<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867</id><updated>2012-02-16T15:55:09.661-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ifs and Buts of Life</title><subtitle type='html'>Vague questions that float in and out of my head that dont necessarily mean anything, but then again.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-6997342825300039309</id><published>2011-02-18T10:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T10:22:49.945-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anniversary!</title><content type='html'>We complete a year!!!!!!! A year??????? A beautiful year of marriage!!!!!! 365 days of living together!!!!! One year of loving, fighting, cuddling, sleeping, yelling, cooking, travelling, planning, hunting (for work for me), being supportive, being non-judgmental, being lazy, cycling, cleaning, working late, fighting some more, making up, making out, holding hands, talking, waiting up (usually me for himwhen he's working late), laughing, celebrating, dancing, ironing, crying (wee bit, sometimes), getting used to our different routines and body clocks, surprising the other and so much more that we've done together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Anniversary dearest hubby. I love you so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-6997342825300039309?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/6997342825300039309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=6997342825300039309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6997342825300039309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6997342825300039309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2011/02/anniversary.html' title='Anniversary!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-1447431274368419054</id><published>2010-09-09T05:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T05:43:51.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The NEED to blog.</title><content type='html'>So, I may have stopped blogging, or at least taken a hiatus of sorts, but I still do read my regular ones. I read Utopia a few days ago and was smiling to myself at her NEED to blog at these inane moments. I was seized by one such moment last night. Well after Hubby and I had tucked in for the night. But I didn't. Then. So here I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it goes like this. Hubby and I are still, relatively speaking, newly weds. I've been told you are called that for your first year of marriage. So we are still finding our feet around this awesome institution. And may I add, we are loving it. Yes, I have taken for speaking on behalf of the Hubby. He doesn't get a word in these days. But he was forewarned, by his father, a man well conditioned to marriage and its implications.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any-hoo, I digress. So, we are newly weds and I'm still adjusting to the fact that the Hubby likes his socks to be kept next to his shoes in the shoe rack (open shoe rack, if you may) and not in the socks drawer, while the Hubby is learning that I take half hour to bathe. He has proposed keeping a blanky and pillow in the bathroom cupboard, such a drama queen I tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the midst of all this adjusting, just when we think we have finally settled into peaceful co-existence, we get the news of some friend going through a divorce and it rattles our world. And believe you me, this is happening at regular intervals and waaayyy too frequently for our liking. And it scares the living daylights out of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday, I heard rumours about this amazing couple, who a friend suspects, have parted ways and when he told me about it, I was genuinely dumbfounded. It really did not make any sense. But then again, when have matters of the heart been ruled by logic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Hubby got back from work, I told him about it and he really didn't know what to say. As I said, we've been hearing about far too many such incidents for our liking. So, we talked, he was tired, we had a nice home cooked meal and tucked in for the night. Except, I just couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned all night examining our marriage, checking for fissures, making sure we were doing everything right, wondering if I could have been more understanding when he needed to nod off in the afternoon after having woken up at noon or if he could understand that I usually use abuses as terms of endearment and a thousand other such moments. I swear I didn't get a wink of sleep. I watched the sun rise (which, BTW is awfully early these days, half five for chrissakes) and that's when I NEEDED to blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed to blog about these fears and insecurities and these stories of friends falling apart and why he didn't hug me while sleeping tonight and just when I had made up my mind to get out of bed and vent, he reached for my hand, pulled it over himself, turned around and grunted off to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to stay and enjoy what I wanted to blog about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-1447431274368419054?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/1447431274368419054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=1447431274368419054' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/1447431274368419054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/1447431274368419054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2010/09/need-to-blog.html' title='The NEED to blog.'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-5739599639438522251</id><published>2010-01-27T06:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T06:38:47.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Him versus Her</title><content type='html'>In case you were wondering as to where I've disappeared, well, nowhere, as of now, but that will change soon. Let me give you the lowdown, though I have no idea how to express the past 6 months of events in words, here!!!!!! Here goes:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, its October, work is easy-peasy, so much so that it was ok that I didn't turn up for work 5 days in a row and showed up only for 3 hours everyday for the next 20! In short, life was good. That's when he came along. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We met up in the most routine, non-romantic manner possible (at a construction site where a relative was hoping to build something, if you must know). Next thing you know, we were headed off for lunch and ended up spending the day together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It started off with one day and before we knew it, we were spending his entire vacation together through the day and texting and talking on the phone in the wee hours :) It felt great. We were well aware that everyone around us had held a magnifying glass to our relationship and was waiting for it to culminate into something more concrete, we thought we'd atleast take some time and figure out if we'd like to take it somewhere (that was about as concrete a something as we could offer back then, or so we thought). 10 days of meeting each other and we decided to take a call on whether we'd even want to consider taking 'us' to the next level. For this 'call' we gave ourselves 2 weeks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 days later, he proposed and I accepted!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here I am, clearing out my office desk, emotional as hell, looking at the template for our wedding card and just waiting for the D-day!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those who know me, well you know how much I like my work. For those who dont, well I like (read absolutely adore) my work and the very fact that I'm packing up, ready to leave, for Him, should be a fair indication of how much I love him!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, its not!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Coz I love him waaaaaaaaay more than that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When people claim to be poles apart, they have no friggin clue what they're talking of. Get in touch and I shall tell you what 'poles apart' means. For starters, sample this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Teetotaler&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Love my alcohol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Pure vegetarian&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Will eat anything that once moved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Hates tea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Consume it by the gallon on a daily basis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Idea of a perfect weekend is waking up at noon, only to eat and go back to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Idea of a perfect weekend is being up and about early and getting as much done as I can possibly fit into 24 hours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Introvert&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I am the one who takes 'extrovert' to a whole new dimension.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have tonnes more to compare, but this should give you a fair idea of what this marriage entails! To add to it the fact that he is making me quit my job to move to another continent altogether, on paper I should be hating his guts, except.........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The D-day is 22 days away and I'm strangely cool for a first time bride :) Pray people, even if its just the 2 people who read this, please pray! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-5739599639438522251?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/5739599639438522251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=5739599639438522251' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5739599639438522251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5739599639438522251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2010/01/him-versus-her.html' title='Him versus Her'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-5369974325930998853</id><published>2009-10-07T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T10:19:19.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Bells!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Veni, Vedi, Valentine. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He came, he saw, he fell in love. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now we're getting married! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;PS: Happy Utopia? ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-5369974325930998853?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/5369974325930998853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=5369974325930998853' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5369974325930998853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5369974325930998853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2009/10/wedding-bells.html' title='Wedding Bells!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-1509921396356937263</id><published>2009-08-22T05:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T06:21:37.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuddenly it'f cool to be called Kaminey!</title><content type='html'>Kaifey Kaifey Aifey Waifey ho jata hai, aifey waifey kaifey kaifey ho jata hai! From Iqbal's verse to 'dhan tan tan', the movie had it all. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fahid Kapoor as the quintessential goody two shoes Guddu and the epitome of the the spirit of the movie Charlie was, to sum it up, FTUNNING!!!!!!!!!!! Priyanka Chopra acted, which by itself should be enough, but would you believe it, she acted well? Very well. Chandan Roy Sanyal as Mikhail was a find, but the actor who stole the show was Amol Gupte as Bhope Bhau. In a movie where everyone and I mean ABFOLUTEY everyone has done such a fabulous job, it must've been supremely tough to pick a favorite and for one to overshadow the others, but yes if anyone did overshadow the rest, it was Amol Gupte. What is tougher to fathom is that there is sooooooo much talent all in one guy (he is the writer of  Taare Zameen Par). Kinda unfair to the rest of humanity. What actually starts to sink in a few weeks after the movie is the sheer brilliance of Vishal Bhardwaj and his wife Rekha Bhardwaj. Supremely talented couple and I dont know how their minds work the way they do, but I am so glad they do. From Maqbool to Omkara to Kaminey, their work has been outstanding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This post was not intended to be a movie review, but the entire experience was so overwhelming. References to Quentin Tarantino and Martin Scorsese are inevitable and for the first time, I saw a hindi movie good enough to belong to that genre. The dialogues, cinematography, background score, direction, everything was FUPER. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone I saw it with LOVED the movie. So much so that frantic plans are being made to watch it over and over again with different groups of people in a bid to educate the masses (white man's burden et all). But I do hear of people who did not like the movie at all. Here's my theory to it:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"There are two kind of people in this world. One who loved the movie and two who did not understand it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-1509921396356937263?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/1509921396356937263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=1509921396356937263' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/1509921396356937263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/1509921396356937263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2009/08/fuddenly-itf-cool-to-be-called-kaminey.html' title='Fuddenly it&apos;f cool to be called Kaminey!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-6903179755204108144</id><published>2009-07-13T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T21:43:58.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The things we do!</title><content type='html'>He called her to let her know he was coming over for a day. Just ONE day. That too, when he was coming over for work. She didn't hold her breath. They were quite used to this, being in the same town for a couple of hours and not meeting, calling from airports to drop a word and going away, sharing crazy moments together in one city and then acting like strangers the very next time they'd meet. They were entertaining to say the least. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She had met him a few weeks ago, when they'd shared a good meal with fabulous wine. It started off with a huge gang of friends and slowly with each passing hour one or the other dropped off till it was only them, sharing the night, the wine and the proximity. It was rather heady and it took them all their resolve to head off in opposite directions as the day drew to a close. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now, here he was calling her to let her know he was coming over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She made other plans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They both had learnt long ago to not count on each other for the usual pleasantries and meeting expected norms of civil behaviour. Hence, without waiting for a word from him, she made other plans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He landed and called. They spoke and then he had to rush for work. He called again. They spoke and then she had to head for work. He called again and implored her to meet him. This she wasn't used to. The vulnerable side of him. He'd always kept his guard up. She had suspected him of something many many years ago but all these years of aloofness forom his end convinced her that it was her imagination. But now, he WANTED to meet her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She went over to pick him up for a meal. He asked her in and couldn't keep his eyes off her. The first genuine compliment in a few years fell from his mouth and her astonishment made him cup his hand over his mouth. He knew he'd given himself away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He held her close. But she knew at the back of her mind that their table awaited them and time was really not on their side. He breathed in her perfume and she his eyes. They knew they had to choose. It took them only one second to make that choice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As his lips drew closer to hers, she chose her Heineken. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-6903179755204108144?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/6903179755204108144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=6903179755204108144' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6903179755204108144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6903179755204108144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2009/07/things-we-do.html' title='The things we do!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-3258118619710408094</id><published>2009-01-28T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T07:53:34.881-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heave Ho and Off We Go!</title><content type='html'>To my 2 regular anonymous readers:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for your support, but you know I need to get off for a while. So, its toodles for a bit from me, I dunno if and when I'll be back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Till later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-3258118619710408094?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/3258118619710408094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=3258118619710408094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3258118619710408094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3258118619710408094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2009/01/heave-ho-and-off-we-go.html' title='Heave Ho and Off We Go!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7419282886945156493</id><published>2009-01-19T23:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T00:12:05.898-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Rudolph, warmth and the Big 'O'!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Since I have SOOOOOOOOOOOO much going through my head right now, lots of which I can write about and mostly stuff I can't share (sowie), I am going to be my methodical self and jot all of 'em down. It clears my head and gives you something to roll your eyes at. Win-win situation, wouldn't you say?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So, today's the BIG day!!! "The Big O" is going to be redefined. I intend (read fervently pray) to be able to watch it on HBO, but I have a feeling that work might just get in the way. I don't quite know why I am so excited, its not like him being the US President significantly changes things for me in any way, or even for any of us regular Indians. But somehow, every time I see the turnout at one of his rallies before he became President Elect, or even now, when I see him address the people, I still get goosebumps. Kinda bandwagon/ mob mentality like behaviour, but hey, I'd rather be a part of this wagon than any other. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This global warming bit is getting to me now. What in heaven's name happened to the Delhi winters? The one solitary thought that keeps me going through the dreadful summer is the thought of winter. (Summer includes spring, monsoon and autumn, there is no season worth experiencing in North India other than winters). So I pine and whimper and pine and whimper and cuss my way through summer, hopeful of a nice, cold, freeze your ass, bring tears to your eyes kinda winter. And lo behold, I do get it. FOR TWO F***ING DAYS!!!!!!! Seriously, Big Guy up there, are you kidding me?????Kinda puts the entire global warming stuff into perspective. Please guys, for my sake if not yours, take care, switch off your appliances when you aren't using them, switch off your lights, turn off the ignition at traffic lights, car pool, walk, run, cycle, I dunno, just get my winters back..PLEASE!!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Onto men. You didn't see that coming? Seriously? Well, no this is not a rant about men, but just yet another example of we women are obviously destined to rule the world. I was trying to reverse my car out of the driveway and onto the road, now at the risk of sounding like a lil humbug, let me assure you that my skills at reversing are not bad, in fact i'd venture to say that they're at par with most male drivers I know and better than some too. So there I am reversing and my friend decides to be the 'knight in shining armour'. Since he knows for a fact that I am a woman and hence cannot reverse, it's up to him to help me out here. So he leaps out of the car, decides to stand next to the passenger window and direct me. Except he forgets a minor detail like the glass coming in his way and smack, heads nose first into the window. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!! I collapsed. I just collapsed laughing, his face was priceless. He has been christened Rudolph and I still crack up every time I am reminded of his face hitting the window like a goldfish charging at full speed only to collide with the glass bowl and look around completely perplexed as to what the hell just happened. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here's to history, us being alive to witness it and replacing men with sperm banks!!! Ok, maybe I'm just kidding about the last bit, maybe!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7419282886945156493?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7419282886945156493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7419282886945156493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7419282886945156493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7419282886945156493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2009/01/of-rudolph-warmth-and-big-o.html' title='Of Rudolph, warmth and the Big &apos;O&apos;!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-5161236819450872315</id><published>2008-12-25T22:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T22:20:01.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Meri Christmas!</title><content type='html'>Christmas was unbelievable. An impromptu plan got ma, cousins, aunt and me to catch a movie at 10: 25 in the morn! Seriously!! What's worse is that we were all there on time. Whew, we were quite a sight, 5 women in CP catching a 10:25 a.m. show. We saw Oye Lucky and man was it fabulous or was it absolutely fabulous. Smashing screenplay, brilliant acting by Abhay Deol and a scathing take on Delhi and punjabis. Ooooff!! Mind blowing. I think I can definitely see it again. We all stumbled out a lil drunk on the movie and incredulous at our own ability to cross the seven seas for a good movie. The afternoon saw us shopping like...well..women in CP and off we trudged to aunt's house for lunch. Post lunch, all I could think of was the bed, the quilt, some sunlight on my face and a fabulous book I was reading calling "Three Cups of Tea". But my cousin had some other plans, I dont know where she got the enthusiasm from but she managed to convince us to step out for another round of shopping. We kids were lured into it with promises of funky jackets and sweaters, but once in the market, all we were made to do was shop for veggies. An hour and a half into this when I took a moment to sit back and I saw us 3 cousins carrying 5 packs of a kilo each of some vague green veggie (Blech), that's when it hit me that we were no more than extra pairs of hands to lug the stuff around while my aunt and mum laughed (ostensibly at some joke, but I saw them look at us, point and guffaw, all this while shaking their heads as if to say 'suckers')&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any how, after 2 hours of this torture, they finally decided to cut us some slack and we headed home for a nice session of tea accompanied with tonnes of plum cake, eateries from Wengers and tiramisu. Maybe it was the food or sheer exhaustion, but my cousin came up with what then seemed like quite a brainwave. Another movie, this time at 7:15 p.m. The only movie playing in the evening was Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, I really had no inclination to see it, but I wanted to go back to the hall just to see the look on my ma's face. She was aghast at the thought of 2 movies in a day. Ha ha ha ha ha. Quite a sight. So cousins and I sauntered across, bought tickets, came back, finished our tea (read stuffed our faces with everything on the table) and headed back to the movie hall, this time round dad accompanied us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The movie was HORRENDOUS!!!!!! It was the singular most horrible movie that I have ever seen and thanks to some friends, I have seen lots of horrid ones. The story was non existent, the acting was hamming, the music was barf inducing, the entire package just made me wonder if the film makers really think the audience is THAT stupid!!!!! Bleary eyed, we fell out over ourselves at 10:30 and made our way back home!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ma is still in a states of shock, I dont know if it was the fact that she saw 2 movies in a day or just the 2nd movie by itself. I think its the latter!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hope all of you had fun. A very merry christmas to all of you and in case I dont see you again, a Happy New Year!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-5161236819450872315?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/5161236819450872315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=5161236819450872315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5161236819450872315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5161236819450872315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/12/meri-christmas.html' title='Meri Christmas!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-910885502715592533</id><published>2008-12-11T04:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T22:56:58.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Craig David it is.</title><content type='html'>First Jovi now Craig David, its ridiculous how my life uncannily resembles these songs. So as of now,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm walking away, from the troubles in my life;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm walking away"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boy and I went about our separate ways a lil while ago. Both of us are moving on and with the proverbial 'deadline' looming large, are meeting new people in the good ol 'Indian Arranged Marriage' manner. We both seem to love the attention. So much so for taking tough calls. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-910885502715592533?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/910885502715592533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=910885502715592533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/910885502715592533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/910885502715592533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/12/craig-david-it-is.html' title='Craig David it is.'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-2433938314565313063</id><published>2008-11-07T04:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T05:09:47.262-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All I want is everything, am I asking too much?</title><content type='html'>I never thought I'd say this, but Bon Jovi suddenly makes sense. If and when that ever happens to you, that's when you know your life has hit rock bottom. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I am completely confused and totally clueless about what I want. I am great at taking decisions and can do so even under the most stressful conditions, but when it comes to taking decisions about my own life, I am as confused as a kid with the attention span of a gold fish, let loose in a candy store. I want to do everything, eat everything, go everywhere, drown myself completely in work one day in His arms the other and travel for the next six months with a false passport and under a false name. I want to do everything! Does this lack of commitment make me a guy? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, I have huge issues with commitment, so much so that even though I could afford a car long long ago, it took me a year to find the courage in myself to commit that kinda money in one place. People who envy the ease with which I place orders for lunch for a table of 25 do not know that the reason I manage to decide to quickly is only coz I know that I will get to do this all over again in a while, if I dont like what I get now. But then what do I do when I am to decide who I want to spend the better part of my life with?????&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really wish I could have some expert, with a sort of warrantee card that tells me that THIS is the guy who's best for you and you'll be ecstatically happy with him and everything will work out just fine, you have my word! The problem is compounded by the fact that I still have the notions of marriage being a 'till death do us part' concept, which runs the risk of making a wrong decision loom larger than ever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! HALP!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-2433938314565313063?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/2433938314565313063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=2433938314565313063' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2433938314565313063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2433938314565313063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/11/all-i-want-is-everything-am-i-asking.html' title='All I want is everything, am I asking too much?'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-2451210892425582798</id><published>2008-10-21T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T00:05:30.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The financial crisis and its effects on the common man.</title><content type='html'>Yawn!!! I can't believe the title to my own post. How could I come up with something like that? But I assure you, I aint writing from the perspective of an economist/ MBA/ financial advisor/ wealth manager or the billion other types of people who've already offered their two bits on this topic. What I have to say is something a lil more intimate.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Diwali, the Indian festival of lights (read partying, drinking, bingeing, gambling, making merry) is 6 days away. The festivities started about a month ago with the smaller festivals that lead up to this grand finale. India, especially north India like with everything else, tends to go a lil overboard with the celebrations. In the true flashy, opulent, ostentatious fashion local to north India, Diwali is also the time for people to indulge in some good old fashioned 'one upmanship' in terms of diwali presents for near and dear ones. The presents start flowing in a good fortnight before the actual festival and comparisons are inevitable. In true materialistic fashion, the fondness/ closeness/ intimacy/ depth of a relation is measured by the grandeur of his/ her present. A simple box of sweets to silverware to cell phones to the latest gizmo on the stands, diwali presents range far and wide. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year however, the celebrations are a lil muted.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was speaking with S over the phone and she remarked that maybe the recession is finally affecting the common man, coz this year, with 6 days to go, she's only received 4 diwali presents, one shoddier than the other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's what got me thinking. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, so much so for the long winded topic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news, the north Indian winters are setting in. It is my favourite time of the year and I would've loved it this year too, if it weren't for this dratted cold. My sniffles, throat and fever are at their all time best and I am still trudging in to work. No my boss is not an ogre, in fact he  told me today to stay at home and then when I insisted on coming over and wrapping up work he pointed out that I am addicted to coming to work. Sheesh!!! I need to reanalyze my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-2451210892425582798?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/2451210892425582798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=2451210892425582798' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2451210892425582798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2451210892425582798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/10/financial-crisis-and-its-effects-on.html' title='The financial crisis and its effects on the common man.'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-6590223941517851271</id><published>2008-10-14T03:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T04:06:16.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dilemma</title><content type='html'>I am currently surrounded by single women. No, this is not some guy's fantasy coming true. It's just the bare (pun unintended) truth. I am currently a single/ not so single/ confused person, but 97.35% of all my female friends, are surprise surprise...SINGLE! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now one would wonder what so many smart, funny, mostly attractive, well educated women are doing at this age in their lives when they should be married or at least on the anvil. Well, honestly, I wonder too. But then that's about all that we do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being in our late 20's in north India doesn't do too much to bolster our single status. Its not like we're feminists who have sworn off marriage completely, but lets face it, we aren't married, we dont see ourselves married in the near future and frankly, I think we're scared out of our wits about the entire institution. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most of our discussions centre around the acute dearth of nice men in the world. Seriously, is it too much to ask for a genuine, nice guy? Nothing out of the ordinary, no Brad Pitt, no millionaire, no prose spouting intellectual freak, just a nice guy, with a pleasant disposition, basic manners, family, a decent education, presentable looks, warm, caring and hard working guy. Is that too much to ask for? Apparently it is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our other issue being the decision about marriage. We dont have a problem with the institution. We dont advocate living in. But how in heavens name do you take the most important decision in your life? Seriously, all you married ones out there, do me a favour, drop me a line and let me know how you know for sure. Do you believe in soulmates? Are you convinced of The One for each one of us? How will we know if he is The One?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And if you give me crap like "gut feeling", "bells tinkling" "cows blinking", I'll hunt you down and shoot you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-6590223941517851271?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/6590223941517851271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=6590223941517851271' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6590223941517851271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6590223941517851271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/10/dilemma.html' title='The Dilemma'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-6430230458878861392</id><published>2008-10-03T23:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T23:34:29.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been imploring/ begging/ on my knees and wailing to Utopia to write me an exclusive post. One all about me and nothing else, (yes I am rather full of myself), but that was not to be. Now she's gone. So, its up to me to do the responsible thing, yet again, Sigh!! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just kidding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's to you woman:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My first memory of Utopia is of her sitting in the stairs of my place waiting for one of roomie's to come back, since they'd planned to do lunch together. I didn't know her then, but since I was headed out to lunch I asked her to come along. That was the first of our many meals together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the first few months of us knowing each other, Utopia seemed like a whirlwind of questions, emotions and expressions. She had a question about everything. Some rather inane and some really insightful ones (I don't know if she knows exactly how insightful some of those questions were). From the kind of loo in your house to your eating habits to philosophy, Utopia had to ask something about everything. To top it all, she had and sometimes still has this completely confused expression on her, quite like a HUGE question mark emblazoned on her forehead, which by the way is always drowned in furrows coz she frowns so much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Utopia eventually became my roomie and we stuck together for almost 4 whole years. Which is rather laudatory considering we had divergent views on everything, from the amount of light, to the kind of light, to mosquito repellents, to partying. But the few fundamentals that we agreed upon, that probably brought us together, were our love for reading, music, travelling, learning and eating. Since our other flatmates had lives way more happening than ours (read had boyfriends), it was just the two of us for each other. We'd eat together, head out and chill together, party together and occasionally go to college too. So much so that I had taken to announcing 'Honey I'm home' each time I came back from somewhere and she was home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every now and then we'd have our tiffs about closing windows, (Utopia needing complete closure and me dying for fresh air), mosquito repellents (Utopia lighting 3 in one room and me gasping for breath), lights (Utopia loving yellow and me initially preferring white light, she managed to convert me later and we both had these fabulous paper lamps hanging over our beds) and so many other things. One afternoon, Motu Boy and I came back home from college and found Utopia precariously perched on the window sill trying to put black paper on the ventilator windows in order to block the sun. Motu Boy and I pried her deathlike vice off the window panes and calmed her down and promised to do it ourselves just as long as she promised there were going to be no more suicide attempts on her part. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Utopia and I have so many memories. Most of them being really really really funny, all thanks to her and her antics and some not so nice ones, but we've seen each other through everything. I remember waking up on a sunday morn and reading and discussing the newspaper with Utopia while we sat on our beds, the way we'd enjoy our tea and toast while discussing the economy or some other major news. How we'd listen to the same radio station every single day coz it would be the only one playing english music, even though they obviously had only one cd which they played every single day, so much so that we knew the sequence of the songs. I remember Utopia interning in Delhi and falling in love with it and how I prophesied that she's be back. I remember us getting soaked every single day and how after a point of time we'd stopped caring and continued roaming in soaking wet clothes. I remember both us crying onto the shoulder of the other over some failed relationship. Us sitting around helplessly at the end of each month wondering about cheaper dining options in the city. Us fighting at the end of exam time coz we'd had just about enough of each other. Us complaining about the boys in our lives, all the time. The movies, the parties, the secret crushes which the other one would eventually figure out, the random acts of inexplicably insane behaviour, he drinking sessions, the books, the dreams, the ambitions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Utopia you've always been there and whether you'd believe it or not, you've mostly made sense. Here's to us, the future, the cyclic paths our lives seem to follow, to travel, to studying and above all, to love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-6430230458878861392?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/6430230458878861392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=6430230458878861392' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6430230458878861392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6430230458878861392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/10/ive-been-imploring-begging-on-my-knees.html' title=''/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-101856624420375719</id><published>2008-09-29T04:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T04:54:08.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Failure!</title><content type='html'>I wanted to write about the blasts! I wanted to try and understand what all of you out there feel about this, no not the enraged version, but a lil sober, well thought out, articulate version. I read SMM about her reservations against Muslims and am well aware of the general mindset that prevails in India and condescending statements about how all Muslims are not terrorists, but all terrorists are Muslims, etc etc. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I decided to examine the plight of a regular, non fundamentalist, educated Muslim. Here is someone who knows since the tender age of 5 that when she's travelling in public transport, she has to travel under a false name, more importantly, a Hindu name.  She's accused of being a Pakistani, which at the age of 3 is akin to being called anti national. She's often advised, suggested, threatened to go back to her country (Pakistan and not India, since it is assumed that Muslims ought to be in Pakistan and Hindus alone should be in India). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She went to one of the premier schools in the capital, went on to one of the prominent law schools in the country and when she needed to rent a place to stay in Delhi, she couldn't find one. Well that is until she assumed another false, Hindu name. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a youngster like one of us, she too enjoys the occasional party, but she's learnt to hold her identity close to her and it takes a while for her to let her guard drop and tell you her religion. If she'd ever tried keeping track of the number of times she's heard the lines "Oh, you dont look Muslim." (Like what is a Mussalman supposed to look like?) or "Really, you drink wine, isn't that anti islam?" or "Hey, I have a lotta Muslim friends." (and that makes you secular because...?????), she'd have aged centuries in a year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She hates how even the most educated, 'liberal', 'open minded' individuals end up differentiating on the basis of religion and how Prez. Mush. is called a liberal Mussalman only coz he enjoys his whiskey. She is appalled at how years of friendship, relationships and love are forgotten with each successive blast. She wonders how only the Muslims stand out as terrorists and the LTTE, Naxalites, ULFA and billion other organizations who run parallel governments now, are conveniently ignored since they aren't Muslim. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As an educated minority within her own community, she has long accepted that she needs to be the voice of reason, she needs to speak out for her people who cannot articulate their thoughts, their fears, their insecurities. Like the rest of her countrymen, she too hated fundamentalists, of all religions and she completely denounced any acts of terror, carried out in the name of Allah. But of late she knew she'd have to come to terms with the facts that she was fighting a losing battle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She'd fallen in love with someone, he loved her too. But he was Hindu and she was Muslim. He could see beyond that, but both of them knew that their families would not. They tried for a while, but it was just too painful. Eventually, like every other privilege, he too was snatched away from her, for being Muslim. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She had tried long and hard to be one of the regular, educated, cosmopolitan youths, but each look of suspicion, each denial of her right, each deeper scrutiny of her actions, was worrying her and she was learning to find safety in numbers. She now understood why her ilk sought refuge in ghettoes, where they'd be amongst their own, without being looked at accusingly or suspiciously. She knew she'd never become a fundamentalist, but she couldn't live like this either. That's when she knew she'd have to run away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She systematically liquidated her assets, closed all accounts, put in her papers at work, served her notice period, sold her car, had one final party at her place where her closest friends still genuinely enjoyed her company and boarded her flight to her freedom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her name appeared a week later in the list of dead, after they found her body from under the rubble.  She now knew there was no escaping it. She had tried to run to the other end of the world, but somehow had managed to board that very flight that now symbolizes the very basis of what she wanted to escape. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-101856624420375719?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/101856624420375719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=101856624420375719' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/101856624420375719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/101856624420375719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/09/failure.html' title='Failure!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7018393919900968983</id><published>2008-09-09T04:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T04:31:10.039-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Pees" dont go!</title><content type='html'>Today has been a rather boring day. I've been in office since 10:30, its currently 4:45 and I dont have any work left. So, I've been reading blogs and checking emails OCD'esquely' since 3. So, thus far, its been great. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, I dont know what triggered it, but I was suddenly reminded of my last break up. Well it wasn't as much of a break up as it was being dumped. Rather nasty bit of emotional crap but thankfully it happened about 4 years ago so, it doesn't smash my ego to smithereens like it used to. What made matters worse was that he used to be my best friend for so many years before we started dating and it ended coz he cheated on me (something he acknowledged only 2 years ago) but yeah, he then proceeded to dump me, date the other lady and dump her too and "flit from rose to rose" and till date he flits. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But my purpose of telling you this tale has nothing to do with the grotesque feelings associated with it. In fact, in retrospect, the events of that day after he left, are truly funny and I do manage to chuckle every time I think of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, so there he was stomping all over my heart. I'd seen it all along and I knew today would've come sooner or later but this was a lil too soon and decided for me. He came in around 5. 'A' (our other closest friend) was over visiting me. He came in barely spoke with A and much stomping later left, leaving A rather dazed and me rather upset.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I came out of my room and walked out of the house without so much as a word to A. I left my keys, my wallet and my phone behind me, thus disconnecting from the world, completely. I did not know what I was doing or what I would do. I just walked. And walked. And walked. I was kinda numb, in fact now that I think of it, I am sure I looked like quite the lunatic walking down the streets by herself with tears streaming down her face. Which also explains why I got the glances I did. So I walked and walked and walked, knowing fully well that A and the entire contingent of friends would be out looking for me or worried sick. I sat under a solitary bench by the road and just stared blankly into space. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Up till now I was quite the picture of misery and devastation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, I needed to pee!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ran back home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A was so relieved to see me without any visible traces of injury and I was plain relieved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess the call of nature is more urgent that that of a broken heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7018393919900968983?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7018393919900968983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7018393919900968983' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7018393919900968983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7018393919900968983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/09/pees-dont-go.html' title='&quot;Pees&quot; dont go!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-1343804351632001530</id><published>2008-09-06T00:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T00:58:17.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bucket List!</title><content type='html'>Its all about life giving you these signs. I dont know if anyone out there remembers this horrendous movie called "Final Destination". It was about a group of friends who are killed one by one coz they fail to recognize the warning signs life gives them. I thought the movie was a load of crap coz seriously, anything shot entirely in the dark with sudden noises and heart stopping crescendoes can send even the healthiest person into cardiac arrest. But I have all along and still do sincerely believe in life giving you signs. After all, we are all miniscule parts of a larger picture, right? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anyhoo, a few days ago this intern in my office was talking about the Morgan Freeman starrer, The Bucket List. Sounded like a great movie but a lil utopian to my liking. So it was back to the routine with scarce thought to the "list". Then this morn, I awoke, feeling miserable and well the passage of time has done nothing to alleviate my mood, so I decided to chuck work and read up some happy blogs. So I read http://skrinkeringhearts.wordpress.com/. Sorry I dont quite know how to post links and stuff just yet. I dont even think I will learn, bear with me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And guess what, she too spoke of the "list". That's when I realized I'd been ignoring the signs. So here's my list, in random order, with liberty to make additions and deletions at any given point in time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Bucket List&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. I want to travel the world, especially Europe, preferably backpack and spend obscene amounts of time in each place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Write legal literature.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Be a well known jurist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Have a house with a sprawling lawn and a basketball court.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Have a golden lab.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Teach.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Become an ambassador or high commissioner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Own the sexiest black dress possible and look absolutely stunning each time I wear it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Learn how to dance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Find a partner who enjoys dancing as much as I do and leads me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Go out for picnic and soak in some winter sun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Own a farm in the hills.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Buy dad an SUV.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Learn how to swim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Get into physical shape fit enough to play Lara Croft or Catwoman or something along those lines.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Learn one martial art from the Shaolin masters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Play tennis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. Learn golf.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. Be able to bake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. Love someone and be loved in return forever. Absolutely forever, without any doubt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. Be able to ride a motorcycle without being stared at.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. Tell people exactly what I think of them and not worry about ramifications. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. Be happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. Play in the rain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. Feel weak in the knees when kissing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;26. Try not to wear my heart on my sleeve.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;27. Have a baby and hope that he/she will grow up to be a good human being.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;28. Marry a happy guy. Someone who loves his family and spends time with them and has a great set of friends, some hobbies apart from my own and loves me dearly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;29. See Utopia find true love and get to keep it for eternity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;30. Stay best friends with Miss Touch Me Not and Utopia and Motu Boy forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have so many more things to add to this list, which I guess I will over time, but for now I have to run coz Boss' coming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-1343804351632001530?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/1343804351632001530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=1343804351632001530' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/1343804351632001530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/1343804351632001530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/09/bucket-list.html' title='The Bucket List!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-8891905805092832885</id><published>2008-09-01T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T07:05:35.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And I still haven't found what I'm looking for.</title><content type='html'>The winter heralds the marriage season in North India. Its fabulous, apart from the traffic that is. I love attending weddings, especially now since most of my close friends have started tying the knot. Its great to dance, drink and make merry into wee hours of the night in a stunning sari and ooh and aah over the bride and tell the couple how great they look together and catch up with old friends and crack up over stories from long long ago when the present bride/ groom was a geek/ freak and run to tell the other person the singular most embarrassing incident of their lives. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The forthcoming winters brought 3 really close friends' weddings. I met up with one of the brides to be a few days ago. We lived together in college and despite our lack of display of affection, are very very fond of each other and I know I can turn to her in times of need and I hope she knows that she too can rely on me for anything she wants. So, I met up with her a few days ago and being in a quandary about my personal life was going to ask her "how she knew/ was so sure about her husband to be". Instead of coming right out and asking her, I decided to ask her the progress on her wedding prep. That's when she told me...that the wedding was off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In true filmi fashion, the lights went out and both of us were staring at each other in pitch darkness (how that happens is something you have to experience to know) with this silence, thick enough to cut through, between us. I yelled out for a drink. She did the same. We downed our shots. And then she tried to get me to talk. I have exhibited withdrawal symptoms before, but nothing was this bad. Anyhow, we got talking and it turns out that the gentleman in question and she weren't compatible. Its  a pity she learnt of it only after the engagement, but better then than after marriage, right? Brave lady, she took the call and ended it. Applause!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am extremely proud of her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This obviously led me to some introspection and I realized that I had no clue where Boy and I were headed. Honestly, I aint sure about him any more. But I realize that could be as a result of my pent up irritation at our inability to take a step. So, here we are at the ripe old age of 26 and 30 respectively, earning well, settled in our careers, with the dream of travelling the world. And here we are dithering, unsure, unsteady, unstable and every other "un" you could conjure up. So in true female fashion, I ensured Boy bore the brunt of my excessive introspection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have now told him that he needs to take a call. If we dont want to give this up without a fight, then we need to speak with parents. In order to speak with the families, I need to be sure and I need him to be sure. In order for him to be sure, I need for him to believe in the institution of marriage to begin with. Else, we could walk away, none the wiser. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont know how to deal with this....suggestions anyone????&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-8891905805092832885?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/8891905805092832885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=8891905805092832885' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/8891905805092832885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/8891905805092832885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/09/and-i-still-havent-found-what-im.html' title='And I still haven&apos;t found what I&apos;m looking for.'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7145836073214553630</id><published>2008-08-07T05:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T05:27:25.349-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful Stranger!</title><content type='html'>I bumped into her a few days ago. She recognized me instantly. Well I recognized her too, despite the fact that she had changed a helluva lot. Ignoring the obvious weight gain, she still had changed. We exchanged our polite hellos, tried to act very nicely and discussed the most inane things under the sun, including the weather if you may please. That was when P started talking. Two words from that wretched mouth were enough to make us realize how much we hated his guts. I for one had almost forgotten my immense dislike for him, which came rushing back instantly, leaving a bile like taste in my mouth. I recoiled in disgust. I saw her visibly shudder too. We both noticed the other's reaction and laughed. A common enemy was a greater bond than a common friend. That's all that was needed and the floodgates opened. Old stories, incidents, where life had now taken us, personal notes, everything was exchanged. from the breakfast meeting, to lunch, to dinner, to the drive back, we were inseparable. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, Boy had found no mention in this entire conversation. I assumed she knew, she assumed i did not. She was wrong. The truth was that she knew what she needed to and I knew what I had to. Both uncomfortable in each other's knowledge but secure in the fact that it was all pointless; the knowledge and the ignorance. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I met Boy, I told him of my meeting with her. He seemed ok with the idea. I conveyed my appreciation of her thoughtful ways and asked if he'd be ok with me being in regular touch with her. I was met with silence. I knew both persons were still rather bitter. I did what I could. I ordered for dessert.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7145836073214553630?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7145836073214553630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7145836073214553630' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7145836073214553630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7145836073214553630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/08/beautiful-stranger.html' title='Beautiful Stranger!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-3982980447704187801</id><published>2008-07-04T05:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T06:00:05.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We're all going on a summer holiday, no more work for a week or two...</title><content type='html'>So I've been missing in action...(missing out on action is more like it!) and I could attribute it to the fact that I was supposed to be on vacation, or I could just tell you the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Courts were shut for a month and EVERYBODY..and I do mean E V E R Y B O D Y was vacationing. M jetted off to Mauritius, A's boss was in South Africa, some others went to the less exotic spots in India, T went back home down south and I was wondering where to head off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except that I didn't. Nowhere!! Zip! Zilch! NOTHING!!!!!!! I did not go anywhere in a month long holiday!!!! The curious reader may wonder what it was that I then did for an entire month!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WORKED!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, it sounds terrible and I agree, it was. Its not like I didn't want to go out someplace, its just that I couldn't. Boy, for all his promises of not touching a single file through June worked with greater gusto than ever. M (not the Mauritius one, the less lucky soul) came down with an eye infection that nicely popped up with regular frequency each time we made a plan for even a weekend getaway. Yes, seriously, bloody nasty infection, I am sure it had its spies planted on my mobile, my comp and even on me coz every time I rescheduled our plan for a time by when the doc had advised the infection would go away, it popped right back up like a horrible bad penny. You have to give it marks for perseverance, if nothing else. Yes, yes I know the victim here is M who suffered the infection and not me, but seriously, I think I suffered it in equal measure. But I am all praise for the kind organization the Great Indian Outdoors, who not only rescheduled my plan thrice for 3 different weekends, but also sweetly, without a single murmur  refunded the entire money. I highly recommend the people for their kindness and efficiency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what with M and Boy and everyone else bolting from every plan, I too decided to then drown my sorrows in my work. Boy's sis, a non legal professional, rightly so, thinks of us as major frauds. You would too if you partied on weeknights and worked during a month long vacation and your idea of getting off early from work meant getting out at 9 p.m. But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, work. Yes the one all consuming activity. Mercifully I love it, so I dont complain, but of late the atmosphere in my office was anything but congenial. My boss is a sweetheart, I adore him. He's the perfect blend of a boss, daddy, drinking buddy and an ace lawyer. But above all, he's a great human being. The other colleagues are a different ball game altogether. So the vacations saw me working, not too hard but hard enough for vacations, sobbing a lil over work, squabbling with Boy over "where we're headed" and generally wallowing in misery. Of course this over and above the making plans, canceling, rescheduling, canceling, rescheduling....you get the drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, when Boy and I, despite being in love with each other, couldn't stand the sight of each other, decided to take it easy for a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to put things in perspective lets tell you the ground reality. Boy is staunchly against DA. Not PDA (Public Display of Affection), but DA (Display of Affection) in general. He assumed I know he loves me. Of course i know that and he dare not try otherwise, but like every other woman, I too need to be told/ reminded/ advertised on a blimp that he does. So he could go for days without calling/ messaging/ meeting/ talking and I swear at times I could kill him. I am not the clingy kinds, but for all my Superwomaness, I need to hear that he loves me once in a millennium. So I took to calling him 3 times a day and his laidbackness irritated the hell outta me. Torn between the idea of meeting him nicely and ripping his eyes out on seeing him, we decided to take it easy for a while. It did help that he echoed my sentiments to the letter. So now we dont talk everyday and we dont meet everyday and somehow, its worked. He calls up on his own and wants to meet. You dont know how big a breakthrough it is to have him take initiative. Seriously, if only you knew Boy you'd be able to appreciate the magnitude of the progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now Boy tries and get done with work early on and we still dont meet. We look forward to the weekend when we could probably catch up on a meal or talk or just relax, in fact today Boy wrapped up court and smuggled lunch with me. So its nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact that's him calling to head out for a chat and then dinner at his sis' place. Gotta run. Toodles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-3982980447704187801?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/3982980447704187801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=3982980447704187801' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3982980447704187801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3982980447704187801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/07/were-all-going-on-summer-holiday-no.html' title='We&apos;re all going on a summer holiday, no more work for a week or two...'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-2023489552676255530</id><published>2008-04-23T03:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T03:48:04.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready, "steady", go!!</title><content type='html'>So there she was, sipping an iced beer on a sultry Monday afternoon. More Mondays like this are definitely needed, she thought to herself. Across her, this guy sipped on some cold coffee and buried his nose further into his book. She rued not bringing a book along, but she had intended for conversation. So she made do with the flat screen in front of her showing the same news on one of those billion blink and miss news channels. It could only hold her interest for so long. Her eyes scanned the place. She tried to ignore the lovers at the table far across the room engaged in a rather obvious spat. The old gentleman who had actually managed to prop his feet on the couch and looked ready to catch forty winks was also interesting, but what really captivated her was this gentleman sitting across her, reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her attempts at watching him went unnoticed in the crowd and his own interest in his book. She decided that she liked his nose best. Sharp without the Pinocchio factor and  steady. She knew that "steady" didn't really describe a nose, but in his case it just seemed so apt. His nose was steady!   The nostrils steadily flaring and subsiding with each breath, calm, composed and well..steady!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at the book in his hand. Shantaram!!! Hmm, nice book. Classic enough to be caught reading in public and intriguing enough to genuinely be reading it.  Plus his reading speed had landed him  at respectable  depth into the book and he seemed to be really reading the book. This gentleman was interesting!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another swig and she realized how nice the beer felt. Nothing makes you appreciate beer more than having one on a hot, sticky Monday afternoon. She glanced at the guy again. He was having cold coffee and some biryani!! Chicken she guessed. Nice combo, but why wasn't he having beer? Why would anyone not have beer today? Well, maybe he was driving later, maybe he couldn't stop at one, maybe he was an alcoholic who had been off the wagon after rehab. But, she knew she was letting her imagination get the better of her. He didn't seem to be any of those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His hair looked a lil off, but it was acceptable for a Monday afternoon. After all, she  was not the picture of composure herself. but his hair looked like he needed a cut. Wavy, not curly, wavy. She couldn't stand men with curly hair. It really turned her off, but wavy hair was nice. In fact now that she thinks of it, everything about that guy seemed nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beer coupled with the intensive gazing session was making her drowsy and the world seemed like such a nice place. However, a loud crash in the background brought her back and she turned to see that the lover's spat in the corner had acquired a whole new dimension altogether. The lady had slammed her mug causing the tray to tilt and bring the  and saucer crashing to the ground. The lady picked up her bag and stormed out, while the guy just sat there looking completely embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She figured the fun was over and turned around to study the object of her interest, only to find him standing right next to her with his hand outstretched saying, "Lets go love, they've announced our flight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Together, they were steady!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-2023489552676255530?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/2023489552676255530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=2023489552676255530' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2023489552676255530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2023489552676255530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/04/ready-steady-go.html' title='Ready, &quot;steady&quot;, go!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7687738582876912790</id><published>2008-03-27T01:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T02:45:00.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanking you in anticipation!</title><content type='html'>When I started out with this blog, I'd imagined it to be an emotional vent for me where I could truly write how I feel about personal and professional issues and anything else that affects me, all under the cloak of anonymity. I have been true to my goal in parts, but to be honest, I have held myself back on more than one occasion. Hesitation, the fear of being identified, apprehension at who's reading this blog (though I can safely narrow that down to 3 people on the whole world wide web) and in doing so I have been untrue to my motivation behind this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think that this is one of those posts where I will fling aside my invisibility cloak and stand up straight and tell people exactly what I think of them, then you're slightly mistaken. I am not on a death-wish just yet. There are so many things I want to tell everyone, some I'd like to yell from the rooftops and some I'd like to discuss in hushed conspiratorial tones over coffee, but there still exist a billion hurdles and more. So I shall yet again disguise my truth with a liberal dose of fiction and try and get the point across subtly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She loved him. She'd loved him for as long as she could care to remember. Despite their obvious superficial differences, she loved him. He was her and around him, she too was herself. They met up regularly, addicted as they were to each other. She knew he liked her too, but sometimes the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach scared her. What if he were like the others? What if he too was bored in a bit? What if he cheated on her, used her, left her, lied to her? And a billion other (sometimes) irrational fears consumed her. But somehow, she trusted him. Completely, sometimes more than herself. Somehow, he was always right. Knew the right thing to say, to do, take the right decision and just be perfect without being righteous about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of years into this, he realized he needed to know. He needed to know if she was the one. He'd always been a regular guy when it came to relationships. He hated being ordinary and stereotypical in any aspect, but he knew he was oh so regular when it came to commitment. An exit door was a must in every relationship and this too was no different. Shady and unfair as it was, he'd been completely honest to her about it. Marriage was not his cup of tea and he'd made it rather evident whenever possible. Its not that he didn't like her but he wasn't sure about loving her yet coz that would've implied a commitment at some level. But now he just needed to know. Without compromising on his loyalty, he met up with other ladies. Well to be fair to him, he did it while 'they' were on a break! Yet, somehow noone held his attention for too long. Some were too simple, some were way too complicated and some were simply unbearable. One morning he woke up and he just knew. It had to be her. Noone else would ever do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He reached for his phone and called her up to meet up in the evening. It was the most unromantic way of going about it and now that he thought of it, he'd made it seem like any other conversation he had ever had with her, or anyone else for that matter. He'd made it as mundane as talking about the weather, yet somehow when he told her, he saw her smile and a single tear drop roll down her cheek. Surprisingly, he mirrored her reaction in toto. The coffee shop disappeared and there was noone but the two of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They spoke about it for the next few days and wondered what it wold be like living together. the actual ceremonies, the celebrations, the house they'd live in, waking up together every morn and a billion other intimate details. The joy in their hearts was for everyone to see. Even though they'd promised each other that till something concrete wasn't done, they'd not tell anyone about it, but the radiant faces were difficult to mask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was until they realized they'd need to talk to family. In all their exuberance, they'd forgotten a tiny detail. He was a foreigner. Convincing families on both sides was a herculean task and neither wanted to celebrate the biggest moment of their lives minus family. They promised each other that they'd stand by each other through the stormy times that lay ahead. They would speak with each other's family and try and convince them to come around. Worst case scenario, they'd wait. They swore they'd wait till their families blinked and only then would they come together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With her hand in his, she led him to meet her folks, her heart thumping audibly. After debating for days over the strategy they would employ, they'd realized they would have to take the bull by its horns. The reaction was as anticipated, her folks hit the roof. Irrational, enraged, melodramatic, tearful; not a single emotion was left out. They held hands, bowed their heads and stood together waiting for the storm to subside. They told them time and again that they would not do anything if family did not consent and they were willing to wait for them to come around. They wanted to do this with them rather than without them, even though they had several opportunities and as consenting adults, they really did not need their permission. But they wanted to do the right thing. He squeezed her hand hoping to give her some of his own strength to bear the onslaught that she would have to face as he left them to talk. She steadied herself for what lay in store for her. She was stoic as she dodged  every emotion they threw her way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She just muttered over and over again that she would not be with him if they didn't want her to, but she would not be with anyone else either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been ten years since..........and they are still waiting!!!!!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7687738582876912790?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7687738582876912790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7687738582876912790' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7687738582876912790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7687738582876912790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/03/thanking-you-in-anticipation.html' title='Thanking you in anticipation!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-8816372948451936111</id><published>2008-03-13T05:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T05:58:09.804-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Weight'y Issues.</title><content type='html'>The winters have gone...Sigh!! The summers were here, but just for a bit. For the past few days the weather has been fabulous. Its nice, cloudy, windy, fresh and really invigorating. In fact, the weather has been so great that I have decided to restart with my morning run. Well, honestly, its not so much the weather as it has been other "weight"y issues. Yes, yes the north Indian winters have left an indelible mark on me; the extra 2 inches around my waist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All through winters I have gorged on food. I gorged and gorged and gorged to the extent that I gave a higher meaning to the word "gorge". I did put on a considerable amount of weight, like there is considerable amount of water in the Pacific, but I always passed off the flab as the 3 extra layers of clothing I purported to wear through the bitter cold. Umm..confession: There was, at any any given point in time, no more than 1 layer of woolen clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, at the back of my head, I knew that come summer I shall either have to continue wearing the 3 layers of clothing and be hunted down as the Abominable Snowman or I would have to lose the flab. In the larger interests of world economics and the ecological balance, I have chosen the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, each morn, I heave myself out of the cozy confines of my bed and run for about 40 minutes. It feels great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I've always been a superbly fit person. Agreed I've never been the anorexic thin bombshell, but I've prided myself on my fitness. A sportsperson all my life, I love the outdoors and vigorous physical sport. However, a sedentary, life consuming, and completely desk bound job does not leave me with much time or energy to follow any sport. Till some time ago I could not understand the rationale behind outdoor running. It seemed like a mindless activity. Kinda like golf, which according to me and I accept wrongly so, should not be considered a sport. I think of it as nothing more than a glorified walk in the park where you hit the ball then chase it down only to hit it further ahead and chase it again and so on and so forth. Well, running seemed kinda inane to me. That is till I actually started running. Now I'm hooked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is such an absolutely exhilarating experience, especially early in the morn. The Reebok campaigns about running, that seemed so warped once upon a time, now make sense. You have to actually run to be able to fathom what it feels like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, I am running. I am not losing any weight coz I still gorge, but yeah, I'm running and I love it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-8816372948451936111?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/8816372948451936111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=8816372948451936111' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/8816372948451936111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/8816372948451936111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/03/weighty-issues.html' title='&apos;Weight&apos;y Issues.'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7108267159986466727</id><published>2008-03-02T07:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T07:53:35.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Kooky"!!!</title><content type='html'>The other day, well friday actually, i was sitting with Boy and Boy's family and enjoying a nice quiet dinner. 'S' called from 2 houses away and insisted on going out that night. Since I love 'S' almost as much as I love Boy, I couldn't say no, even though I was rather comfily sprawled with a satiated stomach and it was about 10 in the night. Anyhow, I got Boy to come along and since we couldn't get anyone else at the last moment, S, Boy and me headed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S had been suggested to visit a place called Kuki. When she told me I first wondered if the place was called "Cookie", coz that was a warped name for a night club. Then i wondered if it was "Kooky" coz that didn't inspire too much confidence either. Finally I was told its spelt "KUKI"I was appalled. I would rather it be called something else, coz "Kuki" sounds like a boisterous Punjabi auntie. I wasn't too sure if I wanted to go there, I knew for a fact that boy didnt want to, considering he doesnt drink and/ or dance. (sometimes I wonder what he's doing with me, but that is completely separate post altogether)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the three of us went up to kuki. The location, polite valets were all very impressive. So we didnt think too much about a 2k cover charge redeemable against drinks inside. When we the entered the place, I knew it should've been called Kooky instead. 3 floors, placed one above the other with an open space running through and through till the ground floor. 4 clusters of seating arrangements with white leatherite, no backrests, abysmally small centre tables and really warped interiors. Note to interior designers here: You appreciate that there is a very fine line between making a place look chic in red and making it look like a brothel. Kuki, unfortunately almost made it to the latter. Trance music was blaring from all corners with white smoke billowing out of a smoke machine on the first floor. A red butterfly motif suspended down the centre of the place completed the look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all tried rather hard to conceal our disappointment/ disgust but failed miserably. Alcohol was the solution and just when we had our hearts set on some nice cocktails, we were informed by an ill mannered, uneducated, ill informed server that the cover charges did not apply to cocktails. we then moved on to good ol Grey Goose, when the waiter told us that this too would not be covered and the charges were redeemable only against IMFL. Of course, needless to add, IMFL's were not being served that night. When S looked like she was gonna pounce on the waiter and kill him or storm to the guy who conned us outside, the poor waiter hurriedly agreed to serve us cocktails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly a bit of a crowd started trickling in. But either the place was hosting a costume party or a homo sexual party of sorts coz for chrissake one weirdo weirder than the previous one was walking in. Boy, S and I sat back, looked around, shook our heads in absolute disbelief and buried ourselves into our respective drinks. Then some vague magazine was hosting some warped event there (probably the Costume Party) and the "Event" was being covered by a vaguer news channel. As if the psychedelic red lights weren't bad enough, we now had to deal with glaring yellow lights and flashbulbs going off in our faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S decided to order some food, since the alcohol didnt seem to be doing too much for us. we ordered for some chicken on skewers served with hummus. The menu priced it at Rs. 450/- exclusive of taxes of course. When the dish came, it had 3 skewers with a cumulative of six pieces of chicken. S looked the waiter in the eye and asked him if he was kidding with us. Now i am not someone who always goes for food that gives value for money, but even I was scandalized. This place was a bloody joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We paid our bill...exited hurriedly and swore never to come back again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S feels guilty as hell..with good reason if I may add, but real culprit, the one who's idea it was to begin with and who suggested the place to S is sitting far away, unafffected by the traumatic effect that one evening had on all of us. I think vendetta is in order!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kuki has gone completely Kooky and its best if its rechristened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7108267159986466727?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7108267159986466727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7108267159986466727' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7108267159986466727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7108267159986466727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/03/kooky.html' title='&quot;Kooky&quot;!!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-6658687076860573845</id><published>2008-02-15T01:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T01:27:30.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Well-in-time" Day</title><content type='html'>The brouhaha surrounding this occasion is unbelievable.  One half of the city has gone berserk in outdoing its better half at buying expensive presents, one fourth is in the doldrums bemoaning their single status, one fourth is up in arms against the "westernization" of our Indian culture and the remaining one fourth are the florists who are on their way to deposit doubloons in their swiss bank accounts, pointing fingers and laughing at the miserable lot who they ripped off on this dreaded day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy and I spoke about this a few weeks and then again a couple of days before the 14th. We mutually agreed on not to celebrate it, not to buy anything for each other and generally treat it like any other day. We both walked back home relieved and being able to afford a decent meal at the end of the month. When the "V day" arrived, I weakened. I did not want to succumb to the insane  pressure building up around me, but I did want to buy Boy something just to show how much I appreciate him being around and spoiling me rotten. So I managed to surprise him with a very nice present. Except that I gave it to him in the car and he had just unwrapped it when his phone rang. I have long accepted the fact that his work takes precedence over everything else, including me and for my own respect, I shouldn't even try and compete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I was holding his semi wrapped/ semi unwrapped present and he is on the phone and after a 4 minute long conversation, he turns to me and proceeds to tell me, in great detail, the intricacy of the problem faced by the caller- his client. And I was just sitting there with my jaw all but hitting the floor, aghast at the way Boy was reacting. I dont expect him to do a jig on being given a present but an acknowledgment was the very least I expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Boy went on and on and suddenly, probably on seeing the tears well up in my eyes or the dumbfounded gaping mouth of mine, he snapped back to the present (present/ present..ha ha funny na? thank you) He fell over himself apologizing. But the damage was done. The day was ruined, I had started bawling (I know, sorry, its a very chicky thing to do but sometimes when I get REALLY angry and cant do a thing about it, the helplessness of the entire situation makes me cry) We did go on to  have an excellent dinner and I  did  genuinely have a great time but at some level I am still a lil upset. Well more worried than upset. But right then in that car, I swear I could've killed him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news,  on a local radio station on V Day, a guy was offered a chance for a weekend getaway to holiday destination. When quizzed as to who he would like to go with, he named X. Immediately his wife spoke up at the other end of the phone line, live on air and what followed was truly hilarious since X was his Secretary and his wife was Z. May his soul rest in peace, though I have a sneaking suspicion its resting in pieces)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hope your valentine celebrations were better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-6658687076860573845?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/6658687076860573845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=6658687076860573845' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6658687076860573845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/6658687076860573845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/02/well-in-time-day.html' title='&quot;Well-in-time&quot; Day'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-4463721314038833395</id><published>2008-02-04T01:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T03:44:11.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All work and no p(l)ay.</title><content type='html'>Did, in former college lingo, an "all nighter" the other day. Before you start getting any whacky ideas in your head, an "all nighter" refers to a situation when you ending up studying/ now working for the better part of the night. I did one in office the other day and at the risk of sounding like a  workaholic, it was great fun. There is something fascinating about staying up late in office, munching on a slice of the dominator pizza while palpitating over when you'll be able to wrap up work and head home. Since I am now almost a veteran at these all nighters, I now know the best way to deal with them and ensure that work's done. First I calmed my colleague, who is  a rookie and this was his first all nighter. Then I ordered in pizza, enough for all of us. BTW, pizza is a great motivator to get the sluggish office staff to double up the photocopying. Then came the gentle cooing and egging on for rookie colleague and office support staff and then came the military rule. It was awesome. Poor Rookie was so thrilled at the prospect of putting in so much work one night and coming back early morn for a conference on the matter that he could barely contain his excitement. what was particularly funny was how his friends refused to believe that he was in office and when word spread in his circle of his hard work, they offered to bring him coffee, smokes and the like. Two of his friends even turned up to offer him moral support. Rather sweet. Funny, but sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the early morn meeting, which was hell. Was hoping to glide through the day in a stupor, instead, I was alert as a hawk. Seriously, man I too am surprised. probably it was the adrenalin that kept me going, but the following day was a charm. I was supposed to catch up with S and her boyfriend in the evening but was scheduled for another partial all nighter. G (S's boyfriend) finally told me that maybe I required "intervention" the Alcoholics Anonymous variety and all I could ask was "legal or divine?" At which point he gave up on me and told me I needed professional help to wean me away from my work. I dont think so. I love my work, et all, but I do have a life away from it. I mean take this for instance. I find time to wrtie, sparingly, but I do. Also, check out the contents of my posts, do not all of them include some details of an outing or a date or something? I think G's just too hard on me!! Sniff sniff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I am taking a week off in the end of February for a few weddings. I am so looking forward to shopping, dancing, mehendi and making merry. Some good old fashioned bollywood, dhinchak bhangra and vodka :) Ah what it would be to have a glass of wine right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-4463721314038833395?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/4463721314038833395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=4463721314038833395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/4463721314038833395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/4463721314038833395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/02/all-work-and-no-play.html' title='All work and no p(l)ay.'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-234170044446384759</id><published>2008-01-20T05:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T05:32:11.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This, that and the other</title><content type='html'>Happy New Year to everyone!!!! I know its rather belated but since this is my first post this year...Happy Nu Yr to all of you. I am assuming by this time most of you would have broken your new year resolutions already. If not, Bravo!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have actually had to sit back and wonder what I am going to write about and in keeping with my randomness, I shall jot down a few more vague ideas floating around in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New year's eve saw me having a quiet celebration with some friends on someone's terrace. Nice quiet evening, lots to eat and drink, good music, a bed all to myself and Ogden Nash!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a prime example of his literary genuis:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Baby:&lt;br /&gt;A little talcum;&lt;br /&gt;is always walcum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's another one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"candy is dandy;&lt;br /&gt;but liquor is quicker."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and my favourite,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Behold the duck;&lt;br /&gt;it does not cluck.&lt;br /&gt;a cluck it lacks;&lt;br /&gt;it quacks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you see it??? Wasn't the man absolutely stunning? I first came across Nash's work back in school when I read the poem "This is going to hurt just a lil bit." Made me hate dentists with a passion but also adore his poetry with equal fervor.  Reading Nash on new year's eve was bliss. If you have the time, please lay your hands on this book called "Candy is Dandy" and check out his work. One of his more memorable works is "The Common Cold".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a few days ago I reread some of Sahir Ludhianvi's work. The song "Chalo ek baar phir se, ajnabi ban jayein hum dono" is unbelievably romantic.  heard a few more songs by him like "abhi na jao chord kar ke dil abhi bhara nahin" and  all his work in Pyaasa and Kabhi Kabhi.  This of course was back in the good old days when Kabhi Kabhi was spelt like  K-A-B-H-I and not Kabhie Kabhie. sigh!!!!! mush!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm...what else.....well i  managed to get completely sozzled at an office party and throw up. Mercifully it was in the confines of the ladies room and not in public view but  i dont think too many people missed out on the fact that i was conspicuously absent. grief!!!! I am such a duck!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the new year heralds tonnes of tough decisions and lots of work!!! Am not looking forward to one of those things..and I love my work!!!!! Sigh!!!! Am depressed now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really scared too!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-234170044446384759?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/234170044446384759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=234170044446384759' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/234170044446384759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/234170044446384759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2008/01/this-that-and-other.html' title='This, that and the other'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-5826382768315660340</id><published>2007-12-15T00:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T01:15:56.578-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Off the top of my head!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;These are a few of my favourite things. (In random order)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.    The winters are here. I love the winters. A chilly wind-enough to give frostbite to the   healthiest human beings, foggy grey days-that depress mere mortals but bring inexplicable joy to me, zero visibility-that makes commuters grit their teeth and lose their cool but makes me smile like the Cheshire Cat, gentle rays of the sun- soft, heady, intoxicating, lighter hours at work, more time with Him, weddings, fresh veggies, I FEEL ALIVE!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.    I met a few of his friends yesterday. They are over from the US for a short trip here. One of them told me, at his insistence ofcourse, how much she cried when she saw Kal Ho Na Ho, even though she does not understand the language. In between my guffaws, she also told me how both her boyfriend and she cried when they saw it together. He too doesn't understand the language. I was about to launch into fresh peals of laughter when i saw Him tenderly reaching out to comfort her.  At that instant I knew why I loved Him. My laughter mellowed down to a tender smile as I remembered all the times both of us had understood emotions perfectly without the need for any words, without knowing each other's language. He is a good human being, not an ounce of malice in his bones, he is a good son, brother, better friend and the best better half ever. After having been hurt once long long ago, I never thought I would ever have the strength to fall in love all over again, to make myself vulnerable. But here I am, completely defenceless, shorn of all pretence, hopelessly in love, even thought I know we can never be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.    Tears of joy.......I recently rediscovered them. Thanks to Him and with a lil help from the gusty icy winds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please help me, I sound soppy!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-5826382768315660340?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/5826382768315660340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=5826382768315660340' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5826382768315660340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5826382768315660340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/12/off-top-of-my-head.html' title='Off the top of my head!!!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-3359968394143653437</id><published>2007-11-21T23:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T23:15:13.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waging War</title><content type='html'>The Battle of the Bulge, The Battle of  Sex(es), The Battle of my Back..I seem to be indulging a lot of warfare of late. Some of them are interlinked, but these days life seems to be one long drawn battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step by step you say, awite...As a kid, i managed to injure my back about a decade ago. The fall out of that is that whenever I exert myself, my lower back swells to twice the size of texas and there is diddly squat that I can do about it. My love for the outdoors and sports of course, in no way helps the issue. So basically, for the past decade or so, life has been one long struggle between the desire to play and nursing an aching back for 2 days thereafter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then comes the Battle of the Bulge.Well, obviously, since my back does not allow me too much physical activity, coupled with the fact that my job is more or less a sedentary one, I have grown. Thats putting it a lil mildly. But please could we just leave it at that?? Please!! So for the past 5 years, since I've been on a "watch my weight" spree, I'm waging war against my back to get that perfect coke bottle figure....the one litre bottle mind you, the hourglass figure is a thing of the past..sigh!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That leaves us with the Battle of Sex(es)...you think with my rotund belly and broken back I would be getting any action????? Geez, you do live in a dream world, dontcha?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting at my desk right now, sipping coke (must remind myself to have diet), wearing some lumbar support and fantasizing about a boy!!! Must stop drooling!!! Must also stop fooling myself!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically...life is war, consisting of a fresh battle every single day!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-3359968394143653437?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/3359968394143653437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=3359968394143653437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3359968394143653437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3359968394143653437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/11/waging-war.html' title='Waging War'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7020293827514344884</id><published>2007-11-15T22:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T23:13:56.781-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Together</title><content type='html'>She went over for a cuppa. They hadn't met in a bit. She was glad to have wrapped up work early and at the cost of standing up a client, she played hookey from office. She was on her way to meet him. Him who was such an intrinsic part of her that try as she might, she couldn't bear to part with him. The 2 of them had tried, so often, to head their own separate ways, but somehow, they always ended up bumping into each other. She smiled as she heard the song on the radio, he loved to hear her sing. She knew she didnt sing well, but she always did sing and he loved to hear her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rang the bell to his apartment and was greeted by a stranger. She was a little taken aback but she was used to seeing new faces in his place every now and then. He was quite the host and his apartment, quite the mess. But she knew something was seriously wrong the moment she set foot in the house. The lights were dim, he was lying curled up on the couch and the presence of their other friends told her that something was amiss. Noone dared to look her in the eye. Cautiously, she made her way across the hall to him. He didnt look at her either. She sat down next to him and hugged him, not knowing what was going. That one gesture was all it took. He clung to her and cried. His body wracked by sobs. She didnt know what was going on, what to do, but the sight of him crying was enough to for her tears to fall too. She was so scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He refused to calm down and she looked at her friends helplessly, seeking for an answer, an explanation behind what was happening. Finally Sam pulled her away and led her to another room. Thats when he told her. She froze. Her legs gave way and she was sitting on the cold floor. She sat there for a bit, Sam was as lost as her, he tried to pull her up. She waved him away. Took a minute, rose from the floor and walked back to Him to the couch. She flung the blanket off him. Forced him to his feet. Kissed him like she had never kissed him before and held him close. The organizer in her took charge. She snapped orders at her friends and arranged for Him to be taken for  a second opinion. Sam was assigned to the computer to read up all he could in medical literature about His illness. A hot cuppa was finally shared with Him and he even smiled at her stupid jokes for a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She tucked him in for the night and headed back home in a daze. She's been sleep walking through the day ever since and doesn't know what to do. She knew that them being together meant a long drawn battle against family. This battle against a life threatening illness is not what she had in mind. They would finally be together, but this was not how she had hoped for it to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7020293827514344884?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7020293827514344884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7020293827514344884' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7020293827514344884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7020293827514344884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/11/together.html' title='Together'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-2502423392121008187</id><published>2007-10-25T01:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T01:35:52.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The "he" in the "She"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There is this boy....Somehow, its always about a boy!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, lets start afresh..So there's this boy, we like each other and have been together for a while now!! We are committed, very much in love and happy around each other. So you might ask what in heaven's name is the problem, I am sure, like me, you too can rattle off the names of atleast 3698967 people who would kill to be in my place, off the top of your head ofcourse. So, the question being, what is the F&amp;amp;&amp;amp;*&amp;amp;%$@%@ problem woman??????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, its just this...He is a foreigner of sorts!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can almost hear you scream as you read this and I can just about see you slapping your forehead, rolling your eyes in wonder and asking yourself if I belong to this century or not. Well...I do, but I am old school and I know my folks will hit the roof and I am rather fond of them too, so I have made my choice and I have chosen them over him!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you can now nail me to a cross and worship me henceforth!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But thats that!! Now, making the decision was the easy bit, living by it is incredibly tough!! I am just understanding how tough it is, with each passing day and I haven't yet fully comprehended it in its entirety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His infectious smile, the way he holds my hand when he drives, how he takes a deep breath whenever I am close by coz he loves my perfume, how he sometimes takes his eyes off the road completely, just to look at me and I act like I can't tell coz I am staring straight ahead all the while I am seeing him see my from the corner of my eye. The way he makes perfect sense and plays the role of a much needed anchor in my crazy life and crazier thoughts. How he wants me to meet everyone, including his family and respects me for my work. How he calls me once in a while to ask for some professional advice and respects my word. How he listens to me, makes me smile, cry, feel warm on the inside, content, serene, at peace. How he loves travelling as much as I do and is just as big a sports freak as me. How he knows so much about so many things that I would like to learn of, how he can give a discourse on anything under the sun and make so much sense. How he can faff his way through the stickiest situations and emerge unruffled. How he has no sense of dressing, rhythm, time, distance and sensing a woman' mood. He makes me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have spent 2 amazing years with him, but now........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As i walked away from him y'day I told him that the time to live by our decision was upon us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-2502423392121008187?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/2502423392121008187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=2502423392121008187' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2502423392121008187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2502423392121008187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/10/he-in-she.html' title='The &quot;he&quot; in the &quot;She&quot;'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-4659863365042726624</id><published>2007-10-09T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T08:13:48.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chronicle of Dreams!!</title><content type='html'>I have been tagged by Utopia, so scary as the thought of revealing me dreams to all of you sounds, I am doing it..only for you Utopia!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My earliest recollection of a dream is when I was about 10. A huge fan of Steffi Graf, I couldn't think of any other sport but tennis and any other sports person, but her. My dream involved the Olympics being hosted in a stadium right next to my house, which in reality housed one of my classmates from school back then. I dreamt that I stood in queue to buy Ms. Graf a hotdog and she gave me front row seats for her match in return. After a few years, she quit playing the sport and I, watching it. But till date, one of my MANY unfulfilled dreams involves watching Steffi Graf beat the hell outta Monica Seles in a Wimbledon final.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the years went by, I dreamt of being a martyr.....Dont ask me where I get these ideas from, but I am as jingo a patriot as they come. I just have to hear the starting notes of the national anthem to have tears streaming down my face and it has taken me all my self restraint to stop myself from beating the shit outta jerks who condemn my country and/ or cannot stand still for the duration of the anthem!! I was heartbroken when I learnt that women dont serve in active combat posts in the army and so my dream of dying a heroic death in the battlefield and being awarded the highest gallantry award posthumously too died a natural death. Given half a chance, I would don the uniform and enlist in the forces should the occasion arise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, my dreams are a little more ambitious than before. Today, I dream of love..not just in the romantic, sexual kinda love, but love for life, tolerance, acceptance and commitment. I would be blatantly lying if I said that I do not dream of finding my love and being loved in return, but I also dream of humanity and love in the larger sense of the word. I dream of us as a more humane lot, I desire for all of us to imbibe the true ethos the meaning of equality in every single sphere of our lives and not do mere lip service to the concept. I dream of a nation free from bigotry, rid of the evils plaguing our minds, our lives, our very existence. I wish we could do away with the double standards we subscribe too and the fake ideals that we hold in such high esteem. If each one of us were to be true to ourselves in a manner that leaves no room for self doubt, there is nothing stopping us from being truly happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My most personal dream involves me leading my nation.... immodest as it may sound, I know I am meant for something big, I know I have it in me to do something for my country over and above my contribution as an honest, humane citizen. What that is, I have yet to figure out, but I do intend on doing something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But above all, I dream of serenity, contentment, calmness and peace, the kinda warmth that you feel when you soak in the sun on a lazy winter morning!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-4659863365042726624?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/4659863365042726624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=4659863365042726624' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/4659863365042726624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/4659863365042726624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/10/chronicle-of-dreams.html' title='Chronicle of Dreams!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-2103759986943216538</id><published>2007-09-12T04:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T05:31:33.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>He caught just a glimpse of her on his whirlwind work tour and for the first time he did not curse his hectic traveling. Instead he just stood there, dumbfounded, gaping at her like she were something alien altogether. She caught him from the corner of her eye, but probably she was used to the effect she had on people, she just walked on. The usually poised guy, he was left speechless. Mercifully he had the nerves to learn of her name. he couldn't wait to get back home. Once there, he did something he'd never done before... He asked around. God bless technology, he discovered her on one of the million social networking groups mushrooming on cyber space. She came across as an honest, simple lady. He liked that. One fateful evening he mustered up the courage to send her an email. As expected, she didn't respond. He even liked that, but he knew that in order to get her to talk, he would need to persevere..and persevere he did. Finally, applauding his persistence, she relented. What followed was some of the best conversation either of them had ever had or would have in the future...but all behind a thick veil of anonymity. He had managed to learn all about her, but all she knew about him was what he had told her....nothing..well, nothing save for the fact that he could talk and do something no man had ever done before...Listen!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their communication was intoxicating...a duel of words yet a source of warmth..something both of them looked forward to each day. Then came the big question of revelation of identity. He panicked..he wanted to make it special..he wanted to meet her for the first time the way he  had imagined it would be...an accidental slip on the road, she would be in his arms and he would call out her name!!! But he didnt want to tell her that right away, nor turn down the proposal of meeting up..so he carried on with the anonymous mails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, in her town, she was facing a dilemma of her own. Contrary to all her rules and notions of prudence, she was falling for a beautiful stranger!! Was it the cloak of anonymity or just the fact that he sounded so genuine, she could talk to him about anything under the sun. On most occasions, man that he was, he even provided her with solutions, but sometimes he was just perfect the way he just sat back, listened to her and did the virtual equivalent of holding her in his arms and just being there. She felt like she'd known him all her life. But something about the equation didn't seem right, why was he so reluctant to meet her? She tried to get him to come out of the dark and tell her everything about himself, she didn't like the idea of relying so heavily on  nameless, faceless entity. But he never relented. Slowly, the emails reduced, the compliments ran out, the teasing, the pranks, the innuendos all dried up. They did exchange the odd mail, but she found solace in the arms of someone around her..someone she knew and learnt to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He too was extremely fond of her. She came like a whiff of fresh air into his life, cheered him up and showed him a side to life he had almost forgotten struggling under the burden of his numerous responsibilities. She taught him not to take life so seriously, she taught him about flowers, the rains, stupid jokes, dancing, walks, trees, family, friends, a life away from work, a balance, but above all, she taught him to laugh! On his side, he provided her with stability, conversation, companionship, respect and trust, all the things she had wrongly been denied for a long time. Despite their radically different backgrounds and the rightly anticipated fierce opposition from their families, they contemplated marriage!! They dared to believe that it could happen, they hoped against hope that it wold happen, but in the end, it did not!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They remained friends, or atleast tried to. He drowned himself in his work and she in her make believe utopia. She thought they could still be friends, he knew they couldn't, but for her sake he was willing to try. But every single conversation, every single laugh, the sight of her with other men even old friends who had once hung out with both of them stung his heart!! Each of her attempts to reach out to him and assure him that everything was all right further pushed him into his own cocoon. Finally, he dealt with it in the only way he knew, by shutting himself out of her life completely. He stopped taking her phone calls, stopped returning them, found an excuse to avoid any plans of meeting up and shut her out completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the truth remained that he still couldn't sleep at night...her face, her laughter, the way her eyes twinkled, haunted him all through the night. He knew what he had to do.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, a few thousand miles away, another man dreamt of her. He knew that in his quest for perfection he had alienated her. He regretted it every single waking moment, but his pride came in the way of acknowledging it to her. they still did exchange the odd mail, but he had a feeling that he had almost lost her. He knew what he had to do....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sat at her computer, rereading her emails over the past year with the beautiful stranger. then she took a long look at the photographs of the one she had spent the past year or so with but who had now walked out on her like everyone else. She knew what she had to do....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning was a beautiful day. Cloudy, breezy with the sweet promise of rain. Just the way she liked it. He remembered their conversation about the rich smell of the rain falling on the parched earth as he sat at the airport waiting to catch a flight to her city. He was finally going to meet her..it might not have been the way he had planned, but it would still be perfect. Lost in his dreams, he reached out for his morning cuppa and the newspaper. That's when he saw it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her city, he awakened to the sound of rain falling outside his window. He took a deep breath and after a long long time, he felt alive. He picked up his phone and searched for the florist, whose services he hadn't availed of in a while. He remembered that he favourite flowers were carnations, he remembered that dinner at their restaurant where he had the manager bring in a bouquet of a hundred pink and yellow carnations. He smiled to himself as he recollected the look on her face and the surge of hapiness in his heart when she hugged him. He then reached out for the newspaper. That's when he saw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There she was, smiling, laughing, the epitome of joy frozen forever in the obituaries!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-2103759986943216538?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/2103759986943216538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=2103759986943216538' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2103759986943216538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2103759986943216538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/09/he-caught-just-glimpse-of-her-on-his.html' title=''/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-5050042937525746255</id><published>2007-09-01T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T11:31:18.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Randomly speaking!!</title><content type='html'>I dont have a clue about this post and where its going, but here I am putting finger to keyboard!!! Yes, honestly, one finger at a time. No I am not 40...yet!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so the past few weeks have been the usual drudgery, work, home, work, home, work, movie, work, pub, work, gym, work and so on and so forth. So where in this mundane routine would I find inspiration for a post?? Everywhere!! Lets call this the "have you ever noticed" series!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;work first!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Have you ever noticed how a file always lands up on your desk the minute you have shut down your computer and made plans for dinner?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Have you ever noticed how by the time you reach the lunch table, someone is reaching out for that last slice of pepperoni pizza and all thats left is some veggie stuff? (no offence to my vegetarian readers, but you gotta respect the sacrifice that poor lil piggy made dude)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Have you ever noticed how your boss ALWAYS manages to walk into your room when you are cracking up on the latest piece of gossip?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Still in the scenario of the previous question, have you ever noticed how your attempts at maintaining a straight face and acting all official fall flat in their face?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Have you ever noticed how your senior manages to detect you playing solitaire coz your glasses reflect the damned green screen? (seriously, the techie guys out there, you have to do something about that guys)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok...change of scene...on the road!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Ever noticed how the car on the extreme left will inevitably want to turn right..right in front of you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Ever noticed how every time  you drive through a green, it turns orange just as you are whizzing past it and a cop decides to get you to pull over?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Ever noticed how the car immediately behind you will ALWAYS honk the instant the lights turn green, even if you are the 44th car from the signal?? I believe that this is the smallest unit of measuring time: a taxisecond. defined as the amount of time it takes between the light in front of you turning green and the guy behind you honking!! confounded twits!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lets try the pub now!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Ever noticed how when you are yelling to make yourself heard over the music, the DJ decides to change the track and there is a split second silence when nothing else can be heard, but you making a complete fool of yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Ever noticed how the cute looking guy who just walked in and has made eye contact with you is always joined in by his girlfriend who had (smartly so) decided to pee before getting drunk!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's enough noticing for a bit!! Feel free to add your two bits on this series, who knows, we might take it forward to a PartII&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-5050042937525746255?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/5050042937525746255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=5050042937525746255' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5050042937525746255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/5050042937525746255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/09/randomly-speaking.html' title='Randomly speaking!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7839257820697998375</id><published>2007-08-09T00:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T01:11:43.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just.....</title><content type='html'>I am in one of those moods. Somehow "those moods" have been rather frequent of late...and no I am not PMSing!! I dont know what triggered it off, but somehow for the past few days the sad songs seem just a wee bit sadder, the mushy numbers do bring tears to my eyes, I smile through my tears remembering someone/ something and I haven't been my sociable self! I honestly dont know whats happened, not even if something's gone wrong or gone right!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how it is when every once in a while things around you just seem to slow down a bit, kinda like how you are after you're a little stoned when everything around you seems so much more fluid, in sync, softer and even a pebble on the street is capable of evoking mush!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ofcourse, when i snap out of my reverie, I will read this post and go "BLECH!!!" but for now, even this nonsense seems so romantic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: just to clarify..I am not in love, not seeing anyone, haven't lost my marbles (not completely at any rate)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7839257820697998375?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7839257820697998375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7839257820697998375' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7839257820697998375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7839257820697998375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/08/just.html' title='Just.....'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-7854862250921167025</id><published>2007-08-01T01:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T01:42:03.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Contradictions!!</title><content type='html'>Have you ever behaved in complete contradiction of who you are? Has it ever happened to you that you have done something which is, clearly, not something you would've done? Have you all along believed yourself to be a certain type of person, believed in certain fixed principles/ morals/ behaviourial patterns and have never (save an eccentric/ drunk moment here or there) deviated from such behaviour but suddenly, despite being fully aware of the difference in your actions, have acted in a manner contrary to your usual self??? If not, then.....Dude..get a life!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem started with me believing that I was a particular kinda person!!! I used to believe that I would react in a given manner in similar situations..until.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now ofcourse, I am not gonna tell you minute details of what has happened to lead me to question my own conduct and everyone else's too, but suffice to say...I behaved in a manner which I really dont think is me!!!! and the best part is....I dont feel weird about it. I was gonna use the word "guilty" but I realized that its not so much as guilt as it is discomfort at something new!! You do know how it is when you are breaking an old habit??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would've imagined that that was that..for a boring person like me, not behaving in the manner I have been behaving all these years, is quite something. One such deviant act and its time to put up my feet, bask in the sun and warm my old bones, probably knit while I am at it..but the problem is that it didnt just end there!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This new found deviant streak of mine has suddenly released me. I am euphoric!! I dont expect myself to behave in a given manner in a given situation and the anticipation, the excitement in not knowing how I will behave is what makes the entire exercise so much more fun. Its like I am trying to challenge myself to behave in a more unpredictable manner with each passing moment. Not to say I am being rude or something, just that I am not being myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who knows, maybe I am being myself, only I didnt know till now who "myself" was???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda reminds me of these lines I read someplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can be anybody you want me to be on a given day, but I'd rather switch&lt;br /&gt;randomly because it's so much more fun."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-7854862250921167025?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/7854862250921167025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=7854862250921167025' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7854862250921167025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/7854862250921167025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/08/contradictions.html' title='Contradictions!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-3658299840153903848</id><published>2007-07-28T04:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T05:21:53.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In a daze</title><content type='html'>He saw her walk across the hall. He was hooked. Despite the flurry of activity and million voices around him all he could see was her and all he could hear was her laugh. Someone shook him out of his reverie, he could've killed him but he realized it was his boss. Cursing inwardly, he tried to focus on what boss was saying, but his eyes kept searching for her, but she had disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days went by in a daze. He couldn't get her out of his head and his eyes sought her in that hall every single day, but in vain. He imagined her laughing, at first it filled his heart with joy to hear those peals tinkle in his head, but the joy soon turned bitter as he imagined her laughing at him, mocking him, scorning his frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The happiness that lay in the anticipation of catching a glimpse of her soon gave way to hatred. His eyes still looked hungrily for her, but now this search was not for the love that had once blossomed in his heart. Now he searched for her to punish her, to teach her not to make a mockery of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the vengence too faded into oblivion, afterall, how long could he sustain it of his own accord, without providing it without the required instigation to fuel it? He was left hollow. These gamut of emotions had drained him completely and he felt empty from the inside; a shadow of his former self. His friends noticed it too and he soon stopped feeling the need for company. His friends statred shunning him and soon he was spotted floating alone, ostracized, desolate, weathered, as if he had lived 10 years in that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She saw him one day, standing by himself in one corner of that fateful hall where he had seen her exactly a year ago to this day. She went up to him and said hello. His breath froze sharply, for he instantly recognized that voice. He went through a billion emotions in an instant, he had relived that one year in that one instant. It took him all his effort to open his eyes and turn to look at her. He marvelled at his own ability to feel so much and so many feelings for a single person who he hadn't even ever spoken to. He was sorely tempted to react, acknowledge the effect she had on him, tell her; give her inkling of what all she had done to him, but his exhaustion got the better of him. Somewhere deep down inside he knew he did not have the strength to feel again. She had drained him of everything!! He ignored her and continued to stare into vacant space. Puzzled, she moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so ended, what could have been, the greatest love stories of our times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-3658299840153903848?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/3658299840153903848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=3658299840153903848' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3658299840153903848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/3658299840153903848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/07/in-daze.html' title='In a daze'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-2283865465723208418</id><published>2007-07-23T04:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T05:15:35.802-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spare a thought!!</title><content type='html'>I suffer from this incurable disease..its called equality!! Now i know that in today's day and age its an archaic concept and therefore i dont belong...but my version of equality is not in line with the 3 great pillars of the French Revolution nor do i share the vision of our founding fathers who established equality as the spirit of the Indian Constiution...my idea of equality is very localized. it starts and ends with people, things and stuff that are in direct contact with me. Pluto, as you shall read on and learn, is an exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hassle starts early in the day the minute i open my eyes. if i put my left leg on the floor first then the feelings of my right leg shall be kept intact by ensuring that it enters my bathroom first. If i put on my right sleeve first then the left leg of the trousers must be worn first. If the left socks is worn first, then the right shoe goes in before the left one..and so on and so forth..you get the point right?? you will ofcourse appreciate the amount of toll all of this takes on my mental faculties..so if the next time you see me and i am semi bald, please dont get shocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, this entire business of equality doesn't end with just this...when i eat, its usually in the company of a calculator, hold the sighs and i shall explain how and why. My meal of 2 veggies, a dal and some roti involves calculations that only Chacha Chaudhry is capable of. each side of my mouth will have the same number of bites of each vegetable in a particular order. and if, in the unlikely event, coz i plan it so, the number of bites is an odd number, then either its chewed completely in the centre of the mouth or is split into two. in light of this concept of equality, i have also perfected the art of looking and sounding extremely interested in what the person acorss me is saying while all the time calculating in my head as to where the next bite of paneer should go and when the left side of my mouth will be able to eat the rajma its been eyeing for 5 bites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ofcourse this concept of equality is inculcated in every single moment of my existence..which also explains why i cannot bear to see the last sip or the last morsel of soemthing being left out of sheer politeness. noone seems to spare a thought to its feelings. you dont think that the last piece of chicken wings that you left on the plate will be feeling left out? you dont think it privately go and shed tears at the thought of being seperated from all its friends???? how insensitive can you be??? shame on you!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but whaty got my goat (i know it s a lil belated, but i've been meaning to write about this for a bit now) is what we all did to Poor Lil Pluto. He was told (I am safely assuming its a male) (poetic license please) that he was the coolest one...small, compact, enjoyed his journey round the sun so took the maximum amount of time to do it...he was the dude, uber cool!! He was the one who left the ladies all pins and needles (remember My Very Eager Mother Just Sat Upon Nine Pins??) suddenly, one day, as he was merrily chugging along around the sun, taking in the view, feeling the wind through his surface, completely oblivious to the life changing stuff that was going around him, he was suddenly told that he was no longer a planet!! GASP!!!! Couldn't we have broken this news to him a lil gently??? is this the way to tell someone that they've been demoted...stripped of their personality, their being and rendered useless, just one of the teeming billions??? did we for a second stop to think of what Poor Lil Pluto must've felt like???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you, its an insensitive world that we live in...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-2283865465723208418?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/2283865465723208418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=2283865465723208418' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2283865465723208418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/2283865465723208418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/07/spare-thought.html' title='Spare a thought!!'/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7759012879450520867.post-8802249449045579462</id><published>2007-07-03T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T22:28:29.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My hand nurses a glass of wine;&lt;br /&gt;In a room that’s dimly lit.&lt;br /&gt;Up till now everything was fine;&lt;br /&gt;Now for grief I search a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dark secret in my heart;&lt;br /&gt;One that brims with pain.&lt;br /&gt;Deep misery on my part;&lt;br /&gt;Or atleast one I must feign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is how poetry is born;&lt;br /&gt;Or so I have been told.&lt;br /&gt;By masters who scorn;&lt;br /&gt;At my venture oh so bold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From great tragedy and unspoken fears;&lt;br /&gt;Do the greatest poems stem.&lt;br /&gt;I search in vain for hidden tears;&lt;br /&gt;Not one drop to produce a gem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tossed the wine in the sink;&lt;br /&gt;And switched on the light.&lt;br /&gt;My poetry will be happy I think;&lt;br /&gt;I am not giving in without a fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t force sadness, don’t be low;&lt;br /&gt;If in the end it sets you free.&lt;br /&gt;Those words, I’ll have you know;&lt;br /&gt;Are the purest form of poetry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7759012879450520867-8802249449045579462?l=ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/feeds/8802249449045579462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7759012879450520867&amp;postID=8802249449045579462' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/8802249449045579462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7759012879450520867/posts/default/8802249449045579462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ifs-and-buts.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-hand-nurses-glass-of-wine-in-room.html' title=''/><author><name>She</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07681746917831453444</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
