tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8525955919589803212024-03-05T03:59:02.428-05:00My AtlantisShambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-43570701198472635402014-01-03T10:47:00.001-05:002016-04-28T12:16:25.021-04:00Resolution time!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that the whole idea of "New Year's Resolutions" is terribly clichéd. But there is something oddly appealing about a fresh new start in a brand new year and all that jazz, don't you think? It presents a clean slate, a new beginning, a foolish hope of getting one's act together (in spite of Murphy's Law: that unpredictable force of nature which specialises in making life hell). Such wildly fanciful optimism infects gullible folks (like me) with Temporary New Leaf Syndrome: a leading cause of self-delusionary behaviour at the onset of major events (like Birthdays, New Years and Mondays). Symptoms include impossible resolutions, dare-devil bucket lists, random bouts of euphoria (except on the dreaded Mondays) and wholesale consumption of sappy self-help books. Thankfully it is temporary as the name suggests, with effects rarely lasting over a month. For this reason, violation of a New Year's Resolution is considered a healthy sign of normality, <i>ipso facto</i>* absolving the violator of all responsibility. (In short: There's nothing to lose really, so I've made some resolutions because why not?)</div>
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<b>Write, damn it, and write more often.</b></div>
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Writing out my coherent thoughts as well as frequent and silly ramblings is something I find really enjoyable. And doing things that make one happy - that's what they say a good life is all about. (Now I don't really know who <i>they</i> are, but apparently they are some sort of important people as everybody is always talking about them. So I've decided to trust them and see where that goes.)</div>
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<b>Abuse social media to the maximum.</b></div>
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Otherwise, me watching all those inane videos and diligently blocking every facebook game amounts to nothing, and that's just sad. I've resolved to not be the abusee anymore, but join the massive throngs of abusers by unashamedly plugging my <a href="http://bookworm-on-a-spree.blogspot.com/">blogs</a> every opportunity I get. So you better read my posts or else! (Unless you've already had enough and proceeded to block me, in which case... err, awkwarrrd.)</div>
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<b>Try to make less of a fool of myself.</b></div>
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The keywords here being <i>try</i> and <i>less</i>, because it's not humanly possible to ensure never to make fool of self. It is probably foolhardy to admit, but it's easy to get me all flustered and riled up. I can't even see through good-natured ribbing very often. I'm also supposedly a veritable touch-me-not (my mom still calls me that sometimes, after calming me down when I behave like a hypersensitive adolescent). Thankfully I'm getting marginally better as I grow older; or maybe I've begun to just take myself a little less seriously. But I'm hoping to somehow speed up the process and achieve equanimity, inner peace, nirvana and all the fun stuff before I'm a hundred and fifty.</div>
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<b>Worry less.</b></div>
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To me, it's a fundamental fact of life that a certain amount of worrying is necessary to get things done. It doesn't matter who does it, as long as someone somewhere is fulfilling the required quota of worriment and foregoing their share of merriment. Sadly no one agrees on this, and I always end up doing all the heavy-duty worry work. So I <i>really</i> need to help people around me understand that they ought to step up and start worrying more so I may hyperventilate a little less for God's sake! Truly, the amount of help some folks need...</div>
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<b>Procrastinate less and do more.</b></div>
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Although I honestly don't know how to, as this is in direct conflict with my one big indulgence which is to be a lazy bum. I've tried it all:</div>
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<li style="text-align: justify;">Compulsive list-making (somehow everything takes even longer).</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Elaborate time-tables (got trapped in recursive hell of time-table entries for 'time for making time-tables').</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Penalties for not sticking to plans (which I'm too lazy to dish out to myself, and moreover, there's simply zero fun in doing that).</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Incentives for sticking to plans (like a nice book - the thought of which makes me happily abandon all plans, and for which I must visit the library first even though I always have at least twenty books at my disposal due to frequent book buying and prior trips to the library that had been made expressly for such occasions**, or a warm gooey chocolate brownie.... ermm hey I got to go, will be right back).</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Enhancing mind-focus through pranayama, yoga and suchlike. (Three excruciating classes, after which I've begun to doubt if I actually come from the same culture. Why wouldn't my genes know this stuff otherwise?! Cannot handle an identity crisis on top of all this craziness!)</li>
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Clearly, nothing has worked so far. Help, I'm being sucked into the procrastination vortex!</div>
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<i><b>*Disclaimer:</b> Any sort of pretentiousness found here is <strike>mostly</strike> purely fictional. You may come across occasional snobbery and pompous verbiage, employed solely for the purpose of keeping myself amused while my rusty fingers catch up with the thoughts running amok in my head.</i></div>
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<i>**Please remember to breathe between my long-winded sentences. It doesn't bode well for my blog (and of course you, my dear reader) if you pass out while reading this. If you are still conscious at this point, Happy New Year!</i></div>
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Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-39690257464674486382011-10-30T22:48:00.014-04:002016-04-28T12:20:10.669-04:00Halloween android scare!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i style="background-color: white;">*Disclaimer: No androids were harmed in the writing of this post </i><span style="background-color: white;">:|</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_l42k5hsIMPxeFHFTmqYIwB2KwO9WmnJccye-HVVvam8C22a6FmHsK5Cm_7X5R7KgK1v6mnqcxoHrtuJ7IF6DdEIE7cj-OWTajfdXJgiiu_HTX1u-qpQVEfYMEsPD8pbX9W5GKgUPAY/s1600/pumpkin.jpg" style="text-align: left;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669879732934597570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_l42k5hsIMPxeFHFTmqYIwB2KwO9WmnJccye-HVVvam8C22a6FmHsK5Cm_7X5R7KgK1v6mnqcxoHrtuJ7IF6DdEIE7cj-OWTajfdXJgiiu_HTX1u-qpQVEfYMEsPD8pbX9W5GKgUPAY/s320/pumpkin.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 184px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Annual pumpkin-carving contest prize-winner :D</span></div>
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What can I say? Fanboys will be fanboys anywhere, and my workplace is no exception :P While I gave an amused smile that translated to "you wish!", my phone started vibrating angrily and almost jumped out of my hand. I think it wanted to enter the battlefield, apps in hand, and fight the evil and rotten "fruit". Or probably it was expressing its chagrin at me for clicking this highly inaccurate picture of its fellow androids. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a call that my phone refused to answer while in serious contemplation of its enemy (if that's not a good reason for not answering calls, I don't know what is!).</div>
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But I must say: <i>Well played, apple fanboys and fangirls. Well played.</i> We may be those nerdy software developers working on antiquated dell desktops, but we never fail to give credit where credit is due, even to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">our uber-cool UI counterparts wielding sleek and shiny imacs. So, haha! Good one. </span>Touché.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">P.S.: Now that apple fans all around the world are done lamenting their lives away, let me just mourn in peace the demise of Dennis Ritchie (Who is he, you ask? *sigh* Your pretty macs and phones would be pretty pieces of junk had it not been for him, but never you mind. Go on living in your iBubble). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">R.I.P. Dr. Dennis Ritchie. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Thank you for your original contributions to computing, because of which w</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">e are where we are today</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"> In a world where glitter and shine are valued more than true genius and innovation, and how well you sell and how much you earn is appreciated more than what you create, you may not have turned many heads, but you will be missed by the grateful few of us.</span></div>
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Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-54726768889873902622010-12-30T01:51:00.000-05:002016-04-28T12:22:02.135-04:00An ode<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A burst of light through sunkissed leaves<br />
A dance of color on crystal reefs<br />
A pattern of ripples the ocean weaves<br />
I am miracle. I am beauty.<br />
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A resolute march across unknown land<br />
A valiant pen in fate's reckless hand<br />
The travails of doubt I boldly withstand<br />
I am courage. I am duty.<br />
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A roar of wind swirling the skies<br />
Towering waves that crash and arise<br />
Embodiment of fire and ice<br />
I am chaos. I am strife.<br />
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A wanderer’s quest for final abode<br />
A leap of faith on an unseen road<br />
A vista of mysteries I slowly unfold<br />
I am a journey. I am life.</div>
Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-59543179729965992762010-02-11T22:57:00.022-05:002011-09-16T01:51:24.226-04:00Snowed inDay 1: Oh God, not again! I <i>hate</i> snow! I'm sick of it! Oh please go away and leave me alone!<br /><br />Day 2: Thank God for snow!! Saved me 100 bucks... yippee! :) (long story involving rent checks, procrastination and snowstorms :|)<br /><br />Day 3: Pleeeease let there be a snowstorm tomorrow... whatever it takes to cancel classes. God, are you listening...?<br /><br />Day 4: Yay it's snowing! No classes today!! ...wait, what?! Only morning classes cancelled?? This is not fair, I say! I hate this! I <i>hate</i> snow!!<br /><br /><br />How selfish and fickle-minded I am.Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-7081714217657300472010-02-04T22:50:00.024-05:002016-04-28T12:31:19.817-04:00Obsession<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Even as a kid, I was crazy about books. Not boring textbooks made of bad quality paper, mind you, but colourful books with glossy pages full of unheard-of stories, and characters that you adored, hated or simply loved laughing at! Maybe it was the smell of books that I loved best, or the fun in narrating stories to other kids. Or maybe, sweet stories with nice people and happy endings always made me happy. I was partial towards both Amar Chitra Katha and Archie, loved Suppandi and Jughead equally (and was thrilled when nicknamed Shikari Shambu! :)). My adoration of Uncle Pai and Enid Blyton grew, as did my collection of fairytales and kiddo books, with my fortnightly trips to the bookstore. That was when I started noticing those big fat books with shiny titles and hundreds of pages. Even Tinkle’s double digest - a real treat gifted or bought only on rare occasions - looked tiny beside them. Imagine my surprise when Dad told me they were all just single stories! “How long and fascinating each must be”, I thought. I <i>so</i> wanted to read and own them. “Someday I’ll have a library of my own. Bigger than the one at school, with all the best books in the world!”, I decided.<br />
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I had a simple plan: Marry rich prince, buy tons of books. No wonder my favourite fairytale hero was The Beast himself, right since I first watched Disney’s version of Beauty and the Beast. In the scene where he gifts Belle this gigantic library with spiral staircases reaching towering racks full of books, I instantly fell in love with The Beast, and no Prince Charming has ever come so close again. I mean, how can someone who just kisses the girl to wake her out of a dead slumber, or finds her with the help of a stupid designer glass sandal, even compare to The Beast? The sweetness, the chivalry, the silent adoration... (sigh!) he was a real gentleman... oops! beast. So anyway, that was my plan; until I grew up some more and thought of a better one: To build my library myself, one book at a time.<br />
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I started with Dad’s old books, eagerly waiting for the annual house cleaning frenzy when my Mom and Aunt would pack huge boxes full of books to be “safely stored away” in the attic. Sorting through all those “serious” books on science/religion/philosophy (I was in 7th standard, and in my defense, I had my own science textbook :P), I’d strike gold once in a while and find fiction/humour. Some turned out to be duds, but most of them were amazing books that I’m glad to have read.<br />
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So I hogged every genre I came across (good for me that Dad never really liked self-help books), (re)discovered authors, and grew more obsessed with my mini-library... then I started borrowing and lending, reading and loving more books, and meeting more people who shared this beautiful obsession. The problem? Almost all the books I borrowed were returned, and the ones I lent are not back yet - and I don’t know if they’ll ever be. That leaves me where I was years ago. Materially, at least. Sure, I ended up reading, liking and being influenced by a lot of books. Sure, I laughed and felt and learnt all along. And yes, I now love reading more than ever. But what about my precious books that introduced me to the joy of reading? I really miss them today, and not just because I crave a library of my own. I can only hope they’re still in circulation - being read and loved by other book lovers - and not left forgotten in some corner, to gather the dust of time...<br />
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Current mood: Wistful/Nostalgic<br />
Currently reading: The Zahir, a book about obsession by Paulo Coelho</div>
Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-87483805927754468282009-11-21T22:07:00.025-05:002011-09-16T02:19:31.157-04:00Caffeine for dummies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbYtryUE1eN6PJr9CWKMlmHqoqLt12thQxn3rode_4rFLw7M4RgpWnQrEctGhvKSqkj1j51taCozUycH0NgMjt4ZtsqET5204HpNYO43N-c6o7p-TkcxNBeKySkx5GnPb9IxrReSHatE/s1600/sadlogic.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbYtryUE1eN6PJr9CWKMlmHqoqLt12thQxn3rode_4rFLw7M4RgpWnQrEctGhvKSqkj1j51taCozUycH0NgMjt4ZtsqET5204HpNYO43N-c6o7p-TkcxNBeKySkx5GnPb9IxrReSHatE/s400/sadlogic.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406759449074127794" /></a><br /><div>Hard to believe there are people out there who haven’t discovered coffee yet. For those of you who don’t mind being initiated into the world of coffee by me (which could be risky for your health and general well-being), read on!<br /><br /><b>How to become insanely active in a few minutes:</b><br />1) Gulp mugful of coffee.<br />2) Close your eyes.<br />3) Chant following mantra 11 times:<br /><br />O caffeine!<br />In a coffee bean<br />Win o’er my woozy head<br />Promise! I’ll be addicted<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">For best results, hold up your mug and sing. Appeases the Caffeine Gods faster than you'd think (you could get imaginative and do a small jig too, but make sure not to get carried away and spill precious coffee all over the place. Angry roomies and offended Caffeine Gods are never good for you).<br /></span><br />And there you go! So active that even your quintessential conference paper can’t deter your consciousness*, you may now don your best warrior hat/thinking cap and conquer the world!<br /><br /><br />Now comes the difficult part...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1l1206_G6sXHP2u96ilYyzhDkFnx-HcAmyhw6iPvrJhuKcLuy7cxcpkPPjWWB5NXtCBWF8m06P1BmCk93GRnxODhUfeHjOmeO85KSekHSNMlayMLIS-77g9_I4L4Uot2HPFiU9dC3nnE/s1600/sleep.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1l1206_G6sXHP2u96ilYyzhDkFnx-HcAmyhw6iPvrJhuKcLuy7cxcpkPPjWWB5NXtCBWF8m06P1BmCk93GRnxODhUfeHjOmeO85KSekHSNMlayMLIS-77g9_I4L4Uot2HPFiU9dC3nnE/s400/sleep.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406759768813240946" /></a><br /><b>What to do when you can’t sleep at night anymore:</b><br />1) Curse your coffee mug for being so big.<br />2) Curse those megalomaniac mug makers.<br />3) Curse yourself for gulping that extra mugful.<br />4) Curse your roomie** for sleeping so peacefully.<br />5) Promise yourself you'll <span style="font-style:italic;">never</span> repeat this foolish act. E<span style="font-style:italic;">ver</span>.<br /><br />And then... get ready for a long night of sleeplessness. Because nothing's gonna help, really. And yes, you're bound to face the consequences of your sinful indulgence anyway (because coffee hangover lasts long. Trust me, I'm a subject matter expert). So then, why think about tomorrow and make life more miserable? Okay, so you're all groggy and brain-dead the next morning... so what? All it takes to get your zing back is another bigggg mugful of coffee :)<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*If you confuse consciousness with concentration and expect great things to happen, you're not a dummy. You're a dunce. Being marginally awake under such circumstances is a miracle in itself. Be thankful and do your part, you lazy shortcut seeker!</span></div><div><span style="font-style:italic;">**Just kidding, roomie dears :) On an entirely different subject that’s got nothing to do with this, you’re awesome cooks!<br /></span></div>Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-32088717211897780072009-11-09T18:36:00.022-05:002010-11-27T17:59:44.461-05:00Random, ironic and meaninglessHigh school passouts go to college while doctors are still stuck in school (Grad school. Whatever. Not fun.)<br /><br />Rhett Butler is a rude, middle-aged flirt with a reputation so bad he's disowned by his family. He spends like crazy and eventually ditches his wife, yet almost every girl who's read Gone with the Wind has fallen for him. Crazy, right? Well... we look at it this way: he is frank, mature, charming, unconventional, spends like crazy on <i>his</i> woman, and now he’s single! ;)<br /><br />Q) Does Cupid strike with thunderbolts?<br />A) Godfather only knows.<br /><br />Song and dance sequences in Bollywood weddings are silly and unreal, but we’re cool with magic, superheroes, robots in love*, Neo’s stunts, green aliens, undead mummies (and oh! vampires) that go out of their way to defy gravity, quantum relativity (random high-funda word, but yes, that too) and mainly, reason.<br /><br />Q) Random is Arthur’s daughter. Who is Arthur?**<br />A) A Random Generator (tee hee :D)<br /><br /><br />*WALL.E! The cutest sci-fi + animation movie ever :)<br />**The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - insanely funny!<br /><div><br /></div>Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-55058748342776180282009-11-07T15:21:00.013-05:002009-11-07T16:19:03.102-05:00This could be me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcVWIyu9bIYmo9PumKCmzQTIWJzeRzdDJ3_xR0NpZjd0FX5Cu461vRYxI2I2jHsM-7dGXAYeJZCjF9kBt5ut-a7JF7yiy1b5eOGca2XXoAtvYC6vB7RqvGmMJvE1V2LBNne5epyf1H5cg/s1600-h/grading.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcVWIyu9bIYmo9PumKCmzQTIWJzeRzdDJ3_xR0NpZjd0FX5Cu461vRYxI2I2jHsM-7dGXAYeJZCjF9kBt5ut-a7JF7yiy1b5eOGca2XXoAtvYC6vB7RqvGmMJvE1V2LBNne5epyf1H5cg/s400/grading.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401468072280704738" /></a><br />350, actually. And no chocolates either :( Cecilia, you are so better off.<br /><br />Sighhh. Can't afford to procrastinate anymore.<br />Let the grading begin...<div><br /></div>Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-88517167873926629312009-10-25T19:37:00.012-04:002009-10-26T04:03:02.212-04:00EvergreenAll of us, at some point of time or the other, take things for granted. Human nature, I guess. Even I do it. A lot. But worse, I end up acting all shocked and indignant when I realize what I've been taking for granted is slipping away from me, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Feels like a breach of trust by the other party, for going back on their promises. But what if the 'other party' is inanimate, and all those promises are just a product of my hyperactive imagination? All the more reason for getting upset, I’d say. Before you wonder what’s wrong with me, let me tell you myself.<br /><br />Living on the east coast has its own advantages, one of the best being its seasonal diversity (you will not hear me say this during winter, when slush and subzero temperatures make me long for sultry Hyderabad even more. But since it’s not yet snowing, I can confidently say snow is my thing). Right now, Fall has unleashed its full glory and charm on my small town. From deep reds to golden yellows to the brightest of oranges, the range and intensity could put a rainbow to shame. Even a casual glance while walking across campus or looking out the window brings about a smile these days, and I have no attention left to spare for mundane thoughts when it’s all being held in captivity by nature.<br /><br />Agreed, all this had almost made me forget that Fall is just a season, but you’d think it will stay on until at least end-of-sem (its ‘Fall semester’ for God’s sake!). But no, it had to go. The leaves had to start falling. And that’s what they’re busy doing. I was dead sure Fall would be longer, and I would have time to take in all of it, to explore pretty drives, to take enough pictures to hold this season in memory. Well, it wasn’t meant to be. Darn! I’d taken it for granted, and now it’s teaching me a lesson... for ignoring it (albeit unintentionally) when it was being good to me. Harsh, but just.<br /><br />It got me thinking about human relationships, and I'm really glad they don't work that way. Dealing with blind justice when your feelings are involved is just not possible. And thankfully, people have never done that to me. At least those who really matter, whose presence has made a huge difference, who have touched my life in a special way making me a much better and happier person... I can go on and on praising the angels in my life, yet it will never be enough. No matter how much I take them for granted, their affection remains steadfast and their anger is just fleeting, ready to be relinquished over a single phone call or a short-n-sweet mail.<br /><br />It means a lot to me, much more than I can express. And maybe that's why I don't often express gratitude for your unshakable trust. For putting up with my possessiveness, occasional crankiness and (a lot of) other idiosyncrasies with grace. For holding me responsible for your happiness. For your evergreen presence in my life, unlike fickle seasons that come and go. Here is to you, dearest family and friends! For being there... always.<div><br /></div>Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-73550606503172438542009-10-11T16:36:00.006-04:002009-10-26T04:00:13.024-04:00And then it thundered... Part III (where it actually did)<span style="font-style:italic;">Warning to readers (if there still are any, after all these months of inactivity): this post is probably gonna sound totally anticlimactic. Truth is, I'm no good at this write-in-parts business. Whenever I found something else interesting to write about, the voice in my head went "No wait! Finish your other story first, lazy bones!" (I'm guessing it was my organized subconscious that didn't like the creative me). All the accumulated resentment against that voice, every time I wanted to write about something else, is gonna show up in this post (okay, that's enough. Louisville, here we are!)<br /></span><br />The test-fire (plus random people shouting) finally reminded Priya and Nitya why they were there. Fries in hand, they started hurrying back to the venue. Apparently, it had the same effect on everybody around, and people began pushing, jolting and what-not so they wouldn't miss any of the fireworks. This didn't help Priya and Nitya at all, who ended up somewhere in the middle of this big sea of impatient (and seriously hefty) people. Priya sensed what it might just lead to...<br /><br />Priya: We better throw the damn fries and concentrate on getting out of this alive!<br /><br />Nitya: Ohh... let's keep the fries. Why are we throwing them? (budday girl didn't yet figure out they were in the middle of a would-be stampede)<br /><br />Priya: Whaaa?! Oh, c'mon! Life or fries, tough choice...<br /><br />Nitya: Uh...okay, okay. We're throwing them.<br /><br />They did, and tried to inch their way back. Alas! Another bunch of rowdy people began joining the sea from their left. Priya totally panicked, and decided all this wasn't worth it.<br /><br />Priya: Hey, let's push our way to the right and somehow get out of here, okay?<br /><br />Nitya: Ohhhkay...but the show?<br /><br />Priya (totally exasperated): Here we are, in the middle of a stampede, and all you can think of are some stupid fireworks...<br /><br />Nitya: Are you serious??! Whoa, let's goooo!<br /><br />That wasn't so easy either, but they finally managed to pull each other out of the mess (Priya tells us she actually had to yank budday girl by her jacket, after their hands slipped away in bollywood ishtyle). Luckily, the crowd cleared in a few minutes and they made their way back to us (a barrage of shrieks, questions, and shocked exclamations ensued, but lets not get into all that now :)). <br /><br />Our adrenaline rush had barely subsided, and before we knew, the show began... and GOD! was it worth EVERYTHING!!! Fired from barges across a bridge over the Ohio river, the pyrotechnics display was truly magnificent... a riot of fiery sparks and bright colours lit up the night sky and the river, and it seemed as though the whole world was ablaze. And the sound! It shook the ground we were standing on, pounded in our hearts and numbed our minds... no wonder it's called Thunder! I lost track of everything, as a deep feeling of awe and childlike wonder washed over me... filling me with serenity in the midst of thunder and lightning...<br /><br />And this time, the cute kid crinkled her eyes and smiled at me :)<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">P.S.: The return journey was not exactly uneventful, with me talking utter nonsense while trying hard to prove I wasn't asleep, and misguiding Seby on the highway with GPS device in hand (for a good number of miles)... but of course I'm not gonna tell you about it :)</span>Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-82056118345717873712009-07-18T23:51:00.000-04:002009-09-13T04:23:29.142-04:00And then it thundered... 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mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><o:p></o:p>Only when we reached the 'venue' did we realize we had to spend the next 6 hours in an open ground, with nothing but grasshoppers for company. There was an airshow going on, that Seby said would be fun. It was, for an hour, after which it got so slow we could've sworn it was the same pilot manning all those fighter planes, and still finding time to take breaks in between.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />1 hour later...
<br />
<br />Me: I'm bored.
<br />
<br />Priya: Me too.
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<br />Nitya: Me three.
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<br />Seby: Stop it, I say! Hey look, here's F-22! Isn't it a beauty? Whoooooo.....
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<br />Me: It's about time. The pilot went home after F-18 or what?
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<br />Seby: Shut up, will you? Look look! Did you see him do the somersault? What a guy!! Man, this is frikkin' awesome!
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<br />
<br />
<br />2 more hours later...
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<br />"Heyyy!", I smiled at the cute girl in front of me. Back home, kids would either smile back or hide shyly behind their mothers. But here, they simply stare. And God forbid you smile for longer, the parents begin to stare too (the dad looked pretty strong, I noticed). "Uh, oh", I backed away and smiled at them, trying to assure that I just found their daughter cute, nothing else. They turned away and I sighed in relief. I looked up hopefully, found nothing. Looked around, found nothing. Looked within. Ha ha... no hope.<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />1 more hour (that seemed like ages) later…<o:p>
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<br /></o:p>Me: What’s taking these girls so long? I tell you, they want the best brand even for fries!<o:p>
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<br /></o:p><i style="">They had gone, upon public demand, to get some fries. We almost had to hunt for food last time, and it was their ‘turn’ now.<o:p></o:p></i><o:p>
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<br /></o:p>Seby: All <span style=""> </span>your fault. You shouldn’t have given the click-happy idiots your cam.<o:p>
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<br /></o:p><i style="">Agreed, both of them are good at photography. Priya had also taken ‘classes’, and would click away at things from crazy angles and still make them look good. In fact, she got compliments on how she could make EVEN ME look good (rude, I know). But right then, we wanted food, not photos. <o:p></o:p></i><o:p>
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<br /></o:p>Seby: They’ll go around taking pics of everything, and get lost in the crowd.<o:p>
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<br /></o:p>Me: Good riddance!<o:p>
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<br /></o:p>Seby: I know… But what about the fries?
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<br />Me: Oh yeah...
<br /><o:p>
<br /></o:p><i style="">WHIZZZZ! BOOOOOOOMMM!! We looked up to see the dazzle of fireworks.<o:p></o:p></i><o:p>
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<br /></o:p>Me: Oh no! The show has started! Where ARE these gals? What are they gonna do? How will they enjoy the show? How are we going to take pics?
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<br /><o:p></o:p>Seby: Shusshh, ok? You’re getting on my nerves. They’re just test firing, that’s all. But these idiots better make it fast. Where ARE they?<o:p>
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<br /></o:p><i style="">Little did we know…<o:p></o:p></i><o:p>
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<br /></o:p><i style="">To be continued…<o:p></o:p></i> Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-32792317636386329432009-07-16T16:51:00.000-04:002009-07-17T00:20:16.831-04:00And then it thundered... Part I"DJ, HAAYE HAAYE!", Seby chanted at the top of his voice. Nitya pretended not to hear, and continued playing Tum dil kiiiiiiii dhadkan meeeeein... Apparently, the song was so boring he was sure he would fall asleep. What's wrong with that, you may wonder. But considering that he was driving on the highway at a full 100, that may not actually be the best thing, you know.<br /><br />Priya and I were nevertheless rash enough to "take light" the consequences, and backed the DJ's decision from the backseat. Poor Seby sighed, and drove on. I think he was hoping for the Seminoles' war chant, or some adrenalin-pumping chest-thumping number (the kind that generally gets guys all excited and ready for war). But with three obstinate girls for company, he couldn't have expected any more.<br /><br />We were headed to Kentucky to watch 'Thunder over Louisville', the most mindblowing fireworks display in the US (according to Seby, who had totally sold us on it). One day, he drops by and casually lays the bait:<br /><br />Seby: Oh! It's a total pity I'd watched Thunder...<br /><br />Me: That bad, huh?<br /><br />Seby: No, you idiot! It's so supremely cool you'll not appreciate any other fireworks show in your entire goddamn life!! A million dollars worth of fireworks, all blown up in half an hour! Can you believe it?<br /><br />Me: Whaaaa..!!! A million dollars just to kick off their stupid Derby festival? Is the govt. rolling in money or what? (I could hardly tell between Derby and Dobby, but was still entitled to an opinion).<br /><br />Seby went on to prove that it was totally worth it, with the help of his pal for life (a.k.a. youtube). 3 minutes into the video, and Nitya and I were totally floored. It didn't take us long to convince Priya, and before we knew, the D-day arrived!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> to be continued...</span>Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-852595591958980321.post-90368139087523882882009-07-15T18:33:00.003-04:002014-01-03T12:33:10.631-05:00Enough!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Enough is <i>enough</i>, I thought. I've been 'planning' to start my own blog for a long time now, along with a 100 other things. I like to think I'm brilliant at planning; so much so that I don't want to spoil the beauty of it by even contemplating execution. In fact, my to do list, I tell myself, is a planner's ultimate dream, with categories, sub-categories, bullets, multiple fonts, et al. I totally swear by it, but somehow my roomie doesn't seem to appreciate it...<br />
<br />
Nitya: Will you please return those books today? They're long due, and I've been telling you since...<br />
Me: No worries! It's on my list. You know I go through it everyday, so chill!<br />
Nitya: Ayyo, Shambhavi!! (bangs her head in frustration)<br />
<br />
There is also a category for 'list of things already accomplished'. It serves to remind me that I'm not so bad at actually <i>getting</i> things done, so I can extend those periods of blissful inertia (minus the guilt that's part of the package. After all, how much can one person be expected to do?) A subconscious procrastinator, that's what I am, and <i>now</i> I know why. Maybe I should change the title of this post to "Planners are procrastinators", or something like that.<br />
<br />
Wait a sec! It's my first post ever, and I've already started rambling. "Is this some kind of a sign? What is the Universe trying to tell me?" I start to ponder... "Stop rambling and <i>JUST DO IT</i>, will you?", my over-taxed brain cells shout back (before a few of them commit suicide). Nike has always had a tough time convincing me of their generation-defining slogan. Okay... so here I am, wondering what to write in my first post, when suddenly I realize I've already written quite a bit! (of crap, people might say, but naturally, I tend to disagree). Whoa! I pat myself, and head off...</div>
Shambhavi Reddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05545987458916822078noreply@blogger.com14