A Liar's Guide to the Dreams..

In the dead of the night, the dreams come in one by one. They cling to you with soft acceptance, and they know it all..

These are the dreams which leave a note of remembrance. They cling to our tongues like a bittersweet delight.

They feel familiar, though their flavour melts in the mouth... and taste distinctly unusual.

April 26, 2006

Of Marriages and Mayhems Part I

In between a term paper thats yet to be written and a looming marriage of Rini, my cousin sister, I have more or less lost the conceptions of a time when I woke up at eight o'clock in the morning and started my day with a dose of soft rock and jiggly pop. The house is crowded with a bunch of OUTSIDERS from hell--- er, Hyderabad, and basically pulling all our body hairs on their ends just by being here. The Long-Distance Aunt, and her husband, and the husband's parents, and their three children, and their family friend (who has appeared into the scene because she claims she has never seen a Baangaali Wedding), who has two kids of her own ( the oldest being a year my junior) have suddenly taken over my room, my CDs, my BOOKS, my stuffs, and my life. The brats (aged 14, 16, 13, two belonging to the Aunt, one to her friend) are running around, disturbing my aura, disturbing my Mother, who seems to be at their beck and call 24-7, never begging for a raincheck. The worst bit is that, they constantly bugger my pets, (my Birds) who rebelled the first day by biting the 14 year old's hand, and resulting in eternal damnation in Cockateel Parties to come... and the older ones are the worst. Rinki, the Aunt's daughter has a crush on the Friend's boy who has developed a crush on me. Wild as this may seem, I have discovered that I am Crushable (i.e. I feel suitably crushed by this hulking crusher) and my woe lies in the fact that this has made the only person I like in that entire group 'jealous' and therefore I have lost the one friend I had in that Lot.

Anyway, the Grandparents are worse than mine. Those who does not know, I have a Grandma from each side of my parents remaining, (both my Gramps lucky enough to flee to eternal peace and quiet after 50 years of World War III) who compete with each other on being overactive. My affectionate name for both is Buri (old Woman), yet I favour my Dad's buri to my Mom's.
Well, Dad's buri is running like P.T. Usha at The Hyderabadi Gramps' favour. Mum swears they had something going when they were young (and still Do, from what I see) ... the Oldie has to lift one finger and his wish will be done. Incidentally, this old lech tried to feel me up when I touched his feet, hugging me tightly, and putting his right hand on my ass, gave it a tight squeeze. I've been running from the Lot ever since. And the Old Woman is no Worse. She is the step sister of my grandfather who sent her children over to Kolkata when they were young, and they stayed with us (all three of them), till they graduated. Needless to say, not a single penny came out of their parent's pocket. At this point, I admit I am being bitchy, but I hate it when these hypocrites arrive empty handed each year to our place, and leave with their hands full.

Back to the Buri. Its still Dad's Buri by the way. She's 77, though her vanity admits to only 75 of these years. Once a tyrant, age has reduced her to a general dogsbody around the house who is only too pleased to be running around trying to do everything. In this she generally succeeds, by the way. If there is anything she prefers more than being the doormat is being the saint. But she is even better at being Narad (Hindu Mythology sees this creature as being the instigator of major fights), watching with real pleasure as others cut each other up.

And then there was her Kaanchi Pyaanch (scissor twist action) where you fall into a Catch-22 situation. An Example at this point is called for.

Victim arrives late at night. Confronts Buri

Buri - Kothay gechhile??? (Where were you gone off to??)

Victim does not respond.

B- chup kore dariye achho je?? Mukhe ki katha shorchhe naa?? (Why are you standing dumbly? Are'nt words coming to your lips?)

Victim at this point begins to explain, but is cut off at the first three words....

B - Abaar Mukhe Mukhe Katha??? Choap!!! (You dare Talk Back?? SHUDDUP!!)

See?? Damned if you do. Damned if you don't.

And then there was that IPS Officer who came last Sunday for Coffee, tea and me... I mean, He came to look me over for a matrimonial match. Needless to say, it was a disaster. For once, I do not go for 30 year old KAKU types with Moustache and Paunch. For another, I hate being asked dumb questions by people who do not know what they are talking of.

An exerpt from the conversation.

Would-be - uhh... tumi Hamlet jano? (do you know Hamlet)

Panu (with extreme wariness) - hyaan... (yeees....)

Would-be (with all signs of apparent relief) - AMIO!!! (Me too)

At this point I must say that if this is the situation of Indian Police, No Wonder our Country is going to Hell.

The conversation ended after I calmly explained to him precisely why I could not marry him (and no, I did not have to mention his aforementioned vices at all) and that was that... One more day to live through.

But then I lament too much!! Trauma. Thanks Rimi for THIS.... its the least we can share.

April 14, 2006

My Andromeda... MINE ENEMY...

tI am actually getting popular in blogland cause 1069 times my profile was seen to this post since November 2005. I am NOT bragging. Check my profile to see it! Its true!!

For those who are concerned, this is a Bitch POST against my Best Friend ANDROMEDA, or A.

I love my best friend. I DO. I swear.

So there I was trying to celebrate my friendship with my best friend that has rolled on to its third year. Readers, take note that though she and I met 4 years back, I did not trust her for the first year or so, and considered her the most nyaka (Non Bangaalis read affectatious, but really, this word has no proper translation, if you know what I mean) person I have ever had the misfortune to meet in my sorry existence , that, incidentally I still believe.

So here's my list of complaints. But before, you all must know my woe. My tale of sorrow and pain. Here is a leetle incident. Believe me, we have had many.

Well, yesterday was one of the busiest days I ever had. And the weather did NOT help me a jot. The whole day was HUMID, and I soaked in it with Andromeda, sweat pouring down my body, taking with it my heard drunk morning litre of water. At these points of life I really Hate her, because she has the type of MILKY PEACHY skin that glows when it sweats, and looks like as if she's risen from some Arabian wet dream, all honey and softness. I, on the other hand, look like a ripe PAANTUA whenever I get hot and bothered.

Then we went to LANDMARK to get a CD for her Sister's birthday.

She argued with me for the better part of two hours over what to give her sister, and between X-Men and Lara Croft, she presented me with a fit of sulks when I asked if she would like Charlie's Angels.

And then was the part when at LANDMARK I went orgasmic over The Simoquin Prophesies and Mr. Pratchett, she looked and dismissed them with a bored... "WHO?"

And then came the time where she left me at the metro station and I had to wait for two hours before I got back home (at this point I might add that normally it takes only half-an-hour to get back).

Not only this.

My complaints are -

1. She does not return my books in time, and when she does, I find them marked with icky pink marker.

2. She cannot control her laughter. Once she starts giggling, she does not stop. And when she giggles, she shakes. And her body moves like a mass of pale jel-o, waiting to explode.

3. Flirting is like her second nature. It comes to her as naturally like a newly hatched duckling to water. Be one or a hundred years of age, no one is immune to Andromeda

4. BABY. The word was made for her. She Bawls, She Screams, She Throws a tantrum if I forget to bring her cherry wine lipgloss, or say no when she wants to walk ten kilometres on a May afternoon. BUT I HATE IT when she talks baby, mumbling out just to look pretty.

5. And I hate her on the phone, talking nineteen to dozen to her Boyfriend for ages while I look around, scratch my ear and in short, get bored out of my numb scull.

6. I hate her when she hogs my stuff, not using them herself and not allowing me to use them as well.

7. And I hate it when she does her lip job... sticking it out and going " BOO HOO HOO".... This girl does not cry "WAAAAH", she goes Boo hooo....

Et cetera Et cetera Et cetera

Yes. I am Spoiling for a fight with her. Its been three years and no showdown. Real couples have showdowns. Memorable fights.


I'll have to give up on that dream of living together and opening a lingerie shop called "Sin Creation" with her.

Oh well. I am short of candidates. Audition anyone????

April 04, 2006


This world is after me. But I Don't care. Why should I??

This has been a disastrous week. I hate it with my soul.

Sorry reader, I have to explain the current state of misery, hmm??

First was the Vote ID making..... 3 hours in the sun.

Then was the SEMINAR from HELL, where I got Jharofied by TINTINDA.

Then came my TV appearance (and here I would like to thank all who did not see the programme thinking I was fooling them).

And then came this!!!

It began about 10 days ago when a long term chat buddy R*** called up after a year or so. I being naive, talked to him for all of 20 minutes, about several very general topics. After that we rang off amicably, and that was the end of it.

Today, I got a call from a fellow:

Caller X : Hello.

Panu : Hello? Ke? (who's this?)

X : Are you free now?

Panu : erm... what??

X : Look, I am a Friend of R*** ... he gave me your number and told me to call you.

Panu : But may I know who is this??

X : I'm X***

Panu : And why are you calling me?

X : R*** said you are very good at *uh* *slight gulp* certain stuffs...

Panu *genuinely bewildered* : what Stuffs???

X : You know, phone sex and things. He said, you were very good at it.

Panu : WHAT!!!

X : Er... whats your charge-------

*At that Point, Panu put the phone down*

I know my blog name is silly and suggestive, but honest to GOD, if it was not meant to tease or tempt. I just wanted to keep something my Chhota gave me.

And yes, I am no prude, but somehow I still believe in Virginity and Happily Ever After and the whole Valentinoesque sweeping off feet part (though I admit that sweeping off part is a bit difficult, considering my size).

But I hate being lied to and lied about.