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Showing posts with the label Family secrets

Chalo Cinema Chalein- Let's go to the movies

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I have been enchanted with movies since my childhood, especially Hindi cinema, just like any other living, breathing Indian. Cinema is an integral part of our lives and how much ever we deny it, we are crazy for our Bollywood movies and its music.  My father was a movie fan when he was younger and I think I got his genes for being crazy about the movies. He is no longer interested in movies but my mother tells me that he used to buy books that had lyrics of Hindi movie songs. He also had a cassette collection, which had entire movies recorded on it. As a child, I must have heard the movies "Sholay" in its entirety more than 30 times and "Muqaddar ka Sikandar" for more than 15 times on our cassette player, even before I saw these movies on Television. I still remember all the dialogues of 'Sholay' very clearly, such was the power of cinema.  Going to the movies has always been a magical experience for me. The city where I grew up had no multiplexes. We

Trapped inside a Nightmare

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I could see the bright light through my closed eyes, I knew it was there, I was sure that it was not a dream. I tried to speak, but my mouth felt as if it was taped shut. I could hear them speaking, there were words, low murmurs, sound of metal striking metal. I felt a pressure on my abdomen and heard water gushing some where. Photo Courtesy:  Free Digital Photos My heart was fluttering and I was unable to swallow. I wanted to move my hands and scream, 'I am awake', 'I can feel and hear you'. I tried to open my mouth to scream but no words came out. My hands felt as if they were made of lead. I used all my strength to move them, to lift a finger, to show them I was awake. No one could hear the scream inside my head. I was a trapped inside a nightmare, from which there no escape. My confused mind started playing tricks and I thought I was in a bad dream. A nightmare, that was so vivid that it seemed unreal. I thought, that I will wake up soon and feel silly abou

All about SOMETHING

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First of all  ‘Tons of Thanks’  to all you blogger friends out there who have still stuck on even after I have been on blogging hiatus for more than 3 months now. I had a valid reason guys, I let the ‘Cat out of the Bag’ in my last post. I was so touched by your wishes, it feels so good to be a part of a blogging community which is loving, kind and appreciative. My book was released on the 19th October in Nagpur. Published by Denett & Co., a Nagpur based publishing house. It was a an ecstatic moment for me, more so as I had never imagined that I would be writing a book in a span of two months after stepping off the shores of ‘The British Isles’. It was a dream which materialized after a chance meeting with my co-author ‘Ashutosh Shrivastava’ just three days after leaving Lancaster. In the beginning it all seemed too hard as I was not used to the weather in India. I had to shelve all the plans to meet up friends and family in India whom I had not met in three years. It needed a lo

Snooze Button

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Every morning, most of us lift our head up from the pillow, wipe the drool from our cheek, sneak out a hand from under the covers to shut the insistent chirping of the infernal machine, the morning alarm. The extra 10 minutes after pressing the Snooze button is like manna, it is the best sleep we have ever had till the alarm rudely points out again that you need to get up. If you are like my hubs, you will not hear the alarm even if the volume of the chirping has reached deafening proportions. I have to poke him in the ribs to make him stop the racket. He will give me a look as if I have lost it and slowly reach out to shut the alarm. After the noise has stopped, hubs will turn and curl himself up and fall in deep slumber. As for me, I am left trying to lure back the wonderful dream which was rudely disrupted. I lie in bed, tossing and turning to find a comfortable position so that I could resume my dream. But now, sleep has evaporated and my bladder gives me a signal that it i

Like Mother, Like Daughter

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Many girls while growing up imitate their mothers. The girl will dress up in her mothers' clothes, use her makeup, wear her jewelry and of course try to walk in her shoes. My eldest sister did all these requisite things. We have black and white photos of her wearing 'Aai's' (Mother) Georgette saris complete with Bindi and the works. I was never fascinated about wearing a sari or Bindis. Even now, these things don't entice me. I had thought, Whew! I narrowly escaped from 'Imitating Mommy' syndrome. But yesterday, as I was rinsing out the shampoo bottle to use the last dregs sticking at the bottom before I threw the bottle away, I experienced epiphany. Damn! Cut my head off and feed it to the vultures, I am my Mother. I am doing the exact same thing my mother does. All my attempts at trying to be different from my mother have not worked. It is, as if after the age of 30, a dormant gene in my body has suddenly taken a life of its own and is commanding me

What’s in a name, you say?

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"What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet." These famous lines by Shakespeare have been repeated many times by many people when they screw up your name and then instead of saying ‘Sorry’, give you this statement very cheekily . Now,It is time to come out of the closet… Dang..you people have a one track mind…I meant come out and declare my name in public and not what you thought.  All this while I have been writing under the name ‘ Lazy Pineapple ’ and will continue to do so…but many of you are curious to know my real name and some of you actually do know it. Then again, those who know my name manage to screw it up…And I mean royally. My parents will cringe when they come to know of this fallacy. My real name is Vinita (which means Humble), V I N I T A and not Vineeta, Vinuta, Vineetha, Vinitha or Vineta. Most people end up up calling me Vineeta which again is not my name, even if it seems like my name. Its so

Bummer

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I am an exercise freaker...I try to stay away from it as much as possible. It is much easier in the winter months when you can give excuse of the weather and become a complete couch potato. The fingers on my right hand have got so much exercise flipping the television channels, that I could actually run a marathon if ever there was a finger marathon. Since last month the excuse of the weather being too cold started sounding lame and I had to pick up my butt and start going for a brisk walk in evening. I have been pretty regular and I walk along the Lancaster Canal. The first few days were an actual pain, I could feel my unused muscles protesting vehemently at this uncalled torture. Slowly I fell in the rhythm and now I can actually hear the the songs on my cellphone rather than my brain enticing me with intelligent suggestions of going and parking my butt in the depression in the couch. As everyday, yesterday evening I started my walk. After walking for about fifteen minutes I de

I am a recovering Testophobic

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I got up in a daze to see that it was already six in the morning, I cursed the alarm clock for failing to do its job. I rubbed my eyes and my heart palpitated at the thought of the test which was to start in 3 hours. I heard snoring from somewhere close by and turned to see 'hubs' making a sonorous racket and generally disturbing the atoms around his nose. Then it all became clear, I am married and there is no school test and I had just woken up from a nightmare. Gosh! The word exams still brings a shiver down my spine. After all I am a recovering Testophobic and I am sure many of you are too. In school, I was an above average student in my class but was not a bookworm or a teachers pet. You could find me hanging around with the brains and dodo's of the class with equal ease. I was not very keen with studies but had always completed my home work on time to avoid wrath of my parents, teachers and my older sis who is the brains in our family. Every annual exam used

Story, house house (Kahani Ghar Ghar Ki)

I never knew that grocery shopping could be stressful. The simple act of getting products for daily consumption should be fun but can sometimes lead to anger and verbal abuse. As a newly married girl and living with in-laws, grocery shopping was a tough task for me. Having stayed on my own before marriage, I had my own budget and my own list of things required for survival. The list after marriage was quite dry and uninteresting, who can get excited about buying rice, lentils and oil. In addition, the idea of changing brands I preferred was like giving away my child for adoption. I survived and so did my in-laws, now I am a bit wiser and somewhat flexible. In India, grocery shopping was once a month chore. Buy raw materials from either a supermarket or your trusted, used for generations’ grocery shop and then transform it into something palatable. In 'phoren' lands, grocery shopping becomes almost a weekly affair and sometimes more often. Since there are no milkmen dropping

I live with a closet 'Trypanophobic'

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I am not talking about Dinosaurs here. So all you ‘Jurassic Park’ freaks wait a moment before you start doing the Jig. Not your fault, it does sound like the name for a Dinosaur (I am a Dino freak too). I know, you are googling 'Trypanophobic' right now. I will let out the secret.….Hubs is scared of needles. I have seen him turn as pale a ghost and become a shadow of his robust self at the sight of a teensy weensy needle approaching in his direction.  Not that I was never afraid of them. As a child, I was terrified each time a Doctor even mentioned ‘injection’.  I was scared of needles till my 10th grade. Each year, our entire school had to take 'cholera shots' (not to have Cholera, but to stop it from invading our body). My school was a All Girls Catholic School. There were no boys, so none of us had to pretend to be brave. The closer the line snaked towards the Doctor’s room, the more agonizing it was. I would have preferred getting my nails ripped off from