Saturday Night Fever

Saturday evenings are one of those blessed times when the mess shuts down, requiring you to forage for food outside its dank confines.
After 2 years of Nagpur, we've exhausted its limited eat-out-on-a-measley-budget dinner options many times over. Saturday night raises a series of burning issues: whether you can afford anything more than maggi, people you'll have to coerce into coming with you, wondering if you'll be asked out and if LM's making its presence felt. All these complicated equations have to be sorted out before mess off.Life is damn stressful :(
This Saturday's story is seriously muddled. We're uniformly broke, so it seems like maggi orgies are in the offing. Dee dee might go with joey and veera with the loved one, leaving me trying to figure out ways of lighting the gas without burning the mess down( which by itself is not a very dismal thought). Then of course there's Niranjan and the fact that we're both pining away for each other. I'm a goner if he asks me out when I'm staring at charred lumps of maggi.
I'm sick of Saturdays, being socially disfunctional( Shwetu, I really miss you), breaking up and dark circles.
Woe is me!!!

Go, the mass has ended.

This is one of my favourite hymns. Maybe because it's a mind numbingly simple tune. Or possibly because it's sung right at the end of mass.
The past week has had a distinctly churchy feel to it with Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter all requiring meaningful hours spent in worship and introspection. Dad, Jenny and me have founded a secret society, inductees to which have to master the subtle art of carrying nefarious, giggly conversations under the eagle eyes of their wives/mothers. This is what three continuous days of church taught me:
1. Dogs look very adorable when they try to get you to play with them bang in the middle of Our Father.
2. Glittery gowns are very distracting when you're trying to nod at the priest in an intelligent, repentful manner
3. Merely looking at Dad or Jenny makes me want to giggle insanely. Sadly the same applies to both of them, so mass is mostly about avoiding eye-contact and keeping bouts of absurd uncontrollable hyena like laughter at bay.
5.Mum has an amazing repertoire of chilling looks. They kill a giggle mid way through, interrupt frantic conversations about hunger, and make us light our candles without so much as a whimper.
6. Sleep is a real person who talks to you, coos soothingly, pats your head and hypnotises you to nod off at every moment in an hour long service. And of course magically disappears to the strains of Go, the mass has ended.

Fester

My plant Fester died :(

She died a long time ago. Except that no one bothered to tell me about it.

A month after stroking her tiny pink flowers goodbye, I walked in( more like stumbled in with 2 bags) to see her withered corpse still stuck in the pot. The people who call themselves my parents shiftily turned their eyes away from my horror struck face . Apparently Fester's death does not warranty emergency phone calls or even a proper burial.

It is these incidents which scar us for life. If I wake up one day at the cruel age of 46 and scream "I can see her dried withered skeleton still clinging to the pebbles in her painted pot!!!!!", I'll be having a delayed shock reaction about Fester's painful end.

I called her Festerella after Uncle Fester from Addams family, a man who is almost endlessly fascinating. I painted her pot and almost drowned her while watering.

She was loved. I miss talking to her and counting her flowers. She was a nice plant.

RIP fester.

Going Solo.

Walking alone is therapy. Walked back alone from the orthodontist today with funny wires poking my gums and a little light headed from the pain. I like my ortho. He looks like a human version of the human Shrek in Shrek 2. He's goofy, smiley and very nice. Even though he treats my mouth like a furniture hauler, and leaves it tasting like slimy rubber latex gloves, I like this man. I'm twisted when it comes to men I like.

I'm home right now. Three days of hols at a stretch and I start pining for dal dunked in roti.Home is where my blog flourishes after horrid dry spells in college.

We have a tiny bamboo plant at home. Our old plant Fester died :(
other new additions are a violently florescent green mosquito repellent and Fiama di wills which i personally think can be used as a drain killer. Ok so I have a thing against fake sounding shampoo names.

Will move my cynical ass to the sofa now. Feeling very vitriolic.

C lab

My ass is on the line here. I've calmly shoved aside numerical analysis and Simpson's rule because blogging when you're not supposed to, is one of the kookier things in life. I can happily ignore my blog on average days, but give me C lab and the mind wanders. It drifts and meanders. It reads Sharans blog and feels over-awed. Sharan you write and think so pretty.
I'm inspired.
Second mid term exams done:) Have a gazilion unfinished, almost abandoned plans right now. Like going home. Its not sinking in. Cant wait to get there.
Leaving behind a slightly morbid Dee Dee, a very bored boyfriend and the heat. And college of course which is the whole briliant point of the exercise. Ah, I'm rambling and she's squiting weirdly at me. More later.