Veggies all the way!

Being a non vegetarian is heavenly.You get to savor all kinds of stuff, the delicious chili dogs, tikkas, tandoori chicken, seek kebabs, sushi etc. I have enjoyed this to the fullest, digging deep into a plate of fried prawns in Goa to a turkey sandwich in subway.i have done it all(almost) and loved every bit of it, that is until my mother decided to challenge me.

she thought I could not survive without a piece of meat in me for more than a week and I took it up.Since yesterday, I am on a supply of fruits and vegetables.Raw, cooked, sauteed, sliced, cold and fresh.

My typical non vegetarian day would start with a breakfast of the most delectable eggs I could make, scrambled, omelets, fried, half fried...

Yesterday I ate half a small watermelon and drank lots of water.A bland breakfast.Everyone thought i would not last the day. Then came lunch and I once again dug into a plate of fruits.Yum!

Come evening and I was full to the bursting and yet I craved all the necessary evils of the culinary world, oils, proteins and salt. I resisted and ate up the other half watermelon for dinner.With my stomach full to the bursting and with no inclination of me being satisfied, I went to sleep.

I woke up today with a new goal, Vegetables!

To prevent yesterday's boring menu, I cooked up a diet plan which included steamed vegetables as breakfast, raw for lunch and a clear veggie soup for dinner.

With no solid food for a day and with more days to come, I am beginning to feel a new reverence for our vegetables which until recently were just an accompaniment for my meat.

A Monkey diet, someone said and I am to live it for a week.

Ha! Challenge...I can survive without non veg.

I think.

Writer's block!!

As these mind numbing days pass, I eagerly wait for a hint of excitement in the coming days to free me of my writer's block. It has been a week already and I have not typed a single relevant word.I am out of ideas and out of steam..!!!

Someone help me!!

Inspiration is hard to come by when you live in a city like Delhi, with its searing hot temperature, rude public transport people and no access to cars(thanks to my parents who plan to sell the one I had my eye on!). So I sit all day, gathering dust.

The previous day, I spent and hour trying to convince my dad to accompany me on a trip to the Old fort of Delhi which i would have managed on my own if it wasn't for my mom who duly pointed out that a temple near it is a dwelling of drunkards.Needless to say, me going alone has been put on hold forever.So I wait for my dad to be free which is difficult seeing he has really important errands to run as opposed to me, who is imprinting her butt prints on various couches in the house.

so my writer's block continues and I am out of ideas...!! arrgh!!

Birthday Blast-A relative Event

My youngest cousin turned four yesterday and predictably, the day was a myriad of big, uncontrolled birthday parties, balloons and their stink, cake and its cream spread everywhere and utter chaos.

We reached the venue by late evening and being the eldest of the lot, I was subjected to leaps and jumps by the overtly excited birthday boy.He then resorted to hit everyone present with anything he could lay his hands on, his choice of weapon? A large orange balloon.Just as well.

The bash was also a melting point of pre-teen high fashion as I spied many girls sporting hot pants, funky hairdos and colorful flip flops. The guys teamed up well with cowboy dresses and fitting jackets.

In my point of view, birthday parties are more like a conference of relatives from all over the place.The ones living nearby turn up in the morning to "assist" with the preparations.Seeing that kids prefer to host their parties in some high profile kiddie restaurant or get a party planner, I wonder where this "assist" come from? And then there are the constant whining ones, big aunties, clad in gaudy suits who turn up at your every event, commenting on how thin/fat you have become. These aunties are generally accompanied either by their ultra thin daughters wearing oodles of makeup, looking for a chance to be picked up and pushed into the arranged marriage circuit or their ultra-fat, recently married daughter, cradling their new borns, showing off her marital and maternal achievements. Then their are small kids.Yes, those pesky annoying, pests of little people whose only aim is to run around the place on a crash demolition mode. Birthday Parties...! Arrgh!!

Needless to say, my cousin's parents were smart enough to hold their party in an offbeat location, preventing the many annoying vermins from plaguing it.Me and my cousins ordered everything possible and the cake was heavenly.The birthday boy was in an out of control mode, but then again, he is entitled to it.

Harry Potter Actors-Tracking them down

My obsession with Harry Potter began in 6th standard when I first read Goblet of Fire.Later on my friends introduced me to other books in the series and I was hooked.Over the years, I accumulated a lot of Harry Potter paraphernalia from stained glass art to cloaks, planning to attend HP theme parties, movie CDs and later DVDs.As I grew old, I decided to collect first edition HP books, the ones in hardback and now I am a proud owner of three such books, ha!

Harry Potter series has been my constant companion in the "growing up" phase, Rupert Grint(the guy who plays Ron Wesley) was my first celebrity crush until I hopped to better options(read Tom Cruise), Ginny, was my first fashion Icon.HP introduced me to the world of latin spells, Britain, the moors of scotland and the Kings Cross Station.admittedly, even n

ow, while playing Monopoly, we plot and plan to get the Kings Cross Station card.And now, with the Wizarding world of Harry Potter's opening in Florida, I am once again seized with this obsession and once again, I dwell into the lives of the actors, and what has become of them.

HARRY POTTER

Daniel Radcliffe gained immense popularity with

this role despite his clumsy acting skills and "gay" looks. Now, in his twenties, Radcliffe is looking forward to expand his acting horizon with his most recently signed film, based on the 1930 war, where he gets to land some blows with an action packed role.

HERMIONE

She started out as a bushy haired child artist and then glamorised the role of the nerdy book worm with her sleek and shiny hairstyles, thin jumpers and overty emotional acting. Emma Watson became the youngest teen to feature on the Cover page of Vogue and was in the news recently for hosting a farewell bash after the shooting of the

seventh installment of Harry Potter was over.

RON

Perhaps, the most experienced of the trio, Rupert Grint, although not known for his looks, takes the cake as being the best actor of the lot. His portrayal of the poor, side kick of Harry earned him much accolades including his disastrous first movie outside the franchisee, Thunderpants and the eventual Driving lessons, his coming of age film.

NEVILLE

Mathew Lewis started out as portly child star portraying the Awkward Neville longbottom.Viewers were in for a surprise when they saw him in prisoner of Azkaban, looking all thin and mean.His makeovers have been less dramatic in the consequent films, but now they don't stand true to the pudgy, pot bellied, kid.

GINNY

With almost no role in the previous movies, Bonnie Wright rose to fame with the fifth movie and as Harry';s love interest in the sixth.It was a refreshing change to see Radcliffe emote well with someone and manage an ounce of chemistry.Kudos!

The rain and the aftermath

Just back from college, after a gruelling hour and a half session with the exam.Funnily enough, today was the day I took the longest on my paper, actually making an effort to cross check it and came out of the examination hall much later than my friend cum metro partner, Rinkz, notorious for spending a lot of time on her answer sheet.She duly noted this change in me and I have the perfect reason, today's paper was the only one I ever enjoyed studying in my two years of engineering hell.

Another highlight of the say was the bet between Sam and Sanchi.Despite the terms of the bet being very thoughtless, Klasic and Sansi decided to accompany the two to their respective treats, while getting nothing out of the whole deal.

Meanwhile, the four of us, enjoyed the change of the weather from scorching heat to dust storm and finally light showers as we disembarked at NSP station.We enjoyed the respite from heat, getting wet in the rain and the auto ride, which was cool and fun for a change.Hope this weather lasts.

Now when i write this, the weather is changing once again from cool and rainy to one of humidity.

Sheesh!

The Delhi heat and the college commute

I must give some credit to our college...oops University administration to schedule our exams in this heat.Or maybe there was some plotting and planning with the higher authorities...??

The daily commute to the university leaves us drenched in sweat, red hot and thoroughly cooked as we stumble across the "under-construction" road.The auto wallahs have chosen this very moment to hike their already exorbitant prices, almost doubling their rates as we look for other options.After much arguing and a shouting match we come to an agreement and fix a price in between.

The rickety ride leaves no opportunity to hurt us, as we are bumped and bruised all the way. The heat wave blasts our faces with hot air out of the furnace as we try to shield our faces from becoming another tandoori dish.

The metro ride comes as a blast of cool air, literally and figuratively as we manage to get the much coveted seats.But our relief is not to last as we change the metro lines and jump into the busiest one ever.We are pushed deeper into the crevices of the metro compartment as more and more people fill in.It is a surprise that the frail looking metro can hold so many people at a time.So, in the metro, we are sandwiched between en-number of people.I rest my bag on the stomach of a large man behind me, firmly hold the pole next to me and then i loose sight of everyone else accompanying me and my other body parts, each, a sandwich with some other assortment of body parts, bags, clothes etc. So much, for a comfortable metro ride.

As the metro doors open, the people rush out and it is an awe inspiring spectacle to watch the huge number of people who come streaming out of the metro.Reminds me of an ant infested area when ants swarm out of their hills.

The sweat infested metro air was cooler than what hits us on our face as we stumble out.And after that, it is a matter of choice and time.Bargain with the auto wallah or cough up the amount to reach your destination in time or sit in the rickshaw and perspire all the way to your destination.

Chocolates and Bhel:How I managed to get them for free.

Being an elder sister has its many perks. I vividly remember exploiting my younger sister for her toys, chocolates, games etc.

In Pune, we used to have weekly cinema at our club theatre. I was in 5^th standard and our mother used to shell out ten rupees each as pocket money which we were allowed to spend on the delicacies on offer. An all time favorite at the theatre was the famed bhel puri which cost Rs 6. At the interval, there would be a rush to get a plate and me and my sister would be the first to reach. My conniving mind cooked up a scheme to ensure I get my money’s worth without the actual effort of having to spend money for it. I convinced my sister, who was just seven to hand me her money, a ten rupee note, instead of which I would get her two coins. Two coins instead of a measly note, the prospect pleased her tiny childish mind. To further consolidate my deal, I bought her two chocolate coins and convinced her that her getting two chocolates as opposed to my one plate was much better. Feeling like a winner, she traipsed to mother to show off her business skills.

All I could do was silently laugh at her and applaud MY business skills.

Needless to say, I saved thousands of rupees in the coming months till she finally realized the deal she was getting. I could not regret her realization any more.

I never tried to get monetary gain out of her but still managed few bits and pieces by getting the tbetter toy or more share of a chocolate. It persists still and even as she is aware of the fact, we enjoy this imbalance in our share. We have come to forge our own system now, I get all the books, paints, dolls, she gets and in return she gets to eat my share of chocolates, ice creams and everything sweet.

A deal.

Lazy Afternoons and popcorn

Last month, my aunt came visiting us. She got a big box of microwave popcorn, which we readily accepted, it being a gathering of greedy and hungry cousins.And then began the popcorn saga, which continues still.

After the happy chaos of reunion and the joy of family, me and my sister were left alone at with our grandparents with everyone retreating back to their own homes. With just one laptop/television/e-book reader/music player, the days became a dreaded drudgery.Normally we would go outside to pass our time, but Delhi heat took care of that.So confined to our air conditioned bedrooms every afternoon, we felt hungry all the time.

Citing self proclaimed expertise in microwave popcorn cooking (although where cooking comes into play, I fail ti understand), my sister took to making a packet of popcorns everyday.and it was a big pack, meant for four instead of two.But we devoured it, day after day.

After a week of chomping through the same monotonous flavour of popcorns, my sister handed the baton of cooking to me and I ventured into the fine art of popcorn cooking.I carefully read the instructions(apparently, different brands and flavours have different cooking time, I realised after inhaling a lot of burnt popcorn air).I set the timer on the microwave and waited.Three minutes later, I opened the packet to another batch of burnt popcorns, this time they had turned a shade of auburn.

This ended my microwave popcorn cooking expedition with my sister taking full control of things. So now, to pep up the taste, we assort it with a bottle of coke or add some spices.And every afternoon, we sit in front of the laptop, watching bones or friends and munching on these corns.

Nighttime Wanderings

I heard it once again tonight as I slipped into my pillows.The ominous sound of my window rattling.Strangely enough, there was no thunder to trigger it. I pushed deeper into the crevices of my sheet as the air conditioner chilled the room. My sister was asleep and I knew it would return. I wished I could switch on some music or a movies, just so I don't have to hear it again.

It returned as I slowly drifted to sleep, waking me from my mild slumber. The headboard of the bed shook suddenly and I heard the wind swooshing over my head as if somebody had deliberately shook it.

My mind told me it was nothing and yet I could feel the adrenaline rush into my head. I felt stupid for believing all kinds of tales I had ever heard.Of unseen people, strange voices and the unknown.

I guess, paranoia came to me naturally.

Tonight was different. I planned to investigate the source of the noise.I got up from my bed when it came the first time and saw nothing unusual, the room was dark as usual with my sister fast asleep. I waited and it came again, the bed rattled and I saw something move.I quickly flashed my mobile at the source and saw the source of nightmares.

The headboard of the bed was loose and whenever my sister moved in her sleep, it rattled with her movement. So much for my personal haunting episode!

It is disappointing that no one is haunting me, come to think of it. Seems that i was a boring person in my past life, from all the horror movies and books I have devoured.Or maybe, I had no interesting ancestors.Whatever the reasons be, it is all boring, now that I know what was the real cause of the excitement.

Of pimples and the summer heat

This summer heat brings me no respite as my face is once again plagued with numerous pimples and face lesions. My tryst with the innumerable facial creams, scrubs, exfoliates and face masks started way back in 8th standard when i got my first ever pack of Multani Mitti, a mud face pack.

For months I smeared it on my face and marveled at the amount of pack the small bottle could hold.If it wasn't for the familiar aroma coming form the bottle, I would have never guessed what happened to its contents.Seemed like my maid was all too cleverly replacing the multani face pack with Talcum Powder.Pond's Talcum powder to be more precise.Just as well.

This experience led me to experiment with my own brand of homemade face packs.I crushed cucumbers, sliced papayas, mixed curd and anything I could lay my hands on for the perfect blend.One that would leave my skin white, pimple free and glowing. Little did I know that those effects on TV were a result of the all so popular nude makeup.Well, a girl can still try.

Recently, my beautician suggested herbal packs to me, which I took without much ado.They left my skin itchy and full of rashes. Which made me look more like a pineapple rather than any model I have seen.

So all in all, I have realized that in order to get the perfect skin, either go back in time and live in the eighteenth century or be loaded and spend a lot on skin treatments(which rarely work) and makeup artists.

So I go for the natural look.

Bones

My days go from boring to worse as this summer stretches on and on.

The previous night, me and my sister had a blast watching "bones" till late at night.Usual stuff.

We woke up late, had a lazy morning, skipped breakfast and at back to watching "bones" from where we left off. so I am proud to say, we finished season 4 tonight.Yay!

Bones got me thinking how super cool, FBI and crime fighting detectives are.It reminded me of my initial interest in becoming a forensic scientist based on the forensic detective shows that used to plague the discovery channel.Ah well, I am stuck with engineering for now.Not to mention my mid semester exams from nest week.

I gazed at my paintings for a while, yes you read that right, MY paintings.I actually fantasise about my own art show someday.I thought of making them with a similar theme, till I met this cranky shopkeeper last evening who would not sell separate bottles of paint.I had to buy the whole lot and then I got fixated with the yellow color and forgot my theme(red and black if anyone is curious).

A mystery I am still trying to solve is how The crystal method, the band which gives soundtrack to 'Bones' get a female singer who is unlisted?Never saw her name on the credits, but she sounds good.

"Bones" led me to remember my other obsession, British accent.Sigh! I still go weak in the knees when a guy speaks with a British accent.The way they pronounce the words, overemphasising sometimes and completely rolling over some words.I certainly miss Hugh Grant now!

It was another day filled with nothingness and the only trouble I have is deciding if i want to watch Prince of Persia or Iron Man 2.Tough Choices.

Living with my sister

For the past year, I have lived with my grandparents at their place and it has been a life of leisure.I would sit in my bedroom, open my laptop, order Chinese takeout and then watch movies. I had the whole closet to myself, the king size bed, the A.C. and most importantly, I was pampered by my grandparents.I was the Queen of the house.

And then my sister moved in with me.

What began next was a series of fights over chores, closet, dressing table, clothes, bed etc. With her, I no longer had unrestricted, non stop laptop access.I had to share things all over again.

But there are moments I can never forget.The day we decided to conduct a fashion photography shoot at the house.The whole afternoon, we paraded in different outfits, wore oodles of makeup in various weird designs and snapped away.

The other day, she allowed me to give her a haircut.I am no pro at this and hats off to her for her bravery. ;)

I snipped and clicked at her long waist length hair to yield the final result.A short spiky bob.Now I don't know if it is an acceptable style on the runway, but it sure does look good.So much for me being modest.

The days spent with my sister are not too bad, we have our share of arguments in the morning, with me forcing her to wake up and eat some breakfast and small spats over the chores.With her, I have finally found a partner to watch all my favourite shows with.I made her a Grey's anatomy addict and together we watch marathon episodes of bones the whole time.

And I once again have someone to boss over for that glass of water or the best seat in front of the A.C. .Someone to fight with, get opinions about everything and anything.Someone I can laugh with, joke with, gossip with.

My sister, My confidante.

Cannibalism

Lately I have been watching a lot of the forensic show 'Bones'.One of the highlights of season 3 was the case of a cannibalistic serial killer. It got me interested in the concept of cannibalism, the art of a human eating another human.

Given the many instances of cannibalism, it would be too presumptuous to call it a murder or a crime. In many cases, survivors of an accident or people in a famine, consume others to survive.That is the basic Darwinian concept of adaptation. And then there are others who eat their own body parts to survive, auto-cannibalism,No crime.

Closer home, we have the Aghori tribes, infamous for eating dead bodies from the cemetery. One of the reasons I have observed relatives of the deceased keeping a vigil on the dead body till it is completely burnt. Sound horrific, but these tribes still exist.

My wanderings through the Internet took me to a page based on the Aghori tribe.According to the author of the page, the members of this secret sect typically stay in the tribe for twelve years before returning to their families.

A typical cannibalistic ritual constitutes the tribe members gathering around a dead body and offering the first bite to their goddess of cannibalism, whosoever it is. They them move on to cook the human flesh and then eat it with alcohol.

Aghoris claim to be followers of Lord shiva and have been looked down upon because of there cannibalism. The ritual eating of human flesh has now been exploited as many disappearances in the country have been linked to these cannibals.

To add credence to this fact, an American cannibal, who had been previously institutionalised by the FBI is now roaming free in India, eating tourists as he moves around.http://www.sepiamutiny.com/sepia/archives/002767.html

According to one cannibal, "The human meat does not taste like chicken or pork, it is more like beef.And the flesh of a baby is like fish."

Makes me lose my appetite for meat.

Indian Television

The Indian soap opera makers have truly made television an idiot box.

Where else can we find women wearing loads of pancake to the bathroom, sleeping with their hairdos intact and being an ideal wife to their oh-so-hardworking husband?

Indian television has now achieved new depths in stupidity and mindlessness. The plot and screenplay is lost amidst copious amounts of tears, dramatic music and larger than life sets. The predictable storyline is so pathetic that one wonders if they even have writers on their team or not?

It is fun analysing these soaps.They take up long forgotten issues like child marriage, caste system etc and snowball it into something huge on the TV. Ekta Kapoor deserves some credibility for merging sensitive themes into her soaps.The lady had brains.

And now we have senile dialogue delivery with each character enunciating in pure hindi which even linguist experts don't use in daily life. One soap went to such an extend stating that since they are from the bride's family, they cannot call up the groom after ten at night! Talk about modernisation, Indian soaps have decided to take many steps backward into time.

It is a sad scenario and the only people to be blamed are the Indian audience who immediately reject anything new.They would rather stick to watching joint families in big bungalows fighting against evil sisters-in-law, illegitimate sons, corrupt business partners etc.

Few months back, a film tycoon started seven new soaps on TV and they all bombed after a week. agreeably, the cinematography and direction was bad but they showed real people and real India and had a plot for a change.Not the over rated stuff Indian audience wants to see.

Adaptations of foreign soaps always start on the right note and after few months turn into another saas-bahu saga, complete with the lead getting a makeover into the ideal Indian bahu.

Many channels which started as a youth channel have now become another propagator of these mindless soaps. The Indian television scene is pathetic and in my opinion a disgrace to the television.

And the makers are not to be blamed.When so much moolah is to be raked, who cares about sense and sensibilities?They give what the audience demands.And Indian Audience has no brains.

So I'd rather stick to watching movies or some inane music channel.Cartoons work for me.

Came and went

You came and went
and once again I felt
Cursing myself
Curing myself
In a deep breath it was all gone
And you came and went
Seemingly unmoved
You stood there
Feeling nothing
Knowing little
The silent that I keep
the promises that i keep
Stay with me forever
Touching you not
Keeping it unknown
from you
Away
from you.
It just takes a moment for me
to lose it all when I see you
It just takes a moment for me
to remember once again
what it was all like
before it happened
before you went away
and you came and went
I saw it once again
remembering
seeing it again
You came and went.

The Best Scrambled eggs

Lately I have taken a turn towards cooking.It's therapeutic for me.The smell of the spices, the chopping and grating ingredients, the sauteing, garnishing food and all that comes with it. And breakfast is something I am very choosy or more likely specific about.

I absolutely detest the Indian palate of paranthas with large dollops of butter, pickle and curd.Talk about a healthy breakfast, paranthas are your tickets to the land of cholesterol and saturated fats.

My pick for breakfast is invariably some concoction of eggs or oatmeals.

Eggs! These are gifts from heaven for me, you can beat them, fry them ,boil them, mash them, mix them and Voila! You have a whole list of breakfast items.

With the healthy food fad, I have taken to making everything out of egg whites and feeding the yellow yolk to my much delighted dog who swallows it up without any second thought.

My scavenging and experiments through egg recipes and the Indian taste buds led me to experiment with scrambled eggs, the easiest and the most exploited version. I have noticed cooks all over the country spice up the beaten eggs,add chopped veggies and them instead of getting nice thick blobs of scrambled eggs, they would instead crush the poor egg and end up with powdery substance, bhurji, they call it.Streaming with desi ghee, it was heart attack on plate. And then I came to my granny's house and discovered the smallest pan ever.My first experiment with egg whites sans any spices and vegetables led to the best scrambled eggs I had ever tasted.I forayed further into the art of making scrambled eggs, beat them up, add a spoonful of milk, simmer the gas and let it cook. Scrambled eggs, the tastiest, the most delectable ever.The ideal breakfast and I am in.

My entry into the world of cooking breakfast is limited to what I can find in the nearby market.Oatmeal is good and then after few spoonfuls, it turns into a slimy, icky goop of milk. Indian alternatives can also be healthy, what with idlis and dosas around. And then there are fruits, melons, water melons, mangoes, plums, cherries etc.

Breakfast never did sound so appetising and healthy to me.

I Hate You

It's one of my many attempts at poetry/songwriting. Being tone deaf or more likely a music illiterate, my lyrics wander from being musical to poetry to just plain simple words. But then again, it's just an attempt.

Hate looking at you

Hate feeling what I feel

Hate myself for being what I am

I Hate You!

Hate these clouds that loom over me

The dark rain that doesn’t fall

Hate what all this tells me

And yet I can’t help it.

You make me do this

You make me feel this

It’s been years

Months and days

Yet I feel what I feel

Hate feeling what I feel

Hate looking at you

Hate myself for what I am

I hate you!

Hate this darkness that never ebbs

This sunshine that never leaves

Hate these birds singing in the sky

The chaos of the children’s cry

Hate feeling what I feel

Hate looking at you

Hate myself for what I am

I hate you!

WAKA WAKA

With this new theme, the football world cup starts again in South Africa, a country that has played host to many major sporting championships in the past years with the IPL, the T20 world cup and now Football. Being the first African nation to host this event, South Africa has already carved its way into history.

Personally, I admire south Africa for being the most “modern” of all African nations, with its fight against apartheid, its amalgamated society of blacks and whites(although more whites and less blacks) and its development, its economy, tourism and each and every aspect. It deserves to be the host.

Coming back to football, I can say I am a fraud football fan. The sight of the ball does NOT get my head rushing, the scene of utter chaos on the field makes no sense to me and the game does not get my adrenaline jumping. The only reason I make an effort to follow football is purely because I am curious about it.

A game with an assortment of fifteen players in a team and one lone ball garners so much attention that the world stands still during any major championship. World cup might be for national pride but I don’t understand the concept of football clubs and football crazy fans. Regional fans, I can digest but people from non-football playing nations like India become so crazy about these clubs that they worship the players, cry at the team’s loss, revel in the other team’s misery. It all beats me.

Maybe it has an anthropological answer. Maybe this rush of adrenaline, knowing that you BELONG to a team, momentarily forgetting everything and just focusing on those 90 minutes of the game, this wild obsession, it all has a meaning and in its own makes sense.

As the world cup starts today, statistically a million fans will be out there, in one moment, cheering on their teams.

Something just bring the world closer.

Waka! Waka!

The reason

It starts again! That crackpot urge to do something useful, which I have noticed comes with the advent of the end of school session. The second year of my college officially ended yesterday and as of today I am an unemployed, lazy student with unlimited access to the internet and a laptop which has been blatantly used as an entertainment centre for a year.

And so I write this online journal with nothing better to do and with no one to listen to my ramblings. Agreed, most of the people around me are either too full of their own lives or saturated with my take on every issue. At least this laptop will not forcibly push me out of the room or block my voice from its head.

And yes, with the world going from one disaster to the other and the celebrities hopping on from party central to a messy affair, I have lots to talk about. Sadly, this world cares not for my opinion but then again, my laptop has no other option and neither do you.