Picture this. A scene from an Adoor Gopalakrishan movie. (Doordarshan Sunday afternoon fare, circa 1990.) An elderly man, sitting on the verandah of his house, looks stoically at an empty field. Not a soul is in sight. The emptiness of the field symbolic of his own lifeless existence. A cow wanders onto the field. The man blinks, acknowledging the presence of life. He stares at the cow. The cow looks up and stares back. After a while the man suddenly calls out — Raajamme? Silence. Raajammme! he calls louder this time. A nondescript looking woman (surprisingly named Raajamme) in a cotton saree and coconut oil in her hair emerges from inside the house, wondering what the noise is. She looks questioningly at him. The man points out the cow in question and says — pasu! The cow blinks in response.
The elderly Mallu man is me. The empty field, this blog. And the sad, wandering pasu (animal) is this tag from Dhammo. Not Dhammo himself, just the tag. (On a sidenote, I think I need to work on changing this ‘Have tag, think of Megha’ tendency of his.) But anyway, here we go. As if this blog doesn’t talk about me enough already, here’s more pointless information that you’ll never need —
- I am thinking about ..
.. why I get suckered into doing tags like this.
- I said ..
.. Hum bolega to bologe ke bolta hai.
- I want to ..
.. do something earth-shattering like saving the world. And also keep my annoying cousins from sticking their nose into my life. And while I’m at it, read the complete works of Shakespeare. Yep, balance. Isn’t that what we all strive for?
- I wish ..
.. no no. My to-be-son, Vish. I, Megha.
- I miss ..
.. simpler times.
- I hear ..
.. the sound of silence. And music. And birds. And voices in my head. And people’s thoughts. And conversations. Quite a cacophony, now that I think about it.
- I wonder ..
.. I bandar. Yesh, I monkey. A clueless monkey at most times.
- I regret ..
.. not marrying Abhishek Bachchan when I had the chance.
- I am ..
.. I yam what I yam, and that’s all I yam. Popeye the Sailorman, ting ting!
- I dance ..
.. the dhinkichiki!
- I sing ..
.. ALL the time! Sample here.
- I cry ..
.. buckets when I chop onions. And while watching Karan Johar movies. (If you believed the latter, you really shouldn’t be reading this blog.)
- I am not always ..
- I make with my hands ..
.. shadow puppets on train tunnel walls. A dog, a deer, a bird. You know more? Teach me, pliss.
- I write ..
.. way more words than I should. Some here, on this blog. Some only in my mind.
- I confuse ..
..the hell out of people I talk to. And I confuse the meanings of similar sounding words. And the order of the alphabet. And my left with my right. And my home and cellphone numbers. And my TV and cable remotes. Yeah, I am easy to confuse.
- I need ..
.. fawning fans who will do my bidding at the mere wave of my hand. Readers who think I am the next best thing after sliced bread. Crazed masses who worship the .. well, you get the drift.
- I should try ..
.. flirting with my trolls. Maybe it’ll make them go away?
- I finish ..
.. most things I start. Except when I don’t.
And now for some respectable souls who wouldn’t want to be caught indulging in such trivialities. Oh, if you don’t find yourself on this list, don’t feel left out. Please to treat my commentspace as your own home and use it generously!
- Falstaff – I think he’ll kill me for this, but his reaction alone should be worth the risk.
- Heh Heh – If Falsie doesn’t hurt me, he will. Probably kill me with a doodle, no less.
- Anurag – He is to me, what I am to Dhammo – a tag-bakra. A goat and a dog both.
- Sagnik – My only(?) Bong reader, so including him for diversity and all.
- Neha – My hone-waali samdhan. HAHK – Part Two, waiting to happen.
- Anantha – he’s being all pseud and all lately with fancy names, but he’s still apna aNTi.
Okie, that should be enough Raajammes. Now don’t go have a cow.