The Sun. The Screen.

Probably, one of the most intelligent ingenious inventions is the Sunscreen. Never mind if it alters the dermatological DNA of the face, but its got to be around. On the shelf. Or in the wardrobe.

Mostly found in the tote bags of oh-my-skin-will-get-tanned ladies, it’s more of a facial issue for them. Probably, this is what they consider this: the modern day substitute for a gold ol’ umbrella. Ladies beware, “it’s not!”

I wonder, and even pity sometimes, that after traveling for eight god-dammed minutes to hit the ground, Mr. Sun Rays are promptly sent back by this man-made layer of chemicals and not-so-chemical compositions. Cursing it must be, though.

Found in different forms, predominantly as SPF 15 and 30, it’s meant to tame the ultraviolet. But does it, really?

Anyways. It’s the Sunscreen. ‘Applicable’ under the sun.

Bambino Gulab Jamun Mix

K-Serials. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawnnnnnnnn.

Circa 1998.

Uncle.
Aunty.
Their first son: Married with 2 kids.
Their second son: Single, but still mingling.
Their first daughter: Married. Divorced. Semi-married.
Their second daughter: College-going seedhi-saaddhi item.
Their third daughter: Just fifteen, but behaves like fifty.

Circa 2008.
Uncle + 8 years.
Aunty + 8 years.

Their first son: Married with 2 kids. But has had co-marital affairs with 3 women, who’re dead and gone by now. Found their place in another K-serial (courtesy: Balaji Telefilms)! Fortunately, the era still believes in rebirth. And then, you never know what or who’s going to ‘come up next’.

Their second son: Single, but has had multiple affairs (just like multiple fractures – broken and disjointed). Doesn’t like to compromise when it comes 'positions’. Ask Kashish, Karishma, Kavita, Kanishka, Kanaka, K… (amnesi, it’s a boon sometimes).

Their first daughter: Married and divorced. Once. Twice. Thrice. And you never know how many more times.

Their second daughter: College-going seedhi-saadhi item. With a kitty of 5 boyfriends. And one husband.

Their third daughter: Twenty-five by now. Still the same.

And then…

Plus Tears. Drama. Melodrama. Punches. Action Plays. Reaction Replays.

The K-Serials. Life of ndia.
From 2 pm to 5 pm. And 8 pm to 11 pm.
Everyday.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwn!

Bird Phooooop!

Bird Poop. To those my-English-is-poorer-than-yours, this phrase actually was a bit of a surprise. And surely you can count me one among them. Well… I then looked through the good ol’ dictionary. And there I was, saying “Shit!”.

I thought for a moment, why do I need to pass through the insanity of recollecting those bird poop ‘moments’. Yes, I prefer to call this a moment. ‘Cause a moment is something you either want to experience again, or just pray that it never comes. And yes, this one belongs to the latter.

Any way, this piece came up as a Mundane Monday Morning job – oh yeah, it was actually the weblog topic for Monday. (Call it coincidence or call it Monday Morning Shit, nevertheless, it means the same. More or less.)

Bird Poop. This again reminds me of Late Dr. Salim Ali, (referred to as the “Birdman of India”) India’s most celebrated – and probably one of world’s most celebrated Ornithologists. I wonder how he would have dealt with ‘shit’ like this.

With due respects to him, and the victims of ‘The Great Bird Poop Fall’, here’s just twowords: Shit happens! (as someone with unfathomable levels of Poopism, coined it.)

The Password

************.

Hello this is me. Password. And cussword sometimes. The best thing about my life is change. I change. And more often than you think. You’ll find me in various incarnations. Men remember me for their girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, wife, ex-wife, and whatever is easy for them to remember. And women, oh they’re different lot. A ‘numbered’ lot I should say. Primarily, they’re all about dates. And you know what I mean by dates, don’t you! Let me elucidate. The First Date. The First Anniversary. The First Night. The First Light. The First Cup. The First Hiccup. The First Coffee. The First Toffee. The First Encounter. The First Ticket Counter. The First Kiss. The First Miss. Period.

Surprisingly, you’ll never see. I’m encrypted. But still, I’m a star *

The 10-year itch.

It was exactly 10 years ago, that we moved to Hyderabad from Vijayawada. For me Hyderabad was a city that I used to visit during my summer vacations. Though by distance Hyderabad was just 6 hours away, it seemed like it was ahead by 16 years. Having done all my studies there, here I was, to explore life, and a place for my weekly dose of punugulu, mirpakai bajjis, and the you-will-never-forget Babaiah Hotel idlis.

The shift was sea-change, and the difference, huge. Perhaps, the only commonality being the everywhere-present MG Road. A Labbipet there was not even like a distant cousin to Lakdi-ka-pool here. Of course, like Hyderabad had its Birla Mandir on the Naubat Pahad, Vijayawada had the Kanakadurgamma gudi on the Indrakeeladri. From the land of bagunaara, to the land of baitho yaaron, it was a transition I had to get used to. Nevertheless, the thought of leading the rest of my life in Hyderabad was itself invigorating. Though (I must confess) from the inside, Vijayawada was still a manaooru, and that’s something I feel even to this day.

Ten years, countless biryanis and many parsons later, I’m almost a Hyderabadi. Need to tell you that back then, summers were just 38 degrees even at 2 ‘O’ clock in the afternoon. A plate of idli at Anand Bhavan on S.D. Road would cost just Rs.5 (would be almost like a freebie today!). While a typical family outing on a Sunday would be something like shopping at Cherma’s, dinner at the Taj Mahal, and the First Show at Sangeet. Though these places still exist today, what doesn’t exist is the charm to an evening of this kind. All thanks to the bustle that’s characteristic of Hyderabad today.

Life moved on, so did my serious hunt for that haunting ‘Meals Ready’ board, as I would go about scouring through the streets of Ameerpet for ‘Andhra meals’. My efforts did pay off. Slowly, I would come to know of places that would satiate my appetite for a plateful of punugulu, mirch-bajji – absolutely Vijayawada-style. Even today, on my way back from my workplace (located in Banjara Hills), a stop-over at a tiffin centre serving these snacks is a must. Must say I’m instantly transported to Vijayawada, not by a SVR Travels’ overnighter though!

Hyderabad’s progressed, and beyond limits. I agree ‘limits’ sounds a wee bit controversial, but then, that’s what it is. Though Hyderabad is home today, I do miss the next-door mamma garu, the pulihora, and the irresistible aavakai pachchadi. Summing up, in a way, Hyderabad is a home away from home now.

Aithe untanu, malla kaluddam andi!