Yipeeeeee

P-da and i won the crossword contest!!! i have got 600 hundred Rs. worth of coupons for that!!! Am i clever or what???

the night that was..

The bell rings. i take my time to open the door. As always, i forget to peer out through the peep-hole to check if it is a friend or a foe. There is no-one at the door. i close the door. i know it is him though. The bell rings again. This time, i peep out. All i see is something pinkish. There is something blocking the hole - i know it is his finger. i open it and he smiles. A smile escapes me before i can stop it.

Everything is ready. We both freshen up. I wear the white-with-pink cherry baby doll dress he got me for my birthday. Though I have worn it many times before, i cannot help but feel a bit shy. This dress always makes me feel sexy.

Rustling up an elaborate dinner after 8 hours of nagging juniors is not an easy job. But i seem to have done a good job the way he gorges on the food – mutton, salad and eromba.

Dinner over, we go to bed. He reads some technical stuffs while I drown myself in “Ladies Coupe”. After some time, sleep overtakes me. Book returned to its place under the pillow, specs deposited on a pile of books on the window sill, I go to sleep while he reads on.

His whispered “Tum-ma baro?” (Are you asleep) wakes me up. i am too sleepy to respond with anything apart from something that sounds like ummm. i know too well that he is not going to let me sleep for a while. i know the night is going to be long.

guess who is coming for dinner

It has been winter the past few days between us. The air is cold enough to make you sneeze.we have been either overtly polite with each other or flinging barbs. Nothing new. Sometimes it thaws a bit. The index of the warmth in our relationship is our dinner plate. If things are cold, we eat from separate plates. Wehn things warm up, we eat from the same plate.

Coming out from my bitchy shell, i have decided to be nice for a change. i sent him a mail inviting him for dinner tonight. So i am going to go cook up something nice for him. Lets see what that leads to.

"Love is methyl alcohol pretending to be ethyl alcohol."

--Anita Nair's Ladies Coupe

i miss you the most when you are near me.

introspection

i am a spoilt brat. It is as simple as that. The realization is not new. And in some twisted way, this is the way i like myself. Maybe because i am aware that i cannot and do not want to change. But “cannot change” is not right – if you want, you can change yourself. But i guess, i am too much into myself to think of changing.

When i am hurt or angry, i am incapable of thinking beyond myself. Anger is an emotion that threatens to control me sometimes. From childhood, i have had this issue of not being able to handle things when i don’t get my way. This continues till now. When things don’t work out my way, i just lose it. The irony – i am all too aware of my warts but i seem content to let these warts get bigger and unmanageable. Till one day, i would be one big wart! Great! i am unfair to the people close to me – they are the ones who bear the brunt of my ill-natured outbursts.

i cool down quickly – but after the damage have been done. i mean, i would rant and rave. And then, i would realize that this is not the way to handle things – after the outburst. But words once spoken cannot be recalled like e-mails. Wounds cannot be wished away with a “sorry”. i always end up hurting the people i love the most. Because i am so spoilt. Patience – i should trade some of my gray cells for an ounce of patience.

If only i can think before i speak instead of speaking before i think. If only i was less in love with myself and not accept these warts. If only i was more human instead of being a bitch. If only my actions were reflections of my thoughts.