Legally bald

I am going to shave my head.

And no, I am not joining the Blue Man group and endorsing Mirinda. Neither am I renouncing the world and moving to the Himalayas. I am going to shave my head because it is the only thing I can do that isn't illegal and that will shock the living daylights out of my parents.

My parents choose to believe that tattoos and piercings are a form of self-mutilation. Yeah sure, and I am Prince Charles' twin brother. "You're not allowed anything of that sort till you're 18. Okay?" No, no, NOT OKAY. No license, no alcohol (Not that I want to get drunk, it's just what falls under the category of fun. Or atleast fun till the next morning..) no super-cool movies like 300 (Which I already saw on pirated DVD out of sheer desperation and loved despite the godawful audio) no NOTHING. And here they aren't letting me get a tattoo? I am not driving around like a maniac killing people, neither am I being sent to jail for club-hopping, because frankly, I wouldn't know the door to a bar if it were dancing naked in front of me. So what in God's name is wrong with a tattoo? Everything, if you're my parents who think I'm conspiring to rule the world and then rid it of the anorexic.
There is NO justice in this world, I tell you.

So anyway, before I execute my plan of world dominion, I want to shave my head. And I really don't give a shit if it doesn't look like Persis Khambatta's head. My head is mine, it CAN'T look like her's, you hear me? and I am going to do this with the sole intention of pissing my parents off. And also partly to avoid trimming, conditioning and of course, shampooing.

Yeah.
Shave.
No more **gulp** hair.
Nothing left for my animal best friends to pull **grin**

Bald is beautiful, no?
No?
No.

You don't know how sick you make me!

Have you ever felt that there are somethings or some people that the world would be way better off without? Has something ever driven you to within an inch of your sanity?

If yes, please read the given list and nod your heads in agreement to whichever thing irks you out of your tree.
If no, kindly shut this window and avoid wasting time grumbling about how vetti I am. You really don't have to rub it in.

Things/people that'd make me jump off a cliff: -

1. Text message English- "So, howz lyf dood????" , Umm I don't know "dood", you tell me how life is when I'm carefully slaughtering you to bits.
2. Idiots on Orkut- The kind with pitcures of beer-bellied cricketers, puppies, kittens and babies all over their albums, and not one of their own mug. Get a life, or a camera. Whichever's easier.
3. Abhishek Bachhan, Shahrukh Khan and John Abraham- Bleeargh.
4. The Olsen twins- Didn't your mother ever tell you to eat food?
5. Spinach- I don't want to be Popeye. Okay, Mary-Hate and Assley, you can throw this one out the window.
6. Hilary Duff- Oh, I'm sorry, I've already jumped off the cliff, what was that you said?
7. Onions trying to impersonate the actual filling in a roll- If you have tasted the Chicken puff in our canteen (Priced at Rs.7 wonly) you would know what I mean.
8. Sapottas- The smelly brown fruit. Need I say more?
9. People who wear their pants either at their ankles or at their necks- God made a waist and hips for a reason, you dolts.
10. Messy eaters/Mannerless fools- See the fork and spoon that are sitting near your plate? Well, Einstein, they're not for you to ogle, they're for you to eat with, thus ensuring that the people you're dining with don't pass out or are repulsed to death. And using the napkin won't kill you either.
11. Squirrels- Okay, I have nothing against them. They just freak me out. You ask me to pick between a venom-spewing snake the size of the Empire State Building or a squirrel for a pet, I'd pick the former.
12. Women who stare at me in stores- Not because I bear an uncanny resemblance to a platypus either. Yes, my T-shirt will say "Mental Inside". What becomes of you?
13. People who ask me which college I'm in- Aha, I don't know. What I do know, however, is that you graduated from The National University for The Soft In The Head.
14. Condensed milk- Someone shoot me. Puhleeeease, just get it over with.

And now, since all bad things must come to and end, Thank God, the last icky thing would be-

15. Paris Hilton- You make me sick. Like totally.

Twins from magical pink land (Part 2)

For part one, go here : http://www.raspberryfield.blogspot.com/
There's this girl I know.
Not a girl, really. A twin soul, more like.
She is so much like me, it is not even funny. We are the same people in two different bodies.

I don't get to chat with her at school. But those IM conversations...Sometimes, they're the one thing I can't wait for. I will come online and there will be Akshara, with her gorgeous display pictures and jokes that I'd like to think only I would understand.

She wears clothes that I will adore and gush about all the time. And the other day, a best friend told me that Azhagi's awesome pastel Kaftan was the kinda thing I'd wear. And you will not believe how happy that little exclamation made me. Delirious.

From jewelry to life stories, crushes to best friends, there is not one thing that we don't agree on.
She is the twin sister I never had. Only taller, prettier and older.
And sisters, as Azhagi knows, are... well... sisters.
The stuff dreams and nightmares are made of.
**Big hug Azhagi**

Home

Pink lines streak the sky, flirting with the dusk sun as it inches its way down into the horizon, to be swallowed by the glistening turquoise sea once more. The sand is fine and chooses to stick to our wet feet, peeping out from between our toes. A stray polythene bag dances around, a black slipper wades away with the water.
Kites dot the sky. Kites everywhere, flying recklessly, like they don't care.
Children squeal and run around, chasing shiny red rubber balls and vendors with all sorts of knick knacks that make noises, change colours and are a general nuisance, vendors with blue cotton candy and sundal carts. Garlands of green chillies adorn the bajji stalls that are bursting at the seams with the crowd.
Gunshots are heard but nobody panics. It's only the balloon shooting, where silver bullets that are nothing more than toor dal or urad dal (I really couldn't care less) in disguise are shot out into wide open space, but the maximum damage they can do is burst balloons. The tinkle of bells is heard, one can smell roasted corn. And if you cared to spend a few extra seconds straining your nose, you'd actually detect the slightest hint of lemon, so tangy you'd drool.
And then the flower girls, not more than two feet off the ground, run around with baskets of Jasmine, in the secret hope that someone would buy the whole lot and they could run free like the striped kite or the polka dotted one, or any kite for that matter.
A gorgeous chocolate labrador trots down the pavement. Her name is Sheeba and her long brown tail wags with tremendous speed as people coo at her and loudly exclaim that "She is lovely" and must be "High maintenance"
A baby's wail pierces the calm and all eyes fall on the squabbling couple who are frantically searching for diapers or a bottle or something of the shut-the-baby-up sort. An army of children in hues of orange, blue, green and red are led by a plump lady in a green kurta with long black hair, stress written all over her face. The Kwality Walls pushcart is their source of joy.
Guys on flashy bikes with flashy phones and flashy sunglasses at 7 p.m. at night impress anorexic girls who lazily stroll down the promenade. The orange Barista sign glares at the unfortunate lot who cannot afford to pay 50 bucks for a decent pastry like they are the scum of the universe. Fuck you. Boys "drift" in their modified cars with music blaring. Boom, boom, boom it barks as the brakes screech. And the tranquility flies away with the clouds, a thing of dreams.


And amidst all the noise and mess, I sit on the damp mud, pants rolled up to my knees, hair flying, the sand castle I dug the dark earth for is left forgotten. I look around at everything, taking it in slowly. I smile. For this is Besant Nagar.
This is home.