Damn My Cursed Memory

Dreamy tagged me. Of course, she has no way to know I have never remembered anything for more than ten minutes at a go. So, most of the input which was supposed to be remembered is remembered by my mother. She is the guest author of this post.

Life Ten years ago:

From what she remembers, I was gawky, awkward, shy and tongue ties with mostly everyone. Of course, she willingly and unnecessarily adds, I have not shown much change since then. I wanted to be a singer by night and doctor by day. My life revolved around mathematics, my best friend and molding mud into cakes. I used to decorate them with leaves and grounded brick powder. It all used to smell wonderful. Life was also about shared lunches where nine or ten giggly girls would sit around and discuss the comparative advantage of Punjabi pickles over Marwari pickles over Bengali pickles. To my unrefined tastes, Marwari pickles always used to win uncontested. Bengali kuler achar (I can not translate this into anything remotely English), as divine as it is, could never match up.

Life five years ago:

I was fat. That used to take the fun out of most things. Life was mostly about how torturous Physics is and how much one scored in Biology on ten marks. The impending Boards exam failed to scare me. The effeminate classmate I thought I was hopelessly in love with did. Marwari pickles still formed a huge part of my life. There was also a personal diary which was full of so much sentiment, I ended up throwing it out once I entered college. Also started writing poetry. Stopped next year.

Life tomorrow.

Will try to turn 20 without getting into hysterics (OK, yeah, tomorrow is my birthday :D. That is the entire purpose of this post anyway)

Five locations I would love to run away to.
(Ordered by accessibility)

• Presidency Botany Department corridor
• Lakshadweep
• Corfu
  
• Random African jungle
• P. E. Island

Five bad habits I have.
(I do not consider biting nails as a bad habit. It is a necessary condition for existence)

• The fact that I cannot sit down for a meal without knocking down a random glass. My favourite eatery refuses to serve me water anymore.
• I keep on complaining about the dissatisfying shape of my nose. However, not much nowadays. I realize I have to marry Bilawal Bhutto anyway. Which obviously means I will be heading the country some day. For that, one needs an authoritative nose. Indira Gandhi and I own the same nose.
  
• I cannot laugh before examinations without getting hysterical and end up laughing for half an hour straight for no reason why.
• I go to sleep at 6 in the morning. I wake up at 2 in the afternoon. My mum is thinking of disowning me.
• I am scared of everything.

Five things I will never wear.

• Something pink.
• Gold.
• Navel ring (someone told me it itches a lot)
• Heels more than 2 inches long ( I can not afford to tower above the remaining male population)
• Rings
  

Five biggest joys at this moment.

• I painted my toes green and chrome. It looks ugly, but very satisfying.
• Conversations with Bonky
  
• My hair is longer. I do not look any more like a boy who tried to give himself a crew cut. Now I look like the boy who forgot to have his hair cut.
• I have lost both my glasses. Now I can walk down anywhere I like to without having to recognize people. I can always say I could not see them.
• I am off to buy more clothes.
  

Something to achieve by next year

An aim. I cannot just live in frivolity for the rest of my life. More is the pity.

Something that impacted me last year

The hospital tenure. I realized in those ten days that I was making many wrong choices. Now making different wrong choices. But not the same ones.

What will I miss about 2007

Teenage

Five things I want to do before I die

There are a hundred. The most important one is to learn to raise one eyebrow. The others are either too insignificant, or too sacred.

I tag Abhishek, doubletake, doublethink, Mac the nut, Kaushik, Na. Su. Krishnan, Speedpost, the new age scheherazade and The ancient mariner.

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It is That Time of the Year Again

1) When colleges close up within a few hours notice. When you may suddenly end up in the first page of newspapers. When you might switch on the TV and see your classmate being beaten up. When everyone is fawning over you.

For College Elections have come to town.

I frankly pity students who have never studied in a politically inclined college. Nothing, nothing beats the news of college being closed down because policemen have gheraoed the area. And, of course, if you have ever had a crush on one of those politicians who would never deign to look at an unpolitical mite as you, this is the perfect time for the come-hither looks.

Let the Chinese have their New Years. Let the lovers have their Valentine Days. Let the chickens have their flus. I have more involved, passionate and dangerous events to look forward to.

2) When one realizes its about time one comes to term with reality and starts taking her graduation seriously. So the first thing one goes and does is watch Dr. Strangelove. Of course, after such an experience, it is hard to take anything seriously. Plans are in the offing to watch Elizabeth next. The probable inspiration one looks forward to is declare to the whole world one is illegitimate and go tell Bilawal Bhutto that one is the rightful heir to Pakistan's throne. Then again, it is not right to assume brotherly feelings for him after having lusted for that aquiline nose for months.

Then again, as discussed so minutely in the last post(specially the comment section), I am probably about to be declared non-collegiate. So do not think it is worth taking the pressure of examinations for.

3) Valentine's Day. When happy couples spend money on each other and single people go around protesting that its just a marketing gimmick. Of course, I do not believe in Valentine's Day. It is a marketing gimmick.

Bonky and I happen to be the only unattached (or as we prefer calling ourselves, detached) people remaining in possibly this entire world. And no, we have not had any lesbian tendencies. But it is a sad week for both of us while we take advantage of the Valentine sales to buy chocolates and wristwatches for ourselves. But we are a kindly lot. We want the other to be happily settled in commitment bliss. Which is why the following conversation took place

Bonky and Pongo, taking another never ending bus ride home. Pongo is immersed in a book. Bonky is immersed in watching cute guys. They are thrown together so much anyway that they have hardly anything left to talk about. Next time I make friends, I will go for the ones with commitment phobia. At least it will not lead to my mother harbouring doubts about my orientation, seeing that I only have one friend I spent most of my time with. The others are too occupied with their better halves.

B: Damn, not one cute guy. Oooh, Ritika, you got to look, it is your soulmate.
P (By now used to this occurrence): Oh, indeed? Long hair?
B: Check
P: Tall?
B: Check
P: Earrings?
B: Only on one ear.
P: Perfect. Unshaven for a day or so?
B: Yes. An out and out aantel. Plus, he is carrying a bag which looks as if it might carry books.
P(suddenly animated): You have got to be kidding me. You found my soulmate!! Where is he?
B:Oooohhhh
P(tremulous): Hot girlfriend?
B( nodding sadly): Check.

4) I grow older. With a difference. I will never be a teen anymore. I leave my teens with regrets, having never done a thing teens are supposed to do. No wild romances, no overnight wild blings(or is it bilge, anyway, something) and certainly no pyjama parties either. At 19, I am growing up to be a dowdy 30 year old.

Though there is still about a month left. A whole month to fill it up with all the wildness of seven years.

I think I will end up being a dowdy thirty year old twenty year old. I have had more fun that way in all these years anyway.

Valentine's Day is not only for couples. Its for all loved ones. I love you all for actually taking time out and visiting my blog. So, here is wishing you all a Happy Valentine's Day.
Also, please dress in black on fourteenth. We will have a collective mourning for Mr. Wodehouse.

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