Monthly Archives: April 2006


Apollo-Gs for the lack of updates. Not that any of you have noticed it or complained about it. Now that is either because it makes no difference to any of you whether I update this blog or not (also known as — the truth). Or that my sparkling wit and charming personality just jumps out of my blog and captivates you so much that you fail to notice the lack of updates (also known as — what I’d like to believe to be the truth). In any case, I yam back.

So — Wheeeee! We have a new laptop. And it is beyooootiful! Yes yes, we know. Most of you have had one since Hangal was a virile youth and it is not a big deal for you. But it is our first, so we’re mighty proud and we feel a compelling need to gloat. And who better to do it to than my captive audience. (Saying this she quickly checks Statcounter to see if any of the supposed captive audience reads this blog anymore. Tick tock tick tock tick tock .. Aha! We have a reader! Yes, you. Thank you.)

So my latest excuse for not blogging is that I am getting gadgetified. First there’s the lappy-toppy. (Bet at least half of you cringed when I called it that. Heh heh.) With TWO GB of RAM, my precious purrrs contentedly like a cat who just inherited a creamery. And now that the gorgeous Boston summer is right around the corner you can expect lots of the people watching, leading to introspection, in turn leading to realization about self as insignificant speck, type of writing. Naah. We’re far too vain to allow our blog to be reduced to that. So it’s more likely to be people watching, leading to thinking of self as better than the rest, leading to general distaste of the world and a greater intolerance of humanity. Yep, that sounds more like us.

And, as if one cool toy is not enough, we have two! We have what looks like a mild-mannered phone. All well-behaved and going tring-tring when it should. But underneath that unassuming demeanor, lies another personality that emerges at night .. <cue song — andheri raaton mein, sunsaan raahon par> .. it darts into a phone booth¹, puts on its superhero costume and turns into .. a Videocon Washing Machine! <cue jingle — It washes, it rinses, it even dries your clothes! In just a few minutes .. *tink tonk tink tonk* .. you are ready for the show!> No seriously, this ain’t no ordinary phone. It’s a phone, an mp3 player, a flash drive, an FM radio .. and in the right light, it could pass off for Ah-nold’s stunt double in T2 even! Oh and it’s a quad-band phone with the Bluetooth thingy. Drool.

So, if I was lying on a Mediterranean beach, wiggling my toes in the sun-bleached sands, bored with the eye-candy around me and deciding take a lazy afternoon nap instead — If then, I woke up to the sight of azure blue waters, and suddenly felt inspired to write a blog post about it, I now can.

Now I just need to find myself a beach, some eye-candy ² and a nice umbrella.

1 — Phone booth — a place where spirits of dead south-Indian phones live.
2 — Eye-candy — Not to be confused with the I-candy from the previous post.


Yello all. Pink and blue too. Despite my furiously insisting that I don’t write the ‘my dog ate pickled prunes and puked’ variety of posts, I have gone and done just that. Bah. What’s worse is that I neither have a dog nor pickled prunes. Double bah.

So, it turns out, I have had absolutely nothing to say for two weeks. Guess Calvin found a customer after all. The first time this happened, I drew a doodle. The second time, I wrote a poem, even. Okay, so I resorted to underhand tactics like Salma Agha’s silver tights so you wouldn’t notice how sidey it was. But it could have been worse. It could have been Bappi wearing the same tights. So there. All the Bappi fans in the audience (two?) can relax and put the gold chains away. We like Bappi, we really do. And if you treat us kindly, we’ll even do a post on his music, one of these days.

Anyway, so that should explain my absence for the last two weeks.

In other exciting news from my world, an ant family has taken up residence in my house. While I never uttered a gracious — aayiye aayiye, ise apnaa hii ghar samajhiye (Translated: Come and pliss to unhesitatingly pile on.) they assumed I meant it anyway. And the head-ant of the family is quite the character. Head-ant not to be confused with dead-ant, who hummed the Pink Panther theme tune — deadant deadant deadant-deadant-deadant deadant-deadaaaaaaant deadant-deadant. Yeah, so it seems it is a kumbh mela separated long-lost cousin of mine or something, seeing as it has arrived with exactly six hundred twenty four aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces and cousins. (Cue to chorus of I am the Monarch of the Sea from Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore.) And don’t ask how I know their exact number of ants or you will be made to suffer the Birbal-counting-crows joke.

And, much like my relatives, they refuse to leave. Stomping them out, flooding them into the sink (they just crawl out when the water stops), luring them with strategically placed chocolate-flavored ant-bait (it just makes me crave chocolate, but they still won’t die) — nothing seems to work. Gah. But no worry, we have armed ourselves with Raid Extra-Strength Ant Killer Spray. Now the trick is to run around the house and go phusssss six hundred twenty four times. Sure, I can do it. Hum honge kaamyaab ek din.

Be back soon to tell you all about my exciting Sunday. But I go now.