name: that girl in pink
location: Somewhere, India
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Monday, October 31, 2005

Light up!

Hey all! Thanks for the comments. Guess somewhere I needed to know that my decision of quitting my job was right. I really wasnt enjoying myself. Now the question looms large: What next?

But i'll think about that after diwali.

Happy diwali everyone! Indulge, shop, whatever your heart desires.

Someone commented that my blog is becoming more skewed to the colour 'blue' than 'pink'. Dammit! That girl in pink will not stand for such shifts on the colour spectrum. So the shade of the season is a loud, bright bubble gum pink. Have a bright pink one everyone!!

p.s. Was gonna title this post, "having a blast", but in light of the horrible bomb blasts in Delhi I decided not to. And I just wanna go on record as saying that I hate those bastards for doing this to innocent people trying to have a little fun before diwali. I'm sick of this constant terror looming large over all our head and I hope these shits get caught and get the worst punishment of their lives. Peace talks be damned, this has got to stop.

Posted by that girl in pink  | 9:51 AM  |  7 comments  

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

hey you

You were a tiny little thing in pigtails when you were first asked about it. You’ve been thinking about it ever since. You wrote essays and made crayon drawings of what it would be like. You studied hard and passed exams in preparation for it. You took up after-school courses to add to those preparations.

You slogged, you fretted, you pulled strings, you gave up on love and friendships and you were jubilant when you finally got it.

It’s where you made some of the most lasting relationships of your life. It’s where your will power and strength of character got tested to the extreme. It’s where you had some of your life’s proudest moments. It’s where you’ve cried (albeit secretly, crying publicly is frowned upon). It’s where you discovered your greatest assets and worked on improving on your liabilities. It’s where, on an average, you spend 10 hours a day (that’s about 65% of your waking time).

Then how come, when things don’t go well and you want to cry in despair, people tell you, “Forget it. It’s just a job.”

Posted by that girl in pink  | 4:29 PM  |  4 comments  

Saturday, October 15, 2005

On the fence

In life, I’ve found that people respect people with a strong opinion. Or at least strong leanings. The opinion a person holds helps us form an opinion of that person.

Question: What kind of music do you listen to?
Answer: Trance, a lot of underground.
Opinion: Junkie.

Question: So what are your views on abortion?
Answer: I think its wrong, its taking a life and amounts to murder.
Opinion: Virgin.

It’s important you have a point of view, a clear like for one thing and a strong dislike for the opposite. It’s what you believe in after all, and can pretty much be what defines you.

But what if you don’t have such extreme views on everything? What if you like the colour black as well as pink and life for you mostly operates in grey? What if you like trance and alternative? What if you can enjoy sub-titled European cinema and slapstick American comedies? What if you make up the great ‘middle’ class when it comes to choices? What if you’re me?

Let me illustrate with the help of an example. (Real life is so helpful when it comes to writing blogs!) So it was 2003 and I was getting ready for my wedding. One of the most important, expensive and wasteful events of a punju wedding is the purchase of the wedding lehenga. You spend thousands on an outfit that you’ll wear once in your entire life. A wedding lehenga is like the Taj Mahal. An obscene amount of money spent in the name of love. Practicality: zero.

But it’s an important event in a girl’s life and the guilt of spending your parents money lasts all of 4 seconds so there we were; my mom, I and fat punju salesman surrounded by heaps of silk, satin and gold embroidery.

The lehengas had been coming and I had been rejecting. Somewhere along the way I realised it was rude to keep turning up my nose at the ugly shit he was showing us (oh and it was ugly!) and I tried a new, politer approach at rejection. “Um, it’s nice but I don’t think that colour suits me.”

When I said it all I was going for was an attempt at civility. But instead it sparked off what became a raging debate between my mother and fat punju salesman.

“Hmm…actually for her skintone maybe mauve will work.”
“No no, mauve works only for very fair skin.”
“Yes, but she’s not dark.”
“That’s true, but she’s not very fair either.”
“That’s true, but she’s not dusky.”
“No no, not at all dusky but not wheatish either.”
“Yes she’s fair-ish but not white. Not dark but not fair either”

I think that conversation became the defining moment of my life. I, apparently do not even have a skin tone that can be defined. How is such a person ever supposed to be able to have definitive views on anything?

I am one of those people who constantly operate in the twilight zone. Asking me to choose between two places to eat could mean you end up with 4 new choices. Here I am, still battling with choosing a template for my blog. God help me when I have to make bigger decisions in life. I envy people who know exactly what they like.

Sigh! I can just imagine what my obituary would read like when I die:

“We are sorta sad to announce the demise of That Girl In Pink. She was kind of fair, kind of dark, sometimes liked, sometimes not. She’s definitely dead but we can’t be sure where she’s headed. Maybe heaven, maybe hell…aah, with her, who knows?”

Posted by that girl in pink  | 12:53 PM  |  7 comments  

Saturday, October 08, 2005

A little bit of this, a little bit of that.

What a week it’s been! Work is in going on at top speed, have taken my 376th vow to quit, another roadie has been kicked off the show, brad and jen’s divorce finally came through, friends from out of town have dropped by, I helped a friend get freelance and then there have been the birthdays! Those storks must work their asses off in October!

Do you think parents purposely plan for their babies to be born around Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday, hoping some of his greatness rubs off on their kids? Either that or there must be something really special about the January air that gets so many couples working on producing a baby. Actually I like Librans, I just never seem to remember the exact date to be able to wish them and show how much I like them.

There is one birthday, however, I do remember and that is of my nephew Aryan. (God, it feels grown up admitting to the world you have a nephew. I’m an aunt! Aunty Pink. Pinky Aunty…oh horrors! What have I created here?!) So anyway, this morning I sent a birthday wish to Aryan via an e-mail to his mom’s i.d. It said, ‘Dear Aryan, Happy 1st Birthday. Have a great day etc…’ Now for some reason, my cousin (his uncle) was very tickled by the idea of addressing the mail to one year old Aryan. And he asked me to write a blog on how to wish a one year old.

That got me thinking as to what a birthday means to a one year old. Tried to tap back into my one year old brain but it’ll take some serious hypnosis to jog my memory back that far. All I remember about turning one is from the pictures we have of my first birthday party. And thank God the cake has a big one shaped candle on it to confirm that it was, after all my first birthday. I look three. Or maybe a very healthy two.

So that gets me back to the question, do one year olds even know it’s their birthday, a very special day? Since attention is showered on them in bucket loads by everybody everyday (you’ll be right in sensing some envy here.) I don’t think it’s even possible to make them feel extra important on their birthday.

Maybe putting party hats on their heads is a good indicator that something special is happening? Nah, I don’t think so. They wear cartoon-animal printed diapers and suck on pink and blue pacifiers (or like we Indians like to call them-nipples. Tee hee!) on a daily basis. I don’t think a colourful party hat is gonna be much of a conversation piece for a bunch of one year olds.

The excessive picture taking then? Hmm…after having their first step, first potty, first spit bubble, first sip on water, first hug, first time wearing winnie-the-pooh blue jumper, first time wearing pokemon green jumper, first smile while lying down, first smile while standing, first smile while sitting and facing right being photographed and kept for posterity I really doubt a camera clicking is going to flash too much of a light bulb in their little heads.

I think it’s time to change the rules. I think it’s time we started celebrating 1st delivery-day. The first anniversary of the day the mom, who carried and cared for the baby for 9 months, got together all her physical, mental and spiritual energy and gave birth to a healthy baby who brings joy to so many people.

So RJ, since I’ve already wished little Aryan on turning one, this one’s for you. Happy first birth-day to you.


On a more athletic note, who has seen the new Hutch-Delhi half marathon commercial? I love it!! I love the way they’ve shown Delhi (meri dilli!), I love the narration and I absolutely, totally, completely adore Rajpal Yadav’s (Mungeri Lal, remember?) voice. Lovely lovely lovely! Can’t gush enough…

One last question. Why is it that when we reach home from anywhere, the first thing we have to do is pee? Even if we went to the bathroom just before leaving the place we came from? Even if we have, cross-our-heart-hope-to-die swear, not touched a drink of water or any other beverage on the way? Even if it’s not too rainy or too cold? Why then, do we rush to the loo as soon as we get home?

Posted by that girl in pink  | 7:55 PM  |  5 comments  

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Of Vikings and Teutons

Today I was surfing the net, looking for some information on Vikings. Fun as this may sound, let me tell you, it wasn’t. It was for a ghastly project involving conceptualising and naming a children’s clothing store.

I cannot roll my eyes and snort enough to express how I feel for the species. And I assure you; children today are a different species from us. Seriously, I think, those crop circles may not be a hoax, some aliens have actually slyly infiltrated the earth’s population and sowed their seed amongst us. The fruit of that interaction is what you see in the form of today’s kids. They may look, and occasionally behave like us, but inside they’re a whole different species.

I’ve got statistics to prove it.
Apparently 5 year olds do not like “cute”. They like everything to have an attitude and they’re not interested in impressing anyone.
There are actual existing schools today that include in their prospectuses their policy on boys and earrings: one earring is ok, two are not.
Today no child (of any age) will be caught dead enjoying Enid Blytons and Disney Cartoons. Apparently they’re too kiddish. So said a child of 6. I’m sure you can understand my horror.

So anyway today I was online, looking for information on the Vikings. (Just realised I digressed quite a bit from what I actually wanted to write about.) While going through various sites I somehow stumbled upon some information on the ‘Teutons’. Now usually I’m not one for wasting time on stuff I’m not interested in. But lately something has happened that makes me stop, read, process and memorise every bit of trivia I might see. (In case anyone’s curious, the Teutons is the cultural hearth out of which all the various Germanic peoples emerged.)

That something is KBC 2. Or like Amitabh Bachchan likes to call it, “Kaun Banega Crorepati, dviteeeeeeeeeeeye.” I’m convinced that’ll be my redemption.

Ever since KBC 2 was announced I have been hoping to get called for the show. I know my chances are 1 in a trillion but like I tell myself, someone has to get selected. It may just be me!

So I’ve started answering KBC entry questions everyday via SMS@Rs 6/message. It has contributed healthily to my phone bill but optimism always wins over logic. What’s the loss of a few hundred rupees when I’m going to win lakhs, maybe crores?

I’ve started reading the paper (the whole paper, not just Bangalore Times) and watching hitherto undiscovered channels like NDTV, CNBC and Star News. Now when I watch African lionesses attack and kill their prey on Discovery I’m not just imagining my branch head as the deer but also noticing neighbouring vegetation, time of day and the lioness’s chosen tree to hide and carry out the ambush from. You just never know what Computerji might ask you on KBC 2.

I also have a ready list of people I’m going to call in case I need to use the phone-a-friend lifeline. I personally think that’s a pretty useless lifeline cuz usually your friend is not only as dumb as you but also unluckier than you with his answers. After all you got called to KBC 2, not he.

But it’s a lifeline and Mr. Bachchan says, “woh humein zyada se zyada dhan rashi deke ghar bhejna chahte hai” so we must make the most of it. Which is why I have categorised people according to subjects. For instance if it’s a question on sports I’ll call my husband (unless its expressly on Sachin Tendulkar. In that case, I call my brother in law.) If it’s a question on history my dad is the best person to call and if it’s a question on movies I’ll call my DVD library guy. See, if you plan in advance even a seemingly useless lifeline can save the day.

I have of course, completely worked out how I’m going to dress for the show. Going to wear my new Esprit pants and black FCUK top. Black is slimming and that’s crucial because the camera supposedly adds 10 pounds. Toe nails are painted to glimmer through my black open toe sandals and finger nails are cut short so as to provide speed and agility in the Fastest Fingers First round.

(Just had a thought. What if I play so well that I don’t get thrown out in one episode and have to carry on to the next episode? I’ll need a whole new look for the next day.
Note to self: Must keep 3 wardrobe back ups in case of good luck/mumbai floods ruining clothes/clothes getting stolen/coffee-spilling incident (most likely).)

My behaviour on the show will be calm yet charming. I will shake hands with Mr. Bachchan, say something intelligent and proceed to win my booty and get out. Still undecided who to take with me to the show. Nobody else seems to share either my interest or absolute certainty that KBC 2 is the answer to my problems, the only way I’ll be able to finally go to my boss and say, “Take your job and shove it! You call this an agency? You call yourself pada-likha? Grrr!!!!”

Basically I’m as ready as I can ever be. I know who the Teutons are, I know names of Peruvian dictators, I feel I can add some glamour to the show (the coloured hair, the lip gloss-its gotta be good for ratings) and unlike most other people who go to the show, I really deserve the money. So come one Mr. Bachchan, what you waiting for? Just get your people to pick up the phone and call me to Kaun Banega Crorepati, dviteeeeeeeeeeeeeeye.

Posted by that girl in pink  | 11:42 PM  |  5 comments