To Rahman, With love...

She writes...

What does it mean to me ? I wouldnt know. But today morning, as i was watching the award ceremony, it felt strange. I think its safe to say that i might have skipped a heart beat. 

I was proud of him. I am and i've always been.

I was proud to be someone who's grown up listening to his music.  He's the only musician in India who's album i would dare to buy without waiting for the review. In fact, he's the only musician i've been a fan of since i was 5 years old, a time i did'nt know what being a fan was..

I wish i could congratulate him personally. I wish i could tell him just once, how much his music means to me. That, there have been times when all my friends seemed insufficient, when all i wanted to do was to grab the cd and just listen to his sound. I wish i could tell him how many many many times i've gone to sleep listening only to his music. His music has been my lullaby, his music has been a friend , his music has made me fall in love, his music has made me cry, his music is divine! 

I am too much of a critic to actually love someone's work SO much. But i would not dare to play a critic to his music. In fact, he's my only known frame of reference for what i know about Indian Music. 

The Oscar is just another award. It doesn't really matter anymore, does it ?   

To me, He has always been a winner.. 

Love you Rahman sir... 

Random Thoughts....

She writes...

(So this is the first post of the many many posts to come in future under the title "Random thoughts". A new thing for the new year. A collection of my random thoughts. *smiles*)

I had this huge pile of documents to be filled/xeroxed/attested/printed which i need to submit on the day of my joining. So i was in my room reviewing all the copies and checking and rechecking to make sure i am done with this work once and for all, when i see this old, quandam, blemished, long sheet of paper. Of all the documents that i hold with my name on, this one seemed a tad different. 

Why, It was my Birth Certificate. An old parchment that seemed to have made a grand maiden entry into a file titled "DEEPU" before all the Admission forms,report cards, cultural certificates, mark sheets, degree certificate, passport, pan card, electoral card, license etc.. had come. 

The writing was so crooked, and the sheet almost on the verge of a turning into a half, Yet it seemed to possess a very humble meaning. Sort of a saying like "Here, she arrives" ! :-)

It actually got me wondering if it had never been made, would it have made any difference ? (Intense huh?) 

But, admist all these mixed emotions that i was going through , the one very weird thought that seemed to be constantly swimming on my head from the moment i saw the  document was "What would my death certificate look like? Would it be of any use at all ? Will someone preserve it like i did this one ? " 

Random thoughts !!! 

The Act of Shopping...

She writes...

Shopping isn't fun. Period. 

It took me a week and half of walking down the streets of some famous roads in Chennai, running to the places that offered a promising season sale and slogging my way up and down the elevators of some good 'ol malls to realise just THAT !!

I declare, Shopping is not everyone's cup of tea and Its certainly not a sport/hobby. 

Of course, given my luck and ability to shop successfully ( By successfully , i mean that you spend your money on buying the exact same product that was the target you started off to buy!) , I probably belong to a lesser known community of my gender who hate shopping. And this has become an issue, alright. In college, when your friends plan for a "fun" shopping trip on a sunday, you are totally cursing yourself for not being able to confess to your girls that you hate shopping. And if you do, first, there'd be this quitessential "HAhhhhhh" said in unison like its a courtroom drama and then the "look". Now, you are an outcast. Great !!

I just wonder why am not so good at shopping. Give me a million, I'll probably give it a start. 

Jokes apart, When i see some friends of mine going crazy with their pockets when it comes to shopping i can't help but feel sad for their disease. Its an Obsessive Complusive Disorder (OCD).

How else would you explain a person who has like a zillion pair of shoes to go and purchase just one more because its a famous shop? Insane, thats what i say. 

But, think of it, Shopping is a necessary evil. You need to buy stuff either this way or that. Don't even imagine delegating your shopping excercise to someone, that would just be a disaster. So you need to be out there , on the roads. And that sucks. *sighs*. You haven't started earning, Its your dad's money ( and let me make it clear, He's NOT an ATM) , you have a huge list of items to start with, plus you hate shopping. 

But i have to, and i am. Not enjoying it at all, 'cause one day i buy a pair of jeans for a good price in a well known shop and am very happy at my asserted choice and the deal only to find that the next day there's a "SALE" in a place where i know i  couldve got the same at a reduced cost. Argghhh. See, why i say shopping isn't fun. Its evil if you ask me, this act of shopping. 

PS :- Don't even get me started on "window shopping" !!

One fine morning...

She writes...

It is not everyday that you discover something new about yourself. A trait that you seem to possess and yet dont believe it when you realize you have it in you. Well, i just found out that I AM a morning person after all. When i say that, it doesn't mean i've never seen the rising sun. As a matter of fact, the last two years of my school days were spent waking up at wee hours and riding my bicycle to classes (Read Tutions!) that started that early.  

I am just saying that i never seemed to appreciate the wonderful feeling one gets when one wakes up early morning knowing that you dont have to hop on your vehicle to attend classes or to catch a bus to get to your office or do any pre-written task you procrastinated yesterday. Its a feeling where you know your day is SO new. At the cost of sounding very poetic, its like opening a blank page. A page that can be as rotten as yesterday or as intresting as today. Its for you to decide. I have been whining almost half of last year saying i was jobless (quite literally!) and totally empty all the time. I eventually succumbed to the cravings of my lazy self that i realised only today that its been almost 6 or 7 months since i woke up before eight in the morning. Okay, i know that eight for most of us IS early morning. But am talking 'really' early. 

 You see, when you catch a glimpse of the fresh daylight with a tinge of rain sprinkled graciously on your window and the beautiful greens splashing a genuine smile on you as you watch them from your balcony with a hot cup of tea, You know what am talking about.(By the way, i did not delibrately paint that dreamy set to make it appealing to the reader, sometimes it only takes a second look to see a picture like that which is right in front of your eyes). The whole day opens upon you. You don't remember a thing about yesterday and you are SO not bothered about tommorrow. In fact, you are not even planning anything for today. You just wait for it to unravel itself and pledge that you will make it gooood. For once in a long period of torturing time , i realised that its not too bad to be me. I mean, sure, i don't know when i'll finally get to start my career, i don't know if even after i start it, some guy from the top suddenly decides to mail his bunch of board memebers a five page letter saying the company is basically doomed, i don't know anything. But this one day, this morning, this one moment of peace can refresh you so much than F5 could ever do to our windows in a long time!