Edited to add: Specially when one has, in the last couple of years, forgotten what the insides of a salon look like and is threatened by follicles that aspire to match the facial hairy appendege of Hercule Poirot!
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5 hours ago
Thursday, July 3, 2008
It's time to go bald...
...because irrespective of what history, fairy tales, society, your mother, your boyfriend, husband, or Fifi tells you, lustrous hair is not always a good thing!
Edited to add: Specially when one has, in the last couple of years, forgotten what the insides of a salon look like and is threatened by follicles that aspire to match the facial hairy appendege of Hercule Poirot!
Edited to add: Specially when one has, in the last couple of years, forgotten what the insides of a salon look like and is threatened by follicles that aspire to match the facial hairy appendege of Hercule Poirot!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Favorite Literary Characters
Usha had written about ten of her favorite literary characters a while back as part of a tag. Even though I was not tagged by her or by any other blogger, I decided to go ahead merrily on my own!
Fitzwilliam Darcy (Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen)
What can I say! Mr. Darcy was the first literary character I had a crush on in the sixth grade. I'm sure everyone knows all there's to know about him, so I'll refrain from adding my two cents to the character sketch.
Elizabeth Bennett (Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen)
The perfect yin to Darcy's yang, Lizzie of the 'fine eyes' fame remains my all-time favorite Austen heroine.
Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte)
A passionate brooding outsider whose intense love for Catherine defines his entire existence. Often cruel and vindictive, this star-crossed lover represents passion at its best.
Sydney Carton (A Tale of Two Cities – Charles Dickens)
A drunk and a wastrel, Sydney Carton's unrequited love for Lucy elevates him to a hero when he takes her husband, Charles Darnay's place at the guillotine. Even now, when I read his last thoughts, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known", I can't hold back my tears."
Howard Roarke (Fountainhead – Ayn Rand)
An arrogant yet creative genius, Roark is an uncompromising individualist who never compromises his designs to meet his clients' requirements. I met a man in real life who shares some of these qualities and married him!
Emma Bovary (Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert)
A woman whose romantic view of the world is at odds with the reality around her, she's a tragic figure with self-delusion as her hubris.
Nora Helmer (A Doll's House – Henrik Ibsen)
A woman who comes across as immature and childish at the beginning shows an immense strength of character when she sees her husband in his true colors.
Gregor Samsa (The Metamorphosis – Franz Kafka)
He's the one who woke up to find that he had been transformed into a giant bug. No matter how you choose to explain this change - allegory, symbolism, Freudian et al – his extreme ordinariness makes him a memorable character.
Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)
Perhaps the most famous and beloved of all fictional detectives, he needs to introduction whatsoever.
Prodosh C. Mitter a.k.a. Feluda (Feluda series of novellas and short stories – Satyajit Ray)
Young, good-looking, and blessed with a sharp mind and memory, this dashing private detective has been a childhood hero, a teenage crush and remains a firm favorite till now.
Ten is too small a number to list all my favorite literary characters, but this is a start. I tag Dottie, Rain-bow Days, Dipali, Eve's Lungs, and Sucharita.
Edited to add: This is such a fun tag! Anyone who wishes to take it up, please feel free to do so. I would definitely love to read about your favorite literary characters and compare crushes!
Fitzwilliam Darcy (Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen)
What can I say! Mr. Darcy was the first literary character I had a crush on in the sixth grade. I'm sure everyone knows all there's to know about him, so I'll refrain from adding my two cents to the character sketch.
Elizabeth Bennett (Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen)
The perfect yin to Darcy's yang, Lizzie of the 'fine eyes' fame remains my all-time favorite Austen heroine.
Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte)
A passionate brooding outsider whose intense love for Catherine defines his entire existence. Often cruel and vindictive, this star-crossed lover represents passion at its best.
Sydney Carton (A Tale of Two Cities – Charles Dickens)
A drunk and a wastrel, Sydney Carton's unrequited love for Lucy elevates him to a hero when he takes her husband, Charles Darnay's place at the guillotine. Even now, when I read his last thoughts, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known", I can't hold back my tears."
Howard Roarke (Fountainhead – Ayn Rand)
An arrogant yet creative genius, Roark is an uncompromising individualist who never compromises his designs to meet his clients' requirements. I met a man in real life who shares some of these qualities and married him!
Emma Bovary (Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert)
A woman whose romantic view of the world is at odds with the reality around her, she's a tragic figure with self-delusion as her hubris.
Nora Helmer (A Doll's House – Henrik Ibsen)
A woman who comes across as immature and childish at the beginning shows an immense strength of character when she sees her husband in his true colors.
Gregor Samsa (The Metamorphosis – Franz Kafka)
He's the one who woke up to find that he had been transformed into a giant bug. No matter how you choose to explain this change - allegory, symbolism, Freudian et al – his extreme ordinariness makes him a memorable character.
Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)
Perhaps the most famous and beloved of all fictional detectives, he needs to introduction whatsoever.
Prodosh C. Mitter a.k.a. Feluda (Feluda series of novellas and short stories – Satyajit Ray)
Young, good-looking, and blessed with a sharp mind and memory, this dashing private detective has been a childhood hero, a teenage crush and remains a firm favorite till now.
Ten is too small a number to list all my favorite literary characters, but this is a start. I tag Dottie, Rain-bow Days, Dipali, Eve's Lungs, and Sucharita.
Edited to add: This is such a fun tag! Anyone who wishes to take it up, please feel free to do so. I would definitely love to read about your favorite literary characters and compare crushes!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Lovely Bones - RIP Amber
Sidhubaba had tagged me with the 'nearest book' tag some time back. While I have already done the meme once, I don't mind writing about another book I have been re-reading. A very memorable debut novel, The Lovely Bones addresses issues which are very relevant in today's world, specially to parents.
I first read The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold when the mid-west states were engaged in a frenzied search for a 12-year-old Amber Harris, who had disappeared on her way home from school. I remember following the news updates every night, praying that she be found and be united with her family. Hoping fervently that she wouldn't end up being reduced to yet another cold case file. Trying to convince myself that the custodians of law would track her down before she met a fate similar to that of the book's protagonist, 14-year-old Susie Salmon, who was raped, murdered, and dismembered by a seemingly-harmless neighbor.
My worst fears came true when her skeletal remains were found in a shallow grave in Omaha, Nebraska in May 2006. The bereaved family found some closure when, in April this year, the primary accused, Roy Ellis, Jr. was found guilty of having sexually assaulted and murdered Amber.
In a far-from-perfect world, a child's disappearance is possibly the worst nightmare-come-true for any parent. An increasing number of kids of all age groups and genders are falling prey to sex offenders and perverts – the statistics are alarming, to say the least - and it's no longer possible or advisable to adopt an ostrich-like stance on kids' safety issues, dismissing them as misfortunes that befall other families, but never our own.
Instead of the stipulated page 123, I leave you with the three opening sentences of the novel.
My name was Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973. In newspaper photos of missing girls from the seventies, most looked like me: white girls with mousy brown hair.
I tag Parul, Piscean Angel, Imp's Mom, Mama-Mia, and Preethi.
Here are the rules since I didn't play by the book:
Pick up the nearest book.
Open to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the next three sentences.
Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.
I first read The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold when the mid-west states were engaged in a frenzied search for a 12-year-old Amber Harris, who had disappeared on her way home from school. I remember following the news updates every night, praying that she be found and be united with her family. Hoping fervently that she wouldn't end up being reduced to yet another cold case file. Trying to convince myself that the custodians of law would track her down before she met a fate similar to that of the book's protagonist, 14-year-old Susie Salmon, who was raped, murdered, and dismembered by a seemingly-harmless neighbor.
My worst fears came true when her skeletal remains were found in a shallow grave in Omaha, Nebraska in May 2006. The bereaved family found some closure when, in April this year, the primary accused, Roy Ellis, Jr. was found guilty of having sexually assaulted and murdered Amber.
In a far-from-perfect world, a child's disappearance is possibly the worst nightmare-come-true for any parent. An increasing number of kids of all age groups and genders are falling prey to sex offenders and perverts – the statistics are alarming, to say the least - and it's no longer possible or advisable to adopt an ostrich-like stance on kids' safety issues, dismissing them as misfortunes that befall other families, but never our own.
Instead of the stipulated page 123, I leave you with the three opening sentences of the novel.
My name was Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973. In newspaper photos of missing girls from the seventies, most looked like me: white girls with mousy brown hair.
I tag Parul, Piscean Angel, Imp's Mom, Mama-Mia, and Preethi.
Here are the rules since I didn't play by the book:
Pick up the nearest book.
Open to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the next three sentences.
Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.
Monday, June 16, 2008
The Unbearable Laziness of Being
- The carpets were scheduled to be vacuumed way back – and they are still waiting!
- The sink is piled high with dirty dishes, pots, and pans – and guess what? They didn't give themselves a bath after all!
- The bathroom and kitchen floors are begging to be scrubbed – well, let them, what do I care?
- Laundry needs to be done – it wouldn't hurt if Popol goes around in just diapers tomorrow, will it? It's hot here, you know.
- R's clothes have forgotten how good the hot steam from an iron feels – and I'm not going to give them the pleasure any time soon.
So much sloppiness and near sleepless nights – and all in the hope of meeting a blasted deadline! Well guess what, that isn't about to happen, either. Simply cannot stay up another night, even if it means missing the appointment with Big D, which incidentally, I've never ever done before.
But I am too far gone to care any more, so off I go to bed to catch up on my much-needed beauty sleep. And God knows how badly I need both – deep dark hollows under the eyes are making me look suspiciously like an owl.
Edited to add: Rested up Sunday night. Had to compensate for such indulgence by pulling an all-nighter yesterday, but did manage to meet the deadline. Yay!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
The Dragonfly
She pulled open the refrigerator door looking for something to eat. She was ravenous. She saw a large fruit on the top shelf and reached for it. At first she had thought it was a rather large apple, but when she held it in her hand, she realized it was not. In fact, she hadn't seen a fruit like this before.
She had barely sliced the fruit in half when a very large dragonfly pushed its way through the pieces and flew out. Startled, she threw the fruit down, took a few steps back, and instinctively put her arms up in front of her face to protect herself. She was scared. The dragonfly, however, simply flew around the room a couple of times and then made its way to the window sill where it perched, fluttering its wings. Her courage returning, she picked the fruit up and found it to be rotten inside.
'I thought rotten fruits have maggots, but a dragonfly?' she muttered to herself as she took a few steps closer to the window. 'I have to shoo it out through the window,' she thought, 'I can't have such a large insect flying around inside the house.' Another few steps and she could see the dragonfly up close. In spite of her fear, she realized how beautiful the creature was. Its gossamer wings gleamed golden as sunlight waltzed on them. She flailed her arms wildly, shooing it. The dragonfly fluttered its wings as if preparing to take off, but stayed put. 'Go away,' she was almost screaming now, 'Out, out!' This time, the dragonfly fluttered up, hovered for a few seconds, and finally flew out of the window.
With a start, she woke up with a tinge of sadness she couldn't comprehend. This was one of those dreams - the ones she did not forget as the day wore on, the ones she felt were harbingers of significant developments in her life. But she had no clue what this dream was trying to tell her. A few weeks later, her spouse's grandmother, a sweet old lady who doted on her, suddenly passed away. Then she knew.
She had barely sliced the fruit in half when a very large dragonfly pushed its way through the pieces and flew out. Startled, she threw the fruit down, took a few steps back, and instinctively put her arms up in front of her face to protect herself. She was scared. The dragonfly, however, simply flew around the room a couple of times and then made its way to the window sill where it perched, fluttering its wings. Her courage returning, she picked the fruit up and found it to be rotten inside.
'I thought rotten fruits have maggots, but a dragonfly?' she muttered to herself as she took a few steps closer to the window. 'I have to shoo it out through the window,' she thought, 'I can't have such a large insect flying around inside the house.' Another few steps and she could see the dragonfly up close. In spite of her fear, she realized how beautiful the creature was. Its gossamer wings gleamed golden as sunlight waltzed on them. She flailed her arms wildly, shooing it. The dragonfly fluttered its wings as if preparing to take off, but stayed put. 'Go away,' she was almost screaming now, 'Out, out!' This time, the dragonfly fluttered up, hovered for a few seconds, and finally flew out of the window.
With a start, she woke up with a tinge of sadness she couldn't comprehend. This was one of those dreams - the ones she did not forget as the day wore on, the ones she felt were harbingers of significant developments in her life. But she had no clue what this dream was trying to tell her. A few weeks later, her spouse's grandmother, a sweet old lady who doted on her, suddenly passed away. Then she knew.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Tell me why...
How could you betray me thus? Change colors like a chameleon? Let me down when I had loved you so? Why would you, my one-time pride and joy, break my heart in two? Mislead me with your deceptive charm? When was it that you lost your warmth and metamorphosed into your current dark self?
***Disclaimer: This outpouring of self-righteous anger is directed in its entirely at my one-time naturally auburn tresses, which, due to acts of God, body snatching, global warming, pollution, or some such, has changed to velvety black, much to the delight of my mother and chagrin of R.***
***Disclaimer: This outpouring of self-righteous anger is directed in its entirely at my one-time naturally auburn tresses, which, due to acts of God, body snatching, global warming, pollution, or some such, has changed to velvety black, much to the delight of my mother and chagrin of R.***
Monday, June 9, 2008
I, Me, and Myself
Eve's Lungs tagged me with the About me meme. Since it's self-explanatory, without much ado, I present the real me!
I am: what I am – a mix of what I was born with and what life teaches me everyday.
I think: way too much rather than taking action.
I know: I can squeeze a 26-hour-day into a 24-hour one if I really try.
I want: everyone to like me (yeah! I'm that needy).
I have: three very loving family members who are a lot of fun.
I wish: to leave behind a healthy and happy world for my child.
I hate: liars, posers, back-biters, roaches, spiders, and bugs, necessarily in that order.
I miss: India, Calcutta, my mom, friends back home, Calcutta monsoons, roadside food.
I fear: for the safety and well-being of my family, the wrath of God and nature.
I feel: tired, tired, tired, and old, old, old.
I hear: voices in my head when I'm lazing around, telling me there are tons of things to be done.
I smell: new books, old books, baby Aveeno shampoo/body wash, the green smell of freshly-cut grass, perfume strips on magazines.
I crave: uninterrupted sleep for 6 measly hours, piping hot coffee/tea in the mornings and evenings, strawberry/orange-flavored ice cream, an occasional glass of fine wine
I search: for my true calling in life.
I wonder: if God is for real, if there is life after death, if there are indeed aliens, if said aliens are friendly or belligerent, if I'll ever encounter a ghost…and the list goes on.
I regret: nothing – if I have made mistakes, I've learnt from them, too.
I love: Popol, R, Ma, friends, books, movies, music, life.
I ache: when I read about/watch missing children and children who have been victims of violence in the newspaper or on the news.
I care: about my family and friends
I am not: good with numbers, a good multi-tasker
I believe: in family values and the sanctity of marriage
I dance: with Popol, with R, and by myself when I am happy
I sing: to Popol at bedtime
I cry : when I am sad, stressed, upset, feel wronged, or in a self-pity mode.
I don’t always : do household chores on time
I fight : for people, things, and causes I believe in
I write: for a living and for recreation.
I win: hearts (or so I'd like to believe!)
I lose: sportingly
I never: try to impose my beliefs and values on others.
I always: try to be a good person, mother, wife, daughter, and friend.
I confuse: many people the first time I meet them – they don't know whether to put me down as a snob or a quiet, retiring person.
I listen: to Popol's laughter, chatter, babble, and screams (depending on his mood) all day.
I can usually be found: at home (now); at movie theatres and libraries before I had P.
I am scared: of losing my loved ones, losing my eyesight, and losing my mind.
I need: my family, books, movies, music, internet, and lots of time to accommodate everything.
I am happy about: the way my life has shaped up.
Anyone reading this, consider yourself tagged. :)
I am: what I am – a mix of what I was born with and what life teaches me everyday.
I think: way too much rather than taking action.
I know: I can squeeze a 26-hour-day into a 24-hour one if I really try.
I want: everyone to like me (yeah! I'm that needy).
I have: three very loving family members who are a lot of fun.
I wish: to leave behind a healthy and happy world for my child.
I hate: liars, posers, back-biters, roaches, spiders, and bugs, necessarily in that order.
I miss: India, Calcutta, my mom, friends back home, Calcutta monsoons, roadside food.
I fear: for the safety and well-being of my family, the wrath of God and nature.
I feel: tired, tired, tired, and old, old, old.
I hear: voices in my head when I'm lazing around, telling me there are tons of things to be done.
I smell: new books, old books, baby Aveeno shampoo/body wash, the green smell of freshly-cut grass, perfume strips on magazines.
I crave: uninterrupted sleep for 6 measly hours, piping hot coffee/tea in the mornings and evenings, strawberry/orange-flavored ice cream, an occasional glass of fine wine
I search: for my true calling in life.
I wonder: if God is for real, if there is life after death, if there are indeed aliens, if said aliens are friendly or belligerent, if I'll ever encounter a ghost…and the list goes on.
I regret: nothing – if I have made mistakes, I've learnt from them, too.
I love: Popol, R, Ma, friends, books, movies, music, life.
I ache: when I read about/watch missing children and children who have been victims of violence in the newspaper or on the news.
I care: about my family and friends
I am not: good with numbers, a good multi-tasker
I believe: in family values and the sanctity of marriage
I dance: with Popol, with R, and by myself when I am happy
I sing: to Popol at bedtime
I cry : when I am sad, stressed, upset, feel wronged, or in a self-pity mode.
I don’t always : do household chores on time
I fight : for people, things, and causes I believe in
I write: for a living and for recreation.
I win: hearts (or so I'd like to believe!)
I lose: sportingly
I never: try to impose my beliefs and values on others.
I always: try to be a good person, mother, wife, daughter, and friend.
I confuse: many people the first time I meet them – they don't know whether to put me down as a snob or a quiet, retiring person.
I listen: to Popol's laughter, chatter, babble, and screams (depending on his mood) all day.
I can usually be found: at home (now); at movie theatres and libraries before I had P.
I am scared: of losing my loved ones, losing my eyesight, and losing my mind.
I need: my family, books, movies, music, internet, and lots of time to accommodate everything.
I am happy about: the way my life has shaped up.
Anyone reading this, consider yourself tagged. :)
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