So you think you can dance?

No, I don’t.

I KNOW that I can’t dance.

Sounds familiar? Yes? Then you’re one of my fellow non-dancers, the type whose dance moves are limited to bobbing your head and shaking a leg every now and then, when you think someone’s watching. Welcome, welcome to the club!

Imagine this scenario: You’re at a party. The food and the drinks are great, the crowd is pleasant, and the music is groovy. Everything is going well until you see the first person stand up and start dancing. Gradually, almost everyone around you is up on their feet, moving gracefully (or at least just moving, contrary to what you’re doing), pulling off some really neat moves, and having a great time. However, it still ain’t that bad... there are a few others who are still shoving food down their throats, gulping down their drinks, sneaking off with their *special* friends or more importantly, NOT dancing. You take comfort in the presence of these few loiterers. But after a while, you look around and can’t seem to spot them. Uh-oh... you know what’s going to follow. You shut your eyes tight, refusing to look, but you already know that you’re the only person who isn’t dancing.

Having been in this situation one too many times, I’ve grown accustomed to it. If you’re a first-timer, it’s about time for you to get on your knees and bow down low in front of me. I’m going to give you THE handbook – I-Can’t-And-Really-Don’t-Want-To-Dance-But-I’d-Love-To-Just-Disappear Handbook for Dummies. Read on.

Lesson #1: Camouflage
You aren’t going to feel out of place if nobody can see you. Try blending in with the furniture, wall hangings, curtains, anything. Be creative. You can even dress for the occasion, in a black ninja suit.

Lesson #2: Fake an illness
If you are stupid enough to wear something bright and shiny and lesson #1 fails, then fake an illness. Sit in a corner with your head in your hands or recline a little while massaging your temples. Don’t overdo the acting though for you might just draw too much attention to yourself.

Lesson #3: Bladder control
Lose it. Drink plenty of water or other fluids of your choice. Visit the loo often (say about once every ten minutes). If somebody asks, you suffer from my-sphincter-doesn’t-exist syndrome.

Lesson #4: Look for allies
a) If you’re lucky, you’ll find others like you. Round them up and build an army of non-dancers. Together you can defeat any force that compels you to dance.
b) If you can’t find other people like you, keep an eye out for pets. For example, if you see a dog (friendly one, hopefully), pet him/her. Make friends with him. He is going to be your ally for the night. Take him for a walk, feed him... you get the idea.

Lesson #5: Imitation
In the unlikely event that your army is defeated and you, their leader, are dragged onto the dance floor and thrust into the company of all those dancers, improvise. Look around and try to imitate some moves. But remember, staring is impolite. So is copying EVERYTHING the people around you are doing.

Lesson #6: Stealth
After noticing that failed attempt at dancing, people gradually lose interest in you. This is your chance, grab it. Slowly edge away from them and when you get to the door break into a run.

These six lessons should be able to keep you afloat for some time. If you want to survive the whole party, buy my book, you cheapskate. You’ll find it at your nearest bookstore.

Oh, but do wait a moment...A parting word of advice for all those who are 18 years and above: Some fluids after consumption can make you dance, and sometimes make you dance so well that you’ll shock yourself and everyone around you. ;)

Nazia, Oh Nazia!

The third year of college spells doom for me. Why? Because we won't have French or English as subjects, which basically means that I’ll spend all five hours of college everyday cooped up in my own department. I must admit that the Department of Advanced Zoology and Biotechnology is not glamorous. Even calling it reasonably tolerable would be very far from the truth. Why? Because our teachers are stuck in a pre-evolutionary phase and the students they teach are smarter than the average idly drowning in sambhar. Of course, there are a handful of exceptions when it comes to the students, one of them being Nazia, my senior who is currently in her final year. (I also take the liberty of pointing out that I’M also one of those exceptional students!)


Nazia... What can I say? She’s just as loopy as I am and maybe even worse! We can sit and bitch about our department for hours on end, and we have even had to remind ourselves to refrain from doing so when we were in our HOD’s car. Her defiance of the lecturers and their lousy neanderthalic ways instils a sense of hope in me since I do the same, and it’s always nice to see a senior get away with it. The lecturers absolutely hate her guts and her attitude but cannot do anything about it because of her amazing grades.


Nazia and I are usually forced into zoology-related debates and oratorical competitions, which is a result of being some of the only people in our department who are fluent enough to be able to string sentences together in English. We also end up participating in various interdepartmental culturals held in other colleges for the same reason (and also because we jump at the opportunity of missing college). During one such seminar we were forced to attend in Anna University, we snuck out of the seminar hall when the three lecturers who accompanied us weren’t looking, took a long stroll around the campus, bought ice cream and ended up talking about the most random things until the seminar ended a few hours later. New College, Stella Maris, Loyola, and MCC... I would not have endured either of them if it hadn’t been for her!


She is just the coolest, most entertaining person around. Her caffeine addiction, randomness and sense of humour make her even more endearing. She writes incredibly well, and her notes on Facebook and her blog are testimony to this. She has come to define what are now termed as ‘Nazia moments’. She embarrasses herself more often than not and then laughs it off. She stalks people, watches a lot of random movies and knows more celebrity gossip than Ryan Seacrest. She is just awesome!


Devathi: Nazia, don’t go... I’ll dieeee without you in the department.

Nazia: Yeah, you will.


So on that bright note, I shall conclude by saying that I’m dreading a whole year of being stuck in the Department of Advanced Zoology and Biotechnology without her to lighten things up!

You Know You're a Tomboy When..

• You looked or at least tried to look like a guy for most part of your childhood (and carried it on into your adulthood, perhaps)
• You played with cars, bikes and action figures, unlike all the other little girls you knew
• The concept of accessorizing and matching clothes with shoes and handbags is lost on you
• The only make-up you’ve ever used has been restricted to the occasional lip balm and kohl
• You feel awkward when dressed up femininely
• Elegance escapes you
• You haven’t the faintest idea as to how to paint your nails
• You are more comfortable hanging out with boys than with a gang of girls
• You are in the company of boys so often that you begin to think like one
• Your guy friends consider you as one of them
• You buy your tees in the men’s section
• You, unlike most women, do not think shopping is a sport
• You chug down beer with the boys and burp along with them
• Your parents are worried that you’ll run off to Brazil and get a sex change
• You walk like a guy
• You attempt to bound up a flight of stairs in a dress or a saree
• Your footwear is limited to sneakers and floaters
• You have broad manly feet due to your choice of footwear and as a result do not find any of those pretty shoes that actually fit you
• You do a clumsy balancing act on the rare occasions when you get yourself to wear high heels (that are actually broad enough for your feet)
• You take approximately ten minutes to get dressed and get out of the house while your other female friends are still deciding what to wear
• You’d rather watch an action movie than a romantic comedy starring the most metro sexual guy in the history of acting
• You just don’t get chick flicks or understand why other women cry at the end
• You prefer backpacks to those oh-so-fancy handbags
• You don’t mind getting a bit of dirt on your clothes and hands
• You grow up and begin to bear some semblance to the female race, but on the inside you are as tomboyish as ever
• You read a note like this and nod along enthusiastically

Once a tomboy, always a tomboy.

If You're Pissed Off and You Know It Publish A Post

There are people who are perfect relationship-material and there are people like me – the exact opposite. I cannot, for the life of me, be caught dead in a relationship beyond a certain point of time (usually less than two months). Of course, I don’t exactly have a track record to actually be working out the statistics or be even talking about how I’m a relationship-impaired person. All I can say is that I’m way too free-spirited to be tied down to one fucktard of a guy. I’m narrowing it down to the stereotypical boyfriend-girlfriend relationships here since I seem to be relatively normal when it comes to relationships with other people (the criteria for judgement being that my family hasn’t disowned me yet).

This note probably will, and I hope it does, offend a lot of people, but it isn’t one of my primary concerns (read: I don’t give a flying f*ck what you think). If you have issues with what you probably think you’ll be reading about in the following paragraphs, you can just stop right here. With that said and done, let me proceed with my rant.

Where was I? Ah yes. Relationships. Dating. Couples. I want to take all of them asinine teenage couples who think they’re soooooo in love, make them lie down side by side on sticky fly paper, roll them up in it and flush them down the filthiest pot that can be found in a public toilet. The world would be a better place without them. This is why:

1. There would be no hype over Valentine’s Day – what you’re going to wear, where you’re going to go, what you’re going to do, where you’re going to snog, what to gift him/her. May Saint Valentine go give himself a handjob. God bless him.
2. It would spare your friends the tremendous effort of rolling their eyes after each time they hear about how you and your boy/girl had this massive, nerve-wrecking argument over why he/she called only thrice the previous day.
3. There would be lesser eyesores. If you ever thought graffiti and men peeing out in the open was an visually distasteful, you haven’t seen couples and their PDAs (public displays of affection), have you?
4. It’s economical. No more spending all your allowance on some douchebag who probably has his tongue down some hot chick’s throat at the very moment you purchase a Ferrari sweatshirt for him.
5. It does wonders for your appearance. No more late night/early morning conversations over the phone, resulting in dark circles and other symptoms of sleep deprivation. Did you know that sleep deprivation causes one to age faster? Bet you didn’t. Dump him/her already. No more creases on your forehead from constantly bickering either.
6. You might have noticed the following pattern in conversations:
a. Single person – Single person = A whole variety of conversational topics
b. Single person – Committed person = Fewer conversational topics, while talking about their supposed-love-of-their-life is given priority over how you met with a freak accident and lost a limb the previous night.
c. Committed person – Committed person = The conversations in this case are SO mundane that they barely even qualify as conversations, so much so as inane rambling.
7. A lot of memory cells will be saved and can later be used to store information that is genuinely important, unlike monthly anniversaries.
8. You don’t have to endure countless pseudo-break ups following every trivial fight, followed by the days of torment after and the final kiss-and-make-up scene. *wipes tear away*... Oh so precious!
9. Lesser demand for ‘rubber’, which means lesser rubber cultivations and lesser deforestation to support rubber cultivations. Be eco-friendly and stay single. (Not implying that single people don’t get laid.. I’m not going into the statistics here, but I presume that couples have greater need for rubber)
10. Freedom. This is by far the most motivating factor. You have the freedom to NOT notify a certain someone about your whereabouts every minute; the freedom to speak without having to insert a ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘babycakes’ and whatever other strange terms of endearment in every sentence; the freedom to hang out with your friends without making it seem like you are compromising quality time with your little cherub *barfs*; the freedom to talk to members of the opposite sex (or the same sex if you’re bi/homosexual) without arousing suspicion; and the freedom to be accountable only to yourself (unless you have freakishly controlling parents/family.

Like Sunil once said (when he was still single and not necessarily unhappy), when you’re single you can really mingle. I now raise a toast to those with enough balls to stand alone and brave the odds of looking totally un-dateable. . !

Chilled Out!!

[Note for those who don’t already know: I now live with my sister and her husband, Vinod, in Chennai]

When all is quiet in the dead of the night and creatures of the dark lurk stealthily in the shadows, you hear a low rumbling noise. It grows louder and then fades away, only to repeat the same pattern over and over again. What could it be? You step out from the shelter of the bedroom and walk into the kitchen, and find yourself closer to the source of the strange noise. You break into a cold sweat, your fingernails digging deep into your palms, your trembling legs ready to turn and sprint at the slightest indication... and then, you find yourself standing in front of a solid white object. The rumbling noise seems to reverberate through it, as it stands slightly taller than you and much wider than you. Congratulations, you just bumped into our refrigerator! :)

My profuse apologies, I should have warned you about our refrigerator before you decided to spend the night at our place! By now you would have figured that it’s like Frankenstein’s creation, threatening to come to life any minute. What you haven’t figured out yet though is that our refrigerator is my laboratory, much like Frankenstein’s (maybe even cooler). When my sister and Vinod first bought him (yes, the refrigerator), they didn’t realize how he would change our lives, especially mine.

Maybe a little background information might help to better explain our predicament. We eat out a lot and order home delivery quite a bit as well, which directly results in us packing a lot of leftover food. We also go grocery shopping very often. While this may not sound particularly shocking, it is meant to be. Can you imagine parcel after parcel of leftover food being tossed into the fridge, along with the most recently acquired groceries, while at the same time nothing ever leaves the fridge? Yep, think of the whole Black Hole concept (I’m talking about Physics, so don’t let your probably-perverse mind wander), apply it to our fridge, and voila... there you have it – the principle on which our refrigerator works! You also gain a thorough understanding of how matter cannot be destroyed; it can only be changed from one form to another, or in this case, from food to something-not-even-remotely-edible.

It’s just a frickin’ refrigerator after all, so why am I fussing over it, you ask? What can I say? This isn’t just any other refrigerator! Have your career choices ever been influenced by your refrigerator? I doubt it, but well... mine have. How, you ask? Microbiology, archaeology, physics... name it and my refrigerator has trained me in it! I have seen strains of bacteria, fungi and mould growing on the old rotting food in there that would be the envy of any microbiologist, who would be ever so eager to get his/her hands on a few samples from our very own fridge! I could start minting money if only I decided to culture these microorganisms and fungi, and commercially sell them. Along the same lines, Centres for Disease Control are going to be begging me to join their ranks, what with my indispensible experience with innumerable cases of food poisoning and other gastric diseases! Archaeology – have you ever carbon dated your food because it’s so archaic that you fail to remember which era you bought it in? I have. Physics – I have great expertise in this field, as I have already mentioned, so yes I might just decide to become a physicist. Watch out for that giant pendulum (random, please ignore)!

Lastly, our blessed refrigerator has done wonders for my health. Not only has it fortified my immune system after continual consumption of stale food, but it also gives me just the right amount of exercise needed every day. Don’t believe me? You should try shoving things into a refrigerator that’s ready to vomit out its contents each time the door is opened even by a crack. It also improves your reflexes because you have to be ready to catch things before they hit the kitchen floor (messy floor = angry sister on a rampage).

And this, this was a tribute to the most awesome refrigerator anybody could ever ask for. I’ll remember to thank Him when I win my Nobel Prize! :)

P.S. I might get sued by my sister for writing about HER fridge (as she likes to call him) without her permission, so if you don’t see any of my random status messages on your news feeds, you know that I’ve been thrown into juvenile prison. (Judicial proceeding baffle me, but I suppose that’s how it works no?)

Survival Cooking

Of late, I’ve been experimenting around in the kitchen. No, I’m not suicidal, although it would seem that way if you observed the manner in which I ‘cook’ or if you are one of those misfortunate enough to have been subjected to my culinary skills. So here are some handy tips and don’t-try-at-home’s for anyone who intends to follow in my stead (What? I can’t flatter myself?!).

Today, we will be dealing with the steps involved in making Fried Rice. You will be updated on other recipes, tips and the likes, once I learn how to (or how not to) cook something else. Even with Mum giving me careful instructions over the phone (along with desperate pleas from her side, asking me why I couldn’t just order some food), I managed to make a mess of it. Not surprising, really. But let me assure you that you are in safe hands. I know what I’m doing (I didn’t initially, but after all the mishaps, I do now).

Let’s get started..

Step 1: Put rice in rice cooker [Tip: Remember to switch it on]

Step 2: While waiting for the rice to cook (assuming that you turned the rice cooker on), get started with the stuff that you mix with the rice... What’s it called again? Hmm... so it looks my dream of being a chef on television has been defaecated on by rats.

Step 3: So where were we again? Rats? I don’t eat rats. Do you?
[Tip: Stay focused, cowboy/cowgirl.. you’re in a hazardous area, .i.e. the kitchen.. Even a tiny lapse in attention could get you killed, or burn the house down in any case]

Step 4: Oh yes, the stuff that is to be mixed with the rice! Finely slice onions, carrots, beans and capsicum. If you’re going to be adding salami and/or egg, remember to precook it before you consider doing anything fancy with it, genius.
[Tip: Again, pay attention.. you don’t want to slice your fingers off. Don’t worry if the vegetables aren’t sliced to perfection.. it ain’t about the presentation. All that matters is that the end product is edible, which is the whole point of cooking anyway]

Step 5: Preheat a saucepan, add oil and wait for it to heat. Add ginger-garlic paste and stir for a few seconds.
[Tip: Stand back while adding the ginger-garlic paste.. the oil splatters.. and you end up getting ugly blisters wherever the oil burns your skin! Also, when someone says stir for a few seconds, they usually mean it. You don’t want to end up with a black mass having the same consistency as charcoal.]

Step 6: Add the veggies, stir for a few seconds, cover the saucepan with a lid and leave it to simmer for 3-5 minutes.
[Tip: Sitting and harvesting crops on FarmVille while something’s cooking on the stove doesn’t do wonders to one’s sense of timing.]

Step 7: I’m not really sure when the salami and/or egg, if any, comes into the picture. I suppose that it’s here. Meh.. be a little adventurous. So go ahead and add it to the hopefully-not-burnt stuff in the saucepan.

Step 8: Get the rice out of the rice cooker after it’s done. Let it cool for some time, lest it should become a gooey mass when mixed with the stuff in the saucepan. Ok, I’m tired of typing ‘the stuff in the saucepan’ over and over again.. Since I don’t know what it’s called, let’s just call it Chemical X (which reminds me that it’s been a while since I watched the PowerPuff Girls).ordered

Step 9: If you haven’t fallen asleep while waiting for the rice to cool or grown tired and from the closest food-joint that delivers, go ahead and bravely mix Chemical X and the rice.

Step 10: Isn’t there something I’m forgetting? Oh that’s right – salt, pepper and soya sauce. Two pinches of salt, two pinches of pepper and a wee bit of soya sauce should do the trick. If it doesn’t, just add more till it tastes right, or in this case, till it tastes good enough to be ingested. Mix thoroughly.

Step 11: Now this is the most crucial part. Feed Fried Rice to an unsuspecting victim
[Tip: Make it seem like you went through all the trouble of cooking it just for them and smile sweetly.. No, don’t smile like a deranged serial killer, that’s just plain creepy]

Step 12: Wait for 10-15 minutes. If victim is still alive and happy, and showing no particular signs of gastric discomfort, proceed to eat your creation.

Step 13: Pat yourself on the back and remember to thank Devathi Parashuram.

So until we meet again next time, bon appetite! Watch out for my show on Discovery Channel. It’s called Survival Cooking.. I’m giving Bear Grylls and his show, Man vs. Wild, a run for their money.

Un-rusting!

In keeping with the atmosphere and general humour of my blog, I present to my loyal readers, a new post (Yeah yeah.. go ahead and say it..say it..! Say, "FINALLY!"). I render this one is special to me because it speaks of those who have made me laugh on numerous occasions (which I will mention shortly), those who light my face up with smiles ever so often and those who continue to teach me not to take myself or life too seriously, ensuring that I dismiss it all with a hearty laugh.

I have tried as best as I possibly could, to re-enact and describe vividly the scenes and incidents that led to funny and witty repartees. However, I have failed miserably to capture the essence of what exactly got myself, and everyone present at the time, laughing. I am not entirely at fault though, because most of what follows is based on ‘spot jokes’, or in other words, jokes which may not seem as funny to someone who was not present at the time of their.. er.. cracking!

I’m a bit rusty with blogging, but here goes!

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Now, this little part of my post is dedicated entirely to one of my friends, Vinod, who can make even a funeral march seems hilarious. One can be most definitely sure of Vinod’s presence if gut-bursting laughter is heard in the vicinity. I have to admit that I hardly remember even close to one-twelfth of his spontaneous jokes for I never bothered to write them down (which was a result of laughing too hard while simultaneously rolling on the ground and clutching my stomach). I did, however, manage to locate some stray one-liners and jokes that were situated in deep-seated areas of my very limited memory. Read on, but beware of involuntarily cracking a rib or two!

On being not-so-in-shape, or rather, being out-of-shape:

You think it’s easy being fat?! Do you realize tough it is to maintain my figure? I need to eat enough of food and get the right amount of rest among other things.

When asked if he wanted to go to a discotheque:

It’s full of old men groping around in the dark. If you want to get felt up, go ahead, but do not count me in.

On getting a full-body massage done:

If I wanted to me felt up by strange men, trust me, I’d go stand in a bus stop.

In reference to the poster (on the right), that we came across in a certain Cafe Coffee Day branch:

That guy looks like he’s getting his arse f***ed!! [use your imagination ;)]

When asked what he would do once he was married:

I’m going to write a book titled ‘How to Be a Husband and Get Away With It’.

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Just a few random things!

There was this one time when my sister, her friends and I were walking down a road, and we happened to walk past a woman who was wearing a bra as an excuse for a saree blouse. That was when a flabbergasted Ken exclaimed, “Where’s the rest of it?!”

A certain movie was on tv, once, where one scene revolved around a woman kissing a certain gentleman. The same woman was then seen kissing another gentleman in the scene that followed. I do not recall who, but there was a friend/family member who remarked, “That’s like sharing a lollipop!”

A snippet of a conversation that took place on a catamaran, sailing on the Mediterranean Sea:

Anonymous (I do not want to reveal his identity): But.. but.. we weren’t asked to bring our swimsuits along with us!

Captain: Well.. it’s taken for granted when you are on a boat.

On failing to understand self-infliction:

Esha: Why do some people just gash their hands repeatedly..? Why don’t they just cut off their entire arm and get it over with?

Esha (again): I want rabbit juice. I mean, carrot juice! (A slip of the tongue..?! Hehe)

Even though I know my beloved Esha is going to kill me, I’m going to mention that she once thought the Bishop who paid a visit to our school was the Pope..! Hahaha.

My dad is undoubtedly the funniest person I have EVER known! As of now, I remember just ONE hilarious incident that occurred[=(]. My sister was in the tenth grade at the time, and was extremely nervous before her first board exam, not to mention that she also had chicken pox during her exams. My father was driving her to school and he tried to console her by saying, “Its ok. Even if you fail this time, you can always write the exams next year.” She burst into tears.

Hmm.. so there are a LOT of people (Muffin People included!) bring joy and laughter into my life and the lives of those around them, but I don't remember exactly what they did or said that was so jaw-droppingly hilarious. I wish I did though.. I really wish I did.

I shall end with a very philosophical thought. Do you know what heaven really feels like? Let’s say you need to use the loo real bad and you are an hour’s drive away from the closest lavatory (and let’s also assume that you do not heed to nature’s call in the wilderness). Heaven is when you get to that lavatory, perhaps a lot later than the one hour that the drive was supposed to take, and finally set your butt on that blessed toilet seat and just let go! Heaven!! Hehe.