Sundae on a Saturday

It was a hot, humid Saturday afternoon and the members of the BBC were having a lazy afternoon lunch in the Kalpa-droom, lectures and college having been dispensed with.
We were all munching and talking desultorily about some vague topics when my eyes spied the cover of the dabba in which i had brought food.
Since it was a Sundae box, the cover had a big, bright, mouth-watering photo of a chocolate sundae with the ridges of vanilla standing firm while chooclate was running down the furrows and down the sides...mmm..mmm..
Then, i had a madcap idea to go and buy a sundae then and there and finish it off!The BBC members all trooped out in unison and marched towards the great Aditi. Having driven the manager crazy with our doubts and indecisiveness about everything, be it the flavour and the size to our seating and sitting, we then ran back to the college looking for a secluded place to eat the whole thing.
Presto! The Dean's Lawn, the green and the flowery paradise was open to us,the behenji mortals.
There, we were, seated on the velvety grass and hunched beneath the shady palms,its long leaves gently swaying and rustling up our(especially my wild) tresses.
Someone then opened the box, gently, while we waited with baited breaths.As soon as the lid was prised open, all of us, armed with our plastic spoons literally pounced upon and attacked the delectable mound of cream and chocolate.
Soon, white merged with dark chocolate and became an indetectable, amorphous coffee colour, frozen cream became cold milk, ice to water and the solid chunk to a floating custard. Spoons flew, dresses were splotched, lips were smeared, cheeks were smudged fingers were sticky and faces grimy.
Atlast, the scooping, digging and licking bore fruit as the box was licked clean and there was the joy of satisfaction on our faces about a job welldone...

Footnote:
The purpose of this post was not merely to express our skill in collective gluttonry but also to express my gratitude and luck in having a few, true good friends who are capable of making such a positive difference to my life.
This also reminds me of my favourite line from Munnabhai.."Yeh mat socho ki zindagi mein kitne pal hain par yeh socho ki ek pal mein kitne zindagi hai."
Long Live the BBC!

Behenji Bitchology

The poem below has been written by Viraj.As a member of BBC, i am publishing it in this blog and i am hope the president of the club is happy to accept this contribution as it so aptly sums up the members' unexpressed philosophies of life and complements as well as compliments our thinking.
All credit, comments and controversies to be kindly or unkindly addressed to the original author.

BITCHOLOGY

When I stand up formyself and my beliefs,they call me a bitch.

When I stand up forthose I love,they call me a bitch.

When I speak my mind, think my own thoughts
or do things my own way, they call me a bitch.

Being a bitch means I won'tcompromise what'sin my heart.
It means I live my life MY way.
It means I won't allow anyone to step on me.

When I refuse totolerate injustice
and speak against it, I am defined as a bitch.

The same thing happens
when I take time for myself
instead of being everyone's maid,
or when I act a little selfish.

It means I have the courage
and strength to allow myself to be who I truly am and
won't become anyone else's idea of what they think I "should" be.

I am outspoken,opinionated and determined.
I want what I want and there is nothing wrong with that!
So try to stomp on me,
try to douse my inner flame,
try to squash every ounce of beauty I hold within me.
You won't succeed.

And if that makes me a bitch ,so be it.I embrace the title and am proud to bear it.

B - Babe
I - In
T - Total
C - Control of
H - Herself

B = Beautiful
I = Intelligent
T = Talented
C = Charming
H = Hell of a Woman

B = Beautiful
I = Individual
T = That
C = Can
H = Handle anything

My take on International womens' day...

In order to reach home from kandivili station which is approximately 3 kms away, i need to take a share auto. I have to get into a 'damu' auto because it passes by a stop which is close to my home. Though Lokhandwala is a posh area, damu nagar is the habitat for the lower-class to work for the residents of our township. So u can very well imagine what kind of crowd i get to share the auto with,majority of the time.

The auto-wallahs are too undoubtedly foolhardy as well as stupid. Since there's always a huge crowd at the station and a great demand for the autos as it is the only way for us to reach home, especially at peak hours in the evening,most of these autowallahs tend to seat 6 to 7 people in one auto. There will be 4 people squeezed in behind and 2 guys on eiher side of the driver in the front and then there'll be another guy who will manage to fit himself somehow in the front,weight and waist permitting. The passengers dont mind as most of them are lukhas anyways. Only the office-going blue-collar, straight-jacketed residents of Lokhandwala and the women object to these kind of 'mass'-transport.This makes the auto-drivers disinclined to take women passengers and the women get stranded everytime, everyday.

It so happened that on 8th, the Int'l womens' day, I was as usual shouting myself hoarse, yelling"damu. damu.." at every auto that was passing by me near the station at the last stop. One driver passed by me and another female standing beside me who also wanted to get into a 'damu' auto, shook his head while we said 'damu' and then assented to another guy standing few steps away from us who was also shouting 'damu'. This engraged me somuch so that i ran after the auto-wallah all the while demanding whether he was 'damu' or not. He kept on going ahead and finally stopped some 25 metres away as he couldn't shake me off. Even then he kept mum while i repeatedly asked"' yeh damu hai kya?" The driver as well as the lukha within had the nerves to pretend to be deaf. I started haraunging the lukha and told him to shift aside so that I could climb in because I knew it was a damu auto. He kept pretending to be a statue, and finally said "What you telling me.Tell him, no!"I was so stupefied at this 'English' that i burst laughing at him and then floored him with my best English as possible; "Hello if you don't know english then dont speak like this.Mujhe bhi hindi aati hai.Chalo ab shift ho'"

Suitably chastened, he finally shifted, looking helplessly at the driver.On top of all this drama, the auto -wallah had the gall to say.."Madam, aap lady paasenger hai, isliye hamne mana kiya ,kyunki abhi char sawari ko lega." I finally brushed him off saying that "lady passenger ke liye itna respect hai, to unko mana hi kyun karte ho?"
Finally the victory was mine as not only did he have to take 3 passengers, the 3rd was the same lady beside me who too had wanted a 'damu'!

Yippee..this was my struggle and my success on March 8th. Unfortunately, these situations happen eveyday, everywhere , everytime with all women.
Who said being a woman was easy...

P.S. On a lighter note, here are some resons why i would like to be reborn as a woman..

1. Women are not only the fairer sex but also the luckier sex because a woman is 'woo-man' someone who gets to woo a man as well as can be 'wooed-men' someone who can wooed by a man. Unfortunately, since in India because of the atrocious sex ratio, men will always outnumber women and thus rarely will a guy get an oppurtunity to be wooed by a lady unless he is a stud like John Abraham! So not only do we get the cake, we get to eat it too...
2. A woman can equally be ease in her sarees and skirts as well in his shirts and jeans. On the other hand, i cant envision a guy getting a chance to wear a skirt unless he is lucky enough to be in Scotland(either by birth or money)... :-)
3. Women are often considered as a weaker sex, which is entirely wrong. as i have learnt from personal experience that being considered weak can really prove to be advantageous many times, if you know how to use your charms well...

So Happy womens' day...Bless us all...

Happy women's day

I will not celebrate Women's day until...


1. 50% of railway compartments are reserved for women.
2. At least 90% of husbands agree to vasectomy.
3. Sex ratio of India is at least 1000.
4. There are no battered wives.
5. Women can marry when they want to and whom they want to.
6. People are not surprised to see female bus drivers.
7. Women don't cook all the three meals of the day.
8. People don't get up to give seats to women out of pity.
9. Women don't die of anaemia.
10. Female sportswomen are paid equal to male sportsmen.
11. There is a seperate supplement in the newspaper on Women's World Cup.
12. Daughters are allowed to burn pyres.
13. People forget what dowry is.
14. Female foeticide is wiped out.

I will not celebrate Women's day until... there is no need to celebrate a women's day......

Two much for today

A Tale of Few Words

Few are my worries
Fewer my joys
The fewer my delights
The fewer my tries..

Few are my tries
Fewer my victories
The fewer my victories
The fewer my joys..

Few are my words
Fewer my lines
The fewer my poems
The fewer your sighs..


To Want or Not to Want


"Aspire to be the best"
Is easy enough to say,
Is like to think of the Everest
Then just to climb up a few stairs
And to feel your chest heaving,
And the glaciers of sweat.
Pouring into the Ganges
Of dreams ignored and left
Locked, to be unspoken about.
As we tried to bequeath
The dreams away,
To the passage of time.
When the dreams are forgotten
Or have been buried unsaid
As we still are trying
Climbing up an anthill;
Which refuses to budge.

And the dreams take a leap
From the Everest to the Channel.
May be a swim across
Would soothe and heal.
The mind needs rest
And the body can feel
That if swim it is,
Then swim we will.
But the rivulets of sweat,
Which are increasing now,
Are drowning you further,
Are pulling you back.
Forget the Channel-
Let's try the Dead Sea now.
You don't know how to swim,
And it won't let you drown.

As you float in ignorance,
You can feel all the salt.
It is covering your body,
It is engulfing your thoughts.
But it is too late to worry.
It is too hard to try.
May be you should have,
Tried learning to fly...

(phew! its a bit too long...)

Stray thoughts

Stuck in yet another tedious lecture,
My mind lent itself to stray conjectures,
My brain racked with stray thoughts,
To these questions, answers i sought.

What does being a medical student entail-
Is it having your leisures curtailed?
Moreover, what is it to be a doctor,
Is the outcome worth the endeavour?

What feelings arise in a doctor's heart
When patients expect him to give death a start?
When the eyes of the suffering mutely hope for a miracle
While he knows, there is only scope for a debacle...

What is it to be considered a Saviour,
Having remedies forTB to a tumour,
To be thought of knowing every cure,
When the doc himself is not so sure.

What keeps doctors so sustained?
The strength to do the same, again and again.
The ability to re-enact the great drama,
Smilingly,willingly, left unscarred by the trauma.

Yet, after aspiring to acquire degree after degree
How many will treat all and the sundry and for free?
With the noble thought of rendering humanity a service
Thus fulfiling the long-made, old futile promise...

These nagging queries may well remain unanswered,
For some may find them strange, some absurd,
These are, but, the stray thoughts of an idle mind,
Indeed, aren't doctors a boon to mankind?

Dr.Sam Krishnamourthakova

This blog needs no words...

(courtesy mr. chintan desai)