Monthly Archives: July 2011
Think of your favorite food that you wouldn’t share with anyone. Now think of those people in your life to whom you shout a blunt “No” at any food-sharing proposal and yet they dig their spoon right in. And you knew they would. You roll your eyes at their quirky eating habits. And you still can’t help smiling. In spite of the food stealing and quirks, there are few people who would make eating so enjoyable. There are few people who touch your life like a friend does.
It is friendship’s day next Sunday. And I miss my food-stealers terribly.
“Do you like him?” she asked about a new friend of mine.
“No. We are just friends”, I replied while I kept munching on the aloo-chaat. Read the rest of this entry
I crashed in front of the TV. I love that black piece with moving pictures and how it can sometimes make you forget things. This was not one of those times.
I was finally offered the prospects of climbing the ladder at work. A chance to co-manage an event, as big as a 80,000,000 bucks worth international conference, is something I had dreamt of. I had finally got a step closer to what I had been slogging-for for a while now. When your work forms the nucleus of your existence, things like this should bring boundless bliss and cheer. But the bliss and cheer died rather quickly. Read the rest of this entry
I had a half written article on ‘forgiveness’ saved for my post. I had always been charmed by the concept and thought I would write about it. I texted a friend in Mumbai a few hours ago, “if i write another post wid the same fashion-show-backstage backdrop, wud it b 2 repetitive?”
“Yeah i dunno..rite it n see. there were bomb blasts in my area.” I read the last part of the text again. I had read it right. Bomb blast in his area.
“Wht?omg. r u ok?”
“yeah im fine”
“thank god. n all the ppl u know?”
“i hope so..”
I deleted the post I had written about forgiveness. It didn’t make any sense to me now. Read the rest of this entry
“Carol you are next. Hurry! Lekha, you’ll enter the stage from the left”, I yelled in the dressing room. Frantic assistants, unruffled designers, attentive make-up crew and skimpy or barely clad models thronged the dressing room of the fashion show. Loud music, flashy lights, designer clothes, cigarette smoke and bouquet of wine created the ambience. My part for the next 45 minutes was to put a rhythm to the frenzied chaos.
“You are next, be quick”, I said to another model after a few minutes. The assistants were attending to her clothes while she took another quick gulp of wine.
She had already consumed three cigarettes and almost a bottle of wine. She was wearing a fine gown and finer make up. She was one of the celebrated models of the country that many girls idolize. In a few minutes, a crowd of 200 would be cheering for her. She looked every bit stunning and had had enough wine to make her feel stunning too. For anybody else, nothing about her would have reflected anything but confidence.Yet when she put her glass down to take a look at the mirror, for a second the supermodel froze. Read the rest of this entry