the city of my childhood fun. I want to roam the streets at night without fear in my heart. I want the free spirit of yore.

2006-10-05T05:06:00.000-07:00

THE TIN DRUM!

'When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be?
Will I be pretty, Will I be rich, This is what she said to me...
Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be
The future's not our's to see
Que Sera Sera, What will be, will be'

Softly, softly, oh ever so softly, the refrain plays in my ear, like a soothing lullaby. Like a gentle reminder of a little girl I once knew. This song is as much a part of my childhood as are pixies, elves, gnomes, spells, hot scones, muffins, 'tuck' boxes! And all of these are magic keys. Each one of them can unlock that treasure chest in my mind. Memories.

Memories?

Or are they? Memories are recollections of a time gone by. This 'little treasure chest' is not that. This is the haven where I seek refuge in times of turmoil, in times of hurt, times when the 'grown-up' world just starts getting to me. Times when I wish I hadn't wished that I'd grow up quickly.

Or maybe it is just the little girl in me, who one day found herself in the 'land of grown-ups' atop the Far-Away Tree. Oh how she wished she had paid heed to her mother! Why had she been so curious to see what the adult world was like? Why, why, oh why had she not waited for time to take her to that land. Now she didn't know how to go on in this strange land. The land where she had the means to do anything she wanted, but had lost the will. She doubted herself, she acknowledged constraints, she realised there were things which were beyond her capacity.

Beyond her capacity? Whatever had happened to her? There was a time when she had only to close her eyes and make a wish. Just when along the way, had she been introduced to the word 'impossible'?

Once she saw only the boundless sky, now she had begun to notice the horizon where the sky ended.

The 'little girl' still lives. Still in the 'land of grown-ups', she found a way to remain a child. Like the boy from 'the tin drum', she refused to grow up.

2006-05-10T12:57:00.000-07:00

‘The Narmada shall rise again..’

The quiet black waters sparkle in the light of a hundred odd diyas. As the boatman takes the patwars, I move into the Narmada – The Reva. The waters lie all but an inch below the side of the boat. I sit absolutely still, lest my motion disturbs the balance of the boat. The Narmada does that to you. The placid waters propel you with an invisible hand. Gently but irresistibly, the Narmada propels you towards her course of life.

The only sounds that one can hear are the splashing of the oars in the water, and the distant echoes of the bells that float down from the Mandir further up. Towering silhouettes flank the Narmada and the night pales away in comparison with the black of the river – black as the Styx.

As I move towards the Mandir, people around me discuss the depth of the river, the velocity of the current and dissect its various aspects. I can only feel an overwhelming and divine yet benign presence. Not as potent, spectacular or brilliant as the Ganga, yet unmistakably divine. The boatman tells us:
‘one’s sins get cleansed just by looking at the Narmada. It would be an insult to Ma Narmada, if we went to wash our sins to the Ganga’.

The chants become louder and the floating candles more numerous.

I feel like a pagan. That is the only way to be. Isn’t nature the only real medium through which one can experience the divine? How can we expect to experience the divine sitting in our man-made ivory towers? Is that why idol worship was eschewed by some religions originally - Because it sought to understand God through the narrower concept of man? Why then have most religions resorted to it in some form or the other? Why limit one’s experience to those viewed from within the confines of this mortal being? Is it not a paradox? One seeks to transcend the barriers created by existence in this form, yet one is not able to or does not want to understand anything that is not first translated into the human form. How can one ascribe human qualities such as anger and jealousy to God (evident in the existence of a vengeful God in popular myths across religions)?

We reach a small mound island with a gleaming deity at the peak. On the bank to my left, I can see a tree etched out against the sky, its image more startlingly clear because of the strange white mist that seems to emanate from it, like a ghostly halo - could also be some uncommon plant growing from it. I try and capture this curious phenomenon on my camera but only succeed in getting a green haze. I prefer to think of it as a bewitched tree and leave it at that.

We think of returning to the guest house, but the boatman will not take us back till we’ve not seen the temple. He will not take no for an answer and we aren’t loth to see it. I move on.

A typical Hindu temple scene.
The Ghats are swarming with people. The temple steps take a dip right into the river. The brightly lit and vibrant temples reverberate with the chimes of bells, chants, ‘artis’ and ‘shankhs’ (conch shells). A lifetime of conditioning prompts my being to respond to these, I do not disappoint it. I can immediately feel the presence of God (or at least the authentic signs of God – a theory derived from the Semiotics of Tourism!).

I have been taught to look out for such signs. As a choir, organ, candles, the loud gong of the big bell would signify God to a Christian, the smaller bells et al. signify God to me. It is difficult to describe that feeling. I cannot say why, but I feel God. I have learnt to look for God in those signs. And I experience all that religion meant me to. Only I’m, not sure whether experiencing these signs of God is the same as experiencing God himself, herself, itself. The pristine black waters had inspired a very different feeling. Yet I cannot in all honesty say that I wasn’t a bit awed by the temples too. In my defence - it as an acquired experience.

A strange spot in the middle of the river. Temples of different Gods all around me on the banks, and right in front, a temple nestling in the very bosom of the river. I go around it. Everyone else is asking for ‘mannats’ in frenzied whispers (‘IIT ki seat maango’!). Busily trying to take in as much as I can, on my camera and mind, I omit to ask for a boon.

Damn (as I think later)! I always have a long list of wishes which I seek piecemeal at different places – mandirs, mazaars, the back of my hand, beneath the bridge with a train passing overhead.

A current catches us. The Narmada warns us not to take its placid disposition at face value. The boatman tells us that the monsoon swells the waters considerably. A slight breeze brings the heady fragrance of fresh flowers and incense to us. A gift?

My more romantic side certainly warms to the idea, my more prosaic side thinks of it as a contrived play on words.

I start back, the journey is faster. Another futile attempt at shooting the enchanted tree. On one side of me people discuss hydraulic pumps, motors, on the other side people sing gustily. My mother prods me to join in. I do.

I sing, yet I listen to the theories on valves being dished out. I try and pull out all that I had learnt at school to make sense of it. My mind is present at both places, yet it isn’t. I keep thinking about something else.

A lurch and I am jerked out of my reverie. The side of the boat had scraped the banks. I climb out gingerly, so as to maintain the balance. The steps leading up to the guest house seem much brighter from below.

Not for long, I know. Once the rains arrive, the Narmada will glide up the steps and try and reach the guest house. Its tide of fortune will rise. It time will come. The Narmada shall rise again.

2006-05-07T04:46:00.000-07:00

A VOID!!!

There's a void in me,

There's a void in me.

Oh! is it there in your heart?

From the pain when you did part?

In my heart? So it is

In my heart, yes it is

But no, that is not the one I talk about.

There's a void in me,
There's a void in me.

Is it there in your mind?

When no answers could you find?

In my mind? So there is.

In my mind, yes there is

But no, that is not the one I talk about.

There's a void in me,

There's a void in me.

Is it there in your soul?

Did the love scrape a hole?

In my soul? Yes there is

In my soul, so there is

But no, that is not the one I talk about.

You think me capable of nothing but pain?

That all I do is whine 'n' complain?

Open your mind and think again

There's a void in me.

But not the ones you think about

'Tis much simpler.

Get off that high horse and the philosophical plane.

A touch of levity and the anwer's quite plain!!

2006-05-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

And with my heart as heavy as lead... I pick up my pen again

There's no fool like a sentimental fool (please pardon me on the 'borrowed' and slightly amended adage!).
today i decided to start writing my blog agaian. And when i saw the last time I had posted an entry, i felt a slight pang. Time flies.

It was almost like a quick recap of the last term. In my mind i could see, all too clearly, flashes of my last term at MICA. whatever i wrote about and more importantly, whatver i had felt too lazy to put down that time- it all came back.

The all-girls Diu trip, the crazy supposed-to-be-all-night parties-that-ended-at-four, any stray song - it seems much too easy to get me thinking about MICA. I suppose this is what people feel like, after a love is over. You keep wanting to hold on, even though you know in your heart that its over.

What did MICA mean to me?

i wish i knew the answer to that. Though technically one becomes a MICAn the day one joins MICA, for me it happened later. I dont know when i became one. Slowly, but surely.

Apart from good friends, a job et. al., MICA has given me a lot snd I have learnt a lot over there (er.. actually i am not alluding to the classroom learning!!)
But my most important lesson was what I learnt about myself. It was a two year self discovery course. There were good times, there were bad times. But my perception of myself changed greatly and i came to know myself in a way i hadnt for the previous 21 years.

I wish i had a 'pensieve' where i could just transfer every memory of mine and preserve it. Perhaps, writing my blog is an attempt at doing just that.

Perhaps. Perhaps...
Quizazz. Quizazz... (Pronounced in MICA as Kiss Ass!)

Behold the dried ink in my pen,
Behold the hand that writes again.
For the ink flows now and so do I
And writes about the days gone by.

2006-02-17T07:20:00.000-08:00

"ITS JUST A GAME!"

I missed writing one post in between coz i was feeling too lazy. A lot has happened. i'll write about that later.

right now, i am.. i dont know what. Angry, frustrated, disappointed, i dont know what. people say its just a game. that is the biggest sop to anyone that has ever been created. even though i have used it myself to ease the pain and hurt and disappointment of someone else.

So what if it is just a game. All games are meant to be won. What hurts most is when you lose because of yourself. hurt is an inadequate word.

Time and again the same thing repeats itself. Right now i am ready fr murder. and i know its not fair on my friends. but the problem is something they will not undertsand. its not about the game at all. if it was then competitive matches would never be played at all. it is about pitting your skills against someone else, about wanting to prove to yourself that you are better than someone else. and when you lose, you lose your sense of worth, which is the worst that can happen. The worst thing that can ever happen to anyone is them not playing their natural game, which is what happens to me.

Its all a nice little pattern where good ol' history repeats itself.

the coin tossed and love all called
the minute that happens, i dont know what happens to me. its like playing with a blindfold. i can see but not quite. there is this haze that surrounds me and weakens my reflexes.

maybe it is nervousness or just acute fear of a match.
why cant i play my natural game like all others play? when i am taking part in any competition it is like my ghost playing. i am not there in flesh and blood. nothing makes sense. yet i take part in competitive matches, maybe to tell myself that i am good, maybe to give myself another oppotunity to snap out of the weird (to say the least!) phase

some people dont take part because they dont like the competition. me too, but i cant just lose out wherever there is competition and that is what i keep trying to tell myself.

the worst match is the one where u lose to a mediocre opponent forced more by ur mistakes. my game becomes a shadow of itself in any bloody match, which is the trouble.

anyway, lets see if it gets any better in later years.

have heard some people saying that ur attitude to the game is what matters. well.. it really isnt fair then is it? because howver much u improve, when u r out there ur "attitude" just takes over and u lose.

well... lets see. there were mccanros in the world too

2006-02-09T05:40:00.000-08:00

ITS BEEN AWHILE...

Yeah...since i last wrote. Anj seems to think that my 'blogomania' seems to have worn off. Boy!! if that is true then that has got to be a record. I'm sure even guys hang around girls for a longer time than that (!!!)

3 days and 3 nights (scratch,scratch!! hey i am desperately looking for inspiration. i've got a writer's blog - hehe sorry cudnt resist that one!)

Btw ever noticed how most people never notice u until u do something very uncharacteristic of yourself!! and also that people are jst DYING to know what is happening in other people's lives. it doesnt make a difference that you dont know that person from Adam, you..just...have...to...know - (and they say curiosity killed the cat!!)

Anyway...this deeeeeeeeeeeeeep undertstanding of perverse human behaviour led me to rename my nick (just for the heck!!). I made it "in love (blush blush)" (btw i also realised that people's love lives are the 1 aspect that others find most fascinating!)

Result:

No. of hits: 10

Even an obscure cousin who i havent spoken to in ages, tried to find out what was actually behind that cryptic nick. all efforts to explain the motive behind it were firmly squashed. "there is no smoke without fire...there just has to be soemthing that has been happening"!!

and all this for the 'ahhhhhh! i know what you've been upto' factor!!

Damn!!i wish i had chosen this as my thesis topic. wud have finished proving my hypothesis by now too!!

In the last 3 days, another high point has been the 'Subway' outing. had a blast.
ooh! nothing like a good ol' 'sandwich' (wink wink! if ur reading this blog u know what i talking abt!!) with oodles of mayo, mustard, cheese, chicken ham, lamb, olives to make ur day

of course on the return was turned into the grocery boy, running errands for friends, buying stuff - juices, snacks etc etc (hehe! dont take me up on this 1 guys - this is supposed to be a space where one can be politically incorrect!!)

anyway...cant think of anything else to write. have reached the laptop equivalent of "chewing my pen"

Bye

DJ

2006-02-06T13:48:00.000-08:00

IT'S BEEN A HARD DAY'S NIGHT!!
a.k.a Of TV, Tea, Tiffs and Thesis

Phew!! One of 'those' days.
you wake up in the morning and a lazy day stretches ahead of you. Perfect weather, propitious signs, and.. to top it all, an Indo-Pak one-day in store. Ingredients for a smashing, scrumptious (er...yes i do tend to describe most things as i wud describe food!!) deliciously relaxed day.

And then it begins to go wrong.

Slowly.... at first you dont really recognize the storm signs. only in hind sight do u realise that things had already begun to go awry.

1. First 'omen'- stupid bee in my bonnet...and in my room. refused to fly out and kept trying to dodge me (i sayz to meself - zeees be a sign...from ze heavenz above! rubbish actually, i thought no such thing except what an idiotic bee it was!!)

2. Exciting match becomes a damp squib. Would be nail biting finish ruined by Messieurs Duckworth and Lewis. (for the non-cricket buffs, this is a statistical tool used for calculating the outcome of a match in event of a wash out or the match being stalled, propounded by the aforementioned gentlemen

Trivia: very few people have really been able to figure out how the bloody thing works and none of them, cricketers!!)
Incidentally, India lost

3. Had to get down to AP work. for people who unable to understand my lack of enthusiam, plz refer to previous post.

4. Was up for a rude shock and a li'l tiff (pple shud be able to understand wht it was abt from a 'hidden' clue in the post itself!!)

In the words of good ol' Enid Blyton - "A lovely day with a horrid ending"

Mama said there'll be days like this

Day End Summary

High Points:

Inzy getting out for 'obstructing the ball' (hee hee!! almost makes India's losing bearable!!)
Chaat at Rasmadhur
Made peace with friend

Er...Not-so-high points:

Pounds lost: -30

Boyfriends: Still 0!!

Here's signing off to a better tomorrow! (hopefully!!)

2006-02-05T11:56:00.000-08:00

AM GOOD WRITER, WITTY POPULAR PERSON (AND GOOD QUALI RESEARCHER)!!!!

Hehe!! No really, am not a pompous, stuck up ass as the heading might make me sound. For the uninitiated, the line is kind of taken from Bridget Jones. For the people who know...well you know it!!

But have been told by friends, that 3 comments on the first post is a very good hit rate (the fact that the 3 posts are by 2 friends is quite immaterial!!!)

So..having established myself as an author of great promise, i shall proceed to list out what i have been upto since the last post 2 hrs ago.

AP... not Associated Press or Andhra Pradesh. This is Account Planning, the specialisation that i have taken up in my second year at MICA. Hmmm...nothing to do with accounts, finance or anything. Is about advertising.

and my group was working on this brand of shampoo. at the end of 2 hrs had had just about enough of hair. We split hair (!), dissected the brand and my scalp has been deprived of a few handfuls that i have pulled out!!

After that, heard some wierd sounds emanating from upstairs (which btw is hardly unusual over here!!) but anyway for lack of anything better to do, we also traipsed upstairs. A bunch of classmates were dancing with gay abandon to Tam songs. Stood apart shaking head at them for precisely 5 min before was dragged into the room. Back hurting now but thoroughly enjoyed self. Am wondering whethre the world is indeed not a much more enjoyable place without men (and no... this is NOT sour grapes)

Anyway, bones protesting now, so will end.

This is Davie Jones from Situp MICA, signing off!!!

2006-02-05T06:59:00.000-08:00

FINALLY!!! this has to be the best example of Newtons first law (or whichever one it was) - inertia - a thing at rest will resist all efforts to make it move. after about a year of knowing about blogging, badgering from my friends to start one, i have finally started my own blog. well... i actually was forced into it by blogger.com which wudnt let me post a comment on my sis's blog. Well...whatver the reason, here i am.

First hurdle, my friends have ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE as to why i chose this name. my efforts at being punny, funny and witty went totally, utterly flat. Let me explain -

1. Davy Jones exists - it is the spirit of the sea- and at a young age i used to really like this movie called the davy jones' locker hence the title

2. my name is Devika and some irritating friends delight in calling me devi which can also be written as davie (are we clearer yet??!)

3. my initials are DJ and my life seems to closely follow the inimitable Bridget Jones (though a Mark Darcy seems to be a far cry right now!!), hence the jones and the D Jones Diary in the blog name

well i thought i had an absolutely super blog name and a sure winner on my hands, but as they say for consumers (in marketing, market research, account planning and god knows what else), people are absolutely fickle and unpredictable

Damn!!! and i graduated in a subject that is based on the assumption that humans are rational!! which makes me wonder if i really wasted 3 years of my life.

He He, anyway, enough for 1 day. will write again!!

Day End Summary

Pounds lost : -20
Boyfriends : 0
Possibility of one : -30

Au Revoir