The suppressed feminine

07 Jul

No am not talking about THE church suppressing THE feminine. It’s a little more personal. Listing a series of my life s regrets, not all of them unalterable per se but taking into account my hereditary laziness and total lack of will power they may alas turn out to be permanent.

  1. bull in a china shop

That’s my condition in the kitchen. If am not spilling things am burning them. My mother has vowed never to let me enter the kitchen ever despite all the continent shaped and smiley faced chappatis I can cook. Generally my family prefers starvation to mere haath ki bani subzi.

  1. shall we dance

By not giving me the usual bharatnatyam classes my parents put my social life on hold for very long time. All I can do is vigorously shake myself with limbs jutting out at awkward angles till some one takes me down crying epileptic attack. I mean a guy dancing awkwardly brings aawww cho cute but a girl stomping all over the place can be stuck with a retarded tag.

  1. please put your foot in now

That is in my foot in my mouth every time I open the latter. Often damage control results in permanently broken friendships. I also for the love of god cant do the senti stuff. The biggest philosophical outburst attributed to me till date remains jeevan ek bhaag hai. No one seems to understand the depth in those words.

4. the nightingale’s song

I love music, although people may say my kind of music is just a bunch of guys yellling. But my attempts at rabindra sangeet in school used to fetch a C. I had once requested my teacher to give me a C without testing my vocals. She refused and decided not to even use the harmonium and let my taal do the trick.

5. peela dupatta neela suit

If not for Deep and Suni, Govinda may well have been my fashion icon.
I have shamelessly tried to copy them in college and people started treating me as a human again. Alas the damage had been done early on. What will I do now remains a mystery. Don’t be surprised if I follow the same style for the remainder of my life. Also from someone who had to be dragged crying and pleading to shop, I can now shop or rather window shop till the cows come home. (no, the cow wasn’t a pun or a reference to me)

6. ghar ka kaam

I hate it and am as good at it as Tulsi is at cabret. So I just let it pile, dirty clothes, dirty dishes…just generally dirt. Till am left with no option but to either suffocate to death or clean. But the day when you end up washing your entire wardrobe it is THE day, believe me.

A litany of miseries doesn’t do any one any good. So I shall stop now.

Till the next time. Keep your foot in mouth and keep piling!!


Posted by on July 7, 2006 in Uncategorized


7 responses to “The suppressed feminine

  1. Anonymous

    July 7, 2006 at 2:39 pm

    Miss hostel life yaar…dancing n all :)too many gud memories..


  2. d_grail

    July 7, 2006 at 10:23 pm

    tell me about it….things are sooo diff here…woh to ghar jaisa lagta tha…

  3. Batty

    July 8, 2006 at 2:00 am

    No comments…You already know what am gonna say….:)

  4. Anonymous

    July 8, 2006 at 10:00 am

    Your uncanny way of presenting simple things in a humourous way is just 2 gud….But now i really want to eat something prepared by you(Only after doctors of AIIMs calls off their strike)

  5. Deepti

    July 13, 2006 at 3:58 am

    hullo..missin u after readin al tht..

  6. d_grail

    July 13, 2006 at 8:43 am

    should i reveal ur identity to the world wide web 😉
    i miss u 2 babe…more than ever…

  7. sasha

    October 11, 2006 at 11:05 am

    u hv an amazing sense of humour n presenting simple thngs in a style…
    gud goin………..
    this is d first blog i m read’g n beleive me i m being kind of fascinated towards u.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: