Secret Santa Ka Funda

So the lovely Indiblogeshwaris came up with a Secret Santa game of their own this year. Each blogger was asked to review a blog anonymously and provide honest feedback on what they thought of the blog they were assigned. And this secret would only be revealed on Christmas when the presents open so Shhh!

So I was assigned the wonderful Shaivi Sharma who blogs at Shaivi ka Funda. To begin with I thought that her blog was just so honest. Every post was like a sneak peak into her life, which is the true essence of blogging isn't it? She puts a piece of herself in her writing which instantly connects you to her and also inspires you to write something of your own. There is an alliteration in her name, so obviously her love for words is inevitable. 

Her blog is almost 2 and has won many accolades in the form of goodies for blog contests because of the sheer creativity and sincerity in the writing. 

Why you should head to her blog RIGHT NOW!

• Cause I am her Santa Secret Elf and I said so

• I love how there is a mixed bag that it has to offer. From Book Reviews, Travelogues, Food Recipes, Movies to the little bits from her personal life. She writes everything.

• She is super regular in her writing. Which I really admire because personally I can't sit myself down and write as often as 4-5 times a month. Her creativity is always on its toes ;)

• I think her blog is very vibrant. Light background and dark text, which is the perfect blend. I like people who have simple themes, soothing to the eyes.

• Her style of writing is engaging and personal which makes all her posts more interesting and catchy. 

• No draggy descriptions. I love how crisp and just the right length her posts are. There is no race to reach a 1000 word + mark.
• Her views and heartwarming stories make for a perfect companion when you want to snuggle in bed and read something nice.

I am glad I found her blog. And Shaivi I hope when you read this, it makes you smile. Keep Writing and Stay Awesome.

Merry Christmas. Ho Ho Ho.

Spoken Word

Sidenote: Obsession with Poetry is far from over. I am going to be a poet. Period. All of you who have not heard of Sarah Kay must die or just google her. She is brilliant and poetry is going to keep coming up in this space. Deal with it.

Her clothes are weary, 
Just like her eyes.
Hair messed and her weak smile only a disguise. 
She was lovely & then he left her

Is what they mouth every time she passes by

Only a shadow of what she used to be

So sad but she tries 

They don't know what happened

Maybe they were always fighting,

or maybe they never did

Maybe love left them

Or maybe they left love

Maybe her heart 

Now has a hole cut out in a shape 

That resembles him 

Maybe the words hurt, or just the quiet that kills

Maybe they didn't have what it took to love

Or maybe love took all they had

Her hair is messed up and her smile is weak

And each time she passes by

She was lovely and then he left her is what they speak

She is seen sitting on that park bench

Almost tracing where he would normally be

And as the sun kisses her arms

She feel his embrace

Wondering  if her unwavering belief would set things right

That maybe if she still believed his love is around her

She'll survive.

A mark sits on her finger

Where a ring used to be

They see her trying to hide it

But pryingly they see

Her is messed up and her smile is weak

And each time she passes by

She was lovely and he left her is what they speak

My favorite Sarah Kay video. Watch it!!!

Serendipity

She is holding her drink 

He thinks she's had enough

But she thinks otherwise

She puts his arms around him to say

That love is a butterfly

He smiles and whispers

Let's hold out our hand and let it settle then

And as those words leave his mouth

She feels a familiar twinge

An emotion she hadn't felt for a while

A memory, a night, a someone

Someone she knew so well but not quite

In a another part of the world

He is working hard

Addressing a crowd of peers

Who think he's out of his mind

And as he makes his parting speech

His eyes reach the lady who just opened the door

Something so familiar about her

That he can't ignore

She excuses her self for getting the wrong room

He just caught a glimpse but wasn't quite sure

He follows her out

Looking around he wonders if he'll see that familiar face

and when he turns he sees her

This time more closely

A little disappointment and an out of place smile

He gets back to work 

With her on his mind

Each day a small reminder

Made its way from unexpected places

A scent, a movie, a place, a thing

Little by little creeping in

The questions that usually linger

Now made a resounding sound

Why did it not work out?

How it all went down.

In a momentary moment of weakness

He picks up the phone

She too the dials the numbers

That she thought were long forgotten

And as they listen for the click

To feel the return of a familiarity

To listen to that voice

All they hear is a busy tone

Almost there, but not quite 

And reality draws them in

With a nonchalant smile 

They go back to being what they are

So close yet just as far.

"Potluck" in Mumbai :D

It is going to be an awesome evening, I am going to be there too. Do come you guys! :D

Letters of Love

We fell in love so quickly that there was no time to think it through. No time to analyze if he'd fit my definitions of love. If he could be "The One". No time, how would there be? We were never off the phone. Months later it makes perfect sense though, I had to fall in love with him.Why? Because he makes me happy. From 812 kms away he can make me feel loved. Somedays we barely talk, and on others we talk only to fight and crib about the lack of time. But even on those days when we are snapping at each other there is a part of me that knows I wouldn't want it any other way. He is home. My person, the only one in the world who I could say anything to and he would still hold me tight and say he loves me.

(a chat from the first few months)

me: Hey there delilah

  whats it like in new york city?

  

 P: oasis

  :D

 me: plain white tees

  :|

 P: :O

  i thought its oasis

me: See if u didn't have me

  You'd spend all  your life

  not knowing that the song is by plain white teeP: I know! Tragic.

P and me were friends because of this very blog, its hard to believe that something I started out of plain boredom gave me the most important person in my life. So maybe it is true then, everything does happen for a reason. He's working for the Government of India in the defence forces. And I can't begin to explain such a pain in the wrong places that is. He has tough life, tough schedule and a very busy day. Every day the routine tires him, I wonder if he forgets me sometimes but he never forgets to remind me that he doesn't. I would love to be my demanding self, and many times I am but after a while I just don't have the heart to be. 

In the first 6 months of our relationship he had to go for his first training. Which meant no calls, no texts and, not even the once in a blue moon skype call. We in any case had a long distance relationship which meant seeing each other only after months and several long STD bills. We thought it would be easy, the extra space would help us do our own thing too. But it was tough, very tough. 

We wrote letters to each other. The really long ones, the 1000 words and more. The short ones just to say "I love you. And I am thinking of you." The one liners after a fight, the pages full of words which couldn't ever really capture how we felt. On days when he had time he sent multiple letters at once, the postman often joked with him, why write so much just make a quick phonecall in secret instead. But we preferred the letters, we could speak at length in them. Sometimes when the words ran out we sent things. The bracelet he made for me out of twigs, so delicately put together. It fit my hand perfectly like his would if he was here. The target sheet he stole for me from range practice. He was getting good at it, almost hitting the centre once in a while. The little cards I made for him each one with a reason why I loved him;

For that smile, when I do something stupid

For that phone call in the middle of the night just to say I love you. (Even when I don't remember it the next day)

For the way you believe in us

For the way you say "Let's not fight. I love you"

For each time you say "Listen" with the south indian accent and it sounds like "Lizzen"

....

We wrote of the bad days and the good ones. The time when I had the worst day at work, everything went wrong that day. Writing to him helped, it always does. Almost like he was listening and offering comfort. I wrote of the graduation ceremony he missed, as I threw my cap in the air for a momentary second I scanned the crowd hoping to see him. He wrote about his seniors, the cool guys and even the strict ones. He sent me sketches of the fighter planes he learnt about, each one distinct from the other (though I could never tell the difference). The letter he wrote in Shudh Bhojpuri! I remember reading it over and over and laughing till my stomach hurt. The drawings he made of all the possible positions that the seniors instructed them to make the most famous being the "Crab Walk","Side Roll" and "Murga" 

We wrote cause we had no other way. He wrote about the friends he made. He observed whenever he made a new friend they were never standing, always rolling on the floor, or with their legs in the air, or simply lying down after the several push-ups and crunches. Once I put my scent on the letter I wrote to him, it is very cheesy when you think about it, but the smile it brought on his face was totally worth it. Besides he likes cheese. As a gesture of sweet reciprocation he sent me a tradeable WWE card. I have no clue how he managed to or why, but it was cute. I sent him a photo of me, that he kept in his wallet. A bookmark, I had painted myself that he kept in his textbooks, somehow I was everywhere even when I wasn't. I used to pick up free postcards from restaurants and send him those once in a while to break the monotony. It was only later that I knew he had to earn all the letters I wrote to him. 50 pushups for letters from the mother, 30 if they were from dad and 100 if they were from the girlfriend. The standards often changed on the time of the day and the mood of the seniors. He did each one eagerly, waiting to know what I had written this time.

Our story has it all, the distance, the age gap, differences in religion and of course parents who resort to melodrama at the drop of a hat. Right out of a movie, someone might say. But somehow the choice is obvious, it can't be otherwise, even the melodrama is worth it. So if you ask me what our day of love is I would say, it keeps evolving. Maybe it was the day I first spoke to him and thought he was full of hot air, or maybe the day he said I love you for the first time. It probably is the time he came back from the academy to see me and I was blushing like it was the first time all over again. Maybe it was the day he left, and I cried myself to sleep in his jacket because it would mean a few more months without him. Or maybe our Platinum Day of Love is yet to come. Because I'm in love with the memories we are yet to make. 

A place called home

This was my childhood home where I spent those hot summer vacations. You know the age when the sun doesn't bother you. The carefree years. Its hard to imagine now that I once loved this place. In one of the distant and quaint villages of Gujarat, hidden somewhere far off from the developing cities and expressways there was a building I called home. It was like those  vintage bungalows amidst trees and innumerable small houses, each having rattling noises of its own. The vessels clanging in the kitchen, the children being a riot, the old radio playing the tunes of the day, or just the creaking of granddad’s chair – the noises that somehow together spelt peace. 

The slice of village life I kept hidden from my city friends, I don’t think I have ever mentioned this in detail to anyone. No one knew where I disappeared for a fortnight each year and came back tanned like a Dorito. It was my own secret adventure just like one of the many Enid Blyton books I carried with me here but never got to read. There was not an idle moment here, the village brimmed with life.  A stark contrast to the fast paced concrete jungle where I came from. This house had seen a lot, the walls spoke volumes, the marks the children made on the wooden panel surrounding the door marking their height each summer also marked the years gone by. The clay vessels that we played with. And the pretentious tea we served to the old and young alike. This building I once loved. If only that one night hadn’t changed everything.

I was 8 , it was the rains that took him. Not once have I enjoyed that familiar pitter patter on my window since that day. The rains bring bad news I always say, and maybe they do. Maybe its the skies crying over the bad news. Maybe rains are a sign of destruction, maybe its His best illusion. That night I didn’t sleep at all. I don’t remember anything except that all night I was trying to wake my 6 month old sister, I pinched her awake every time she slept. Something was wrong, he slept and didn’t wake up I didn’t want her to do the same to me. The happy faces I usually saw here now had darkened expressions of deep sorrow. Why were they crying? It was finally raining. The hot summers were gone, and yet no one seemed happy.

The alley that led to my home was crowded with people, I tried to acknowledge the familiar faces but no one smiled at me today, I had probably grown taller than last time and they just didn’t recognize me. My mother held my hand tightly while we waded the crowd. As we got nearer I could hear wailing women and now I was scared. We walked into that door I knew so well, with elephants and horses carved into the thick wood and the door knob that I had picked when the last one broke. My mother didn’t bother to abandon her footwear in the verandah, something that struck me as odd. As we entered I saw that white mattress and he lied there lifeless, my 50 year old neighbour saw my mother and hugged her as she cried and my mother still holding my hand in hers fell to the floor near him. My aunt was there too her eyes red, my uncle perplexed and in some kind of shock. As my mother lost control I didn’t know if I had to cry too. My dad decided to take me away from this. But I saw him, his face blue. It had been 5 minutes since I had come home and he didn’t bother to look at me. I was now upset. Maybe I had to wake him up. I moved towards him but something inside me stirred with fear, some kind of instinct that tells you something was wrong.

I was 3 burning with fever, I was to start school the coming June. The panic was evident on his face. He was probably just tired of  my constant crying. He walked 10 kms and back for the medicine I needed, that day he was some kind of a hero.

I was 5, atop his shoulder. It was Rakshabandhan, which meant lot of sweets and gifts for me back then. My mother tied him the rakhi I had picked. It had to be a Pokemon Rakhi, it didn’t matter if he was a little over 24. We were just about to say our goodbyes when I decided to pull at the curtains in the living room, the entire rod and the cloth that hung on it came crashing on me. I was about to cry when he came and picked me up and said “What?, are you going to cry now. Wuss!” and I didn’t cry.

I was 7, we had reached home after the celebratory dinner. He had bought his first car, it was obviously a reason to celebrate. As I got down from the car holding the icecream we bought on the way home I felt the door shut on my hand. I was screaming for exactly 3 seconds when he realised what had happened, got hold of me and released my hand. I was now looking at the swelling which had appeared over my tiny fingers with tears welling in my eyes. He had the same panic on his face, he always had when I was in any kind of pain and he decided to mock hit the car, I joined him while he asked my mother to rub ice on my hand, he couldn’t even bare to look at it. Should have known that car was evil.

Today as I sit in the same house, I sometimes feel his presence. Sometimes even now when I wake up in the car to realise we’ve reached home. In that moment between sleep and wakefulness I expect him to come and hug me tight and say “Finally, what took you’ll so long” Sometimes I feel blessed, I had good 8 years with him, all my sister has is a photo here and there and a vague account of what he was  from the things we say, when we fondly bring him up. I never say anything. For a year after he was gone, I spotted him in various crowds. In the market where we went to buy vegetables, I saw that tall and lean figure with ruffled hair, he was so tall always easy to spot. Sometimes I even saw him at school during break though it would be odd if he was wearing the school uniform. I never had the heart to chase the stranger I thought was him, the fear of being disappointed was too much. Instead I decided to believe it was indeed him in the crowded spaces, and he was only looking after us. A superhero lurking in the corners looking out for a crisis. He was my hero and maybe these four walls remind me of him, and maybe I still somewhere hope that one day he’ll come walking back like he always does with the stride in his walk and his ruffled hair, so tall and easy to spot and then I’ll call it home again.

PS: Its nice to write again, now that feels like home. Wrote something on Darlings of Venus also a while back. You can read it here

Book Review: Frankly Spooking

Author: Sriramana Muliya

Price: Rs. 299/-
Publisher: Harper Collins

Given a choice I would never pick this book. I wouldn't even give it a second look, and I would certainly not struggle to complete it. I knew I wouldn't be able to read it at a stretch. For someone who has followed Sri's blog for more than 2 years now I know that it's not a good idea to read this like a page turner.

Innocent scenarios and well carved out story lines, give you the creeps as you turn each page, thinking that it won't get you this time. But it always does, when you least expect it. For someone who has always believed that ghosts are a lot more than blood dripping, white saree clad figures floating in thin air, I would say this book is a pleasure for the logical minds. You will not once say what bull-crap, but instead fear that it might happened to you too.

Not a fan of short stories, but this book has changed my view towards them. Somehow I always prefer the long and explanatory novel kinds that keep very little to your own imagination, which is probably a big plus for this one, because it leaves just the right amount of space for you to imagine the scenarios. You are picturing yourself in each story, in each really scary story mind you, and it leaves you a  little squeamish each time.

My personal favorites would be in "Stuck in the Middle", "Team Player", and "Director's Cut". Peevee of the blogosphere reviewed the book here and I couldn't agree more to what she said, do read it. Also the book is topping the chart of bestsellers and is getting all the praise it deserves, I needn't say more.

By the end of the book I was terrified of all the things I use in my daily life, including my headphones, elevators and even stuffed animals. So my final verdict: take this book to that overnight camping trip and scare the Bejesus out of your friends or simply cozy up in your bed if you need to pull an all-nighter, cause there is going to be no sleep after you read this.

Overall rating : 4.5/5

Order your copy at Flipkart or Infibeam Now!

Breeze

She sat there, resting in the hammock that he had built her on his last visit. She was wondering what he was doing then, if he was hurt. She internally scolded her self, think good things she said. Not a single leaf was moving today, there was no breeze, only a sullen silence.

She was about to get up and go back inside the house, she still had dinner to prepare and clothes to wash, lying there in his memories was not a luxury she could afford. Just when she was about to put the gas on , there was a knock on the door. It was her father, there was a tall man holding him up. She couldn't register what was happening.

"He's just had too much to drink" the man said.

"He'll be fine, you should let him sleep the night out" he said reassuringly. He was just about to excuse himself out of her house when she said a weak "Thank you." He just smiled and was out on his way in no time.

She took the shoes off from her father's feet and watched his rhythmic breathing, she remembered the first time she had found him at the bar, the day that had probably changed her life. 

This story is part of a series I am trying to write. To read the earlier pieces of this click on Desinence

Letters

I’ve been keeping all the letters I wrote to you,
Each one a line or two,
I’m fine baby how are you?
But I know that its just not enough
My words are cold and flat and you deserve more than that

He was writing that letter for the hundred time now. Every time he tried to put different words on the paper, every time he tried to explain things differently. He could never reach the end of the letter, he could never complete it, cause something or someone always demanded his attention before he could.

There was so much he wanted to tell her but the words didn’t come out right. He was a completely new person now from when he had met her, he wondered if she would still understand, if she would notice the changes at all. She is waiting for him she had said in the last letter, he had read it over and over. She was waiting for him and that was all the reassurance he needed but even as he was writing to the love of his life, words failed him.

The first time he tried, he wrote about the life he was leading, the routine and the funny stories that he knew she wouldn’t understand , you had to be there to get the jokes. The next time he tried to ask about her, and how she had been but he didn’t think that was any good either. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him but he wondered if that was the right thing to do, what if he didn’t make it, what if he didn’t survive this? Would it be fair to keep her waiting? Just when he had put the letters away he heard the first gunshot of the night, he had to rush. He dressed and armed himself in a hurry and within seconds he had joined his troop. One of them had been shot, the enemy had attacked at night even when they had agreed not to. You could never trust them.

It was his dream to join the army, he had aced the entrance exam and was recommended by the entire panel after his interview. He had met her only days before his final interview and he had to report for the training only a month later. That was the best month of his life, they had spent every waking moment together.  He was her first love and she was going to be his last. Once the firing ceased he was back in his billet, this time determined to write something for her, he used to write poetry in his training days and sing them to her over the billet phones even when his friends hovered for their turn to make a call. He imagined her smiling when she would receive the letter and it brought the most radiant smile on his face too. He wrote:

I know I haven’t written to you for long , and I apologize, there is no time here but believe me when I say I have tried many times to write to you. I am fine and I hope you are too. There are days I really miss being with you and want to just run back to you but I chose this for myself and I must see it to the end. 

You are the most beautiful person I have known, and the thought that there is someone like you waiting for me when I’m back is what keeps me going each day over here. I need to go now the Chief has asked for me , I love you.

No poetry ever written,

Could adequately capture,

What your presence

Has done to my life.

Love, Me

Sidenote:  I always want to write a series but no theme/story ever appealed to me. I am trying again with this, it is the only piece I have written so far and more is to follow. Sometime from his point of view and sometimes from hers. 

Banarasiya

Back in school my friends had these really cool boyfriends who played for the football teams and had heart melting smiles and made you want to be like those intense women from operas. In school I was above all of it. The tomboy with more GI-Joes than Barbies. The girl who cared less about how beautifully her dress flowed and more about winning a Harry Potter argument. I was a buddy. A buddy is someone who has only guy friends all her life and then dies alone with cats. Yeah that.

When I entered college not much changed, except that I had to make girl friends if I didn't want to be a stared at all the time. Then it finally began, hormones. Maybe that was the reason, maybe you need girls around for the girl hormones to kick in. I was a girl over-night. From one stupid boy to another, with my heart on a platter. It was very amusing at first. I was watching Rom-Coms without being forced to. I was reading Mills & Boons (that happened once, don't judge me) Basically I was ready for the prince in shining armor to come and sweep me off my feet, just like princess diaries. 

A friend of mine got a  puppy from her boyfriend. A puppy! A real, living, breathing, barking little thing. But the dog was diseased, and died in 3 days and she turned vegetarian for a year after that,mourning for its death *rolls eyes* and they broke up soon after. But that's not the point. Focus on the puppy part. They would all go to nice lunches and brunches and dinners and what not. I was never jealous then, it was stupid then. But I was jealous. 5 years after it happened. 

My prince was obviously going to be a crossover of Tom Cruise and Orlando Bloom with roses lilies in his hand and perfect hair. But when I fell in love it was just not so fairy tale like after all. All I wanted was lunch. But I got long really long STD call bills, several snores from the other end and just a flip calendar on our one year anniversary. Yeah it is sad. This is what happens when you are in love  with a guy who is a generation older to you(so i like to say) Things won't go your way most of the time. The time you think you've gone for the Man instead of puppy love. He shows you that he is just that a MAN, with no boyish charm and no tricks up his sleeve. He thinks he has you and he will hold and protect you till death do you'll part but all you want is lunch. To top it all it is a long distance relationship and frustration levels are so high that you want to poison every happy couple you see around. God and his evil ways didn't even want me to have a regular long distance relationship, why make it so easy. The love of my life is in the Indian Air Force and is training to be an air warrior. Phppt. Don't go all "Wow you should be so proud of him crap" cause I will take you down. Cause all you want is someone who is actually there after a long day at work. Someone who is bringing chocolate chip ice-cream to your place at 3 am and someone who is atleast present, if only on weekends.

How does this kind of set-up actually work? It works cause at the end of the day, the sound of his voice on the phone is the warmest hug, the random message from him through the day is my epic romance. The bracelet he made me out of twigs at camp is my favourite gift, and when he sleeps off because he's had a really tiring day, as much as I want to slap him awake, the sound of his breathing is my lullaby. 

 It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.

Reliance Digital Experience.

Experience Review:

It was a very rainy Sunday morning and I was on a mission. A mission to get my goodie bag. Indiblogger has really spoilt all us bloggers with freebies, several meets and tonnes of free food. Not that I am complaining. 

We had to choose from a few Reliance Digital Outlets, which by the way are hard to miss. Suddenly its like an explosion of electronic stores there is one in every 250 meters. I had selected the outlet in Infinity II, Malad. My affiliation with electronic stores is old. I am the person who goes and plays free video games on the large plasma TV until they physically snatch the joystick from my hand to give someone else a chance. Dirty looks don't work on me. So I wouldn't mind spending another Sunday doing that.

Me and my friend Karishma  reached the store at roughly 12 pm after wading through the terrible Mumbai monsoons. We looked around rather awkwardly wondering who to approach as we were promised an experience we wouldn't forget.Finally we approached a friendly looking employee who had no idea what Indiblogger was and thought we were there to steal phones. Finally another employee told us to wait as the store manager was not around and once he arrived he would tell us what to do. While we waited, lusting over the various electronics we are missing in our lives. I walked to the phone section and looked at them like a hungry child looks at a stranger, he knows he shouldn't ask but can't help staring! (I really need a new phone, saving up!)

We waited and waited and waited some more. Finally we plopped ourselves on the large couch in front of a huge 52' Tv. My legs were aching and I was pretty sure I was not getting up from this couch until the store manager would get me my goodie bag. Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara was being played on the TV, but sadly it was only one scene played over and over and over again. We decided that there is only so many times you can watch one scene, and we'd probably be able to count the number of freckles on Farhan Akhtar's face or our eyes would bleed out. We decided to ignore the TV, and talk instead. We were meeting after a really long time, and a good chat was due. We talked about all our childhood memories (Yes, we are friends since 20 years :D) and on how things are. It takes time to grow and old friend and there is nothing that can make you more happy than spending time with them. We joked and laughed and embarrassed ourselves enough for an entire year. Happiness in a store? I think so !


Finally the store manager decided to show up. He took the printouts we were clutching the whole time of the invite we received from Indiblogger and asked us to look around the store (which we already had done 15 times in the past hour) and then asked us to leave. Quite a disappointment, cause we were actually waiting for something to HAPPEN! Sadly nothing did. When we shamelessly asked about the goodie bag we were told we would get it from Indiblogger itself.

Store Review:
Honestly the collection is not so impressive. Its probably because they are still new. The range of products in each category are very few. You can't expect to find every model, you would have to try your luck. The staff is nice and friendly, not to mention they hover like they do everywhere (which is very annoying btw!)
The pricing is a little off, its understandable though they are charging us for the ambiance and massive rent expense. But being from a world where Flipkart is available I'd prefer to save a few bucks. Also the typical Indian was very disappointed, No FREE gaming zone was set up !
The stores are spacious and impressive. Also since they are newly opened they have a few offers going on, on various products so you might want to check that out.
Reliance Digital also has an up and running website reliancedigital.in  which easily impressed me more than the store itself.

Connected Hum Tum - Indiblogger Meet

I was so excited for this particular meet, though I shouldn't be since it was my 7th Indiblogger Meet *insert veteran wave* but because the show that was going to be launched at the meet was associated Abhay Deol *drools*

Though I was heartbroken when he didn't really turn up, I don't  think I've enjoyed myself THIS much in a long time. Indiblogger meets are always more fun than other meets. The energy and warmth stays with you for days after the actual event. Also I got to meet MALISHKAAAA :D 

Radio plays such an important part of my life, its absurd, every morning I HAVE to listen to it on my way to work and in the evening on the way back, I always believed that listening to the radio is like having a friend for company, like you are talking to someone (Yeah, single child problems :P ). I am probably the only one who knows all the radio jockeys from all the channels.

The meet began with meeting all the fellow bloggers I love to meet each time, followed by many many bear hugs. Especially BlogwatiG, a powerhouse of energy always a pleasure to meet her. The forever lucky Wannabe-Wayfarer who won her second Nokia Lumia at a blogger meet. I suggest she just retires now and gives someone else a chance. Also this meet was special because this time I had my friend since 20 years with me for her first blogger meet - Karishma

Now for the actual agenda of the meet. Zee Tv's new show Connected Hum Tum has a unique concept. 6 Indian women will share their lives and bare their soul on national television. As Malishka exclaimed "For the last 6 months our hands had become tripod stands!"

We were shown a preview episode of the show, and it seems to be really interesting as each episode will feature 3 women and the episode will be based on a connected theme. 

We also had a chance to meet the 6 ladies and interact with them :) Here is a little about them:

Sonal Giani

She grew up in Goa, the daughter of an navy officer. She lives with her twin sister and the two of them are very close. Sonal is in a serious relationship wondering if the parents of her lover will accept their unusual, unconventional bond and give their love story a happy ending. I had a chance to speak to Sonal and she seemed like a very fun loving and happy person, with a rebellious streak.

Malishka Mendonca
Who doesn't know her. Especially if you are in Mumbai. She has been No 1 radio jockey for as long as I remember. She is energetic and super spontaneous, she is going to bring so much energy to the show, I can't wait to watch her. She's made it big today but the question for Malishka is ...what next? Can she dare to risk a change in her career? Will she find a suitable man to settle down with?

Madhavi Mauskar
She;s lived a life of unconventional choices. With two divorces under her belt, she's hit rock bottom and bounced back! Madhavi is about to be a grandmother for the second time. And her ex-husband has suddenly tried getting back in touch with her. Does he really want a life with her? Or does he just want some closure?




Preeti Kochar

She is the mother of  a two year old, has a husband she loves and a mother she wished hadn't neglected her in her childhood. A mutli-tasking superwoman, she juggles her responsibilities at home with her clinic as well as her passion for dance! Preeti wants to tick all the boxes, the conventional ones of 'wife', 'mom', 'dentist' and 'daughter-in-law' as well as the unconventional ones of 'independent', 'bold' and 'dancer'. As a result Preeti is not able to leave one profession for another. She craves the love she was denied in childhood, so she fears rocking her marriage too much. Yet her marriage prevents her from being as free as she'd like to be! She asks herself - "Women marry for love and care - Do I really get that in my marriage?"

Pallavi Burman
She's been a bright student, has a career which she can show off  and married a boy her parents chose. She barely knew him and things did not work out. So, against the family wishes she sought a divorce. Her parents were deeply embarrassed and she ended up blaming herself for 'not trying hard enough' She's getting married again to a guy she met at a friend's party and this time round she's determined to do everything even "righter"! But she asks -why should it be only upon a woman to make a marriage work?

Mahima Chaudhary
Starry-eyed small town girl hails from a large Jat joint family in Meerut. Mahima was the most humble and probably shy of the lot. A simple girl with big dreams, a boyfriend in Delhi who isn't from her caste, parents who want to get her married and ambitions that no one seems to understand. Mahima's journey is just out of the movies.

" Tell a woman what she can't have, and suddenly she'll know exactly what she wants "

With such a lovely mix of women from all walks of life, the show is bound to get interesting. The show airs on 3rd June on Zee Tv, explore the world of women and TRY to understand them ;)

Look at us all smiles :D After hearing that FREE BOOOZE was being served :P

With this I hope I am back to being regular here, or atleast wining a Nokia Lumia 520 ;) 

Hm.

I want to write. No really, I want to. But there is not a single inspiring thought and I think my vocabulary has suddenly given up on me too. Wren and Martin also frown at me now and then. Its sad. 

So now all I do is constantly change how my blog looks instead of actually writing something. I know real smart. But the idea is so that no one remembers what my blog is or looked like thus never asking me why I don't blog anymore. And I will go back to being a forgotten specie of the blog world. 

Who am I kidding? Only I think I am famous anyway. How can a name like BlluBluBling get famous. Please don't ask for the story behind it, its embarrassing. So why don't I change it, cause I think its famous. I'm telling you I am mental. Its a happy paradox.

In other news I am currently doing a part time internship sort of thing with Tamarind Rice. Since I am on exam leave and have some time on me, though I am supposed to be studying.

They are an enthusiastic team of people trying to promote Indian writing. Tamarind Rice is basically a FREE E-magazine which will have varied content including specific standard sections such as fashion, lifestyle, relationships, events, humour, food, travel etc. Subscribe to it here

Their first issue is scheduled to be out in April and all the content will be contributed by talented writers, photographers and anyone who wants to share any kind of content. This can be done by sending an email to content@tamarindrice.in

Also prizes to be won in several contests and stuff :D Do check it out. I hope to write for them and get rid of my writer's, blogger's block as well. 

Must get back to studying. >.< 

Love to my two regular readers. You guys complete me *does the celebrity wave*

Drop in the Ocean

I pledge that I will be aware and alert about things happening around me.

I pledge I will not ignore if I see someone in pain or trouble.

I pledge to be fearless and fight against injustice.
I pledge to not depend on the government, police or people. I pledge to be responsible myself.

I pledge to never walk past someone who may need my help.

I pledge I will not keep quiet if I or any girl around me is  eve teased or even given a dirty look.

I pledge to speak up.

I pledge to not tolerate a sexist joke again.

I pledge to have an opinion and not be afraid to give it.

I pledge. Do you?

Once Upon The Tracks of Mumbai - Book Review

Author : Rishi Vohra 

Publisher: Jaico Publishing House

Genre: Romantic Fiction 

Pages: 272 

Price: INR 175

Rating 3.5/5

About the Author

Rishi Vohra recently relocated back to Mumbai after completing a Green MBA from San Francisco State University and a Masters Diploma in Environmental Law, prior to which he had a successful career in the Indian Entertainment Industry. After featuring as a guest columnist for various newspapers in India, he currently writes for delWine and is a Certified Specialist of Wine (CSW). 'Once Upon the Tracks of Mumbai' is his first novel.

To know more about him please visit www.rishivohra.com

“Autistic, schizophrenic, psychotic,” are the words people use to describe Babloo, but the problem is that no one understands him, no one talks to him and no one gets what he feels. No one treats him well expect Vandana, his love interest. He has no relationship worth mentioning with anyone else. He lives in the railway colony in Mumbai and dreams of making something of his life, but his lack of understanding when people talk to quickly and the constant disapproval of his parents lowers his spirits.

The story moves ahead with so many unpredictable twists and turns which keep the readers h0oked. Which incident changes Babloo’s life completely? How does he becomes the superhero Rail Man? How does his life change when he becomes Rail Man? Does his mental condition come in the way of his love? Does he get the coveted hand of Vandana or does he let her be taken by his Sikander who covets her as well. Can he teach Sikandar a lesson? Will life be the same again for Babloo?

Read the book and you shall get your answers. Not just the answers: but a smile on your face as well. Its the innocence in the writing that will touch you. Babloo is someone who will touch your heart from page one . Think from the view of a autistic person, a person who is not good at expressing himself. Someone who can not convey emotions, love or even his views. Babloo is intelligent but no one sees him for what he is. Its a beautiful story. 

As a first time author, Rishi Vohra has done a quite a good job. (Also I have had the chance to speak to him over emails and he's a really sweet guy) .  The story is fresh and refreshing. I say it repeatedly, given a choice I never pick a romantic book (Especially by Indian Authors..yes go ahead narrow your eyes but its true) . But I don't regret reading this one bit. The character sketching is spectacular and grammar nazi is not too annoyed as well. I like attention to details, not descriptive essays about the scenery but the small things that make you smile, think or ponder and these are the things that stay with you.

The book is good. If you are looking for mush, you will be highly disappointed. But if you want to read something that leaves you with a fuzzy warm feeling, then grap your cup of tea and sit by the window with this sweet story.