Musings, facts and fun

“Trriiiing”, the door bell rang for the third time.. ‘’Not again Shanta bai!!! Can’t I get a moment of peace in my own home??”, I cried out. I kept tossing in the bed and plopped down with my hands pulling the pillow over my ears hoping that Shanta Bai would go away. She didn’t and shortly the bell rang again, this time  longer and shriller than before. I shrugged and got up; and as I swung myself out of bed the sheet entwined my legs and got pulled along. Groaning, I made my way downstairs; reached the door and pulled it open. “Shanta bai kitni baar bola aapko!!” I shouted out at the poor petite figure standing outside. “Sorry?”, came the reply like a melody. What! this definitely wasn’t the croaky throat of Shanta Bai. I squinted and rubbed my eyes hard to budge them open. They almost popped out as I saw the figure of a pretty young girl dressed in blue salwar kameez standing in front of me. She tucked at the loose end of her white dupatta and was staring at me with an amus

She smiled as she recounted her 10 th birthday when wrapped in a pink glaze paper, her uncle gave the book ‘The Love Magic’ in her hands. ‘She is just 10. This is her age to do math and to not read some fancy love fantasies not meant for her age’, she had overheard her mum talking furiously  to uncle John over the phone, soon after the party ended and they had finished unpacking all gifts. But this did not bother Erica; it rather stirred her curiosity as she quickly flicked open her bedside lamp and got started to unfolding her new possession. She read for 6 hours continuously that night, she read about Katie, about Mark, about their magical love. ‘Magic doesn’t happen in real life honey, these books just present a rosy picture of everything. But you have to be careful and just can’t be hoping for some thing to happen’, is what mum told her over breakfast the other day. Erica’s puffy eyes did little to hide the fact that she spent the whole night reading the book and mum knew e

This post a’int about cricket or my comments about it. With my limited knowledge in the domain, I know I would only meet derision if I venture to do so. This is rather going to be something I keenly observed in last year’s world cup and very much relates to how connected we are to the game. India loves cricket, and that, dear lord, I would say is an understatement. Okay, so if I ask you to reminisce the days of the cup, what thoughts cross your mind apart from India’s crowning moment? Well candidly I am sure you would also remember some other incidents too while watching the matches :P. What are those? Well read on.. Watching matches are times when you realize your secret powers. How one casual gesture of yours in front of the TV can lead to sixers. And you would be repeatedly staging the same hoping that the boundaries don’t dry out. This gesture can be as small as flipping the channel, a finger crossed or probably a little painful ones like standing on one leg and more of the lik

At 10 minutes before midnight, the confetti spread with an explosion and instantly blanketed the sky in a golden white slush. The celebration had already been kicked off even before the clock could strike the first hour of the New Year. Ravi glanced out of his hotel room and saw people drinking and dancing on loud music in the garden downstrairs, where Mr.Mehrotra, the business tycoon, had thrown a lavish party.  The festivities around him reminded him of his home. He spent his childhood with his younger sister Meenu and mother in a small village near the coast. His mother would be mostly ill and so he had to leave school and work as a delivery boy to support the house. He was known to always reach on time and execute each assignment so well that several grocery and meat shops employed him. He used to bring home 400 each month from the shops and a handful of more money if some customers were generous enough to give a tip after delivery. Every morning his day started with cleanin